#or makes jim promise to save him a shirt

[dykecassidy]

again dont mistake this for complaining but its always normie jim and for once id like to see normie dustin

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Playing Pretend (Part 5)

The wedding rehearsal brings more opportunities to show off a fake relationship with real feelings.

Roy Kent x Reader

1.7k words

Warnings: Language, mentions of champagne, tiny jealous moments, lots of fluff and pining

Series Masterlist

Dressed in his black slacks and button-down shirt, Roy sat on the bed, scrolling mindlessly though the pictures on his phone while you finished getting ready in the bathroom. He loved going back through pictures of the two of you; childhood photos your mum had found and sent to you both, posed photos with his sister or Phoebe or friends at parties, drunken selfies at pubs, Snapchats he’d saved, not caring that you could see. His favorite picture was taken a couple months after Jim had broken up with you, and Roy had taken you out to try to get your mind off things. You’d allowed yourself to get completely sloshed, knowing that, as always, Roy Kent would take care of you. After another shot of whatever you’d been drinking, you’d snatched his phone out right of his hand and brought him close for a selfie, planting a big kiss on his cheek as you snapped the picture. When he sent it to you the next day with a simple smiley face emoji, you were mortified, but he loved it. He even set it as your picture on his phone, so he could see it every time you called- which was never often enough.

“Is this too much?”

Roy nearly dropped his phone when he looked up. He’d seen you dressed up plenty of times over the years, and each time made him fall a little bit more in love. But this time he was caught off-guard by the way this dress- one he’d never seen- hugged every curve he’d spent far too much time thinking about. The sight of you in that tight dress was more than enough to make Roy forget to care about closing his dropped jaw.

His clearly impressed reaction made your heart slam against your chest. “Roy?” you asked, more of a nervous squeak this time.

The sound of your unsure voice brought him back. “Oh. No, no, not too much at all,” he rasped, shaking his head, as if that would somehow erase the million thoughts running through his mind. “You look fucking perfect.”

Your smile made things even worse. “You don’t look so bad yourself.” You held out your hand to him, letting yourself imagine, just for a moment, that this was real. That you and Roy were home- your place? His place? Maybe somewhere you shared?- and heading out to some sort of event. Maybe another wedding, one for people you actually liked. Maybe an awards ceremony. Maybe that big charity event his team held every year, the one you always secretly hoped he’d invite you to. And that the two of you would go out, and be exactly the way you were this weekend, and that you’d go home together at the end of the night, laughing and kissing behind closed doors, so in love.

Instead, you’d have to settle for your gorgeous fake boyfriend holding your hand as you headed down to the wedding rehearsal of your sister and ex-boyfriend.

You instinctively tightened your grip on Roy’s hand once you were out the doors and headed into the garden. For the millionth time, his warm breath was in your ear.

“I’m right here.” He punctuated his promise with a soft kiss to your temple; you let yourself melt into him, wishing you could just freeze time and stay right in this moment-

“We’re over here.”

Your sister’s blunt voice interrupted your moment of bliss. Roy let go of your hand in favor of wrapping his arm around you as you walked to the space set up for the ceremony, with white chairs and endless flowers and a lilac runner down the aisle. Somewhere in the back of your head, you thought about the way you’d envisioned your wedding: this same garden, those same chairs, maybe a soft pink runner, less flowers, more greenery. The pit in your stomach grew when you caught sight of Lauren in her pretty white dress, the one she’d sent you lots of pictures of, clutching Jim and beaming up at him triumphantly.

A soft “Oi” got your attention. Roy was smiling down at you.

“Today and tomorrow,” he started softly, “I will be sitting right there. And I will have my eyes on you, and only you, the entire fucking time. So, if you start to feel like you need an anchor, something to keep you steady, you just look at me. And I will make this fucking face at you.” He crossed his eyes and bared his teeth, an exaggerated scowl you’d often seen him share with Phoebe when they played.

The giggle that escaped your lips relaxed you. “Thank you,” you whispered, leaning forward to kiss his lips, the tips of your fingers tingling when he kissed you back.

He pulled back with a tiny, growling sigh, as if letting you go was killing him. “Right. Fucking go on then.”

With the feeling of Roy’s kiss still on your lips, you had to resist the urge to skip down the aisle where most of the wedding party was already assembled.

Paul winked when he saw you. “Yours is next, right?”

“We’ve only been seeing each other a couple of months,” you mumbled, trying to play cool.

“So?” Jen asked from Paul’s side. “You’ve known each other your entire lives and have been in love with each other forever. I can’t see the two of you wasting time with just dating.” She turned to Paul. “They’ll be engaged within six months.”

You let out a scoffing laugh, pretending that the idea didn’t sound like a dream come true. “You two really need to stop betting on my love life, okay?”

Before either of them could tease you further, Lauren called for everyone’s attention to start rehearsal. You snuck one more look at Roy, who sat about halfway back and had his eyes already glued to you, as promised. The moment your gazes locked, there was that silly face; you didn’t know you could fall any harder for Roy Kent, but, in that moment, you absolutely managed.

Even if he hadn’t made you a promise, Roy would not have been able to keep his eyes off of you at the rehearsal. It wasn’t just the dress you wore (though he wasn’t fucking complaining); it was you. It was knowing that after this he’d have an entire evening with you by his side, where he could kiss you all he wanted. Sure, he knew it wasn’t real, but did he really care? He’d worry about the aftermath on Sunday when he dropped you off at home, back to your normal lives where you were just friends. Where you saw him as just your best friend’s big brother.

He watched as you laughed at something your older sister said, pleased that you had at least a couple of people who made you feel comfortable up there. He tried his best to not feel some sting of jealousy when you locked arms with a groomsman, some friend of Jim’s who smiled a bit too big when he saw you and whose eyes wandered a bit too boldly. But any feeling of envy disappeared when you locked eyes with Roy and shot him a wink, an assurance that, at least as far as all the wedding guests knew, you were all his.

Once Lauren was satisfied with everyone’s ability to walk in a straight line and stand perfectly still while she and Jim exchanged vows, you practically ran to back Roy so you could head in for the rehearsal dinner.

“Fair warning,” you said in a light voice as his hand found its home on your waist. “Because everyone came up for the polo game, this thing is going to be as big as some people’s wedding receptions.” Your eyes wandered to one of the other bridesmaids, one of Jim’s cousins, the one that made you nauseous with how pretty she was. Especially when her eyes lingered on Roy’s handsome face for just a moment longer than was necessary.

“I don’t think I’ve said it often enough today, but you look fucking gorgeous,” he murmured as you entered the rehearsal dinner, where most of the other guests were already milling about with drinks in their hands as they waited for the bridal party.

Following your gaze as he often did, Roy noticed too. He also noticed the way your cheeks turned pink at the sight of another woman looking at him. He couldn’t resist feeling just a smidge of pleasure at the idea that you were, maybe, just a little bit… jealous?

Not that you needed to be.

Desperate for something to distract you from the butterflies in your stomach, you grabbed a glass of champagne from the large table of drinks and mostly picked over appetizers. “Oh stop,” you huffed, giving the inside of your cheek a small bite to keep yourself from beaming too widely.

Roy shook his head, grabbing himself a glass. “No, I’m fucking serious.” He took a long swig of champagne, craving a bit of courage. “Not saying it as your ‘boyfriend’ or your best friend’s brother or even your friend.” He averted his eyes, knowing he was crossing into dangerous territory as his growling voice went soft. “I’m saying it as someone who always thinks you’re the most stunning woman in the room.”

Your cheeks had never felt so warm. “Roy-”

“You two should find your seats.” Jim had appeared out of nowhere; he spoke to you both, but his eyes were glued to Roy’s hand on your waist. “Dinner’s starting in a moment.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Roy buried his face in your shoulder, his breath warm on your bare skin. “Yeah, thanks, Jim. We’ll get right on that.”

Jim simply rolled his eyes and turned away, quickly slaloming around the other guests who were still wandering around, until he was at Lauren’s side, at the ready, the ever-obedient fiancé.

“Come on, then,” Roy grumbled, urging you to the table where your family was seated. Everyone smiled- that knowing, mischievous smile you’d been seeing all weekend- as Roy pulled out your chair for you.

As annoyed as he’d been at Jim’s interruption, he willed himself to continue his doting boyfriend act- wondering if maybe, just maybe, in agreeing to come to this wedding, he’d accidentally stumbled upon the perfect opportunity to tell you how he felt.

He'd just need a lot more than one glass of champagne first.

[rdng1230]

10 things Easily fixable about That thing that happened: look, killing off Izzy Hands was always gonna hurt like a bitch. And it was a stupid decision, but what really made it worse was how many ways they could have made it better and specifically didn’t, so here’s a list in no particular order of general things that I think would’ve made things suck less, and a couple different story fix proposals. Maybe if I write it all out I can move on a little bit.

I know it was for budgetary reasons but it bothered me Ivan was killed off with one sentence and never mentioned again. I think what would have worked is if Ivan had been a little more fleshed out in s1, and then had him die on screen at the hands of a particularly dickish British naval officer in 2x01. Cut to episode 7 and said dickish Brit is Ricky’s number two. Izzy could have willingly and purposefully drawn the fire of officer asshole, as an acknowledgement of his failure to save Ivan and his past failures to be a proper protector of blackbeards crew, and to save the crew he’s now realized is his family that he is willing to die for. In addition I think that would’ve helped set up the British as being an actual formidable bad guy, because up to this point they were the most looney tunes ass villains on the high seas. Also it would’ve been an interesting symmetry to have the loyal pirate first mate vs. the loyal imperialist scumbag first mate. Think of the banter people.

I hate it when bad events in stories are predicated on having highly intelligent characters be complete idiots. You’re telling me Izzy fucking hands didn’t check noseless wonder for weapons? Fuck off. At least have a fellow soldier toss ricky a musket or something, or just have another soldier shoot him.

I think the main issue here is agency. Yes everyone consented to going into battle that way, but Izzy’s shooting was unceremonious, it wasn’t like he charged somebody or acted as bait, he just got hit by a stray bullet (It’s giving “your shirt” and I fucking hate it Iykyk)

Literally no one attempted medical intervention to help Izzy. Roach isn’t gonna stuff a rag in there? Jim isn’t gonna pass a knife to help rip Izzy’s clothes to visualize the wound? Fang and Frenchie aren’t gonna hold his hand? We’re not even gonna fucking try?!?!

if they had to center Ed’s issues with Izzy’s literal dying words, could we have at least have it be a big character moment for Ed to say “yes the crew is my family, but they’re yours too and I promise I’ll take care of them and make amends” like if DJ is so convinced of this father mentor thing (which seriously what the fuck is he even talking about) what’s more par for the course in this trope then the ole “you’re the man of the house now son you gotta take care of the family” routine

look, I know they got a short episode that they have to keep short. Cut a minute of time out of that breathtakingly awkward fishing sequence from the beginning and give Izzy’s death some breathing room. FFS the fallout from Karl’s and Lucius’s finger’s death had more reaction and more airtime than Izzy Hands (and more effect on the story)

Ricky fucking got away and no one talks about it. It would’ve been great if literally anyone had said “yeah we’re going after that guy” or “we may have won the battle but the British are always out there and one of these days we’ll meet again” just an acknowledgement that one guerilla battle at the republic of pirates was never gonna be the end of it.

this one hits close to home for me. I live on a boat, my mother is a licensed 100 ton ship captain. We’re seafarers goddamit and when we shake off this mortal coil we are buried (or cremated and scattered) at sea. Izzy Hands would not have wanted a land burial and he would’ve wanted to be buried at sea like the distinguished pirate he is, by the crew that became his family.

This segues into the burial at sea thing but maybe don’t bury him without his leg on, like just don’t do that. Don’t put his cravat and mothers ring where anybody could just come along and yank it off, Jesus.

I think frenchie being captain was a weird choice tbh. I love frenchie but he is a jester, a troubadour, a fae walking among us, the worlds handsomest grifter, but this dude does not want to be captain. However, if you had to make him captain I think it would’ve been nice to have had a scene post amputation where Izzy deliriously tells frenchie all these bits of advice about being first mate/captain and how Izzy had failed to be a good one in the past. I just loved the frenchie izzy bond in general and I would’ve loved another extra scene with them. This also would’ve lended itself well to frenchie being the one to outwardly grieve (the box opening up finally) during that minute of breathing room post death that I mentioned was needed earlier, maybe he would’ve reprised la vie en rose, or played a shanty/wake song that everyone could join in on.

I’m sure there are other things too that I’ve forgotten, but I think this covers most of it. Let me also say Izzy’s death was hardly the only issue I had with the finale, but that moment was the most egregiously and easily fixable (or at the very least mitigable) plot point. At the end of the day I think Izzy should’ve just not fucking died, but if they were gonna kill him, there were so many more respectful ways to do it.

[marlinswritingarchive]

A Million Things To Want

The first attack comes without warning.

The away team are still on the surface, finishing up their investigations of the local flora. Tricorders whirr. Voices chatter.

One moment, they're commenting on the natural beauty of the planet, and, the next, they're bombarded by an avalanche of petals, branches, and pollen.

As the most battered member of the away team, Ensign Grenson is beamed up to sickbay as a matter of urgency. The rest of them remain standing in a mustard-yellow field, surrounded by the colorful, gaudy plants. They're still now, but the crew cower away from them warily. Flowers of every color cover the surface of Hspersa Prime, making it appear reddish-brown from orbit. From space, the planet had looked peaceful- but, up close, the illusion is broken.

There's a tear in Jim's shirt, and a gash in the skin beneath. He has two obvious cuts on his face: one above his eye, and one on his forehead, along with the beginnings of a bruise. Still, now that they're out of the field of sentient thistle, Jim assumes that the worst is over.

A botanist stands beside Spock. The two of them contrast their surroundings in their vibrant blue shirts.

“Sorry,” she says, as she plucks thorns from the thin material. “I led us straight into an ambush.”

“Don't worry about it,” Sulu says. “This isn't the first time we've been attacked by the local wildlife.” His left cheek is bright red, where he's been slapped by a flailing branch. "I'm surprised you're still in one piece, Captain.”

Jim chuckles, and coughs lightly. “I wondered that myself.” He coughs again. There's a slight tickle in his throat, and he massages it self-consciously. “Still- I can't be allergic to everything.”

Sulu laughs, but he's interrupted by Jim's coughing. In a matter of seconds, Jim is doubled over, clutching his side, then his stomach. There's a hand on his shoulder, the beep of a communicator, and a low pain in his chest, steadily building.

“Sulu to Enterprise-”

The whine of the transporters gets higher.

“- emergency beam up-!”

The world shimmers, and his ears ring with the sounds of it.

The next few seconds are ones of chaos, of blurred, familiar faces and colors. The cry of panicked voices- voices he recognizes: Nurse Chapel, then Bones.

“- There's something in his throat!”

The next thing he knows, he's in medbay, where everything is cool, and soft, and dark. The colors here are altogether more neutral: off-whites and pale, pastel blues, which soothe the throbbing in his head. The lights are kept dim, and he gets the feeling he's been in here for a while, though it seems like hardly a second has passed. Chapel is standing there covered in blood, and Bones is wearing matching scrubs.

There's a slight weight on Jim's forehead, and he looks up into a pair of brown eyes, dark with concern. The weight is comfortable yet overwhelming, the after-effects of a mind meld he doesn't remember. Then, Spock removes his hand, and Jim lets out a long, shaky breath.

“What…?” He tries to say, but it's nothing more than a squeak. He can't even be sure that he's spoken aloud, save for the fact that everyone is looking at him with the same, mute confusion. Chapel excuses herself with a polite grimace, tugging at the scrubs as she goes, and Bones leaves too, with a muttered promise to return.

Moments later, the doors open again, and Sulu runs in, with a flurry of 'is-he-alright-is-he-awake-yet?' and 'can-I-see-him-now?'

Something stirs within Jim's chest. He coughs, once, and Spock steps in front of him, as if to shield him from view.

Jim waves him back with a forced smile. “I'm alright. Come in.”

Truth be told, he's hardly alright- his mouth aches terribly and he can still taste the blood- but he feels undeniably bolstered now that the two of them are here. With a glance at his vitals, Sulu approaches him cautiously, and Jim tries not to speak much. His throat is still raw and aches terribly. Instead, he just pats Sulu on the arm and tries for a reassuring smile.

From the corner, Spock picks up a thin, reddish plant, which looks strikingly familiar. It had been sitting on a table at his bedside, and he's not sure why he hadn't noticed it until now- perhaps because he hadn't wanted to. Its leaves aren't particularly spiky, but they're sharp enough to cut someone in the right conditions. The plant appears to have been potted hastily, and fresh soil obscures the roots, but Jim can visualize them perfectly, despite never having seen them.

"Do you recognise this plant, Mr Sulu?" Spock asks.

Sulu blinks. "I, uh- yeah,” he swallows. "They're native to the planet; I took a sample of one. It's sitting in the lab right now, awaiting categorisation.”

Jim runs his tongue along the roof of his mouth. There are nicks and cuts in every groove. He tastes blood.

“What's your opinion on it?”

“I thought it was beautiful.” His eyes are locked on Jim.

“Your professional opinion, as a biologist.”

“Oh, right.” His mouth twitches. “Well, I haven't had the chance to analyse it yet, but I'd say it's unusual. The tricorder couldn't identify any known methods of passing on genetic information. However it reproduces, it's not through pollination.”

Spock nods. “That is consistent with data points from other wildlife on the planet.”

Jim's chest spasms, and he breathes uneasily. Please, not again.

“This plant…” Sulu reaches out to touch the silky petals with a frown. “I thought mine was the only sample on this ship. What was its origin?"

Spock sets it back on the table, and crosses his arms behind his back. "It came out of the captain."

Suddenly, Jim starts coughing violently, like he's hacking up a third lung. It happens exactly as it did before; but it's different this time, because he's conscious for it: for every contraction of his chest, and the way each leaf pokes his tongue and jabs at the roof of his mouth.

Sulu says something, but Jim can't hear it over the sound of his own choked sobs.

"- leave us, please, helmsman."

Sulu stays where he is.

"Leave." Spock's voice is a low growl.

For the second time today, Jim passes out.

*

A second plant sits next to the first: golden and beautiful, with red-tinted leaves. This plant came out much stronger than its predecessor, with better-defined pigmentation. The stems shine brightly in the light, so much so that Jim almost can't tear his eyes away.

Almost.

Jim’s room has been placed under a strict quarantine, and the only people allowed to visit him are medical officers and anyone who was down on the planet at the time he was infected.

Bones stands at the corner of the room, accompanied by the loud whir of a tricorder.

"The plant's growth-rate accelerated the moment Lieutenant Sulu entered the room," Spock informs him. His hand is still pressed to the stem of the plant. "For a moment, I could sense a connection with it."

"What are you saying?" Jim wheezes, through the tightness in his chest.

Bones turns and peers at him. "The disease appears to have a telepathic component."

Jim lies still. "Telepathic, as in…"

Spock's face is carefully neutral. "For reasons we can't yet explain- the plant is connected to Sulu, and has taken root in you."

His breath rattles, and he shakes his head. "That's impossible. That doesn't…" he touches his forehead. "That doesn't make any sense.”

"I know," Bones says, gruffly. "But other members of the away team have the same symptoms. Since we returned yesterday, Ensign Grenson has been coughing up daisies."

"Daisies," Jim repeats, with a kind of astonished numbness. "But that's… That's from home. Why is a telepathic virus from an alien planet causing us to-?" he stops, and spits a mouthful of red petals into his hand.

"Take it easy," Bones says. "You create new plants every time your adrenaline spikes."

Jim closes his fist, crushing the petals. "So, it creates a panic response?"

"I don't know," Bones admits. "But it seems to feed on heightened emotion, which could explain why it has yet to affect our Vulcan friend here."

Spock raises an eyebrow, and Jim gives a small smile, then unfurls his hand again. The soft petals are marred by flecks of his own blood, and he feels a distinct sense of unease. They seem small, harmless; hardly enough to hospitalise someone- and yet, here he is.

"The flower species which emerges may be calibrated to the genome of each host," Bones muses, though he doesn't sound convinced. “Or, it depends on the parasite.”

"Is it a virus, or a parasite?" Jim says, weakly.

"Both," Bones says, uncertainly. “It's difficult to define it, because…”

"What?"

"Because you don't have a parasite," he grumbles. “At least, not one I can find.”

Jim blinks at him. "Then why am I…?” His hand shakes a little, and his throat feels unnaturally tight. “What happens if you run your tests and Sulu doesn't have a parasite?”

"Then I'll need a new theory.”

Jim wheezes a little. "The only other members of the away team- aside from us- were Jarren, Rueld, Sulu and Begum." He says, tightly. "Did one of us make Grenson sick?"

"No," Spock says, from across the room. "That part is less clear. It is likely that the... daisies… are being dictated by some other crewmember- most likely one who was infected on-board, before the ship-wide quarantine was introduced."

"It should make it easier to find the perpetrator… Though, just to rule it out- you don't happen to like daisies, do you?" Bones peers at him, and Jim chuckles.

"No. If I was going to choose a yellow plant, I'd go for something else. A zinnia, perhaps."

"Alright. Good." He makes a note of it. "Now if anyone sprouts geraniums, we'll know who to blame."

“Bones…” his head is spinning, but he searches for the right words. “What's all this about?”

“Your psi-readings are still slightly elevated," Bones says. "Grenson's, too. I'm still waiting on that reading from Sulu."

"But why isn't Spock affected? Or you? You've been taking care of us all day, and you haven't started coughing up plants yet."

He shrugs. "I don't know what to tell you, Jim. Maybe it hasn't spread to me. Maybe I'm asymptomatic. At any rate, this disease- if you can call it that- doesn't show up on our tricorders beyond a slight elevation in psi-levels. We're shooting in the dark here.”

Jim smiles. "In other words, it's literally all in our heads. I bet you love that."

Bones glares at him, and gestures to the plants. "Those came out of your lungs, Jim." His hand falls. "I wish I could explain it.” He mumbles something under his breath, something about 'aesthetic preference', and Jim breathes uneasily.

He can think of one, probable reason why he's connected to Sulu, but it's nothing grounded in logic. From across the room, he can feel Spock's eyes burning into him, and he averts his gaze.

*

The next time Sulu visits, Jim is asleep. Spock watches him enter, then glances at Jim's biobed. He waits for the coughing to begin anew, but there's nothing but the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

"Curious," he observes. He doesn't say anything else.

Sulu gives him a look he can't decipher. "Is it okay for me to be here?"

Spock looks at him. "You are offended.”

"No, no…" his mouth twitches. "I get it. I'd do the same." He checks the readout on the biomonitor, but there's no change. He relaxes slightly. Spock comes to stand beside him as they survey the readings in silence.

“Doctor McCoy came to see me,” Sulu says at last. “He took some readings, said there was some ‘residual psi-energy.’”

Spock keeps his face carefully neutral as Sulu fidgets.

“He thinks it has something to do with me, doesn’t he?”

"You were the only crewmember who recognised the plants." Spock says, simply. “You stated an affinity for their aesthetic qualities."

"But there's something more than that, isn't there?"

"Yes," he admits. "Ensign Grenson is afflicted with the same disease, but he has been producing a much different plant.”

“So…”

Spock tilts his head. “It is possible that there is a parasite within you which used your aesthetic preferences as a blueprint, and activated a sympathetic response in the captain. But, as no parasite appears on our tricorders-"

"You're reconsidering your theory?"

Spock nods, sharply.

"I heard about Grenson's friend," Sulu admits. "Rumors travel fast on this ship. I’m trying to work out why the aesthetic preference of one person would transfer to another like that. I mean, it gives an advantage to competing plants, so maybe it’s an accident, but-”

Jim stirs slightly, and Sulu falters. “I shouldn't be here,” he says, quietly.

The doors swish closed behind him.

Jim opens his eyes the moment he leaves, and Spock peers at him curiously.

“I was listening,” Jim admits, quietly. “Why didn't you tell him?”

“It was only a theory.”

“Your theories are rarely wrong.”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “Then perhaps you should inform him yourself.”

“I can't.” He looks away.

Spock places his hands behind his back, and waits.

Jim watches the ceiling. “There are a million things in this universe you can have, and a million things you can't. It's no fun facing that, but that's the way things are.” They're the well-rehearsed ramblings of a man who's had a while to convince himself that they're true.

“I assume you refer to the guidebook on inter-crew relations?” Spock says.

Jim gives the smallest nod.

“Relations between senior crew members are not forbidden. Particularly not in circumstances where they would save the life of an officer involved.”

Jim pictures the hot sands of Vulcan, of Spock bearing down on him with a Lirpa. Spock's hands around his throat as he crushes him, his body pinning him with his weight. Spock grabbing his shoulders in sickbay, so relieved to see him alive, with a level of delight he hasn’t seen before or since.

“... This isn't like that,” Jim says, quietly. “I have a duty to this crew. I can't balance… Love… And duty.”

Spock doesn't meet his eye. “It stands to reason that if you don't tell him, your only alternative will be to avoid him for the remainder of our five-year mission.”

*

"Hey." Sulu stands in the doorway, but doesn't come any closer.

"Hey," Jim acknowledges. "Y’know, if this disease is telepathic, then keeping your distance won't help."

Sulu frowns, and lifts the newest plant from the bedside table as he walks over. He holds it out like a shield between them as he examines it. "It's a prime specimen," he says, dryly. "You should be proud."

Jim smiles. He reaches for it tentatively, and touches the petals. “What are you calling it?”

“I wasn’t in the lab at the time, but they’re going with ‘Hspersia’, after the planet. The first specimen has been thoroughly dissected, but it's genetically identical to the first,” he says, apologetically. “There were no genetic traces from you at all. You wouldn't know it had come out of a human.”

"Hmm. Well, if I cough up any more, at least I know who to give them to," Jim says, with a lopsided smile.

Sulu swallows. "Jim…"

"It's not your fault."

Sulu purses his lips. “We don't know that for sure. The tricorder results-”

“- It's not your fault,” Jim repeats, and Sulu smiles bashfully.

They fall into a comfortable silence, as Sulu feels his way around the leaves thoroughly, as if they might be hiding any more secrets.

“I'd better get this down to the lab.” Sulu says at last. He shoulders the plant, and turns back to him one last time. “We're going to keep searching until we get to the bottom of this.”

“Do you still think it's beautiful?” Jim says, and Sulu breaks into a smile.

"To tell you the truth," he admits, "This whole thing has put me off Hspersias.”

As the door closes behind him, Jim feels something stir in his chest again, and breathes heavily.

There's a twinge of pain.

*

"So," Bones says, carefully. "There goes my theory.”

Jim cries silently, and Spock withdraws his hand from his forehead. The mind-meld he had administered had done very little to stem the growth of the plant.

"It's okay, Jim." Bones rests a hand on his shoulder and pats him gently. "Just let it all out."

Up until a few minutes ago, Jim had been curled on his side with a budding rosebush lodged in his throat. It took some quick-thinking from Nurse Chapel and a laser scalpel to remove it entirely, and Jim keeps finding petals between his teeth. He can only be grateful that he's no longer finding thorns. The inside of his mouth has been healed with the help of a dermal regenerator, but he can still taste blood.

Bones shakes his head. “I’ve seen plenty of things on this ship that I can't explain, but this one takes the cake.”

He waits for some reaction, but Jim just breathes through his nose and watches the ceiling.

Bones exhales, and turns to the corner. Medical staff have been coming in and out all day, but Spock has hardly moved at all, still sitting on the same chair at the head of the bed. Normally, he'd discourage it, but, today…

He folds his arms. “Now, Spock. This telepathic Mumbo-Jumbo is beyond me, but, as our resident Vulcan, I expect you to protect him. I don't want to be called up here every five minutes because he's coughing up some other plant that's tearing him apart from the inside out."

Spock's mouth is a thin line. “Protecting the captain is always my utmost priority, doctor; but I cannot protect him from psychic attacks where there are none."

There's a pause.

“... I get the hint,” Bones says. He casts a glance back at the tangled mess of flowers and thorns, which glisten with a fresh sheen of blood. “I'm close to creating an antidote with Grenson- though, to tell you the truth, he's been much better ever since he got a visit from that little girlfriend of his. I can't explain it. Maybe it's psychological.”

Spock glances at Jim, who stares at the wall, glassy-eyed and despondent.

Bones pats him on the shoulder as he heads out of medbay, and shoots Spock a meaningful look.

The new plant is set in the middle of the room: in pride of place as if it hadn't just nearly killed the captain. It's quite beautiful in its own way, and Spock moves to admire it for the first time. The leaves are a pure, vibrant red, unlike the rusted-maroon of the Hspersias. With a frown, he wipes away the flecks of blood which coat the leaves. The color is almost perfectly matched, as if painted by the haemoglobin itself.

"Fascinating," he says, at last. "This is a common-variety rosebush, perfectly acclimated to the environment of The Enterprise's arboretum."

Jim turns his head slowly. "Any new theories?" His voice is tinged with exhaustion.

"New observations. Every cell sample from Hspersia has had a nucleus," Spock says. "But there is no genetic information stored inside it. The only genetic information encoded is mitochondrial DNA, accompanied by an excess of psilosynine- the same chemical found in other telepathic species such as Betazoids.”

Jim huffs out a breath. "So, a plant infects someone, then uses a telepathic link to force a host body to grow new plants for it? What is it, mutual parasitism?"

Spock nods approvingly.

“Then- why was Grenson growing daisies?”

"Speculation," Spock begins. "The originator plant may require a mental snapshot in order to reconstruct an accurate replica of itself in the host. Without it, it will default to whatever image the telepathic carrier is projecting- which is why it appears to be flora from Earth."

“‘Appears to’?” Jim frowns.

Spock nods. “The genetic makeup of the daisies was identical to that of the Hspersias you produced. I am certain the rose bush will yield the same results.”

“Identical?”

“It had no nucleonic DNA, but there was a chromosomal excess of psilosynine.”

A rose by any other name, Jim thinks. “So, it's a daisy in appearance alone.”

“Correct. The Hspersias use mirror neurons to determine their exterior appearance.”

“A species of plant which doesn’t reproduce asexually?” Jim muses. “I’m sure the Federation Biologists will be very interested to study this.”

“Indeed. Though the nature of Hspersia makes it difficult to study. Scientists will have to be vetted before they are allowed close contact with it.”

“Vetted?”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “The Birds and The Bees, Captain. It is no coincidence that the template for Grenson's flowers were provided by his romantic partner.”

Jim’s heart beats faster, and he folds his hands together in his lap.

“If a strong emotional connection is enough to induce the growth-cycle, the reverse may also be true. An emotional experience may cause it to lie dormant.”

“An emotional experience, such as…?”

“That is my evaluation of the facts, Captain. What you decide to do with them is up to you.”

“That won’t be difficult,” Jim says, miserably. “He'll probably work it out as soon as he sees the rosebush."

Spock's eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, and Jim laughs.

“Pity, Mr Spock?" He teases, but there's no conviction behind it. “Surely such sentiment is unbecoming, for a Vulcan.” He gives a short, hacking cough.

"Perhaps, Captain." Spock purses his lips. "But you have my sympathy, as your first officer.”

He breathes heavily, and leans back on the pillows. He watches from the corner of his eye as Spock lifts the plant, and carries it from the room.

*

Christine Chapel blocks the doorway to Jim’s quarters- and, when Christine Chapel wants something, she gets what she wants.

“He can't see you right now,” she says, apologetic, but firm. “Spock said he needs his sleep.” She gives him a strange look, and extends the potted plant to him. “But, he said you should have this.”

Sulu stares at it, and takes it with shaking hands. "Chris…"

The pot is so small he can balance it in the palm of one hand. The soil, he recognises from the arboretum- dirt transported from Earth, fertilized with recycled biological composite. This, in itself, is not unusual- but this plant has so many thorns. With mounting horror, his eyes drift upwards, to the plant itself. He gasps. Not only is this a fledgling rosebush- it’s an almost exact replica of the rosebush he'd planted a week ago, nestled between the trees in the upper-left section, where the benches are. He’d germinated it in the lab and planted it there with one very specific purpose- he knows that Jim goes to that spot in the arboretum to read, and had been hoping to surprise him with it.

Well, he’s certainly surprised him.

Stupid. Stupid.

His shoulders, and the rosebush, shake. Christine steps forwards, concern in her eyes. “Mr Sulu-”

She’s no longer blocking the door.

He bolts forwards as fast as his legs will carry him.

“Hey!” Christine shouts, as he barrels towards the doors. He’s fortunate that they’ve been left unlocked, otherwise he would just smash right into them. They part automatically, and he stumbles into the room.

“Jim!” he shouts, voice booming in the sudden stillness. He skids to a halt beside the bed, as Jim blinks awake.

“I told you he was sleeping!” Christine whispers furiously, and grasps Sulu by the arm.

“It’s fine,” Jim says, but his bio-monitor readings say otherwise. “It’s-” he glances at the rosebush in Sulu’s hands, and places a hand to his chest.

“... Jim?”

His breathing becomes laboured, and Sulu swears under his breath.

“Oh, not again!” Christine reaches for a laser scalpel, but Sulu jumps between them, discarding the rose bush on the table.

“Wait! Wait, it’s okay.” He kneels on the edge of the mattress, and grabs Jim’s shoulders then presses their foreheads together. “I’m thinking about forget-me-nots now,” he says, lowly. He closes his eyes and focuses on the mental image of small clusters of blue flowers. “They’re much smaller, and they don’t have thorns...”

Jim gives a hacking laugh, and something lands in Sulu’s lap. When he opens his eyes, they’re both covered in blue petals, strewn around like confetti. Jim’s eyes are watering, and his breathing is laboured, but he’s smiling.

“That was reckless,” Jim wheezes. He has tears in his eyes, but he smiles in spite of it.

“I thought it was pretty smart, actually,” Sulu jokes, as he rubs his back.

Jim spits out a couple more petals and laughs weakly.

Christine gives a relieved sigh. “I’ll be outside, in case either of you start coughing up rose-bushes again.” She gives Sulu an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture as she leaves, and he sits up a little straighter. The door hisses shut behind her.

Jim’s breathing gradually becomes more steady, and Sulu cups Jim’s cheek with a hand as he waits for his bio-readings to return to normal.

“How did you know how to do that?” Jim says, at last.

“Well, Doctor McCoy had just told me I had elevated psi-readings, so I thought it was worth a try.”

Jim exhales. “You worked it out just from that?”

“Not quite,” he admits. “It wasn’t until I saw it that I realised-” he grips Jim’s arm excitedly as he points to it. “-It’s a perfect copy of the rosebush I planted in the arboretum a month ago.”

“But genetically identical to a Hspersia,” Jim points out, and Sulu represses a grin. The structure of the plants is utterly fascinating. If Jim hadn’t been in danger, he might never have been able to pull himself away from the lab.

For a brief, fleeting moment, he imagines what it must feel like to swallow a rosebush. His heart clenches.

“Jim…” he murmurs. “If I'd have known sooner…” he shakes his head. “I did try. I mean; I knew you liked roses, though perhaps I've ruined them for you now-”

Jim closes the distance between them, and Sulu falls silent.

He can taste forget-me-nots on his lips.

*

For the third time today, there’s a white orchid in Spock’s sink. This one is in significantly worse condition than its predecessors: the stem wilted and drooping, the flowers shattering upon impact with the basin. This is not the only variety of plant he has produced- there had been a moment, hours ago, when he had coughed up some small, blue flowers, of Earth origin. At first, he had assumed he was merely intercepting telepathic signals from the afflicted people around him, but now, faced with the evidence before him, he can only conclude that he has indeed been infected himself.

This development is slightly bothersome, as Sulu and Jim are currently talking to one another next door. Still, it’s no matter. His own health is secondary to the captain’s, and the plants Spock has been producing are at least more forgiving than roses. He will forever remember how distraught he was when he thought he had killed Jim during pon farr. If staying away from him is all that is required to assure his safety, then that is what he must do. After all, the plants are induced via telepathy- a distinctly Vulcan area of expertise. Perhaps he can travel to Gol in order to learn how to master it-

There’s a distinct knock.

“Spock?” Jim’s voice is muffled by the door between them. “Are you alright in there?”

Spock steadies himself against the counter, and drops the orchid- and all its fallen petals- into the matter reclaimator beside him. “Enter,” he coughs as he clears his throat.

“Spock?” Jim repeats. He leans against the doorway with one hand.

“I am quite well,” he says, tightly.

Jim glances over his shoulder towards the sink, but Spock was careful to remove any traces of blood. There have been many times over the course of their mission when their shared bathroom has been a benefit- it saves time to discuss ship matters while brushing their teeth- but, presently, it is a detriment.

“Are you sure?”

“I am relieved to see you out of sickbay,” Spock tries to say, but the words stick- and they're not the only thing stuck in his throat.

He freezes. He's never had two attacks so close together before, nor so fast. There's no way he can hide it from them.

The stem has already breached his throat.

“Oh, Spock.” Jim drops to his knees beside him, and tries to grasp hold of his hands. “Has this been happening all day?”

Spock makes a small sound. His vision swims, until Jim is nothing more than a vague golden blob before him. The telepathic interference from the two of them is unbearable, and Spock clutches both sides of his head, whimpering slightly.

“I’m here.” Jim’s hands are either side of his face, prying his hands away.

He trembles, and a hand strokes his hair. The touch is soothing.

“Let me help.”

Jim takes Spock’s face in his hands and kisses him gently. Soft, open-mouthed kisses to coax the poison out of him. Spock claws at his shirt, shivering uncontrollably as he veers backwards, and hands catch him. He turns his head, chest and stomach heaving as he spits a flower to the ground.

He tries to flee, to bolt like a horse from the stable, but those same hands reassure him, holding him tight.

“What was the plan?” Jim teases, gently. “Were you going to avoid us for the remainder of our five-year mission?”

“Jim…” Spock grumbles.

Something stirs in his chest, but he attempts to remain stoic as they embrace him. As predicted, the connection between Jim and Sulu seems to have fallen dormant. As they huddle together, the telepathic pull from the two of them lessens, but there's something else tugging at him; some other compulsion. He ignores it.

At long last, Sulu picks up the fallen flower.

“White orchids?” he comments, as he pinches the leaves between forefinger and thumb. “Yours, Jim?”

Jim nods, and offers Spock a hand up. He takes it, feeling distinctly off-kilter. There's a twinge in his chest, and he tightens his grip on Jim's hand.

Then, he doubles over again, coughing violently.

“Spock!”

*

Jim and Sulu sit at Spock’s bedside as Bones hovers over him, a short distance away. He runs a tricorder over him as he fusses, and touches his face more than is strictly necessary.

Jim tugs on his sleeve. “It looks like your theory was correct after all, Bones,” he says, as he opens his palm to reveal the bunch of bright flowers clenched within. “Azaleas. I’ve heard they’re quite common in Georgia.”

Bones goes very still as he looks at the flowers, and, finally, to Spock.

“Now just wait a damn minute,” Bones says. “I should have known it was suspicious how quick you were to support that aesthetic preference notion-”

Spock raises an eyebrow. “As I recall, you were the first to raise that theory, Leonard.”

“Well, now, that's beside the point!” he splutters, as he flushes the same shade as the azaleas.

Jim rests his head on Sulu’s shoulder as the two of them begin bickering back and forth, perhaps a little more gently than usual. Jim smiles to himself. The small matter of Spock being in a hospital bed has never made either of them hold back before.

Sulu’s shoulders shake with silent laughter, and, at last, it occurs to Jim that, with friends like these, perhaps he can balance love and duty more easily than he thought.

[karlyanalora]

Rinse & Repeat

Read on AO3

Day 1 Take 2

It’s not like Jim to set Barbara up on a date. In fact, he’s never done it before. But she won’t complain. Walt seemed to be very nice.

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

Day 1 Take 5

“I love you, Mom.”

Jim hugged her for a long time, and she hated to break it off, but “Jim I’m going to be late for work.”

Jim pulled away, and there were tears in his eyes. She frowned, taking a moment to wipe them away. “What’s wrong?”

He grasped her hand for a moment and leaned into the touch. “Nothing, Mom. Be safe, okay?”

“Sure, honey.” All through the drive, she can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong. He wasn’t like that yesterday.

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

Day 1 Take 10

Barbara felt sick to her stomach and rushed to the bathroom. Things weren’t much better a few hours later, and she called the hospital to tell them she’d be out sick. She’d say she had food poisoning if she didn't know better.

“Where’s Toby?” she asked Jim when he got home from school. 

Jim shrugged, seemingly unconcerned by her apparent illness. “He had to go home early. He wasn’t feeling well.”

Her son seems cold, calloused even. Seeing him wield a knife so expertly makes her shiver as he carves a ham. He’s carved ham before, but it’s different this time. She can’t put her finger on it, but it’s unnerving.

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

Day 1 Take…

Barbara jerked awake to the sound of the front door slamming closed. She looked out the window to see Jim tearing out of the garage on his bicycle. He wasn’t wearing a helmet, and it was still dark out. She couldn’t tell you why, but he seemed so desperate in that fleeting glance, that it had her chasing after him in the car. Instinct had her pulling the car off the road at the bridge and peering over into the canal just as the sun rose fully. Jim was kneeling in front of a pile of broken stone, shaking, and she could hear his wails from here. Even over the roar of some sort of monster on the underside of the bridge. She ignored the monster and awkwardly stumbled down the canal wall to Jim’s side.

She knelt next to him and wrapped her arms around him, pulling him close. He sobbed into her shirt, clinging to her tight enough to leave bruises. “I don’t want to do this again, Mom.”

“Do what, Jim?”

There, on the pavement, as the sun beat down on them, Barbara learned about a life she hadn’t lived yet. About love found, lost, found, and lost again. About trolls, wizards, and aliens. About a dead Toby and her brave son’s chance to save them all.

“But it just got worse,” Jim blubbered. “Every time, the harder I tried, the worse it got.”

“So you thought you could fix it all by saving the Trollhunter before you, Kanjigar was it?” Barbara concluded, and Jim nodded.

“But I couldn’t.”

She cursed her future self for allowing him to start this horrible cycle. “Jim, you can’t save everyone.”

“I know, Mom,” he snapped. “And don’t give me that stupid doctor lecture again.”

Well, there went that plan. “Jim, if you go into this trying to save everyone you love, you’ll find yourself doing just about anything.” Jim didn’t go stiff, exactly, but “You’ve made a lot of compromises, haven’t you?”

“I did what I had to.”

She pulled back to look him in the eye with all the sincerity and love inside her. “What you have to do is the right thing. If the world burns, it burns; you did the right thing with the knowledge you had. You have more knowledge now, but that means making harder choices. It means letting people go.”

“I can’t let them die again!”

“We can try to stop it, but promise me, no more forgoing the right thing.” She paused for a moment, staring at the stones. “Your father…when he served, he did that. Foregoing the right thing for the option that saved the most people or those he cared most about. Often those are one and the same, but when they aren’t…well, we both saw the results. I don’t want that for you.”

“I don’t know if I can anymore,” Jim admitted softly. “But I’ll tr-I’ll do my best.”

She pulled him close again, resting her chin on top of his head. How she wished she could take this burden from him, but Jim had learned through hard-won experience it had to be him who wielded the Amulet. “That’s all I can ask for. But…” how to put this gently, “I think I know why you’re failing.”

“Oh? Because I’d sure like to know.”

“You’re trying to have everything.” She felt him try to pull away, but she held him tighter. “Hear me out. Tell me, do you always try to set me up with Mr. Strickler?”

“Well, yeah. You guys are in love!”

“We were in love, in another life. Mr. Strickler and I may have fallen in love before, but right now he is our enemy and he may stay that way.”

Jim yanked out of her arms. “No! I’m not giving up on him. I know he’s good-”

“You know he can be good,” Barbara pressed. “Those are different things.”

“Fine then. What next? You want me to ditch Tobes and Claire too?”

She shook her head softly. “No, don’t push away the friends you have. Besides, I don’t think Toby would let you and you definitely can’t keep this a secret from him. And new friends may come to, like your two troll trainers. But just because they were your friends before doesn’t mean they will be again. People get to choose and they may not make those same choices. Nomura only became your friend after the Darklands, and without that, and that will not happen again, she may never be your ally. You have to let people choose and not assume you know them. If you want to rekindle what you had with Claire, you need to be upfront with her. Her relationship with you, even if it’s just friends, will actively put her in danger. She needs to know the risks.”

Jim dropped against her chest. “I can’t lose Claire. She’s going to think I’m nuts..”

“Being a hero means making sacrifices.”

Sobs shook Jim again. “It’s all gone. It’s really gone.”

“So build something new.” She stood and pulled Jim up with her. “We’ll go home and plan as best we can. You’re not alone in this. We’ll do the right thing this time and leave it at that, okay?”

Jim nodded and shuffled away. “Hey, aren’t you forgetting something?” she tried to say cheerfully. He turned to look at her as she bent to move the stones aside. Just as the blue light peeked through as the last stones fell, they both heard the Amulet speak.

“Barbara Lake.”

The look of horror and defeat on Jim’s face would be forever burned into her mind.

Day 1, Final Take

This story is complete for now, but I have more ideas I'd love to explore in it. So if you want to read more, let me know.

[biggerbetterbat]

WITH YOU [8] DIFFERENT OPINION

Daryl Dixon x OC (Charlie Reed)

Shane Walsh x OC (Charlie Reed) - just this one time I promise

Summary: Charlie has the opportunity to get to know Shane and remembers old memories from before the turn. The group worries about Jim. At night they have unwanted guests.

Warnings: language, violence

Song: Safe & Sound Taylor Swift

A/N: Hello ;) I really like this chapter and I hope you do too. I had to re-watch season 1 and I remembered how hot Shane was, that why it's more of him in this chapter, BUT DON'T WORRY, Daryl's back.

DAYLIGHT ON WATTPAD

"Son of a bitch." said Shane.

He was right in front of her, helping to clean the little cut she had on her lower lip. Charlie shut her eyes at the stingy feeling in her mouth. She was sure that Ed went easy on her or he was just too exhausted because she was almost sure that he could do it better. Not once did one of her brothers hit her harder than Ed, over more stupid things.

Once she was wrestling with her older brother- Luke, when she was probably eight. A series of unfortunate events led her to a place where she was unconscious on the ground after his knee hit her right into the nose. There was blood everywhere, on her face, clothes, snow white rug- everywhere. And they probably fighting about something stupid like a TV remote or the last cookie.

"Long time I didn't feel that pain," she said but yelped in pain as she moved her jaw.

"I would recommend something cold for your cheek," he answered. "Let me help you with that," Shane said quietly, his voice betraying the unease he felt.

His touch was gentle as he cleaned the cut on her face, his fingers lingering longer than necessary, sending a jolt of electricity through her - for so long no one touched her that way. Shane's hands paused for a moment, his eyes meeting hers in a silent plea for understanding. In that fleeting moment, Charlie saw the pain and regret etched in his features.

"It's okay." she shook her head. "Four brothers, remember?"

Charlie snorted and took material from his hands, trying to clean the cut herself, because she felt that the cop was too delicate with it. Also, she felt some dry blood on her chin and that was disgusting to walk around with it.

Shane chuckled and looked down, just to look up at her again through his long lashes. Oh, classic flirt. If he looked like that at Lori, then she wouldn't be surprised that she decided to use his shoulder to cry into it.

"I'm really sorry that that happened to you," he said.

"You should see the other one." she joked.

And Shane chuckled too, knowing good damn well what happened to the other one- and he for sure looked much worse than Charlie.

"What happened?" Lori gasped, walking up to her and examining her face.

It was a very motherly gesture. Her hands were on her face, holding it gently and looking at the bruises. Her big eyes were radiating with worry. It was a nice feeling that someone was worried about you, especially in times like that.

"I had a different opinion than Ed." she shrugged.

Shane once again chuckled at her words and Lori looked at him with anger. Then she saw his T-shirt was in blood, just like his knuckles. Lori furrowed her eyebrows at him, knowing exactly what Ed received for his different opinion.

"I also had a different opinion than Ed." he winked at Charlie.

She wanted to smile, but as her muscles moved her cheek and lower lip were in pain, so instead she just nodded her head, making Lori sigh. Charlie for the first time saw a normal human in Shane, a man that he probably was before the turn. He was smiling and joking, he looked as if he had forgotten about what was going on around the world.

"Rick is out to save one of our people and you two got in a fight?"

"That would have been Carol," Charlie said.

"And you think you saved her?" she raised her eyebrow and got up as she couldn't help Charlie in any way.

Shane looked after her and sighed. Then he moved his eyes to Charlie and touched her arm."Try to not have a different opinion than him anymore, okay?"

Charlie bit her lip and nodded.

"Try to rest."

That's how operation laundry ended for her...

The free day she got from Shane was the most boring in the camp. She couldn't finish the laundry and she couldn't go with Andrea and Amy fishing- and that would be something new, something at least more exciting than sitting. Lori and the cop were suspicious that from a hard slap, she might get a concussion, and she really doubted that theory, but there was no fighting between mom and dad.

"What's that Dale?" she asked as the older man furrowed his eyebrows.

She got her answer as soon as she walked up to the hill, where Jim covered in sweat was digging holes. Of course, Dale didn't let her go alone, because as he said: I better have an eye for you.

"Jim? You okay?" she was the first one to ask a question.

"You keep this up, you're gonna kneel over out here. Drink some water at least."

He gave them a death stare and started digging again.

So they left him, but soon Jim had a bigger problem than Dale and Charlie, and its name was Shane. Charlie told him as soon as she got to the camp because he was the leader and Jim was going nuts.

That's why Jim was cuffed to the tree and Charlie was sitting next to him- because once again, there was no job for her. So she was just looking at his tired face and mad eyes hearing his words echoing through her head: I got away cause the dead were too busy eating my family.

"Jim," she said. "Take some water?"

He nodded, so she helped him. Holding the cup to his mouth, so he could drink it as his hands were also cuffed.

"Pour some on my head?"

She nodded and did as he said.

"How long you gonna keep me like this?

"It's Shane's decision." "Until you are no longer a danger to yourself or others, I guess?"

She was alone with him as everyone else followed Shane to help him with the fish that Andrea and Amy caught before.

"You think I'm mad, right?" he asked.

She shook her head. "It's not my place to judge you, Jim."

"You have this look on your face. You always have it when you look at us," he said with a drop of spite.

"You were alone out there for some time," he said. "But now you have those people."

"You have then, too." she furrowed her eyebrows.

Jim scoffed.

"You will see one day," he said. "You will wake up and you will feel empty inside, but before you will watch everyone die. Each death will take a piece of you and you won't be yourself anymore. You will be mad just like me."

She didn't answer to this, but his word made her shiver.

"I just hope they won't cuff you to a tree."

Despite their shared history, Jim's actions had crossed a line, and Charlie knew he had to walk away. Charlie turned on his heel, leaving Jim behind, tethered to the tree like a symbol of their broken bond.

As Charlie walked away, a figure approached from the shadows. It was Carol. She was nervously fidgeting from one leg to the other, playing with the hem of her shirt. "Something's wrong?"

"Charlie, I'm so sorry," Carol began, her voice trembling with sincerity. "I can't begin to express how deeply regretful I am for what happened. My husband's actions were inexcusable, and I understand if you never want to forgive me, but please know that I'm here to listen and to make amends in any way I can."

"What are you even talking about?"

"Back by the lake..."

"No," Charlie interrupted her. "He hit me, I know. But why are you apologizing?"

Carol looked down guilt.

"Don't do this Carol," Charlie shook her head. "Don't apologize for him. Or for anyone at this point...Not even for yourself if you feel the thing you did was right," she said.

Despite the hurt and anger she felt towards her husband's actions, he couldn't shake the feeling of sorrow for Carol herself. She was a victim in all of this too, caught in the crossfire of her husband's mistakes. Carol sniffed her nose and whipped her tears away. "Do you accept it?"

"No," she said. "Because I don't need it. Things happen. Just remember that now you have people that can help you."

The woman stretched her arm and squeezed the arm of Charlie with a grateful smile. "Thank you."

"Anytime," she nodded. "Just keep him away from Sophia."

Then, Carol pulled her into a sudden and strong hug. In that embrace, Charlie felt a wave of emotions wash over him—confusion, vulnerability, but also a strange sense of peace. "You're being the sweetest thing."

They were laughing and joking, almost as if they all were long-time friends, reunited after many years. Almost as if they weren't just a couple of strangers that knew each other for maybe a month.

"I didn't know you would trust me to tell me about a problem like we had with Jim today," Shane said looking at her.

"My dad was a cop," she said. "In my mind, every person in a uniform should be trusted."

"Your dad was a cop?" he asked surprised.

"Yeah," she said. "But he wasn't proud of that. He thought that that was a waste of potential. He thought that his potential was wasted."

"Ouch." Shane groaned.

Charlie chuckled.

"Then, I'm glad that I'm no longer a cop."

She shook her head. "My dad used to say that you can quit being a cop, but you can't stop being the cop."

"Well, I think that this might be true."

Shane nodded with a smile, looking at her side profile, lit with only the fire.

"Fish is great." he chanted the subject. "I missed it."

"Yeah."

"I've got to ask you, man. It's been driving me crazy," said Morales.

"What?" Dale smiled.

"That watch." he pointed with a chin at Dale's wrist.

"What's wrong with my watch?"

"I see you every day, at the same time, winding that thing like a village priest saying mass." teased Morales.

"I've wondered this myself," said Jacquie.

"I'm missing the point." Dale shook his head.

"Unless I've misread the signs, the world seems to have come to an end. At least hit a speed bump for a good long while." She smiled at the older man.

"But there's you every day winding that stupid watch," added Morales.

"Time." nodded Dale. "It's important to keep track, isn't it? The days at least. Don't you think, Andrea? Back me up here." he looked at Andrea. "I like...I like what, um, a father said to his son when he gave him a watch that had been handed down through generations. He said: I give you the mausoleum of all hopes and desires which will fit your individual needs no better than it did mine or my father's before me. I give it to you not that you may remember time, but that you may forget it for a moment now and then and not spend all of your breath trying to conquer it."

Everyone looked at him with a smile.

"You're so weird." Amy shook her head.

"It's not me. It's Faulkner. William Faulkner." Dale laughed. "Charlie, you don't like it either?"

She hides her lip in an awkward smile, trying to avoid answering. She felt a little bump on her shoulder from Shane.

"Maybe my bad paraphrasing."

Then Amy just got up without a word, which made Andrea anxious. "Where are you going?

"I have to pee," she answered. "Jeez, you try to be discreet around here," she said under her nose, while she was on her way to the RV.

When everyone was back to the conversation, Shane looked at Charlie as she wrapped her arms around herself, once a wind blowed her hair. "You cold?"

"Just a bit chilly," Charlie shrugged. "I'll manage, I think."

"If you ever need someone to keep you warm, I'm right here," he said.

"Oh, is that so?" she tilted her head. "And what if I prefer the cold?"

"Well, then maybe I'll just have to work a little harder to change your mind."

Charlie laughed, shaking her head "Smooth, Shane. Real smooth. I gotta admit."

"So...Tell me more about yourself," he said with a lingering smile. "You know what I was doing before all this. Who were you?"

Charlie swallowed.

Not long ago, she would answer the question with pride, sharing her bank account, all the bonuses she had from her job and how big was her apartment. But how would Shane react to information that she was a TV presenter, who invited everyone to Atlanta even though she saw what was happening in the safe zone, so all the people that died there were on her?

"I...was a shop assistant," she lied.

"And your dad agreed to that? Wait, you're Amy's age, right? Shouldn't you be like in a college?"

"My dad cut me off because I didn't want to go to college." She lied again, but Shane didn't get a chance to answer as they all heard Amy.

"Are we out of toilet paper?"

And her question was left without an answer too.

Scream.

Shot.

Shane's voice.

Andrea's scream.

Amy's body covered in blood.

Fear.

More screams.

More gunshots.

Blood.

Glenn.

Daryl.

Tears.

Jim's mad look.

"I remember my dream now, why I dug the holes."

[previous] [masterlist] [next]

[starfleetsxvulcan]

Honestly, I am surprised people in your universe (and especially you) aren't mad at the other Spock. I mean, he *failed* in saving a planet, then got Vulcan destroyed by apparently making promises he could not keep, producing a far too large amount of that damn Red Matter and then gambling with the fate of Earth just so Jim Kirk could have a nice hero moment. Aren't you at least a little bit upset about all that?

Spock never prided himself in letting his true emotions show, especially to strangers.

However, the more he listened to this insufferable tangent against the Ambassador...his mentor, a figure he had a mingling desperation to prove himself to since the day he met him...the more outwardly intense he got. By the end of it, when the question was posed, the young vulcan looked like he was ready to pounce with an expression twisted up into that of a scowl, dark eyes flashing dangerously-challengingly, with his fists tight at his sides.

'Not in the slightest.' Spock managed to snap in reply, his tone harsh, before he took a sudden step forward but the instant he did another hand from behind caught the blue-shirt by the shoulder. A gesture made, a tiny pull, bringing the commander back from the potential escalation. The hand that did so belonged to none other than Ambassador Spock himself.

'If the fellow believes that I am nothing more than a fool deserving of punishment, let them, Mr. Spock.'

'It might just be the only thing they have to grasp at. Which is surely a pity...who are we to strip that away? That would be cruel.'

[koolkid692]

Week 8 Blog Post!

This week, we read the 2nd half of The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and just like last week I spent this time searching for new meanings and connections that I could find within the text that I wasn’t able to see beforehand. Last time, I also mentioned that there was a key moment within both the first and second halves of the text that I wanted to point out. The moment in the first half is when Huck Finn goes and apologizes to Jim after pulling a prank on him, and then swears to never be mean or trick him again. This moment was memorable to me due to the fact that it is one of the few moments like this where we don’t see Huck Finn struggle with his conscience. The key moment I want to connect this too is, of course, the moment that Tom Sawyer enters the story and helps Huck Finn try and help Jim escape. At first, the plan is earnest and it just shows how good of friends Huck Finn and Tom Sawyer are with one another, as when Huck first introduces the idea of helping break Jim free, the exchange goes “‘I know what you’ll say. You’ll say it’s dirty, low-down business; but what if it is? I’m low down; and I’m a-going to steal him, and I want you keep mum and not let on. Will you?’ His eye lit up, and he says: ‘I’ll help you steal him!’”(Twain 235). Initially, it seems to be Huck following through and then some on his promise not to trick Jim- now he and Tom are saving him, no matter what the future consequences may be for any of them. However, while the plan starts earnestly, it doesn’t stay that way for long. Instead of just breaking Jim out of his poorly guarded and locked shed the easy way, Tom Sawyer keeps expanding on the plan and making it bigger and more dangerous. Huck Finn even knew before Tom Sawyer started with the actual plan that it would turn out like such: “I needn’t tell what it was here, because I knowed it wouldn’t stay the way, it was. I knowed he would be changing it around every which way as we went along, and heaving in new bullinesses wherever he got a chance” (Twain 235). However, what’s interesting is how far the plan spirals, and how little Huck Finn does to try and stop it. The scene here being, of course, when Tom Sawyer suggests that Jim needs to saw off his leg: “‘No, it wouldn’t do—there ain’t necessity enough for it.’ ‘For what?’ I says. ‘Why, to saw Jim’s leg off,’ he says. ‘Good land!’ I says; ‘why, there ain’t no necessity for it. And what would you want to saw his leg off for, anyway?’ ‘Well, some of the best authorities has done it’” (Twain 242). Throughout all of these suggestions, Huck Finn’s only real objection to them is how they aren’t necessary or useful to Jim (referring to the rope ladder and the shirt to write a journal in, respectively), not how they are cruel or just toying with Jim. Now, of course, there are a couple different readings to draw upon here, but it’s hard to say what’s right as Huck Finn never really comments on it, and never combats his consciousness or thinks too hard on these plans from a place other than a utilitarian view. It’s because of this that while I would like to say that the reason why Huck Finn doesn’t fight Tom on these plans is due to how they ultimately help Jim escape no matter what, so no matter the harm it all cancels out in the end, but I can’t make that reading in good faith due to the lack of evidence within the text to support it. So, as it stands, it’s just an odd 180 from hiswere promise not to be cruel to him, to be willing to carry out these cruel plans on Jim (if they useful in the end, of course).

[hauntedmilkshakeghost]

Rubber Ducky, You’re The One

Pairing: Jim Hopper x Reader

Summary: You promise Jim his favorite fantasy if he’ll take just an hour to relax with you in the bathtub

Warnings: Talks of sex, naked bodies, fluffy talks

Notes: Feral friend thursday for @ssahotchswifemain​ with our favorite cranky man <3 it’s a little shorter than what I’ve been putting out but I hope you still like it!

“No way, I’m not doing it.” Jim huffs, back leaned against the doorframe of your bathroom.

You pout up at him, your eyes wide as you hold your tray of bath supplies in your lap, “Please? You’ve been so stressed and I’ve been so stressed and I just want to be with you in a nice warm bath.”

Hop sighs and rubs his temples, “I’m not saying I’m gonna do it but you really think my fat ass can fit with you in that tub? I don’t even think I can fit by myself in that tub.”

“It’s bigger than it look, I promise, it basically swallows me. You’ll be keeping me from drowning.” You make your pout bigger and flutter your eyelashes, “Please Jim? For me?”

“Y/n…..” His voice is the one he uses when you’re testing his patience. He turns to leave the bathroom but you won’t let him.

“I’ll do that thing you’ve always wanted next time we have sex.” You blurt out and he immediately turns back around.

“You’ll do my fantasy if I get in the bath with you?” He asks, eyebrows raised.

“Mhmm, just want you to relax. Bath and then your fantasy seems like a great way to get to release some tension.” You giggle as Jim pulls off his shirt.

“You’ve got me.” He sighs, leaning over and turning on the tub, “But I get to pick the scent of the bubble bath.”

You can’t help smiling at him as he sits in the floor and starts looking through the different scents you have lined up. He picks his favorite and adds it to the tub and he sighs heavily.

“Let’s get into the tub.” He grumbles, hoisting himself up and taking off his jeans. You watch in awe at his handsome body before quickly scrambling to get out of your clothes.

He eases into the tub and the water level immediately seems to increase but you think you’ll be good to get in without causing a major spill. You settle between his legs and lay your head back on his chest and sigh contently.

“Isn’t this relaxing?”

Jim’s whole body is tense. He feels out of place and he feels huge, he thinks about asking if he can take this back and get out. But then you start gently running your fingers along his arms and making cute little noises of contentment and suddenly it doesn’t seem so bad.

He let’s himself sink deeper into the water as his body relaxes and he he holds you gently.

“I guess this isn’t so bad.” His voice is low in your ear and you smile to yourself. You could pay yourself on the back for getting him into the bath but you’ll save that for when he isn’t right next to you.

“I told you, it’s amazing. The warm water just melts everything away.” You giggle and snuggle against his chest.

“I would never do this if it wasn’t for you.” Jim grumbles and tightens his grip on you, “But you make all my problems melt away.”

[iboatedhere]

Back at the loft, TK insists upon returning the favor, even though Carlos insists that’s not the way a bet works. 

“I’m offering to suck your dick and you’re complaining?” TK asks as he walks backwards into the bedroom, his fingers tangled in the front of Carlos’ shirt as he pulls him along. 

“Not complaining,” Carlos says as he lets himself be pulled. “Just saying that we shouldn’t have called it a bet if we were both going to win.”

TK rolls his eyes then cups Carlos’ through his pants, grinning when Carlos moans. 

“Please,” TK tells him, “like you didn’t love getting me off in that dark, dirty supply closet. This is separate. An isolated incident.”

“I guess that’s allowed,” Carlos says as TK turns them around and pushes Carlos back against the bed. 

Carlos’ brain is still foggy when he hears his phone buzzing somewhere in the room. 

TK had tossed all their clothes to the floor before sucking his soul out of his body and leaving him a boneless mess in the middle of the end. 

“You’ve been holding out on me,” he says, arm thrown over his face, ignoring his phone in favor of praising TK. 

“I can’t show you everything I have up front,” TK answers from somewhere in the room. “I have to keep you interested. Babe. This is blowing up.”

Carlos lifts his arm and watches TK pull his phone out of his pants pocket. 

“Who is it?”

“Chris.”

“What does he want?”

“I don’t know.” TK squints down at the screen, trying to read the banner message. “It looks like that gif from Ace Ventura where Jim Carrey is dancing in the tu-tu. Does your agent send you memes?” He tosses the phone onto Carlos’ chest then walks into the bathroom. “That’s fun.”

Carlos frowns as he unlocks the phone and skims through the texts. He sits up as he rereads the first text, like it’s going to help him make sure he’s understanding what it says.

“What’s the matter?” TK is standing in the doorway, toothbrush and toothpaste in hand and Carlos swallows hard.

“Um…he’s just telling me that unofficially, the Astros want to sign me to the team next season. A major league contract, full time.”

TK’s eyes go wide as he tosses the brush and the toothpaste back toward the sink before rushing forward to throw his arms around Carlos.

“Babe,” he says, pushing Carlos back against the mattress as he peppers his face with kisses. “Baby, I am so proud of you, this is so exciting.” He pulls back, his hands braced on Carlos’ chest. “Why aren’t you more excited?”

“I am excited,” Carlos says. “But it’s not official yet, a lot could still happen.”

“Are you going to tell your parents?”

Carlos shakes his head. “No, god no. Not until it’s official and there’s a contract in front of me. Honestly, I don’t even know if Chris was supposed to tell me. I probably wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

TK leans down to kiss his forehead. “Your secret is safe with me, I promise.” He pokes at Carlos’ cheeks then physically pushes his lips up into a smile before Carlos bats his hands away. “This is a good thing,” TK tells him. “This is what it’s all about.”

“Is it?”

“Yes,” TK says, “someone with your kind of talent shouldn’t be wasting away in the minors.”

“I’m not wasting—.”

TK presses his fingertip to Carlos’ lip to quiet him. “You know what I mean. You deserve this and you’ve earned this and if I thought you could go again I’d be giving you a celebratory blow job right now.”

Carlos laughs and TK smiles.

“I’ll save it for when you sign the contract,” TK tells him and Carlos wraps his hand around the back of his neck to pull him down for another kiss.

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Mr. Gallagher and Me

Jim x Reader

Masterlists Playlist Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Jim helps Y/n through some new insecurities. Warnings- SMUT

Early February   While it was unusual for them to be home that early on a weekday, he'd dismissed his last class of the afternoon earlier than normal and instead of staying back at his office to start preparing the first midterm exam, Jim had decided that it could be done at home. He’d been working out of the living room, laptop propped on his thighs as he sat on the sofa, while a rerun of an older game played on the lowest volume setting.

Y/n, as far as he knew, was in the bedroom, preparing for her thesis defense, which was  carded for early the next week. Without her even having to say it, he could she was nervous about it, and over the past couple weeks, she'd been devoting most of her time to working on her presentation, so even if they were at home together, Jim hadn't been expecting to hear from, or see her, until they were both ready for dinner, which was why he was surprised when she called out to him from the mouth of the hall.

“Hey.” When Jim shifted to look at her, Y/n was standing, leaned against the wall, barefoot and dressed comfortably in a pair of loose shorts and one of his t-shirts, “Busy?”

“Not too busy for you,” he smiled tiredly, removing his glasses and saving his work before depositing the laptop on the coffee table, “What’s up?”

Y/n shrugged indifferently, “Nothing really, I just needed a break. I thought my head was gonna explode,” she joked quietly, padding over to him. Absently cupping her the lower part of her recently popped bump with one hand, Y/n took his offered one with the other so he could reel her in next to him. “Did you get a lot done?”

“I did,” Jim confirmed when she settled next to him, easily sinking into his embrace, “TV?” He peered, grabbing the remote before she responded, knowing very well that she had no interest in watching an old rugby game. 

“Sure,” Y/n sighed, nuzzling closer as Jim began channel surfing. They hadn’t been silent for a good five minutes though before she was shifting again, that time so she could prop her weight on a crooked knee as she turned to properly regard him as she asked, “Do you miss…..being with me?”

“Er…” The question took him completely by surprise and for a solid minute, but there was no doubt about it that his answer was yes, it been a while since they’d been intimate- in a more…salacious context- and naturally, he’d started missing her. Though, he'd always tried to keep his unexpressed disappointment with their sex life under wraps- it was never his intention to make her feel guilty, and she wasn’t obligated to give him anything. In that moment, because of her question, Jim started to wonder if he hadn't done a very good job at hiding his feelings. “You don’t have to worry about-”

“I wanna know, really,” she ducked her head bashfully, and he caught the heat in her cheeks, “I know its been a while, so its completely okay to say you want….sex. But if you're not attracted to me any more-”

“Why would you think that?” Hastily discarding the remote, Jim took her face in his hands, leaning in to quickly plant a reassuring peck on her lips before adding, “I have never been more attracted to you.”

Y/n sighed quietly and flashed him a sad, shy smile, “You don’t have to just say that to make me feel better,” she promised, “I know I’m…..changing. Gaining all this weight, and don't say you don't see it," she warned pointedly.

He'd be lying if he said he hadn’t noticed it; her hips had filled out a bit, as had her waist. Her cleavage had started spilling out of her bra a little and the now more evident swell of her stomach made it completely obvious that she was pregnant. He could also tell that while he’d found that she was more stunning than ever, Y/n had become extremely self conscious about the extra weight- rarely even changing in front of him anymore and most times opting to subtly brush off his advances, two things which he’d completely respected. Even if he loved the new changes to her body, he could respect that she needed time to adjust and wouldn't dare push her. 

“Listen,” Jim urged gently, hating that Y/n had somehow convinced herself that he wasn’t attracted to her anymore, “You have never been hotter to me, I mean, have you seen your breasts lately?” 

Scoffing, Y/n giggled “Shut up,” she playfully swatted at his shoulder, though, after a minute she quickly  added, “You mean that, right? Cause you never seem interested in me in anymore, like sexually, which is fine, I guess,” her mood flitted and Y/n frowned again, "I just…..miss you, you know?"

Matching her frown, Jim roved his thumb along her soft cheek, "I never meant to make you feel like that. I just thought you didn't want to and didn't want you to feel pressured or uncomfortable or anything. I’m sorry I made you feel that way,” he added somberly. 

“Its not your fault,” Y/n sighed, loosely clasping Jim’s wrists, “I guess I have been avoiding you like that….just a little,” she scrunched her nose, “But only because I got all in my head about it, I was worried that we’d start and then you’d decide that you liked me better before,” she glanced down at herself, “I know its stupid and you’re not shallow-”

“And nothing’s wrong with you,” Y/n pouted and Jim smiled sympathetically- he wished he’d picked up on how deeply her new insecurities ran sooner, he hated the thought of her not feeling good enough while she was doing something that left him awe everyday. “Everyday, you seem more beautiful to me. Sexier," he teased and her cheeks heated up, "Even more now that you're pregnant. Every time I look at you I swear, you’ve never been hotter. And the crazy thing is, I’m gonna think that tomorrow and then next month and then after the baby’s born and for the rest of our lives.”

“Promise?” Brimmed with hope, Y/n’s eyes searched Jim’s, and he hoped his sincerity was echoed in his gaze. All he wanted in that moment was for her to feel better, and for her to see that  he was being completely honest. 

“Promise,” Jim determined, leaning in once more to kiss her slowly, fervor mounting gradually. One of his hands cupping her face, slid downwards and then around to the center of her back, fingers caressing her spine through the fabric of the gray t-shirt. “Do you want me to show you?” He breathed against her lips between long, impassioned endearments. 

“Show me?” She shuddered when Jim nibbled on her plump, lower lip.

Jim hummed, the hand still on her cheek sliding to the back of her head as he deepened the kiss, “Show you how much I still want you, sweetheart,” he rapeseed huskily, “How beautiful I think you are,” he continued, finding the hem of the t-shirt, fingers moving beneath it and settling not more than a centimeter above the elastic waist of her shorts. Her skin was warm to touch, and it had been so long since they’d done anything more than trade innocent kisses, that  just the feel of her silken skin and the hope that she’d grant him permission was so thrillingly arousing that it almost made Jim mistake himself for a teenager- he simply could not remember the last time he’d gotten so turned on that quickly. 

“Please,” she elicited, clutching a fistful of his thin sweater, trying to tug him down onto her as she started laying back. 

Moving to grab her hips, Jim countered her efforts by pulling her towards him, “No,” he hummed, “You on top,” he mumbled against her lips. Even if him on top had formerly been their preferred position- along with her sat on any sturdy surface with the appropriate height and occasionally her with her face in a pillow- he didn’t want to run the risk of potentially hurting the baby by resting any of his weight on Y/n. 

“What if I’m too heavy?” She muttered between kisses, still over conscious about all the changes.

“You’re not,” Jim promised, seconds before easily lifting her into his lap. “I need to see you,” Jim spoke in a hastily, lower tone, eager to lift the t-shirt over her head. “Let me see you, sweetheart,” he gathered the hem in his hands, tugging it upwards so he could finally reveal her unrestrained breasts before discarding the jersey off to the side. 

“God,” they paused, and with his hands still stationed at her waist, Jim’s gaze fell to her exposed cleavage, which sported an undoubtedly new fullness that made them seem at least one cup size bigger. “You’re so fucking gorgeous,” Jim praised hungrily, practically salivating at the sight. 

Heat rushed to Y/n’s cheeks and quickly spread to the rest of her exposed skin, and when Jim leaned forward, laying his hot mouth on the column of her neck, she gasped sharply, “Uh! Jim,” she grabbed his biceps, starting to grid on his crotch. 

His hands skimmed her sides, traveling upwards and, just for a moment, he hesitated before gently laying his palms on her breasts. At the contact, Y/n hissed, and her smaller hands sought his wrists. “Is this okay?” He probed, words cast into her warm skin. 

“Uh….yeah,” she paused, pulling away slowly  so their eyes could meet, “But gentle, okay?” 

“Okay,” Jim nodded, a faint smile dancing on his lips, “Come ‘ere,” he encouraged after another moment. Hot lips fell to the swell of her breast, eliciting a sharp hiss. After a moment filled with soft whimpers and quiet inhales, Y/n’s hands slid from his wrists, journeying between them to find the bottom of his gray sweater so she could help him out of it. Clumsily, he rid her of her shorts and panties, and before they feel back onto the sofa, they did the same with his jeans and boxers. 

As he laid on the sofa, head propped on the upholstered arm, Y/n straddled his waist, and Jim let his hands explore the topography of her subtle curves, old and new; the dip of her waist, the growing roundness of her bump and the full contour of her breasts. Her hips stirred enthusiastically against his, further igniting his arousal while Y/n stationed her flattened hands on his chest to steady herself.

“Jim,” she crooned, tone low and sultry when his fingers grazed her pebbled nipples, and his response was a low hum, “Please…..”

“You’re in control, love,” he encouraged, subtly reminding her that they would only continue at her pace. “Whenever you’re ready,” he reassured, rubbing his hands soothingly up and down her forearms.

As she guided her entrance in line with him, subsequently sinking down slowly, Jim admired her intently; the way her lips fell agape and eyes shut tight  as he filled her up, and then the way Y/n tugged her lower lip between her teeth as she struck up a slow, steady pace. “Fuck,” he murmured appreciatively at the feel of her cocooning him; she felt different, like she was wrapped tighter around him and it was absolutely euphoric. “That’s it, love,” he encouraged leaning forward to gently take hold of her hips. 

“Uh......” Y/n whined lewdly, the small, almost fragile sound igniting a fire in his stomach and prompting him to roll his hips to match her sensual pace. God he’d missed her; the feel of her enclosed around him, the tingle of her satiny skin and supply curves under his touch, the sounds, little hitched breaths and quiet yelps, and perhaps most of all, the way she looked all engulfed in pleasure, completely wanton. “Jim,” she moaned leaning forward a little, so more of her weight would sink her wrists as she rode him. 

Slowly, his hands traveled from her forearms, then to her waist briefly before finally settling to cup her full breasts from underneath. Easily, they spilled out of his large hands and the feel of their new weight was enough to remind him to be cautious in his ministrations; brush her pebbled nipples with his thumbs without pressing into them, and simply cupping her boobs as opposed to squeezing and kneading. 

"Easy," he emitted in a sharp, low whisper when she sped up, eager to reach gratification. "You're so fucking beautiful," he praised, words running ragged, "Fuck,"  Jim drew in a breath when one particular roll of her hips, matching a harsh jerk of his, found his member nestled deeper than he'd been before, "I've missed you," he heaved. Despite living with her, and working with her- being together almost 24/7- Jim had found himself aching to be close to Y/n over the past two or three weeks.

The occasional yelp from her lips ricocheted off the pale, yellow walls, only to be interrupted but her sultry response; "I've missed you too," she gasped breathlessly, and just then, he felt her thighs stiffen tellingly, "Jim," his name was a ragged gasp off agape lips and his hands deserted her tender breasts, gliding down her sensuous frame until he was gripping her ample hips once more. "I'm close….."

Bucking his hips again to meet hers, he quick wet the pad of his thumb with the tip of his tongue, bringing it to her swollen nub, rubbing in circles and eliciting a languid, moan that seemed to fill the room right before ecstasy washed over her. Y/n’s rhythmic movements fumbled noticeably as her head lolled back, a hollow sound falling off her lips. “'Atta girl,” Jim grunted out, watching intently as she rode the waves of pleasure. The feeling of her pulsating around his throbbing member threatened his restraint, while the obvious euphoria coursing through her- coupled with how absolutely astounding she looked just like that- completely threw him over. “Fuck,” he gnarred, reaching for her waist just as the roll of his stuttered and ropes of his hot product drenched her walls, mixing with hers as they trickled down her thighs and onto his. “You feel….so fucking good,” Jim praised crudely as they rode out their mutual highs, incoherent versions of his name, along with empty prayers being fired to the air. 

When it was over, as Y/n gingerly detached herself from him, she breathed heavily and suddenly noting the moisture running down her cheeks. Reaching up to cup her face, Jim used his thumbs to brush her tears away. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?” He pressed more urgently, sitting up after they readjusted themselves. 

“No,” she sniffled, smiling through the slow tears and shining eyes, “Of course not,” she laughed soft and awkwardly, “You know I cry for no reason these days.” At paper towel commercials, when the pizza delivery guy was earlier expected, and now, apparently after sex. 

Chuckling, Jim leaned in to capture her lips, tasting the subtle saltiness of her tears lingering on Y/n’s lips, “So this was okay for you?” He asked, suddenly worried that she’d felt pressured.

“It was amazing for me,” cradling his face in her smaller palms, Y/n kissed him between sentences, “Thank you for being so patient with me,” she sniffled as they fell back length ways on the sofa, that time with her laying on top of him as they cuddled. 

Jim’s fingers trailed up and down her spine after he’d stolen a brief moment to pull the afghan, formerly draped on the back of the sofa, down on them. “You don’t have to thank me,” he kissed the top of her head, “I just don't want you to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“You’ve never make me do anything that I’m not comfortable with,” Y/n reassured, and after that, they lapsed into silence.

After a while, Jim’s touch traversed from her back and circled to her front, and with feather light ministrations, he caressed the side of her belly, smiling when she hummed contentedly. Sometimes, he still couldn't believe that he was starting over again; another shot at parenting after he’d thought he’d put diaper changing and middle school art projects behind him, but instead of dreading it all, Jim found himself welcoming it. He was excited to go through it with all the experience he now had- Alannah and Ben were so close in age that things had still felt new and a little confusing both times around, hell, he was pretty sure he’d made some of the same mistakes twice, but with this new baby, he had a chance to do some things differently.

He was also eager to parent alongside Y/n, he knew she’d be a wonderful mother and her love for their baby was already so apparent. She’d be a natural, he often thought, and kids always seemed to love her, though, that was completely understandable, because really who wouldn’t?

“I’ve been thinking,” Y/n suddenly interrupted his thoughts, quiet words careful to not disturb the comfortable silence.

“About?” Jim gently encouraged. 

He heard her suck in a breath and felt her shudder, both those things setting worry in his chest. “I’ve been thinking about…..what we talked about when I first moved in…..maybe we could start looking at houses.”

She angled her head to look at him, and Jim did the same, “You want to do that?” His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding excitedly. For weeks, Jim had gone over the conversation in his mind, worried that he’d pushed her too far and secretly fearing that he’d been expecting too much; babies didn’t equate long term commitments and suburban homes. 

“You don’t…anymore?” She frowned deeply. 

“No- I mean, yes,” he blurted out, “No, I didn’t mean that I don’t want to. Yes, I do still want to buy a house with you,” Jim smiled sheepishly, feeling heat rise to his face as a result of the awkward mix-up, “I just….I didn’t think you wanted to.”

“I wasn’t sure at first,” she emitted a lonesome, dry chortle, “But the more I think about it, the more I realize that when I picture myself in year from now- or five or twenty- its here, in Ireland, with you and our baby,” grabbing her lower lip between her teeth, Y/n rested her hand on the top of the one that still lingered on her bump, ”So why don’t we just do it?”

Emitting a scoffed, relieved laugh, Jim bent his head a little more to kiss her forehead, allowing his lips to stay there for a moment more, reveling in both the taste of her skin and the scent of her hair. “Let’s do it,” his words were pressed to her skin and Jim was finding it hard to contain his excitement.

“And I’m gonna help with the mortgage, bills and everything else as soon as I can-”

“But,” Jim cut her off firmly, “There’s no pressure for you to do any of that until you’re absolutely ready, okay? All you’ve gotta do right now is keep you and Jellybean healthy- and kill that thesis defense next week.” His words made her giggle, and after a moment of shuffling around, he reached her lips, pressing a series of chaste kisses to them before they settled into more comfortable positions once again. 

“I feel like I haven’t said this in a while,” he began after a short stretch of silence, “But I love you, and I’m glad we’re doing this together.”

Burrowing her cheek against his bare chest and then shifting to find a more comfortable position- something that had recently become of a trying feat than usual- Y/n hummed drowsily, “I love you too. And so am I…..even if it has been a little messy,” she admitted, “I wouldn’t rather do any of this this with anyone else.”

As she slowly fell asleep, Jim lazily pecked the crown of her head once last time, “Neither would I sweetheart,”

****

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

More or Less

Request: Love your blog and your fics!!! Could you do something with Star Trek where the reader's a species of alien that has healing abilities that work almost instantly but it's not known about by people not from their planet, so on a mission they get shot and they're dead for a minute and everyone is upset, but then the reader heals and sits up and is like "why's everyone crying, what happened??" Doesn't have to be a romance but if you want, could you do it with Bones? Thank you!! - @lady-of-the-spirit

A/N: I decided to name the reader’s species Tholae. It’s a 100% made up 

“When we get out of here, I’m gonna-” the end of your sentence didn’t make its way out of your mouth. 

“You’re gonna what?” Bones asked, focused on the rest of the away party hiding behind another barricade on the other side of the clearling. 

When you still didn’t finish your sentence, he looked over at where you were aiming a phaser rifle. But you weren’t aiming. You were slumped over the top of the weapon, completely motionless. He called your name. You didn’t move. 

Crawling the length of the barricade, he called your name again. Desperation clung to his voice. His eyes grew wide as he pulled you to the ground, your body limp in his arms. He carefully laid you on your back, continuing to talk to you though he knew you couldn’t hear him anymore. 

Distantly he recognized that the battle was coming to an end on the other side of the barricade but every ounce of his conscious attention was devoted to you and the readings on his tricorder. He shook his head as he got the final readings and dropped to the ground.

His communitator chimed and he picked it up and answered. 

Jim’s voice came over the line but Leonard only half listened. 

“They’re dead, Jim.” He couldn’t look away from your dirt smeared face. 

“Who?” 

“(Y/N).” 

Silence fell. The rest of the party needed time to digest this information. They didn’t get the time they needed before Jim had to respond. 

“Stay where you are. We’re on our way.” His voice was hard, professionalism taking over where he no longer allowed emotion to be. 

Bones stared at your lifeless form. He had pronounced many people dead over the years, but he hadn’t grown used to it. He prayed he never would. Death wasn’t something he wanted to get used to. But more than that he prayed that this was a dream and he would wake up soon to a universe that you still lived in. He would go down to the commissary to find you laughing and joking with your coworkers. He could still hear your laugh, preserved perfectly in his memory. Taunting him for not being able to save you. 

“What happened?” Jim was standing above the two of you, his expression unreadable. It was a mask. Something he had developed in his captaincy. He hid his emotions so he could be an impartial leader. 

Bones gestured at the wound in your chest. “They were shot. It happened quickly. They probably weren’t even aware it had happened.” 

“So they didn’t feel any pain?” Nyota asked, desperate for something to put their minds at ease. Tears fell from her eyes but her voice held steady. Scotty put a hand on her shoulder, comforting her through his own grief. 

“I don’t-'' Bones started, but the rest of his sentence died on his lips as he looked back at what he thought to be a fatal wound. He scrambled for his tricorder. 

“What is it, Bones?” 

“I’m not sure, but I think…” He focused on the reading. “They aren’t registering as dead anymore.” 

“What do ye mean they aren’t registering as dead?” Scotty struggled to keep his voice free of emotion. Confusion briefly interrupted his tears. 

“I mean, they were dead, but now-” 

You inhaled sharply.

All eyes went to your face. Nobody spoke. They barely dared to breathe. 

You grimaced, a hand going to the wound in your chest. Then your face relaxed. Your breathing leveled out and your hand dropped back to your side. The wound was gone. The singed hole in your uniform was the only memory of it. 

Jim’s mask fell. 

You stirred and slowly opened your eyes. 

The first thing you noticed was that you were on the ground. The next thing was that everyone was staring at you. The final thing that you registered before speaking was that all of them were either in tears or close to it. 

“Why is everyone crying?” Quickly, you sat up. Bones reached out like he wanted to stop you but his hands hesitated. You couldn’t remember them ever hesitating. You looked at his face and found grief and confusion and relief. “What happened?” 

“You died,” Bones told you. 

“I did not.” 

“I pronounced it myself.” He held his tricord out to you. 

You moved your attention to the rest of the away party, looking for a different answer. You didn’t find one. 

Jim pointed at your chest and you followed his gesture to the hole in your uniform. Looking at it, you began to realize what must have happened. 

“Are you sure I was dead dead?” You asked looking back at Leonard. “Sometimes it seems like I’ve died but really I'm just taking a quick recovery nap.” 

“You were shot in the chest. You weren’t breathing. Your heart stopped beating. You had no brain function” the doctor explained. 

You sighed. “It was a self induced coma.” 

He blinked at you. 

“To speed up the regeneration process.” 

“Healing a phaser rifle wound through your lung isn’t regeneration. It’s a damned miracle.” 

“It’s very rare for Tholae to die from a phaser wound,” you told him. “We often appear dead due to the effort involved in healing from the wound and field gear isn’t sensitive enough to pick up the low life signs, but I promise you I was still alive.” 

Slowly, everyone’s attention moved from you to the doctor.

“Leonard,” Jim's face scrunched up as he tried to process this, “how is it that my CMO wasn’t aware of the regeneration process of one of the members of the crew?” 

“The Tholae haven’t given Starfleet access to any of their records, including medical.” Leonard gave you a pointed look. “I was informed that their biology was more or less the same as humans’.” 

“Well,” you started awkwardly, “this is the less.” 

“But you’re okay?” Nyota asked. 

“Completely. I could use a new shirt, but otherwise-” before you could finish your thought, she and Scotty had pulled you to your feet and into their arms.

[shutupanddance]

Bones / Reader — Remember Me

Hey my fellow fan fiction people, I have MAJOR writer’s block, and I really want to get these requests done, so I’m hoping that this will snap me out of it.

Warning: this is angst!!

How would Bones react to your death?

Normal text is present time, and blocks of italic text are memories!

Enjoy ;)

Dr. Leonard McCoy is experiencing a “slow day” in medbay. Not that there isn’t the occasional ensign coming in with a scrape or broken bone, but it’s nothing like when the away missions come back.

Speaking of away missions, you were on one now. You weren’t scheduled to come back for a week, though. You were a microbiologist, so your missions were usually much longer, and consisted of more time going back and forth between your lab on the Enterprise and the planet you were stationed on. 

The personnel staff realized pretty quickly that very little got done when you and McCoy were on a mission together. The doctor was so worried for his fiancé that he spent more time making sure you were safe than doing his job. So, it was a rare thing nowadays that you’d be put on a mission together.

Spock is suddenly in medbay.

“What are you doing here?” Leonard grumbles, glancing over his shoulder.

When Spock doesn’t respond immediately, he turns. Something is wrong, Leonard can tell. But whether Spock has a common cold or the ship is about to explode, he can’t tell.

“Captain Kirk requires your assistance on the bridge.” Spock states coolly. Odd.

“Are you sure? Can’t he just ask me through a holopad like everyone else-”

“Please come with me, doctor.”

Doctor McCoy follows, but he grumbles the whole way.

As soon as he’s in the elevator, another team rushes into medbay. They’re surrounding a gurney. And attached to that gurney is a heart monitor, which is beeping slow. Dangerously slow.

You’re not really sure why you got picked for the Enterprise. I mean, it’s Starfleet’s flagship, for crying out loud! But here you are, working away in one of the most advanced labs you’ve ever seen, floating many many miles from home.

You’re still processing all this when a beaker slips out of your hands, and shatters violently on the floor.

Luckily, no one else is in your lab right now. You stay calm, walking on careful feet, and retrieve a broom. As you’re sweeping, though, you realize blood is running down your fingers.

One of the shards of glass must have flown up and cut me, you realize.

You carefully wrap the small wound and apply pressure, then begin walking to medbay. 

The nurses don’t immediately notice you, probably because you’re just standing there looking like you’re out for an evening stroll, but soon enough one happens to glance directly at the gauze you have wrapped around your forearm.

“Oh, dear!” She says, guiding you to a bed. “Dr! Dr. McCoy!”

Out from a nearby office walks Dr. Leonard McCoy. He’s got dark hair, the most alert eyes you’ve ever seen, and damn he’s hot.

“What happened to you?” He grunts.

“Beaker broke. Shard of glass flew up and cut me. No other injuries, and there’s no glass in the wound. I was able to stop most of the bleeding, but I think I’ll need stitches.”

An eyebrow goes up.

“Alright, why don’t you sit down and I’ll take a look.”

You didn’t know it, but in that moment, Leonard McCoy nearly fell head over heels for you. And all he showed for it was a raised eyebrow.

The Captain will not stop insisting that he needs a plan for contagious diseases on the Enterprise.

“We already have one,” Leonard reminds him.

“But will it work? Do we have one for different situations? For instance, if we’re docked on a hostile planet-”

“Are you trying to keep me from my job!?” Leonard asks, more as a pointed jab, but when the room grows uncomfortably silent, he realizes he’s right on the money.

What else does he realize? That every face in the room looks forlorn. And a bit defeated.

“What’s got everyone so depressed?” He asks, swiveling to see the entire bridge crew. No one answers.

Finally, Spock clears his throat.

“We wanted to keep you away from medbay while the doctor’s worked on Y/N.”

There’s a moment, a brief moment, where Leonard’s brain stops working. And he’s paralyzed with fear. But, it doesn’t last for long.

“WHAT!?!”

Jim steps in.

“She was injured on the away mission. Some animal we’ve never seen before came out of nowhere and attacked.”

Bones is trying to get away.

“She saved everyone else’s lives by luring the beast away, doc,” one of the crew is saying, but he doesn’t care. He needs to get to you-

The door to the bridge rolls open. M’Benga is standing there.

And Leonard has never seen the man look so guilty, so distressed, so sad.

“Watch the Coreolis Anjankus!” You say, pulling a red shirt away from a very poisonous plant. You pass him to Dr. McCoy, who pushes him even farther away.

“I thought you were a microbiologist?” He chuckles.

“With a minor in botany!” You smile.

You were one of the few scientists Leonard found to be cool under pressure, and the only one with real common sense. Still, despite all you knew about the dangers of every planet, you were always completely relaxed. If he was being honest, the doctor envied you (just a little bit).

“Tell, me, how did you get stuck with this motley crew?” He asks, eyes trained on the Captain, watching for any dangers.

“I’m not really sure,” you admit. “They just sent me a message one day asking if I wanted to join.”

“And you said yes.”

“Of course I did! Have you seen the labs on the ship?!”

Leonard laughs.

“I’m a nerd, I know, but this assignment is everything I’ve ever dreamed of.”

Dr. McCoy finds himself staring at you, suddenly. He doesn’t really remember how he got here. All he can think of is the fact that your heart’s not beating. That your body is mangled and bloody and despite M’Benga attempting to close the wounds, you look horrible.

It seems ironic, almost, in that instant. The woman who never worried about anything is lying mauled in a biobed. Dead.

The medical idea of death has settled in Leonard’s mind. No beating heart, no brain activity. But what he can’t wrap his head around is you being gone. You’ve  always been there. And, for a moment, he’s convinced that if he sniffles too loud, you’ll hand him a tissue. If he mentions he’s hungry, you’ll wake back up, dig through your duffel bag, and pull some food out.

But you’re not moving.

“Where’s her duffel bag?” He asks, voice as loud and cranky as ever.

Kirk hands your bag over.

Bones reaches in, and digs around until he feels something soft. A teddy bear. He places it on your chest, and lifts your arms to hug it. The soft fur stains with blood.

It’s a horrific scene, the one in front of them.

A village destroyed by a massive storm system. Houses leveled, fields of crops uprooted, and hundreds of people injured or dying or dead.

But you’re standing there, cool and calm as ever, handing out blankets. You smile gently at each villager who steps up, and ask them in one of their native languages what else they need. You direct them to different crew members who can help.

One kid walks up, so young you have to crouch to be eye-level with them. He’s alone. And he looks so terrified, so empty, that you immediately wrap him in a hug. He clings on for dear life.

When he finally let’s go, you begin to explain to him that he needs to see the doctor. He shakes his head so hard you’re afraid his neck will snap. You say some more words in his language, and reach into your duffel bag.

You pull out a teddy bear. The boy smiles, ever so slightly, and immediately gives it a tight hug.

You speak encouragement at him, something about bravery, and the little boy makes his way over to the medical tent with his head held high.

All this Leonard watches. You look at him. He looks at you. And for a while, an unspoken respect passes between the two of you.

He asks you later why you had the teddy bear.

“I always have one on me,” you smile sadly. “You never know when you might need one.”

The ship docks at Command, and the usual celebratory revelries aren’t being heard. The crew is somber.

Your body, encased in a beautiful casket, is loaded onto a small carrier vehicle. Jim, Leonard, and Spock follow it as it weaves its way through the halls.

Your parents are there, and the funeral is quick. No one can really find the strength to say what they want to. No one can choke through their tears long enough to tell your story.

Bones is the last to leave. He watches your casket for hours, almost as if he’s waiting for you to spring out and laugh and kiss him, promising it’ll never happen again, promising you’ll never leave him…

He smiles. A memory-

The town of traders on this new small planet offered the Enterprise crew a place to stay overnight, and Kirk had agreed.

Their houses stood on stilts overlooking an ocean, and there were beautiful torches that burnt blue everywhere to light the paths. Bird-like creatures swooped through the town, twittering and squeaking.

You’re watching them silently through a window, a soft smile on your face. Leonard is sitting next to you on the bed, kissing your shoulder.

Two of the bird things get into a fight, and screeching is heard. Feathers fly.

You laugh, loud and unapologetic, as they tussle. Leonard laughs too. He’s smiling at you as you watch them, so completely wrapped up in how beautiful you are.

You fall back onto the bed, hair flying everywhere. You’re still giggling.

You look at your fiancé, enjoying watching him watch you. You feel comfortable. The house is warm and the blue firelight traces his face. The face of your love.

Leonard is wondering how on earth he landed you. How he convinced you to love him. But he truly has no idea. You’re lying there, eyes locked with his, gazing with so much love he feels he’s going to burst.

You lying there like that, hair spread out on the bed, a lazy smile on your face, eyes sparkling with the reflection of torches… he locks that picture in his mind.

And Leonard thinks that he’ll always remember you this way.

[rivers-rambles21]

The one where Y/n’s a tease

Part 4 of The one where Bucky has a cute neigbour series!

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Reader (f)

Summary | Reader and Bucky become friends after he saves her from  a creep in their apartment building. Each chapter explores a different  point in their friendship - very slow burn!

Warnings | 18+ only, Smut in later chapters (this is a slow burn), swearing, unprotected sex, oral sex, cockwarming (later chapters)

Will include elements of TFATWS in later chapters

Chapter 4 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 1 | Masterlist

I now realise the general theme is Y/n not being able to find her keys.

Whoever invented sundresses either needed a medal or slap. Bucky was in agony. The city was in the middle of a heat wave and neither of you could get comfy. You’d taken to dressing in sundresses every day, the soft fabric having a tendency to rise higher and higher up your legs throughout the day. There was something about the way they hung on every curve, how they framed your chest and revealed inch upon inch of tanned skin. 

You’d met one another in Central Park, intending on grabbing an ice cream and relaxing in the sun after a challenging day at work.

“He’s such a dick, I can’t see how they can make it compulsory to attend but won’t pay over time!”

Bucky merely nodded in response; he’d quickly learnt you’d rather he listen to your rants than fix your issues. 

“If I could change jobs I’d do it in a heartbeat” You continued as you reached the front of the icecream queue. 

“Hi, one strawberry and one mint choc chip please - oh and make the mint one two scoops” Bucky dug around in his back pocket before pulling out his wallet, handing over a few bills to the server. “Thank you.” He took both cones and handed you your favourite. 

“I’ll get the next one” You promised. Without thinking, you took a long lick of your icecream, moaning as the coldness hit your tongue. 

Bucky choked. 

“C’mon lets get somewhere cooler, you look hot” Your eyes bugged out as you realised what you’d said. “I mean you look warm! With your long sleeves and gloves!” You were quick to correct yourself which earnt a chuckle from the man besides you.

It didn’t take long for you both to reach a quiet vacant area which offered a gratuitous amount of privacy. Dropping down onto the grass, you stretched your legs out as you continued eating your icecream. 

“Do you mind?” Bucky asked, holding out his cone. You took it from him as he peeled his gloves off, sighing as the gentle breeze hit his fingers. He then began trying to roll up the sleeves on his henley, grunting in frustration as it got caught on his forearm. 

You glanced around double checking there was no one in sight before offering a solution. “You could just take it off, would do your skin some good, getting a bit of colour” 

Taking another lick of your icecream you attempted to look indifferent on the matter. 

Bucky took a hold of the bottom of his shirt before pausing. 

“What’s up?” You asked, taking another bite from your ice cream. 

“The scar isn’t the prettiest to look at.” He confessed, his head bowed in embarrassment. 

Your elbow jutted out and nudged him, forcing him to look back at you “Hey… it’s only me” You smiled back at him, trying to reassure him how little you cared about the scar.

He smiled back before taking the plunge and lifted the shirt over his head. You tried, you really did but you couldn’t help but stare at his chest. To say he was ripped would be an understatement. You weren’t overly bothered when it came to body types but fuckkk his was doing something to you. 

Snapping yourself out of your trance you noticed how his shoulders hunched over, as though he was trying to make himself as small as possible. 

“Trust me when I say this Buck, no one will be looking at your scar.” You laughed, fanning yourself in an attempt to boost his confidence and take the edge off. 

He chuckled in response and visibly relaxed, the pink in his cheeks growing from not only the heat. 

You handed him his ice-cream back and returned to your earlier conversation. Your prick of a boss had reiterated today how important it was you attended the charity gala that night, some bullshit about being a team player. 

In the midst of yet another rant, Bucky hadn’t been able to take your eyes off you. You looked radiant in the sun, a single bead of sweat every now and again trailed from your neck, down into the valley of your breasts. It took all his self discipline to not reach over and have a taste. And then there was the damned ice cream. He shouldn’t have ordered you two scoops as you took your sweet time licking and sucking on it, completely oblivious to the show you were putting on for him. What he’d do to replace that ice-cream with - no he couldn’t let his mind wander there. He felt his cock twitch as he watched you swallow the cream, your throat bobbing with the motion. 

“I reckon if I implement the Jim Halbert approach I’ll be home by ten” 

“The what now?”

“Jim? From The Office?” 

“You’ve lost me doll. I don’t remember you mentioning Jim before? Is he in Legal?”

“It’s a TV show, he basically said you should have a memorable moment with the host and take a photo to prove you were there. Once that’s done you can leave without it being questioned.” You handed Bucky your empty cone without question, it had become somewhat of a habit. You ordered two scoops and he finished off your cone. 

He took it from you and finished it in a couple of bites. 

“Well if you make it through and get home early enough I’ll order us some pizza and we’ll spend the rest of the night watching The Office, deal?”

“Deal”

_______________________________________________

You made it back in record time. You laughed, even danced with a few people, took a couple of photos and was there for when your boss got slapped by one of the waiting staff much to your delight. In and out in under 2 hours! 

“Hey Buck! Have you ordered yet?” You yelled as you knocked on his apartment door, looking for your keys with your other hand. “C’mon where are you” You muttered.

Bucky's door swung open and was instantly stunned at your appearance. He hadn’t seen you before you left for the evening and he was glad he hadn’t as he was sure he would’ve crossed a line. Your dress was strapless and fell to the floor, hugging every curve you had. The black velvet looked soft to touch and flattered your chest.

“Wow” 

Your head snapped up and looked back at the man in front of you. His eyes trailed up from your legs, over your stomach and to your chest before meeting your eyes. 

“How do I scrub up?” You joked, giving him a twirl. 

“Beautiful doll” Your cheeks flushed at his compliment and you looked back into your purse, struggling to locate your keys. 

“Can I come in?” 

He stepped to the side and gestured you in. Once in his kitchen you turned your purse upside down, realising your worst fear. “Oh god, this can’t be happening.” 

“Whats up?” Bucky decided to torture himself and stood behind you, peering over your shoulder.

“I’ve left my key in my apartment” Not realising how close he was, you leant forward, your head falling into your hands as your elbows rested on the counter. Unintentionally, your ass had stuck out, pressing back into Bucky's crotch. The super soldier couldn’t believe his eyes, it was as though the very fantasy he’d played out in his head countless times was finally coming true. From this angle he couldn't help but imagine gripping your hair as he pounded into your tight pussy, filling his apartment with your screams as you milked his cock for all its worth. 

Before he could get away from himself he took a step backwards, despite every fibre of his being screaming at him not to. 

He wasn’t the only one affected as butterflies exploded in your stomach, your core aching with the possibilities of what lied beneath his jeans. But, before you had a moment to enjoy it, the moment was over and Bucky, ever the gentleman, had stepped aside. 

“I’ll call the super” You grumbled. 

“I’ll order the pizza” He replied all too quickly.

20 minutes later and you were at your wits end. It took forever to get through to the super and when you eventually did, you were hardly reassured by his response. He’d advised he would try and get to you within the next two hours but he wasn’t making any promises - so much for looking after your tenants. 

“Am I okay to hang out here with you until he arrives?” 

Bucky simply raised his eyebrow, finding it amusing you’d even have to ask. 

“Thanks Buck” Lifting your hands to your hair, you started removing the pins, letting your head relax. Whilst putting your hair down you couldn't hide your discomfort in your dress as it restricted your movement. 

“Do you want to borrow some clothes?”

“That would be amazing” 

You watched as he went off into his bedroom - could you even call it that considering there wasn’t a bed? You sighed in relief as you ran your fingers through your hair, gently massaging your scalp, welcoming the relief.

“I’ve left them in the bathroom for you” 

“Thanks Buck” You flicked your heels off your tired feet before padding into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind you. It didn’t take long for you to change into the sleep shorts and t-shirt he’d given you. Using your hair tie, you tightened the pants to stop them from falling down. Rolling your bra into your dress, you returned from the bathroom feeling far better than you did when you entered. 

“Better?” He asked, pizza box in hand as he pulled two plates from the cupboard

“Much” You replied, sitting down on one of the dining chairs. 

An hour later and you were both stuffed and the effect of the beers you’d been stealing from Buckys fridge were starting to have an effect. 

“C’monnnn it will be fun!” You whined as you tried your best to tuck your toes under Buckys leg in an attempt to warm them up.

With a sigh he lifted your feet from under him and stood from his seated position, heading back towards his bedroom. Returning a moment later, he resumed his original position and started slowly slipping socks onto your cold toes. 

“I’m waiting doll” 

His voice snapped you out of your trance - you’d been watching his every movement, how he gently cradled your feet as he slid a sock onto each one before squeezing them gently.

“Okay, I’m going to fire these over to you quickly so just respond with whatever comes to mind okay?” 

He nodded in response.

You scrolled through the list on your phone before settling on a set of questions.

“Favourite snack?”

“Cashews”

“Favourite Avenger?”

“Cap”

“Least favourite Avenger?”

“Hawkeye”

“Huh wow didn’t - anyway! Age you had your first kiss?”

“12”

“Age you lost your virginity?”

“17”

“Favourite place?”

“Wakanda”

“Any secret talents?”

“I can play the piano”

“Really?”

Bucky nodded in response, taking another swig of his beer.

“Cats or dogs?”

“Cats”

“Favourite neighbour?”

“Y/N” 

You smiled at that one before becoming a little bit braver. 

“Favourite position” You asked, mumbling your words as you quickly took a sip of your drink. 

“What was that?”

“Favourite...position” You repeated, meeting his eyes.

Bucky gulped, his eyes not moving from yours. “Cow girl when I’m generous, missionary when I’m in control” 

You blinked a couple of times, your mind racing as you processed his words. 

“Good..too...uh… know” You gulped before racing to the next question, trying your best to not think about just what he meant by generous and in control. “City or country?”

“Country” 

“Bike or car?” 

Before he could respond your phone chirped, signalling a notification. Glancing down, you read the message - Won’t be able to make it tonight, will try and get there in the morning

“Fuck.” You muttered, clearing the notification from your screen. 

“What’s up?”

“I won’t be getting into my apartment until tomorrow, do you mind if I stay here?” 

Bucky looked towards his bedroom, his heart sinking when he remembered he didn’t have a bed. Reading his expression, you began “The floor is fine, I don’t mind-” 

“No” he replied, cutting you off. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.” Bucky thought it was bad enough you had to hang out in his sorry excuse for an apartment but hell would freeze over before he allowed you to sleep on the hard floor. “I’ve got an idea.” 

You watched as Bucky opened his door and walked out into the hallway. He started fiddling with the window which filled the back wall between your two apartments; the lock snapping under his strength. Lifting it up, he swung his leg over the ledge, landing on the fire escape. 

“Buck, what are you doing?” You whispered, conscious of your neighbours and the late hour. 

He took a step backwards and leant down, his face visible through the window as he stared at you, his eyebrow raised slightly as though he was wondering if you really just asked that. 

“Just… be careful okay?” 

He nodded in response and went back to the task at hand. 

A few seconds later you heard another snap and the sound of your window opening. Moments later your apartment door swung open with a smug Bucky on the other side. 

“My hero” You beamed up at him, your appreciation evident on your face. 

You quickly went back into his apartment, gathering your things in your arms. 

“I’ve wedged the window shut so you’re safe for the night, I’ll get you a replacement lock in the morning.” 

Returning to your apartment, you dumped your belongings on the side table, turning back to Bucky. “Thank you, I don’t know what I’d do without you.” You confessed, overcome with admiration. Before you lost your nerve, you pressed your body against his, your arms looping around his neck, pulling him into a tight hug. You held in a sigh as you felt his arms respond and wrap around your waist, returning your embrace. Rather reluctantly, you pulled back as did Bucky, his arms returning back to his sides. 

“Goodnight doll” 

“Night Bucky” 

You slowly closed your door and smiled to yourself. Tugging his sleep pants down your legs, you folded them up and left them on top of your discarded dress. After completing your nightly routine, you sank into your soft bed sheets, inhaling Bucky’s scent left behind on his tshirt, silently wishing it was himself wrapped around your naked body and not his top. 

[freddiefiction]

Jimercury Kid series (pt. 42)

‘Kenny, did you pack your toothbrush?’

Oops. Khaleel immediately scampered towards the bathroom, grabbing his T-Rex toothbrush and running back to the Pink Room to shove it into his case. ‘Yes, Daddy!’

It had been two long, hard months without Freddie. Khaleel had really struggled the first few weeks, barely able to concentrate in school and spending most of his nights sleeping with Jim in the master bedroom. But he gradually grew accustomed to the new routine; he threw himself into his drawing and helping Daddy in the garden to distract him during the day and in the evenings, whenever Baba was performing on TV, he would sit as close to the screen as Jim would allow and wait for Bijou to start playing. Freddie always made a point of looking at the camera and blowing a kiss to his husband and child. From the other side of the screen, Khaleel would reach out and catch it in his hand.

But now it was finally the summer holidays and the Innuendo Tour had moved to the US, their opening performance taking place in Florida in a week’s time. Freddie had arranged for Jim and Khaleel to be flown to the States for a special vacation, and Khaleel couldn’t have been more excited. He had heard all sorts of exciting stories about America and now he was finally going to see the land of opportunity for himself.

He paused as he reached for his old triceratops toy. When Khaleel had first arrived at Garden Lodge, he had been painfully shy and attached himself to his parents like a shadow, hiding behind Jim’s leg or burying his face into Freddie’s shoulder whenever somebody unfamiliar got too close. Jim had gone on a shopping trip to Harrods one day and returned with the small, soft dinosaur that he happened upon in the toy department; he gave it to his son with the promise that the little triceratops would look after him whenever he felt afraid. Khaleel had christened it Toby and took it everywhere with him.

But Khaleel was seven years old now. The other boys at school would definitely make fun of him if they knew he still slept with a stuffed toy. Maybe he should leave Toby at home this time?

Jim’s voice called from the bottom of the stairs, ‘don’t forget to bring a blanket for the plane, pet!’

Leaving Toby on his pillow, Khaleel bounced off the bed and scampered out of his room to the airing cupboard to find his favourite dinosaur blanket, which had been washed specially for the occasion. He saw the corner of the blanket poking out from beneath a wall of folded linen; he leaned up on his tiptoes to tug at it, only for the wall to give way, burying him under layers of clothes and towels.

His surprised squeal attracted Jim, who rushed up the stairs and to the landing, confused when all he found was a large pile of shirts and bedding.

‘Khaleel?’ he called, only for the seven-year-old to pop out from the mound, a blue bedsheet draped around his head so he looked like the Virgin Mary.

‘Hi Daddy.’ He giggled.

Jim took a moment to calm his racing heart, before chuckling, ‘you rascal!’ and going to untangle the boy from the mess. ‘Are you alright, sweetheart?’

Khaleel nodded, ‘I was trying to get my blanket.’

‘You should have asked for help.’ Replied Jim, checking the little one over just to put his own mind at rest. ‘If you can’t reach something, always get a grown-up. I don’t want you getting hurt.’

‘Sorry, Daddy.’ Khaleel muttered guiltily, but he cheered up when Jim leaned down and placed a loving kiss between his eyes.

‘It’s okay, Bijou. You’re not in trouble.’ Jim straightened up and examined the contents of the cupboard that had spilled out onto the floor. ‘Now, how about we get all this cleared up and back where it belongs?’

The next ten minutes consisted of Jim and Khaleel sitting on the landing, folding up the clothes and sheets while chatting about what they were looking forward to most about their trip. Jim had just finished with all the pillowcases when Khaleel suddenly exclaimed, ‘my blanket!’

The Irishman paled as he watched the little boy hold up the baby blue quilt. Freddie had refused to tell Jim where he had hidden the blanket; while he couldn’t bring himself to destroy Jer’s creation, he was adamant that Khaleel would never see it. Jim was no psychic, but he knew he was in for a screaming match when Freddie found out it had been discovered.

‘Dādī finished it!’ Khaleel immediately draped the blanket around his shoulders, bundling himself up like a burrito. ‘Daddy, can I take it to America with me? Please?’

Jim had anticipated this question. He knew he should say no, but the eagerness of the child made it almost impossible. He couldn’t bring himself to break his son’s heart.

‘Wouldn’t you rather take your dinosaur blanket?’ he said instead, going with subtle persuasion rather than outright dismissal. ‘Dādī’s one might get spoiled.’

‘But this is my special blanket.’ Khaleel pouted, his bottom lip trembling. ‘Please, Daddy. I promise I’ll look after it.’

Trying to say no to Khaleel while he was using his puppy eyes was a waste of time. Jim was in no way a pushover, but his little boy knew exactly how to play with his heart.

‘Alright.’ He tried to smile, though it was thin and uncertain. ‘I’ll put it in our hand luggage. Would you like me to put Toby in there too?’

Khaleel hesitated but found himself nodding and returned to his bedroom to retrieve the triceratops. He had plenty of time to grow up. If he was going to spend a week away from home, in unfamiliar surroundings, he would need his little friend to keep him company.

--

Freddie had never been a huge fan of America, but it was an entirely different experience being there with the two people he valued most in the world.

He had wept with joy when Jim and Khaleel had arrived at the hotel from the airport; he would have loved to have gone to pick them up himself but knew that his presence in such a public area would have caused a riot, so sent Phoebe in his stead. As soon as Khaleel was in his arms, Freddie started sobbing like a baby and didn’t stop for a good half an hour. Despite them having a week together, he wasn’t sure he could face them leaving him; two months had felt like a lifetime without them. He knew four more would be torture.

Having napped during the flight, Khaleel was full of energy and launched himself onto the nearest bed the moment they opened the door to their private suite. After a few minutes of uninterrupted bouncing (which Freddie happily participated in) Jim managed to coax the little boy into settling down to unpack his suitcase. Toby the triceratops quickly made himself at home on the little single bed, mounted on the pillows so he could keep an eye on things. But Khaleel saved the best till last; he couldn’t wait to see his Baba’s face when he showed him his new blanket!

‘Baba, look!’ He pulled the quilt out of his hand luggage and held it up so Freddie could see the words that had been woven into the material. ‘Dādī finished my blanket! Isn’t it great?’

Baba’s reaction wasn’t what he had expected. Freddie’s smile disappeared, replaced with an expression that only graced him when Khaleel had done something exceptionally naughty.

‘Where did you get that, Bijou?’ He asked quietly, though the child could sense the underlying disappointment in his tone.

‘The cupboard.’ Khaleel replied timidly. ‘It fell on me when I was trying to get my dinosaur blanket.’

Freddie’s eyes swivelled towards Jim, who was giving him a warning look. Now wasn’t the time to fly off the handle. They were on holiday. He couldn’t let this feud with his parents spoil their week.

Freddie took a deep breath and flashed a smile that he hoped looked genuine. ‘It’s gorgeous, darling. Dādī’s done an excellent job. Make sure you look after it while you’re here.’

Khaleel visibly relaxed, clutching the blanket close like it was a soft toy. ‘I will!’

Once they had finished unpacking, Freddie sent Khaleel along with Phoebe to scope out the kids play area in the hotel garden – which Jim knew was just an excuse to get the boy out of the way so Freddie could chew him out for the blanket incident. As soon as the door to the suite closed, the Irishman leapt to his own defence.

‘I know, I know. I shouldn’t have let him bring it. But you know what he’s like when he wants something, Freddie. He’s like you, he won’t back down for anything-’

‘It’s okay.’

Jim hadn’t anticipated such a calm, measured response. Freddie wasn’t one to hide his emotions; when he was in a mood, he made sure the whole world knew about it. If he had wanted to scream the place down, he would have done it by now.

‘You were right.’ Freddie continued softly. ‘It was wrong of me to try and keep it from him. If it makes him happy…’

The couple had been together for over a decade and yet the singer continued to surprise Jim. Before Khaleel came along, Freddie most certainly would have ended their relationship then and there, spent a few awkward days giving him the cold shoulder before they inevitably reconciled with some make up sex. Fortunately, since becoming parents, they had found healthier alternatives to fixing their problems (though they usually ended up in bed regardless.)

‘You’re doing the right thing.’ Jim slipped his arms around Freddie’s slim waist, pulling him closer so their foreheads were touching. ‘He hasn’t let go of that thing since we left England. Almost pulled a huge strop when we had to put it back in his luggage after we landed.’

‘I see he’s inherited all of my less desirable traits.’ Muttered Freddie, though this was shortly followed by a snicker.

[jeromesxreader16]

Such a Joker (49)

Part 48 Here

~o0o~

I walk in looking at the extravagant new home hidden away. "This is beautiful, Jeremiah." I gasp looking over every inch of beauty crafted from the mind of my man. "The children already have an empty room waiting for them. I'll have the workers gather some materials. From now on I would like you to stay here. If you must leave, please be with Ecco or Babara at all times." Jeremiah speaks calmly sitting on the couch. "You trust me with Babs?" Jeremiah smiles nodding his head. "For now."

I smile laying in his arms looking out of the large windows. "Are you happy you're going to be a father?" Jeremiah pulls me close humming. "Of course. We'll need to get married. I will not have my children be born Gordons." I laugh kissing his nose. "They're Valeska's, trust me."

~

I sit up covering myself with the silk sheets. Jeremiah stands in the mirror looking over his new attire. His hair has fully darkened and his lips are a brighter red in contrast to his pale tone. "I like it," Jeremiah smirks at me walking over. "You're adorable, dear mommy." He leans down kissing me.

"Now while I'm out where will you be?" I roll my eyes, crossing my arms. "Right here, Jer. You don't have to worry." "Oh, I know. It's others that worry me. Call me if you have any trouble, love." I nod watching him walk away.

Hours later my phone rings as I'm going through my new wardrobe Jeremiah provided me with. "Hello?" "(Y/n)! How are you doing, love? Want to grab lunch before your boyfriend blows the city up?" I giggle at her as I hold up a shirt smiling. "So you've heard." "Yeah. Care to chat?" "I can do that. I'll send you the address." "Great! I'll get you a ride."

Not long after the call ends a black car rolls up into the driveway. I exit the house getting into the car. Barbara sighs, "I'm sorry, (y/n). Nothing personal. We just need the upper hand." "What?" Suddenly a bag is thrown over my head and my wrists tied together.

As we enter a warehouse I'm sat down in a chair and the bag is removed. I look over and see Jongleur has been captured as well.

Barbara kneels, smiling. "You look really good by the way. Glowing and all." I turn my head away. "I'm still mad at you." She nods, "Yeah, but we can't have Gotham blown up."

Only after a long ten minutes, Jeremiah walks down with his followers seeing us.

"Oswald Cobblepot. Barbara Kean. In my stronghold."

"Not one step closer, Mr. Valeska," Oswald says pointing a gun at me. Jeremiah's eyes grow deadly cold. "And is that my dear Jongleur with my core relay in his hand and a grenade taped to his mouth? Not only that, but you have the future mother of my children strapped to a chair with a gun pointed at her head?"

"Indeed, it is."

"Huh. Well, it seems you have the upper hand."

"Undoubtedly. And now, we have our own demands.... $50 million.

Jeremiah widens his eyes in amusement. "That's what you want?"

Oswald smiles nodding, "It's a nice, round number."

"I don't quite have that on me right now," Jeremiah says calmly. "You gave the mayor six hours to evacuate Gotham. An impossible task. Let him buy another hour. He will save thousands of lives. $50 million will seem cheap." I laugh, shaking my head. "You're playing him the villain, while you get away free and rich? Shoot me now." I roll my eyes laughing.

Jeremiah smirks at me, giving me hope. "I get you the money, you give me back my fiance and my core relay." Barbara hums smarting off, "That is usually how a hand-off works, yeah." I look over my shoulder at her huffing.

"You drive a hard bargain, but I'll see what I can do. Hold tight, darling." Jeremiah pulls out his phone quickly. "Just like that? After knowing your brother, I expected something more..." Jeremiah scoffs, "Insane? I'm nothing if not sane and reasonable. Two things my brother never valued. That's why I'll be successful where he failed. Well, that, being vastly more intelligent and winning (Y/n). Now, to see about your money."

He dials the numbers and brings his phone to his ear. "This is Jeremiah Valeska. I'd like to speak to the mayor. I have additional demands... Yes, really... 50 million, unmarked bills. I'll tell you about the location. "

Jeremiah chuckles looking at us. "Would you believe it? They put me on hold." He bends down pulling out a bazooka. My chair is pulled out of the blast range from one of our followers as Jeremiah aims and shoots at the core relay blowing it up.

Jeremiah cuts me free holding me close. "Are you alright?" I nod into his chest.

"Are you out of your mind?" Oswald screams in shock.

"Why do you keep insisting I'm insane? What's insane about having a backup plan, something Jongleur never knew about. And, so you know, this building is within the blast radius. And because of your interference, I'm going to detonate the bombs as soon as I'm far enough away to observe the destruction in peace with my family."

"No, you promised the city six hours!"

"Whose fault is it that I changed my mind?"

~

"You've blown up the bunker and the Mayor already. How many bombs were you thinking of using, honey?"

Jeremiah lays his hand on my leg as he transports me home safely. "I need a blank slate. Everything must go. I want to be set up in the center and have the whole Gotham city park the backyard for the kids." Jeremiah opens the door for me as we walk into the house. "I'll be home soon. Take a tour of the barracks downstairs. Then tour the master bathroom with the newly renovated jacuzzi." Jeremiah finishes halfway out the door. "I'll miss you." He sighs dramatically gazing at me. "And I you, darling."

~

Jim POV:

I walked into the GCPD shocking every one of my colleagues. "Jim!" Harvey rushes pulling me in a hug. "Oh, Buddy." I chuckle while pulling away wincing. "All right, easy there, big fella. Remember, I just got blown up."

"How did you get out of the bunker?"

"It's a long story, but what matters is, I have the locations of every bomb Jeremiah planted." I hold up the plans from the bunker for everyone to see.

"Jeremiah wasn't bluffing. There are at least a dozen bombs on this map."

"But you're saying, if we disarm one of them in the sequence, we'll stop all of them from going off. And according to this, the closest one is just a mile away."

Harvey starts rambling off plans for the squad to carry out, "Alert the bomb squad. Tell them to meet me there." "Wait, Harvey. Let the bomb squad handle this. You don't have to go." He nods at me with the determination of prey. "Yes, I do. I need this, Jim."

~

Jeremiah walks in the bedroom seeing me spin in one of the many new outfits he gifted me with. "Are we happy, (y/n)?" He asks strolling over and taking me in his arms as he looks at us in the mirror.

I nod smiling at my soon to be husband. "Are you ready to start our new life together, sweets?" He pulls my hair over my shoulder lining my neck with kisses. I turn away from him pulling him out the door by his tie. "If you keep that up we'll be late."

We enter the elevator descending to the followers' barracks. As we enter they chant cleanly, "Jeremiah! Jeremiah!"

Jeremiah switches the denominator on his trigger; just one flick of that switch and its bye bye Gotham City.

"All my life I spent by myself, hidden away. I am so glad to be sharing this happy moment with you, (y/n), and all of you as well. Today marks the dawning of a new Gotham City. One where we will all be free. Now, shall I do the honors?"

Jeremiah makes his speech walking down the lined army of members, towards a TV with the news just waiting for something to happen.

Suddenly a familiar face appears on the screen. My father.

"That's Jim Gordon! He's not dead." The followers cry out in a tantrum.

"This is a message to the followers of Jeremiah Valeska. Jeremiah claims to have killed me. Well, bad news, I'm alive." My father smiles smugly on the screen.

Jeremiah turns back to all of us shaking his head trembling. "No. No, it's a trick. I killed him."

"So, just know, you're worshiping a fraud. A pale imitation of Jerome. You did your worst, Jeremiah. And I'm still here. And I'm coming for my daughter." Jeremiah turns off the TV in a rushed frustration.

"Doesn't matter whether he's alive. When I hit this switch, you'll hear the sounds of a new world being born. Our world. Now... Listen." He hisses as he flips the switch. I smile awaiting a reaction, but nothing changes. I tilt my head confused and look at Jeremiah turn the switch over and over.

Every one of the false followers starts to gang up on Jeremiah, "He's a fake!" "He's a liar! Liar!"

"SHUT UP!" He screams, slowly making his way to the door. He makes his way to me grabbing my hand and kissing it. "I want you all to know I find your fickleness quite hurtful... And more so, very predictable. Come, love." Jeremiah pulls us out, locking the room shut with the followers inside. He pulls open the box on the wall pressing the large red button engraved with PURGE.

The room soon engulfed in horrid screams and bright flames as they burn in the chamber. He sighs watching them through the window. "Well, that is disappointing."

I grab his hand pulling him towards the elevator. "Don't focus on that, what we need to do now is go to your office and figure this out." "Darling, I adore enthusiasm, but I haven't gotten started in the office. This was supposed to work out." He groans frustrated.

The elevator takes us up a floor to a large room I have started to make into his office. He walks in seeing a desk there with his plans and breaks into a smile. "You didn't have to do this, darling." He removes his blazer, tossing it on his chair while I move to sit on the desk.

"I know, but I wanted to. If this is going to be our home I want you to have your spot to work again." Jeremiah rolls out the map smirking, "Well then, let's get to work."

We spend hours looking over the plans for flames and or issues, but I can't think of anyone who would've taken the chance between the two triggers.

"I got it!" I laugh lowering my feet from the desk. " If you had Jim in your office with the prints he took them when he escaped!" Jeremiah nods gathering along, "Gordon found one of the bombs, and sabotaged the sequence... I'll have to start again." Jeremiah nods looking down at the map of the City.

"You're tenacious. I like that." A ghostly voice runs along the walls of the room. Jeremiah pulls me behind him pulling out his gun. "Who are you? What do you want?" He speaks calmly.

"I had a vision of Gotham in flames. Together we can make that happen." A man from the upper half of the platform speaks. "Well, I say we appreciate the offer, but recent events have convinced me of the benefits of working alone." Jeremiah shoots at him, but the man moves too fast.

I stifle a giggle pulling out my gun. "Your shot is horrible."

"Don't be so rash. Your dream of a new Gotham fit for your family will come to be, with my help." This man speaks again from the other corner of the room. I raise my gun shooting at him, but he vanishes.

Jeremiah sighs laying a hand on my hip. "You're behind me, aren't you?"

We turn around meeting this mystery man with the plan. "I can conquer Gotham on my own. What makes you think I need your help? Whoever you are."

He smirks walking closer. "Because, my boy, all this is not just about Gotham. This is about Bruce Wayne."

I gasp giggling. "This just got interesting."

~

"You're going to get arrested!" I fight Jeremiah as we go over this plan. He shrugs dusting his hat. "Love, I'm escaping. Can't you focus on that?" I huff crossing my arms. "I want to go with you." Jeremiah laughs shaking his head. "Have you forgotten you're carrying twins, my love? I am going to be shooting people. Use your head." I laugh pulling at his tie. "I've been thinking of names." "Oh? Want to tell me as we watch Gotham burn?" "Root beer floats will be waiting." Jeremiah rolls his eyes. "You and your cravings." "Blame your kids!"

~

I walk into Wayne's home leaving the door wide open. I walk to the study smirking as I hear the ongoing conversation.

"Why do you think he's so obsessed with you?" Selina Kyle asks Bruce. "Jeremiah said, "All it takes is one bad day to drive a person insane." I wonder if my parents dying made me a little insane? Maybe he sensed that. Maybe he wanted to bring it out." I smirk nodding my head. "Smart boy."

"Well, you proved him wrong."

I roll my eyes entering the room. "To be fair, the day's not over yet." Selina stands up going to attack, but I simply pull the trigger of my gun shooting her in the lower abdomen.

Bruce screams as I am tackled to the floor by the butler and brutally beaten. Just one bad day Bruce.