#and when i tell you it's bones reflecting on jim . . . . when i tell you jim doesn't talk about his step-dad (or maybe uncle)

[katierosefun]

realizing that gracie abrams is jj abrams’ daughter is sure hell of a realization to make when you’re naming a mckirk fic after a gracie abrams lyric, huh

#caroline talks #listening to the blue by gracie abrams .. .. gracie abrams . . . did u write about mckirk #you tell me on the phone you really want to meet my family . . . . #you talk about your dad he used to get so angry #he'd scare you and your brother . . . . #i know i'd let you in on all my bad decisions #you'd make them feel less terrible #the second that you'd listen . . . . #you came out of the blue like that . . . . i never could have seen you coming i think you're everything i wanted . . . #and when i tell you it's bones reflecting on jim . . . . when i tell you jim doesn't talk about his step-dad (or maybe uncle) #but when he does he mentions how his big brother left that time #thinking about jim getting really excited to meet bones' family #thinking about how bones is this ball of hyper-competency but also anxiety #thinking about the quiet wonder in gracie abrams' 'the blue' . . . #how i'm chewing up my own existence thinking about this #thinking about 'what are you doing to me now?' and thinking about bones #there's a very vivid image in my head of them right now #mostly bones asking 'what are you doing to me now?' (part exasperation part hope part fear) #the way i will always wish we got more mckirk screen time but godddd #god. god god #something something bones being hyper-competent but also very anxious at all hours #something about life feeling like a weird fog and then jim crashing right next to him you came out of the blue like that!!! #(also maybe i cry a little bit bc you know how like in the star trek movies the enterprise leaves this trail of blue when they warp) #(BECAUSE . . . YEAH. . . .) #also maybe. i do. i do associate blue and yellow with bones and jim </333

[ensign-cadet]

Ok I've been trying to figure out how to word this, but I cannot get over the fact that when Spock says "Let me help"-- an episode after Jim claims that that phrase is "recommend[ed]... even over 'I love you'"-- Jim tells Spock he needs him.

[ID: A gif from Star Trek: The Original Series where Spock is lying on a checkered red-and-gold pillow, wearing sick patient garb. He is facing up (towards the camera) seeming to stare at the ceiling; his eyes appear especially reflective. In the gif, he is captioned saying "Let me help." End ID]

When this scene happens, before the grand solution, everyone kinda thought Spock was going to die. We know he won't (because TOS plot armor), but at this point Spock is infected with the very thing that killed Jim's brother and sister-in-law. And yet, he's extending his metaphorical hand to Jim. Unambiguously, too, because he is declaring himself for help, as opposed to asking it in a manner where his question could be denied (like "can I help you?" or "do you need my help?"). I can understand why Jim thinks it may be superior to "I love you", since its usage is choosing to care for/love the person wholly, even with and including whatever they may be going through.

Which makes Jim's reply of "I need you, Spock," especially interesting.

[ID: A gif from the same scene as above, but this time showing Captain Kirk (left) and Dr. McCoy (right). They are standing in a green-tinted room with a screen/monitor behind them. Bones' arms are crossed, and Jim's are at his side. In the gif, Kirk words are captioned as, "I need you, Spock." End ID]

The scene itself seems to imply that this is all under the guise of professionalism and moves on, but Jim never clarifies that here. There's no follow-up about needing Spock as a First Officer, or even as a friend. It is just, for lack of better words, needing him. We know this is true from the following episodes and movies-- where Jim repeatedly sacrifices himself and his career for Spock-- but this is a rare instance where he actually says the quiet part out loud. And this context makes a later scene in this episode, where Bones talks to Jim about his "affection for Spock," seem more like a confrontation, since he was in the room when those words were exchanged.

[ID: A gif from Star Trek: The Original Series, where Captain Kirk and Dr. McCoy are in a lab. They are in a room with white walls and green carpet, standing by what looks like a small computer monitor. Dr. McCoy is facing Jim as he states, "I understand your concern... your affection for Spock...". Jim seems to be looking at the ground distantly, while Nurse Chapel turns in to listen in the background. End ID]

I don't think people consider Operation: Annihilate a particularly slashy episode, but this has been driving me insane.

#I've seen posts about Spock saying 'let me help' #and others about Jim telling Spock he needs him #but nobody told me it's from the same interaction #spirk #the premise #K/S #tracking tag #rambling #star trek tos #my gifs

[lenievi]

TOS-tober day 6 (triumvirate prompts)

Favourite romantic duo?

My doorway to mckirk was the bar scene between them in Beyond. That was the first scene I saw from AOS, and only after that I watched the films in order. Because it was the their "final" AOS dynamic that I fell in love with, I feel it's only logical (lol) that I would also like everything about their TOS version because Beyond is the closest to TOS in feeling and characterization (even though I'd still say it's closer to TOS films rather than the show itself).

Yesterday, I said that the spones dynamic is the most engaging, and it is. But Kirk and McCoy's relationship has always been my favourite. It took me a bit to cross the line into the romantic nature of it, but I'm embracing it fully now~

When it comes to Kirk and McCoy in TOS, their relationship is the most quiet, in a way. Their most important scenes are at the beginning of s1, and when you don't get on that train early, it's easy to just miss it imho Not that there aren't good scenes as far as s3 (but they're mostly part of the triumvirate scenes, and Spock-McCoy overshadow the Kirk-McCoy angle), and then the films are just full of mckirk scenes, but at that point, I feel like most people are just focused elsewhere. The lack of fanworks doesn't help either, unfortunately.

But from early on, you know that Kirk and McCoy are close friends. McCoy approaches Kirk in a way no one else does, and Kirk lets his guard around McCoy down. He shares his doubts with him, and he's often willing to listen to McCoy without telling him he doesn't need to be psychoanalyzed. Even though there's literally no need in 90% of cases, Kirk will take McCoy with him on most missions. The show itself even acknowledged how neither of them were necessary in landing parties, but Kirk's need for exploration include McCoy around and giving McCoy opportunities to study things. Which is then again reflected in TMP, where Kirk just needs to have McCoy with him and pesters an admiral to grant him that need.

At times, McCoy sees Kirk through rose-coloured glasses and he cares about him so much, but he's also afraid that Jim will push himself (and also others) above his limit. Kirk is someone who is 100% dedicated to his job, his ship, and his crew, and McCoy is afraid that it will consume him one day - stress, duty, regulations, pressure. He's afraid that Spock will enable Jim to continue on a path of cold logic and forget himself. Destroy himself. And so he makes sure that he can always try and pull Jim back. And Jim? Jim would be lost without McCoy. (McCoy is so important to him.) He might not acknowledge it, but he needs to occasionally hear what McCoy has to say. McCoy is his connection with a world outside of "command" - McCoy specifically isn't welcome in that world. He can question Jim himself, but he can't question Kirk's command decisions. It's not his place.

They're both genuinely fond of each other and they understand each other. And they can hurt each other the most because they know where it would hurt the most. They have a strong emotional connection that isn't diluted too much by professionalism and the chain of command, but it's still an important part of their dynamic.

All of this works for me as a basis for them as a romantic ship where I can exaggerate some of it and mold it into something that I enjoy, that can be a little bit messed up. In a way, "I need you. Damn it, Bones, I need you. Badly." & McCoy killing a living being twice because of Kirk is an important part of the way I ship them.

But at the end of the day, I love Kirk and McCoy's relationship in any way, and I honestly don't know how to properly describe what their friendship in TOS means to me. And it's all thanks to one youtube video of their AOS versions having a drink together in a dimply lit bar.

[prompts]

#terms of service-tober #mckirk #leonard mccoy #jim kirk #i love them so much 🥺 words are not enough #but linking my fics is not really explanatory either haha #i need to write more fics but i need to get over feeling it's weird writing kirk always pining and needing mccoy

[everythingunderthestarsthings]

What are your headcanons for the friendship between Odd and Yumi?

Odd & Yumi - Chaotic besties

Hmm, it has been a while since I rewatched Code Lyoko, so I'm going with these headcanons based on what I can recall from memory. I'll make note to rewatch the show for subsequent posts.

Do check out my Code Lyoko masterlist here! I'll add this post and other requests and asks to it as time goes on!

Odd and Yumi and their friendship is certainly noteworthy.

Apart from Ulrich, for whom Yumi carries romantic feelings, she sees the other Lyoko warriors as her younger siblings. This comes naturally to her, considering she is a big sister.

Odd is no different. In fact, deep down, I think Odd reminds Yumi of Hiroki. They're both mischievous and like to annoy her, but are also the kind of people who really know her.

Yumi, when asked about Odd: "Odd Della Robbia has two braincells, smelly feet, and a smelly dog."

Odd, when asked about Yumi: "Yumi Ishiyama wears black to remind herself that her life is nothing but a bleak existence."

They use these lines to taunt each other, but after a while, they stopped, because it got boring and they moved on to better ways to annoy the other person.

If anything is leaked to Kadic news about Yumi, she will hunt Odd down and show him absolutely no mercy.

And Odd has older sisters too, which is why there are various softer, feminine aspects in him. He alone remembered Yumi's birthday and intuited that Ulrich must've forgotten it, because he's Ulrich, and also, X.A.N.A. is a pain in the ass.

Yumi easily fills out the role of a friend/big-sister for Odd, and often reminds him of his allergies (if he should have any, which I think he must), and chastises him when he's stuffing himself to no end.

And yet, she saves her croissants for him to have.

She's annoyed by how his eating habits never reflect in his weight. He's always lean.

I don't remember how it was in the show, but I recall that Odd was not very averse to William in the beginning. So, when he sensed that there might be another competitor for Yumi's heart besides Ulrich, he's not negatively reacting to it. In fact, he teases Yumi about how she managed to attract two very chaotic teenagers.

But to Ulrich, he tells him, "no wonder William likes Yumi. She's cool and brave, and very attractive. You better step up your game, Ulrich.". If Yumi hears of this, he will straight-up deny being her number one advocate.

Odd is also really good at deducing who else has a crush on Yumi. He can list five of his classmates alone, let alone think of Yumi's grade.

When Odd and Yumi are paired together for Lyoko missions, he always watches her back and makes sure no one's attacking her.

He has been devirtualized several times as a result. Yumi will devirtualize the goddamn X.A.N.A. monster to avenge Odd. They do this every time.

When they get moments where they're just hanging out by themselves, I see Odd and Yumi enacting this:

Yumi, either reading a novel or going through her phone or class notes, annoyed and used to Odd: Odd, stop. Odd, with his fingers mere whispers away from Yumi's face, with an innocent smile on his face: I'm not touching you. I'm practising Tai Chi. Yumi: Then go do this to Jim! He's the one that does Tai Chi!

Odd relies on Yumi to get dog food and poop bags for Kiwi. She complains about doing this every time, but nonetheless spends a portion of her pocket money for Kiwi.

Odd and Yumi know each others' likes and dislikes. Their style preferences, color preferences, etc.

"What's Yumi's favorite color, Ulrich?" "Black." "Wrong. It's black and green, and dark blue occassionally. Try again, and I'll talk to her about letting you off the hook for forgetting your date." "I still don't get why you know so much about her! I'm her boyfriend..."

That's how he knew the perfect gift that Yumi would like, especially from Ulrich.

He did give Ulrich the wrong package in that one episode and Yumi got Kiwi's bone. I think she immediately knew that Odd had bought her gift and mixed up the packages.

Next time, Ulrich consults Aelita for birthday present ideas for Yumi.

Yumi probably chose the hoodie that Odd wears after the outfit change from the first few seasons.

However, when the two of them were bodyswapped during one of the episodes, he wore a despicable outfit combo in her body just to drive her a little crazy.

Also, remember the chopstick scene? Yumi would not have let Odd travel to her house in her body without teaching him enough japanese to make do at home, and without teaching him how to use chopsticks. Coming to the aftermath of the bodyswap episode, she attributes his failings to him having two braincells.

When things didn't work out with Sam for real, Odd goes to Yumi first, way before he actually tells the others.

"It's okay, Odd. You two were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Things will turn around."

They just love each other, but they're the chaotic big-sis--lil-bro type of friends, so they live to annoy each other most of the time.

#friendship #code lyoko #odd della robbia #jeremie belpois #ulrich stern #william dunbar #yumi ishiyama #writing #odd is a crackhed #aelita schaeffer #chaotic besties #big sis lil bro #i love them #platonic besties #friendship headcanons

[sprite-writes]

Its a Touchy Subject

Leonard “Bones” McCoy/Reader, James T. Kirk & Reader

No Warnings 

Summary: Kirk is having some…personal issues and enlists his lieutenant to help. Unfortunately for her he never knows when to stop talking, and accidentally hits a… sensitive topic, one about a certain chief medical officer.

A/N: back with another installment in the cloudy day series :p (but it can be read on its own!). as usual, no us of y/n, nd I hope u enjoy this! no bones this chapter but dont worry lots of sunshine/bones to come! 

Word Count: 1,409

“Sunshine! There you are, I've been looking everywhere,” The captain calls after his Lieutenant, who looks very much like he was the last person she wanted to see. 

“Captain,” She says with bided patience. “I just got off shift, if this can wait, please, I'm begging it to.” 

He winces at her exasperated tone, taking in her slouched posture and tired eyes. Kirk hesitates, feeling just as bad to be there as she was to see him. 

“I wish it could, Sunny but-”

“Kirk please, Jameson is just as qualified as me and I know he just clocked in-”

“First of all, I'm appalled that you think you and first-year Jameson are on the same skill level, like, even by a mile, but that's irrelevant. This is a…personal matter.” 

“A personal matter?” she says flatly. 

He nods emphatically. 

She narrows her eyes and takes a step back. Her eyes crawl up and down his figure like she’s assessing a predator. 

“Kirk do you…do you have chlamydia again?” 

His reaction tells her no. 

“What?! What the—Jesus Christ Sunny, why don’t you say it a little louder, I don’t think engineering heard you!” Jim reaches around the girl, angrily punching in the override code to open her door (perks of being captain, and certainly misuse of power). One hand on his communicator and the other on her shoulder, he shoves her into her quarters. 

“I was just asking! Stars Jim, what has gotten you so worked up that you’re shoving me into my room like we just got back from the bar and I’m your pick of the week!” 

It looks like someone hit pause on a TV, the way they both freeze.

“…what did you even just say?” 

“Do you want to hear it again or do you want me to pretend I didn’t say it.” 

“The second one. Please.” 

“Fine.”

The play button is pressed. Sunshine sits on her couch, arms crossed and thoroughly cranky now, and awaits Kirk’s next move. 

“There’s been a development…” He begins, his hand nervously hovering over his communicator. 

“A development?” Of chlamydia, she thinks to herself. 

“A development of the…Lieutenant Marcus situation, now I know what you’re gonna say but hear me out–“ 

She does not, in fact, hear him out. 

“Holy shit Jim, did you seriously come all the way here, and interrupt the nap I was about to take just to harass me—“ 

“Harass seems like a strong word—“

“Harass,” She emphasizes “about why Carol won’t sleep with you?” 

Kirk raises his hands as if he’s innocent in all this. 

“It is not about her sleeping with me,” He insists. Sunshine gives him a moment, and he knows by her face the next words out of his mouth need to be worth her while. 

“She just, she won’t even talk to me,” He says defeated, and falls onto the couch beside her, looking all but miserable. 

“After everything that happened I thought we were really clicking! Then all of a sudden, two weeks ago just, poof!” He gestures with his hands, emulating what Sunshine would guess is the spark they had vanishing. 

“So she ghosted you?” She asks. 

This, she is sympathetic toward. Though Kirk can be an ass, she knows all too well that being left in the dust sucks no matter what. 

The captain sighs. 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

Suddenly she feels very bad for being so short with him…and for accusing him of being STD ridden. 

Sunshine lays her hand on his shoulder and provides all she can: a reassuring smile. 

“I’m sorry Jim, that’s really hard. But I’m sure Carol just needs some time to herself. She’s been through a lot this year, and she’s probably just now starting to process it. It doesn’t reflect on you as a person, you know. Maybe you’ll click again when you’re both ready.”

Kirk’s eyes lift hopefully from his lap. 

“You think so?” 

“I do.” She smiles brightly, and the edges of Kirk’s mouth tilt up as well. The captain is reminded fondly of why he went to Sunshine before anyone else. As sarcastic as she could be, Jim knew the kind heart she had. Lieutenant Sunshine was the total emulation of her name, a ray of sunshine. 

A pleasant beat passes as Kirk is comforted by her words. 

Sunshine promptly ruins this feeling. 

“But in the meantime, maybe this will give you a chance to explore your bisexuality.” 

Kirk’s smile morphs into a proper cocktail of what Sunshine assumes is probably a whole lot of confusion and a fair bit of offense. Poor Kirk and his internalized homophobia, She thinks. 

His head snaps to her so fast she worries he might get whiplash. 

“My fucking what?” 

“Your bisexuality.” She repeats Like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. 

“My bisexuality,” Kirk repeats like it’s the stupidest goddamn thing he’s ever heard. 

Kirk could barely stand the know-it-all look on her face like he should have known this already. Like he hears this every day. She can’t possibly really believe that he’s…is he? 

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” She says smugly. 

“Wha—No! I am not!” He insists, jumping off the couch like the furniture burned him.

“Whatever you say Cap, but that weird thing you have going on with Spock is—“ 

Kirk is not by any means an idiot. He’s a decorated Starfleet captain after all, but in moments like these, there are few other ways to describe him. 

“Luitenant, first of all, shut the fuck up that's an order, and I’m never coming to you for advice again, and are you seriously berating me when you have the weirdest ‘will they won’t they’ ever going on with Bones–”

Suddenly Sunshine is not in a joking mood anymore. Her glowing smile shuts off like a light switch and is replaced with a heart-dropping frown. 

Jim stops in the middle of his sentence and winces. Suddenly the biggest regret he’s ever had is the last sentence out of his mouth. 

She stands up, both hands on Kirk’s shoulders, and shoves him out of her room, the door hitting him as it opens, and he stumbles through it. 

“Woah! Sun, I'm just joking!” Jim defends weakly. He crosses the threshold of his lieutenant's doorway, barely balancing after practically being thrown out. She stands in front of him, arms crossed and eyebrows furrowed. 

“That’s not funny Kirk. Don’t say stuff like that.” She says gruffly and…are there tears forming in her eyes?

Kirk, for the second time in this conversation, is stunned. In just a moment, over a few words she’s gone ridged, her face is flushed and holy shit did he make Sunshine cry?

The realization hits him like a bucket of ice water. 

“Hey…,” He starts softly, like approaching a scared animal. He’s in uncharted territory now. He can already hear Nyota scolding him demanding how the hell he even managed to get her like this. He had really never seen her quite like this. Sad? Sure, even irritable, but this was different. This was an untapped feeling that Kirk was uncovering.

“Sunshine, I really was just messing-“

“Yeah well, It’s not funny, b-because that would never happen and-and that's not cool to say, and if other people hear you say that they’ll start rumors, and if McCoy heard that he would think I’m pining after him like some puppy and I’m not and we’re just friends, so don't ever make a joke like that again,” She says hotly, and by the end of her speech, she's out of breath. 

“Okay,” Kirk says because he genuinely has no fucking idea how to respond to that. 

“Ugh, whatever, Goodnight Captain.”  

Without another word, the entrance to her quarters slides shut. He’s left staring at the glossy grey door of his operations manager’s quarters, feeling utterly perplexed. 

On the other side of the door, Sunshine pulls her hair while dread pools in her stomach, and she hopes to god Kirk is the only one who knows- or thinks that she's just about hopelessly in love with her colleague. She falls onto her couch like a ton of rocks and stares at her ceiling and wishes the southern doctor wasn't so…unattainable to her.

As Kirk returns to the bridge, the gears in his head turn relentlessly.

He isn’t sure what to think about first, his apparent bisexuality, or what the hell all that was about. 

#leonard mccoy x reader #star trek imagine #star trek x reader #star trek #jim kirk x reader #kirk x reader #star trek aos #bones x reader #on a cloudy day

[eoinmcgonigal]

writing pattern game

thank you for the tag @almost-a-class-act and @bobparkhurst ^^

Rules: Share the first line of your last ten published works or as many as you are able and see if there are any patterns!

(p.s. tagging anyone who wants to do this)

okay so these are nsfw ones:

1. It’s about two seconds after Dave’s gets inside him that Reg realises they’ve maybe fucked up. (Beyond the Veil [Curtain], Reg/Dave, nsfw)

2. Getting in trouble was always a plea for attention. (Repentant Apology, Dudley/David, nsfw)

3. Jim stops mid-thrust, a stillness coming over him that pulls Johnny back from the pleasant haze he’d been lost in. (Things You can Hear in the Night, Johnny/Jim, Reg, nsfw)

4. His arm is, to put it mildly, pissing him off. (Good with Rope, Bill/Johnny. (n)sfw)

5. Reg finds him in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for a worm in jelly that has no green in it. (To the Point of Attraction, Reg/Johnny, nsfw)

6. It’s a disaster. (Loving Reflections, Bill/Johnny, nsfw)

7. “Oh fuck me.” (Dressing up to Fuck Around, Reg/Johnny, Dave/Johnny, nsfw)

8. Johnny is trembling. (We Belong Together, Johnny/Bill, nsfw)

9. The trail hasn’t quite gone cold, but Dave can tell they’re losing him. (The Thrill of the Capture, Dave/Johnny, Reg/Johnny, nsfw)

10. Tonight’s the night. (Fucking cavemen, Dave/Reg nsfw)

Pattern? I just seem to get right into it...

Well I was gonna do 10 sfw fics too, but I seriously seem to just.. start with a short sentence, or dialogue.

I'm not sure if it's engaging for a reader, but I guess as a writer it's the easiest way to get started when faced with a blank page? Maybe I should try being more florid...

Shortest: “Oh.” (from Beat)

Longest: To his credit, a sharp intake of breath is the only thing that might betray Johnny’s surprise as Lieutenant Mayne makes his presence known beside him, even though Johnny had no idea that he was there, or how long he might have been hovering behind where Johnny is sitting. (from Shelter in the Shade)

-

Gonna copy every starting sentence (excluding the anon fics, because they're a pain to find and put in place).

“Do you know much about music?

There is something about the place that Paddy detests.

To his credit, a sharp intake of breath is the only thing that might betray Johnny’s surprise as Lieutenant Mayne makes his presence known beside him, even though Johnny had no idea that he was there, or how long he might have been hovering behind where Johnny is sitting.

“Oh.”

A name is given to him.

It’s peaceful.

The room is softly lit, the harsh morning sun barred from doing its worst in here.

“Lieutenant McGonigal was here.”

“What”—Bill begins, dropping his kit bag on the polished marble floor—”the fuck?”

The camera is set, and Johnny checks the angle once more, leaning back a little to see how it looks.

Pat likes it here.

It’s a slow, careful process, so intimate that Bill has been breathless from the beginning.

Mike, his finger just below David’s collar bone, jabs for emphasis.

The greeting from the doorway is a simple, resounding: “No.”

“You said this was a shortcut.”

It’s not exactly what Bill expected.

The wound is healing nicely.

“On the left, the left!”

He sees the perfect pumpkin.

Johnny didn’t want to lose the bet.

Johnny can tell his phone finally has signal, because it starts pinging like mad.

The dancers are, even by the standards of Cairo, exotic.

Johnny’s way more drunk than he ought to be.

The moment Reg sees that he’s live, he clicks on the channel without hesitation.

He could do without the buzzer going.

“Oh no.”

He’s seen him before.

It’s supposed to be the culmination of months of dropping hints, of leaving clues for Bill to pick up and piece together, so that when Johnny finally tells him, it’s not a shock.

The shriek is just shy of loud enough to wake the dead.

Bill smells so good.

He can’t even pick it up.

Johnny cannot help watching Reg’s mouth, his breathing shallow as he sees the way Reg’s lips close around the cigarette, puckering softly as he breathes in.

“Shit!”

Bill hesitates.

It feels like only moments after he’s fallen asleep that Bill is woken up again.

All Bill wants is to be near him.

It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

“Johnny!” Reg calls.

“Jesus, God!”

Tonight’s the night.

The trail hasn’t quite gone cold, but Dave can tell they’re losing him.

Johnny is trembling.

“Oh fuck me.”

It’s a disaster.

Reg finds him in the kitchen, rummaging through the fridge for a worm in jelly that has no green in it.

His arm is, to put it mildly, pissing him off.

Jim stops mid-thrust, a stillness coming over him that pulls Johnny back from the pleasant haze he’d been lost in.

Getting in trouble was always a plea for attention.

It’s about two seconds after Dave’s gets inside him that Reg realises they’ve maybe fucked up.

[flowerfan2]

Apples and Honey

Ok, Rosh Hashanah was last week so I’m a little late - but here is my fourth annual high holidays fic (on A03 here).  Star Trek, this time.  Enjoy, and best wishes for a sweet new year.  

*******

Jim watches quietly as Spock undresses down to his briefs, admiring his graceful movements as he moves about their dimly lit quarters.  Finally Spock finishes his tasks and slides under the blankets, moving carefully so as not to disturb Jim’s rest.

“Hey there,” Jim murmurs, moving closer and tucking his chin over Spock’s shoulder.  “Everything okay?”

He knows it probably is, he can feel Spock’s gentle hum of contentment through their bond.  But he likes to talk about it anyway.

“My evening went as expected.  The conflict between the engineering officers has been resolved.”

“Hopefully without landing anyone in the brig?”

“So far.”

“A successful mission then.”  Jim stretches and snuggles closer, one knee coming up over Spock’s leg as they fit themselves together.

“I apologize for waking you.”

“No apology necessary.  I’m glad I’m awake.”

A pause, and then, “I admit I am glad of it as well.”

Jim chuckles softly and strokes his fingers through the wiry hair on Spock’s chest.  “This is the best part of my day, you know.”

“Going to sleep?” Spock asks, so innocently Jim thinks he might not actually be teasing.

“No.  Being here with you.  Together.  Just… cozy.”  Jim props himself up on an elbow, catching Spock’s gaze.  This may be one of those times that Spock needs reassurance; Jim will spend the rest of his life giving it, if need be.

“Even when we are not engaging in coitus?”

“Even when we are not engaging in coitus,” Jim replies seriously.  “Sex is great – sex with you is fantastic, mind blowing, to be honest.  I think you probably can tell how much I like it-”

“Indeed,” Spock confirms, the edge of his mouth twitching up.

“But this is better. The best.”  Jim nuzzles at the warm skin of Spock’s neck, sending thoughts of safe together love always  and receiving back simply t’hy’la.

Spock guides Jim closer and they trade a few gentle kisses.  After a minute or two, Spock pulls back and clears his throat.  “I wanted to thank you for your thoughtful gift,” Spock says.

“Gift?”  Jim struggles to focus his brain, full of nothing but his lover’s presence.

“The apples and honey.”

Jim smiles and dances his fingers down Spock’s side.  “That was just an afternoon snack.”

“Coincidentally delivered to my lab on Rosh Hashanah?”

Jim shrugs.  “Coincidences do happen.”

“How did you know?”

The lack of precision in Spock’s question might be a sign that Spock was feeling some kind of emotion about Jim’s gift – which he definitely is, Jim knows him well enough that he can easily see it – or it might just reflect that Spock is enjoying their warm, drowsy conversation as much as Jim; enough to let down his walls and truly relax.

“I knew it was Rosh Hashanah on Earth today because Lieutenant Edelstein mentioned it.  She and her partner were hosting a festive dinner in one of the rec rooms.  She also gave me that honey, by the way.  She called it locust honey, which seems odd – but Bones said it wouldn’t kill me, so I tasted it – basically just tastes like regular honey, more or less.”

“It is not made from locusts, Jim.  It is created with the nectar from black locust trees, also known as false acacia trees, and is known as acacia honey or locust honey.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear that.  Honey made from locusts – ugh.”  Jim gives a little faux shiver and Spock shifts in his arms, kissing his scrunched up nose.

“Regardless, it was a lovely gift,” Spock says.  “But how did you know it would be meaningful to me?”

“Come on, how long have I known you?”

“Three years, two months, seven days, and four hours.”

Jim laughs, as Spock intended, then cups Spock’s cheek and brings him close for another kiss.  “And how long have we been bondmates?”

“One year, six months… to the day.”  Spock pauses.  “Have I forgotten to acknowledge an important anniversary?”

“Nah, that’s just a coincidence – really a coincidence this time.”  Jim skates his hand along Spock’s shoulder and down his arm, finding his hand and twining their fingers together.  “I’ve known your mom was Jewish for a long time.  It came up after the attack on Vulcan, when Pike was working on the memorial services.  I don’t know if you ever celebrated, but I figured you’d at least know the significance of apples and honey.”

Spock turns to lie on his back, and Jim lets him, acknowledging his need for a little space.  But Spock keeps their hands linked, holding Jim’s loosely against his chest and stroking their fingers together.

“My mother observed the Jewish holidays most frequently when we lived on Earth, and occasionally we traveled to visit her family during the high holidays.  Even when we were on Vulcan, she noted their passing.  Despite the fact that it was yet another way she was different than others, she felt it was important to maintain her cultural traditions.”  

“How did you feel about that?” Jim asks, and counts it as a win when Spock doesn’t protest that Vulcans don’t ‘feel.’

“I found the traditions interesting.   She grew a small apple tree in our garden, which required far more water and care than native Vulcan flora, and she looked forward excitedly to harvest season.  She often received holiday ‘care packages’ from her family on Earth, which were tempting to me as a child.  Her observances gave her pleasure.  As for the fact that she refused to assimilate in this small way, when she was already making so many accommodations to conform to Vulcan norms… I did not want my peers to find out, as I believed they would use this as yet another way to accuse me of illogical behavior and slander my mother.  At the same time, I was proud of her for not giving up this part of herself.”

“I know I’ve said it before,” Jim says quietly, his throat tight, “but I really wish I had been able to meet your mom.  I think I would have liked her a lot.”

Spock nods in response, and Jim wraps his arms more tightly around him, holding him close.  Spock still has a love-hate relationship with his own perfectly acceptable emotions, and Jim won’t make it worse by drawing attention to it.  Still, he’s glad that Spock feels safe enough to grieve with him.

After Spock catches his breath Jim relaxes his hold and brushes Spock’s bangs away from his face.  “I’d be happy to celebrate more Jewish holidays with you, if you want.  I mean, I did some research, and they seem to involve a lot of really good food.”

Spock laughs wetly.  “That would be acceptable.”

“I think I can program the replicator to make latkes pretty easily, and Lieutenant Edelstein claims she has a prize winning rugelach recipe.”

“I prefer sufganiyot for Chanukah,” Spock says.  “Although if you make the rugelach with chocolate, I would be agreeable.”

“So we’re taking having a sweet new year literally, then?”

“With you, ashayam, I have no doubt.”

#Spirk #Spirk fic #James T. Kirk #Spock #Star Trek fic #Rosh Hashanah fic

[dragonmuse]

After rereading chapter 4 of SYHCME, I’m wondering how that night went for Eddy when she got home to Stede.

(yes! I had the very scene in mind, but obviously was with Read's POV, so here's Eddy coming home, barefoot and tired)

“Are you all right?” Stede asked first. Eddy stood in the doorway, frozen at the precipice for a single moment. They could hear Jim pulling away, out of the light spilling from the front door. Stede was just inside, one of Eddy’s robes on and fear in his eyes. 

Fear for them? Or of them? Eddy felt frightening just then. The pulse of rage hadn’t left them, thrumming hot and wild through their veins. They wanted to run or fuck or fight, but they also very much wanted a bath and their bed. 

“I will be,” Eddy settled on and stepped inside. Her bare feet met the cool wood floors and then she was another step in and then straight into Stede’s arms. He hugged her without reservation, if anything, holding her a little harder than usual. Scared for her then. That was all right. 

“Darling,” Stede said quietly. “Why don’t you go put the gun back behind the medicine cabinet before we do anything else?” 

“You knew?” she closed her eyes and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. 

“The contractor had to ask me about it when you were away for the day, back when we had the second floor being worked on,” Stede didn’t sound upset, just a little sad. “I thought that if it brought you some peace, then it was fine. It wasn’t as if the children could get to it with that clever design of yours.” 

“I should’ve told you,” Eddy knew they should’ve. It had been on the tip of their tongue, but never managed to trip away. 

“Maybe,” Stede stroked her back. “But I think....were you glad to have it tonight?” 

“Yes,” she said without any further consideration. “Very.” 

“Then it’s good you had. But now....”

“Yeah, give me a minute.” 

The medicine cabinet in their bathroom was set into the wall, built in and deep enough for a lot of lotions and potions. At the very top drawer (where really only Eddy could easily reach), there was a small catch. She thumbed it down and the cabinet click and she could pull out from the wall. There was a gun safe behind it and she numbly punched in the code (the date of the crowbar incident and she’d have to change that now, a memory too firmly associated with Jack to be bearable) and set the gun back in it, before locking back away and closing things up. 

They looked at their reflection, but it reported nothing particularly different. They folded their lips into a smile, but it wouldn’t stay. Fair enough. Flicking off the lights, she headed to the bed, shedding the pajamas as she went. Those were for lounging in mostly, she tried to sleep with as little between her and Stede as possible.

Stede was already back in bed and when he spotted her, he switched off the lamp and lifted the covers. She shimmied in beside him and sighed as he put his arm around her waist. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?” 

“He’s dead,” she said flatly. “I didn’t do it, but I came damn close. I did shoot him.” 

“Is that likely to be a problem?” 

“No. It was a pretty easy cover up and Jack was never organized, but he got downright sloppy. No one’s going to be looking for him.” 

“No one’s loss,” Stede deemed, a little coldly. “What about Bones?” 

“He picked better than he knew. Maybe he even fell for her at some point, but she was a kid,” they said roughly. “Just a kid, Stede. Alma’s age when they met.” 

“I can’t even imagine,” he said softly. “Though I suppose you can.” 

“At least Hornigold wasn’t trying to get me in bed,” Eddy said, disgusted. “Jack tried to make her like us, but she’s more suited to grifting than violence. If he’d used her right, she could’ve been a real weapon.” 

“She wasn’t?” 

“He forgot that Hornigold gave us a group. We didn’t need to go looking for other people. Maybe we weren’t friends really, but we weren’t alone. At least not then. He left that girl to fend for herself and she’s clever. She found what she needed.”

“I suppose I can’t fault her for going after someone that made her feel safe,” Stede sighed. “But did it have to be Read?” 

“A kind blond person with a big heart and no limits?” Eddy smiled fractionally. “Yeah, can’t relate. Who’d do such a thing?” 

“I don’t think you needed me to make you safe,” Stede corrected, but he was smiling too. 

“Course I did. Still do,” Eddy kissed him at last, snuggling closer. The fight was going out of her now, spine decompressing. “Different kind of safe maybe. Still counts.” 

“Do you think they’ll stay together? That’s quite a stress to put on a young relationship.” 

“I don’t know. Read has the self-preservation of a lemming, so probably for a while at least. Bones seems to want to stay.” 

“We’ll have to find a way to make her feel welcome.” 

“Probably,” Eddy sighed. “Conniving little fox. She didn’t actually do anything, but lie and I can’t hold that against her really. Plus we did kill her husband a little and she seemed to genuinely like him for some godforsaken reason.” 

“Izzy finished the job?” Stede guessed. 

“Yeah. You know,” she started then stopped. She wasn’t sure Stede did know actually. Had she ever fully put that to words? 

“Ugh,” Stede turned his face into the pillow. “I should send him a thank you card or something.” 

“What? Why?” Eddy blinked out of her contemplation. 

“It’s not exactly his job description anymore, honey. Bit above and beyond. I’ll send the horrible rodent something. Not a fruit basket. Maybe flowers. He’d hate flowers. That would be fun.” 

And she knew, of course, that it wasn’t Izzy’s job anymore. Had never technically been his job except it always had been. Her blade, her bullet. Sometimes he’d been a mercy, frankly. Though no one would’ve thanked him for it, she supposed. 

“He likes black licorice,” she recalled. “He might enjoy some of that.” 

“What is wrong with him, honestly?” Stede huffed. “Disgusting.” 

And Eddy had to laugh. Because that was the most worked up Stede had sounded all night. Figured. 

When she slept that night, it was wholly undisturbed by dreams and her husband’s breath on the back of her neck. Safely home.

#leda house and the kraken verse

[knowlesian]

OFMD Ask Game: 4, 9, 16?

favorite inanimate object (turning on hardmode for myself: no picking the most obvious and awesome plot related ones)

i’m gonna go with the teal earring! for a couple reasons, one of them not even plot related.

on the surface plot level, it’s just super adorable, and jim/oluwande kills me softly all the time forever. who knows if the show will circle back to this later, but i wouldn’t mind at all if they just leave it there— because no matter what chain of events anyone wants to decide they like best, it’s all perfection.

either jim met oluwande and went ‘hey, that very attractive man is wearing my favorite color’ and that sends me into the stratosphere, or when they met jim had a different favor color— or maybe no favorite color, because the revenge training life doesn’t lend itself to pondering favorite colors, and after spending day in and day out next to literally the best person on the face of this fictional earth ofmd has created, teal became their favorite color.

(or, hell: jim always loved teal, and jim bought the earring or encouraged oluwande to buy it because they wanted to see him in their favorite color! the possibilities are endless.)

but the thing that really makes it for me is the story vico told about how originally, jim was meant to clarify at the end of the episode that they lied, and that purple was actually their favorite color.

given the way jim and oluwande function as a bright mirror for stede and ed (and sometimes for ed and izzy) that makes a lot of sense. purple often stands for ed’s increasing willingness to be vulnerable and his slow movement to opening up, this is the episode with ed shedding the leather to just wear his purple top and jim is having their ‘if you want a glimpse into ed and stede’s future, look at jim and oluwande’s plot arcs because they are either doing the healthy version of whatever poor choices their narrative reflections are making/going to make and stand in as a signpost for where this show is going overall’ place in the narrative cemented.

but one of the cool things about tv (or any medium where a writer hands off their words to other human people) is that those people bring new life to something that hits different when it’s just those words, standing on their own without the nuance an actor can bring to said words.

jim’s favorite color actually being purple made perfect sense, in the version of the story that didn’t have vico and samson breathing new life into already amazing words— jim’s favorite color being teal is the only appropriate choice, now that those performances exist. the fact that they changed that original plan is a perfect example of how the best kind of tv writing needs to marry having an overall plan that doesn’t shift from day one so they can write towards it with oodles of flexibility and the knowledge that stories tend to shift and change as you tell them long-form. 

knowing what cannot be changed and what is absolutely up for grabs is one of those fine writer lines that sort of can be summed up as ‘bones stay the same, but you should def fuck around with with you stretch over those bones as you go’ but blah blah, more complicated and i can’t start talking about that or i’ll never shut up.

(finding out that the almost-kiss was also vico and samson being like, fuck it we know this is heading to us ending up together and this feels right is yet another perfect example of how good actors who are dialed into their characters are one of the best assets a tv writer has.)

FAVORITE ANACHRONISM hmmm, what haven’t i mentioned yet.

on a serious turn, i’m going to go with the use of phrenology; as a data point towards this being a purposefully alternate history, leaning on metaphor and rolling its eyes at the idea it can’t just use whatever has the most narrative crunch/is the most fun, it’s great.

as a thematic statement, it’s a fucking killer. i need to actually finish the weird white jesus post (it got... like, maybe a multi-part deal and also i ended up needing to do a bunch of extra research to solidify the details on stories i know the broader strokes for, so. SOMEDAY!) and it’ll probably come up there, but the beat i’m most obsessed with is the way phrenology rises for a lot of reasons, but motivationally is essentially an excuse to continue with the brutality of empire, in all its many forms; because one of the lies we like to tell is that nobody knew how horrific this all was.

they knew! like, everybody knew. some people might have denied they knew, to themselves or others, yet more went ahead and convinced themselves anyone not already white and civilized like they were white and civilized deserved what they got, and the details admittedly were often obfuscated, and paperwork and first hand accounts buried/destroyed, but people fucking knew.

so what do you do, when your empire— your life, your comfort, your power and status— rests upon illogical (and genocidal!) bullshit, and ‘god wants us to do this’ is sort of losing its societal oomph as bougie intellectualism becomes the newest mode of empire.

you make up new and even dumber race science, baby. it’s okay to keep a boot on the neck of basically the entire global south when science says they fucking looooove boot leather and anyway they're all like children and prone to criminality so really this is the kindest and best thing to do for them, and that the shape of their head is how you can be sure of that.

ofmd using phrenology is a very pointed middle finger to the whole ugly process, and i want to buy everybody on the team flowers.

aaaaand favorite joke i haven't mentioned yet. i'm gonna go with the whole DO THE PUPPET VOICE scene, especially since it culminates in nathan doing hilarious fucking improv and now i can say 'AND ME LEGS ARE STICKS" to myself and laugh forever.

#this was not meant to be this long AND THEN #okay now coffee then more tldr

[trek-tracks]

Once, during med school, after passing a tough exam, Bones wandered drunkenly out of the party his classmates were throwing at the bar, and into the nearby tattoo parlor. Now, he’d asked the tattoo artist to tattoo "Hippocrates" on his back, but Leonard’s accent gets thicker and less intelligible when he drinks. Moreover, the tattoo artist had never heard of Hippocrates, so he wound up tattooing the word "HYPOCRITE" instead, thinking, "Weird but ok; some people lose bets, I guess."

One day early into their time rooming together at the Academy, Jim discovers Bones’ tattoo, and thinks it’s the funniest thing he’s ever seen. He asks why Bones never had it removed, and Bones says it’s because at first, he couldn’t find the time, and later on, he just kept it as a reminder not to do stupid shit, and also to remind himself not to rest on the laurels of good intentions, because even the best intentions sometimes have unintended consequences. Besides, he’d at least had the good sense to put it in a place where it would never be seen in a professional setting.

A year into their friendship, Bones tells Jim why he really still has the tattoo. Or, rather, after Jim makes another stupid joke about it on what turns out to be too close to the anniversary date, Bones takes a deep breath, gets a resolute look in his eye, and for the first time begins to talk about his father’s death. How it happened a few years after med school. How sick and desperate his father had become, and how he had begged him to end his suffering. How he had agonized over his own personal no-win scenario. How he hadn’t lost his medical license, but he sometimes wished he had. 

How he’d actually always meant to remove the tattoo, but after violating his most sacred oath at his father’s request, seeing the cure discovered (not by him, of course) three months later, and fleeing a marriage in shambles, he decided to keep it permanently. As a reminder of who he really was. HYPOCRITE.

It’s not funny anymore, and Jim decides then and there that it’s his mission to eventually convince Bones to remove the word from his body. 

Jim doesn’t have a lot of luck. Not with casual insinuations about starting fresh, or even a full-on prepared speech. Not after going through every possible Starfleet regulation on appearance or cultural sensitivity that would require Bones to remove it, and writing (and deleting) three times an email to Pike asking him to somehow create one.

Not even when he deliberately gets his own small, deeply stupid tattoo on Risa, just so he can ask Bones to accompany him to a tattoo removal service, and “Hey, Bones, as long as you’re already here-”

“No,” Bones says. I know what you’re doing, his eyebrow says. “Thanks, but no. Just get that thing off of yourself so I don’t have to look at it the next time you land yourself on a biobed.”

Jim fucking hates Bones’ tattoo. 

When he catches himself seriously contemplating sneaking in and somehow lasering it off while Bones is asleep, he realizes that he needs to let it go. At least, for a little while. Bones is going to do what he’s going to do.

Jim thinks that being responsible for saving the entire Earth should have been enough to convince Bones to let the tattoo go, but apparently not. Upon reflection, Jim realizes that the reason Bones saved the world in the first place is because he has an impossible time letting certain things...or people...go. Not every attachment is created equal, though, and Jim resolves to renew his campaign. At some point.

A month after Jim wakes up in the hospital in the aftermath of Khan -- after the initial shock, the deposition, and the first round of physical therapy that allows him to move into a shared apartment under the watchful eye of his physician -- Bones sits him down and tells him what really happened. That he wasn’t mostly dead, he was really dead. That Bones had stuffed him into a cryotube after a single purr from a zombie tribble and had told Hippocrates to kindly fuck off just one more time as he brought Jim back from the dead. That he wasn’t even sure if it would work, because nobody had ever done anything like it before. That he’d almost lost his license again.

“Third time’s a charm,” he says.

Then he looks at Jim like he’s expecting the postmortem existential crisis train to pull into the station right on time.

Jim, of course, misses his stop and fixates on another location. His eyes wander to Bones’ back.

“I made you violate your oath again,” Jim says, miserably. “I guess at this rate you’re never going to get rid of that tattoo. You saved me, you know. That word doesn’t belong there.”

“Oh, I don’t know,” says Bones, with a bit of a smile. “This time...” He clears his throat. “...In this particular case, I think it’s growing on me.”

“...No, not literally. Shut up, kid.”

#star trek #star trek aos #leonard mccoy #jim kirk #mckirk #bones mccoy #captain kirk #star trek 2009 #star trek into darkness #long post #i too swore an oath and that was not to write fanfic #let's call this a headcanon but it's on thin fucking ice #i can't believe a stupid joke about a tattoo led me to this angst pile #anyway hope you enjoy it #i should be grading #or sleeping #mckirk discord #@fireinmywoods thought you might like this one #sentence fragment party #cw death mention #cw euthanasia #cw swearing #cw tattoos

[shutupanddance]

hi guys :) here’s Spock responding to the reader getting hurt on a mission. Wasn’t asked for, but I found a really nice prompt and just started writing! The original prompt is from @prompts-for-every-need and will be bolded so that they have credit <3

- You don’t get hurt often. In fact, you were usually involved with keeping Jim out of trouble, so any injuries were related to that.

- But on one away mission, a group of planet natives surprised you, shooting poison arrows.

- You went down pretty fast, and Spock had to carry you to safety. By the time the threat had been neutralized, you were delirious. No one else had been hit.

- Ever the planner, Spock had Jim grab some nearby plants that might be the source of the arrow toxin. McCoy was not on this mission, so he’d need to bring something back for analysis. But he never left your side.

- Even though you probably couldn’t hear him, Spock kept whispering encouragement in your ear. When they beamed you up, he carried you to medbay, not allowing anyone else to take you in a stretcher or otherwise.

- Unfortunately for him, Bones took one look at his face and forced him out of medical. “I know she’s your girlfriend, but I don’t need you hovering over me.”

- Spock is shocked and devastated. He’s always cool and calm, right? Why should this be a problem?

- But after getting a glimpse of his reflection in the medbay window, he realizes that maybe it isn’t smart for him to be in there. He looks weak, and there’s a scared light in his eyes that he’s never seen before. That doesn’t stop him from wanting to be with you, though.

- Someone from the lab rushes down with the results from plant analysis, and McCoy exits medical to get them. Immediately, Spock is asking about your condition. Heart rate, blood pressure, temperature, he wants to know everything, and he finds himself even questioning if the doctor is doing everything right. Bones gets pissed.

“Give me a moment to assess her condition and injuries, then I’ll get back to you, okay?”

- The door slides shut in Spock’s face and you’re cut off from him again.

- The next time the doors open, he’s allowed to see you. You’re unconscious, and you look pale, but he’s happy to see that your vitals are looking good.

- McCoy explains something about the arrow toxin, but if he’s being honest with himself, Spock wasn’t listening. He was just watching you.

- As you recover, he’s by your side the entire time. When you wake up, he’s the same level-headed Spock you know and love, and it isn’t until later, at a party, that Jim tells you about how Spock “blew up” on Bones. You’re surprised to say the least.

- You never bring it up with your boyfriend. You know it must have been hard for him to experience those emotions.

- For Spock, it’s a sort of wake-up-call. He realizes just how much you mean to him, and it’s scary, but he also knows that he can’t hold you at arms’ length anymore.

- Cue wedding bells in his head (or whatever the Vulcan equivalent is?) he just knows that he needs to step it up a notch. Now he just needs to figure out a way to show you what you mean to him.

#star trek imagine #star trek headcanon #star trek fanfiction #star trek reader insert #spock headcanons #spock imagine #spock x reader #spock #masterlist

[sergeant-spoons]

Sugar, Through And Through

*All credits for GIF of Babe and Gene go to @jackharkness​.

Happy holidays, @jim-bones-spock​​, I’m your secret santa for @hbowardaily​‘s event! Since you said your favorite ship was BabeRoe, I wrote this fic with them and your preferred plot points: holiday theme, fake dating for the holidays, funny misunderstandings, happy fluff, and only one bed. I hope you like it!

Pairing: Babe Heffron x Eugene Roe

Word count: 3410

Taglist: @tvserie-s-world​​ @thoughpoppiesblow​​​ @victoryrollsandredlips​​ @now-im-a-belieber​​ @50svibes​​ @mgdln97​​ @josephtoye​​ @tina1938​​ @drinkwhiskeyandsmile​​ @ask-you-what-sir​​ @indecisiveimpatience​​ @whovian45810​​ @brokennerdalert​​ @holdingforgeneralhugs​​ @onlyyouexisthere​

"It's only for three days." 

"I know."

"My Ma and Pa are happy to have you, Christmas is always a big thing in our house."

"Mhmm."

"And they won't say anything awful or silly about you an' me." Babe Heffron twisted his hands. "Really, they-"

"Edward." Eugene Roe patted his friend's shoulder. "I agreed to this a week ago, you don't have to convince me again. 'Sides, we're already here."

Though Babe sighed, he seemed calmer. "Only the goddamn nuns call me Edward, Gene, you know that."

The door creaked open and a woman with frizzy hair and a wide smile appeared in great cheer. "Edward!" she cried happily, cupping her son's cheeks, and Eugene was glad she chose to shake his hand vigorously instead. "And you must be Eugene," she went on, still beaming, and led them inside. "Come in, come in! It's so cold out, and your father's got a fire going, Edward."

As they deposited their bags by the stairs in the foyer and hung up their coats, Eugene chuckled.

"I guess your mother's a nun?"

"Ah, Gene, c'mon." But Babe was smiling, and Eugene could tell he'd finally relaxed.

They started into the living room and Babe quite nearly collided with his father as he wrapped him in a hug. They spoke avidly of the things the younger of the pair had missed in his absence, and Eugene quietly approached the fireplace. Warming his hands, he looked over and studied Babe for a moment. He looked more alive than he'd seen him in a long time, more awake and more content.

"Oh, where the hell are my manners?" Mr. Heffron came over and shook Eugene's hand, more stiffly than his wife but not one bit unfriendlier. "How are you, son?"

"Well, thank you, sir."

"Edward tells us you're on the fast track through medical school, is that right?"

"Yes, sir."

Mr. Heffron grinned. "Our Edward's always liked the smart ones." He raised his voice. "Right, honey?"

"Sure, I think!" came Mrs. Heffron's voice from the kitchen, and her husband smiled fondly, bobbing his head.

"Aw, I've kept you long enough." He patted Eugene's shoulder and half-turned him towards the hall. "Why don't you go unpack? I'm sure it's been a long trip."

Eugene paused at the bottom of the stairwell. "Thank you for having me," he said, looking into the kitchen and towards the fireplace, and both the Heffrons smiled so warmly at him he felt a slight flush creeping onto his cheeks. Heading upstairs, he brought the two bags Babe had left, one his own, and wandered the hallway until he found the right door. Babe was standing by the dresser in a bedroom, staring at the mirror above. He caught Eugene's entrance in the reflection and turned, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. He was about to speak when Eugene realized why. The bed was just a bed: singular.

"I'm sorry 'bout-"

"This is a nice view." Eugene looked out over the street through the window by the door, depositing the bags on the floor beside a rocking chair. "You grew up in this room?"

"Yeah." Babe cleared his throat, then repeated the answer more steadily. "Gene..."

"Mhmm?"

Babe looked like he was about to say something very important, then quickly backtracked and chose a different conversational point altogether.

"My Pa was thinkin' you an' me could help string up the last of the lights, over the backyard porch?" A half-smile. "Our neighbor's been this old guy for as long as I've been alive, always likes to look at the lights but he never leaves his bedroom." 

"Huh."

"The windows face our house, so Pa always strings up some o' the lights for him to look at. Tinsel, too, if we got it." He gave a small nod. "So, d'you think-"

"Of course."

Babe brightened up and made as if to hug Eugene, but ended up only squeezing his shoulder with a slightly awkward hand. "Thanks, Gene. A fella can always count on you."

Yes, Babe, you can always count on me, Eugene agreed in his thoughts as they started back downstairs, but somehow, you still haven't realized why.

"Hey, Gene, take a look at this." Fifteen minutes later, Babe held up the tinsel, tossing it around his neck like a scarf. "I'm some Hollywood starlet. The next Hepburn, ya know?"

Eugene chuckled as he leaned the ladder against the side of the house, careful not to scrape any of the paint. "Yeah, Babe, I could see that."

"Hey!" A smile spread across Babe's face. "Ya finally did it."

"What?"

"Ya called me 'babe'." He grinned as he helped Eugene lock the ladder legs into place despite the snow. "'Babe'," he intoned as if imitating his friend's accent, and Eugene nearly leaned under the ladder to kiss him right then and there.

"Heffron, watch the damn ladder."

"Right, right."

Babe scurried up and down the ladder as Eugene held it steady, stringing up the lights with nails and a few tacks. One of the strands was blown out halfway through, and they only realized when they plugged it in for a belated test, so they had to start that row all over again. Neither of them minded, though, since they were having a good time. Babe started singing Christmas carols, and after a bit, Eugene joined in, a little quieter.

"Down through the chimney with good Saint Nick!" As Babe hopped off the last rung, he rubbed his hands together, shivering. "Jesus. The one December day the sun's out an' it's still fuckin' freezing."

Eugene took his friend's hands between his own and blew warm breath upon them, gently rubbing to stimulate blood flow. He could feel Babe watching him, but he didn't look up.

"You grew up around here," he murmured as he shuffled a step closer, "but you don't have gloves?"

"Oh, I do." Babe grinned, a little cheeky, tipping his head down to put himself in Eugene's line of sight. "I gotta say, Doc, this is better."

Back up on the ladder, Babe was humming again when he reached to catch the last of the lights on the farthest nail. He was leaning a bit too far for Eugene's liking, and as he declared he'd finally got it, he began to lose his balance. Abandoning the ladder, Eugene dove and caught him, relieved that the fall was one of only a few feet.

"Babe, my God." Eugene stared at Babe as they both caught their breath. "You gotta- you gotta be more..." He couldn't get out the word careful, with Babe looking at him like that. Like he might move his hands from around Eugene’s neck to his cheeks and draw his lips down to meet his.

"I made cocoa!" called a merry Mrs. Heffron, poking her head out the door. "Nice and hot for my boys, hard at work."

Eugene put Babe down, looking anywhere but at him or his mother. There was a wreath hung in a window next door, and he fixated on that until Babe's cold hand grabbed Eugene's colder one and drew him up the porch stairs. They shook the snow off their boots and rolled up the wet cuffs of their pants, warming up the closer they got to the fire. They were quick to claim the couch by the mantel once they'd gratefully retrieved the hot chocolate from the pleasant-smelling kitchen, but then took a quick detour to retrieve dry socks. Back on the couch, they sipped and stared into the flames, and it was nice. Nicer yet was how, little by little, they drew closer together until Babe had his arm around Eugene's back and Eugene's head had come to rest on Babe's shoulder.

This is how it should be, Eugene thought despite himself. How it should be, if this was real.

Though the not-so-faux lovers knew it not, in the archway between the living room and the kitchen, Mr. and Mrs. Heffron watched them and shared a smile. The former thumbed his suspenders as the latter clasped her hand to her bosom, and they crept away as quietly as they could as to not disturb the happy couple. Alas, less than a minute later, Mr. Heffron was distracted by the rumbling of a truck pulling into the drive and missed the counter when trying to put a glass of water down. It shattered on the tile, and Babe startled to his feet. Eugene nearly took his hand to ask him silently to stay, but Babe told him he should stay where he was since there would be broken glass, and then he was gone to the kitchen. 

Eugene sipped at his now-cold cocoa and wondered if he'd ever be loved by somebody as much as he loved Babe.

"Hey, hey, hey!" came a shout from the foyer, and Mrs. Heffron cried out gaily as she rushed to meet the newcomers. Eugene stood from the couch and stepped aside, out of view of the hallway, still preoccupied with his thoughts and not wanting to interrupt the happy reunion. Babe reappeared as Eugene was studying the family portrait hung just past the Christmas tree and wrapped his arm around his pretended partner's lower back. Eugene started to turn towards him, but Babe was looking up, up at the mistletoe hung only a few inches above their heads. Eugene flushed- he hadn't meant to stand here on purpose -then turned a little pinker when Babe kissed his cheek and guided him towards the foyer to meet two of his three brothers.

Dinner that night was a cozy affair, with the six of them packed around a small table. Mrs. Heffron apologized for the squeeze, assuring that there would be a second table brought over for the Christmas Eve meal, once Babe's other siblings arrived. As he passed the gravy boat to his father, James asked Eugene what his relationship was with his brother. Eugene hesitated, unsure how Babe would want him to respond, and then Babe spoke up in his stead.

"We're dating," he said, as simple as that, and reached under the table to squeeze Eugene's hand.

John, the third of the brothers, exuberantly cutting pot roast, declared that he was surprised, since he thought Babe was dating some medical student. Eugene's smile remained the same as he began to agree until John waved his fork at him and shook his head.

"No, no, some other fella, one from around here."

The tension that had left Eugene's body at the comfort of Babe's touch returned. Babe choked on his sip of water, dropping Eugene's hand. Awkwardly, his feigned boyfriend patted his shoulderblade, shifting his napkin in his lap. Mrs. Heffron redirected the conversation elsewhere, inquiring as to John's work at City Hall, and Eugene spent the rest of the dinner in silence. Babe shot him several looks of concern and/or apology, but he ignored each and every one, the misgivings swirling around his head too intoxicating for him to ignore.

After dinner and before dessert, they went upstairs, and as Babe brushed his teeth, Eugene sank onto the bed and leaned his head into his hands. He checked the rosary tenderly strung around his neck beneath his shirt and sighed as he fingered the beads. He was about to offer up a prayer to soothe his aching heart when Babe came into the bedroom, shaking his head and grumbling under his breath.

"It was one date," he harrumphed, walking all the way around the bed to face Eugene. "John was outta line, Gene, I-"

"With who?"

"What?"

"One date with who?"

"Ralph. Ralph Spina." Babe sighed. "Does it matter?"

"I just- I don't understand."

"Understand what?" He sounded exasperated, though not particularly at Eugene. "That I asked you to come along for a reason?"

"You asked me," came the quiet reply, "because you'd already told your folks you were bringin' somebody home for the holidays, but your plans fell through and you needed a backup."

Babe gaped at him for a second or two, then grabbed the stool by the dresser and pulled it over so he could sit in front of Eugene. "You think I wanted Spina here instead o' you."

"No, no," Eugene refused, though they both knew Babe had hit the nail on the head, "date who you want. It's not like this-" He gestured between them. "-is real."

Babe looked genuinely hurt, and Eugene nearly apologized but stopped himself. It was his turn to be right, now; whatever relationship they may have in the eyes of Babe's family was a false one.

"You're right." Babe stood up and kicked the chair back, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "I... I should go help Ma with the dishes."

They didn't speak for the rest of the evening, though thankfully, no one but themselves took note. Laying in Babe's childhood bed as the clock shifted to the hour before midnight, Eugene stared at the faintly-glowing numbers and listened to the shuffling of clothing on the other side of the room. Babe was changing into his pajamas, a Christmasy pair his mother had given him that evening after dessert, a pair that matched the very same she'd presented to Eugene. The covers shifted and Eugene wondered why he'd ever agreed to this fraud. He knew why, of course- he loved Babe, always had, probably always would -but why, oh, why, did this game of pretend have to hurt so much?

Babe slipped his arms around Eugene, just then, pulling their bodies together. Eugene's breath caught in his throat, and as he hesitantly leaned his back against Babe's chest, Babe kissed the back of his shoulder.

"I'm sorry 'bout all that," he whispered. "I'm glad you're here, Gene."

Babe's breath tickled the nape of Eugene's neck; Eugene couldn't find it in him to speak.

"If I could pick who was here in my arms right now," Babe went on, "I'd still pick you."

Eugene wanted nothing more than to roll over and kiss him silly, but instead, he curled up into Babe's embrace, and they fell asleep that way, dreaming of Christmas delights and each other.

The following morning dawned equally crisp as the last, and December 24th found Eugene and Babe seated at the kitchen counter, making a gingerbread house with Mrs. Heffron. John, James, and Mr. Heffron were busy bringing their elderly neighbor his Christmas tree, so the house was quieter. The music on the radio seemed a little fonder, though that could have been Eugene's opinion alone, brought by how he'd woken up. It had seemed the happiest few seconds of his life when he turned over just in time for Babe to yawn into his chest and mumble something in his sleep about loving the way they were.

"Goddamn," Babe gasped as he stuck out his tongue, "that's just sugar, through and through."

"It is frosting, Babe," Eugene reminded him with a small smirk, taking the piping bag to help decorate the roof, "I'm not surprised it's sweet." 

"Eh, it ain't as sweet as you."

Eugene snorted a laugh.

"What? What?"

"Sorry, Babe, but that was awful."

Babe took a gumdrop and tried to press it to Eugene's cheek in retribution for his teasing, but it wouldn't stick, so he ended up feeding it to him instead.

Eugene wrinkled up his nose as he swallowed. "How do kids eat these things? They’re so... fake."

"You oughta try my Ma's brownies, they're the sugariest things in the world- hey, Ma! Where ya goin'?"

Mrs. Heffron poked her head out of the foyer as she buttoned up her coat. "Oh, do excuse me, I keep forgetting to drop the Christmas card for the Guarneres off at the post office. You don't mind if I..?"

"Go ahead, Ma, we'll finish this up."

Babe's mother winked at her son and his supposed boyfriend. "Keep it family-friendly while I'm gone."

"Ma!" 

The front door was already closing as Babe's admonishment rang through the air, and Eugene took the chance to dab a bit of frosting on his nose. Babe stuck his tongue out and tried to lick it off to no avail, and as Eugene hung a candy cane from the gingerbread rafters, he grabbed the piping bag for his revenge. Eugene hopped off the stool and evaded Babe's first attempt, and they turned this way and that about the kitchen in an almost flirtatious cat-and-mouse. Babe eventually backed Eugene up against the sink and dabbed frosting on his cheek, and Eugene thought their game was over until Babe decided to kiss the frosting off. His lips began to retreat and Eugene would have caught them with his own had John not burst through the door at that very moment, asking where his mother kept the first aid kit.

Babe directed him to the bathroom and Eugene, against the longing of his heart, followed the apparently injured man. He'd cut his hand on the saw as they cut down the evergreen, he explained, and Eugene tended to him the best he could with the supplies in the bathroom kit. Babe watched from the doorway, teasing his brother about being careful, and John shot back that he sounded like their mother. They laughed fondly at that, and Eugene smiled. Mrs. Heffron was back, soon enough, and Babe met her in the kitchen. John asked Eugene to cover for him as he snuck back out the door to return to his father and brother and clapped him on the shoulder when he agreed. Eugene paused at the kitchen door, blocking the view of the hallway, and John snuck out.

"He's such a nice man," Mrs. Heffron was saying, "you'd better treat him right, Edward."

Eugene stepped into the room, wrapping his arm around Babe's back. "He does," he assured her, and as he shared a smile with the man he was utterly infatuated with, he found himself hopeful for the first time in many months.

It began to snow that evening. Eugene had taken up residence in the rocking chair in the bedroom, reading one of the seven local papers James had brought back that afternoon. Babe came over to look out the window at the falling snow. The faint music from downstairs grew in volume, Mrs. Heffron turning it up as "Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas" came on the air. Babe gently removed the newspaper from Eugene's hands and drew him to his feet. He began to sway, leading them in a dance, and Eugene was happy to follow along. Smiles stayed strong on their faces, and they stayed as near to each other as possible. Babe twirled Eugene and he tripped on the bedpost, both of them tumbling onto the mattress as a result.

Laughing, they rolled towards each other at the same moment, and they quickly fell silent. Eugene could see every eyelash, every faded freckle, every minute flare of breath from Babe's nose.

I've never been this close to you.

Babe reached a few inches over and touched Eugene's cheek. His palm was warm, and Eugene closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling. Even more so, he relished in the kiss Babe then laid upon his lips. They drew closer, Babe's leg tucking over Eugene's, Eugene's arms wrapping around Babe's torso. Their lips moved in a soft, sweet embrace, and it was so wonderful, Eugene was afraid he'd open his eyes and see mistletoe hung above, and it would only be the fulfillment of a Christmas tradition and nothing more.

"Ma's gingersnap cookies are ready," called James up the stairs, "so you two had better come down before they're all gone!"

Babe chuckled against Eugene's lips, turning his head slightly to kiss his cheek. "Should we?"

"Mmm..." Eugene tucked his head against Babe's chest. "Your call."

After a few more seconds, Babe slowly rose, and Eugene went with him. They kept their arms around each other all the while, and Babe kissed him again once they were standing.

"We'll go get those cookies," he decided, "on one condition."

"What's that?"

"That this-" He gestured between them. "-can be real."

Eugene couldn't have been happier to agree.

They started down the hall, and at the top of the stairs, Eugene grabbed Babe's hand and pulled him in for one more kiss.

"Merry Christmas, Babe."

Not even the lights on the Christmas tree could shine brighter than their smiles.

"Merry Christmas, Gene."

#band of brothers #baberoe #jim-bones-spock #band of brothers one shot #band of brothers fanfiction #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe x babe heffron #hbo war show #hbo war show one shot #hbo war show imagine #hbo war show fanfiction #secret santa '21 #hbowardaily

[waytoeden]

1.4: The Naked Time

ONE OF MY FAVORITE EPISODES!! they’re all drunk and hilarious

even the protective suits are sparkly dear god

this fucking idiot takes his glove off?? and then goes and touches shit with it?? AND TOUCHES HIS FACE?? what kind of scientist??

“be certain we expose ourselves to nothing” thank you for telling me spock after i took my glove off and put my hand on my nose and mouth

SPOCK IN THE BLACK TEE SHIRT!! thank god

bones don’t be a dick

cute kirk moment <3 “you keep wondering if man was meant to be out here. you keep wondering, you keep signing on.”

the briefing room has a sign on it that says “boyz only”

sulu trying to get his friends into his special interests <3 same

what’s he gonna do with a BUTTER KNIFE??

WHY IS EVERYONE ELSE IN THE REC ROOM JUST WATCHING THIS?? USELESS

straight up salt shakers as medical instruments

how did he injure himself that bad with a butter knife??

“why is this man dying?” let me take some time to reflect on it instead of trying to save his life

sulu wanting to do a “light workout” with riley…seems like a code

riley is so funny when he’s drunk “let the women work too! universal suffrage!”

spock is so done

SULU RUNNING AROUND SHIRTLESS WITH A SWORD

“sulu, who is at heart a swashbuckler from your 18th century”

WHY DID JIM TOUCH THE TIP OF THE SWORD

“i’ll protect you, fair maiden” “sorry, neither”

“take D’Artagnan here to sickbay” PLS theres so many good lines in this one

ILL TAKE YOU HOME AGAIN KATHLEEN

they throw themselves SO FAR across the bridge

kirk looks so done

“women should not look made-up”

ILL TAKE YOU HOME AGAIN KATHLEEN

scotty got a label maker

ILL TAKE YOU HOME AGAIN JANEEN

oh and of course chapel is only concerned about her looks when she’s drunk

YES UHURA YELL AT HIM

pls no i hate the tension they try to create between spock & chapel

spock in this scene is me whenever someone is trying to have a serious conversation with me

“i’m in control of my emotions” doesn’t look like it man

he starts crying when he says “six” and my dad said “it is a sad number” PLS

spock crying because he loves his mom

“when i feel friendship for you, i’m ashamed” “i’ve spent a whole lifetime learning to hide my feelings” this is so gay

jim slapping spock and spock throwing jim across the table

the vaguely sexist monologue about how the enterprise is JUST like a woman because “you can’t live your life. you’ve got to live hers!”

jim’s stance is so funny

mccoy ripping jim’s shirt open - either he’s really strong or jim’s shirts are made out of paper which honestly would make sense

“time warp” pls sing the song from rocky horror

“since the formula worked, we can go back in time to any planet, any era” a novel discovery but we’re never going to bring this up again

the message of this one is…spock is a sad drunk, riley loves karaoke, sulu should have a sword at all times, and kirk is misogynistic.

#tos rewatch #st: tos #tos #star trek #star trek the original series #spirk

[mybullshitsensesaretingling]

Familiar

Request: Can you write a Chekov imagine where the reader is hurt on a mission and loses part of their memory and they can’t remember any of the crew and Chekov helps them through it? Something angsty with a little fluff please?

Checkov’s knee bounced restlessly under the consol. He leaned over it with hunched shoulders. His jaw was tight. Next to him Sulu stared unseeing at the stars being displayed on the view screen. He barely moved. Nobody spoke. The anxiety of the bridge crew was almost tangible, an unwelcome passenger they picked up on the last away mission. 

“Jim,” Bones' voice came over the intercom, “the surgery was successful.”

A collective breath was released. 

“They should be waking up soon.” 

“Doctor, are they allowed visitors?” Chekov asked.

“Only one. I don’t want to overwhelm them.”

Chekov turned in his chair to look at the captain. “Permission to leave my post, sir?” 

“Granted.” The word wasn’t even half way out of his mouth when Chekov sprinted to the lift.

The trip down to medical seemed too long and far too fast at the same time. Chekov was anxious to see you and reassure himself that you were really okay. Every moment between him and you was a moment too long. But didn’t have the time to prepare himself for what he would say or how he would feel when he saw you. You looked so small and fragile against the machines monitoring your vitals. He swallowed thickly, frozen at the end of your biobed. He wished he hadn’t run there. That he had taken a few extra seconds to adjust to the reality of you being injured, but he knew that no amount of time would have truly prepared him. 

You were so still that he couldn’t help but wonder if the machines were wrong and your heart was no longer beating. But then you opened your eyes and he grinned, your name like a song on his lips. 

You looked at him. 

You blinked. 

He waited for recognition to enter your eyes. It never did. 

He looked back at the doctor. There he found recognition. 

Bones crossed the room, fighting to remain calm and impartial. “Do you know who this is?” he asked, guestering at Chekov. 

Your eyes flitted between the two men. “Should I?” 

He didn’t answer, asking another question of his own instead, “Do you recognize me?” 

You did the same, “What’s going on?” 

He shared a look with Chekov before stepping closer to you. “There was an accident on the away mission. What’s the last thing you remember?” 

“I just got back to my quarters after my shift.” You looked around the room and finally Chekov saw recognition in your eyes, but not of what he had hoped for. “This isn’t the Valkyrie's sickbay.” 

“No,” Bones tried not to let his sigh sound like one of defeat. “This is the Enterprise’s sickbay. You were transferred almost a year and a half ago.” 

“A year and a half?” The beeping from the monitor sped up as you took in his words. “You’re telling me I can’t remember a year and a half of my life?” 

“You just got out of an emergency surgery. You suffered a traumatic brain injury. We need to give your brain a little time to heal and catch up.” 

“So my memories will come back?” 

“I don’t want to promise anything, but given time and cognitive therapy many of your memories should come back,” the doctor explained almost reassuringly. 

“I will do whatever I can to help!” Chekov said brightly. 

You smiled at him but it didn’t reach your eyes. 

-

You stood in the middle of the room, staring at the unfamiliar walls. You recognized the gold uniforms in your closet and a few items that you had been putting in your quarters since the academy, but the space was bigger than the room you remembered, the window was on the wrong side, and the desk and computer were newer. 

“Anything?” Chekov asked. 

You looked over your shoulder at him and his face dropped. He tried to hide his disappointment, but you saw it. You wondered, not for the first time, just how well you knew him. How many times had he tried and failed to hide his emotions from you? What was he succeeding to hide from you now that you had forgotten how to read him? 

“That is okay. We just started.” 

Nodding, you sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a rock from your night stand. It was the perfect shape to rub your thumb across. You could still remember the mission you had picked it up on. You could remember who was part of the away party, the commands that had been given, what kinds of samples had been taken. You could remember all of that but not a single memory of ever having been in this room before. A room that was so clearly yours. 

It almost made it worse. If there was nothing tying you to this place maybe you could just start over, but being here, surrounded by your belongings in this unfamiliar space, you knew something had been stolen from you. How could you move on without knowing where you had been for almost two years or why this boy had stood by you every step of this excruciating process, looking at you like you hung the moon. 

“Is there somewhere else we could try?” 

Chekov’s expression brightened again at the tiny speck of hope in your voice. “Yes! Do you want to try now?” 

You nodded and got to your feet. You kept the rock in your hand as you followed him out into the corridor and on to the lift, needing the extra bit of comfort. 

The doors opened and again you were confronted with a space just slightly different than the one you remembered. 

Chekov leaned forward so his head peeped out of the lift. “Permission to enter the bridge, Captain?” 

The Captain looked back at the two of you, a small smile gracing his features. “Granted.” 

You stepped into the room, still looking at the Captain. He looked familiar, but you couldn’t quite place why. You hoped that it was your memory starting to come back, but you had the sinking suspicion that it wasn’t. 

“It’s good to see you up and about, Ensign,” he said genuinely. “How’s the memory tour going?” 

“Unsuccessfully, sir,” you answered.

“Why don’t you try sitting station,” he offered. “Mr. Sulu.” 

The pilot got up, offering his chair to you as well as a pitting smile you were growing sick of seeing. 

You sat down and were relieved to finally recognize something. The controls and readouts felt like a light at the end of a long and confusing tunnel. Your hands moved automatically across the consol. The layout was slightly different than that of the Valkyrie, but it didn’t create a hesitation in your movements, until suddenly you stopped moving entirely. You stared at the stars for a moment before turning in your chair to look at the captain, who raised his eyebrows at you. 

“Sorry, sir, but did we go to the planet of Gothos recently?” 

“Last week.” 

You nodded slowly, taking it in and allowing your fuzzy thoughts to start to take a more concrete shape. Your eyes moved up to Sulu. 

“You,” you turned to the navigator beside you, “and you were in the landing party.” 

They both nodded enthusiastically. 

The entire bridge crew was watching you, pressuring you to continue, “Um. Uh. Chekov and I were here.” You gestured at the navigator’s and your own station. “And, erm,” you looked at Chekov, who smiled encouragingly, and sighed in defeat. “Sorry. That’s all I got.” 

“No, no, that was good!” Chekov beamed at you. 

You looked back at the control in hopes that something more crucial would come back. It didn’t. You stood up and faced the rest of the crew. Most of them looked at you with a tenderness and care you had seen reflected in the eyes of so many you had spoken to over the past several days. Tears welled up in your eyes as the frustration of not remembering feeling the same way towards them got to you. 

“You should probably take over,” you told Sulu without really looking at him. 

“You did great,” he reassured you. 

You smiled weakly before going back to Chekov. He thanked the captain and led you back to the lift. He fidgeted with his hands like he was trying to keep them too occupied to do what he really wanted to do. 

“Next we should go-” 

“I,” you interrupted in a stuttering voice, barely keeping the tears at bay, “I think I’m done for today.” 

His hands stopped fidgeting and reached for you before going to his pocket. “Okay.” 

“I’m sorry. It’s just,” you looked up in your continued fight to not cry, “it’s too much.” 

“It’s okay. The doctor said it would take time. We will try again tomorrow. You did well today. You are strong. You will get through this.” He gave you another reassuring smile and you lost the fight. 

“I don’t want to be strong.” You covered your face as the tears finally started to fall. “I don’t know who I am any more. I don’t- I don’t know you. I don’t know this ship. I don’t know anything.” 

“You will. This is hard and it is scary but you have gotten through worse and you can get through this too. But it is okay to cry. You do not need to be strong right now. I will be strong for you.” 

You opened your mouth to respond but all that came out were sobs. Your shoulders shook with the force of them. You desperately wanted to stop but the harder you tried the worse it got. 

“Permission to hug?” he asked formally. 

You nodded quickly and his arms wrapped tightly around you. Chekov rubbed small circles into your back and murmured soothing words. You leaned your head into his shoulder and sighed. The action was so familiar that it ached.

#didnt think i was gonna get a story posted this week #its been exhausting folks #but my kid got sent home sick so i didnt have to work #hate to be happy that shes sick but a bitch loves a 3 day weekend #chekov imagines #chekov x reader #chekov imagine #pavel chekov imagine #pavel chekov x reader #star trek imagines #star trek imagine

[miracleonice87]

Thousand

a Tyler Seguin one shot

a/n: I’m back! Last week was busy for me and this one is, too, but I have three other WIPs coming up after this one within the next little bit, so stay tuned. also idk if anyone else watches One Tree Hill (I know Tyler does 😉) but his family gives me major Nathan, Haley, Jamie, and Lydia Scott vibes in this one.

summary: still playing for the Stars, Tyler is recognized for his 1,000th career game and celebrates with his wife (the reader), family and team.

warnings: husband and dad Tyler being cute with his family and becoming a slightly silver fox (I think that def deserves a warning); hint of a daddy kink lollll

_____

February 22, 2025

Dallas

“Mama! Can I wear my new jersey from Uncle Jamie? Please?”

You pursed your lips, fastening the back onto your emerald earring as you looked at your five-year-old son’s reflection behind you in the mirror. You turned away from your vanity to meet him at eye level.

“Baby, you should wear Daddy’s jersey tonight,” you told him gently, rubbing his back. “We’re celebrating a really big milestone for him, so he’s gonna be recognized out on the ice, and we’re gonna be there with him, remember? I know it would mean a lot to him if you wore his jersey.”

Luca pushed his bottom lip out just a smidge, pouting just like Tyler was famous for doing. You bit your own bottom lip to hold back a laugh.

“Okay. Well, can I wear Uncle Jamie’s next game?” Luca bargained.  

You smiled at his tenacity and smoothed your hand over his crisp white dress shirt that you’d laid out for him. You put your forehead to his and assured, “Absolutely.”

Luca perked up and stood a little straighter at your promise.

“Thanks, Mama,” he said. You kissed his cheek and said, “You’re welcome, baby. Thank you for understanding.” He nodded and turned to leave the room, presumably to pull a 91 jersey from the ever-growing collection in his closet. He stopped short and turned back to look at you.

“Hey, Mama?” he began. “Hmmm?” you prompted, trying to fasten your necklace and suddenly wishing you’d had Tyler put it on you before leaving — not only was he much more capable, but the way he always kissed the nape of your neck after securing the clasp made you melt each time.

Luca paused, smiling down at his sock feet before lifting his gaze to you again.

“I’m really happy for Daddy,” Luca said with a smile so sincere it made you melt. You were such a sap for these Seguin boys.

You nodded, choking back tears. “That’s sweet, baby,” you said. “I’m really happy for him, too.”

_____

An hour later, after dressing yourself, your son, and your two-year-old daughter, you pulled into the private parking area within the gates, Luca bopping up and down in his car seat, ever anxious to get inside the arena. The moment you unloaded both kids, they took off for the door to the arena.

“Luca Paul Seguin, slow down, please!” you instructed in your best mom voice, fumbling to throw both your purse and the diaper bag over your shoulders. “Hold onto your sister’s hand, bub,” you requested.

Luca smiled brightly and turned toward Harper, extending his hand toward his toddling little sister, who took it with a giggle. You finally caught up to the two of them and scooped up your daughter as you stepped onto the elevator, headed to the front office floor. When the doors opened, you were greeted by Tom Holy, the Stars’ VP of communications who had become a close friend over the years.

“Here are the real stars of tonight’s show!” he exclaimed, clapping his hands once, making you laugh. Luca ran to him for a hug and Tom playfully dusted off Luca’s little shoulders that now donned his favorite black Seguin jersey.

“Nice jersey, Luc! Hey, I gotta tell you, though, we have something else for you and your sister to wear tonight — if you want to,” he said.

You shot Tom a warning look as he produced a black tote bag from the reception desk, telling him, “You did not.”

He gave you a wink and said, “Do you know us at all by now? Of course we did.”

Much to Luca’s delight, Tom pulled two home green jerseys from the bag, with white 91’s printed on the back and sleeves and the “A” adorning each chest. But the nameplate didn’t hold your last name — instead, it read “DADDY,” with “1,000” printed below the jersey number. Luca jumped up and down with the jersey in his hands, while Tom handed the smaller jersey for you to dress Harper in.

“And we got a little something for you, too,” he added, reaching his hand into the tote bag once more. Your eyebrows shot up, caught off guard.

“Why me?” you questioned, feeling completely undeserving.

“Because, he says it himself all the time — he wouldn’t be the person he is without you,” Tom told you earnestly. “Tonight we’re celebrating all of you.”

He handed you a small black box and you froze for a moment before he extended it further, insisting that you accept it. You slowly grasped the box and pulled it open. Inside lay a pin nearly mirroring the style of lettering on the back of the kids’ jerseys, but instead it read “Seguin - 91 - 1,000,” encrusted in diamonds and emeralds.

You covered your mouth with curled fingers, attempting to steel yourself so that the waterworks wouldn’t commence just yet. You warmed inside at the incredible kindness of the gesture, giving Tom a hug.

“Thank you, Tom,” you said softly. “You guys are always first class.” He waved you off as you retrieved the pin from its box and fastened it on the lapel of your long black blazer, paired with a lacy camisole, jeans and black heels. You propped Harper on the desk to switch out her jersey for the new one, Luca having already made his own outfit change.

_____

In the tunnel, you had Harper on your hip and held tightly to Luca’s hand to prevent him from running to the ice and interrupting warm-ups. Your kids were used to standing at the boards where they could watch the guys drill and give their dad knuckles on the glass — where he could tap his blade in front of them each time he skated past. But not tonight. They might not realize it for years to come, but tonight would be even more special than watching their dad skate in front of them.

After a few minutes, you felt a hand come to rest on your shoulder — Jim Nill’s. You smiled at him and leaned in for a hug as he greeted you warmly and gave Luca a fist bump.

“And this little one…” he added, tapping Harper’s nose lightly as she grinned up at him. “She’s gotten so big. She’s too cute — you sure she really belongs to Segs?”

You laughed and remarked, “Pretty certain, yeah. If you saw her dramatic side, or how she is with the dogs, you’d see the resemblance.” It was Jim’s turn to chuckle.

Tom sidled up next to the two of you and advised you on how the presentation would go.

“So, we’ll roll out the carpet, and you guys will head all the way down to the end. Jim and Bones will follow. Tyler will come and stand next to you guys on the ice and then we’ll do the presentations,” he instructed. “That sound okay?”

You nodded and smiled at Tom. “Yeah, it sounds great. Honestly, I’m just a little nervous about holding onto these two so none of us fall on our asses,” you half-joked.

“Well, Gramma can help with that.”

At the sound of the familiar voice behind you, you spun around and gasped, while Luca exclaimed, “You’re here!”

There stood not only Jackie, but also Paul — the two were always willing to come together for momentous occasions in their children’s lives, especially now that you and Tyler had given them the gift of grandchildren, and you were grateful. You had had no idea that they were coming, even having spoken to Jackie the day before, asking her once more if she was sure she didn’t want you to book her a flight to Dallas.

Tears welled in your eyes as you shook your head, completely at a loss for word as they flanked you. You squeezed each of them tightly and whimpered, “Does Ty know?”

Paul shook his head. “He has no clue,” he responded. Jackie added, “And the girls are up in the suite already. They wanted to watch it all up there.”

You could only shake your head repeatedly, barely having time to recover before hearing the PA announcer ask the fans to turn their attention to the ice. You dabbed the corners of your eyes with your knuckle and passed Luca duty off to Jackie, keeping a hold on Harper yourself, as Tom smiled and winked at the five of you.

“Not even a warning, Tom?” you teased, sniffling. He chuckled and squeezed your shoulder.

“No way,” he remarked. “Your reaction was priceless.” You shared another smile before you saw Rick stepping onto the green carpet near the boards.

“Here we go,” you breathed, leading your in-laws out to the ice past Rick as directed, not without him stopping you to give you a kiss on the cheek, squeeze Harper’s hand, and pat Luca on the back.

You stepped carefully along the fabric-covered frozen surface, concentrating on a beaming Tyler before you, Harper already reaching her arms out for him as he waved at her. You knew immediately that there was no point in fighting her on wanting to be held by her daddy, so as soon as you reached the end of the carpet and gave Tyler a peck, you handed her off to him, Tyler kissing her rosy cheeks.

The crowd “awww’d,” but you could only concentrate on the dumbfounded expression Tyler wore upon looking up from Harper’s “Daddy 91” jersey to smile at you before noticing his parents only a few feet behind. Rarely, if ever, left speechless, Tyler was completely in shock.

Jackie came forward to reach for Tyler, singing, “Surprise!” as she threw her arms around his neck.

“Oh, my god. I can’t believe you guys are here,” Tyler finally said, his voice shaky. Jackie kissed his cheek and pulled away to wipe tears from her eyes.

“We wouldn’t have missed this for the world, son,” Paul assured as the two men embraced.

After thanking his parents, Tyler crouched down to greet his boy — practically his own self, in miniature.

“Cool jersey, bubba,” Tyler said, glowing with pride as he nudged Luca’s chest and squeezed his hand.

“It says ‘Daddy 91’ on it!” Luca pointed out. Tyler giggled boyishly and kissed Luca’s forehead. “It sure does, doesn’t it,” he said, Luca nodding.

Tyler stood upright once more, snaking an arm around your waist as you held onto Luca’s shoulders in front of you, smoothing his hair affectionately. Tyler then noticed your new pin, running the back of his index finger over it and commenting, “Wow. This is unbelievable.” You could only nod.

“You look beautiful, baby. But what, no ‘Daddy’ jersey for you?” he asked softly with an ornery grin, making your cheeks warm as you pushed your shoulder into his chest. You shared a quiet laugh and he kissed your temple, then the PA announcer turned over the floor to Jim.

“Stars fans, you all know better than most just how much this night means to our number 91,” Jim began. “We as an organization have watched him grow, both as a person and as a player, since his fourth year in the league. We have witnessed the way he has blossomed, from an outstanding young player into a seasoned veteran. Tyler Seguin has become one of the most prominent leaders of this franchise, and I know I can speak for all of us when I say that we could not be more proud to call him a member of our family.”

The crowd cheered, so loudly that Jim had to pause, Tyler blinking back tears as he squeezed your hand tightly and nodded to the fans appreciatively. Even Harper began to clap, making Tyler laugh and kiss her sweetly, sniffling when he looked back to the crowd.

“Tyler, we thank you for the role that you have played thus far during your time as a Dallas Star, we look forward to many years and celebrations to come, and we recognize you tonight for reaching another milestone in your career in the National Hockey League — 1,000 games. We are thrilled to have your lovely wife and your beautiful family here with us tonight to celebrate you. Now I invite our captain, your dear friend, Jamie Benn, to join us and present you with gifts from your teammates, then Rick and I will proudly present you with gifts on behalf of the organization.”

You had held your emotions together decently thus far, but when Jamie glided over to you with a huge bouquet of white roses in one arm and a small gift box in the other hand, you felt tears trickle down your cheek. Jamie stopped in front of your family, greeting you first. He gently grasped your shoulder and kissed your cheek as he placed the bouquet in your arms.

“For you,” he spoke. “Love you. Thank you for everything you’ve done for him — for all of us.” You nodded, reaching up on your tiptoes to wrap your arm around his neck and whisper a thank you of your own into his ear, Jamie smiling at you tenderly when he pulled away.

“And for this guy…” Jamie began, extending the black box, which you now could see was marked with the Rolex logo, Tyler’s way as Tyler wrapped his arm around Jamie, hugging him tightly, the two of them exchanging private words of gratitude. You swiped at your tears as you watched Jamie pull back to kiss Harper’s cheek, making her squeal with delight at the attention her favorite uncle was showing her.

You all laughed, and Jamie turned his attention next to his godson. He bent at the waist to look Luca in the face, his wide grin growing even bigger. Jamie held out his fist and the two engaged in their special shake and bake handshake, Jamie ruffling Luca’s chestnut brown curls atop his head as he stood straight again.

“Love you, buddy,” Jamie told Luca, extending his hand for a low-five. Luca slapped his palm and beamed up at his beloved uncle. “Love you, too,” he confirmed, Jamie winking at him.

Next, Rick approached and presented Tyler with a gorgeous crystal award, engraved with Tyler’s name, the Stars logo, and the date and statistics from his 1,000th game against St. Louis a few nights before. Jim gifted Tyler a silver hockey stick from the Stars organization to commemorate the occasion, and Tyler thanked them both profusely, hugging them as the PA announcer asked the crowd to now look to the scoreboard for a video tribute.

This was one part of the evening you had known was coming — Tom had arranged for you and the kids to be filmed congratulating Tyler on the actual night of his 1,000th game, in the wives and girlfriends suite. You had inquired about who else was being asked to be part of the video, and Tom rattled off the names of some of Tyler’s closest friends, current and former teammates, and most respected fellow athletes — his sisters, Freddy, Derrek, Marchy, Tom Brady, Rob Gronkowski, Jordan Spieth, Dak Prescott, and many of the Stars he had played with for multiple seasons all made appearances, including Jamie, who smiled at you as he skated behind you to watch.

“1,000 games. Did you ever think we’d all be here?” Jamie asked you softly as the video started, glancing Tyler’s way.

You, too, looked toward your husband, his face lifted to the Jumbotron, and you noticed the way his handsome features had only become more distinguished with age and the few grey hairs sprinkled near his ears and in his beard. He always groaned when you jokingly pointed them out, but you loved them — in your eyes, they told the story of his life as a man, his life as a hockey player, his life as a dad, his life with you. This occasion was just another chapter of Tyler’s dream come true — your dream come true.

You glanced back at Jamie and nodded, smiling. “Actually... yeah,” you answered, a hint of surprise in your tone. “I think I did.”

_____

Late that night, long after you’d put the kids to bed — with Luca having insisted on sleeping in his new jersey — you and Tyler lay cuddled up on the couch, wine glasses now empty on the end table, feet entangled on the ottoman. The gifts Tyler had received were propped on the mantle across from you, out of reach of children’s hands and dogs’ paws. Tyler kissed the top of your head, inhaling your scent deeply as you absentmindedly fiddled with the button on his loosened dress shirt collar.

“Are you happy?” you asked softly. Tyler breathed a chuckle. “I don’t think happy even begins to cover it,” he told you, smoothing his hands up and down your bare arms. “It’s more like… amazed. But it’s not even because of the 1,000th game.”

You rolled your head toward his to look up at him, meeting his gaze. “What do you mean, baby?” you asked.

He glanced at the new additions to his memorabilia collection and then back at you, the corners of his mouth twitching into a thoughtful smile.

“The ceremony was great. The best. I’ll remember that for the rest of my life,” he told you. “But what I’ll remember most is the way you looked, carrying the baby and just smiling at me walking onto the ice. And the moment I saw my parents with Luca between them.” Tyler’s voice quivered as he spoke, and you tightened your grip around his waist, laying your stomach against his to lean up and kiss his jaw. Tears shone in his eyes as he gave you a grateful look, pulling your hand to his lips to kiss your fingers.

“My career has been far better than I deserve,” Tyler added. “But what makes me the happiest is just getting to do life every day with you, and the babies. And my parents and sisters, too. I’m just really feeling blessed.”

As he sniffed, you pressed a kiss firmly to his lips and said, “Life with you is more than I could’ve ever wished for, Ty. Every day is like a celebration of the love you and I share. Everything else, like tonight — it’s just icing on the cake.” Tyler nodded, giving you one more kiss as he whispered his gratitude for you.

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[bearsinpotatosacks]

Poisoned- Bones Whumptober- Day 8

Completely forgot to post this- oops!

"When can we get out of here? This place is giving me the heeby-jeebies," Leonard said, taking a glass of wine from one of the servers. "Also the collar of this formal uniform is choking me,"

"The event has just started, Leonard, you should have more patience,"

Leonard gulped at the sound of his name on the Vulcan's tongue. Despite being together for over a year now, all three of them, the ways Spock could be suave still caught him off guard and made him blush like a dainty southern belle. He swore he'd said "Golly" more times in the past year than any other. 

"I know you don't enjoy these events, but they are essential to Starfleet's goal, and so far the Gowks have been excellent in their hospitality," Spock said.

Leonard hummed, "I'm just getting a feeling in my gut," he turned to Spock. "And my gut is rarely wrong,"

Spock scoffed and rolled his eyes, guiding him around the room. 

The room was plated in a kind of gold, with open arches and pillars. Walls were ordained with tales of mythology and tapestries. The Gowks were a strong race who worked hard and partied harder. Their endurance was better than humans, which was saying something.

"Perhaps their appearance is powering this feeling?"

"The fact that they have six eyes has nothing to do with it," he sipped his wine. "Maybe it's just that these things never go perfectly well,"

"Just because something does not fit a pattern, does not mean that it's wrong,"

Leonard shook his head, "You and your damn lessons,"

He gulped down the last of the purple wine and slammed it down on the broad wooden table. 

The lights swung over his head and his body started to waver. He stopped Spock as they paraded about the room and felt his breaths turn to pants. He turned to Spock and saw him become three, his hands drenched in sweat and head dizzied as lent against Spock for support. 

"Leonard, are you alright?"

"I don't know-"

Spock tried to lead him to a chair but he lost his footing and fell into his arms. The lights, once warm and welcoming, pierced his eyes like knives. His stomach swivelled as he managed to push himself back onto his own two feet. 

His lungs ached with his stomach and his feet. How could a poison work so quickly? What had caused it?

He looked around the room and followed the server with his eyes. Leonard had been the only one to take the wine. 

It must've been the wine. Maybe if he could stop the server then they wouldn't have too much of a problem?

"Must've been something in the wine," he said. "Spock, go and tell everyone to stay away from the wine,"

He saw the servee approach Jim, he didn't  need his allergies combining with the poison, "I'll tell Jim,"

"But you can barely walk-"

"I'll collapse later, go on," he swatted Spock away.

Jim was across the room, laughing with his angelic smile as the lights reflected his golden self. No. He couldn't get distracted by wistful thinking, not now.

He saw him reach for the wine on the shining platter. Despite his weakened state, he hobbled faster towards Jim.

"Oh, hi Bones, you look in a sorry state," Jim turned to the leader of the Gowk. "This is my CMO, Dr Leonard Mc-"

He stopped mid sentence as Leonard yanked the glass of wine out of his hand and gulped it down. He knew he looked crazed, with sweat running down his face and eyes half lidded.

With a now empty glass and a new wave of weakness, he placed the glass down and doubled over.

"There's something in the wine, couldn't have you drinking it,"

"That's why you look like that,"

Leonard nodded as Spock came up behind him, catching him in his arms again. He told Jim what had happened and that he'd alerted the others.

"I want a sample of that wine," he turned to the leader. "And I want some answers."

The universal translator changed what the leader of the Gowk said, "Of course, I do not know what happened, I too would like answers,"

Bones saw darkness inching in from the sides of his vision. He tried to focus on Jim shouting into his communicator but failed. His voice bounced around his head. Spock's arm around his waist and hand on his wrist was the only thing grounding him. Until that, too, failed. 

~~~

Beeping. That was the first thing he heard. He'd made it to sickbay, then.

Next, he felt the slightly scratchy bed on his arms and the hum of general conversation. He couldn't focus on a single voice but rather the bubbling life of his sickbay. 

He tried to open his eyes. It took him a few attempts to try them open. They seemed glued shut. 

Once he finally opened them, the light spiked him and prickled his faint skin. Jim was lying on his arms, staring at him with those dazzling blues.

"Bones! Good evening," Jim said

"Hello, Leonard,"

He had to stop himself from blushing just by the mention of his name. Spock was sitting next to Jim, blot upright in his chair with a sprinkling of a smile on his face.

"Wha-what was in the wine?"

"Apparently the sugar in their grapes that they make wine with is toxic to humans, you were out for two days while we found something to combat it," Jim explained.

"It has all been put onto the Starfleet database,"

Leonard hummed and felt the urge to sleep again.

"How's the ship?"

"Running smoothly as always," Jim said.

He tried to open his eyes as he felt them droop lower and lower. The thin mattress was becoming like a cloud. Maybe if he just got a few winks, he'd feel better?

"Go to sleep, Bones," Jim said, rubbing his arm.

"You need the rest, Leonard,"

"Okay, just for a little bit,"

He nestled under the thin covers, his body began to drift without the weakness or sick feeling in his stomach. The world shut off again, remarkably quickly for how long he'd been awake, and fell into a comfortable world of sleep.

Hope you enjoyed this!

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