#amongst the new fics and drabbles

[thepayloadisgay]

Zenyatta turned to his friend, feeling him shift position yet again, the hiss of his joints breaking the strained silence. The poised fingers at his knees relaxed, and the orbs that hovered rolled inward, settling around his neck with a pleasant chime.

“There is a disquiet within you today,” said the monk as he watched Genji shift onto his knees. “Actually, ever since Overwatch recalled you.”

A quiet sigh, as Genji straightened his back and placed his hands atop his thighs, moving each finger one by one, trying hard to centre his balance and thoughts.

“Do you regret rejoining?” asked Zenyatta as he watched his student struggle with what he usually found so easy. “I know working alongside your brother -”

“It's not Hanzo,” he interrupted, breaking his posture as the vents in his shoulders moved, hissed and coiled a swathe of steam, disturbing his ribbon. “It’s Angela.”

Zenyatta tilted his head to the side, watching the unsteady fingers of his student roll over his thighs as he re-attempted his pose. “Dr Ziegler? Is she alright?”

Genji smirked as looked ahead, his ribbon settling at his back. “She is well,” he said, spreading hands over his thighs once more. Genji remained still for a while and breathed in, out, letting the silence of their makeshift meditation room in new HQ embrace him. And with it he closed his eyes, but all he could see, was her. “I think I’m in love.”

The orbs by Zenyatta’s neck shifted, making a gentle hum as the omnic’s face shifted to mimic a human’s smile. “I could have told you that, Genji.”

Genji faltered, disrupting the rhythm of his pose. Eyes narrowed from the midday sun, voice elevated in question. “You knew?”

Zenyatta rested his hands atop his knees, pinching two fingers together slowly, and laughed. “You are different whenever you speak of her - in a good way. Your voice changes, your mannerisms shift,” he said as the orbs extended around his head and began to hover. “And when you are around her, when you look at her for a moment when she smiles, you forget.”

Genji stared at his hand, at his wrist, bound in a small yellow ribbon. 

“You forget. Because all you see is her.”

He turned to Zenyatta, staring as he hovered a foot off the ground, a perfect picture of peace. “What should I do?”

“Tell her.”

[fanaticsnail]

Parts You Left Behind

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 7,300+

Synopsis: You are the ship’s counselor aboard the Polar Tang. Giving your captain the permission he desires to behave idiotically with the two Nakama captains, you give yourself permission to behave with similar unbridled stupidity. The Soul-King Brook has your romantic attention: you love his energy and decide to reciprocate his flirtations, no matter how crass and distasteful they come across.

Themes: Brook x f!reader, therapist!reader x nakama-musician!brook, skeleton kisses, cheek kisses, platonic kisses, romantic kisses, angst, fluff, crews being themselves, validating feelings, requited love, flirtatious dialogue, talks of panties, heart-pirate!reader

Notes: this was meant to be a small drabble. And the same thing happens every time I try writing a small drabble - we end up with a full fic. Apparently I have a lot of angst inside about the Heart-Pirates that needed to get out, and also skeleton kisses. Posted a day late for the Skele-man's bday. Thank you to @sordidmusings and @since-im-already-here for helping me with boney kisses.

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @feral-artistry @gingernut1314 @vespidphoenix @carrotsunshine @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita @mfreedomstuff (sorry if you're all not into the skeleton. He needed some love)

The air shifted the weight of salt-forward air through the strands of fallen hair which whipped across your face. The docking of the three ships, joined together by ropes and beams, were thrust into the hull by a soft thump. Your crewmate Shachi instinctively reached for your forearm to steady himself on, gritting his teeth as he adjusted to the new altitude above deck.

“You alright there, big boy?” you cocked your head to the side as Shachi balanced himself on your forearm and the metal beam framing the deck. He hid his head from view, shooting you a swift gesture with his thumb to indicate his well being. You smiled at him, shifting his weight on your arm by weaving yourself beneath his shoulder. 

Rubbing soothing circles onto his back, you aided him in adjusting to the altitude difference, as he grew accustomed to life above the barrier of the oceanic waves. Being at lower altitude saved Shachi’s sea-sickness from the swell of waves, rocking his body and causing his stomach to lurch with every rise of the ocean surface. 

“I got you, sweety,” you cooed at your red-headed crewman, holding him steady as he holds back the rise of bile in his throat: refusing to open the floodgates to expel the contents of his stomach, “Take some deep breaths for me, hun. Big one in,” you breathed with him inwards for three seconds, holding it briefly, “And then out,” you exhaled with him.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Good job,” you praised him, feeling a shudder in his shoulders as he fought back the sickness in his stomach and mouth. You breathed with him a few more times, praising him on every inhale and exhale that he took with you. Once adjusting to the pattern of the swelling ocean, he turned to face you.

“It’s just hard, you know? Being under the water, then over it again,” he commented, leaning into your touch with his back arching beneath your palm, “It’s the rocking that does it for me. Just the constant rocking.”

“I dunno,” you shrugged beneath his shoulders with a bitten-back, downturned smile, “I don’t mind a bit of constant rocking from time to time.” 

Shachi expelled a roar of laughter accompanied with your own at your unbridled jest. He hooked his arm over your shoulder and teetered off into a light chuckle. You looked up at your crewmen beneath your shoulder and shot him a winning smile. He reflected the expression on your lips with one of his own. 

“There’s a few members of the Straw-Hat and Kid-Pirate crews, hun,” Shachi commented, gesturing to the ship that had docked with your own with the index finger of the hand around your shoulders, “Maybe you could find some constant rocking amongst a few of them.”

Your captain, Trafalgar Law, made you aware of all of the crew that served the Captain of the Thousand Sunny. The ever growing list of occupants never seemed to end: Captain Luffy, First-Mate Zoro, Navigator Nami, Marksman Usopp, Chef Sanji, Doctor Chopper, Archeologist Robin, Shipwright Franky, and finally, the Musician Brook. 

Your role as the counselor of the Heart-Pirates, executing your position with the utmost excellence, had you immediately drawn to advise your captain with the Nakama encounters with the Straw-Hat Crew. You knew a few members of the crew, the person you seemed to gravitate towards the most was Nico Robin. Her level-headed dimenure alongside her ability to balance the rapport of the crew was truly admirable.  

The other was the playful musician, Brook. The first time you met with the Straw-Hat “Brook,” you were truly ill-prepared for what was to come of it. Where a few people found his straightforward approach of flirting with the opposite sex repulsive, you found it quite endearing. When he performed his melodic compositions, you were entranced by his musicianship. You adored him, and would love to get to know him in the arena of flirtatious engagement. 

“We’ll see,” you smirked up at him, pressing a small, friendly kiss on your crewmate’s shoulder before you gave his waist a gentle squeeze, “How are we feeling, Shach?”

“A bit better,” he confirmed with a nod, looking over to the docked ship and their crewmen, “Just gotta focus on not locking my knees, and we’ll be all set.” He turned to look down at you, smirking with his eyes shrouded beneath his glasses. Leaning down, he pressed a small kiss on your forehead before breaking from the embrace. 

Shachi, Penguin and you were the closest amongst the Heart-Pirate crew. The seas were incredibly lonely, comfort being scantily found amongst one another aboard the crew. It started one night when the shifts were switching between the ‘am’ and ‘pm’ crews, your body reacting in its exhausted state within changeover.

“Nothing new to report here, just a small blip on the monitor indicating the arrival of a school of fish,” you yawned at Penguin, he nodded in understanding. 

“Alright then,” he confirmed, clapping a hand on your shoulder in his own dissociative and sleep-deprived state, “Get some rest. See you in a couple winks, honey.” You hummed in response, cupping his left cheek within your right hand and pulling his right cheek towards you.

“Night-night,” you uttered, pressing a small peck on his left cheek before turning to his redheaded shift-partner beside him, “Happy shift-watching,” you uttered, breaking contact with Penguin’s body before extending the height of your body by standing firmly on the tips of your toes. Grasping Shachi’s cheeks, you tilted his head to give him a gentle peck on his forehead before heading off to crew-quarters without any further explanation. 

After that moment, the three of you became as close as close friends could be. Jokes, playfulness and comradery were always openly expressed physically between the three of you. Should Captain Law make port, you would wingman for your special boys, just as they would absolutely reciprocate for you. Each time Law made a Nakama encounter, you would all be on the lookout for appropriate couplings for one another. 

“All crew: prepare to board,” your captain’s voice rang over the speakers with a soft crackle, “Reconvene aboard the Straw-Hat vessel. Counselor, to my side.”

Bowing a small nod and giving Shachi a final squeeze, you broke from your position within the arms of Shachi and made your journey to your position beside your captain. Both the Victoria Punk and the Polar Tang bound themselves against the Thousand Sunny: sandwiching the great lion figure between their own figureheads. 

Approaching your captain, you cupped your palm over his shoulder and gave it a small squeeze. He huffed out an acknowledgement of your name and title while he bowed his head. 

“You wanted to see me, Captain?” you asked him, stepping into his peripheral view. He continued to have his head bowed low, pursing his lips into a straight line. You furrowed your brows, sinking lower to get a better gauge on his emotions.

“I have a confession, Counselor,” he nodded, opening his eyes and looking above his descended brow, “And I need absolutely no judgment other than the highest level of professionalism.”

“Understood, Sir,” you smiled, releasing his shoulder and quarrying your own as a way of depicting your full attention, “You will always have my ears, along with my complete attention.” He sighed in gratitude, tilting his chin to elevate his eyes upwards. 

“Being with those two captains makes me-...” he paused with a light scoff in his tone, “...-make awful decisions. It’s as if I am no longer in control of myself: always doing something to prove how much of a man I am to not only them, but to myself.” 

Nodding along to his confession, you wordlessly agreed with all points he raised regarding himself. You relaxed your stance, opting to remain more compassionate and empathetic while you listen to your captain speak. As of this moment, your captain was only a man - and one that desired to verbally process with his therapeutic confidant: you. 

“I put our very lives at stake with this utter stupidity,” he continued, shaking his head at himself as he uttered his confessions to you, “All I seem to do is share a single, joint brain cell with those two morons each time we meet. There are no intelligible thoughts I can call my own, only competition and idiocy seem to remain.” 

After taking several moments pause, Trafalgar D Water-Law waited patiently for you to offer a countenance for his predicament. You suddenly allow a warm smile to begin its rise on your lips.

“May I ask what our purpose is with docking with the Thousand Sunny and the Victoria Punk?” you pose your question as simply as you can. He furrows his brows, clicking his tongue in thought.

“It’s a simple exchange of information,” he confirms with you, eyeing your face as you receive this knowledge, “And to determine if our alliance should remain valid in its longevity.” You hum in response, pursing your lips before allowing that warmth to return to your features once more.

“Then I would suggest leaning into the so-called stupidity, sir,” you shrug, scrunching your nose before looking to the hull of the Thousand Sunny. Cyborg-Franky was tying up the rigging to secure the Polar Tang in position to ensure it didn’t slip away in the swell of water with the dark-haired Nico Robin beside him.

“Excuse me?” Law expressed his concern with a low tone, “Lean into it?” You hum emphatically, returning your gaze to meet with your captain. You shrugged nonchalantly, cocking your head to the side to get a better gauge on the emotions of your captain.

“We’re not in any danger here, sir,” you relay your translation of his objective, “We have no threats posed to us, that is not at the hands of one another. I doubt the other two captains and their crew would make any attack on our vessel here, if we’re all in a similar predicament.” 

Law stands quietly, interlacing his hands behind his back as he mulls your words over in his head. He inhales a deep breath, closing his eyes with his brow deeply furrowed in the center of his forehead. 

“If I also may, sir,” you add, stepping closer to your captain, “You are only twenty-six years old. You are young,” you dip your head down to capture his gaze, his eyes now reopened, “And from what we’ve discussed in our prior sessions together: the opportunity to behave like a child in your youth was taken from you by illness and cruel, tyrannical hands. You never truly had an opportunity to be stupid, Captain.” His small gasp was barely audible, eyes widening at you giving him permission to behave childishly.

“Then what would you suggest, Counselor?” He questioned you a final time, floating his gaze with the utmost seriousness between your playful eyes. 

“Allow the crew of the Polar Tang to switch out of their uniforms, and let us all be stupid together,” you smile at your captain, extending your hand up to clasp his shoulder once more, “You deserve to be stupid amongst friends. Even if it’s just for a little while. If it matters, as one of the few members of your crew you trust with the rank and title to dismiss you from active duty-...”

Law’s eyes never left yours as you softened your playful expression

“...You have my permission to be stupid, sir,” you quip with a small wink, releasing his shoulder from within your grasp and turning back to make eye contact with the Thousand Sunny’s archeologist. You give her a small wave and a broad smile, with a final word to the gloomy man by your side, “But really, the person who’s permission you truly need is your own. Give yourself the luxury of behaving like, as you say, ‘a moron’ for a few moments. See what happens.”

With that final word, Law dismissed himself from his place standing beside you and hurriedly scurried below decks to, presumably, his office. In his sessions with you, he has worked through a few hard truths, all of which resulted in him taking a few moments in isolation to allow the truths to sink in. This appeared to be such a moment as this; which left you, in his absence, to be the welcoming committee to both the Straw-Hat and Kid-Pirate crews and their Captains.

As you walked over the wooden plank used as a makeshift bridge between the vessels, Nico Robin offered you her hand to stabilize your footing as you stepped down onto the deck. Her radiant smile elevated her features, mirrored within your own. 

“Counselor,” she addressed you with the smooth hum of her voice. 

“Archeologist,” you acknowledged her title with a soft nod in your welcome, “Are we reduced to titles now? Shall I address all of you in such a manner?” Luffy smiled at you, his pearly teeth shining beneath his upturned eyes. 

“Where’s Traffy at?” Luffy asked loudly, his voice carrying over to alert the red-headed captain at the other side of the deck, “He not with you?”

“Unfortunately not. My captain is not available to conduct the preliminary introductions of our crews presently,” you relayed your practiced response, “Is there anything I can do to make this first step more comfortable for you while we wait, Captain Luffy?” you asked before turning to the taller man rapidly approaching, “Or you, Captain Kid?” you finished your question with a low bow and awaited their responses. 

“Nah,” Luffy shrugged, clapping his hands behind his neck and offering you a tight-lipped smile, “Welcome aboard, Counselor. Tell your crew to get comfy, Sanji has made a whole heap of food for us all.” You rose from your deep stoop, smiling at Luffy before turning to Eustass Kid and awaiting his response. 

“Traffy sends his cute little counselor ahead of him to meet us, instead of showing his ugly mug up here,” Kid smirked, his lip paint cracking in the warmth of the sun, “Smart man, that captain of yours.” You chose to remain stoic at his unbridled, backhanded compliment of your captain. You extended your chin into the air, narrowing your eyes at the tall captain. 

“I would prefer all compliments coming my way be not at the expense of my captain’s intellect, nor his appearance,” you snarled, arching your brow at him, “If that would be all, Captain Kid.”

“Aye. That’s all, little mouse. Scurry on back to your duties,” he smirked down at you, his narrowed eyes training after you as you turned to direct your crew, now in common clothes, aboard the Thousand Sunny. They all seemed more than joyful at their captain’s lax behavior, depicting their personalities in their own styles rather than in boiler suits. The only member of the Heart-Pirate crew that remained in their uniform was yourself, eagerly awaiting for your captain’s dismissal so you could change into common clothes, yourself. 

You felt a presence behind you, your blood running cold as a shudder curled itself up from the base of your spine to the top of your skull. The small rattle of bones indicated the soul which stood behind you, a smile immediately tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Pardon me, miss,” the soft-spoken voice addressed you over your shoulder, “Would you mind terribly if I were to ask you what type of panties you were wearing?” Your tight-lipped grin did very little to stifle your teetered giggle at such an insanely, forward question from the familiar man behind you.

“Soul-King Brook,” you addressed him, turning to meet with the hollowed eyes of the skeletal form which stood before you. He was dressed in a purple, velvet suit, his hair curled and styled in a carefree, circular afro. The beads hanging from his skeletal neck shook and rattled against his exposed ribcage, the perfectly bleached bones secured with a black, leather belt. 

Eagerly awaiting your response, he pressed the tips of his fingers together in anticipation of your response to such an unhinged question. He could not remember if you were the type to yell, if you were the type to respond with violence, nor if you were the type to simply scoff and walk away from him. 

“If I were wearing any, I would absolutely inform you of the make and model,” you smirked up at him, before adding a soft wink with a further hushed utterance, “When I am dismissed from duty by my captain to change into more comfortable clothes, I would be more than happy to tell you the exact shade of the ensemble.” 

If you had never met this man in encounters prior, you would scoff if anyone ever attempted to convince you that skeletons could blush. But you did know him, and here he was: Brook, the Soul-King, the undead skeleton - blushing red at your words. The cracked cap above the crown of his head popped briefly, to which you almost thought you could see steam rise out of the hollow crevice. 

Nami, the straw-hat navigator, noticed the skeletal musician beside you seeming to have a small rush of energy pop out of his cranium. Immediately, she hastily walked to your side to ensure the skeletal man was behaving himself.

“I-If then, it wouldn’t be too much trouble, miss,” he stuttered over his words, tumbling through his teeth without anything to halt them, “Would you mind telling me if the carpet matches the drapes?” 

“Brook!” Nami scolded her crewmate with a loud reprimand, “You can’t just go around asking people if-.” You halted her words with a wave of your hand and an enthusiastic giggle.

“-It’s perfectly fine with me, Navigator,” you huffed a laugh at both his poorly held conversational skill, and the response his crewman welcomed him with, “I am more than capable of defending myself if I were ever uncomfortable, but I thank you for your valiance nonetheless.” From the corner of your peripheral, you notice Law’s presence aboard the Thousand Sunny. He gives you a curt nod before elevating his chin sharply to excuse you from active duty to change out of your uniform.

“If I may be excused, Nami, Brook,” you nodded to the two Nakama crew respectfully, which they both reciprocated. You turned and began to take a few steps, casually calling over your shoulder, “To answer your question, Musician: The last time I checked, I wasn’t bald up top.” 

The whistle of steam sprung into the air behind you, the rattles of the rotation of excited bones clinked together behind you with the familiar, unhinged laughter you had come to enjoy upon your meetings with the Straw-Hat crew. You couldn’t help but chuckle to yourself as you made your way back to the Polar Tang to redress yourself in more appropriate garb for the encounter. 

Brushing your shoulders against Shachi and Penguin as you began to go below deck, Penguin quickly grasped his hand over your wrist and halted your movement. You quickly snapped your head to him as he lent down towards you.

“You keen on the skeleton, honey?” he whispered his hushed question into your ear, “Need a wingman to set something up? We can be on the lookout for something, if you like.” You laugh at his questioning, shaking your head at his enthusiasm at the proposition of a romantic fling amongst the crews. Feeling the loosening of his grip over your wrist, you quickly pressed a small kiss against his cheek in gratitude. 

“I think I can manage on my own,” you confirmed with a small teetered laugh, “He is quite easy on the eyes, and I find his unbridled lust for the living flesh endearing.” Shachi joined you with your laughter, both quickly dismissing themselves from your presence as you hopped back on board of the ship you called home. 

Hollowed eyes tracked your every movement. From the grip on your wrist, to the kiss on a cheek, to the teetered giggle rising between the three of you. Brook didn’t truly understand how to feel in this moment: a woman of his dreams seemingly reciprocal of his flirtations being more than friendly with her own crewmen. Was this foreign emotion jealousy? 

He turned his head from your position, as your silhouette vanished below decks of the Polar Tang. He felt a warm hand tuck itself within his skeletal palm, giving his bones a gentle squeeze in support. Nico Robin offered Brook a smile alongside her affectionate touch, soothing over his scattering nerves. 

“She is friendly with those two, Brook,” she hummed up at his tall form, “You, of all people, understand how lonely it is on the seas. She’s blessed to have found friends to offer her a gentle touch and a friendly embrace from time to time.”

“That I do, Robin,” Brook confirmed softly, nodding to himself as he knit his thoughts together, “I just-...” he trailed off, his onyx hollows seeking out the former position you were atop the deck of the Polar Tang, “...I would never dream of ruining that, should I choose to entangle myself with her. She’s wonderful.” 

Robin’s gaze floats over to the two crewmen of the Polar Tang you had found a family with, both of which were focussed in deep, private conversation. Their eyes would float up to Brook, as their hushed whispers were scheming in hyper-focussed plotting. 

“Something tells me you won’t be ruining anything, Dear,” Robin chuckles before releasing Brook’s hand and giving him a small tap on his shoulder in encouragement. 

As you stripped out of your boiler-suit, you hastily made yourself more comfortable in clothes you rarely found yourself donning. You quickly made an appropriate arrangement of your favorite dress: cinched in the waist, accentuating your figure in a perfect hourglass and laid it out on your bed. Before you threw on a plain set of undergarments, your fingers halted on fabrics you had yet to have an opportunity to wear.

A small smile grew into a playful, mischievous grin, as your fingers looped over the lingerie: hastily drawing it up onto your body. You usually wore this garment if you were feeling particularly dull in your boilers uniform: something only for you to wear to make yourself feel more confident. You giggled as you hooked your thumbs over the bottom piece and pulled it up over your thighs to settle on your hips. Hooping your arms through the arm holes of the corseted bodice, you tightened the front of the piece to accentuate your breasts within the cups. 

You quickly took a moment to laugh at yourself at your own stupidity, before you reminded yourself: “If I gave the captain permission to allow himself a moment of idiocy, why should I not do the same? Where is the harm?” 

Throwing your dress over your head, you took a final glance at yourself in the mirror. Hastily adding a small amount of makeup to accentuate your features, you hurriedly made your way back up to the top deck of the Polar Tang while adjusting your laced ankle boots as you took lengthy strides.

As you made your way back aboard the Thousand Sunny, you truly took the time to notice the assortment of clothes your crewmen were finally allowed the luxury of expressing. You set an internal reminder to put forward a petition to allow the crew to dress casually at least once a month while serving aboard the Polar Tang. 

Your eyes quickly found the skeleton, sitting cross legged in front of a checkerboard with the archeologist of the Straw-Hat crew: both drinking jasmine tea and engaging in a game of chess. Approaching slowly, she gazed up at you and wordlessly complimented your chosen casual attire for the day. You gestured with your eyes whether it was an opportune moment to interrupt their game to claim the skeleton’s attention for a moment. She tilted her head with a warm smile, gesturing with her hands to go right ahead. 

Brook was confused briefly before he felt a hand press down on his shoulder. He quickly turned his face to glance down at the fingers perched on his right shoulder before his chin was claimed beneath the same warm grip. You tilted his face to gaze into his eyes, taking a moment for Brook’s mind to catch up to what his body was experiencing. You gazed through half-hooded lashes into the darkened recesses of his circular hollows, a playful smile drawn up on your lips. 

“Violet and pastel-lavender,” you uttered in a soothing, low voice, “Laced up with a gold ribbon in the front with a gold embellished trim around the hemline.” Brook would have lowered his eyebrows in deep thought, if he had any hair sprouting over his skull. He was confused as to what exactly you were relaying to him before he focussed on who was relaying the information. 

His spectral breath was taken from him, no further words were formed within his hollow cranium as steam began to exude from every open orifice. Your half-hooded eyes playfully toyed with him, as a feline would with their freshly caught rodent in their teeth. You held your eyes watching him squirm as you bit your smile back with your teeth, while Robin attempted to contain her chuckle at witnessing her crewman be the center of another’s romantic attention. 

“Y-Y-You-...” he choked on his words, the steam rapidly whistling and fuming throughout his skull, “...You’re w-wearing purple panties?” You giggled at his response, pressing your painted lips against the hollow surface where his nose was once located, leaving a perfect pursed circlet of affection painted on the bleached bones. 

“Of course I am,” you confirmed with a wink before pulling away from him, releasing him from your hands and beginning to rise from your stoop, “I had to match with my favorite musician.” You gestured to the velvet suit Brook was wearing, prompting his attention to briefly switch to his own clothes before snapping his head back up. His jaw hung comically slack, prompting a giggle to rise in your throat before you turned back to acknowledge the woman opposite to Brook.

“Apologies for my forwardness, Nico Robin,” you bowed your head in respect to the dark-haired woman before returning your attention back to Brook, “Soul-King,” you nodded your head to the musician before walking over to your captain. 

Sitting beside Trafalgar Law as he shared a single brain cell with the two Nakama captains was truly a sight to behold. You adored how he finally allowed himself to loosen the tight reins he held himself bound by, his playful stupidity was something you would’ve prescribed as his personal councilor. He needed a holiday, and he was finding one beside the two louder captains. 

As the food changed from the savories, to the sweets, to the cheeses and cured meats: you felt hollow eyes fixated upon your form. You were not swayed by the attention in the slightest, it was a welcomed change to your experience aboard the Polar Tang. You embraced the opportunity to express your femininity in a creative way, and it was a bonus that you managed to snag the attention of such a unique individual as-.

“Brookie!” Captain Luffy called over the ramblings of the crowd, “How’s about a song? Somethin’ from the heart while we enjoy being one big crew together?” 

His trance broken by the orders of his Captain, Brook snapped out of his bout of hypnotism as he made his way hurriedly to claim the first instrument set aside on the deck. The old guitar had water-swollen cracks in the base, but the strings were all new and freshly tuned. When he played music, he was in his own world: unaware of the life around him as he let the music carry his soul. 

As his skeletal fingers began plucking at the strings, his voice relayed a heartfelt melody that held you completely transfixed on his form. Both Shachi and Penguin snickered at your awestruck expression, nudging each other with their elbows as your breath was claimed from you. Law attempted to ask you a question over his shoulder, turning to face you as he didn’t hear a word or utterance of response from your direction.

Law's gaze floated over your starstruck expression, the music fully moving your soul was painted intricately on your face. Your eyes began to become glassy as the swell of Brook’s melody reverberated in your eardrums and shook you to your core.

He smirked at you, uncaring that his question remained unanswered. Your captain reached his hand down, claiming your palms and giving them a gentle squeeze as you remained unresponsive to the world around you. 

Nothing existed in this room: just you, and the skeletal man who was singing to every fibre of your very soul. You were entranced, bewitched, captivated and spellbound by his melody.

Brook in his time as a musician in his corporeal form was well renowned for his shanties and musical ensembles. Some of his melodies were taught to you as a child before you decided to embark on a life of piracy. 

Nothing could have prepared you to meet the man who influenced your childhood musicianship, especially one on the high seas between all the quarters of the continent. Nor did you ever picture yourself falling in love with him as he finally concluded his performance aboard his vessel, to which you were a welcomed guest aboard.

You were too stunned to offer applause in response to the song’s conclusion, the world suddenly jolting back into existence as calls for an encore were encouraged from the three crews. 

Brook’s spectral eyes were held in complete focus against your own, noticing the elevation in your heartbeat flooded to dust your cheeks in a warm flush. Your lips were parted, your eyes never leaving his as you blinked the world back into existence around you. Brook took a brief bow before he extended his boned hand out towards you, nodding to you in a gesture for you to take his hand and join him. 

Turning to your captain first, Law nodded his head to excuse you from your position beside him, you rose to your feet and stepped around from the positions the three crews scattered themselves atop the deck, reaching forward and taking Brook’s skeletal hand. He guided you over to the plush stool beneath the piano, taking a seat beside you as he began to perform a classical arrangement that required no vocals. 

Enthralled by the melody once more, your eyes focussed on the piano. The ebony and ivory keys dipped and rose beneath skilled fingers, the passion in the melody depicted with each crescendoed element. 

“Do you play any instruments?” Brook asked in a low, hushed tone beside you. You snapped out of your brief captivity and looked to his vacant hollows. The empty sockets held firm against your face, focussed on every subtle change in your expression. His fingers continued to clack at the smoothed tips of the keys as he awaited your answer. 

“Not since embarking on a life of piracy, much to the disdain of my heritage with my familial title,” you shrugged with a soft smile, his skull now holding your attention rather than the melody, “I did sing in my youth when I was in medical school, which was a long, long time ago.” 

“Not as long as my youth was. Of that, I am certain,” Brook jested with you, nudging you playfully with his shoulder, “And I bet you could still sing if given the appropriate circumstances.” You returned the gentle nudge with your bicep before lulling your head over the curvature of his firm shoulder.

“I highly doubt we would find ourselves in those rare circumstances, Bone-Daddy,” you snickered at him, enjoying the subtle hiccup in his tinkering atop the keys at the bestowal of such a title. 

“And if I were to ask you to sing with me, Liebchen?” he asked, briefly resting his head atop yours and nuzzling against you. His hair tickled your skin as he rested his undead body against yours. The rambunctious merriment aboard the vessel broke you away from Brook’s question, prompting you to raise your head from its position on his shoulder as you witnessed the stupidity your captain’s were involved in.

Each captain had managed to locate several bugs and beetles aboard the vessel, drawing a chalk circle on the wooden floor of the Thousand Sunny. It seemed that each captain had chosen a bug, beetle or arachnid: those creatures needing to touch the chalk ring of the circle the fastest to determine a clear winner amongst the Nakama.

Shaking your head with a warm, melodical chuckle at how much your captain was letting himself engage with the two other captains in their idiocy, you allowed the warmth to spread up to your cheeks. You were proud of your captain in his vulnerability to engage with them in this way.  

Brook concluded his piano concerto to the absence of applause now the attention was on the insects in front of the captains. You turned to Brook and gave him a soft round of kind applause with your hands, to which he bowed his head in response. Cheers and hollers were thrust into the air at the engagement of the insect race, prompting you both to shake your heads as your eyes remained fixed on Brook’s.

“Will you?” Brook asked once more, elevating his hand to capture your own beneath his, “Will you sing with me, Liebchen? Something small and familiar to you?” You sighed in response, upturning your brows and allowing a soft smile to elevate against your lips. He held onto hope, his hand giving yours a small squeeze in eager anticipation of your answer. 

“I would adore singing with you, Brook,” you sighed breathlessly, “Lead me in song, and I’ll follow the melody you set.” The skeletal man, should flesh be imagined on his features, would be beaming a broad and enthusiastic smile at your willing participation.

He reached within the opening of the piano, pulling out a small instrument with four strings and a rotating handle at the base. Several indented cogs and keys clacked at the sides beneath his skilled fingers, the music springing from the instrument sounded not so dissimilar to a violin with the dual tonality of piped bags. 

“This is a hurdy-gurdy, if you haven’t seen one of its make before,” he informed you with enthusiasm. You nodded down at the instrument as he performed with chords and melody over the clacking and winding, stringed instrument. 

“Do you know any melodies to this progression?” he asked as he played a few minor keys in sequence, “I know it would be somber, but I would love to hear you sing something like-.” His words were stolen from him as you began to lilt your voice in a familiar tune from your childhood. 

Although over time the lyrics in certain passages became lost to you, the intention was there with each skilled fluttery phrase. This melody was bittersweet and melancholy, the song depicting a foreign land where death and grief would no longer hold purchase over those who flee to its comfort. 

There was no mention of a lover, nor whisper of romance within the phrases - yet each lyric fleeing from your lips had the skeletal man falling deeper into the trenches of his adoration and admiration for you. As he learnt the melody and the repetition of the chorus, his voice joined your melody in harmony: skillfully floating in perfect pitch within the realms of your vocal skill. 

As the melody ceased, silence once again surrounded you: the world once again free of the colorful atmosphere you were painting with your song. You were in your own little world with the Soul-King, Brook, beside you. Barely comprehending your actions, you leant forward and brushed your painted lips against the bone occupying the space his lips once were. 

Drawing up the heels of your palms, you collected his cheekbones within them and held him firmly as you pressed several more, soft kisses against his boned lips. It was an unusual feeling, teeth where lips should be, bones where cheeks should be, cold aura of hollows where the fluttering eyelashes of a lover would belong. 

Breaking away your lips from his face, you gazed longingly into the dark sockets of his eyes. No word was spoken between you as you held your breath. He turned his face away from you, shaking his head lightly as if battling an internal argument with himself. Your brows triangulate upwards in the center of your forehead, eyes wide and innocent as you bite at your cheek nervously. Resolving his internal struggle with a huffed breath, he turned back towards you. 

Claiming both of your hands within his own, he gently squeezed at your digits. 

“I never, in all my days in this skeletal body, have longed to have lips as much as I do now,” he confessed in a dark whisper. You floated your eyes between the hollowed sockets, searching for further insight to his feelings.

His sorrow was depicted within his tone, his face remaining vacant at each uttered confession, “I have no flesh, no muscle, no organ: I am only bone. I have no heart, my soul is all that remains. I have nothing to offer you in this life-.” You had no choice but to break him out of his spiraling thoughts with your own argument.

“-All of those things are untrue, Brook. Aside from the physical attributes, don’t you dare reduce yourself to merely the parts you left behind,” you chastised him with your verbal warning. He was shocked at your passion, feeling the heat radiating off your body as you drew up further arguments to present to him.

“You have no lips? I am more than capable of allowing you to borrow mine,” you spoke with no hint of irony, nor jest within your tone, “No flesh, no muscle, nor organ? Those are just the tangible surroundings for the spirit within all of us. Are we not merely vessels for our souls to use as hosts?”

Brook remained speechless, hanging on your every word as the fire of your passion ignited your tongue with sparks and flashes. 

“You are only bone? No heart?” Your anger now truly evident on your features, “How dare you reduce yourself to less than all that you are,” you broke away his grip on your hands, and began to rise to your feet from the position beside him on the stool, “Your heart is your music, your soul is depicted in the care you have for your crew. I feel it, Brook.”

He cowered back against the piano, the hurdy gurdy dropping limply on the floor: discarded and abandoned. No crew spared the two of you a glance in your quarrel, choosing to remain solely fixated on the insect race, now turned into gladiator death-matches within the chalk circle.

Brook was in awe, watching your passion ignite in your eyes as you scold him with your words and bless him with your compliments. In all your encounters together: each time the Polar Tang met with the Thousand Sunny, he was entranced by your rapport and support for your crew. Your soothing words and answers to his unashamed lust presented to you had him blushing, but your attention now has him soaring with the reignition of his absent heartbeat. 

From your position now standing, you brushed off your dress and shook your head to rid the prior passion from elevating further. There were no regrets from offering him a kiss, not even the absence of his lips inhibited you from pressing your affection into his bones. At a huff of your breath, you lowered your tone to be in a kinder pitch, softening your features as you turned back towards the skeleton. 

“I will not stand for such self-degradation, especially with my occupation serving aboard the Polar Tang,” you extend your hand out to him, a soft smile slowly creeping up against your cheeks, “For what it’s worth, I adore you, Brook. I have always held you in the highest regard.” 

“The highest regard? Even with only the parts I’ve left behind?” he uttered his question barely above a whisper, seeking out further explanation within your orbs, “I am only a skeleton, afterall.” You sighed, rotating your neck atop your shoulders and stepped further towards him. Pressing a small kiss on his forehead, your lips lingered for a moment longer against his cranium before you simply walked away from him.  

Feeling truly no need to draw out an explanation for your dismissal of his question, you felt your heart break for the Soul King. You had already confessed your admiration for him, uplifted him with your words and then wordlessly expressed your affection for him with a soft kiss. The skeletal face now had several painted hoops from your pursed lips written on his bones, a memorial of love artistically indented into his absent skin. 

Staggering in his rigidity, a boney hand reached out for you as you attempted to retreat back towards your crew. His essence was screaming to unify with you, to lead you in more intentional touches against his corporeal form. 

“I-I’m sorry. I only meant-...” he circled his boney fingertips around your wrist and gently tugged you to return towards him, “...-I cannot kiss, nor embrace you, in the manner to which I desire most. The others aboard can give that which you seek, commit those acts with you. Why would you choose to engage in this way with me when there are so many others available to you?”

You exhaled slowly from your nose, turning to face the Soul-King. You stood between his parted knees, leaning down while seeking out his chin with your fingertips. Apprehensively cupping his jaw, you leant down to hold your lips a whiskers length away from his pearly teeth. 

“Because you’re who I want, Bone-Daddy,” you confessed down to him, smiling as you touched your forehead against his. He reveled in the warmth rolling from your body to his own, feeling your smile mirrored with his spirit. If he had eyelids, he would close them as you did your own within the arms of one another. 

Elevating his left hand, his slender fingers cupped your cheek and guided you in towards his skeletal mouth. Following his lead, you pressed your lips tenderly against the cool bones of his teeth, feeling the divots beneath your pursed flesh. He held your cheek against his face, tracing soothing circles over your wrist with the tips of his phalanges in his thumb. 

Cheers and an uproar of hooted hollers erupted from the three crews, tearing your attention away from one another as you witnessed an exchange of Berry from Shachi, Killer and Nami. The wagers the crews placed on the variety of small creatures in the gladiator ring were as freely given as the drinks concocted by the skilled hands of the Straw-Hat chef. 

Joining your laughs with your crews, you both held each other firmly engulfed within your arms. The Soul-King nestled his head between your breasts as you soothed your hands within his hair. After several moments remaining this way, you felt the tips of Brook’s fingers trailing curiously up your spine.

“Purple, you said?” he hummed coyly against your chest, his fingers brushing with the hem of the back of your dress, “Violet and lavender with a gold trim?” You chuckled warmly, feeling his head turn slightly in your embrace, his chin placed firmly between your breasts as he looked up at you with his jaw seeming to smile up at you.

“And corset-laced, gold ribboning in the cleavage,” you smiled, smoothing over his hair as you collected his cheek within the heel of your palm. You scrunch your nose at him, gazing through half-hooded lashes playfully down into the hollow abyss of his eye sockets.

“Would you like to see them?”

[brainmuncher]

Okay, so I know we have a handful of reasons we usually revert to when it comes to ‘moving Danny away from Amity for plot reasons’. While I was about to make lunch I thought of this one and now I have to share it before my brain forgets it.

What if the Observants get fed up? Like Danny has done one too many things against them and they are sick of it? He doesn’t respect them or their authority so he is a threat. But Clockwork is refusing to work for them on this. He’s digging his feet in and not letting the Observants use him, stating it's ‘for the good of the timeline’.

So they go another route and start bribing increasingly powerful ghosts to take down Phantom.

Only Danny has noticed a pattern with the new ghosts suddenly coming through the portal. Not only are they ghosts he’s never even heard of, but their only focus is on him. Eventually one of the ghosts that are hired or maybe even one that Danny has befriended in the past that has heard down the grapevine, tells Danny what the Observanats are doing.

And instead of grouping with his friends to figure out how to either take down (preferably) or calm down (Ugh do we have to?) the Observants, Danny in his ultimate wisdom… leaves. The ghosts that the Observants are sending are after him, right? So long as he isn’t near someone else nobody has to get hurt!

And so, without telling anyone why or maybe even completely bulldozing over his friend's reasons to stay, Danny leaves Amity to protect the town.

This idea could just stay as Danny exploring the world but not in freedom like Dani, but in an attempt to escape the Observants. Maybe he even bumps into her at some point and she is surprised and tries to ask ‘Hey, why are you in Hawaii?’ but watches in shock as he runs away from her. Maybe in these adventures, he inadvertently discovers another ancient artifact that he could use against the Observants but the information is threaded throughout the world. So he continues to travel and force himself to be amongst people so that he can gather more information.

Or this could open up some neat ideas for crossovers!

One idea is Danny becoming an omen of sorts that something terrible is about to happen. If you see Danny Phantom, you know that a really bad rouge attack is about to happen in your area. And the worst part is, Danny is happy to see that everyone is avoiding him. Not because he likes to be feared, but because it's for the better. And to his horror rouges are trying to hire him to terrorize certain areas. He's accidentally become a villain because of the constant ghosts trying to take him down.

Another idea is another hero catching on that Danny is being essentially hunted and is concerned. Although their attempts to reach out and help are not being accepted. Danny is trying to protect the hero from danger but they don’t know that. They just think he’s being stubborn. So to Danny's dismay, they try even harder to prove to him that they can help.

I dunno, just something different to think about. Please tell me if there are fics or drabbles already using this kind of idea out there! I would love to read it :>

[fandomfluffandfuck]

You know what I would loove to read from you? Pussy Steve (or pussy Bucky? 👀) and virginity/Innocence kink. Just pure smut of shy, inexperienced kitten getting their cunt pounded properly for the first time and cumming stupid. 🫶🏼

For reference, my ask box is no longer open for requests, but this is from before I closed it, so I will be writing for this ask.

First, you probably would be interested in this previous fic rec I did for an ask

Second, I can't not think of this part of one of my evanstan drabbles that hinted at virginity kink because...

It's good. It's hot. It's, it's-- It reminds him, suddenly, guttingly, of whispered rumors of dirty, bad men told in private. Words pressed into ears, raising goosebumps, hidden behind cupped hands. Gossip that drips down your spine and pools inside you, wrong but... helplessly intriguing at the same time. Intoxicating. A fly caught in a honey trap. He feels like a dirty, bad man taking--thieving--some poor lady's worn panties and smothering himself in them, burying his face in the tiny, pretty, white-cotton underpants and fantasizing about her body, not her clothes. Picturing, filthily, how sweet and sensitive she'd be. How she'd moan and squeal and take it in a tight fit, pinned down. And as horrifyingly arousing as the nasty, vile comparison is--appealing only with his inhibitions lowered to the fucking ground, stupidly turned on and horny, not in his right state of mind--he can't quit. And, further, he makes it worse. He makes the comparison all the more real as he tilts his head to the head, thrashing side to side for a helpless, breathless moment before settling and pressing his blushing, burning face into Sebastian's pillow. He shamelessly inhales a chestful of his scent and leans that much more into it. He doesn't just rut against Sebastian's shirt as if it's a pillow conveniently held between his legs then. No. It's even more crude. Worse. He wraps Sebastian's worn shirt around his cock and defiles it.

Yeah 🥴🥴

And third... here's pussy Buck losing his virginity (which, again, like in that linked ask for recs, isn't real and doesn't mean shit):

When Bucky imagined losing his virginity, it was primarily a passing idea in the deep private space of his horny, lonely high school brain. But, he was a realist, even back then--and, not to mention, gay--so it wasn't the fantasy of white sheets, red rose petals, and fragrant candles to ward off the total darkness of having the lights off with a long-term boyfriend, ideally supposedly even good-Christian husband. He didn't imagine it slow and good, he imagined it fast and bad.

And he imagined it that way because he imagined it, again and again, with his crush, one of the jocks on the football team he pinned stupidly after who, really, seemed to be a jerk to all the girls he made out with at lame, underage drinking parties that cops would look the other way about 'cause their kid was amongst 'em and then, somehow, he would forget about who that Friday night girl was by Monday. But... he was just so fucking guh.

That jock, just a fucking pretty man who looked so good rolling around in the field, muddy and streaked with grass stains and sweat, pulling up the bottom of his jersey to wipe the drool across his chin from his mouthguard, flashing a strip of taut abs and the faintest trail of hair leading south where Bucky wanted to get. Shamefully, even if he didn't think it would be good. He just wanted.

But.

It didn't happen in high school. Which was probably a good thing, considering how progressive his town was.

It didn't happen in freshman year of college, either, even though Bucky's fantasies took on a whole new life, especially the summer before arriving, thinking about how he was surrounded by so many different men in his dorms and would be showering with them and--

It turns out, college dorms are fucking gross.

So. Not there.

And, slowly, as he slogged through college, Bucky stopped imagining it. It would happen when it would happen, there was no point rushing it or torturing himself by imagining it at every turn. Just enjoy the ride, he told himself, don't get impatient. He kissed boys men, made out, cuddled, and did some over-the-clothes shit in cars and shitty college apartments, but, it just didn't progress all the way.

So, all in all, Bucky is fucking blindsided when it does happen. He hasn't really sat down and thought about losing his virginity in... a long time. He especially hasn't imagined it happening with a hot, older PhD student. But. It does. It happens with Steve Rogers, a PhD student when Bucky's a term or two away from getting his Bachelor's. And, most shockingly, it's good--

"Ahh, ohmygod, aH-!" Bucky moans underneath the man on top of him, sweaty and heavy and pressing him bodily into the mattress, which is a good thing because if he didn't, Bucky thinks he could float away. He didn't think it would feel so good the first time. He thought it would hurt or that, best case scenario, it would be fine, but not good or great because he doesn't know what he likes and he assumed he would be with someone his own age who was also unsure and fumbling and inexperienced, therefore, innocently bad.

He didn't--shit, a wave of heat crashes through Bucky, sticky and intense as Steve keeps going despite his embarrassing sounds of pleasure--he didn't think he would want to slap a hand over his own mouth during his first time because, fuck, it was embarrassing enough when he had to red-faced explain to Steve that he's never done this before, he's 23, it means nothing that he hasn't, but... just looking at Steve? Steve fucks. And, now, he's more embarrassed because he can't stop making sounds.

Breathy, shocked, hot noises that curl out of his gaped-open lips like mewling moans as he has his cunt fucked loose for the very first time. He feels loose. Loose lips, moaning, loose joints, neck limp, and losing timing.

He's so fucked because, yes, literally, Steve's cock is inside him, it's heavier and hotter and thicker in his pussy than he would've ever thought to imagine, but he's also fucked because this feels so good. He gets it. He gets why no one can shut the fuck up about sex. He understands. He's not going to shut up about it. Even as embarrassing as his reaction to it is, he's never going to go without this again.

God.

It feels like a revelation.

It is a revelation.

He wants to do this forever.

This is the only thing that matters to him now.

Sex.

Every time Steve thrusts forward inside him, he gets in so deep. The pressure and friction are so good. The slide is wet but tight. Bucky is so much more sensitive inside than he ever realized.

Jesus Christ, it's laughable now to think that Bucky didn't think he liked penetration that much just an hour ago. An ill-informed opinion based on how it felt when he was touching himself. Having Steve touch him is so entirely different. Bucky almost always just stayed on the outside of his body, playing with his achingly sensitive clit and tracing the folds of his inner and outer lips when it got too much to keep rubbing his clit or to gather up the wetness that would leak out of him for easier circles around his achy, pulsing clit. Whenever he tried to finger himself in earnest, searching to find his own g-spot according to Cosmo's top ten salacious tips for better sex, he just ended up with a crick in his wrist, was frustrated by the fact that it didn't feel that great when he thought it ought to, or being unsure if he was even doing it right in the first place. He didn't know that--

"Oh, ohh," Bucky's eyes roll back in his skull despite all his effort to focus on Steve on top of him. He's muscle, just, everywhere. How he has time for school and living at the gym and charming the pants off Bucky, Bucky does not understand. How else can he be built like a Greek god if he's not always at the gym? He's so fucking handsome, pale and blushing, strong and muscular, nice but dirty. He's everything Bucky never dared to think about, thinking men like Steve were so out of his league.

Steve is here, though, Steve is making him helplessly moan and whine on his cock as he fucks him within an inch of his life in his bed. One of his hands is planted next to Bucky's fanned-out hair restlessly curling across the pillows as he thrashes his head side to side and his other hand is on Bucky's body, tracing the line of his throat, toying with his nipples, finding his hips and squeezing, pawing at his clit to leave his toes curling and using his fingers to slide down, down, down his wet slit and trace where his cock is splitting him open, leaking around the intrusion of him.

He's so big.

Bucky doesn't know how it fits in him.

He doesn't know how big Steve really is, he's got nothing to compare him to, but he just knows that it feels like it's in more than his pussy--Steve's filling his belly and fucking into his throat. That's why Bucky can't breathe. That's fucking it. He's so chokingly full.

And Bucky is having the fucking time of his life.

Choking, sputtering, and writhing as Steve goes at him, buried within him and showing him what he's never known before. Their chests heaving and hitting together, colliding perfectly.

Steve is fucking him so good, his hips rolling smoothly, just hard and deep and fast enough. It's perfectly good, making Bucky really fucking feel every inch of him, clenching, trembling around him in a daze of arousal. Eyes rolled back. Feeling like he can't do anything but take it.

Take it.

Steve's cock is plunging expertly into his wet, squelching cunt, moving to the rhythm of a thudding, window-shaking, whole-body-rattling house-music-style song that Bucky can't hear but shamelessly revels in anyway; Steve's hands caressing his body like he's precious, touching him everywhere and making him sweat like crazy, feeling so much, and filled to overflowing with heated desire; Steve's lips on his, colliding hard and swallowing his sounds down, then smearing hungry kisses across his face to his jaw to bite and suck at his neck, the thin, delicate skin there so much more alive then Bucky ever knew it could be, crackling with want; Steve's hot, honey-dripping words meeting Bucky's sounds of pleasure in the scant few inches on thick, humid air between them, so charged that it's hard to take any oxygen into his lungs, barely breathable, too, too much--

Steve chuckles, amused and pleasantly teasing as he tells Bucky, "you can touch me, too, sweetheart."

He's been doing that all night, coaxing him into participating in his first time more and more. It's active. He's taking but he's also giving. Bucky loves it.

Bucky fucking loves sex.

And, really, Bucky had not realized his hands were just shaking in limp, unsure fists by his sides until Steve's words finally process in his mushy brain. He blinks open his eyes, fighting against the sticky, too-thick lust poured over him, weighing him down, making him slow. Dumber. And for a long moment, the best he can do is arch his back. It feels so rauchy, but he's possessed. Bending. Breaking. His head is dropped completely back against the pillows. His neck couldn't hold the weight of his head if his life depended on it. He... he... he feels like he's moving through molasses, trying to lift his arms and touch Steve.

It's nearly impossible. Bucky is spread so thin, melted into Steve's mattress like a thin layer of marmalade on hot toast.

He's never going to recover.

He gets about halfway into holding his arms up, muscles trembling weakly before Steve takes pity on him and uses his sure, knowledgable grip to loop his arms around his neck. Bucky moans, feeling how feverish and sweat-soaked Steve is--it's not just him. Steve's in it, too. He's here with him. And Bucky uses all of his wimpy strength to push his quivering fingers into the short hairs at the base of Steve's skull, cupping his head and staring foggily into his ravenous eyes. He looks ready to swallow Bucky. Something inside Bucky adores it, preening and pushing his chest forward, feeling big and bold and wanted. Desired, even. It's hot as fuck. Bucky wants to feel like this forever.

"Yeah," Steve rewards him with a groaning word of agreement and a lewd kiss, tonguing him, no, fucking his mouth with his tongue as his cock just fucking keeps at it, grinding, digging, carving into him.

Bucky can't breathe, he can only gasp.

"Yeah, that's it, baby," Steve encourages, "why don't you hold onto me, hmm? I know it feels good--"

Bucky whines. It does. It feels good. It's so good he could cry.

"--and I know 's a lot, so just hold on and touch me a little while I fuck you, yeah? Don't worry about anything else, jus' right here, touch me, lemme in, c'mon, babyy."

Bucky nods uselessly, letting his hands slide down Steve's body, openly adoring and admiring his unreal body, squeezing the meat of his hugely broad shoulders and following his fingers with his eyes, nearly going cross-eyed when--

Oh.

His vision is fucking filled with the overwhelming, gut-punchingly hot vision of Steve's chest. Bucky felt up his chest when they were making out just before this, he knows he has big, tight, high pecs. Part of his unreal, gym-sculpted physique. He didn't--he doesn't know--how was he supposed to know that his pecs would jiggle when he's fucking into him?

"Go on, h-honey," Steve kisses his temple, just a little sloppy as he moans against his skin, "touch 'em," he urges him on, "grab my tits."

Bucky does. He doesn't need fucking brain cells to follow those tempting directions. He just does. He wants to bite Steve's tits and, fuck, he's never had such an aggressive, intense urge before but it doesn't matter. He has no ability to process it. He just feels it.

He wants to bite.

Further--because that's not it, of course, that can't be it--Bucky fucking holds on for dear life, he wraps an arm around Steve's muscular fucking back and lifts himself forward an inch, maybe not even that, clinging to him, shoving his face against Steve's neck, feeling his pulse thunder through him, and smashing his hand tight against Steve's pecs--his tits--and his own heaving chest.

Just that little bit changes the angle, and suddenly, a squeal is ripped out of Bucky.

He has no choice but to cling tighter, curling his legs around the formidable line of Steve's body, needing him even closer, deeper, tighter, more, shoving them together tip to tail. Christ. His body couldn't be hungrier. He needs. He--

He accidentally shoves his clit tight to Steve's pelvis changing the angle, making the hot, hard line of Steve's body rub harshly against his clit with every thrust into his soaking pussy.

"OH!" Bucky's mouth drops open wide, hardly muffled against the junction between Steve's neck and shoulder. His hold, arms and legs wrapped around Steve's body, is like if he were drowning in shark infested waters and someone threw him a life preserver. It's frantic.

Fervent.

Steve doesn't even have to touch him between his legs anymore. His cock can do all the work. And he's free to plaster the huge, heavy hand, not holding himself up against the small of Bucky's back and keep him there. Keep him tight. Keep him close. Keep, keep--

Keep thrusting.

Bucky is fucking losing it. No. He's lost it. Already.

He's squealing, he's hyperventilating, and he's crying. He's crying not because it's so beautiful and emotional like he might've once assumed losing his virginity would be, hell no, it is beautifully filthy with every wet sound of Steve's cock fucking into him and every cry of pleasure from them both, but, instead, tears are prickling his eyes, hot and pressurized behind his squeezed shut eyelids, because it's so fucking good.

He's crying and he's tipping over the edge with Steve inside him and against him and overwhelming him and he's cumming so hard that he can feel it in his teeth.

It's official: Bucky's imagination doesn't hold a candle to reality.

[btsbabe7]

November Prompt 18: Crown

Words: 594 | Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader

There’s a surreal feeling that washes over you as you descend the castle stairs into the entrance of the Yule Ball. You hadn’t told a single soul about your date. In fact, as far as all your friends knew, you had no intentions of attending. But here you are in a pearly gown with silvery lace trim hand-sewn against the white silk. Your curly hair is styled in a slightly messy updo that you’d practiced for weeks until it was perfected, and a dainty, single emerald stone bracelet, gifted by your date clings to your right wrist. All the planning had finally led you to this very moment.

In the midst of the first dance coming to a close, an applause breaks through the room, then you spot your date breaking through the crowd. Heads turn and there seems to be whispering amongst the crowd, but not over the music. Just as you reach the bottom of the stairs, Draco’s arm links around yours. A vest and bowtie accompany the snowy white button-up that hugs his thin torso. His platinum hair is parted perfectly down the side and tucked behind each ear to fully display his dashing features. He looks absolutely amazing, even more than he does on the day to day, if you do say so yourself. And soon, the gaze of other students follow the two of you through the crowd where Draco pulls you in close for a slow dance.

“Ignore the whispers,” he breathes, pulling your wandering gaze for your friends back to him. “You look beautiful tonight and I won’t let anyone ruin this for us.” His brows raise to make sure you understand and you smile softly and nervously.

You had planned to attend the ball with Draco almost a month ago in the secrecy of your meetings in the Astronomy Tower. If everything went as planned, the entire school would be in shock at the news of you and Draco attending together, despite the existing rumors of his growing crush on you. And the whispers tonight have proved just that. Even Professor McGonagall, Professor Snape, and Dumbledore, the Headmaster himself, had done double takes when Draco’s arm reached out for you at the entrance moments ago.

“Draco,” you mutter softly, keeping your eyes on his to stay focused. “What do we do when they see? My friends, when they notice?”

He chuckles softly and pulls you closer, gently stroking your reddened cheek.

“Then let them notice. You look beautiful. You spent so much effort planning and perfecting the perfect. Just focus on this. Don’t let your crown slip.”

You smile widely at his comment and just because you’re happy to finally be in his arms in the midst of everyone. There’s whispers and stares and even pointing, but you stay focused on Draco. It all feels like a relief compared to the fear that came with sneaking out to meet in hiding in The Astronomy Tower every night. You know your friends are somewhere with their own dates and that their curiosity about you and Draco will soon be a topic of conversation, but none of that matters now in a place where you should feel the most confident.

Draco spins you around one last time at the close of the song, and with a smile, he caresses your cheeks.

“We’ll have the best night of our lives, my queen. I promise,” he breathes before placing a soft kiss on your forehead that leaves you grinning from ear to ear, and tonight, you truly feel like royalty.

Please be sure to check out my other latest fics:

⚡︎ November Prompt Challenge (days 1-30)

⚡︎ For You Always - reader x Snape

~ Navi: masterlist (all fandoms) & (bts imagines/drabbles)

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction, but please don’t copy! Written purely for fun :) Please only repost to other socials w/my permission and credit! Reblogging w/credit is fine. Thank you! ♡

[marvelstoriesepic]

Last updated: October 31

I’m only writing for Bucky Barnes

Lots of love for my Bucky people! ♡

I do not consent my work to getting republished

My work can include heavy themes (such as sexual assault, abuse, panic attacks, death, toxic behavior, self-doubt etc). Each chapter and fic will have their own warnings, but if anything might trigger you, be cautious!

If you are interested in reading the Bucky fics I loved on this app, check out my list of fic recommendations on my other blog @buckbuckbarnesstuff

˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔ October Writing Challenges 2024 ˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔

WIP Game

♡ - personal fav

❁ - fic with 300+ notes

✯ - fic with 500+ notes

Series 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Breaking Chains (ongoing)

Biker!Bucky x reader

Summary: Leaving behind an abusive and possessive boyfriend, and finding refuge in the hometown you once yearned to escape, certainly wasn’t a chapter you anticipated in your life’s story. Yet, eyes as blue as the sky at dusk, belonging to a mysterious biker drew you into a world of unexpected possibilities, where a job at his bar becomes more than just a means of survival - it’s a pathway to freedom and self-discovery. Though, breaking away from your past proves daunting when shackled by invisible chains.

Two-Parts 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

1. Tangled ropes [8.2k]

Sailor!Bucky x reader

Summary: A new sailor arrives at the docks amongst Captain Barton’s crew. Maybe it’s the way he looks at you, the way he carries himself, or perhaps it’s the way his eyes are the echo of the ocean in color and depth. But something about him makes you want to untangle the ropes that seem to choke his spirit.

&

2. Beyond the Horizon (coming soon)

One-shots 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Listen to your gut [2.8k] ❁

Avenger!Bucky x Avenger!Reader

Summary: Bucky is assigned on a Hydra mission. Letting him venture back in the lion’s den without backup sets a deep unsettling dread knotting your stomach. Drowning out logic and reason you beg him to stay.

Still on the list [14.1k] ✯

Frat!College!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes, the infamous frat guy, known for sleeping around and throwing parties left and right, constantly invites you, out of all people, to all of them. His intentions though remain a mystery to you. Following a troubling event that leaves you shaken and anxious, Bucky is there to pick up the pieces. Stolen glances and exchanged smiles gradually blossom into a connection that goes beyond what meets the eye.

Casual Sweetness [2.3k] ♡ ❁

Roommate!Bucky x reader

Summary: You seek out your roommate and best friend Bucky for comfort after a girls night out leaves you shaken up.

Two [6.2k] ♡

College!Athlete!Bucky x College!Reader

Summary: Your friends Wanda and Nat drag you to a corn maze event at night. After a rather unpleasant encounter with Bucky, Sam, and Steve, you want nothing but this night to end. Unfortunately for you, you’ll have to find the exit first.

Latte (He)art [7.8k]

Barista!Bucky x Coworker!College!Reader

Summary: Your sweet coworker at the café you work at part time is the only thing able to brighten your day. So it’s only practical that he always ends up in the same shift as you.

Ocean’s claim [5.9k]

Lifeguard!Bucky x Amateur!Surfer!Reader

Summary: Seeking a thrill, your friend Natasha convinces you to go surfing during stormy weather conditions - a bad idea as you come to experience.

Pirate Nights and Pumpkin Lights [1.7k]

Modern!Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky and you take Morgan, Billy, and Tommy trick-or-treating on Halloween.

Drabbles 𖡼𖤣𖥧𖡼𓋼𖤣𖥧𓋼𓍊

Paranoia [1.4k]

Avenger!Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky comes home to an unlocked door - his mind convinces him something horrible happened to you

Learn his way [1.5k] ❁

College!Bucky x College!Tutor!Reader

Summary: Bucky is more interested in learning about you than biology

“Tell me every terrible thing you ever did, and let me love you anyway.”

- Edgar Allan Poe

[fly-you-dam-fools]

Idea: when he sleeps on your lap and wakes up with lots of origami scattered all over the place (you were bored and kept doing origami while he slept)

Counting Cranes

jeon jungkook x gn!reader

Genre: Fluff (a bit of crack…oops)

Type: Blurb/Drabble

Warnings: None

Summary: Jungkook crashes on your sofa (or your lap for that matter), and you take a liking to folding paper cranes.

A/N: Ahhh so sorry for getting to this ask like…two years after it was requested??? Life has just been really busy, but I’m so very glad that you shared this Jungkook thought with me! I’m not sure if you’re still around anon, but I hope you’re having a good day!

BTS Masterlist - Main Masterlist

❃〰∿✵⚘☾☽

You knew practice was especially tiring after a full day of activities- which is why you invited Jungkook to a calm afternoon on the couch for the rest of the day. With a grateful smile, he had tumbled into your lap and fell into a deep sleep.

Occasionally he would wake up and ask what you were doing, but he always succumbed to slumber again before you could answer his question. You had planned to do this for a while now, but with the empty yuja tea jar finally washed and a stack of gifted origami paper underneath the coffee table, it was like the perfect opportunity to start had come. You started slowly, picking up a fancily decorated piece of paper fitted with gold and flowers and folding it carefully. Making a large crane at first, you started folding and creasing the sheet of paper. After the first one was finished, you placed it delicately in front of you…which happened to be Jungkook’s head. He hadn’t stirred. A new thought popped into your head, and soon your careful folds came with more speed, lining each paper crane like a halo around his head and in your lap. Eventually there were paper cranes in every direction from what you could reach- which unfortunately resulted in little light tosses (consider them cranes in flight) so they could rest outside your stretching zone. All the while Jungkook slept, and paper cranes soared over his head. You wondered if he was counting paper cranes instead of sheep in his dreams.

Eventually after your origami paper had long run out (and the napkins, they couldn’t escape their fate), you dozed off too. The two of you slept amongst the paper cranes, each representing a dream, a wish that maybe one day your lives would lead up to. Each held a hope for the two of you in the future, something loving to look forward to. It was near evening when Jungkook stirred again, the rumble in his stomach evident as he opened his eyes. He blinked, eyeing the dim lighting and a strange sensation on his cheek. He moved his mouth, tilting it in a way that would move the object that rested on his cheek. A tumble of color went past and he screwed his eyes shut, avoiding the tiny prickles that came with it. He shifted upwards, eventually to a sitting position before he finally realized what was on his cheek- and all around him. He was enveloped in a sea of paper cranes, and you, whose hands were wrapped tightly around his own. Observing your slightly red fingertips and the absence of napkins in the holder, he realized that you had made all these little cranes while he slept. A smile spread on his lips, and he closed them again before planting a light kiss on your forehead, and another two on your fingers. But now he had one problem with this ocean of cranes- how could he get food??

❃〰∿✵⚘☾☽

A/N: Moon wrote a fic and actually published it?? What a rarity! 😱😱😱 (also..how did I come up with the members in the first place??? I don’t even remember)

Taglist: @jinnie-forthe-winnie @silvermistcosmos

© fly-you-dam-fools

[bonny-kookoo]

𝐄𝐯𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧: Masterlist

-> All parts are listed in chronological order. Drabble requests and character asks are open. There is no Taglist for this fic.

Jungkook ✅️

Every year, he joins the old tradition of traveling, where his ancestors have once ruled the skies. Every year, he meets familiar faces and new ones he's never seen before. Every year, he watches how his brothers find their mates, build their families, and introduce new generations to stories as old as time. But this year, something might be different. This year, there's you - a treasure worth more than he could ever offer.

Part 1: Intro

Main Tags/Warnings: Dragon!Jungkook, strangers to lovers/mates, mentions of folklore and traditions, modern fantasy, romance, human?Reader, Fluff, Courting, MC kinda wary of kook at first, but he's cute give him a chance pls

This storyline is considered finished, but will receive minor drabbles on occasion.

Part 2: Best Behavior

Part 3: Warm Eyes

Part 4: Just a game

Part 5: Pull Me Closer

- Drabble: JK saving MC from a creep

Part 6: The Hunt

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Yoongi

From the bustling cities to the pine tree forests up the mountains, Yoongi always looks forward to the yearly dragon festival, where he can unwind and simply let his inner fire burn freely. But this year, amongst the new flames joining in, there's one that stands out- so pitifully small but warm, he can't help but feel the need to try and nurse it back to a fire worth filling a dragon's heart.

Main Tags/Warnings: Dragon!Yoongi, strangers to lovers/mates, mentions of folklore and traditions, modern fantasy, romance, Dragon!Reader, Fluff, Courting, Evocation!AU, Fluff

Part 1: Intro

Part 2: Backwards

Part 3: ???

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Sidecontent:

Yoongi #1

[peachyjinx]

Smutty drabble idea: something with somnophilia, like Loki comes home from a mission or battle and finds Reader sprawled out naked in his bed asleep and it drives him wild

Ooo this one was fun cause I haven't written somnophilia before and only read like maybe 2 fics with it. Hope you enjoy!

Home

Relationship: Dom!Loki x Sub!Reader

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: 18+, somnophilia, Loki's POV

Loki keys in the password to your shared living quarters in Stark tower, wincing as he feels a tinge in his shoulder that had taken the brunt of a sonic blast last night. Loki scowls as he quietly enters your living room, thinking about how Stark had insisted his new shields would be impervious.

Idiot, Loki thinks to himself.

He enters the room quietly, glancing at the clock-2:30 am.The others insisted that he showered in the communal showers when they landed, under the assumption of possible exposures in the lab. Loki had huffed in response, grabbed some of Banner’s soaps, and headed to your private shower you shared. He needed to be back home- where you are. 

Loki silently steps towards the bathroom, already feeling relief to be in the space you shared. He runs the shower and steps in, feeling his tense, sore muscles begin to relax under the hot water. Loki gently soaps his body down and lathers his hair, his mind wandering.

Loki’s thoughts drift to the last 48 hours. A whirlwind of reconnaissance and the subsequent invasion of new Hydra labs. He proudly grins to himself with his eyes closed as he stands under the hot water, remembering flashes of green spread out amongst the crowds of henchmen. How thrilling it felt, feeling his power coursing through his veins. Loki feels his heart beating faster, the adrenaline still pumping in his system.

He had been told by Rogers not to kill anyone, but Loki had rightly ignored that order as he took the lab technician’s lives. He had been alive longer than the rest of the team- he knew there was no use for the sort of ilk that experimented on others. 

As Loki reminisces on how glorious the battle had been, his hand wanders to his cock, which is beginning to twitch. He begins to gently pump his hardening length while his thoughts drift to you, sleeping soundly in your shared bedroom.

There was something about you he couldn’t resist; like magnets, the two of you were drawn to each other. All it took was a giggle and a glance from you and Loki was ready to burn everything down just to be inside your welcoming cunt. 

You had always told him he could have you whenever he wanted- even when you were sleeping. He normally chose to wake you up… but tonight was different. As Loki dries himself off, his need feels even more pressing, a heat is building in his lower back. 

Loki softly steps into your bedroom, his eyes drawn to you peacefully passed out, wrapped in your sheets. His gaze slowly drifts down your body and he feels his cock twitch again, warmth spreading over his body as he hears himself breathing faster. 

His aching need to bury his cock inside your wet folds is unbearable, and he gently removes the sheets off of you and turns your pliable body on your back as he stands over you. Loki climbs onto the bed, his muscular thighs encasing your hips. His cock is flushed and he resists his urge to sink it in you immediately. He needs to make sure you are ready, because he’s not waking you up this time. 

You let out a soft whimper as he gently caresses your breasts with the tip of his finger, his eyes widen as he watches you respond to him. 

So beautiful…and always so willing under my touch.

Loki’s hand drifts to your core, a finger gently discovers your wetness in between your legs. His heart races as he touches your soft skin, fingers mingling in the sticky sensation.

Always wet and ready for me. 

Loki shudders as his skillful hands begin to massage your clit, and he works his finger inside of you.  His finger gently pumps inside, preparing you for his girth. You let out a quiet moan in your sleep, “Mmm Loki…”.

The sound of your voice floods his senses in the dark, his need to fit his thick cock into your tight hole overwhelms him as an intense heat from the base of his cock becomes too much to ignore. 

Loki withdraws his finger and lowers his large frame on top of yours, needing to be inside of you immediately. 

With ease, he pushes his cock slowly inside of you, holding back a moan as he closes his eyes tightly. Your warmth envelopes him, and Loki knows this is Valhalla. He restrains himself as he starts slowly and begins to pump himself inside. 

You begin to squirm, and he gently grabs your wrists with one hand, moving them above your head. Loki feels his cock twitch as your hips begin to buck gently against his as he rhythmically thrusts inside of you. 

Loki nuzzles in your neck, your scent driving him wilder as he increases his pace, trying to get deeper inside of you. 

“Ohhh..” you begin to shift and Loki watches as your eyes move under your lids, and he can tell you’re going to wake up at any moment.

Loki feels his breath hitch at the sight of you stirring, and his grips on your wrists get tighter. His panting is louder and he can feel his balls tighten against you as he continues to desperately chase his high in your warm cunt. He needs to come inside you, with your wet heat tightening around him. 

Your eyes slowly open to look up and see Loki above you, his hair fallen in a black curtain around his face. Your face is one of shock and then pleasure as you realize Loki’s taking you in your sleep. 

Loki feels the pressure building, cursing under his breath as he sees you’re awake. Your legs instinctively wrap around his hips, and he bottoms out inside of you.

“Ohh Norns…” Loki groans as he begins to fuck you deeper, grabbing tightly onto your hip and chasing his high. The moans coming out of you now are enough to send him over the edge. He pistons himself inside of you, and with a final hard thrust he feels the coil in his core snap, coming hard into your tender cunt. A shuddering wave of relief washes over him as he spills his seed inside of you while he moans your name. 

The air is filled with the two of you panting loudly, as Loki continues to gently thrust into you, savoring the moment. He releases your wrists, and begins to nuzzle in your hair, breathing in deeply. You feel like home to him.

-----

Peachyjinx Masterlist

[honey-beann]

💞

Sweet Victory

Connor x Reader Fluff

💕 - Kisses

Note: Okay look, I genuinely thought I hadn't gone that far over on this one until I put it in the word counter, so no judgement allowed! (For those of you who might not know this was supposed to be a 200-600 word drabble and I failed hard at keeping to that limit).

So, with that said, here is this request fulfilled with a word count far higher than I had initially anticipated (sorry, I apparently have no self-control).

A huge thanks to the Anon who requested this, and I hope everyone enjoys this random fluff fic!

Word Count: 2,534

Okay, so maybe you could be a little bit competitive at times. Was that really such a crime?

Sure, this was supposed to be some children's event designed to help the DPD gain favor amongst the younger generation of Detroit Citizens, but what were you supposed to do, just let your teammate down? Hell no, if you were in it, you were in it to win it, and that was a fact.

"Okay, remind me of what we have left to find?"

You asked Louisa, the eight year old girl walking alongside you, who you had only just met twenty minutes earlier.

Prior to the notice you'd received just this morning, you'd had absolutely no idea about the fact that kids were coming into the DPD today, let alone that you would be paired with one for their little scavenger hunt (and that may have showed in how unprepared and unsure you seemed).

That said, somehow, you had ended up with the most understanding third grader of all time, which you found yourself incredibly grateful for.

"Uh..."

Louisa checked her paper before continuing,

"It says we need to get warning citations written by an officer who isn't on duty right now, find where the Captain hides the donuts until after precinct meetings, and get something one of a kind from one of the detectives."

You raised a brow at that last one,

"One of a kind?"

You questioned looking down to see Louisa nodding in response as she looked down at the sheet in front of her.

"Yup. It says that at the end of the scavenger hunt Officers Miller and Chen will decide together who got the most unique item, and that that team will get points for the category."

"Huh, okay then."

You said, shrugging a bit before smiling down at your new friend,

"How about we go grab us some donuts?"

Five minutes and one trip to the storage closet later, and you and Louisa were making your way towards Chris Miller's desk, where you slid him his favorite powdered sugar confection before giving him your best (most pleading) smile.

"Wanna write us some citations, Officer Miller?"

You asked politely, watching as Chris looked down at the treat in front of him before looking back up at you and your partner with a slightly guilty looking smile.

"No can do, judges can't participate in the competition."

You groaned under your breath, shooting a nervous grin down to Louisa before you began scanning the bullpen with your eyes, looking around for another off duty officer while cursing yourself for never paying attention to the officer duty schedule.

That is, until your eyes landed on a familiar face.

Connor, everyone's favorite rk800 (or maybe that was just a you thing) was just sitting at his desk, all but begging to be interrupted by your shenanigans.

Instantly, you started making your way toward him, motioning for Louisa to follow you as you did so.

"Hey, you forgot your donut!"

Chris called after you, causing you to simply shake your head in response, a rather cheeky looking grin spreading across your face as you briefly turned to look at him.

"Don't need it."

Within moments, you were stood beside Connor's desk, hands clasped politely in front of you as you tried your best not to look as devious as you felt.

Immediately, the android looked up at you, a familiarly soft smile forming on his lips as he opened his mouth to speak, though he notably faltered when his eyes fell to the eight year old beside you.

"Good morning Detective, is there something I can help you with?"

He asked politely, his demeanor immediately making you smile ever so slightly.

"Hey Con, can I ask you a favor?"

The android in question seemed to perk up at your words, tilting his head as he turned his chair to face you and your new partner properly.

"Well I can certainly try. What can I assist you two with?"

You blushed ever so slightly at the sight of him as he turned to face you, trying your best not to make how good you thought he looked in that perfectly tailored dress shirt too obvious.

Thankfully, Louisa clearing her throat beside you brought you back to reality, and you quickly answered.

"We need an off duty officer to write us warning citations, but I can't remember the officer schedule for today. Did you happen to take a look at it anytime recently?"

Connor hummed, his LED briefly going yellow before slowly circling back to it's typical stagnant blue.

He nodded.

"According to the schedule, Officers Brown and Person are both off duty for the afternoon."

Your eyes scanned the room once more before they finally fell on Person, who sat at her desk, tapping away at her keyboard.

You grinned at Connor, fighting the urge to hug him as you shifted your weight from one foot to the other.

"Awesome, thanks Con!"

You enthused,

"I'll be sure to pay for lunch tomorrow to make it up to you."

The android in question smiled but shrugged his shoulders,

"I'm always happy to be of assistance, Detective, with or without incentive."

With that, he bid the two of you farewell before turning back towards his desk and continuing whatever he'd been doing prior to your (all too welcome) interruption.

Meanwhile, you and Louisa set off toward Officer Person's desk, which was when Louisa spoke up again.

"Was that your boyfriend?"

She asked, causing you to startle a bit before laughing nervously.

"Uh..."

You trailed off, looking over your shoulder slightly to glance at Connor once more.

The man had super hearing, and would therefore probably hear what you were about to say, but if you thought too hard about that the words would never come, so you just pretended he was too distracted to listen properly.

"Kind of. We've gone on a few dates together."

Louisa smiled and nodded,

"Yeah, I thought so."

Your cheeks reddened slightly at her comment, but you pressed onward nonetheless until finally, you made it to Officer Person's desk, where you were immediately regarded with an almost taunting eyebrow raise.

"Did I see you using lover boy over there to your advantage?"

She teased as she pulled her citation notepad out of her desk, writing your name at the top without even having to ask any of the spelling details.

You blanched.

"Oh hush, Person, who else was I supposed to ask? He has a literal connection to the database in his brain."

The woman in front of you shrugged, but her grin remained persistent nonetheless.

"Whatever you say, Detective, I just thought the first kiss came a stage before asking for personal favors. But hey, I could be wrong."

She finished up your citation and ripped it away from the rest of her note pad with a flourish before handing it to you and shifting her attention towards Louisa.

"Now what's your name?"

She asked.

You rolled your eyes at your friend and coworkers antics, looking down at your citation with a sigh only to be met with an absolutely humiliating sight.

Under infraction, Person had put 'Not kissing by the fifth date despite previously verbalized intentions to do so'.

You groaned internally, glaring down at your still seated friend as she finished up Louisa's warning citation, which cited that she was 'Stealing the hearts of Detroit's finest left and right'.

She handed it to the young girl with a kind smile before turning her attention back to you, satisfaction written all over your face.

"Anything else you need, Detective? I could give you some courage for your next outing with -"

"I think we're all set, thanks Person."

You muttered through gritted teeth, watching as she simply laughed before giving you a nod and waving the two of you off.

"Well in that case you'd better get moving then, the scavenger hunt ends in five."

You felt your eyes widen at that, and you cursed quietly before looking around the room.

Your brain struggled to conjure up the image of anyone who could provide you with that final artifact, something so unique it was guaranteed to win. Something that was truly one of a kind.

At that, your mind abruptly brought your thoughts to Hank, the lieutenant detective like no other (because no other could ever get away with doing the things he did).

Spotting him just outside the break room, you hurried over, offering him a quick greeting before getting straight down to business. The clock was ticking after all.

"Hey Hank, got any unique items on ya?"

You asked, gesturing to Louisa at your side as your only explanation.

Hank sighed, clearly having been asked this question more than once this morning.

You bristled a bit at this, realizing that maybe asking Hank had been a bit too obvious of a choice.

Still, what other options did you have now with only two minutes left?

"C'mon Lieutenant, anything?"

You all but pleaded, watching as Hank sighed and pulled a gold plated DPD pen out of his pocket.

"Jeffrey bought one of these for each high ranking officer like fifteen years ago. As far as I know, he and I are the only ones left that still have one."

You cheered a bit at the win, thanking Hank profusely before walking over to the crowd of waiting students and precinct workers to see who would be crowned the winner once items were handed in.

Except as you stood with your partner at your side, you couldn't help but notice something shiny sticking out of Gavin's pocket.

"Hey Reed!"

You called out without thinking, catching the attention of the aforementioned officer immediately.

"What?"

He replied snidely, never having been your biggest fan.

You ignored his tone.

"What'd you get for your unique item?"

Gavin regarded you with distrust for a moment before he seemed to get over it. He shrugged as he pulled the shiny thing out of his pocket entirely.

"Some pen Jeffrey gave my kid when he asked for a unique item. Said nobody else should have it."

You cursed under your breath, looking down at Louisa to find her staring up at you, the question of 'what do we do now?' obvious in her eyes.

You swallowed thickly, looking around the room at the various officers who were sitting at their desks.

You checked your watch.

Thirty more seconds.

Could you even hope to convince one of them to give you something by then, let alone have them actually find something genuinely one of a kind in so little time?

No, that would take far too long.

So now, you were left with only one option.

"Quick, come with me."

You told Louisa, taking her hand and weaving through the crowd with her, walking as fast as you reasonably could with a child at your side until you reached Connor's desk.

Sensing your urgency, the android stood as you grew closer, worry evident in his expression.

"Detective, is there something wrong? Do you need something?"

He asked, and you fought off the urge to take the additional time to assuage his fears and instead turned to face Louisa.

"Cover your eyes."

You told her firmly, watching as she nodded and did as she was told without question, equally as determined to win as you were, and knowing there was no time for you to clarify.

With that, you turned back to Connor, taking a single deep and shaky breath before speaking.

"Kiss me."

You said, cheeks immediately becoming warm as the man in front of you tilted his head in confusion, his eyes searching yours for any type of answer, or even just an ounce of context.

You looked down at your watch.

10 seconds.

"My apologies, Detective, but what did you just-"

"Con, I swear I'll explain later, but right now I really need you to kiss m-"

You were interrupted by a strong hand wrapping around your wrist and tugging you closer, and then suddenly, there were lips, warm and firm, pressing against your own.

You gasped briefly, shocked despite your previous pleas, before melting into the man in front of you, your arms moving to wrap around his neck as he kissed you so sweetly you could have wept.

By the time he pulled away, your face was beet red and your legs felt lie jelly.

Connor smiled nervously down at you, grabbing your hand to give it a gentle squeeze.

"I didn't think you would-"

"I figured it out."

He clarified before you could finish, glancing down at the pen in your pocket with a slight smirk.

"No need to clarify."

You nodded almost mindlessly, finding yourself crashing back into reality only when you heard your name get called from the other side of the room.

You snapped to attention, looking over to Chris and Tina, who were both holding back laughter.

"Sorry, what did you guys need?"

You asked, your voice slightly higher in pitch than usual as you struggled to contain your embarrassment.

"We need you to hand in your items."

Chris replied, and you nodded slowly before handing everything to Louisa, following behind her as she rushed back over to the group, immediately giving the judges everything the two of you had collected.

It was then and only then, after they scored the groups based on their initial findings, that they asked about the unique items.

And at that point, everyone began to share.

You thought about leaving, or maybe even just falling off the face of the earth altogether, but in the end when they called your name, you steeled your resolve, opening up your mouth to speak only to be interrupted by Louisa.

"She got a kiss from Detective Connor!"

She shouted giddily, all but dancing on her feet as she spoke, eyes gleaming in a way that told you how much the sight of your budding romance had excited her.

"It was their first kiss and everything!"

You felt your eyes widen at that comment, and in an effort to keep her from saying anything more you started to laugh nervously, watching as the whole room looked towards you, some of them grinning while others regarded you with a raised brow.

"Well, I mean..."

Tina began, chuckling a bit as she turned to her fellow judge to share her thoughts,

"I'm not sure if anything can beat that in terms of uniqueness."

Chris shook his head, smirking amusedly at your thoroughly embarrassed expression as he spoke up,

"You know what Officer Chen? I was thinking the exact same thing."

They looked at each other before nodding, choosing without hesitance to extend your misery.

"I guess that means we have our winners!"

They shouted together, causing the entire group to clap as you attempted to sink into the floor beneath your feet, far too nervous to look up and see the expressions of those around you.

Gee, this was gonna be a fun one to explain to the captain during your lunch break today.

'But hey', you thought as you looked down at Louisa's smiling face.

'At least we won'.

masterlist

AO3

[partially-controlled-chaos]

When We Were Young

Pairing: Halsin x f!Tav (Tavriel) Rating: G (General) Warnings: None, really. Little bit of smoochin' at the end. Just completely self-indulgent fluff for my own sanity. Summary: Deep in the autumn forest, Halsin and Tavriel share a sweet, if not awkward, moment to themselves. Pre-tattoo, pre-scar, love-lorn 90 year old druid initiate Halsin being completely inexperienced with anything romantic. Word Count: 3.7K A/N: A hurricane knocked out my power for a few days last weekend, so without access to my other WIPs or electronics, I hand wrote a complete self-indulgent fic for young Halsin and my original Tav. Once I started typing it out to post, I fluffed it up a little bit so it ended up being a good bit longer than my original drabble, but shorter than what I normally write. I recently revamped the backstory for my original Tav after seeing young Halsin art from @ozumii-fucking-wizard (thank you for blessing this site with your young Halsin art, it's amazing and for absolutely rotting my brain with young Halsin). I've never been a huge fan of "companions knowing Tav before the events of the game", but I played around with this idea and I've ended up loving it for Tavriel. I have stories previously posted for her that are a complete 180 from what I'm going with now, but I'm very please with the new lore I have for her. Might make a lore sheet or mini fic at some point, but I haven't completely decided. I do have a handful of more small ideas for Halsin and Tavriel so I'll probably sprinkle them in between my normal stuff. Also, hi hello @thoughts-of-bear , it's the fic I'd mentioned like a week ago that I finally posted

Read on AO3 here!

Masterlist

The sun hung low in the sky, casting the surrounding forest in a rich orange glow. Leaves of nearby oak trees turned shades of yellow and red, gently falling from their branches with each gust of wind, swirling in the air before softly landing on the ground. Acorns and pinecones littered the forest floor as autumn approached, sprinkled amongst small patches of mushrooms that grew in shaded spots. Bare feet darted against the ground in rapid succession, barely making a sound before lifting and leaping to the next patch of hard dirt or sun-kissed grass. Tavriel moved quickly through the trees, weaving through towering oaks and over fallen logs with an ethereal grace and swiftness as she sprinted away from the darkened thicket she called home and towards an open field.

She left the area practically untouched as she traversed the land of her home, simply stirring freshly fallen leaves with the wisps of air that that flowed from the ends of her linen robes. With each step she took, she could hear the heavy footsteps of those following her grow fainter, leaving the forest in a gradual silence. As a final obstacle, Tavriel crossed a small stream, gracefully leaping from one wet river stone to another, lifting her robes above her ankles to keep them dry. Cold water soaked her toes as she crossed, sending a chill through her legs until she made contact with land once more. 

Tavriel began to slow, her full blown sprint having tapered off to a slow trot before finally coming to a stop in the middle of a field of golden wheat grass. Her lungs burned from the exertion, chest heaving as she took in sucking breaths of the warm, late afternoon air. An earthy scent filled the area, picked up by the wind as it wove its way through the tall grass and to her nose. A pleasant smile graced her lips, tugging the corners of her mouth towards the sky as her eyelids softly closed and her head tilted back to face the sky. Warm wisps of wind blew through the long, fiery orange tresses that adorned her head, drying the light layer of sweat that had formed against her face from her run. Time had slowed as she took in the serenity of the moment, simply basking in the warmth the sun offered. 

The earth hummed beneath her feet, strong and loud enough to feel in her bones. The soft points of the grass licked at the ends of her fingers as her arms came down beside her, the gentle wind blowing causing the blades to tickle her fingertips. Songs of birds that thrived in the evenings began to sound off in the distance, signaling the end of another day. If she focused hard enough, Tavriel could swear she could hear the hushed voice of the forest calling to her, beckoning her back into the safety the trees and bushes offered. 

A large branch cracked in the distance and her eyes snapped open at the sound, breath hitching in her throat as she focused her hearing. Tavriel felt the muscles of her legs tighten and coil, ready to snap and spring her forward in a quick escape if needed. She silently cursed herself for becoming distracted; a dangerous game to play for someone who was undoubtedly being hunted. Instinct made her want to flee in an instant; to simply dart away and never be seen again. Tavriel wanted hide somewhere deep within the forest, curling in on herself and tucking her limbs close by and hide amongst the brush and foliage until the brightness of her hair was darkened from shadow and her scent was covered by moisture covered foliage. However, pure curiosity made her stay, waiting to see just what was coming from the forest.

Moments later, Halsin stepped from the tree line, taking a brief pause by the streams edge to regain his breath, hunching over slightly to rest his hands atop his knees. He was young and fit, having just celebrated his ninetieth birthday, but after such an extended amount of time swatting away tree limbs and stumbling over bushes, even he needed a break. His bright green eyes were locked on to Tavriel from across the river, who returned his gaze with a twinkle in her eyes and a smirk across her lips. He returned her smile, a cocky look on his face as he used the back of his hand to wipe beads of sweat from his upper lip.

It had been years, decades even, since they had played this game with each other. Running from one another to see who could be caught first before reversing roles, playing for hours at a time until they were both collapsed on the ground next to one another, too exhausted to move. They’d first started playing together as young children, having met by chance on a warm summers day. Being the secluded elf that she was, Tavriel was skittish and wary of strangers, even now, and each time he’d come across her in the woods, she’d dart off before he could make friends. It had taken a great deal of patience on Halsin’s part, and a few fresh honeyed buns he’d snatched white his mother’s back was turned, to finally persuade her to stay for a spell. Once they’d gotten comfortable with each other, Halsin and Tavriel had quickly become the best of friends. They would spend each day together, filling their days with laughter and fun from sunrise to sunset, always eager to see each other again the next morning. 

As they grew older, their usual playtime gradually decreased and instead they spent their spare time simply in each others company as friends and learning the ways of the natural world together. Halsin’s druidic studies often took him away from Tavriel’s realm of wood, which was the thickest and deepest portion of the local forest, and instead placing him with elder druids with a book in his hands. While he enjoyed learning from the other druids and discovering their wonders of nature, he preferred to experience them firsthand with his friend at his side.

Tavriel spent her days roaming the forests she called home, ensuring her safety and solitude all while strengthening her own skills. She was graced with a magical prowess that she had yet to fully understand. She had never been formally taught magic, but learned what she knew mostly from aged tomes that had supposedly been left behind from her unknown mother and pure curiosity. She knew how to heal small wounds and speak with animals like many magic casters, but could also control aspects of nature. With a snap of her fingers she could summon a flame or with a wave of her hand she could call forth a gust of wind. The flow of water could change to her will and, depending on her mood and the season, small flowers would bloom in the wake of her foot prints. She didn’t fully understand the magic she had been born with, but each time she discovered something new was exhilarating. Her talents were not without its dangers. Many of her powers stemmed from her emotions, which opened the door for wither and decay if she was frightened or angry. 

Tavriel was incredibly skilled with a bow, having learned the craft from her father before his passing, and used much of her spare time to fine tune her abilities. Overall she was a pacifist, so she spent most of her target practice on high hanging fruits and billowing leaves, but would occasionally hunt when she required sustenance other than what she could forage. Although she loved her solitude, she admittedly was fond of spending her time with Halsin and frequently missed him when he didn’t come striding into her realm of the woods each morning.

“It’s barely been a week since you’ve been in these woods and you’re already tired?” Tavriel teased from across the river, “The bear must be preparing for hibernation.”

“And the fox should know better than to taunt a bear on the hunt.” Halsin shouted back, straightening has back as he spoke.

Without another word, Halsin lunged forward, quickly crossing the river before sprinting as fast as he could towards the elf. Tavriel took off once again, her feet carrying her just as quickly as before, but not quite fast enough to outrun the young man on her heels. Tavriel held the advantage when deep in a thicket, her stature and almost other worldly sense of nature gave her an advantage over the aspiring young druid. She could tuck herself into the smallest of spaces and weave her way through dense foliage like a gentle breeze, letting her slip away and remain undetected if the needed was ever present. 

Halsin, on the other hand, was certainly at a disadvantage. He was a broad young man, much taller and broader than any of the other elves in his clan, making it much more difficult for him to maneuver his way through a forest when compared to Tavriel. He frequently became snagged on low hanging branches or thorny vines, forcing him to take the time to remove himself from natures sudden embrace before continuing. However, he held the advantage when it came to open land. His long legs allowing him to close long distances easily with little exertion. 

It didn’t take long for him to catch up, closing the distance between them in mere moments, and if he were to reach out, he could almost touch the flowing ends of her hair. Sensing the larger man on her heels, she gathered her strength and pushed on, creating a very small gap between herself and Halsin, although it wouldn’t be enough to insure her freedom. Tavriel made a split second decision to change her path and cut to the side, hoping the tactic would allow her to slip right past druid and back into the tree line not too far away. Unfortunately for Tavriel, it was a trick she’d used many times before to evade Halsin’s grasp and it was one he was anticipating. With her change in direction, she inadvertently stepped closer to the druid, allowing him to simply reach out and grab her.

Halsin’s hands suddenly gripped her sides, squeezing firmly enough to lift her partially into the air mid stride without dropping her, but not enough to bruise her delicate skin. A quick yelp of surprise slipped from Tavriel’s lips before erupting in a flurry of giggles. In an attempt to slow down, Halsin spun slightly, bringing Tavriel with him, but lost his footing in the process. He tumbled backwards, his back hitting the ground as a grunt left his chest. He still held the elf in his hands, who’s back had landed on his chest and she was suddenly staring up at an orange sky.

They paused momentarily where they lay, catching their breath and getting familiar with their sudden change of view. Tavriel saw this as an opportunity to escape by prying Halsin’s grasp from her waist and rolling her body off him and onto the dirt below. She found her footing beneath her as her hands dug into the dirt, ready to launch herself forward. Before she was able to start another mad sprint towards the tree line, she felt a set of large hands grab at her waist once more, pulling her back to the ground. With a triumphant smile and quick movements, Halsin pinned Tavriel into the dirt by her hips after pushing her onto her back. He rested the weight of his large frame atop her much smaller one, effectively trapping her for good.

“That’s cheating.” Tavriel managed to say between fits of laughter, smacking Halsin’s bicep with a playful hit.

“Had you not stopped,” Halsin panted as he came down to rest on his forearms, caging the young woman beneath him, “you might have slipped away, dearest fox.”

“Can you blame me?” She asked breathlessly, “It’s only natural to stop and take in something so beautiful.”

“I couldn’t agree more.” Halsin said softly, bringing his fingers over to tuck a wayward piece of orange hair behind her ear. He brushed her freckled cheek with the back of his fingers, marveling at just how soft her skin was, considering she lived in nature and forewent any sense of shelter from a structure not built from a canopy of leaves. 

Tavriel had been one of his closest friends for years, eventually becoming a confidant and someone he felt safe with, but nothing had ever progressed from the companionship. Their relationship had never been anything more than platonic, but Halsin’s feelings had begun to shift as of late. He found himself stealing more glances than normal, a new and exciting flutter rippling across his chest each time he could look more than a few seconds and he could properly take in her features. Tavriel’s copper colored hair was as bright as the autumn sun and was often braided to keep her face clear of her locks while the rest cascaded down her back, resting neatly between her shoulder blades. Her eyes were as deep and green as the forest she called home, flecked with bits of gold that almost glowed if the sun caught her at the right angle. Her sun-kissed skin was littered with freckles from head to toe, the darkest ones sitting atop her shoulders and across the bridge of her nose.

Her scent had become intoxicating lately, making the would-be druid’s head spin if he stood too close. She smelled of the forest, as earthy and hardy as the deepest part of the woodlands where she dwelled. But there was also a hint of something he couldn’t quite describe, yet equally enchanting. She smelled of an otherworldly celestial magic, something ancient and almost forgotten that clung to her skin like moss on a damp rock. He’d never met another mortal soul capable of that kind of magic; the only other instance that came to mind was the power the land spirit Thaniel possessed. Growing up, Halsin had been told stories of a race of deep wood elves that lived in the thickest parts of the land, preferring a life of seclusion and isolation all while worshipping the goddess of the forest, Mielikki, instead of Silvanus. He had also heard how the last remaining deep forest elves had died off long ago, leaving the forest silent and forgotten, yet Halsin couldn’t help but wonder if Tavriel was one of the last remaining of that clan. She lived alone in a hidden spot deep in the brush, the location itself was a mystery even to him, and she’d had no family or clan to call her own for decades now.

His thumb slowly traced along her bottom lip, which was supple and rose tinted, as his forefinger slipped under her chin, slowly tilting her head to the side. Despite his age, Halsin had never kissed, aside from the kiss to the cheek he would get from his mother each morning, and the urge to feel Tavriel’s lips against his own was becoming overwhelming. His stomach twisted into knots as he considered leaning forward to close the gap between them, unsure of how his dearest friend would react. Despite their bond, Tavriel was prone to secrecy and mystery. Halsin often had times deciphering her feelings if she didn’t outright say what was on her mind, which made her difficult to read. He could feel her heart beating in her chest, the vibrations echoing against his own frame. His own heart fluttered as her tongue poked out lightly and wet her tinted lips, her eyes half-lidded in an unspoken expectation of what was to come.

Being the impatient and overeager young man that he was, Halsin dipped his head down, hoping to take Tavriel’s lips with his own in one sweeping, fairytale romantic gesture. It was something he’d played over and over in his mind for days now. Then when and where were something he couldn’t pin, but the how was certainly within his realm of control. He could see it in his mind’s eye, his lips pressing against her in a brief, yet meaningful kiss. Nothing too forward or abrupt, just the beginning notes of a young love. She then, of course, would kiss him back after he pulled away from her, pulling him down to her by the collar of his druid initiate outfit and wrap her arms around his neck. In turn, he would tangle his fingers in her soft hair, smiling against her lips as they lay together in their golden field of wheat, sharing quick, loving kisses until nightfall.

Instead, in his excitement, he rushed forward too quickly, bashing his front teeth against Tavriel’s before their lips could properly connect, filling the space with an audible clack. Halsin felt his chest seize with fear as Tavriel made an audible gasp and could taste a sudden rush of something warm, wet, and metallic against his lips. Her upper lip had gotten caught between their teeth, the delicate skin tearing and bleeding at the sudden force. She could taste the blood on her tongue, instinctively running the appendage over the wound, which was rather small.

Without hesitation, Halsin lifted himself from atop her frame, sitting back on his knees before gently taking the elf by the shoulders and helping her sit up. Before she could speak, Halsin’s hands were on her cheeks, tilting her head towards the remaining light of the fading sun as his thumbs came to her lips, pulling the skin taught so he could inspect the wound. The cut itself was difficult to see, given the smeared blood and saliva that now lingered on her skin. 

“Please, Tavriel,” Halsin said frantically, “f-forgive me I didn’t— I-I was over eager.” Halsin’s mind raced as he tried to remember the incantation for a healing spell, suddenly regretting skipping a few of his medicinal lessons. 

Tavriel brought her fingertips to her bleeding lip, wiping away the blood that had already stopped dripping. Her lip was a little tender, but nothing a short test couldn't fix. She couldn't help but chuckle at the absurdity of the moment. Greater things were happening in the world, yet all that seemed to matter was landing a perfect first kiss. She wiped the remaining blood from her mouth with her sleeve, fully prepared to brush lips with him again. 

“Halsin,” she said softly, “it’s all right.” Halsin simply shook his head, refusing to believe his friend wasn’t angry with him, especially when he was furious with himself. Of all the times to blunder and show his inexperience, of course it had to be this moment. Although, he wasn’t the only one who was inexperienced. Given her life of solitude and a significant lack of other to socialize with, Tavriel had never experienced any sort of intimacy. When she first found herself conflicted with flutters of the stomach and heat in her cheeks, she first assumed she was ill or coming down with a sickness. It wasn’t until she connected these feelings to being in Halsin’s presence did she realize that it was no illness she was afflicted with, but the beginning stages of a young love.

Despite Tavriel’s protests, the young druid was practically beside himself with shame, still babbling away with apologizes and promises of making things right. With a slight roll of her eyes and a light chuckle, Tavriel took Halsin’s cheeks in her hands, pulling his gaze towards her long enough to keep him still. She pressed her lips to his gently, silencing his stammering and uncertainty with one fluid movement. Her eyes closed as she lingered, her body practically melting into Halsin’s chest, waiting for his embrace. She drug her hands down from the sides of his face and nestled them against the center of his chest, fingers latching into the leather bands of his outfit. 

Relief washed over Halsin as Tavriel’s soft, if not slightly swollen, lips caressed his own. He was convinced that she would run off at his blunder; just disappear into the forest and refuse to see him, perhaps forever. Of course, it was his own youthful embarrassment causing these thoughts, especially when considering that he wasn’t fully sure that Tavriel felt the same way. One of his hands caressed her cheek while the other found purchase along the braids resting behind her head, pulling her close to him as he deepened the kiss. 

When they finally pulled their lips from each other, they met the others gaze with a soft smile and a flush to their cheeks. Halsin bumped the tip of his nose against Tavriel’s, who returned the favor. She let out a light and airy giggle as she felt him nuzzle into her cheek moments later, pressing another light kiss to the light blush that had formed there. Their foreheads touched in a warm embrace, simply staying like that together until the sun was well below the horizon and the stars had begun to shine.  

Once they parted, Halsin leaned forward to take her lips with his again, only to find that she had pulled away. He tilted his head to the side just slightly, his brows having knitted together as she came to her feet once again. His hands lingered on her body for as long as possible, savoring the warmth she brought until she had completely stepped away from his grasp. Initially, he thought he had perhaps done something wrong; been too forward of lingered too long.

“If you want another, dear bear,” she said softly, “you’ll have to go on the hunt again.” Her usual playful smirk returned to her lightly bruised lips. Halsin’s eyes flashed a light shimmer of gold as he watched her take off once again, bouncing into the forest at a pace that was anything but a hurry. Tavriel turned to face Halsin once her hand ran across the rough bark of an oak, her heart fluttering as she disappeared into the moon lit depths of the forest, Halsin having already made it more than halfway to her. 

[olderthannetfic]

I think another reason why people bemoan the relative lack of engagement compared to the Good Old Days Of Fandom - however they define them - is that you just get more attention when the show or whatever is still relatively new. Even more so if you yourself are new to the fan community, and said community centers on something niche. In my experience, if you find yourself as a new arrival in small-ship hell with 12 other people, these twelve other people WILL play "Yes, and" with even your dumbest blorbo/shitto headcanons. They'll leave kudos AND comments on all your drabbles (and you theirs). Your follower count will go up by 12. And that sets a bar in people's heads. But once a fandom gets a bit older, things settle down. Some of the old crowd will have moved on or be just casually into it, so new arrivals don't get as big a welcome as they used to. There's more fic to read at that point, so less incentive/gratefulness due to fic-hunger to leave comments on everything. People who struck up friendships in The Old Days will largely stick to each other bc they are either out of the hyperfixation or had already had the discussions that the newbies now have amongst each other five years ago. I think lack of engagement "nowadays" is really mostly a matter of timing, and not so much of lazyness or entitlement or whatecer "kids these days" get accused of.

--

A lot of it is just human memory being fallible. Another major factor is people discovering fandom in the first place through something big and active, then taking their interest in fic and such to the next pieces of media they happen to like—which may or may not be ones with fanworks fandoms.

[tenebraewrites]

ribs / bill farrah x reader

  I’d like to preface this by saying I love Darby and Bill beyond words -- but I wanted to start off with a one-shot/drabble  which my brain only saw through Bill x Reader. My unrealistic desire for Darby and Bill is to write about them spending the rest of their days solving crimes and living on the road. 

Anyway, for the sake of clarity, this is Bill x Reader, off on a road trip -- short musings and some tenderness in a motel room -- mildly nsfw!! <33 if anyone enjoys this i’ll probably flesh this out into an actual fic

   ----------

 Bill’s hand never wavers from its place atop your thigh - no matter the sharp turn he has to take, no matter the winding road he’s forced to slowly navigate. It rests upon your thigh, his fingers brushing beneath the hem of your skirt. Like all things with Bill, intimacy is an act of true tenderness; the circles he traces upon your skin send a flush down your neck, but they are foremost a simple, constant reminder of his affection.   

“We’ll be there in about ten.” Bill’s voice gently breaks through the quiet reverie of your thoughts. He accompanies this announcement with a gentle squeeze of your thigh, the corners of his lips twitching at the sigh of contentment that you can’t contain. 

Scoffing, you feign annoyance. “Shut up, Bill.” You shift in your seat, Bill’s hand dropping from your thigh. Rolling the window down a sliver, you let a small, tender stream blow across your skin. His hand returns, slowly inching across your thigh to make you laugh -- it resumes its natural place, and you fall back into quiet harmony. 

   He’s watching the road, and you’re watching him -- you’re counting his freckles again, thinking he’s gained three new ones. The radio offers the greatest source of sound in the car; Bill’s a focused driver, and the road makes you feel wonderfully melancholy. It isn’t sadness -- but your thoughts stir, faced with great expanses and endless roads. Bill’s presence is grounding, but it too, makes you reflective; you ponder your life before him, afraid to conceptualise one without him now. Bill told you once, late at night, curled into his side on a fractured hotel mattress, that he loves your moody tendencies . The parts of you that have deterred past lovers only endear you to him.

Your parents struggle to understand why you’ve become so wholly devoted to Bill - he is not the son in law they had dreamed of. His tattoos, dry ruminations on capitalism, his mullet; your parents can’t move past these things. You love them, still; it doesn’t matter what anyone else thinks. Bill’s all you need. He’s a best friend, a companion, a lover, a partner in crime -- it took you a long time to realize that’s what the love of your life should be. 

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

   The motel you two are staying in would surely rank amongst the dredges of the hospitality business - but you’ve hardly noticed the flickering hallway lights, or how the water only runs ice cold. 

Bill’s lips are on yours, gently seeking you again and again; his kisses are soft, coaxing, pleading. Sitting on his lap, his chest is firmly pressed against yours -- his arms hold you to him tightly, as if an inch of space between you two would be a chief insult. His hands are beneath your sundress, canvassing the expanse of your back like its newfound territory; he treats your body like a wondrous delight every time you two make love. Your body is forced to alternate between the burning need you have for him, and the sweet heaven of this moment -- the endless kisses are the finest precursor to what is to come. When you’re laying across the bed, your limbs splayed as Bill works you with his mouth, this moment now will have played its part. 

Reflexively you brush against him, needing friction to relieve the burning need your thoughts have unleashed. Bill senses this (he knows, he always knows), a hand moving to untie your dress - the fabric gathers at the top of your chest, because you’re too inraptured with kissing to brush it aside. Your hands are cupping his jaw, tracing lines across his fine symmetry - your fingers find the tattoos upon his shoulders, tracing the ink you could identify in your sleep. 

Pulling away from him, you move forward to kiss his cheeks; you press your lips to the small tattoo lying there, pepper love bites against the soft skin beneath the curve of his jaw. Bill tenses beneath you, his grip upon you becoming desperate; his fingers press into your skin, as he drags you across his lap in a languid motion. 

Emboldened, you cease your ministrations; placing your lips to his ear, so that your breath will flush his skin, you tease him. “I feel your heart racing.” 

“Shut up.” You can feel his skin flushing, your cheek pressed against his. Shifting so that your hands can cup his face, you’re given a clear view of Bill’s warm cheeks -- he’s smiling at you, so wholly uninhibited and happy. 

“Yeah?” Your voice is tender, caressing the back of his neck.

“Yes.” Bill is succinct, his affirmation quickly accompanied by his lips finding yours once more; what was once a slow, aimless pace, has been quickened. His hands move to cup your breasts, his fingers brushing against your nipples; you moan, an aching feeling building in your core. 

It is always like this with Bill. It’ll never matter how many times you’ve had sex - it’ll never matter how many times he’s made you cum on a motel mattress. He’ll always worship you like it's the very first time. 

[rollinouttahere-writes]

Crocodile gets this from an annoyance (Spandam)

You know what? Here, have a drabble. First fic using Lizard's official name.

No one in Impel Down got visitors, that's a given. Especially not someone left to rot in level 6, a level that even other prisoners didn't know existed. That's why Crocodile laughed when he was informed he had a visitor, having assumed it was a joke. The guard kept a straight face and said that the visitor would be there shortly, then left.

That certainly intrigued Crocodile and the other prisoners that had overheard the exchange. It didn't take long for the news that there was going to be a visitor to spread through out the entire block. Speculations about who it could be bounced between the cells, and the prisoners closest to him asked if he knew who it was. Crocodile shrugged off their questions. He genuinely had no clue. All he could do was wait for his visitor to arrive.

A door could be heard unlocking and opening down the hall, and Crocodile knew that that must be whoever has come down here to see him. His cell was around a corner, so he couldn't see who it was yet, but he could hear.

He could hear an onslaught of taunts and mockery coming from the other prisoners. Whoever this was appeared to be well known amongst these people, and most certainly not liked.

When the mystery visitor finally turned the corner, Crocodile had more questions than answers. Some battered, swollen man in a full body brace was being pushed towards him in a wheelchair. That definitely wasn't what he had been expecting to see.

The prisoner in the cell across from him started laughing hysterically. "Holy hell, Spandam?! And here I thought your mug couldn't get any uglier!" More prisoners joined in on the laughter, visibly elated to see this Spandam character in his sorry state. Crocodile had no idea who this man was, though he can recall hearing the name thrown around a few times.

Spandam is brought to a halt in front of Crocodile's cell. The ex-warlord smirked down at the weak looking man before him. He walked up to the bars and slid his hand and hook through them, grinning when he saw Spandam deliberately wheel himself back a bit when he saw the gleaming hook.

"Leave." The order was barked at the guards accompanying Spandam.

They looked at him incredulously, "Sir, this is Level 6, we can't just-"

"I said leave! I want to speak to him alone!" For such a thoroughly beaten man, he had a surprising amount of bark to him.

The guards hesitated, but eventually sighed and left, looking downright relieved to get away from him. Crocodile stared down at Spandam, curious as to what business he had with him.

"You!" The man seethed.

Crocodile chuckled, "What about me?"

"Your daughter!" That certainly caught his attention. "That little monster attacked me!"

For a moment, everything was silent. Crocodile took in Spandam's appearance, then laughed. Hard. Harder than he has in a long time. When he finally calmed down, he responded to the insane claim, "Sure she did. And I'm here because the Marines defeated me." He chuckled again, finding the bold-faced lie amusing.

Spandam's face turned red in rage, "She did!" He reached into his mouth and ripped out a bridge, "That crazy bitch kicked out my teeth and bit my fingers off!" The hand clutching the bridge only had three fingers, the pinky and ring finger absent.

Crocodile sneered at him, not caring for hearing this pathetic whelp call his daughter such a thing. "Nubia catches insects and gives them to her body guards to release outside because she can't stand to kill them, and you want me to believe she did that? If you're going to lie, at least make it believable."

The wheelchair inched closer to the cell as Spandam tried to act tough and yell. "I am a World Government official! I'm the chief of CP9! You can't even begin to comprehend the power I have!"

"And yet you couldn't fend off a little girl!" A prisoner called out from down the block, making many of the others laugh.

Spandam was practically foaming at the mouth. He turned his head as much as he could with his brace and casts and scowled at the offending prisoner. Then he looked back at Crocodile with a maniacal grin. He wheeled himself even closer to the cell, "You know why I came down here? I wanted to tell you in person that when I get my hands on that girl again, I'm going to make the rest of her life a living hell! She'll be begging for me to kill her whe-"

His words are cut off when Crocodile lunges forward. His hook sank into Spandam's shoulder and yanked him closer, and his hand locked around his throat to prevent him from screaming and alerting the guards. Murmurs of excitement echoed down the block as every prison clamber to watch the entertaining spectacle.

Crocodile glowered at the idiot before him, squeezing his neck harder and relishing in the panicked thrashing and gurgling sounds coming out of him. He spoke slowly but firmly, making sure that this fool would hear every word.

"If you so much as look at her, I'll rip your eyes out with my hook. If you breathe the same air as her, I'll eviscerate you, and if you ever touch her," Crocodile squeezed his neck tighter and dug the hook in deeper, "I will kill you."

With that, Crocodile released Spandam, making sure to do as much damage as possible when he tore his hook out. The scream that he let out once he could breathe again was ear-piercing and caught the attention of the guards. Despite the blood still dripping from his hook, they said nothing to Crocodile and just focused on removing the shrieking man from the block.

Everyone was cheering Crocodile on, happy to see him tear into the CP9 Chief. Crocodile didn't register any of their words as he stared at his blood soaked hook. His daughter was specifically being targeted by some very powerful people.

He needed to get out of here, and fast. And when he did, Spandam was going to be his first victim.

[ladamedusoif]

Visiting - Overview and Masterlist

(moodboard by the wonderful @cutesyscreenname)

*cross-posted on AO3*

*Series In Progress*

Pairing: Professor!Ben (College AU) x OFC Lydia/fem!Reader (reader POV/2nd POV)

Summary: Seeking a change of scenery after her life falls apart, Lydia crosses the Atlantic and arrives in a small New England town, to spend a year expanding her intellectual horizons as a visiting professor of art history at a small liberal arts college. Her growing friendship with Ben Morales, professor of Hispanic literature, forces Lydia to confront the fallout from her past - and raises unexpected questions about the future.

About Lydia: A couple of years ago she'd have told you her life was over. Now, at 41, Lydia has realised the future is hers to make - even if that means never opening her heart up again.

She's an art historian and European - though this should not be taken to imply a specific appearance or ethnicity! Her family and other aspects of her background are established.

You'll notice that the physical descriptors for Lydia are deliberately loose, other than: her age, that she's fem/AFAB, her hair is starting to grey, and she's got stretch marks and a whole metric ton of issues with her own body. In other words: she can look whatever way you want her to look in your own imagination, bearing these aspects in mind, and be from wherever you want her to come from.

Rating: Explicit (18+) - individual chapters will have their own ratings (there's a lot of fluff and angst ahead) but smut will be very clearly signalled. Expect bad language throughout. If you read beyond the warnings on each chapter, you are agreeing you're 18 years or older.

Content: Professor Ben College AU; smaller-than-usual-for-this-fandom age gap (she is 41 and Ben 47 when the story begins); canon is not a thing here; slow burn; explicit smut (eventually); discussion of infidelity and emotional abuse; discussion of self-esteem issues; references to body issues; strong language; alcohol; I'll update if I need to as the fic continues

A/N: My love for Mr Ben is well-known but I couldn't stop thinking about him as a literature professor and, well, here we are. This is my first fic, and it's written as an AU with nary a sprinkling of canon about a character who existed for five minutes in a sketch. Make it make sense, Rose.

This is going to be a multi-chapter series (I have a plan and an outline document and everything). I plan to add some headcanons for Professor Benjamin at some point, and will pop some little drabbles in amongst the full chapters.

There will be smut - but this is a slow-burner. You have been warned.

Main Series:

Chapter 1 - The Visitor

Chapter 2 - Bright in the Sea

Chapter 3 - Ghosts

Chapter 4 - Save Me

Chapter 5 - This Must Be The Place

Chapter 6 - If You'd Accept Surrender

Chapter 7 - Forget Who We Are

Chapter 8 - Sister Winter

Chapter 9 - Open Your Eyes

Chapter 10 - Something About You

Chapter 11 - My Favourite Work of Art

Chapter 12 - If I Must Have A Future

Chapter 13 - Coming Soon!

One-Shots and Drabbles:

An Inspecteur Calls: A Pedrotober One-Shot

Books: A Merry Fic-Mas One-Shot

Christmas Tree: A Merry Fic-Mas One-Shot

Please let me know if you'd like to be added to a taglist!

Thanks: to the people who made me feel less bonkers for developing an entire world around Ben and Lydia - @cutesyscreenname, headcanon collaborator, moodboard creator, and Prof Benjamin E. Morales enabler supreme; the incredibly encouraging, kind, and heroic fic writers whose understanding of how to embrace the sensitive and emotional hidden side of 'canonical' characters is an inspiration - @lunapascal, @imaswellkid, @julesonrecord

(bookshelf divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more)

[bucking-mustangs-with-wings]

Here I'll be posting all my stuff so that it's easier to find amongst the chaos that is this blog >

Barbed Wire Hearts (Rodeo) AU -

NEW Born to Ride (clegan) smut fic - tumblr - ao3

NEW Barbed Wire Hearts Fic Series - ao3

NEW Baby, Don't You Leave Me Hanging (clegan) fic + moodboard - tumblr

NEW Greener Than Wyoming (clegan) fic +moodboard - tumblr - ao3

NEW Ken x Curt Moodboard + snippet - tumblr

Rodeo AU Moodboard - tumblr

NEW Barbed Wire Hearts video edit - tumblr

Rodeo AU Original premise - tumblr

NEW Barbed Wire Hearts Soundtrack/Playlist - tumblr - spotify

Buck x Bucky Sorcerers vs Fae AU -

Game of Survival Fic - ao3 - tumblr Game of Survival video edit - tumblr

Sorcerers vs Fae Concept Video - tumblr

Sorcerers vs Fae WIP Preview - tumblr

Sorcerers vs Fae Original Premise - tumblr

John Egan Sorcerers vs Fae Character Moodboard - tumblr

Gale Cleven Sorcerers vs Fae Character Moodboard - tumblr

Sorcerers vs Fae Playlist - spotify

Other Stuff -

Cleven Twin Drabble - tumblr

buckxbucky Band/Punk au idea w HC - tumblr

buckxbucky Band/Punk au moodboard w short drabble - tumblr

buckxbucky werewolf au moodboard - tumblr college professor!bucky x skater!buck au moodboard - tumblr

skater!au buck x curt friendship moodboard w/ headcannons - tumblr

skater!au buck x curt friendship text moodboard - tumblr Skater!Buck & Skater!Curt Instagrams - buck - curt

Buck x Bucky Legion/Fallen angels au moodboard/concept - tumblr