#Star Trek Bottle Opener

[wonderlesch]

12 Days of Geeky Gifts 2023

12 Days of Geeky Gifts 2023 is the ultimate gift guide with mind blowing gadgets and collectibles. It's the most wonderful time of the year! #newblogpostalert #12daysofgeekygifts2023 #geekygiftguide #wonderlesch

Hello and welcome to my latest Blog Post: 12 Days of Geeky Gifts 2023. There’s a song about the 12 days of Christmas, here I am sharing not only what is at the top of any geek’s gift list but where that gift can be purchased as well. Read on to discover a Foldable Drone that’s perfect for someone just starting out in the world of drones (that’s me!). A cell phone holder and iPad stand (helps me…

[youngpettyqueen]

once again thinking about the post-canon dynamics on DS9

[ozarkthedog]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝

summary: the world crumbled before you could experience the touch of another. Joel does his best to keep you innocent for as long as he can.

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x afab virgin!reader.

warnings: 18+ mdni. established, undefined relationship. PUSSY RUBBING. fluids galore. just the tip. perv!joel. unspecified age gap. fingering. dirty talk. overstimulation. male masturbation. FEELS. Joel is a conflicted old man. reader is able bodied. no Ellie. w.c. 2.9k

an: i watched a porn clip and instantly went rabid thinking about jackson!joel.

-> follow up to a glimpse of heaven but it's not necessary to read the first part.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐉𝐨𝐞𝐥 𝐌𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

Like most of Jackson, the house you share with Joel is quiet and calm when night falls. Rain softly patters against the window as you lie in bed, wide awake. Another night of fruitless sleep under your belt.

You huff irritatedly, your hand collapsing against the mattress as you bitterly kick your bedspread onto the floor. Your oversized shirt clings to your body, your skin dewy from the exertion, and you're close to crying. Your limbs are wrought and overworked after hours of touching yourself with no orgasm to show for it.

Your hand won't cut it; it isn't enough. It can't reach all those sensitive spots that make you float among the stars.

Warmth pools in your abdomen as you think of one that's the perfect size.

A hazy hue of yellow light pours under your bedroom door as it spills from the room across the hall.

Joel.

It takes a long time to get to know someone, but they tend to meld with your soul once you do in one way or another.

From the start, Joel was intimidating. He was so frayed around the edges that you were afraid he'd completely unravel in the middle of your journey. He didn't seem to care for your company as the two of you traveled across the plains to Jackson, hesitation poisoning every fiber of your being, but you kept on with the strange man since no one else was willing to trek across the states. You desperately needed a new life, a fresh start away from the Boston QZ, and Jackson sounded like the perfect spot.

Over time, Joel opened up, conversing little by little as you drove for miles across the now barren US. Usually, after you had a close call with raiders or the lone gunman, he'd go silent, the weight of protecting someone other than himself sinking further into his soul, consuming that much further.

What you never expected was for him to be your first touch.

Sweltering tension slowly grew like a wildfire. Catching each other's curious stares, lingering fingers, and salacious banter until, one night, he slid a cautious hand into your panties. He claimed your untouched sex when you confessed over a roaring fire and a bottle of whiskey that you'd never been with another. His weathered hands were gentle as he sunk his fingers into your core, watching with rabid fascination as you came for the first time, gasping from his touch.

The following day, as he drove you across the interstate with the sun slowly rising, he made sure you knew that wouldn't happen again. "I'm much too old. Don't wanna waste your time with a mean ol' grump like me."

You didn't bring it up again.

One month after settling into Jackson, picking bedrooms, and deciding who would do which chores, Joel had his first taste of you.

It wasn't supposed to happen.

You chewed your dinner slowly in the modestly sized dining room across from Joel. You were so lost in thought that he was concerned enough to ask what was wrong.

"What does it mean when a man eats you out?" you naively pondered, causing him to choke on his veggies.

Joel had never looked so red before as he took a long drink of whiskey. You instantly apologized, explaining that you overheard a group of women conversing while you tended the communal garden.

He raised a hand, curbing your frantic rambles. "S'ok. Figured you'd be learnin' things. Just didn' think I'd be the one you'd ask."

"But I trust you."

His jaw twitched at your words.  

Later that night, Joel fell to his knees at the edge of your bed and tossed your legs over his broad shoulders. "Never tasted a pussy so sweet," he mumbled against your glistening folds as you ran your fingers through his graying curls. You came multiple times on his tongue, grinding his whiskered jaw while he hungrily lapped at your soaked folds like he was dying of thirst.

You didn't bring it up again.

It's warmer in Jackson now. The sun hangs longer in the sky. Snow boots and jackets are stowed away until the next freeze.

You slink from the warmth of your bed and pad sockless across the hall. Lightening flickers brightly under the starry sky. The night rain storm slowly whirls through the city, soaking everything in its path.

Joel's door is open. A soft smile tugs at your lips; it's his way of saying he's still up. He keeps it ajar while he reads before rolling onto his side and bidding goodnight to the world.

Three soft knocks alert Joel from the guitar-building manual he's currently reading. Dread clouds his mind for a moment, wondering why you'd be knocking on his door at this time of night, but he takes a deep breath and grounds himself in the softness of his bed.

"Yeah?" he calls out. His tone is rough around the edges after a long day on patrol.

You poke your head around the door with a timid smirk. He looks at you over his reading glasses before marking his spot and laying his book on the side table.

You don't say anything as you stride into his room. He notices your oversized shirt swaying at your knees before you climb into his bed and curl against his side like a cat. 

He drapes an arm around your shoulder, unconsciously pulling you closer.

"'Nother bad dream?" he questions with a low rumble.

You shake your head. "Can't sleep."

You nuzzle your face into the crook of his shoulder and feel him nod, understanding the endless struggle for a night of peaceful sleep. It's improved since moving to Jackson, but the dreams never end.

Silence fills the bedroom except for the soft pitter-patter of rain against the roof. Joel leans against the headboard, sighs through his nose, and lets his thoughts drift. He's content to sit with you in his arms for as long as possible, even if that makes him selfish.

He wonders if you hope to find someone to settle down with, someone less ridged and mentally maimed, someone less him.

The thought drives a stake through his heart.

He'd be crazy to say he didn't love being around you. Your laugh and lopsided smile took the first brick out of his impenetrable fortress when you spied a deer and her calf frolicking in an open field in Kansas. From then on, it became easier for him to let his walls down.

When you came to him with those big doe eyes and urges about wanting to know what it's like to be touched and desired, he gave in each time despite his reasoning.

He would masturbate each time after getting his hands on you, also thinking about the early days when he'd catch glimpses of you changing or the time he first saw you naked while showering at the YMCA. 

He's still trying to figure out what to make of you. Friends? Lovers? He certainly didn't mean to fall head over heels. Love had no place in his heart, but he'd be a fool to say he wasn't extremely fond of you.

"Can you make me feel good again?" your lithe voice broke the silence.

Joel stops breathing. Your question doused him like a cold bucket of water. He knew this would come back and haunt him.

His hand curls tight around your shoulder as he wrestles with the devil on his shoulder. "Told ya we shouldn't keep doin' this, Sweetheart," he reasons, trying not to break your heart.

"But I can't make myself feel as good as when you've done it. I've tried!" You whine, burying your face into his chest.

"S'not that I don't wanna," he admits, soothing your soft cries. "S'just, you're too precious to do that wit' someone like me."

You lift your head and brazenly brush your lips against the exposed skin of his collarbone, earning a low groan as he curls a large hand around the back of your neck. He tugs you away from his skin, your lips still forming a tight 'O', and pins you with a stern gaze.

"Joel, it hurts." Your watery eyes and trembling bottom lip are his downfall.

"Lay back, Sweetheart, and spread your legs," he orders with a husky tone.

You don't make a noise; too afraid he'll stop if you do. Your cunt beats against the gusset of your panties as you lay on your back, spreading and bending both legs at the knee, just like he taught you.

A warm breath fans down your face as he shifts down your body before kneeling between your legs and tracing teasing fingers over your covered mound. His nails lightly scratch along the worn cotton, making you suck in a frantic breath. He slips a practiced hand beneath the crotch of your panties and deftly explores your folds, gently rubbing small circles on your clit after wetting his fingers with the arousal that's pouring from your cunt.

"Oh, she's achin' real bad, huh?" he groans as your opening clenches beneath his wandering touch.

"Joel, please, I need-" You gasp, hips wantonly grinding against his hand, desperate for any type of friction.

The muscles in his jaw ache. It's only natural you'd be wanting more.

Before he thinks twice, Joel draws his cock out from his sweatpants. Your stomach cramps at the sight as it smacks against his belly; he's massive.

His cock hangs heavy between his thighs like a solid, dangerous threat. It weeps from the dusky tip, shiny liquid dripping from the crown as he squeezes his hand around the girthy base peppered with dark gray, wiry hair.

"Got somethin' that'll make you feel good, sweet girl." he grits, tapping his cock against the covered crux of your pussy. It thwaps devastatingly against your clit, forcing a gasp from your lips as mind-numbing pleasure races up your spine and leaves you staring dumbly up at him.

"S'that what you need? Need my cock to keep 'er from achin so bad'?" his cock is searing as it lies in wait atop your panty-clad mound. You swear you can feel his blood pumping steadily into his shaft.

He cautiously thrusts his hips, sliding his length along your cotton-covered mound. Your slick arousal seeps thru the material, wetting the thin cotton and creating a sensuous touch as he glides along your cunt.

He shoves your shirt up over your chest, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. He licks his lips, "Such'a beauty."

Your cheeks flame at his words. Having such a man say things about you makes you lightheaded.

Joel groans as your panties practically are now see-through from your combined fluids staining the cotton, "Oh, baby." You whine at his pet name. "I got ya. Keep those legs open, just like I taught ya. S'good girl."

He keeps a steady pace, sawing back and forth over your extremely soaked mound. Your puffy pussy lips stick to the soaked cotton, leaving nothing to Joel's imagination. He glides easily along your slit, your juices smoothing his path until your arching your back and chanting his name like a prayer.

Watching you orgasm under his touch is enough to drive him wild. He throws all sense of logic out the window. He's okay with being selfish again.

"Let's get these off, yeah." He hooks two fingers under the elastic and slides your panties off before his words register in your euphoric haze. "Feel even better without 'em."

He swallows hard at the sight laid out before him. The sheets splay and curve around your naked body, making you look like an ethereal being sent to test his limits.

"Gonna give 'er a kiss, Sweetheart," his deep timbre vibrates your body as he draws close and touches the bulbous tip of his cock to your exposed folds. Blood rushes to your cunt instantly, bordering on the edge of pain. You cry out from the intense contact, and arousal slips freely down your crack as he traces his cockhead up and down your soaked slit.

"How's she feel?" He anchors his head, looking down at you from under his lashes.

"S'nice," you half whisper, half moan. The wanton bliss slowly consumes you the more he rubs against your sticky folds, keeping a hand locked around his girthy base, his crown glistening with your combined arousal.

Your eyes tear open, back arching like a bow, when he cants his hips and taps his cock square in the center of your cunt.

"M'not gonna fuck you, sweet girl, wanna keep you whole," he declares, holding true to his word despite the overwhelming need to claim you.

He can't be the one to sully you. "Ain' much left'a this world that's as sweet n' pure as you."

Your core quivers as his dusky, throbbing crown glides along your glistening seam. He tentatively explores uncharted areas, brows furrowed with concentration, fighting with inner demons who want to claim, corrupt, and mold you for only his touch.

His name leaves your lips with a mess of desperate, frustrated moans, "Please, Joel."

He snaps out of his haze. He's done almost everything he can to keep you safe and protected in this new way of life. He'll be damned if he doesn't grant you anything you ask for.

"S'hurtin' somethin' fierce, huh?" He grunts, angling his hips until his cock lines up with your fluttering hole. "Bet she needs somethin' big'er than fingers to ease 'er throbbin'."

His cock catches on your opening, forcing a hiss through his clenched teeth. As tight as you are, he can't stop from pushing into your warmth. He blocks out any sense of reasoning that's shouting from the back of his mind as he slowly nudges his cock into your weeping, inviting hole.

Joel goes brain-dumb momentarily, watching in immoral awe as your core ever so slowly swallows his fat tip and breaches your quivering hole, forcing a raspy whine from your throat.

So warm, safe, and wet.

Joel's never felt anything like you. He wants to bury himself, slide his cock as deep as he can, claim every inch, endlessly fill you with his cum, and keep you only for him.

You frantically reach for him, hands clutching the air as he rubs a callous thumb over your clit while keeping a steady hold on the base of his cock.

"S'all she's gonna get," he states, returning to his senses and hissing when your cunt tightens. "S'just the tip."

A soft begging whine bubbles from your lips as you extend your arms, needing something solid to hold before latching onto his wrists.

Your hips move on their own, desperate to feel his length completely shunted in your velvet warmth, but brute hands envelop your hips and pin them to the bed.

He shakes his head, salt and pepper curls fraying across his forehead. "Don' be greedy now." He tuts, narrowing his gaze down at you.

A garbled mess of nonsense tumbles from your lips as your fingernails dig into his muscular, hairy forearms.

"I know. S'big, huh?" He lands a solemn thumb on your clit, rubbing tender circles around the tiny bud. "Stay wit' me, sweet girl. Wanna feel you come on my cock."

Your mind spins. It's all too much, and yet, not enough. Your head tosses from side to side, and you're frantic to survive, breathing hard and fast, waiting for the drop to come and, at the same time, never wanting it to come.

"Don't I deserve it? Keepin' you safe all this time." Joel muses, stroking his cock in time with his teasing thumb. His eyes never leave where he's splitting you open. He's barely penetrating you, but it's enough to know if he had, you'd be struggling to take him.

"Come on, Sweetheart. Let go f'me," he urges, his touch growing faster. Severe, tightly drawn circles tease you closer to the edge.

Your stomach flips. A heaviness settles in your throat, your heart lodging in the tight confines, your blood pumping faster and faster. A lithe whine slithers free, escaping into the dimly lit room and burrows into Joel's mind.

His jaw clenches, and a dark growl rumbles from his chest, "Thatta' girl. Make'a fuckin' mess'a me."

Your dripping hole quivers and throbs around his swollen tip as you come with a silent scream, body locking taut, trying its best to engulf his length entirely.

Joel curses, jerking his length with long, steady tugs and rubbing his weeping, cream-covered tip around your soaked folds before his spine goes straight, and he yanks his cock from your core, curling in on himself and spilling his seed all over your belly with a deep, gravelly moan.

You sag into his sheets, spent with a shiny thin layer of dew and white ropes of spend painted across your abdomen.

"Shit." Joel curses, breathing heavily as he holds himself by his hands, which press into the mattress by your head, keeping you locked beneath him.

You hold his studious gaze. His dark eyes ruminate, tinged with mood, as his gaze drills down into your very core, threatening to demolish your soul. You resign that this was nothing special. Just another night you won't talk about again.  

Joel eases off of you with a grunt, his bones aching from the tension despite the brief, pleasurable relief, and tucks his cock back away into his sweatpants. He shuffles to the bathroom momentarily before returning with a damp washcloth.

He wipes the cloth over your belly and between your thighs, cleaning the combined arousal from your skin before chucking the rag into the hamper with a sigh.

"I know," you mutter, grimacing as you roll onto your side and sit up, tugging your shirt down. "I won't mention it again."

A solid, warm hand on your shoulder stops your retreat. "Stay," Joel whispers with soft, yearning eyes. "I wan' you to stay, sweet girl."

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[lostyesterday]

I made the following graph because I was interested in which words show up most often in the titles of Star Trek episodes and movies:

I included episode titles from all twelve canon TV shows and all thirteen movies. I only counted nouns for the graph to avoid including boring words like “the” or “and”. I also counted plurals of a word as the same word (“stars” counts as “star”) and compound words where the singular word still carried the same meaning (“starship” counts as “star”). A complete list of episode/movie titles for each word listed in the graph is below the cut.

Time:

Amok Time (TOS)

The Time Trap (TAS)

The Naked Time (TNG)

Time Squared (TNG)

A Matter of Time (TNG)

Time’s Arrow (TNG)

Timescape (TNG)

Hard Time (DS9)

Children of Time (DS9)

A Time to Stand (DS9)

Time’s Orphan (DS9)

Time and Again (VOY)

Once Upon a Time (VOY)

Timeless (VOY)

Time Amok (PRO)

The Time Devouring Scavengers (PRO)

Star

Beyond the Furthest Star (TAS)

Starship Mine (TNG)

Starship Down (DS9)

Far Beyond the Stars (DS9)

North Star (ENT)

Battle at the Binary Stars (DIS)

The Brightest Star (Short Treks)

The Girl Who Made the Stars (Short Treks)

The Star Gazer (PIC)

The Stars at Night (Lower Decks)

Starstruck (PRO)

A Moral Star (PRO)

Man

The Man Trap (TOS)

Where No Man Has Gone Before (TOS)

The Schizoid Man (TNG)

The Measure of a Man (TNG)

Manhunt (TNG)

Tin Man (TNG)

Man of the People (TNG)

A Man Alone (DS9)

Our Man Bashir (DS9)

Inside Man (VOY)

Renaissance Man (VOY)

Magic to Make the Sanest Man Go Mad (DIS)

Home

The Voyage Home (movie)

Home Soil (TNG)

Homeward (TNG)

Move Along Home (DS9)

The Homecoming (DS9)

Homefront (DS9)

Homestead (VOY)

Home (ENT)

Far From Home (DIS)

Coming Home (DIS)

Child

Friday’s Child (TOS)

And the Children Shall Lead (TOS)

Plato’s Stepchildren (TOS)

The Child (TNG)

Galaxy’s Child (TNG)

Children of Time (DS9)

Child’s Play (VOY)

Children of the Comet (SNW)

Children of Mars (Short Treks)

Life

Half a Life (TNG)

The Quality of Life (TNG)

Life Support (DS9)

Lifesigns (VOY)

Real Life (VOY)

Life Line (VOY)

Life, Itself (DIS)

Eye

Wink of an Eye (TOS)

The Eye of the Beholder (TAS)

The Mind’s Eye (TNG)

Eye of the Beholder (TNG)

Eye of the Needle (VOY)

Blink of an Eye (VOY)

Kayshon, His Eyes Open (Lower Decks)

Light

The Lights of Zetar (TOS)

The Inner Light (TNG)

The Darkness and the Light (DS9)

By Inferno’s Light (DS9)

In the Pale Moonlight (DS9)

Point of Light (DIS)

Light and Shadows (DIS)

War

A Private Little War (TOS)

The Dogs of War (DS9)

Warlord (VOY)

Warhead (VOY)

The War Within, the War Without (DIS)

Under the Cloak of War (SNW)

Night

Night Terrors (TNG)

Wrongs Darker than Death or Night (DS9)

Night (VOY)

Two Days and Two Nights (ENT)

A Night in Sickbay (ENT)

The Stars at Night (Lower Decks)

Game

The Gamesters of Triskelion (TOS)

The Game (TNG)

Armageddon Game (DS9)

The Killing Game (VOY)

Endgame (VOY)

The Least Dangerous Game (Lower Decks)

Shadow

Shadowplay (DS9)

In Purgatory’s Shadow (DS9)

Shadows and Symbols (DS9)

Shadows of P’Jem (ENT)

Light and Shadows (DIS)

Through the Valley of Shadows (DIS)

Mirror

Mirror Mirror (TOS)

Shattered Mirror (DS9)

In the Mirror, Darkly (ENT)

Mirrors (DIS)

The Mirror Universe (PRO)

Enemy

The Enemy Within (TOS)

The Enemy (TNG)

Face of the Enemy (TNG)

Silent Enemy (ENT)

Behind Enemy Lines (PRO)

Battle

Let that Be Your Last Battlefield (TOS)

The Battle (TNG)

Battle Lines (DS9)

Nor the Battle to the Strong (DS9)

Battle at the Binary Stars (DIS)

Mind

Dagger of the Mind (TOS)

The Mind’s Eye (TNG)

Frame of Mind (TNG)

Mining the Mind’s Mines (Lower Decks)

Mindwalk (PRO)

Blood

Bloodlines (TNG)

Blood Oath (DS9)

Ties of Blood and Water (DS9)

Blood Fever (VOY)

Flesh and Blood (VOY)

World

For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky (TOS)

The Best of Both Worlds (TNG)

Strange New World (ENT)

All the World’s a Stage (PRO)

Strange New Worlds (SNW)

Ship

Ship in a Bottle (TNG)

Starship Mine (TNG)

Starship Down (DS9)

The Ship (DS9)

One Little Ship (DS9)

Day

Day of the Dove (TOS)

Data’s Day (TNG)

Day of Honor (VOY)

Thirty Days (VOY)

Two Days and Two Nights (ENT)

[corruptedcaps]

7 Minutes in Heaven

Sarah adjusted her glasses and smoothed down her Star Wars t-shirt as she stood in front of Franklin’s house, clutching a book, a small gift for him. Her heart pounded in her chest, not just because it was Franklin’s 18th birthday, but because she had finally decided today was the day she would tell him how she felt. She took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

Franklin's mom greeted her warmly and directed her to the basement, where she could already hear the familiar sounds of excited chatter and the hum of a video game console. Descending the stairs, Sarah spotted Franklin in the middle of a lively discussion about the latest Dungeons & Dragons campaign with their friends.

“Sarah! You made it!” Franklin called out, his face lighting up as he saw her. He wore his favorite Doctor Who shirt, and his messy brown hair fell over his thick framed glasses as usual.

“Happy birthday, Franklin.” Sarah said, handing him the gift bag with a shy smile. She could feel her cheeks redden as their hands briefly touched.

“Thanks! This is awesome.” He said, peeking into the bag and grinning.

Just as Sarah was about to ask Franklin if they could talk in private, the basement door swung open with a loud bang. Brett, Franklin’s older brother, swaggered down the stairs, his muscular frame filling the narrow space. Behind him trailed his girlfriend Kayla, her high-pitched bitchy laugh grating on everyone's nerves. Behind them was their posse of equally obnoxious friends.

“Hey, baby bro!” Brett called out, his voice dripping with mock affection.

Franklin’s face tightened with a mixture of fear and anger. “Brett, mom said you couldn’t crash my party!”

Brett ignored him and sauntered over to the stereo, swapping the geeky soundtrack for loud, thumping music. Kayla and her friends started raiding the snacks, making loud comments about the “kiddie” party.

Sarah's blood boiled as she watched Franklin’s party being hijacked. She couldn’t stand seeing him hurt like this. Summoning all her courage, she marched up to Brett. “Hey! You can’t just come in here and ruin everything!”

Brett raised an eyebrow, amused. Before he could respond, Kayla stepped in front of him, a condescending smile plastered on her face. “Aww, look at you standing up for your little nerdy friend. How cute.” She said and pushed her onto the nearby sofa with a cackle.

Brett smirked, relishing the tension in the room. “Alright, we’ll leave. How about a little game?”

“And then you’ll leave?” Franklin asked.

“Scouts honor.” Brett said making a mock crossing of his heart. Franklin nodded.

“Ok we’re going to play a little game I like to call, 7 minutes in heaven.” Brett said with a deepening grin.

All the nerds in the room shifted uncomfortably, they knew what was involved in that game and the social awkwardness that came with it.

“But we don’t have any bottles to spin.” Franklin said matter of factly. Brett looked around the room and grabbed a long, somewhat phallic statue.

“This will do.” Brett said picking it up.

Franklin’s eyes widened in horror. “Brett, we can’t use that! That’s one of Mom and Dad’s fertility idols they got on vacation!”

“Cram it Franklin, it’s just a game. Now everyone, sit in a circle.” Brett snapped

The room fell silent as Brett’s friends began to sit down, their sneers making it clear they were enjoying the discomfort they caused. Sarah exchanged a worried glance with Franklin, but reluctantly, everyone followed suit and sat in a circle on the floor.

One of Brett’s friends, Greg, a tall guy with a smirk that matched Brett's, took the idol and spun it hard. The room watched with a mix of dread and anticipation as it slowed, finally pointing at Lydia, a shy girl from Franklin’s group who was known for her encyclopedic knowledge of all things Star Trek.

Brett laughed loudly, picked up the idol and handed it to Greg. “Alright, time for 7 minutes in heaven! Get in the closet, you two.”

Greg hesitated, clearly not thrilled about the idea, but under Brett’s watchful eye, he reluctantly stood up and walked over to Lydia. She blushed furiously but allowed herself to be led into the small closet nearby. The door closed behind them, and an awkward silence filled the basement.

The next seven minutes felt like an eternity. Brett's group exchanged snide remarks, while Franklin and his friends watched the closet door with a mixture of anxiety and curiosity.

Finally, the door creaked open, and the two emerged. Though it was subtle, Lydia looked different. Her glasses were gone, her hair was out of it's ponytail and from somewhere she had gotten gum and was chewing it obnoxiously. Sarah spied her nails and saw they were long and manicured. Did she have those earlier, she thought to herself.

Apart from her physical difference though she seemed to hold herself differently. Her head held higher, her poise more confident. She clung to Greg as though she were his girlfriend.

“Eh, dude me and my lady here are going to head out.” Greg said to Brett as her looked lustfully at Lydia and tossed the idol back to Brett who looked at them confused.

“Fine, leave. Whatever.” Brett said eventually shrugging his shoulders. Irritated by loosing two of the party but undeterred, he turned his gaze to the circle. “Alright, who’s next? You over there, spin.” He ordered, pointing at one of Franklin’s friends.

As the game continued, a strange pattern began to emerge. Each time the idol was spun, the pair that went into the closet emerged with a transformation that no one could quite explain. If a nerd spun and landed on one of Brett’s bully friends, the bully would come out transformed, more like the nerd who spun, and vice versa. And each time, the pair exited the closet infatuated with each other, holding hands, and promptly left the party together.

It was odd, surreal even, but no one thought there was anything at play other than some horny teens’ hormones getting the best of them. The tension in the room grew thicker with each round, and now only Brett, Kayla, Sarah, and Franklin remained.

“Well only four left. We could call it quits now, but let’s see where this goes.” Brett grinned as he took the idol and spun it.

The idol whirled around, everyone holding their breath as it slowed. When it finally stopped, it was pointing directly at Sarah.

Sarah’s heart skipped a beat. She glanced at Franklin, who looked as though he wanted to intervene, but Brett was already stepping forward, his sneer firmly in place.

“Looks like it’s you and me, nerd girl.” Brett said mockingly as he grabbed Sarah by the arm and led her to the closet.

“Don’t go falling in love with her.” Kayla said with a cackle after them.

Inside the cramped closet, Sarah and Brett stood on opposite sides, arms crossed and glaring at each other, with the idol standing between them against the wall on the floor. The tension was palpable, and for a moment, the only sound was their breathing.

Then, faintly at first, Sarah began to hear whispers in her head. “Brett is so manly, so handsome. Isn’t he better than that loser Franklin?” She shook her head, trying to ignore the foreign voice, but it grew louder and more insistent. Neither her or Brett had noticed the idol's eyes glowing.

“If Franklin really cared about you he’d be ripping that door open to get you but he’s not because he’s weak and pathetic. Brett on the other hand… that’s a real man.” The voice continued and she found her eyes betraying her as they slowly drifted over to Brett.

She drank in the sight of his strong jawline, his confident stance. The repulsion she once felt for him and his cruel ways started to melt away, replaced by an inexplicable attraction. She bit her lip hungrily, her body reacting before her mind could catch up.

Her body was starting to heat up as memories of seeing him mow the lawn topless ran through her head. The image of his glistening muscles making her panties suddenly wet. She tugged at her clothes in discomfort as if they were too tight.

She didn't yet realise but her tits had gone up two sizes already and her waist had shrunk. Her butt as well had swelled enough to give her whole body a new more pleasing silhouette. She hadn't yet noticed but Brett had.

He looked at her like he had never had before, his eyes noticing curves he had missed. Sarah was just the nerd next door but for some reason now he was seeing her in a completely different light.

"Did you get a haircut or something? Whatever it is you're looking great." He asked her with a mix of confusion and intrigue.

Sarah felt her his eyes on her, looking at her, noticing her. She liked it. “Mmmm he's complimenting you, that's more than Franklin ever does. Reward him.” The voice purred in her head.

"You tell me." She grinned as reached up, pulled her hair out of its ponytail, and let it cascade down her back in a teasing manner. Brett's eyes followed her every movement, almost entranced.

"No I don't think that's it. Maybe it's your glasses?" He said with a cheeky smile as he took a step towards her. Her heart pounded as he did.

"He likes you, but can you make him WANT you?" The voice in her head said darkly.

Sarah took off her glasses, tossing them aside carelessly. Her vision remained perfectly clear, as if her transformation had enhanced her senses and although she couldn't see them, her eyes had changed from her dull brown to icy blue.

"What glasses?" She said returning his cheeky smile to him, while taking a step closer herself. They now stood closer to one another than they ever had in their life.

"I know, it's got to be those nails." Brett said snapping his fingers and nodding towards her hands. Sarah looked down at her freshly manicured talons painted red. It didn't even dawn on her that they had been chipped and bitten only a few minutes ago.

She flexed her hand and looked at her nails with glee. They looked good but her mind couldn't help wonder how they would look wrapped around Brett's cock.

"Take him! You deserve him and it'll be so hawt stealing him from Kayla, won't it?" The voice purred as Sarah ran a hand up Brett's strong chest, her fingers lightly tracing the contours of his muscles.

While clearly turned on, Brett nevertheless cocked his eyebrow in curiosity. “What are you doing?”

Sarah smiled flirtatiously “Just admiring the view.” She replied, her voice sultry. Her eyes locked onto his, a mischievous glint in them as she continued to explore his chest with her hand.

"What's gotten into you?" Brett asked, his voice low and husky.

"Does it matter?" Sarah replied, her voice dripping with seduction. "I think we're both enjoying it, don't you?"

Brett lifted a hand to her face, cupping it tenderly sending a shiver down Sarah’s spine. Her body was red hot with desire for him but a part of her still resisted, urging her to leave. The part of her that still held a candle for Franklin. However just as she was building up enough strength to pull away, Brett extinguished that candle with a kiss.

As their mouths moved together and their tongues entwined the transformation in Sarah surged. Her chest swelled even more, filling out her shirt to the point where it strained against the fabric. Her skin took on a golden tan, becoming flawless and radiant.

Makeup appeared on her face, enhancing her natural beauty with perfectly applied eyeshadow, mascara, and lipstick. Her dull brown eyes became icy blue.

As Brett and Sasha continued their fervent kiss, a deeper transformation began to take hold. Sasha's mind started to shift, reshaping her thoughts and desires. The once fervent love for nerdy stuff like comics, video games, and sci-fi dissolved, replaced by an intense interest in makeup, jewelry, and fashionable clothes. The joy she once found in knowledge and creativity morphed into a fixation on beauty, status, and power.

Despite the heat of the moment, something in Sarah's mind was compelling her to open her eyes. When she did she finally saw out of the corner of her eye the idol. It's eyes glowing an ominous red. That's when she put two and two together.

The idol they had been using as a makeshift bottle was somehow turning the spinner’s target into the spinner’s perfect partner. She knew if she didn’t stop it soon she’d be forever changed, she'd no longer be the Sarah everyone knew. But she didn’t want to stop it now, she wanted more!

Her previous kindness and empathy were overwritten by a growing desire to be bad, to assert her dominance and superiority over others. She relished the idea of being a bully, of wielding her newfound beauty and charisma to get what she wanted, regardless of who she hurt in the process. The spark of cruelty in her eyes intensified, and she pulled away from Brett, looking at him with a newfound arrogance.

"My God Sarah...you're..." Brett said, his eyes wide with amazement at the complete transformation before him.

"Ah ah, call me Sasha, babe." She interrupted, a playful smile on her lips.

Brett nodded, unable to tear his eyes away from her. "Sasha... you're incredible."

“You haven’t seen anything yet.” She said with a devilish smile as she sunk to her knees and undid his belt. Brett's cock sprang eagerly out and Sasha's mouth began to water at the sight of it.

Wasting no time she wrapped her pink lips around it and started to suck. Brett groaned immediately as she worked his dick like a pro. She couldn't believe how good it tasted, she was going to enjoy doing this more often.

As she sucked her body continued to change. Her hair darkened, her pussy tightened, and her body became incredibly fit and flexible. It dawned on her that the other guys and girls that had been in there before them had only kissed, their passions fuelling the idol only so much and in turn their transformation. Sasha was now the hottest girl in school but she wasn't about to stop there.

Running her tongue up his shaft and hungrily swallowing his precum, Sasha pushed Brett against the wall of the closet, kissing him deeply.

"Fuck me babe, fuck me hard with your big dick! Rip off my panties and fuck me." She moaned in his ear. Brett expertly undid her now baggy jeans which slumped to her ankles. He did as she had asked and ripped her underwear off her in one clean tear. She giggled at the sight of his strength.

Her giggles soon turned into passionate moans as his dick slid easily into her wet pussy. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head as the idol's eyes bathed the two of them in red light.

Sasha’s tits grew even bigger, her lips plumped up and her skin became even softer and more tan. Even her clothes began to change. Her jeans seemed to turn to dust and blow away. Her nerdy shirt grew a little longer, darker, turning into a little black slutty dress. High expensive heels wrapped around her pedicured toes. She lifted herself onto Brett and wrapped her sleek legs around him.

“Mmmm yessss baby, fuck what little of the nerd I used to be out of me! Oh god, I’m going to cum!” Sasha whined as Brett pounded her pussy over and over until a wave of pleasure washed over both of them as they both climaxed.

“Oh my god Sasha you’re perfect.“ Brett managed to say as her lifted her gently back down onto her feet.

Sasha pressed herself against him, her body warm and inviting. "You’re not so bad yourself stud." She purred.

Sasha smirked, reveling in her new identity. She straightened her dress and admired her reflection in the mirror, her thoughts centered on her own beauty and power.

Sasha and Brett emerged from the closet, hand in hand, their faces glowing with a shared and inexplicable infatuation. Franklin and Kayla stared at the pair in stunned silence.

Kayla, her face twisting with anger and jealousy, stepped forward. “What the hell Brett? I thought all those sounds we heard was a joke!”

Sasha grinned triumphantly as she squeezed on Brett’s arm, ignoring the glare from Kayla. Kayla however grabbed Sasha and pulled her from her embrace.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing slut, but get your hands off my man!” Kayla snarled.

Sasha laughed, a cruel, mocking sound that echoed through the room. “Bitch, you’re yesterday’s trash.” With a swift, calculated move, she grabbed Kayla’s hair and yanked it hard, causing her to yelp in pain and fall to her knees.

Relishing her power, Sasha pointed a perfectly manicured finger at Franklin. “That’s your man now.” She declared with a smirk.

Kayla’s eyes filled with fury and confusion as she looked at Franklin, who seemed equally bewildered. Sasha turned her attention to Franklin, her eyes gleaming with a mixture of malice and amusement. “Spin the idol, Franklin.”

Brett tossed the idol to Franklin who put it on the ground and gave the idol a spin. As it slowed, Sasha maneuvered Kayla to make sure she was in its path.

Sasha’s grin widened. “Looks like it’s your turn, Kayla. Enjoy your seven minutes in heaven.” She said and pushed Kayla toward the closet, the look in her eyes daring her to protest.

Reluctantly, Kayla stepped into the closet with Franklin following suit, clutching the idol. Sasha slammed the door behind them and Brett propped a chair up to seal them in.

Brett pulled Sasha close, his hands resting on her waist. “You know, I never thought I’d see the day when little nerdy Sarah would turn into such a knockout bitch.” He said with a smirk.

Sasha chuckled, running her fingers through Brett’s hair. “And I never thought I’d find myself attracted to a mean guy like you, Brett. Funny how things change, huh?”

Brett leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear. “So, what’s the plan now babe? You going to take over the whole school?”

Sasha grinned, her eyes gleaming with ambition. “Oh, you bet. I’m going to be the queen bee, and no one’s going to stand in my way. Not Kayla, not anyone.”

Brett’s smirk widened. “I like the sound of that. And I’ll be right by your side, making sure no one forgets who’s in charge.”

Sasha leaned in for another kiss, savoring the power she felt in Brett’s arms. “Oh fuck you make me so wet you hawt bastard. Come on, lets go upstairs so you can fuck my brains out some more.” She grinned as she pulled him towards the stairs.

"What about those two?" Brett said half heartedly as he gestured a thumb at the closet.

"Leave them. The longer they are in there the more dorky Kayla will become. Taking her place as the queen bee will be a cake walk." Sasha smirked as she led Brett up and out of the basement.

[onsunnyside]

here's one of the prompts from this ask: presenting... camboy!Rafe

After yet another falling out with Ward, Rafe had to find some other way to make quick cash. He didn't expect to keep this virtual career going for over a year, growing to love the flattery and attention as much as his real-life hookups.

You're Sarah's best friend, a fellow kook-turned-pogue, and spent more time at the Cameron house than your own. This summer, Rafe travels back home from college and gets a little careless, so used to his private dorm where he didn't need to stifle any moans or dirty talk.

It's a late night by the pool, music plays from Kie's speaker and empty beer bottles litter the patio. John B and Sarah are cuddled by the stairs, chatting with Pope as JJ does his umpteenth cannonball, splashing you and Kie as you lounge on floaties.

Unfortunately, it's your turn to get more snacks and drinks. You begrudgingly trek through the big house, already a little inebriated. You gather chips, popcorn and beer on the shiny island counter before a loud noise catches your attention. Curiosity gets the better of you and you follow those strange noises and find yourself in front of Ward's office, the door just barely cracked open.

Rafe sits in his father's chair, pristine white shirt unbuttoned with a light sheen of sweat on his chest. Your eyes drift to his arm, the sleeves rolled up and muscles tense under his tanned skin. He murmurs something under his breath and you creep closer, trying to make out his words.

"Hm, is that so? You think you deserve my cock?" His pink lips stretch into a smug smirk, "you're gonna have to bend over my desk and show me where you want it."

The angle blocks his lower half, but you don't need to see it to know what he's doing—the jerking motions of his arm, the hitches in his breaths, and his blue gaze locked on the screen before him.

"If you beg real nice, I'll let you taste my cum. Shoot my load on your pretty face and claim you, maybe I'll even take a few pictures." Rafe groans heavily, his arm speeding up, "is that want you want? You wanna be daddy's little cumrag?"

For the next few days, you avoid him like the plague, but that's hard to do when it's his damn house. Every time he comes around, you slip away, muttering an excuse about going home or doing an errand. Sarah is the only one partly concerned since you were never at Rafe's throat like the rest of the Pogues.

Your luck had to run out at some point: he corners you at a kegger, you should've known he'd show up at the Boneyard with the rest of his friends.

"I've been back for a month and you haven't said more than three words to me."

You grip the solo cup tightly, nervously peering up at him, "hi, Rafe, how are you?"

He laughs, shaking his head. His new buzzcut makes him appear more rugged and confident. Ugh, he never used to make you weak in the knees, but now you're having trouble standing upright—hopefully, it's just the alcohol.

"I'd be better if you didn't look at me like I'm covered in blood. C'mon, you're Sarah's only friend that I can actually tolerate." He rolls his eyes, "don't tell me they turned you against me in a couple of months?"

me thinks... one thing leads to another and you're making out against his truck, your dress hiked up to your thighs as he hooks your knees around his hips. You pull away for a breath and his hand wraps around your throat, his wet lips trailing down to your jaw: "Is it bad that I want to get caught right now just to see the look on JJ's face?"

At the mention of your friends, you snap out of it and shove him away. Guilty and ashamed, you can't imagine what Sarah would think about you hooking up with her brother, and the rest of the Pogues definitely wouldn't be happy about it either.

You leave the party early and once again, avoid Rafe, going as far as faking sick when Sarah invites you over.

fast forward to the filthy stuff: don't even get me started on you starring in his cam shows. Rafe is all too eager to show his viewers every inch of you, how pretty you moan, how you melt with just the slighest of touches.

He's such a tease: he grinds his hard cock along your clothed cunt, showing his fans just how needy you get, "look at that, she's soaking her panties," he chuckles, reading the rush of comments on the laptop screen, "Yeah, she's gonna ruin them tonight—maybe we'll have a little fun and send them to the highest tipper. How's that sound, baby? You want a stranger owning your messy panties?"

He's obsessed with cum shots: he’ll cum on your pretty, tear-stained face or one of your used holes, "open wider for daddy." And of course, you obey, blinking up at him with his seed on your cheeks and lips. He leans down and spits, spreading his saliva and cum on your tongue, "such a good girl, you'd let me do anything to you, hm? You wanna show our fans how pretty you look right now?"

this au makes me very interested in Rafe's and reader's exhibitionist adventures 😳 ofc fooling around at the country club, mayhaps golf cart shenanigans, and definitely riding him in his truck... this will be a full fic 😌 or a collection of drabbles !! we'll see hehe

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR FOUR

in which eddie munson and you absolutely hate each other's guts. what happens when your friends make a bet that you can't spend more than twenty four hours consecutively together?

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, eventual smut, upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ pairings: modern!college!eddie x college!fem!reader

→ wc: 3.8+

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

4:00 ──ㅇ──────────────── 24:00

BIRDIE created a groupchat. 

BIRDIE added DINGUS, NANCE, JOHNNY, & ARGYLE 😎

DINGUS: why the fuck is my name dingus

BIRDIE: so… are we going to talk about how in love they look in that photo?

NANCE: Eddie looks like he’s going to commit a federal crime, Robin.

DINGUS: how do i change my name

ARGYLE 😎: a sign of true love my friends

BIRDIE: @NANCE SEE? he gets it. 

JOHNNY: Is this chat really necessary? 

DINGUS: guys seriously. how the fuck do i change my name?

—

HOUR FOUR - 7:00 PM

Let the record show that you don’t normally care about Lord of the Rings. You’d seen the movies out of obligation to your friends, nothing more, nothing less. You usually held complete indifference towards the trilogy. As a matter of fact, you’d nearly given Robin an aneurysm the day you’d informed them all you preferred the Hobbit trilogy over the original movies. 

Eddie, it seems, holds a similar sentiment to Robin. 

“I can’t believe you just said that to me,” he sighs dramatically, sinking into the couch and looking far more comfortable than he had previously. A bottle of cheap beer dangles carelessly in his hand. He’d decided to grab both of you one the moment this argument had begun, “You casually bring up Gandalf, and then you proceed to have the worst opinions on the greatest franchise of all time. A crime against humanity.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sincerely through genuine laughter. 

You were laughing. You were sitting on Eddie Munson’s couch, in his apartment, laughing with him rather than at him. It was a fluke in the system, a blip in the Universe. You tell yourself it’s just the effects of the beer. 

“What’s next? You tell me you prefer Star Wars over Star Trek? Or, let me guess, you’ve never read the books?” 

He looks nice like this, at ease. This hour might be setting the track record for the longest the two of you had gone without insulting one another, and you begin to wonder why you’d never been able to hold such a civil conversation with him before tonight. The two of you might not be agreeing or seeing completely eye to eye, but there was enough agreement to keep the entire debate chugging along. 

He notices your silence as you take a sip of the beer you’ve nearly polished off, smirking around the rim of it, a bit of beer lingering at the corner of your mouth. “Oh my God. You’ve never read the books.” 

“I never said that!”

“You never said you did!”

Your mouth is open, fighting back at the curl of the corners, unable to defend yourself because he was right. “I- Who even reads anymore?” 

“Excuse me?” his voice pitches as he sits up straight suddenly, “Oh, no. There’s no way you just said that. There’s no way you don’t read.” 

You shrug, and his beer is quickly set to the side. 

“C’mon, everyone reads. You’ve got to have a guilty pleasure book.” 

“Nope,” you tuck your bottle between your thighs, and catch the way his eyes had followed the bottle before snapping back to yours, “I just prefer the movies, I guess.” 

“No one prefers the movies. You’re a goddamn liar,” he shakes his head and some of the frizzy curls fall against his collar bones rather than continuing to tickle his shoulders, “You have to read something. Romance novels, boring essays, the news. Hell, even magazines or that written porn shi-” he cuts off when you smile at the mention of magazines. “Why are you smiling like that? Stop it. It’s creepy. Do you read those porno books?”

“God, no,” you laugh. A lie - you’d certainly read excerpts from Fifty Shades of Grey he was referencing to understand what the hype was to no prevail, “Just ironic you bring up magazines. You probably consider yourself a real connoisseur, don’t you?” 

He flushes crimson. His cheeks that had tinged pink from the warmth of the beer are now flaming red. “I have no idea what you mean.”

He clearly did. 

“Right,” you drawl, “So which article in that Playboy caught your eye? The one about the psychological deep dive into what makes sex so great, or the interview with that one porn star? No, wait, I got it! It was totally the one that gave fifteen ways to drive a girl crazy-”

“It’s not a fucking Seventeen magazine,” he snaps, but the malice in his voice is dull, “There’s no lists on how to get the girl, it’s a porn ‘zine, Jesus H. Christ.” 

“I know that, do you?” you press, reveling in the brush crawling its way down the side of his neck. 

He runs a hand over his face, groaning, “I’m not even going to entertain you with an answer. Fuck off.” 

“Do you just ignore all the photos of the beautiful women?” you don’t hold back your teasing, subconsciously leaning his way as your voice lilts with sarcasm, “Ignoring all those bushes? Or maybe you just prefer the Brazilian cut?” 

“I liked it better when we were talking about your illiteracy,” he deadpans, staring straight ahead at his entertainment center. 

“I never said I couldn’t read, just that I choose not to most of the time,” you finally pull back a bit, scared to push it all too far. You pull your legs up beneath you on the couch and move the beer that has gone warm to the table on the opposite end as his, “Sue me for trying to make friendly conversation.” 

You await his expected response about how this was not friendly conversation. You start to do mental gymnastics of a way to bring up the specific model he had marked the pages of, of the eerie resemblance she bears to you and a way to push his buttons regarding it. This conversation was following your script, not his.

Or at least, it was. 

“Fine. I prefer the bush, I always find the lack of hair kind of weird,” he says, throwing you off your game effectively. He stares at you with now expecting eyes, “What about you?”

You’re grateful you’d stopped nursing the beer, or you surely would have choked, “What?” 

“What’s your preference?” he clarifies, not backing down, “On yourself, on partners. Whatever.” 

“I- I don’t- I never-” you stumble over your words, at a complete loss for an answer. It only makes him smirk as he’s now the one leaning in closer, close enough to catch the smell of his cologne concentrated on him. 

You hadn’t realized you’d adjusted the boyish smell of the apartment until this very moment. 

“See? Not so fun when you’re the one getting asked the personal questions.” 

He’s right – you shouldn’t dish out what you can’t handle him throwing back into your face. 

“Fine,” you mimic him, squaring your shoulders, “Bush.”

“On yourself or others?” 

“Myself,” there was no use in being shy now, “But also on, uh, partners. Kind of unfair to expect something from someone I wouldn’t give in return.” 

He nods in surprising consideration at the notion. His face twists as if he’s taking words you’d thrown out there so carelessly to heart, as if there’s some hidden message that even you hadn’t realized was laced in the notion. For a moment, you start to believe he’s committing the words to memory before he answers you. 

“That’s fair,” is all he says. 

A moment of intense thought for that?

“What? That’s all you’ve got to say?” you scoff, and busy yourself with the beer again out of nerves. It’s warm and bitter on your tongue, but it’s better than looking him in the eyes. Warm, honey eyes you’d never really cared to notice before.

“Yeah,” he lifts his shoulders into an offhand shrug, “I mean, what else is there to say? Like you said, you can’t expect something from someone you can’t return.” 

Another silence drags out, and this time, it’s stifling. You never thought you’d live to see the day where Eddie being quiet would bother you, but it does. The lack of words in the air is leaving too much room for thought from both of you. It’s giving you too much time to think on those warm, honey eyes and those damn dimples. Trivial things about Eddie that you don’t care to remember past tonight. 

“My friend collects vintage Playboys,” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself immediately. What a stupid conversation segway. 

Should have teased him about the dog-eared pages, you regretfully think as you dare to look his way. 

His face is surprisingly smooth, eyebrows quirking up into the frayed edges of his bangs, “Oh really?”

You nod, “Yeah. Hell of a lot more bushes in the seventies.” 

A lot less of that model you like, you silently add, once more not voicing that concern out loud.

The dimples return. Those fucking dimples. “Hm, guess I should check them out, then.” 

“She collects them for aesthetic purposes,” you continue to ramble, filling the air, unsure of why you’re even defending yourself. You’re just waiting for the other shoe to drop, for Eddie to dissect the small piece of your life you’ve offered, “It’s… It’s really cool, actually.”  

“It sounds cool,” he agrees gently. 

The other shoe is left dangling in the air, if it even continues to exist. 

You think about his earlier question, of whether you really wanted to keep up a miserable act for the entire twenty four hours. If the last hour hadn’t already solidified your answer, you knew now for a matter of fact that he had a point, even if he did proceed to insult you after the question. You didn’t want to spend this time miserable. The passing of time came easier when it was like this, all rounded-edged banter and friendly words exchanged. When Eddie Munson wasn’t being an asshole and making personal digs at you, he was actually a nice person to have around. 

You’d never tell him that, of course.

“It’s why I collect all that,” he motions his hand towards the shelving of figurines and trinkets, “I just think it’s cool, you know? I… Uh, I sort of lied earlier. Most of that shit isn’t that expensive. But it’s not about how much it’s worth money-wise, it’s just worth a lot to… to me.” 

A glimpse of crimson, a flash of vulnerability that proves that Eddie has a heart just as you do. It beats erratically, and it can bleed just the same. 

“That makes sense,” you offer in response. You may not get it, but you wouldn’t push his buttons on the topic. They may be nothing but clutter from your perspective, but the same could be said about the vintage Playboys your friend collects. The same could be said about plenty of things that are sentimental to you. “Doesn’t it get creepy, though? Like, you bring home a girl-”

“Or a guy,” he interjects, making you smile. 

“You bring home a girl, or a guy, and you’ve just got Gandalf staring you down while you make a move. Or… Or, Darth Vader?” you squint to pinpoint another figurine, “Is that Darth Vader? Didn’t you say Star Trek is better than Star Wars?” 

“Never said that,” he points at you with a tilt of his head, “I just don’t prefer Star Wars over Star Trek.”

“Have you seen Star Wars? It’s way more entertaining.” 

“Have you seen Star Trek?” he counters, but it’s clearly rhetorical as he continues on, “I like both. Having a preference for one doesn’t mean I’m completely against the other. Besides, the light saber effects are fucking incredible.” 

“So you prefer the prequels?” you ask eagerly. 

“I guess. I mean, the original trilogy is still badass and a classic,” he stands abruptly, and you’re worried you’ve said something wrong, but he just walks over to the Darth Vader figurine to pick it up and bring it back over with him as he flings down onto the couch, now several spaces closer to you rather than opposing ends, “It’s kind of hard to beat the ‘Luke, I am your father’ reveal,” his voice dips down to a deep tone, a fairly spot on impersonation, “But it was also nice seeing his origin story.” 

“Plus Ewan McGregor and Hayden Christensen are gorgeous,” you add, almost daring to lean over and bump shoulders with him. But you don’t. You keep what little space remains between the two of you. 

“Of course,” Eddie rolls his eyes, “The eye candy is what gets you.” 

“And the cool effects!”

“Right. Next you’re going to say you definitely watched for the plot, huh?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“And the plot’s name just happens to be Ewan.” 

You bite down the grin that starts to ache your cheeks, because you’re not supposed to smile around Eddie this much. “Now you’re getting it.” 

The hand holding the Darth Vader figurine suddenly thrusts out in your direction, and you find yourself jumping a bit. When you don’t take it, he waves it around a bit, raising an eyebrow, “It doesn’t bite, you know.” 

“You said to not touch your shit.”

It’s a pathetic lie, you both know it. But he doesn’t know how scared you are to brush fingertips with him, how the way his arm being so close has electricity buzzing from the soles of your feet to the crown of your head. One small shift, one outreached hand, and your skin would brush his. 

It would surely be nuclear. An explosion with no survivors, least of all you. 

“Oh, c’mon. You’ve disregarded that rule the entire time, why start being a goody two shoes now?” he teases. 

Which is fine, except Eddie teases a certain way – with his entire body. His knee knocks into yours, he leans into your space, a boyish grin spreads over his lips. You’ve seen him dance around this kind of lighthearted conversation with everyone else in your friend group except you. It’s uncharted territory, and your heart nearly breaks out of your chest from its rapid racing.

You’re just lucky that there’s two layers of jeans between your knees. The nuclear explosion will have to wait for another day.

Instead of an answer, you reach out and grab the figurine nimbly by the small leg. Your fingertips narrowly evade Eddie’s and you’re eternally grateful and his arm retracts. You poke and prod, gently wiggling the red, flexible stick that serves as his lightsaber and pinch at the edges of his cape. 

In your silence, Eddie speaks, “It’s not a crazy collectible or anything, like I said. It probably would have been more valuable to keep it in its packaging, but one time Wheeler brought his little sister over while they were in town, and she wanted to see him out of the box, so I took him out. You know Wheeler, right?” 

You shake your head, inspecting the figurine even closer now. It still looks brand new; you’d never be able to tell that a child, presumably, had played with the ‘toy’. 

“Oh,” Eddie looks taken back, faltering slightly, “Sorry, I- I just sort of assumed that…. You, uh…. You had met Steve’s children.” 

“Oh!” your head shoots up from where your nose had been nearly pressed into the figure, taking in the detailing of the chest piece, “You mean Mike? I’ve heard about him, yeah. Just in passing, though.”

There’s more for Eddie to say, it’s clear in the way his mouth falls open with the corners quirked, but then you’re interrupted by a phone ringing. 

Your phone. 

Steve’s contact photo occupies the screen for the second time tonight, a ridiculous photo of him scowling at the camera in a yellow jumper while holding a can of pringles in front of him, one of his hands bringing a single chip to his pouting lips. 

“Let me answer it,” Eddie insists, holding out his hand as you stare down at the phone, still chiming annoyingly. 

“Were they supposed to call this often?” you ask, knowing well enough that Eddie didn’t have the answer. 

His hand waves in impatience, and you don’t put up a fight as you let him take the phone and swipe the answering bar, focusing instead on the Darth Vader discarded into your lap as he puts the call on speaker. 

“Hello?” Eddie answers in a chirpy tone. 

“How many times do we have to te- hold on. Munson?” Steve starts off aggressive, but his tone melts into confusion, “Why the hell are you answering her phone?” 

“Because I’ve murdered her,” he flatly replies, but his face doesn’t match his tone at all. 

He fucking winks at you. Your grip on Darth Vader tightens until you’re afraid you're about to snap it. 

“Not funny.”

“Not a joke.”

“Where is she, Eddie?” Steve sighs like an irritated parent, in no mood for games, “Please tell me you didn’t manage to make her lock herself in a room again.” 

“I told you. She’s gone. Sacrificed to the Dark Lord or whatever. Just got to go dump her body in the lake-”

You shouldn’t joke along with him, but you still whisper the correction of, “The canals.” 

“Sorry, I mean the canals.”

Another deep sigh. You can picture the way Steve was currently pinching the bridge of his nose at the two of you. 

“I heard her, you idiot. Now that we know you’re both clearly alive and well…. Where the hell is our photo proof?” 

You both share a look, and you quickly mouth, already?  

Eddie shrugs and mouths back, I guess. 

“We lost track of time,” you finally say out loud, still locked in eye contact with Eddie. His brown eyes are surprisingly captivating, several autumn shades all woven together. Burnt orange leaves, red apples, brown sweaters. You never thought you’d be able to see a season in someone’s irises, yet here you were, picturing it clear as day. “Let us hang up and we’ll send the photo.” 

Steve starts to speak, but Eddie’s thumb is quick to end the call. The moment your lock screen stares back at both of you, you look at the time. 

7:41. Shit. 

“Oops,” Eddie whispers as he hands the phone back over, “They really gave us quite the grace period that time.” 

“Yeah,” you breathe out, quickly opening your damn camera app. “So, how do we want to do this one?” 

Eddie thinks for a moment before he launches himself back to his side of the couch, and motions for you to toss him your phone. 

And once again, you put your faith in him, not even hesitating this time. 

It happens naturally; you both mirror each other, drawing up your knees, your sock-clad toes bumping firmly against one another. Your back is supported by the worn arm behind you, similar to how Eddie’s is, as you face him. 

He quickly angles the camera towards you, sticking a hand out into the frame while raising his middle finger. You don’t know what to do, so one hand holds up the Darth Vader as the other mimics flipping him off. 

A soft click from your phone. The photo’s taken, and you’re not even sure if you were smiling. 

“Trade,” he leans forward, one hand holding out your phone, the other reaching out for Darth Vader. 

You oblige, and go through the same process for his photo. His white socks contrast your black ones, and the corners of his lips twitch upwards no matter how hard of a line he presses them into. You can’t look at him directly, and settle for watching him through the screen as you hit the small grey button to snap the photo. 

Just as quickly as he had shoved away from you, he’s back at your side, watching you send off the photos to the group chat with a thumbs up emoji. You take a deep breath, scanning over the pair of photos until it’s confirmed that they’re delivered, and lock your phone. Your brows are furrowed in your reflection staring back at you through the black screen. 

“Do you really want to keep up the miserable act the entire twenty four hours?” Eddie’s voice echoes in your mind. 

No, you don’t. No matter how wrong this levity with Eddie feels, no matter how uncomfortable it is each time you remember that he’s meant to be the enemy and not someone to share laughter and smiles with, you don’t want to waste these remaining twenty hours being miserable. 

“What’s up?” Eddie’s actual voice echoes in real time as you continue to stare at your reflection.

“Just thinking,” you grunt. The thought of admitting your decision to Eddie is much more intimidating than simply acknowledging it to yourself. 

“Dangerous.” 

Instead of quipping something rude back, you decide to be vulnerable with Eddie. You decide to crack yourself open just a small bit, just as he had done microscopically when he spoke of his collection of items. It’s a dangerous gamble, and you don’t give yourself the chance to overthink it. 

“You were right, earlier,” you force the words out, fighting the way they try to cling onto your tongue and remain safely in your throat. 

“About… what?” He looks distrusting, and for good reason. He said plenty of things earlier - you could be preparing to remind him of any number of rude things he’d spewed. 

“About keeping up the miserable act,” you explain, turning your head to him and abandoning the phone, “You were right. I don’t want to be miserable this entire time. It… It goes by faster when we’re not about to strangle each other, believe it or not.” 

You swear you see his shoulders sag in relief. “Well, yeah, I could have told you that. I did tell you that, actually.” 

“Shut up,” you force a scowl, “My point is… I don’t know, maybe, we could try to- try to just- we could be-”

“Civil?” he finishes the sentence you stumble over. 

You nod, “Yeah. We could be civil.”

The word feels foreign on your tongue. Civility was not something you’d ever considered with Eddie, but the last hour had proven it to be possible. 

“Okay,” he nods along with you. He turns his entire body to face you, knees once again bumping as he sticks out a hand for you to shake, “Deal. We will try to be civil the rest of the time.” 

“Civil,” you repeat yourself again, more sure this time, still staring at his offered hand.

An olive branch. The opportunity to work together to survive the next twenty hours. The opportunity for his bare skin against yours. 

You think again of nuclear explosions and pulsing electricity, of open chests and matching scarlets, of smashing glasses against walls and ruined parties, of wounds healing over in scar tissues as they glow a gentle pink.

Civil. You wonder if that’s one of the words they’ll include on your gravestone as you reach out your hand and let Eddie’s palm meet yours. 

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taglist is now closed.

[hatsukeii]

hi hatssun!! congrats on 900 followers!!

i would love to be on the guitar and bass with kageyama! i heard someone say "takes one to know one" in my in-ear monitor and prefer my “pining” guitar pick ;) thank you <3

nice! the band you've joined is...

lessons in love / bsf!kageyama tobio x reader

genre(s): angst in between bouts of fluff but this will be a very sweet fic methinks, lowkey found family, subtle but definitely pining, learning to love and learning to live!!!

warning(s): family issues smh, blood because kageyama is reckless and upset ngl, a smidge of depression/implied self-harm + suicidal ideation so pls be cautious! im basing those things off of what i've felt before so im trying not to romanticise it iykwim

wc: ~1.7k

your first gig is at… a waste yard?!

setlist:

🎵踊り子, vaundy

🎵lonely rhapsody, fuji kaze

🎵fake plastic trees, radiohead

Life leads Kageyama Tobio to a wasteland.

His feet kick at soda cans as he treks through mountains of thrown out televisions, yellowed mattresses, emptied beer bottles with the edges smashed open. His hand holds a baseball bat, yours carry along a skateboard. Leaves and paper crunch beneath your board as you jam it into the sooty ground ahead of a worn down Corvette. Once, a long time ago, it must have been the priceless possession of some young, fiery man. Now, it ages with him, alone and rusting through trials of life.

"The car? You sure?"

"Go on. Tell it what you want to." You egg him on, smacking your board into the ground once, twice. Tobio tosses the bat and catches it by the hilt, but his steps are shaky, careful as he approaches the hunk of metal. He raises it by his side, and slams it into the sideview mirror until it comes clean off with a snap. You watch him, hands pressing your board firm into the ground. Tobio is silent, even as he hammers and slashes and plows relentlessly into the rusted metal body of an unloved, unwanted Corvette. You imagine every crack in the car's windows carrying a little weight for him.

"I can't stand it here anymore."

Tobio gives the windshield one final blow, before the entire thing collapses into the cockpit of the car in chunks and shimmers of foggy glass. Frowning, his hands grab onto the frame, palms sinking into jagged shards of smashed window. He'll patch them up for volleyball, he thinks, but for now, he would rather watch them bleed for tonight. His feet push off the bumper, hands pushing further into the glass as he swings himself onto the roof of the car. He lies his head down on his bloodied palms, hair poking into fresh wounds. You sigh, tossing your unused skateboard to the side, and push yourself onto the trunk of the car, standing over Tobio's head.

"You're actually insane, you know? Dragging me out here so I can assault a car." He stares at the sky. The moon cowers behind grey clouds tonight, billions of stars following suit. The only star he sees is hovering above his face, but he's too busy trying not to wince at the stench of his blood oozing into his hair.

"Takes one to know one, Tobio. You fucked it up real good."

He sits up, pushing himself to the side and leaving bloody handprints on the off-white roof of the car. You press your hand onto the cool metal , swinging one leg over. Your boot lands on Tobio's stomach, and he doubles over before falling limp again. A second leg follows up, slinging itself onto the first. His eyes flicker from the sky to your seated figure, legs sprawled across his body, a fallen star in a barren wasteland. If his palms weren't bloodied and battered tonight, he'd lift you back up into the sky and away from the abyss that is himself. You deserve at least that much.

"Need to get away from here." He mumbles into the air, wisps of cold puffing from his mouth.

Your legs shift, one bent for your boot to rest between his legs, the other lying comfortably across his knee. Swallowing thickly, he lolls his head to the side, the corner of his eye catching the way your hair falls loose from behind your ear when you turn to look at him. If his hands weren't stinging like hell behind his head, he would push it back to see you properly. His eyes train onto nothing in particular, melancholic. Tired. You click your tongue and reach over to pinch his earlobe, a pinch that tells him, hey, I'm still here. You're still here. We can stay forever if you'd like. Once an odd quirk of yours turned a habit that seems to ground Tobio every time he feels the dull ache. You've done it so much that he's memorised the swirls etched into the pads of your fingers just by the feeling of them pressed against his ears.

"Hey, y/n."

"Yeah?"

"Do you think I have it in me to live?"

You gasp, feigning hurt as your hand shoots up to your chest. Yet in your mind, you do not want to talk about this, because you have no answer for him. So, you hope that Tobio laughs at you. He doesn't. Instead, he pushes himself upright on his elbows, palms facing the air. The blood has dried and clotted now, streaks of reddish-brown slashing across the pale skin of his hands.

"Live?"

"Yeah, like really live."

He stops to think, eyes rolling to stare at the blank sky, devoid of stellar or lunar presence. His eyes dart around to draw into the clouds, two people sitting atop a Corvette that has expended its time, legs tangled betwen each other, minds connected by brain waves unseen by each other, but so very present nevertheless. Two minds so detached from the rest of the world, from fighting parents that storm into different rooms at midnight, from the horrors that have made their marks in their chests, their heads, their ears, their eyes too. Two wandering souls that bumped into each other on a school rooftop by chance one day, one learning to live, the other living as if tomorrow was not guaranteed.

"I'm still alive, for what it's worth. What makes you think you can't?"

Tobio looks back to you, and it's almost like he's back on that school rooftop a year ago. The rooftop where the wind howls and whistles, no matter how low he crouches behind the barriers to breathe. The rooftop where you pinched his ear for the first time, and he didn't even know your name. Now, he knows where you head to when nights of muffled screaming from downstairs become ringing in your ears, and how you like your breakfast on the mornings that you jog to his house when dewdrops form on leaves at dusk, usually after sleeping through the night in a Corvette at a waste disposal. You know the recurring nightmare that plagues his waking dreams, the one where his toss hits an empty court, his teammates huddled outside the lines, and the anxiety that eats at his very being, fear that he will never really learn how to live freely, to spread his wings and take off.

"I have nothing but volleyball. I don't know if anyone really cares for me outside of that. Except you, probably. Which is weird already."

"What's so weird about that? I think I love you anyways." You freeze at your casual confession, holding your breath. Then you decide that it's not worth it, and breathe out. Tobio stares, the thought of what you have just said being true is inconceivable. Heavy breaths line the silent air, your chests heave at the same pace, and he thinks that maybe your bodies are connected in some capacity too.

"You think?"

"Don't exactly have a good reference to go by now, do I?"

Tobio can't bring himself to nod. The idea that you've chosen to consider loving him, of all people, is frightening. The prospect of you choosing to stay in this abyss alongside him, refusing to go back amongst the stars, where you belong, is gut wrenching. Why? Why stay here? All he knows is volleyball. He can't even figure out how he wants to exist. There's so much waiting ahead for you, beyond the dysfunctional family, and the wasteland, and the Corvette. A youth of dancing on top of cars, and watching planes fly by from grassy fields, and chats of last night's dinner instead of last night's nightmare. So much that he knows someone else could give you, maybe even better than he can. You puff your cheeks, and blow a raspberry at his silence, before he finally breaks it.

"Why me?"

"Why not?"

"Because I'm awful?"

"You're just learning to live, like everyone else. That doesn't make you awful. That doesn't stop me from loving you either."

"You've gotta stop saying that, man." You raise your eyebrow at his request, heart sinking to your stomach.

"What, that I love you? Does that scare you?" He shakes his head, and you only just notice the faint pink that lines his cheeks. The clouds above thin out, the glow of the moon is diffused, but finally there nevertheless. His bloodied palm tucks the fallen strands of hair behind your ear, tracing over the curve tentatively. He wants to learn you all over again.

"It scares me. But it excites me. It excites me to like, no end." His fingers ghost across your neck, gliding over your pulse. This feels like the real thing, he wonders if you know when you smile back at him.

"Good. That's what it feels like to live."

You reach for his hand, feeling the cuts and gashes in his palm when you press your own to his. He links his fingers with yours, and sets your hands back on the cold metal of the Corvette. Then, he pushes forward to you, pressing his lips against yours for just a second. This tastes like the real thing, and Tobio hopes that by the way you pull him back in, you know it too. His other hand snakes around to your back, pushing you impossibly close to him. You don't let him go until your lungs are shrivelled discs, begging for air. And even then, you hold his forehead against yours, and breathe against his lips, cupid's bows still touching. His eyes are lidded, staring at the puffs of white that don't stop coming from your mouths.

"Yeah, I think I love you too." His confession sends shivers down your spine, shivers that are caught by his hand on your back, his fingers against yours on the roof of a car, and his lips on yours again.

Life leads Kageyama Tobio to a wasteland. Love leads him into the night sky, right beside you instead.

author's note:

this is an apology and a fulfilment of a promise for ave because yeah ushijima HURT you but im about to pull you back out of it bb<3 have yourself a wonderful angsty fluff pining hurt/comfort found family learning to live learning to love fic i love you also i hope it's angsty enough because i think i went the found family route a little too much so it's not explicitly sad but it's more like melancholic iykwim

off topic but i haven't gone so heavy on like mental turmoil in my writing since forever but i hope that what i've written here is realistic(?) i personally have dealt with most things i wrote here so im not worried about being weird and romanticising awful things but i need to like just clarify LOL

anyways tags!!

@chuuya-brainrot @hiraethwa @catsoupki @staraxiaa @fiannee @akaakeis @4ngelfries @wyrcan @kuroppiii @bailey-reeds

interested in joining a band? come on over to the build-a-band 900 !!

[mukumukunomi]

From: Your Heart To: Mine

cw: Luffy x fem!reader, romantic pining, long-distance relationship, Wano arc spoilers?, loose cannon compliance (follows cannon loosely).

wc: 2,394k

a/n: Last fic of the year! Mainly just me putting a bunch of ideas into a quick story and will probably have a few more parts in the future. I had several hc's of Luffy being in a relationship with someone far away and someone who he didn't ask to join his crew, and why that might be. And then I had the idea of long-distance penpals and protective!Luffy reunions so it just spiraled from there. Hope you enjoy it, Happy New Year! :)

Part 1

Part 2 (TBD)

❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦ ❦

Luffy shifts in anticipation. “Where is it?”

Dark orbs scan the horizon, mouth chewing loudly on a sandwich as his legs swing over the side of the crow’s nest. It’s a relatively calm day on the Grand Line. The Thousand Sunny’s hull breaks the azure waves as they crest, leaving a wake of churned water behind. Their trail is swiftly swept away by the tides into a stretch of blue on blue. A blurred line where the sea meets the sky. It is only broken by the speckle of fluffy white clouds that lazily trek above him.

In other words, the perfect day for a News Coo to appear.

The bird’s last appearance is fuzzy in his memory. Was it last week? Last month? When was the last time his bounty had gone up? The fact he doesn’t remember concerns him because it means there’s been no news from you in a long while. He only pays attention when there’s something from you.

He yawns, staring up at the sun currently hidden behind a large cloud. The days seem to stretch longer without you. Your island may be far away now, but he can almost feel your presence as if right beside him. What were you doing? What was the last tasty thing you ate? Did you spill three or four bottles of ink today?

Not knowing is its own form of torture. It’s hard to not miss you in the moments where something strikes him with your familiarity. Blue skies remind him of your little blue house on the island. The stars remind him of the lake. The patch of grass that spans Sunny’s deck reminds him of your garden. And Robin’s books remind him of the papers and ink littered across your kitchen table. 

There was no way of knowing then how those small letters in your handwriting would become such a crucial part of his life. In a way, they became points of time where his adventure reconnected to yours. Snippets of your life he would have never known about if you hadn’t logged it for him to see. 

Flapping wings catches his attention as a beak snatches the sandwich from his hand.

“Hey!”

The large gull swoops downwards, landing awkwardly on deck. It narrowly misses hitting Brook, who’s tuning his violin strings, and swerves over to where Nami’s lounging on the deck under an umbrella with Sanji serving beverages. It swallows the half-eaten sandwich whole just as Luffy lands with a thud next to it.

“Give it back!” He yells, grabbing the bird by the neck and shaking it. It doesn’t discourage the creature to hack it up in the slightest.

Nami’s annoyed gaze meets his as she fans herself in the heat. She fishes into her pocket for a moment before extending her hands towards them in a gesturing motion. The flash of something shiny focuses the bird’s attention. “Bring it here, Luffy.”

He grumbles, but obliges. Nami slots the berry into the bag around the News Coo’s neck, then holds her hand out expectantly. The gull drops the newspaper into her open palm. Nami doesn’t retract, leveling a stare at the bird. “Anything else?”

It shakes its head.

The redhead’s frown deepens as she sets the newspaper in her lap. She sits up, flicking another golden coin into the air almost threateningly. “Are you sure? Those letters with the star symbol on them? You didn’t drop it, did you?”

The bird reaffirms its previous gesture with a vigorous shake of its head under her intense glare. It takes Luffy a moment to realize what exactly it means.

No letter.

He drops the bird abruptly as disappointment bubbles inside him. The avian lets out a yelp as Luffy turns to walk dejectedly away, missing the way his navigator’s face falls as he does so. 

“Listen here,” Nami’s voice echoes behind him, now shaking the bird in the same way Luffy had, “You’re going to deliver this letter to Starcleaved Island. Expedited. And don’t return until you bring back news about our friend.”

Luffy registers the sound of several coins before the bird takes off above him again. He feels limbless as he climbs up the stairs towards the back of the boat, drifting his way into the library filled with dusty books and laid out sketches of archeological sites. Robin smiles gently at him as he sinks into a chair next to her. “Can I help you, captain?”

“Oi, Robin, can I see Y/N’s letters again?”

Robin clearly wants to say something, but at the last moment turns to grab a familiar blue leather tome from the shelf behind her. He gently thumbs to the most recent entry, earmarked and already worn from how many times he’s turned to it. Luffy takes a moment to appreciate the way the letter is adhered to the page of the book, obviously done with care in the experienced hands of his archeologist. Without Robin, these letters would have probably ended up lost. It had been her idea to keep them in something more sustainable. 

But the thought is fleeting as his eyes are once again drawn to the top of the last entry:

Luffy, It’s been a long while since you and the crew left. How is everyone? Are they still eating well? You haven’t eaten all of the food I gave you already have you? What adventures have you had since we last spoke?  I’m doing much better now that I’ve gotten over that nasty cold I caught right at the start of the season. Please thank Chopper for the medicinal recipe he sent with your letter last time. Oh! And Sanji’s soup recipe! They were lifesavers! Though, I do wish I were eating it with you. Like when you were here. We had so much fun. We couldn’t keep Zoro and Franky from the alcohol. And Usopp did that weird dance to Brook’s song. Do you remember that? Hopefully, Nami was able to use that note I made. Forgery is all fun and games until you actually have to convince people the documents you write are real. But we know Nami is sneaky, and I’m the best forger there is. There’s no way my handiwork is discernible. You can’t tell the real from my fakes. I thought a lot about what you said. I think maybe you’re right.  I’ve heard Dressarosa has become a really beautiful place after all the unrest there. (Although, I wonder who’s responsible for that?) Maybe I can extend my business further out into the world. Smuggled goods receipt, fake invitations, not-so-deceased wills…my hand itches just thinking about it. Sincerely yours, Y/N P.S Your handwriting has gotten better. Robin must be really patient to get you to sit for more than five minutes. P.P.S You know, I still haven’t been able to get that stain out from where you spilled the red ink. You owe me a new rug.

He notes the date, questioning eyes meeting Robin’s. “How long has it been since we got this letter?”

Robin hums in thought. “About three months.”

No letter from you in almost three months. It wasn’t like you at all. Not with all the previous letters filling up more than half the book already. 

“We’re all worried.” Robin says gently, comfortingly.

 He speaks slowly, eyes not leaving the page. “Y/N can take care of herself. She’s strong.”

He’d already accepted the risks when parting separate ways. He was on his own adventure, and you were on yours. That fact doesn’t stop the ache you leave behind. 

“She would have loved to come with us.” The raven-haired woman muses, flipping to the page of her text where she had left off. It’s both a statement and a question that’s left unanswered as the room goes quiet. 

But Robin's words stick like glue to his mind in the silence. It’s rare for him to reflect on past decisions. He’s not the type to regret. “I know.”

He knew not extending an offer to you had hurt you. Knew how much you would have loved to come. But it hadn’t felt right at the time. Joining his crew wasn’t something you needed. Not in the same way as the rest of the crew. They had been nobodies to the rest of the world. Adrift with no sense of purpose. He had seen their potential and felt their worth through their grit. Each of his current shipmates needed this crew, and this crew only, to realize that. Luffy sensed you already had determined your purpose long ago without them. 

Still, he did need you. In what capacity, he didn’t know. He vowed that once he became the King of the Pirates, he’d circle back down the Grand Line to see you. Perhaps, he’d figure out this feeling in his chest that he hadn’t been able to shake since leaving Starcleaved Island.

***

Well, this was splendid.

You huff in annoyance as you sit in the dingy cell, footsteps loudly clanging from the deck above. It was damp and dark here. You didn't know how long you hadn't showered, nor the last time you saw the sun. The only light source came from the gaps between the floorboards. A slit beam of it shone directly on you, and you savor the sun’s warm comfort as you muse about your predicament.

Starcleaved Island was a peaceful respite on the Grand Line, famed mainly for its phenomena of meteor showers. Boats would go out into the middle of a large lake, which spanned nearly a quarter of the center of the island’s mass, to sight see the recurring celestial objects that streaked across the sky. It was told that once, long ago, a meteor fell and 'cleaved' a hole in the center of the island, which eventually became the lake. You had grown up standing next to that body of water, wishing on those shooting stars, for as long as you could remember. You and your little blue house next to it.

Everything changed when they came. When he came. When Luffy appeared on the shores of the lake next to your house. Half-drowned and soaking to the bone on that brisk morning. You had gotten your first look of one of the most infamous pirates of the sea, besides the ones on wanted posters.

He had been adorable. Was still adorable to you.

You feel yourself flush as the thought permeates your reminiscing. Goosebumps unrelated to the dampness in the air radiate along your skin as you recall his smile and boyish charm. You miss him. There wasn’t a moment since his departure that you didn’t. There was something gravitating to his existence, as if the entire world centered itself on him. He was frightening, quite frankly. All that power and influence in the hands of an idiot. 

Of course each new wanted poster of that adorable idiot went on your fridge for you to ogle. You couldn't resist.

But how in the world did you get such rotten luck? You had just saved up a month’s worth of expenses for travel for a new business venture to Dressarosa when these pirates raided your hometown. And taken you, unfortunately.

The wayward thoughts are broken up by the sound of something clanging against the metal bars of your cell. Narrow eyes glance at you from the other side, a sneer on the pirate’s lips as he spits a wad of chewing tobacco onto the floor. “Girlie, you feel like talkin’ yet?”

You frown, crossing your arms.

The pirate grumbles something under his breath. “Two months of silence isn’t going to bring you back to that shoddy little island we found you at.”

You feel the emotion bubble in your chest, just managing to swallow the sob that wants to tear its way from your throat. That was your shoddy little island. How dare he take you from it?

The man sticks his pinkie-finger in his ear and wiggles it. “Perhaps you’ll talk when we tell ya where we are. Ever heard of Wano, girlie?”

You blink. Wano? The samurai country? From what you understand, they were mostly closed off from the rest of the world. It was at least a three month's travel away from home!

“We’ve got our weapon materials to sell. And unless you want to join the fishes, you’ll forge those documents to say we’re a spice ship.”

You felt your lip curl in disgust. Weapons for what? “How do you even know I-”

“Your bag’s filled with all kinds of unfinished notes for entry into Dressarosa. Quite good.”

You curse. Discretion was gone, it seemed. “I don’t extend my services to scum.”

The brute simply smiles at the rasp of your voice. “I-”

“Captain!”

The man turns at the sound of the voice coming from the deck above. He cranes his neck upwards at the helmsman. Sucking air through the gap in his teeth, the captain calls wearily. “Whaddya’ want!?”

The helmsman’s voice echoes down loudly over the sound of the waves against the hull. “The barrelman spotted a pirate ship crashed on the shore where we were to drop anchor.”

“So what?!”

“The Jolly Roger…it’s the flag of the Strawhats, sir!” 

Your heart skips a beat. The Sunny was here?

The captain blinks with mouth agape as he processes the information. “We…” The man scratches at the scruff on his chin, “We’ll go around it. We’ll pull into port instead.”

“But, sir, without the documents there will be suspicion…”

Your voice comes out louder than you intend. “I’ll do it.”

The captain turns to you quizzically. You clear your throat. “You have example documents, right? I can do it in an hour…unless you broke the inks in my bag.”

There’s suspicion in the man’s gaze. “Really?”

“I don’t work for free. I have one condition: You let me walk away once we dock.”

A laugh that sounds like a pitiful cough erupts from him. “Ha! You know what you’re asking for? If you stay here you won’t be able to leave! You’ll never leave Wano’s borders alive!”

It takes all your strength not to shake anxiously. “Do we have a deal?”

The captain shakes his head as he walks away, chuckling. “Your funeral, girlie.”

You watch him ascend to the deck, letting out a sigh of relief once the trapdoor is shut. Your palms press gently onto your eyeballs as you try to fight the wave of nausea rolling over you.

Sunny was here. Luffy was here.

You had to get away from these people quickly and find him. No matter what it took.

[sanguineterrain]

Could I humbly request Dullahan (basically a headless horseman with a whip made from a spine) Jason giving reader a ride on Halloween? If not, that’s okay.

what a delightful prompt anon! i took some batman-inspired liberties here, so jason is more of a regular headless horseman than a dullahan specifically (kept the whip tho bc man, what a badass weapon). but omg it fits him SO well. hope you like it!

headless horseman!jason todd x gn!reader. spooky themes. i guess it's a different time period -- i was imagining 19th century. reader knew jason before he died.

send halloween requests!!

****

You should've taken a carriage.

That's all you can think as you cross the border from Clarence County to Gotham County. You've been walking for an hour, and you're only just entering Gotham. The sun went down ages ago.

It's mostly wilderness outside of the city, and it's generally safe. Rich folk build vacation cabins in these woods. Others hike and fish along the river.

You still should've taken a carriage. Even if no people pose a threat to you out here, the forest is still dangerous. Bears. Snakes.

...Things not of this world.

No, you can't think that way.

Your basket of farm goods makes your arm ache. You switch it to your other hand. You're beginning to think that making this trip wasn't worth it at all. Certainly not if a bear mauls you.

A twig snaps and you jump about three feet in the air. You skitter away from the tree line, heart beating fast.

You wait. You have a glass bottle of milk to throw at whatever comes out of the woods.

Nothing. Silence. The trees might as well be dead.

Slowly, you untense, muscles slowly going slack. A twig probably didn't even snap; it's only your imagination. Yes. Right.

You tuck the milk back into your basket and adjust yourself, continuing your trek.

"Awful late to be out."

This time, you do throw the milk bottle. It lands with a thud in the soft dirt. The voice speaks again. He sounds amused.

"You missed me."

You whirl around and gawp. How had you missed a man on a horse? Surely you would've heard footsteps or the jingle of the straps.

The horse is huge, with a shiny, black coat. Its rider is proportionally large, broad shoulders straining his crimson hood. You can't make out his face, the opening nothing but a void. You squint, but grow dizzy when you look too hard.

It's such a strange thought, but your first instinct is that you know the rider. Intimately so. Like an old friend.

The horse is a shadow, the edges of its mane blurry. It nickers and drags its hoof over the dirt. It also has a hood, so you can't make out its face either.

The hooded figure watches you from his horse. At least, you think he does.

"Are you lost?" he asks. His voice echoes strangely, like it's coming from underground.

"No," you say immediately. "I'm on my way back to Gotham."

Most people have enough sense not to challenge Gotham citizens.

He tilts his head. You wish you could see his face.

"I can give you a ride. I'm headed there myself."

There is a red knight's helmet tied to the saddle. You look at it, then at him.

"I'll manage," you say. "I know my way."

"It's dangerous to travel alone on foot. Especially so late."

He dismounts the horse. Even on the ground, his presence is overwhelming. There is a long, bone-white whip fastened to his hip. Are those...?

"What's in the helmet?" you ask.

"Why do you think there's something inside?" His voice echoes again.

He goes and retrieves the bottle of milk you threw. It isn't cracked, which is fortunate. He opens the basket hooked over your arm and gently places the milk inside. Your heart pounds the entire time.

"I won't hurt you," he says, stepping back. "Gotham is my city. You are mine to protect."

"Gotham belongs to the Bat."

"Not for much longer," he says, almost snarling.

You look at the horse, which has been eerily still. The moon is high in the sky. Stars dance outside of the city smog.

"If it makes you feel safer," he says, voice softer. "You can hold my whip. If I do anything you don't like, you can be sure I won't do it again."

You don't like that idea; you hope you don't have to use the whip on him, though he is a stranger. But you like his voice, even if it echoes oddly. And you like how gentle he is, how calm his horse remains. You are sure he won't hurt you, even though there is no proof for you to confirm that.

You extend your hand.

"Alright," you say. "Please take me home."

He pushes you onto the horse, who doesn't even stir when you get on its back. Then he mounts with ease. He slides his whip out and gives it to you; on further inspection, you realize it's a spine. The horse takes off at a gallop, and you cling to the hooded man so you won't fall off.

"Are you a soldier?" you ask, wind biting at your face. He is cold but full of strength.

"I was."

"What should I call you?"

He thinks for a moment, steady under the brutal pace.

"You may call me Red Hood."

"Haven't you got a name?" you ask.

"I did," Hood says. "I'm not certain that it's mine anymore."

He sounds young. You wish you could see his face.

You arrive in Gotham sooner than you should, even on horse. Hood dismounts again and helps you down, strong hands on your waist. You land on the ground in a whoosh, and Hood holds you for a second longer than necessary. You linger against him and squint, trying to find his eyes. You can't.

"Will you show me your face?" you ask.

Red Hood immediately steps back. You hold your basket to your chest.

"You'd never forgive me if I did," he says, and the echo is back.

"I feel like I know you," you say, stepping towards him, and Hood puts more distance between you.

For the first time, the horse whinnies. It's a ghastly sound, like it's in pain, and you flinch. You spin around to see what spooked the horse, but by the time you do, it's gone.

And so is the Red Hood.

The whip, however, is still wrapped around your own waist; it's your only reminder that he was here at all.

[scoonsalicious]

Reminder: I am on a posting break for new content until May 23rd so that I can focus on writing WFLT...

In the meantime, please enjoy this third installment of Unwanted: Unusables, or, chapters from the original story that never made it to the final draft. Today, we're looking at an alternate Chapter 7: (what would become) Unburdened. This draft immediately follows the events of yesterday's Unusable.

I ended up scrapping this entire version of the chapter, because I decided to go in a different direction in Chapter 5, so everything had to be redone. But, it has one of my favorite scenes-- Girls' Night, so I'm glad that I could eventually share it with you, besties!

Enjoy!

When you woke up the following morning, you felt lighter than you could remember feeling in a long, long time. It was as if the maelstrom of agitation that had been coursing through you since Bucky first saw Jade's profile had finally abated, and you were waking to the calm following the storm, everything feeling newly cleansed by the rain.

Granted, your head was killing you with a tremendous hangover, but your soul felt lighter, and that's what should count the most, right?

You stretched, reaching out for Bucky, but finding only empty sheets where his body had been the night before. With a frown, you craned your head to see if he was in the bathroom, but no-- the door was open and the room beyond it dark. Against your will, you felt the weight of your insecurities begin to hover over you once again. Perhaps it was time to talk to Tony to see if you could borrow his Dr. FRIDAY therapy program for yourself. You were definitely in need of some kind of professional help.

Drawing your knees up to your chest, you contemplated whether or not you should change out of Bucky's shirt before you trekked back across the hall to your own room so you could mope. The odds of anyone seeing you were slim, since you were still the only two people living on this floor, but there was no guarantee someone wouldn't be around looking for either one of you. You wondered what would have people talking more-- the sight of you in only Bucky's shirt, or you leaving his room in the clothes you'd worn the night before. Not that it really mattered, you supposed. You were fairly confident from the team's reactions at dinner last night that the majority of them knew the two of you were having sex, or at the very least suspected it, anyway.

Before you could make your decision, however, Bucky's door opened and he walked in, carrying a breakfast tray laden with bacon and eggs and an overly-large water bottle.

"You're up," he said, smiling as he closed the door behind him. "I was hoping I'd be back before you woke, but I figured you could use some sustenance for what's probably a major hangover." He slid the tray onto the bed before crawling back in next to you.

"Did you seriously bring me breakfast in bed, Barnes?" you asked, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. That was beyond adorable of him.

"'course I did," he said, picking up a slice of bacon and taking a bite. "Figure your head's got to be killing you, since you never drink that much. Here." He unscrewed the cap from the water bottle and passed it to you. "Electrolytes. Drink up." You took a swig of the lemony-lime flavored Liquid IV he'd prepared for you.

"Thank you," you said. "This is incredibly sweet, but I could have gotten up to get breakfast myself; you didn't have to go to all the trouble."

"I confess, my motives aren't that altruistic," he said, running his tongue over his bottom lip. "I have no intention of letting you get out of this bed at all today, and I figured you should have at least something in your stomach before I launch my nefarious plan." His eyes twinkled with mischievous intent, making your heart flutter in anticipation.

"Your nefarious plan, huh?" Your eyebrow arched in curiosity as you took another bite of bacon, cooked extra crispy, exactly the way you liked. "And what might that be?"

"Well," he started, his voice dropping to a seductive whisper as he leaned closer to you, his breath tickling your ear.

"Since I was an absolute ass and made you feel like shit yesterday, I had hoped I could spend today making you feel good. I could lie and say I planed a day spent snuggled up together watching movies, but in reality I was thinking we could explore the possibility of other more... intimate activities."

A blush crept over your cheeks as you met his gaze. The promise lingering in his icy blue eyes sent a thrill down your spine, making you momentarily forget about the pounding headache. "That sounds...enticing," you admitted. "You have my attention."

"Good," he grinned, his thumb gently brushing against your lower lip. "Because I also remember a promise made to fuck you until you couldn't remember your own name."

The heat that instantaneously flooded your cheeks at his words made you glad you hadn't bothered changing out of his shirt, after all. You tried to play it cool, to match his relaxed nonchalance, even as your heart pounded like a drum within your chest.

"I do seem to recall you saying something to that effect last night, now that you mention it," you said, trying to sound casually thoughtful in spite of the tidal wave of arousal that was rushing throughout your body.

Bucky nodded, the smile on his face growing wider by the second. "Let it never be said that I'm not a man of my word." You turned, leaning in to kiss him, but he pulled away from you. "Nu-uh, doll," he tsked. "You need to hydrate and protein-load first, then I'll ruin you."

"I dunno, Buck," you contemplated as you dug into a forkful of scrambled eggs. "You may have already ruined me. I could get used to this kind of treatment real fast."

"Sweetheart, if one breakfast in bed has ruined you, you've been spending all your time with the wrong kind of man," he drawled.

"Well, I think we both know that's the understatement of the year," you laughed.

Bucky chuckled, a hearty sound that reverberated through the room and eased any lingering insecurities that had arisen when you woke up alone. He was right; you were spending time with the right kind of man now. You turned to find him watching you with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His touch was gentle, sweet, causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

You found yourself blushing again, quickly turning your attention back to the breakfast tray in an attempt to hide it. "Says the man who looks like he fell straight off a GQ cover," you teased lightly.

Even though his smile never wavered, there was a depth to his gaze that made your heart race. "Noticed that, did you?" He asked, his tone teasing as he took another bite of his bacon.

It was your turn to chuckle now, the sound soft and full of warmth. "Maybe once or twice," you said with a shrug.

"I ever tell you you make make grateful I fell off that train?"

Your heart momentarily stopped at his words. You looked at him, really looked, and saw the sincerity in his eyes. His tone was so casual, as if he were commenting on the weather, but the weight of his words were monumental.

"What?" you managed to gasp out, completely thrown off balance, breakfast momentarily forgotten.

He chuckled softly at your bewilderment, his fingers reaching out to gently caress your face. "I shoulda been dead long before you were ever even born, doll. Fallin' off that train, becoming the Winter Soldier, it was hell, but if it'd hadn't happened, I never would of gotten to meet you. That's made it all worth it."

You stammered, trying to find words that could match the intensity of the moment. "Bucky... That's..."

"True," he finished for you, his gaze steady on yours. "You are my silver lining, sweetheart. The best thing this twisted life has given me."

Your eyes filled with tears at his heartfelt admission. This was Bucky - raw and open-hearted - sharing something profoundly personal with you.

"Bucky... I..." You struggled to form a sentence that could properly encapsulate how you felt in the moment, so instead, you took the breakfast tray and put it up on the bedside table. Turning back to face him, his expression curious, you cupped his cheek in the palm of your hand. If you couldn't tell him what his words meant to you, you'd show him.

"I think I'm done with breakfast," you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss.

His lips moved against yours with devastating slowness. There was nothing rushed or fevered about the kiss, but it was no less all-consuming.

He responded immediately, drawing you closer and wrapping his arms around your waist and maneuvering you until you straddled his lap. His large hands roamed along the curve of your lower back, pulling you against him until there was no space left. The contact made your head spin and your body heat up in places that made you shudder with anticipation.

His taste was as delicious as his touch; a combination of coffee, bacon, and something distinctly Bucky that made your senses reel. His tongue slipped into your mouth, tangling with yours in an intimate dance that left you breathless and wanting more.

As the kiss deepened, you could feel every hard line and muscle of Bucky's torso pressed against your own. His heart pounded in sync with yours, the rhythm picking up as the kiss escalated from sweet to passionate. The sensation made you dizzy with longing.

You reached up to tangle your fingers in his hair, tugging lightly at the strands. A low growl rumbled from Bucky's chest at the action, sending a thrill of lust coursing through you. His response was immediate, his lips leaving yours to trail hot, wet kisses down your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, making you gasp in pleasure.

"You're mine," he said, his voice a primal growl that echoed in the otherwise silent room. His possessiveness was as thrilling as it was unexpected. You nodded, unable to form words as desire clouded your mind.

"Yours," you managed to gasp out, the word coming out as a half-sigh, half-moan as Bucky's fingers danced down the length of your back, causing goosebumps to rise in their wake.

His hands moved with a purpose, tracing paths of fire along your skin. Every touch was measured and precise - he knew exactly what he was doing and how it affected you.

It was almost too much to bear - this closeness, the intimacy of his words. It was overwhelming and wonderful all at once. Bucky's touch was like an incantation, a spell that had you completely entranced.

The world narrowed down to just the two of you. The crisp sheets beneath you, the cool morning air filling the room, everything felt insignificant compared to the heat radiating from Bucky's touch, from his gaze. You were lost in him, and it was a sensation you never wanted to quit.

His fingers dipped lower, trailing up the hem of the shirt you wore. A shiver coursed through your body as his cold metal digits met the warm bare skin of your stomach. You gasped audibly, your back arching slightly.

"Sensitive?" Bucky teased, a smirk playing on his lips. His fingers continued their tantalizing exploration, circling around your navel before moving upward.

"You have no idea," you managed to breathe out between gasps. Every nerve ending was on fire, your senses heightened by Bucky's seductive touch. His fingers traced a path up your body, fingertips lightly grazing the underside of your breasts. You bit your lower lip, stifling a moan. Bucky noticed, his ocean blue eyes darkening with a hunger that mirrored your own.

"Good," he murmured, leaning down to press his lips to yours once more. This kiss was different, though - more demanding, more intense. He claimed your mouth with a burning passion that left you breathless and craving more.

His metal hand moved from your stomach to cup your breast through the thin fabric of the shirt. His touch was electrifying; every stroke sent shock waves coursing through you straight to your core. You moaned into his mouth, arching into his touch.

Bucky pulled away slightly, his gaze sliding down to where his hand was on you. "You like this?" he asked in a low, husky voice.

"So fucking much," you admitted, reaching up to grasp the back of his neck and pull him back down to your lips. You kissed him with abandon, pouring all the pent-up desire you had been feeling into the action. His groan of pleasure was muffled by your mouth, further stoking the flames of your desire.

His hand kept up its unhurried exploration, fingers finding a hard nipple through the shirt, brushing over it in slow circles. The sensation made you whimper, pulling away from his lips to gasp for breath.

His eyes were filled with a wicked gleam as he took you in, his gaze heated and full of desire. It made your heart beat faster and your body ache with need. In that moment, you wanted nothing more than to melt into him completely.

"Bucky," you whispered, the sound coming out as a high-pitched plea. His touch was driving you wild, making it difficult for you to think straight.

"Hmm?" His voice was rough with desire, his breath fanning across your face.

"I... I need..." you trailed off, unsure of how to put your needs into words. You've never wanted someone this much; it was disorienting.

His lips curled up into a smirk again, understanding flashing in his blue eyes. "I know what you need, doll," he murmured against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. His hand slipped underneath your shirt, skin on skin contact causing you to gasp out loud. His touch was demanding, taking and giving pleasure in equal measure.

His fingers traced the contours of your body, causing your nerves to sing with exhilaration. Playing your body like an instrument he'd long ago mastered. He skillfully made his way to the apex of your legs, his fingers just ghosting over the sensitive skin there.

"Does this feel good?" he asked in a low growl, his voice rough with need. His fingers dipped lower, hooking into the waistband of your panties and pulling them down slightly.

Your heart pounded in anticipation as you nodded, not trusting yourself to speak as desire coursed through your veins. His eyes never left yours - an intense gaze filled with passion and unspoken promises.

His hand moved lower still, slipping beneath your waistband. A breathy moan slipped past your lips as his fingers touched you where you wanted him most.

His fingers were cool against your heated skin, and the contrast sent sparks through your body. You couldn't help but shift against his touch, seeking more.

"Bucky," you whispered again, this time in a desperate plea. His smirk widened at your response to his touch as he rubbed slow circles around your most sensitive area. You reached down to wrap your fingers around his wrist as he teased you. He watched you carefully, taking in your every reaction and using it to heighten your pleasure.

"You're so beautiful like this," he said in a low murmur, his voice filled with raw need that caused your pulse to flutter. He continued his slow exploration, dipping a single metal digit into your heat, causing you to gasp at the intrusion.

"Yes... Bucky," you stammered out, your voice barely above a whisper. The slow stretch of his finger inside of you sent fire shooting through every nerve ending. Each stroke of his hand was perfectly orchestrated as if to bring you the greatest amount of pleasure possible.

"Shh, I got you, doll," he reassured you, his voice low and thick with wanting. His pace didn’t quicken; instead he kept a slow, torturous rhythm that had you squirming.

You could feel the tension building within you, spiraling up from the pit of your stomach. The pressure increased with every skilled stroke of Bucky’s fingers until you felt like you were on the edge of something monumental. Your breath hitched, and your grip on his shoulders tightened to the point where you were sure it would leave marks.

You wanted to look at him, wanted to see his face as he watched you unravel under his touch, but your eyes were squeezed shut, the tension mounting within you too intense to bear otherwise.

"Look at me," Bucky commanded huskily, his voice sending shivers down your spine. You obeyed instantly, forcing your eyes open to meet his dark blue gaze. The raw desire there took your breath away. "That's it," he murmured approvingly, his fingers continued their exploration, every touch igniting a flame that threatened to consume you completely.

"I want you to come for me," he growled, pressing harder against the sensitive bundle of nerves at your core. You whimpered at his words, the knot in your stomach tightening further. His command added another layer of intensity to the already building climax.

Your body tensed and you gasped audibly as waves of euphoria crashed over you. Your mind went blank and your vision blurred as the orgasm hit you with full force. All you were aware of was Bucky; his intense gaze, his fingers relentlessly driving you through your climax, and his voice murmuring words of encouragement.

"Good girl... that's it. Let go," he coaxed, his rough voice a thread anchoring you in the storm. As the tremors began to recede, he slowed his movements, easing you through the aftershocks.

Your senses slowly returned, and you were left gasping for breath, your heart pounding wildly. You were still clutching his arm, your grip loose now but no less desperate. His touch was intoxicating, a heady mix of pleasure and need that left you craving more.

Bucky eased his hand away from your core. His gaze was steady on your face, watching as you tried to regain your bearings. His eyes softened as he took in your flushed face and disheveled hair.

He pulled you closer, wrapping his arm securely around your trembling form as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. There was a tenderness in this gesture that moved you deeply, causing tears to pool in your eyes.

"Bucky..." you murmured, turning your face further into his chest. He hummed a quiet acknowledgement in response, his fingers beginning to draw soothing patterns on your back.

"Yes, doll?" His voice was still rough, but the edge of raw need had smoothed out. Now it was gentle and filled with warmth and affection that had not been so evident before.

"You...you're..." You found it difficult to articulate what you were feeling right then. It was overwhelming - the intense euphoria from the pleasure he'd given you combined with the burgeoning emotions that threatened to spill over.

He seemed to understand regardless. "I know," he whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "I know."

There was an unspoken agreement between you both then; an agreement that this casual arrangement you had entered into all those months ago had transcended into something far deeper, far more meaningful, than either one of you had ever anticipated.

You sat together in silence for a while, foreheads pressed against each other as you regained your composure, breathing in each other's breath. When your limbs had finally stopped shaking and your pulse had evened out, you met his gaze.

"Buck, we have a problem," you murmured, sliding your cheek against his, the rough stubble tantalizing against your skin.

He nuzzled into your face. "What's that, doll?"

You pulled back to look him in the eye, a wicked glint in your gaze. "I seem to still be able to remember my name."

He reached for the hem of the shirt you'd borrowed and pulled it up over your head and tossed it to the floor. "Honey, I haven't even begun to fuck you yet." With a wolfish grin, Bucky picked you up and maneuvered you so that you were lying on your back, his form hovering above you. His drew his head down to your breast, taking it into his mouth and sucking long and hard on your nipple.

"Oh, fuck, Bucky," you moaned, arching your back and pressing your chest further into his eager mouth. He devoured you like a man starving.

You lost yourself to the sensation as he continued his ministrations, and it wasn't long before he had once again reduced you to a whimpering mess. Time itself lost all meaning as he brought you over the edge over and over and over again. Finally, after what seemed like hours, you were sobbing with over-stimulation and the sheer intensity of what you felt for him.

After he'd finished inside of you for the second time, Bucky leaned over you, planting feather-light kisses along the planes of your face. "What's your name, doll?" he asked, voice husky.

You tried to answer, but no coherent thought would come to you; all you could do was pant as you tried to focus and re-center yourself.

He had done it. The man had fucked you until you'd forgotten your own name.

And you absolutely loved him for it.

*

The days that followed were some of the very best of your entire life. If you weren't training or working (well, okay, plenty of times when you were working), Bucky had you on your back. Or bent over a desk, or up against a wall, or down on all fours. Several times, he had sat you on his face, your hands gripping on to the headboard for dear life as his tongued probed as deeply into your cunt as he could get it. You had fucked in so many positions, in so many places, you were sure the entire Tower knew what you were doing. Not that you cared; you were head over heals in love with the man, and you were fairly confident he felt the same about you.

It was just that neither one of you had actually spoken the words.

So secure were you in this new connection with Bucky that it didn't even phase you when Tony announced one afternoon that Jade Carthage had officially accepted a three-month probationary appointment with the Avengers, and would be moving into the Tower in just a few days time.

"Okay, Pocket, what gives?" Nat asked you. Girls' Night had come around again, and the two of you, along Wanda, were set up in the common room, working your way through two large pizzas and a couple of orders of mozzarella sticks. Pepper was unfortunately on the West Coast, away on some official Stark Industries CEO business. "Tony announces Jade's imminent arrival and you don't even blink."

You shrugged your shoulders as you popped half a mozzarella stick into your mouth. "I'm not worried about her anymore," you told them. "I mean, I still don't like her, and we're not going to be best friends, but Bucky and I are in a good place." You paused and gave them a knowing look. "A really good place."

"So you are sleeping together!" Wanda leaned back, lifting her feet off the floor and kicking them in delight. You ducked your head, trying to stifle the smile and hide the blush that bloomed across your face. "Okay, I have so many questions! First of all, how long has this been going on? Second, what' it like? You know, his..." she tiled her eyes down. "Third, how is it? It's got to be so good, right? I mean, look at him!"

"Slow down!" you laughed. "God, Wands, should we change your name from Scarlet Witch to the Sokovian Horndog? Cause damn, girl!"

It was Wanda's turn to blush. "I'm sorry; I've just wanted this for you for so long, I can't stand it!" She stood up and threw herself at you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug, which you gladly reciprocated.

"Thanks, sweetie," you said with a laugh.

"Thanks later, answers now," she told you, pulling back from you to lean against the arm of the couch.

"Oh, I got this," Nat said, grin plastered across her face. "Let's see... One: four months, since the night he got back from his first mission. Two: She's called him Magic Dick, to his face. And three: Sometimes, when they're done, she can't even walk." She turned to you. "That about cover it?" You laughed, nodding your head.

"Yeah, that basically covers it," you said with a grin.

"I cannot believe this has been going on for four months and you both kept it from me," Wanda said with a pout. "I have been shipping the two of you for over a year, and this is how you repay me?"

"We weren't telling anyone, Wands," you said, trying to placate your friend.

"Oh, I'm too excited for you to be actually mad at you," she confessed. "So, you two a legitimate couple now, or what?"

You paused, biting your lip in consideration. "Well, no? I mean, it started as this completely no-strings-attached, casual sex, friends-with-benefits thing, but the morning after the dinner disaster, he told me that I made him grateful he fell off the train and--"

"I'm sorry, he said what?!" Nat interrupted at the same time Wanda grabbed a throw pillow and screamed into with with excitement, kicking her feet once more.

"Pocket," Nat continued grabbing your arms and shaking you, "for Barnes, that's practically a declaration of undying love!"

You scrunched your shoulders in glee. "I know!" you squealed, not being able to help how exhilarated the idea made you feel.

"And then what did you say?" Wanda asked.

You dropped your shoulders. "Um... well, I didn't actually say anything."

Wanda's eyes went wide. "So you just left him hanging there after he said that?" she asked, incredulous.

"No! I absolutely replied!" you insisted. "Just... not with words. It was more of a... physical response."

Wanda and Nat shared a look. "Okaaaay," they both said in unison before the three of you burst into laughter.

"Pepper is going to be so pissed she missed this," Wanda said, pulling out her phone to text your missing friend. "Though she'll probably be more angry about losing the bet."

"The bet?" you asked, confused.

"Oh, I bet her $100 that you two would end up together before your birthday," Wanda said with a grin as she texted away. "Pepper thought it wouldn't happen until night of, or after."

You tossed a pillow at her, knocking her phone from her hands. "Hey!" she cried out.

"That's what you get for betting on your friends' love lives," you told her, though your voice held no heat. If anything, it was weirdly sweet. Except... "Wait, is it super bizarre that Pepper's making bets on my sex life when she's technically my boss?" you asked.

"Yeah, you going to HR with that complaint?" Nat asked, laughing at the face you made. Her laughing set Wanda off, which set you off in turn, and soon the three of you were in hysterics.

"Damn, we too early for the panty pillow fight?" a voice from across the room caught your attention, and you looked up to see Sam, Steve, and Bucky standing in the doorway.

God, Bucky looked so good. He was wearing a Henley and a pair of jeans, but damn it if it wasn't doing things to you. You flashed him a giant smile. "Hey, Buckaroo," you said, your voice coming out far huskier than you intended it to.

"Don't engage, Pocket," Nat murmured. "They'll think think it's an invitation to come join us." But it was too late; the boys had already begun walking over to where you sat, Sam immediately grabbing a slice of pizza and digging in.

"Hey, doll," Bucky said, leaning over you and placing a kiss to your lips. He quickly pulled back as though he'd been burned, realizing what he'd done of your friends, and the two of you started at each other in surprise and shock over his actions.

"You know what, fuck it," you said, fisting his shirt and pulling him down, slotting your lips over his like your life depended on it. He responded instantly, practically crawling onto the couch to deepen the kiss, pulling you into his lap. You barely registered the sounds of your friends whooping and cheering around you. After what felt like several heady minutes, when you eventually came up for air, you were both smiling, red embarrassment creeping up your faces.

"It's about damned time!" Sam shouted, throwing a mozzarella stick a the two of you. With lighting reflexes, Bucky caught it midair, bit half of it and fed you the rest.

"All this fanfare over a simple kiss?" he asked rhetorically, ignoring the pointed looks. "Stop making it a big deal."

"I have literally wanted nothing more in my entire life," Wanda said, fiddling with her phone. "And I may have taken a picture to send to Pepper to prove she lost."

Bucky gave you a questioning look.

"The Sokovian Horndog over there has been placing bets on us," you sighed. "We just won her $100." A corner of his mouth tipped up in a smile.

"Best buy my girl something pretty with your winnings then, Red," he teased. Leaning your head against his shoulder, you watched in amusement as Wanda's cheeks flushed at Bucky's words.

Your friends continued to playfully give you both shit for a few more moments when you realized someone was missing from your little group.

"Hey, where did Steve go?" You were sure the blond super soldier had entered the room with Bucky and Sam, but now he was nowhere to be seen.

"Um, he sort of ran out when you two started to play tonsil hockey," Sam said between bites of pizza.

"Bathroom, maybe?" Nat suggested, her eyes glancing towards the hallway, but you could tell there was a note of uncertainty in her voice.

Bucky, however, seemed to have a better grasp on what might have occurred and his eyes scanned the room with a more discerning look. A sigh escaped him before he gently nudged you off his lap, rising from the couch. "I'll go find him," he said, turning down to give you a quick kiss goodbye. "Come on, Sam. We've disturbed Girls' Night long enough."

The Falcon began protesting, unfinished pizza slice still in hand, but Bucky grabbed him by the arm, dragging him off toward the hallway. Once they reached the doorway, Bucky turned around and gave you a quick wink.

"I'll see you at bedtime, Babydoll," he said, before dragging Sam off with him.

You waited a beat, giving the boys time to get out of earshot before the three of you began squealing like pre-teens.

"He's never called me that before," you gushed, the happiness coursing through you so intense you were afraid you'd launch into orbit.

"You are going to get such a good dicking down tonight!" Nat declared, coming around to playfully punch you on the shoulder.

And you absolutely did.

[thecampbellclub]

i like to think about Robin and Hughie’s relationship.

I imagine Robin would blush when Hughie and her would run errands and Hughie would sing Billy Joel to her as loud as possible even when people would stare at him through their windows. Or, worse, when Hughie would roll down the windows and do it to strangers who clapped along. She would always cover her face while laughing and he’d keep doing it because it made her laugh.

Hughie and Robin the moments after sleeping together and trying to stifle their giggles to avoid being heard by Hughie’s dad.

The phone calls they shared where they would always end it with ‘I love you’, because they could never forget to add it onto their goodbyes even if they’d said it a thousand times that same day.

Hughie and Robin talking in quiet tones at late hours; Hughie having tears running down his cheeks as he recalls the trauma of his mother leaving him and the guilt he feels for wanting to move out of his fathers home, but he knowing he can’t because his father wouldn’t do well alone. She would promise that one day, when they were both ready, she and him would share a beautiful apartment and adopt a dog.

Hughie and Robin waking up together and smiling at one another before their eyes could even open because their bodies were intertwined, just as their lives were, under the sheets.

Hughie and Robin going on their one year anniversary date when a waiter mistakes it for their wedding anniversary. They recieve a bottle of free champagne and do not challenge the idea that they are a married couple in favor of free alcohol. That night, they clutched onto eachother in a hotel room with the bottle of champagne still in their hands while they did everything they could to coordinate themselves well enough to remove their clothes.

Hughie writes a speech of what he wants to say when he proposes to Robin and reads it to his father, who’s crying before Hughie can read the first two words.

Robin buying Hughie a Star-Trek lego set from the store as a birthday gift. Hughie, upon seeing it, immediately told her to get undressed. A thrilling thirty seconds later, Hughie is practically vibrating with how badly he wants to build it. Robin sits in bed with him as he explains every piece and where it should go. Still nude, which doesn’t seem to concern Hughie while he’s so distracted in child-like wonder.

Hughie and Robin sharing food in a theatre.

Hughie and Robin driving home on a rainy day and Robin putting her arm over Hughie’s chest instinctually after having slammed on the breaks.

Hughie and Robin enjoying a quiet day together where they are both in the same room, and occasionally touch the other, but do not speak at all. The silence is peaceful enough.

Hughie and Robin actually being able to live a happy, long life together

[bowieandqueen11]

Being Scotty’s Best Friend Would Include...

Request: I'm so excited you brought up Star Trek! I was wondering if you could do some hcs for having Scotty as a best friend. I'm such a big fan of your writing. I hope you're having a great day!

Oh my gosh I’m always here for a little Scotty love and it’s been far too long since I wrote for Star Trek! Thank you darling :)

Warning: mentions of drinking alcohol, and mentions of injury/needles! 

(I do not own Star Trek or its characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @whoophoney.)

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°

I love my Scottish icon so much but since he takes on literally 100% of the stress for keeping this beautiful old ship afloat, he is on the brink of an exhaustion induced mental breakdown 24/7. Sometimes you have to go down to Sickbay and rope Bones into helping you; the look of panic on Scotty’s face when the two of you step out of the turbo lift and come literally sprinting towards him is something behold. With only minimal squirming, the two of you manage to rope yourselves around his arms and drag him down to his room just to get a few hours of bloody sleep. You stay, flopping down on his sofa because you know Scotty too well, and in two jiffs he’d be making a beeline straight for those sliding doors again. Bones even decides he can finish off his last bits of paperwork in the corridor, helping you keep watch. 

You and Scotty manage to finally come to a halfway point: he’ll stay in his room, but only if he can curl up onto the settee next to you, and fall asleep with his chin smushed against the side of your face. He has a massive crick in his neck when he wakes up the next morning, stretching his arms out past your head while you shake a glob of his slobber off your shoulder, but it’s worth it to see how bouncy he is back down in engineering. 

Sometimes when things are a bit slower on the Enterprise the two of you will have drinking competitions down in his office. Chekov happens to wander past one afternoon, and comes in laughing when he spots you desperately trying to hold back your laughter as Scotty wiggles his eyebrows on you. He nearly jumps out of his seat in a fit of giggles when you accidentally spray half of the whiskey in your mouth out over his uniform, but poor Chekov decides to wander over to your desk right then and gets most of it on the side of his face. 

To be completely honest, the joy the two of you bring to each other is so infectious, that most of the Enterprise’s crew seem to gravitate towards the two of you at one time or another. One night, you and Scotty were sitting in a couple of desk chairs in the recreation room, nothing but the pearls of picked starlight whirling in the open expanse behind your head to keep you company in the dim room. The two of you are trying to speak over each other, gossip and idle chatter passing easily between the two of you as you unwind after a very long week down main engineering. It’s a very chill, warm, and comforting vibe that Jim walks in to: your legs are slung over Scotty’s lap as you nod at whatever topic his mind has jumped onto now, and he stops every so often to over you his whiskey bottle and steal it back once you’ve taken a sip. Jim likes to just sit in the same room as the two of you, because the constant stream of familiar chatter immediately drowns out and calms the storm of anxiety that brews up slowly in his head.

This man has an absolutely abysmal sense of humour, and you adore it. The ship could be in the middle of an intense attack, sweat dripping down both your faces as you make a run to the engine, trying to stop a couple of the blades from spinning off in a fiery blaze that would destroy half the cabins. Despite you literally hauling his ass through a small shaft, your grip on his legs tenuous at best as you try to dangle some equipment out from the loops of your belt, Scotty decides it’s the best time to try and crack terrible jokes to alleviate the tension. Well, he says ‘tension’, but to be completely honest he knows how afraid you are, and it breaks his heart to think that he could die without even trying to help you. 

Well, he tries to crack jokes until the ship lurches sideways, and then you’re dangling from the railings around the engine while Scotty holds onto your shoulders ‘scooby doo’ style.

This man is seriously, genuinely, incredibly protective over you. He sees you as his sibling: the closest thing he has to family (before he gets close to the rest of the crew as well), and so if he finds Spock to be a little too... demeaning towards you, even though he doesn’t mean to be, he will 100% shove you behind his back. The incorrectly filled out paperwork Spock was trying to hand back to you flutters down to the floor, and Spock raises an eyebrow in measured surprise as Scotty’s fingers encircle your wrist. Then the pointer finger comes out wagging, his mouth goes off running, and you’re pretty sure you can hear him yell ‘go ahead, fire me! You bet your arse you won’t be able to find two better engineers in all the universe, laddie!’

Spock, frozen in place and confused with the interaction, just turns his head to you and offers an apology once Scotty finally cools down a little. Once he heads back to the bridge to recount what happened to an incredibly amused Jim, Scotty’s tight grip onto your wrist turns into a bone crushing hug. He mutters his own sincere apologies for letting that happen into the top of your head, hefting your feet off the floor and spinning you around, his face burning red as his chin bumps against your forehead.

He has this little check in he likes to do with you (well, mainly to check in, but also to tease you a little in the proper brotherly fashion.) You know you should probably run away when he starts slinking over to where you’re tinkering with your wrenches, with a sly smile on his face. He’ll come leaning against the wall beside you, running the back of his knuckles down the side of your face fondly, before gently slapping the side of your cheek a couple of times. You always do your best to try and poke him on the shoulder back, but that little bugger is fast as lightening as he ducks away from you and runs down towards the corridor. Sometimes Bones has wandered tiredly into one of the medical supply closets, nearly being knocked down onto his ass as you run past him with a little goblin grin and a big wave. He should have known rightly, as he opens the door, that Scotty would be hiding in here. Scotty, however, is incredibly surprised, and falls down from the pipe he’s hanging onto from the ceiling down onto a stack of shelves. 

Bones just sighs and heaves him up, his tricorder already out and scanning his head as he leads him down to Sickbay. He knows to get on his comms immediately and notify you because: 1) the two of you have this kind of sixth sense where you know when the other is in trouble, so you’re already perched on the edge of Len’s desk, immediately yelling at Scotty before the two of them have hobbled through the door. And 2) Scotty, like Jim, absolutely does his best to escape Sickbay at all costs and it drives Len insane, so he needs your help to keep him in his biobed. Bones does his best to stitch up the gash in Scotty’s leg as you loop your arm around his left and haul him back down. Between muffled swears, Scotty trying to jerk you off, and you patting the beads of sweat away from his forehead gently to comfort him, Scotty begins to ease into it. 

I feel like the two of you would be the type to try and tease Jim any chance you got. Say, if there’s some huge ballroom event held down at base that the crew all go to? You and Scotty are definitely on the dance floor, having a competition to see who can stand on the other’s feet the most, and waltzing terribly back and forth in front of poor Jim and whoever he’s currently trying to hold a conversation with. Eventually he just gives up, and the two of you are beat in your terrible dancing only by Jim and Spock, who he’s managed to coax to the edge of the floor and is currently just doing a slow box step in place around Jim’s arms lmao.

Sometimes you’ll head back to your quarters after a long shift to find Scotty’s bent over behind greeting you. Turns out, once he turns around in surprise with a sheepish grin, that he has spent his break fixing bits and bobs around your room. Eh, there’s a few concerning bolts scattered around your floor, and your shower now has an extra knob that you’re far too terrified to turn, but he’s so sweet bless his heart. He gets this massive, sunshine filled, proud grin on his face when you thank him for helping out, and comes clambering over towards you to engulf you in a bear hug. He has a hard time telling the people that he cares about that he loves him, so acts of devotion are definitely this man’s love language. He’s just trying to show you how much he cares in the only way he knows how, so please squeeze your arms around his waist and grip onto the broad expanse of his back, because it’s the best way for him to understand that you return the sentiment.

The two of you usually spend your shore leave together: either the two of you find a random, deserted planet and do your best to spend the time curled up asleep on the shore of a serene beach, or he takes you back to Glasgow to visit Fran since she loves you so much.

He pretends, fervently, that he’s not incredibly dependent on you being around, but bruh. If the plans ever need to change, or you receive a message on your communication device about an emergency situation back at Starfleet you’re being sent for, Scotty will act really mopey and upset for the rest of the trip because he truly misses your company so much.

[darkness-and-books]

Star Trek Masterlist

(I’ll do my best to update it regularly)

(requests are open)

TOS headcanons

Making them bracelets

I could really use a hug

Can you please come and get me?

Crew reacting to the fandom

Crew reacting to more fandom

Bones fluff alphabet

Kirk fluff alphabet

Spock fluff alphabet

Rainy Day

Stuck in the turbo lift with you

Hey don’t do that, you’ll hurt yourself

Would it be too cliche if we matched clothes

Would it be too cliche if we matched clothes(x masc!reader)

Kirk x agere!reader

Spock x agere!reader

Bones x agere!reader

Finding Your Nest In Their Quarters (Ostaran!reader)

Funny middle names

How They React To You Wearing Their Clothes

How They React To Seeing You Naked For The First Time

TNG headcanons

Crew reacting to being told they’re fictional

Stuck in the turbo lift with you

x reader

Sleepy fluff Bones

I’ll Marry You (Bones x reader)

I Like That Your Hands Fit In Mine (Kirk x reader)

Indoor Catch (no pairing)

I Like Your Sweater (Bones x reader)

I Wanna Hear You Sing (Spock x reader)

Any Chance (Bones x reader)

As You Wish (Kirk x reader)

I Don’t Know Where My Spleen Is (Kirk x reader)

The Birthday Captain (Kirk x reader)

One Of Those Days (Bones x reader)

Turn The Lights Down Low (Bones x reader)

Through The Grapevine (Bones x reader)

Purr-fectly Tipsy (Kirk x reader)

Sudoku Challenge (Spock x reader)

Just a Small Hang Up (Kirk x reader)

A Bit Thorny (Bones x reader)

Crosswords in a Bottle (Spock x reader)

Hearing that you’re seriously injured (Spock x reader)

Nowhere To Be (Spock x fem!Ostaran!reader)

Just Us and The Music (Kirk x reader)

Imagines

Saving Spock’s eyebrows

The Things We Do For The Fleet (Bones x reader) (series)

[omgpurplefattie]

MLC WIp Wednesday

Next chapter of the Star Trek AU, still Li Lianhua's PoV.

^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^v^

Li Lianhua lost his way three times before he caught the correct turn to the arboretum, opened the door, and slipped inside.

Inside, there were fruit trees flowering in starlight.

It was ship's night now, the party being for the actual evening before the wedding indeed, and the arboretum followed this schedule, giving the trees a natural cycle of sorts. There were trees from many worlds, and not for every species, a 24 hour cycle was deemed natural. In fact, Earth hours were somewhat shorter than Federation Standard Hours, but the number 24 worked very well, mathematically — you could have three shifts or four shifts, you could administer time nicely and turn the lights on and off without any complex mathematics.

So it was dark inside now, the viewports were unblocked, and the starlight from the Eridanus 40 system shone on the flowering trees from Earth, Andor, Betazed, and many other inhabited worlds that grew things on trees.

Fruit, fiber, fuel.

Xiaobao had been right with his quip — some kinds of fuel did grow on trees, just not the starship or warp engine kind.

On one of the silk trees from Trill, a Klingon was perched, dangling his long legs while sipping something from a bottle.

"There you are," he said, proffering the bottle. "Prune juice?"

"Hell no," Li Lanhua said. "Why under the heavens are you even drinking that?"

"I like the taste," Di Feisheng said. "Dark and soft and fruity. Also, it doesn't make you drunk and doesn't make you hyper. I like a drink that doesn't make you anything, for a change."

"There is water," Li Lianhua said. "Or fruit tea. Or orange juice. You could even drink milk if you are into that."

"Eurgh," Di Feisheng said. "What an off-putting idea. No, I'm good with my prune juice, but don't have anything else to offer you."

Smoothly, he jumped off the branch.

[samisnotlegend]

In Every World

--

Hey everyone! I wrote a promotional fic for the @nomewithoutyoubkdkzine! Working on this zine has been incredibly fun, and I can't stress enough how honored I am to have been a part of this team. Preorders for the zine open on January 22nd!

--

“What do you want to play today, Kacchan?”  

Bakugou Katsuki, seven years old, took several moments to ponder the question. His rain boots, superfluous at the moment thanks to cloud-eating warmth of the summer sun, crunched over the rocky ground near a creek bed. 

Deku’s boots crunched right alongside him. His best friend’s hand was clasped in his own, and their hands swung together as they walked. Izuku squeezed his hand, and Katsuki squeezed back, still trying to think of an answer. 

They had played a lot of really excellent games already this summer…

Next to their path, the creek trickled and gurgled pleasantly, briefly tempting with an offer of not only a refreshing dip, but with tiny minnows to play with, and swaying strands of river grass to comb through for treasure.

Yesterday, Katsuki and Izuku had been the most fearsome pirate kings of the seven seas! They’d stood ankle-deep in the creek for hours, building pirate ships out of twigs and leaves, and racing them down the treacherous waters. They’d chased minnows and called them sea serpents, and once, a great kraken that looked a little like a crayfish had reached up with a claw, dragging their pirate ship down into Davy Jones’ locker! 

Katsuki and Deku had barely escaped that one. In the end though, they’d followed the map that Deku drew in the sand to where X marked the spot, and had unearthed their treasure, two shiny, pretty bottle caps. 

Katsuki was thinking of asking his mom for help so that he could turn their treasure into necklaces. He thought Deku might like that. 

Anyway… Katsuki was tempted to pick up where they left off yesterday. Maybe they could find the dastardly kraken and get their pirate ship back! 

But no, Katsuki shook his head. The same game two days in a row was boring. Deku definitely wanted a new adventure.  

Beside him, Deku continued to be patient. He hummed slightly as he walked, and every now and again, he did a little jump to make it over some of the bigger rocks in their path. 

That reminded Katsuki of the time that they had been adventurers. Katsuki was a dragon king, with a sword and a real dragon, and Izuku was a knight! They had some really excellent sword fights that day, and the great hero All Might himself had given them quests! At one point though, Deku had made a pretty gross potion out of mud, leaves, and a cicada shell so maybe they shouldn’t play that one again for a little bit… 

Katsuki thought back to more of their adventures. 

Before that, Katsuki and Deku had been genius inventors, building flying machines out of computer paper and rubber bands. Then they’d been youkai, jumping across the stones in the creek to go play pranks on humans! Another time, they had been brave nomads, trekking across a frigid winter landscape with no one but their trusty wolf and sheep plushies at their sides. 

They’d been rock stars, and superheroes, and doctors, and even angels and demons! Katsuki had been a fearsome dragon, and Izuku had been a sharp-toothed mermaid, and, and, and—!

Katsuki looked over at his friend. 

They passed under the shadows of leaves. The air felt warm, but a little cooler than it had been at the height of summer. Katsuki suddenly realized that their summer break would be ending soon. He felt a sudden pang of sadness, because he was really going to miss being able to play and explore with Deku all day. 

If summer was ending, then that meant that choosing today’s game was even more important. Katsuki huffed, his lips down turning into a small pout. He had to pick something awesome. Deku was counting on him!

“Hey Kacchan…” 

Katsuki glanced over at his friend. A glimmering slant of sunlight sent spots of reverse-freckles dancing across Deku’s cheeks and nose. The edge of his green curls glowed golden with the soft light. Deku smiled when their eyes met, and Katsuki felt his heart start to beat a little faster in his chest. 

Katsuki felt the weight of Izuku’s eyes and attention settle over his shoulders like a blanket, and the edge of his frustration crumbled away. He took a deep, quiet breath.  

“What, Deku?” Kacchan asked. 

Deku blinked as if he were surprised. Then he smiled even wider. 

“I dunno,” Deku admitted, “I forgot what I was gonna say.”  

Katsuki huffed, but the edges of his lips turned upward. “Dumb Deku,” he said, “Y’can’t even remember one thing from two seconds ago?” 

“It’s your fault!” Deku said, leaning in playfully to tip his head against Katsuki’s. “Kacchan’s eyes looked so pretty in the sunshine that I just forgot! They look sparkly an’ even prettier than rubies!” 

Katsuki spluttered, and felt the heat in his face return full force. “Stupid Deku!” He yelled, and pulled away from Deku’s hand to hide his face. 

Deku giggled, apparently unbothered. 

“You–! You pick the game today, Deku!” Katsuki demanded, blindly fumbling for something to distract him from his embarrassment. “Since you’re so—you’re so—!”

“Oh! You want me to pick? Hmm but…” 

Katsuki felt some of the heat leave his face, and he lowered his hands.

“You can’t do it, huh Deku? Psh, that’s why I–” 

“No, that’s not it!” Deku denied. “I can think of good games too!” 

“Oh yeah?” Katsuki crossed his arms. He felt better now that he and Deku were arguing, although when Katsuki skirted his eyes across Deku’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes, he felt his heartbeat quicken again. So he looked away, pretending to be interested in the swaying of the moss-covered branches of the maple trees. “Then why don’t you think of one, dumb Deku?” 

“Dumb Kacchan!” Deku fired back, “It’s because I don’t care what we play, obviously!” 

“Whaddya mean?” Katsuki looked back to see that Deku had jutted his bottom lip out in an adorable pout. Deku huffed, and, reaching out, he reclaimed Katsuki’s hand in his own. Katsuki let him. 

“I don’t care what we play,” Deku said again. “Because I’m happy as long as I’m with you, Kacchan.” 

Katsuki briefly caught sight of Deku’s smug smile before his face once more exploded into heat. 

“Deku!” Katsuki cried, but Deku didn’t let go of his hand, and Katsuki didn’t try to make him. Deku was so embarrassing! How could he just say things like that?!

After a moment, Deku started walking again, and Katsuki followed, hiding his face in his other hand. Their hands began to swing together again.

Overhead, the wind rustled the leaves together pleasantly. Birds chirped in greeting to each other all over the forest, and the creek murmured quiet sighs over every rock and twisted root in its path. A dragonfly, sparkling orange like candied fruit, buzzed over the water for a quick drink. 

Katsuki supposed that he still needed to come up with a game, though it didn’t really seem to matter very much anymore. Deku was right, he guessed. 

They could be astronauts, rebel thieves, superheroes, or even just regular adults with regular jobs! 

Katsuki squeezed Deku’s hand, and Deku immediately squeezed back. 

In every world, in every game, Katsuki knew he’d be happy just as long as he got to be with Deku.