what the hell jim the duck

It Took A Psychopathic Clown For You To Say ‘I Love You’

Gotham One Shot

Characters: [FEMALE] Reader x Bruce Wayne + Jerome Valeska, Alfred Pennyworth, Jim Gordon & Harvey Bullock

Warnings: Gotham spoilers, violence and blood

Request: “A Bruce Wayne imagine where the reader is his girlfriend and when Jerome is resurrected he takes her instead of Bruce. But then Bruce saves her in the fun house mirrors, beats up Jerome (basically what happened in the episode) and when Bruce and the reader reunite it’s really adorable and just make the end fluffy please. Thank you!” - Anonymous

Word Count: 1,814

A/N: AhhHHHH I’VE FINALLY CAUGHT UP ON GOTHAM !! (one shots are still closed)

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Just A Crush

Chapter 10: I Am Yours

Originally posted by yourfavoritedirector


Word Count: 5,623

Summary: Cas knows how you feel. He claims to feel the same way. Is this a dream?

Warnings: Mentions of nudity, language…?

“Dean,” Cas called for him. The older Winchester wasn’t expecting this call at all, especially right this very moment.

“Did she talk to you?” Dean spoke but didn’t exactly answer the question and Cas was becoming impatient.

“No,” Cas’ response was clipped.

“Listen buddy…, maybe you should talk to Sam about this. I’m not really… involved,” Dean explained.

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Request: “Can you do an on shot where Jerome takes an interest in the reader and she’s kinda working in the GCPD and works with Jim Gordon?”

A/N: So this is kind of drabble-ish, but let me know if y'all liked this!

Imagine being partners with Jim Gordon and Jerome taking an immediate liking to you.

_ _ _ _ _ _

You cast a skeptical glance at the young officer walking into the commissioner’s office. Was he new? You’ve never seen him around before. Your partner, Jim Gordon, has been gone for over fifteen minutes now, and with all the recent attacks, you can never be too sure.

Slowly, you slide your hand to the gun resting on your hip, something doesn’t feel right. Your head snaps up as you hear gunfire breakout. You hurriedly run to duck behind your desk, clinging to the side of it for cover. Millions of thoughts run through your head. What the hell is going on? What should you do? Where’s Gordon? Who’s staging the attack?

However, your thoughts are interrupted when one of the gunmen comes around the desk, and forces the cool metal barrel of his gun against your temple. You stare coldly into his eyes as if daring him to pull the trigger.

“Don’t shoot.” A voice commands from behind you. The gunman immediately lowers his weapon and moves away. You glance up to see your savior and your jaw threatens to drop. He approaches you, squatting down next to you.

“Hi gorgeous, I’m Jerome.” The redhead says with a wicked grin.
“I know who you are.” You respond, disgust flooding your features. Your hardened glare meets his joyous expression, and that only seems to make his grin widen.

“You see Detective,” Jerome reaches a hand to your hair, taking a lock and twirling it between his fingers. “I like you. I always have.”

Your entire body tenses up when he moves his hand to rest on your cheek.

“Y/N, you’re a good cop. You want to help clean up Gotham, I get that. I’m a bad guy, you’re supposed to lock me up with the other crazies. But how about we forget that, hmm?” Jerome leans in closer to you as he talks. You feel his warm breath tickle your skin as he utters his next words. “How about when I leave I take you with me, and you can tell me all about Jim Gordon and the GCPD? Maybe we’ll even have a little fun too.” Jerome whispers the last sentence.

His words seem to put you on a level of rage you haven’t experienced in a while. Fury fills your veins as you lift your hand and punch Jerome across the face. He remains frozen in place for a few moments, his head turned to the side as blood trickles from his nose. Suddenly, he erupts in laughter, wiping the blood from his nose as he turns his face back to you.

“You pack quite a punch Y/N. Although this conversation has been quite enjoyable, I am afraid that I have some other business to attend to.” Jerome states before rising and walking in the opposite direction. You sit there dumbfounded as he sends a sultry wink in your direction.

anonymous asked:

Imagine Bucky playing "I Spy" with the Howling Commandos and being suspiciously good at it.

They have time to kill.

That’s the war, in a nutshell. Kill Nazis. Kill time. Repeat. There’s only so much waiting by the radio a person can do, and there’s only so many times the rest of them can stand to lose their shirts (and cigarettes and chocolate) to Steve at poker. (Bucky laughs and laughs, and refuses to play. “He was sick all the time, you idiots. Do you know how many games you can play without leaving your bed? Not many, I’ll tell you what.”)

But the terrain is always changing, and if they were a little less cold or a little less damp and muddy all the time, Bucky might even be tempted to call the forests beautiful.

It’s a mild evening when Bucky settles back against a tree trunk, legs sprawled in front of him and his hands folded over his lap. He tips his head back and forth for a minute. “I spy…something red.”

“Dugan’s handkerchief,” Jim says.

Gabe says, “the coals.”

Dernier cocks his head, considering, then points at Steve’s pack. “The shield.”

Bucky grins. “Nope, nope, and nope.”

This goes on for some time, until the light begins to fade and Steve, chuckling, steps over Falsworth’s feet to poke at the fire. “You might as well give it up,” he says, turning over a log. “You’re never gonna get it.”

“Oh, and you do?” Dernier’s tone is sarcastic, but Bucky notices he sits up a little straighter.


“For god’s sake,” Dugan grumbles. “What the hell is it.”

“Red linnet in the tree,” Bucky and Steve say together. 

“Cheating cheaters,” Jim says cheerfully, while the rest groan and throw their hats at Bucky, who ducks easily, snickering. “It’s supposed to be a visible thing, asshole.”

“Hey, I saw it too!”

“You don’t count.” Jim pulls a battered deck of cards out of his pocket. “Go fish?”

anonymous asked:

Like I don't know if you're taking prompts or not, so I'm gonna leave this here before I forget. Instead of wearing matching costumes to a halloween party au, they accidently wear a couples costume to a halloween party au. (Mckirk)


The party’s in full swing, and Leonard can’t get drunk fast enough. He keeps to himself at the back table, trying to hide in the flickering shadows as much as he can while tugging surreptitiously at the stupidly short skirt riding up the back of his thighs.

Goddamn Perkins, Johnson, Orlo, and the lot of them for forcing him into this. He swears the straws for Halloween costumes were rigged; there’s no way that the other three surgeons managed to snag perfectly legitimate costumes while he ended up with the nurse dress. He’s already managed to break one stiletto and tossed the other under the table with its snapped twin, standing uncomfortably on the cold floor in a pair of white stockings.

Still, he has to admit, it’s a hell of a party. The pediatric department’s hosting, and the younger staff definitely know how to have a good time. He’s wondering whether or not to risk ridicule and venture out towards the fondue fountain in the corner when the door opens, spilling a slice of bright light into the dim room as someone slips in.

Leonard gives the newcomer a passing glance, then freezes and looks harder. “What the hell?”

“Bones!” Jim calls, struggling to reach him through the crowd. He’s wearing a lab coat that Leonard distinctly recognizes as his own over a set of scrubs, a stethoscope swinging around his neck as he finally breaks free and flops to a halt in front of Leonard. “What’re you doing back here, man, the party’s over there.”

“You-” Leonard splutters, suddenly overly aware of the air conditioning trying to blow up his skirt, and he gives it another self-conscious pull. “What the hell are you supposed to be?”

Jim frowns pensively and pats his chest. “I’m you. Obviously.” While Leonard’s attempting to comprehend that recent bit of nonsense, Jim’s eyes travel appreciatively up and down Leonard’s body, lingering on the hemline of his skirt and the plunging neckline that Leonard’s already managed to spill his drink on two times. “Jesus, Bones.”

Leonard swallows at the rough edge in Jim’s voice and decides he’s too sober for this. “I don’t recall inviting you,” he mutters, ducking his head and reaching for another plastic cup. “You don’t even work here.”

“They know me,” Jim says distractedly. “Christine invited me, because somebody wouldn’t.”

Leonard refuses to look at the puppy eyes he knows are currently happening in full force. “I live with you already,” he points out. “Maybe I wanted a night out.”

"No, no, I think it’s because of this.” Jim reaches out, fingering Leonard’s skirt, and his hand skims along Leonard’s bare skin. “You didn’t want me to see you like this.”

"Of course not,” Leonard says, flushing, and he tosses back the contents of the cup. When he looks back up, Jim’s watching him, his lips parted unconsciously and the tip of his tongue at the corner of his mouth.

“There’s a joke in here somewhere,” Jim murmurs, almost to himself, and he steps closer, his hand fitting against the back of Leonard’s thigh and pulling him against the length of Jim’s body. “About nurses and doctors.”

“Don’t you dare,” Leonard grumbles, shivering when Jim’s fingers slide higher, brushing against the edge of-

“Shit, Bones, are you wearing-”

“They came with the dress,” Leonard snaps, flustered, and he finds himself grabbing the lab coat, pulling Jim closer instead of pushing him away like he ought to do. “Jim, we’re in public-”

“We can fix that,” Jim breathes, his fingertips barely sliding under the hem of the panties, and Leonard exhales shakily before nodding.

Both of their costumes are irreparably ruined afterwards, but he can’t quite bring himself to regret the chocolate fondue.