#Jim's seen and heard enough shit that at this point nothing can surprise him really

[moonlit-orchid]

At this point all Jim can muster is mild surprise at anything Spock says

[amomentsescape]

Could you do a headcanon/fic where Jerome killed your parents and you try to help the GCPD find him but when you see him you catch feelings?

A/N: I got really sucked into this one. It ended up being a little long so I hope you don’t mind!

Warnings?: A few angry cuss words.

I Should Hate You (Jerome Valeska x Reader)

(Part Two)

It’s funny how after all of the documentaries and crime shows that you watched, you never realized how quickly a murder could be committed. 

You were gone for two hours- two hours that you wish you could take back more than anything.

You were just getting groceries. It wasn’t something that felt necessary to you, which may be why the guilt was becoming unbearable.

You came home to see the yellow tape already being put up. And God, the police. There were so many of them. You swore you had never seen that many badges in one place before.

The moment you got out of your car, they were practically sprinting to you, attempting to keep you away from the house.

“Ma’am, we’re going to have to ask you to-”

“This is my house!” you practically screamed at them. “This is my house, and those are my parents that were in there!”

Their faces immediately softened to a slight look of apology. Your first reaction was to think that they felt bad for trying to stop you, but you quickly realized that it was for something else.

Your eyes shifted over only slightly, but it was enough to see the black body bags lying only several feet away from you.

You couldn’t say anything; your voice failed you. You simply looked back at a few of the police officers in front of you, processing the situation.

The sounds around you became muted, and your mind became empty. Your senses were so numbed out that you didn’t even notice the tears falling down your face until the salty taste hit the tip of your tongue.

Your trance was only partially broken when you heard a voice getting closer.

“Get back to the scene. Let me take over with this.”

You looked up to see a familiar man in front of you. His eyes were slightly glossed over, but the stern tightness of his mouth told you that he had gone through similar situations many times before. 

‘Of course he had,’ you thought. 

“Excuse me,” he said softly. “I’m so very sorry about your losses. I’m Commissioner Jim-”

“Jim Gordon,” you finished. It seemed your voice finally found its way back to you.

He simply stared at you for a moment, surprised you were still thinking clearly.

“Your reputation precedes you, Mr. Gordon.”

You felt a little apologetic for coming off so bluntly. You didn’t mean to be rude, but you also didn’t care like you usually would have. The loss of your parents still hadn’t hit you fully. Your mind was still rather hazy, and there was a little hope in your heart that maybe this was all a mistake.

He cleared his throat a bit, trying to collect the right words to say.

He decided to just cut to the chase.

“We know who did it.”

That seemed to lift the fog around you very quickly. Your tears began to spill again from reality hitting you another time.

Jim placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, connecting his eyes with yours. 

“I know all of this is probably too much right now, and I understand if you feel uncomfortable with this decision. But we’d appreciate if you would be able to help us with the case.”

His hand tightened briefly before letting go, his eyes still remaining on yours.

“You are the only family they had in this area from what we gathered. The man who did this has still yet to be caught. We need all the help we can get with this.”

Your first reaction was to just say no. You wanted to go home. You wanted to make your parents dinner like you had been planning to do. You just wanted things to go back to normal. But a part of you was still connected to the reality of it all.

You knew that things would never be the same again. But what could you do? Take down the bad guy? Fulfill the sudden vendetta that had been placed on you only moments prior?

Your heart and mind finally agreed on the answer.

“Take me to the GCPD. Tell me what you know.”

——————————————————————————

Jerome Valeska.

The name made your blood boil and your tears ever-flowing.

You knew who he was a long time ago. How could you not? He was, and still is, one of the most dangerous people in Gotham. His escape from Arkham only added to his reputation.

And you hated him. You hated him for killing your parents, for murdering innocent people. But you hated him the most for taking your happiness away.

Jim had accepted your offer quickly and took you back to the police department as soon as he could.

There were no signs prior to the murder. Nothing was taken, but the house was a wreck. All except for your room.

Jim had a hunch that Jerome wasn’t done. He knew that he’d come back to the house. Why? He couldn’t answer.

It didn’t take long to clean up the house so you could continue living there. They already knew who did it, and Jim was a little softer with you about the whole situation.

He had a police officer outside your house every night for the past week. You felt safer knowing that someone was there for you, but it didn’t help alleviate the emptiness of your home.

Jim promised that you would be safe. He kept a type of alert system with you that would let the GCPD know if something was wrong right away. All it took was a quick push of a button and the police would be there in only a few minutes. 

You trusted him and agreed to the decision. You also had a gut feeling that Jerome would come back. He was the type to love a challenge, and you were going to give him one. You had confidence that things would be fine, and that you were going to be part of the reason why the red head would be back inside that damn asylum.

This all changed rather quickly.

It was around 11 pm when you heard the sound.

You, of course, were already awake. You hadn’t been able to sleep since the situation had occurred. The feeling of loneliness was enough to keep you up at night, and you refused to fight with it anymore.

The sound of a door banging downstairs forced you out of bed, making your way to the hall.

You were scared, but there was a feeling of reassurance as well. That police officer was still outside your house. It was almost impossible for someone to get past him without his knowledge. 

Or so you thought.

Your back made quick contact with the cold wall behind you. The shadows in the hallway made it difficult for you to see what was going on until you felt a slight breath on your face.

“Well hi there, Gorgeous.”

Your eyes locked with his quickly. You expected to be angry. You thought that the moment you looked at him you would scream or fight back, maybe even cry at the built up grief that had been accumulating for days on end. But instead, you stayed silent.

His goddamn eyes. 

Instead of feeling any of the emotions that you were expecting to, you only felt the beating of your heart against your chest. Your stomach twisted into unfamiliar knots as you kept your gaze on his. 

Your mind was screaming at you to push him off, to fight back. The man before you killed your family and was surely going to kill you too.

But your body failed you. And Jerome took notice of this.

“You’re not scared of me, are you?”

You simply shook your head.

“You’re prettier up close, you know?” he continued on.

That got your attention. Your brows furrowed at him as you watched his signature grin grow wider.

“You can go fuck yourself, Jerome,” you spat back.

He laughed heartily at this, his grip on your arm grew a little tighter. It wasn’t enough to hurt you, but it prevented you from moving much.

You also took notice at the way his thumb rubbed against your skin. It was as if he was caressing your arm in some odd way.

“Only if you help me, Dollface.”

You let out a disgusted spat, but you couldn’t fight the slight blush that crept up your face.

“You killed my family, you bastard,” you responded angrily. “So if you’re going to kill me too, just get it over with already.”

The hope that maybe the police officer was going to rush in at any second had finally faded down to nothing. You were too far from the alert and your phone to contact anyone. All you had the decision of making was to scream to gather attention from anyone who could hear, but you didn’t want to.

You were angry at yourself for finding the man in front of you absolutely perfect.

You should hate him. You HAVE to hate him. Run, fight, anything!

But you ignored them all. The way his eyes trailed down your face, and the way his hand kept exploring your upper arm made your heart flutter in a way that you hadn’t felt in a long time.

He let out a sigh.

“But you see, I don’t want to kill you. Why do you think I waited until you were gone last week?”

You felt a sudden pang of anger in your gut.

“Why did you kill them?” you asked. The sound of your voice came out softer than you would have liked.

He let his smile drop as he pushed himself closer to your face. His nose was practically touching yours at this point, but all you could seem to focus on was the way his lips twitched so close to your own.

“Parents,” he began, pushing the whisper against your skin, “are nothing of importance.”

He pulled away from you suddenly. Your eyes fixated on the knife in his hand, realizing that you were in more danger than you had originally thought.

He twirled the black handle in his palm, his face unreadable.

“My own mother didn’t give two shits about me. She held me back, forced the true nature of who I was into a cage.”

You kept watching him, your heart beat picking up at an unnatural rate.

“You are something special, (Y/N). You don’t deserve to be in a cage. You deserve to be praised upon the highest shelf.”

You found yourself shifting closer to him. He was like a magnet that couldn’t be stopped. 

You didn’t understand why he was being so kind to you, or why he was acting like he already knew you.

“What are you going to do, Gorgeous? Turn me in? Try to fight me?” He let out a laugh. “I don’t want to hurt you. In fact, I want you to come with me.”

The fact that he wanted you with him wasn’t what scared you. No, it actually did quite the opposite. What worried you was the slightly stained knife in his hand.

He had already killed someone on his way to your house, you were sure of it. And he would probably do the same thing once he left as well.

“Give me the knife, Jerome. I won’t turn you in if you give me the knife,” you responded.

What the hell were you thinking? Were you really going to let this criminal go?

You looked up at his face and noticed the way his gaze scanned to your lips and back to your eyes.

Yes, you were.

When he didn’t respond, you let out a groan of frustration.

“I know my parent’s had knife wounds! I know the body they found two weeks prior had their throat slit! That knife must be goddamn important to you, Jerome. So give it to me, and I’ll let you go.”

He only shook his head at you.

“This is my only weapon right now. You really want to ruin my fun?”

You ran your hand through your hair in exasperation.

“Yes. Give me the damn knife so I know that you can’t hurt anyone else. At least for tonight!”

You knew that this wasn’t really the bargain you had wanted, but you couldn’t bring yourself to do what needed to be done.

He made a ‘tsk’ sound with his tongue.

“No can do. You’re not-”

He suddenly stopped at the sound of footsteps downstairs.

“Miss (Y/L/N)? I noticed that your door was open with no sign of you down here. Is everything alright?”

Oh, now the police officer noticed. Of course.

Jerome smiled as he moved his gaze back, placing his hands on either side of your head onto the wall behind you.

“So, Doll. What’s it going to be?”

Your eyes moved from the top of the stairs back to the psychopath in front of you, your heart and mind being torn apart.

“All it takes is one little scream- one little yelp.” His face moved impossibly close to yours again, your breath hitching in your throat.

You didn’t know what you were thinking. In fact, you were sure you were going to regret it as soon as you did it.

You looked at the knife beside your head and grabbed for it.

He quickly retracted his hand and let out a sigh.

“I told you, Doll. You’re not getting this from me.”

You heard another call for your name downstairs. You let out a silent breath as you finally thought ‘fuck it.’

You smashed your lips to his as you grabbed the knife from his now loosened grip.

You heard a slight sound in his throat at the sudden feeling of your mouth to his.

You pulled away just as soon as you had kissed him though, and yelled to the stairs.

“I’m here! Everything is fine!”

You looked back to Jerome and mouthed a ‘get out’ to him.

His stunned gaze moved from the knife in your hand to your eyes as he began to smile widely. 

He started to speak to you just above a whisper as the police officer’s footsteps could be heard coming up the stairs.

“Oh, Gorgeous. You better believe I’ll be coming back for that knife.”

You gave a slight push to his chest, trying to usher him back to your room so he could leave through your window.

He let out a chuckle as he began to back up quickly.

“And for you,” he finished.

You finally watched as his figure hopped out of your room just before the officer got to you. You looked down at the knife in your hand, trying to shake off the feeling of hope bubbling inside your chest.

[notdeadyet09]

Cherry slushees are the only reason to wake from the dead

Read on AO3 : https://archiveofourown.org/works/27466426

Ship: Valeyne with hints of Wayleska

word count : 3591

Warning: Jerome.... uses a gun at one point and t’s kind of manipulative 

Weekly visits to the graveyard were almost as constant as weekly threats on Bruce’s life. They were tedious and usually not very exciting. The most action anyone could get was if Jerome’s Maniax were trying to cause trouble again. Bruce should have been thankful for the lack of trouble (he wasn’t). After all, as much as he would never admit it, Jerome wasn’t ever boring

It was unusually cold for September, Bruce noted while wrapping his jacket tighter around himself. The cold seeping out of his breath, little vapors. Bruce could faintly remember a time when his mother had called it “the last remembering blood of the dragons”. There were no dragons anymore, no time for playing games of fantasy and fairy tales. Though he wouldn’t be surprised if they showed up again this was Gotham after all.

It would almost make him laugh, dragons flying over the perpetually gray skies, lighting them up with fire. Maybe if there were dragons it would be the reason today felt different. Something being decidedly off. It had started with Bruce missing his alarm. Though it almost seemed a primary to most people Bruce never missed his alarm, whether it be the clock in his head or the phone on his phone, he was always up at 5:30 in the morning. But today he slept in, waking up only when Alfred had come to look for him (Alfred seldom woke up when Bruce did, sighing about old age and needing rest. Bruce could almost agree with him).

So after his entire schedule had been thrown off, he had to deal with the unfortunate circumstances of one Selina Kyle, turning up, high as a kite. It wasn’t often that she smoked but when she did, she went all out. Bruce could surmise that she did most things that way.

After laying her down to sleep and answering a few questions that no one would ask unless you were high as a kite (Bruce had almost burst out laughing when she asked him if he slept upside down, like a bat) and bidding Alfred a warm farewell he’d slipped into the cold Gotham air.

Weekly visits could have seemed risky, the routine of it all making it easy to find him, but in Bruce’s heart, he didn’t care. If nothing else he had to make sure that Jerome was dead. He didn’t see Jerome die. He could only assume what laughter he went out on (if he was laughing). But he did see the body before they put it in a cheap coffin and a small service that only the other twin attended. Bruce certainly didn’t think about how he stood there, hiding behind a tree, listening to the empty words of a hired priest. No, he really didn’t think about that. He also didn’t think about the stab of a bad feeling when he heard about Jerome’s death. The sickly way that tears almost surfaced. Because why wouldn’t they? Jerome was someone that Bruce had never claimed to know well but from a few choice words at the diner, he understood enough

“No one helped me… ever” it was said with almost disbelief, and barely disclosed humor. Though it did mean something to Bruce. What makes someone like Jerome happen. Cause it really wasn’t care and help.

Bruce shook off the thought, reminding himself of what Jerome had done. It was no matter who made him like this, he still did terrible things. Things that kept Bruce up at night. Like spraying Jeremiah. Oh, Jeremiah. Burce almost grimaced at the thought of the man before the gas. A good man. Someone hurt by their own twin brother and left one last trap after it was all over. What would Jeremiah say if he knew who Bruce was reminiscing about?

He didn’t feel like answering that question today, with all of the feelings that went along with it. Why would he be mad? It's not like…. Like anything. It’s nothing Bruce thought as deftly made his way through cleanly cut grass and pale grey headstones.

It was, unfortunately, familiar; the feeling that dropped to the pit of Bruce’s stomach as he froze taking in his surroundings. Something was wrong, terribly fucking wrong. Displaced earth the color of late-night coffee and a shovel lay next to an open grave.

Jerome’s open grave.

Bruce instantly whipped around, almost expecting Jerome’s Maniax to come falling down from the sky like flying monkeys. His breathing becomes sharp but quiet, ears straining to hear anything that might give him a clue. Bruce knew that he should be calling Jim or Alfred or hell, even Jeremiah but something made him digress. Something made him want to stay here and fight. To fight like the dragons that didn’t exist anymore. The incredible itch to fight and win wasn’t something new theta Bruce had expected but it was something that he largely never dealt with. Never dealt with who caused it. Later he could deny the almost giddy feeling of finally something happening. Later maybe he wouldn’t need to. But now he just stood his ground, digging expensive boots into the soft late-night coffee dirt.

Bruce didn’t seem to notice the curling of his fists, the rosey fingertips still numb from the cold, and looked up and the bright gray sky. It was the kind of gray you’d find on harsh winter days, the stark blue’s and harsh whites of snow simulating the city. You’d never see the sun, but it always loomed. Loomed wasn’t the word most people would call the sun, that being reserved for fear and clowns at children’s birthday parties. Bruce thought the word made sense, as Gotham seldom was like everywhere else.

Bruce resided to urge to call out for Jerome’s cult, knowing that they had to be here somewhere, somehow. Calling them out would only make them hide more. It was an aspect the Bruce never got, seeing how taunting Jerome only made it easier to find him. Though it may be because the Maniax were only cheap imitations, not the real thing. Bruce should stop thinking like that shouldn't he, the almost fond smile he got when talking about the late face stapler sleeping back into practiced apathy.

Sighing, Bruce walked over to the grave, crouching down to talk about the cold soil in his fingers. It was fresh, as only dirt used to cover your worst (best) enemy could be. Likely dig less than a day or so. Why hasn't anybody noticed? Maybe there wasn’t anybody left to notice the sickly part of him answered, referring to the king night guard that had always let them in. Bruce happened he wasn’t dead. Strike that, Bruce knew he wasn’t dead. After all, what good was hope if he didn’t know it (that’s all hope’s good for). The shovel was interesting, placed haphazardly on the ground as someone had just thrown it there. Maybe they had. Maybe they were running and hiding, though Bruce doubted that they could run carrying a casket, seeing how it was missing.

Must have been more than one person then. That at least narrowed the list done to basically everyone.

“This is getting nowhere,” Bruce muttered, still rubbing dirt in between his fingers. Only now had it donned on him that he should call Alfred. Even though calling Alfred was likely the first thing that anyone else would have done (either that or they didn’t know the man well enough). But Bruce did, barely bothering to wipe the dirt off of his hands before reaching into his coat. The black coat almost seems to envelop him, like the night sky lacking stars. There weren’t ever any stars in Gotham, cloud cover, and light pollution getting in the way. After all the first time Bruce had seen stars, real stars were in Switzerland. When he was 12. Someone might call it sad, or as the missing dead man would say, absolutely fucking hilarious.

Bruce could see it as funny too, only seeing the stars after the passing of his parents. Passing was such a kind and soft word for murdered in an alley, used by stuffy old people paying their respects (and apparently 19-year-old billionaire vigilantes).

Shuffling around Bruce finally realized something. He left his phone at home. Shit. Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. Bruce could almost laugh. Of course, this was the day he left his phone at home. It only served as evidence that something had it out for the poor boy, something with a cruel sense of humor.

He did a final pass over, making sure that at least he had some weapons; that being his chain, a Batarang, and what could only be described as the shock pen (a name given by a very high Selina). I was basically a mini taser that was sure to be illegal everywhere but this was Gotham after all.

The silence in the graveyard almost froze like it was waiting for a cue. And cue it did get, in the form of familiar laughter. Jarring, hysterical laughter that Bruce had only heard from one man. Bruce whipped around coming face to face with a smiling man holding a slushie.

Fuck.

“Heya Bruice,” The familiar nickname and the smiling face of Jerome Valeska couldn’t be mistaken for anyone other than a man coming back from the dead. And of course, he’s back. It’d only fit for what fluid rules mortality in Gotham ran on. Because the old lady that had passed away a month ago didn’t get to come back but of course, the psycho clown gets too.

“How?!... How the fuck are you alive,” The words came out shakily, the resolve Bruce had been building after Jerome’s death less steady than he thought. But I suppose seeing a dead man can do that.

“Such language,” Jerome gasped, the words scratchy. He paused coughing once before taking another slurp of the slushie. Where’d he get that and who he had killed to get it Bruce didn't want to know, instead reaching in his coat to pull out a Batarang. But something stopped him.

That being the sharp click of a gun and metal being pointed in his direction. Because why wouldn't Jerome have a gun?

“Whatever you’re going to pull out of that very expensive coat of yours, I suggest you don’t," he was smiling, a sickly kind of smile that was almost fond (bruce almost wondered if Jeremiah got it from him). He was dressed in what Bruce could only assume he was buried in, a cheap tux that lacked any source of flair and panache. Almost like the one he’d been wearing at the gala when Bruce got the little white scar that seems to burn against his neck now.

Surveying what little option he had left, Bruce decided on just sighing and putting his hands up. He’d hoped that Jerome was still a little stiff form y’ know coming back from the dead and that he would be a little easier to take down. One could only hope as Jerome laughed a bitter laugh, eyes trained on Bruce’s face. He was looking for something, whether it be a sign of what Bruce was going to do or just a plain crazy that sent a chill down Bruce's spine.

“How are you here?” The words came out steadier this time, as the surprise of a dead man walking began to diminish. Another day, another psycho clown twin brother of your sort off boyd=friend rising from the grave.

“Well funny story-,” Jerome said scratching the back of his head with the gun. The safety wasn't on “- I woke up, tired and in real need on a slushie and y' know the place on 4th and Baker street sooooo….” he paused, letting false tension build. Still the showman as always.

“You came back from the dead for a goddamn slushie," Bruce interrupted anger and disbelief coating his voice. It was in character though for the red-haired man to take death like it was only a nap between classes at the rich school’s bruce used to attend. It should have frightened him more. A lot more, but Bruce could only focus on the almost giddy smile of a man happy. “Oh, and by the way, how is my little…. Fuck he’s older than me now!” It didn't take a genius to figure out who he talking about.

Nor did it take a genius to see the slight flush on Bruce’s cheeks. Jerome paused slightly, scattered thoughts flashing through his head. Did something happen? Did they happen? It almost made Jerome cringe before he remembered the gas. The little trap for a little brother.

“Your damn trap worked if that’s what you're wondering,” Bruce answered the question unsaid. It could be easily forgotten how good the dark knight was at reading people, years of charity balls and betrayal would do that. But that still didn’t answer the flush. If the cold (was it cold? it’s hard to tell when you’ve been dead) was to blame or something else entirely. Jerome hoped for the cold. He wasn’t ever a liar, or blind, Bruce was cute and interesting, almost more interesting than anyone in Gotham and to think that his brother, infected by the same insanity as Jerome had snatched him up made him sick to his stomach. Though that could be whatever bugs he hadn't thrown up yet.

“Are you blushing over dear old Jeremiah Brucie boy,” Barely contained anger made Bruce freeze. What was Jerome getting at? Though Bruce knew that an answer might only anger him more if it is a true one at that.

“Why should you care, Jerome?” Bruce was overwhelmingly aware of the flush on his face, reconsidering if it would be best to try and fight him now. After all the last time Jerome saw Jeremiah he was still sane (maybe he never was a little voice whispered). It would have been cute if it didn’t mean that Jeremiah had won.

And Jerome never lost, but when he did he was one hell of a sore loser.

“Because I want to know if that bitch went to the cute billionaire before I did,” It was said casually, obviously feigned but still casual. The words took about five seconds to register in Bruce's head before he choked on his own breath.

"You’re not funny Jerome,” He hissed through his teeth, wrapping the coat further around him before asking another question.

“How the hell aren’t you cold,” He pointedly looked down at Jerome’s bare feet, stained blue and covered in dirt. Jerome didn’t answer, instead picking up another slush from the ground. Why hadn’t Bruce seen that?

Again, though it might have just been the shock of a very cold and odd day, it took a few seconds for Bruce to realize what Jerome was offering.

“How do I know that you didn't do something to it,”

“I’ve only been alive for one day and you really I’d kill you like this, with no one watching,” So It was just them. But it did bring back sick remembrance of dead butlers and staples. Of the Carnival where Bruce had bargained for his life and almost ended up taking Jerome's. Bruce nearly shook his head, trying to dislodge frozen memories and focus on what’s in front of him.

“Just give me the goddamn slushee you fuck,”

“The mouth on this kid,” Jerome handed him the plastic cup, only ⅔ full. Bruce pointedly ignored that Jerome had likely drunk from the straw that he would before talking again.

“First of all I’m older than you and second, how exactly are you planning on making my life a living hell this time,” He was tired, and it almost offended Jerome, that someone was taking more of Bruce’s energy then he was. So he did what every good performer does when something isn’t going their way… try to seduce the audience.

“Y’know I was going to shoot you,” a glare was sent his way, form tightening “but I decided no I’m just going to have some fun with my favorite volunteer~,” He purred the last words, relishing in the momentary shock spreading over Bruce’s face. Sadly it was smothered over by priced apathy and feigned emotionless. Jerome knew better, saw the little cracks in the mask Bruce seldom took off.

“But I could always just… try to kill your butler again,” It was a cheap shot, both of them knew that but it worked, as Bruce lunged forward with new fury in his eyes.

Jerome slid left only to be tripped by Bruce’s longer legs (when had he gotten so fucking tall?). The newly found breath was knocked out of him and a punch landed to his face. Familiar pain bloomed, with the slight tearing of skin. It had been sewed on better this time before he was put in the ground. Bruce could see the giddy surprise when he easily took down Jerome, practicing moves against dead men. Getting the gun was easy, one strike to a fragile wrist and it was flying to the other side of somewhere. Jerome’s skin was cold though, even more like Jeremiah. Or maybe Jeremiah's was like Jerome’s. It was uncanny, the familiar of their positions. NO smeared face paint or mirror shards this time. Bruce loomed over Jerome, tired fury burning in his eyes.

Bruce looked older, Jerome noted, remembering the offhand comment Bruce had made. That meant that Bruce had to be 19 at least. Less boyish charm and more hard angles. Still the same smell of rich person perfume. Seriously, if Jerome could count on one thing from the otherwise surprising boy (Jerome still refused to call him a man) it was that the rich floated off of him. “This… feels familiar. I can’t put my finger on it though,” Bruce glared at him again before noting how he stood. Oh.

“Shut up or I will make you shut up,” It should have come out harsh and grim like the “bat growl” Selena had nicknamed it. But instead, it sounded breathless, like this had been the fight he was searching for.

] “I’d like to see that Brucie~” Again with the flirting. Jerome wasn’t even thinking about the knife in his pocket, only focused on the very angry man on top of him.

Bruce found it hard to think as well, acting on instinct. That seemed to happen a lot around Jerome. Case in point smashing his lips against Jerome’s. Fuck.

His lips unsurprisingly were smiling. But they tasted like dirt and ort and cinnamon. Why did they taste like cinnamon? Bruce could hardly compare it to the few kisses he shared with Jeremiah. They were different, Jeremiah being like mint, a lemon, cold and sharp.

Oh, and Jerome was kissing back, like really kissing back. Through giggles and muffled words, Bruce didn’t want him to say. Jerome was like kissing gasoline. Like poison and fire and crescendos in crappy club music. It made Bruce want to laugh.

On the other hand, Jerome Was laughing, kissing someone who felt like the beating sun on burnt skin and ducking your head in ice water. Jerome would swear that something had zapped him every time Bruce moved his lips. But then it ended, Bruce pulling away with wide eyes.

“What the fuck did I just do?” He whispered, not getting up from the familiar position on Jerome. What the fuck indeed. And Jerome was still laughing, before looking up with eyes filled with danger. Danger that Bruce had seen in his own.

“Well I’m pretty sure you just made out with a mur-” he was cut off by bruce’s hands shoving themselves over his mouth. Half tempted to lick them before he looked up and saw the most emotion he’d ever seen on Bruce Wayne’s face.

Shock and a faraway look were the easiest to spot, but the remaining anger and guilt came pouring out of him like oil. His lips were bruised, and his hands shaking. Jerome could watch him like this for hours.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said sheepishly, lifting his hands from Jerome’s face.

“What’s there to be sorry for darling, except for pulling away,” Jerome on the other hand felt like he was flying. He hadn’t lost after all. And y’ know he got to kiss a very pretty boy who almost killed him once. That seems to let Bruce finally come to what little sense he must have had left and lifted himself off of Jerome.

Only now, after Bruce had gotten up did Jerome notice the cold. It almost made reach to pull Bruce back down. But he didn’t, instead opting to watch the dark-haired man with happy eyes. Bruce wasn’t running like he should have done. He didn’t seem to be doing a lot of things he should be doing today wasn't he? Instead, he just picked up the slush and sat back down next to Jerome.

“So I’m guessing nobody’s going to know about this,” Jerome spoke, breaking what surprisingly wasn’t an awkward silence.

And Bruce was laughing. Laughing quietly but still laughing. Holy shit Jerome was in love. It was sweet and fragile, like a spider’s web but and the same time sharp and harsh. The wonderful paradox that was Bruce Wayne Jerome supposed as he started laughing too. And there they were, a man who repeatedly refuse to stay dead and a man who stubbornly refused to kill, laughing like children in a graveyard.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

Kids, Monsters, D&D, and Adults (Sriracha, Part. 18)

Description: A problematic college student gets the worst summer job of the ‘83 - Jim Hopper, the Chief of police in your hometown will have you as his secretary since his old lady Flo has two months lasting holiday. It was agreed so Hopper could let you far away from all the trouble.

Part Summary: You decided to give Hopper a short break from seeing you every day... But you didn't know how much can happen in your hometown in a week and a half you're gone.

A/N: And... Welcome Mr. Demogorgon disrupting everyone’s life on the stage, please, give it up for him! (Reader is on holiday in North Dakota during the events of the first season.)

A/N 2: I went a bit off the OG events, but here, I have drunk Hopper on the phone mumbling about being cursed for you, enjoy, please. Actually inspired by Heroes (Peter Gabriel's cover) - the song playing when they found Will's body.

Word count: 4.1 K

Tagging: @nemodoren​, @creedslove​

Master list: H E R E

Just as your mom asked you to, two days after the dinner at your parents’, Jim dropped you off at your house in the early morning. It was more or less safe since it was only five in the morning and Hawkins was dead asleep at the moment. You didn't want him to be alone, but he brushed you off with ’it's only twelve days, what can happen during that?’ and you reminded him of what you had done in twelve days, leaving him with a nasty grin. 

You both almost fainted, because just in the middle of your heated making-out session, just as his hand palmed your thigh as you basically climbed onto his seat, your brother came out of the house along with Steve, grinning. Steve looked at both of you with confusion before turning around and disappearing.

Steve Harrington had a girlfriend now, or so you heard. Nancy Wheeler became to lucky one, at least that was what the rumors were saying. He couldn't forgive about the endless crush on you, though.¨

You told Hopper to leave for work before your mom sees him there, laughing as Aiden helped you with your stuff, greeting Hopper. He really did drive, honking at your parents, waving at them as he left for the station. 

It was the third of November - you were supposed to see Hopper again on the sixteenth day of that month. And you were honestly ready to take a short break from the everlasting dishes and laundry at your house and just relax before coming back to the arms of the man you grew to adore. 

To be honest, you loved your father’s parents’ house in North Dakota - it was a big house in the middle of nothing, ten minutes away from the nearest signs civilization. The sixteen-hours lasting road trip in your/Aiden's car was almost endless and it was hot like hell at whiles, but in the end, you loved the view more than anything.

You had also a lot of family members, like aunties and cousins your age there and you were excited to meet all of them after such a long time. You promised a call to Hopper as soon as you reach their house - and so you did, giving him the number as well. It was midnight, but you knew that he’s waiting for it. And of course, he picked up as soon as you started ringing, laughing like a small kid when you told him that he rather should go to sleep.

It was a quick call just to reassure you that he's fine - you asked him about food and laundry and he told you, with a chuckle, that you're worried too much and that he managed to survive forty years without you - that thirteen days is basically nothing.

Most of the days, you spent walking around in the wilderness. Your cousin Corrie showed you a pack of wild bison living near your grandparent’s house and a great overlook. Other days, you and your other cousin Jane helped your granny with baking and cooking or tiding up. Everyone was thrilled to have you there because they saw both you and Aiden once a year. They took you to the local cinema, for some shopping and even for a time at the local pool and local dance. You were enjoying yourself the most you could. 

Everyone was surprised when someone asked you the typical question - ’And do you have a boyfriend already?’ - and your mom answered ’She, in fact, has. And it's a lovely lad.’, winking at you. She still wasn't okay with Hopper, it was only four days since the dinner, but she was slowly adjusting to the situation. They asked you a lot about that mysterious ’Jim’, but you never told them much about your man. 

It came on the third day you were in Dakota - the sixth of November. You were just playing with your four-year-old cousin Marty, building Lego spaceships, when your grandma came into the room, holding a phone in her hand, handing you the handset. 

“It’s some Mr. Hopper. He told me that he has to speak to you immediately. He told me that he knows you.” - She whispered while you put Jim on your ear, nodding. You let Marty play with the Lego and left to an empty room. 

“Do you miss me that much, Mr. Hopper?” - You joked, but at the moment you heard Jim sighing, you knew that somethings extremely wrong in Hawkins. First, you thought that maybe he wants to break up with you - but then you remembered him asking about your panties yesterday when you called him around two a.m. and shook the thought off. - “What's going on, Jim? I'm here. Is it Vietnam? New York? Sara?”

“No, it's not that... I just... Jesus, I feel like I need to talk to someone and you're the only one who is goin’ to listen to me and actually understands.” - Okay, so Mr. Hopper was clearly drunk and smoking on the other end of the line, so you sat down on a sofa, exhaling slowly. - “Sometimes... I feel like shit, but you know that. But now, I feel fuckin' cursed, Y/N. And you're not here to stop me from doin’ shit.” - He giggled drunkenly and you stiffened. What was his fucking deal? Had something happened after you left Hawkins? Had Diane called? Did something happen at the station? Did Steve fucking Harrington tell someone what he saw? You swore to God...

“Jim, what you're after? I don't understand, baby, you need to tell me what's wrong.” - You mumbled back and looked at Aiden, who was just checking in on you. You mouthed ’Hopper’ and he nodded before closing up the door after him, telling everyone to keep off the line and out of the room.

“I'm a fuckin’ black hole, y’ know? All the fuckin’ shit that ever happened in Hawkins... It follows me. The last case of person goin’ missin’ happened in the summer of ’23 and the last suicide here was on the fall of ’61, y’ know?” - He asked you rhetorically and you just kept on being silent, trying to decipher the meaning of his entire speech.

“And when I find someone or somethin’ I can fight for or when I feel safe for a minute, it all goes to shit after a while, it all just fuckin' goes to shit.” - Jim said and you could hear him crying. 

“Will you tell me what happened finally? You're freaking me out, Jim.” - You asked silently, playing with the hem of your sweater. Hopper was clearly angry and terrified of something - he would probably get drunk even if you were in Hawkins. His voice was emotionless, he was playing the tough guy card at the moment.

“A kid got lost today.” - He answered honestly and your breath got stuck a bit, but you kept your damn mouth shut since you could hear him taking a breath to continue. - “I thought he has just wandered off the main road or somethin’ but it really looks like that kid’s missin’. It's the Byers boy, that younger one.” - He told you and you closed your eyes. No wonder he felt like shit when a kid got lost in the woods, probably. 

“Have you found something, Jim? Don't be angry or sad, there's still hope.” - You whispered, watching your cousin Diane in the same age little Will was playing outside with a ball.

You knew Joyce Byers from occasionally visiting Melvald’s in the downtown. You remember the day you walked in and while you were handing her the cash, she pointed out on a drawing of a big rainbow spaceship and proudly, she said ’My son Will drew this.’ You knew her boys from meeting them sometimes. The brothers were a bit weird, but when a kid goes missing, you don't care if they were weird or not.

You just want to find them as quickly as possible.

"A bike if that's what you wanna call 'a find'." - Hopper mouthed back and you could hear him crying, he just couldn't handle the situation anymore. It was breaking your heart to hear him being this much fucked up. You wanted to hug him, press your body onto his, hold him tight and whisper him sweet nothings. You wanted to kiss him and make things right at least for a second.

"James Hopper, you better listen to me right now. You're the best cop I've ever seen. Stop whining, go to sleep now and you're going to find this fucking kid because that kid is lost somewhere in the woods, it's freezing to death, it's terrified and alone, you hear me?" - You said aggressively, being completely done with him and his self-shaming shit at that point. - "You won't duck out and you will make me proud."

You talked to him until the moment he really fell asleep, walking out of the empty room after the phone went silent. There were emptiness and horror inside of you. Will Byers got lost and your boyfriend promised himself to find him. You were destroyed, tired and worried for Jim, but you encouraged him enough to trust in himself. Or at least you thought so.

"What happened? Is Hopper doing okay?" - Your mom asked with a furrow as soon as you entered the door and you shook your head, looking at her with terror. They were just having a huge family dinner outside your granny's house, everyone from the family came to greet you.

"A kid went missing in Hawkins. You remember that little Byers? He always rode the bike with his friends, they were inseparable." - You mumbled and your mom only let out quiet 'Oh God' to summarize the whole situation. She went on a and gave Joyce a call - to tell her not to lose hope in finding Will.

You haven't left the house for the other two days - Hopper could call literally every minute and almost everyone got invested in that kid going missing. You missed a few cool trips here and there, but Hopper hadn't disappointed; he gave you heads up every few other hours. And you even laughed at times which you definitely didn't expect - like the time when it came to talking with Will's best friends.

"You wouldn't believe how bad I am with kids, these little fuckers were just fuckin' around with me, talkin’ about Lord of the Rings and stuff... Jesus." - Hopper mumbled with a quiet chuckle, lighting up another cigarette. He was calling you from a telephone booth and left Powell with Callahan in his Blazer, and according to his words, those men watched his every move. You chuckled at that. Jim really took your words directly to his heart, doing his best to save the damn kid. He was not giving up on that boy.

To find what happened, he talked with his best friends and the way he told you the investigation was going was so hilarious it made you laugh like crazy.

"No way. Jim Hopper is good at everything." - You hummed back and crossed your legs, thinking about some really nasty things.

"Am I? At what exactly, I can't seem to remember." - He asked in his deep voice and you knew that it's about to go really nasty. You yelled at your mom to get off the phone immediately through the whole fucking house just to have some privacy. Hopper, again, chuckled at that.

"Like... I don't know, folding clothes?" - You asked innocently still worrying that your mom's listening to that conversation. But as soon as you heard her yelling something at your cousins, you knew she really got off. - "After you tear it down off of me."

"Someone's in the mood to play, I see. I would like to stay and hear you foldin' your clothes, but the boys are in a hurry." - Jim whispered, yelling something at the two cops.

"Jim?" - You asked and you got only a hum as a response. - "Be safe out there, okay?"

"I'm missin' you here. I'm lookin' forward to seeing you." - He answered and the line got quiet again. You missed him as well, but in the end, you had only eight days in front of you. What could go wrong? And that was a dumb question to ask.

Well, a lot could go wrong actually, since the other day, Hopper's calls got less and less frequent until they stopped completely. It was the ninth of November when mom woke you up really late in the night. He handed you over the handset, making you sit up

"It's Hopper and he was really... Weird. It seems urgent. He was ringing the number fifteen minutes in a row." - She whispered and sat next to you on the bed, hugging your shoulder. It didn't matter how old Hopper was or what reputation did he have. He needed just as a human being needs another one to lean into. He needed you as a partner and no matter how stressful that was, you wanted to be there for him. And your mom understood that clearly.

"Jim, Jim, it's me." - You mumbled sleepily and listened to him hyperventilating. He was crying again, but he was trying to calm down now. He sometimes woke up with these panic attacks. Something went awfully off the rails in Hawkins. This wasn't the Jim you grew to know and love. - "Baby, stay here with me, let's do this together. Breathe in and out, just like that, that's it, that's it. In and out."

"We found the boy." - He muttered out when he calmed down finally. sobbing. He may pretend to be the rough edge guy, but you knew that's the exact opposite of his character when no-one can see him. He didn't get too friendly with people in Hawkins, but he cared about each one of them. That's why he was the Chief in the end.

"And what happened? Is everyone alright? Is he safe now?" - You asked and mouthed 'They found Will' to your mom. You were about to cry as well - he was making such heart-wrenching sounds that only that alone made your eyes water.

"He drowned in the quarry." - Hopper told you, lighting up a cigarette. - "He was decomposed, but the guys from the CIA told us that it's the boy for sure. Jesus." - And that was the moment you started to cry, putting a palm in front of your mouth. It wasn't hard to make out what had happened to little Will Byers.

"How's everyone doing? What about Joyce? Do you want me to come back? Just say a word and I'm on my way back, just like that." - You asked when you finally caught your breath. Your mom was holding you tight because it really had shocked you and she was also listening to everything Hopper said. She kissed your shoulder, closing her eyes. You have never spoken to that kid, but... He was so young. And according to Joyce really bright and creative. This wasn't fair. This just wasn't fair. He had a whole life ahead and now, it was just gone. Hopes were lost just like that. You felt the cold and emptiness growing in your chest again.

"No... Just stay there until I know it's safe here again, alrite? We'll be workin' with some guys from the state for a while now, closing the case up. " - Hopper told you sincerely and you hummed, crying again. - “The boy has a funeral tomorrow. I feel like this is on me, you know? Everyone was believin' that Jim fuckin' Hopper, the New York detective, will find the Byers boy alive and well... It's my fault."

"This doesn't mean you're a bad cop, Jim, okay?" - You asked him after a while when you made yourself calm down. - "This doesn't mean you suck at your job, baby. Don't put yourself down, you're a great cop and even a better person. The boy... It isn't your fault. I swear. We'll talk about it once I get back to Hawkins, okay?" - You asked worriedly. - "Please, send Joyce my deepest condolences. I'm..."

Hopper needed to be strong and so you needed to be strong as well. For him. You'd do everything for that man. If he would want you to go back to Hawkins immediately, you would go.

"Just keep out of Hawkins until I secure it again. If somethin' would go wrong with you, I don't think... I'm just really missin' you, sunshine." - Hopper mumbled tiredly and you understood. He needed to be alone, so you put the phone off the bed, looking at your mom. Hopper didn't cause this, but you knew he's going to put himself down horrendously after that. A boy's life was lost, but Hopper wasn't the one to blame.

But the worst thing about all of that? He hadn't called after that, not even once. You tried to occupy yourself with hikes and board games with your cousins, even playing some D&D, but there weren't any calls from Hopper from that day on. No matter how hard you wished for them, he hadn't call you. You called into the trail many times, but no-one had picked up.

That was the exact moment you had enough. If he was in danger, you wouldn't leave him like that, whether something bad happened to him or if it was his mind again.

You decided to come home earlier to check on him, which your mom agreed with. The sixteen-hours long drive with your car was horrendous, to say the least, but that very night, you stopped in front of Hopper's trail, basically storming inside. It was dark and empty, but you still hoped that Hopper left you a key under the mossy rock. It really was there.

You stopped yourself for a small moment before actually opening the door up, trying to prepare yourself for what will be inside of that trail. You almost threw up next to the stairs, opening the door finally. And for the fucking love of God, there was some serious mess inside of that trail.

You walked through it and saw at least a few tubes of Tuinal, each one of them empty, remnants of various fast food, beer cans, and full ashtrays literally everywhere. The furniture was messed up, the phone ripped out of the wall, TV laying on the side. The place looked robbed and for a moment, you got really, really worried.

Hopper wasn't nowhere to be found, so the last thing you could do was to sit and wait for him. While doing so, you decided to clean it up and cook some actual food. Before moving the furniture back in place, you checked the drawers, not finding his personal gun. Where was he and why did he take the gun with him?

He drove in pretty late in the night, it was almost midnight; you took a nap on the couch in the meantime, being dead asleep by the time he turned the engine off.

Hopper was thinking that he's hallucinating when he saw your car parked directly on its spot, but then he saw the turn on the light and you passed out in front of the TV through the window.

He took a deep breath in - he just came back from the Hawkins lab, closing another deal with them including Joyce and WIll, and he needed to think about what should he tell you. He wasn't willing to try his chances with telling you the truth; as he said, he wouldn't put you in danger under any circumstances and the men from the government weren't fucking around with anyone. He needed to come up with a story that would be believable and easy to swallow, but at the moment, he was just too tired to think of one. Jim slowly entered the trail, taking the coat off, putting it on a rack, trying not to wake you up yet. 

You were beautiful when you fell asleep - your cheeks got rosy, you snuggled deep into the blanket, having a dreamy emotion on your face. He kneeled behind the couch, kissing your temple and smoothing your hair, gently waking you up.

"You're here sooner." - Jim whispered with a smile when you opened up your eyes. He just needed you by his side, no matter what anyone in Hawkins is going to say. Fuck them and fuck the rumors. It was safe now, you were his girl and everyone else could go fuck themselves.

"And you stopped calling. I was worried." - You mumbled, nuzzling closer to his hand, reaching out to hold the other one. - "Where were you? It's really late."

"Was visiting Joyce's, she needed someone to talk to. I would be here sooner if you'd give me heads up." - Hopper kissed your temple again, helping you with standing up. He watched one of those lazy smiles.

"How's she? Feeling better after Will..." - You whispered in a broken voice. Oh. Hopper realized that you still thought that Will has drowned in the quarry. He hadn't got exactly the time to call you since he was held at the lab of driving around Hawkins with children in his Blazer most of the time.

"The boy was found alive, thanks to God. He's in the hospital and he's gettin' better and better with each passin' day. He's a fighter." - Jim said quietly and tried not to put too much emotion into it, but you knew that it's making him happy. He led you through the whole trail, kissing your collar bone though the fabric of the shirt once you were standing up in the bedroom. - "I've missed you so fuckin' much." - The man moaned into the fabric of his very own shirt and just when he was about to lay you down, you stopped him and palmed his jaws, making the man look at you.

"I'm proud of you, Jim Hopper." - You said quietly with an adoring look in your eyes. Hopper would swear that he hasn't seen so much awe and love in someone's eyes until you gave him this look. - "You are a great man. And I can't imagine being in Hawkins without you." - You whispered and pulled him in for a kiss.

You gave him many kisses, but this one was somehow full of feelings and Jim warmed up when he felt the love radiating out of it. For a while, the thought of him saying those three words was lingering on his mind as you took off the shirt, pressing your naked torso into the fabric of his uniform.

It would be so easy to say them. Every time he called you to Dakota, you were there and listened to every word; you laughed when you were supposed to laugh and you were sad when you were supposed to be sad. To say that he found everything he asked for was just too little to express everything about you.

You continued with kissing him, not leaving him alone in that freezing night for a single second. Nothing felt better than having you back and at that moment, he first realized that he's in love with you. It never crossed his mind so clearly. He was deeply in love. But he didn't want to ruin the moment, so he helped you with taking your pants down.

It didn't matter how smelly he was, it didn't matter that he had a huge bruise on his arm, the only thing that mattered was it was him. That it was him staying there with you.

And you realized how much you've fallen for that guy. It was the best feeling you've ever felt.

[victoodles]

The Look

I had a lot of fun writing this and now I’m addicted to writing for Chief Hopper. I also really like music from the 80′s and while that isn’t a focal point, it still was cute to imagine a scenario jamming out to Roxette with my main man. Just some fun nonsense, enjoy!

“I’m an officer in training, though I guess that’s just a fancy way of sayin’ I’m your new assistant for the time being. Regardless, it’s a pleasure to meetcha’!”

Jim Hopper is momentarily taken aback by your overly sunny disposition, finding it too bright and warm for the given situation. It’s Monday, approximately eight in the morning - no one should be that…cheerful on a fucking Monday.

But there you are, standing in the door of his office beaming like you won the goddamn lottery.

For some indescribable reason, it’s grating and makes his heart rate increase. He chalks it up to irritation...for now.

“I’m sorry, run that by me again?” Hopper asks incredulously as he runs a hand through his hair; it’s too early for this crap, even if it comes in the form of a cute, sweet, lovely-

Wait, focus Hopper!

You’re still looking pleased as punch, not bothered none by his grousing. “I’m aiming to join the force! Yours specifically but it’s still a work in progress, so I was assigned to shadow you for the time being. But like I said-“

“Yeah, yeah assistant or whatever. I got that much. But I don’t really have the time or patience to be some newbie’s babysitter.” The words come out harsher than he meant for them to but you’re still not deterred. You just continue to smile that same breathtaking enthusiastic smile his way and his heart insists on beating faster than should be normal. All that smoking might finally be catching up with him.

“I’m here for whatever you need, Chief!” You chirp, giving him a mock salute in an attempt to alleviate the tension. While being a glorified secretary wasn’t an ideal position, hopefully your tenacity would shine through to the Hawkin’s chief of police.

Hopper cocks an eyebrow at you, bemused, and then sighs heavily in defeat. He could already tell you were the type that wouldn’t take no for an answer and clearly you wouldn’t back down from this.

Great, just what I needed.

“Fine whatever,” he grumbles, pulling a full folder of reports from a drawer. He drops them to his desk with a gentle thud and you eye the papers curiously, awaiting further orders whatever they may be.

“I need you to go through these case files. All of them.” Hopper instructs with the same sternness of a scolding father. What was that saying about old habits?

“Cross the t’s and dot the i’s. Make sure everything is in order, got that?”

You’re positively radiating with an energy that Hopper simply cannot comprehend considering the gravity of the task he’s assigned.  

She’s a strange duck.

Of that much he is sure of at least.

Eagerly you take the file, fingertips brushing against his own briefly and Hopper feels a heat rushing to his cheeks like some lovelorn school boy. You don’t seem to be phased (of course not it’s just a simple interaction with a pretty girl Hop) and he mentally reprimands himself for acting so needlessly foolish.

“Rodger dodger Captain! Er, I mean Chief!” You laugh melodically at your own witticism that not only catches his attention but that of the entire office as well. Hopper is sure he’s dying when the erratic thumping in his chest rears its ugly head again.

Quickly he decides to dismiss you with a wave of his hand, the other attempting to cover the red now dusting his cheeks that you (thankfully) don’t notice. He doesn’t need his first impression to be more humiliating than he thinks it already is. You take your leave with another playful salute before turning on your heels to saunter to your new desk.

Hopper deduces that your eccentricity will soon run him into an early grave. And now he had to have a sit down with Flo about not letting just anybody waltz into his office at any given time unannounced. Especially someone as peculiar as you.

This new girl is gonna be a problem.

And yet...

Does Hopper take a quick peek at the way your pencil skirt hugs your ass while you walk?

Yes, yes he does.

Does it amplify his enthusiasm about working with you?

Only a little bit.

***

Summer has transitioned into Winter, leaving behind bathing suits and sunshine in exchange for sweaters and snow. The station has followed suit and is aptly decorated to show even the Hawkins Police Department has the holiday spirit in them.

It’s mostly your doing, personally going out of your way to cut and hang handmade paper snowflakes around the office. That along with colorful strings of Christmas lights. 

Hopper still twitches whenever he sees them after Joyce’s crazed epiphany that lights could somehow help her communicate with Will from the Upsidedown way back when. But he doesn’t have the heart (or the mental capacity) to tell explain that to you.

Instead he revels in your holiday giddiness, masked behind a scowl because the poor fool is still in denial that he even likes you.

You like like her, as El had so fondly put it over dinner one night. Thankfully he can successfully hush her up with a tickle bout.

The same solution sadly doesn’t apply for his nosy secretary. Hopper contemplates firing Flo after she teased him for blushing when you placed a Santa hat snugly on his head, insisting he stop being “such a Grinch”. He quickly realizes that would be “unwarranted” and the idea is soon discarded.  

It’s the middle of the afternoon, and Hopper has a slew of frantic calls to deal with much to his chagrin. In order to do that and achieve some semblance of success with it all, Hopper needs papers.

Your papers specifically.

Hours ago, he had assigned you to organize citizen report forms for him so he could properly assess and assist each member of lovely Hawkins Indiana. Missing cats, rambunctious teenage hooligans, all mundane things really. And as usual, you took your work with a grin and excited nod.

Hopper began to enjoy the warmth that you exuded. And the curve of your lips when you smiled. And-

Enough, Hop! You creep…

Now he was ready to welcome the distraction from another onslaught of racing thoughts. About you, no less! But he couldn’t do that without that work, that you usually would have immaculately finished within the hour.

Sometimes you would sign them with a pink heart.

Not relevant!

Today, however, it was almost half past one and still no papers. No bubbly entrance, no perfectly alphabetized folders paired the same cup of black coffee for him. Not so much as a peep from your direction.

Weird, Hopper thinks as he pushes himself up from his desk with a grunt. He might as well investigate, otherwise he would have nothing else to do today. Otherwise he would’ve loved to procrastinate this for as long as humanly possible. Who would’ve thought Wednesday afternoons would be slow.

Hopper steps out of his office and scans the bullpen, neglecting to return Flo’s usual greeting. Almost immediately he spots you hunched over at your desk, head nestled too comfortably on a stack of papers. 

His feet are carrying him with a stomp before he can parse what he’s really seeing.

“Go easy on her, Chief,” Flo urges in a hushed voice. The request is again ignored.

Is she...sleeping?

It would appear so.

A cup of now cold coffee sits abandoned as you continue to snore with an adorable dopey smile on your face. You look carefree, relaxed.

Cute.

Hopper shoos that last thought away before he bends down to your level. He would not have any of his staff lazily snooze the day away, on his watch no less!

“Hey! Sleeping Beauty,” he nearly booms in your ear, instantly causing you to jolt up in your seat. Your usual pristine appearance is now disheveled: a messy bun now atop your head, blazer discarded, and the top few buttons of your blouse precariously unbuttoned.

Don’t look, don’t look, don’t l-

He looked.

God dammit.

You look up at him drowsily, still not awake enough to realise the consequences of your stupidity.

“Huh,” is all you have to offer in your defense. It doesn’t seem to placate him.  

When you notice his annoyance (finally), you rush to break through your sleep addled fog. Quickly, you sit up straight and smooth away loose hair before meeting his glare.

“M-morning chief,” you say sheepishly, daring to wave hello to him. The stink eye treatment continues.

“It’s 1:30 p.m,” he responds back cooly, unamused by your jests.

You genuinely look surprised, and turn to the clock ticking idly on the wall above. “Afternoon?!” A few sniggers can be heard around the office.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry Chief,” you apologize sincerely. Hopper doesn’t even think he’s seen you frown before and now you’re saying sorry for mistakes you never make. He’s taken aback for a moment and you continue to express your regret.

“I came in early to decorate for the holidays. Like, super early,” the emphasis is accurately dramatized with a yawn. Hopper’s rigidness softens. He knew you were responsible for their newfound winter wonderland, but he didn’t realize how much work you actually put into it.

Aw Christ.

Hopper clears his throat. “Y-you did all of this,” he asks incredulously. He’s seen some freaky shit in his career but right now he is truly shocked by your dedication. For something that he previously found tedious and unnecessary.

“Yeah,” you admit shyly, a tinge of pink adorning your cheeks. Hopper notices, and pretends he doesn’t think it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. “I just thought it would be cute.”

Cute?

Was it really that simple? You just wanted to spread some Christmas cheer and it tuckered you out in the process?

Hopper brings a hand to his lips to hide the smile that’s starting to form there.

As soon as it comes, it leaves and he composes himself. He doesn’t know what comes over him (is it love?) and he places his hand on your shoulder, patting it with a huff.

The entire department watches wide-eyed at the interaction.

They’ve been placing bets (secretly) on when and where Hopper finally decides to ask you out. It doesn’t seem like today’s going to be that day, but it’s a step in the right direction. Powell curses under his breath and pulls out a dollar and hands it to Callahan. Flo smiles to herself.

“Just-“ Hopper takes a deep breath in. It’s hard to focus when you’re looking at him with those doe eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Just make sure I get it before the end of the day.”

Your apprehension melts away and it seems Hopper has succeeded in bringing your smile back.

Merry Christmas to me.

“Rodger dodger, Chief,” you chirp before turning your attention back to your own desk, already hyper focused on your work.

You don’t see the small smile he sends your way as he returns back to his office.

Fifty nine minutes later, on the dot (a new record for you!) you bring the fruits of your labor back to Hopper’s office. It seems you just missed him unfortunately, leaving the folder on an empty desk. You quite enjoy the small interactions shared between the two during the lulls of the work day, progressively getting longer and more friendly in nature.

You cross paths with him on the way out however, exchanging smiles and hellos as you both return to your designated posts.

On your desk, you find a fresh cup of coffee made just the way you like it: cream and two sugars.

It’s signed with a heart.

***

Indiana snow storms have devolved into gentle flurries, snowflakes idly cascading down a thin veil of snow covers the nearly empty streets.

Nearly empty.

Where else would Hopper find himself late on a Thursday evening then on his way to a local watering hole. El found herself at Max’s house for the evening, and Hopper’s restless boredom soon gets the better of him. Nothing a cold glass of beer can’t fix.

He, in turn, finds himself in town, meandering his way to a dive-bar at the end of the block. Neon lights flicker dully in the dusty window, barely illuminating the bartender and lone figure inside.

Seems someone else had a similar idea, sneaking out into the night for a pint and handfuls of shitty peanuts.  

The door opens with a soft jingle and through the haze of lingering cigarette smoke and dim lights, Hopper spots you at the bar. You’re as perky as ever, chatting the bartender’s poor ear off about this and that. Hopper, childishly, is jealous.

In your hand is a can of cheap beer - Schlitz to be exact. 

Hopper’s favorite.

Be still my beating heart.

You notice him shortly after, and your smile practically lights up the room.

“Chief!” You call out with a raise of your drink. The bartender, (Chris - or something, Hopper can’t bother to remember) breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of a normal customer. It seems no grouch can ruin your good time.

“Chief,” Chris greets (with considerably less enthusiasm) and slides him a coaster. Hopper pays his greeting no mind and devotes his attention solely to you.

You look significantly more casual, blouse and skirt replaced with jeans and a flannel, hair loose and falling to your shoulder in gentle curls. Despite the shift in appearance, you still hold yourself the same way as you do at work - poised.

Hopper admires that about you.

Among other things.

“Hey,” he greets. Before he can get another word in, make some lame comment about the weather or what the cat dragged in, you’re already patting the stool next to your eagerly.

“Sit with me!”

“W-what?” Hopper responds (stupidly).

You’re already ordering him a beer, disregarding his confusion. “You heard me. Unless you just came out in the snow to say ‘hey’ and scram?” Your voice has a teasing lilt to it that enchants Hopper. He wants to hear more of it

“Just doing my nightly rounds,” he jokes back, “but since I’m here I might as well hang around. Make sure you’re not getting into any trouble.” It’s rare for Hopper’s bark to have no bite, just playful nips. He appreciates the relaxed atmosphere your presence envelops him in.

“Unfortunately for you then, you’ll have to stick around for a bit. I have a grand scheme in the works that involves drinking with the chief of police,” you say with a mischievous smirk. “Gotta keep me from ‘getting into trouble’.” Hopper can’t help but guffaw at your attempt to impersonate him. It’s comical and endearing all the same.

“Sounds mighty serious,” apprehension dissolves as he sits down next to you, the old chair creaking as he turns toward you. Your knees practically touch and neither of you seem to notice or care.

Handing him his respective can of beer, you knock yours against his with a harmonious clink.

You do that for the first.

And then the second.

And the third.

With each drink comes a new story shared between you.

You tell him about your time at the police academy. He tells you about his continuing struggles with El and her pesky boyfriend, Mike.

You like hard rock and your old Suburban.

He loves hound dogs but is too busy to actually get one.

Drinks keep on pouring.

Time passes effortlessly, bleeding into midnight and your laughter echoes throughout the emptiness of the bar.

“Oh Chris isn’t always this bad. You know sometimes, he’ll let me order a mimosa at 8 p.m and he won’t give me a hard time” you titter, earning an eye roll from the aforementioned bartender. Hopper fights to contain his chortling.

“You’re the only one who orders it and you’re the only reason I have to keep stocking champagne.” Chris grumbles, cleaning a glass a bit more aggressively than necessary.

“Well you should be thanking her for the extra business then,” Hopper adds with a gruff laugh. Chris doesn’t seem to find it amusing. He opts to turn on the small radio behind the bar, hoping to drown out your nonsense. with some music

It works for a little bit.

A little bit.

Until Roxette starts playing...

Then all Hell breaks loose in the form of an ecstatic cheer of, “I. Love. This. Song!”

Hopper really can’t contain his enjoyment now.

Upbeat pop music from a second-rate radio fuels you now.

“And I go la la la la la!” 

You’re booming now, swinging your head from side to side to the beat. Your hair is wild now from the throes of your merriment. Hopper likes it even more this way.

He joins in from time to time, singing a lyric from the chorus (poorly he thinks) but takes more pleasure in watching your one woman performance.

She’s got the look indeed.

Chris regards you with a cocked eyebrow and looks to the chief, shaking his head. “She’s something else,” he says with a dry laugh.

Hopper is too busy watching you hurrying to the whirring jukebox now, a hand full of quarters and promises of “you’re gonna love this song,” on your tongue as the first one fades out.

His eyes crinkle at the corners as he smiles.

“Yeah,” he says reverently, “she really is.”

[buttdawg]

All Out 2020 Predictions

Just gonna run down the card here, because I keep forgetting what’s on this show, and it is stacked.    

Side note: Looking this up on Wikipedia made me sad, because the article points out that the show was originally planned for a whole other venue before the pandemic started.  I had gotten so used to every AEW show being held in Jacksonville, that I had forgotten the good old days, when they could run every show in Chicago.

Casino Battle Royale, winner gets a shot at the AEW title

I thought they gave up on this stip when they did the Casino Ladder Match at Double-or-Nothing.   Here’s a dumb thought: Ditch the casino nonsense.   The last two casino battle royals were kind of dumb, because they sent out five guys at a time, and then the 21st guy got to come out last by himself.   The problem I had was that I had no idea who half the participants were, and sending them out in fives made it that much harder to keep track.  

Anyway, this time around it’s easier to just list them by faction.    We have

Eddie Kingston’s group (Eddie, Butcher, Blade, Pentagon Jr., and Rey Fenix)

Team Taz (Absolute Ricky Starks and DA MACHEEN Brian Cage, who is also the FTW World’s Heavyweight Champion of the World, Excalibur)

Gunn Club (Billy Gunn and Austin Gunn)

The Inner Circle (Jake Hager, Santana and Ortiz)

Best Friends (Chuck Taylor and Trent)

Lance Archer

Darby Allin

Wait that’s only 16 guys.   You know, it’s been a long time since I learned the rules to Blackjack, but I think that’s about where you want to stand pat.    If you take another card, you’re much more likely to go over 21.    Anyway, I hope Warhorse ends up in this match somehow.   I guess I’ll pick Eddie Kingson to win, since he’s got the most guys helping him.  

No, wait, fuck all of that shit.   Lance Archer wins everything.    Call this Casino Battle Royale a George R. R. Martin novel, because Everybody Fucking Dies.

The Dark Order (Brodie Lee, Evil Uno, Stu Grayson, Colt Cabana) vs. Scorpio Sky, Matt Cardona, Dustin Rhodes, & QT Marshall.  

This is like the Dark Order vs. the Dark Order Revenge Squad, trying to make Brodie pay for beating the shit out of Cody.   I saw a video package for this on Dynamite yesterday, and it was fucking stupid, because they wanted me to believe that the good guy team are “four badasses”, even though one of them is QT Marshall for crying out loud.   They do this horseshit all the time, where a group of babyfaces try to gang up on the Dark Order, but it never works because the faces never bring enough guys.   There’s like eight or nine dudes in the Dark Order, so unless your team has ten or eleven, you’re gonna get your asses kicked.    Brodie killed Cody like he was nothing, so why am I supposed to believe Dustin has a chance in hell?  

The last time Scorpio Sky was on one of these anti-DO posse teams, it was with Colt Cabana and his partners in SCU.    Well, Colt ended up switching sides, and apparently Chris Daniels and Kazarian aren’t even booked, so that tells me what I need to know.     Dark Order wins.  

Britt Baker vs. Swole in a Tooth and Nail Match.

I don’t know if “Tooth and Nail” is an actual stipulation, or if they’re just calling it that for promotional purposes.  I wish they’d spell out the rules to these things instead of just calling out the names of matches like catchphrases.   Swole would look pretty dumb if she loses this, so I’m picking her to win.  

Matt Hardy vs. Sammy Guevara  in a “Broken Rules” Match.

Wikipedia says this is a Last Man Standing match, so maybe they should have just called it that?  I mean, less than a month ago Matt claimed that he was ditching all his characters for the duration of the pandemic, and now he’s right back to chanting “Delete!” like nothing changed.   I heard a lot about Matt’s cinematic universe run in Impact, but so far I’m not overly impressed with his run in AEW.   He just makes a bunch of callbacks to stuff he did in WWE, Impact, and ROH like I’m supposed to know or give a shit about that time he was a douchebag.     If Matt loses, he’s supposed to leave AEW, but I’m pretty sure this is a trick, and he’ll just come back as “Leviticus” and pretend to be a robot from outer space.   I don’t think I care who wins.

Jurassic Express vs. The Young Bucks.

Why are these guys fighting?    I feel like they already did on TV?    I’m gonna pull for JE to win this one.    I think the Bucks might be my favorite act in AEW, but I mostly enjoy seeing them get the shit beat out of them.    Yeah, kill the Young Bucks.   

Chris Jericho vs. Orange Cassidy in a Mimosa Mayhem Match.

You can win Mimosa Mayhem by pinfall, submission, or dumping your opponent into a big tank of mimosa.    I guess this is a way for OC to win their feud without actually pinning Jericho twice?    Alternately, the loser can get pinned, only to dump the winner in the tank to get a moral victory.    I’ll go with Orange to win.  

AEW Tag Team Championship: Kenny Omega/Hangman vs. FTR

Now that they finally kicked Hangman out of the Elite, and FTR has finally stopped pretending not to be heels, and now that Kenny Omega finally seems to give a shit about his tag team, I think this program could finally lead to something cool.    I sort of want FTR to win, just to move the Hangman/Omega angle onto the next stage.     If the tag titles are the only thing keeping that team together than we need to see what happens without them.  

Also, I want FTR to defend the titles against Santana and Ortiz.    Yeah, no offense to Omega and Hangman, but fuck this Elite Drama Bullshit, gimme FTR vs. PnP.

AEW Women’s Championship: Hikaru Shida vs. Thunder Rosa.

Fuck yeah, this is the real main event right here.    Thunder Rosa kicks ass, and now she can show her stuff without the nonsensical soap opera booking found in the NWA women’s division.   The last time I saw Thunder Rosa in NWA, Melina had inexplicably declared that she had a title match against Rosa, but when the match actually happened, Melina just rolled out of the ring and took a countout.    Seeing Eddie Kingston, Ricky Starks, and Thunder Rosa has opened my eyes to a lot of problems in NWA.

Anyway, here’s the AEW storyline for Thunder Rosa: Shida wanted competition, and Thunder Rosa showed up to kick her ass and take her belt.   I suspect Shida’s going to win, because Rosa’s NWA title isn’t on the line, but I’m rooting for Thunder Rosa to become the double champ.  

AEW Men’s Championship: Jon Moxley vs. MJF.

I want Moxley to win, although I’m not 100% sure this isn’t MJF’s time.   It feels too soon, but I didn’t think Moxley would win the title from Jericho back in February either.   Also, if Moxley loses the title, it might make it easier for AEW and NJPW to open the Forbidden Door long enough for him to defend the IWGP U.S. title against KENTA.    Is that worth putting the world title on MJF?   Probably not, but it’s fun to think about.  

I don’t understand this feud at all, because MJF has been “campaigning” for a world title shot, even though he’s the #1 contender and he’s undefeated, so I’m pretty sure he could just request the match and he’s all set.    MJF has also successfully lobbied to have Moxley’s finisher banned from their match, but what if Mox uses it anyway?   They’d just disqualify him and he’d retain the title, right?    Or maybe the ref would just stand there and let him do it anyway, because that seems to be how AEW referees do things.   

I really don’t get why MJF wanted the Paradigm Shift banned.   He got hit with one like two weeks ago, and he acted like it half-crippled him, but then he revealed it didn’t hurt him that badly, so why does he care if he takes another one?  MJF also seems to have this thing going on where he pretends to be this high-road-taking “pure wrestler”, who can out-finesse Moxley’s brawling style, but we’ve seen MJF just go apeshit and use hardcore tactics himself.  

This is kind of an aside, but I find it funny when Jim Cornette acts surprised when people accuse him of playing a character on his podcasts.   He’ll be like “No, no, you don’t understand, I really hate Vince Russo and Kenny Omega and I want them both dead for not respecting kayfabe!”    The thing is, wrestlers like MJF and FTR are out here repeating a lot of Cornette’s talking points on TV, specifically to get heel heat.   They praise themselves for being workhorses who stick to the fundamentals, but they’re hypocrites who use gamesmanship and trickery to get ahead.    So people hear Cornette blowing a gasket about Joey Janela and they just assume he’s being some sort of cartoonish supervillain character to sell his merch, because the alternative is too absurd to contemplate.    It’d be like MJF assuring people that he really does bloody people up with his diamond ring in real life, just like he does on TV.   

Anyway, I’ll stick with Moxley, but if MJF wins, I’ll be more intrigued than disappointed...

[bamby0304]

Her Saviours- Ch.19

Series Masterlist

Summary: During an odd case, the Winchesters came across Y/N, a scared young Omega girl who had been used as a lure for a nest of vampires. After rescuing her from the monsters, John and his sons took her in knowing she was in no state to live among ordinary people. But three Alphas and one Omega is a mixture bound for disaster.

Warnings: Explicit language. ABO dynamics. Angst. Fluff.

Bamby

Dean’s arm was around your waist as the two of you snuggled on your shared bed. Sam was sitting at the dining table of the night’s motel of choice. On the phone to one of John’s oldest hunter friends, Sam was determined to get to the bottom of where his father was.

“No, Dad was in California last we heard from him. We just thought...he comes to you for 'munitions....maybe you've seen him in the last few weeks. Just, call us if you hear anything.” There was a pause before Sam added a ‘thanks’ and then hung up.

Looking over your shoulder at him, Dean asked, “Caleb hasn't heard from him?”

“Nope,” Sam sighed, rising from his seat. “And neither has Jefferson or Pastor Jim. What about the journal? Any leads in there?”

“No, same as last time I looked.” Dean shook his head, settling back down into his pillow and pulling you close again. “Nothing I can make out. I love the guy, but I swear, he writes like friggin' Yoda.”

“You know, maybe we should call the Feds. File a missing person’s,” Sam suggest.

You scoffed, pulling away from Dean to sit up and turn to Sam. “Have you lost your mind?”

“I want to find my dad. I’m desperate enough to do anything to find him,” he countered.

Shaking your head, you pushed up to your feet and stepped towards him, a little challenging. “And what? You think Dean doesn’t want to find him? You think I don’t want to find him?”

“I’m not saying you don’t want to find him, but you and Dean… you’ve always followed his orders. You’ve always gone where he told you to, and done what he’s said to. Hell, you two went off on a case because of him, and now look at where we are.”

“So you’re blaming us?” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing.

“No I’m blaming his overbearing Alpha attitude,” Sam countered, surprising you. “No one ever questions him, so he doesn’t feel challenged or threatened, so he thinks he can get away with anything and it’s stupid shit like that that’s gonna get him hurt.”

“You did.”

He frowned down at you, confused. “Huh?”

“You challenged him every chance you got,” you noted, stepping closer to him subconsciously.

Raising one shoulder in a shrug, he reached up to fix the collar of your flannel top. “Someone had to. Just because he’s Pack Alpha doesn’t mean he’s right. Doesn’t mean he should be Pack Alpha.”

The way Sam said it… you weren’t sure he was even aware of the way his scent intensified ever so slightly. You were though. You could feel it pulse around you, and fill your senses. Suddenly you felt a little light headed and warm.

Noticing the way you swayed on the spot a little, Sam’s hand shot out to grab your waist and hold you in place. “You okay?” he asked with genuine concern.

Biting your lip, you hummed a ‘yes’ as you nodded.

Dean cleared his throat from where he was leaning up on his elbow in bed. “You two done?” Once you’d pulled away from Sam and crawled back onto your spot next to Dean, he turned to his brother. “We've talked about this. Dad'd be pissed if we put the Feds on his tail.”

“I don't care anymore.” Sam shrugged just as Dean’s phone chimed. “After all that happened back in Kansas, I mean...he should've been there, Dean. You said so yourself. You tried to call him and...nothing.”

“I know!” Dean exclaimed as he reached over to the bedside table behind him to check his phone.

“You know, he could be dead for all we know.”

Sam’s words made your blood run cold.

“Don't say that!” Dean warned. “He's not dead! He's- he's…”

“He's what?” Sam pressed. “He's hiding? He's busy?”

Instead of answering Sam, Dean finally checked his phone. He mumbled after a pause, “Huh. I don't believe it.”

“What?” Sam asked, taking a seat on his own bed.

“It's, uh… it's a text message. It's coordinates.” Dean turned and showed the two of you his phone.

Sure enough, someone had sent him coordinates.

42, -89

There was only one person who wasn’t in the room who sent those kinds of messages to the Winchesters… John.

Dean jumped out of bed in an instant and hurried over to the dining table where Sam’s laptop sat. You and Sam were still in shock, watching as Dean got to work right away.

When Sam’s brain eventually did catch up, he stood and headed over to his brother. “You think Dad was texting us?”

“He's given us coordinates before,” Dean noted.

“The man can barely work a toaster, Dean,” Sam countered.

He was very wrong about that, though. John wasn’t great when it came to tech before Sam went to college, but after? When John saw how the loss of his son was dragging you down, he got you to show him how to do things. It was a way to distract you, but also a way so he could check up on you. Make sure you knew that even when he wasn’t around, he was still there for you.

Unfortunately, he hadn’t shown the same reassurance this time around...

“Sam, it's good news!” Dean insisted. “It means he's okay, or alive at least.”

“Well, was there a number on the caller ID?”

“Nah, it said 'unknown'.”

“Well, where do the coordinates point?”

“That's the interesting part.” Dean read from the computer screen. “Rockford, Illinois.”

“Ok, and that's interesting how?”

“I checked the local Rockford paper. Take a look at this.” He turned the computer so Sam could see it as he explained the case he’d found. “This cop, Walter Kelly, comes home from his shift, shoots his wife, then puts the gun in his mouth, blows his brains out. And earlier that night, Kelly and his partner responded to a call at the Roosevelt Asylum.”

“Okay, I'm not following. What has this have to do with us?”

“Dad earmarked the same asylum in the journal,” Dean noted.

Taking that as a cue, you got out of bed, headed over to Dean’s duffle and pulled out John’s journal. Flicking through the pages, you quickly found what you were looking for. “Seven unconfirmed sightings, and two deaths.”

“Until last week at least,” Dean added. “I think this is where he wants us to go.”

Sam just snorted, pulling back from the table and shaking his head. “This is a job... Dad wants us to work a job.”

“Well, maybe we'll meet up with him? Maybe he's there?” You weren’t sure if Dean actually believed his own words, but you wanted to hope he was right.

“Maybe he's not?” Clearly Sam wasn’t as confident. “I mean, he could be sending us there, by ourselves, to hunt this thing.”

“Who cares! If he wants us there, it's good enough for me!”

“This doesn't strike you as weird? The texting? The coordinates?”

“Sam! Dad's tellin' us to go somewhere, we're goin'.”

Knowing Dean had the last say, Sam just glared at him as Dean rose from his seat and headed towards you. You stood there, feeling a little uncomfortable and conflicted as Dean wound his arms around your waist from behind and turned the two of you until you were facing his brother.

“He’s Pack Alpha. Doesn’t matter if you want him to be or not. Doesn’t matter if you think he shouldn’t be anymore. Dad’s the boss, we do as he says and that’s final.” Leaning forward, Dean rested his chin on your shoulder. “Now, pack up your crap.”

“We’re going now?” you asked, turning your head so you could look at him.

“He sent the message now, so we’re going now.” Dean gave your cheek a kiss. “Don’t worry, you can sleep while I drive,” he promised before letting go of you and turning away to head into the bathroom.

As soon as the door was closed, leaving you and Sam alone, the two of you looked to each other.

“You can’t agree with all of this.”

“All of what?”

He scoffed and stepped towards you. “Dad has control over your life, and now Dean does, too. You must hate having to do what they say.”

“I don’t have to do anything. I don’t belong to anyone. You see a mark on my neck?” Pulling your collar back, you tilted your head to give him a better view. “I’m a free woman, Sam. I can do what I want.”

“If that’s the case…” he shrugged, “why don’t you join us on this case?”

It was a challenge. He knew you’d always wanted to do more than just sit around and do research. More than just sit around and wait for the Alphas to return. Now, however, things were a little different.

“After the shapeshifter-”

“That was months ago,” he countered, cutting you off. “And you’ve come a long way. You’re strong, Y/N. You’re better than the woman people think you are. You’re not weak or timid or shy. I know you, even after all this time. I know you. You hate not having full control over your own fate, you just won’t say anything because you feel like you owe Dad, Dean and me some kind of debt.”

Swallowing the thick nothingness in your throat, you averted your gaze.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

“You deserve better than waiting around for my dad to give you permission.”

Eyes darting back up, you glared at him. “What are you saying, Sam?”

Was he suggesting you deserved more than hotel rooms, microwave meals, and bad day-time TV? Or was he suggesting something else?

Before he could answer you, the bathroom door opened as Dean stepped out and spotted the two of you.

“Am I interrupting something?” The tension in Dean’s voice an palpable. There really was no question as to whether he was okay with you getting close to his brother or not… clearly, he was not okay.

“No.” Shaking your head, you decided you didn’t want Sam to answer. Reaching for your bag on the floor, you turned to look over your shoulder and smiled at Dean. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

Without giving Sam a second look, you walked out of the room, hoping he wouldn’t bring the subject up again.

Dean was playing the bad guy in the bar, which meant you and Sam had to pretend not to know him, but still be around and wait for the cue. At first you thought that meant the two of you were just gonna sit at the bar, pick at some peanuts and drink some beers… but Sam had other plans.

“Come on.” Grabbing your hand, smiling widely, he led you over to the jukebox.

Your eyes grew wide and darted around the room. “Sam what are you-”

Cutting you off, he twirled you around before pulling you closer. Hands landing on your hips, he smiled down at you. “Dance with me?”

“You’re insane,” you scoffed, moving to pull away.

As you pulled back he caught your hand again and kept you from going far. “Just stand here and sway with me. Please. Nothing serious. Just… I wanna hold you, Y/N.”

The flutter of butterflies that assaulted your stomach almost had you fainting on the spot.

Moving back to him, you couldn’t help but return his smile with one of your own as his hands landed back on your waist. You couldn’t deny that they felt good there. That it felt good to have him close again.

“Are you doing this to mess with me?” you asked, voice soft, unsure, a little scared of his answer.

Sighing, he slid his hands around to the small of your back, pulling you a little closer. “Don’t think for one second that I’ve forgotten what it feels like to be with you, Y/N. I never once ran away from you.”

“No… but you didn’t stay with me, either.”

“I would’ve asked you to come with me if I thought you’d do it. But I know you care about Dad and Dean, and I knew you would have begged me not to go.” He sighed, “I never could say no to you.”

“You're Daniel Gunderson. You're a cop, right?”

Dean’s voice carried through the bar, drawing yours and Sam’s attention to him as he spoke to a man at one of the tables. It was pretty obvious the guy didn’t want to talk to anyone, but that was kind of the point.

“Yeah.” The guy nodded shortly.

“Huh. I'm uh, Nigel Tufnel, The Chicago Tribune,” Dean introduced himself with the fake name he’d chosen for the case. “Mind if I ask you a couple of questions, about your partner?” he asked as he slid into the seat across from Gunderson.

“Yeah, I do. I'm just tryin' to have a beer here.”

Just like you’d all planned, Dean insisted, “That's okay, I swear it won't take that long. I just want to get the story in your words.”

“A week ago, my partner was sitting in that chair. Now he's dead. You gonna ambush me here?” Gunderson gestured to the chair Dean was now sitting in.

That was Sam’s cue.

Dean was not giving up. “Sorry. But I need to know what happened.”

Walking away from you, Sam stormed across the bar and shove Dean right out of the chair. You could tell by the way Dean’s head snapped in the direction of his brother that the shove had been harder than he’d been expecting.

“Hey buddy, why don't you leave the poor guy alone! The man's an officer! Why dontcha show a little respect!” Sam snapped.

Staring at Sam a moment longer, Dean then fixed up his jacket and walked out of the door.

Once Dean was gone, Gunderson looked to Sam. “You didn't have to do that.”

“Yeah, course I did. That guy's a serious jerk.” Shaking his head, Sam took Dean’s place in the seat across from the cop. “Let me buy you a beer, huh?”

Not waiting around to see what was gonna happen next, you headed for the nearest exit.

In the farthest corner of the parking lot, you found Dean sitting on the hood of Baby, shaking his head with his hands in his pockets. The way he was looking at the ground, it was clear he was unimpressed.

“He did it for the effect,” you assured Dean, heading for the car.

Looking up, he scoffed. “He did it to get back at me.”

“And what does he have to get back at you for?”

“Oh, I don’t know?” Dean gave a short shrug. “Let’s see, there’s the fact Dad’s gone and I’m not looking hard enough for him. I dragged Sam back into the life and now I’m bossing him around like Dad always did. And there’s you.”

“Me?” you asked, stopping in front of him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Play pretend,” he answered. “I saw the two of you dancing.”

Gesturing over your shoulder at the bar, you gave a short laugh. “You mean you saw us standing in front of the jukebox together.”

“I know what I saw, Y/N. I’m not an idiot. It’s not just tonight. The two of you… he wants you, and you want him.”

“Of course I want him!” you exclaimed, getting agitated. “Have you forgotten the years I spent with him? I might’ve been with you first, but Sam and me… it was safer for the two of us to be together. We could do the public thing. It wasn’t illegal, it wasn’t weird, and we took full advantage of that. Sam and I actually acted like a fucking couple, not some dirty little secret!”

Dean pushed off the car suddenly. “I never wanted that for you! You think I wanted to treat you like some secret?”

“You still fucking do!”

“Because I can’t have you!” he countered.

By now, you wouldn’t be surprised if the people in the bar could hear the two of you screaming at each other.

“You fucking think I like not being able to show you off to the world? You think I like flirting with every set of boobs, and then crawling back into bed with you like they’re nothing?” His nostrils were flaring as his angered eyes searched yours.

A calm settled over you as he said his last point. “If you hate hooking up with so many women, then stop.”

“Being with them keeps me from making a huge fucking mistake.”

Gasping, you flinched and pulled back. Right away he could see his mistake.

“Y/N-”

“You think marking me would be a mistake? You think… being my Alpha would be a mistake?”

“No.” He quickly shook his head, all traces of anger now erased from his voice. “I think marking you without talking it out with Dad first would be a mistake… ‘cause I don’t want to take you away from him, and I don’t want to take him away from you. When Sammy left I know how much that hurt, and now that Dad is gone I know you’re hurting all over again. But just because he’s not here now doesn’t mean he’s gone forever, and when he is back by your side… I don’t want either of you hating me.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart hurt. He meant every word of it. Dean… he wanted to give you more, but he didn’t want to take from you at the same time.

“No one ever said making me yours would take me from him,” you countered.

“I’m not willing to take that risk.” He sighed, “I’m sorry.”

Smiling sadly, you nodded. “No, it’s fine. I get it. I can wait until we find John. Then we’ll all sit down and we’ll figure this out. I get it. It’s okay.”

Despite how much you wanted to believe it… you weren’t sure you could. You weren’t sure the words were enough to keep your heart from breaking even more than it already was.

“Everything okay?”

Spinning on your heels, you watched as Sam approached you and his brother.

Avoiding the question, Dean leaned back on Baby again. “Shoved me kinda hard in there, buddy boy.”

“I had to sell it, didn't I? It's method acting.” Sam shrugged as he stepped up to you, turning away from his brother. “You okay?” he asked, lifting his hand to caress your cheek.

You pulled back and looked away, folding your arms over your chest. “I’m fine.”

Watching you, Sam frowned with concern. “Y/N-”

“What did the cop have to say?” you asked, cutting him off.

Sighing, realising you weren’t going to talk, he got back to the case. “So, Walter Kelly was a good cop. Head of his class, even-keeled, he had a bright future ahead of him.”

“What about at home?”

Turning his attention to Dean, Sam shrugged. “He and his wife had a few fights, like everybody, but he was mostly smooth sailing. They were even talking about having kids.”

“Alright,” Dean pushed off Baby again. “So either Kelly had some deep-seated crazy waiting to bust out, or something else did it to him.”

Sam gave a short nod. “Right.”

As the three of you headed for the car doors to get in, Dean asked, “What'd Gunderson tell you about the asylum?”

“A lot.”

Bamby

[mystery-star]

Threshold of Space - Chapter 4 Hard Times

Pairing: Spock x OC

Warnings: swearing, break-up, angst, mentions of death

Words: 6487

All Parts: 

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 |  Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16

If you want to be added to the taglist let me know!

Please do not repost my work on other sites or platforms!

-

Her anger towards Spock didn’t disappear in the following days. Who did he think he was to just break up with her? Did he not realize that she needed him? She needed someone she could talk to, about everything. And she didn’t want to tell others about the relationship, though that was now over. Her only option was talking to Jim but she didn’t really know him well enough. In fact, the only one she could possibly talk to, someone who had experienced almost everything was Pavel. But unfortunately he was nowhere to be found. So Carissa realized that she had no other choice but to talk to her best friend and roommate. Though, it wasn’t her decision in the first place, Nicole had seen her crying into her pillow one evening and pressed her until Carissa broke and started telling her everything. At least most of it, since she never mentioned the real reason Nero wanted her and that she had been in a relationship with Spock

“A-and now that I’m back… my boyfriend broke up with me as well” she sniffed.

“Woah I don’t know what to say. If I were you I couldn’t go to classes”

“Distraction is good” she said. Nicole crossed her arms

“Well I can’t do anything about the things that happened on the mission… but what concerns that ex-boyfriend of yours… Tell me who it is and I’ll beat him up” she chuckled and Carissa sniffed

“You’d get into trouble”

“Do you think I care? He dumped you when you needed him the most. Why did he do this?”

“He thought he wasn’t good for me”

“Ouch. Well maybe he’s right. If he’s not here for you, you definitely deserve better”

“But Nic… I can’t get over him. And I can’t stop loving him although I hate him”

“My offer to beat the shit outta him still applies”

“No, that really isn’t a good idea. I’ll handle it myself”

“If you need me, I’m there for you, okay Cassie? Although you never told me you had a boyfriend!”

-oO0Oo-

Soon, Carissa found out that if she just covered herself in work, she wasn’t thinking about anything that bothered her at the moment. That was until Friday came and she would see her ex-boyfriend (calling him that was still hard). So she quickly decided to fake a sickness to escape his class.

The following week she still didn’t want to see Spock but she knew she couldn’t just miss his lessons this time. And she feared that people would get suspicious if she just claimed to be sick again. Therefore, the case was clear: she had to get sick and needed an official leave from a doctor. But the brilliant idea only came on Thursday evening and she thought it was too late to develop a sickness with symptoms in that time. Could she fake a mental breakdown or something like that? Maybe she could pretend that talking about Romulans in biology evoked a trauma in her and she unfortunately just didn’t feel well enough to go back to classes today? Then she’d have an official leave from a professor and not even Spock could think or claim she was skiving lessons. After all he had no idea how she was doing right now since he had chosen to ignore her.

Her plan worked brilliantly and she was sent do the medical center after half a lesson when she started crying in the lesson and faked symptoms of a panic attack. She even managed to convince McCoy- who was supposed to treat her- to give her a sick leave for the day after she explained that she wanted to avoid seeing someone who brought back memories from her experiences.

“Don’t tell me that someone is Professor Pointy-ear” so his nickname was not just popular among cadets.

“How did you get that idea?”

“Well he does look quite a bit like those damned Romulans. Besides, he was more involved than anyone and the reason this all happened” she only gave shrug

“I don’t think so. But no, I don’t want to see my ex… he broke up shortly after we all got back”

“What an asshole” he took out his PADD and started typing something.

“Yeah”

“Alright, I’ve excused you for the rest of today. Do you want me to send it to your Professors directly?”

“Oh yes, that would be nice” she told him the names of the Professors.

“There we go. Anything else you need? Shall I prescribe your stupid ex some medicine with heavy side effects?”

“I doubt he’d take it”

“He can’t do anything against a hypo you sneak up on him”

“No, I’m fine. But thanks for your help”

“Of course. Just let me know if you want to avoid him further”

“I will, thank you” although she felt grateful, she also knew that she couldn’t avoid Spock forever.

-oO0Oo-

In the end she heard from him sooner than she wanted. This evening, Nicole told her that Spock had asked her to let Carissa know that she couldn’t miss his lessons again or else she’d fail the course because she didn’t fulfil the attendance rate.

“Tell him that I appreciate his concern about my future but that I can look after myself” she growled.

“Wouldn’t it be better if you told him yourself?”

“You’re right” she took out her PADD to do so right now.

-oO0Oo-

Much to her surprise the Vulcan came to see her the following day

“I believe he doesn’t accept your message” Nicole murmured before the Professor asked her to give him a moment with Carissa.

“What do you want?” she asked as she crossed her arms.

“The fact that you do not seem to care about your education suggests that the events of the mission are worrying you more than I thought”

“Or maybe it’s the fact that the person I needed most dumped me. But how could you know, after all you decided that you don’t want to see me anymore? Why don’t you just let me fail here so that I can’t become a Starfleet member and go into space and get into danger? That’s what you wanted, right?”

“It was not my intention to ruin your future and I strongly advise you to not do it yourself”

“Why do you even care? Can’t you go just off to space and I don’t know… observe the development of technology on a planet in a different galaxy?”

“Carissa, I thought I had made it plain that nothing concerning my affection towards you has worn off during or after the mission. If anything changed, then to the contrary”

“And why did you break up then?” she growled. He moved closer and tried to hold her arms but she pushed him away “Don’t you dare touching me”

“Please understand that I did this for your safety”

“Oh yes I see… no one’s abducted me in the past two weeks so far. What a success” she sneered

“The likelihood of an abduction in the Academy is below 2.78 percent”

“So this means you admit that breaking up had nothing to do with this and was unnecessary?”

“I have never said that and I do not think it was unnecessary. You may not understand it now but in a couple of years you will realize that it was for your best”

“Well thanks for being concerned about my welfare and future. But as it seems you forgot one tiny, tiny thing when you made this decision”

“That would be?”

“To ask me how it makes me feel maybe? Not everyone’s able to switch of their emotions like that” she snapped her fingers “and they actually have to deal with all this shit”

“Would it appease you if I assure you that this decision was not an easy one and I wish that there was another way?” she shook her head.

“It makes it worse. You admit that there is another way and you didn’t even want it. So why the fuck did you dump me?”

“Carissa, I believe that the term ‘dumping’ is not quite correct in that situation”

“But that’s exactly what you did. You left me, for no reason. Hell, you just admitted that yourself. I don’t get it at all, what has this got to do with logic?”

“I admit, I can see your point there and your statement is true to an extent for it was not merely based on logic”

“You know what? I hate you! You’re always speaking of logic but as soon as I’m concerned you decide to toss it aside and make a decision that hurts me”

“Your metaphor of tossing aside logic is inaccurate”

“I don’t fucking believe it… instead of talking like a normal person you just… correct me. How did I even manage to put up with you for so long? I hate you! Get out of here!”

“As you wish. You surely remember that I have come here to ask you to think about your future and not make a decision you could regret”

“That’s rich coming from you. But as I have already let you know… I can take care of myself. Now, if you don’t have anything useful to say leave” now he came closer and grabbed her arms before she could react

“Carissa, promise me you will not give up on your wish to be in service for Starfleet after your education. Do not ruin your chance here solely because you are not willing to see me”

“What do you even care what I do?” she shoved his hands away, although she actually wanted nothing more than to pull him close and bury her face in his chest. Suddenly she realized how much she had missed him. “Just leave and mind your own business from now on” she said and glared at him as he walked to the door and opened it.

“Before I leave I would like to point out that you will fail my course if you miss one more class in this semester”

“As if you’d care” she shouted and grabbed her pillow and threw it at his head before he walked off. With a huff she sat down on her bed and saw Nicole entering, picking up her pillow

“Did you just yell at the Professor and throw a pillow at him?” Carissa only nodded and couldn’t help but grin.

“I hope you know he’s probably gonna report you, seeing how proper he is”

“I don’t care” she mumbled, fully knowing Spock wouldn’t do that.

“But don’t you think it’s mean of you to treat him like that when he’s come here because he’s worried? I mean he was on the mission with you, I am sure he understands the situation you are in right now… maybe it would help if you talk to him? I really don’t want to interfere but maybe you should apologize”

“Thanks, I’ll consider it” she lied and put on a coat. “I’m going for a walk because I need to get my head off everything.... A long walk”

-oO0Oo-

No matter how much she wanted to do the opposite of what Spock said, she found that she couldn’t ignore his warning about failing his class. After all she’d only have to put up with him for another month or so, then he would resign from his job as professor and they’d get a new one. She only hoped it wouldn’t be the substitute they had just after returning from the mission since he already seemed to have it in for her.

She had made one decision about her future: She would become Captain of a ship anyway. So she could proof that she was more than able to take care of herself and that she could do whatever she wanted. For this reason, she buried herself in classwork and had the feeling to be working harder than ever. This also had the effect that she didn’t think of all the troublesome events too much.

-oO0Oo-

Her hard work was bearing fruit almost a year later when the time for their training in practice on ships was approaching. For this, each cadet had to get a place on a spaceship to take part in missions for a couple of weeks. And since Carissa’s major was exobiology she knew that she’d be applying as biologist and science Officer. But she also put Communication Officer on the list which would be made accessible to Starfleet Captains who could choose the cadets for their ship. Since she had worked herself almost to the top of her year, she had very good references and was sure she’d get a nice ship. And, if she was lucky, maybe even a post on the bridge since she expressed her interest in becoming Captain one day. Of course she knew that she wouldn’t be made Chief Science or Communication Officer, but at first all cadets only were more like assistants before they actually could work as if they were member of the crew.

The first Starfleet Captain who got into contact with her was James Kirk. He invited you for a short interview so that he could decide if he wanted her. She was quite excited for it but as soon as she entered the room Kirk had told her to come, her mien dropped. On the Captain’s right was his First Officer. Which could only mean that Jim had planned to make her Spock’s assistant. Suppressing a groan, she greeted them both and sat down opposite them.

“Good, allow me to make this short. You’re damn good and it would be my honor to have you on the Enterprise as the assistant of my Chief science Officer” he looked at the Vulcan who sat there with a stoic mien “Surprise” if anything, Spock looked annoyed. “I know this is supposed to be a formal interview and all… but I’ve kind of already made my decision. I’m sure you’d both be happy to work with each other. Well maybe happy isn’t exactly the right word in Spock’s case but I’m sure you know what I mean…”

“Captain... I uh…”

“Come on, Carrie, we have already been on a first name basis before. Call me Jim”

“Okay then. Jim… I really appreciate your offer and it would be my honor to serve on the Enterprise…” she looked to Spock “But uh…” she looked at the table “We broke up”

“You did what?” he glanced to his First Officer “Why didn’t you tell me?” so Spock gave him in a long lecture that it was his own business and he had no obligation to tell the Captain about his private life. “Yeah I get it” Jim said, raising his hand “If you want, I can ask Uhura if she’d take you as her assistant instead. If I remember correctly you’re interested in the job of a Communication Officer as well, right?”

“Yes” she said and smiled “But uh… it really doesn’t need to be a post on the bridge”

“Oh but if I read your profile correctly you expressed your wish to become Captain eventually” at this Spock showed a reaction and his eyebrow cocked up. Carissa shot him a glance and the corners of her mouth twitched up. “So I think it would be good if you have a post on the bridge, besides you passed this damned simulation and broke it”

“As I already explained several times, Cadet Wiley did not ‘break’ the simulation, she merely discovered a feature I had not thought of before”

“Still… did you see her results, Spock? They’re brilliant”

“Yes, I know of her results as I have been the one to score her because the examiners thought it best, seeing that she had unfavorable conditions due to the desideratum in the simulation”

“You marked her? Was that even allowed? I mean… you were together at that time after all”

“In case you have forgotten, I have also been her professor for two years and I have never given her preferential treatment in anything that had to do with her education”

“Wow.” Jim said “Respect” Spock said nothing but quickly glanced at him “Ah, don’t mind him” he told Carissa “He’s been a bit pissed off since I saved his life”

“Your assumption that I am ‘pissed off’ is not correct. I am merely concerned what consequences we have to face for violating the Prime Directive” Carissa frowned

“And where did you interfere if I may ask?”

“It’s absolutely nothing to worry about… A volcano on Niribu was about to erupt when we decided to stop it. Spock went down into the volcano to put a cold fusion device there. But then we couldn’t beam him back aboard so we had to show the primitive inhabitants our ship… which they, by the way, could have seen anyway when we left if they just looked up in that moment…”

“Sorry if I correct you but wouldn’t just trying to stop the eruption be a violation of the directive?” she glanced at the Vulcan, expecting him to explain the matter.

“Technically yes, but only if anyone had seen us” Kirk replied “We had the perfect plan and the Nibirians wouldn’t have seen us if everything had went after plan”

“So I guess that the transporter not working was what you couldn’t foresee and what destroyed your plan?” Jim nodded.

“There was another problem first because Spock wasn’t even supposed to land in that volcano…” Carissa frowned then turned to her ex.

“Okay let’s make a short thought experiment. Let’s assume they would have waited until the eruption was over and all. At some point, the Enterprise would have needed to leave anyway, right? And I bet you could tell me the exact volume the ship would have made when they left”

“Indeed, given the fact that the Enterprise was un-…” she cut him off

“I said could give me the volume not that I want to hear it. This means the Nibirians would have heard that, right?”

“The chances are quite high, yes.”

“So what do you think they’d have done?” she paused shortly “Sure, they would have looked up and searched for what made the unknown noise. At least some of them. And guess what those who did would have done when they saw the ship? Yes, they would have told their friends and they’d have told it to others too. Ergo, in the end they would have known about the ship anyway, which makes your concern absolutely unnecessary” she said, crossing her arms. When his lips parted slightly and he raised an eyebrow she felt pride.

“Woah, did you just render him speechless?” Jim’s gaze flickered between them “Damn, when you finished your education here I want you on my ship” Carissa smiled sheepishly and mumbled a thank-you “Anyway, enough of this. I’ll talk to Uhura and ask her what she thinks and then I will let you know what my decision is. Unless you got another offer from another Captain”

“Actually you’re the first”

“Then maybe you should wait anyway. With your grades, experiences and recommendations it wouldn’t wonder me if everyone wanted you”

“Thanks” she smiled at both of them and then left.

-oO0Oo-

Two days later Kirk let her know that he wanted to see her. She was grateful that he was alone this time.

“Bad news, Carrie” he said “apparently Pike isn’t so pleased about the fact we saved the planet… and he also didn’t seem interested in your little thought experiment Spock has cited. In case you wondered, he calculated that the possibility that they could have seen the ship anyway was 89.4 percent or so”

“And what does that have to do with me?”

“I got demoted, they took the ship from me and sent me back to the Academy.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that”

“And this means I can’t decide who’s gonna our apprentice”

“It’s okay” she said “I mean, you said yourself that I’ll get other offers too”

“Sure. But that won’t be on the newest and best ship of the fleet” he winked at her

“I really care more about the crew. Though I need to admit, it would have been a pleasure to be part of your crew”

“I feel honored. Hey, what about a comfort drinking anytime soon?”

“Comfort drinking?”

“Yeah. I lost the Enterprise, you lost your boyfriend…”

“Well that was already a year ago”

“When?”

“Just after we got back. He thought I could do better than him and that he brings me into danger”

“Yeah I just learned he can be a backstabbing little asshole. But what he did to you is even worse…”

“What did he do to you?”

“Filed a report about the details of the incidents at Niribu… that’s how Pike got to know of this”

“Didn’t you mention it in you log?”

“I might have… downplayed it to the sentence that “nothing eventful has happened”

“Great” she muttered “I am starting to think that’s the reason they sent you back to the academy. Not because of what you did but because you falsified the report”

“You know, I’ve wondered many times how you and Spock came to be but now that I’m getting to know you I realize how good you fit together. Well, how you would fit together if he didn’t think his Vulcan opinion counts more” she huffed

“Okay, I’m in”

“In what?”

“Comfort drinking…”

“Nice. It’s good to know a future classmate…after all I’ll be in your year now.”

-oO0Oo-

Although she first was not sure if it was the right idea to go to a bar with Jim she was glad she did so in the end. Finally she had found someone she could talk to about everything as she had wanted after her first and only mission and realized how good it felt. Though she had to admit, she could have done without Jim’s constant flirty comments. The words of her friend echoed in her mind ‘Don’t turn him down hastily. He is a good man, after all’ suddenly the situation got awkward as someone sat in between them. Carissa recognized him as Christopher Pike when he started talking to Jim.

“Uh maybe I should leave” Carissa said, not feeling well to listen to their talk

“Feel free to stay if you like” Pike said “Besides, it’s good to meet you here because there’s something I wanted to discuss with you”

“Sure” first he told Jim that the Command made him the new Captain of the Enterprise and that he wanted Jim as his First Officer. Then he turned to the brunette

“As you can see, I had to transfer Starfleet’s best science Officer for that. And I have a feeling that we’re gonna need two to replace him. Would you be interested in being the new Chief Science Officer’s assistant for your internship? I have read your file and I am pretty impressed. You’ve made yourself so much since we have last met”

“I-I yes... that would be great” she smiled “Thank you, Sir” as it seemed by now also Jim had realized that he didn’t have to go back to the Academy and thanked the Admiral. Before he could reply, his communicator beeped

“Emergency session” he said after having a look at it. “We need to leave. Cadet Wiley, we can take you back to the headquarters and drop you off at the Academy” he said to Carissa who gave a nod and finished her drink.

-oO0Oo-

“The Enterprise? I don’t believe it” Nicole shrieked when Carissa told her about the evening “See, I told you it’s a good idea to go there”

“I know”

“Hey isn’t our old Professor Chief Science Officer on the Enterprise? You could learn so much from him”

“Actually no… he’s been transferred and the Enterprise will get a new science Officer”

“Oh… but still. You already know some of the crew. I’m so jealous of you. But you deserve it, seeing as you worked so hard. Go on, have fun”

-oO0Oo-

Her good mood had died down the next morning. She had learned that the Conference Room Jim and Pike were in had been attacked and resulted in several deaths. Unfortunately she couldn’t find out more before her classes started and for the first time in ages she couldn’t focus at all. Somehow she managed to get through the day anyway and much to her surprise she learned that the Head of Starfleet, Admiral Marcus wished to see her. With a feeling as if she had done something bad or was about to receive ill news, she got on her way to his office in the evening.

“Cadet Wiley, I am glad you could make it” she was greeted and offered a seat “I have heard that Captain Pike has chosen you as Science Officer apprentice on board the Enterprise”

“That uh… is correct, Sir” she said

“Then I am sorry to inform you that Captain Pike was one of the casualties of the attack yesterday”

“He-he died?” Carissa whispered, looking down “Does that mean the new Captain of the Enterprise did not want me?”

“He said nothing about that. However, I could not help but have a look at your file. You are a promising young cadet and I would be interested in having you on my ship, the USS Vengeance, for your internship”

“Really?” she couldn’t believe it. The Head of Starfleet wanted her on his ship

“Yes, you seem to be one of the best of your year. However, I hope you understand that I’d first like to see you in action before I decide”

“Of course, Sir. What do you want me to do?”

“We will be leaving on a very short trip in a within the next few hours. It is short-term, I know, but if everything goes right you should be back by tomorrow morning. If you can arrange that I would be happy to have you with me as my communication Officer to see how you are doing” she smiled

“Yes, that would be great… I mean, thank you, Admiral” before she left, Carissa got the details for the short mission. She found that there was just enough time to go back to her dorm and deposit her school stuff and to let Nicole know she’d spend the night elsewhere before going to the meeting point. The journey with the shuttle took longer than she had thought and she was pretty sure they had long left Earth behind. Suddenly she was starting to feel a bit unwell. Why did he have his ship so far away from Earth, as if he didn’t want anyone to see it? A part of her started to wish she had declined his offer and would have accepted any other position on a small vessel. However, when they finally arrived, all her sorrows were thrown aboard when she saw the huge ship.

“Wicked” she murmured as they got closer and boarded it. For a reason unknown to her she was assigned to the bridge nonetheless. As if that wasn’t enough, Marcus told her that there was no Chief Communication Officer present on this mission but he doubted she’d need to do much anyway. She started wondering why he had wanted her on the ship then if he thought there wasn’t much for her to do. Or at least why he made her Communication Officer. Maybe he was just missing a man or woman and thought she could replace them? She smiled. That must be it, he solved to problem at once with this solution. Excitingly examining her instruments, she got ready for the journey. Nevertheless she felt a bit strange because she had no idea about half of the buttons in front of her. Of course she had been communication officer in some Kobayashi Maru simulations but this board was only a quarter of what she saw here. She was sure that Admiral Marcus wanted to see how she did in this new situation when she was clueless.

“Cadet Wiley, please start a ship-wide transmission”

“Sure, Captain” she did as requested then went to listen to

“Crew of the USS Vengeance, this is Admiral Marcus. We have received word from The USS Enterprise that they have, contrary to their orders, captured the fugitive John Harrison and plan to bring him back to Earth. It is down to us to bring him in our custody, if necessary by force. Admiral Marcus out” Carissa almost forgot to stop the transmission. Her thoughts were spinning. The Enterprise was involved? Since Pike was dead and she heard who ever got the ship now had violated orders she concluded that Jim was made Captain again. She didn’t like this at all. What was wrong with taken a fugitive prisoner? What else where they supposed to do? In the meantime, the ship had started and got ready for Warp. Once the woman realized they were heading into Klingon space, the neutral zone even, she only wished to be back at the Academy. “Cadet Wiley, once we reach the Enterprise I want you to hail them” she nodded

“W-what about the Klingons, Sir?”

“Let’s hope they stay oblivious to our presence” all too soon for her liking, they arrived and again she got the order to contact the Enterprise which she did with shaky hands “Captain Kirk” he spoke once they had answered the call. So she was right about the Captain anyway.

“Admiral Marcus, I haven’t been expecting you here, Sir”

“And I did not expect to get word that you took Harrison into custody in violation of your orders”

“Well yeah…” Jim stuttered “We had to improvise when we lost our Warp drive. But you already knew that didn’t you. I mean that is why you are here, to assist us with repairing?” probably not, Carissa thought. Though, if that was the case then the Admiral had no right to blame Jim for what he did. He could be lucky they were still alive and undiscovered by the Klingons. “Why else would the Head of Starfleet himself come to the neutral zone?” she heard that apparently Marcus gave an order to scan the Enterprise and Jim asked what he was trying to find.

“Where is the prisoner, Kirk?”

“I will transfer Khan to Earth where he can get a trial as Starfleet regulation wants it” that seemed to upset the Admiral while Carissa was wondering who Khan was. Besides, she knew she had heard that name before.

“Well shit. You talked to him… that is exactly what I hoped to spare you from when I ordered you to kill him on the spot” so Khan was Harrison? “I knew of the risk when I woke the bastard up but I needed his intellect to defend us against what would be coming next” what the hell was he talking about? She started to like this even less. “I admit that I made a mistake and now the blood of all those he killed is on my hands. So I ask you to give him to me that I can finish what I started” Carissa was still trying to figure everything out but could make no sense of it. All she got was that apparently Harrison (or Khan, whatever) had been supposed to help the Federation and then killed people and that was why he fled and was supposed to have been killed. But why killed? As Jim had suggested, he didn’t even have a trial yet, so wasn’t this against Starfleet regulations? Why did she have to be dragged into this?

“And what exactly do you expect me to do with the rest of his crew sir? Fire them at the Klingons? End 72 lives and start a war in the process?”

“What?!” instantly Carissa covered her mouth but that was one too much. Fire people on Klingons? Start a war? What the hell was Jim talking about? Somehow she couldn’t help but sense that this must have something to do with Admiral Marcus as well, or else Jim wouldn’t be telling him this.

“He put the people on those torpedoes” at least that answered the questions as of why Jim mentioned firing people onto the Klingons. Then again, why would someone put people, his crew, into torpedoes?  “And I didn’t want to burden you by knowing what is inside them. You saw what this man can do by himself, so can you imagine what would happen if we woke the rest of his crew?” if only she could ask someone what they were talking about. She felt like an outsider who was at the wrong place at the wrong time. She wanted to do something but had no idea what. “What else did he tell you? That he’s a peacekeeper? He is playing with you!” he continued telling them that apparently Khan and his crew (the people that now were in torpedoes) were condemned to death as war criminals. But what could his crew have done if they were not woken yet. Woken from what anyway? “And now it is your duty to carry out the sentence before anyone else dies because of them” there was silence and when Carissa looked back to the screen, she felt a lump in her throat. Spock was on this ship as well. Hadn’t he been transferred? “Now I am asking you again. One last time, son, lower your shields. Tell me where he is”

“He’s in engineering, Sir. But I’ll have him moved to the transporter room right away, Sir” at least something. Somehow she found she didn’t care what happened to Khan, as long as the Enterprise did what Marcus wanted. They had him in custody after all, she was sure he wouldn’t kill him as he initially wanted to. The Admiral agreed and signaled Carissa to end the communication.

“Shall I inform the transporter room that they can beam the fugitive aboard, Sir?”

“Yes. And then tell the Enterprise to inform us when they are ready” she nodded and did as requested. When she tried to reach the Enterprise she saw that they were out of range

“Sir…” before she could say anything the Admiral was already informed that the Enterprise had gone to Warp and headed to Earth.

“Go after them and get ready to destroy the ship”

“No!” she found herself shouting “Sir we cannot fire onto one of our ships unless they’re an immediate danger to us or others”

“Don’t forget you’re only a Cadet, Miss Wiley”

“I-I’m sorry Sir… but I thought I had to say something because sometimes you can’t just sit around and do nothing… I-I am sure this is only a misunderstanding. Jim Kirk is someone who believes in justice” she wasn’t one hundred percent sure of that but she had to say it “and that is why he wants to make sure that this Khan is treated as Starfleet wants it. I’m sure he only fears, incorrectly of course, that Khan will be executed when he is on this ship. There is no reason to kill the entire crew of the Enterprise for that, this is wrong, Sir. Sorry, but I had to say this, you wanted to see me in action and I will not just stand idly by when I sense injustice around” she was a bit astonished of herself about her courage but like hell was she gonna let the Enterprise being destroyed and people killed. Marcus only looked at her with slight surprise then ordered the helms man to keep on pursuing the other ship. What was he trying to do? The Enterprise was at Warp. There was nothing they could do. Or could they? Suddenly Marcus ordered to fire and it made Carissa believe she had the answer to her question. For all she could see and hear, the Enterprise got hit and finally dropped out of Warp. Shortly after, they did the same and continued firing on the much smaller ship “We’ve got them. We’ve got them” Carissa cried hysterically “There’s no need to fire now! We can talk to them. There is another way!” when the Admiral kept a straight face and gave orders to continue firing she was that close to knock him out even if that was mutiny. Then suddenly she saw that the Enterprise tried to reach them “Admiral. They’re hailing us. A Carol Marcus is hailing us. I’m sure they’ve learned their lesson. Please, they’re hailing us” at this, Marcus ordered to cease firing and requested Carissa to put them on the screen.

“What are you doing on that ship?” The Admiral asked. Suddenly the brunette realized that he must know her. As Carol continued talking, she realized that she was the Admiral’s daughter who tried to talk sense into him

“Women” Carissa breathed in relief “We always need to save the day”

“If you want to destroy the Enterprise, you will have to do this with me on board”

“Actually, Carol, I won’t” he must have ordered to beam her on board of their ship which was instantly done. Unfortunately, he still thought he had to destroy the Enterprise anyway. “Captain Kirk, without authorization and in league with the fugitive John Harrison you went rogue in enemy territory leaving me no choice but to hunt you down and destroy you. Lock phasers” he directed the last order to the helmsman who did so. Carissa sat there like frozen, unsure what to do.

“Wait, Sir!” Kirk cried.

“I’ll make this quick. Target all aft torpedoes on the bridge of the Enterprise” now she felt tears in her eyes and felt them rolling down her cheeks. Maybe she couldn’t stop the Admiral. But Starfleet could… she got ready to contact them at any moment

“Sir, my crew was just following my orders” Jim said “I take full responsibility for my actions. But they were mine and mine alone. If I transmit Khan’s location to you now, all I ask of you is that my crew is spared. Please, Sir, I’ll do anything you want… just let them live” Carissa looked at Marcus almost pleadingly.

“That’s a hell of an apology. But if it’s any consolation, I was never going to spare your crew” she made a quick decision and contacted Starfleet Command

“Starfleet Command?” she cried “Here’s Cadet Carissa Wiley aboard the USS Vengeance. The Admiral orders the unjustified destruction of the Enterprise. I-I... Send help, I’ll give you our coordinates” she jumped up to do so when she was grabbed

“No you won’t” Marcus turned to the one holding her “I believe the Enterprise is a science Officer short after I had to beam my daughter here. Let’s return them one before we destroy the ship”

-

Next Chapter

[shadow-of-a-whisper]

The Sentinel (series) Ficlet, Rated: M

Naomi waited until her son's mug of chamomile tea was half empty by her estimate, and most of the tense lines around his eyes had smoothed out. Then she pounced. "Blair sweetie, what's going on with you? And don't tell me it's nothing. Even Jim has noticed, and we both know how... unobservant he can be sometimes." That was rich, coming from her, but Blair didn't point that out. She was right, Jim had been side-eyeing him with concern for days. The man wasn't as subtle as he liked to think he was. Still, Blair just shook his head. "It's not something anyone can help with. I just need to figure some stuff out by myself. You wouldn't get it." Naomi huffed and drew herself up to her full height. Damn, he should've seen that coming. He really was slipping. "Try me. Even if I can't help, I can still listen. You need to get this off your chest, it's obviously eating you alive." Blair ran his fingers roughly through his wild curls in frustration. "I'm in love with someone, okay? I love him, and he's straight. I'm a fucking idiot, is that what you wanted to hear?" Naomi's jaw dropped, but Blair didn't stop. Now that it had started, it was all pouring out. "You never wanted to be tied down to one person or one place, and I get that. You never met anyone you wanted to stay for, despite it all. Someone who made staying feel like it was a gift, not a sacrifice. Good for you. But that's not what I want for my own life. I want stability, and connection, and happily ever after. I want that more than anything. So it doesn't matter if he doesn't love me the same way I love him, that he can't love me that way. Just being by his side is enough. It has to be." Naomi was already shaking her head, clearly flabbergasted. "What does Jim have to say about all of this? Does he know this guy?" Blair stared at her blank-faced, and waited for the penny to drop. After a few moments of honest bewilderment, her eyes slowly grew to the size of saucers. "Oh!" "Yeah Mom, 'Oh'. That pretty much sums it up. I haven't even dated any guys since before I met him." He didn't tell her that he'd figured Jim might be able to smell them on him or something. Turns out, he would've been right about that. "At first I just didn't know how he'd take it. By the time I realised that he'd be fine with me being bi, it felt like it was too late to bring it up. It's not like that would've made any difference. He's never looked at me like that. I don't think the idea has ever even crossed his mind." On the other side of the loft's front door, groceries in one hand and some mail in the other, Jim remembered the occasional whispers he'd overheard at the station. Uniforms gossiping about Blair, speculating about whether or not he was gay. Using words far less kind than that. Jim had glared them down when he could. He didn't care what Blair might or might not be, that was his own business, but those bigots didn't get to talk about his partner like that. Naomi's voice was achingly soft when she spoke again. "Baby, why would you do this to yourself? It just isn't healthy." Blair's smile didn't reach his watery eyes. "He's worth it. He's worth everything, every bit of pain and sacrifice, and so much more. He's strong, kind, beautiful. I'm not blind, I know he's an imperfect asshole, but that works out because I'm one too. We all make mistakes. He's suffered so much pain and loss, and he still lights up the world just by being in it. Sometimes I look at him, and I just want to tell him, show him how I see him, because I know he struggles to see that in himself. I want to make love to him, because he deserves to be loved. I don't know how anybody can fail to love him. I want to give him reasons to smile, to keep glowing like he does. I want to light him up every day for the rest of our lives. I can't walk away from that Naomi, I just can't. I'm strong enough to live with this pain, I'm not strong enough to live without him." Naomi set her jaw in a hard line, as outside the door Jim slid boneless down the wall, parcels forgotten. God, he'd been so blind. Blair's distress, something he'd been catching flashes of here and there for the last several weeks, was so visceral right now that he could feel it buffeting him all the way from the hall. A hummingbird heartbeat, accompanied by the rasps of harsh and shallow breaths, fulled his ears. The hint of salt from the beginnings of a cold sweat, along with the indefinable scents of misery and slight panic, flooded his nose. The cacophony of sensations washed over him with all the force of a crashing wave. Blair's emotions had always been a bit... louder, for lack of a better word, than other people's. To him, at least. But they'd never been anything quite like this. Distantly, his ears ringing a little, he heard Naomi start talking again. "Blair, you deserve that kind of love too. If you walk away now, you can always hold onto your golden memories of Jim, and pretend that he might have loved you back someday. If you stay and wait until he finds out, until he throws you out of the loft again, it'll break your heart. I honestly don't know if you would ever recover from that. Please baby, let me help you pack your things." The door slammed open, bouncing off the wall with a reverberating thud, as Jim stalked over to where they were sitting. Without saying a word, face expressionless, Jim pulled Naomi up over his shoulder in a fireman's carry. Before she could do more than let out a startled bleat, he'd dumped her on the threshold with the abandoned groceries and slammed the door in her face. Nobody was packing a goddamn thing. He slid the recently installed deadbolt home, just in case. He went back to the sofa where Blair had just made it to his feet, his face pale and drawn. Jim wanted to die for ever putting that look on his Guide's face. Naomi didn't have a Goddamn clue what she was talking about. Of course Jim was in love with Blair too, *of course* he was. Oh. Ooooooooooooooh. Huh. Well, that was a surprise. In hindsight, it really shouldn't be. Some Cop Of The Year he was. Actually, it probably explained a lot. It definitely explained the way his heart was pounding, his veins filled with adrenaline at the thought of Blair slipping through his fingers. Blair let out a small, uncertain "Jim...", eyes lowered in mortification. That wouldn't do at all. Jim lifted a gentle hand to Blair's jaw, his midday shadow barely perceptible even to his sensitive touch, and encouraged Blair's face to turn to him. He was shit with words, but he tried to let everything he was feeling shine from his eyes. Whatever he saw there, Blair slowly went slack and open with wonder. Jim's breath left him in a quiet rush, as he let go and followed his instincts the way he only ever did with Blair there to Guide him. His eyes fluttered nearly shut as he leaned close, brushing his nose to Blair's cheek as he breathed him in. His senses were flooded with Blair's unique scent, mingled with the faint hints of 'unscented' shampoo and soap, the mild herbal scent of chamomile tea and the honey Blair had sweetened it with. The combination was heady and soothing all at once, the headache Jim had been sporting for half the day fading almost instantly to a barely-there throb. That was nothing compared to the tightness he felt in his chest as his lips gave chase, Blair's rising timidly to meet them. He kept it soft and chaste to start with, a little hesitant himself, uncertain how he'd feel about this new thing he was trying. He needn't have worried. The taste of Blair, added to his enticing scent, and the somehow unexpected scratch of the hint of stubble, punched the remaining breath from him in a shocked groan. He pressed his mouth hard to Blair's as heat shot to his groin. Blair whimpered, his lips falling open in response without thought or hesitation, his body pressing as close as it could get from the knees up. As if that had broken the spell somehow, Blair jerked back. "Jim, man, you have to be sure. I can't do this if you're not totally sure." Jim rested his forehead against Blair's, not ready to lose that precious closeness yet. "I want this, Chief. I have no idea what I'm doing here, but I know that I want to be doing it with you." Blair trembled with temptation, but he had to be strong. He couldn't afford to be careless with this. "And when you wake up tomorrow, with me in your bed, both of us naked? When it hits you, what you've done, and what it could mean for you? What then, Jim? I need you to really think about this. Think about who we work with, about your family. If we do this, I'm not gonna be able to hide it anymore, I wouldn't want to either. You know what that'll mean? Forget discrimination and unreliable back-up, we'd be breaking fraternization rules. Simon would have no choice but to separate us. We can't ask him to risk his career and IA's wrath for us. How long do you think you'll last before you zone or spike at the wrong moment, and people get killed? Even if you somehow survived that, you'd never forgive yourself." It was true, every word of it, and it was a hell of a lot. It was obvious that Blair had been thinking about it for a long time, Jim had some serious catching up to do. But he knew one thing clearly. "We'll figure it out like we always do, together. If we can't stay on the force, then we'll both go. I know that you mostly only joined for my sake. Yeah, you enjoy the work, but you still hate the violence of it. You're never gonna be happy about pointing a gun at someone, even for me." Jim wasn't wrong about that, but it wasn't the whole story either. "Jim, I could've worked things out at Rainier if I'd really wanted to. Edwards didn't have a leg to stand on when she ran me off like that, and my friends there all knew it. Academia had been losing its shine for me for a long time by then, the politics of it all. It just wasn't fulfilling anymore, not the way working with you is. What you said to me at the hospital about being a good cop, and offering me that badge, it meant the world to me. That you trust me to watch your back as your permanent partner, just blows me away." Jim acknowledged those words with another soft kiss before responding. "I do trust you Chief. That's why I don't want you at my back for the rest of our lives." He held on tight when Blair tried to pull away. "I want you at my side instead, where you belong. Between my skills and your smarts, we've got options. We'll find one that works for both of us, where we can be the team we're supposed to be, and still help people. One that doesn't have us both dodging bullets every other day. It's not like I'm gonna be young enough to pull that off forever." Blair's knees went weak, Jim's firm grip on his lower back and the base of his skull the only thing keeping him standing. "You'd do that for me?" Jim shook his head once, slowly. "I'd do that for *us*. Just like you would, like you did with that press conference of yours. You're not the only one who can pull off a grand gesture, Chief. Maybe Eli can find a spot for you on his next expedition, and I can finally take a turn following you around for a bit. I could be their security detail." Blair searched his face, but found only honest sincerity there. His love for the man in front of him, always a warm flame in the hearth of his soul, blazed through him in a rush of desire. His mouth crashed hungrily against Jim's without conscious thought, almost reflexively. Jim's body welcomed him back, pulling them tightly together again, legs tangling with each other. Somehow, that still wasn't close enough. When he pulled back, this time he pulled Jim with him. Jim followed him without question, like he always did, not caring where they were going. As long as it had a flat surface, even if that was just a bare bit of floor, then it would do.

[freckled-words]

Repost: Smoke and Blood

I’ve renamed this fic, which was originally “Monster Mash”...I think? It was a title that didn’t work for the story anyways XD

Edited by @the-wild-ego

‘This makes the fourth victim this month. Police are advising everyone to refrain from traveling alone at night until a culprit is caught. If you must travel at night please stay to populated areas. Now to the weather, Jim?’

You clicked off the TV frowning. You’d been keeping close tabs on the recent attacks. So far, no one had died, but people were going to the hospital comatose. More concerning was the reported blood loss, which had been mentioned in a leaked post online.

It was times like these that you wished you didn’t have the night shift at the gas station. And you definitely wished you were able to drive. Instead, you had to walk to work, sure it was only 20 minutes down the street, but it was still 20 minutes out in the open alone.

You glanced at the clock, it was near 8:30 pm. You had to leave for your shift that started at 9.

The nights had grown colder as it went on October. Bundled up with a scarf and lightweight coat against the slight wind you set to a brisk pace. The sun had set already, and the streetlights were on. With it being a Sunday night you took more notice of how quiet it was. The trees alongside the sidewalk rustled with their drying leaves from the slight wind. Someone opened and closed their car door, the slam as they closed making you jump.

Your own shadow stretched this way and that with each lamp you walked under.

Each step closer towards the gas station was another step further from home. If something happened you’d rather be able to reach home. You didn’t have any unknown variables to worry about at home.

The gas station doors would be locked by the time you reached it, your co-worker had to let you in. This wouldn’t be an issue if your co-worker wasn’t prone to taking personal phone calls behind the snack shelves. If a customer didn’t run over the bell line, they could take anywhere from 10 to 20 minutes on the phone!

You were halfway there now. You just had to cross the street, pass the abandoned house, and the scary ass garage, then a couple more blocks and you were there.

You shifted from foot-to-foot at the crosswalk. You felt a tiny bit safer here since the traffic camera would have visual of you. For once, Big Brother was serving a purpose you appreciated and wanted to count on.

As soon as the crosswalk changed you dashed across the street. You kept some of that speed as you continued on. You could see the gas station up ahead as one of the few buildings illuminated.

You kept it in sight, your head lowered and your legs pumping. It was your end goal, the finish line of safety.

‘Squee!’

Your steps faltered, looking to the right you found yourself in front of the abandoned house and it's creepy garage. For as long as you’ve lived here the place has never had a tenant, and every year it got more run down and weather-beaten.

‘Squee!’

You weren’t an expert, but that definitely sounded like an animal in distress. Glancing at your phone you saw you’d been making a good time. ‘If it's hurt and could be saved it might be worth the look.’ You had a bleeding heart when it came to animals. You’d go out of your way more than once in the past to take in a stray cat or dog. You’d saved a bird’s nest, relocated a snake, and sheltered a mouse at one point.

‘Squee! Squee!’

You couldn’t turn your back on an animal in distress. You gave the gas station one more glance then turned for the garage. The animal’s cry was echoing a bit, and you could see that the door was open on the side of the building.

You didn’t want to startle the animal, making you step lightly towards the doorway. There was a streetlight just in front of the garage. It’s yellowish light reached into the doorway and illuminated some of the concrete floors. Getting closer you could see a tiny struggling body just on the edge of the light. It was a common little brown bat.

It was laying belly down on the floor, its right wing curled into its side with its left wing extended. You’d never seen a bat this close up before, only in videos. You crouched down low and approached the bat cautiously, “Hey little guy, what’s going on with you?”

Its ears wiggled, it shifted its body trying to push itself away.

Your attention narrowed in on the distressed animal you’d walked clear of the doorway. You took another crouched step closer to the bat.

The door slam closed, cutting off your exit and the light into the garage. Spinning around you scanned the darkness, “Who’s there?!”

You heard a flutter of wings, the bat that had been prone on the floor was apparently able to fly just fine. ‘A trap?’

Although you were blind without the light, he wasn’t.

He’d remained tucked in the shadows just next to the door when you came in. He hadn’t been entirely sure his plan would work, yet it seemed it was his lucky night. It was cruel of him to startle you so, but the sound of your heart racing was positively beautiful. Each frantic pulse was more blood coursing through those veins.

Prowling around you in a circle he stationed himself behind you, “Sorry for the crude tactics, I just couldn’t resist.”

You spin, your eyes frantically searched for the voice’s owner. Hugging yourself you took hesitant steps back to where you hoped the door was. If not you could at least get your back against the wall. “If this is some sort of prank, you’re a jerk. Let me out, or I’ll call the police.”

“How do you plan to do that without your phone?” He’d swiped it in passing. Now he held it up and turned on the screen, the sudden light making you close your eyes and turn your head.

His steps were without sound as he advanced.

You didn’t need to see him, you felt him when he stopped just in front of you. His hand took hold of your chin, tilting it up and to the side to expose your throat.

This closes your eyes adjusted just enough to make out his outline. Tall, lean, long bangs and hair that hung straight near down to his shoulders.

Even in the dark, his gaze was effective. Smirking as he held your eyes and keeping your body locked against your will. His free hand brushed a knuckle over your cheek, “I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised such a kind-hearted mortal came this way so late. I've been growing bored with the drug users. They have a funny aftertaste. Like diet soda. I wonder, what will you taste like? I'm hoping bacon and eggs. All that iron with a touch of sodium.” Thinking about it made him hum with want. He licked his lips as he worked up his own appetite.

‘Why can't I move?!’ You felt your mind connecting to your body, but nothing budged. The only result was a sniffled whimper from your throat.

“Shhh, you won't feel it. I promise. When I'm done you'll take a nice long nap, and when you wake up in a month...or a year...You won't remember this happened at all.” His voice lowered to an intimate whisper as he lowered his lips to your throat.

He opened his mouth, his fangs extended towards your main artery.

The door exploded clear of the frame. A stream of smoke collided with the man holding you, sending him sliding across the room.

His gaze broken from you your body sagged to the floor. Light flooded into the garage once more.

“Hey Rip Off, I've got a bone to pick with you.”

As your eyes adjusted you had to wonder what kind of whacked out world you lived in.

On the far side of the room, who you had to assume was your assailant was a young man in black dress pants, a white collared button shirt, and a black leather jacket that had seen many years of use. In the light, his irises were a startling shade of ruby red. His mouth was slanted in a smug smile.

Standing directly in front of you was your assailant’s twin. Same exact face, his hair was cut short on the sides with a fringe of bangs swept back. Dressed in jeans, and a t-shirt he was almost normal in comparison. Except his eyes had grey smoke floating out of them, obscuring his irises. His expression clearly read, “Pissed.”

Leather Jacket relaxed back on his heels, “If it isn't my baby bro. Nate-something or another right? Sorry for not dropping by to introduce myself, it was on my to-do list.”

“Cut the crap! You’re making hits in my territory, and it's bringing the heat on my ass.” The skin along his arms was building up a red glow. The inside of the garage began to feel muggy.

“Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you wouldn't mind if I thinned out your herd a bit.” He nodded towards you, instinctively you looked away to avoid eye contact.

You needed to get out of there! You didn't need to know who they were, they were clearly NOT human and shit was about to hit the paranormal fan.

The smoke guy advanced forward, “That's it, I'm melting your ass. I'll deform you so no one can mistake me for you again.” He lunged forward and Leather Jacket slid out of reach. As the battle engaged you took the opening. On your hands and knees, you hastily crawled for the open doorway.

There was the sound of flesh hitting flesh. The wall just behind you was destroyed as the smoke guy was sent through the drywall, support beam and aluminum tiles on the outside.

“Now really, NateMare, if you're going to pick a fight with your big brother, you better make it entertaining at least.” Leather Jacket chuckled and followed after the other man through the hole in the wall.

Reaching the doorway you peered around the frame and watched as the smoke guy turned into a literal cloud of smoke. It swarmed around Leather Jacket, and he just continued to laugh.

You got to your feet and took off running for the gas station. Behind you, you thought you could still hear swearing, laughter and something colliding with the ground.

You nearly ran straight through the glass door of the gas station, your body pressed flush against it you pounded on the door, “Let me in!”

Your co-worker jerked to attention off their phone and hurried over to let you in, “You're not that late for your shift.”

You scurried inside and slammed the door closed, relocking it you braced yourself against the cash counter.

“You okay? Did something happen?”

Before you could respond you felt the ground shake. A massive fireball went up in the air from the direction of the old house. Car alarms screamed. “Holy shit! What was that?!”

“There….there was a…..” you wanted to say ‘super-powered twins fighting’, but you weren't feeling inclined towards disbelieving looks. “There was a guy with a jerry can and a lighter hanging out by that old garage. He scared the crap out of me. I didn't think he was going to do that.”

Fire trucks and police cars came shrieking with their alarms down the street.

Your co-worker helped you over to the small stool in the corner, “You're lucky you ran when you did.”

“I know.”

[yallreddieforthis]

Believer

Fandom: It (2017)

Pairing: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier

Rating: T (for language and Richie being Richie)

Words: 7k

Soulmate AU. Takes place in 2004. Humor, banter, first meeting, first date, first kiss.

And wow. Wow and a half. Richie couldn’t have even dreamed up a guy this cute, although admittedly he’d been picturing some dude in baggy jeans and a beanie with a hacky sack this whole time. Which couldn’t be further from this...absolute snack of startled, prep-school perfection.

Oh my fucking god, I hate that song.

Y’know, Richie has seen worse. Some girl in his English class has damn, how you fit all that in them jeans? so really, anything after that is an improvement.

And it’s not like the soul mark is constantly on his mind or anything. It’s on his back—literally, he can’t see it without two mirrors and he had to have Bill read it out to him when it first showed up—but every once in awhile he remembers that someday he’s going to hear oh my fucking god, I hate that song and he’ll just know. Well, maybe more than every once in awhile. It’s kind of like a recurring daydream. That, and what he’d do if he suddenly became Cyclops from the X-Men.

Fifteen year old Richie was positive it was going to be like some punk-ass rocker chick standing outside Hot Topic and reacting to 98 Degrees over the loudspeaker. At least, that was his first thought. And it’s not like it’s going to be a problem if that’s what ends up happening—because no matter what or who else he’s into, Richie is positive he’ll always have a deep-down internal hard-on for punk-ass rocker chicks—but lately he’s had this nagging feeling in the back of his mind that… Well, it could just be like, a memory of a dream or some shit. And Richie certainly does not believe in dreams coming true, but it wasn’t until well after he got a soul mark that he admitted to himself that his secret thing for Chad Michael Murray is not going anywhere anytime soon.

Richie thinks it would’ve been easier to admit to being The Bi-est if it hadn’t been goddamn Chad that forced him to realize it. Like if it had been Orlando Bloom in Pirates or something when he’d been like alright, time to fuckin’ fess up . But he explained away his crush on Orlando as like, well, Orlando is cool as fuck. Duh. Who doesn’t want to blow him?

Same with like, David Boreanaz. Richie is convinced that even the straightest of straight guys fell desperately in love with Angel when they watched Buffy. He could stick his stake in anyone and they’d thank him.

But Chad...mm. Richie is the only guy he knows who watches One Tree Hill. He’s sure about that because every joke he’s ever made about Lucas Scott has been met by blank stares by Bill and Bev and even Ben, who, though ostensibly straight, would totally love One Tree Hill if Richie ever got the balls to ask him to watch it with him. The only people in the whole world he has to discuss it with are the group of girls who sit next to him in Physics. So actually, Richie blames One Tree Hill for his D in Physics. If he hadn’t started talking to those girls—and he probably wouldn’t have if they hadn’t been discussing the show—he might’ve been able to learn about science instead of playing Fuck Marry Kill every period. So even though it truly is the worst show he has ever watched on purpose, once a week, like clockwork, Richie sits his ass down in front of the computer to jerk it to Blondie McKenDoll because...what are you gonna do.

It ended up being a blessing in disguise because he decided to let his friends know he’s bi and a One Tree Hill fan in one fell swoop. He only got shit on about the One Tree Hill thing, especially because he was the one who used to give Ben shit about Dawson’s Creek. So really, that was only fair.

Still, that was nothing compared to the shit he got for having a soul mark that’s like...inches from being a tramp stamp. Secretly (and also not-so-secretly), Richie loves it. It’s deliciously tacky, the handwriting is almost as bad as his; really, he couldn’t have asked for something trashier. He might’ve died of shame if he’d gotten delicate, loopy cursive around his forearm like Bill it’s lovely to meet you, finally Denbrough. Anyway, anybody who writes that nicely would never be compatible with Richie. And god help whatever poor guy has a soul mark in Richie’s handwriting somewhere on his body. Richie can only pray it’s somewhere unobtrusive.

The messy printing is only a small part of what has convinced Richie his soulmate is a boy. It’s mostly just a gut feeling, something he doesn’t want to acknowledge because he can’t explain it. It feels stupid to bank on something like that.

Richie is low-key disappointed by the fact that he's never seen the handwriting from his soul mark crop up in any of the school graffiti. He's even gone and tagged the bathroom stalls a couple of times, in the hopes that whatever guy it is will see it. And deep down, Richie knows he probably wouldn't have done that if he'd thought his soulmate was a girl.

They're all reasonably convinced that Bill's soulmate is British, based on the whole lovely thing, and Richie has taken to mimicking the kind of accent he thinks she might have. Bill keeps being like I'm not gonna match with the qu-qu-queen, Richie, but if she's the kind of girl who goes around telling people it's lovely to meet you... Richie's not saying she will be like some kind of aristocratic socialite, just that she might be. He thinks Bill should probably be taking steps to prepare for that sort of scenario, although he's not sure what those steps might be. Cotillion? Cigar smoking? Tea making?

Either way, Bill has time. There aren’t any British girls in Derry. No way is he going to meet her until at least college.

In any case, thinking about what song he and his soulmate can hate together to be a lot better pastime than whatever the fuck Mr. Shulman is writing about on the whiteboard. Richie feels like he can't take a hundred percent of the blame for failing to pay attention. The green marker Mr. Shulman is using is frayed, fading, and praying for the sweet release of the trash can, and it's not like Richie can really see the board from the back of the room on the best of days. His parents have suggested, well, more like insisted he sit up front but like...Bev sits in the back, and sitting up front would put a damper on the bubble gum blowing contests they have when Mr. Shulman isn't looking. Tragically, his parents probably wouldn't agree with his reasoning. But whatever.

Richie has a list in the back of his notebook, which he relies on his inscrutable handwriting to protect from prying eyes, of every song he's ever heard that he immediately disliked. He started it on his fifteenth birthday with a list of past horrors and adds on every time Creed releases a new single.

  Titanic song—My Heart Will Go On

I Hope You Dance

Hero—Enrique Iglesias (although Richie has admittedly crossed out and rewritten this one several times because, you know, Enrique)

Soak Up the Sun—that chick that’s dating Lance Armstrong

Summer Girls

I Knew I Loved You

Your Body Is a Wonderland

I’m Like a Bird

Anything that has ever been on American Idol

 And so on. He's got 37 entries so far, and it's been two and a half years in the making. He's just in the process of deciding whether A Thousand Miles deserves a spot on the list when Bev nudges his shoulder and hands him a note under the desk, written in Ben's even, exacting printing.

  Tuesday: Circle one

- National Treasure

- Mean Girls

- The Passion? (probably not, I know)

- Saw

- Troy

 Richie truly sees no point in reading further because Bev has only circled National Treasure and Mean Girls and there is a zero percent chance Ben won't side with her , but he'll be damned if he's not going to give his opinion anyway. He scribbles a big fat line through The Passion, because although he knows Ben's AP history class will give him extra credit for seeing it, but he's not sure he loves Ben (or rather, Ben's history teacher) enough to sit through three hours of Jim Caviezel getting whumped.

Apropos of nothing, a song begins playing in Richie’s head; a good one, thankfully. Richie has very little control over his internal radio and sometimes it gets stuck on Radio Disney, so some Weird Al is a welcome reprieve.

  And the guide... Richie mutters while tapping on his desk.

  Said not to stand

But that’s a demand

That I couldn’t meet

I got on my feet

And stood up instead

And knocked of my head, you see

Tell meeee…

 From Richie’s other side, Bill’s elbow collides with his ribs.

“You’re doing the th-thing again,” he mutters under his breath. Richie rolls his eyes. He doesn’t understand why anyone— his math teacher included—would not be delighted by a surprise rendition of a Weird Al song, regardless of where in the song he happens to start singing. 

Back to the movie list. Everything else...hmm. Troy looks badass—and stars Richie's one true love, Orlando Bloom. There's a good chance he's gonna be naked in it too. Richie draws a dick next to Troy as part of the decision-making process. He knows Ben only put Saw on the list because he thought Richie would like it. There's no way Ben actually wants to watch Wesley from Princess Bride get chopped up. Richie scratches Saw out and writes you're not fooling me next to it.

He's heard good things about Mean Girls, but still... Bev probably only circled it because she knows it's Ben's first choice. Sometimes being best friends with a couple makes Richie want to spray them with projectile vomit. But, you know, in the best way. He has no particular objections to Mean Girls himself, except that National Treasure promises to be amazingly, spectacularly adventure-y and ridiculous, and Richie is always down for that kind of action. In fact, he would just as soon use the advantage of a half day where his parents are at work to watch Jumanji on the big TV in the living room, but...

Fuck it. He's feeling generous today, and he kind of wants to witness Ben vibrating with excitement when he sees the note so...he circles Mean Girls and passes it back.

Ben's gasp upon receiving it is worth it.

Apparently, Derry High isn't the only school having a minimum day because the mall is fucking packed with teenagers. The concession stand line is super long, but where else is Richie supposed to find a nauseating selection of overpriced candy and a bucket of popcorn that could feed a small village? After dousing the popcorn with butter to the point where Ben almost gags, they make their way into the theater to find seats. Which are shitty almost-front-row ones because it took them so goddamn long to get snacks that those are the only four seats together by the time they get in there. Lucky the guy sitting in front of Richie is super short. Bev and Ben aren't so lucky—the curls of the guy to his left are almost as impressive as Richie's, and the guy in front of Bev is just obviously really tall.

The previews haven't even started yet—it's just the shitty like don't talk in the theater ads and dumb TV trivia questions.

Richie feels incumbent to entertain his friends at all times, but especially in moments like this, where nothing else entertaining is forthcoming.

Uh huh, he whispers, starting up a beat on his thigh. Uh huh. Extra Cheese.

Bill sighs in a long-suffering sort of way beside him.

  Uh huh. Uh huh. Save a piece for meeeee…

 He turns to Bev and starts whispering the rest of the lyrics directly into her ear because he can’t not.

  Pizza party at your house

I went just to check it out

Nineteen extra-larges, what a shame

No one came

We sat eatin’ all alone

You said, take the pizza—

 “Shh!” Bev puts a finger over his mouth. “You’re going to get us kicked out again.” 

That’s fair. Although, in Richie’s defense, it’s not like they missed out on much last time. The Village was supposed to be shitty anyway.

Mean Girls is, as it turns out, almost as interesting as the antics of the people in the row in front of them. Curly and the tall one are  a couple, clearly, and Richie feels for Shorty The Third Wheel, whose face he has yet to get a good look at. His hair is as neat as Richie’s is messy though—the kind of perfect where Richie can’t tell if he tried to make it look like that or if that’s just how it is. It’s just long enough to sweep over the tips of his ears and to almost touch the back collar of the polo shirt he’s wearing. He sits with his legs crossed in front of him, which Richie hasn’t been able to do since eighth grade.

The couple is cute, like stupid cute. The tall one is black and like, easily a ten no matter what your taste is; Curly is white with defined cheekbones and a cardigan. Tall has his arm around Curly, who has leaned into his neck. It makes Richie at least ten times gayer than he was before he walked into this theater.

Halfway through the movie, Richie has finished his monster popcorn and started in on the Milk Duds. He’s getting intense gay vibes from Aaron, who is supposed to be hot but is a little too Mister Muscles for Richie’s taste. Of course, Richie also likes Chad Michael Murray so… Even Richie’s taste doesn’t match with Richie’s taste. Whatever. At least his mouth and brain are in agreement on the subject of Sour Patch Kids, which is what really matters in the end.

But anyway, Richie prepares to come away from this movie a changed man with a new appreciation for Jingle Bell Rock by the time the credits roll. He’s definitely going to have to see this at least four to sixteen more times—or however many he can get away with before his friends threaten to kill him—because he missed a lot of the jokes being distracted by the way Shorty was craning his neck to look up at the screen. Richie pops the last of his Starburst into his mouth without unwrapping it. If there was an Olympics category for unwrapping a starburst with your tongue, Richie would be a gold medalist.

“Did you finish all that?” Ben gasps, leaning over and gaping at the graveyard of candy wrappers across Richie’s lap. Richie nods, burps, and rubs his belly like a proud expectant mother. He spits out the Starburst wrapper and hands it to Ben with a wink because he knows Ben’s too polite to drop that shit on the floor for the ushers to clean up.

“Well,” says Beverly, taking a final, bubbly sip of her Icee, “when you give birth to that thing later tonight, don’t call me to cry about it.”

And because she gave him such a perfect opportunity—and because he absolutely will be calling her from the bathroom later tonight—Richie decides to finally finish his song.

  Why’d you have to go and make me so constipated?

This really is a—

 He doesn’t get any further because a sharp voice cuts in from directly in front of him.

“Oh my fucking god, I hate that song.”

And then Richie’s back is attacked by a thousand mosquitos at once—or at least that’s what it feels like. He overheard a guy on the quad once say that the sensation from his mark when he met his soulmate gave him a boner, but apparently it’s different for everyone because all this does is make Richie want to light himself on fire. 

Which is why when Shorty in the J. Crew polo wheels around to look at him, Richie is awkwardly shifting, trying to find a way to itch his back on the seat. Maybe not the first impression he was going for, but just then, Shorty’s eyes lock on to Richie’s as he locates the source of the song, so yeah. There it is.

And wow. Wow and a half. Richie couldn’t have even dreamed up a guy this cute, although admittedly he’d been picturing some dude in baggy jeans and a beanie with a hacky sack this whole time. Which couldn’t be further from this...absolute snack of startled, prep-school perfection.

Before either of them can say anything else, Shorty yelps and grabs at one of his legs. That’s when he seems to regain the power of speech.

“It’s you?” he says, glaring sharply at Richie. “You’re the reason I haven’t been able to wear shorts for three fucking years?”

People are starting to leave the theater, which Richie hardly registers because he is having a full-on, swear to god Disney moment. This guy is like a...a bear cub. Not like hairy— he’s actually noticeably not hairy—but in the sense that he’s small and huggable-looking and Richie wants to pick him up and squeeze him but would probably get mauled if he tried to do so.

“Do you even—oh, sorry,” Shorty says, apologizing to the person who is trying to scoot past him. Then he turns back to Richie and flicks his eyes over him; just like a quick once-over. It’s impossible to tell if he likes what he sees. Richie notices he is still rubbing his calf.

“Itches like a motherfucker, doesn’t it?” he says, giving up on his seat-wiggling and reaching behind himself to scratch at his soul mark. Unfortunately, it turns out to be one of those itches that hurts when you scratch it, so he pulls his fingers back with an, “ow, son of a bitch!”

Shorty hisses.

“What’s wrong, Eddie?” Tall leans over Curly to ask Shorty—Eddie. Eddie.

“Fuck,” says Eddie, then he takes in a deep breath, rubbing his leg like he’s dying to scratch it. “This asshole—” he points an accusing finger in Richie’s direction, “—is the reason I’ve had those Weird Al lyrics about being—sorry, excuse us—about being constipated on my leg since before the goddamn song even came out.”

Tall and Curly both swivel around to stare at Richie. That gets Bev’s attention.

“Wait, Richie,” she says, grabbing his arm. “Is this—” 

“The love of my life,” Richie announces proudly, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees, chin in his hands. “Eddie.”  

There is silence for a second during which Richie can almost see smoke coming out of Eddie’s ears.

“Fuck,” he says again. For all his preppy khakis and neatly combed hair and pristine white sneakers, he sure has a potty mouth. Richie couldn’t imagine anything better.

Bev gapes too, tapping Ben rapidly on the knee to get his attention. Curly’s eyes narrow as he examines Richie critically.

“Eddie, are you sure this is him?” he asks, still staring.

“Yeah,” Eddie nods, pulling up his pant leg and peering at his leg. “Yeah, cause—you know what? You can’t really see it in—”

“Excuse me,” calls an usher from the end of the aisle. “Is there a problem?”

“No,” Richie calls back cheerfully. “This is my soulmate! Isn’t he—”

“Right,” says the usher, blank faced in spite of this being the greatest of all possible happenings. “You think maybe you can move this party out to the lobby? I need to get the floor cleaned before the next showing.”

Eddie practically disappears into his friends during the awkward group shuffle out of the theater, but Richie walks backwards, keeping his eyes on all five feet and...four inches? three? of the gorgeousness that is Eddie.

Out in the light of the lobby he’s even better. Soft-looking brown hair, lightly freckled cheeks and arms, and—once he pulls up his pant leg—a soul mark that looks like the logo for someone’s z-list death metal band. The skin around it is pink and blotchy, but Richie can see the lines already fading. The only word that’s really fully legible is constipated. Which is hilarious, so Richie can’t understand why Eddie seems so ticked off.

Not that it fazes him in the slightest. It is actually written in the stars or the Book of Fate or whatever that he and Eddie are meant for each other. They’re destined to fall in love. If Eddie is mad at him now, he won’t be later.

“Whoa,” says Curly, tracing his fingers over Eddie’s soul mark. “Yeah. There it goes.”

“I’m Mike,” says Tall, who, now that they’re all standing, is actually the same height as Richie. He extends a hand, which Richie takes and then uses to yank him in for a hug. He smells amazing.

“Richie,” he says into Mike’s shoulder, before next trying to plaster himself to Curly. He hears Ben start to make introductions with Mike before Eddie’s voice cuts in.

“Stop,” he orders, running both hands through his hair, which bounces immediately back into its immaculate style. “Okay? Just—this is not happening right now.”

“Tell that to my heart, cutie,” says Richie. “And by my heart I mean my—”

“My mom?” Eddie says, like he’s name-dropping—like that should mean anything to Richie.

“God, if she’s half as cute as you, then hell yes.”

“No,” says Eddie. “I mean like, my mom. Does not know. That I’m gay. Fuck. Like, she has no fucking idea. And she’s gonna have a shit fit when she finds out. I keep telling her I don’t even have a soul mark yet—she never would’ve let me out of the house again if she’d seen it.”

“So?” says Richie. “Now it’s going away; now she doesn’t have to see it.” Seems more like a solution than a problem if you ask him.

“Honestly I was hoping not to even have to deal with any of this shit until like after college,” Eddie says. He looks like he’s considering just making a fucking break for the door. Like, don’t want to deal with this now, bye! Which, fair.

It’s a lot to roll with, especially just out of fucking nowhere like that. Richie probably should be freaking out way more than he is right now.

The idea of not seeing Eddie again until after college sounds terrible, but he doesn’t want to admit that. Going around like, yeah, I met my soulmate but he had a meltdown and ran away so… Like, he could do it if it’s what Eddie wanted. But he really hopes Eddie changes his mind.

“Do you want me to just like...fuck off?” he asks Eddie, quietly enough that the others won’t hear him.

Eddie frowns. “I don’t—”

“I mean...I guess we don’t have to like, you know, go for it now. Like. If you’re not into it, it’s cool. No offense taken. Maybe I’ll… I dunno, find you on Friendster in a few years? When things are easier? Or you can look for me. It’s Richie T-O-Z-”

Eddie cringes, checks his phone. “Shit, I have to go. My mom left me three messages; she’s probably already in the parking lot.”

And before Richie can even get upset about the idea that his soulmate is about to walk off into the sunset without so much as a dramatic monologue about how he’ll never give up on their eventual theoretical love, Eddie bites his lip and looks up into Richie’s face. His eyes are big and brown and make Richie feel like his ribcage is liquefying.

“Gimme your phone,” he says. Richie’s heart leaps into his throat as he pulls it out of his pocket.

Eddie takes it from him. “You should really get a case for this thing,” he says, clicking away on the number pad.

Their fingers brush as Eddie hands back his phone, with one last long look back as he scampers away.

Richie starts typing before he’s even left the lobby.

 From: Richie

hi its richie, the actual love of ur life

 From: Eddie

jesus i havent even reached the parking lot

dont text me too much its 15c a text, my mom will catch on

 From: Richie

can i see u again

i miss u already

 From: Eddie

i can probably get out again saturday

 From: Richie

saturday? what about tmrw?

 From: Eddie

im lucky if i get saturday

saturday, yes or no

 From: Richie

YES OF COURSE

meet me in front of the arcade 1st and Adams

…

ok?

 From: Eddie

Yeah 2pm stop texting me 

Eddie—god even thinking his name brings up a rush of butterflies—is standing outside the arcade looking about as comfortable as if it were a strip club. He’s wearing shorts, apparently for the first time in years. Something tells Richie that Eddie’s not going to be one of those people who gets their soul mark tattooed on after meeting their soulmate. The jury is still out on Richie—he kinda misses his already.

In the five days since they met, Richie has outlined itineraries for at least three different honeymoons and started a shortlist of names their adoptive children. He hopes Eddie also dreams of naming his sons after the kids from South Park.

“So,” says Richie, leaning down and looking Eddie in the eye, “yes or no to kissing on the first date?”

“Who said this was a date?” Eddie scoffs, opening the door to the arcade and rolling his eyes.

Richie has as much of a plan as he’s ever made in his life for this afternoon. First it’s the arcade where he can show off his bitchin’ Dance Dance Revolution skills, then to Johnny Rockets next door for a burger to remember, then hopefully back to Richie’s car to make out if they really hit it off.

Richie honestly cannot wait to show Eddie his car. It’s super impressive, even though it’s missing a bumper and the back passenger side door is held on with duct tape. Is a handjob too much to hope for on the first date? He doesn’t want to pressure Eddie or anything, but Richie is ready to give Eddie a handjob yesterday. So as soon as Eddie’s ready to rumble, they can get down.

Richie brought both his windshield covers just in case—the blue one and the Ren and Stimpy.

Turns out there’s a long line for DDR, which Richie probably should have counted on since it’s Saturday. Perfect opportunity for getting to know each other though. If Eddie would just like, you know, talk. He’s silently chewing on his lip instead, brow furrowed.

“Come here often?” Richie asks him.

Eddie shakes his head. “More like never. My mom won’t let me. Says the arcade is full of germs. She thinks I’m at Stan’s house watching High Society again . ”

“What’s High Society?”

“Really?” Eddie looks up at him. “You haven’t seen—like, with Grace Kelly, Frank Sinatra? Bing Crosby? No?”

“So it’s like...a super old movie?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says slowly. “What—I’m just curious—what’s your favorite movie?”

“Definitely The Big Lebowski,” says Richie right away. “That’s easy. Best movie of all time. Oh, except maybe White Chicks. Pulp Fiction. Scary Movie 3.”

“Oh my god,” Eddie whispers, apparently to his shoes.

“Please don’t tell me you preferred Scary Movie 2. That might be a dealbreaker. Soulmate or not.”

“But you do like scary movies?” Eddie perks up a little. “Have you seen Wait Until Dark with Audrey Hepburn? It’s super scary.”

“Audrey Hepburn? Ohhhh, that chick in The Philadelphia Story? My grandma makes us watch that every year when we come over for Thanksgiving.”

Eddie purses his lips. “That’s Katharine Hepburn.”

“Are they sisters?” Richie asks.

“No.”

Richie isn’t worried. Eddie probably just hasn’t seen, like, Dude Where’s My Car yet. Easily fixed. His parents will be out of town next weekend; Eddie can stay over and they can watch it. That and definitely Catch Me If You Can.

He pitches the idea to Eddie, whose eyes light up at the mention of Catch Me If You Can.

“Oh my god,” Eddie groans, “Leonardo DiCaprio was like, my sexual awakening.”

“For sure,” says Richie. “He was such a badass in Gangs of New York. Which one did it for you? Was it The Man In the Iron Mask?”

Eddie looks at him like he’s being an idiot. “Uh, you’re guessing The Man In the Iron Mask before Titanic?”

“Really?” Richie winces, super disappointed and unable to hide it. “Titanic, Eddie?”

Eddie smirks. “No. Romeo and Juliet. You’re up.”

Richie tries to decide whether Romeo and Juliet is a better or worse sexual awakening than Titanic as he chooses a song. Richie practices DDR every weekend the way some people faithfully go to church, so he’s pretty confident he’ll blow Eddie away no matter what.

Still, just to be safe, he picks easy mode when he thinks Eddie isn’t looking. Eddie’s never been here. He doesn’t need to know that it took Richie six months of practice before he finished a song without failing out. It’s gonna look cool either way.

And, okay, in hindsight...these brand-new Dickies are still kind of stiff. They might not have been the best choice for DDR. He just figured they’d make a better impression than the old ripped ones he was wearing when they met. Eddie strikes Richie as the kind of guy who doesn’t wear the same pants two days in a row; he doesn’t need to know that Richie (up until the day before yesterday) only had the one pair. Richie has decided he might even be convinced to break his strict rule of not throwing out pants until they’ve worn through in the crotch. All for love.

Eddie smiles brightly at his abysmal score. “Wow, that was pretty good. Can I try?”

Damn, that smile. Whipped already and they haven’t even kissed yet. Richie steps down with a bow.

Eddie stands tentatively on the DDR platform.

“Um…” He looks at the screen. “This one?”

And before Richie can stop him, he’s picked a crazy song on hard mode. If it were Bill, Richie would settle in and prepare laugh his ass off. Maybe even try to grab his camera from the car.

“So you just like, step on the arrows when they show up on the screen?” Eddie asks while the game loads.

“Uh, yeah,” says Richie. “But you know—don’t worry if you fail out. Took me awhile to get the hang of it.” He winks. 

“Okay,” says Eddie. He rolls his neck and shakes out his arms and… Whoa, why does Richie suddenly feel like he’s about to pop a boner?

And then, uh. And then Eddie is nothing but a flurry of legs, jumping, twirling, hopping back and forth. He claps and snaps with the beat—god, he knows how to use his fucking body. Thank god for Richie’s stiff new pants. He bends a little at the knee, letting his sweater drape down over his lap. Other people in the arcade are stopping what they’re doing to watch—he’s that good.

After what could have been either ten seconds or ten years—but nothing in between—the song ends and Eddie bounces lightly off the mat. Richie’s throat goes dry.

“How’d I do?” Eddie’s little smirk is positively edible.  

“Marry me,” Richie croaks. “I was gonna offer to teach you to play but, uh…”

Eddie laughs. “Mike has that game,” he says, still smiling. “We play it all the time at his house. It’s even harder with the shitty fold-out mat.”

“Well there go my plans,” Richie says, throwing his arms in the air. “It was gonna be a DDR lesson. A sexy one. And you’ve gone and totally schooled me, so now I’m just gonna have to try to impress you with Halo.”

Mercifully, Eddie turns out to be absolute shit at first-person shooters, so Richie isn’t totally humiliated on his home turf. But Eddie creams him at the driving games almost as bad as he did at DDR. 

“Jesus, dude,” Richie says, watching Eddie punch his initials into the hi score list. EFK. “What kind of car do you drive?”

“Pffft,” Eddie shakes his head. “My mom won’t even let my get my permit yet.” 

“Wait,” says Richie. “How old are you?”

“I’m eighteen,” Eddie tells him. Shut the fuck up. No way.

“You’re older than me?! But you’re so short! I thought you were like sixteen.”

Eddie shoots him a baffled glare. “You know that’s not how it works, right?”

“Well, how old did you think I was?” Richie asks. 

“I guess I thought you were eighteen too?” says Eddie, shrugging. “I mean…” he gestures vaguely upward.

Richie raises his eyebrows.

“Alright, touche,” Eddie admits. “But seriously, how old are you? I’m gonna feel really weird if you’re just like, the world’s tallest freshman and you’re hitting on me.”

“Seventeen. I’ll be eighteen next month. So we’re practically the same age.”

Eddie nods. “But as far as driving, yeah. I don’t like, have my own car. So yeah, technically I could get a license but I don’t have anything to actually drive yet.”

“My dad gave me his old car and basically let me destroy it while I was practicing,” says Richie. “Your parents don’t trust you with their cars?”

Eddie hesitates for a second before looking away. “It’s just me and my mom,” he says quickly.

“Oh,” says Richie stupidly, feeling like an absolute tool. “Oh yeah, sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Eddie tells him, and it sounds like he mostly means it. “I was so young when he died, I don’t even remember him. It’s just that my mom…”

“She sounds like a hardass,” says Richie, drumming on the Whack-a-Mole console while Eddie grabs the mallet.

“It’s not— wham— that,” he says, eyes darting between the moles. “It’s like… My mom acts like she wishes she’d never even —wham— given birth to me.”

“Ow,” Richie grimaces. “Harsh.”

“No,” Eddie corrects. “I don’t mean it like— wham —that. Just that like I think she would rather they’d never— wham —cut the umbilical cord. Like she wishes we were still— wham wham wham —attached.”

“Yikes,” says Richie, because that’s all he can think of to say. 

“Big yikes,” Eddie agrees.

“I’m guessing you don’t go to Derry High, then,” says Richie, resting his head against the machine while Eddie continues to annihilate moles. “Makes sense that I never saw you around, cause I totally would’ve remembered seeing that ass before.”  

He hesitates before adding, “I even wrote some graffiti in the bathroom stalls so you’d recognize my handwriting.”

Eddie’s nose crinkles adorably at that. “First of all—no. I’m homeschooled. Maybe because my mom doesn’t want me making too many friends, or maybe even just to keep me from using public bathrooms.” 

“How do you know Mike and Curly then?” Richie asks.

“Cur—Stanley? Shit,” Eddie says as he misses a mole. “Mike and Stan are homeschooled too. We go to the same testing center in Bangor. And—ha!—I dunno? I sensed their gayness?”

“Yeah I sensed their gayness too,” Richie says. “By the way they were all over each other.”

“No, actually. It wasn’t like that. I knew both of them before they knew each other,” says Eddie. “I was there when they met.”

“Wow.” Richie uses his fist to hit a mole he thinks Eddie’s about to miss. “soul mark surprise?”

“Not really,” says Eddie. “Stan had a thing on his wrist that said, hi, I’m Mike , in Mike’s handwriting, so I kind of connected the dots and introduced them.”

“I’m the third wheel with Bev and Ben all the time,” Richie tells him, leaning over to collect tickets from the Whack-a-Mole.

“They’re not usually too—wait, what’s that?” Eddie asks, snatching something out of Richie’s back pocket. He unfolds the piece of paper.

“Oh, well, uh,” Richie says, thinking for the first time that it’s kind of embarrassing that he kept the list in the first place, “I just… Well, my soul mark said oh my fucking god, I hate that song, so I kind of like kept a list of songs I thought he—they might be talking about.”

Eddie snorts. “I have every single one of these on my iPod,” he says. “And that’s like, my all-time favorite song.” He points at I Knew I Loved You by Savage Garden. Oh god.

“Do you really hate Weird Al?” Richie asks him on their way to the air hockey table. “Cause I gotta say, I don’t know if this,” he gestures between them, “is gonna work out if you don’t want to hear the Angry White Boy Polka at least three times a day.”

“No,” says Eddie quickly. “Weird Al is great. It’s just, you know, the soul mark thing. Like I got it and I was like, what the fuck is this shit? And I guess it was kind of a relief when the song came out because I really hadn’t figured out like...what context I might hear that in. But then I just got sick of associating the song with like...true love. Cause it’s like, ridiculous and gross, you know?”

“I guess,” says Richie. “I dunno. I thought that was pretty fuckin’ romantic.”

“Yeah, I bet you did,” says Eddie. “That’s the kind of romance I’d expect from anyone who hasn’t watched Bing Crosby serenade Grace Kelly.”

“Damn, Eddie. You’re a pretentious little dick, you know that?” Richie says, picking up the puck.

“And you’re a goddamn mess,” Eddie shoots back without pausing. “Your serve.”

Richie is already balls deep in love by the the game ends. To be fair, he’s not sure how he was supposed to concentrate on the game with Eddie giggling and doing a little dance every time he scored. Eddie may have kicked his ass, but Richie walks out the door of the arcade feeling like he’s the one who came out on top. 

“What’s next?” Eddie asks, backing out the door of the arcade, catching his new sticky hand toy on Richie’s glasses on purpose.

“Road head?” Richie asks hopefully, jutting his chin in the direction of his car and grabbing onto his glasses to keep them from being pulled right off his face.

“You wish,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “I haven’t even decided if I want a second date yet.”

“Ah ha!” Richie points at him. “So you admit this is a first date?”

Eddie laughs and raises his eyebrows. “I dunno. Is it?”

“Let’s ask Johnny Rocket,” says Richie, cocking his head to the right. “Got time for a burger? We can split a milkshake.”

Eddie gives him a considering sort of look. “I could probably squeeze it into my schedule.”

Ohhhhhh the things Richie wants to squeeze… With great mental fortitude, he refrains from commenting. Instead Eddie opens the door for him and they grab two menus and a booth. 

“What are you gonna get?” Richie asks.

Eddie peers at him from over the menu. “Depends who’s paying. But we’re definitely not sharing a milkshake. I can already tell you’re a dessert hog. I’d end up getting like one sip.”

Richie laughs, running a hand through his hair. “God.”

“What?” asks Eddie, eyes already fixed back on the menu.

“Honestly? You.”

“Me what?”

Richie hesitates because it’s something he’s never talked to anyone about before. And for good reason—it’s fucking stupid. But right now, sitting in this Johnny Rockets…

“You know…” he starts, drumming his knuckles on the table, “I’m like, super bisexual. But I knew my soulmate was going to be a guy.”

Eddie puts the menu down. “Huh. Really? How?”

Richie shakes his head. “I dunno. It sounds really stupid but like… I don’t know if it was a dream I had or… you just. Like when I heard your voice and then you turned around in the theater…”

It’s so corny. He can’t say it. He’s playing with the straw dispenser on the table like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world. How do you say you make me feel like, gooey inside and it’s fuckin’ nasty but also I don’t ever want it to end? Without sounding like a pussy, of course.

“Thanks? I guess?” says Eddie. “I mean, I still have no idea what you’re talking about but—”

“I’m really glad you’re my soulmate,” Richie blurts out. “Not just to have one, I mean. I’m glad it’s you. You’re awesome. Like...you’re totally knocking me off my fuckin’ feet here. And I hope you—”

The rest of his sentence is drowned out by Eddie leaning over the table and kissing him. Not like, full-on tongue kissing or anything. Just kind of a peck. But longer. Something in between. Soft, but definitely real.

And afterwards Eddie draws back, a little pinker than he was a second ago and then digs into his pocket, fishing out some quarters. He puts two in the little jukebox at their table, punches in a number and letter combo, and then sits back in his seat, shredding a straw wrapper between his fingers.

  I thought love was only true in fairy tales

Meant for someone else, but not for me

 Eddie looks like he’s trying as hard as he can not to grin, going even redder. Richie leans in and offers his hand. Eddie drops his straw wrapper.

  Love was out to get me, that’s the way it seemed

Disappointment haunted all my dreams

But then I saw her face—

 “You know,” Richie says, looking Eddie in the eye, “I like the Smash Mouth version better.”

  Now I’m a believer

 Eddie laughs and takes his outstretched hand. “I think I can live with that.”

[thedeviltohisangel]

You Say It Softly//6//We Worked Too Hard For This

The birth of Jim & Leah’s son.

warnings associated with labor and delivery scenes.

in honor of @langdonslove birthday!

masterlist in bio, send any requests for these two my way!

Leah could barely find the energy to get out of bed most mornings now. Her stomach had swelled to an impossible size and with it had gone her will to do the most mundane of things. Part of her felt bad for Jim. She would wake up, curse his name for putting his spawn inside of her and caging her to this life of immobility. He would make her breakfast of nutella on toast and extra crispy bacon and no matter how badly she wanted to devour the whole thing, his baby was taking up all the room and she could only muster a small portion.

“I hate you.” The frustrated tears always came next. Everything bothered her on such a large scale and it was mainly the fact that their baby was two weeks late. Two extra weeks of feeling like a beached whale. Two extra weeks of kicking Jim out of bed because he was too warm and she was sweating and she couldn’t breathe. Two extra weeks of psychological warfare over how good of a mother she would or would not be.

“I know, baby. When little one comes it will all be worth it, right?” She looked at Jim skeptically from where he knelt next to her side of the bed.

“Only if they have your blue eyes. If they don’t, I want a refund.”

“Okay, baby, I’m sure we can arrange that.” Jim had never been in the business of disagreeing with her but recently he had made it his life mission to always be on her side. He was indeed partially responsible for the state she found herself in so he shoulder all her irritability like a champ. His shoulders were strong enough to carry any burdens she needed to shed. He was made to be that for her, he thinks.

“When you get back from your sister’s, can we go out to dinner tonight? I feel like the house is suffocating me.” His lips pressed themselves gently up her arms in an agreeable and hopefully soothing manner.

“What’re you craving?”

“Everything. I can’t even put a name to it, Sprinkles.”

“I’m sorry you’re feeling so miserable, Sugar. You know I wish I could make it go away and if you think of anything I can do…”

“I’ll tell you. I promise.” She winced slightly as a tight pain rippled through the underside of her baby bump. “These stupid Braxton-Hicks.” Jim lent her the warmth of his palm on the spot where he knew the pain was. The false labor pains had been coming and going and he knew exactly where she needed her muscles to be eased and soothed.

“No chance they’re real, Sugar?”

“No they feel exactly the same as they have been. My doctor thinks I’ll be able to tell the difference.” Leah had taken the time away from work with her maternity leave to refocus her mind and become more in tune with her own body. She had started going to a meditation group and doing yoga and testing healthy juice recipes. Jim hadn’t been the biggest fan of that phase of exploration.

“You sure you’ll be okay while I’m with Medina? I’ll stay home if you want me to. Need me to. No shame in asking.”

“I’ll be fine. I want you two to go to that beach. You’ve been gushing about the waves for months. Women have had babies in caves. I’ll be okay.” He watched her for a few more moments to make sure she was being honest with him before he stood and pressed a kiss to the center of her forehead. As soon as Leah heard the front door shut from him leaving, she felt lonely. She had run out of things to do but had seen the twinkle in Jim’s eye when discussing this surfing day trip that he had been planning with Medina and nothing was going to make her happier than watching him go on it and have fun. They didn’t know how much time they’d have to do things like that once the baby came so she wanted him to take all the opportunities he could while it was still them. Leah also knew that his relationship with his sister was beyond important to him so she wanted to make sure he kept nurturing that as well. Medina was never in California for too long, taking her freedom to travel around the world and never be in the same place for too long. Leah and Jim hadn’t planned on fully settling down at this point in their lives but the surprise addition to their family had required it and they were more than happy to oblige.

When Leah finally found the wherewithal to swing her legs over the side of her bed and stand on her feet, a flashing shot of pain ripped its way through her lower back. She fell to the floor with a silent cry at the feeling. “Oh my God, fuck.” She kneaded the heel of her hand into the spot in the hopes it would go away and it didn’t. A piece of her mind was remembering the conversation she had had with her doctor the last time she went about back labor. How Leah’s back muscles seemed to carry a lot more tension in them than her abdominal muscles did. And her next thought followed that she had promised Jim she would call if the pain felt different. And the pain was feeling way way different and way way worse. She grimaced as she grabbed her phone from the nightstand and dialed his number, rubbing her bump with a grimace as she waited.

“Hey, this is Jim, leave a message and I’ll call you back.”

“Hi Jimmy, it’s me,” she paused and let out a gasp of pain as the next wave overtook her, “I think the baby is coming...Like really actually. Call me when you get this so I know how long it will take you to get home. If I don’t hear back from you within an hour, I’m going to try and get myself to the hospital...I love you, Jim, and I can’t wait to start this new chapter with you so hurry home.” She hung up and sat staring at her phone for a few minutes in the hopes Jim would immediately get back to her. 10 minutes passed. 20 minutes passed. Her screen stayed black. No doubt he was out in the waves and his phone had been left on the beach. There was no telling when he would get her message.

It was then that the panic began to set in. What if Jim didn’t even get her message in time to make it to the hospital for the birth of their child? What if she had to do all of it alone? The stress she and her unborn child were putting her under was beginning to make her dizzy. It was then that she was starting to get concerned. The room was refusing to stay still and it felt as though her whole body was spinning around with it. Phone. Call. Doctor. Those were the three words that began to ring through her mind. Something was wrong and she needed help. She was scared of being alone and feeling so out of control of her body. For a brief moment she thinks this was what Jim must have felt like. The night on the beach when he was dying. As if the whole world was going to keep on spinning without you knowing about it. Without caring how you felt or how it happened. Maybe Jim would come and save her the way she had saved him so many times before but wishing and hoping was futile, she had to act. Leah closed her eyes and took a couple of deep breaths in the name of readying herself to get up. Part of her thinks it was her new maternal instinct kicking in. She had to get somewhere safe for her baby. Lying on the floor of her bedroom was not safe for her baby and that needed to change.

Her fingers finally found purchase on her phone and she quickly went into her contacts to reach her doctor.

“Dr. Khalilah’s office how-”

“It’s Leah Mason. I’m, oh shit fuck,” she couldn’t even finish her sentence as the next contraction wrapped around from her back to her stomach and weaved down her legs.

“Let me get the Doctor, Mrs. Mason, hold on.” She was vaguely aware of the muffled sounds of voices on the other end of the line but was too preoccupied with fighting the nausea rising up her throat to try and decipher what they were saying.

“Leah? Tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m in active labor. My back hurts like someone is driving a hot stake into and ripping it around my skin and I’m going to throw up and I’m so dizzy.”

“Okay, okay. I need you to breathe for me, first and foremost. Calmly, I want you to get your husband and get in the car and head to the hospital, okay? I’ll meet you there.”

“I can’t find Jim! That’s the fucking problem, Doctor, pardon my language. I can’t drive myself...What do I do?” Her breaths had turned into pants. The sweat was beginning to become ever present on her skin and she was trying to remind herself that she was strong and capable and that her and Jim were so badly looking forward to this baby so she had to pull through for all their sakes. Part of her felt a little stupid at her pleas, she was a doctor herself after all and had thought she’d be able to handle something like this with a clear and level head. With absolute ease. That was the kind of person she had always been. People always came to Leah with their problems knowing they could talk her into thinking everything was okay and to approach the problem with a clear head and steady heart. All of that had been part of the birth plan she had meticulously written out with Jim but now it was all being thrown out the window.

“Leah, I’m going to send a midwife to your house to assess the situation and help you from there okay?” She looked down at the wet patch forming on her carpet.

“Please hurry...I think my water just broke.”

----

“Medina she’s not fucking answering! Fucking hell move you idiot!” Jim leaned over from the passenger side and wailed on the horn.

“Jim! Calm down, okay? This is why I told you that you couldn’t drive.”

“If I miss the birth of my child because that Honda can’t step on the gas, I will kill them.” He dialed his wife’s phone again and got her voicemail...again. Jim had listened to her message on the beach with a racing heart and broad smile. For a moment he let himself breathe it in. That by the end of the day he was going to be a father. He was going to start on the right foot with his child and fix all the mistakes his parents had made with him. He was going to make sure his child never felt the way he felt, that they always knew they were loved and cherished and irreplaceable. That his child knew they always had a home in his arms. It was when he looked at the time stamp and realized it had been almost two hours since her one hour time limit that he began to panic. He yelled for his sister and began to shove all his belongings back into his bag and sprint towards the car.

“We’ll be at the hospital in...twenty minutes.”

“I’m letting her down. Fuck, Medina, she does so much for me and why am I constantly letting her down?”

“You’re not. I promise you that she doesn’t think that. First babies take so long to come. You’ll make it in plenty of time to hold her hand and feed her ice chips.” The car was quiet for a moment before Jim spoke again.

“I’m gonna be a dad. My whole life is going to change.”

“It’s a good change, Jimmy. The happiest of changes we could ever hope for.” Medina rubbed at his thigh in a comforting manner with a smile on her face. She was so proud of her brother and where he had gotten. If Leah was able to make him so happy she could only imagine the effect their baby would have on him. In her mind, Jim deserved the absolute world and she couldn’t be happier that he was finally getting it.

Medina let him run out of the car as soon as they pulled up to the hospital, assuring Jim she would find a place to park. He made his way to the Labor and Delivery section of the hospital within record timing and was breathing like he had ran a marathon by the time he reached the receptionists desk.

“My wife, Leah Mason, she’s here giving birth. I need to be with her.”

“Can I see your ID?” His hands were shaking as he pulled his wallet from his pocket and handed the plastic over to the women. “We have no one here by that name.”

“I’m sorry-”

“Jim!” He turned to look at his sister running out from the elevator with her phone extended towards him. “It’s Leah.” Jim grabbed the phone from her hands and held it to his ear like a lifeline.

“Leah? I’m at the hospital what’s your room number? Are you okay? How are you feeling? Please tell me the baby hasn’t come yet.”

“Come home I’m-” she heard a pained moan come out of her mouth and the sounds of a woman’s voice coaching her through the contraction. “There’s been a change of plans. We’re having a home birth.”

“Fuck okay I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

“Please hurry. I don’t think I can do this without you.” It was only on rare occasions that Jim heard Leah’s voice get small.

“You won’t have to. I love you so much and I can’t wait to be with you and our baby.”

----

He didn’t even let Medina come to a full stop in his driveway before he was out of his car and taking his front steps like a gazelle. “Leah!” Jim tripped in his haste to get up the stairs but didn’t even register the burning in his shins as his wife crying out in pain reached his ears.

“Oh, you’re here.” Leah cried with the relief at the sight of Jim, her Jim, stumbling into their bedroom. He kicked off his shoes and crawled into bed with her, pressing anxious kisses over every inch of her face and running his hands all over her stomach to see if anything had changed since this morning. “Jimmy it hurts so bad.”

“I know, my love, I know. But I’m here now and I’m going to try and share in as much of the pain as possible, okay?” She nodded and tucked her head into his shoulder, biting down on his skin as the next wave came. Jim bit back the expletives that wanted to fall from his mouth because she needed him to be strong and take some of the pain off her shoulders. She was birthing his child, the least he could do was keep his mouth shut. “How does everything look?” The midwife was peering between his wife’s legs.

“Only a couple more centimeters to go and I think she will be ready to start pushing.”

“We had...We had discussed a water birth. Is that still possible to do at home?” Jim took the washcloth the woman handed to him and began to dab gently at Leah’s forehead. The two had been lying in bed one night talking about how the beach and the water had been where all the important moments in their life had taken place. It only seemed fitting for the water to welcome their child into the world.

“Of course. You’ve got her so I can go get your tub ready?” He looked down at his wife; beat red in the face, hair matted to her forehead and pained moans falling from her mouth in a steady stream. If there was anytime she needed him, it was now.

“Yeah I’ve got her.” And he always would. They were partners and soulmates and every other word that meant you could not have one without the other.

“Jim? Can I tell you something?” He adjusted himself so her back was resting against his chest, Leah grabbing his collar so her lips were right up against his ear. “You ever put your dick inside me without a condom again and I’ll cut it off.”

“Okay, Sugar.” He knew it was the pain talking because she had told him numerous times that she wanted the largest possible family her ovaries and uterus would allow. Jim knew that when it was all said and done and they were holding their baby, she’d be thinking differently. It might have been crazy but Jim already couldn’t wait to do it all over again.

----

After two more hours of Leah writhing in pain, she started to feel the urge to push. The midwife and Jim helped her into the tub, a groan of somewhat relief washing over her as the warm water lapped at her skin.

“Alright, Mrs. Mason, put your legs over the sides and let me get a good glimpse of what it happening down there.” Jim held her hand and moved down so he could look at the same view as the midwife. “That little brown fuzz? Can you see it?”

“Yeah,” the word came out of his mouth in awe. That was his baby. Jim was inches away from meeting his child.

“Leah you’ll be crowning in a few more pushes, you’ll feel burning but it’s okay and normal.”

“Jim...in the tub.” He nodded frantically and undressed down to his underwear so he could slip in behind her. “Oh God!” The burning she had been warned about started encroaching and it showed no signs of reaching it’s peak.

“Stop pushing for just one moment dear. Let yourself stretch for the head and shoulders.”

“You got this, baby, you’re so strong and I’m right here with you and I love you so much,” Jim whispered into her ear. She had a death grip on his hands and nodded along to all of his words of encouragement, absorbing them and letting them help her power through the arrival of their child.

“Dad, why don’t you lean forward so you can get ready to catch your baby.” It took Jim a moment to realize that she was talking to him, that he was a dad now, he was someone’s dad now. His hands rubbed soothingly at Leah’s inner thighs as he placed his hands where their child was appearing slowly but surely. The head slipped into Jim’s cupped hands, their shoulders coming with a particularly loud groan from Leah before Jim was cradling his child and pulling them out of the water.

“It’s a boy!” Jim called as the baby, his son, began to wail at this newfound environment, at the loss of his cozy home inside his mother. Tears were streaming down his face as he brought his arms forward so the squirming boy could meet his mother.

“Oh look at you...look at him, Jim. He’s the most beautiful thing in the whole world. The most beautiful thing I have ever seen.” Leah was sobbing with happiness and tiredness but she could feel no pain. All of the discomfort and agony that had been there only moments before was gone as she cradled her newborn son against her chest. He had quieted down slightly and opened his eyes, the tears falling down Jim’s cheeks faster as he looked into the eyes of his son.

“Hi,” he cooed as his finger traced over his son’s silken cheeks. “We’ve waited so long to meet you my little baby.”

“You want to come with me Dad to cut the cord and while I make sure everything is okay with your beautiful little boy?” Leah handed the baby to the midwife as Jim stood up behind her and wrapped himself in a towel.

“He’s here, Sprinkles,” Leah whispered with excitement as Jim bent down next to her, kissing her soundly on the lips.

“I’m so proud of you, Sugar. I didn’t think it was possible to love you more but watching how strong you were…” Jim took the scissors from the midwife as she offered them and cut the umbilical cord cleanly.

“Go be with our son. Make sure everything’s okay.” He kissed her once again before going to peer over the midwife’s shoulder as she performed the Apgar test, their little boy passing with flying colors.

“Let’s get mama out of the bath so she can cuddle you probably...maybe try feeding him?” Leah nodded eagerly, Jim holding their son against his chest as the women helped her stand and wrapped her in a fluffy robe. He followed closely behind as she sank down onto her side of the bed, wiggling her fingers towards her little baby. He fell quiet as the sound of his mother’s heartbeat entered his ears. The one thing in this crazy new world that was the same as his old world.  “Have you two thought of a name?”

“William. William James Mason.”

----

Jim looked down at his son who was resting against his shirtless chest as Leah traced over the shell of his ear.

“He looks like you when he’s asleep,” she murmured. She was barely keeping her eyes open but didn’t want to miss a moment of time with her new son.

“Definitely got your nose though.” Leah smiled up at Jim.

“Only us would have our child come into the world in such a nutso way...I’m glad Medina got to meet him already.” Once the midwife had left and Jim had helped Leah change into her comfiest pajamas and settle back under the covers with William, Jim had Medina come upstairs from where she had been lounging around in their living room. She had cried at the first sight of her nephew. If anyone knew how far Jim had come and how much he deserved the happiness that he was feeling it was Medina. She hugged Jim and they both cried in celebration of how their lives had turned out exactly the way that had always dreamed they would. Medina sat down next to Leah and carefully held her nephew for this first time, his newborn smell making her smile.

“Welcome to the tribe, little buddy,” she had whispered against his wrinkled forehead.

“Did you call your mom?” Leah asked as Jim pressed his lips onto his son’s head.

“Yeah and my dad. My dad is in Paris so he can’t come by for a week or so anyways. Mom...Mom is going through another spell where she can’t leave her house so I don’t know when we’ll see her.”

“If it’s important to you, Jim, then we can go see her.”

“It’s not that important to me.” Sandy had made herself very clear ever since she had known Leah was in her son’s life that she didn’t like her and wanted her to leave. Jim wanted none of that toxic energy anywhere near his son. He would be kept a pure ball of light and love as long as Jim could help it. “What about your parents?”

“They were happy...they both made a comment about if you were actually there or not but I’ll have them come by when you’re not here or I’ll go to there house by myself this week.” Leah’s parents harbored a resentment towards Jim and his past substance abuse. No matter how many times it was displayed or told that he was a changed man, they refused to let go of their grudge. Leah had went on to be a doctor in order to prove that she still could even with Jim in her life.

“Why are our parents like this?”

“Doesn’t matter because we won’t be anything like them. William will always be loved and accepted by us. He’ll never have to worry that we aren’t there to catch him when he falls.” The two of them closed the distance between their lips so they could kiss again. Something about becoming parents had made it so they couldn’t keep their hands off of each other. “I love you, Jim Mason, let’s have another baby.”

“I’ll start the six week countdown.” They both laughed, freezing when the baby began to stir on his father’s chest. He let out the beginnings of a wail and Jim promptly sat up. “It’s okay, little one, mama and dada are here. You’re okay.” He stepped carefully off the bed so he could could sway his hips and walk around the room, the rocking motion having comforted his son back to sleep only a couple hours earlier.

“He might be hungry. Let me try to feed him.” The first time with the midwife hadn’t been that successful. William had rooted around her nipple but refused to latch. It was when Leah started tearing up with frustration that the midwife had recommended they try again some other time.

“Remember, Sugar, it’s okay if he doesn’t latch. We can still get him nutrients elsewhere.” That had been her initial attack of panic when the midwife had taken William from her and offered a bottle instead. That if he wouldn’t or couldn’t latch and get access to her breastmilk, he would somehow suffer.

“I know. I just read so much about what a bond it is for a woman and her child...I want that feeling.” Jim had already seen the natural connection between his wife and son, noticed the way William’s eyes seemed to be constantly looking for his mother and the way his face turned to her instantly when her voice reached his ears. But he didn’t want to discount her feelings or deny her of all the things she had been dreaming about for the past nine months. Jim helped her get William settled in the crook of her arm and watched as her hand gently guiding his lips towards her nipple. “Mommy doesn’t want you to be hungry and uncomfortable my love. Let Mommy help you fill your little tummy.” Jim held his breath as his son continued to root around before finally finding purchase, latching on and sucking his mother’s milk into his mouth with ease.

“Is he doing it?” Jim wanted to make sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him but when Leah looked up from their son with tearful eyes and a nod he knew it was everything she had ever dreamed it could be.

“It’s ticklish. But I feel like all the pieces of the puzzle are fitting together.” It was then that William opened his eyes and looked at his mother as he continued to pull milk into his empty stomach. “I’ve never been happier, Jim. Thank you for giving him to me.” Jim kissed the exposed skin of her shoulder from where she had opened her top up to give William access to food.

“Thank you, Leah. For the life you’ve given me the opportunity to build. For the family we’ve started together. For putting the smile back on my face all those years ago.” She smiled and turned back to watch her son. Jim couldn’t stop the smile that spread across his face as he watched the two most important in the world to him interact. His heart was at peace. The two people he loved the most were warm and happy and safe and with him. Jim Mason doesn’t think life got any better than this and he doesn’t know who to thank for giving him such a beautiful second chance but he knew this time he wouldn’t screw it up. He had two things worth living for and nothing could take them away from him. Not even the ocean could keep him from his tribe. For the first time in a long time, Jim Mason was home.

Tags:

@avesatanormalpeoplescareme

@aveiangdon

@tickled--pinkmoodpoisoning

@langdvn

[littlehollyleaf]

GOTHAM S05E04 “Ruin”

okay listen I know other stuff happened in this episode and it was even stuff I enjoyed and was interested in (like - WTF jeremiah??!) but I don’t have time to talk about any of that when there is SO.MUCH.FOXMA.AWESOMENESS to squee over (and you can’t say I didn’t warn you)

fyi - I’ve incorporated MULTIPLE VISUAL AIDS to assist in my flail!

let’s start by going through my FOXMA WISHLIST because there is WAY MORE to check off it that I thought possible in one hit!

Touching - bonus points if it’s beyond practical, like Foxy resting a hand on Eddie’s arm to offer comfort or Eddie gripping Foxy to emotionally steady himself

they flunked on the bonus points but still, FUCKING CHECK!

and you know what? I’m awarding A WHOLE SET OF DIFFERENT BONUS POINTS for Luscious Lucius Fucking ‘down boy I’m in charge’ Fox fucking MANHANDLING ED LIKE IT’S NOTHING because it’s EVERYTHING I NEVER KNEW I NEEDED IN MY LIFE and didn’t even think to put on the list omgomg!

like... I’ve seen a TON of fic and fanart with Foxy being physically dominant with Ed and I do think it makes all the sense characterisation-wise, but for some reason I’d never properly envisioned/embraced it as part of their ship/dynamic (perhaps because in my one and only fic I had Eddie being more dominating when it came to physical stuff due to various contextual reasons... or maybe because we’ve never actually seen Foxy get physical with anyone in canon before, aside from wacking Alvarez with that chair that time, after which he looked frazzled as opposed to the glorious calm and in control he is here so it didn’t really convey his ability to be so.... UNF. while physically taking charge...   idk)

(god I could watch this gif all day honestly....)

(it’s the way Foxy doesn’t hesitate, he’s just - BAM! I’m in control now)

(and juxtapositioned with Eddie’s epic flailing so they are just so perfectly, beautifully opposed)

(then the way Eddie, on seeing it’s Foxy, JUST.FUCKING.TAKES.IT, his fear and flailing dropping all at once as he submits and just holds himself all still and expectant under the hold, clearly THRILLED it’s Foxy who’s found him)

(and Foxy is only using his GODDAMN FINGERTIPS FOR FUCKS SAKE, so firm and commanding with so little effort I just - *fans self*)

(shit we’re only on point one and I’ve spent forever - strap in everyone!) 

Speaking in tandem - ie. figuring out the same thing simultaneously and excitedly shouting out the answer together 

Actually the talking in tandem one is really important to me so I’m adding it again

Okay the talking in tandem doesn’t have to be them figuring out the same thing, it could just be them reacting the same way to something and discovering they are like-minded

FUCKING CHECK!! The one thing I WANTED THE MOST, SO MUCH I PUT IT ON MY LIST THREE WHOLE TIMES. FUCKING CHECK??! ALREADY??!

Lucius: Unless whatever ignited those heated oil tanks - Together: - smashed through that window

(guys pls though look at the above travesty, I only have MSPaint, for the love of god someone gif this??)

I really can’t... there aren’t words for how ecstatic I am about this! 

I was watching with my good friend @enchantersnight, who will attest that I squealed and grabbed her in excitement (which she took with good grace considering she didn’t even know about The List, so must have thought I was just being a mad woman for no reason :p)

And the way they both wave their hand at the window together. And Foxy’s little satisfied nod because he’s not thinking of Ed as a criminal in that moment, all he’s thinking is ‘fuck yeah we just cracked it.’ And they both turn their heads all synchronised because they are so perfectly on the same wavelength, so completely lost in solving the mystery, the parts of themselves that match are so beautifully ALIGNED! 

Showing how they are similar people in many ways - check and check!   

Foxy telling Ed he is a genius and pleading with him to use his intellect for the greater good

K, we’re not all the way there, but HALF A CHECK, because -

Plus he explicitly said he needed Ed’s ‘expertise.’ All of which amounts to acknowledging (and appreciating!) Ed’s genius, so -! *hearts eyes*

(this set covers it perfectly XD)

...and there is still time for Foxy to plead with Ed to use his genius for good *crosses fingers*

Eddie calling Foxy ‘Lucius’ just the once as part of a serious, emotionally charged moment

Not really what I was going for (I was thinking more Ed yelling his name out of fear for Foxy, or as a desperate plea for Foxy to help him), but A+ for effort for Eddie’s wild yell for ‘Lucius’ here -

Because I love the fact that Eddie was so caught up in working the case at this point that he wanted to keep helping even without personal incentive :)

(aside: Eddie you bad bad bad man killing that innocent old lady though, that was really NOT NECESSARY, pls! ...but it was also somewhat hilarious, in a black comedy kind of way :p 

see - THAT’S the level of villainy/immorality I’m happy for Eddie to exist in, killing/torturing/maiming individuals, even innocent ones, yes, cool, because Eddie IS NOT A GOOD PERSON... but... not killing hundreds of innocents, including CHILDREN, in one hit, that’s... that’s a different kind of villainy, you know?)

One/either thinking the other is dead and being relieved to learn they are alive

Again, not quite. But Foxy does comment in the filing room that he thought Ed was dead. No, he doesn’t show any kind of relief that Eddie ISN’T, but since it’s now canon that Foxy somehow learnt of Ed’s supposed demise this opens up avenues for plenty of headcanons :) 

Because - WHEN did Foxy hear that Ed was dead? and HOW? and even WHY? Was he ACTIVELY LOOKING for news on Ed because he personally WANTED TO KNOW? Did it MATTER to Foxy if Ed was alive or dead? Did he feel a pang of sorrow/regret on hearing the news at the fate of a man he saw potential in to be better and wished that somehow Ed’s life could have been different?

(look, Occam’s Razor suggests Jim was probably looking for news on Lee and heard back that both she and Eddie died in the Narrows and THAT’S how Foxy heard about Ed’s death, but SSSSHHHH - I’m gonna imagine Foxy was making quiet enquiries for himself and no-one can stop me!)

PHEW!

We made it to the end of the points on my Wishlist that got fulfilled. 

KUDOS SHOW

Now - let’s talk about THE OTHER STUFF that was amazing!

Like -

Lucius RELEASING ED and HOLDING HIM IN PLACE JUST BY POINTING A FINGER AT HIM LIKE FUUUUCK!

And again there’s no fucking hesitation. The SHEER CONFIDENCE Foxy has that he CAN AND WILL exert this much power over Ed just. Wow. Just wow.

...there’s something interesting to make of this maybe actually...because Foxy...wasn’t this...commanding, with Ed before. No he was never intimidated, but during the whole riddle crime spree and the confrontation with Harvey on the stairwell Foxy was... nervous around Ed? Like Ed was a live wire or dangerous animal, someone Foxy found a little UNPREDICTABLE and thus was less firm and more pleading with? But NOW... 

okay, the stakes are different here ofc - before there were lives on the line and Foxy’s interaction with Ed was the one thing that could save them, so that pressure would have made him hesitant to try and take control...

yeah, that’s it isn’t it - Ed needs a viable threat in order to exert power/control over Foxy (and anyone really)

but without that threat the balance of power absolutely lies with Foxy (so obviously here, with Eddie unarmed and in such a state of disarray! but was also true in that scene with them at the GCPD lab when Eddie was investigating the Red Hood Gang)

Then also EDDIE’S.FUCKING.SMILE!! 

Anyone else displaying this much power over him, exposing his vulnerability, his ‘inadequacies’ (so Eddie might see it), would surely make Eddie furious, scared even perhaps - he might rail against them, scowl, try to fight or run. 

But here with Foxy he just FUCKING SMILES. He is so GODDAMN HAPPY to have been caught by FOXY. He doesn’t try to fight or escape because HE WANTS TO HAVE A MOMENT WITH FOXY, he WANTS TO BANTER. Because, dare I say, he LIKES BEING IN FOXY’S POWER??

Likewise when Foxy busts out the blackmail THIS is Eddie’s reaction

THIS -

Just look at him he’s FUCKING DELIGHTED that Foxy has been smart enough to immediately suss out Ed’s desire for the file is something he can exploit.

And then the way he kinda gleefully tries to figure out what Foxy could possibly want from him - I ADORE IT. 

Because it’s become a GAME to Eddie now ofc - he and Foxy playing off each other. 

And it’s a delicious blend of Foxy being all controlling and also flippant in the way he talks to Ed, thus him gently leading Ed into taking it this way, and also Eddie’s clear respect and personal interest in Foxy making him inclined to put a positive spin on the situation, to find it enjoyable. And like... it doesn’t feel esp planned or manipulative on Foxy’s part? Their reactions to each other just feel... genuine? Obviously Foxy IS trying to convince Ed to help him but... the way he speaks to him and looks at him... it just feels like Foxy being NATURAL with Ed to me? Like, he’s not spending all the time carefully choosing his words and behaviour, calculating what he needs to do to win Ed over, he’s just... going with the flow? Reacting to Ed... in the way he WANTS to, and Ed is doing the same? 

Sure they’ve both got end goals they want to achieve, but during their banter those almost seem secondary, just for moment, to the mutual enjoyment they are getting from their interaction?

And yes, mutual - look at this and tell me Foxy isn’t having fun as well!

Other great things about this scene -

Eddie calling Foxy ‘the second smartest man in Gotham’ <3 <3 Absolute proof he respects Foxy’s intellect :D

Eddie trying to surprise grab the file from Foxy’s hands. Because LOL. Foxy’s dry ‘...why?’ and shake of his head at Eddie’s childish antics totally makes it! Plus the way Eddie makes one last half-hearted grab before his eventual ‘fine.’ 

@vampirebillionaire pointed out it’s kinda crazy Eddie was able to physically capture a Street Demon thug, but can’t muster enough strength to yank a file from a scientist :p 

I like your suggestion, Daisy, that this adds to the ‘mind controlled Eddie’ theory - ie. when Eddie is under the influence he becomes more physically capable perhaps.

May I also suggest another possibility - that the file grab was just for show? Because Eddie desperately WANTS to team up with Foxy for a bit. But he has to convince himself it is absolutely his ONLY OPTION in order to do so? Because Eddie is a confused and repressed and psychologically mixed up prawn and can’t accept just wanting to work with Foxy just because. Plus a blackmail scenario/game has already been established. So to Eddie’s mind the only way that makes sense for him to work with Foxy in this moment is for Foxy’s blackmail to hold up. Meaning before Eddie can agree he has to establish that he CANNOT get the file by other means? Hence all the huffing and puffing and extra lunge at the end - it’s all him adding to the pretence?

...idk it’s prob too involved for what the show was actually going for, but it crossed my mind :p Felt like ‘Riddler logic’ you know? And involves a bit of theatrics, and Eddie lying to himself...

Anyway, the other PHENOMENAL THING about this scene -

I am given and I am taken, 

I was there from your first breath 

and I will follow you until your death

You know, that riddle for ‘name’ that clever fandom people cleverly extracted from the voice over line in that dramatic pre-S05 promo? (’I will follow you until your death’) The one that lots of us were taken by because of the vague, possible nygmobblepot associations? (and some of us, ahem, one of us, even used to title a fic), but that was also suspected to be a possible exchange between Ed and a hallucinatory version of himself - maybe being about how the name and/or persona of ‘Riddler’ has been with Ed all along and will be part of him until he dies.

WELL TURNS OUT EDDIE SAYS THAT RIDDLE TO FOXY CAN YOU BELIEVE??

I mean, look, I know it’s just a riddle for plot purposes. But that doesn’t change the fact that Eddie, CANONICALLY, stands there, INCHES from Foxy -

STARING DEEPLY INTO HIS EYES, voice slightly whispery and husky

and he tells him

I WILL FOLLOW YOU UNTIL YOUR DEATH

I Just -

And they fucking end liKE THIS GUYS -

Literally POINTING AT FOXY LIKE HE’S MAKING A PROMISE?? (and oh shit I just thought is he pointing at Foxy’s HEART?? ...also does this technically fit my bonus point for touching? hotdamn)

And look at Foxy’s smile! Yeah it’s mocking but... maybe in a FOND way??

All - ‘name, the answer’s ‘name’ Ed, but you had to make a song and dance out of it didn’t you, you dork?’

*dreamy sigh*

Other stuff -

Eddie investigating the crime scene and working it all out was some GENUINE PI RIDDLER SHIT right there *swoon*

I love the way Foxy just steps back and lets Ed get on with it. I flail over Eddie showing his respect for Foxy, but there was real respect in Foxy for Ed here, which was beautiful <3

On the rooftop - *hearts* over Eddie genuinely praising Foxy for figuring out it was the exact spot of the shooting from angles etc, showing he CLEARLY rates Foxy’s intelligence very high :) Only for Foxy to admit that he worked it out because he noticed the weapon’s casing had been left behind :p (which - SLOPPY of blacked out Ed now I think about it?). That was both a fun gag, lightly highlighting how Eddie sometimes misses the obvious and reaches for the most complex option when a much simpler one is on hand (making his advice to Oswald way back when about how sometimes the simpler solution is best really just... lolz... take your own advice Eddie, pls), as well as, I think, maybe hinting that Eddie really may be SMARTER than Foxy on a purely intellectual level - because it was potentially suggesting that Foxy could ONLY tell it was the right place because of the weapon case and might not have been able, at least as fast, to have worked out the angles etc like Eddie did. Maybe...

Eddie telling Foxy in complete seriousness that he hopes Foxy finds the criminal and makes them pay - playing out just like I hoped in the tags over here after seeing the Eddie preview clip of the episode, yes win!

(#holly you're an idiot going to the gcpd is how ed is gonna team up with foxy it's an excellent plan!!! #...I bet that 'make them pay' line in the trailer fits here #ed is talking about helping foxy found the haven bomber and how they should make them pay #but ~plot twist Eddie - it was you!! #yus I like that #pls be true!)

aside: Foxy now has that weapon case and is going to see if it has clues as to the perpetrator - Eddie thinks it won’t but I wonder... while blacked out Eddie left himself a message... I wonder if it’s possible he may have left the weapon case on purpose in the HOPE that he will be found out? that someone will catch him and put a stop to him being mind controlled??

...in any case, this opens up the possibility of Foxy finding out the shooter was Ed and OMG I HAVE ~HOPES AND DREAMS ABOUT THAT

In my hopes and dreams Foxy simply DOES.NOT.BELIEVE that Eddie would/could have committed such a crime, at least not willingly. And especially since Ed literally helped him solve the crime and he saw and heard Ed be GENUINELY affected by the crime enough to want the criminal to pay - and yes, sure, Ed could have been playing him and faking that, getting a kick out of giving Foxy clues to his own crime, but Foxy just feels sure Ed was being honest on that rooftop, that he really didn’t seem to know he was responsible, and it convinces Foxy there is something much more sinister going on here...

*CROSSES FINGERS TIGHT*

(omg - we know Babs gets Eddie at some point... WHAT IF Foxy ends up trying to save Eddie from her??! UGH IT’S TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE IT’LL NEVER HAPPEN BUT WHAT A DREAM! Foxy could even go to Oswald maybe to get help saving Ed, maybe providing evidence that Ed is in fact innocent... and in doing so he frees Ozzie from any personal anguish he might be suffering due to believing that Eddie really did commit the crime perhaps? even less likely, but I’m gonna roll with it for now :p)

Right one last thing. I did also have on my wishlist a proviso of the ‘talking in tandem’ thing -

When they talk in tandem they have to finish smiling at each other

Obviously this didn’t happen (POINTS DEDUCTED!!). 

But then, we did get THIS as their final moment so ALL IS FORGIVEN -

In conclusion

I am dead

Gotham?

(here’s hoping for the remainder of the Wishlist in their next episode together! :p)

[ravensimps]

Welcome To Gotham Part 2 (Victor Zsasz x OC)

"So who are you exactly?" The woman asks as I help get Jim out of the car "Raven Volturi, I just got into town" I laugh "Montoya, Why did you stay and help him?" I smile "Because I have an annoying habit of trying to save people" I groan as we get Jim into a university lab "In here" A young woman smiles as we put Jm on a table "Ugh he is heavier than he looks" I groan and the man laughs "I'm Detective Allen" I shake his hand "Nice to meet you" I smile and take a seat while the woman patches up Jim.

I take the piece of paper out of my pocket along with my phone and start calling landlords.

XX

30 minutes and about 4 calls later, I have seen pictures of a perfect industrial loft. So I call the landlord to make arrangements.

XX

20 Minutes later I have agreed to meet the landlord later today at the loft, With that all sorted out I relax until Jim wakes up.

XX

A couple of hours later Jim wakes up coughing, I decide to wait until the woman checks him over before I walk over to him.

"Raven your still here?" He asks surprised "Yup I wanted to wait until you woke up" I smile "Your walking fine? How? I saw you get shot twice" I laugh"You must have hit your head Jim, I wasn't shot" I gently pat his arm "I have to go and meet a man about a place to stay, I'll give you my number" I write my number down and hand it to him "You can't leave! If Zsasz finds you..." I smile softly "Jim I will be fine" I gently hug him and walk out of the building.

I decide to walk to the loft it is not that far and its almost time to meet the landlord and yes I am using a map on my phone.

XX

20 Minutes later I get to the loft and a man is already waiting "Miss Volturi?" He smiles "Yeah sorry I'm late" I smile shyly and shake his hand "It's fine, Your the first to show any interest in this loft...Oh my name is Mike" I materialize money into my back pockets as we walk inside the loft.

"Wow it looks even bigger and better in person" I smile like a little kid "I have to tell you the rent is not cheap, It is £1.000 A month and I need the first months rent in advance" I smirk and take the money out of my pockets "I'll take it! trust me payments won't be an issue" His jaw drops as he hands me the paperwork.

XX

The paperwork only took about 10 minutes, Mike gave me the keys and left a few minutes ago.

"Welp better get to work" I mumble and go sit in the middle of the floor cross-legged. I let my powers flow out of me and all around the loft until it is decorated to my liking.

XX

5 Minutes later everything is done and I love it so much! And now I am starving! I walk into my now fully stocked kitchen, Too lazy to make a proper meal I just shove a frozen curry into the microwave and put it on for 9 minutes to cook.

XX

9 Minutes later the curry is done and I grab a can of cola before going upstairs to my bedroom to watch TV and eat.

XX

15 Minutes pass as I ate my food and my ears pick up rustling from downstairs "Really?" I groan and summon a knife that I don't need but hey acting human. I sneak down the stairs and hide behind 1 of the sofa's, I slowly use the knife as a mirror and I can see it is the bald man from the police station! Well that was quick. I pull the knife away as he slowly turns around "Come out...Now" I hear the sound of the safety being taken off his guns, I tuck the knife into my jeans and cover it with my top "I'm coming out! Don't shoot!" I softly yell and stand up with my hands up, He whistles and points 1 of his pistols to an empty spot about 6 feet in front of him. I nod and slowly walk over to him, He is watching me with his head tilted "Hmm I am pretty sure I shot you...Twice" He says slightly confused "Uh nope you missed...Evidently" I laugh slightly and he looks right into my eyes "Let me explain something to you. When I mean to shoot someone I do not miss, I meant to shoot you" I smirk "Maybe you're having an off day?" He glares and backs me into the wall, THUD The knife hits the wall before my back and the man smirks "Whatcha got there?" I smile innocently "Uh nothing" He suddenly turns me around and presses his chest to my back "Last chance" I shiver as his breath hits my neck but stay silent. He lifts up my top and I jump as he runs a finger along my hip before taking the knife "You know next time it's better if you just tell me the truth" I nod "You first, Why are you here?" He turns me back around and steps back "My boss Don Carmine Falcone wants to meet you and talk about your 'Stunt' at the GCPD" I groan "Do I have to?" I pout and he smiles "I have orders not to harm you...So let's go" I growl and raise my eyebrows "And if I say no?" He smiles again but this one is very creepy "Then we can do this the fun way" I think for a second "Fine I'll go" He sighs "Buzzkill" And grabs my arm before leading me out to his car.

XX

"Wow!" He pulls up to a huge mansion "Get out" He growls and I step out of the car, There are about 10 armed men outside "Huh that's a lot of guards" I mumble and jump as he grabs my arm and pulls me inside.

"What's your name?" I ask as we get to a huge door "You'll find out soon" He smirks and opens the door "Ladies first" He slightly pushes me into the room and an old man late 50's early 60's stands up and faces me. "So you're the girl I have heard so much about? Didn't you shoot her?" He asks the bald man and I can't help but laugh "S-Sorry" I cough covering my laugh as the man glares at me "What's your name?" The older man no doubt Falcone asks "Raven Volturi...Sir" I smile "Call me Carmine" He smiles and offers his hand, I shake his hand "Nice to meet you Carmine" I smile "So first things first, What brings you to Gotham? Obviously, I can easily tell you are not from here" I laugh a little "I just got to town today actually...I would rather not talk about why its personal" He nods "How did you come to meet James Gordon?" He asks "I got a lift into town and the man told me the GCPD could help me find a list of landlords and apartments. So I walked into the GCPD looking like a lost puppy and Jim helped me, That is until Mr. 'Can't shoot shit' over there came at Jim" I can feel the man glaring at me and I turn to him "What? You wouldn't tell me your name" I smile innocently "Boss?" He says through Gritted teeth "His name is Victor Zsasz, Why did you help a man you just met?" Carmine signals Victor to calm down "Because he helped me and I'm a nice person" He suddenly looks into my eyes "You have Red eyes? That's odd" I jump as Victor is suddenly in front of me and he looks right into my eyes "Huh I didn't even notice those" Victor groans a little and I look away "Uh genetic mutation" I mumble feeling very awkward "Anyone in your family have it?" Carmine asks noticing how awkward I look "Uh yeah my dad and uncle have it...My mother has natural purple eyes so it is kind of a family thing" He smiles and nods "I assume being new to town you won't have a job yet?" I shake my head "No not yet I don't even know where to look" I tuck my hair behind my ear "I am in need of a housekeeper, Would you be interested?"I take a minute to think. I mean he doesn't seem bad and I would seem more normal "Yes I'm interested"I Smile "Good! Obviously, you'll cook, Clean, etc. Do you know any self-defense?" I smirk and look at Zsasz "Oh how is that girl's jaw?" Carmine looks at Zsasz "What happened?" Zsasz glares at me "She snuck up on 1 of my girls...Celia and she punched her in the face with enough force to dislocate her jaw and throw her into the side of a truck" I shrug "I'm stronger than I look" Carmine raises his eyebrows "You did that?" He asks and I nod "Yeah, Oh tell Celia I'm sorry about the jaw" I smirk at Zsasz "I'll let her know" He says again with gritted teeth "Well you start tomorrow morning, Victor will take you home tonight and pick you up tomorrow morning" I groan "I can make my own way home" Carmine shakes his head "As my new house-keeper Victor will take you home" Knowing this is a losing battle I nod "Fine, Thank you Carmine" Zsasz grabs my arm and leads me back to the car.

End Of Chapter 2! Hope you enjoyed!

-Ray

@thefandomfires

[fangsforhire]

{ So I'll find what lies BENEATH; your SICK twisted smile. }

FLASHBACK;

MORIARTY.

A mere WHISPER amongst men. A name crafted to produce mass fear and panic. Genocide heavy in the air. Oh while it was completely true he did disregard most rumours. How could he idly let this one pass by? ( M so anonymous that he’d become infamous within the criminal world. Like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands. ) One too many times of hearing about him had indeed piqued his interest. How could one human attract the continual attention of deadly convicts?

Head shook as he SNATCHED the newspaper article and flung it carelessly aside. Getting in touch with the right people proved second nature; but he hadn’t expected to be approached, to be ensnared within his spiders web like a moth to a flame. Crafty fucker wasn’t he? Keeping his distance had proved effortless; executing expected targets, remaining in touch with only one man. ( Sure, M had captured his eye- said to possess genius intellect but he was a ghost too. ) Few knew his name. Destined to forget the second it left their lips. He’d eradicated, erased any footprint through history. With centuries under his belt, it was easy-peasy. It also aided him in the fact he owned no paper trail - created rather than born unlike the majority of all species.

Perhaps that’s why he’d naively ASSUMED it would all be plain sailing - that he’d endure contracts until the man ceased to exist. He hadn’t expected to become so intrigued… and yet, curiosity wasn’t a sin, no? When you play with fire, you get burned. He’d discovered this the hard way, and so why was he prepared to dance in the flames now? ( It was simple; the headline had spread - Moriarty was dead. Yeah right. Hadn’t you heard pigs can also fly? ) Eyes blinked rapidly as he re-read the words printed; disbelief evident. No text - no phone call. Radio silence; oh wasn’t it awful? It made his skin crawl. Sure M had become noisy, engaging the media but to commit suicide so… messily? From what he’d researched on the man; while theatrics was his style; he loathed getting his hands dirty. So why would he change tactics now?

‘Doesn’t make sense. Fucking imbeciles.’

The NIGGLING escalated, prompting him to slip trade-mark weapon into the confines of his jeans and follow all leads. It was after exhausting the obvious he’d found himself upon the roof; sniffing the air suspiciously. ( The stench of blood profound and yet - really; O-positive? The most popular blood type known to man? Disappointment became overwhelming; wrinkling his nose in disgust. Surely one such as Moriarty exhibited the rarest? ) Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose; using inhuman senses to locate blood traces the police had overlooked.

Not even forensics could impress or out-do a vampire seeking ANSWERS.

Getting enough DNA evidence entailed half hanging from the edge; using ancient abilities and gaining excruciating temples. ( However somewhat grimly satisfied; it was deposited inside the vials he used to sate thirst. ) Sacrificing them in the name of science and ignoring all instinct- dead man's blood utterly… revolting. Not appetising in the least and oh my word did it stink; urging him to empty his stomach contents as heavy duties followed the very path Holmes himself had.

Thankfully SECURITY had died down as dusk fell - permitting him to drop gracefully and land without a sound. ( If anyone witnessed the display; they would have seen nothing but a blur, moving with clinical precision, a smirk gracing his lips. ) After all, if anything could unearth such mystery it was he. 

PRESENT;

TIME had passed like the pulse behind a bruise; enough facts revealed that he was becoming cockily confident. All the while Moriarty’s empire was being dismantled - unfaithful followers fleeing pathetically across the continent. ( Jesus, you’d think they had no self-respect. Shredding documentation, displaying cowardice. Surely they expected to be rounded up like cattle? How could they believe he was as deceased as the media claimed? ) Did only he hold enough brain cells to do nothing? Lying low, calmly preparing for the moment he’d pursue him like a predator hunting prey? Tracking held it’s difficulties but locating specific humans even ones as elusive as Moriarty was very much achievable. With the right pressure. The rest seemed blind and he wasn’t surprised when only he established Sherlock Holmes was also still unfortunately breathing.

Now, squinting through the sniper SCOPE; his frustrations increased tenfold. Chin resting on the table he’d shifted closer to the window, achieving that perfect vantage point. Watson, Sherlocks… pet - unleashed and displaying grief was sickening. ( The grave had been placed with tender loving care; for no one dared speak ill of the dead. Lying through their teeth to lessen their own guilt. ) What did they always drone? He was wonderful; never hurt a fly. Yeah, fucking right. Codswallop. Even the ex-army Doctor was performing a heartening tribute; all the while Lucien could see clearly, Holmes viewing his own memorial.

Finger itched to pull the TRIGGER but thankfully, he refrained.

Well, the BASTARD surely was cold he’d give him that. He mused - after snapping several photos undetected. Had he and Moriarty contracted the idea together or were it a sheer coincidence they were both alive and kicking? ( Packing up; he listened to the fading presence; already aware of Holmes’s master plan. ) He was going to disassemble what was rest of his nemesis which was amusing really. Had Moriarty persuaded him over to the dark side? Did he believe he was doing it all for the greater good? A tongue ran over teeth as he bound his time and discreetly returned to his car, armed with the proof he’d required for his own peace of mind.

Leverage.

If SHERLOCK was alive; Jim definitely was. There was no uncertainty anymore. Like following bread crumbs; for that delightful crimson substance he’d analysed? An average john-doe; no doubt collateral damage in the grand scheme of things; it was geniuses in its own right and yet it had infuriated him to no end. ( Why hadn’t anyone else bothered to believe the impossible? Were they all sheep shepherded by their master? ) He had damn good reason to eliminate them on the sight. Probably would have done had he not been aware of Holmes’s intentions. Let the deducer try to dig dirt up on him. He’d pat his back if he managed to obtain a single scrap, his tracks far too covered to care.

No, his focus was on searching for M and well - miraculously hours later, he’d hit the jackpot. ( Too soon; much too soon. ) Moriarty wanted to be found - he may as well be wearing a neon sign that screamed to those with any remote common sense. Were they all staring through splatters of mud? Why hadn’t they worked it out? Or was it the conscience he lacked that kept them from considering the alternative?

Well, whatever it WAS; sitting on such knowledge was boring and it wasn’t like he had anything to lose. For fear did not plague him; the only thing tending to keep him awake at night being an undesirable boner. ( So uncouth but then no one was perfect; not even the slippery snake, he’d located nearby, no doubt eagerly awaiting his arrival. ) For surely he found this entire affair tedious. His existence dragging just as Lucien was his feet, nails dug into palms.

Strikes of anticipation. Staking the place out - INSTINCT.

Alas, only once he’d taken his own PRECAUTIONS; did he shift closer towards the building; listening intently. Sure enough, this scent was more like it; sweet and intoxicating. Consuming his very being; taunting the devil within. ( Down boy; this is business, not pleasure. ) Scolding himself for premature excitement he found the opening he was looking for. All but purring as he gained access to the flat; azure blues twinkling in mischief.

‘Well well. Should I say some cheesy shit like gotcha, kitten. Or is that too cliche?’

[musikat18]

Face The Music (Bones x Reader)

For: Anon

Request:  hello! i love ur blog, was wondering if you could write a bones x musician!reader? tysm :)

Pairing: AOS Dr. Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader

Summary: You’re a comms officer with more than a few talents and an ongoing research project that has caught the attention of a certain medical officer who may have trouble facing the music about what he’s feeling.

Warnings: Language, mentions of divorce, a heaping case of self-doubt

A/N: I didn’t incorporate the musician aspect in the biggest way, so I apologize for that, but this 3787 word fic definitely has some sweet stuff to it that I’m proud of. I use lyrics from two songs that I’ve performed before: (the first)  Après Un Rêve by Gabriel Fauré, and (the second) Ah! si mon moine voulait danser, a French Canadian folk song.

There was something in the air on the bridge that Bones hadn’t really noticed before, which surprised him. For spending an inordinate amount of time breathing down Jim’s neck about safety on the job while on the bridge, he thought he’d noticed every little thing about the bridge-- the hum of the computers, the chatter between officers as they worked...this, though. This was completely unfamiliar.

“Dans un sommeil que charmait ton image….”

It wasn’t really a hum, but it might as well have been, with how soft the unfamiliar language was. He moved discreetly around the bridge, hoping to locate where it was coming from-- sure enough, it was near Uhura’s station.

“Was that you, Uhura?” he asked, making the lieutenant turn in confusion.

“Was what me?”

“I just thought I heard music from over here. It sounded good. Do all comms officers sound like that, or do you just use music to focus?”

Nyota shook her head, ponytail swishing behind her, “It wasn’t me. Y/N?”

Bones was definitely sure he hadn’t spent enough time on the bridge, because if he had, he would have remembered the prettiest comms red he’d ever seen in his Starfleet career.

“Nope...no idea where that came from,” you said, attention parted between the doctor and your station. “Though, I guess I can answer your question about comms officers, at least from my point of view. I mean, I like having music to focus. It’s why I keep these around for slow days,” you held up a pair of wireless earpieces. “They connect to my PADD and I can listen while I’m working...if there’s nothing too pressing, sir.”

“Hm...thanks, uh…?” he felt rude not attributing the information to your name.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N.”

“I brought her up here as an extra hand,” Uhura jumped back in. “We took a lot of our comms courses together at the Academy, she really knows what she’s talking about. Her thesis was actually on links between xenoneurology and audiology in cognitive study.”

“Impressive,” Bones bounced, hands folded behind him. “Even I try to stay away from brain stuff, when I can.”

“It wasn’t nearly anything special,” you smiled shyly, “I assure you.”

“No research is worthless, Lieutenant,” he said. Not untrue, in his opinion, though not how he would have liked to have spoken about a thesis he hadn’t even read. “Guess I should go back to making sure Jim doesn’t spontaneously combust, then.”

As the doctor wandered away from your station, you let out a soft breath.

“You know, I always thought you’d react a little more pleasantly to being praised in both research and talent by one of Starfleet’s hardest-to-please crewmen,” Nyota laughed. You rolled your eyes.

“Considering Dr. McCoy and I have no real reason to talk, I just didn’t think it mattered. Besides, do you know how embarrassing it is to get caught singing on the job?”

“You know I do,” she smiled, “but I’ve never seen him so...not completely murderous before.”

“There’s a first time for everything, Nyota,” you reminded her. “I’m sure he’ll be back to his grumpy old self, soon. Far, far away from my voice.”

“You sound lovely,” she chastised you. “Don’t be afraid of it.”

“Says someone with the actual voice of an angel.”

“Pot, kettle,” she smiled. “Besides, I’m not multitalented like you are.”

You shook your head, but you had a smile on your face, and you allowed yourself one little look over your shoulder to see if the doctor was still there; he seemed to have returned to medbay.

Part-relieved and part-disappointed, you continued humming your familiar tune.

--

The smooth timbor of notes filled your quarters as your fingers nimbly danced across your saxophone. You may not have had a lot of opportunity to work with it, anymore, (seeing as it was a little less portable than your larynx and lungs) but you still enjoyed playing every now and again.

You paused only a moment as the page moved along on your PADD, breathing in perfect time with the rests and the tempo. If you were going to be on that stressful bridge all day, after all, a practice in controlled breath seemed like a good idea. When the song was done, you sat back from your perch on your chair, satisfied with your solid (if rusty) performance.

And then you heard the knock at your door.

“Shit!” you said, quickly placing your saxophone back in your small closet space. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”

When you opened the door, you leaned on the frame casually in hopes that you looked like you didn’t just hide one of your favorite pastimes (a thought that made you wince a little). To your surprise, there was a very tall, very handsome doctor on the other side.

“Doctor McCoy,” you greeted. “How may I help you?”

The doctor did that funny little bounce again, “Oh, nothing special. I was just wondering if that music was coming from in here.”

You blessed your prior research on the uses of inflection as you casually half-lied, “Oh, yes. Music for the focus. I don’t just use it for work, after all.”

“Yes, I figured you wouldn’t,” he nodded, quickly clarifying, “wouldn’t only use it for work, I mean. You probably use music to focus on all kinds of things.”

You stifled a laugh, “Yes, it’s my understanding that auditory association is just as effective as taste association. In my research, at least.”

“I know. I read your thesis. Lots of good stuff in there.”

You took a second to look down under the pretense of checking how clean your boots were (even though in reality you were just feeling bashful under the doctor’s whiskey gaze), “Thank you, Doctor. That’s quite the compliment, coming from you.”

“Yeah, I’d love to hear more about your research, sometime. I understand you’re primarily in audiological research instead of comm operations.”

“Yes, I am,” you nodded, laughing a little. “Did you get that from all my theses?”

He cleared up what you assumed was something in his throat, “...A little. I might have asked around after reading.”

To have the interest of anyone onboard would have been a miracle, but there was something about the doctor’s attentions that made you feel a little shyer than usual. “Well, the rumors are true. I spend about the same amount of time in blue as I do in red. I’ve got the uniforms to prove it.”

“Blue’s a good color,” he said. Be still your heart-- he actually grinned at you. Nyota would never believe it. “Well, if you’re looking to talk about your work, let me know sometime.”

“Sure,” you nodded. “Thank you, doctor.”

He showed himself out, and you were almost more excited about the conversation you’d just had than the excellent saxophone practice not a moment before he came in.

-

You felt more than a little miffed as you sat down in your lab space. Granted, you had felt miffed all day, but it had really been starting to set in after you had been straight up ignored.

He was busy, you were sure. But he certainly hadn’t been when you’d tried to speak with him.

You took a breath as you set up your equipment, deciding it would be best to not be completely pissy while operating auditory measurement equipment.

“Ah si mon moine voulait danser…” you sang quietly under your breath, hoping the jaunty tune would lift your spirits. It did, for the most part, and you had most of your equipment hooked up when Nyota came in.

“So, do you want to tell me why Geoffrey was talking with Christine about why McCoy decided to lock himself in his office grumbling a little more than usual?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” you huffed. “For someone so interested in my work, he seems rather evasive. Mixed signals, and all that. It doesn’t really sit well with me. ...Actually, it hasn’t for the last few weeks.”

“He’s abrasive, but not avoidant. Usually a lot more direct, actually. What happened?”

You swiveled on your stool as you sighed, “He said he was really interested in my work...liked that thesis I wrote. He seemed willing to talk about it a while ago, but every time I try, he makes up these fakey reasons not to talk about it. It’s been getting kind of frustrating for him to lie to my face. ...I might have...boiled over a little bit…earlier….”

Her eyebrows shot up, “Wow, and no scolding? He must like you or something.”

“Well, he has a funny way of showing it if he does,” you grumbled. “He told me my research was relevant to one of his medical studies, and now he’s acting like I’m one of the viruses they have stored up in the medbay for study!”

“At least he seems to feel kind of bad about it,” she offered. “Chris says he’s been in a sour mood.”

“If the captain is to be believed, he’s always in a sour mood.”

“More than usual,” she corrected. “Besides, Captain Kirk is Captain Kirk. He makes Doctor McCoy sour for all kinds of different reasons.”

Your shoulders sagged, “I just...if my work is worth something, I want to feel like it’s worth something. It’s like he was just trying to be nice...if it’s contradictory and flawed, I would rather he just come out and say it…. I don’t want all this work I’ve been continuing onboard to be worthless.”

She smiled kindly, “Let me talk to him about it. I’ll swing by his office after you finish up with me.”

Bless Nyota and her kindness, you thought with a smile.

“Thanks. Just put on that headset and I’ll start hooking up the monitors.”

-

McCoy had just finished lightly banging his head against his desk when his comm beeped. Seeing that it wasn’t Jim again, he set aside his self-loathing and answered, “McCoy.”

“Leonard, Nyota’s here and headed your way,” Chris warned on the other end. “She’s pissed and no one can stop her.”

Oh god, he was actually going to die.

“Thanks for the warning, Chapel,” he said. “Still have that copy of my will?”

“On hand now.”

“Nice knowing you.”

Not a moment later, the comms officer stood firm in the threshold of his office, looking unusually placid.

He knew the kind of ice Lieutenant Uhura could spit when one of her friends had been harmed. He was not eager to be on the receiving end.

“McCoy,” she nodded. “How’s Y/L/N?”

He coughed a little, “Haven’t had much chance to talk to her, lately.”

“That’s funny. She said she tried to talk to you earlier, and you apparently told her you would be busy checking the papers in your paperless office.”

Bones blanched. Not that he would have expected Nyota-- and Y/N, to boot-- not to catch him in his lie (Jim’s advice, to be fair), but he had kind of hoped it would have taken a little longer.

“I just...I think...I’m sure she’s busy. I don’t want to intrude on her research.”

Nyota put her hands on her hips, “Look, I can’t know what you said to her about her work, but she really appreciated your interest in it. Now she’s worried that you were just trying to be nice. I just want to figure out what’s going on so she doesn’t give up on it altogether. I know how hard she’s been working on it.”

“See, the thing is,” Bones took a long sip of his third cup of coffee, “I think...it might be different...if her research was the only...interesting thing about her.”

The comms officer furrowed her brow, “What do you…” The creases in her forehead smoothed out as her eyebrows sprung up, “Are you trying to say you like her?”

“You don’t have to act so surprised,” he grumbled. “It’s not that big a deal if you don’t make it one.”

“I didn’t realize,” she said, softening her tone. “I know you haven’t really had the best experience with romance in the past, but why act like this when it’s hurting her?”

“Thought it would be better if I stayed away,” he scratched the back of his neck. “Guess that’s not working out as well as I’d hoped.”

Nyota turned her frown down to the side. Of course he would be hesitant about this. She wasn’t unfamiliar with the doctor’s unlucky-in-love reputation, but to get your hopes up only to back out immediately after? That was just a poorly-calculated and unfair move.

“I guess the real question is, what are you going to do about it now?”

McCoy shifted in his desk chair before he turned to stand, pacing a little as he often did when formulating an idea.

“Her thesis…” he began slowly. “Where did she get all the instrumental sound samples she ran her experiment with?”

“Well,” Nyota looked to the side, “mostly the other students in the Academy Music Club. She wanted samples of music from all kinds of different Federation cultures to see if there was any variation, of course...the only ones she recorded herself were the Earth reed and Earth vocal samples.”

McCoy’s eyebrows quirked in that funny way they did, “Really?” He opened his PADD back open to his copy of the thesis, scrolling through the audio samples to ‘Earth reed’ and ‘Earth vocal.’ As each clip played through, he smiled at the passion and talent behind the sound.

“She’s incredible,” he said softly. “...I fucked up, didn’t I?”

“Little bit,” Nyota shrugged. She was still for a moment, before she smiled genuinely, “but I think I know how you can fix it.”

-

You didn’t think much of the swishing door of your lab; you were too busy running the results of your latest tests in comparison to your thesis experiment.

“Lieutenant Y/L/N?”

Well, you hadn’t been thinking that much of it until you realized it was the doctor who had been avoiding you for a good few weeks.

“Doctor McCoy,” you turned and nodded simply, “to what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?”

“I wanted to say, first and foremost, that I do value your research,” he said. “It’s sound and well-done, and I can’t think of anyone outside maybe Spock who’s been so thorough and dedicated to their clearly solid hypothesis.”

You stood there, mouth agape.

“...A simple ‘you did good’ might have sufficed,” you said after a moment. You wished his sincerity hadn’t made you flutter, since he’d spent so long blatantly working to avoid you.

“I know that,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “but I know I made an ass of myself, acting the way I did. Uhura...was very clear that you were offended, and that wasn’t my intention at all.”

You shoved your face in your hands, “Oh, god, I thought she was just going to ask you what times you might actually be available to talk.”

“She was right, though,” he admitted. “It was rude of me. So I looked through your research, and I think it’s all great...though I think you missed out on an important sample kind of early.”

You blinked, “Sorry?”

“I mean,” he coughed awkwardly, “you did have an Earth vocal sample, though you didn’t account for possible differences in cadence and tone between upper range and lower range Earth voices.”

“...Oh,” you said, feeling a bit chastened. “I guess I wasn’t thinking about it at the time….”

McCoy passed you a small chip, “I had this made for you...to use in research and stuff.”

“Really?” you beamed with relief at the small gift. “That’s very kind of you, Doctor. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he dipped his head. “Just...let me know if you need anything else. I’ll be sure to be there this time.”

As McCoy turned from your lab, you smiled and turned over the small device in your hands, feeling squishy at the small, scrawly signed label on the side of the drive.

Yours truly, Leonard.

-

“Thanks for your help, Captain,” you said as you welcomed the blond-haired senior officer into your lab. “I greatly appreciate you volunteering to help me retry some of these initial trials.”

“Jim, please,” he gave you an amicable smile. “I’d be happy to help. I’ve heard lots of good things about your work.”

“From Doctor McCoy, I assume?” you laughed. “Apparently he’s become a big fan of my work.”

The captain chuckled, “Something like that.”

You passed the headset over to the captain as he sat down, and you placed the monitors on his skin once he placed the headset over his ears.

“Can you still hear me?” you asked.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, so I’m going to play a series of minute-long music samples, from a variety of different instruments and a variety of different cultures,” you explained. “I may pause between a few and ask for a verbal statement on how the clip affected your mood, but most of the information I need will be picked up by those monitors. Sound good?”

He gave you a thumbs up, and you nodded, playing through the first clip: Earth vocal, upper tessitura.

You watched carefully as the mapping of the captain’s brain lit up in different colors at different times, seeming consistent enough with the first trials of human males you had ran. You tapped along with your stylus to your voice, ringing loud and clear for you to listen to and monitor what parts of his brain spiked when.

“This next sample is the new one,” you told Jim once the first minute was up. He nodded, and you queued the next clip: Earth vocal, lower tessitura. The sound clip was a little longer than a minute, but you were sure the reactions would settle at about 45 seconds like the others had before.

What happened next was not what you expected...at all.

“Hi, Y/N,” McCoy’s deep Southern drawl came from the speakers. “I guess you’re wondering why I’m not singing by now-- well, I’m terrible, actually, and you don’t want to hear that. I don’t want you to hear that, either, considering you sound like a damn angel...anyway, that’s not really what I wanted to talk about.”

“Is that Bones?” The captain asked. You were stunned, still reeling from the surprise of the doctor’s message.

“I talked a lot to Uhura before I did this, mostly because I wasn’t really sure how you’d react after I was such an ass for ignoring you like that. We both kind of decided that it was more important that I face the music-- so to speak, I guess, her words, not mine-- and tell you the truth.

“I was avoiding you because I...recently realized that I might have feelings for you...not just in a professional way. I thought you would be offended, got cold feet, and decided it would be better to forget the matter of you and your research because I didn’t want to scare you off. Well, that turned out to be really dumb, and I’m sorry.

“I thought a lot about just telling your straight to your face, but...how do I put this...I’m still trying to get back on the horse on this whole dating thing. I’m still trying to figure out what it means to put myself out there. So, I decided to put myself out there by putting myself on this tape. You don’t have to say anything. It actually might be better if you decided to just forget about all of this…”

Your heart broke for how discouraged he sounded.

“...but I like you. Probably more than I deserve. So I just wanted you to know.”

There was a long, pregnant pause when the recording ended. You hadn’t even looked up from the ‘play’ button on your PADD when he’d started speaking.

He liked you. He liked you, and he wanted to proceed with things. He liked you.

“...You should probably go talk to him.”

Your head snapped up at the captain’s sincere words, breaking you from your thoughts.

Without another word, you put your stylus and PADD down and took off for the turbolift.

-

McCoy hadn’t remembered being antsy like this in a long time.

This was a dumb idea, he thought. She’ll never ever listen to that tape and think-

“Sir, redshirt incoming,” one of the nurses called. McCoy turned and prepared for whatever scatter-brained engineer was going to be brought in, but to his surprised, you ran in the medbay doors, slowing only to scan the usual muted chaos for something.

“Y/N?” he furrowed his brow as your eyes fell on him. You continued your rush, moving towards him with purpose.

To his complete and utter surprise, you proceeded to grab him by the shirt and pulled his lips down to yours.

It took him a moment to realize he hadn’t fallen asleep in his office, but once he decided this was actually happening to him, he reciprocated quickly, cradling your cheek with one hand and holding the small of your back with the other.

For lack of a better term, it felt like the perfect harmony.

“...I take it you got my message,” he said, still looking a little dazed once you separated.

“I did,” you nodded, tilting your head sheepishly, “...so did the captain.”

McCoy groaned and hung his head, his cheeks matching your uniform, “Dammit...he’s never gonna let me hear the end of that.”

“I thought it was sweet,” you cupped his cheek, making him look at you, “although, you probably could have given me a heads-up that that file might have been something I listen to privately before queueing it up in a new series of tests.”

“Yeah,” he scrubbed a hand over his face, “I’ll take that one.”

“Anyway, would you like to meet for dinner in the mess after shift?”

There was nothing but relief and happiness in his whiskey eyes, “Dinner sounds perfect, darlin’.”

“Great,” you smoothed out his uniform shirt, remembering that you were both standing in the middle of medbay when you’d practically pounced on the chief medical officer. “I’ll see you later.”

McCoy waved you off with a rare public smile, eyes following you out until he felt familiar eyes on his back.

“What?” he frowned at Christine.

“I didn’t say anything,” she smirked. “Though, you may want to explain what just happened to the captain, now that he’s here.”

Bones should have been sour about the ribbing he was going to get, but there were far more sweet things on his mind.

Tagging: @skosmo @goingknowherewastaken @yallneedtrek @feelmyroarrrr @annathewitch @bsotstory @musicmandy1991

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