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michaelperry · an hour ago
6. Tucking your head into their neck during a hug with Poe
based on the fact that some people -- hi @starryeyedstories -- read my last Poe fic and felt a bit of fear that Poe might not come back from his mission with Black Squadron, this prompt sparked a short lil sequel. so feel free to go read “brightest star” first, but it’s not crucial.
The original hope was that the mission would take two weeks, but when all is said and done, Poe is gone for a little over a month.
You talk every day, as you always do when he’s away--save for a three-day stretch, which he warns you about ahead of time. Vaguely, in the hopes that maybe you won’t worry much. 
(You worry anyway. You barely sleep, those days, until he calls in again and murmurs words of reassurance and love that more than remind you why you put yourself through this.)
But of course talking is not the same as having him there, beside you, at dinner and in bed and strolling down the halls and watching holovids and fussing on his x-wing together while BB-8 yells at him about everything that he’s doing wrong and--
No. It’s not the same.
Which means when he proudly reports, We’ll be back tomorrow, you are elated. And perhaps you find nonsense excuses to loiter in the docking bay, Rose having to kindly ask you to move off of more than one box so that the mechanics can get to some parts until finally you just offer to give them some help. Purely to keep you busy.
She laughs and shakes her head and says, “That flyboy doesn’t know what he’s in for,” but she also says sure.
Even then, it’s... what feels like an eternity later that the alert comes through that fighters are incoming. At once, it’s a scramble to make room for Black Squadron’s arrival and prep to dock the fighters properly so that they can be assessed for any possible danger. But you play no role in this part of the process, so you’re single-minded in rushing toward the front of the hangar, where you know Poe will be setting down his ship.
(All the better to take off at a moment’s notice.)
Consequently, he’s the last one inside, an alarm squawking as the hangar doors ease closed behind him. For a hint of a moment, everything about the scene nearly overwhelms you--the alarm, the fighters still powering down, the flurry of people, their chatter and shouts...
It’s all easier the moment you can make out Poe in his cockpit, grinning down at you while he pops the hatch.
And once he’s on the ground and pulling you into his arms, everything around you fades--at least long enough for him to squeeze you so damn tight. You bury your face in his neck, savoring the way he’s enveloping you, how solid he feels. How much more solid you feel against him. You even savor the musky smell of him post-mission, although your mind is already humming with teasing comments about how much he must be looking forward to taking a real shower again.
Poe manages to get the jump on you, though, when he pulls back and... well, for a moment it looks like he’s going to kiss you, until his lips pull into a wide grin and he laughs instead.
“The Resistance is turning you into more of a gearhead by the day.”
You don’t know what he’s talking about, at first, until he wipes at your cheek and a splotch of grease transfers from your skin to his.
So you smirk, and you tell him, “Maybe that means we both need to get a little cleaned up.”
He hums thoughtfully and glances into the hangar, where the rest of Black Squadron is loitering--Karé and Snap chatting amongst themselves, the others talking with their fighters’ primary mechanics. Looking back your way, his grip tightens on your waist. “I suppose we do have an hour until debrief.”
But before you can guide Poe off toward your quarters, he has pulled you into a kiss, and it’s when he pulls away that he whispers the word back; eyes closed and face just inches from yours. “Perfect.”
You know with absolute certainty that he’s not just talking about the idea of a quickie in your shower.
And so you smile.
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chromiwrites · 4 hours ago
this with acedeu pls?
one getting home from work later than the other and stretching out on top of them like a big lazy cat while they sit on the couch in front of the tv
There is late coming home, and there is lying like a cat, but it’s not the focus because I got distracted by other cute domestic stuff! But I hope you enjoy ♥ this can be read as a standalone, or it can be read as taking place after the events of Pyrexia (not complete yet).
AceDeu | G-rated | modern AU | 1680 words
The clang of the unlocked door first opening and then slamming shut alerted Ace out of the stupor he’d slid into, sitting upright with a jerk and a grunt. Kotatsu rolled gracelessly from his lap like a bag of potatoes, whining indignantly at the abrupt interruption – though he was quickly placated with a tickle under his chin and an apologetic coo from Ace.
“It’s me,” Deuce’s weary voice called from the front door of the small one-bedroom apartment, perfectly pointless yet wholly welcomed, bringing with him that unique sense of comfort and general fluffy, domestic feeling that Ace was quickly becoming both attached and used to. “Sorry I’m late,” he added when Ace didn’t reply, too caught up in sighing blissfully at the sound of his boyfriend, “did you already eat?”
Ah, another flutter of warmth in his belly, and another little smile across his face – but this time Ace cleared his throat, turning in his seat on the couch to look down the hallway for the source of his happiness.
“No, I hung on in there,” he said valiantly, knowing that his grin was translating into his tone. “I’ve kept the hunger at bay for you, my love; reward me with your tender kiss!”
And there he was a moment later, silhouetted against the low light still filtering in through the glass-fronted door; beautiful, tired, and totally, totally Ace's in all his wonder. What had he ever done to deserve this? This – Deuce pushing his hair back off his face as he bent over the back of the couch to kiss Ace, a smile pressed into a grin; the way he moved as they broke apart, licking his lips as if Ace were a flavor to savor and a delicacy to desire; how his eyes bore his smile also, betraying his own happiness to be back here, his home away from home, ready for a warmed-up late dinner of too much stew and potatoes that Ace definitely hadn't picked at when wrapping his bowl in Saran wrap.
“Now that's what I call a reward,” Ace whispered as their second kiss – slower, gentler, longer – came to a close, finding the curve of Deuce's jaw with his fingertips. “And I'm sorry, I lied – I did eat without you.”
“Then I retract that kiss and demand you pay me back twice over,” Deuce snorted, leaning back in to meet Ace's smile with a firmer kiss this time.
“Don't apologize for bein' late, babe, it's not your fault,” Ace chided gently a moment later, patting Deuce's cheeks affectionately, “but you know I would've dropped dead if I hadn't eaten on time.”
“Well, you're damn right it's not my fault,” Deuce sighed heavily as he straightened up with one last fleeting kiss and headed for the tiny kitchen, drumming his palms on his stomach as he went. “I can't wait until I've got my own desk in some cozy little community doctor's office rather than running around like my head's on fire on the hospital wards. I'll cover my wall with pictures of your face, and when patients say 'hey, who's the handsome freckled dude?' I'll be able to laugh carelessly and say 'him? Oh, he's my partner, the most gorgeous guy in the whole entire world,' and then they'll cry with jealousy.”
While still currently a junior doctor in his first year post-med school, it was encouraging to hear Deuce talking about life beyond his first two foundation years of grueling hard work at the behest of the more senior doctors around him. Whatever Deuce insisted, Ace couldn't help but worry that the next evening of unpaid overtime would be the tipping point, or a derogatory comment from a patient or another medic would be the final straw that broke him and he called it all off... so it was always something of a relief to hear him dreamily talk about what he hoped his future would hold when this stint finally passed.
But what was better than that was this new element that had never featured in Deuce's narration of prospective life as a primary care doctor – the one that had Ace's toes curling, his heart fluttering with a shot of adrenaline that made him sit a little more upright, alert, as Deuce noisily collected a spoon from one of the kitchen drawers.
“Photos of me, huh?” He said in his best attempt at a casual tone, holding out a hand for Deuce when he wandered back over a moment later, his dinner now warming up noisily in the microwave. “That'll a nice touch for your office... real nice and homey...”
Deuce's smile was indulgent as he took the hand Ace offered, sitting beside him on the couch. There was something about the way he looked at Ace – or rather, couldn't quite seem to fully meet his eyes – that was acutely endearing, transparent understanding blooming in his small smile, the way he bit his lip to try to hide it.
“Yeah,” he said softly, leaning into Ace's side, “photos of you everywhere, completely covering the wall behind the computer screen... I'll need the comfort of your smile when the bad days roll round, as they will do...”
“Shame it's such a long way away,” Ace said, laying a cheek to Deuce's shoulder and nuzzling in, deciding to direct the conversation towards a confession. “We're talkin' another four years from now at least, aren't we? If I'm remembering that conversation right.”
“Four years,” Deuce confirmed, taking Ace's other hand in his own. A thumb was pressed gently into the center of Ace's palm, tracing the lines there back and forth, back and forth, as Deuce went quiet, his mind undoubtedly full of a mess of jumbled thoughts and feelings right now.
Then, without warning, Deuce slumped further downwards until he headbutted Ace’s lap with a loud, exaggerated groan that seemed to be pulled up from the very depths of his soul. Wriggling into position to get comfy, he buried his face into Ace's stomach and wound his arms around his waist, forcibly reminding Ace of Kotatsu when the cat felt entitled to every drop of attention that his human could muster.
“I want to be a cat,” Deuce's muffled voice declared, his hold on Ace tight. “A cat with no responsibilities or patients who just exists to be loved and told repeatedly that he's cute.”
Carding his fingers through Deuce's pale hair, Ace hummed in an attempt to stop himself from outright laughing at how adorable this turn of events was. It wasn't like Deuce to be this forthright about his needs or to openly complain about his job; opinions were a different matter entirely, Deuce never one to shy away from telling Ace exactly what he thought about other people or horrifying news stories that filled his social media feed... but this here was rare. Rare, but thoroughly enjoyed.
“You're already halfway there,” Ace said, scratching Deuce behind the ear like he would to Kotatsu; the shiver, groan, and the press of Deuce’s nose into his stomach this elicited were appreciated, loved, enjoyed. “You're the cutest doctor there ever was, and any patient you see will be thrilled to have you.”
Deuce's disbelieving little sound did, regrettably, remind Ace of the time when Deuce had had the misfortune of taking care of Roger, Ace's father, several months ago. Roger had been less than pleasant, taking personal offence at being assigned a junior doctor during his vulnerable state, and had proceeded to make his feelings on the matter as public as physically possible.
“Well,” Ace corrected himself delicately, “almost any patient.”
“At least we get on well enough now,” Deuce said thickly into Ace's shirt, confirming that he too had indeed been remembering Roger and his many colorful insults.
The beep from the microwave sounded, prompting Kotatsu – who had relocated to the arm of the couch – to startle, resettling with a chirp when Ace petted his back.
“Dinner's ready,” Ace said, nudging Deuce, “c'mon, up, go feed yourself, Doctor Cutey.”
Deuce's responding groan was long and suffering, and he made no attempt to pick himself up off the couch or indeed move at all. “Cats can't operate microwaves,” he said when Ace gave him an encouraging shake of his shoulder, “let me sleep here on you instead... I don't need feeding.”
“No cat has ever thought the words I don't need feeding,” Ace pointed out with a snort of laughter, “so if you're a cat tonight, Deu, you're gonna get up, eat, and then let me snuggle you until you fall asleep. And also...” Ace bent down just low enough to brush his lips to the shell of Deuce's ear, skimming it with deliberate intent before he said, “maybe we can talk more about this four-year plan of yours? The one that has me there with you through it?”
That did the trick. With alarming speed for someone apparently so close to falling asleep in his boyfriend's lap, Deuce snapped up to look at Ace all wide-eyed and bright, apparently too surprised to even react when Ace's lips met his in a chaste kiss.
“Talking in a good way?” Deuce asked quietly, his nerves clear in his expression.
“Obviously,” Ace grinned. “Do you see me freaking out right now? Yes, in a good way.” Cupping Deuce's face again, Ace was pleased to find he responded to the next kiss with such enthusiasm that Ace's heart skipped a beat, felt like it was swelling to three times its usual size.
Yes, in a good way. The best way. The way that Ace had wanted ever since their first kiss; ever since their first fateful meeting, perhaps.
And as Deuce extracted himself from the couch and headed for the kitchen with a brand-new spring in his step, Ace used the interruption to fumble in his pockets for the newly cut front door key he had arranged earlier that day during his lunch break. His life-changing question didn't have to wait until their next day off together; Deuce would be asked to move in properly tonight, after all.
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theprincessoffrost · 21 hours ago
Of Buttercups and Wolves
Guess who signed up for a Fic bingo! 
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Prompt: Reminds me of you Relationships:  Jaskier/Lambert Rating:Teen Content Warnings: None its super fluffy yo Summary: Jaskier meets up with his love at a bardic competition.
Of Buttercups and Wolves
My first contribution to the @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​
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homeformyheart · a day ago
hi, if you’re still taking angst prompts, how about 4. “Get out of here! Just leave!” for whichever of your twc pairings inspires you?
thank you ginger for this one! (and for suggesting adina.) this one definitely got away from me and turned into a full fic because of the scenario I wanted to write xD.
author’s note: thank you for the request, @gingerbreton! writing in present tense was definitely weird, but hopefully the vibe i was going for still works. i was definitely feeling the angst in this one – an AU (to my AU i guess) where my detective turns but their immortal spouse dies protecting them. grab some tissues, turn off that sad music, and enjoy! copyright: all characters, except the oc detective, are owned by mishka jenkins @seraphinitegames. series/pairing: the wayhaven chronicles – adam du mortain x f!detective (regina bishop) rating/warnings: 16+; major character death, grief, descriptions of physical pain and violence/fighting based on/prompt: OTP angst prompts // 4. “Get out of here! Just leave!” (in bold) and inspired partly by “dancing with your ghost” by sasha sloan word count: ~2.3k summary: an all-or-nothing stand-off between the agency against the rogues and trappers threatens regina’s turning process.
forever is just a word
it burns.
every fiber and tendon in her body overflows with hissing lava.
melting the pathways as it flows through her veins and igniting everything it touches.
veins attempting to fuse her mutated blood with searing venom.
a scream rips from her throat and reverberates against the walls.
at least, regina thinks it’s her pain echoing around her.
she can’t tell over the thundering in her eardrums and the sound of seams ripping inside her body.
everything is a foggy haze except for the tears streaming down her cheeks.
her mind wonders if she realizes she is being torn apart and burned alive.
except her skin is icy to the touch.
not that anyone is around to know that.
the fire continues to roil and spread, inching up and across her body until it molds around her heart.
and pierces it.
her fingers fly to her chest to dig her nails into the center, breaking skin and leaving red-stained crescent moons dotted below her collarbone.
and then the cold creeps in, following the path burned before it and pricking her body with thousands of icy needles.
stitching the seams and tears slowly and painfully back together.
before the pain finally recedes and all that is left is silence.
and regina opens her eyes.
the fluorescent lighting burns white-hot.
the slow beeping of a computer is shrieking in her ears.
she’s alive.
meanwhile, in the thick of the forest near the facility
adam stands at attention, hands clasped behind his back, surveying the situation with a scrutinizing eye.
ever the soldier.
except his eyes are shaking with fear, dark pupils almost edging out the green.
he knows this could be it.
their last stand.
his gaze sweeps to his right and then to his left, shoulders tensing as he counts, assesses, and runs through the odds and tactics in his head.
“just hand the detective over and no one has to get hurt,” a sinister voice rings loudly across the clearing from deep within the mass of humans and rogue supernaturals.
traitors. in every sense, philosophical and physical.
outnumbering every unit, tactical agent, and combat-ready member – supernatural or not – that the agency could pull together at the last minute.
“we know you’ve turned her. this is your last warning. hand her over, now.”
the air hums and prickles with electricity from hundreds of charged prods and batons, as the rogue supernaturals ease into their offensive stances.
a few find their way into the air and into the trees.
adam bristles but feels similar sensations vibrating in the air from his team and unit alpha on either side of him. at least he’s not alone.
he frowns briefly at the thought that regina may wake up alone, when (and he refuses to think otherwise) she survives.
“what’s going on? adam?”
he whirls around so fast he’s sure lesedi and nate heard the air around him crack. he runs over and wraps his arm around her waist to hold her steady, and she briefly closes her eyes to ease the dizziness and sudden sensitivity to everything around her.
“you survived,” he breathes, relief evident in his voice and every line in his face.
she smiles and tiptoes to kiss him softly before pulling back. “i promised i’d come back to you.”
adam brings her into his chest and buries his face in her neck, closing his eyes and trying to fill his heart with memories of her heartbeat, scent, and body against his.
“you must go,” he says hoarsely before pulling away. “this is going to be a fight unlike anything any of us have ever seen. you have to be safe.”
regina steps back and surveys the clearing, eyes widening at the stand-off. she knows everyone can see her. every eye, every weapon, every formation, is trained on and directed at her.
her gaze meets farah’s teary-eyed and relieved one, morgan’s piercing and confident one, and nate’s sympathetic and fearful one to her left before her body tenses at the determined and soft looks from unit alpha to her right.
“this is insane. we’re incredibly outnumbered, let me help,” she says once her voice seems to return to her. “adam, i’m not human anymore.”
he pulls back to meet her gaze and her breath catches at the soft green of his eyes. “you have only just turned. it is too dangerous and i will not risk losing you.”
“i’m not leaving you. i’m not leaving the team,” she argues, the intensity in her voice matching the defiant look in her eyes. “you know i can fight.”
he takes a few steps away and begins to pace, fists clenched. he knows that at any moment the rogues can attack now that regina is exposed. his muscles bulge with tension and she briefly wonders at how his shirt is still intact. adam can feel the fear clawing up his spine, across his chest, and catching in his throat before he whirls around to face her.
“you do not understand how dangerous this is. get out of here! just leave!”
he moves in real-time until he is just a hair’s breadth away, canines protruding and eyes flashing angrily. regina blinks, a little jolted by the fact that his speed is no longer too fast for her to see. he grabs her arms and starts pushing her back toward the facility.
“it will all be for nothing if they get to you!”
regina almost recoils at the volume of his voice and the tormented fear in his eyes. she twists out of his grasp and grabs his wrists, pushing them down and away from her body.
“i can’t lose you,” she yells back.
he breaks – she can see it – his eyes fold and brows scrunch in anguish and fear.
she reaches out to touch his cheek. he leans into the warmth of her touch, eyes fluttering half-closed before he pulls away.
“farah,” he says, pulling away from her touch. regina looks over and sees elidor following close behind.
“don’t do this adam. don’t leave me,” she pleads, voice cracking and tears welling in her eyes.
“i will always fight my way back to you, my love,” he murmurs, leaning down to briefly press his lips to hers. she leans in to deepen the kiss, but he’s already pulling away. “be safe. please.”
gentle hands on her arms hold her back and her eyes widen in fear. elidor wraps his arms tightly around her, holding her firmly against his chest and no amount of thrashing or kicking can loosen his hold.
“no, i can fight. i’m a vampire now, too. let me go! let me help,” her cries are desperate and loud and adam can hear every word echo in his ears.
“i am sorry, detective. it’s too dangerous, even for newly turned vampires. you don’t have control over your physical abilities yet and that makes you an easy target,” elidor says, half-dragging, half-carrying her back toward the facility with farah following closely.
“farah, please, don’t do this. you know that i need to be out there with you all,” regina begs as adam’s retreating back gets smaller.
“this is beyond you, babe. none of us want to lose you. please trust us,” farah murmurs, gently stroking regina’s cheek with her thumb.
the two vampires hold each other’s gaze, an entire conversation silently passing between them, before farah gives her a brief nod and runs back to join the team.
regina’s knees buckle and elidor lets her fall to the ground, arms still wrapped around her shoulders. she can’t shake the feeling in her gut that everything is about to go sideways.
with loud growls and roars from every direction, the rogues attack first in a wave of shimmery magic and blurring movements. grunts and shouts from the agents fill the air, but it’s clear the agency is not nearly as prepared. commanding agents across units are shouting conflicting orders to their teams and the trappers make quick work of separating agents from each other in a second wave.
even in the frenzied mess of bodies, her vampire sight zeroes in on adam, fighting back-to-back with farah against a dozen trappers. nate and morgan are barely holding their own against a horde of demons and their prod-wielding handlers. electricity thrums in the air, snapping erratically at both sides.
with every group that falls, three more seem to step into their place. regina pales as she realizes that the rogues outmatch them in every way. they move in quick, synchronized waves and aren’t holding back. her loved ones are vulnerable and the fight is quickly converting the peaceful clearing in which she spent many moments with unit bravo into a bloody battlefield.
but then she sees unit alpha and agent fuller move with ungodly speed and with a series of quick, coordinated attacks, lay waste to an entire wave of trappers and rogues. they move to aid unit bravo, easily slotting into formation as though the units always fight side-by-side.
but their opponents still outnumber them.
and the world slows to a painful crawl.
supernatural creatures of all sizes begin to corner each agent and cut them off from each other. regina holds her breath as she watches tamiko and maaka get carried away by a winged creature, tane and lesedi chasing and leaping quickly after them while fending off half a dozen trappers.
she’s lost sight of agent fuller. which means unit bravo is alone again.
a pack of werewolves growl and snap at the vampires and her stomach lurches as adam positions himself in front of his team, angling his body so he’s directly in front of farah. the wolves shift and draw themselves to their full height, easily towering over nate and morgan.
and then they attack. she can barely tell apart the team’s growls from the pack’s, the wolves outnumbering the vampires five-to-one. and given that sunlight is still filtering through the trees, she can tell they’re not healing fast enough to keep up with the barrage of teeth biting everywhere. she keeps scanning the mass of bodies while holding her breath, trying to keep tabs on the team – and then she freezes.
a group of wolves advance on farah as she steps backwards towards where nate and morgan are fending off their own group until the three of them are surrounded. and despite the worry clawing in her throat for their safety, her eyes are frantically searching for the person she gave up everything for.
he’s fighting his way through a stream of fallen bodies towards his team. blood and scorch marks mar his pale skin, and his steps are heavy as his boots crunch through flesh and fur and bone.
a scream rips its way out of her throat at the sight of supernaturals advancing towards him, accompanied by a half-dozen trappers with electric prods crackling in his direction.
“adam, behind you!”
and then she’s running – not even registering that she broke out of elidor’s grasp – and the world blurs around her as she speeds along.
fire rips through her body, but this time, the pain spurs her forward and her vision tunnels, centering around adam’s fallen form.
rage and fear intertwine in her chest and expand outward into her limbs and an unfamiliar, feral cry leaves her throat as she shoves her body through the blockade, grabbing anyone attempting to stop her and tossing their bodies aside. she screams at the electric prods digging into her stomach as arms wrap around her limbs, but she bites down with her canines until the blood-curdling screams filling the air are not her own.
she tears the flesh of her assailants apart and they fall back, howling in pain and running in fear, their weapons dropping to the ground. her own body is a blur as she attacks each of the remaining trappers, pulling their arms out of their sockets and shoving them back deep into the forest, the resulting sound of wood splintering already fading in her mind.
the remaining trappers panic and abandon their attack, tripping over strewn bodies as the rest of the units push the rogues back as well. nate and morgan are sitting on the ground, breathing heavily as their bodies begin to heal but farah is limping towards her.
regina doesn’t notice. the adrenaline is already receding, and she collapses to the ground, the smell of blood and sweat filling her nose and leaving a metallic taste in her mouth. she crawls over to adam’s still body, tears streaming down her face as she realizes he’s not breathing.
“no, no, no, no, no!”
she throws herself over his body and lays her ear to his chest and fingers against his wrist, breaking down into hysterical sobs when she can’t hear anything. and she knows she should be able to – she can still hear the damn chirping of birds in the distance and the anxious thrum of the team’s heartbeats.
“no, you gave me your word. please,” regina screams in-between sobs, pulling adam into her lap and cradling his head against her chest. “you said you’d come back to me.”
a pair of arms wrap around her waist and hold her as she cries, murmuring things she can’t register into her hair. she barely registers nate and morgan lifting adam’s lifeless body, forcing her to stand and walk alongside him. her grip around adam’s shoulders only tightens and she pulls away from farah’s attempt to hold her up.
she doesn’t see the three of them exchange sorrowful looks before they move slowly towards the facility. tears continue to stream down regina’s face onto the hand that is clutching adam’s shirt as though it might make him wake up and reprimand her for ruining another one.
“you promised me forever,” she whispers, the rest of her sobs strangling in her throat.
from these OTP angst prompts (always accepting)
* * * * * taglist: @kelseaaa; @kat-tia801; @anotherbeingsworld; @crackerdumortain; @gloynporslen; @brooks-eden; @sosolenoo; @alyssalauren; @fhauvilles; @wayhavenots; @gingerbreton; @takemyopenheart; @pearlsandsteel; @winterkeys; a du mortain tag: @wolfish-blithe;
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michaelperry · a day ago
20. Washing their back/hair in the shower. with Nathan 🥺 (maybe reader messed up their shoulder or something and can't do it themselves ... or sumtin whatever)
send me a number from this list and a character that i’ve written for, and i’ll write you a lil something
oh i am absolutely in love with the messed up shoulder premise, you got it di
this one gets spicy! first it was supposed to be just a lil spicy and fade to black but then my muse Escalated things so definite 18+ only pls
“What if I just shaved it off for you. Wouldn’t that solve the problem?”
Given that you are stepping into the shower when he asks this, it already feels a little too late to make this proposition, regardless of how absurd... But what really makes it ridiculous is that Nathan’s still stripping. Like, if he’s still going to get into the shower with you -- which he likes, you know very well how much he likes it -- then helping you out a little bit shouldn’t be a problem.
“You’re not shaving my head, babe.”
“But we’d match.”
You don’t think this is intended to convince you—he just smirks, amused at the image. So you don’t bother to give him a retort for that particular response.
Instead, you settle under the stream of water and allow it to start soaking your hair. And you can play a good game; you take hold of Nathan and pull him close, so that the water can reach him too. Your arms settle loosely around his torso, and is that his cock in between you, already getting hard?
(Yes, yes it is.)
“May I remind you how I fucked up my shoulder in the first place?”
(Answer: sex with Nathan.)
He squints thoughtfully and hums to himself. “It’s all a little blurry.”
“Mhm.” You give him a soft kiss on the lips, and Nathan chases your mouth when you pull back, so that he ends up getting a face full of water that he has to splutter out just slightly because he wasn’t expecting it. “The doc said two weeks, babe. That’s nothing. Especially since we’re in here together so often anyway.”
He nods, his expression suddenly quite serious. “Right, yeah, speaking of...”
Pressing himself closer, seeking friction between his wet skin and yours.
“C’mon, hey.” You pull away from Nathan enough to reach around him and grab your shampoo with your good arm. You tuck it into his hand and wrap his fingers around it and look at him... almost sternly. But a hint of a smirk playing at your lips as you say, “One thing at a time.”
Nathan gives you a long look. Considering.
“Fine. Turn around.”
It almost takes you aback, how gentle he is when he cards through your hair with his fingers to ensure that it’s been properly wetted by the shower stream above you. When he’s satisfied, you hear the snap of the shampoo bottle opening, hear him lathering it up in his hands before applying it to your hair with the same diligence with which Nathan performs every task.
You’re also quite aware of the way he repositions himself behind you, his pelvis slotting against yours so that you feel his cock against your ass, nestled just slightly between your cheeks.
And that’s... that’s it, at first, Nathan just silently reminding you how aroused he is while he gives your hair a thorough washing.
“Lean back, babe,” he says at last. Back into the water, he means. So you do, your breath catching just slightly when you allow yourself to rub against him and he responds by thrusting a bit harder against you. But he doesn’t comment on it, and he doesn’t push it, at least not yet. Just rinses the water through your hair.
“Conditioner too?”
After his protests, you’re surprised that he’s offering, but honestly your hair probably needs it, so you say, “Yeah, sure.”
That’s where he starts to. Get a little reckless.
His mouth settles on your shoulder at the same moment that his fingers begin to gently work the conditioner into your hair, and the combination of sensations nearly makes you moan. You keep the sound back, save for a soft whimper in the back of your throat while you clench around nothing.
Nathan kisses you, like that, while coating your hair in conditioner and grinding against your ass almost lazily, and shit, if this is what hurting your shoulder gets you, you wish you’d done it sooner. Especially when his hand cradles your jaw from behind and turns your face to the side so that he can kiss your mouth instead.
You lose track of everything else for a moment, enough that you gasp into his mouth in pleasure and surprise when his his other hand settles against your pelvis so that he can touch your clit with his fingers.
It also prompts you to break the kiss so that you can say, “My hair, babe.”
“Gotta let the conditioner sit.”
Well. You grind instinctively against his hand against your clit, his cock against your ass, and you have to admit he has a point.
So you kiss him again, a little more desperate.
Both of you begin to rut against each other in earnest, breathing increasingly ragged while the water streams over you. You wrap your good arm around your head, clutching the back of Nathan’s neck tightly to get a grip on something, anything, and the gesture makes him groan into your mouth.
And the thing is that it’s been a while -- at least, as far as your and Nathan’s sex life is concerned -- because this is the first day you’ve felt up to doing anything since you hurt yourself. So fuck, it sure doesn’t take much for Nathan’s touch to start getting to you. For you to feel your walls rippling sporadically while he strokes you with great precision and pushes toward his own climax just by grinding against you. You both let out sporadic moans and it’s perfect, you think. Fucking exquisite.
Until suddenly Nathan is not against you, and his hand and mouth are gone, and he says, “Time to rinse, I think.”
Your legs are trembling and you hate him, a little bit.
But the hungry look in his eyes tells you that thankfully, he won’t make you wait long. That he wants to get you off, albeit after this hint of teasing. So you put on a pleasant smile. “Okay.”
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michaelperry · a day ago
15. Calming them down when they have a bad dream. - with whatever character you think could fit 👀 I’m a sucker for this prompt and trope
send me a number from this list and a character that i’ve written for, and i’ll write you a lil something
i surprised myself with this one and thought of Din almost immediately, so that’s what we’re going with!
The first time it happened, you weren’t even sure it was a nightmare.
You’d only been on the Razor Crest for a month, and Din -- Mando, at that point you could only bring yourself to call him Mando -- had only just begun to trust you enough to fall asleep around you for more than just a fifteen minute nap. 
Finally, he began to sleep deeply enough that maybe he no longer feared you would try to remove his helmet.
He began to sleep deeply enough to dream.
You were awoken by a fussy Grogu, and that was the only reason you were up and anywhere near Din to hear him whimpering—a peculiar sound through his modulator. His head was tossing back and forth, too, and all you could think was, I shouldn’t be seeing this.
You brought Grogu up to the cockpit, and you let the bright lights of hyperspace lull him to sleep, and when you returned to your own bed, Din had stilled again.
The second time, you were sleeping in his arms. You’d never before slept in his arms. It was pitch black in the Crest—that had been his condition, if he was to take the helmet off. Keep it off. A small price to pay.
At least it was, until you felt him twisting and writhing beside you and could make out nothing. Was he in pain? Were you both in danger?
He called out something in Mando’a, and all you could really make out was one word: buir. Oh, he’d taught you that one, once, on a quiet flight across a system while Grogu slept in your arms. Mother.
That was when you understood.
You grabbed his torso, aiming for his shoulders but landing closer to his biceps in the dark. “Din, Din, wake up. Please wake up.”
He jolted up so fast that you were lucky not to be on top of him, or he’d have accidentally hit you. When he called your name in a panic, you felt a twinge of comfort in spite of yourself; in that moment of anxiety and confusion, his first thought was of you and your safety.
“I’m right here, I’m fine,” you rushed to reassure him. “You’re fine, the kid’s fine. We’re all safe and sound.”
Din exhaled long and slow, and he curled up against you, squeezing you tight.
Neither of you said anything more.
You lose track of the times, eventually. Not that it happens often—and less and less, as he draws more comfort from you sleeping beside him. But it happens enough that he stops panicking at being shaken awake, and that’s its own sort of reassuring.
You wake up one night, though, and in the dim light of the Crest, you see a few tears running down his cheeks while he tosses and turns.
That night, he buries his face in your neck, and he confesses, “We’re coming up on the anniversary of when they found me. Everything gets more vivid around then.”
“At least you’ll always wake up here with me,” you reply. 
Maybe it’s not the perfect reassurance, not for those stretches where Din is dreaming of his loss and it all feels so very real. But it’s earnest and true and when he smiles, you know that that’s good enough. That that’s exactly what he wants to hear.
“Always, cyar’ika.”
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michaelperry · a day ago
ezra with #20 please!
send me a number from this list and a character that i’ve written for, and i’ll write you a lil something
20: Washing their back/hair in the shower.
this has me so soft already, oh my goodness. 
It’s Ezra who suggests the splurge.
You found an excellent score, and you get a good price for it, too, so, with about a day and a half until you have to leave, he suggests you find a nice hotel.
“How nice?” you ask, admittedly skeptical. You can count on one hand the number of times that you’ve spent the night somewhere that offered more than a room barely big enough for the single bed you slept in.
“Incredibly nice,” he replies.
You’re on the brink of saying no until he settles his chin on your shoulder and kisses your jaw. Affectionate and warm and stirring up a joy in your chest that makes yes burst forth instead.
Perhaps it puts an immediate grin on his face, but you’re still tempted to call it a mistake until the two of you let yourselves into the room and take in the splendor. The splendor of a bed more than big enough for the both of you, and rich, fresh food that’s certainly not gone through the wretched process to make anything space-storage-safe.
And then there’s the shower.
“Ezra, come look at this thing.”
He’d been taking in the view of the city -- also remarkable, admittedly, but you’ve always preferred the views from space -- but he turns and comes to stand beside you, letting out an eager laugh as the shower comes into view. “Kevva help me, it’s nearly the size of our ship.”
Frankly, you should have anticipated what comes next. The way he leans one shoulder against the wall to look you up and down. “If I’m not mistaken, you’ve often lamented the meager bathing options that you have at your disposal while we’re on the job.”
Technically true. You dream about showers sometimes from missing them so much. Pressure showers and sponge baths just aren’t the same. And something like this... you’ve never even let yourself imagine a shower like this. 
You can practically feel the hot water all over your skin, soothing your sore muscles...
Ezra’s eyes are shining, you can’t help smiling, and so you tell him, “Let me actually bathe.”
He does you one better—he stills your hand before you can even reach for the soap and murmurs, “Let me.”
You swallow hard, and you let him. You let him lather up his hands and go to your hair, first, hands curling into your scalp and giving it a deep clean while you sigh, and close your eyes, and lean into his touch like it is the only thing grounding you. You let him orient your head under the faucet to rinse, and you let him clear out the residue of the soap diligently, combing his fingers through your hair over and over.
You let him clean your body, his lips pressing to the skin of each limb, of each joint and digit as he traces soap over them all. He stands before you, dripping wet and touching you with care and love and when he’s rinsed you clean, his lips find yours easily.
“And you thought we shouldn’t stay here,” he breathes. The words are little more than a whisper of air against your cheek.
Humming softly, you reply, “I’ll have to find some way to thank you for talking me into it.”
Again: he grins wide.
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purble-turble · a day ago
How about Grandpa DBK and Wukong with Shan and Misc 16
At hearing his grandpa nickname be called, Wukong looked away from the peach flavored cake batter he was mixing. He was just in time to see a tiny red haired blur slam into his legs and latch onto him.
"Whoa, hey kiddo!" putting the bowl in his hands down, he crouched to get closer to her level. Shan released him and allowed this motion, but she continued to stare up at him with big watery eyes. "What's got you all upset?
The little half demon clutched at the Monkey King's pant leg, pulling at the fabric with her tiny hands as though she didn't already have his full attention. "Yéyé," she repeated, "is it true?"
"Is what true?" Wukong's head tilted slightly at the question
"Did you drop a mountain on Zǔfù?"
Wukong felt himself tense up at the question, "What... wh-who told you that?" then his eyes trailed up and noticed the Demon Bull King, the Zǔfù in question, standing just outside the doorway to the kitchen, smirking mischievously. Ah. Seems like her other grandparent was telling her old stories again. "Ha ha, well, uh... it's a little more complicated than that."
Shan narrowed her eyes suspiciously at him, clearly not buying his attempt to be nuanced. As expected from a three-year-old.
"You gotta tell me the truth 'cause I'm your granddaughter!" she demanded
The Monkey King let out an annoyed huff and glared up at DBK. The demon had turned his eyes away so his smug grin wasn't in Wukong's face anymore, but he was obviously trying to hold in a laugh.
"Uh, well, yes. I did... but at the time, he was- ow!" Wukong's explanation was interrupted by a teeny tiny palm smacking him in the nose.
"AAAAAAHHH!!" Shan shrieked and continued to slap at any part of Wukong she could reach, "Revenge!" she shouted, "Revenge for Zǔfù!!"
"YOU SAID TO BE HONEST, STOP HITTING ME!" Wukong stood up to get his face out of the range of her tiny hands. He turned his glare over to the doorway where the Demon Bull King had dropped his attempt at being subtle and had fallen into a hysterical fit of laughter. "Oh yeah, this is real funny!" Wukong went an extra step to get away from the furious baby and hopped up on the counter where she was just too short to reach him. "Turning my granddaughter against me, huh? You want me to tell her some of MY stories about you?"
DBK finally stopped laughing and stepped into the kitchen, having to duck a bit through the door frame, then he picked up the squirming Shan as she was grasping at the edge of the counter, still trying to exact revenge on her grandpa in the name of her other grandpa. "Now little one," his voice sounding authoritative, "remember what your fathers told you about hitting."
Shan stopped squirming at last, pausing to brush a few locks of her long red hair out of her face, "Bàbà says..." she said quietly, "hitting is only done to bad people."
Wukong paused, thinking he should probably amend that to 'all hitting is bad' but then remembered both her father's would frequently have to fight demons... so, probably best to let that go for now.
"Right," DBK continued, "And is Yéyé a bad person?"
"Hmmmmm..." she grumbled, looking unsure for a moment.
"Aw, that's too bad..." Wukong hopped down from the counter, picking up his bowl again, "I guess since I'm a selfish bad guy, it means I'm gonna have to lick this spoon all by myself."
"Ah! No!!!" Shan started wiggling again to be put down, "Yéyé is a good guy! The best!!!"
A few minutes later Shan was happily and messily eating some leftover cake batter as she sat on the counter, her legs swinging excitedly as each of her grandpas stood at either side of her.
"Well, not that this wasn't fun," Wukong said, swiping some dirty utensils into the sink, "but maybe let's leave out the old stories where we're fighting... Nobody wants to start that up again, right?"
DBK smirked at the suggestion, patting the nearby three-year-old affectionately on the head, "Don't expect me to lie to my granddaughter, simian," he said, "but in the name of peace, I will try to be more nuanced in my retelling."
"If you're gonna keep telling that story, you can at least be honest about how you've already gotten your revenge on me."
The bull king's only response was a confused tilt of his head as he raised one brow.
"Don't tell me you don't remember," Wukong smiled and pointed to the tiny red mark now blooming on his nose, "why, it only happened a few minutes ago."
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ifmywishescametrue · a day ago
hi! could u maybe do 24 or 38 from the kissing prompts for stevetony ? thank u💞
hi! thank you for sending a prompt, and I hope you like it!
#38 - relieved kisses
The words slip out by accident the first time. For just a moment, Steve forgets that they aren’t there yet. He forgets that this thing between them is still fairly new and fragile, because to him it’s the one of very few things he’s unwaveringly sure of. The idea of loving Tony hasn’t scared him in a long time, and in his head he says it often enough that maybe it should be more surprising that it took him this long to slip and say it out loud than the fact that he did it at all. 
In the last two months he must think it at least a hundred times. It’s what he’s thinking when he slides Tony’s coffee cup in front of him in the morning, mixed with just the right amount of sugar and cream, and he watches Tony slowly blink awake as he sips it. It echoes through his mind with every laugh and carefree smile, every joke whispered in Steve’s ear just for him to hear in a crowded room. He kisses those three words into Tony’s skin, into the dips of his hips and the hollow of his throat, and sometimes he wonders if Tony can taste them on his tongue.
The last place he intends to actually say them is here.
Steve is standing near the stove, trying to figure out what exactly it means when the recipe tells him to add a pinch of salt, while Tony is pretending to be helpful by slicing apples at the kitchen island. More are ending up in his mouth than in the bowl, and he thinks he’s being sneaky when Steve isn’t looking. 
At another crunching sound, Steve turns to give him a knowing look. 
“What?” Tony asks, feigning innocence even as he obviously chews on the apple slice.  
Steve shakes his head with a grin, returning his attention to the sticky mess that’s supposed to be turning into dough. “You’re lucky I love you or else I’d kick you out of the kitchen.”
The silence behind him is unusual, and Steve looks over his shoulder to find Tony staring at him. His hands are frozen, knife caught in the middle of the apple, and his eyes might be comically wide if Steve wasn’t so confused as to what caused it. 
“What’s wrong?” 
Tony makes a sound like words are caught in his throat. “You just - did you mean that?”
Steve frowns. “What are you talking about?”
“Did you mean it?” Tony asks again, more insistently, like everything is riding on Steve’s answer. Except Steve doesn’t know what he said. 
He has to think about it for a long moment, replaying that last minute, and when he finally gets it, he’s hit with a sharp wave of panic. 
“Oh, fuck.”
Tony’s face falls almost imperceptibly, unnoticeable for someone who hasn’t spent so much of the last few years learning him. “Right, yeah, that’s fine. Just an expression. I shouldn’t have assumed or thought -”  Tony cuts off on a shaky exhale and fakes a smile that Steve supposes is meant to be reassuring. “Just ignore me. We’re going to pretend that never happened, okay?”
Tony turns quickly, going back to the apples, and Steve knows he can’t possibly let the moment pass like this. 
“I meant it,” Steve says, and Tony stops moving. “I wish I hadn’t said it like that, but I definitely meant it.”
“Yeah?” Tony asks hesitantly.
Steve steps towards him and with a hand on Tony’s hips, he turns him back around. He tilts Tony’s face up to look at him with a finger beneath his chin. “I love you.”
All that panic fades away when he hears Tony softly say, “I love you, too.”
“Oh, good,” Steve says, smiling in relief. “I don’t know what I would have done if you didn’t say it back after all that.”
Tony laughs, pulling him down for a kiss, and this time, when Steve is whispering those three words against Tony’s lips, he makes sure Tony can hear them.
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stanknotstark · 2 days ago
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The first time Loki does it is after 3 months of being teammates. Loki pulls you aside and his eyebrows are knitted.
“Have you taken your medicine today? Did you drink enough water to counter balance the dehydration it causes?”
Ok first of all how did Loki know your meds cause dehydration, even you didn’t know that. Second, did he see you as a baby that couldn’t handle itself, what the fuck. You’re about to tell the God off for being so inconsiderate when you truly see the look on his face. It’s full of genuine concern but otherwise there isn’t a sneer or contempt, just worry and inquisitiveness. 
“Yes, I took my morning pills and I’ll get a bottle of water soon.” You smoothly say to placate the God. He nods and the frown of concern drops to a neutral look. 
“How did you know I take meds by the way?” You ask.
“Stark told me that you take anti depressants daily, what could happen if you missed them.” Loki says flippantly. 
You hum thoughtfully but leave that conversation in the dust. 
The next time Loki asks you it’s in the heat of battle. You’re both fighting off some new bots that Dr. Doom had managed to build. The amount of bots surrounding the area makes you wonder how much free time the man has or if the bots are made in a factory setting, either way both are concerning. 
You had been feeling a little off all day and there was something on the edge of you mind that you knew you had forgot but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was you had forgotten. Feeling off you had made a few remarks depreciating your body and even some vague remarks to the robots about ending your life. You hadn’t noticed Loki’s concerned looks but you had heard Stark’s concern when he asked if the both of you were ok. He was clearly asking about you but included Loki so he wouldn’t single you out. Loki answered positive then when you had taken out the robots in your section pulled you into an alcove and asked, “Did you take your pills today?” 
Bingo! You had forgotten to take your medicine! 
Groaning and face palming you told Loki, “No, I completely forgot, that’s why I feel so weird today.”
Loki hummed then his hands worked his magic and he had two familiar pills in his hand which he offered to you. You looked at him suspiciously but thanked him and took the pills. 
Later on when you were working your way through more robots you grunted from impact of your fist into the robot then asked Loki, “You just carry everybody’s medications on you or something?”
Months later you find yourself in a precarious situation. You’re an Avenger so it comes with the title and all but you were kidnapped. Some group that went by The Ten Rings, someone which Tony had dealt with in the past if you remembered his reports correctly. 
You were strong you could handle torture, Shield had prepared you for it, intensively. What thy couldn’t prepare you for was the deep depression that would hit you when you hadn’t taken your pills in a week. 
You’re on day 7 of not having your pills and while you try to stay optimistic you can’t help the small voice in the back of your head telling you the Avengers weren’t going to come for you, that you were alone, that no one liked you enough to save you. You would simply shake your head and think of all your fond memories of the Avengers, of a newfound family that was yours. 
Depression isn’t a reasonable argument though. Trying to argue with clinical depression is like arguing with a brick wall. So your thoughts became dark. The Ten Rings set you up in a room, you alone in a chair, crying, and a video camera in front of you. Most likely the Avengers were going to see this but your hope was dwindling too fast. 
“Please let me die, let me rest, they don’t care, they’re not going to come for me, so just kill me already!” You started softly pleading then it turned to a sobbing yell. Struggling against your bonds but giving up too fast. 
“I can’t-I can’t do this anymore, kill me, please.” You breathed out, closing your eyes tight and letting yourself fall forwards as much as your bonds let you. 
The Ten Rings stopped the recording and took you back to your room where you cried intermittently. You weren’t sure if it was hours or days that passed considering they had left you in a dark room but there was an unmistaken rumble from the ground. Then the walls started shaking and you could hear yelling outside your room. 
“Where is she?” A fevered voiced yelled above everyone screaming. It was only a few minutes longer then the door to your room opened and you squinted at the figure blocking some of the light through the doorway. The figure quickly made their way to you and kneeled next to you, their hand cupping your jaw and bringing your eyes to their green ones. 
You let a sob tear out of you and laid your head on his shoulder as he cut your restraints, your hands automatically curling around him as he picked you up and carried you away. 
Once you were back in the tower, showered, and laying in bed, Loki came and sat at the edge of the bed with a glass of water. Handing you two of your pills and the glass of water, he watched you take your medicine and smiled softly when you nodded to him in thanks, handing him back the water. 
Closing your eyes you sighed and fought the lump in your throat to say, “I didn’t know if-” 
“We never stopped looking for you, the minute we knew you were gone we were all on a hunt.” 
You swallowed and looked up at Loki.
“Did you see...”
You flinched but Loki laid a comforting hand on your head then began stroking his thumb over your temple. 
“You couldn’t help the thoughts, you had been without your medicine for a week, don’t feel guilty for something you can’t control.” Loki said, his eyes looking over you as if checking to make sure you really were ok. When they came to rest on your eyes you gave a small smile.
“Thanks.” You said with a big yawn.
“Sleep, I’ll come check on you in a few hours.” 
You tried to reply with at least an ‘ok’ but you felt yourself pulled into sleep before you could say anything else. 
@imagine-loki i forgot to tag you so sorry! Im not sure if this was your imagine or a submitted one but I really liked the idea of it and since im trying to figure out loki I wrote something 😋
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cyber-nya · 2 days ago
part of me wants to fix my masterlist up because i realize all my bad batch, puppy pack, and extra transmissions aren’t there but also
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browney3dgirl6 · 2 days ago
Prompt: AU to 2.01 where during the workout scene Eddie mentions Abby and Buck feels betrayed by Chim airing his private life to Eddie who is a stranger. He’s hurt and asks Chim why after he knew about the catfish incident and how violated it left Buck feeling. He then turns to Eddie and asks if he had a good laugh with everyone about how Abby abandoned him. This his Eddie right in the heart. Buck walks away and Chim realizes he screwed up bad while Eddie empathizes and maybe even falls in love
Read on Ao3: I Don’t Feel So Lost When I’m With You
Here you go anon! Thanks so much for sending me the prompt; hope you enjoy what I came up with 💙
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Touching 40 for Mac and Jack, please! :D
Oh thank you for the prompt - I do love some Mac & Jack! 😂 For Touching 40: patting them on the back
Mac slapped Jack on the back, the force of the impact pushing him fractionally closer to Phryne, who stood a few feet in front of them.
“If you’re looking for calm under pressure,” she reminded her oldest friend sagely, “you simply can’t do better than the Inspector here.”
Jack coughed uncomfortably at the praise. “Well,” he said, “while I appreciate the compliment, the truth is you won’t find anyone more suited for navigation than Doctor MacMillan.”
He placed an affable hand on Mac’s shoulder, patting her vigorously and causing her to move forward a few inches. “A skilled surgeon who daily and expertly operates amid the infinite complexity that is the human body? Surely the roads around Melbourne will be child’s play!”
Mac shrugged off his hand and took his arm, linking it with her own to pull him even to where she stood on the footpath. “Nonsense, Inspector! I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: you would be my first choice, and,” she continued passionately, “I truly believe you should be Phryne’s as well.”
With a pointed look at first Mac and then Jack, Phryne crossed her arms over her chest and rolled her eyes.
“Look, if neither of you want to ride with me to Queenscliff, you can just say so.”
Jack and Mac looked at each other.
“So,” they said in unison, before turning as one and heading off towards his car together.
Phryne dropped her arms and shouted good-naturally towards their retreating backs. “Cowards!”
Jack waved vaguely in the air while Mac sent back a rude gesture.
Shaking her head, Phryne laughed and jumped in the Hispano.
That’s fine, she thought, revving the engine and grinning; they wouldn’t arrive for hours now and she’d have ages on her own to plot her revenge.
Child’s play. --- Touches Ask Game
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songbird-wings · 3 days ago
Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Anakin Skywalker & Ahsoka Tano, platonic - Relationship Characters: Ahsoka, Ahsoka Tano, Anakin Skywalker, Anakin, Captain Rex, CT-7567 | Rex Additional Tags: Brother-Sister Dynamic, Ahsoka has insomnia, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Anakin is a good big brother Summary:
Ahsoka sufferers from insomnia after an intense battle.
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s1utspeare · 3 days ago
Hello my love!!! The writer of my heart !!! She who inscribes my bloody veins!!!!
Prompt from ~the word list~
Li Cu and whelve OR meriggiare ✨💖
WELL YOU GET FUCKING BOTH WORDS CAUSE I LOVE YOU I started this as a post-Sha Hai snake venom detox fic (which I’ve been thinking about since I watched the show, so that’ll be happening eventually), but then @cross-d-a and I were talking last night and she was like “HEY REMEMBER HOW WU XIE NEVER TOLD LI CU HE WAS DYING” and I was like “AHAHA FUCK” so. this. 
The door to his hospital room swung open, but Wu Xie didn’t yet know that he was fucked.
He expected to see Kan Jian, Wang Meng, someone coming to update him on the others while he waited for his lung scans to come back, or to tell him what had happened while he was chasing artifacts and desperate leads and crazy half-miracles around, but instead, standing in the doorway was Li Cu, and oh, Wu Xie was happy to see him. He had made peace with it, the idea that he wasn’t ever going to get to say goodbye—well, maybe he would have. Maybe, in his last moments, with some of the last precious words allotted to him by the universe, maybe he would have picked up the phone and dialed a number he had etched into his heart and tell his beautiful boy the things he wouldn’t have had the courage to say until there were literally no other moments left. 
He never had to, though. So instead, he beamed at Li Cu, who was wearing his leather jacket and tall, dark boots, whose hair was mussed from driving with the windows down. 
“What are you doing here?” he asked, cheerfully. Everything was wonderful, now. He was alive, they were alive, Li Cu was here.
But Li Cu wasn’t saying anything. He was just standing, just staring. His eyes were dark, unreachable, fixed on Wu Xie with the silent bite of a stranger. 
“Li Cu?” Wu Xie asked. “Is everything okay?”
Read the rest on ao3.  
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jeffersonshattricks · 4 days ago
Oh hey it’s me again!
I was thinking a fic where Bucky and Sam are arguing cause Sam did something reckless on a mission and Bucky freaks out but oblivious Sam genuinely has no idea why. And then Bucky accidentally yells ‘because I love you’
Pls and thank you!
{{ HELLO WELCOME BACK!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS!!!! I...LOVE prompts like this. And like... i know you just sent this but i saw it and had to write it immediately. It also got way longer than i expected, and there is some spicy stuff at the end, so there's that! Hopefully that's okay! I had no control! Haha! Thank so much again!!!!! I hope you like it!!!! }}
Word Count: 4,031
Warnings: Some light angst, love confessions, and some implied sexual things at the end!
Reckless Idiots Tend to Fall
Sam wakes up in the hospital,  his head fuzzy, pain shooting through his ribs like lightning when he takes a deep breath. He squeezes his eyes shut tight, trying to relax back into the bed without causing any more pain.
"Sam? Hey you good?" Torres.  That's the voice Sam hears. He's still grimacing through pain, he relaxes his body at once, making a noise like he'd been punched. He opens his eyes, keeping his breathing shallow.
"Do I look good?" He grumbles, looking at Torres. The kid gives him this look, a worried look that makes him look like a fucking puppy.
"Honestly you probably look better than you feel." He says, fingers drumming on his knee.
"Yeah. Well you look nervous." Sam watches the kid flinch and glance at the door.
"I'm not nervous. I'm just on edge. Totally different." He says, eyes moving to the door and back again. Sam looks to the door slowly, expecting to see someone standing there, maybe someone watching them, there's no one there.
"Why are you on edge?" Sam asks, his palms pressing flat agaisnt the bed, he wants to move desperately, but he knows it'll hurt.
"Nothing it's just... Bucky." Torres says, quietly, like he doesn't want to be over heard, like he doesn't want to be saying it at all. Sam's stomach drops.
"What about Bucky? Is he okay?" Sam asked, keeping his voice impressively level for the amount fear turing his blood to ice at the moment. Torres' eyes widen and he raises his hands.
"Oh he's fine! Oh my god I'm sorry, no. He's- he's good he's fine, he's just... grumpy." Torres says, his voice going low again, like he might be heard through the walls. Sam blinks hard, his head still fuzzy from the meds, and looks around the room slowly, finally realizing that Bucky is nowhere to be seen.
"Is he here?" Sam asks, praying that he doesn't sound as hopeful as he feels. But Torres gives him those puppy dog eyes again and he knows he failed.
"Yeah. He just went to get some air I think. And maybe some water. He said he was thristy, kinda mumbled it. I asked him to bring me one, but I don't think he will. I don't think he likes me very much." The kid was rambling, if Sam's chest wasn't full of fire he'd have laughed at him.
"He likes you fine. He's just... like that." Sam says, moving his shoulders slowly, shrugging. Torres smiles at him and nods.
"That's fair. He's been through a lot." Sam smiles, Torres was mainly talking to himself now.
"Yes. He has." Sam sighs, resting his head back on his pillow. He tires to do some mental calculations, of his pain, but also of what had happened. He couldn't remember it very clearly. He remembers catching the little kid that had almost fallen, remembers nearly throwing them back up onto the building. And he remembers falling. The wind rushing in his ears as he fell through the dark. His wings had stopped working.
"I fell." Sam whispers, looking at Torres.
"Yeah. You did. For a little bit. You don't remember what happened?" His brow was furrowed with concern. Sam shook his head and almost yelled, pain stabbed at his head when he moved. Sam moved his hand up, feeling the bandage wrapped there.
"Jesus." He breathed, moving his hand down, and turning his head, slowly, to look at his friend.
"Tell me what happened." Sam said. Torres nodded and wiggled his chair forward a bit, the metal legs scraping on the tile making them both wince. Torres talked, and Sam listened. His heart pounding in his chest as he recounted the details.
Sam had fallen, hitting his head on the way down. And Bucky had jumped after him. No wings, no way to catch him really, but he'd jumped. And he'd caught him. He'd slammed into him mid air, wrapped one arm around Sam's middle, and he'd reached out with the other. His metal hand finding purchase on the building they'd been on top of seconds before. Torres had watched as Bucky's metal fingers had ripped into the side of the building, sliding down it, sending sparks flying, Sam held close to him as the ground approached. Torres had dove, and made it to them just in time to slow them down, lifting them both just enough to set them gently... ish, on the ground.
Sam stared at Torres. His heart pounding, his ears ringing, not knowing what to say. Torres looked back, that sad look on his face.
"He broke three of your ribs, but he saved you." Torres finally said, offering something else for Sam to react to.
"He jumped off the building." Sam said, not sure if it was a question or not. Torres nodded at him.
"He dove off. Like a swan dive. He has good form." Torres said, smiling. His face dropped into one of contemplation.
"Hey isn't he afraid of heights?" Torres asked as the door to Sam's room opened, and Bucky walked in, freezing in place when he sees Sam is awake.
"Yes, yes he is." Sam says, no longer looking at Torres.
"Yes who is what?" Bucky mumbled, his brow furrowed as he stared at Sam.
"Nothing." They both responded. Bucky's eyes moved to look at Torres, who looked at the floor immediately, his cheeks flushing, looking like a child who's just been caught causing trouble. And then his eyes were on Sam again. He stared for a moment and then narrowed his eyes.
"How do you feel?" He asked, his voice low, and there was something else there too, in his voice, Sam wasn't completely sure but he thought he sounded... mad?
"Okay I guess. My chest hurts. And my head. But I'm sure I'll live." Sam huffed, trying a small laugh and a smile. Bucky nodded once, his jaw clenching.
"This time." He says, his voice cold, and Sam watches him turn on his heel and walk out of the room again. The door slams closed and Sam flinches, grimacing from the pain it invites. He stares at the door for a long time before moving his eyes back to Torres. And fuck, he's got that sad fucking look again.
"Told you he was grumpy." Torres says, giving Sam an awkward smile, his lips pressed together.
"Yeah." Sam sighs, not knowing what else to say. Bucky hadn't looked at him like in a long time, and he definitely hadn't spoken to him that way. Sam wasn't sure he'd ever spoken to him like that. His voice had been so cold. And his eyes, they'd been dark. But despite those things, there had been some deep emotion behind his eyes, something he was holding back. Sam groaned and closed his own eyes. Knowing Torres was watching over him, he let himself fall into the dark once more.
He was in the hospital for a week. His doctors monitoring his head wound with care, and making sure his ribs didn't shift to any dangerous positions. Bucky didn't come back.
His room was always bustling though, doctors and nurses and Torres and Sarah and his nephews, but never Bucky. Not once.
Sarah picked him up on friday evening, asking if he'd come by. She accepted Sam's silence as an answer and didn't ask him again. They pulled up in front of her house and Sam frowned.
"There's someone in the kitchen. The boys aren't allowed to cook by themselves anymore." Sam mused, side eyeing his sister. She sighed and looked at him, her hand going to his shoulder.
"Don't be mad. And be nice. There's no fighting over dinner in this house. You remember that." She slapped his shoulder playfully and got out. Sam followed her slowly, his ribs aching, his heart pounding in his chest as he peeked in the window, the blinds were drawn but it didn't matter. He knew that silhouette. Knew those shoulders.
Sarah opened the door for him and the sounds of laughter hit him, spreading warmth further in his chest. The boys were clearly laughing at something Bucky had said. Sam breathed in heavily and almost stumbled, something smelled delicious.
"We're home! Be gentle." Sarah called and then admonished as the boys began to run to him, Bucky caught Cass around the middle easily and held him up. AJ had stopped rushing forward on his own. Bucky set the boy back down, not looking at Sam.
"Go wash your hands before dinner." He said, patting the boy's back twice, smiling at them as they both moved toward the sink.
"Smells good." Sarah said, moving to the table to look over the food that was already set out there. Sam's head was swimming, Bucky had a towel thrown over his shoulder, and he looked, comfortable. Or he did, until Sam took a step toward him. His eyes moved to Sam finally and they still had that look. Sam hadn't see him in a week and he was still glaring at him. He could feel Sarah's eyes on them, so he took a deep breath and moved a step back.
He felt, odd. Out of sorts. In his sisters kitchen. He just wanted to talk to Bucky, alone, figured out what the hell was going on. But the boys ran to the table, bumping into each other as they went, and the moment was over. Sam shook his head gently and watched Bucky peek into the over before grabbing the towel from his shoulder. He wiped at his hands and sighed.
"This needs about ten more minutes Sarah." He said.
"You leaving?" She asked, but Sam knew that voice, she'd known he would leave, but she sounded disappointed anyway. The boys settled into their chairs with a chorus of boo's, Bucky nodded, walking past Sam with a glance and a tight lipped smile.
"Yeah. Don't think I'll be very good company tonight." He mumbled into her shoulder as she pulled him close.
"Okay well," she paused, giving him a squeeze before letting him go.
"Thanks for watchin the boys, and makin dinner." She said, patting his cheek.
"Boys what do say?" She prompted, turning to look at them.
"Thank you Bucky!"
"Thanks for dinner!" They chimed at the same time, talking over each other.
"Hey anytime." He said with a laugh, walking past them and dodging a few punches, he paused at the door, looking at all of them
"Welcome back. Enjoy your dinner." He said, his smile much warmer now, and there was, sadness, in his eyes.
"Thanks." Sam mumbled, stilling feeling lost in his sisters kitchen. Sarah waved and closed the door behind Bucky. She moved her eyes to Sam. And stared at him. She moved her hand back to the door knob.
"You're going after-"
"I'm gonna go after him." Sam finsihed,  walking out the door she opened for him. He rolled his eyes at her smug smile and cheeky whispered "Good luck."
"Hey." Sam said to Bucky retreating figure. Bucky didn't stop.
"Hey!" Sam called louder, starting after him, not moving very quickly as nearly every step sent pain shooting through him. Bucky kept walking.
"Would you wait a damn minute man!?" He yelled, grimacing in pain as he kept going. Bucky stopped. But didn't turn around.
"Go back inside Sam. Just go eat." He said over his shoulder.
"Not until you tell me what the hell is going on." Sam said, hobbling closer still, he could see the tention making Bucky's shoulders bunch.
"Nothins goin on man. I'm just tired. Those kids got a lotta energy ya know." He was aiming for nonchalant and noncommittal. He missed by a mile.
"Bucky." Sam said, no answer.
"Just," Sam swallowed hard, the lump in his throat starting to burn.
"Just tell me what I did wrong man. Cuz clearly it was something." Sam said, his voice pleading. And had he done something wrong? He wasn't sure. Bucky was... touchy,  about a lot of things. Sam took a startled step back as Bucky rounded on him, his eyes shining.
"What you did wrong?" He asked, incredulous. Sam nodded, not trusting any words to make it past the fire in his throat.
"Jumped off a goddamn building. When you knew, you knew, your wings weren't working." Bucky growled, Sam heard his metal arm hum and saw his fists clenched at his sides.
"You caught me." Sam said, a bit dumbly. Bucky's jaw clenched and he took a step forward.
"Barely." Bucky breathed, his voice low.
"And that went well. You're fuckin ribs are broken. And what if i hadn't? Huh? If I hadn't caught you, where the fuck would you be then?" He asked, his lips curled in a snarl. Sam had never seen him this angry. He swallowed, his heart pounding in his ears.
"Torres was there. He'd have caught me." He reasoned, finding it hard to look away from Bucky's intense stare.
"Yeah? Maybe not. I slowed you down and he just barley made it to us. He was too fucking far away. And you shouldn't have fucking jumped." He said, his finger poking into Sam's shoulder.
"Alright look, I see what you're gettin at man, but that's the job. And he did catch us." Sam said, trying to reach out to Bucky, to put his hand on his shoulder, try to bring him back down. Bucky pushed his hand away.
"That's not the fucking point." He spat, rolling his eyes and turning away from Sam.
"Then what is the point? Help me understand." Sam said, doing his best to keep the tremor in his voice at bay.
"The point? You," he turned back toward Sam quickly,
"Need to stop being so goddamn reckless." Bucky said, his chest was rising and falling quickly now, like he'd just been running. Sam was so fucking confused. Recklessness was basically half of their job.
"I need to stop being reckless? You jumped of that roof too Buck. Just dove right off." Sam said, his arms flailing at his sides. What the fuck was Bucky talking about?
"I can heal!" Bucky yelled, his eyes blazing.
"I fall off a building, out of car, fuck I can jump out of a fucking airplane. I can fall off a goddamn train! But I heal!" He was still yelling, his voice breaking off an on, Sam's chest was aching, he wasn't sure what was happening but he wanted Bucky to stop worrying so much.
"You fall off a building? And I'm not there to catch you? You die. You're gone. And then where the fuck would I be?" He asked, his voice was quiet now, he sounded almost as lost as Sam felt. Sam took a step forward. Bucky took a step back.
"I understand you're upset. It was a close call." Sam started, his voice soft, like he was comforting a scared animal. And hell, maybe he was.
"But man, that's the job. It's literally, one close call, after another. Every. Damn. Time. I just-" Sam sighed, squeezing his eyes shut hard and then looking at Bucky again.
"I'm still here. I'm right here. I'm okay. I just don't understand why your so pissed at me." Sam said, shrugging, trying to plead with Bucky, not sure what he was even asking for. Bucky stared at him. And then sighed.
"Just forget it man. Alright? It's nothing. Just forget it." Bucky said, sounding exhausted, he turned away again.
"Maybe I don't wanna forget it!" Sam yelled at his back, making him stop, he looked over his shoulder.
"I don't wanna forget it. You're upset. And I want you to tell me why." Sam said, crossing his arms carefully over his chest.
"It doesn't matter." Bucky said, his jaw clenched again, his voice fighting to get past his teeth.
"No?" Sam asked, walking forward, closing the space Bucky had put between them.
"It doesn't matter so much you didn't visit me for a week?" Sam pressed. Bucky's lip twitched, he looked like he was going to growl at Sam.
"Sam." A warning.
"It doesn't matter so much that you didn't even call? It's doesn't matter," he paused, poking Bucky in the shoudler like he'd done to him.
"So much that won't even have dinner with me and my family? But no I see it. I see how much it doesn't matter to you." He pushed on Bucky's shoulder until he took a step back, the fire burning in his icy blue eyes sending a shiver across Sam's skin.
"What the fuck do you want from me Sam?" Bucky did growl now, his voice rising again.
"Just tell me why the fuck you're so goddamn upset!" Sam shouted.
"Because I love you! And you almost died! Because you're a reckless fucking idiot!" Bucky shouted back. His face doing something complicated as he looked at Sam. His eyes darting around Sam's face, realizing what he'd said.
Sam couldn't breathe. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his finger tips. They stood in the dark, Bucky nearly panting in front of him. Something fluttered in Sam's chest and he reached out, to touch Bucky, to grab him and pull him close, he wasn't sure. But he needed to touch him. Bucky slapped his hand away and started walking away. His boots scuffing on the asphalt.
"Bucky?" Sam called, begged, after him. He didn't turn around. Sam was frozen in place. He watched Bucky kick a cinderblock as he passed it, sending it flying into the air, it landed a few feet away, shattering agaisnt the ground.
"Goddamn it!" Sam heard him scream, his voice cracking as he walked into the dark. Sam let him go, watching him disappear into the shadows as it began to rain.
Sam waited four days. Four days of laying on Sarah's couch, nursing his ribs, his skin itching. He wanted to call him. To talk to him. So see him. He wanted to tell him that he wasn't alone. Sam knew how he was feeling. Every time he watched Bucky charge into danger he felt like his knees would give out. He just wanted him safe.
And Bucky had been feeling the same way. Only... deeper? Sam didn't know if that was the right word. But he did know Bucky didn't have a lot of people left. He had his sister, somewhere, he'd been too scared to go see her so far. Sam offered to go with him, when he was ready. And he had Sarah and the boys. And he had Sam. But losing family, and losing someone you love, are different things entirely.
Sam's chest ached as he stared out the window. It was still raining. It had been raining since Sam let Bucky leave. Bucky's face flashed through his mind, how open his face had been after he'd said it. His eyes moving over Sam's feature with haste. And it hit Sam suddenly. He had looked scared. Terrified. Of Sam? Of how he'd react? Of Sam not loving him back?
Sam grabbed his keys and ran out the door into the rain, the pain in his ribs completely forgotten.
He knocks on Bucky's door for almost twenty minutes. He knows Bucky is inside. He'd heard him turn his tv off when Sam had first knocked. It almost made him laugh. But there wasn't time for laughing. They could laugh later.
"Buck please." Sam begged, for what felt like the millionth time.
"Don't make me do this through the door." He pressed his forehead to the door for a moment, just resting there. He moved back when he heard the locks on the other side slide and click open. There was a long pause, and Sam could practically see Bucky steeling himself, setting his shoulders.
The door swung open slowly, and sure enough, Bucky's back was straight as a board. He looked tense, but his eyes were much softer than they had been the other night, though the fear still lingered. Before Sam had a chance to say his peace Bucky spoke.
"I'm sorry. I was an asshole. I was just- I was scared. I saw you fall and I thought I lost you." His voice was shaking, and Sam could see his eyes shining.
"I ca- I can't lose you too. Not you." He choked, tears falling and catching in his lashes. Sam sighed, his heart swelling in his chest as he moved forward, grabbing at Bucky finally, his hands on Bucky's neck.
"You're not gonna lose me. I'm here. I'm here and I love you too." Sam breathed, crashing their lips together. Bucky made a small noise, suprise making him gasp into the kiss, and then his hands where on Sam, pulling him closer. Bucky pulled back, looking at Sam, his eyes wide.
"Say it again." He said, breathless. Sam smiled and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.
"I love you."
A kiss pressed to his temple.
"I love you."
A kiss pressed to his nose.
"I love you i love you i love you."
He pressed kisses into Bucky's skin as he smiled brightly, his hands moving up under Sam's soaking wet shirt, fingers pressing into his back.
"I love you too." Bucky whispered, pressing closer, kissing up Sam's neck, and then pulling his earlobe between his teeth. Sam melted agaisnt him and felt Bucky smile into his shoulder. He pulled back, hands settled on Sam's hips, still under his shirt. He stared at Sam and Sam stared right back. Both of them breathless.
"Get in here." Bucky huffed, yanking on the waist of Sam's pants, pulling him through the door and closing it behind them with a kick.
He was pressed against the wall in seconds, his stomach flipping as Bucky lifted him easily off his feet, his strong hands lifting him up by the thighs. Sam wrapped his legs around Bucky's waist and moaned when Bucky rolled his hips. His teeth finding purchase on Sam's neck.
"You're all wet." Bucky breathed into his neck. Sam shivered.
"Fuckin raining." Was all Sam seemed able to manage at the moment. Bucky hummed agaisnt the mark he'd left and then shifted back, his hands shoving at Sam's shirt.
"Get this off." Bucky breathed as Sam helped him pull the shirt over his head. It was then lost somewhere behind Bucky, Sam didn't care if he ever saw it again. Bucky pressed forward, his fingers digging into Sam's back, pulling him closer as he mouthed at Sam's neck again.
"Fuck." Sam graoned, rolling his own hips in time with Bucky's. He could feel Bucky nodding against him.
"Mhm." Was the hummed response he got before Bucky was lifting him again, Sam clung to him, his heart pounding as he pulled at the hem of Bucky's shirt, letting Bucky carry him, and then lower him to the floor. Bucky knelt between his legs, staring down at Sam, his eyes fluttering as his chest rose and fell. Sam almost groaned again when Bucky pulled his shirt over his head, Sam could have sworn he hear fabric tearing but didn't have time to think anything about it before Bucky was on him. Pressing himself between Sam's legs like he was meant to be there.
Sam pulled Bucky's face to his, kissing him again, their teeth clicking as they licked into each others mouths. He felt Bucky smile against his lips and let him go. Let Bucky do what he pleased. His mouth was hot on Sam's rain wet skin and Sam thought he might die. Just like this. It'd be a nice way to go.
Bucky nipped at Sam's neck again, hands moving oh so carefully over Sam's ribs as he touched as much of Sam as he could.
Sam clung to him, let Bucky have him. All of him. The push and pull of their bodies dizzying.
He clung to Bucky, listening to him breath Sam's name like a prayer against his skin.
He clung to Bucky, and let him take him apart, let him love him, as the sun began to break through the clouds outside.
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kisses in the rain with phrack?
Here you go! Thank you for the prompt, this was... a lot of fun. 😂 
For Kisses 22: kisses in the rain
It was a terribly sudden downpour.
So sudden, in fact, that it had rather stranded them under an overhang, attempting to wait out the worst of it.
Jack was still mostly dry, his sturdy hat and heavy coat protecting most of his inner layers, but Phryne…
Phryne had not fared as well.
Her thin jacket and delicate hat had done very little to defend her from the elements — so little, in fact, that she had eventually removed the hat entirely and would have done the same with the jacket were it not plastered to her person. Her hair, always so perfectly coiffed, was currently pasted to her forehead, her meticulous bangs sending little rivulets of rainwater into her eyes. She kept trying, unsuccessfully, to blow them up with her mouth, and each failed attempt caused her damp nose to scrunch up in irritation. She was annoyed and impatient and utterly, utterly soaked.
She was beautiful.
Jack smiled at the scene before him before turning slightly to look back out at the rain, the streets now empty save for the occasional poor soul still seeking shelter.
“You know what this reminds me of?” he asked.
“What?” she replied, huffing once more at her bangs.
“London. Outside the antique shop.”
Phryne looked up at him. “Really?”
“Mmmmmm.” Jack kept his eyes firmly fixed on the rain. “I should have kissed you then. I definitely wanted to.”
Phryne shot him an amused look. “Did you?” she asked dryly, which was very impressive considering the weather. “As I recall, you were quite cross with me at the time.”
“Noooooo.” Jack drew the word out as he shook his head and rewrote history. “Just damp.”
“You threatened to toss me in the Thames.”
“I also offered to tie you up,” he reminded her with the ghost of a dirty smile. “It was a layered discussion.”
“Mmmm,” she agreed, her own smile very much alive. “So why didn’t you?”
“No darbies.”
“I meant kiss me.”
“Ah.” He shrugged and finally looked down to meet her eye. “You know, I can’t think of one good reason.”
And with that, Jack stepped off the kerb and into the street. The minute he left the protection of the overhang the rain began its assault anew, but he paid it no mind, just held up his hand to her, silently inviting her to join him.
The incredulous expression Phryne gave him at the move caused her eyebrows to disappear entirely under her still-dripping bangs.
“Not bloody likely, Jack Robinson. Some of us aren’t wearing foul weather gear.”
Jack tilted his head in consideration, then, very deliberately, removed both his hat and his coat as Phryne looked on in surprise.
“What are you doing?” she asked, shouting a bit to be heard over the rain.
“Just trying to keep up!” he called back, placing his coat over his now soaked arm and offering his hand once more. “Now, are you going to come out here and join me or am I going to float away for nothing?”
Shaking her head in delight, Phryne took his hand and hopped off the kerb back into the rain. Jack pulled her flush to his chest, and, using his hat to hide them from anyone else mad enough to be out in this weather, kissed her.
He kissed her until neither of them remembered it was raining at all.
When he pulled back, she was beaming up at him.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“I’ve just decided to never not kiss you in the rain again,” he explained.
“That was an impressive sentence,” she teased. “But I’m very pleased by your new resolution. Especially as the annual average rainfall for Melbourne is around 21 inches... which, come to think of it,” she continued with a naughty grin, “is an impressive number of inches.”
Jack rolled his eyes even as he pulled her close once more.
“I’ll try to keep my manly jealousy in check.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it, Jack,” she assured him as she cupped his cheek with her hand. “You, my darling, are impressive in any weather.”
And then she kissed him.
It was a terribly sudden downpour.
Jack hoped it would last for ages.
Touches Ask Game
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homeformyheart · 4 days ago
Following up on my Beckett ask, could you write a reunion fic, like where Beckett and MC reunite at the beginning of a new school year with
10 - lifting someone out of excitement
thank you for the request, anon!! hope this was okay!
author’s note: it’s been a while that i’ve written for these characters, so i hope i did it justice. This takes place after book 2 but before winters past. i hope you enjoy! copyright: all characters owned by pixelberry studios. series/pairing: the elementalists – beckett harrington x f!mc (celeste russell) rating/warnings: none word count: ~500 based on/prompt: physical affection prompts // 10. lifting someone up out of excitement summary: beckett is a little nervous about seeing his girlfriend again after a summer apart.
beckett fiddled with his cufflinks for what was probably the third time that morning. was he nervous?
harringtons don’t get nervous, he thought to himself, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles on the front of his blazer.
he did his morning yoga, so he should be feeling pretty relaxed right now.
and he got a headstart on outlining the plan for his independent study.
he had meetings set up with his professors and advisor to discuss his plans for the year and school hadn’t even started yet.
he really had nothing to be nervous about.
except, of course, the one thing – or rather, person – in his life that he could never quite seem to figure out (and anyone who knew beckett harrington knew he never left a puzzle unsolved), was celeste.
his girlfriend.
of course, his normal approach to puzzles and new challenges was to practically drown himself in learning as much as he could.
and while he would thoroughly enjoy taking a studious approach to a relationship, celeste wasn’t someone you could study or “figure out.”
she was wild, untamed, and endlessly warm.
she was perfect.
and he still could not believe she said yes.
he frowned at his reflection before making his way to penn square, where the pend pals had all agreed to meet up.
what if celeste changed her mind?
his brow furrowed in thought and his gaze fell to the floor as he continued walking, having long memorized the path to the shops on the other side of the square.
they had only been officially dating for a few months. and spent the majority of that time apart, given their respective internships.
they talked often, but this was still going to be the first time they’d be seeing each other since last semester.
he looked up to see celeste running across the square towards him, her face beaming even more brightly than the early morning sun, if that were possible.
everything else seemed to fade away, so in his mind, it was possible.
she leaped into his arms and he wrapped his tightly around her waist, holding her against him so she wouldn’t lose her balance. she wrapped her arms around his neck and he swung her around, eliciting a melodious laugh that made his gaze soften and heartbeat quicken.
before he could set her back down on the ground, he kissed her neck and worked his way across her jaw to the corner of her mouth. she tilted her head toward him until their lips met. he nipped at her bottom lip and nudged her mouth open with his tongue, eager to taste as much of her as he could.
“ugh, it’s too early in the morning for this, get a room!” atlas’ annoyed voice rang loud and clear across the square.
beckett chuckled and lowered his forehead to hers. celeste nuzzled her nose against his before pulling away and grabbing his hand.
“i love you,” she murmured, turning to follow their friends across the square.
beckett smiled and squeezed her hand. “i love you, too.”
* * * * * taglist: @choicesficwriterscreations; @robintora; @miss-smrxtiee; @eleanorbloom; @itsjustwinter;
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amethystpath-writes · 4 days ago
A Phone Call and Music
Protagonist sat on her bed, legs crossed as she leaned over what she called her ‘dinotop.’ It was a laptop that her mom gave to her after many years of little use. She wrote books. Usually, she did so in journals, but having the desire to publish, she needed her books digitalized. So, she sat now, on her bed, dinotop in front of her.
It was hard telling how long she sat there or what time of day it was. All she knew was that her phone started ringing. A part of her expected it to be her grandfather, who often called at random to check in on her. Who called her instead surprised her. Hero.
The last Hero had called her, it’d been in hopes of assistance. He’d been buying pants for his girlfriend and couldn’t figure out what the sizes meant. It was a short conversation, but no less one Protagonist remembered.
Did she say hello first or did Hero? Oh, she didn’t know anymore. It’d been too long. What Protagonist did remember, though, was that Hero needed to talk. He told her that he considered her a close friend and that he needed a distraction. A distraction because he’d just broken up with his girlfriend.
The two were always friends, and there was always a closeness that neither expanded on while in school, especially seeing as they were both in...occupying relationships. There was hardly time for a deeper friendship- not one that was scandalous, but a simple friendship, a platonic one. Either way, they were close and it became even more evident when Hero called.
Chance must have laughed at the both of them, for Hero didn’t know Protagonist had broken up with her boyfriend not too long before Hero had with his own partner. Of course, this meant nothing once the two established the fact. It only meant they had better opportunity to be friends, to hang out and be the friends they didn’t get to be before while in relationships. Neither had any great expectation beyond being friends.
Hero visited Protagonist’s house. They went to her backyard and she brought her guitar out so he could teach her to play it- she didn’t have time to teach herself. He attempted to show her how to play Rivers and Roads by The Head and the Heart. Her fingers were too soft for the thin strings; she didn’t do well, but she reminded him that she could play piano. They should play together sometime.
He came to her house a few more times, when the temperature was below freezing and both were shivering or curling into themselves on separate seats outside. The two wore masks, stayed distanced from one other. They used hand warmers to rid the chills. It was still freezing, but it was worth it to spend time together, laughing at jokes, and talking about, well, just about anything.
Maybe they should have known, then- while they were willingly freezing with chittering teeth and pink hands and cheeks- that they were falling for each other. For crying out loud, the two began making a movie list as if they would never end up on the same couch cushion sharing snacks.
They went for a hike, when the season was dying and warmth was returning to their region once again. It was still chilly, still icy, and Protagonist even berated Hero for not dressing warm enough. She kidded that he could wear her hoodie- she was significantly smaller than him. (If she didn’t think he’d get stuck now, she’d still like to have him try one of her shirts.)
After a beautiful hike- one with hundreds of fossils, wet shoes, moments of silent awe, and marbles of ice- the two went out to eat. (To this day they still joke about a pocket dimension- where a truck stop was in the middle of the road and they went to the strangest Wendy’s they’d ever seen.) They debated on the proper pronunciation of the show ‘Naruto’- Protagonist was proven correctly, although Hero still won’t admit it.
On the way home, they talked about their feelings, and you know what they did? They agreed not to date. Can you believe it? They agreed that, since they were going into such different occupations, ones in different parts of the country- and world- that they should save themselves the heartbreak. They should remain friends as to not fall too deeply for one another and have their feelings broken when life forced them to split.
But what changed that?
Well, they continued on as friends. Hero continued to come over. They texted nearly nonstop. He even dated another girl, trying to move on.
“There’s no music when I’m around her,” he told Protagonist about the girl. “With you, I can hear music.”
Some time after this, Protagonist went to play tennis with a friend she hadn’t seen a little while. Friend asked about Hero, since they’d spoken about him before. “So, are you two dating?” Friend had asked.
“Um. I- I don’t know actually.”
“What do you mean ‘you don’t know’?!”
Well, it was a legitimate answer in Protagonist’s book. She truly didn’t know- because she and Hero had spoken before and they’d agreed they shouldn’t date. And yet...and yet they still hung out every chance they got. They texted nonstop. Mighties, they had admitted to liking each other- whether they agreed to date or not, they had feelings for one another. So were they dating? They might as well have been, right?
So, she brought it to Hero days later. There were many uh’s and um’s, an obvious sign of nervousness, even through text. Could she have erased the uh’s and um’s to prevent sounding nervous over text? Of course. But was that an authentic representation of her feelings as she was texting him? No. So, she left the uh’s and um’s.
Truthfully, Hero hadn’t known whether they were dating or not either. Laughing emojis were exchanged.
By some miracle, the two agreed that all the memories they could make would be worth the heartbreak, and now they could hardly see a reason they couldn’t be together for a very long time.
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ifmywishescametrue · 4 days ago
Hi!!! Could u maybe do #29 from the kissing prompts for stevetony? Only if you want to of course💖 thank you for all your writing, you’re amazing!
hi!! thank you so much!! “hushed conversation in-between kisses“ was probably supposed to be super soft and sweet, and I don’t really know what this is, but it came pouring out of me, so I hope you like it! thank you again :)
“You’re going to get us caught if you don’t be quiet,” Steve whispers into the column of Tony’s throat, lips brushing his skin before he places another biting kiss there. 
“You’re going to get us caught if you keep taking so long,” Tony counters, speaking just as low. “Get a move on, Rogers.”
Steve kisses beneath his ear, then the underside of his jawline. “I like taking my time with you.”
“You can take your time when we have time.” 
Tony takes Steve’s face between his hands to bring him up to his lips to kiss him properly. He slips his thigh between Steve’s, and Steve’s groan is muffled into his mouth. “Shh,” Tony teases when they part again. “You’ll get us caught.”
Steve smiles and rolls his eyes, running his thumb along Tony’s lower lip. “As if you don’t want that.”
“Maybe I do,” Tony grins back. 
“Do I need to remind you again why that’s a bad idea?”
Steve’s hand sneaks beneath his t-shirt, and Tony really can’t think of a single reason why anything here could be wrong. Not when Steve is touching him like that. 
“Probably,” Tony murmurs, tangling his hand in Steve’s hair to draw him back in. The metal shelves behind him push a little deeper into him, but he wouldn’t move from this spot for anything. 
“Pepper will kill you, first of all,” Steve says. “And when she’s done killing you, Bucky will kill me. Or maybe they’ll tag team it. Be each other’s alibis for the police.”
“Seems likely,” Tony agrees, words a little strained when Steve’s mouth finds that sensitive spot just above his collarbone. “Bet they’d get away with it.”
Steve’s other hand undoes the button on his slacks. “And then Hammer will be the leading name in tech without you here.”
Tony grimaces, “Don’t say his name when you have your hand in my pants.”
Steve laughs, kissing Tony thoroughly until he’s forgiven for the atrocity. “Sorry, but he will be, and then the world might as well fall apart if that’s the best we can do.”
“Green energy would go right down the tank.”
“Climate change will screw us all,” Steve says lightly. He grips Tony through his boxers, making him bite into his lip to keep from whimpering.
“Next thing you know, Florida’s completely underwater. Not the worst thing, though.”
Steve stops just long enough to take off his own shirt and toss it onto one of the shelves in the storage room. “But New York would be next.”
“Probably would be bad for the stock market if all of Wall Street went under.” 
Tony touches every inch of bare skin that he can reach, leaning down to kiss the freckles that dot his broad shoulders. Steve sighs into the touch and continues, “Set off a global economic depression.”
“Population would plummet, and that’s before the wars even start.”
“And by the end of it, humanity is basically extinct.” 
Tony digs his fingernails into Steve’s shoulders as Steve’s mouth returns to his neck to mark him some more. “All because I fucked my assistant.”
He can feel Steve’s smile against his skin before he lifts his head to look at him with mirth in his eyes as repeats, “All because you fucked your assistant.”
Tony hums, “Could be worth it, though.”
Steve laughs into their next kiss, and it solidifies the thought even more. Anything is worth getting to have this.
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