#mfmm fanfic

[pond---scum]

Walrus versus fairy

Phryne was curled around a warm cup of tea, surveying the people gathered at her kitchen table with satisfaction and affection when Cec and Bert burst in. 

“Alright,” snapped Bert, “We’ve been at loggerheads about this since sparrow’s fart, so we’re bringing it to you lot for review.” 

Jack and Mac had both been buried in the morning paper. Mac cocked an eyebrow at the cabbies over the top of her page, and Jack sighed and let his paper fall onto the table. “Wonderful,” he muttered. 

Dot didn’t even look up from her embroidery. 

“I’m intrigued,” Phryne told them, placing her tea carefully on the table. “Please, go on.” 

“Well, you gotta imagine that it’s a nice weekend morning like this, right?” Cec said earnestly, Bert folded his arms and scowled behind him. “And you go over to open it. What would you be more surprised to see, a -” 

“A fairy,” Bert cut in, “or a fucking walrus.” 

Phryne and Mac shared a perplexed glance, before Phryne shrugged and declared her answer. “The walrus, I suppose.” 

Mac nodded. “Walrus.” 

“It’s the Walrus for me, too,” Dot said. 

Jack had been reaching for his own tea, but he froze with his hand outstretched towards the cup. “What?” he said weakly, glancing around at all of them. 

“See,” said Bert to Cec with a smirk, “you’re full of shit.” 

Cec groaned. “How?” he demanded. “How can a walrus be more surprising than a fairy?” 

Phryne tilted her head to the side, considering this. “Well,” she said, “how on earth would a walrus get here?” 

“How would a fairy get here,” Jack asked slowly, letting his outstretched hand drop loosely onto the table, “when there’s no such thing as fairies?” 

Mac shrugged. “But if fairies were real, I would almost expect them to show up at Wardlow first.” 

Jack made a pained sound. “But they’re not real.” 

Read the rest on ao3

[glamorouspixels]

Miss Fisher's Whumptober Challenge is back for 2023!

What is Whumptober?

Whumptober is a month-long creative fandom challenge consisting of 31 themes and prompts. “Whump” means a work in which characters are put in emotionally and/or physically painful situations, and usually these works can be categorized as hurt/comfort.

How does this work?

If this sounds like your thing, simply go to this spreadsheet, write your name behind one of the prompts, and create something for it (to be posted at any point in October and the first week of November; it doesn’t have to be up on the actual day your prompt was assigned to). Each prompt can be claimed by multiple people and you can create something for as many of them as you want.

Please tag your works “MFMMwhumptober” and if you post them on AO3, you can also add them to this collection.

Even if whump isn’t for you, we’ve modified the event so you can still participate! We’ve had several writers bend the rules and write fluffy or smutty works for this challenge. Just make sure to tag your works appropriately and specify whether they contain comfort elements or are pure angst. Our main goal is to get you to write so all contributions are welcome!

This is the original announcement post and here is the official collection, which you can also add your entries to as long as they somewhat fit the overall theme of the original challenge.

Where can I check out the previous years’ entries?

Whumptober has been a longstanding tradition in this fandom so there are a lot of examples to draw inspiration from. You can read all of the past entries here:

2018

2019

2020

2021

2022

The fandom has grown a lot since last year and we want to encourage as many of you as possible to participate in this wonderful event. We look forward to seeing all your wonderful contributions!

[dontcallmebymyusername]

So I'm reading this fic on ao3, "thwarted love" by insight, and there is a description of Jack Robinson that goes like this:

"The Chief Inspector is sporting stubble, his skin ghastly pale, with noticeable bags under his red-rimmed eyes."

Anyway, this is what I imagine he would look like:

by the way @avoteforme is that you on ao3?

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

Fuck It Friday ⏳

There were, by Jack’s rough estimation, over two dozen quotes by Shakespeare meant to wax poetic on the passage, importance, or general meaning of time. Over two dozen offerings by a literary genius that a layperson, like himself, could borrow should they find themselves trying to put into words that intangible hourglass that every living thing spent their entire existence slipping through.

Jack, of course, had read every single one of them more than once over the last few months, attempting to make sense of his current predicament.

It was, also by his estimation, the first time the Bard had ever failed him.

[avoteforme]

don't know why there aren't more jack/phryne fics being posted on ao3 on the daily, but i think it might be due to lack of the 'comints'? anyway i'm gonna have something up for my 'thwarted love' fic tomorrow

[demonahw]

My partner has done a picture to go with my Austen-inspired regency AU fic Phryne and Finality (AO3).

The gun is more for vibes than because it’s relevant to the story. And it’s what happens when you fail to give a brief beyond a shoulder shrug.

The fic itself is in progress, but the final chapter is proving long and difficult. Finishing things is hard.

[mfmmflashchallenge]

The fics of the February flashfic challenge: a round-up!

Yesterday we had the MFMM flashfic challenge, and whoah – what a wonderful response we had! 

No less than 30 fics were written during that one day, and this is a new record for an MFMM flashfic event! 17 writers participated, and more than one of them wrote either their first MFMM fanfic, or their first flashfic – so extra kudos to you for diving in!

Two writers managed to write for all four time slots, which is a first for the flashfic challenge! We are very impressed, @galadriel1010 and Piratesandpixiedust! And the latter even wrote a series of four fics that all go together.

All in all, 22 prompts were used over the heats. Most popular, resulting in three fics, was the tag combination “Shouldn't you be sleeping? // an unexpected guest // snarky Mac”.

Those are the stats. Excellent work, all – we swear that the blood, sweat, and tears were visible across all time zones of the world!

Below is a round-up of all the fics, to make them easier to dive into and enjoy. And when you read, please consider writing a flash comment if you have the time!

Have fun!

Heat 1:

Oblivious // on the run // flower shop:

Good Intentions by @lechatnoir1918​

Outback // There Was Only One Bed // turns out somebody doesn't like having nice things:

Outback by @firesign23

Starring Role by @galadriel1010​

At least they made it to the beach // where did the dog come from // minor character injury:

First Aid by @midnight-els​

Tell Me A Story by @demonahw

Pretending to Be Gay // Bodyguard // Face Slapping:

Sorry Not Sorry by piratesandpixiedust

Heat 2:

Shouldn't you be sleeping? // an unexpected guest // snarky Mac:

Holiday, Interrupted by deadhuntress/ @thetideseternaltune​

Sleep is Overrated by @rachaeljurassic​

An Evening in Paris by @whopooh​

Praise kink // Alcohol // Rumours:

praise by tara_stofse/ @leliesblou​

Not the Right Moment by @galadriel1010​

What would Phryne Fisher do? // And Then There Were None // The Gay Agenda:

For Five More Minutes by piratesandpixiedust

Heat 3:

For all of the prompts in the heat:

Drabbles by @firesign23​

birthday party // Phryne is the biggest flirt // Dot’s POV:

dance like nobody's watching; love like you've never been hurt by benwvatt

Queen of the Castle by piratesandpixiedust

Accidental Marriage // Wrongful Imprisonment // Birthday:

Heart to Heart by @rachaeljurassic​

Non-Linear Narrative // Drunk Dialing // Unusual Clothing:

Dress to Impress by @lechatnoir1918​

Touch starved // BAMF // hypothermia:

Lost and Found by @galadriel1010​

Everyone Thinks They’re Together // Being Walked In On // Nudity:

Honeymoon Phase by deadhuntress/ @thetideseternaltune​

Babyfic // Crack // Alternate Universe - Modern:

Encounter with A Baby by @912luvjaxlean​

aftermath of danger // Mr Butler’s secret recipe // Hands:

Can I Hold You? by CrazyBeCat

Heat 4: 

Sex Pollen // First Time // Feathers:

Feathers by @912luvjaxlean​

Undercover as a Couple // Lipstick // Public Transportation:

Who's Pretending? by @lechatnoir1918​

Verisimilitude by @galadriel1010​

Surprise Cat // Wardlow // Hugh Collins needs a hug:

I'm Unshakable by piratesandpixiedust

Flashfree:

Gardens & Gardening // Secret Messages // Competition:

Weeds in the Mind by @midnight-els​

Fake/Pretend Relationship // Makeup // Kissing:

I Get So Lost in Your Blueberry Eyes by @glamorouspixels​

painted on by @a-wonderingmind

chaos theory // slash or slasher? // dot on the run:

Double Hand by biratebean

Restaurants // Third Wheels // Suggestive Themes:

Three is a crowd by missmariie/ @three-seperate-johns

Why Is This Happening?? // Domesticity // Also Cats Can Talk Now

(i.e. the prompt example from the post about the flashfic challenge)

Also Cats Can Talk Now by @whopooh

-----

Alright – those are all the fic! 

We want to thank everyone who joined us and sent in prompts, wrote, read, commented and in general were wonderfuly supportive.

Until next time!

@olderbynow & @whopooh

[laiqualaurelote]

Chapter 2: fruit truck crashes, creates jam

“Er, this is Phryne Fisher, our star reporter,” says Georgina, “who is…what exactly are you doing, Phryne?”

“I bought these from the illegal Latvian gun-runners down at the docks,” says Phryne blithely, waving the AK-47s. “I got them at a three-for-two bargain. It’s for a story, of course.”

“Phryne,” says Mrs Stanley in agony, “you cannot go about bringing illegal arms into the building! What if – ”

"Don't worry," says Phryne airily.  "I'm just taking them to the photo studio so Cec and Bert can shoot them – "

“Phryne!”

“ – with their cameras, Aunt P, you needn’t bellow. Then we'll take them back and ask for a refund.”

“You're going to ask for a refund,” says Georgina, incredulous. “From illegal Latvian gun-runners.”

“You should hope so.” Phryne is already strolling off. “Otherwise I’m claiming these under expenses.”

  Modern-day newsroom!AU - Phryne is a star investigative journalist who breaks news as easily as she breaks hearts; Jack is just trying to do his best in the war on error.

[arlome]

For my dearest @aurora-australis-tumbles ❤️

I love how we enable one another and commit the best (literally) crimes together ❤️ 💗 ♥️

Happy birthday, love!

[aimmyarrowshigh]

Femslash February 2023

046. Fresh - Phryne Fisher/Elizabeth "Mac" MacMillan - archiveofourown.org/works/45089446

[thetideseternaltune]

Two Heads (Are Better Than None)

Mac wasn’t sure what had brought Jack to the morgue so early on a Wednesday morning; he didn’t often turn up there without an excuse. Phryne was away and Mac hadn’t had any suspicious bodies lately. In fact, the deaths in Melbourne had been positively boring in Phryne’s absence – a correlation that Mac wasn’t certain she wanted to explore further.

A murder, a missing head, and the start of a friendship. (2.6k)

A/N: For the amazing @transjackrobinsontruther, who wanted Mac and Jack solving a case together. Happy birthday my dear! Enjoy! ❤️❤️❤️

And thank you to @three-seperate-johns and @galadriel1010 for all of their help with this fic! 🥰 And for being the best enablers when I asked if I should put head jokes in here 😈

This fic was partly inspired by this post [AO3]

“Inspector?”

Jack smirked slightly, clearly amused by the surprise in Mac’s voice when he’d knocked on her office door. She wasn’t sure what had brought him to the morgue so early on a Wednesday morning; Jack didn’t often turn up there without an excuse. Most of his and Mac’s interactions were either work-related or facilitated by Phryne, but Phryne was away and Mac hadn’t had any suspicious bodies lately. In fact, the deaths in Melbourne had been positively boring in Phryne’s absence – a correlation that Mac wasn’t certain she wanted to explore further.

“What brings you to the city morgue this morning?” Mac asked, raising her eyebrows curiously. Underneath his teasing smirk, Jack looked rather tired – she could see faint dark circles under his eyes and his suit was unusually rumpled.

“A body was discovered in bushland this morning,” Jack said, leaning against the doorframe. “Minus the head.”

Ah. So it was work-related.

“I wasn’t aware that the coroner’s duties included field work,” Mac teased, smirking when the corner of Jack’s lips turned up briefly.

“I thought you might like to examine the body at the scene,” Jack said, though the way his lip twitched told Mac that he was aware of how flimsy his excuse was.

“And you don’t want to work the case alone,” Mac said, giving him a knowing look.

His face remained impassive, but he didn’t deny it, confirming her suspicion. She wasn’t particularly surprised – he’d spent the better part of the past few years solving murder cases with Phryne’s help; it was surely an adjustment to suddenly be without.

“Careful Phryne doesn’t find out how crucial she is to your investigations,” Mac teased with a sly grin. “You know she’ll never let you forget it.”

Jack blushed but still didn’t speak, looking unusually nervous, and Mac finally decided to take pity on him.

“Well, I suppose an excursion is more exciting than the paperwork I had planned for the morning,” she said, grabbing her jacket and hat. “Lead the way, Inspector.”

<><><>

“Well,” Jack said, glancing at Mac as he started the engine. There was the hint of a smile on his lips. “I must admit – over ten years in the police force and this was a first.”

“Yes, it’s not every day one happens across a headless body,” Mac said dryly, biting back a smile. The scene had been rather sparse on clues; it appeared the body had been dragged into the bush after the murder, and the culprit had taken any means of identifying the victim with them. There were still officers searching for the head, while Hugh – who had looked rather green at the scene – had returned to City South to search the missing persons files in the hopes of identifying their victim, a task made significantly more difficult by the lack of a head.

“You know,” Mac said, “contrary to popular belief, decapitation is not that easy.”

“Hm.” Jack glanced at her, a smirk playing on his lips. “You don’t usually hear ‘popular’ and ‘decapitation’ in the same sentence.”

Mac bit back an amused smile. “It’s difficult to sever the spine; even harder to do it cleanly,” she explained. “Beheading a human is a lot easier than beheading most trophy animals, of course, considering the relative lack of musculature in our necks, but that doesn’t mean it’s easy. Just look at the number of botched beheadings throughout history. It requires a powerful, accurate action and a sharp, heavy blade.”

Jack didn’t take his eyes off the road, but his expression turned contemplative. “So you’re suggesting our killer knew what he was doing?”

“And had the proper tools,” Mac confirmed.

“A guillotine?” Jack glanced at her again curiously.

“Or a spear,” Mac said. “Didn’t you say there was an abattoir not far from where the body was found?”

Jack grimaced slightly. “I suppose a slaughter-man would know how to sever a spine,” he said.

“He’d also have the knowledge and tools to exsanguinate the corpse,” Mac said. “Beheading is extremely bloody business.”

“Well, I know my next stop then,” Jack said with a reluctant sigh. He didn’t sound particularly pleased about it, not that Mac could blame him. She knew that neither of them was particularly squeamish – a useful trait for both policework and doctoring – but Mac knew from personal experience that the sight and smell of that much blood could easily bring a war’s worth of painful memories rushing back, and she had a feeling that Jack knew it too.

“Would you like accompaniment on your visit?” Mac asked, careful to keep her tone neutral, though the look on Jack’s face when he glanced at her told her he knew what she was really asking.

“No, I can manage alone,” he said. He gave her a grateful smile. “But thank you for the offer, Doctor.”

<><><>

“I can cook, you know.”

Jack appeared rather offended at the apparent insinuation, Mac thought, doing her best not to laugh as she set the bag of food down on his desk. She was relieved to see no indications that the trip to the abattoir had triggered any wartime flashbacks.

“So I’ve heard,” she said, unable to hold back an amused smile as she unpacked the bag. “I, however, cannot, so it’s fish and chips or nothing.”

Jack perked up as she set a wrapped parcel of hot food in front of him, inhaling appreciatively as he hurried to clear room on his desk.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” he asked, raising an eyebrow curiously as he procured a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from a drawer in his desk. Mac took the proffered glass with a smile that widened when she took a sip of the amber liquid. She could certainly appreciate a man with good taste in whiskey.

“Well, seeing as I’ve apparently accepted Phryne’s role on this case in her absence,” she said, taking a seat opposite him, “I thought you might appreciate the company – and the food.”

Jack’s expression turned amused, and he gave her a pleased smile as he unwrapped their dinner. “Far be it from me to turn down a free meal,” he said, and Mac laughed.

“Yes, I’ve heard that too.”

Jack shrugged sheepishly, but there was a twinkle in his eye as he took a bite of fish. They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, until Mac finally spoke again, her tone intentionally innocent.

“So, have you made any headway on this case?”

Jack raised his eyebrows at her choice of words, but he failed to bite back an amused smile as Mac grinned mischievously.

“I did, actually,” he said, taking a sip of his drink.

“Oh?”

“Mm.” He sat forward, his expression turning serious again. “After I dropped you back at the morgue, I drove to the abattoir and talked with the owner. He said one of his workers didn’t show this morning, a man named Peter Dalton.”

Mac raised her eyebrows. “Did you get a description?”

Jack nodded. “It was a perfect match for the body we found.”

“Well, identification of the victim is a good first step,” Mac said. “Anything else?”

Jack nodded again. “We interviewed the workers. A few of them mentioned a fight between the victim and another worker, just two days ago.”

“Any idea what it was about?”

Jack shook his head. “No, but according to the witnesses it was very heated. One of the workers said it would have gotten physical if the owner hadn’t walked in.”

“Sounds like a promising suspect,” Mac mused. “Did you interview him?”

“No,” Jack said. “He’d already left for the day. Collins will bring him in tomorrow for questioning.”

“Good,” Mac said, reaching into her bag and pulling out a folder. “In the meantime, I’ve brought you my report. As expected, the beheading was the cause of death. No poisons in the bloodstream or anything else unusual about the body. I’d like to have a look at the spears at the abattoir though, see if anything matches the victim’s wounds.”

“Of course,” Jack said. His smile thinned and he went quiet, staring down at his whiskey. He suddenly looked very tired again.

“She’s coming back, you know,” Mac said, though there was an edge to her voice. She’d thought Jack had finally rid himself of the fear that Phryne would abandon him, but…

Jack looked up quickly. “I know she is,” he said, seeming genuinely surprised at her statement, and Mac relaxed. He glanced down again, fiddling with his glass for a moment, before lifting his head back up. “Truthfully, I… am no longer accustomed to living alone. It’s been a difficult adjustment,” he admitted.

“Ah,” Mac said, suddenly understanding. She sat back in her chair. “Yes, I would imagine so.”

“And without Jane as well,” Jack said ruefully. “The house feels rather empty, even when we have visitors.” He was quiet for another long moment. “This is also the longest Phryne and I have been apart since England.”

“Mm.” Phryne’s absence was clearly taking a toll on Jack, Mac thought, eyeing him carefully. “No offense, Inspector, but you do look rather tired.”

“I haven’t slept well recently,” Jack sighed, taking another sip of his drink.

“I would’ve thought you’d enjoy having the entire bed to yourself,” Mac teased lightly, pleased when Jack gave her a small smile. She knew all too well what it was like sharing a bed with Phryne – the woman was an octopus, and Mac had awoken countless times to find Phryne draped over her and all of the covers mysteriously on the opposite side of the bed.

“On the contrary, I’ve grown quite used to being used as a human pillow,” Jack said dryly, though the fondness in his eyes betrayed his sincerity.

Mac laughed. “I suppose the body heat makes up for the lack of blankets.”

Jack smiled at that, but he soon went quiet again. He glanced away from Mac, suddenly looking uncharacteristically anxious as he opened his mouth and then closed it again without speaking. Mac raised her eyebrows curiously as she waited for him to speak, and finally Jack looked back up at her.

“When Rosie… moved to her sister’s, it was very painful,” he said softly. “I know now that it was the best thing for us, that our marriage was damaged beyond repair and we were better off apart. And we had been emotionally separated for a long time before that,” he admitted. “But even still, it was difficult to adjust to suddenly being physically alone as well.” He looked down at his desk. “And I can’t help but be reminded of that.”

Mac was suddenly struck by the memory of a work conference not long after she and Rosie had moved in together. She’d only been gone for three nights, but Rosie had been unusually agitated and clingy when Mac returned, and it hadn’t taken long for Mac to figure out why that was.

“I’m not sure if it’s any consolation, Inspector, but you’re not the only one to have that experience,” Mac said.

Jack frowned slightly, looking concerned. “Rosie…?”

Mac nodded. “The first time I was called away for work. And I’ll tell you what I told her,” she said firmly. “It’s a perfectly understandable reaction. But just as I wasn’t gone, Phryne isn’t gone either.”

Jack took a deep breath and then nodded. “Thank you, Doctor,” he said after a moment, giving her a small smile.

“You’re welcome,” Mac said. She grinned slyly. “And look on the bright side – you’ve got another week of eating breakfast without someone stealing your toast.”

Jack chuckled as he relaxed back into his chair, smirking slightly. “And it’s been weeks since I last had to threaten to arrest her.”

Mac snickered. “You know she likes that,” she said, raising an eyebrow.

Jack flushed slightly and busied himself by pouring them both another drink, looking a bit sheepish despite his pleased smile.

“They’ll be back before you know it,” Mac assured him.

Jack nodded. “I’m glad they went,” he said. “I think it’s been good for Jane.”

Mac’s expression softened. She’d grown quite fond of Jane in the years since she’d become Phryne’s ward – the girl had an insatiable thirst for knowledge and a quick wit, two things that Mac greatly admired. Jane had spent many happy afternoons at their bungalow burying herself in Mac’s extensive book collection and had even accepted Rosie’s offer to teach her to play the piano, though Mac suspected that might have had more to do with the starry-eyed gaze that Jane was prone to when Rosie was around.

“Have you heard from them?” Mac asked.

“Phryne called two nights ago,” Jack said, smiling at the memory. “They’d spent the afternoon walking on the beach and collecting shells. Apparently Anna’s been doing well.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Mac said with relief, returning his smile. With Mac’s help, Phryne had found a discreet boarding house on the coast that housed women like Anna Ross, providing them a sheltered accommodation and medical care while allowing them to maintain some freedom. She’d arranged for Anna to move in, and from what Mac had heard, Anna had settled in well. Phryne had taken Jane to visit for a month during the summer holidays, and it appeared that Jane was enjoying the time spent with her mother.

“And Jane?” Mac asked. “How is she doing?”

“I believe she’s relieved that her mother is safe and well-cared for,” Jack said quietly. “As am I.”

“Yes,” Mac agreed. She chuckled lightly. “I don’t know how many times I’ve told Phryne she doesn’t have to save the world, and yet she never stops trying.”

“No she doesn’t,” Jack agreed, his expression endlessly fond.

Mac laughed again, giving Jack a sly smile. “Well,” she teased, “you and I have certainly got excellent taste in women.”

<><><>

“Evening, Inspector.” Mac accepted a glass of whiskey with a smile as she joined Jack in the parlor. “I’m flattered that my involvement on this case was deserving of a nightcap,” she teased.

Jack smiled as he returned to his spot by the fireplace, leaning against the mantel. “Well, we did solve the case,” he pointed out.

“Yes, I had an inkling,” Mac said, raising an eyebrow. “I received a special delivery this arvo. One head.”

Jack grimaced. “Not the most pleasant of gifts.”

Mac hummed her agreement as she took a sip of whiskey. “But you have someone in custody?” she asked.

Jack nodded. “Grant Alden, the man seen fighting with the victim. Turns out he lied about his alibi. He confessed today after being confronted about it.” Jack’s face darkened. “Mr. Dalton was having an affair with his wife.”

“The oldest reason in the book,” Mac sighed disdainfully. “At least he’s been apprehended.”

“Thanks to your help,” Jack said, giving her a smile.

Mac laughed. “Glad I could be an adequate substitute for Phryne.”

“I had no doubts,” Jack said, his expression entirely sincere. “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t trust you.”

Mac smiled, feeling surprisingly touched and suddenly reminded of why Jack Robinson was one of the few men she would be pleased to call a friend. She raised her glass and winked.

“Until our next case, Jack.”

Jack’s smile widened, and he raised his glass as well. “Until then, Mac.”

[glamorouspixels]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Phryne Fisher/Jack Robinson Characters: Phryne Fisher, Jack Robinson Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant - Miss Fisher and the Crypt of Tears, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Bath Sex, reunion in southampton in shitty england weather, Overthinking, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, phryne gets a bit stuck in her own head, jack is the best partner and is more than happy to reassure her, Gentleness, Emotional Growth

Phryne sighed as another flash of lightning lit up the sky. She had wanted to make his first day in England memorable, and while it was far too big a gesture to ever make up for, it was looking more and more like she wouldn’t even be given a chance to try.

[himegureisu]

[Story List] Phrack Children

This is a story list where Phryne and Jack are expecting a child:

1 Year by DivineMissP

A Predicament by NancyMay

Come after me by NancyMay

Deeper than the Pacific by HarleQueen21

Half In Agony, Half In Hope by Meggles830

Love as long as you can by ValentineElaine

No Longer Imagine by ShaharahDatBoi

Returning Henry by NancyMay

She Loved Daisies by RCGgymratmom

Telling Jack by slimwhistler

Tiger Lily and Cyclamen by MissTempleton

(This is the seventh in the series of Post-Twelfth Night fics that MissTempleton wrote.)

Through the Thunder by SmlPotatoes

Waltzing In the New Year by RCGgymratmom

Whither thou goest by NancyMay

If I missed any, don't hesitate to let me know in replies because I'll be reading those too.

[aurora-australis-tumbles]

Oooh, you’re doing prompts!!!!!!!! I’m feeling very drawn towards 9 for Phrack since I know you’re okay with modern AUs and I would love to see your take on this prompt, or maybe 10 as an alternative! Thank you! 💕

Of course! And thank you for indulging my love of Modern AUs. ❤️

Also, I'm always open to prompts, I just don't always have these lovely lists. It's kind of the only way I get anything written these days. 😂

Anyway enjoy!

#9: Taking pictures when the other’s not watching

-------

It starts with Phryne.

(Doesn't it always?)

She’s somehow spirited her way into the middle of his most recent crime scene, a lounge act where a magician’s assistant has found herself suddenly and unfortunately in an unplanned double act with herself.

She’d feel bad about sailing past the new crime scene photographer (a fresh-faced boy named Matty who reminds her so much of Hugh when they first met that she’s rather tempted to get a new assistant just to see if history repeats itself) except he has the utter temerity to call her ‘ma’am’ as he tries to stop her.

(She tries not to take too much joy in the way he flinches at her predatory smile after he does.)

When she tries to take a photo of the murder weapon, however, she is stopped by much sterner stuff.

(Even if he is not nearly so stern as when they first met.)

“No personal photos at the crime scene, Miss Fisher. I’m not sure why I have to remind you every time. It’s why we have an authorised photographer.”

“They’re not personal, Jack, it’s not as though I’m taking them of you.”

“All the same, phone away please.”

Phryne huffs and makes a big show of dropping her phone into her purse and waving her now empty hands at him in the snippiest manner possible.

“Happy?” she asks.

“Ecstatic,” he replies, so dry it should be served in stemware.

Her smile is even more predatory at that, but Jack never flinches.

Later, he can’t decide if he’s more surprised or impressed to find the photos on her phone all the same.

“How…?”

“It’s all in the hands, Jack.” She waves them at him again, less snippy, more salacious. “Magic is all about misdirection. Look at where I’m not and not where I am, and all that.” He raises an eyebrow, but does not otherwise comment.

“Prestidigitation,” she whispers cheekily, and he rolls his eyes.

“Look,” she adds, in that overly cheerful tone that always means trouble for him. “I even got a good one of you. I suppose I did take a personal photo after all.”

She shows him. It’s in profile, and she thinks he looks especially handsome.

He thinks he looks especially unauthorised.

“A lucky shot,” he mutters and he is an idiot for not realising before he does so that it will be like waving a darkroom red light in front of a bull.

And the worst part, the absolute most galling part, is he can’t figure out how she keeps doing it.

There are shots of him at every crime scene after. Some close up, some far away. Sometimes he’s doing something interesting. One time he was trying to remember his shopping list. It doesn’t matter, they all go in her book.

Oh she’s keeping a book now, didn’t she mention?

A photo album of his (her?) greatest hits. He grumps about it a few times, until she reveals, softly and in that unguarded manner she has right before she falls asleep, that she looks through it when he’s out of town and she��s missing him.

He doesn’t grump about it after that.

He does, however, start to try his own hand at clandestine photography.

Phryne thinks it’s adorable.

(But not adorable enough to let him succeed.)

She sees him, every time, and at the very last second hides behind a post or a constable or, one time, Jack himself. He’s not quite sure how she accomplished that one. It becomes a dance of sorts, between them, a waltz where they both know the steps but he is moving in 3/4 time and she is in duple metre.

She’s almost hoping he makes it, one of these days. She likes it when he surprises her, but she likes vexing him too much to make it easy.

It goes on for a while, but that’s ok, Phryne loves dancing.

She’s less keen about accompanying her aunt to Brisbane.

“Two weeks,” she laments, throwing her clothes in a suitcase. “And board meetings every single day.” She sighs. “Goodbye, fun, I’ll miss you.”

“And I’ll miss you,” he remarks, not looking up from the chair where he’s reading.

She smiles, sweetly at first, and then coyly.

“Too bad you never got any shots of me, Jack. You could look at the photos when you get lonely.”

“Oh,” he remarks casually, “I’ve got a whole book of them.” At her stunned expression, he adds, “didn’t I mention?”

Phryne abandons the packing.

“Show me,” she demands.

Graciously he pulls a photo album from his briefcase.

(If she wasn’t so shocked she’d have spared a moment to snort that it’s embossed with the words Our Precious Memories on the cover.) 

She’s not sure it’s so precious.

It’s full of her.

Specifically, photos of her at crime scenes going back weeks, months. How…

“Prestidigitation,” he whispers as his face breaks into a grin.

She looks at the photos again. Something is niggling, something not quite —

“You’re in some of these!” she shouts, and he shrugs, utterly unashamed. 

“Magic, or so I’ve heard, is all about misdirection. Look at where I’m not and not where I was.”

“But I can see where you are,” she insists, jabbing an elegant finger at one of the photos.

“True. But where I was, about a year ago, was writing young Matty’s letter of recommendation.”

The penny drops along with her jaw, which hangs open as she takes this information in. Just a little open, of course. A very ladylike amount, she would later insist. She supposes Matty isn’t quite so much like Hugh afterall. 

She is… impressed. She can admit it. Or she would if she wasn’t about to be very, very busy.

“Abracadabra,” he murmurs in her ear right before she makes all their clothes disappear.

Later, much later, she looks through the book again, smiling at all their precious memories.

“It’s going to be so much harder now,” she warns him. “Now that you’ve tipped your hand. Much, much harder.”

“Phryne,” he says, with so much warmth and playfulness in his voice she’d swoon if she was standing. “Never ever assume I only have one card up my sleeve.”

She just shrugs, noncommittally, the corner of her mouth quirking in time with her shoulder. It’s a bit soon, she knows, but possible. And she does so love it when he surprises her.

“Who said I was talking about the photographs?” she asks, too innocently to be believed. 

It takes a moment for him to cotton on, but when he does — a soft ‘ah’ escaping his lips before they find hers again — it’s pure magic. Not surprising, but she loves that too.

(Prestidigitation indeed.)

-------

OTP Moments Prompts ❤️

[avoteforme]

i wanna see jack seduce phryne make him do all that flirty dirty work- pls send fics

[pond---scum]

it will be difficult for you to see, hear and breathe

Fandom: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries Pairing: Phryne/Jack Tags: Modern AU, Australian bushfires, whump, Jack babysitting

Excerpt:

Jack tore his eyes away from his phone. He dropped the wooden spoon into the mixing bowl, and began to fumble in his pockets for his ear buds. 

It is now too late to leave

He was leaving streaks of flour on his pants, but he didn’t slow down to wipe off his hands. 

If you are not in the area, do not return  

“Isn’t Aunty Phry in Queanbeyan trying to get all those old people from the old people’s home onto a bus?” Mary asked, scowling down at the table and absently folding the plastic packaging down into a neat square. 

Following a change in weather conditions, the Pialligo bushfire is approaching Beard, Oaks Estate and West Queanbeyan including Crestwood. The fire may pose a threat to all lives directly in its path.

Jack squeezed his eyes shut, and nodded. 

People in these suburbs are in danger and need to seek immediate shelter as the fire approaches.

His fingers closed around his headphones, and he yanked them out of his pocket, pulling the cloth lining of the pocket inside out as he did. 

“She’ll be okay,” he muttered to Mary. 

He kept his teeth shut as he spoke. There was a knot of panic that was moving from his chest to his throat, and he wasn’t sure what would happen if it got out. 

Fic is here