#hand phaser

[zoomar]

The Hand Phaser - Type II

[ghosttigersims]

[roostercrowedatmidnight]

did janeway even get to have a single fistfight on voyager. a single bar brawl. a single sword duel. and if not why not

[anghraine]

I've been to MoPoP before, but I wasn't into TOS (or any Star Trek) then and ngl I nearly ascended to another plane of existence today.

[theborgqueen2]

I wonder how many people Chakotay has killed. I mostly view him as the calm, gentle one compared to Kathryn "Give me a phaser rifle and I'll solve any problem" Janeway but between the two of them, chakotay probably has more blood on his hands - more experience in one on one violence. That guy used to he a high ranked officer in a terrorist organization after all.

[cervidaecorpse]

I was busy. Have some redraws of my favourite expressions of the brothers instead.

Redrawn from these:

I feel sorry for Shewbahha, but this isn't about him.

[spockvarietyhour]

Someone's been on a cop show before.

[murdockbilaws]

it hits just right if you ask me.

[idol--hands]

Star Trek #5 (2022)

I have a couple of questions...

1. When did we decide Data can feel physical pain*? *even with the “emotion chip” 2. A lone Klingon bat’leth can chop a Soongian android like that?!

[deadheaddaisy]

RIGHT? She was strong enough to throw a grown human male across the bridge, but did we get to see it? No!

Especially in Demons and Terra Prime, you think some piddly human men would be able to restrain an angry Vulcan? Especially an angry Vulcan repressing that emotion but unable to prevent it from bursting forth when they put her daughter's life in danger.

I'm binge-watching Enterprise (I know, I know) and am severely disappointed by the missed opportunities involving T'Pol's vulcan strength.

[ssweetleaf]

set phasers to stun.

summary: joel wants you to sit on his face— you think you’re far too heavy for something like that.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

includes: SMUT 18+, face sitting/cunnilingus, dom!joel, i wrote this with an age gap in mind, but it isn’t really specified so make it up girlies, a bit of spanking, slight insecure!reader, pet names (honey, girlie, baby, babygirl, sunshine) a tad of a daddy kink (i’m sorry, it’s me, what do you expect?)

a/n: sorry i’ve been gone again, i’m back in my pedro pascal phase and this just came out of nowhere lol. let me know what you think. dividers credit goes to @saradika-graphics <33

“Quit your whinin’ and sit the fuck down.”

You were hovering over Joel’s face, thighs twitching and burning from their position, careful not to bump any part of yourself into him— too scared to fully sit yourself upon his face like he had so desperately asked for earlier in the day.

“Joel— m’too heavy,” you muttered, cheeks heating, shifting your weight from knee to knee and hands on the headboard, knuckles whitening from your firm grip.

He lifted a big palm against the cheek of your ass in a sharp, searing slap, quelling your whirring thoughts for just a moment, the burn of his hand print thick and heavy upon the globe of your ass.

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare,” he growled, teeth clenched, eyes boring into yours from underneath you and you would’ve frowned at the sight of the protruding pudge of your belly when you looked down, but the constant smoothing of his callused hands against the soft rolls and swells of your body had you stifling it.

“Now listen here, honey,” he huffed, shifting his face to the side to press a few spongy kisses to the thickness of your thighs. “I ain’t gonna tell ya again.”

Joel was firm with his words, the low timbre shooting throughout your core and flooding your folds with a surge of arousal.

“Y’gonna take a seat, and y’gonna ride my fuckin’ face till I say you can stop, y’hear?”

“Joel, I—Ow!”

Another spank, on the other cheek this time, but just as hard, the print blooming in the shape of his calluses and the ring on his finger.

“Girlie.” The fond pet name was now a word of warning, almost daring you to disobey him. “Sit, now.”

You swallowed thickly, and with a shaky breath you lowered yourself down, easing onto his handsome face, the broad slope of his nose prominent against your slit, and you gasped at his deep inhale, breathing your scent deep into his lungs, almost savouring it before nudging your clit with the tip of his nose.

Your lashes fluttered, threatening to close once he mouthed a kiss to your pussy lips, teasingly sucking your folds into his eager mouth, careful to avoid your poor, puffy clit and keep you on edge.

“Look at this pretty cunt, hm?” he cooed, gruff and thick, muffled slightly from between your thighs and beneath your soft belly. “She’s been beggin’ for this, baby and you’ve been keeping her from me.”

His tongue peeked out from between his lips, swiping a long, fat stripe from your slick, fluttering hole, to the engorged jewel of your clit.

“Oh!” You whined, threading your fingers through his thick curls, tugging slightly once his lips enveloped your pearl, suckling it into his mouth, humming into your heat, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout your cunt and you moaned out at the feeling. “Joel, fuck.”

He pulled back only slightly, brow raised and eyes dark and glistening— a big palm squeezed at the fat of your ass. A little warning.

“Language.” he clicked his tongue, turning to nuzzle into the thickness of your thigh, biting into it with dull molars and sharp canines, urging another wave of slick to surge your poor cunt.

“S-sorry!” You squeaked out, nails scratching against his scalp the way he liked as a little apology. “Keep going, please.”

You could feel his smirk against your flesh, tongue swiping at the marks he bit and sucked into the sensitive skin of your thighs.

“There she is,” he hummed, “now ya beggin’ for it, aren’t ya, baby? Knew you’d come around some time.”

Joel dove back into your cunt, lapping crudely at your hole, picking up silver strings of arousal on his tongue before lolling it over your peaked clit— smacking kisses to it, practically making out with your poor pussy whilst humming happily into your heat.

“Just needed some persuadin’, huh, sunshine?” he spoke into your pussy, voice muffled and barely legible through your hazy brain. “Just needed your ol’ man to eat this pretty pussy from down here, didn’t ya, babygirl?”

You cried out, nodding profusely at his filthy words and personification of your cunt, tears ebbing at your waterline and slowly easing over.

“Been havin’ so much trouble with my damn back— just layin’ here while you ride my face is so much better, sugar.”

Knowing your man wasn’t in pain, that his usual achy back and knees were quelled and sated by his current position, instead of the place he so often took between your legs with a hunched back and sore knees, had you relaxing somewhat.

‘Makin’ y’daddy a happy man, baby,” he groaned, fisting at the fat of your hips, leaving you tight and secure against his face. “fuckin’ dripping down my throat.”

You could feel the tightening in your belly, coiling throughout your insides, warming you up and leaving you panting, fisting at any part of him you could find.

“J-Joel,” you panted, chest heaving up and down, up and down, nails in his scalp, in his shoulder blades, even reaching behind you at his thighs. “so close.”

Your speech was clipped, lips stuttering and drool slipping from the corner of your mouth.

“Ah ah,” he shook his head, lips still suckling at your clit after every other word. “None of that, you ask for daddy’s permission— you know what to do.”

You whined again, long and drawn out, bucking your hips and huffing out— there was a warmth upon your cheeks that blossomed, creeping down your neck and teasing the tips of your ears, all shy now when asking your man to cum.

“Please, Joel,” you sighed out, thighs squeezing at his ears, clamping him tight underneath you. “can I cum? Pretty please?”

“Please, what?” He huffed, gruff and quick, tongue lolling and rolling over your spit-slick clit before thrusting the pink muscle into your quivering hole. “Ain’t got all day, hon.”

“Daddy— please, daddy! Need’a cum.”

“Atta girl, such nice manners— taught you good, baby girl. Cum f’me.”

[darthbeans]

watched undiscovered country for like the first time ever

[love0nstrike]

☆彡He’s a D*ck, So She’s Tess?

Bill Dickey x Reader

Summary: A new girl transfers to Eltingville high and Bill writes her off as another bimbo who’ll hardly look at him. Until he spots her Dick Tracy comics. He’s in over his head after that.

TW: literally all kinds of misogyny. This is Bill Dickey we’re talking about. I might’ve made him a little nicer than usual, but that's just because I think if he was ever with a girl he had a real chance with he’d be too shocked to actually be an asshole. At first at least.

“Captain, are you alright?” buzzed a serene voice from Bill’s radio.

He set his phaser rifle down and sends a transmission over, “I’m alright, sweetheart. I’ve always got things under control.”

He puts a hand above his eyes as he surveys the area. He had just landed on an unknown planet with his crew of bombshell broads. The power cell on his phaser rifle was fully charged and he still had some kiss marks from the crew.

He was ready to conquer any potential threats.

The ground beneath him was hot and sand-like, but firm enough to act like gravel. There wasn’t much he knew about this strange planet. The sun was much stronger out here, and it was evident on the ridiculous amount of sweat that had begun accumulating on him. These damn Starfleet uniforms weren’t made for this kind of weather. Fighting against the glare of the sun, he squinted for some sort of sign of life.

He had been wandering for quite a while, and yet he hadn’t seen a single moving thing beyond the particles of sand he kicked as he walked. Sick of the overbearing weather, he sighs and gets ready to head back.

Until he spots it. Not too far in the distance is a figure. Immediately back on alert, he lifts his rifle and stomps toward it. The form gets clearer, but the shine of the sun prohibits him from seeing much.

It was a girl, that much he could make out. Oh.

It’s a girl.

A smirk immediately plasters itself on his face as he holsters his rifle and confidently walks forward. He would never miss an opportunity to add another fine woman to his ship.

When he feels close enough he puts his hands on his hips, “Need any help, princess?”.

The figure stays quiet. He puts a hand above his eyes in an attempt to shield the sun. He still can’t fully see her and it’s really starting to get on his nerves. Part of her ankle comes into view, which is enough to satiate his impatience, for now.

He could tell that she was wearing a loose dress. What kind, specifically? How was he to know? He didn’t care for that girly bullshit. It was short enough for him to see her beautiful legs. While his eyes hungrily raked over them, he noticed that she wasn't wearing any shoes either.

“What the hell?” he muttered, furrowing his brows. He motioned toward her feet with his hand, “how aren’t you fucking melting out here?”.

As if at the mention of it, he suddenly realized just how hot he had gotten. His sweat was leaving pools in his uniform and he felt much, much weaker. His vision wavered as he tried to keep his balance. He looked back up at her but the figure was gone. Before he could search for her, the alarm on his ship started to blare. His head shot up and turned to see the emergency lights shining. He reached for his radio but it was gone.

It was then that he realized just how close the sun had gotten. Way too close. And way too fast. And somehow it was getting even closer. Fuck. He abandoned any visions he had for the girl. She was probably ugly anyways. He had more than enough women to keep him company onboard. He realized if he wanted to keep his crew and his life, he needed to head back immediately.

He dropped his rifle and ran for his life. The sun was moving impossibly closer and his skin felt like it was burning up. As he neared the ship, his heart dropped at the sound of the engine starting. It was going to lift off without him!

Had even his beautiful crew decided to abandon him?

His despair was interrupted at the sight of the figure from earlier. The girl was alive. And on his ship.

She stood on the edge, holding her hand out. Bill could hardly breathe as the sun overtook half the sky and his skin ached. Yet, he kept running. He would be damned if he let his ship of beauties leave him to die like this.

As he neared the ship, he heard the girl scream at him to jump and it gave him one last kick of energy. As the ship lifted, it kicked up a flurry of sand that blinded him. Moving blindly, he jumped forward as she caught his hand. She held onto him as the spaceship lifted and he dangled by one hand. He looked down as the planet below him burst into a grand ball of flames. The flames seemed to get closer and closer and closer till—

He woke with a start.

Panting and sweaty, his eyes were wide open. He immediately groaned and threw his hand across his face. The sun was beating down on his face through his curtains, and he felt like he was back in his dream. Another stupid dream about imaginary women, and this time he doesn’t even get to see the damn broad. He can even still hear the stupid alarm. Wait. Alarm? Christ, it’s his alarm. He furiously rubs his eyes and sighs. If he’s tardy again, that’s his 4th absence of the month. He’ll get another call from the attendance office and his bitch mom will ground him right on time for the Star Trek marathon on Friday.

He quickly rose, staggering toward his drawer. No brushing or washing today, not like he cared for it usually. He shoved the first shit he could find on and walked to the bathroom. His clock glowing an angry red as he walked past. 7:30. Fuck, not even enough time for a morning sesh. He shoved his porn mag to the side and walked right up to the sink. Splashing cold water on his face, he ran his hand through his hair. Eh, good enough. He slipped his bag on and hurried out the door. What a shitty start to the day.

—----------------------------------

There was one thing he would never get over. He was on his 4th year of high school and there was one question he could never answer. Why was everyone so fucking loud in the morning?

A pack of stupid broads in the corner, laughing and huddled together, throwing glares at the rest of the class. The nerdy, but boring freaks at the front. The sounds of zippers and books slamming as they prepped for class unusually early. Try-hards. Deep laughs hit like nails on a chalkboard in front of him as he watched the meathead jocks shadow box each other and leave a whiff of axe body spray as they moved. At the very front sat his old hag of a teacher who was probably too close to a retirement home to hear a damn thing anymore.

He sighed, trying to look away. Sat in his usual seat, it felt like he never woke up as the bright sun hit him right in the eyes as he turned. He dropped his head into the safety of his arms. Between the usual chatter and the blinding light, he felt like his head would explode. So caught up in feeling like shit, he hardly noticed the new silence.

Shifting in his now unusually loud seat, he finally caught up to reality. Slowly lifting his head, his eyes followed the still class to the front of the room.

There was a girl.

With the glare of the sun, he could hardly see more than her outline. He shoved his hand up like a shield, and finally, he saw her clearly.

Had he died and gone to Valhalla?

Surely, he died in his valiant dedication to fandom and was finally being rewarded for his efforts. With a heavenly glow surrounding her, there stood the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. His eyes raked her top to bottom, from her shining eyes to her shifting feet. Christ, she was a wet dream reincarnated.

As his jaw hung slightly open and his eyes stayed glued to her form, he finally noticed his teacher motion her forwards. There was movement from the girl’s beautiful lips. Only it was too late. He had no idea what she said and she was walking right toward him. He forced his jaw to close and stood up in his seat slightly. Don’t wanna look like a pussy. He gulped as she got clearer and prettier. There was an empty seat next to him and he was certain she was gonna take it.

Visions overtook him of suavely talking her over as she laid her head on her hand, looking at him with the most desperate fuck-me eyes.

He’d hand her a pencil, maybe an eraser too. She’d flutter her lashes at him and laugh at his jokes. She’d put her hand on his shoulder as she laughed and she’d follow him as class ended right to the band room. He didn’t even take band, but he heard from Josh that kids got up to some freaky shit in the closets over there. He’d undress her slowly and– Nope, can’t think that far right now. Think of something else.

As his hopes soared, they were smashed into the fucking ground with the force of Mjölnir as she turned left. Oh, Fuck off. The stupid popular bitches were waving right at her, motioning her towards them. Just like that, he knew it was over. He felt like the world's biggest moron. Every bitch is the same, he knew it. He dropped his head in his hands again. It was going to be a long morning.

The bell brutally tore him from his nap and he immediately scrambled to get out. He speed walked toward the bathrooms, aching to get his one moment of peace going over Pete’s "Sci-fi’s Hottest Whores" scrapbook he made with magazines he stole from the supermarket. Obviously, hanging out by the bathrooms that had an air of shit from the broken plumbing wasn’t his favorite, but it was the club’s only safehaven from bullies. He felt his tense shoulders relax as the club came into sight. As he nodded towards the boys and set his bag down, Jerry asked him how he was doing.

Bill groaned and his eyes narrowed. Jerry immediately regretted asking, but Bill already began his (first) rant of the day as he opened his leaky lunch bag. The club all brought their own lunches to school. They knew better than to go to the lunchline, where they’d get robbed before they even got a glimpse of the food.

Bill ate and spoke at the same time, dropping crumbs everywhere. As he got to the part where he saw the new girl, he set his sandwich down and paused his messy bites. “I’m telling you, she was the most beautiful bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on. I almost bent her over my desk and took her right there,” he grumbled as Pete raised an eyebrow and smirked.

Bill sighed and looked down, “For a second, she looked just like the girl in my dreams. I really thought I had a good premonition going on there.”

Josh was scarfing down his mom’s meatloaf, not entirely interested in the conversation. “So?” he muttered through his mouth full of food.

Bill slammed his hand down as he continued, “She was walking right to me! Till the stupid cheer whores motioned her over. And of course, she took the bait. Just like that, the love of my life is gone.”

Pete rubbed his hands along his knees, ”She might not be yours, but if she’s that hot she might be mine. Send her my way, ya’?” he smirked.

Bill sent him a deep glare, “Over my dead body. She won’t want your shrimp dick, freak.”

Josh laughed, again with his mouth full, “Like she’d want yours. She’d need to be Bionic-1 to see a thing on you.”

Jerry sighed, “She won’t want any of ours if she joins cheer. She’s gonna get passed around the jocks like a football.” He fumbled through his magic cards, trying to sort his sliver deck. He was half listening to the conversation, too distracted by the task in front of him.

Bill kicked the cards right out of his hands, “Don’t say some shit like that around me. You got a cuck fetish or something?” he sneered.

Jerry scrambled to pick up his cards, now definitely too distracted to listen to the conversation. Bill hardly had an appetite after that, realizing how right Jerry might be. He shoved his sandwich down his bag and wiped his hands on his pants. He took Pete’s scrapbook from Josh’s hands, “Gimme that. Like you can see it over your fat fupa,” he grumbled. Josh protested for it back but it fell on deaf ears.

______________________________

He hadn’t thought about her again for the rest of the school day. Once he was free from hell, anything school related trickled right out of his mind. He was walking out the main gate with the club, arguing about the X-Men Age of Apocalypse comic that made a totally bullshit turn in his opinion. His day had seemed to finally even out.

With a gentle breeze flowing through the trees and his jacket tied around his waist, he felt much lighter in the moment. The clumsy steps of the group against the pavement was all he could hear as he passionately continued his rant. He had just finished slapping Jerry across the head and cackling with Pete when a movement in front of him caught his eye.

He almost bit down on his tongue as he realized who it was. He felt a sudden lump in his throat and didn’t even notice the pause in his steps till the rest of the group were a few feet ahead of him.

It was her. She was walking in the opposite direction as the group, straight toward them. He stood in the middle of the path and anyone with an ounce of awareness in the moment would notice that he was in her way. Luckily, he was the dumbest motherfucker in the world at the moment. He failed to move out of the collision course and her gaze was too busy with her bag as she fumbled to get something out.

She rammed right into him and they fell with a thud.

He took note of her heavenly scent before anything else. It was almost good enough to distract him from how much of a fool he had just made out of himself. He didn’t have much time to ponder over it though, as he sat up on his knees and noticed her bag’s contents littered along the ground. His eyes lazily raked over the pile in his daze.

Until he spotted it.

If he was dazed before, he felt on the verge of a stroke now. His blood rushed to his head and his heart thundered like it would burst out of his chest. He started breathing manually as he felt himself break out in a cold sweat. His hands fumbled at his sides in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

Comics. Not just any comics. Not the stupid, girly romance kind. Dick Tracy comics. It didn’t take a detective to realize what that meant. As if his body was moving on its own, his hands shakily picked up the comics and he turned toward her.

The angel rubbed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a small smile on her shiny lips. Her eyes were soft and glittered as she looked at him. At least he thought so.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t looking at all,” she said sheepishly.

Her voice felt like warm honey and the light seeping through the trees enveloped her in a beautiful glowing frame. Her head tilted and he felt as if he could see the gears turn in her mind. “We have a class together, right? I remember you,” she said with a smile.

At his newfound discovery that he had just gone mute, she continued. “I remember you because of your Magik shirt, I think you’ve got good taste.” His mind short circuited as he looked down. He had no memory of even picking it out this morning and it was slightly stained… wait, how did she know who Magik was?

He felt like he was going to pass out and struggled to find his voice. It cracked as he choked the question out, “Are these yours?” he questioned as he held out the comics. Her eyes widened and she quickly reached out for them.

“Oh fuck, yeah, those are mine. Hope I didn’t scratch them up, they were in mint condition when I got them,” she said as she squinted and flipped them around to inspect them.

And he was a goner.

He smiled at her. A real, albeit shy, smile. Maybe he had never woken from his dream after all.

Still in amazement, his thoughts stumbled out of his upturned lips, “You’re heavy.” She tilted her head at him with a blank expression. Oh. Wait, fuck. “I. I meant your bag. It looks heavy. Ya need help?” he stammered as his face burned.

She smiled softly and nodded “Yeah, thanks.” She dusted her knees as she rose, “so, you like Dick Tracy too?” she asked.

He nodded, suddenly growing uncharacteristically shy. Fuck. How the hell do you talk to girls? He wiped his sweaty palms on his pants as he rushed to pick up the rest of her things. It was the only thing he could think to do as his mind scrambled to think of a pick-up line. Should he tell her he had a 10 pack of condoms ready if she could handle it? He wiped the thought from his mind, he didn’t even know where to get condoms or how they worked. Although, obviously she liked him if she was keeping up a conversation with him for this long. Maybe it was worth looking into. He hurriedly stuffed her things back in her bag before putting it on. Was he seriously gonna carry a girl’s bag for her? He looked up, ready to protest.

His words died on his tongue when she held her hand out and smiled at him. Christ, l need to see her in some erotic cosplay. As his shaky hand touched hers, he felt like he was born again. Her soft skin made his heart throb and he felt like he just came down with a fever. I’m touching a real life girl. His knees felt weak as he attempted to rise. Any issue he had with carrying her bag was gone.

He’d kick a kid into oncoming traffic if she asked, as long as she’d keep touching him like that.

____________________________

Unbeknownst to Bill, his friends stood frozen in place a few feet away. The club was too shocked to do anything but watch. A cold, eerie feeling washed over them all. A girl being nice to Bill. And Bill being nice to a girl. They’ve got to be in hell. The world has to be ending. Someone’s gotta call the fucking police.

“What the fuck,” muttered Pete.

Jerry stood slack jawed and Josh hadn’t even noticed he dropped his brand new Superboy comic.

A cold breeze carried their silence. Yet, Bill had never felt warmer.

[reacquaintedwith-air]

extremely important for the story, but strong frequent strobing light warning for the abduction flashbacks. the most strobing lights they put on any episode. as someone photosensitive/prone to migraines, i have to kind of pick my moments to watch put my hand over my eyes for some scenes. It's great episode! the Scully abduction arc is some of the best of the show imo, it's just something to be aware of if you're light sensitive.

Summary: Ex-FBI agent Duane Barry escapes from a mental hospital and holds several people hostage in a travel agency. Mulder and Krycek are sent in to help with the negotiations since the man claims to have been a UFO abductee.

[darsynia]

Saw the creativepromptsforwriting post...

I would like to place a order :)

Steve Rogers, MCU/reader is an avengers hero, #12 corner mouth kisses/maybe #57 trembling mouth kiss

I can't believe I let myself think I'd do UP TO 500 WORDS! Steve/Reader, fluffy AF coworker love declarations facilitated by one ginger cat named Kirk. 2,200 words <- OOPS.

Excerpt:

You powerwalk over to the door and pull it open right as you hear the repulsors make their ‘ready to fuck shit up’ noise. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Oh look, you’re alive!” Tony says, completely unphased by your vehemence. “As your friend and teammate, let me save you both some time here: you--” he points to Steve “--need to tell her you’ve been making secret drawings of this woman’s every possible facial expression and you--” he points to you “--ought to let him know you stay after sparring sessions to hand-sew the rips in his suit. I’m talking before it’s laundered. Now, go kiss or something. Note how I didn’t say ‘go play with the pussy?’ That’s camaraderie. Stark out.”

With his verbal grenades expended, Tony grabs the door handle from your nerveless fingers and pulls it firmly shut.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Steve says in a stunned voice.

The Trouble With...

When you woke up this morning, you had a ground floor apartment and a pet cat. When you got back from your day of team training an hour ago, there was no cat to be seen, and your front door was cracked open to the apartment lobby.

A frantic call to your landlord revealed that they’d sent maintenance workers to finally fix the leaking toilet in your unit (with zero notice. Pepper Potts said she’s ‘on it,’ and you suspect your landlord won’t enjoy that experience one bit). 

The following sequence of events was where everything kind of fell apart.

You love your cat, and your first instinct was to call your teammate and training buddy, Steve Rogers. Your voice had been shaky during the call as you wandered the nearby alleys calling for Kirk and shaking his favorite earth-shaped cat toy. Steve asked twice as many questions as you even understood on the phone, until finally he said he would be right there to help out. You’d thanked him, bent over next to a dumpster, and sobbed.

Two minutes later, Tony Stark had flown in to use his HUD to search for small animal-shaped heat signatures. “Wow. That’s a lot of rats.”

Thor had sauntered up not long afterwards, Bifrost smoke still following his footsteps, but his ‘special cat whistle’ appeared to be inaudible to humans and cats. Not rats though, according to Tony.

Clint texted you a search grid diagram that had suspiciously blood-colored smudges on it, but before you could ask him about it, Nat sent the larger frame image of his lunch (BBQ wings) beside the printouts. “Don’t worry about him, I have some leads,” she’d told you.

By the time Steve showed up on his motorcycle in street clothes, you were completely overwhelmed, and you’d spent more time managing the feelings of your fellow Avengers than your own. As soon as you saw him approach on the bike, you let out a long sigh, pasted on a smile, and headed straight for your apartment building. You needed to feel safe and at home for the coming conversation.

As soon as you touched your own doorknob though, you realized something.

Was that maybe how Kirk felt too? Maybe for Kirk, the enemy of the week was the maintenance man who invaded the ‘ship’ of your apartment, and your cat wasn’t equipped with enough Dilithium Crystals, Phasers, or Tribbles to deal with it this time. When you had found the door open, you’d called out his name and rushed all over the place looking for him, but what if the sound of your voice just wasn’t enough for Kirk to trust that things were back to normal?

Steve’s arrival forgotten, you rushed into your apartment and tried to think of where Kirk’s ‘safe space’ would be. There was a damaged vent on the wall under the bed that he sometimes fiddled with--could he have finally broken it enough to go exploring? You were on your hands and knees setting one of his favorite treats on the floor next to the bed when Steve tapped gently on the door. 

“When I heard how upset you were on the phone call, I--”

Without thinking about the exact words, you blurted out, “Rogers, I love you, but you need to get out, right now. I think I found Kirk, but if there’s someone else here--”

You were so worried about your cat that you didn’t hear what he said in response.

*

You wake up on your side a few hours later on the floor, head resting on your pillow, with Kirk sleeping peacefully on the rug beside you. The bag of treats you’d grabbed to lure him from the vent in the wall is lying on the floor nearby, completely empty.

“Are you serious right now? Ginger cats, I swear to God.”

A judicious application of duct tape patches up the vent hole, so you head into the kitchen to make yourself some coffee. As the machine whirs to life, you unlock your phone to find multiple messages from each Avenger, all demanding to know if you are okay, if Kirk is okay, if you and Kirk are okay, if your landlord is around for a ‘casual conversation,’ and so on.

“Nope,” you say aloud, popping the ‘p’ for Kirk’s benefit. Of course, that’s when there’s a knock at your door.

It’s Steve, and he’s hovering like something happened during the disproportionate Assemble. “Hey, can I-- Well, first things fir-- Safe to assume you found your cat?”

“Yes, thank goodness” you say, ushering him in. He’s holding back, shifting from foot to foot, which is strange. You’ve held game and movie nights here before, and once or twice you and Steve had stayed up late afterwards talking, but now he’s acting like he’s never been here before. “Kirk went adventuring in the ductwork. I lured him out with treats, but he took so long I fell asleep on the floor.”

A lot of Steve’s tension drains away at that, and he smiles sheepishly. “Oh! So not answering any messages was-- Not that you have to, of course, that’s not what I--”

“Left my phone in the kitchen!” you say briskly, settling onto the couch so that Steve will be forced to sit out of innate politeness. “I just didn’t want to spook Kirk any more than he already was-- which reminds me, I’m sorry I snapped at you, or whatever. I don’t really--” 

“About that,” Steve interrupts, lurching a couple more steps into the living room.

“Are you okay?” you finally ask. He’d taken off his baseball cap when he walked in, and has been twisting it in his hands in an anxious way ever since. “Sit down?”

“Right, of course,” Steve says, sitting at the edge of the cushion at the far end of the same couch as you. “I’m fine.”

“Good.” Kirk takes that moment to hop up onto your lap, and you let the moment stretch out as you smile politely, hoping Steve will explain what his deal is. It doesn’t work. He is giving off intense ‘waiting for bad news at the ER’ energy, and you can’t take it anymore. “All right, soldier. Spill it.”

Steve laughs weakly, and just like that, the odd suspense drains away. “That obvious, huh? Okay.” He swallows.

That comparison to the ER is starting to feel more and more plausible. “Is... someone hurt and you’re afraid to tell me?”

Steve answers in a headlong rush. “You said you loved me. When you told me to get out of your bedroo-- apartment.”

Suddenly all the obstacles to saying those words for real just melt away.

“That’s because I do!" you whisper, your voice becoming more and more confident as you continue. "I didn’t mean to tell you like that, of course. It slipped out, easy as breathing--because it is. Easy, that is. To love you.” Ironically, your chest feels like you’ve been holding your breath for a couple of months. Kirk’s still on your lap, but his ears show his annoyance at yet another disruption.

“I never-- I’ve dreamed about thi-- Right.” Steve stops himself, stands up, and takes two big steps closer to you before sitting down again, sending your heart into a rolling gallop and Kirk off to an away mission. “I’m falling in love with you. I want to be honest about that.” His eyes trace your face over and over as if determined to etch this moment into his memory. “I kept telling myself it wasn’t right to fall for a teammate--”

“Or, you know, the symbol of all that’s good and right with the world in superhero form,” you tease.

Steve takes your hand, looking at into your eyes with all the sincerity in the world and says, “What’s good and right with the world is this, us. If you’re okay with finding out what that’s like, that is?”

His phrasing is confusing, but the sentiment behind it has you even more in love with him than ever. Steve starts to lift your hand up to his lips to kiss the back of it-- and a loud knock sounds on the door.

“Shoot!” he says, jumping to his feet. “I told Tony to come by if he didn’t hear from me. Because there might be something wrong, or--”

“Open up, one of your neighbors told me I bought a bad replica of the Iron Man suit and I’m feeling a powerful urge to prove them wrong!” Stark says, tapping on the door again.

You powerwalk over to the door and pull it open right as you hear the repulsors make their ‘ready to fuck shit up’ noise. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

“Oh look, you’re alive!” Tony says, completely unphased by your vehemence. “As your friend and teammate, let me save you both some time here: you--” he points to Steve “--need to tell her you’ve been making secret drawings of this woman’s every possible facial expression and you--” he points to you “--ought to let him know you stay after sparring sessions to hand-sew the rips in his suit. I’m talking before it’s laundered. Now, go kiss or something. Note how I didn’t say ‘go play with the pussy?’ That’s camaraderie. Stark out.”

With his verbal grenades expended, Tony grabs the door handle from your nerveless fingers and pulls it firmly shut.

“Well, that’s one way to do it,” Steve says in a stunned voice.

Your body has forgotten how to multitask, so you alternate between taking delighted gasps of air and feeling your heart hammer halfway through your ribcage. “You've made sketches of me? I love your art. I was trying to work my way up to telling you that you haven’t been drawing enough.”

“I’m doing it all the time, it’s just you, so I couldn’t, you know. Let you see them.” Steve steps close, herding you against the door, one hand coming up to trace an incredulous caress along your hairline. “You’re insane. I smell terrible after those workouts.”

Bursting out laughing, you bury your head in his chest, feeling and hearing the joyful laughter he lets out along with you. Steve kisses your hair, then your temple, creating a pathway of small steps toward your lips, symbolic of the way your association with each other has grown. By the time he’s pressing a heated kiss at the corner of your mouth, you’re grasping at him with both fists, full of anticipation.

Steve abandons his earlier restraint and takes charge, as though the wait set him on fire and the only way to quench it is through tasting you. One hand grasps your hip firmly, pulling you close, and you tangle your hand into his hair, pouring all the daydreams and late nights of wanting him into this first moment of connection.

It’s many minutes later when he finally gentles the kiss and steps back, apologetically holding up his phone. “I don’t trust Tony to tell everyone he’s made contact,” Steve explains. He taps at the touchscreen keyboard, frowning at the times his large fingers hit two letters at once, while you try to gather all of your molecules into a cohesive version of yourself ala the Star Trek teleporter.

When he’s finally done, you drop a kiss on his bicep, grinning at the thrill that you can even do something like that, even in private. “Thank you. I’m all people’d out today, I should have answered some of the messages that I got, but I saw them and my brain turned off. I’m all out of spoons.”

He snaps his fingers and points at you. “I know this one. You wake up with 100 spoons or something, and you spend them on--”

“Hold on. You might wake up with 100 spoons, but we’re not all supersoldiers!”

“Fair enough. Speaking of which, I’m sensing you’ve nearly run out by now. Can I take you to dinner tomorrow?” 

He’s doing that thing with his eyes, the one where he’s warm and understanding and the perfect man for you and-- Steve clears his throat, and you realize you were staring. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. I get to draw those, you don’t,” he smiles, then chivalrously takes your hand to kiss the back of it. “Seven sound good?”

You nod. Two minutes later your sitting on your couch screaming into a pillow, and Kirk hops up to meow at you.

“I’m all out of treats, dude. You played yourself!” Another mrrow. “Yeah, okay, yes. You did play an integral part in my current state of delirious happiness. I’ll get another bag tomorrow, k, K?” Kirk rubs up against your elbow, and you take that as a ‘yes.’ “You know what? I think I’m going to refer to my spoons as Tribbles from now on, in your honor.”

Just like his namesake, Kirk the cat does not seem to like this idea, but you’re busy in your own mental holodeck, reliving the last half hour with a lovesick grin.

[acowboynamedasa]

“Well what does it look like to you bones?” Jim said popping out from behind the curtain in med bay.

Spock sat ‘all zoned out and dissociated’ he remembers Jim telling McCoy, for the duration of the scuffle on planet. once getting beamed up, with or without the perpetrators Spock wasn’t completely sure, he was promptly dragged to med bay by his captain.

“Jim!” Bones yelled “how many times do I have to tell you to wait in the waiting area!”

“I want to know how my first officer is before I take my seat back from Mr. sulu,” he explained.

Spock felt himself swallow, it felt wrong, more warm and strange. Everything about him felt more warm and strange. Jim wasn’t at all hushed- but he sounded much quieter.

“I’m feeling alright captain, just a bit weak,” Spock mustered he was far, far more tired then he had ever felt before. His own voice echoed through his head in a strange way that disorienting him.

“Spock, you don’t look alright,“ Jim doted “I mean doc what do you make of this?”

Bones sighed “it seems that whatever phaser he got shot with down there made him, at least appear, human.” Spock froze, “all the tests I’ve done have completely regular healthy ,human vitals. 98 degree temp, 87 heart rate- and your hearts where it is for a human too, I mean really, Spock- blood oxygen, hemoglobin, blood pressure, it’s all…human.”

Spock looked at the ground. That did explain why he felt so weak, deaf, blind, and twitchy. How would he go on like this? He felt so- so fragile. It was a strange sensation feeling his heart beat in his throat instead of his side.

“…fascinating” Spock mumbled

They both waited for him to continue- but he did not, he just kept staring at his feet.

“I’m relieving you from the rest of your duties tonight, mr.Spock ” Jim said as though he had already made up his mind before the check up.

“Illogical, captain, I am perfectly capable-“

“I’m sure that you are,” he cut him off “but you need time to process this, and you need a nap I’m sure.” He put out a hand “how long has it been since you’ve slept?”

Spock took Jim’s hand automatically and… there was… there was nothing.

There was No warm glow of his emotion, no small image of a forest or mountain range, there was just nothing. It was like he had touched a warm, fleshy mannequin.

Spock couldn’t live like this.

“3 days,” he answered unintentionally starring at Jim’s hand in his.

Bone’s eyebrows shot up “ that’s dangerous Spock! You’re risking brain damage!”

“I’m aware of how Vulcan sleep patterns differ from human one’s doctor. ” Spock said as Jim pulled him to his feet-

exempt his legs were much much weaker than he expected them to be. He stumbled forward, Jim grabbed his arm to steady him- his grip felt so much stronger than it had before.

“Are you alright?” Jim asked, his eyes terrified

“Yes, Jim, I’m fine,” Spock huffed more than anything “though, I believe I could use your assistance on the way to my quarters.”

“Christ alive,” McCoy huffed seeing him stumble awkwardly “You can stay here to sleep you know,”

“I am aware of that doctor,” Spock chimed “I wish to meditate in my quarters.”

Kirk mumbled a soft “of course,” hardly audible as he threw Spock’s arm over his shoulder and pressed his hip into Spock’s side to steady him.

Spock could always hear Jim’s small mutterings before- and if he couldn’t hear them, well, he could feel them. Now he didn’t get anything, he felt like broken radio.

“You ready?” Jim asked softly but closer now. Spock nodded. “Thank you bones, see you soon,” He called behind them as they walked away in tandem.

“Like hell you will!” Bones called back.