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incognit0slut · 1 year

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Right Kind of Wrong (1)

Reader never thought she would be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Reader and Spencer face the aftermath of their tryst. wc: 2,8k

Series Warnings: 18+ explicit content, graphic details of murders, mentions of suicide, mentions of SA

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

"YOU NEED TO LEAVE."

Since when did her life come to this?

She wasn't sure what to make of when the words softly left his lips. The words weren't exactly pronounced in a way that the urgency was prominent, but she could still sense the weight of them as she stared into the dark walls of his bedroom, sprawled out across the bed of this foreign man she had spent the past two hours with.

What was his name again? Stephen? Sean? Or was it Sebastian?

It definitely started with an S.

Her eyes slowly made their way toward him, eying his tall figure as he carefully walked over to his drawers. He awkwardly tripped over a piece of her clothing which lay on the floor before mumbling some incoherent words. He shot her a dubious look past his shoulder and turned his body away, quickly grabbing the first thing he saw on top of his pile of clothes.

His sudden modesty seemed amusing to her when it was barely minutes ago they had shared the sex-induced fantasy of sharing body heat between complete strangers. It was as if he wasn't the one thrusting above her, eyes glazed in desire and mouth open in ecstasy, reaching the peak of his high with her legs wrapped around his narrowed waist.

Surely he hadn't forgotten all of that?

She prompted herself on her elbows and found the piece of clothing he had grabbed in his haste was a pair of brown pants and a nice clean dark shirt. She watched him again and under her scrutinizing gaze, he backed away even further.

His sudden discomfort should've offended her, but it didn't. Somehow it intrigued her how much he was trying to be oblivious of everything around him—the lustful tryst that took place moments ago. The naked woman under his covers. The sudden shrill of his phone ringing on the bedside table.

The latter seemed to catch his attention as he glanced at the source of sound with an alert expression. He crossed the room and quickly answered the call.

"Yes?" There was a muffled reply from the other end before he glanced at the still-naked woman staring at him with curiosity. He cleared his throat again and gave her a look. "I need to take this."

She shrugged. "Sure."

She saw him hesitate for a split second before slipping out of his room, throwing a short reply to the receiving end of his call that didn't go unheard. "Yes, Garcia, I have company." More mumbling. "What? I'm not answering that..."

His words were cut off as he closed the door behind him, leaving her to grasp the situation she had put herself in.

Having a one-night stand wasn't something she often did. She wasn't sure it ever happened again since her freshman year of college when sleeping with a senior at a raging party would solidify her college experience. It seemed right at that time. It was what everybody was doing and her innocent mind believed it was a good idea to expand her nonexistent romantic life.

New place, new experience, new beginnings.

The experience wasn't so bad. Brandon Wallace—who was now happily married according to his recent social media post—wasn't exactly the best lover she ever had, but he also wasn't that bad. It was the awkward moment after the endeavor that made her avoid any repeated situations with somebody she barely knew.

Which was why she was questioning why she let that exact avoidance happen tonight. Why she had stepped into her favorite bar on a random Wednesday night and laid her eyes onto the awkward man sitting a few stools away from her.

Maybe it was the way he seemed out of place. Wearing a crisp blue shirt and a vest over it, he sat in a poised manner while constantly wiping down the bar counter with the napkin he seemed to keep requesting the bartender for.

She was there because she needed the kick of alcohol to calm down the stress from her current work assignment. Jamison, her strict boss who didn't take no for an answer, was starting to make her consider the act of murder. But committing such a heinous crime wasn't exactly nifty, so alcohol was the safe bet.

And thus, what was he here for? The cold beer sitting in front of him was barely touched as he looked around the room in a very uncomfortable manner.

Maybe the fact that she was sitting in an almost empty bar had loneliness wash over her, or maybe it was the alcohol finally kicking in, that she found herself making her way over to him. She was only going to greet him, introduce herself, and remark on how he stuck out like a sore thumb when he clearly was trying to keep to himself.

The hue of the bar lights reflected into a golden halo around his head. She slid beside him, tipped her drink towards his way, and gave him a simple smile.

He shifted in his seat and turned sideways, throwing her a questioning look. Up close, she could see his features clearly. The sharpness of his jaw, his hooded eyes, the unruly mess of brown hair on top of his head. She could tell he wasn't sure how to react to her sudden appearance, but he didn't seem to mind.

She sat there, her lips inching wider at the frown forming on his brows. How could someone be awkward yet adorable at the same time? Y/n was about to introduce herself when he suddenly sat forward, threw her a hesitant smile, and slowly asked, "Do you have any change?"

The random question startled her. "Excuse me?"

"I... I need to pay for my drink."

She shot him a ludicrous look, not sure she was hearing him right. Was he really trying to ask a stranger to pay for his drink? So much for spending the night with what looked like good company. But before she could counter her disappointment, he reached out his hand and in a swift motion revealed a ten-dollar bill from the back of her ear.

"Never mind.” He waved the money in front of her face and cleared his throat. “Found it.”

She blinked, once, twice, trying to comprehend the past few seconds. Then her lips twisted into a wide grin, his own lips twitching into a shy smile.

His attempt at an introduction based on a silly magic trick tugged her heart in a way that had her leaning closer, fingers tracing across his other hand that rested on the table. She didn't know what had impulsed her to be so brazen. It was very unlike her to show interest in the opposite sex, but here she was, touching the warmth of his skin.

But then his breath hitched and her stomach dropped. What the hell was she thinking? Touching a complete stranger without consent as if she was trying to maul him in public.

She shook her head and backed away, an apology already hanging at the tip of her tongue when he suddenly leaned in and wrapped a hand around her wrist. The gesture was very innocent, but somehow his fingers manage to burn her skin. She looked up and held his gaze, found the same bashful smile still playing on his lips, and relaxed at the warmth radiating from his body.

And then the rest was history, to say the least.

Yet even after the travel from the bar to his place, after the haste of removing each other's clothes, and after the post-orgasm that left them both satisfied—although to be completely honest, she would've been more satisfied if he'd let her have her second orgasm��she was starting to question her decision.

She finally threw his covers away and slipped out of his bed. She picked up all her clothing scattered around the room and slowly dressed herself as she carefully tried to listen to the conversation in the other room. But all she heard was muffled voices, and deciding that she couldn't pick out his exact words, she tuned out his voice and smoothed down her hair with her fingers.

Feeling more presentable, she stepped out of his room and finally took in the personal space he lived in. Now that she wasn't preoccupied with unbuckling his belt, she realized how dark his apartment actually was.

There were stacks of books lined up on the walls and scattered papers laying around every corner. He clearly wasn't a clean freak. Although he did seem to dislike public spaces, and honestly she couldn't argue on that when her mind considered the sticky, sugary residue that coated the floorboards and every other surface of the bar.

His hushed voice sounded aggravating and she turned to find him standing in what looked like his kitchen, his back facing her. Not wanting to interrupt him, she decided to look around her surroundings, eying the few framed certificates hanging on one side of his walls. There were a lot of certified achievements he was definitely very proud of with his name glorified on each frame.

Dr. Spencer Reid.

His name was Spencer!

She let out a chuckle. She wasn't exactly good at remembering names. Hold on—doctor Spencer Reid?

Her eyes went wide. But before she could feed her curiosity, she heard footsteps coming closer behind. She quickly turned away and found him glaring at his phone as he strode into the room.

"Bad call?"

Spencer—it was nice to finally put a name on him—abruptly looked up. His eyes studied her in bewilderment as if realizing she was still there. Then his expression slightly softened as he threw his phone away on his couch. "Not really, it was a work thing."

She raised her eyebrows. "You still work this late?"

"I don't exactly have a scheduled working hour."

There were a lot of questions she wanted to ask. What kind of work did he have to be getting calls this late? Why was he inside that bar when he clearly looked like he didn't want to be there? Was he really a doctor? And why did he look so adorable with that frown across his face?

There was something strange and hollow in his eyes that she couldn't quite put on as his hand rubbed over the back of his neck. She could sense the awkwardness stretching between them and needed to fill in the silence.

"So..."

She let out an awkward laugh. He, on the other hand, started to fumble with his words as he suddenly spoke, "Did you know that awkward silence is the result of a disconnect between people?" She peered up at him with raised eyebrows. "When there is nothing to say, or maybe one person feels uncomfortable in a situation and doesn't know how to respond."

She blinked in confusion. But he wasn't finished.

"Statistically speaking, 80% of communication is nonverbal, whereas 20% is verbal. So in a way, silence can also communicate just as much information as speaking does. It is used to express anger, sadness, excitement, and other emotion. It can also create tension in a conversation or release it..." He trailed off before letting out a sigh. "I'm rambling, aren't I?"

"You most definitely are," she confirmed. "Where did that suddenly come from?"

He looked away as a blush crept on his cheeks. "I have an incredibly active imagination. It—uh, it leads to a tendency for me to ramble as my thoughts are constantly flowing."

"And you just know all these random facts?"

"I have an eidetic memory."

"You don’t say?" Her sarcasm was followed by eying the framed achievements plastered on his wall before glancing back at his confused face. She sighed. "Look, I'm not better at this than you are. Let's just... I don't know, thank each other? Say goodbye? Shake our hands?"

His eyes lit up as another piece of information filled his brain. "You know, the number of pathogens shared during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to..." He trailed off again and suddenly gulped, mentally kicking himself when he realized the fact he was about share. "...kiss."

She couldn't help the smirk twitching on her lips. "Is that so?"

He absentmindedly nodded as his eyes glanced toward her mouth. She instinctively took a step closer, noticing the tension in his body as he quickly looked away. This man had just flirted with her using an adorable magic trick, had his head between her thighs minutes ago, and reached an earth-shattering orgasm... yet he had the audacity to act all flustered.

She should probably leave. That was what he wanted moments ago, wasn't it? The words came out of his mouth the moment he checked his phone before jumping out of bed at lightning speed to dress his naked body. He needed to be somewhere. He had this somewhat confidential work he had to do.

Yet somehow he was warm and her hands were surprisingly very cold. The heat radiating from his body called out to her and without registering what she was about to do, she softly placed the palm of her hands on his chest.

She was internally screaming when she inhaled a sharp breath, his scent suddenly engulfing her senses. He smelled slightly sweet with a hint of spice; a woody, earthy musk that was mixed with his natural scent of sweat and hormones. She peered up into his eyes, traveling down to his cheekbones before they rested on his lips.

A riot of emotion burst inside her as she saw his tongue flicking out and holy shit—she just stared at him, completely, utterly enraptured.

Her focus was on his hot breath against her mouth, his lips a mere inches away from hers. He was so close she could practically hear the fast pace of his heartbeat. She could feel him everywhere, his hard body flushed against hers, his head moving closer to her and—

Then his damn phone started to ring again and all her senses went to alert. She quickly took a step back.

Now that was her cue to leave.

And it was a pity because whether she liked it or not, a part of her wanted to stay. But that was not an option. He wanted her to leave and she needed to do just that. She needed this to be a one-time thing.

Because there was never going to be another time. The moment she walked out the front door, they were back to being strangers. She would go back to her life and he would go back to his, probably back to his seemingly not-so-normal job with the way he described his working hours. Or the lack of it, anyway.

His phone stopped its ring and he shifted his weight from one foot to another. He was back to being awkward and she was back to being rational. Although her heart was beating fast and she was as flustered as he was, she didn't him to know what, especially when it seemed like he was about to kick her out again for the second time.

She was too busy oscillating between stunned, mortified, and turned on. She refused to blush. She refused to appear even an ounce embarrassed.

His phone rang again and he looked flustered about what to do. She helped him decide by grabbing her bag that was conveniently hanging by the door. "I should probably go."

She knew she was slightly disappointed, but she'd be damned if he knew the truth. Her mother used to describe her as a spiteful person ever since she was young. But then again, was it so wrong to feel that way? She figured she was just evening the misery out. If something was making her unhappy she felt it was her right to bring at least equal measures of unhappiness.

It seemed relatively immature, but she didn't feel like caring especially how her night had turned out. She took a deep breath and worked out her pettiness.

"Thank you for tonight... Stephen."

He suddenly tensed. "It's Spencer."

She studied the frown on his face. God, she was evil. She would probably regret this childish behavior of hers, although that was something she could deal with later. The very least she could do now was to give him a proper goodbye before she turned her back towards him for good.

"Well, good night, Spencer."

She wasn't sure he even remembered her name or whether he was just as petty as she was. It was more likely the latter considering he had an eidetic memory. "Good night."

She gave him a final nod. He answered by throwing her an awkward wave, a tight-lipped smile, and an even deeper frown as she slipped into the cold air.

>> NEXT PART

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencerreid #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x oc #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #fanfic #fanfic series #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x female reader #Right Kind of Wrong

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glorious-spoon · 7 months

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Thinking about the prompt "no, you’ll get an infection." since I just saw a gifset of our beloved firemen ripping open packages with their teeth. 😄

thank you! have a bit of established-relationship dorks on a very serious rescue mission.

"Buck," Eddie says, in the deeply patient tone that means he's refraining from adding, what the fuck is wrong with you. Buck's found that most people have a version of that tone, at least around him. Eddie doesn't employ his all that often; most of the time, Eddie is on board with pretty much anything Buck suggests. Digging around in storm drains for a missing stuffed animal is the limit, apparently.

"I've almost got it," Buck says, twisting slightly to wedge his shoulder against the grate. His fingers just brush the soggy synthetic fur of the small purple stuffed rabbit a few feet down.

"Isn't this how that kid lost his arm in that movie?"

He twists back to stare up at Eddie, who is backlit by the midday sun with the carnival spread out behind him. His hands are on his hips and his expression is half-amused, half-exasperated. "What?"

"Pennywise? Evil clown monster that lives in the sewers and eats children? It's based on a Stephen King novel."

"I repeat," Buck says. "What?"

"Right, I forgot that you don't watch anything other than nature documentaries and whatever Christopher adds to your Netflix queue."

"Bold words for a guy who's memorized every single telenovela from the past twenty years."

Eddie scoffs. "Come on. Who knows what's down there, you're not even wearing gloves, you're going to slice your hand open on some grimy piece of metal and get an infection."

"I'm being careful." Buck turns his head to squint down into the storm drain. It's too dark to see much of anything other than the faintly oily glimmer of water. There are cigarette butts and greasy fast food wrappers floating in it, and it doesn't smell great, but he's definitely dealt with grosser over the course of his career. Besides. He's so close. If he just stretches—

His fingers brush the rabbit's ear again. It topples over into the grimy water with a splash, and Buck swears under his breath. The toy is now half-submerged and several inches out of reach no matter how much he stretches.

"Buck," Eddie says again, softer. "Come on. It's just a stuffed animal."

"That Christopher won."

A sigh. "He's thirteen. I don't think this is going to break his heart, sweetheart."

Buck knows that this is probably objectively true. Chris was gleefully triumphant about winning at balloon darts even after Eddie grumbled about rigged games, but the stuffed rabbit itself seemed like an afterthought. He shoved it into Buck's hands with a quick grin before going off with his friends twenty minutes ago, and Buck is—stupid, probably, for the fact that this is sort of breaking his heart.

He hasn't thought about that giant stuffed bear that they won at the pier, the one that must have washed out to sea along with half of the Los Angeles coastline, in years. He doesn't even know if Christopher remembers it. He was little. And it wasn't exactly the most memorable part of the day. The little stuffed rabbit, which fits in the palm of Buck's hand—and incidentally, between the holes of a storm drain grate—makes a much more convenient souvenir. And it felt kind of—nice, having a sort of redo on that, even if Chris doesn't remember.

But Eddie's right. Short of trying to pry up the grate cover—which he could absolutely do, if he had a halligan handy—there's no way he's going to reach it. He sighs, resting his forehead on the metal frame, then wriggles his arm out of the grate and sits back on his heels, defeated. "Okay, fine. You win."

There's no response. When he turns around, Eddie is nowhere to be seen. Feeling more than a little put-out, Buck straightens up and looks around. It's not that crowded here, but there are enough passers-by that Buck's been getting a few strange looks, which he's been ignoring. The two streets to his left are closed-off for the carnival; to his right is a black-and-white parked across the median with a bored-looking beat cop directing traffic, and a couple of sanitation workers in hi-vis vests. Eddie is talking to one of them, but he glances back like he can tell Buck is watching him.

Buck spreads his hands in question, and Eddie holds up a finger, turning back toward the guy he was just talking to. Buck slumps, then sits down on the curb, staring forlornly at the storm drain.

A moment later, footsteps approach.

"Come on, stop pouting, scoot over," Eddie says as his shadow falls across Buck.

"I'm not pouting," Buck grumbles, but he scoots over.

"Sure you're not," Eddie says agreeably, sitting down next to him. "Here. You think this'll work?"

Buck blinks at him, then looks down at the trash picker Eddie is holding out to him, which has LA - DPW scrawled down one side in Sharpie. "Did you…"

"I mean, I had to give them a whole sob story, so you might as well try it," Eddie says, wrapping his hand around Buck's knee and jostling him gently. Buck takes the picker, then laughs, dropping his forehead to Eddie's shoulder.

"Sob story, huh?"

"Just saying. Probably more sanitary than trying to stick your bare hand down a storm drain."

"I love you," Buck tells him, and he feels Eddie's shoulder shake slightly with laughter before he straightens up.

"Love you too," he says. "Now come on, let's get started on this rescue operation. Though I think our patient is gonna need a thorough hose-down before we can transport him."

Buck snickers into Eddie's shirt. His eyes aren't wet, because that would be dumb. He rubs his cheek against the warm cotton anyway before lifting his head. "You're such a dork."

Eddie grins at him, ruffled and lovely in the afternoon sunlight. "Just trying to follow proper triage protocol here."

"Dork," Buck repeats, but he leans in to steal a brief kiss before they get the rescue operation underway.

#911 #buddie #buddie fic #eddie diaz #evan buckley #prompt fic #my fic

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lazycats-stuff · 1 year

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Bruce Wayne x male!reader

Another teacher oneshot! I want to write more, maybe about how the press found out.

Summary: Bruce and (Y/N) are together for a year now, without the press finding out. But one day that changes and press get the wind of it.

Warnings: Press being invasive, people saying that (Y/N) is cute, Bruce being protective.

(Y/N) smiled as he sat at the back of the manor, the side where there was just a clearing. watching boys running around, playing football. (Y/N) was wrapped in a blanket, due to the wind that was blowing, with a cup of hot chocolate in his hands. He wasn't a person to play sports, but he was more than happy to cheer them on.

He took a sip of his warm drink and looked at Alfred who sat down next to him.

" Do you need another blanket master (Y/N)? "

" No, Alfred thank you. And please just call me (Y/N), the title of a master makes me feel rich. "

Alfred simply nodded, but (Y/N) knew that Alfred would refer to him with the 'master' title. He shook his head in amusement and went back to look at his boyfriend. Bruce was wearing a grey shirt, that clung to him because of the sweat, but what made his mouth water were Bruce's muscles. Sure, it seems superficial, but he loved them. He felt safe wrapped in those arms, especially when Bruce got back from patrol.

" How about a break gentlemen? " Alfred yelled out, seeing how they were getting tired.

" Sure Alfred. " Bruce said, jogging towards his beloved. (Y/N) knew what Bruce's intention were.

" Bruce, I love you, but no kisses while you are sweaty. "

Bruce actually pouted, but complied. He took a sip of water, then glanced back at his boyfriend.

" Bruce, no. Shower first then you can kiss me. No ifs or buts. "

Bruce pouted once more, looking like a kicked puppy. The boys snickered at their father's reaction.

" Fine, you win. Guys, eat something. You wait here hun. "

Bruce left and the boys couldn't help but comment.

" You know (Y/N), I have never seen Bruce so whipped for somebody. And I have been with him the longest here. " Dick commented, smiling.

" I agree. Father is whipped for you. " Damian said, taking a sip of his water.

" I would say a simp. " Jason said.

Tim rolled his eyes at the name. (Y/N) simply hummed, fully aware of the meaning behind that word. He wanted to keep up with his students, so he took it upon himself to learn their slang. Urban dictionary was a good help.

" Tim, Jason is not really wrong. Bruce is always ready to take his credit card and simply buy me whatever I glanced at. I looked at Stephen King's book It. A simple glance. What I found the next day, in my room, with a rose and a note saying and I quote: ' Have a good day at work my darling. Your beloved Bruce. ' "

" I remember when you hid his wallet once, you were swamped with gits. I also remember, you said something about giving something for us before the Christmas break. You said something about like something small, like some candy and what not. " Damian remembered.

" And your father got me enough candy for the entire school. I don't think any of you realize how hard it is to explain to your coworkers how you could afford it. " (Y/N) snickered at the memory.

The boys chuckled quietly at that. But that sealed (Y/N)'s spot as the favorite teacher of the school.

" But you position as the best teacher in school was solified. " Dick added, sitting down on the chair.

" Really? " (Y/N), furrowing his eyebrows, looking at the boys as if they grew a second head. he was aware that the students liked him, he was a chill professor, but still wanted their best and always helped those who needed extra help... But he didn't think he was the best teacher there.

" Yup. We would never lie to you. " Jason said, taking a bite of the sandwich.

" I mean, you help us out with our assignments and you proofread them. " Jason said, cringing at the thought of his past assignments. Jesus Christ, how did he pass all of that?

" Don't cringe at the past assignments Jason, you came a long way. "

Jason wanted to say something, but smirked, looking behind (Y/N)'s shoulder.

" Okay, I showered, now there is no escape. " Bruce said, lifting (Y/N) up to sit him in his lap. (Y/N) yelped and bushed.

" My God Bruce, you are like a golden retriever and a cat mixed all in one. "

Bruce gave (Y/N) a kiss on the cheek and squeezed him a bit tighter. (Y/N) huffed, but leaned back on Bruce. He was so warm, ready to drift off.

(Y/N) sighed as he got into the faculty room. His coworkers were all acting as if they were teenagers.

" Okay, is anybody going to tell me what is going on or do I have to turn into Sherlock Holmes? " (Y/N) asked, not having a clue.

" Oh, just this. " JJ said, opening something on his phone. He handed (Y/N) the phone and he nearly died of shock. It was from a tabloid, revealing (Y/N)'s and Bruce's relationship to the world. There were pictures from their date recently... Bastards...

" Why didn't you tell us you started dating again? " Kaylee asked him, all happy for him.

(Y/N) was numb as he gave the phone back. He took a deep breath and excused himself from the room. He took his phone out and called Bruce. He went to a closet and waited for Bruce picked up.

" Hey hun, I know, I read it too. My PR team and I are working on it. I'm sorry. " Bruce apologized, feeling awful.

He can take the heat of the press, but (Y/N) can't. He was never in the spotlight and Bruce liked it. He wasn't ashamed of his lover, he wanted to show him off, but on (Y/N)'s terms. Not in the press'.

" It's not your fault Bruce, I should have known that this day would have come. "

" No, don't say that, you and I should have gone public on your accord. I can always leave earlier from work and pick you up. Do you need me to pick me up? "

(Y/N) smiled at Bruce's proposition.

" Pick me up at 3:30 then, I am substituting today. "

" Will do. Did your coworkers say anything about... Us? "

" Only good things B. "

" Okay. Somebody tries to do something, call me. Okay? "

" Okay Bruce. I love you. " (Y/N) said, smiling like an idiot.

" I love you too hun. "

(Y/N) hanged up and went back to the faculty room. He took a deep breath before entering. Everyone looked at him and JJ looked sad, regretful even.

" JJ, it's not your fault. I'm not mad, just shocked that the news got out. "

JJ nodded.

" Is he treating you well? "Kaylee asked.

" He is. "

" Good. He better. "

(Y/N) smiled.

" And we are not judging you based on your sexuality. " Tamara, the principal said, taking a cup of coffee.

" Anyone tries to, come to us. " Kaylee added.

(Y/N) nodded, taking a cup of warm coffee from JJ.

" So... When did this start? " JJ asked.

" A year and a half ago. " (Y/N) answered, sitting at the desk in the center of the room.

Kaylee smiled and gave him a side hug.

" I am happy for you. If my work bestie is happy, then so am I. But I want to meet him. He needs to know that if he hurts you, we will come after him. " Kaylee said, a dark look going through her eyes.

" Okay, lets not go there. " (Y/N) said.

" If you say so. "

And true to his word, Bruce picked him up at 3:30 exactly. And with the press, who were there watching taking photos and trying to get their attention.

Bruce was leaning on the front of his car, ignoring the press, simply waiting for his boyfriend to come out.

And once he did, he lit up. He stood up, fixed his posture and when (Y/N) was close, he brought him into a hug. (Y/N) didn't mind at all, but they need talk about the press.

" I know, lets go home. " Bruce said, as if he read his mind, pulling away and opening the door for his boyfriend.

And once they were home, they could relax. Well, everyone expect (Y/N). He was stressed out now.

" Hun? Are you okay? " Bruce asked, gently taking him into his arms on the sofa.

" I'm just... Really stressed... And tired. " (Y/N) replied, leaning back into Bruce, tracing random patterns on his forearm.

" I know, I'm sorry. "

" Bruce, it's not your fault. It's theirs. They have no concept of privacy... Bastards. " (Y/N) muttered.

" Hey guys, I will be quick, you are trending on Twitter. Bruce for being with a man and (Y/N) for... " Dick trailed off, not knowing how to finish his sentence.

" For what Dick? " Bruce asked, anger and possessiveness clawing at his chest. He brought (Y/N) closer, nuzzling the crook of his neck.

" For his looks. People are saying that he is cute, hot, adorable... Nothing bad for now. "

Bruce hummed, a bit shocked, knowing how people are judgmental, so the positivity shocked him. Not the fact that (Y/N) is hot, adorable.

" Really? " (Y/N) asked, brows furrowing.

" Yes. Just wanted to let you know. They are saying that you two look adorable. " Dick said, leaving the room. He needs to finish his homework before patrol.

" Huh. " (Y/N) said, after a minute.

" A good huh, or... "

" A good one. "

Bruce sighed in relief. Okay. This is good.

" Would you like me to make a statement? " Bruce asked his lover, giving him a gentle kiss on the back of (Y/N)'s neck.

" Over what? "

" I don't know. Maybe post a picture of us or you, and write something. Or just write a Tweet, but that won't do any justice. "

" So Instagram? "

" I have a great picture of you. And you will be involved in writing it. I need an English major for this. "

" You got it Bruce. "

And they did just that. Bruce posted what he considered to be a beautiful photo of (Y/N), the one where he was laughing at something, on the sofa.

And in the caption:

' I have always said to the press, leave my loved ones out your headlines. That includes my children and now (Y/N). What the press did was beyond despicable, a complete invasion of privacy of someone who didn't want to be in the spotlight. And I am warning the paparazzies right now. Just like I said before, my kids and (Y/N) are off limits. I am not afraid to use force to protect the people I love. (Y/N), alongside my children are not to be followed around school. I will be dragging you and your companies to court if you do. And I'm not someone you want to get caught with in a legal battle. '

#bruce wayne x male reader #dc x male reader #dc comics #batman x male reader

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toboldlygohome · 3 months

Text

Oblivious

Leonard McCoy x Reader

Summary: You are oblivious to all of Leonard's attempts to flirt and all of your friends think it's hilarious.

Character(s): Leonard "Bones" McCoy, James "Jim" Kirk, Spock, Nyota Uhura, Pavel Chekov, Hikaru Sulu

Warning(s): Slightly cringe attempts at flirting, Painfully oblivious reader, Stephen King references

Leonard was finally ready to move on. The divorce had left him with wounds he wasn't sure he could heal from. He hadn't been interested in dating for years afterward. But for the first time since then, someone had caught his attention.

You were the new head of Archaeology aboard the enterprise. You had been transferred from the USS Celine to assist in the 5 year mission. To say you were new wouldn't be exactly correct, you had been on board for about 6 months already. You had taken to the position well and were already good friends with everyone in your unit, as well as all of the bridge and command personnel.

Leonard knew he liked you the moment you met. You had a firm handshake, a killer smile, and when Captain Kirk asked if you were single, you told him it wasn't his business. Jim's stunned face when you shook his hand and walked away was priceless.

Of course there were far more reasons to admire you other than your ability to take the captain down a peg. You were incredible at your job, finding ancient ruins in the most unlikely of places. You were like a dog when it came to fossils, sniffing them out almost as soon as you landed on alien soil. You were smart and always ready to answer questions. You were also highly tolerant of people's mistakes, something that was slowly rubbing off on him. When you were around, Leonard found he had more patience for stupidity and everyone else noticed as well.

You were kind, you were a great listener, you were hilarious, you were dependable, considerate, honest, cheerful, and you could always be counted upon for some witty banter. Not to mention you were the most beautiful person Bones had ever seen in his life.

That's not to say you didn't have your downfalls too, everyone does after all. You were self deprecating, a little easily distracted, and of course you were the most painfully oblivious person in the universe.

~~~

It all started one morning at breakfast. You were sitting in the cafeteria with Jim, Nyota, and Spock.

Leonard had made his decision the previous night while drinking with Jim. Bones wanted to pursue a relationship with you, but he wasn't going to just tell you point blank. He wanted to gauge your interest before taking that leap of faith.

"Mornin'" Leonard said as he sat down beside you. "Jim, you look terrible."

Jim, who was still hung over from the night before, frowned at the doctor. "Gee, thanks. I had no idea."

"You're welcome. Now Y/N on the other hand, you look great this morning," Bones smirked. Jim and Nyota immediately perked up, clearly not expecting him to be so forward (especially not this early in the morning.)

"Thanks Doc," You smiled at him and returned your attention to your oatmeal.

"What's your secret?" Asked Bones upon deciding that your smile was a good sign.

"My secret?" You raised an eyebrow.

"To looking so good every morning," he clarified. Nyota and Jim looked at each other incredulously.

"Ummmm," You thought out loud. "Get good sleep, take your vitamins, and don't get wasted at two in the morning." You patted Jim's shoulder and stood up with your empty bowl. "I better get to the lab, see you guys later!" You grinned.

Everyone bid you a good morning before gawking at Leonard, amusement etched on their faces. "What's your secret? Did you seriously ask 'what's your secret?'"Jim cackled.

"Leonard, you seriously need to up your flirting game." Uhura barely stifled a giggle.

"I know it's been awhile doc but seriously, that was terrible! And I've heard Spock's attempts at flirting," Kirk snickered.

"It wasn't that bad, y'all are acting like I'm some cretin who stole their oatmeal and called it flirting. I called them attractive, get off my back." Leonard rolled his eyes.

"No, you said they looked good. That could be interpreted in, so many ways. As far as flirting goes, that was pretty pathetic." Nyota said.

"I would have to agree doctor, perhaps you could take instruction from the captain or even-" Spock started.

"Shut up and eat your breakfast," Leonard snapped, causing another fit of giggles around him.

Bones sat there, glaring into his eggs, trying to figure out where he went wrong. The more he thought about it, the more likely it seemed that Uhura was right. You didn't realize he meant it in a romantic way. Maybe he was more out of practice than he thought. He was just going to have to give it another shot. Practice makes perfect after all.

~~~

The next day, Leonard tried a different approach. Coffee mug in hand, he made his way to your office only to find it empty. He looked all over the labs, nowhere to be seen. It wasn't until made it up to the bridge that he found you deep in a discussion about landing sites for an upcoming mission.

Your head perked up when you saw the doctor come in from the turbolift. "Ahoy, McCoy! We missed you at breakfast this morning." you smiled as he came to stand beside you.

"Sorry darlin', had some gamma shift engineers to patch up." Bones casually passed the mug over to you. "Made you some coffee."

"Really? for me?" You peered into the cup and beamed, "thank you doctor, it's just how I like it!" Jim gave Leonard a subtle thumbs up while you sipped your drink.

Leonard had a good feeling this time. You were happy with the gesture and even Kirk seemed impressed. It felt like a good first step, until-

"First Chekov brings me a croissant, then McCoy brings me a coffee. I'm so lucky to have such great friends. Thank you guys!" You smiled at the two men.

"You are very welcome!" Pavel grinned.

Leonard's mood plummeted almost instantly. While he was glad you got to enjoy a croissant and a coffee, Chekov's untimely generosity made his romantic gesture seem more like a friendly one. He was going to have to go back to the drawing board.

You turned to the captain, cradling your warm cup in your hand. "Is there anything else you need of me Captain?"

"No Commander, I believe you've answered all my questions," Jim said.

"Wonderful! If anyone needs me, I'll be in the lab trying to decode some ancient texts," you took another sip of your coffee before strolling back to the turbolift.

Once you were out of sight, Jim patted Leonard on the arm. Sulu and Chekov were trying their damnedest not to laugh, and failing miserably of course.

Leonard furrowed his brows at the two of them before looking back at Jim's cheeky grin.

"You told them?" Leonard scowled.

"Told them what?" Jim laughed.

"About..." Leonard rolled his eyes and gestured to the turbolift.

"The only ones I told were Uhura and Spock," Jim assured.

"He didn't need to tell us anything, It's written all over your face Dr. McCoy," Sulu said.

"Yes, you get all red in the cheeks and you have this look in your eyes like you've seen the sun for the first time. It is very obvious you are vying for the Commander's attention," Chekov agreed.

"If I'm so obvious, why isn't Y/N picking up on it?" Leonard crossed his arms.

"Maybe you need a new approach, try... I don't know, making up new excuses to spend time with them. Or maybe you could try touching them," Jim suggested.

"Touching them?"

"Yeah, nothing inappropriate or anything. Just little things, like pats on the back, nudging their shoulder. Stuff like that. Might show Y/N you're interested without having to use the words, you know?"

"I don't know Jim..."

"Look, you're a doctor right?"

"I hope that'd be pretty goddamned obvious by now," Leonard glowered and put his hands on his hips.

"And as a doctor, you have a pretty good gauge on if someone's uncomfortable right?" Jim asked, "just try it and if you get the sense they're uncomfortable, just stop doing it. Easy as that."

"Why do I get the feeling it's not going to be as 'easy as that?'" The doctor shook his head.

"Because you are an incorrigible pessimist, Bones." Jim patted his shoulder.

"I'm done here, some of us actually have work to do," Leonard grumbled and trudged to the turbolift.

"All work and no play makes McCoy a dull boy," Kirk beamed.

"Quote Stephen King to me one more time. See what happens." Bones said as the doors closed. Alone in the elevator, he allowed himself to think about where to go from here. Perhaps Jim's ideas weren't so terrible. He rather liked the idea of spending more time with you. He usually talked with you during mealtimes and meetings, but not much outside of that. The touching is what was making him nervous.

He came into contact with people all the time, being a doctor was a very hands-on profession. He just didn't have Jim's level of confidence anymore. It felt ridiculous, he could stitch a man's thumb back to his hand and deliver an infant in the middle of a battle, but he couldn't touch your shoulder? Maybe he'd just skip that step for now. Quality time, that seemed like as good of a direction as any.

~~~

He continued bringing you coffee every day, It gave him more time to get to know you and Leonard was falling harder by the minute. He hadn't really looked forward to anything in a long time, but he looked forward to your coffee talks. Unfortunately, it wasn't enough anymore. The chats weren't long enough and you still weren't catching on to his feelings.

It had been a particularly stressful day, it felt like everyone needed something from him and he was in desperate need of a break. The moment things got quiet in the medbay, Leonard snuck away and his feet carried him to the archaeology labs.

It was quiet inside. A few ensigns were at work in their stations, putting together fossilized bones and carbon-dating old tools. Leonard found you in the back of the lab where you were busy decoding some old scrolls. Learning to understand a lost language was no easy task; Leonard couldn't fathom the amount of reading it would take to accomplish such a thing. Still, you seemed ready to take on anything the Captain dished out.

"Commander, I see you're hard at work," Bones smiled and came to stand beside you.

"I see you're not!" You joked and looked up at him from your seat. "What brings you to my neck of the woods doctor? Did I forget about an appointment?"

"Not at all, I was just taking a break and wanted to see how you were doing," he said, hoping you would understand what he was trying to say: that he was thinking of you and wanted to see you out of everyone else on the Enterprise.

"Well I'm really glad you're here Len, because I've just made a breakthrough!" You beamed. "Take a look at this," you motioned for him to look closer.

Leonard leaned in to look at your scroll. "So, you know how I found these papers in a box under the Mofeli excavation right?"

"Mhm, you insisted there must be a basement and you found one," Bones hummed.

"I originally thought the site was a business, that these papers must be some sort of documentation. You know, like land deeds, proof of insurance, perhaps even money. Basically stuff you would usually keep in a lock box, but these aren't ledgers or inventory slips or anything like that at all."

"What are they?" He turned to look at you.

You met his gaze and gave him a grin that could melt the ice caps and outshine Sirius. "They're love letters," you said and his heart hammered his chest painfully. He was only just now realizing how close he was to you. How his hand was resting on your back, how his face was mere inches from yours.

"See, if you look here you'll find this symbol all over the place in these letters. It's the symbol meaning love or lover. I've completed the translation on this one right here." You returned your attention to the paper. Leonard swallowed and glanced at the sheet, trying his damnedest not to stare like some creep.

"What, um... what does it say?" He cleared his throat.

"It says, and I'm paraphrasing here, 'My dearest love, I find words elude me. My heart blossoms for you under the light of the sun and keeps me warm when the light fades. I find not the courage to speak, but many a whim to write. I desire your embrace. I seek your song. I crave your hand. I covet your blazing eyes. One day I-' This part is all faded so I can't make it out, but the last thing it says here at the bottom is 'May our hearts and bodies be intertwined for eternity, and our souls may sing together as one.' Then there's what I assume to be a name at the bottom, but I'm not sure how to pronounce it."

"It all sounds a little sappy to me," Leonard joked in a slightly strained voice. This whole thing with the closeness and the touching and the letter was really affecting him. If you noticed his struggle, you gave no indication, In fact, you seemed perfectly at ease being this close to him.

"Hey, a little sap never hurt anybody," you elbowed him lightly in the side.

"Croakus sap can."

"Touché"

Leonard chucked softly and lightly patted your back before crossing his arms casually over his chest Your easy conversation was already helping him relax again. "so, Commander, you've been down here in your lab for an awfully long time. What do you say we go for a walk to the observation lounge?"

"Sorry doctor, I would but somebody's got to make sure the ensigns don't blow the place up. That, and Spock wants me to finish three more translations by the end of my shift," you explained.

"Of course he does," Leonard huffed.

"But I'm free this evening if that works for you?" You tilted your head.

"Of course, absolutely." Leonard had no idea if that was going to work for him, but he was going to make it work.

"Great, I'll see you then," you said with a surprising amount of enthusiasm.

"See you then. Don't work too hard," he smiled and left you to your translating.

Bones was pleased with himself. He had managed to follow Jim's suggestions and they appeared to work. He'd even managed to secure a date with you later that evening...Well...he hadn't actually called it a date when he suggested it. No matter, Leonard would just clarify all that the next time he saw you!

~~~

He never got to make the distinction that your walk was intended to be a date. You had brought a friend with you. Leonard could feel the fear in your ensign companion's eyes. Bones was sure everyone on the goddamned ship knew what he was trying to do but you. It was still a nice night despite the unwanted guest. He learned a lot about where you grew up, your interests, and your favorite films and music. He learned your favorite flower was the iris, your first job was a librarian, he even learned you were in a band during your time at the academy.

The more he learned, the more he liked you. He wasn't even sure if liked was the right word anymore. You had quite a few things in common. Your favorite foods, you liked the same movies, and you enjoyed the same music. You asked him questions that got him really thinking. They were the sort of topics you don't realize you have an opinion on until you start talking about them. But what surprised him most of all was when you asked about his daughter. What sort of interests does she have? How is she doing in school? I wonder if she would like X,Y, and Z. He was always hesitant to talk about Joanna or his ex, but it felt easier with you. Like that wound he had been carrying for so long was finally closing.

Your friendship progressed beautifully, but he felt like you were growing more and more blind to his advances. He had seen you turn plenty of people down before. If you weren't interested in someone, you made it abundantly clear. But you had yet to do the same with Bones. It wasn't just him: Jim, Nyota, Pavel, Scotty, Hikaru, and pretty much everyone else who knew you were puzzled as well. Even Spock couldn't understand how you were so incognizant. It was funny for them at first. They would laugh at every compliment you didn't register, every smile you didn't realize had meaning, every coffee, every walk to the deck, every deep conversation, every breath of relief when you come back from a mission. He was even so bold as to tell you in no uncertain terms that he'd do anything to make you smile.

The laughter turned into looks of pity. Leonard was about ready to give up. Maybe you weren't interested and you just wanted to let him down easy, you were good friends after all. Bones sat at the bar as Jim poured him another glass. Normally he was the one playing bartender, but Jim insisted he take over.

"I gotta say Bones, I really hate seeing you like this." Jim poured himself a drink too. "How did lunch go?"

"I told them they have beautiful eyes." Leonard sighed and shook his head.

"And?" The Captain probed.

"They said 'if only they worked as well as they look,'" Bones groaned.

"Ah..." Jim stared into his drink. He tried to put himself into Leonard's shoes. What would he do if he were in this situation?

"I don't know what I'm doing wrong..." McCoy muttered.

"You aren't doing anything wrong, Y/N just-" Jim started.

"It's something I'm doing, it has to be. Maybe this is a mistake."

"No, Bones it's not a mistake. That couldn't be farther from the truth."

"And how would you know? It's not like you have any problems finding dates," Leonard rolled his eyes.

"Seems like Y/N's not the only one who's oblivious," Kirk chuckled.

"I'm not in the mood for jokes Jim." Leonard took a sip of his whiskey and ran a hand over his face.

"Believe me Bones, I wish it were a joke. There's just no way the two most unaware people are head over heels for each other. I'm waiting for the punch line" James smirked.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Bones scowled.

"Look, just... we have shore leave coming up in a few weeks. Ask them on a date. Like really ask them. Be frank, be clear, make sure there is no way Y/N can misunderstand you. Trust me," Jim squeezed Leonard's shoulder.

"Fine. But if this goes south, you owe me as many drinks as it takes to forget this whole debacle." The doctor downed the last of his glass.

"Bones if this goes south, I'll eat my hat."

"You don't have a hat."

"Point still stands. It'll work, you just have to have a little faith. And lucky for you, I have enough faith for the both of us." Jim winked.

Leonard wished he had Jim's enthusiasm. Officious little prick, he thought to himself...Dammit, now I'm quoting Stephen King.

~~~

Shore leave was just around the corner and Leonard was no closer to his goal of asking you on a date. Everyone was running around, trying to prepare the ship for inspection, he still had his normal duties to attend to, neither of you had time for coffee all week, Spock was being especially nitpicky about protocol, and he was anxious about what you'd say when he eventually got around to asking the million dollar question.

Yeah, Leonard was about ready to lose his marbles.

He was prepping the supply storage units, when Spock strolled in for the tenth time that day.

"Dr. McCoy," Spock greeted, startling Bones to the point that he nearly dropped his box of gauze.

"My god man, what the hell do you need this time?" Leonard implored, "don't you have anything better to do with your day than pester me?"

"Indeed I do, doctor" Spock replied.

Leonard huffed and sat down his box, "then what is it, did you miss my face or something?"

"I saw your face only moments ago, I have no need to miss-"

"It was a joke Spock, what do you want?" Leonard pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I came to inform you that I saw Commander Y/L/N coming in this direction." Spock stated.

Leonard raised an eyebrow, "and?"

"It is my understanding you are anxious to speak with them regarding your-" Spock started.

"Your understanding is correct, I just..." Leonard sighed and shook his head.

"Would it help if I told you the odds that they will say yes?" Spock asked.

"Never tell me the odds Spock," Leonard grumbled.

"Then I will simply say, good luck." Spock turned and left again, leaving Bones to decide if he was ready for this. He didn't have time for a decision, because there you were in the doorway with two mugs in your hands.

"Hey, stranger," You laughed. "Looks like I got here just in time, you look like you need some." You handed over the cup and Leonard took it gratefully.

"Thanks," Leonard offered you a smile and took a sip from his mug. It was just how he liked it, right down to the temperature. Together, they retreated to the safety of his office. Once inside, they fell into their usual conversation. He waited until things got quiet, then he decided to go for it.

"So, got any plans for shore leave?" Leonard asked, leaning back in his chair in an effort to appear more at ease.

"No, not really. Maybe I'll visit with a couple friends, catch up on sleep. How about you? got any exciting plans?" You leaned in, resting your chin on your hand.

"Not yet," he admitted. "But I'm hoping to make some."

"Oh? You got someone special in mind?" You hummed.

"Someone incredibly special, yeah." Leonard smiled. So far, so good.

"Oh, well I hope it goes well." You shifted awkwardly in your seat.

"Me too..." Leonard agreed. You both didn't speak for a moment, the distant hum of the warp core did little to tame the silence.

"Hey Y/N... I was thinking maybe we could go to that restaurant you like, you know the one with the really good Chicken Parmesan you're always talking about." He mused, "what do you think?"

"I, um... I think they'd like it" The smile you gave him looked...sad?

"What are you talking about? Who'd like it?" Leonard couldn't possibly be more confused.

"Your special someone?" It was your turn to look confused.

You've got to be kidding me

"I'm talking about you darlin', do you want to go to that restaurant with me, just us, nobody else. You and me. Together." Leonard clarified, meeting your gaze.

You looked positively flabbergasted. He couldn't possibly mean what he was saying, right? There was no way Leonard wanted to... I mean, he was way too good for you! You had been trying for months to get his attention, to no avail. This must be a dream. You're going to wake up any minute.

"Darlin'?"

"I, uh...what?" You blinked out of your daze.

"Dammit Y/N, I'm trying to ask you out on a date!" Bones ran a hand through his hair, exasperation evident in his tone.

"Really? Me?" You asked hopefully.

"Yes!" He replied "Look, it's okay if you don't w-" You suddenly burst into laughter and all the words died on his lips. "What's so funny?"

"Oh, I'm sorry! It's just-" You giggled, "I actually came here to do the same thing..." You said sheepishly as you dug into your pocket "I, um... I got us tickets to see your favorite band. Figured if you said no, you could just take Jim instead." You handed the tickets over to him.

Leonard stared at the tickets in his hand, shock written all over his face. "Sweetheart, are you telling me we've both been dancing around each other for months, when we could have been doing stuff like this the whole time?"

"Seems that way, yes."

Leonard smiled and shook his head. "We're not very good at this, are we?"

"Not at all," You laughed. "Ahoy McCoy? What was I thinking?"

"Points for creativity darlin'," Bones chuckled. He almost couldn't believe things had turned out so perfectly. But in his experience, coincidence didn't exist. "Jim knew, didn't he?"

"He was actually the one who pushed me to come here," you admitted.

"Same. The bastard told me you'd say yes... Guess this was one of the few times I should have trusted him." Leonard concurred.

"So... What now, doctor?" You leaned a little closer. How had he never noticed your eyes before. He knew they were beautiful of course, but the way they were looking at him now made him weak in the knees. Had you always looked at him like that?

"Well, for now we're going to finish up our shifts, wouldn't want anyone to think we're slackers. But later, we're going to meet at the recreation room for a drink, possibly a game of darts. Then we'll see where the night takes us," McCoy smirked.

"How romantic, I can hardly wait for you to sweep me off my feet, they're killing me from all this running around, you know?~" You mused, resting your chin on your palm.

"Now you listen here darlin'. I'm a doctor, not a broom." Bones couldn't hide his amusement when you rolled your eyes at him.

"Well, what if I sweep you off your feet then?"

"You'll have to be careful, you might drop me and we could end up tangled in a whole mess of limbs."

"Oh, I'm counting on it.~" You teased.

Leonard swallowed hard and hid his bashfulness with a sip of his coffee, "Well in that case, sweep away."

You laughed again and McCoy was sure he had never heard a more beautiful sound in his life. He could see a future with you then. He wanted to sweep you off your feet, kiss you until you were breathless, share coffee with you early in the morning, and swap stories until late in the night. He wanted to introduce you to his daughter.

Baby steps.

"I hate to cut this short doctor, but I left the ensigns alone for too long, I'm worried there will be no lab to return to. I'll see you tonight?" You asked, fidgeting nervously with cuffs of your sleeves.

"Don't worry sweetheart, I'm not going to change my mind." Leonard smirked.

You blushed and smiled in relief, "good! Great!" You stood, grabbed your mug, and sauntered happily to the door. You paused just a moment and looked back at Bones sweetly. "See you later, handsome."

"See you later Y/N," replied Leonard. You gave him a cute little wave before hurrying back to the labs.

Once he was alone again in his office, Bones leaned back in his seat and admired the tickets on the desk. He almost couldn't believe how thoughtful you were, but this wouldn't be the first time you gave him an incredible gift. A couple months after you met, Bones had mentioned offhandedly that he missed a particular brand of whiskey from Earth. Despite being light years away, you managed to find some and give it to him. It wasn't even a special occasion, you got it just to make him happy. Leonard supposed he should have realized your feelings for him right then and there. Damn. He really was oblivious.

McCoy wanted to give you something tonight- no, he needed to give you something tonight. Something sweet, something romantic, something that says: 'you're special to me and I need to show it to you because I'm terrible with words'. But where was he going to find something like that on a starship? The botany labs. Flowers make for a great gift on a first date! Maybe if he was lucky, they would have irises growing down there. So what if bouquets are a little sappy?

A little sap never hurt anybody after all.

#bones #bones x reader #leonard mccoy #leonard mccoy x reader #star trek #star trek fanfiction #star trek x reader #x reader #mccoy/reader #bones mccoy #oblivious #mccoy x oblivious reader #mutual pining

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boop-le-snoot · 2 years

Text

🔹masterlist🔹

dazed & confused

wanted a woman, never bargained for you // lotsa people talking, few of them know // soul of a woman was created below (i like it)

sorry this took so long, i got horny multiple times while writing this & had to seek jesus (couldn't find him)

most smut fics are love letters, this? this is hate mail. to stephen strange, specifically. consider this my honest attempt at enemies to lovers. pushing my three favourite agendas: doctor stephen strange, pasta and led zeppelin.

spotify link to the recommended record to play.

warnings: enemies to lovers, trust issues, overthinking/insecure!reader, 18+: face-sitting/riding, dirty talk, stephen's whore mouth, pet names, hitting it from the back sorcerer style, some light bondage, creampie, just filth, okay? softdom!stephen that knows you can be a good girl if you put a little effort into it. brat taming, maybe? word count 8.5k

"Open up. Open wide," Stephen's stern voice instructed, rolling over you in a wave of exasperation.

You hummed to convey your indignation but relented, parting your lips until the bones of your jaw creaked and the muscles in your cheeks grew taut. Saliva gathered at the back of your throat, tickling it, as you concentrated on not swallowing. Some of it spilled into the corners of your mouth; any other time, you would be mortified as droplets of it slid down your cheek, with Dr. Strange so close to your face that subtle whiffs of his cologne were beginning to reach your nose.

It twitched. So did Stephen's lips.

You could sense the snarky remark bubbling up to the surface of his throat before he even made a sound.

"Be. Still."

I AM TRYING! You attempted to convey, humming angrily and rolling your eyes.

Stephen kept eyeing the runes burnt into the sides of your cheeks and the roof of your mouth all the while his hands kept up a rapid pace, their glow casting a theatre of shadows on his angular face. His cheekbones popped. The treacherous, red curve of his mouth was tense, chapped lips pursed, silver hairs gleaming in his beard that adorns his Cupid's bow.

As your eyes adapted focus, you noticed the large amount of discoloration. It was like Stephen glittered in the golden shine of his spellwork; as it exploded into trillions of little sparks, they set his entire face alight. Like the sun itself had split into opaque gemstones to adorn him.

You forced your eyes to focus on a crack in the ceiling, letting your breath slowly, shakily exit through your nose.

Stephen Strange was a beautiful bastard.

You've told him so - patronisingly, of course, as part of the frequent verbal stand-offs you two had. It was a tale as old as the world: he'd play the superior card, you'd quietly roll your eyes and continue to do your thing - Stephen would annoy you until you were forced to acknowledge him; you, being no blushing maiden, spared him not from the sharpness of your tongue and your wit.

Still, you were glad he wasn't reckless enough for his ego to get in the way of saving people's lives. Most of the time, at least. If you were forced to pair up, there was a reasonable truce until the immediate threat was removed from this universe. The banter during clean-up, you could deal with. It was fun sometimes, even, Stephen's short fuse making him an easy target to unload some pent up frustration onto.

Worstie, a word of the slang variety, snuck into your head as you contemplated the sickly-beige paint on the ceiling. A quick amused chuff escaped you, causing Stephen's focused face to turn down.

"Are you seriously laughing right now? Most of your mucosa is covered in second degree burns."

It was the accusative amusement that had you reeling, internally of course. You briefly set your eyes back on his, making sure he knew your spirits remained as high as ever.

Strange offered a noise of his own. The corners of his mouth upturned again.

"You know, I find you more agreeable this way. Finally, some peace and quiet around here," he remarked conversationally, placing a large, cool, glowing palm over you throat that immediately soothed any lingering discomfort from the enemy's spell. "You could even pass as cute when you're not talking." Evidently, he was enjoying your temporary shift in dynamics.

Temporary, it's only temporary, you told yourself, keeping your breathing even as Stephen obviously tried to make his best of the situation and get a rise out of you. The realization of him being able to win, proverbially speaking, only when you were incapacitated, filled you with no small joy.

"... but that's the good news," he picked up. "The bad news is that I can fix this, but it is going to hurt. A lot."

"Zo it," you rasped, feeling your mucous membranes crack and bleed simply from uttering two garbled syllables.

The sorcerer's pointed look lingered on your face, uncomfortably close and soundlessly loud. His fingers twitched along your jawline.

"Alright," he nodded, to himself, and withdrew to perform a set of complicated hand gestures over your prone form.

It burned, worse than the wretched curse itself. The skin was peeling off you, quite literally this time, taking the runic markings with it, cleansing your vessel with fresh blood. The urge to gag was overwhelming as iron and copper flooded your mouth, dribbling crimson down the corners of your mouth. Your hands clutched at the sides of the chair until your knuckles lost all color; round, fat teardrops slid down your cheeks as your chest heaved.

Stephen observed you with a clinical eye, blinking rapidly as the spell lit up for the final time before dissolving in on itself and taking most of the pain with it. You could breathe again, even if the cool air in the room felt like ice directly over the burns. Sharp and stinging.

"Fanks," you rasped, testing out your vocal capabilities and pain levels, both of which you found bearable.

"Alas, peace never lasts long," the corners of Stephen's mouth returned to their usual, condescending position.

His hands found their frivolous way back to your face, holding it in place as sharp eyes examined the tender inside of your mouth. A long, slender finger reached out for the corner of your eye, wiping a stray tear away from your fluttering lashes, followed by his thumb diligently flicking off the blood at the crest of your lips.

If you wouldn't know any better, you'd think the touch was caring. Tender, even, as the sorcerer's oh so earnest stormy blues traced the fine lines of your face. But you did - know better. It was humiliating, being treated for your boo-boos like a moody child.

You closed your mouth, hands immediately flying to massage the sore, tense muscles of your jaw.

Stephen withdrew his fingers rapidly, clasping them over his stomach.

"Wong took care of the stragglers?" You murmured, carefully enunciating your words. Chit-chatting was going to be out of the question for the next couple of days.

"As always," Stephen's reply was curt, his eyes cast on the wall.

"I guess I'll go sleep it off then," you conceded, spying the clock, its arms showing a little past midnight. Why couldn't the bad guys pick a better time of the day to execute their nefarious, stupid plans?

"That would be best," the sorcerer shuffled in place before clearing his throat. "Doctor's orders."

The tongue-in-cheek remark had you obstinately emit a scratchy laugh. Insufferable, as always, no stress or tragedy could put this man out of his saucy commentary.

You voiced your thoughts on the topic. "Cheeky bastard!"

With a shake of your head, you conjured up a portal directly to your bedroom, stepping into it and lifting up an arm to say goodbye as it closed up behind you, totally missing the long, tired sigh coming from the tall man.

Your apartment greeted you cold; a beeline for the shower and clothes thrown carelessly onto the ground, the smell of French vanilla and sandalwood from your favourite candles - their flames danced, casting moving shadows over the walls. As you paused to remove the last layers of sweat-soaked fabric, the angular obscurities caught your eye, freezing you in your tracks.

Some sorcerers found shadows jarring - it was the reason for the Sanctum's skyrocketing electricity bills - the moving, dancing spots reminded the dimension wanderers of places better left unseen. And you jumped, too, at first, but then a brief memory crossed your mind.

Stephen's sharp features. The way that light, any light, drew immediate attention to his sculpted bone structure and straight, regal nose. When he had leaned over you, as close to share a breath, you traced the smile lines on his skin, the odd scar over his lip. He was sharp, as in mind, so in body. Even the hair he so meticulously styled (must've taken all morning) was divaricate in it's curve.

Under the hot, soothing spray of water, in the privacy of your shower, you allowed yourself to entertain thoughts that usually were kept at bay. Images of Stephen shirtless, dripping with the blood of your shared enemies; chest heaving and strong, defined muscles of his back tense. The way clear sweat rolled down the groves along his spine just to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants that slouched low on his hips.

"Fuck," you muttered, sticking your flaming face right beneath the spray. The droplets bounced off it as you held your breath.

An arduous pull, deep and low in your belly, the kind that rode on the tailwind of an adrenaline rush, had quickly blossomed into a heaviness that sat like a two-tonne blunder, immovable and annoying. Only pure spite and the rumbling of your stomach gave you the willpower to push the knob, turn the water off and throw on some sweatpants to depart for your kitchen.

Briefly flicking through a take-out app, you abandoned the idea of ordering food at this ungodly hour, deciding to throw together some ingredients for a quick and delicious pasta.

Thoughts of Stephen still lingered on your mind, stubborn as the man himself. You didn't want to give into the feelings, completely unwilling to admit the man had somehow found a way under your skin. He still had regular coffee dates with his ex, for fuck's sake! You deserved better than someone's leftovers.

As you felt yourself begin to think in circles, your hands groped for your phone again, connecting it to the Bluetooth speaker and turning it up to highest acceptable volume in the dead of the night. Sultry guitar, intermingled with god-tier vocals, was exactly what you needed to silence your inner turmoil.

Hand busy with cutting and chopping, your legs swayed your tired body to the rhythm as it partook in the mindless task.

One song blended into another as your peace was suddenly disturbed by the sound of your doorbell ringing. Startled, you waited for the shrill noise to repeat itself; it did, more insistent the second time.

Ashamed, you turned down the music somewhat, hastily rushing to the door with a polite smile glued to your face and apologies ready to go. As quietly as you could, you cracked the door open.

"Hi," Stephen was leaning on the wall next to your door, forearm raised. "Took you a while."

"Don't tell me there's another emergency," the smile slid off your face to be replaced by surprise at the choice of his attire.

The ever-present Cloak of Levitation was draped over a baby blue hoodie with a Columbia logo on it. Stephen's sweatpants looked soft and worn and the brand name tennis shoes screamed "upper class middle-aged man". You've seen him in jeans in cardigans, sure, but like this? He looked like he'd just rolled out of bed.

"Sort of," he looked over your shoulder, eyes darting over the items in your apartment. "Wong forgot to renew protective wards. The Sanctum is snowed in. I've got some apprentices rounding up the penguins as we speak," at least he had the decency to look sheepish.

"Penguins?" You wondered, lips twitching at the funny way he was saying that word. "And what does that have to do with me? I'm on sick leave," your eyebrow rose.

"I thought I could bum on your couch?"

No please, no thank you. Both of your eyebrows now rose, appalled at his audacity. You contemplated telling him to book a hotel room, but hesitated, remembering the quick and efficient way he dealt with your wounds a few hours ago. With a sigh, you opened your door, leading him into your apartment.

"Leave your shoes in the corridor and lock the door," you walked back into the kitchen, eyeing the unfinished pasta. A quick survey of the items, you deduced it would be enough for both of you with some to spare. After all, you weren't raised in a barn.

Unlike some people.

Stephen ogled the various knick-knacks scattered around your kitchen and living room without reservation, coming up as far as to pick up and study every photo you had on display. To mask your annoyance, you turned the music back up, pointedly ignoring the creeping feeling of impending doom.

"Is that you as a baby?" Stephen could not hold back his curiosity anymore. He held up a framed photo of a grinning, chubby toddler.

"That's my cousin," your voice dripped with irritation. "Hasn't anyone taught you not to snoop?"

"It was on display," he retorted without missing a beat, but nonetheless put the frame down and approached you, eyeing the chopped onions with suspicion. "Should I worry about getting poisoned?"

"Yes," the deadpan response made him bark a laugh. "But I have one bathroom, so I'll save it for the morning."

"Who said I won't spend the day?" Stephen crossed his arms, staring you down from where he leaned against the counter. "Squatter's rights."

"My neighbours love death metal," the garlic plopped next to the onions and went into the pan, rich aroma immediately filling up the kitchen space. "Especially at eight in the morning. Teenagers, right?"

You could hear the smile creep into Stephen's voice even though his face didn't change one bit. A cherry tomato was quickly snatched from under your knife and plopped into his mouth without as much as a warning.

"Nothing wrong with death metal," his baritone dropped. "I prefer classic rock, but to each their own."

As you prepared to fire off a few choice words about his delinquent thieving tendencies, Stephen pointed at the Bluetooth speaker:

"Led Zeppelin, Dazed & Confused, playing live in Los Angeles in 1972. With bits and pieces of Walter’s Walk and The Crunge," he rattled off, looking, for once, exceedingly proud of himself.

"Huh," the knife froze in your hand as you processed the influx of information. Not knowing what to add, you settled for a flat, "good song. Now stop eating the ingredients."

Stephen laughed once more, no trace of the usual snark and condescension audible in his voice.

"Robert Plant was only 23 when this was recorded."

The water had come to a boil; you dumped the pasta in, stirring the sauce with your other hand. It smelled heavenly; you prayed the music was loud enough and Stephen couldn't hear the chorus of growls coming from your stomach.

"Nerd," you accused him, for a lack of better things to say.

His presence behind you was felt, not seen. With his larger frame inches away, you could smell his aftershave and the leftover crisp of snow he must've brought from the Sanctum. It made your shoulders tense: for the second time today, Stephen was so close, your body involuntary flooded with molten led, warmth spreading from all the small places where you two almost touched.

You felt your knuckles begin to creak with how tightly you had been holding onto the spatula; it took a criminal amount of care to place it on the side of the pan without causing a flurry of noise.

An arm wrapped itself around your waist, letting your back connect with Stephen's chest. The shock froze your limbs and you let yourself be swayed along to the music, electricity sparking up your spine, a slow current running through your heart, your stomach and your hips.

"Everybody's been talking and I swear they been talkin' trash..." Voice low and quiet, the singing coming from the man was more of a hum.

It was still enough for you to strain your hearing, for the rich baritone to add more fuel to the fire of sudden craving.

"The way you push me, I can't take too much of that," another hand, large and warm, took hold of your own that hung limply by your side, bringing it up.

C'mon, c'mon, show me the way! I want to make love to you, little girl, twenty-five hours a day!

You felt true to the song title: dazed by the sudden display of affection and confused by Stephen's unbothered, easygoing attitude. He shelved his vitriol the moment his working hours were over, it seemed. It put you on edge.

Somehow, you thought, that if you'd respond with your usual snark, he'd double down on this strange amicability. And you weren't sure you'd be able to take that. Had he finally realized that the best way to get under your skin would be to play nice? To be friendly right up until you let your guard down and strike right then and there?

"Do I really repulse you that much?" His words startled you out of your negative spiral.

You shook your head, annoyed at yourself and at him.

"You infuriate me," honesty was better than an obvious lie in this case, you decided. Rationed honesty. You weren't about to tell him of the thoughts you entertained in your solitude.

Stephen let go of your waist but kept your hand in his. Without any effort, he spun you, once, slowly, for you to see a wicked smile plastered on his face.

"The feeling's mutual."

You stayed in position, looking up at his face for the longest moment. His neutral-positive expression had you walking a high wire over the abyss of his stormy blue eyes: if you allowed yourself to be distracted, you'd lose all sense of balance and fall, fall, fall...

The sauce was begging for attention at this point and you turned to tend to it, using the few moments of your face being hidden to realign yourself from the bastard's attempts to throw you off-kilter. Who knew it would be sudden tenderness to be the one to put sticks in your wheels? You had done a great job of keeping unnecessary crushes in check before he came along.

The silence became pregnant and you hated it.

"If I had the chance to time-travel, you best believe I wouldn't go kill baby Hitler and shit. I'd go and see these guys live, it would be by far more emotionally satisfying," you offered the first thing that popped into your mind, eager to aid the awkward moment.

"Isn't that right?" He sounded a little too jovial to be surprised. "A wise choice, considering you've studied the effects of time. Intervention in the flow of it would be unwise. You'd look great in flared pants."

"Nerd," you repeated yourself, this time without any heat, choosing to disregard the odd compliment. "Some things are just about enjoyment, for the kick of it. Without any second thoughts. Do you not have hobbies you enjoy?"

"Protecting your reality is a full-time job that demands an unfair amount of overtime," the sorcerer deadpanned, coming up and taking the pot of pasta to drain it without being asked.

"No wonder you enjoy making my life difficult if that's the only thing you do," your mumbling got lost in the sounds of pouring water. Or so you thought.

"And you don't?" As he set the pasta next to the saucpan, his expectant eyes turned to your face, scanning it with rapt attention.

A sigh, one of many when it came to him, left your mouth. You dumped the pasta directly into the sauce, giving it a good stir, before taking the pan off the heat and putting a lid on the food. Mimicking his defensive stance, you leaned against the opposite counter, crossing your arms.

"I'm not the one to yield."

Stephen advanced, trapping your body between it and himself by resting his palms on the counter and lowering himself to your eye-level, an annoying little smirk curving his mouth and drawing your eyes to his lips.

"As a matter of fact, there is something I enjoy," the sorcerer spoke, his breath fanned over your face, landing directly onto your lips.

Your tongue darted out in response, wetting them, as your mouth had suddenly gone dry and heartbeat rose upward in your chest, sitting uncomfortably close to your esophagus.

Seemingly unbothered, Stephen continued, "and that is you. The way you scrunch your nose when you're mad..." His eyes briefly slid down to it, "adorable."

You could only blink, mouth parted and chin lowered. The more you stayed quiet, the wider his smirk grew.

"Your idea of flirting is pelting someone with insults?" Not being one to back down so quickly, you voiced your bafflement.

"And yours isn't?"

No, you wanted to say, but that would have been a lie. Your standoffs, for that they were annoying, definitely had done the job and brought you two together. Closer than ever, in fact. Stephen was barely three inches away from you, lips inviting and face earnest. In his own way.

To back down right now would be to lose.

Eyes squeezed shut, you tasted the offered fruit of Stephen's lips by slotting your mouth over his, surpassing any attempt at finesse. Months of pent-up frustration and a sense of determination stronger than your fear of rejection pushed you to break your number one personal rule of not getting attached to things that could be bad to you.

And Stephen was bad. In the split second it took for your lips to connect, one of his hands flew up to cradle the side of your face, holding you in place as his mouth sinfully devoured yours. It seemed like he had gotten used to holding back, too, evidenced by the sheer hunger that twisted his tongue around yours in a dance of lust and longing.

Blood rushed to your head as the realization set in. Stephen had been pining, maybe even helplessly clutched at the tiles in the privacy of his shower, chasing the hunger pangs for your body with fleeting moments spent together, straining to see things he thought weren't there.

Those sinful images of his bare back flooded your head: skin like caramel, clear droplets sliding down the hills and valleys of strong muscle littered with freckles and moles; like melted sugar or molasses, you craved to collect every sweet drop with your mouth. A low moan rose from your throat, immediately absorbed into the kiss.

Stephen withdrew, panting and flushed, lips glistening with spit.

"Your mouth, does it hurt?"

Aside from the pounding in your temples and the inferno raging in your abdomen, you could feel absolutely nothing. He'd consumed you completely. Not trusting your mouth, you shook your head negative, blinking as it swam and black dots appeared in the field of your vision.

"Good," a curt nod and his hands were back on your hips, figure looming over you and piercing blue eyes staring you down with an expression of exasperated longing.

Before you got cold feet, you decided it best to take matters into your own hands. His stomach tensed under your palms as you placed them, pushing on his body until he took a step back. And then another, this time seasoned with a small noise of confusion.

"Bedroom's that way," you waved your head in the direction of the door, biting your lip at the eager way he immediately turned and, for the lack of a better word, towed you towards it.

Candlelight still danced in the twilight of your bedroom, the space warm and smelling divine. You reached for his hoodie, pulling it upward before the back of his knees hit the bed; blue fabric dropped at your feet the second Stephen landed on your mattress, hands flying up to your waist to steady himself. The simple white tee did nothing to hide his toned physique.

Your hands brushed the immaculately groomed beard, traversing his strong jawline before setting down at the juncture of his neck. You leaned in to place a chaste kiss on his lips, mesmerized by his face in the candlelight. Stephen was just like the sun, for staring at him for too long was dangerous.

"You beautiful bastard," you whispered against his lips, met with a resonating chuckle. Your fingers tangled in the hair on the nape of his neck.

"That's a new one," in retaliation, he bit down on your bottom lip, soothing the sting immediately afterwards by sucking the skin into his mouth and pulling you head-on into another passionate kiss.

Stephen abandoned the curve of your waist in favour of sliding his hands up, mapping the broad of your back and tracing his fingertips down the knobs of your spine. The t-shirt you wore did very little to shield your skin from the electric sparks that his touch brought to your skin. Rows and rows of goosebumps followed in it's wake.

You swore your brain short-circuited when he reached under your shirt. No amount of fantasy could have prepared you for the response of you body when Stephen traced the outline of your breasts, clever fingers immediately finding your nipples pebbled and standing at attention, begging for it as you were driven to push up and into his touch.

Lips migrated from your mouth to your neck.

"Someone's eager," the hot whisper tickled the shell of your ear before Stephen's teeth scratched the tender skin of your neck.

Defiantly, you pressed your knees further into his lap, coming to something unmistakably hard between his legs. The breath he was holding got stuck somewhere between his nose and his throat, erection twitching in his sweats.

"Yeah," your voice was scratchy, snark bleeding into a noise of approval as he squeezed one of your breasts, pinching the other's nipple just shy of painful.

Unclutching your hands from his shoulders was difficult, when you felt like you had to fight to remain in this plane of existence least your arousal shut down all your senses except for the ones needed to experience the torture of his touch. You could spend an eternity like this, in his arms, like a musical instrument in the hands of a prodigy, being expertly, effortlessly brought to a steady crescendo.

"Greedy, greedy girl," Stephen rasped as your hands slid down his chest, fingers and nails mercilessly raking down it and messing up his shirt. He used momentum to rid you of your own top, surfacing bleary-eyed and with toussled hair. "Gonna fuck all that attitude out of you. Isn't that what you need, huh?"

With an impish grin, he wrapped his lips around one of your nipples, applying blissful suction.

Your hands roamed his chest, squeezed the tightly knit muscles of his shoulders almost vengefully. You caught his moan in your mouth, not wanting to give him the satisfaction just yet.

"I can name five better things for your mouth to do rather than talk smack." The impatience, the need you felt demanded a way out. You winced at how needy it made you sound.

Stephen scratched you nipple with his teeth, hiding a momentary grin between your breasts to surface flushed and smirking. His hands found your hips, pushing down your pants with ease, lifting your leg one after the other.

The moment his knuckles touched the soft, sensitive skin of your inner thigh, you shuffled in place - he was so close, almost at the apex, where moisture had left a wet spot on your underwear.

It didn't go unnoticed by him.

"Aww, you're already spreading your legs? Darling, I just touched the inside of your thigh and you're already presenting for me, huh?" Stephen mocked your wide-eyed wonder. His fingertips traced the outer seam of your panties, causing fine hairs to stand up all over your body. Finding you mum and defiant, holding your breath, he reached out a thumb to swipe right at the rapidly growing wet spot. "Showing off for me?"

Your full-bodied shuddering didn't escape the rapt attention of the doctor, either: his hawk's eyes watched you, documenting the conflicting microexpressions, your consideration to just giving in and your inherently stubborn nature.

"Stephen," you warned, threatening not sure what.

The man rubbed a few circles over your clit, delighting in your soft trembling, before placing a chaste kiss on your tummy. The energy between the two of you was electric; like the stand-still air before a storm.

You stumbled when he suddenly grabbed hold of your ass, pressing you into him ass he used his mouth, lips and teeth to mark the expanse of your stomach.

"You were saying, darling?"

You grabbed his hair, pulling it in retaliation. It was not fair how quickly he turned you into a mindless puddle of lust.

"You're an ass."

Stephen chuckled, using his larger form to pull you into him even further, forcing you to crawl onto your bed, only coming to a rest when his head hit the middle of your mattress and you were kneeling between his spread legs.

The outline of his cock in the dark grey sweats immediately drew your attention; it looked thick and long. You audibly swallowed the saliva that gathered in your mouth at the sight.

"None of that," he caught on sternly, pushing you higher up his body, until you were straddling his midsection. And higher, placing your core almost over his face. Your noise of confusion was met with a smug smirk. "You want to shut me up. Do your worst, baby."

There was little more to do that blink; in a second Stephen pressed his nose directly into the soaked gusset of your panties, taking an obscenely loud and indecently long breath. The sculpted appendage brushed your clit, sending little sparks deep into your pussy.

Your eyes fluttered shut, hips involuntarily sinking down, seeking more friction as you became hyperaware of the throbbing in your cunt.

"Nu-uh, keep your eyes open. Look at me, baby," his voice hoarse and slightly muffled, Stephen gripped the meat of your ass to grind you against his face, using his teeth to move your panties to the side. "Make a mess."

Fuck me up, was what you really heard. As soon as your bare skin came in contact with the roughness of his chapped lips and his beard, what thoughts remained quickly took the exit. Experimentally, you ground down, wincing, hearing the slick noises coming from your body.

"Fuck," you groaned through gritted teeth, gripping the man's shoulders for support. Having gotten a sample taste of him, you couldn't stop.

Stephen stuck out his tongue, eagerly lapping up what slick you produced, not caring about it dripping down his chin and glistening his cheeks. The increase in speed and desperation coming from you only egged him on.

"That's a good girl," the sorcerer honest-to-god moaned in between strokes. "You love it like this, don't you?"

"Yes," you rasped, chasing your fill of pleasure. His nose was positioned just right, catching onto your clit with every upstroke and brushing over your labia as you desperately fucked your sloppy hole onto his tongue. "So good."

The grin made an appearance once more; he held your eye, watching with rapt attention as your own vision drifted in and out of focus, swayed on the waves of pleasure.

You were sure his fingers on your ass were going to leave marks for days.

He was holding onto you as fiercely as you rode his face, blue eyes shamelessly documenting every bit of desire on your open face.

The tip of his tongue flicked around your cunt, dipping into the hole to collect the moisture and immediately diving back, over and over. You'd never been devoured so completely and it turned your legs to jelly. Your thighs shook, breasts heaved in rhythm with your hips.

Stephen winked, dragging your pretty much useless form over his face, sucking your clit into his mouth.

You eyes flew shut. The direct assault on your pulsating, sensitive clit was too much; you couldn't take it, torn between pulling away and putting more weight to allow yourself to finally get what you had been craving ever since stepping foot in the shower.

"Stephen, I want to come," you demanded, movements growing sloppier with each passing second.

"What's stopping you?" His innocent inquiry was overshadowed by more and more wet, slippery noises and satisfied groaning.

"It's-" a whine escaped you, thought process interrupted die to his wet beard dragging along your engorged labia majora, "I need more!"

As your bottom lip disappeared behind your front teeth, you could only blink in a lust-induced stupor as golden ropes entwined parts of your body. Suddenly, you found yourself staring up at Stephen, the familiar, soft fabric of your comforter under your back.

Lips shaking and face completely drenched, the sorcerer tore the magic binds, grinning dangerously at your prone form.

You swallowed, legs twitching around his waist. The rapid change in position gave you slight vertigo as blood rushed from your cunt back to your head.

"My, my, what do we have here?"

Stephen used a single finger to move stray hairs, that had been stuck to your clammy cheek, out of your face. The sorcerer's grin only grew as his eyes darted to your flexing throat.

"Aww, baby, I know you need to be filled up to come," he cooed, watching your lips part to take in a shuddering breath, "that little hole is practically begging for me to put something in it. Will you be good for me?" Eyes round and voice soft, Stephen had your full attention. "I know you want to be good for me."

You could do little more than blink, having been pushed further and further into mindless lust by the doctor's honeyed, filthy words. His eloquent speech patterns, wrapped in that deep, velvet baritone, had permanently elevated your standards for dirty talk in just two sentences. You dripped from his voice alone.

The thick, hard flesh of his cock slapped against your tummy, immediately forming a wet, sticky spot under the round, leaking tip.

You arched into him. "I'll be good," you mumbled, swallowing the last remnants of your pride.

"What's that?" He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, kicking off his pants completely, covering you with himself, trying to touch as much of you as physically possible. "Didn't hear you, baby."

"I'll be good for you," you looked up at him through your lashes.

The change in him was instantaneous. The angles of his face grew sharper than ever, lips pursed into a firm smirk. The glint in his eye was positively demonic as he leaned down to pepper your face with more light, airy kisses.

"If I had known before, that all it takes for you to be sweet is putting my mouth on your cute little pussy," he began to grind his hips slowly, angling his cock to hit the spot between your pubic bone and your thigh. "I woulda pulled up one of those patterned skirts you wear right in the Sanctum's kitchen and bent you over the the counter until your word vomit ceased completely."

Despite the cruel-sounding words and the attitude, you sensed no malice coming from the man above you. Your arms had wound around his neck, your hips clumsily attempted to match the pace of his rutting.

Stephen nuzzled into your neck, inhaling the scent of your sweat and smearing your own arousal all over. "You taste divine."

His confession had you take in a shuddering breath, mewling, as his cock slid right over your pussy, giving a touch of barely-there pressure over your engorged clit. Your hips had a mind of their own, chasing after him, fevered and yearning, core hungry and hollow.

"Stephen," your voice cracked with the force of need pulling you taut like a string.

He wasn't done talking yet, but the pace and force of his hips increased, now applying more and more friction to the outer parts of your cunt.

"I know, baby," he soothed, taking hold of your hand and placing his palms over them, leaning on his forearms next to your head. "I'll make it all better, all you have to do is ask. Beg, pretty girl, beg me and I'll give it to you."

Figures. It would be exactly like Stephen, to demand the impossible. You exhaled a slow breath through your nose, mustering up a miligram of dignity to stare the smug doctor down. You sure as hell didn't beg!

It was obvious he had expected some kind of pushback. His grin turned sadistic as his cock slid lower, brushing over your sopping entrance: he froze in place, keeping you at the tip of his cock, heat pouring off him in waves, chest rising and falling rhythmically.

In a split second decision, you attempted to wiggle your hips to get as much of him, as quickly possible.

"Nu-uh," he pulled away from the immediate wiggle zone. "You promised you'll be good," he reminded you, rubbing his damp facial hair, tickling you in the process. "Only good girls get to come on my cock. And you can be so, so good darlin'..." He trailed off, carefully pushing himself back into your space.

You evaluated your options, quickly and painfully coming to a realisation there was no other choice but to swallow the lump of pride and put some work into your own release.

"Please," you mumbled, cheeks ablaze. The words rolled off stiff and clumsy off your tongue, quiet in their novelty. "Please, fuck me."

"We're getting somewhere," his powerful thighs opened you up to him, cool air spreading over your heated sex, "you're being so good for me," another kiss landed over your parted lips, more breathless than the last, "now one more time, show me you mean it."

"Please, fuck me, Stephen," the force of your desire seeped into your words, finally breaking through the dam of embarrassment and trepidation. You mewled again, a high, soft noise, as the fat head of his cock sunk in an inch into your wet cunt.

"Fuck, baby," he grunted through gritted teeth as his eyes squeezed shut. "You have no idea what you do to me."

Slowly, Stephen slid another generous two or three inches in; about halfway through.

The muscles of your sex spasmed, accepting the intrusion and eagerly flexing around his cock, attempting to suck him in for all his worth. You felt every ridge and vein on his girthy, heavy cock, his face blurry in front of your eyes.

"Oh God," you uttered, sensing the gargantuan amount of restraint it took him to not just slide in: Stephen's arms trembled, tummy taut and tense.

As your body accepted the intrusion, he wasted no time in slamming his hips into yours, bottoming out with a single, powerful thrust. Stephen pulled back almost completely and forced his way inside again, allowing himself to enjoy the hot, snug grip of your cunt.

"My sweet girl," his voice little more than an unintelligible growl, his head dropped in a search for your lips. "I got you baby, I got you," sensing you teetering on the brink of overstimulation, he captured your mouth and shoved his tongue down your throat, uncaring about the guttural noises clawing their way out of it.

Stephen fucked you with languid, powerful thrusts that shook your bedframe and slid your body upwards as his cock nosed at the deepest parts of your cunt, a wet, sloppy noise echoing in the room every time he pulled away from you. Your lust flowed freely, soaking your thighs and his, causing your bodies to stick together.

He shifted his hips one way and another, groaning into the kiss with every noise you made, humming as they grew in volume.

And then your world briefly stilled. Your tummy clenched and pussy gushed as Stephen's cock touched a spot that had been often left neglected by your past partners; the scratch of Stephen's trimmed pubic hair brushing against your clit amplified the sensation tenfold, your pussy flexing around his cock.

"There we go," Stephen chuckled breathlessly, and shoved his cock right up against that spot again.

And again, and again, and again...

All you could do was keep your mouth open for the most needed oxygen to get to your lungs; quite literally, the man had stolen your breath away. Noises of intermediate volume left you on the exhales, but you paid them no mind, the sensation having had demanded your full attention. Eyes wide open, they stayed firmly on Stephen's flushed, kind face.

"You look so beautiful when you're about to come," the corner of his mouth lifted into a sheepish grin as he kept up the same even, brutal pace with his hips.

Shit, you realised. You really were about to come.

"S-Step-phen," you voiced your surprise with slurred syllables. "Doc, whas'.."

"Shh, baby," his smile grew. "Don't force it. Just let it happen. You'll feel so good, I promise," he punctuated the softness of his words with a kiss to the slack corner of your mouth.

You obeyed. Despite the aching, pulling desire, you choose to obey his words, letting go of the tension in your abs and hips. The relaxed state of your body allowed Stephen to settle in even deeper between your legs as they fell open, ravishing you; the good doctor had just the perfect cure for the tension you carried around all day, every day.

"That's my girl, you're doing so well for me, so precious, so sweet," the sweet nothings whispered into your ear was like taking small sips of nectar on a hot summer's day.

"Fuck-" you whisper-shouted, body immediately responding to the hold Stephen's words had on your mind.

It seized as your orgasm began: waves that rocked your entire being, starting as small contractions in the bottom of your cunt and spreading throughout your stomach, wave after wave of bliss, until it reached your toes and made them curl in utterly sweet agony. The tide was strong and high, sweeping you under the water and carrying you through the afterglow all with the help of Stephen's gentle, passionate words.

His hips has slowed down somewhat, the motion becoming more fluid in nature; thump-thump-thump of his heart pressed against your chest. He was everywhere, savouring your release just as much as you had enjoyed the supernovae of his skillful touch.

Words didn't come easy to you, but you tried nonetheless. "Stephen, please," you weren't sure what you were begging for. On one side, your sensitive cunt still throbbed and gushed; on the other, you longed to feel the man lose himself in you like you'd lost you mind in his arms just moments ago.

"That's my girl," he chuckled weakly, delicately gripping your hands and giving them a light squeeze. His cock slid out of your hole, leaving you clenching around nothing.

"Mmm," you protested weakly, limbs heavy as you attempted to reach out to him.

"I'm right here," Stephen tapped the top of your pubic bone frivolously, sitting back on his heels. The majestic curve of his cock glistened with your juices; it attracted your attention immediately and Stephen chuckled. "Staring is rude. Now come on, hands and knees."

Your eyes shot up to his face for a second before you looked away, willing your tired body to just cooperate. Lifting your arms and legs seemed like an impossible feat after the earth-shattering orgasm that Stephen had talked you through. One leg after the other, you slid down, rolling into your tummy and squirming at the wet spot right under it. It was all you: reduced to a mere leaky faucet in the sorcerer's presence.

Calloused hands gingerly pressed on your calves, raising your ass in the air.

You squirmed again, wide open for him to see, cold air hitting your sore, abused cunt and causing it to twitch.

A loud, shameless smooch was placed right on it by the man, followed by a long tongue sliding up and down your slit.

You whined, embarrassed and sensitive, shifting you weight away from his mouth as your back arched. It felt almost too much but the memories of that wide, nimble tongue still remained fresh and left you aching for more.

"I'm right here," Stephen patted your bottom. "I'm not gonna hurt you baby, okay? Tell me if it hurts."

His cock was nosing at your entrance once more; as you pushed back onto it, Stephen slammed his hips into yours, fingertips digging into your ass cheeks as he pulled them apart. You didn't need a mirror to know his eyes were trained on your cunt, the place were it hungrily swallowed the throbbing meat of his cock.

Eyes shut, you let your thoughts wander, examining the image in your mind's eye. The way his brow furrowed when he focused on something, smile lines more prominent than ever. Did Stephen bite his lip when he encountered something unexpected?

The bed shook with the force of his thrusts and you with it. Each one aimed well, deep and powerful, it made small, quiet noises leave your lips as his balls slapped harshly against your swollen clit.

"Ahh," your cunt spasmed as he found that spot again. You're were beginning to get sore, but it was a welcoming sort of pain.

"Shh, baby," Stephen panted, voice low and rugged. "I'm almost done. Just a little more, I know you can be good for me. So, so good..." He trailed off, topping it off with a low moan as he bottomed out inside your swollen cunt once again.

You swore your eyes rolled back in your head on their own accord. Blood rushed to your cheeks, your chest, hands gripping the bedsheets desperately and uselessly. Your mind was sluggish, barely comprehending the fact Stephen was using your cunt to get off: the idea felt so, so wrong, but you'd be a rotten liar if it didn't ignite another small storm in the pit of your belly.

"Arms behind your back," Stephen barked suddenly and you winced at how quickly you obeyed. Magic wound around your body once more, securing them into a position that allowed the sorcerer to tug you up: your knees firmly planted on the bed and your top half suspended at his mercy. "Just making sure you don't get lost in that pretty little head of yours," the amount of control this man had was unfair.

His cock kept up pace inside of you; you swore you felt it swell even the moment you mindlessly obeyed his command. The angle let him touch even more of you, both inside and out. You tasted the sweet, hot sweat of your coupling.

The string of magic tied to you was a lead in one of his hands. He eagerly dragged you onto his cock, over and over, the golden binds wrapped around your arms and chest like a straitjacket. A sexy straitjacket.

There wasn't much room for thought when all you could feel, sense and hear was Stephen: his sinful groaning, panting, the obscene sounds of your flesh slapping together. You thighs shook, spit collected in the slack corners of your mouth: you panted out, tongue stiff and uncooperative.

You wanted to feel him come, to fill you up completely, until you burst.

His movements turned sloppier and sloppier until his cock was disappearing into you at a rapid, disorganized pace, the bulbous tip sliding deep inside.

"Fuck, I'm gonna-" the groan he emitted was so close to your ear, you felt it in your cunt.

Starts burst behind your eyelids for the second time as he throbbed inside your spasming cunt, your combined contractions echoing back and forth until the pit of your belly felt warm and full. Some of his cum leaked out immediately, dripped down your labia and down your leg.

Noisily, he let go of the binds and your combined bodies gracelessly crashed onto the bed.

You weren't sure how long you laid like this, warm and safe, full inside and out. Minutes went by lazily, stretching into what felt like eons. You floated above time, above space, lulled by gentle, low murmurs in your ear.

Trembling hands gently parted your legs as cotton brushed over your raw cunt. Noises of protest died on your lips as Stephen shushed you.

"Take it easy," he placed a kiss on your tailbone, doing his best to clean up the biggest part of the mess.

You haven't even noticed him pull out. "Wha?"

The bed dipped next to you, his red, grinning face slowly coming into focus. "You're thinking so loudly."

You weren't? Having thoughts wasn't anywhere on your to-do list in the nearest future. For once, your brain had ceased it's usual violent tapdancing and you could breathe freely, the burden of anxiety removed.

"You did so good for me, baby," Stephen looked so proud and happy, crow's feet around his eyes deep and hair sticking in odd directions, silver strands mixed with dark browns and chestnuts, dying candlelight adding golds and ambers into the view.

Even like this, he looked sinful. Like a fallen angel.

"You're so pretty," was what your brain came up with. You wanted to fall through the face of the earth as soon as the words left your mouth.

Stephen chuckled, placing a kiss on your nose, then one more on each cheek and a final smooch on your forehead. "Says you."

Embarrassed, you hurried to nod your head to hide in the crook of his neck.

"None of that," promptly, you were returned to be displayed to his clever eyes. "Stop overthinking."

"But-" you argued weakly.

"No," his finger, scarred and shaky, poked your nose in what only could be described as petty defiance. "You're not this dense. I know you can do better."

The angles of his face acutely on display, you weighed your options. It wasn't looking good for you: come morning, he'll be gone, odd display of affection pushed aside, and you'd return to work to once more be greeted by the stoic, sarcastic man who's hobby included insulting you for sport.

And as much as you hated admitting it, he was better than you in most things: sorcery, looks, accomplishments. Some people just had it going for them.

"You can do better," you frowned. "You're you, doctor Stephen Strange, surgeon extraordinaire and sorce-"

His lips landed on yours, chapped and puffy, swallowing any protests that your brain could come up with on the spot, leaving you no option but to surrender to the sweet torture of the kiss.

"No," his eyes caught yours, firm and fiery. "And if you don't know what's good for you, well, I'm going to have to show you. You did so good today, after all, and it would be a shame to waste all that potential." His grin turned wolfish.

Shame and arousal flooded your senses as you closed your eyes mutely, finally, finally convinced yourself that sometimes, giving in might be the better option.

Stephen Strange taglist:

@mikariell95 @sleep-i-ness @toomanyrobins2 @mostly-marvel-musings @persephonehemingway @bluecrazedandbeautiful @slothspaghettiwrites @couldntbedamned @xoxabs88xox @tatestripedsweater @stuckybarton @biiskuitx @heyarely16 @bdffkierenwalker @rosequartzwriting @auroralush @heart_charming @pshychadelichues @dilftallica @starkiller-queen @inas_thing @laura-naruto-fan1998 @lalaooopsie @brwn-sgr @altriestowrite @devilslilbabysblog @pervhotch @treegobonk @agathaharknesslut @persephonewritessometimes @endlessthxxghts @milena-xoxo @popeheywardssecretgf @inas-thing @fuckingarsonistbitch @pathetic-simp @sparrows-corner @turkisherlockian @srapalestina @sourlemonsandlimes @emlynblack @meeksmusic83 @chaoticevilbakugo @vane28282 @saturdaynightzemo @luminevans @danzalladaggers @viva-asgardia @sobeautifullyobsessed

#bun writes #dr strange smut #stephen strange smut #doctor strange smut #marvel smut #stephen strange x reader #stephen strange x you #stephen strange x y/n #female reader #dr strange x you #doctor strange x you #stephen strange #i like his hoodie okay #im very into middle-aged dads

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sherlockianscholar · 7 months

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From The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes dir. Billy Wilder, 1970

This scene absolutely kills me. The Private Life of Sherlock Holmes broke barriers depicting Holmes as gay. Here, Mycroft is referring to Holmes' and Watsons' female client, implying that Holmes and the lady were ~involved~. As soon as Mycroft says that, Holmes' (portrayed by the lovely Robert Stephens) entire everything changes. It's hard for me to describe in words what Holmes is thinking/feeling at that moment, but every time I watch this scene, my heart breaks.

His face slipping from amused to suspicious to askance to landing on unsettled. His head freezes and looks out with staring, un-blinking eyes. The way he carefully unfurls himself, walking slowly forward with a controlled reserve. Unintentional I am sure, but the lighting in this scene casts a shadow directly over Holmes' right eye making it look bruised. An almost physical representation of how Mycroft has wounded him.

The movie is unclear (or maybe, I just wasn't paying enough attention) on whether Mycroft knows that Holmes is gay. If he does know, it lends an amount of cruelty to this scene.

#sherlock holmes #mycroft holmes #john watson #tplosh #the private life of sherlock holmes #robert stephens #christopher lee #billy wilder #period piece #body language #acting without words #heartbreaking #original post

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how-serene · 20 days

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Do You Need The Sandman?

Pairing - Johnson (Reprisal) x Fem!Reader

Summary - It's midnight and all Johnson wants is to hear your pretty voice on the other end of the line.

Word count - 497

Warnings - smoking, so many uses of pet names, yearning, Johnson being slightly horny for you

A/N - Love how I'm literally only writing for Johnson so far. Originally this was supposed to be smut but I decided against it at the last minute. (Loosely inspired by the song Evangeline by Stephen Sanchez)

Johnson took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke coat his tongue. In his other hand he held a sleek black phone that was connected to a barely kept together phone booth. A stream of live band music spilled into the streets whenever someone walked inside the bar, reminding him he wasn’t alone.

Pick up, baby.

He cradled the phone to his ear, holding onto it as if the device might disappear in his hands. Maybe you were asleep, or simply weren’t home-

“H-Hello?” your sweet voice came through the receiver, stalling his thoughts. A strange sense of relief washed over him.

“It’s me, angel.” he said, plucking the cigarette from his lips. He could hear you shuffling around, turning on the lamp beside your bed.

“Well hello, lover boy.” you eventually said, giggling in his ear. His heart fluttered at the sound, as he firmly pressed the phone against his cheek. The time on his watch read 12 a.m.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologized, flicking the cigarette. “Just wanted to hear your voice.”

His stomach twisted at your silence, tugging at the phone cord as some mease distraction as he waited.

You sighed into the phone, “It’s fine, I wasn't getting much sleep.” You fell silent again, weighing something in your mind.

“Too busy thinking about you anyway.”

He perked up, snuffing out his cigarette as he propped his arm up on the phone stand. People continued to filter in and out through the bar door, drunkenly making their way past him without another thought.

“Been thinkin about you too, angel face.” he confessed, his voice nearly a whisper. He could picture you lying there right now, phone held up to your ear, hand grasping onto it like a lifeline. The mattress hugging the curves of your body, the sky blue nightie you adored rising up over your stomach whenever you moved around. Your own hands running down the sides of your soft body, teasing him over the phone.

“Been thinking about you a whole lot,” he muttered, the sight of you in his mind vanishing. You giggled again, amused. He closed his eyes, greedily drinking in the sound.

“I’m curious to know just how much I’ve been on your mind, Johnson.”

Your sugary voice was almost mocking, causing his heart to wince.

He glanced back at the bar door, contemplating. The minutes ticked away on his watch, yet it felt as if time didn’t move at all. The sight of you appeared in his mind again, all blue and all soft.

“Stay awake for me, doll.”

You hummed, “Will do, doe eyes.” before promptly hanging up.

He hung the phone back up, flicking his cigarette on the ground. The warm night air brushed against the nape of his neck. He began walking, the mere thought of you in his mind pulling his body toward your presence.

Behind him, the lively sound of bar music and laughter filled the parking lot.

#david dastmalchian #johnson reprisal #johnson x reader #johnson reprisal x reader #reprisal 2019 #stephen sanchez #drabble

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whattheheckmidoriya · 1 year

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Rest Your Dreams On Me

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: none♡

Word Count: 1,813

Description: Rain, thunder and ruined plans for date night. When a night-long downpour keeps you huddled up inside, Shota takes it upon himself to offer you a night full of love and relaxation.

Author's note: I had such a sweet time writing this one! This piece was inspired by Evangeline by Stephen Sanchez— it's such a sweet song and I've been having it on repeat lately🥺💕 I hope you enjoy!

Masterlist

Join the taglist here!

•

"It's raining," you sighed, shoulders drooping as you watched the heavens opening its rivers to the world. The rumble of thunder echoed through the air, pulling a frown from your lips.

Shota joined you by the window, the scent of his cologne a beautifully intoxicating thing as it mingled with the aroma of cool rain. Dark eyes flickered towards you. "We won't be able to go out if it continues like this," The downhearted look in your eyes tugged at his heart. With an arm around your shoulders, he pulled you toward his chest, letting his chin rest over your head. "We'll figure something out, angel."

Sinking further into his warmth, you hummed softly. Inky strands of hair cascaded by the sides of your face, tickling your cheeks softly. His hair had grown longer than he usually allowed it to. It really suited him. "Have anything in mind?"

He thought over it for a moment, his hands absent-mindedly playing with the sleeves of your shirt. Thunder roared; it clapped and thrummed before fading behind the drumming of a constant downpour. "Go change into something warm and comfortable, okay? I'll have something ready by the time you're done."

You turned to face him, his hands dropping to your waist as you tilted your head curiously. "What are you planning?"

Shota only smiled softly before cupping the sides of your face with care, scarred fingers caressing the apples of your cheeks. A lingering kiss met the top of your head, so soft yet electrifying as his warmth seeped into your skin. Pulling away, dark eyes flickered over to meet yours. "I'm not sure yet," he answered truthfully. "But a little rain isn't going to ruin our night."

He shooed you away, reminding you to put on something comfortable. A rainy night such as this one could only demand a bit of coziness. The second you were out of sight, he padded over the kitchen. Swiftly, he moved around, opening cabinets, picking ingredients and setting things up to start on some hot chocolate.

One could never go wrong with that, right?

While the chocolate melted over the stove, he moved on to the most crucial part of the process— choosing mugs. Instinctively, he grabbed for the mug you'd gotten him so many years ago. A black cat mug, of course. He then took a step back, surveying the remaining mugs. After thinking about it for a few seconds, he made a grab for the plant-themed mug on the higher shelf. You always seemed to favor that one over all the others.

Looking over his shoulder to make sure you still hadn't come out of the bedroom, Shota carefully poured the hot drink into both mugs before pulling out some extra ingredients. Whipped cream. Cinnamon. Marshmallows. It'd only be fair to give you a choice in toppings.

Carrying both mugs over to the living room table, he then set to work on readying the area. The rain might've tarnished your plans for the night, but Shota wasn't ready to give up on date night.

He hadn't heard the bedroom door crack open minutes later, hadn't heard you padding over as you watched him curiously. A smile graced your face as he placed a candle down by the window before blowing out the match between his fingers. His hair rested behind his ears, dropping over his shoulders like rivers of ink. You huffed a breath of amusement, smile widening.

Was he aware of how dear to your heart he was?

Music poured into the air, soft and dreamy, pulling you further into the living room. Your heart fluttered as you noticed the radio he'd pulled out, an old thing you hadn't seen in a while. It sang and droned on in the same way it had long ago when the world seemed too big and quiet and all you had was the other's embrace to hide away in.

"Hey," you called, not wanting to spook him. "What's this?" Flickering candles glowed all around you, their small flames dancing and twirling. You had stars in your living room.

Shota turned to face you, eyes widening slightly as he set down the last candle. He didn't move, didn't offer an immediate answer. The words lingered over the tip of his tongue before fluttering past his lips. He cleared his throat, shrugging, "I'm not sure," His voice came in a hesitant breath and he suddenly turned on his feet, eyeing what he'd done to the living room. "Is it okay?"

You nearly scoffed in disbelief. All lights had been turned off, replaced by the golden light of flickering candles. The sofa now sat further pressed against the far wall, making room for the cushion pile he'd created on the floor, topped off with a valley of blankets. Two mugs sat by the little table in the middle of the room, surrounded by different toppings to choose from. Looking back at your love, he stood still, hands clasped together as he anticipated your answer.

It only took a few steps to erase the distance between the two of you, to find his fingers tangling themselves with yours. It took even less to tug at his hands gently, smiling as he squeezed yours in response.

"It's lovely," you breathed, something soft and sweet blooming in your chest as his shoulders relaxed in relief. A tender kiss lingered over the silver scars on his knuckles, a little act of gratitude and devotion that rippled from your heart to his. "Thank you."

Shota could only hope his hair shadowed his face enough to mask the rising heat tinting his cheeks. His hold on your hands tightened ever so slightly, yet remained delicate as he guided you to the cushion pile. "C'mon," he rasped, sucking in his cheeks to hide the smile teasing an appearance. Carefully, he helped you settle in before spreading the blankets over you. It was chilly tonight, he reasoned as he tucked the sheets around you, paying extra attention to make sure your toes were covered. He knew you hated having cold feet.

Adoration twinkled in your eyes as he scooted closer to the little table where your mugs rested. He frowned softly, a little pout settling on his lips as the palm of his hand rested on the side of your mug. Curiously, you questioned him,"What's wrong, love?"

"It's lukewarm now," he sighed, pulling away to run a hand through his hair. An apologetic look weighed on his eyes, making your heart ache. "I'll heat it up—"

"It's okay," you smiled, offering reassurance as you held your hands out for the mug. When hesitation flickered behind his eyes, you wiggled your fingers in anticipation, prompting him to hand over the warm cup. "What are those?"

Shota followed your gaze, making a grab for the toppings he'd set out for your drinks. A bag of marshmallows now rested between his hands as he avoided your eyes momentarily.

Your gaze softened. No matter how much time you'd been together, he always crumbled and melted when faced with his emotions.

"I thought you'd like to add something to your chocolate," he admitted, looking between you and the bag in his hands. "Would you like to add something to your chocolate?"

You huffed a laugh as you nodded, the airy sound of your laughter balming over his heart like honey. How sweet. How lovely.

Shota had been very careful when filling your cup with your toppings of choice, soon adorning his own cup with sweets before maneuvering himself to sit by your side. Easy chatter filled the air, full of laughter and sweet nothings he was sure would make his heart crumble at your feet once and for all. Candlelight danced over your faces, golden and soft, and it felt like time had frozen around you, offering eternity for just a fleeting moment.

Soon enough, once full cups now sat empty in the corner, their warmth pooling your bellies as your bodies scooted closer to each other. His hand found yours, his mind occupied with tracing little shapes over your palm as you spoke precious treasures into existence. Every word spilling from your lips was sacred to his heart, something to cherish with raw devotion.

You squeezed his hand softly as you yawned, breaking through his defenses and pulling a smile from his lips. "This is the first song we ever danced to," the words came out in a clumsy whisper, making him chuckle. A familiar melody poured out of the old radio as you spoke. "Remember?"

And how could he ever forget? How could he ever forget the way your hand molded itself so perfectly to fit his own or how your head rested over his chest as if it was the rhythm of his heart you were dancing to?

Shota turned to answer, yet stopped when he caught sight of your fluttering eyes. His heart flipped and stumbled in his chest. "How about we go to bed, angel?"

A pout settled on your lips before you shook your head. Another yawn escaped you, your eyes losing their battle against slumber. "I want to dance," you mumbled sleepily, your head resting over his shoulder. "Can we?"

Despite your wishes, you were already snuggling into his side, your breathing settling into a soft rhythm as you fought to keep your eyes open. Even under fluttering lashes, Shota could recognize the silent plea lingering behind your eyes. And never had he been good at saying no to you.

"Okay," he breathed, scooping you into his arms. Carefully, he let your legs rest on either side of him as your arms wrapped around his shoulders. Moments like these made him appreciate the agility he'd developed over the years, helping him maneuver himself onto his feet while keeping a secure hold on you. "Are you comfortable?"

Pressing your cheek against his shoulder, you nodded. A breath of amusement rushed past his lips.

Slowly, he swayed to the melody that seeped out of the radio and into the air. His arms tightened around you, his soul finding comfort in the steady rhythm of your heart against his chest. He hummed along to the song, unspoken words thrumming through his chest and up his throat. Nothing could ever compare to the comfort of feeling your body relax against his own. There was no saying where you ended and he began.

His careful swaying came to a stop when one song faded into the next, something light and soft tickling his stomach. Making sure to not wake you, he pressed a kiss onto the top of your head, sighing as you nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck.

You mumbled sleepily into his skin, soft and nearly unintelligible, but he knew in his heart what sweet wonders had just escaped from your lips.

"I love you too, angel."

•

🏷 Aizawa Shota taglist

@runaowo @beecca9 @bandaidfaerie @zawasleepingbag @retaaschilling @rvgrsbrns @samx-jpeg @girl_lost_not_found @sir-knight-slytherdor @justheretoaskandread @andrastesbeard @yaskna @izukus-gf @bingewatchintilldawn @ikisstoga @uchija @0o0ychan0o0 @celestair @redspade227 @laylarosemav178213 @escapismescape @onebigfangirl @ghostly-haunted @Bluetima @deitysnips @eternallyvenus @mommym1lkers @chaoticmomenergy @esposadomd @aconstructofamind @childofopulence @rainyblaire @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @catinneedofcaffeine @a10vely-yutazen @violet-19999

#aizawa x reader #aizawa shota x reader #shota aizawa x reader #eraserhead x reader #shouta aizawa x reader #bnha shouta aizawa #aizawa shouta x reader #aizawa shouta #shouta aizawa #shota aizawa #aizawa #aizawa shota #aizawa fic #mha aizawa

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eviesaurusrex · 2 years

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ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴᴀʟ ᴅᴏᴄᴛᴏʀ | ꜱ. ꜱᴛʀᴀɴɢᴇ

Stephen Strange x Surgeon!Reader

summary: YN had been struggling with a cold for as long as she could remember – well, for a week. But being her restless and (kinda) workaholic self, this minor cold morphed into something that benched her definitively. And who could be a better caretaker than her loving boyfriend, who happens to be a doctor himself?

word count: 7.3k

warnings: a tiny bit drama, medical stuff, surgery stuff, mentions of sick people, surgery, mentions of blood, reader has pneumonia, passing out, hospital environment, Stephen kinda freaks out because he is always thinking the worst, protective!Stephen, soft!Stephen (but only for reader), slight suggestive bits, so much fluff, talk about future, short mentions of the Avengers

author’s note: I had so much fun writing this request! Finally something where I could pour my Grey’s Anatomy knowledge into :D I really hope you like the direction in which this one went @colewritess :3 I needed some angsty drama in my life, so I put that in :x

Waking up in the middle of the night was something very common in the Strange-LN household ever since the two doctors had acquired their white coats and had graduated with honors. Usually, YN was the first one to wake up to the vibration of her pager, followed by the usual soft ring of her phone because one of her interns would update her on the incoming case beforehand. Stephen would follow close behind, throwing one arm lazily over her waist at first to nuzzle his face back into the warmth of her neck - it helped him to shrug the deep slumber off his hardworking mind - before the blanket would get thrown away to relieve the world of the sadness of not seeing his toned, utterly gorgeous body.

YN was nothing but an admiring girlfriend.

But this early morning, almost still the depth of the night, things were differently: Instead of hearing the tired voice of his girlfriend softly speaking into the phone and waking him up with that, so he could check his already vibrating pager too, the only sounds heard in the dark bedroom was YN's shallow breath and the never-ending sounds of both pagers and her almost barely ringing phone. Confusion settled into the doctor, even more so after he had propped himself up on one of his arms, letting the mattress dip in the process of it, and still, YN did not start to stir even slightly. But before he could process her strange behavior, he had to accept the call.

"Yes?"

He never was a fan of greetings, especially not in the face of interns - and he kind of enjoyed messing around with those tiny ducklings, barely out of their mother's homes, who still had to learn a lot. Even now, Stephen could almost grab the perplexity radiating through his girlfriend's phone at the sound of his voice.

"Uhm... This is Doctor LN's number. You are not Doctor LN," a hesitant voice started to speak, and Stephen had to roll his eyes in amusement before they settled atop the still sleeping form of the woman he not only shared this bed with on a few occasions. "A wonder how you earned that place in Harvard, Jones," the Strange scoffed while he reached out for his bedside lamp to let the soft light invade the dark bedroom, only illuminated by the streetlights and passing cars outside the window front. Blinking against the new light source, he took a closer look at the gorgeous woman next to him, his eyebrows starting to furrow at the sight of her puffy eyes, the red nose resembling one of the stuffed Rudolphs they had seen only a week ago while doing their annual Christmas shopping, and not to mention her breathing of which he obviously wasn't a huge fan. "Hold on a second..." The seemingly simpleminded intern mumbled before he clearly put the phone a few inches away from his face to shout over the entire floor, "You were right, Macy! Doctor LN and Strange are a thing!" And then, the voice returned, louder now.

This day hadn't even begun, and Stephen wanted to strangle the first one already.

"I am sorry, sir. The coffee still has to kick in, I guess... Nevermind. There is a GSW incoming: a bullet in his brain and several in his thorax. He was stable, so we decided to do a CT. I'll send the images to Doctor LN's tablet as soon as I have them." At least Jones wasn't a total incompetent fool, so Stephen didn't have to rip his head off entirely. "Send them to mine; she will look at them on our way to the hospital. Don't let him die because your coffee addiction gets in the way of saving lives." And with that, he ended the call, and the phone landed on his pillow before Stephen slowly scooted closer to the sleeping woman, and now he finally had room for his over-boarding worries etching themselves into his mind.

Gently, his hand caressed her cheek before his flat palm made contact with her forehead to feel her temperature. Maybe slightly raised, Stephen thought before bending down and pressing whisper of kisses all over her face. Now, she seemed to wake up - scrunching her nose, twisting her lips, and the coughs started almost immediately. They were his constant companion as soon as he stepped into the apartment ever since they began to occur one and a half weeks ago, and by now, the cold should've calmed down. Instead, it seemed worse than yesterday. His idea to grab dinner on their way home wasn't probably his best idea of the week, but YN had seemed fine enough to agree.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Stephen mumbled with his lips pressed against her cheek, and YN slowly turned her head with a groan. "What time is it?" Even her voice sounded horrible. "Something around three. There is a GSW coming in, but you can stay home if you like. I'm handling it." The next cough made the man almost flinch, and he was sure he felt the aching pain in his lungs and throat as bad as YN obviously did, judging by her scrunched-up face and her hand that had settled atop her burning throat. She looked back at him and cocked an eyebrow. "Thorax?"

He nodded while her eyebrow wandered even further up. "Who is in charge this night? Forgot to check before we headed out." Stephen didn't have to think twice.

"Hamilton."

"And you want me to stay home when this imbecile of a cardiothoracic surgeon is unsupervised in my department? Your sense of humor definitely wasn't the thing I found so charming, that's for sure..."

She had already started to climb out of the comforting warmth of their shared bed, and instantly YN missed its soft embrace.

"Touché," the man scoffed while following her into the now brightly lit bathroom and watched her from the doorframe, where he leaned with his arms crossed over his chest. She seemed not doing all too well, but at least she could stand on both feet, so he talked himself into believing that everything would be just fine, even though if it meant for her standing in the OR for at least five hours. "You will drive back home after the surgery is done, do you understand me? No post-op check-up, no sneaking around me to dodge the inevitable, no rounds this morning, and no teaching lab with your little ducklings." Her, by the toothbrush muffled, Whatever was very audible for Stephen because he knew this woman better than himself. So he pushed himself off the doorframe and stepped right behind her; their eyes met through the mirror while his hands settled on top of her shoulders, where his thumbs started to massage the stiff muscles around the back of her neck. "I mean it, darling. You're not doing well, and I want you to relax and treat yourself to some hot soup and that fluffy blanket we got last week. Catch up on those shows, and I'm gonna try to get home early so I can prep you the perfect bath and cook you something nice."

He stopped for a second, but after no reaction on her behalf, Stephen bent his head to nibble at the side of her neck and found all her favorite spots before humming softly but raspy because he knew what his morning voice did to this woman. "I asked you a question, darling. Should I repeat myself for you?" Chuckling at the sight and feeling of her quick nod - the toothbrush rested pointlessly in the corner of her mouth - Stephen rested his lips just above her ear and watched her through the mirror again. "I asked," he started in his raspiest of morning voices, "if you understand me." Her deep sigh and mumbled "Okay, yes" sounded more like a tiny moan, and the doctor chuckled for another time before pressing a kiss to her temple and starting to brush his teeth as well; his arm closely wrapped around her waist and her body settling against his side, just as every morning they start together.

And just as every morning, Stephen couldn't get enough of their reflection together. Maybe he had to finally thank Christine for the hard work she had invested into playing matchmaker for them.

;

"Doctor LN!" The excited voice turned a bit hesitant as both arriving doctors turned around, and Jones had to face the embarrassment from earlier. "Doctor Strange, sir." And with that, the intern held two cups of to-go coffees in hand, stretching them out to his two supervisors. "I asked Doctor Palmer how you like your coffee, sir," he quickly spoke at the doubting look manifesting on Stephen's face, and YN rolled her still tired eyes. They stung a bit as well, as she now realized. "Deep breaths, Jones, he won't bite your head off." The man closely next to her scoffed before taking the first sip. "I wouldn't go this far as to promise things like that." YN hit him with her tablet but didn't wait for his reaction before turning her attention back to the intern while giving the labs of their GSW another once-over. She looked at Jones with a questioning expression after she had evaluated the patient's current constitution. They had worked so many hours together that she didn't even need to ask the question out loud. "Doctor Russel is preparing the anesthesia, and the team has prepped OR two, just the way you both prefer, Doctor LN, Doctor Strange."

Stephen had to raise both his eyebrows this time and had to admit that Jones wasn't a total catastrophe - he had to give him that at least.

YN nodded as they waited for the elevator to reach the operation room floor. As the doors opened to let them inside the metal coffin, as she loved to call this vicious transportation method, she gulped down the entirety of her coffee because she felt she needed every single drop of caffeine to withstand the upcoming hours of work. Her head had started to pound right after they had left the chic apartment Stephen and she called her own ever since they had finally moved together after three years of tedious dating, and it had gotten worse during the drive over here.

She hadn't told her over-worrying boyfriend a single word, of course. She would do this surgery, she would check up on some patients, and then - maybe - she would gift herself an early leave as a pre-Christmas kind of gift and get some good food on her way home. Perhaps she could start looking at those recipes she discovered while watching some stupid cooking show - which wasn't so stupid at all, seemingly.

Christmas dinner wouldn't cook itself after all, and she had promised Christine and her fiancé Marc that they could come over. Christmas was much more relaxed if there wasn't a family to celebrate it with.

But her confused thoughts, who chased themselves over the past couple of days since the first symptoms had begun, were interrupted abruptly as her throat acted up again. It started with a tingle, morphing into an annoying scratch before it would turn into a violent coughing fit. And it did, worse than ever. It got even worse after the first couple of nastily wet and deep-sounding coughs, and YN felt as if she couldn't get enough air into her overworking lungs. Her lungs constricted to relieve themselves of all the fluid which wasn't supposed to be in there, and every single breath burned like hell in her chest.

With one hand pressed against the elevator wall, the surgeon steadied herself, head buried in the crook of her arm, while cough after cough crept out of her throat and shook her entire body. Tears started to prickle in her stinging eyes, and the throbbing pain inside her skull increased tremendously within seconds.

Stephen was right at her side, one of his warm hands stroking over her entire back, up and down, while the familiar frown etched itself onto his forehead and in the space between his brows. Jones didn't know what to do, so he just stood there and hoped for a fast end of his favorite supervisor's misery. "Hey," the neurosurgeon mumbled softly as the coughing fit finally ceased, hand still rubbing over her back. "YN, listen," he began as the elevator stopped and the doors opened with a happy ding. “It’s nothing. Just a drop of coffee going in the wrong direction.” And with that, she pushed herself from the wall, fastened the grip around the tablet still in hand, and followed Jones, who himself had a worried expression on his face, but he didn't dare to say something. Especially not in front of Stephen Strange, who could end his barely started career right on this very spot. Instead, he took the personal belongings of both surgeons and nodded to the small changing room in this part of the hospital. "Your scrubs are already in there, straight from dry-cleaning. OR two will be fully prepped as soon as you're ready," he said before scurrying away.

Stephen watched his girlfriend with eagle eyes as he followed her into the changing room, and while she had already slipped out of her coat, he pushed the door close and just stood there. His eyes moved over her pale face - even more so than usual - and he noticed the constant frown engraved in her beautiful but tired-looking face. He even realized that she moved slower than normal, and everything took a tad longer. "YN...," he started again but was faced with a raised hand while she hurried to get into the dark blue scrubs.

The air condition in this part of the building was what she dreaded most since that cold had made its first appearance with a scratchy throat. Now all she wanted was to get back into that warm, thick coat she just had folded and wanted to wrap herself into the thick scarf Stephen had gotten her for Christmas two years ago, but all she got was thin blue scrubs and her comfy Nike sneakers.

"I am fine," she told him finally while popping another cough drop between her lips and starting to braid her hair. Stephen had, at last, made an effort to change as well, and YN was nothing but an admiring girlfriend again. She knew that sex was off the table until she got better, so she took what she could get very willingly, even if it were only tiny bread crumbs in the form of the sight of toned abs, biceps, and back. "Yeah... Wonder why that's so hard to believe after that coughing fit you threw in that elevator," he returned almost sourly, and YN understood it. She really did because she would be just as on edge as he was if it was Stephen who had gotten sick.

Sighing, the surgeon tied the end of her braid together before starting to secure it with bobby pins around her head. Stephen sighed as well and came over to her after lacing his sneakers and helped her just like every time they had the pleasure to operate together. He didn't say a single word, and YN let him sulk in silence for the time being. The Strange would soon open his mouth again because he wasn't the sulking-in-silent type of guy, and she was very thankful for this trade of his. How she hated to guess what wrong was and why the guy felt insulted. Stephen was surprisingly easy.

The entire world would question her sanity if they would ever hear her saying that out loud.

Upon entering the scrubbing area, she tied his recently preferred cap - she had gotten him that for his birthday because this man owned way too many ties - before he did the same for her. He pressed a soft kiss on her shoulder after his long and fast-working fingers were done and took the sink next to hers, where YN already had started to scrub in after putting on the face mask.

Stephen soon broke the silence, and again, she had been right: this man wasn't able to sulk on his own for long.

"As soon as your part is done, I want you to get an x-ray. I don't like the sound of that cough. You're happy that I don't have my stethoscope with me, otherwise, you wouldn't scrub in right now because I would hear something I really don't wanna hear, and I would send you straight up to Chamberlain." At the mention of the one cardiothoracic surgeon Stephen trusted most of the time, YN scrunched up her face. "I told you before, and I will tell you again, that I am fine. It's a nasty cold, nothing more. You're over-exaggerating." He stopped in the middle of scrubbing, head jerking in her direction. At this moment, she was glad that she only was able to see his eyes and the play of his eyebrows, but it was still as bad as she had anticipated. "Excuse me for worrying about my workaholic girlfriend who seemingly doesn't possess any kind of sense of self-preservation." Her eyes widened at that, and after rinsing off the soap residue on her arms, she threw the used bar of soap into the metal sink and turned to Stephen, arms raised so she wouldn't touch anything in the not sterile environment. "Look who's talking about lacking a sense of self-preservation. Do I have to remind you of that little episode of yours standing in a thirteen-hour surgery with a broken ankle? You're a fucking hypocrite, Stephen, and I am a grown woman who knows her boundaries very well, thank you very fucking much."

And with that, she passed him and entered the operation room, where the patient was already put under, and two of the residents prepared the last few instruments to their surgeon's liking. She instantly regretted every single word she had spoken out loud back in the scrubbing room and wanted to run back to apologize profusely, but she knew that she had to stand her point, even though it hurt her heart.

One of the nurses held open the light blue gown, and YN entered arms first before pushing her hands into the open-held gloves, sighing softly. Those steps were always almost meditative for her and her mind, always putting her at ease, no matter how severe the case was.

The OR was her safe place when other places weren't available - just like now because the safe place that Stephen represented wasn't available, not until the steam wore off and their sights weren't as red-tinted as they were now. Sometimes it was hard to love a person that was so similar to oneself, but YN had chosen, and she never regretted choosing Stephen as her partner in every moment that life offered her.

Stepping at the operating table, YN nodded in everyone's direction to greet them, and she pushed every thought about their little fight out of her mind. "Good morning, everybody. Long time no see, June." The OR nurse chuckled. "I thought we would get at least a day and a half before being back in here together." YN grinned behind her mask and softly shrugged. "Hope you had a good coffee because judging by those scans, we will be here for quite some time. Is your son at daycare? Do you need to go and call someone to pick him up later?"

Stephen had entered quietly - he preferred it that way, unlike his girlfriend - but watched her closely because it always left him speechless what a welcoming and open-hearted nature this woman had who had chosen to live with him. He still asked himself why she had decided that he was the one person worthy enough of her love and attention.

"He is upstairs at the emergency daycare, no worries, Doctor LN. We prepared a bottle of water for you, by the way. Doctor Jones said you could use a sip here and there." Nodding her head, YN stepped closer and opened her gloved hand. "Thanks, June. Ten blade, please."

Stephen had already started with the incision and worked through the brain's tissue while always having an eye on the cardiothoracic surgeon just a few feet further down to him.

;

Dabbing with a clean towel over the recently repaired aorta, YN slowly nodded, satisfied with her work. No one would suspect this artery was a shredded mess three hours ago. "Okay... Those stitches look good. Suction." The resident, Doctor Peterson, moved the tube slowly through the chest cavity. "Over here?" His question was unanswered for an unusual amount of time, so he looked up to see his supervisor's face. "Doctor LN?" Blinking, YN raised her head and watched Peterson before turning her attention back to the open chest in front of her. Her brain had difficulties following everything after standing for six hours straight. "Yes... Yes, sorry. Right over there."

Stephen had stopped working as the question arose and yet again watched the woman with eagle eyes.

She turned her head to cough softly into her mask while pressing her face against the sterile OR gown at her shoulder. Clearing her throat, YN nodded as one of the not scrubbed-in nurses raised the half-emptied water bottle and waited until one took off the light of her head, pulled down the mask, and finally put the straw right in front of her lips. YN's team was the best a surgeon could find, she was sure of that. "Thanks, Helen," she mumbled after everything was back at its place, and she stepped back at the table.

"What's happening next?" She asked Peterson now, her voice scratchier than ever, and her lungs started to protest again. Taking a deep breath - well, as deep as it was possible with a lower lung capacity - YN tried to shake off that strange feeling as if her head was wrapped in cotton and as if she couldn't get enough air into her lungs and much-needed oxygen into her bloodstream. "We will follow the aorta up to the left ventricle, check the three branches - brachiocephalic artery, left common carotid artery, and the left subclavian artery - before taking him off the cardiopulmonary bypa-... Doctor YN? Are you alright?"

She barely could understand his words, but the sound of the scalpel hitting the ground next to her right foot was all-consuming. YN didn't even realize that it had fallen out of her strangely numb fingers at which she stared now, unmoving. Everything seemed so far gone in front of her eyes, especially as the room started to spin around her.

"YN? YN, talk to me. What is wrong?"

Stephen. His voice was as calm as ever, but she couldn't push herself to move her head and look into his handsome face. Everything was spinning too much.

"I... I don't feel so well..."

It was barely a whisper, and if the operation room weren't deadly silent, except for the monitors and the oxygenator, no one would've understood it. But Stephen's mind switched focus between the open brain in front of him and his girlfriend only two feet away. The constant switch was as smooth as it had always been, even though his brain screamed to stop working and to rush over to her. But he couldn't let go, not with the DeBakey forceps in this man's brain and near the last splinter of the broken bullet. Instead, his hand didn't move a single inch while he raised his gaze to stare over at YN.

"Keep on talking, darling. Talk to me. What's wrong?"

He needed to keep her conscious, and it always helped when he was calm and asked her questions she could easily answer. Just as he would do during one of her anxiety or panic attacks. He could see her blinking slowly, almost in slow-motion while her brain tried to keep up with his words, even though it would love to just blink out.

"Chest's hurting. My head... Everything's spinning. I... Stephen..."

And with that, her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and she collapsed onto the sterile floor. He could hear instruments clattering on the floor, and Stephen didn't want to think about the possibility that her head had hit the instrument's tray.

"YN?!"

"Doctor LN!"

"Oh gosh, Doctor LN?"

"Get her some oxygen, god damn it!"

Suddenly, pure chaos dominated the operation room, and Stephen worked as fast as he could while shouting questions.

"Could somebody talk to me?!" He needed to know if she was okay. "Somebody needs to say something, or this entire room gets fired!" Stephen didn't care if he sounded like a maniac. "85/50. It's a wonder she held up for this long. Open wound at her right forehead, probably needs stitching. Doctor LN? YN, can you hear me?" The sound of snapping fingers was heard, but no answer. One of the nurses looked back at him, kneeing on the ground next to YN. "We'll bring her upstairs, Doctor Strange." He quickly looked up, straight into the nurse's face. "Make an x-ray of her lungs, a head CT to clear her of a concussion, and don't you dare let anyone other than Henderson stitch that. Page Doctor Palmer, she will see through with everything. And someone needs to page Chamberlain; we still have an open chest here." Shuffling was heard before the anesthesiologist spoke up right next to him. "Hamilton is on duty, sir," he reminded the neurosurgeon, but Stephen scoffed while slowly grabbing the bullet with the forceps. "I don't care if that accident of a surgeon is the fucking president of the United States. Get. Me. Chamberlain." YN would decapitate him with her bare hands if she learned about the fact that Hamilton had ruined hours of her hard, perfect work.

And with that, he returned to his job, mind still a bit out of tune with an unconscious YN being put on a gurney and pushed out of the room only several feet away from him.

He had never felt more helpless in his life.

Do your job, and you can look after her. Do your job, and you can sit next to her and wait for her to wake up. Everything will be okay, Stephen. Stop spiraling.

;

The familiar sounds of the hospital surrounded him, but Stephen almost didn't hear them, not since he had gotten the x-ray scans of YN's lungs and the CT of her head. His eyes were practically glued to the tablet screen in his hands, forearms resting on his knees and supporting the weight of his upper body. He couldn't sit straight anymore, nor could he stand, not since they had been left alone in the room YN now occupied in the cardiothoracic unit.

It had taken a long time until he got some peace and quietness minus the beeping sounds of the machines hooked up to his girlfriend because she always had been admired and loved by her colleagues. Everyone had wanted to come by and leave little cards full of Get well soon. If flowers were allowed, the room would probably be filled with them by now.

Rubbing his tired eyes, Stephen scanned the images of the CT another time - he had stopped counting an hour ago - and as all the times before that, he stared at the mild concussion caused by the metal table full of surgical instruments and the hit on the floor right after that. He had scheduled a second CT in about an hour because he had to be sure there wasn't any bleeding, as minor as it could be. He couldn't allow himself to miss it - it would not only end her career, but it could steal the love of his life right from under his eyes in the worst case.

And Stephen always measured in worst-case scenarios if it involved his girlfriend.

A nurse entered the room silently to replace the drip of antibiotics her body would've needed days ago, but better late than never, he guessed. He didn't acknowledge his presence at all - he wasn't in the mood for small talk or reassurances - so he left after checking his supervisor's vitals, and they were alone again.

Typing on the glass screen, the neurosurgeon made sure that the second head CT was indeed booked, even thinking about changing it to a CT with contrast indication, but Christine would probably kill him if she saw how he spiraled and put the tablet on the bedside table. Everything will be alright, he told himself, his hands rubbing over his face and through his now messy hair.

He just had rested his face in the palm of his hands as the sound of movements under the blanket pushed Stephen to look up again. A hoarse groan followed close, and instantly, the man raised from the chair and sat on the edge of the comfortable bed. His eyes took her face in, scanned it for any indication of a stroke everyone had missed out on, and gently held the hand who wasn't hooked up to the drip and heart monitor. Finally, YN's eyes opened slowly, and she blinked; another groan escaped her at the blinding light.

"YN," Stephen almost whispered and scooted a bit closer. A soft but questioning "Hm" was all he got for now, and his heart started to race in his chest; every stimulant responsible for the emotions of fear and panic distributed into his bloodstream, and his usually barely rising anxiety had its peak season with all the adrenaline rushing through is body. He couldn't think straight when it came to her. Never. So he started to caress her face with the tips of his fingers - starting right above her brow, down over her temples, and over her cheeks because he knew that it almost always tickled her, and she would scrunch up her nose. She did exactly that, but only barely noticeable. "YN, I need you to focus, darling. Can you squeeze my hands?" Stephen already held both her hands, and she squeezed them; softly at first, but with every passing second, her grip became tighter. "Okay. Good job, love. Can you feel this?" Stephen's hand had slipped under the blanket to stroke his fingertips over the soles of her feet, and her toes wiggled at the ticklish feeling.

A cough shook her body again before YN could open her mouth. "Could you please stop tickling a barely awake woman? That's socially considered as rude as fuck," her hoarse voice whispered, and Stephen instantly took her hand between his and pressed it against his still rapidly beating heart. "YN." Seemingly, his brain had lost its capacity because Stephen could only mumble her name. Relief rushed through him and counterattacked the adrenaline.

The woman opened her eyes, blinking, to look up at him. "Yeah, s'still my name." Her head throbbed, and she didn't want to know what had happened after her brain had decided to quit his job entirely. "Stop freaking out, Stephen, I'm alright." She tenderly squeezed one of his hands and had to sneeze as she realized the feeling of oxygen tickling the insides of her nose. "Y'all really went all out on me." Amusement was evident in her small voice, but Stephen couldn't laugh about it - and probably would never do.

"You scared the hell out of me, YNN."

Suddenly, she turned serious and beckoned him closer. The tired man obliged but wasn't prepared for her pulling his head onto her chest, but he didn't mind. It had always been his most favorite spot in the world. He felt safe. And cherished. And loved. YN's fingers carded through his hair, which just started to turn grey at his temples, but differently to him, she didn't want him to dye it, so he didn't get the at-home dye while getting the groceries last week.

It was strange what he would do for this woman. But at the same time, it wasn't, especially with the thought about that black velvety box hidden in his locker lingering in the back of his mind.

"I'm sorry, love," she whispered into his soft strands and kissed his head. "Wasn't my intention, really. Thought I'd be strong enough. Strong enough for my patient and strong enough for you." Now, he had to prop himself up on his arm to stare incredulously at the woman he loved more than anything. "I am sorry, but what?" YN shrugged and felt pitiful. "Y'know, you're this incredible man and surgeon, always perfect, always giving his entire being for his patients, and I need to keep up with that, so you won't leave me because you'd find a better, more perfect woman, and-..." He interrupted her nonsense by starting to pepper kisses over her face, except her lips. They didn't need another pneumonia in just a week or two. "Wherever those thoughts came from, you can send them back there, darling. Okay?" Slowly, YN nodded and closed her eyes with a sigh as Stephen pressed a lingering kiss to her still warm forehead.

"Can you show me the scans?"

He stayed close to her as his hand grabbed the tablet and opened her file. Stephen watched her as her eyes darted over every lab they had run, every x-ray image (which looked even worse than she had anticipated, but she couldn't change that anymore), and at last, she scanned the CT. "There is probably a second one coming, am I right?" He shrugged while she softly laughed under her breath and let the tablet sink onto the thickest blanket this hospital owned. "How long will you keep me locked away at our place, Doctor?" The Strange was still propped up on his arms, as close to her as possible without crashing her with his weight or putting too much pressure on her already hard-working lungs, and hummed, deep in thought. "With that much fluid and inflammation in your lungs and larynx? Not to mention the concussion?"

She rolled her eyes. "Please, it's a baby concussion."

Stephen cocked an eyebrow. "Ah, so now you're the world's best neurosurgeon?"

"Don't flatter yourself." She rolled her eyes. "That title can earn anyone, even you." YN hit his shoulder playfully, and a small grin tucked at her lips. An unbelieving but humored "Hmpf" escaped the surgeon before he turned serious again. "Back to the topic at hand. Until you're discharged, you will do whatever the staff is saying. You won't discharge yourself or medicate yourself." YN had already opened her mouth to say something, but Stephen only had to shake his head in one direction, and she closed it again. "Don't try to talk me out of it because I know you, YN LN." Now it was her turn to "Hmpf" in annoyance. "Anyway. After you're discharged, you will stay at home, catch up on all of your movies and shows, bake to your heart's desire, and recover. I don't have to tell you what pneumonia does to your lungs in the long run. You will have to strengthen them again, and that's exactly what you're gonna do, darling. Looking after yourself and taking care of your health and body because I need you a few more years longer."

A loving smile settled upon her tired face, and YN tenderly caressed his cheek with her knuckles. "So... You won't get tired of me just yet?" Stephen chuckled before pressing a kiss into the palm of her hand. "I am not quite sure if that's even a possibility, darling," he returned and kissed her palm a second and a third time, his mind always wandering back to his locker and the box he intended to show her on Christmas Eve because it was one of her favorite days of the entire year. Now, he would have to postpone everything he had planned.

It may be a small throwback, but it would still be perfect.

A soft knock at the doorframe moved the couple to look over and see a smiling Christine standing there. "Sleeping Beauty is awake and obviously fine, perfect. He drove me crazy in the last couple of hours." Stephen rose from his comfortable position and turned his head to his friend. "I wasn't that bad," he tried to defend himself, but now it was YN who scoffed. "Yeah, sure. Keep telling yourself that, love." Then, looking at Christine, she continued: "He went all neurosurgeon-mode because I didn't jump on the bed right after the first blink. Thought my brain would be mush, and I'd be a lost cause." He never stood a chance against these two women, always calling him out and letting him face his flaws - which he never liked much.

"Whatever," he mumbled at the chuckle of his friend before turning back to the redhead. "Is the CT ready?" Christine nodded in approval, and right after that, a nurse pushed a wheelchair into the room.

With the most neutral expression on her face, which looked kind of pissed, YN changed looks with both doctors.

"I'm not gonna sit in that thing."

–

She arrived at the CT in said thing.

;

She felt soft pecks of even softer lips on her face, and she woke up to that feeling. Yawning, YN blinked up, and both arms fought a way out of the fluffy blanket cocoon she had wrapped herself into to circle them around Stephen's neck.

Ever since her discharge two weeks ago, she had been a good patient, an excellent one, to be quite honest. She never overdid it, always respecting the new boundaries her still recovering lungs had set for her and always listening to the doctors. Well, more like listening to Stephen because he was the one doctor she trusted the most.

"You're early again," the woman mumbled against the skin of his neck, where her face was securely tucked away, and YN could feel his lips on her skin once again. "I told you how this would go. Do my promises mean so little to you?" Grinning, she shrugged and let him sit her up on the comfortable couch she fell asleep on while watching a random news channel.

Apparently, the Avengers were back in the city, and YN desperately hoped she didn't need to drive detours on end just because they thought it would be a great idea to stroll around town, so idiotic humans could form crowds at the glimpse of one of them.

Shaking her head, the woman pushed her fingers through his hair that had acquired a few more grey patches, which she secretly admired every day. "It's just that I know you, Stephen, and I know your workaholic tendencies are just as bad as mine." YN kissed the cold tip of his nose and accepted the cup of tea he had grabbed from the coffee table. "Did you take your meds?" She nodded proudly. "Yup. And the throbbing is finally gone without an Advil." That concussion had been a constant pain in her ass.

Stephen smiled one of his satisfied smiles and kissed her forehead while standing up again. "Well, with that out of the way..." He scooped her up into his arms, and YN squealed-laughing the entire way into the open kitchen, where the Strange sat her on top of the kitchen island. The delicious smell of her favorite food and restaurant wafted through the air, and she took a deep breath without feeling the urge to cough her lungs out. "You seriously drove through the entire city to get me Don Angie's?"

Usually, the expensive Italian restaurant located in Greenwich Village didn't do take-out, but for a selected group of people - people with the right numbers on their checks - they tend to loosen their rules. But well, this very household had a reservation minimum once a month, so they probably were already considered family.

Stephen smiled at the joy he brought into his girlfriend's eyes and started to unpack the containers full of food and dessert. "For you, darling? Always." Scooting over the marble countertop, YN grabbed Stephen's wrist to pull him between her sweatpants-clad legs - his sweatpants, to be precise - and cupped his handsome face with both hands. Her nose softly brushed against his, and Stephen sighed, letting his eyes fall shut and leaning his forehead against hers. "Can I marry you? Will you marry me?" Her question was nothing but a soft whisper, and he had to tear open his eyes to stare into her face, with that knowing smile he almost dreaded to see in such a context. "You really thought it would be a great idea to hide it here when I have almost the whole day to myself?"

He seriously didn't think about that before he took the black velvety box out of his locker because he only had thought about the practicability of it staying at their apartment. He wouldn't have to drive to the hospital to get it if he would've decided to propose to YN spontaneously. And now, he had ruined the surprise with his own hands.

Great.

Scrunching up his face, Stephen groaned and let his forehead sink back against hers as he felt both of her hands carding through his hair again, trying to soothe him. "I didn't open it if that takes something off that disappointment, love," YN whispered and kissed the corner of his mouth. "You didn't?" He had to be sure that at least something of that surprise was still viable. Her head shake was answer enough, and he took a deep breath. "Well, it wasn't a total surprise, now, was it? I think the direction this relationship took off after we moved in together was almost painfully clear or is it just me?"

Maybe it was all in his head, and YN never had the intention to settle down with him, being the smartest couple in medicine, maybe starting a family, growing old together. Maybe it was all just his silly little idea, but never hers.

YN sighed softly at the look on his face, and she could almost feel his spiraling thoughts running havoc inside his overthinking mind. That's why she took his chin between her fingers and forced him to open his eyes again. "It's not only in your head, Stephen. It never was. We may have never talked about it in detail, but the allusion was always there. Our conversation about looking for something more... comfortable, less statement? I would have never brought up the topic of this-", she pointed from her to him, "-wouldn't be a one-way ticket for me. And it is a one-way ticket because I don't need a return ticket. Kids, pets, a life just with the two of us - I don't care as long as you're in it, Stephen Vincent Strange."

He needed to blink in order to keep those foolish tears at bay. Instead, he dove for a deep kiss, so full of love, respect, and adoration that it almost blew his mind.

"You’ll get a proper proposal, darling," he promised, lips still connected and words muffled by it, but YN understood him clear as day. "I hope so because you're the overachiever in this relationship and need to outdo Marc." Grinning at the thought of Stephen's future victorious smile, she kissed him again before squinting over to the food. "I love your kisses, but I'm hungry. Could we do dessert first? On the couch? I'd love some cuddles after five long hours without my personal doctor to fulfill every single of my needs and wishes." One last time, Stephen bent down to kiss her before opening the containers with almost every dessert on the menu and her strolling back to the couch to make space for him between all the pillows and blankets.

"I am not your butler."

But he shouted the words with a smile on his face and one thought on his mind: Life could never turn to the worst with her in it.

Thank you so much for reading! As usual: Comments, reblogs, and likes are much appreciated <3

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rmoonstoner · 10 months

Text

***

Poisoned Empanadas

***

Pairing:

Moon Knight (Jake Lockley) x Spider!fem!reader

Spider-Man 2099 (Miguel O'Hara) x Spider!fem!reader

***

18+

Warnings:

Violence, strong language, mentions of death, mentions of depression, sexual themes, sex dream, confusing switching of two look alike characters

***

Summary:

It's all fun and games, until you get your motives questioned by a grumpy wizard. Then your subconscious decides to fuck with you.

***

Chapter 4 - A - Empanadas de manzana - Chiloé Island, Chile

This is a sweet and tart apple pastry. It's made with cinnamon, cloves, lemon juice, and vanilla, and has a buttery flakey dough.

***

Miguel had been very appreciative of the pizza. He had torn into the box and devoured three whole pieces, before you even got your box of chicken wings open. He looked like he was starving and you felt the same way, but you certainly weren't going to act like an animal.

He did look amusing though.

"Oh, shock. It's so good! I've never had pizza like this before. This is amazing!" Miguel finally spoke.

His face was pure bliss as he licked his fingers clean. You swallowed thickly, finding yourself drooling. You weren't sure if it was the image of him eating like a beast, or the fact that he was licking his fingers obscenely clean. You just knew it wasn't the wings that made your mouth water.

You two talked about patrols, recent current events that you thought he should be aware of, and then you went over all the local slang and currently used curse words. His little AI companion was quietly keeping score of all information, and by the time you finished your wings, it was early morning.

After the food was gone, you deposited the packaging and waste into the dumpster behind the pizza joint. When you turned around, Miguel was gone. Nothing remained of his presence, aside from the spot he had accidently dumped a package of hot sauce after he tore it open the wrong way.

You were disappointed that he didn't say goodbye. It was alright though, because now you knew he existed, and you wouldn't be scared to see him during the day in public and accidentaly mistake him for your ex. You decided to start the journey home, swinging back towards the Sanctum.

***

It was about four am when you got in and the building was quiet, aside from the usual sounds of the unusual. The journey to your room was uneventful, right up until you got to the door of the round sitting room that led to your room.

There Stephen and Peter were, books scattered all around them. Peter was upside down, hanging from the roof with a notebook and pen in his hands, while Stephen was floating upside down in front of him, firing off questions.

"Holy shit, boys. You're still awake?" You exclaimed, which threw Peter off enough to slip down a few inches from the web rope he was holding.

"Oh, hey! Yeah! Stephen made me this weird tea, and it kept me up all night. He's been trying to help me study and fall asleep, but I am still awake!" Peter quickly said as he let go of the rope and fell to his feet. His eyes were wide, yet he had dark bags under them. He was wired, and the doctor didn't seem concerned.

"Yeah… My bad, I didn't even think about his Spider physiology. I just dosed him according to his age." Stephen declared with a shrug.

"It's alright, doc! I'm fine!" Peter said while snatching up his books and throwing them into his backpack.

"You say that now, but once it wears off, you'll be tired and burned out. I think it's time you go to bed, my boy." Stephen chuckled and placed a hand to Peter's shoulder.

"Naw, I have so much energy! I could stay up until my exam at 4pm. I'm sure of it-" Peter blabbered on for a moment and he suddenly went limp as the doctor caught him. The lad was out cold and you were worried, until Peter let out a rumbling snore.

"Is he snoring?" You asked. Stephen nodded and smiled as he hauled Peter up into his arms and went over to his bedroom door.

"Yeap. Had to use a sleeping spell. I'll cast a cleansing one as he sleeps, then he can sleep until I get him up for his exam." Strange smiled as he disappeared into the room. He came out moment later and shut the door. The sorcerer seemed amused.

"He's doing that burrito nest thing again. I don't know how he can stand all those blankets and the fireplace on at the same time." Stephen casually remarked as he flicked his hands to clean the room up. There were webs everywhere, which meant Peter had probably literally crawled the walls while being high on whatever the doctor had given him.

"He does that when he's exhausted. It's good ya knocked him out. He's barely been sleeping because of school." You replied as you helped Stephen remove the webbing that was literally everywhere.

"Yeah, I figured as much. So, how was the night watch?" Stephen asked while casually leaning on nothing, the cloak aiding him to do so. He had both arms crossed and an inquisitive look on his face as the room kept cleaning itself. By now most of the mess was gone, leaving just a bit by your door.

"It went well." You gave a short reply and tried to move towards your door. The moment you blinked, you found yourself at the entrance to the round room again.

Fuck. He had more to say and you weren't getting away easily.

"Just well?" Stephen asked with a quirked brow and a small smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.

Oh no. He was doing that weird thing again. The power of deduction. It was one of his many natural talents and you loathed it when he focused that skill on you. Even though he wasn't your dad or anything, he sure fucking acted like one.

"Yeah." You shrugged and gave him a smile. He squinted at you and then chuckled with a gentle shake of his head.

Oh lord… Did he see something? A fault in your expression? Maybe he was using that third eye of his…

"Really? You didn't call for back up. You didn't even check in every hour, like you're supposed to. You must have been busy with something."

Riiight. That. You had forgotten to do so, what with Miguel appearing and then hanging out with him, instead of doing your job. Maybe if you gave up more truth, he'd back off and leave you alone-

"Ah. Well, it's funny you say that… The dark sauce spots on your torso confirms you had food. Wings again, right?" He pointed to the small splotches of the wing sauce and you smiled and shrugged. He kept going, not letting you say a word just yet.

"Also, I can clearly smell a garbage scent. It's not pungent, not enough of it to signal it was on you. But it is enough for me to tell that you were in close proximity to someone that maybe was filthy?" He asked and you tried so hard to keep calm. You'd never avoided telling him the truth before, but alas, you did smell a little. You couldn't even be mad at the comment.

"I was just talking with a friend. We grabbed pizza and wings." You tried to say, and Stephen just chuckled softly.

"Ah, I see… Who was this friend? Were you in uniform?"

"Yes, I was in uniform. His name is Miguel. He's from out of town." You explained and Stephen raised a brow.

"Also, judging by the fact you're not as chatty as you initially were when Peter was conscious, informs me you don't want to talk about this friend. Am I right?" By now the man was so smug looking.

"Fuck! Of course you're right, doc. I don't want to discuss my friend."

He was quiet for a moment as you squirmed, his smirk getting wider.

"Ah, I see. Is it a love interest? It's good to get back out there." He said, that damned grin not leaving his face.

"Uh, sure. Look, doc, I am really tired, and I have to get up early and-"

"No you don't. You planned on staying in and taking over Peter's gaming station. You made a big deal of it and everything with that new small animal town game that just came out. You even made me go to the store and get it." Stephen explained as he produced the game in question and waved it in your face. Damn him and his magic tricks and his stupid perfect memory. You snatched it from his hands and looked away.

His words made you sigh and rub the back of your neck sheepishly. You almost wanted to cry in frustration and exhaustion. Stephen noticed how you got quite stressed. His face softened and he sighed right back as he put his hands up in defence.

"Look, it's none of my business, but when you didn't call or text, I was getting worried, and Peter was as well. He asked me to check up on you, and when I did, you were sitting with another Spider. One that Peter doesn't know and has never seen before. He did, however, freak out, because he looks exactly like your ex…"

"Ah, fuck."

"Is that what Jake does at night? Is he a Spider-Folk and just hid it from you? I ask, because I only had a visual, and no audio. I remember you telling me about his peculiarities, before. I want to make sure you're safe. Peter was all ready to suit up and go kick his ass."

"May I sit down for this?" You huffed and motioned to the lounger. Stephen rubbed his face and nodded.

"Okay, look… The guy I was talking to looks like Jake, but he's not. He has proof that he isn't. Jake has some Egyptian symbols on his left arm, this guy did not." You said as you drew out the symbols on a piece of paper.

Stephen watched as you copied down the tattoo. His brows furrowed as you managed to write almost each symbol correctly from memory. Once he was done reading them, his brows shot up.

"That's… You're sure of the tattoo Jake has?" He asked as he took the paper and squinted at it.

"Uh, yeah. Sorry those pictures suck."

"They are actually quite good. You only made a mistake on this one, at the end. It's supposed to have a different bird to it, but otherwise, it's surprisingly accurate." He explained softly.

"Well, what does it say? Some lame ass thing, like 'live, love, laugh' or something?" You asked.

"Uh, yeah. It's very close to that, but in more words." Stephen huffed.

He had a look of concern on his face, which betrayed his words. He tried hiding it by rubbing at his tired looking eyes. You could tell he wasn't exactly telling you the whole truth, but he was tired and you were willing to drop the whole conversation, just because you got to skim over who you were with. Turning away, you hoped that was the end of the talk, when Stephen shifted in his seat.

"What's his name?" The doctor suddenly asked. It made you freeze on the spot.

"I… I don't want to out him"

"I won't tell Peter, or anyone else. I just want to make sure he's not on my watch list."

"Oh… Okay… His name is Miguel O'Hara."

The moment the Spanish Spider's name was mentioned, Stephen crinkled his nose.

Oh shit. Was Miguel on his list? If he was, that meant you had an obligation to help the wizard find and catch the new Spider. It would be so easy for Stephen, and you didn't want to have to go hunt this poor man down…

"No idea who that even is." He finally announced and gave a long yawn. It encouraged a yawn from you, and you gave him a smile.

"So, are we good? May I go to bed now, doc?" You asked while rubbing at your face. The wizard moved forward and gave you a weak smile.

"Sure… But, please don't go jumping into anything blindly. I know how much you miss Jake, and trying to fill that void with a look a like, doesn't help. Trust me, I know." Stephen patted your shoulder and turned away to leave.

"Yeah…" You muttered and went into your room.

***

It should have been warm, but it wasn't. It wasn't cold, either. It felt like the absence of both and it wasn't bad or good. It felt like a dream, and maybe it was. Everything was off, like an artificial intelligence program that was trying really hard to replicate reality and failing only slightly. It was enough to know it wasn't real.

It was dark, but everything was crystal clear and it was breathtakingly beautiful. A rolling landscape lined with buildings of all sizes and shapes, colors, and lights. They went on forever into the sparkling night like an 80s retro synthwave album cover.

"It's amazing to look at, isn't it, doll?"

That voice.

You knew it anywhere. The distinct gravelly drawl was thick with a mix of Spanish and American tones. That was unmistakably Jake Lockley's voice. Hearing it now, made you feel stupid that you ever thought Miguel sounded like him. They were somehow two entirely different sounding accents, even though their voices were nearly identical.

"But of course, none of it compares to you, mi estrella." As he spoke, your vision blurred a little as you were turned to look at him.

He was stunning as he sat there in a grey tux, his legs dangling from the ledge where he sat. He had his customary bloodied plaster over the bridge of his nose, and his hair was slicked back with a few stray curls over his eyes. It was weird to see him lacking his hat, but he was wearing those gloves he was so fond of.

You tried to speak, but unfortunately nothing came out, save for a sigh. Jake's grin got wider and he tilted his head, almost looking past you. He looked so crisp and clean, when you were used to him looking like an overworked cabbie. Sure, he did clean up well, but never like this.

The suit was just too perfect. Not a detail out of place. Everything an expensive suit should have, was there. Dress shirt, tie, vest, pocket square, and pants. Even his shoes were tailored, looking like a nice shined up Italian leather. Everything was that rich charcoal shade, with the tie, shirt, gloves, and pocket square all being black.

The small detailing on the suit was phenomenal. The patterns on the fabric all appeared to be related to his interests in regards to Egypt, with everything from hieroglyphics to stylized patterns from that time period. It was subtle and stylish, but it was throwing you off.

"I miss you, you know. Every night I think about you. It helps to keep me going, knowing you'll be there when I get back." He murmured softly as he reached out to take your hand.

You looked down and felt your heart beating wildly in your chest. He was always so romantic, you know, when he was around. Of course this dream was projecting that positive trait. Missing him felt awful, and boy did you ever miss him.

Jake took your hand to his lips as he dipped his head down to kiss it. You squirmed, trying to will yourself to take your hand away, but you didn't budge. Jake took it as a sign to keep going and he pulled you closer, kissing his way past your wrist up your arm, and to your shoulder. It shot a shiver down your spine as your body reacted to him the way it always had.

"Do you know why I call you, 'mi estrella'? I consider you like the sun, and myself the moon. You're so brilliant and warm, and your greatness shines so brightly. It reflects onto me, making me feel like my heart is full." In the blink of an eye, you found yourself sitting in his lap as he husked out romantic words of adoration to you in Spanish.

You didn't remember doing so at all. His hands were roaming all over you, his rough voice groaning into your ear. His kisses had moved to the spot by your ear, nibbling, sucking, and licking the skin there. Every touch and every whisper was setting you aflame. It was so familiar, it felt safe, and you gave in to the motions of the experience.

Just as you surrendered to the dream, everything decided to go screwy. The night sky and the lights of the city all went dark. A low growling came from behind Jake, and when you looked, there were two small red dots staring at you. When you blinked, everything shook, and then they were gone.

When you looked back at Jake, he had changed subtly. At first you didn't quite know what it was, until he opened his eyes and shot you a toothy grin.

Sharp fangs and twinkling crimson eyes shown back at you.

"Don't think about him. His pretty words mean nothing when he keeps breaking your heart." Miguel's distinct voice hit your ears. You felt a ripple of heat go through you when you realized you were still in the same position you had been with Jake.

Right in Miguel's lap.

"Miguel." The words came out soft, like a whimper as you felt Miguel pull you closer. He whispered your name and dipped his head down to capture your lips. You closed your eyes, sighing happily as you felt him tip you backwards.

"Él no te merece." He groaned as he pushed firmly against you.

Oh.

Ooohhh…

Things sped up, like a choppy and thrown together home movie. Miguel's hands seemed like they were everywhere and his mouth was busy nipping at your neck. You could feel the drag of his teeth along your throat, which made you shudder at how easily he could tear it out if he so wished.

The scene switched to him tearing your clothes off, starting with your top at the arms. He started out by slipping your gloves off and throwing them behind him carelessly, then moved on to popping one of his claws out and slicing your sleeve, all the way up to your neck. He did the same to the other sleeve and then sliced downwards, going carefully, yet dangerously close to your skin.

"So beautiful… Hermosa." Everywhere he cut open, his mouth followed suit as he kissed and licked at your flesh. He was passionate as he gently rutted against you. You could only whimper, whine, and squirm as he worked, tearing and peeling your suit away from your body.

Your pants were swiftly taken from you, and somehow Miguel was also lacking any attire. The moment didn't last much longer, because he quickly kissed you as he grabbed at your thighs and hoisted you up to meet his hips. He was quick to kiss down to your neck again, this time biting and sinking his fangs in.

Pleasure rocketed through your body as he filled you just slow enough for you to get used to the feeling of him. He felt so good as he hit the back and stayed still. He growled, while you gasped and wriggled in his grasp, but finding all it did was move him around inside you.

He started to move, slowly at first, but the dream chose to slow it down even more as he increased his pace. You soon found nothing but a cloud of pleasure and felt his claws digging into your hips as he pounded into you. It didn't hurt like you thought it would, and instead, it was a wonderful sting of euphoria as the man ravaged you to his liking.

You had no idea how long this lasted for. Every time you closed your eyes and opened them, you were in a different position, but it was still Miguel. Nearly all of them where he could reach your neck, he had bitten you each time, and each time, it filled you with a thrill like no other.

All the noises were down right pornographic.

Skin was slapping against skin.

Lungs burned as you made obscene noises.

Miguel snarled and growled like a beast as he kept up his assault on you.

A much welcome assault, mind you. You felt so good through the whole thing. Every part of you reacted accordingly.

But as dreams go and flow, they would eventually end.

There was the most wonderful climax you had ever had in a dream, and then everything was black.

"Don't forget about me, mi estrella."

Those words hit your heart, and everything suddenly felt heavy.

Note:

***

Series Master List

***

Rise and live again as my fist of vengeance. My Moon Knight

Is written on Moon Knight's pants. Stephen reads something similar in the hieroglyphics the reader presented to him.

Estrella is 'star' in Spanish. Hermosa is 'beautiful'. Él no te merece. is 'He doesn't deserve you.'

I use Google translate, so if it's wrong, sorry about that. Feel free to correct me.

***

Special thanks to:

Beta Reader:

@einno-arko

Proof Reader:

@iceclaw101

Ideas and discussion:

@einno-arko @howaboutcastiel @theaussiedragon

***

Tags:

@theaussiedragon @autismsupermusicalassassin @readingfan @missdragon-1 @marvelescvpe @lunar-ghoulie @cicithemess2000 @animesnowstorm @mahbeanz @dafuqelaine @bby-lupin @paranoiac-666 @konniebon @cl0v3r-s0up @seraphine-so-pretty @jupitersmoon167 @butterflypillows @ivystoryweaver @mintellaine @bxdbxtxh15 @badbishsblog @cleothegoldfish @xxmadamjinxx @bitchyexpertprincess @sakurayuki8655-blog

142 notes · View notes

ay0nha · 2 years

Text

The Strange Policy | Stephen Strange

Pairing: surgeon!Stephen Strange x nurse!femme!reader

Word Count: 5K

A/N: I watched When Harry Met Sally and got inspired and in my feels. This is a product of that and it’s also my take on the “there's only one-bed” trope. This is also my first Stephen smut so be gentle....might do an angsty part two, but ZERO promises. Enjoy.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ ONLY), mentions of wounds/cuts/etc, doctor stuff, vague ass stuff, lack of medical knowledge, cringey fluff, etc.

"Did I wake you?"

She hummed briefly, debating lying but sighing out the truth, "You know I don't sleep."

"You sleep more than I do," His laugh was breathy, revealing his fatigue, "What are you doing?"

"Watching When Harry Met Sally."

Her chin was working its way down to her chest as she slumped further into her bed. She filtered through the channels, nothing grabbing her withering attention. But then there it was.

Maybe it was the fall leaves she was desperate to have over the snow that taken over that drew her in or maybe it was the nostalgia tied to it, either way, it filled her with something that she was happy Stephen's call interrupted.

"Really?" There was his superficial judgment she was looking for. In an odd way, it grounded her, always a good reminder to not take too things seriously. That was only when it wasn't getting on her nerves.

Her tone was dull as she answered, "Really."

She could picture him now, his posture slightly hunched to reach the phone while he rubbed his recently discarded cap off his head and through his hair. His mind was probably still in the operating room already critiquing his technically perfect operation.

If she wasn't in the room with her, he'd always call her after. He'd give her the play-by-play of what happened, down to the music choice. She preferred to be in the O.R. with him, no longer dreading it like she once had.

She could appreciate the way he worked. It was clinical for a purpose, but under all of that, she loved the way she'd inadvertently become his good luck charm. It was the first and last time she'd complimented him on his procedure methods. From there forward, he'd offer her a wink before picking up his scalpel. It was a joke at first, but it stuck like honey due to his superstition and genuine amusement.

"Do you agree?"

"With what?" She mumbled, watching as the movie had another five-year time skip. New York was always so romanticized in the movies, only showing the beautiful love-filled parts. Perhaps, that's what it truly did look like for someone in love.

"That men and women can never be friends because the sex part always gets in the way."

He could feel her laugh on the other end all the way down to his toes. That or it was the exhaustion catching up to him.

"You clearly do with that 'Strange Policy' and all," She smiled lightly, loving teasing him about the unofficial rule Palmer had created for Metro-General. One that she knew was in place not for his lack of trying.

"That doesn't answer my question," He tutted softly. She could feel his smirk from the other end, knowing her answer was contrary to his and how he loved to pick it apart. He lived to challenge her but loved when she challenged him as she was one of the few who succeeded in doing so.

"We're friends, aren't we?"

---

They had met years ago, yet if you asked Stephen at the time he would have said he'd never met her. She was his scrub nurse of a handful of years and yet he had failed to learn her name, too concerned over his ego to care.

It wasn't until a fateful New Year's Eve. There was always the press at the door, waiting for the New Year's Eve babies. Along with the numerous alcohol-fueled accidents that fit in just before midnight. Then there were the patients that had been in their beds for months, the ones that needed constant care even during the busiest nights.

Sure, the pay was slightly better, but there wasn't enough monetary compensation to give to make up for what the nurses endured on the holiday. The work was demanding, but the doctors were even more so. The doctors were always on edge, but the holiday brought out a completely other side to them. Accident reports were their worst enemy, but it was the unorthodox olive branch between the doctor and the nurse.

"They got you good," Stephen spoke softly to match the quietness of the room. His headlamp was bright in her eyes as she tried to pull away from him and the utensils he was too quick to pull out.

"It wasn't her fault," Her response held bitterness. Her head was throbbing from the bedpan that had been thrown at her. It was yet another nightmare story to add to her repertoire.

"Shouldn't need stitches," He continued his examination on the small flesh wound above her eyebrow, dabbing it with the iodine swab.

She grew jittery on the parchment paper of the exam chair. The entire thing was uncomfortable from its start. Stephen had walked in on her disinfecting her cut, thinking he was one of the only ones left. She tried to be discreet about it, but he was criticizing her methods before she knew what was happening.

"I know that."

"It's a superficial wound at best-

"I know."

"You seem to know a lot," He hummed while removing his gloves for a fresh pair. He was nothing but thorough. Then he looked down at her scrubs to add, "You're not a doctor on this floor, are you?"

Her laugh was anything but genuine. In hindsight, she could see how his question was actual, but the struggles of the night overwhelmed her and took her sense of humor with it.

She went to speak but his voice was louder, "I work this holiday every year-

"So do I-

"How come I've never seen you?"

"Look, Dr. Strange-

"You know me?" His charm was instantaneous, asking the ego-filled question with delight. He read her face quickly understanding the double meaning of the conversation, "Am I supposed to know you?"

She eyed him, trying hard to give him the benefit of the doubt, but his smugness drove her, "Ask me for a scalpel."

He paused his action for a moment, a confused laugh threatening to break his perfect bandage application, "What?"

She insisted, remaining still until he pulled away from her again, checking his handiwork. It looked seamlessly put back together, some of his best work, "Come on, ask me."

He'd bite.

"Pass me the 10-blade." It depended on the surgery and she hadn't been specific. Therefore, he went for the safe, generic choice. One he rarely used due to the higher-powered tools it took to get inside of someone's head.

"10-blade." Her tone was mocking and he finally understood why.

He hadn't realized she was the hands behind him tying his medical gown. It wasn't a part of his routine to pay attention. He was too immersed in running through the surgery ahead of him trying to push away the feeling of pressure to hold up perfection. There were always more people in his room, all the students pushing and shoving each other behind the glass wall in hopes they'd be able to catch Stephen's free hand something.

Yet, he never realized she was front row to all of it.

---

She had a love-hate relationship with hospitals. She thought they were always too bright with a bleak atmosphere. There were phones constantly ringing, monitors always beeping, people coughing all of the air out of themselves; everything too overwhelming to the senses. Yet, she loved everything about it even down to the paperwork.

It was therapeutic for her, something to keep her hands busy and give her a breather from the constant social interactions of her position. It was a moment she'd have for herself that she usually spent contently alone.

"You seem tired."

A coffee cup now sat on the line she was supposed to use to record her notes. She followed it up to be met with Stephen, an identical cup in his own hand. This was new.

"We don't have that thrombectomy until 12," Her eyebrows furrowed with confusion all the while ignoring his unintentional insult.

"I know," He took her response as an invitation to join her, pulling the chair next to her away from the table for himself, "We've got some time to kill."

It took him a few weeks to warm up to the idea he was in the wrong for not recognizing her. But once he did their conversation flowed more smoothly. It remained professional, cordial even, but it was no longer in the nonexistent territory. Something he couldn't stand.

"Did you always want to be a nurse?"

"What is this?" She looked between the coffee and him, suspicion settling instantly. The last thing she wanted was someone else workload passed off on her on mile high stack.

"What? Don't blame me for trying to get to know the person who hands me blades..." He teased only to receive a glare. He copied her squint slightly in further jest to ask, "Too soon?"

It was the first time his humor had caused the smallest of smiles to appear on her face. She wasn't sure what about it let him wedge his way into her life she so desperately wanted to separate from him, but figuring out that she preferred her coffee black with a lot of sugar helped.

It helped start a routine, something both doctors and nurses thrived off of. Usually, Stephen's break would have a slight overlap with hers, not always, but day by day it seemed as if it was happening more frequently. So frequently, Stephen had begun waiting at the nurse's station for her to come out of the last thing she'd been doing.

"Loitering again, Dr. Strange?" Her voice startled him slightly, her hand coming to touch the back of his arm to move past him more easily. It was fleeting, but it was deliberate.

Sometimes their finger brushed in the O.R., but there was always gloves covering the touch. His skin pricked as if she'd shocked him. He wasn't used to touch in that way, let alone accepting it, but it felt different from her. It was like his senses had become heightened to how closely she was now standing to him. He watched her as she sorted her charts like she always had mindlessly chatting with him about something unrelated.

But Stephen hadn't heard a word, too focused on how she was careless with her movements, no longer thinking or moving away if they touched. It was like they had passed an unspoken milestone. One that made Stephen's confidence falter for just a moment.

"Can't do coffee today," She muttered, but Stephen finally and fully picked up on what she said. He ignored the rest of her reasoning due to simply not wanting to hear it, "I'm going to-

"I noticed on the schedule you get off at eight," He continued despite her still speaking, "I was thinking-

"You do a lot of that," She stopped him before he could start. She'd evaded it skillfully the past few times, not usually one to mix business and pleasure, but Stephen was nothing but persistent.

"Dinner."

"Dr. Strange-

"My treat."

"Dr. Strange-

"Stephen."

If there were lingering nurses near them, they all stopped what they were doing, eyes and ears intended on hearing what was happening between the two. Stephen was notorious for his wit, but not entirely for his flirtatious side. It caught everyone in the room off guard.

However, she wasn't buying any of it for a moment, "What's your motive?"

He couldn't help but smile, "Didn't realize I murdered someone."

---

It was cold out again, a few winters later.

She had finally gotten a moment to herself where she could strip herself of the scrubs she had on for over twelve hours, shower to wash off other people's bodily fluids, and get off her aching feet to give her back a break.

The beds were never comfortable in the on-call room, but they fulfilled their purpose.

She was fast asleep when she felt the bed dip. She turned slightly, thinking it was someone else trying to hoist themselves to the bunk above her. Soon enough, she'd slip back under into slumber. But, she felt the scratchy blanket being pulled from her shoulders pulling her further from the state she wanted to be in.

"Move over," The voice was deep, but undoubtedly belonged to the head of neurosurgery.

She groaned lightly, something resembling a disappointed whine, "Get your own bed, I've finally got a break."

"I've got surgery in an hour," He said pushing himself further into the twin-sized space, "And the other beds are taken-

"Fine." She hadn't allowed him to protest further. She couldn't care about anything else, desperate for sleep to chase away exhaustion. However, his sterile smell overwhelmed her quickly, pushing her to whisper once more, "Where'd you come from?"

"Craniotomy," He moved around more, looking for the most comfortable spot to lay.

She could only hum in acknowledgment, barely able to really process what he was really saying.

He continued, mind still buzzing from it. He thought it was a routine procedure, but once he saw the grey matter, it became much more complicated. He explained every detail to her, his volume increasing slightly with excitement, "You should have been there..."

"Sounds interesting..." Her response was on instinct. She knew he'd be talking about the surgery until the next big one came along and she'd be filled in on the details more than once.

However, what she truly neglected to get from his elation was how much more he was trying, in his own way, to convey to her.

"There's this other case I've been trying to get, I need your help on it," He said, turning on his side to face her better, "Maybe if you talk to the mom she'll sign off on-

"Hey, Stephen," She mumbled straight into the now shared pillow, "I'm going to go back to sleep now."

Stephen. He melted at the sentiment of just his name coming from her lips. It usually bothered him when his title wasn't used and he found joy in correcting people. However, whenever she called out for him. Dr. Strange. It was always so cold, ironically both clinical and cynical.

"Right, right," He apologized briefly.

He shuffled more in his spot, pressed against her with ease. It was just how she was; always a sense of ease radiating from her. Stephen liked to think she heard him. He could say anything to her. He could just be himself. It all felt easy.

"Your watch is digging into my back," Her voice was still soft as she turned back to him. She pulled at his wrist until his arm was over her, creating more space for the two to be more comfortable squashed in.

The complaint was a disguise to take advantage of his warmth. Stephen loved when it was cold out because that meant her touches always lingered. This, though, was entirely different as his arms encased her completely. It was like she could finally shake off the chill on her bones.

His frame perfectly covered her, his body looking like the only one in the bed. An outsider would have difficulty seeing her in front of him as she was almost to the wall. It didn't matter if anyone saw them, everyone knew by now they functioned as a unit. If there was one, the other wasn't far behind.

"Did you see the snow out?" He all but mumbled into her shoulder. He knew she wouldn't be asleep for a little while longer, maybe not even at all.

"Mhmm," She nodded, her muscles relaxing into him, "We're supposed to get a few inches tonight."

"Did you get your tree yet?" He added before too much of a pause happened.

"Stephen-

"I know you haven't," He continued his thought, "Let's pick it up tonight before we get snowed in and-

"I'll get it on my day off," She groaned, shifting in his arms to face him. Her eyes were still shut meaning she missed how his eyes were studying her face.

It was a bold move on his part to pull her to him, but he was no sense of shyness in the hold. Neither would admit it, but they missed each other throughout the day.

"Let's just get it tonight," He insisted, wanting an excuse to spend more time with her, "I passed a place today they have those scrawny ones you like-

"You're going to wake up the whole room with all your Christmas spirit," She mused, body turning to face him the conversation pulling her completely from slumber. She didn't mind, too focused on how Stephen's fingers became bold as they trailed rhythmically up and down her spine.

His smile was that of a child, "So is that a yes?

Her lips tugged, "Of course."

---

"Did I lose you?"

"Hmm?" Her eyelids were becoming heavy, but she was in no mood to fall asleep. The relaxation was too good to.

"You're not falling asleep are you?" He quipped. He was starting to feel antsy in his spot, ready to leave the hospital but hanging onto her every word.

"Can't," She started, eye focusing intently on the screen in front of her, "How will I find out if they get together in the end?"

"Don't be ridiculous, they always get together in the end."

"Always a cynic."

"Oh come on now, don't be upset," He wanted to hear her voice once more before their call ended, "...Look, I'll make it up to you...I can pick up some of those noodles you love-

"With the extra sauce?" She asked, falling for the obvious trap.

It was routine at this point, a good way to debrief from the day. It was easy to be sucked into the hospital 24/7. The late-night food after a grueling shift was always the cure and as Stephen put it doctor recommended.

"With the extra sauce," He promised.

From the moment he left the hospital to the moment he left with the warm meal, he was ecstatic. Stephen chalked it up to hunger and seeking warmth. On his way over it seemed everything reminded him of her from the dainty Christmas trees in the shop windows to the people bundled up with warm drinks, making each step he made more assured than the last.

Once he made it to her door, Stephen balanced the food steadily in one hand while the other felt blindly on top of her door frame until he hit her spare key. Entering her home was always a simple action, a ritual Stephen loved.

Firstly, he'd place the key back in its spot for the next time he'd need to use it. Then, there were the dim lights of her place always on in a way that would lead him down the hall to her room. Her home contrasted his in such a clear way. Everything in her home once belongs to someone else but was put together in a way that was uniquely hers. Each piece in his home was custom made to be only his and he paid generously to make sure. Hers was warm and inviting while his was lavish and desolate.

"Good I made it just in time for the end," His sarcasm was palpable as he push his shoes off one by one while announcing his presence.

"For a second there, I thought you might have gotten lost," She joked, sitting up to accept the warm food he passed to her, "...Thank you."

Mumbling a quick you're welcome, Stephen propped himself up just how he'd found her. What Stephen had really come for was her bed. It was smaller than his, but the memory foam was unmatched. His legs were stretched out in front of him, ankles cross while his hands lay comfortably on his chest. In only a matter of moments, his breathing steadied to that of someone in a deep slumber.

Surgeons liked to think they were invincible, that they could fight sleep better than any other person. However, with the perfect concoction of low lights, a comfortable bed, and a working radiator, sleep became instant and irresistible.

She went to speak to him but closed her mouth once she saw how his head drooped to the side. The entire thing felt out of place, but she wouldn't want it any other way. The two had created a bond that she never thought she'd hold so dearly to her heart. Neither of them was blind to how the other grew fonder by the day. But there was always the doubt of lack of reciprocation or the fear of ruining what had taken time to build.

"You crying?" Stephen mumbled as he adjust his spot by moving on his side, palms together and hands under his cheek as he gave her a once over realizing she actually was.

Her head stayed positioned forward, watching how the two protagonists finally understood the other, "Go back to sleep."

"C'mon now, don't cry," He studied her unable to catch her true feelings. Tears from her, good or bad, held his attention. Stephen moved to her quickly as the laughter started to bubble in his chest, "He gets the girl in the end."

"That's not the point."

They both knew what she was talking about, the setting all too domestic to not. He now used his thumb to catch any remaining stray tears, "I think that's the whole point."

Neither could remember how their faces gravitated towards each other, but it was most likely due to how his thumb was to her lip, an eye trained to where he'd just traced. It was a preface to how their lips connected: quiet and barely there, a tender peck as if to console her, and something innocent. Then he pecked her once more slightly less tentative and less friendly. It wasn't until the third she melted into his touch, reciprocating the same level if not more emotion.

He used his body weight as leverage as he now was pressed above her. He was warm, filling her senses with his scent as he stared at her ear and nibbled his way down to where her shirt had lifted. He was languid in his movements. Giving her every moment to savor the feeling of holding each other this close.

Stephen leaned back, pulling the hem of his shirt over his head before tossing it aside, giving her the time to do it for herself. The two took their time to be settled between each other until Stephen's hands slid down her now bare stomach. One hand went to grip her thigh, while the other sandwiched itself in the space between her pelvis and his. His fingertips could already feel the heat radiating from her clothed core.

"Your hands are always so cold," He mumbled against her neck, feeling how her hands trailed his chest to get to his sides.

It had almost distracted him from the journey his fingers were on. However, Stephen's eyes were latched to hers, exploring the interaction in every sense as their lips tangled again. He tapped two fingers against the soaking fabric, happy with the way it caused her to squirm breathlessly.

He pulled away from her lips, but stayed close, ghosting his mouth over hers to say, "Will you let me taste you?"

Her stomach tingled at his bluntness, only fueling his conviction.

She'd never felt like this before. She didn't know that she could feel an ache so deep inside her and be so completely aware that the only cure for it is the touch of another person. A specific person. At this moment, she felt like he was her person.

But before she could reply with anything, Stephen pushed aside her underwear and pushed his fingers as deep as he could. The relief she found was instantaneous. A breathless sigh slipped past her lips as he rubbed over her folds, delighted with the fluttering breaths she was letting out.

Despite the tension building up in her body, this is the most relaxed she'd felt in days. The attention he was paying to her body was like no other. Stephen knew how her core was soon going to convulse in the most delightfully sinful way, making him harder than he'd think was ever possible. He wanted to feel her completely and wholly, but he needed to see how he could make her feel with just his hands. He wanted a taste, he wanted to hold, he wanted to suck, he wanted to bite, he wanted to squeeze, he wanted to do anything and everything that had to do with her.

She, though, all she wanted was for Stephen to fill her up so completely that she'd be feeling him for days, "Stephen..."

It went quick, his movements stopping, leaving her empty, and pulling back. She worried that it was time to come to their senses, but before she could finish her thought she could feel Stephen's wet kisses on her thighs. He was craving her at this point, selfishly not being able to give her what she was asking for. He kissed the inside of her thigh once more as he gets settled in between them pulling her underwear off so his arms could hook around both thighs to pull her closer.

Her hips twitched in the slightest movement, and Stephen's eyes darted up to hers for a moment before he dove in. He was teasing her and it was borderline painful the way he slowly kissed every part of her that ached for him.

Her lips parted, eyes shutting in pure bliss as he got to work, lips closing in on her clit to gently suck. Then, his still warm fingers returned to work in and out of her like no tomorrow, she was sure to be done in minutes. He continued to skillfully work his mouth and fingers in her heat as she moaned deeply, beginning to see stars and feel warm.

As predicted, it didn't take long for Stephen to coax her through and down from a powerful orgasm. He coaxed her through it all from the high and back down, settling his cheek against her thigh in a tender hold as he watched her catch her breath.

Once it was still again, Stephen smiled to himself; pleased with her pleasure. He was ready to dive in for more, wanting to feel again how her fingers tugged his hair tenderly. But she couldn't help but beg him again, "Stephen, please."

Her wish was his command. Especially when she said his name the way she did. Stephen got pleasure in her pleasure, so now as her legs were spread wide open just for him, it was his absolute bliss.

"Let's just go slow," Stephen managed through a confident breath, regaining his composure. Slow. His voice became lustful with his last word, just how she wanted it to. However, he wasted no time kicking the rest of his clothes to the side so he could drag his tip along her slick core.

He guided himself to spread her open, circling around her clit making her walls flutter as he then pressed further. She could feel how his breath fanned against her neck, causing her to shiver. The feeling heightened when Stephen relaxed completely into her, causing them both to groan at the sensation of how her body instinctively reacted with a soft clench.

The moment he filled her for the first time, there was a feeling of completeness that she'd been missing. She needed this, she thought. She needed to be stretched, to be filled. She meant to hold her in her mewl, but she only had so much control when she was underneath Stephen.

Yet, Stephen based everything on her as he asked, "This okay? Do you want me to stop?"

"God, no."

Neither admitted it to the other, but it had been a long time for both to be in the position with anyone. Their pleasure was quickly building as Stephen began to push his hips towards her finding the perfect rhythm within a few thrusts.

“Right there, Stephen,” She whispered, “Oh, right there.”

Her tone's softness was making his head dizzy. She'd only imagined this moment, craving to know how it felt to be with him as closely as they were. The moment finally solidified how the two grew exponentially fond of each other. It made all of her previous experience pale in comparison. She had never moved so in tandem with someone who held nothing but her best interests at heart.

She wanted to stay in the moment forever feeling the way he perfectly dragged through her to only return with such fervor. However, she could feel his tip pulsate inside of her as his thrust became sloppy and his breath low. She couldn't help but repeat his name, again and again, each time her voice sounded desperate. He groaned in response as she felt the hum throughout her entire body, vibrations sent straight to her core.

"Stephen," Her voice an octave higher, her hips eagerly chasing his movements. His forehead dropped to her shoulder, her name leaving his lips in a heavy breath.

"That’s it," He encouraged on her lips. She wasn't sure she could get anything out but moans much to his pleasure. His thrusts were becoming deeper, never missing that spot that was rarely explored.

Anything out of her mouth resembled a whimper, "You f-feel so good."

Stephen was trying hard to last as long as he could, but with one flex of her muscles, he was a moaning mess on top of her as he finished inside of her. Stephen collapsed on top of her, his heart pounding out of his chest. He wasn't sure if it was through passion or embarrassment.

"Sorry I just-

"You're alright," She spoke over his confession with honesty. She loved the feeling, being able to feel him, and how she now had something of his to hold onto which prompted her to say, "Let's just stay like this for a moment."

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