#Prompt ask game

[2aceofspades]

24, you pick who. There are definitely a few people who come to mind easily, but I want to see what you think!

24.) "Unless you ask me not to in the next five seconds, I'm going to hug you."

I won't even lie, I struggled with this one for whatever reason. But! I gave it my best shot 🙌✨

TW: Eye Strain/Bright Colors

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Thank you for your submission! 🙏🌟

(:

[askgametime]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

send in a number and fandom/character/dynamic for a short ficlet! writers, feel free to tweak the dialogue/pronouns/punctuation/etc a little to fit better

"You... you really mean it, don't you?"

"Say it again. Please. Say it again."

"When's the last time you slept?"

"Stay. Please stay."

"I don't know if I can forgive."

"How could you?"

"I'm here. I've got you. You're safe now."

"Leave. Now. Just leave!"

"I'm trusting you. Please don't make me regret it."

"Please... what am I doing wrong?" "What aren't you doing wrong?!"

"They shouldn't treat you like that."

"Help me."

"You deserve better than me."

"What's wrong?"

"I can't. I just can't."

"You were calling out, in your sleep. You said my name."

"You don't have to be alone anymore."

"I'm sorry. I don't remember."

"What can I do to be enough for you?"

"Please. For me." "...okay. For you."

"Oh, love. What have you done to yourself?"

"...you knew?"

"Did they hurt you?"

"Unless you ask me not to in the next five seconds, I'm going to hug you."

"I know you have no reason to trust me. But please... I'm asking you to anyway."

"You're allowed to need help."

"Forgive me, my love."

"...I don't hate you." "...you don't?" (Bonus: "No. Not yet.")

"Tell me the truth."

"You're okay. You've got to be okay. You've got to be. You're okay. Please. Please be okay."

"You came back for me. You actually came back for me."

"I already knew I wasn't good enough."

"You don't get it, do you?"

"Are you going to kill me?"

"You deserve better than this. You deserve better."

"I'll do anything. Anything at all. Just let my friend go."

"Why? Why are you helping me?"

"Please stop hurting me. Please. Please stop."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I deserve it."

"I'm sorry, that was... embarrassing."

"Tell me what I did wrong! What's wrong with me?!"

"Why haven't you been eating?"

"I... I think I need a hug."

"Oh, love..."

"This is all my fault."

"I love you. I'm sorry."

"Don't touch me!"

"You hurt me. I didn't think..."

"Goodbye."

[liberalk1tsch]

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

two things:

1. my mind immediately went to a far dirtier place before i decided to keep things a bit more PG today

2. i’m seemingly incapable of so-called «snippets» so enjoy a wee itty-bitty oneshot instead

from this ask game !

context: sneaking away on the victory tour, district 10, canon compliant, katniss didn’t even know that neck kisses were an option (!!)

“I need to leave. Now.” My voice is low enough to escape the crowd around us, but the severity of my words and the pleading in my eyes do not elude Peeta’s attention, even as I keep a false smile plastered on my face.

Concern flashes across his features, but it’s gone in an instant. “I know,” he says quietly, quickly replacing his worried expression with his usual dazzling smile. “Just follow my lead, all right?” I nod and he offers me his arm — the proper way, like Effie taught us — which I accept gratefully.

Peeta weaves us slowly through the sea of people, toward a side entrance at the back of the room. We accept what feels like a hundred vile congratulations on our victory along the way, to the point where I begin to worry that if I hear it one more time I’m going to be sick to my stomach.

Luckily, it’s at that very moment that the band ends whatever inappropriately lively tune they’ve been playing, and the crowd erupts in applause, giving us the cover we need to slip past the few remaining patrons undetected and into a dark quiet of a moonlit hallway.

Peeta immediately drops his arm, taking my hand instead and pulling me along, away from the cacophony of people celebrating the death of this district’s children. He tries door handles along the way until he finds one unlocked, and leads me inside to what appears to be an extravagantly decorated sitting room.

I start to wonder what such a plush, elegant room like this would be doing in a place like the Justice Building, before I realize this is probably one of the rooms where the tributes say goodbye to their loved ones. Where they probably made promises to their families to try to come back to them, just as I did. And if it hadn’t been for Peeta and I, there’s a chance both of their promises could’ve been honored.

At least it’s quiet. And we’re alone.

I sigh, walking over to the windowsill and take a seat, tucking my knees into my chest, staring out at the night sky. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

Peeta leaves the door open a crack before joining me in the windowsill. “This is only our second stop on the tour, Katniss,” he reminds me, his blue eyes sparkling, near silvery in the moonlight. “But I know what you mean. I’m not looking forward to Eight. I can’t imagine how you’re feeling about One or Two.”

I hadn’t even thought about that. Or at least had been trying not to. I bury my face in the folds of my dress in an attempt to find some sort of comfort, no doubt messing up the makeup that my prep team spent hours painting onto me. Part of me wants to whine candidly about the unfairness of it all to the only other person who knows what I’m going through, but I know the whole building is probably bugged, that anything we say will somehow make it back to Snow, so without raising my head, I settle for reaching out my hand.

He immediately intertwines his hand with mine, giving it a squeeze before brushing his thumb over it soothingly.

We sit like this for a few minutes in comfortable silence, before the dreaded sound of several pairs of feet walking toward us sounds in the hallway. My heart drops and I look up at Peeta in alarm, devastated at the interruption.

“Oh, Katniss,” he says gently. “You’ve got a little . . .”

I quickly glance at my reflection in the glass of the window to find that my lipstick is indeed smeared around my mouth, the dark makeup they’d painted on my eyes now ringed like a raccoon. Any damage I’ve done to my dress is unnoticeable, concealed in the green and gold brocade pattern of my skirts, but the makeup is unmistakable proof of the break in my composure. This would only ensure that I’ll be taken for an emotional fool for the rest of the tour, and — as Peeta said — we were only two districts in.

“What do I do?” I ask, panickingly trying to clean up what little I can, but I only seem to be making it worse.

Peeta grabs my wrists. “Do you trust me?”

“What?” I ask.

“Do you trust me?” he repeats, more forcefully this time as the footsteps grow louder. Whoever is out there was almost upon us, whatever he was planning on doing to help, he didn’t have much time for.

“Of course, Peeta, I —”

My words are cut off by Peeta pulling me into his lap, but instead of kissing me like he normally would, he presses his lips to the side of my neck, right as the door swings open to reveal a group made up of a cameraman, the mayor of District 10, Effie, and Haymitch.

I let out a gasp of surprise, gripping Peeta’s arm tightly. Not because of the sudden audience bursting in on us, but because of the unexpectedly pleasant sensation of him kissing the base of my throat, the sudden warmth that rushes through me at the feeling of him sucking lightly at a sensitive patch of skin.

Peeta pretends not to notice the newcomers at first, but as soon as he does, he removes his lips reluctantly and moves to shield me from view before pasting an apologetic, charming smile on his face. The expression of a boy so madly in love that he’d been willing to risk getting caught if it meant a moment alone with his lover.

Meanwhile, the cameraman is near-giddy with excitement. The mayor looks bored. Effie is clearly beside herself with how mortified she is. A very drunk Haymitch is barely containing his laughter.

“Leave her alone, you’ve gotten your shot,” he says to the cameraman, shooing him away and pulling me closer against his chest. “I was the one who suggested we leave. She just looked so incredibly gorgeous tonight — I had to try to get her on her own, if only for a minute. Nothing happened, though,” he assures them.

The mayor coughs awkwardly. “We’ll leave you to it then,” he says to Haymitch before leading the cameraman out and shutting the door behind them.

Peeta releases me as the door clicks shut and I shift myself a friendly distance away from . . . whatever that was.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Effie chides us, her voice high and squeaky. “What will people think?” She looks genuinely upset. “You two are not off to a good start with the press on this trip. Now I have to go talk to that dreadful man to see if he’ll erase that footage. No victors of mine should be known for sneaking around doing who-knows-what behind closed doors. You should be ashamed of yourselves.”

“Sorry, Effie,” Peeta says.

“Sorry,” I echo.

“You should be!” Seemingly satisfied with her chastising words, she softens a little bit. “Now go and get yourselves cleaned up, children. We don’t want anyone else getting any more ideas.” Effie collects herself and disappears into the hallway, the clicking of her heels against the marble floors fading as she goes. Leaving us with Haymitch.

“You got overwhelmed?” he asks me as soon as Effie is out of earshot. I nod. “And you helped her?” Peeta nods. “You two are gonna be the death of me, you know that?” Haymitch pinches the bridge of his nose. “Nice touch with the whole sneaking away bit. Couldn’t have planned it better myself. Just try to keep it together from here on out.” He sighs. “I’ll go find one of your stylists. You certainly look the part of the caught-in-the-act teenager, sweetheart, and Effie’s right — there’s only so much scandalous press we can take.”

When Haymitch is finally gone too, I turn on Peeta. “What was that for?”

He blinks at me in disbelief. “What do you mean?” he asks.

“What you did,” I splutter helplessly. I didn’t know how to describe the neck kiss thing. Nor did I particularly want to voice how nice it felt.

“I was just trying to cover for you,” he says, a hint of defensiveness to his voice. “ I needed you to look surprised at them walking in on us for it to look authentic. And we both know you can’t act, Katniss. I asked you to trust me — it worked didn’t it?”

My face burns and I open my mouth to say something biting, spiteful, before stopping myself. No, I have to remind myself. I can’t be mad at him, not for this. He saved me just now; he took what would’ve been my humiliation and made it his, while fabricating even more rumors to support the guise of our relationship. Besides, I’m not mad at him, not really. It’s something else I feel — something undefined.

So why do I feel so guilty?

[falsestardust]

angst + hurt/comfort prompts (dialogue, scenarios, vague single words…)

1. “I thought I was getting better.”

2. Sick

3. Delirium

4. Thermometer

5. “They don’t care about you.”

6. Exhaustion

7. Journal

8. Fears

9. “Make it stop.”

10. Nightmare

11. Insecurity

12. Hiding an Injury

13. “Get some sleep.”

14. Shock

15. Insomnia

16. Safety Net

17. “It’s broken.”

18. Overstimulation

19. Isolation

20. Mirror

21. “I quit.”

22. Recording

23. Radio Silence

24. Polaroid/Photographs

25. “It should have been me.”

26. Lying

27. Pinned

28. Confrontation

29. "We are not having this conversation."

30. Blanket Fort

31. Collapse

32. Trapped

33. “You matter to me.”

34. Scars

35. Betrayal

36. Begging

37. “I’m fine.”

38. Kidnapping

39. Hiding

40. Overworked

41. “You can’t be here.”

42. Restrained

43. Dissociation

44. Cold Compress

45. “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

46. Self-Harm

47. Memories

48. Discovery

49. “None of this is your fault.”

50. Touch Aversion

51. History

52. Gaslighting

53. “Something isn’t right.”

54. Flashbacks

55. Shadows

56. Headaches

57. “Leave me alone.”

58. Drugging

59. Touch-Starved

60. Storm

61. “I never had a choice.”

62. Future

63. Hair-Pulling

64. Blanket

65. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

66. Borrowed Clothing

67. Aftermath

68. Goodbye Note

69. “It's just—“

70. Haunt

71. Pillow

72. Matches

73. “Last night never happened.”

74. Long-Distance

75. Setbacks

76. Emotional Support Animal

77. “I can’t breathe.”

78. Warm Soup

79. Parents

80. Scar Reveal

81. “You’re too late.”

82. Panic Attacks

83. Emptiness

84. Breaking Point

85. “It’s not enough anymore.”

86. Bridal Carry

87. Stalking

88. Suppressed Suffering

89. “You need to stay awake.”

90. Crying

91. Comfort Item

92. Blindfold

93. “Where would I even go?”

94. Afraid to Sleep

95. Found Family

96. Bloody Knife

97. “Forget everything else.”

98. Cozy

99. Non-Consensual/Dubious Consent

100. Adrenaline

101. “Why do you even care?”

102. Suicide Attempt

103. Disaster Date

104. Protective

105. “Let me see.”

106. Game Night

107. Neglect

108. Makeshift Bandages

109. “Close your eyes and lean on me.”

110. “I don’t need you to help me, I can handle things myself.”

[gornackeaterofworlds]

Au prompt ask game! Reblogs appreciated !!!! Can be for art or writing

[cliophilyra]

Solace

Bucktommy | T | 615 words

I have updated this thing I wrote for the Intimacy Prompts ask game quite a lot as I wasn’t happy with it. I think I wrote it in a fugue state yesterday 😆

@hardly-an-escape & @bidisasterevankinard chose almost the same ones (14 & 19 and 13 & 14) so I have combined them.

Now also on AO3

——————————————————————————

Buck smiles softly as he opens the sliding door to their garden and takes in the view. Tommy is sitting in one of the reclining yard chairs Buck convinced him to buy once they’d made the neglected yardinto somewhere they might actually want to spend time. Tommy had rolled his eyes at the garden furniture and planters, hummingbird feeders and climbing plants, but he spends more time out there now than Buck does.

His eyes are closed and Buck is pretty sure he’s asleep in the fading evening sunshine. There’s a book on his chest and a bottle of beer half-drunk beside him, condensation pooling on the table below it. Buck’s heart feels several sizes too big for his chest.

Part of him doesn’t want to wake his boyfriend but today hurt more than any day has for a long time, and he needs him more now than he can resist. He crosses the yard and carefully swings a leg over Tommy, sitting down in his lap. Tommy starts awake, his hands flying to Buck’s hips as his eyes snap open.

“Jesus Christ sweetheart,” Tommy laughs, shaking his head fondly.

Buck smiles down at him, feeling some of the tension in his shoulders slip away. “Hey baby,” he says, leaning down for a kiss.

Tommy kisses him back as Buck runs his hands over his chest, focusing on the steady thump of his heart under his palms. Alive.

“Sorry.”

“No you’re not,” Tommy laughs, leaning in for another kiss.

“Mmm,” Buck picks up Tommy’s beer from the table and takes a long pull, trying to distract himself. Condensation drips from the base of the bottle to run down the neck of his shirt.

Tommy reaches up to take the bottle back. “Get your own,” he says with a smile, taking a mouthful himself before putting it back on the table and pressing his lips to Buck’s throat, chasing the drops of water down to his clavicle.

Buck hums, shifting in his lap as Tommy moves his hands down to grip his ass in both hands. Buck moans softly against his neck. Half of him very much wanting to just follow where this is going, but the moment he closes his eyes he’s back there. His breath catches and he stills, breathing in the scent of Tommy’s skin as he tries and fails to push the memories down, suddenly shaking in his boyfriend’s arms.

Tommy’s hands still immediately and he reaches for Buck’s shoulders, pushing him back gently.

“Sweetheart?” he says and the concern in his voice is all it takes to bring the whole terrible, horrible, not good day welling up in Buck’s chest. His lips flatten into a line as he tries to hold back the tears.

“Oh sweetheart, what happened?”

“It—it--it was, fuck--,” Buck swallows hard. “There was a woman...she was with her kids...in a car.” He leans forward again, resting his head against Tommy’s chest.

“She didn’t make it?” Tommy asks, lips soft against Buck’s hair.

Buck shakes his head, feeling the tears start, damp spreading through Tommy’s shirt under him. He can still hear the cries of the kid, the inhuman wailing as he and Eddie dragged him from the mangled wreckage, away from his mother’s body.

He gasps, choking on a sob as Tommy’s arms wrap around him, drawing him closer. He presses his face into his chest, twisting as if he could merge himself into Tommy, make himself a home inside him.

Tommy doesn’t say anything, he knows enough to know there’s nothing he can say. Instead, he trails his hands up and down Buck’s back, blunt nails scratching over his shirt, soothing and slow.

[tomicaleto]

All the prompts sound sooo good, but I'm going to ask you for your take on the "best friends sibling au" for Obikin?? I looove that concept

Vel, I apologise for how long this took me! I promise each day I didn't answer I was haunted by this prompt kshlgdjsgs Now for real I struggled to come up with an au to fill this one (mostly I struggled on who was going to be the sibling and such) and then once I came up with one I took too long writing it because I'm a human disaster but here it is!

SEND ME A SHIP AND A NUMBER AND I'LL WRITE A SHORT FIC

21. best friends sibling au

I hope you like this! This is an Argentine AU, with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan being brothers and Anakin being Qui-Gon's best friend. Unedited because I wanted to share it with you :) Also what a coincidence that I'm posting this at the beginning of July because:

Obi-Wan walked through Ezeiza’s airport shiny floors, his stroller behind him as he searched for his brother. The morning was cloudy and windy, a combination that fit the beginning of July perfectly and made him let out a sigh of relief at being back to the season his body was used to during the middle of the year. 

“There you are,” Qui-Gon’s voice made him look behind him. His brother was holding a little board with Obi-Wan’s name just like a cliché from a movie. He even seemed amused by the fact, as if he couldn’t believe himself that he was doing it. Obi-Wan wouldn’t have thought twice about it, but there was something about the way the board was decorated, with small spaceships and planes surrounding Obi-Wan’s name that spoke of a story for it that made Obi-Wan curious enough. “I was afraid your flight had been delayed. Come along, I have my car parked outside.” 

They caught up as Qui-Gon put Obi-Wan’s luggage in the trunk, and as they drove away from Ezeiza, the highway thankfully was not full. “We can’t be late, I have a previous arrangement.” Qui-Gon had explained. 

“And what that arrangement may be?” Obi-Wan teased, a smirk on his face as his brother huffed a chuckle and changed lanes. “Has your husband finally decided to be a romantic?” “We both know Dooku would never.” Qui-Gon shot back. “No, Anakin is coming over today and I want everything ready before he arrives.” 

The name sparked something inside Obi-Wan. “You still meet with him?” Anakin had been Qui-Gon’s student when he was in high school and they had bonded over the subject Qui-Gon had taught back then. As he grew up, he often kept visiting the man even after graduating, seeking advice and comfort. Eventually, a friendship had been established, with Qui-Gon often inviting Anakin for tea while he studied in university. Both Obi-Wan and Dooku had been dubious about their strange friendship, but Qui-Gon had always been great at ignoring everyone and doing whatever he wanted and it seemed like Anakin had benefited greatly from Qui-Gon’s guidance. 

“Even more now than before, his kids love colouring with me.” 

“He has kids now?” Obi-Wan had met Anakin eventually, and had understood why his brother had taken him under his wing. Temperamental and moody, the then nineteen-year-old seemed to soften under Qui-Gon’s calm demeanor. And in turn, it seemed like Qui-Gon rejoiced in sharing conversation with someone that matched his interests in mechanics and engineering. He may have enjoyed talking literature with his husband and philosophy with his brother, but Anakin also provided Qui-Gon with something related to his own field of study. 

“Yes, he got married two years ago. Sadly, his wife passed away during childbirth. I don’t think being a single father so young must be easy so I’ve been offering extra support.” “Only extra?” Obi-Wan wondered. “Is he getting help from somewhere else?” “Of course, his stepbrother took him back in when rent became too expensive and I think he has a cousin that babysits here and there.” Qui-Gon explained. “The children also go to kindergarten and swimming class. And of course, they come to play sometimes.” 

Obi-Wan thought back to the cardboard decorations back in the airport, it all made sense now. “It’s wild to think about Anakin with children and a life now.” 

Qui-Gon didn’t answer, just chuckled and nodded. 

—

The bell rang as Qui-Gon turned off the gas and dropped the water into the thermos. “That must be Anakin, can you let him in?” 

Obi-Wan got up from the stool he was sitting in and let Qui-Gon grab the yerba and the mate. 

He heard childish voices from the other side of the door, among a much deeper one answering, and checked the peephole by reflex before opening.

“Hi, Anakin, it’s been a while,” he began, as the man looked up from his children and blinked confusedly at him. The two kids at both of his sides had fallen quiet at the sight of Obi-Wan, most likely shy at the new stranger. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked, unsure like Obi-Wan had never heard him before. 

“In the flesh,” he answered, opening the door wider and gesturing with his free arm. “Please come inside, I don’t want you three to get cold. Qui-Gon is inside.” 

Anakin looked down at his children, who were gripping his pants like their life depended on it. “Come on, say hi like I taught you.” 

“Oh there is no need—” He didn’t even get to finish the phrase, the kids had already slipped by him without a word. Anakin sighed and shook his head, before letting himself inside too. 

“I’m sorry, we're working on being polite with people they are not familiar with.” He explained, taking off his coat. “It’s taking a while.” Obi-Wan laughed good naturedly. “We all go through that stage, I refused to kiss my aunts hello for years! My mother did not appreciate it at all.” 

Anakin answered with a small smile and it tugged at Obi-Wan’s heart. He remembered Anakin at nineteen. He had had more baby fat on his cheeks then, but even at that time, he had been a gorgeous young man. He was sure Qui-Gon had tried to play matchmaker but it had come to nothing. While admitting Anakin was beautiful had not been particularly hard, Obi-Wan had refused to act on his attraction, their age difference something he worried about. People already commented on Qui-Gon and Anakin’s friendship to add a wild romance with the remaining brother to the mix. 

He had grown taller in the years that had passed. His hair now fell in wild curls to his shoulders and his features had become more refined, though Obi-Wan did not miss the deeper bags under his eyes, probably a result of being a single parent of twins. 

“Give me a second and I’ll be polite myself,” Anakin teased, before putting a hand next to his mouth and loudly saying: “Luke! Leia! Come and get your coats off before bothering Qui-Gon!” 

Obi-Wan heard twin groans before the pitter-patter of their feet running towards the door again. Anakin rolled his eyes at Obi-Wan with a complicit smile before kneeling down and catching the first kid in his arms as he crashed against his body. “Hi, Luke, let’s take this off so you can go play, alright?” 

The boy nodded eagerly and hummed under his breath as his father helped him out. His sister had arrived in the meantime, and she was looking up at Obi-Wan less fearfully now. Obi-Wan smiled and exclaimed “Hello there!” She startled a bit and stayed quiet, until his father turned to look at her. “What do we say, Leia?” With the tiniest voice, she waved back as she said: “Hi!” before quickly hiding her hands behind her again. By that time, Anakin had finished with Luke and gestured to her to get closer. Luke stayed standing close to his father, not looking up at Obi-Wan at all. 

“Now, Luke, it’s your turn.” The kid shook his head and pouted. Anakin frowned but didn’t turn towards him, instead keeping his focus on Leia. “Come on, he won’t bite you.” The second push didn’t work either. Obi-Wan was about to tell Anakin that, really, he did not mind the children ignoring him but Anakin was faster. “You don’t want to make Qui-Gon’s brother sad, do you?” It worked like a magic spell. Both kids looked at Obi-Wan, the new information piquing their curiosity. And then, hiding a bit more behind his father, Luke said “Hi.” 

“Hello, Luke, nice to meet you.” Considering the niceties done, the kids turned and left for the kitchen where Qui-Gon still was. Anakin got up and smiled at Obi-Wan again. “We’ll work on the kisses next time.” 

–

Heavy rain poured down making anything hard to be seen. With that in mind, Obi-Wan drove with special care, even when the streets were almost empty. As he stopped at a red light, movement on the sidewalk caught his attention. Two kids were jumping around in heavy raincoats, uncaring about the rain or the cold weather. A couple of steps behind them, their parent held two colourful umbrellas over a curly haired head, taking advantage of the children’s eagerness to play. 

Could someone be embarrassed from recognising someone by their hair? Obi-Wan pondered about it as he lowered the right car window and leaned over to scream “Anakin!,” making the man turn around and almost drop one of his children’s umbrellas when trying to wave at him. “Do you need a ride?”

Five minutes later, he had two kids in his backseat, soaking the seats while cheerfully arguing on how to put on their seatbelts. Anakin had thanked him profusely before he told Obi-Wan where to go and focused on calming down his children. 

The kids had loosened up around Obi-Wan since that first meeting at Qui-Gon’s. It had helped that Obi-Wan had been there the other two times Anakin had dropped by and that his colouring skills had been deemed appropriate for the twins. 

“You must stay for a coffee after that favour, Obi-Wan,” Anakin told him as they stopped in front of a building’s glass door. Behind them, the twins cheered at Anakin’s proposal and Obi-Wan sighed. 

“Only a coffee, I don’t want to impose.” –

Anakin’s apartment was much tidier than what Obi-Wan would have expected from a single man living with two young children, but then again, Anakin had always been neat in his own spaces when he wasn’t in the middle of an exam period. 

Luke and Leia scrambled away, probably hiding in their room, as Anakin led him towards the kitchen and made him sit on a stool. He began setting the coffee machine up while humming under his breath and Obi-Wan relaxed against the wall. 

“This place is lovely, Anakin,” Obi-Wan commented, signalling for one sugar when Anakin showed him the sugar can. 

“All thanks to Padmé,” Anakin shrugged. “I mean, we chose the decoration and furniture together but she was the one with enough money to actually find us a place to buy instead of renting.” Qui-Gon had filled Obi-Wan in regarding Anakin’s dead wife situation so he could avoid messing up when talking with the man but he hadn’t expected Anakin to so casually bring her up. 

At his silence, Anakin turned and quickly deduced what had quietened Obi-Wan. He smiled sadly. “Qui-Gon told you about Padmé, I see. I miss her dearly but I’ve been working through it with my therapist.” He turned around to grab two small mugs and continued. “Don’t tell Qui-Gon, though, I’m not ready to admit to him that I’m going yet.” 

“I don’t think he would judge you, he’s your friend, after all.” Obi-Wan jumped in to defend his brother. 

“Oh, I know, it’s just that I still can’t believe it myself so I need a bit more time.” 

They moved on from that as Anakin made them move towards the sitting room. Obi-Wan told Anakin about some of his trips, and he in turn filled the holes in Qui-Gon’s retell of their shared history since Obi-Wan had left. 

“You know,” Anakin began casually, staring out the huge window where rain still fell with fury. “I used to have a huge crush on you when I was younger.” 

He side-glanced at Obi-Wan to gauge his reaction. And for a moment, Obi-Wan was not a much older man drinking coffee with his own brother’s much younger friend, but a single, lonely man who had returned to his home country because he missed it and had a gorgeous man saying he used to like him so long ago. 

So, as any sensible person would do, he choked on his coffee and had to cough for a while as Anakin chuckled at his misery. It took him several minutes to compose himself, straightening up as Anakin gently patted his back. He took a deep breath and then risked another sip of what remained of his coffee before turning towards Anakin again. “Used to?”

Anakin’s eyes widened as Obi-Wan realised what he had actually said. Blushing, he clumsily thrust the almost empty cup into Anakin’s hands and stood up. “Well, I have overstayed my welcome, I need to go back home, Qui-Gon must be waiting for me and…” “Obi-Wan,” Anakin interrupted his tirade of excuses, standing up as well. “If you’re interested we can…” He paused, unsure on how to continue. “I mean, that is to say, maybe we could actually go out, uh, for a drink?” 

He cringed at himself and looked down towards the cup. “I mean, nevermind, I didn’t actually….” “I would like that.” Obi-Wan cut him off. “I always thought your relationship with Qui-Gon was a bit strange.” He began, doing his best to ignore how Anakin cringed again at his words. “But he always told me I would have to get to know you before making my opinion. And seeing your bond remain after all these years, even becoming stronger with your children… I think I may enjoy getting to actually know you, Anakin.” 

Anakin finally looked up at that, cheeks pink but an earnest smile on his lips. They stared at each other and then Anakin handed him back his cup. “You still have to finish your coffee, why don’t we start now?” 

[dawnrider]

Inukag 40 ☺️

Coming in at 40 is Blinding Lights by The Weeknd. I'm honestly surprised it's not a little higher on the list, though I've been listening to a bunch of his other songs, so that might be why.

This one ended up being another peek into that Modern AU I keep dabbling in inspired by @heavenin--hell's Inu in a ballcap and a slouchy jacket.

There was so much more to try to shut out in the city. The noise, the smells, the lights… Inuyasha struggled to keep to the building side of the sidewalk in the throngs of people. The performance hall up the road must have just let out and the crowds were pouring out to cover the sidewalks as people went to their cars, the metro… Inuyasha tucked himself into his oversized jacket just a bit more, pulling his hat down over his eyes. He kicked himself for popping out at this time of night when he should have waited for Kagome to get home from her study group. He just wanted to make sure she had something nice to eat when she got back. There hadn’t been much in the apartment, so he’d decided that a trip to the ramen shop down and around the corner was worth it. Mistakes were made. The food in the takeout bag was piping hot against his leg, the scent nearly making his mouth water. But he had to focus hard on it to block out all the smells from the crowd, the street itself, the dumpster in the alley he just passed… Then there were the lights from the bus, the streetlight, and the cars going by. Even with his hat pulled down, the flashing caught his peripheral vision, making him grunt and flinch. He missed the country in moments like this. The stoop to the apartment came into view and the more familiar scents he associated with their building caught his nose. The family on the third floor was making tortillas with the window open. The guy living on the ground floor apartment in the back was frying fish and desperately trying not to set off the smoke alarm. Inuyasha could hear him swearing from his spot on the sidewalk. Most importantly, he could smell Kagome. Looking up, he was a little stunned to find her on the step, waiting for him. Her eyes were worried, but widened then relaxed with relief when she spotted him. He lengthened his stride a little, jostling a few people to get through to the steps and to her. The simple impact of her touch on his arm as she silently greeted him was enough to wash away all the tension in his frame, to calm the agitation and anxiety caused by being out in a crowd of humans from whom he had to hide his presence. She leaned into him as he took her hand, opening the door for them so they could return to their cocoon of safety. As they sat in their tiny kitchen in their tiny one-bedroom apartment, eating their ramen directly out the to-go containers, laughing… Inuyasha was blinded by the glow of Kagome’s smile. The light of the love in her eyes. Maybe the city and its stressors were worth it. For her.

[luxesiren]

11 with gojoooo!!🥹 pls pls <3

prompt #11: “How do you always make me love you even more when I don’t want to.”

also hi my bby🥺!! i’ve missed you so much like omggg! i hope you’re doing well and i hope life’s treating you well <33 (also sorry i got to this late😅)

love wasn’t something that came easily for satoru, he avoided it like it was the plague — of course he had his reasons. so he found sanctity in sleeping around and being careless because it was no strings attached and he didn’t feel tied down even though it’s what he truly wanted.

deep down he felt as though no one would love him so he hides it behind a big smile and jokes and telling people just how powerful he is but you saw right through him which made him wary and scared to get involved with you after the first time but he also wanted to cling on to something real.

both of you were clinging onto each other and he was watching how your eyes twitched in your sleep, how shallow your breath was — how peaceful you looked.

he loved you. he knew he loved from the first couple of times you guys started to sleep with each other but he tried so hard to shake it off but it stuck to him. “how can you make me love you? how do you always make me love you even more when i don’t want to?” he asked to no one.

you made him want to cry but he felt so secure in your arms with you, satoru wanted to feel loved, he wanted to be loved and he was.

[rymurrsneckbeard]

Hi hi hello!! 16. laughing while kissing, mo/mitch please <3

You know I love me some Mo/Mitch!

Mitch Marner has always gotten really lonely on the road.

It was an issue in juniors, sure, but he always had a roommate and those guys were young and in each other's space all the time, so he didn't notice it as much. His first couple of years in the NHL weren't too bad either - he was on a rookie contract so he always shared a hotel room. He never had time with his own thoughts.

But then eventually he hit that magic age where he wasn't sharing a room on the road any longer and it started to get to him. Without a named captain on the roster, it fell to Morgan to check in on him, to make sure he was okay, to spend some time with him so he felt less alone.

It may have started with taking a walk around the block so he could get excess energy out (Morgan has never expressly said that Mitch is very much like an excitable puppy but the implication is there). When that wasn't enough Morgan would post up on the spare bed and watch a movie with him. Until the night when the hotel gave them all rooms with a single king bed, which means Morgan ended up sitting against the headboard right next to Mitch, who quickly decided that cuddles were necessary.

Mitch is a very affectionate guy.

So in very short order a walk turned into a movie turned into cuddling turned into, well. This.

Morgan is still sitting up in Mitch's hotel bed, only Mitch isn't just snuggled up against him. No, Mitch is wearing pajama pants and no shirt, straddling Morgan's hips, his hands in Morgan's hair, his tongue in Morgan's mouth.

Steph knows about it, so does Tessa. It isn't a sexual thing, not really. Sure they were shirtless and making out and pawing all over each other, but it isn't sex. It never turns to sex. But Mitch often wakes up the next morning with stubble-burn on his lips and Morgan is often left with pink and purple marks sucked and bitten into the skin of his throat. And there were a couple of times when Mitch came in his pants. (Okay and maybe Morgan has done that once as well. Neither of them talk about it.)

It's just about the connection, both physical and emotional, and while it had started as a way to keep Mitch out of his own head, Morgan finds that it makes him feel better too.

Which is why it's a little bit disconcerting when Mitch suddenly starts giggling against his lips.

"Mitchy," Morgan breathes against his jaw, scraping his teeth just enough that Mitch lets out a quiet hiss. "Are you laughing at me?"

"Mm, not at you," Mitch answers, tipping his head to the side so Morgan can keep biting down the tendon in his neck. "Show's funny."

"You're on my lap, tongue in my mouth, grinding on my dick," Morgan says, closing his lips on Mitch's earlobe, biting down quick, hard," and you're still paying attention to the TV?"

Mitch's reply is delayed by a low, ragged moan. "I can do two things at once."

Morgan pulls back enough that he can look up into Mitch's eyes, one brow raised high. "Mitchy, you can barely do one thing at a time."

"That is a lie and you know it. See, I can listen to the TV show and I can play with your hair," Mitch laces both hands through Morgan's hair, "I can get you hard," he rolls his hips in sloooow circles against Morgan's admittedly interested cock, "and I can kiss your face off."

He tugs on Morgan's hair to tilt his head up and lowers his mouth to Morgan's, his lips warm and soft and just the right amount of wet. He drags the edges of his teeth over Morgan's scarred upper lip, right where it's a little bit sensitive, where he knows it'll draw a gasp from deep in Morgan's chest.

"I'm a goddamn master of multitasking," he murmurs into Morgan's mouth.

And now it's Morgan's turn to laugh.

[2aceofspades]

44 por favor? "I... I think I need a hug."

A very nice choice 🙌✨

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TW: Blood/Injury

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Thank you for your submission! 🤗🌟

(:

[askgametime]

send a heart and a ship for a brief snippet!

❤️ first kiss / realization

🧡 kissing in bed / lazy kiss / cuddling

💛 reunion kiss / relief

💚 true love's kiss / magic kiss / healed

💙 drunken kiss / tipsy

💜 surprise kiss / impulsive kiss

💗 slow kiss / gentle kiss / inevitable / soft

💖 rough kiss / hot and heavy / making out

💕 kissing somewhere other than lips

💘 fake relationship / mutual pining / dared to kiss

🤎 multiple kisses / kisses all over / kiss after kiss

🤍 kiss at the wedding / milestone

🖤 kissing while crying / goodbye kiss / desperation

[sweet-child]

26 with Tim Shepard?

pride

a feeling of deep pleasure or satisfaction derived from one's own achievements, the achievements of those with whom one is closely associated, or from qualities or possessions that are widely admired

consciousness of one's own dignity

· ��� —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

In which we see the end of an argument between Tim and Curly

Pairing - N/A

Word Count - N/A

A/n: This is probably so OOC for Tim. I just…I love the headcanon that Tim has a soft spot for his family. 

“Enjoy this appetizer!” 

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Tim Shepard would not describe himself as a prideful man. He would describe himself as strict, a hood, bitter, and organized. He didn’t think pride would fit in that list. There were things he took pride in, like his gang and that scar from his forehead to his chin, but he wasn’t overly prideful. Was he prideful? He couldn’t tell. He himself didn’t think so. 

3 hours ago, he and Curly got into an argument on why he runs the gang so strictly and why the elder brother didn’t seem to care about his younger siblings. Tim did care for his siblings. He loved them, but he didn’t say it. He thought they would know that he loved them. Curly got too upset, and left, slamming the door behind him.

Tim was sitting on the couch, reading the paper, waiting for his brother to return. The door opened, and then shut, and in came Curly. He didn’t say anything, and was on the way to his room when the older boy put down the paper and stood. “Curly-”

“What do you want?” He seethed, apparently still upset 

Tim took a moment, trying to not get upset. “Curly, I'm just- it’s hard. Ever since ma left. You’re right, I got too involved with the gang. And i'm missing out on you and your sisters’ lives. I thought you would know that I cared. And I- Were family, Curly. I thought you would know.” 

Curly knew what he was trying to say, and nodded. “I dig.” The two words that were hard for the family to say but they seemed to understand even if they didn't say them.

[12romy]

some promts for my dear 😘

whisper

Flying

Redbull

Thanks for the Lewis/Miles prompts!!! I'll answer the other two separately, but here's for the third one ;)

Enjoy~

The bold "Redbull" on Miles' helmet is taunting him.

Lewis always forget that Miles is part of the Redbull family because - well because Miles is his friend, first and foremost.

He quickly forgets about it as the match starts, Miles' body with grace and dexterity that Lewis wouldn't associate with his friend. Miles is huge, tall and muscular, yet he moves like a dancer as soon as he has a sword in hand. Foil, he chastetises himself. Miles told him it's called a foil, not a sword.

The duel goes on for a while. It's beautiful - Miles is beautiful. Lewis tried to understand the rules before coming, but he lost focus quickly, and Miles told him he needed to see it to understand anyway.

So Lewis came to see.

Miles is winning, so far, but it's a tight one - at least from what he understands of the scoring board.

Miles managed to touch his opponent again, the board showing "15" under his name, and he takes off his helmet, screaming.

Ah- the match is over, it seems, and Miles won. Lewis smiles brightly, and even brighter when Miles looks for him in the crowd and finds him.

Lewis waves at him, and Miles closes his first, punching the air in victory.

"So, what did you think?" Miles asks him, hours later, once they're back in the hotel room they're sharing. Lewis is reading the rules of fencing, and is managing to stay focussed this time.

The kiss Miles drops on his naked shoulder pulls him out of it, however.

"Sorry, what did you say?" he asks, blinking away from his laptop.

"Did you like it?"

"I didn't understand everything," he hums. "So I think I'll need to watch more of your matches..."

"Oh, will you, now?" Miles says, his face split with a smile. "I'm glad."

"It's kinda hot, too. I don't want to miss that. Why didn't you take me to your competitions before?"

"I was afraid you wouldn't find it interesting," his best friend shrugs.

"Miles... It's your passion. Of course I will find it interesting," Lewis shakes his head. "Just like you find F1 interesting because of me. I didn't forget how you said you 'didn't see the point of watching cars going around in circles' the first time we met."

Miles blushes, trying to defend himself, and Lewis laughs. He shuts him up with a kiss to avoid having to listen to his ridiculous excuses.

SEND LEWIS/MILES PROMPTS!

[thatseventiesbitch]

Can you do Eric comforting Donna after they find out she's pregnant? Thank you :)

Thanks for the ask, anon! Have a request? You can send it here!

"Are you sure it's - it's positive?" Eric asked, swallowing nervously.

"I'm sure!" Donna exclaimed, frantically.

She waved the pregnancy test at him, and he reached for it. He held it under the bathroom light, examining it closely, as if holding it in a new position might wield a different result.

"I mean, maybe it - "

"Oh, please Eric," Donna cut him off, impatient. "Tell me about all of the pregnancy tests you've taken." She placed a hand under her chin sarcastically, like she was ready to listen. "Please."

"Okay," Eric swallowed again. "Okay." He set the test on the bathroom counter again and looked at her. "So you're - you're pregnant."

A hushed silence fell between them.

"Yeah." Her voice was thick, and he noticed. She turned away from him and blinked a few times, fighting to keep her composure. "And I'm not dropping out of college," she accused him, her voice hard so she wouldn't cry, daring him to challenge her.

But he matched her with softness. "Donna," he took a step closer, bridging the distance between them. He reached an arm out for her, but she was still hesitant to accept his touch. "No one's saying you have to." He chuckled. "I promise - I learned my lesson last time."

She let him close the remaining distance between them and pull her into a hug. Donna released a sob into his shoulder as he embraced her.

"Whatever you want to do, we'll do," he promised, whispering it into her ear as he rocked her. "We can do whatever you want to do, Donna." He kissed the side of her head. She was calming down. "Okay?"

"Eric, I know this is like, crazy," she mumbled. Her voice was soft and she wiped her face against the chest of his sweater. Gently, Eric coaxed her upright. She swiped at her eyes, smearing her make-up. "I know we're not ready and the timing couldn't be worse but," she bit her lip and looked at him. "I think I want to - I want to keep it." Another tear spilled down her cheek. "It's our baby," she whispered, shrugging helplessly.

"Yeah," he smiled, transfixed by her. He couldn't look away from her eyes. "Our baby," he repeated. "Let's keep it. Let's be a family."

"What about - "

Eric brushed his hand in the air like he was swatting at an invisible fly. He still didn't look away from Donna, and he didn't stop smiling. "We'll figure it out."

"Eric - " Donna giggled.

"I promise you. We'll figure it out."

[tigereyes45]

AOS mckirk + 43? ❤️

Prompt 43 was, "Why aren't you eating?" You can find the list of prompts here. I originally wrote a version of this request where it's Jim not eating, but then my mind kept saying, but what if it was McCoy. So I did that. XD There's going to be a second part to this where Jim is the one not eating. You can also read the story on AO3 here:

Summary:

It's easy to push aside eating in favor of finishing a task at hand. Everyone needs reminders sometimes.

Start:

When Jim Kirk steps into McCoy's private office space, there's a swagger that's ever-present in his moves. A self-confidence that's more act than reality. Leonard has enough kindness to keep from announcing the fact. The doctor lowers a PADD that had been claiming his ever-dissipating attention, for the last hour and a half.

"Nurse Chapel tells me you haven't been eating." The doctor drops his PADD onto his desk as if he couldn't be bothered to read it for another moment.

“She told you.” McCoy corrects before rolling his eyes. It’s official. No more late-night lab tests with Spock. The vulcan’s beginning to rub off on him. Leonard shakes his head. His fingers impatiently tap against the PADD’s screen. "Christine needs to learn how to keep information to herself." Jim’s foot began to subconsciously tap along with Bones’ fingers. McCoy huffs and crosses his arms. "It's unprofessional."

"She worries about you Bones." Kirk leans against the doctor's desk. A knowing smile on his face. "I worry about you."

That’s obvious. Despite his role as captain, Jim has never been able to hide his favoritism. He’s kept those who he first encountered on the ship closer than most others. Their history throughout the academy resulted in McCoy being allowed closer than most. Even more so than the bridge crew.

"I don't need you worrying over me." Bones insists. How many times have they had a conversation like this? With another huff, he stands up. "And leave Christine alone. She's a rather skilled nurse. I'd hate to lose her. Again." That last word came out with a little more bite than he intended.

"I'll keep that in mind."

There's so much work to do. Wounds to heal, chests waiting to be sewn up, check-ups, vaccinations, physical therapies to watch, paperwork to sign off on, newly released research to catch up on, and then review. All before they head off to start this new five-year mission. The work never ends, and damn it! He's a doctor. If anyone knows how far and long their body can go, it's him. No puffed-up captain is going to tell him otherwise.

"Bones," Jim's soft call is followed by a hand clapping around McCoy's shoulder. Leonard shrugs the handoff. Concern fills Jim's face. His usual smirk now hangs awkwardly open. No doubt the gears are turning in that quick mind. Nimble as a fox. That's what his father would’ve called Jim.

If they ever had the chance to meet.

"I just want to make sure you keep some meat on you." Jim jokes, rounding on McCoy. He folds his arms over his chest and offers a light smile. Even that small smile would be enough to brighten up most of McCoy's days. Not now though. There’s no time. He’s due for a surgery in about eight hours. Eight hours that’ll pass in a blink of an eye if he’s not careful.

"I've got work to do Jim." Leonard tries to step around. 

Jim swiftly sways and weaves to keep in his way. "Come on Bones. Join me for lunch."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can.” Jim’s the one rolling his eyes now. “Take a break.” He throws a hand out, leaning in the doorway. Thoroughly blocking McCoy’s only way out. “Captain's orders." He adds with a wink.

"I said I can't." It’s not that he doesn’t want to, but there’s too much on the scales. He has to keep going just to keep them balanced. Otherwise, Jim will be short on crew, and missing talented people. Individuals that may keep him alive. Out there in the vast emptiness, they’ll only have each other to count on. Starfleet won’t be able to help if they get into trouble. They can’t have come so far for McCoy to make a mistake. Not now. Not again.

McCoy furrows his brows and fights back the memories threatening to take his attention. Deep down Leonard knows why he’s doing this. Why it has become so easy to push his own needs aside and focus on all the lives on board. 

Part of it is his training. Doctors of all kinds learn early on in school how to push down the biological signs of hunger and stress. When you have lab results due in the morning, but the tests haven’t run their full course yet, and midterms are around the corner, while professor after professor is encouraging you to start thinking about your thesis work now before you even manage to get out of undergrad, well stress becomes seconded nature. Exhaustion, hunger pangs, and increased anxiety that verges on panic attacks, all get swept under the rug, and suppressed until a body can’t go on anymore. By the time they get to medical school most students have bodies that are simultaneously, in a horrendous state, yet conditioned to work through it. They keep to themselves. Reminding himself with post-its, handwritten notes scrawled in the empty spaces of his books, and phone alerts to drink water, eat food, and take five minutes to close his eyes before pushing on. Always aware of the fact of the hypocrisy between the instructions he gives to patients on how to care for themselves as he works himself to the bone.

Leonard’s trained not to share his own problems. To ignore his own needs, but even that can only go so far. Deep down there’s more to it. A fear deeper than the grief that washes over him as he loses a patient. Something that motivates him more than any fear he experienced when in school or out in space.

He can’t lose Jim again.

"And I said you can." Jim opens up his arms, talking with his hands. "You're not much help to anyone if you're all skin and bones."

The timing had been more. Leonard knows that’s not what James was saying. He wasn’t invalidating the fear, but rationality wasn’t home today. "Damn it Jim, I said no!" McCoy’s hand goes flying past Jim, towards the door’s control. Fingers catch on the bottom of Jim’s long sleeve as his palm smacks the buttons.

It’s painful how ingrained that loss had become in his life. Terrifying how the mere thought of it sends his mind spiraling as if lost to a deep, powerful vortex that sucks everything else away.

"Hey!" Jim pushes a hand against Leonard's chest. "Watch the hand, McCoy."

McCoy pulls his hand back. His fingers were shaking. With a deep sigh Leonard folds them in. Doing his best to calm his racing nerves the doctor closes his eyes. Doing his best stern, yet calm voice Leonard says, "Just get out of here Jim. I've got lives to save, and people who need fixing." People you need.

Leonard opens his eyes slowly. The look on Jim’s face was one of determination. Better than heartbroken. McCoy can only imagine his own expression. He needs to get back to work.

“Nurse Chapel.” Christine appears right behind him, as if waiting for Jim’s call. “When is Doctor McCoy’s next scheduled appointment?”

“In eight hours sir. It’s Lieutenant Alfonse’s surgery.” An engineer skilled enough, that Scotty himself has been asking after his health since they first discovered the kidney issue.

“Does he have any pressing matters in the meantime?”

Christine doesn’t even bother pretending to look at the datapadd in her hands. “No sir?��� Her eyes stare McCoy down.

“He’s officially off shift. Call me directly if there’s an emergency.” Leonard fights back the urge to swear. Jim really isn’t going to let this drop.

“You sir?” Chapel asks, trying to get a look at the captain’s face. The man keeps his back to her, and his eyes trained on McCoy.

Jim crosses his arms. “He’ll be eating with me in my room.” A new smirk adorns his face. “Won’t you Bones?”

Sensing no room for argument McCoy agrees through gritted teeth, “I guess I will, sir.” He added that last word to make it clear that while he’s bending he’ll remember this. If Jim’s bothered by that idea, he doesn’t act like it.

Jim steps aside, finally letting Leonard pass by. Chapel steps back out of the way, heading over to the bio beds, with a polite nod of her head. Leonard steals a glance at her datapadd. It wasn’t even turned on. They planned this! Jim comes bounding after. He lightly pats Leonard’s arm, as he falls into step beside the doctor. “No be angry Bones. You’re gonna like this.”

“I like working.”

Jim playfully smacks McCoy’s chest. “No you don’t. You like fried potatoes, dumplings, and steak bites.”

That stops Leonard dead in his tracks. “What?” He turns to face Jim whose got the biggest shit-eating grin. Sickbay’s front door slides shut behind them.

Jim grabs both of McCoy’s arms, and fix the end of his short sleeves. “Like I said,” Jim leans closer practically bubbling with energy. “You’ll like it. I even used basil.”

This time Leonard couldn’t keep his face from forming a wide, disblieving smile. “You what?” Did that mean Jim actually cooked? Yeah they were still on Earth but it must’ve been out of his way to go and grab actual food from a market. McCoy’s stomach growls, voicing it’s lack of care over where the food came from, or how it was prepared. Either way he has to try it now. As if it wasn’t already being required by Jim.

A home cook meal. Literally. It shouldn’t be such an odd thought considering that the Enterprise was going to be his only home for the next five years. Leonard had expected to only eat synthesized food for it all. An actual cooked meal, made with fresh ingredients, his mouth starts to water.

The captain was already a few steps down the hall, as McCoy’s feet finally lift and start to follow. With each step bringing him a little bit closer to the promise of food, his body grows lighter. There’s still a lot of work to do. Guilt threatens to rear it’s ugly head back up, but Jim’s smile banishes the thoughts to the deepest recesses of Bones’ mind.

Sometimes it’s easy to forget to actually enjoy his time with the people he wants to save.

Another lesson trained into the practice, unfortunately.