TFI - TFLN - Friday!

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Merry Friday, my doves, classics_lover here to guide you into the weekend with my last day as guest host. This week's prompting and filling has been magnificent, and I want to thank you all for that. Today's theme is my favourite, Texts From Last Night. Prompts must come from TFLN (or fandom-specific TFLN Tumblrs).

Just a few rules:
No more than five prompts in a row.
No more than three prompts in the same fandom.
Use the character's full names and fandom's full name for ease adding to the Lonely Prompts spreadsheet.
No spoilers in prompts for a month after airing, or use the spoiler cut option found here.
If your fill contains spoilers, warn and leave plenty of space, or use the above mentioned spoiler cut.

Prompts should be formatted as follows: [Use the character's full names and fandom's full name]
Fandom, Character +/ Character, Prompt

Some examples to get the ball rolling...

+ MCU, any + any, (208):
Okay first of all, that is a sick ass nickname please call me that forever. Second, i need your help.

+ Brooklyn Nine-Nine, any/any, (859):
I don't want his dick, I want his flame thrower!!

+ Big Bang Theory, any/any (+ any), (+61):
I just turned down a booty call because I'm having a Star Wars movie marathon


We are now using AO3 to bookmark filled prompts. If you fill a prompt and post it to AO3 please add it to the Bite Sized Bits of Fic from 2016 collection. See further notes on this new option here.

Not feeling any of today’s prompts? Check out the just created Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet. For more recent prompts to write, you can also use LJ’s advanced search options to limit keyword results to only comments in this community.

While the Lonely Prompts Spreadsheet and LJ's advanced search options are available, bookmarking the links of prompts you like might work better for searching for in the future.

tag=Texts From Last Night (TFLN)

Comments

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

MCU, any + any, (208):
Okay first of all, that is a sick ass nickname please call me that forever. Second, i need your help.

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Brooklyn Nine-Nine, any/any, (859):
I don't want his dick, I want his flame thrower!!

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Big Bang Theory, any/any (+ any), (+61):
I just turned down a booty call because I'm having a Star Wars movie marathon

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Leverage, author's choice, (304):
No more bourbon. Sleep now. I may die. Pray for me.

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Greek Myth, author's choice, (413):
We do have a rich storied history of emotional warfare

Fill: a little crack-y, a little SGA

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

"We do have a rich, storied history of emotional warfare," Aphrodite said, settling herself at the other end of the table and looking unfairly beautiful in pale, sheer silks.

Ares cleared his throat. "Indeed we do." He wasn't sure what she meant by emotional warfare, though he suspected rampant sexual infidelity might be what she was referring to. Not that emotions were necessarily tied up in sex.

"I've decided that we really need to be less combative and more cooperative," Aphrodite said. "It'll make Olympus more pleasant, don't you think?"

"I'm the God of War," Ares pointed out.

"And I am the Goddess of Love." Aphrodite dipped a hand beneath her neckline – Ares followed the motion very closely – and drew out a small silk pouch. She loosened the draw strings and scattered dice across the table.

Ares picked one up. It had twenty sides and was inscribed with tiny names. John Sheppard. Radek Zelenka. Evan Lorne. Rodney McKay. Elizabeth Weir. Ronon Dex.

Another die had twelve sides and was inscribed with words that indicated mortal peril. Genii Attack. Wraith Attack. Replicator Attack. Natives Attack. Alien Virus Attack. So many attacks.

Aphrodite rested her chin on her hands and smiled at him. "Here's what we're going to do, love. We're going to roll the dice, and we're going to see what comes up. If we can form a love-bond forged in the heat of trial, then we have succeeded in shepherding the little mortals below."

Love-bonds weren't really Ares's forte, but he could forge anything in the heat of battle. He nodded, even though he still wasn't entirely clear what the dice were for.

"Whoever succeeds in creating the most long-lasting love-bonds will have prevailed between us." Aphrodite narrowed her eyes. "And do not run to Eros for help. His bows and arrows are strictly off limits."

That hadn't occurred to Ares as an option, but he nodded, trying to appear grudging but conciliatory. "Of course."

"May the best of us win," Aphrodite said.

Win what? Ares wondered.

He was still wondering when he was in human form, roaming the halls of Atlantis, and trying to convince Ronon Dex that he did want to have a nice romantic dinner with Radek Zelenka.

[marlex.livejournal.com]

MCU, Steve Rogers + any, (312): Captain America stopped by our tailgate. He ate a taco.

[shanachie-quill.livejournal.com]

You okay with OCs for this?

[marlex.livejournal.com]

MCU, Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers, (705): My glasses are somewhere in your living room. Also, my underwear might be in your bathroom or on or around your porch. Sorry.

Fill

[classics-lover.livejournal.com]

Tony's phone beeped. He checked the time before reading it: it was stupid o'clock in the morning, and the text came from Thor's girlfriend's assistant, the one Steve was pining after like a teenage boy with a crush.

My glasses are somewhere in your living room. Also, my underwear might be in your bathroom or on or around your porch. Sorry.

Tony blinked.

You must have the wrong number. I don't have a porch. Sorry. Also that sorry seems more like a #sorrynotsorry to me. #sorrynotsorry

Tony thought no more of it until Pepper came into the lab, wielding a pair of red, silk-and-lace, almost wisps of nothing underpants like a weapon.

"Whose are these, Tony?" Pepper had a no-nonsense expression that Tony couldn't read.

"Are they yours? Because I find lace like that too itchy," Tony quipped, offering her his most winning smile.

"They were on our balcony. Our balcony, Tony! Were you having exhibitionist sex on our balcony with someone who isn't me?"

Before Tony could compose a suitably outraged reply, there was a knock on the lab door. A sheepish looking Steve Rogers was there in a t-shirt (possibly a girl's t-shirt because no men's shirt could look that indecent on Captain freaking America) and shorts that looked hastily pulled on. Pepper opened the door, the knickers still hanging from one upturned pointer finger.

"Captain Rogers, now is not the best time-" Pepper began.

"Sorry to interrupt, but I need those. Also, did you happen to come across a pair of women's glasses?" Steve snatched the panties away and stuffed them in a pocket.

"Wait, wait, wait. Were you having exhibitionist sex on our balcony with Thor's girlfriend's assistant?" Tony asked, smirking in delight. Just wait until the papers hear about this!

"H-how did you know?" Steve had the good grace to look bashful. "Also, she's an intern not an assistant."

Pepper glared at Tony.

"You knew about this?"

"I may have gotten a head's up text that I mistook for being intended for someone else. A balcony is not the same thing as a porch, Steve, you should tell Thor's girlfriend's intern that."

"Will do, Tony," Steve replied seriously, backing out the door and taking his phone out of his pocket.

Tony and Pepper overheard him say, "I told you it wasn't a porch!"

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, (310):
thx for the lesson on dirty dancing

Fill 1/2: Dollhouse/SGA; McShep, Joe, Sam

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Rodney wasn't great about talking about his feelings. John was probably better at it because he'd spent four years on Atlantis doing a lot of meditating and engaging in self-awareness and also dealing with all the other imprints in his head. When they all had access to his feelings, he didn't have much choice but to engage in - silent, internal - discussions about his feelings. Joe was occasionally inappropriately honest about his feelings, probably because he'd spent so long as an imprint where that kind of honesty wasn't inappropriate, it was a simple fact of existence. Evan, having been raised by his mother and grandmother and sister, was the best at appropriate expressions and discussions of feelings (as long as he wasn't feeling stupidly heroic or damnably martyr-like).

John was okay with the fact that Rodney wasn't great about talking about his feelings, because he expressed his feelings in other ways, with an apologetic back-rub or a brief, warm kiss or with his hands and mouth and surprising flexibility in bed.

But sometimes, when Rodney was feeling a little brave, he'd share his feelings with John, not aloud, but via text message.

The morning after his tangle with John post-Traci mode, John was in the lab helping Sam with a gizmo just till Rodney arrived, because he'd had a briefing first thing. Landry was probably deeply regretting Rodney and John and Joe working to boost cell phone performance in the mountain, because now all of the younger airmen played Candy Crush on their breaks, and the sight of America's best and brightest hunched over their devices was disheartening to a man like Landry. But John was grateful for the cell phone boost, because when his phone buzzed in his pocket, he knew it was from Rodney.

He checked the screen.

Thx for the lesson on dirty dancing.

Everyone assumed Traci was the only capable dancer in Foxtrot. Everyone was wrong. John had turned on different music, with heavy bass and a thumping beat, and he'd pulled Rodney close, and they'd danced, and they'd kissed, and Rodney's knees weren't really happy with him for it, but they'd had sex on the dance studio floor, and it had been glorious. John smiled at his cell phone and tucked it back into his pocket.

Rodney loved all of his imprints, but whenever one of them had full reign, he retreated a little, acted like he and said imprint were just friends and nothing more, even though all of John's imprints loved Rodney in one way or another, some just as much as John did. That Rodney was willing to engage with even some small aspect of one of the other imprints was a huge step for him, and John couldn't stop the warmth that spread through him at the thought.

Because John and Sam had set up a veritable all of whiteboards halfway across the office to work on equations, it made perfect sense that Joe and Rodney didn't notice they weren't alone when they first stepped into the lab.

"Did you know John could dance? I mean, not as Traci," Rodney said.

Sam lifted her head from the Ori device, raised her eyebrows. (The Ori were dead. Their tech was still useful.)

"Yes," Joe said, sounding distracted.

Rodney sounded startled. "How?"

"We met in college, remember? We'd go out clubbing all the time. Sometimes dance together, you know, for the girls."

"Joe?" Rodney was appalled. "Are you telling me you used to dirty dance with John at clubs?"

Sam's eyebrows climbed higher on her forehead. John smiled innocently and kept working.

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Any, Any, (313):
Yeah but my nose is so stuffed if I tried to give him head I'd suffocate

Fill: Dollhouse/SGA, McShep, Joe/Evan

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

Rodney was still baffled that this was how the party lines had been drawn, that he and Evan had somehow teamed up to look after John and Joe, and John and Joe had teamed up to drive them insane – sitting too close together, being affectionate with each other, dancing together. But as he headed to his car at the end of another day of dealing with the newest generation of morons the IOA was calling scientists, he fired off a text message to Evan.

Joe's had a hard day. He could probably use some extra TLC. New geek squad were mean.

Joe was still kind of touchy about the fact that he had spent most of his life as an imprint in his own body and had never technically finished undergrad, and the newest members of the geek squad questioned his competence at every turn because he didn't have the same alphabet soup at the end of his name that they did.

Evan's reply was a little TMI. Yeah, but my nose is so stuffed if I tried to give him head I'd suffocate.

Rodney sighed, typed back. Fine. Send me the recipe for your chicken soup. I'll bring home ingredients. His phone pinged with an email and then a received text message.

Thx. Also NyQuil. Lots of it. And tissues. The kind with lotion.

After a delicious dinner of chicken soup, John and Rodney retired to the library to play piano together, partially because Songwriter wanted to try something new and partially to give Evan and Joe privacy in the bedroom they were finally sharing. Rodney hoped Evan didn't suffocate.

The next morning, Evan was still sick, but there were paint stains on his hands. Joe was smiling and happy again, and Rodney had leftover chicken soup he could take to work for lunch. Not a bad night's work, all in all.

And then John caught Evan's cold.

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Stargate Atlantis, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay, (810):
I must be too annoying 4 u

Fill: math nerd!John AU, McShep

[nagi-schwarz.livejournal.com]

The problem with so much brilliance in so small a place was that it could become blinding, dangerous, and when things between John and Rodney became too much, they retreated to their desks on opposite sides of the lab and didn't talk to each other, not directly. They used the intra-lab instant messaging system instead, because it was less likely to result in a screaming match that Lorne would have to wade into or the other scientists throwing tokens at Rodney so they would calm down and apologize to each other already.

Rodney's stomach had been growling for half an hour before he realized the little message icon in the corner of his screen was bouncing and blinking blue. He clicked on it. It was a message from John. It was 45 minutes stale.

JPS: I must be too annoying 4 u.

John's tendency to use text-speak like a teenage girl would have been ten times more annoying from any other person if Rodney didn't know that John had taken to text messages as soon as the service became available because it was a way for him to communicate with people he hadn't had before, when TDD became cumbersome and annoying. The ability to text fast and with a limited character space must have been an invaluable skill. Unfortunately, John had never broken the habit.

MRM: Sorry. Working. Distracted.

JPS: Lunch? U must have low blood sugar.

Rodney glanced at the clock on his laptop screen, then at the word processor where his theory was coming together. He was on the cusp of it, could feel it right at his fingertips.

MRM: Five more minutes.

JPS: K.

Fifteen minutes later, Rodney was still typing, and he noticed the sandwich that appeared at his elbow only long enough to check it for citrus – he didn't trust all the new scientists yet – and then eat it.

Three hours later, he realized his message icon was blinking and bouncing again.

JPS: ):

Rodney twisted around in his chair. John's desk was empty, his laptop closed. He cursed under his breath in French – Zelenka wasn't the only one with a tendency to curse in a foreign language so the sheer filthiness of his epithets went undetected – and checked the time on his computer. And then he realized there was another blinking icon on his screen.

His calendar.

Oh no. What had he forgotten?

The lab was suspiciously quiet. How had Rodney not noticed? He was used to the murmurs and rustles of the others working in the lab with him. He stood up, prowled into the hallway. It was empty too. What was going on?

He opened the calendar app on his laptop and – oh hell. Lorne's birthday party.

Rodney dashed for the transporter, emerged down the hall from the rec room where John and Teyla and Teldy had planned for the party to be held, and there was already a massive group gathered. Rodney had to crane his neck to search the crowd, but he picked out John's spiky hair easily enough. It took some elbowing to get through the crowd to stand beside John. Sergeant Mehra was sitting on the table beside Lorne and the birthday cake Dr. Porter had baked for him, guitar across her knees, playing the birthday song while people sang.

Rodney was probably the only one who saw the naked longing on John's face as he watched Mehra strumming the strings.

Rodney reached out, curled his fingers through John's, and squeezed. Maybe for the rest of the day they could talk with their hands after all. And maybe, when it was just the two of them alone in their quarters, they could talk with their mouths.

[marlex.livejournal.com]

any, any, (270): I want morning sex. We can incorporate maple syrup into it somehow, it'll be fun

Stargate Atlantis AU, John Sheppard/Rodney McKay

[brumeier.livejournal.com]

Rodney woke up horny, and of course it was one of the nights he was staying at his own place. Otherwise he’d just have rolled over and woken John up with a blow job, which always seemed to be appreciated. Of course, Rodney gave excellent head, if he did say so himself. Not that John was a slouch, because Rodney was never left unsatisfied. But it was always good to know where your strengths lay.

It would be easiest to take himself in hand and pull off a quick one, but masturbating had lost a little something since Rodney and John had hooked up. Despite the fact that it was barely even five in the morning he fumbled on his nightstand for his cell phone and fired off a quick text.

You up?

While he waited for a reply, Rodney pictured how John looked sprawled in his bed: all loose-limbed and relaxed in a way he rarely was when he was awake, cowlicks even crazier than they normally were. He was sexy. Much sexier than Rodney was, though for some reason John argued with him on that point. It was flattering, even if it was untrue.

John slept in the nude. It was ridiculously hot, and convenient when Rodney made a sneak attack in the middle of the night. He was pretty sure he’d never been this horny even when he was a teenager. It was John’s superpower.

Good morning, John texted back. What’s up?

Me, Rodney replied. Come over.

John liked to get up early and run, so he was probably already out of bed and dressed, which meant it would be quicker for him to come over to Rodney’s.

The phone buzzed, showing Rodney a smirky face emoji. Such a horndog. What about breakfast?

Now that John had mentioned it, Rodney realized he was a little hungry. Hmm. It was the eternal battle of sex versus food. Luckily he was a genius, and very skilled at multitasking.

I want morning sex. We can incorporate maple syrup into it somehow, it'll be fun.

As an added incentive he sent: make you waffles after

There was nothing but silence from his phone, so Rodney tossed it aside and waited. He didn’t touch himself, but all he had to do was imagine John in a variety of sexual poses to get fully hard and aching. John bent over the couch. John with his ankles on Rodney’s shoulders. John with his mouth wrapped around Rodney’s cock.

Ten minutes later, when the need to touch was getting harder and harder to ignore, and Rodney was rubbing himself ineffectually against the comforter, he heard John’s key in the lock as the man let himself in.

“In here!” Rodney called out, his skin flushing hot at the thought of John seeing him already so worked up.

He heard the double clump of John kicking off his sneakers and then he was leaning in the doorway wearing nothing but a tank top and clingy spandex shorts that outlined his very obvious interest in the proceedings.

“Took you long enough to get here,” Rodney complained.

“Had to make a quick stop first.” John pulled a bottle of Mrs. Butterworth’s syrup from behind his back and waggled his eyebrows.

Lucky it was laundry day.

[talkingtothesky]

Person of Interest, Harold Finch/John Reese, (860): That makes sense.. A good Bj is a trump card in any argument

[talkingtothesky]

Person of Interest, Joss Carter/John Reese, (306): He told me he sees me like a sister then 10 mins later tried to make out with me.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any. He gives me the same feeling I get when someone puts a margarita or German chocolate cake in front of me.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any supernatural character. The moment you tore my shirt off I knew I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any. I am watching xfiles and eating microwaved cookiedough, and I see nothing wrong with it.

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

MCU. any. I can't believe you're forcing me to handle this hangover sober.

Fill. MCU. Clint Barton & Tony Stark, Steve Rogers.

[aivix.livejournal.com]

Clint was growling as he stumbled into the kitchen, only one eye cracked open; his shirt was ripped in the front, his lounge pants had vomit on them.

“Morning, sunshine!”

If Clint'd been able to do more than wince, Tony might have felt miffed. Alas, not so—Tony merely smirked at his friend, and asked, “How are you feeling on this fine summer day?”

Thank God there weren't any knives on the table. Although the spoon still managed to wedge itself into the plaster well enough.

“I can't believe you're forcing me to handle this hangover sober.”

“Aw, big tough Archer, you'll be fine.”

There was another growl.

Tony laughed this time and set a glass of water in front of his friend.

“Is this vodka? Because it better be vodka.”

“Does it smell like vodka?”

“It smells like sadistic coworkers and broken dreams.”

“I think that's the smell coming off your pants, Katniss.”

Clint cracked his other eye, squinting them both and grumbling, “I fucking hate you.”

From down the hall, Steve yelled, “Language!” and Clint yelled back, “I fucking hate you too, Super Metabolism!”

[leni-ba.livejournal.com]

any. any. You looked at me, said I was a nice guy. Then you drunkenly climbed on top of me and said you liked me and wanted me.

[jadesfire.livejournal.com]

XMFC/DOFP, Erik + Charles, (413) We do have a rich storied history of emotional warfare

[hanorganaas.livejournal.com]

Agents of SHIELD, Melinda May + or / Any, (570): I just wanna inform you guys that the first pregnancy scare of 2016 is over...

[hanorganaas.livejournal.com]

Star Wars, Kylo Ren/General Hux, (919): I'm sorry for breaking our door. And being a bitch about it.

Uneasy Confinement, General Armitage Hux/Kylo Ren (Star Wars)

[creepy_shetan]

General Hux immediately looked up from the documents he'd been attempting to study when the metallic panel snapped back into its rightful place in the wall by the door. Unlike the earlier sounds, this was quiet and decisive, the short reverberation having a note of finality to it. Kylo Ren said nothing, nor did he turn around. Hux watched his scarred back as he slowly gathered the makeshift tools and damaged parts spread around him on the floor.

Hux opened his mouth to speak, and then closed it again -- for the third time. It had been his fault, and even with the time to carefully choose his words, he didn't know how to say what he needed to say.

Ren stood, a bundle in each hand, and pressed a button on the wall panel. The door slid aside perfectly with a small whoosh, as if it hadn't locked them both in here for hours. To be fair, they hadn't noticed for most of that time, but it had been sheer luck that their accommodations featured a private washroom with more than a sonic -- and that Ren had kept a little food in the bedroom, despite Hux telling him to store it in the small kitchen area in the main room beyond. A couple of bottles were also in the room, of course, sizable portions of their contents not seen since the prior evening, but they had lost their appeal for the time being to both men. Hux had moved them and the dirty glasses to a side table earlier, when he'd been looking for his shirt. While he did that, Ren had divided their meager breakfast, leaving Hux's half on the foot of the bed, and had settled down to work on the door. In the following silence, neither had taken more than a couple of bites. Their insides needed time to settle, and not just from the alcohol.

Ren disappeared through the open doorway, and Hux felt his chest and throat tighten. He had barely tossed his datapad aside on the bed, stood, and taken two steps when Ren returned. They stared at each other for a moment, and then Ren showed Hux what he now held in his hands.

“Catch.”

Hux caught the drink easily, murmuring his thanks and looking away. It quickly chilled his fingers as he broke the seal and took a sip. It was some sort of nutritious energy drink that came with their rooms -- one of the amenities that he had rolled his eyes at when they'd first arrived, but now he was thankful that the fruity flavor was light and more tangy than sweet. He watched Ren take an experimental sip, his drink a deep orange color rather than a bright yellow-green. If the taste didn't suit him, he didn't show it.

“I'm sorry,” Hux said suddenly to Ren's throat, his gaze locked on its movement as Ren swallowed a second sip.

This time, Ren made a tiny coughing noise and pressed the back of his hand to his mouth. When he pulled it away, a corner of his lips was raised, and an eyebrow joined it.

“Okay. For which part?”

Hux used his drink to block the sigh that almost escaped him. “For breaking the door.”

Ren didn't move, which to Hux was his version of saying, “And?”

“And for,” Hux paused, pressing his lips together, “overreacting.” Before Ren could comment on that, he continued in a stronger voice, “And thank you for not using it against me.”

Ren's face fell back into its default expression. He nodded. “I was planning to say 'I told you so' later,” he admitted flatly, “but now I can't. Thanks.” He raised his drink a little in salute before taking a slow gulp, one eye on Hux, who refused to let his eyes wander lower again.

“You're such an ass,” Hux said irritably as he shrank the distance between them. He took Ren's drink from him and set both next to the remaining liquor with a dull thud.

“Do you think those would mix well together?” Ren wondered with a hint of amusement.

“We can test that theory later,” Hux replied. “For now, let's stick to the the current flavors.”

As their kisses deepened, Ren none too subtly steered them away from the door and into the opposite wall. Hux wanted to be annoyed, but he couldn't blame him. They were supposed to be laying low, not drawing attention to themselves. Ren would probably have to cut their way out of the bedroom with his lightsaber if it happened again, and they were already risking a noise complaint as it was. The less the staff remembered about them, the better.

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

Haven, Duke Crocker/Nathan Wuornos, 4:33 am: Sleep on left side of my bed. T-shirts are second drawer on left side, boxers top right. I don't wake up when lights are on so feel free in my room.

[truthwritaslies.livejournal.com]

Any, Any/+ Any, (248): with your own penis?

[jadesfire.livejournal.com]

Star Wars: TFA, Poe Dameron, After the day I've had, I can't decide if donuts or fireball would be the appropriate priority.

[hanorganaas.livejournal.com]

Any, Authors Choice, (+61):I just turned down a booty call because I'm having a Star Wars movie marathon