#otp prompts march

[onerandomtrope]

Round #001: Make-Out Point

A standard teenage hang out where all sorts of canoodling takes place in cars. Usually features a father and/or police finding young people there to "break it up" and drag people back home. Depending on the broadness of the comedy (and the innocence — or lack thereof — of the setting), Don't Come A-Knockin' may be in play. (Source.)

And so it begins!

For the first round of One Random Trope, the prompt is Make-Out Point, and it'll be happening from March 1st to March 31st.

However, you, the writer decide to interpret the prompt is up to you. You can take it literally, or you can go ahead and take some liberties. What matters the most is having fun, and as long as whatever you're writing has something to do with the prompt it's fair game. Don't forget that contributions must be at least 100 words long.

After you're done, don't forget to tag it as #ort2024 and/or #ortwriting so we can make sure to reblog it. Don't forget to check out our collection on AO3. If you have any questions, feel free to message us.

Happy writing!

[syutji]

march 2023 writing prompts

1. first breath

2. lucky charm

3. loose change

4. bad blood

5. ace of hearts

6. the little things

7. art of war

8. white lies

9. empty field

10. false gods

11. can you call me?

12. almost touching

13. haunted bodies

14. fool’s gold

15. bad habits

16. objects of orbit

17. broken promise

18. blue moon

19. convenience store

20. the miracle no one believes

tag @syutji if you participate! reblog & likes much appreciated <3

[deity-prompts]

March Writing Challenge 2023 theme: songs you’ve (probably) never heard before

Bechdel Test (Isabel Pless)

Nice Docs, Baby! (Blue Foster)

Sixty Seconds (Bershy)

Battle Cries (The Amazing Devil)

Meet You Up Above (Deep Pirate Committee)

Good Dreams (Grimson)

The Three Ravens (Andy Niedermeier)

Devil (Moon Walker)

…baby one more time (The Marías)

Mother Scotland (Lady M)

Cauldron Type H (Thomas Hatcher)

Could’ve Been (Tom O’Donovan)

In Autumn (Greywind)

Nameless (Nussy Andrews)

HAUNTED HOUSE (SNAKE POOL)

Your Surgeon Is Human, Too (Machinery of The Human Heart)

Serial Killer (Human Zoo)

sweet hangman (elliotly)

A Ship That Shared Your Name (Burn The Ballroom)

Give Up! (Philip Labes)

Can’t Let Go (Caught A Ghost)

If I See A Road (Blake Rouse)

My Heart’s Always Yours (Arkells)

All The Pretty Girls (fun.)

Cheese (Jack Stauber’s Micropop)

meet me in the pale moonlight (marble fade)

Night Flight (Frank Moody)

Mostly (Vian Izak, Juniper Vale)

Oranges (Lawrence)

All Ways (Elliot Park)

Valentine’s Day (Mal Blum)

Also see:

March Writing Challenge 2022

March Writing Challenge 2021

Playlist Writing Challenge

Prompts Based On Song Lyrics

Writing Challenge Masterlist

Prompts Masterlist

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Combine mafia & sugar daddy thx

Remember when Maura thought it would be nice if she and Jane followed in the footsteps of their fathers and Jane was like "but then I'd be a plumber and you'd be a mob boss"?

Jane looked up at the compound home she’d found herself every weekday for the past two months, with her red caddy in her right hand. Well, to be fair, she’d spent more than a handful of weeknights in it, when most of her weekdays were spent in the new construction on the back lot, laying pipe with her flighty, dumbass brother on their father’s crew. 

There’d been a few Super Mario jokes from the mouth-breathing muscle men around the property, but Doyle himself had been professional. Business-minded, with a side of I’ll-crack-your-knees-if-you-miss-deadlines and micromanaging. 

Yeah - somehow, Frank Rizzoli had procured a long term job on Paddy-fucking-Doyle’s new house, the one for the new wife who was an old flame that stuck by his side through his most recent stint in prison. Jane, at thirty-five with her own controlling stake in the Rizzoli and Sons outfit, despite not being a son, had agreed to help her father out of pity and a little bit of fear, not for herself but for the physical well-being of her father. She didn’t ask questions when he called her up to put her own job on hold for the favor, because she didn’t want to know how her father even struck up enough of a conversation with Doyle to put his name in as a respectable plumber. Not that he wasn’t, not that they weren’t, of course. It was just… the stakes had never been so high.

And yet, when the door opened on Jane, silhouetting her against the bath of light from the entryway, neither had the compensation. The rewards. “Hi,” she drawled, her smile drawn in and crooked like she had some secret she was proud of. She did, she supposed, when she was greeted in kind.

“Hi there,” Maura Doyle, Paddy’s very rich, very gorgeous daughter in charge of the gambling portion of his empire, clasped her hands in front of her hips, in front of the navy blue dress hugging those hips so as to leave nothing to the imagination. She pursed her lips just before she beckoned Jane in with a hand outstretched toward the staircase behind her. “It’s upstairs.”

Jane’s eyes followed the ass they’d been following since she first saw Maura eight weeks prior, showcased in that dress like a fucking work of art. She would have felt out of place in her plaster dusted jeans, Rizzoli and Sons t-shirt, utility belt, and worn Red Wing boots, if Maura hadn’t seen her in it all before.

If Maura hadn’t pulled her into the main house to be fucked on the basis of those clothes alone several times.

“Kinda fortuitous that this bathroom sink craps out on you while we’re all in the middle of a huge job, huh?” Jane snarked when Maura stopped at the top of the stairs, turning to face her. “Don’t really have to worry about going out and bookin’ a plumber.”

“Well, I pay you in other ways,” Maura countered, her visage narrowing and her fingers reaching for Jane’s collar. She let her gaze linger on the pipe fitters in Jane’s caddy just before she led her to a door to their left. “Right over here.”

___

“Your envelope… is already on the counter…downstairs…” Maura panted at her reflection. She stood in front of the mirror of the small bathroom to which she’d lured Jane, and with her palm pressed against the glass, her breasts bounced extra enticingly in time with Jane’s rhythm. It wasn’t fast, untenable, but deep, the hip-bucking of passion consummated after having been deferred. Her dress, too tight to allow Jane’s fingers anywhere near her sex, pooled at her feet with her heels still on, mingling with Jane’s pants in a pile on the floor. Jane’s tools and pipe fittings laid forgotten around them, the open cabinet leading to the guts of the sink contributing to the ambience of the situation. To its sexuality.

Jane kissed her shoulder, used one hand to spread Maura farther apart by the hip and the other to dive knuckle deep into wetness. “Don’t talk about money while I’m in you, Maura. Makes me feel dirty,” growled Jane. She ground her pelvis against Maura’s ass, angled just right against the round of flesh there to get some delightful friction. 

“It’s not like I’m paying you for this…” Maura turned her head back as she spoke, and Jane couldn’t resist the kiss her swollen lips begged for. “TJ needs tuition, my love… and I am… an ardent supporter of, oh. Early childhood education.”

“I’m supposed to think you’re doin’ it outta the kindness of your own heart?” Jane teased, with a vicious upstroke and thumb pressure right on Maura’s clit. 

“My heart, my vagina, my pocketbook, can’t it be all of the above?” Maura matched Jane blow for blow, arching her spine in dual purpose: to prolong the ascent of her pleasure and to give Jane more resistance to rub on. 

“How much does the heart part mean when the boss finds out his daughter’s been bankrolling the plumber’s nephew’s catholic school?” Jane slowed, and contemplated the possible consequences. The outcomes. None of them seemed good. 

“Honestly he’d probably be angrier that I’m fucking the plumber,” said Maura. When Jane ceased entirely, Maura kissed her again, reaching down between her own legs to pluck Jane from inside. Softly, sweetly, entwining their fingers before she turned around. Jane stretched out her arms and pressed both hands against the lip of the vanity’s countertop, which encased Maura in a rather pleasant cage: the rigid heat of Jane’s body against her front, the cool bite of the granite on her lower back. “Hey,” she soothed, wrapping her arms around Jane’s shoulders. She leaned against the counter more fully and pulled Jane close to her. Jane acquiesced with a wet, heavy kiss while she palmed Maura’s backside. “What’s wrong? Hmm? Hasn’t this always been how things are between us?”

Jane didn’t want to name her problem out loud, because that would mean naming her desire for Maura beyond just sex. That would mean admitting to the want. The want grew when their legs tangled closer together. “Yeah I guess so,” she grumbled.

“Would you rather me pay you personally? Buy you expensive things?”

“I’d rather you not spend any money at all, Mob princess,” Jane told her, but in the safety of the crook of her neck.

Maura shivered at the breath tickling the space under her ear. “We can discuss that. But I meant what I said. I want your nephew to get the education he deserves, and… I suppose a fund could be arranged.”

Jane stared for a long time, trying to ascertain Maura’s veracity. She frowned until she saw it, and then she pressed her lips to Maura’s to show she believed her. “I can’t ever repay you for all this.”

“Sure you can,” replied Maura saucily. “You can fix this sink after you take me to bed.”

Jane blinked rapidly, dropping her arms to her sides. “Wait. It’s really backed up?”

It was Maura’s turn to be confused. “Yes. Why would I lie?”

“I thought… I thought it was just a ruse to get me up here,” Jane croaked.

“Look at us,” said Maura, eyeing their various states of undress, hers total. “Do you think I would need a ruse to get you here? Have I before? Now I meant what I said, take me to bed - you can finish the job later.”

“O-ok,” Jane agreed, pulling her pants around her waist when Maura extracted herself from their embrace and carried her dress over her shoulder down the hall.

[5ivebyfive]

March Prompt Madness

March 10 - comet Power Rangers 2017

The six Rangers sat around the campfire together, but it wasn’t burning. The night sky above them had all of their attention. “So when’s this thing supposed to happen?” Kim asked.

“Any minute,” Billy cheered, clapping his hands. “This comet hasn’t passed Earth in hundreds of years.”

“Seriously?” Zack asked. “Kim you’ve asked that five times now and Billy’s answered the same thing five times. Can you can it?” Kim pouted.

“Trini, tell Zack to leave me alone,” she said. She leaned back against Trini from where she sat on Trini’s lap.

“Zack, leave Kim alone,” Trini said. “And Kim, stop askin’ okay? It’ll happen soon.” 

“Now Trini,” Tommy said, “you know Kim is the most impatient person in the world.”

“I am not!” Kim gasped. “Okay…well, maybe I am, but I like to think of it more as…enthusiastic for the passage of time.”

“You’re full of it,” Zack said with a laugh.

“Jase? Ruling?” Tommy asked.

“Kim, you’re impatient,” he said. “Sorry.”

“I see. Everyone is against me!” Kim jabbed her arrow in the air which she had been playing with in her lap. Her bow lay in her lap flat. Trini shrieked. 

“Watch where you’re wavin’ that thing!” She cried out. “You almost got me. Again!”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did!”

“Stop fighting,” Billy said to the two. “You’ll miss the comet.” At the mention, all six looked up again.

“What if we missed it?” Tommy asked, egging the others on.

“No! We can’t!” Billy said in horror. “We won’t have another chance in our lifetimes!”

“Yeah, I didn’t sit out in this cold all night not to see some fiery ball of…space,” Zack said. He leaned over to the cooler and grabbed another bottle of beer, also passing one to Trini. Trini nodded in thanks and popped it open. She reached up and grabbed the arrow from Kim after another near miss.

“Kim, if you don’t-”

“Did we really miss it?” Kim asked. She turned around and tried to get the arrow back from Trini who was holding it as high in the air as she could. “You know my arms are longer than yours,” she said to Trini.

“Don’t poke Trini’s eye out, Kim. We all have training tomorrow and no one is excused for any reason,” Jason said.

“You’d think missing an eye would be a pretty good excuse,” Tommy said, rubbing her chin.

“I am not going to poke Trini’s eye out,” Kim huffed. She reached above Trini and yanked the arrow back. “Mine,” she said, stroking it.

“Zordon’s worst mistake was giving you that weapon,” Zack said, rolling his eyes.

“Really? I thought it was giving you a zord,” Kim shot back, sticking out her tongue. 

“Can this thing just happen already?” Trini grumbled. She sipped her beer. “I’m over it.” Then it happened. The butt of Kim’s arrow stabbed Trini in the forehead. “Kim!” She reached up to cover the spot where it hit her. “That hurt!”

“Big baby,” Kim said. “It didn’t hurt that bad.”

“Are you me?!” Trini asked. “Put that damn thing down or go sit with Jason.”

“She’s not sitting next to me,” Tommy said. “Not when she has that in her hands.”

“Kim, you’re not even supposed to have that right now,” Jason pointed out to her. “You’re supposed to leave it on the ship.”

“I told Zordon I needed a little more practice,” Kim said with a shrug.

“Liar,” Zack cackled.

“Kimberly Hart!” Trini barked, after yet again getting poked in the head. “Put that on the ground or we’re breaking up!”

“Ouch,” Tommy jeered. “Way to wear the pants, T!”

“But they’re both wearing pants,” Billy said.

“We did not bring enough beer for this,” Zack said.

“Do we have to make so much noise?” Jason asked.

“Look!” Billy cried out, pointing into the sky. They all fell silent and their heads fell back as the stared up at the sky and watched the comet sail across it. No one even breathed until it was out of sight.

“Wow,” they all gasped.

“That was awesome, B,” Zack said, clapping Billy on the back.

“Rewind it, go again!” Tommy shouted, throwing her fists in the air.

“Oh god,” Jason sighed. “The silence was nice while it lasted.”

“Kim! Get that out of my face!” Trini yelled.

“Or what?” Kim asked. “You wouldn’t break up with m-”

SNAP.

[yeyayeya]

I’m back! Well, not necessarily, but I’m on the road back home. I am mentally exhausted, but my break back in Mexico was fun! I won’t exactly get back to posting normally, but I will in a few days

[inkedmyths]

Is this suuuuper fuckin late for February's @yearoftheotpevent entry? Yes. Don't worry about it.

ANYWAYS yeah uhh I like mermaid aus I think fishy people are neat. I also hate trying to draw water. Alas.

And ofc another funny little sketchpage under the cut

[innqufocus]

YOTP subject: Raytello March - Fairytale AU

Donnie and his brothers are kappa guarding a small town, but one day their efforts seem to be thwarted at every turn; crops are stolen, boats are overturned, rugs are unwoven, the temple is wrecked, tools go missing... determined to catch the culprits in action, Donnie stakes out a project he’d been working on and manages to ambush one of the perpetrators - which turns out to be a group of noppera-bo! where the others of its kind are giddy to cause mayhem and hijinks wherever they go, there seems to be one noppera-bo who’s reluctant to join in the sabotage - a young trickster named Erkleid. to Donnie’s surprise, not only does Erkleid offer to help restore order to the town, but he also seems to share a lot of the same affiliations with Donnie, including a complete obsession for the town’s prized library. maybe, with the shapeshifting trickster’s help, Donnie will actually be able to brave the lands to visit unimpeded... - lines by me colors by @michi0no <3

[incorrectquotesideas-deactivated]

Person A, to Person B: If I were to let my ridiculously high walls down for anyone, it would be for you.

[ds30below]

30 Below: themes & prompts

Each week has a theme and optional prompts for both fanworks and community engagement; feel free to riff on them or do something else. If you can't make it during your week of choice, post whenever!

🐢Fanwork week (March 11-17)

leave those sweet sweet comments on things old and new

recs galore: creator samplers, themed lists, self-recs — and not just for fic!

do a creator shout-out

go transformative: podfic, remix, translate (don't forget about permission!)

🐢Character week (March 18-24)

write that character study/meta you keep putting off

share canon bits that made you appreciate your darlings

give the ensemble cast and one-off faves some love

rec some character-focused works 

🐢Shippy week (March 25-31)

write a ship manifesto — yes, in 2024! 

share your headcanons and favourite tropes

there's more to it than OTP: play around, peek outside your comfort zone, pair those spares!

🐢History week (April 1-7)

share some of your personal fannish history

glimpse into the past: Wayback Machine is your friend, as are creator sites and older fandom spaces just waiting to be scrolled through

dust off your archives. have something hard to find? maybe someone is looking!

you're the one looking? ask around!

🐢Canon appreciation week (April 8-14)

meta hour — write some, rec some, join a discussion or start your own!

rewatch a scene, an episode, a season, the whole show thrice — and liveblog it! do a group rewatch! take notes and turn them into a research paper!

unleash your inner doylist and talk about behind-the-stage shenanigans

🐢Canadian 6 Degrees week (April 15-21)

time to review all that stuff you watched to see more of a beloved face!

haven't seen any? now is the time!

of course, create, share and comment on fanworks — they need more eyes on them!

🐢Go wild week! (April 22-30)

This week is a free-for-all. Tie up those loose ends — or jump onto this train, it still hasn't left!

If you have any questions, the ask box is waiting for you!

🐢fest info

🐢resources

🐢navigation

[wipweek]

WIP WEEK (WORK-IN-PROGRESS WEEK) RETURNS IN 2025!

WIP WEEK is a week dedicated to updating fic or art WIPs.  All fandoms are welcome to participate.  Original works are also accepted.  Please tag your entries with the #wipweek or #wip week tag. Since multiple fandoms and ships are participating, please clearly list the fandoms, ships, and content warnings in the post so that they can be properly tagged for any potential readers.

After an extended, unplanned hiatus, WIP Week will be returning. WIP Week will now be every four months rather than two months. The first WIP Week of 2025 will be held February 23-March 1. 

Each day will have a theme, but you do not have to post every day. You are also not obligated to follow these themes. You can work on one fic or artwork for the entire week if you choose. If you’re not comfortable posting full updates but still want to participate in the week, you can post your daily word count and/or a small snippet from your work.

Here are the prompts for WIP Week:

Day 1: Your Oldest WIP

Day 2: Your Most Popular WIP

Day 3: Your Canonverse WIP or Your AU WIP

Day 4: A WIP Featuring Your OTP

Day 5: Your Favorite WIP

Day 6: Your Previously Unpublished WIP

Day 7: Any WIP

For those who are returning, welcome back and thank you for your patience. For those who are new to WIP Week, welcome and I hope you that find this event helpful.

[onerandomtrope]

It's March, and the first round of One Random Trope has officially started. The first prompt is Make-Out Point and you can check the official post here.

Just remember to tag your creations with #ort2024 and #ortwriting so we can reblog it. You're also free to tag us on your work. And in case you aren't aware, you can also add your work to our collection on AO3.

As always, remember to have fun! We're excited to see what you'll come up with! See ya!

[thgfanfictionlibrary]

E Rated Fics Masterlist (43)

Part 1 -Part 38/  Part 39 / Part 40 / Part 41 / Part 42 /

Created: March 27th, 2024

Last Checked:-----

Legend-HGRomance (ao3)  Summary: People in the kingdom whispered about a legend: a boy with a bow. They said he took up residence in the woods, hiding out while committing random acts of kindness, namely stealing from the rich and giving to the poor. Historical AU. Robin Hood. Let Me Fly-FanficAllergy, RoseFyre (ao3)  Summary: When a plague hits District Twelve, Katniss is forced to make some very hard decisions. Together with Gale and what’s left of their families, they decide to escape District Twelve, taking a reluctant Peeta Mellark with them. Look What Happens When You Agree To Babysit…-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: Prim has a date for the first time since her divorce was finalized. Katniss is happy to help her sister out, but when Prim's new neighbor invites her niece and nephew next door to play with his brother's kids, she gets the shock of her life in the form of the guy from her past that she couldn't forget about. Loving Her Was Easier Than Anything I’ll Ever Do Again-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: Peeta asks Katniss for one last trip to the roof. Memories of Us-Gamemakers (ao3)  Summary: A collection of Odesta oneshots chronicling Finnick and Annie's lives together. No, You-Peetabreadgirl, Xerxia (ao3)  Summary: From the prompt: Imagine your OTP arguing over which person’s cute looks their child got their cute looks from. K and P would whisper all the things they love about the other that they see in their sleeping baby. No, this is the cutest, she got it from you. No, you gave her this. But you gave her this. I love this about her - twirls fingers through sleeping baby’s hair. Only One K-hutchabelle (ao3)  Summary: Peeta pulls over to wait out a rainstorm. Together, Katniss and he fog up the windows. Placebo Effect-Falafel_Waffel (ao3)  Summary: Emotions are scary, maybe that's why Katniss Everdeen chose the pipe instead of feeling them. Now, at the bottom of the bottom she has two choices: get clean or die alone in her dirty apartment.  Poet-HGRomance (ao3)  Summary: Peeta is a famous erotic poet who sends readers into a tailspin with his verse. When he moves to Katniss’s university hometown, she finds herself at his front door, hoping to get a critique of her story. One-shot. Modern AU. Proving Them Wrong-endlessnightlock (ao3)  Summary: This story was written for the Everlark Fic Exchange Springtime Edition 2019, based of prompt #45 submitted by animekpopxx: They fell in love young, they married young. People keep telling them that it's not going to last. Well, they are proving them wrong.

[anthrofreshtodeath]

Ooh I’m torn but 1 simply because I was rewatching Rocky and the thought of Jane the boxer sounds too good to pass up

Boxer AU with a twist! I know nothing about boxing except that it is fun to watch! I am shaming my army boxer grandfather right now, but here we go.

“Listen to me,” Barry Frost starts the conversation like a father, cutting the engine of his Buick and turning to Maura with a large hand to her shoulder. It’s a scorcher outside, and turning off the car means turning off the air conditioning, which Maura regrets almost as much as the kind look in his brown eyes. The worried look. “I know the elbow’s set you back, and we’re graspin’ at straws here.” 

“So you’ve brought me to the one gym in Boston to which I’ve vowed never to return? By tricking me into it? You can’t just tell me we’re going to Hannah Grisham’s office. She’s one of the best physical therapists on the eastern seaboard, Barry. You don’t dangle a carrot like that in front of a fellow doctor. Especially when its a lie.”

“I’m sorry, but desperate times, Maura. The scans are clear - the inflammation is pretty much gone, the pain is…”

“Psychosomatic,” Maura admits, possibly for the first time. She leans said elbow on the windowsill and lets her gaze drift to the bright blue sky above them. She thinks of the missed punch that hyperextended the elbow, which handed her her first loss. 

She got hurt and she lost the fight.

The line from point A, failure, to point B, the mental block preventing her from getting back in the ring, seems clear now. Repetitive hyperextension trauma has been with her since she’d abandoned her medical practice to fight full time. Perhaps it makes sense that such a banal boxer’s reality would be the thing to undo her. 

“I was gonna say elusive, hard to pin down, but yeah,” Frost says quietly. He rubs his chest, hand in a circle against the ribbed tank under his cream-colored guayabera, an unconscious thinking habit he’s had since Maura’s known him. “It sure as hell is eluding me.”

“But you’re my trainer. Why do I have to be… here?” Maura succumbs to a wave of petulance. She knows why she’s here. She just hates that here is the best place to get her… what does Barry call it? Mojo? To get her mojo back.

“Because I’m stumped, Doctor Isles,” he confesses. “I’m stumped and maybe a fresh pair of eyes’ll help us get you back into fighting shape.”

“Jane’s eyes are not fresh,” Maura, now drowning in waves of childish defiance, breathes. That’s all she can do, because she’s not sure she wants to be an adult about this. She’s not sure she wants to be friendly, even if… christ. Even if Jane might be the best thing for her at the moment. “Jane’s eyes are the opposite of fresh.”

“Might as well be, for how long you’ve iced each other out,” Barry grumbles. “I got you a session. She agreed to clear the gym for you. I’ll even circle the block, or go get a drink or somethin’, so you two can hash it out in private. But this is a big ask of her, after all the shit you two went through. I owe her big. I’d at least like to get something out of it.”

“And you didn’t think to consult me before asking for this favor?” Maura counters.

Barry laughs. “I knew you woulda said ‘hell no.’ C’mon. Let’s get this over with.” He steps out of the car with one last smack to her shoulder, and she shakes her head. He’s right. She would have definitely said hell no. But the only thing she wants less than seeing Jane again is losing her career.

So she steps out into the oppressive July sun and approaches the storefront of North End Boxing with trepidation.

“Hey Jane!” Barry shouts into the gym space, leading Maura in. 

Maura adjusts her duffel higher on her shoulder, taking in her surroundings. The ring sits in the middle of the floor plan, Jane’s crown jewel- some things never change. There is some updated strength training equipment in the back, and the bags to the left side boast some replacements. The treadmills and rowing machines mock her from her right, conjuring up times Jane punished her with cardio before sparring. “I shouldn’t be here,” Maura whispers to Barry.

“The hell you don’t,” Barry counters. “You used to run this place.”

“The Rizzolis have always run this place,” Maura says. She nods to the giant banner of Frankie Rizzoli, Junior holding up a championship belt with a shiner and an exhausted smile on his face. Action posters of Jane in title matches, just as victorious, twice as vicious, hang on the back wall on either side of a trophy case. That trophy case also contains a framed, signed picture of their father delivering the knockout blow to an opponent already halfway to his knees.

Jane herself comes from around the corner where the private owners’ area. “Been a long time, Frost,” she says. Her face is still handsome. Even more so when she smirks at him and shows her perfect teeth. She’s got her usual training look on: black Nike sports bra, black running shorts with compression leggings sewn in. There is one glaring difference: she wears white training Nikes, instead of her high ankle boxing shoes. The stretch of Jane’s crew socks over her too-thin legs, halfway to her calves, has always captivated Maura, but this time it’s out of place. 

Jane catches her staring. “You’re boxin’ today, not me,” she says, reading Maura’s mind. She holds one foot out to put her shoe on display. 

“No one’s boxing, not yet,” Maura refuses to smile. Jane’s effervescence hasn’t faltered, and it shines despite the darkness of her features. 

“Maura-” Frost tries.

“No no, she’s right. You got her in the door, but she’s gotta wanna be here if this little plan is gonna work,” Jane crosses her arms. Maura detests the challenge leveled at her in Jane’s brown eyes, though her belly flips when she glowers right back. Barry stands to the side of them with a hesitant little half-grin, like he doesn’t quite know what to offer to the conversation. 

He shrugs his broad shoulders. “She’s not wrong, Maura. Work the pain out on her. Punish her,” he motions toward Jane.

“That’s not the temptation you think it is, Barry,” Maura tells him. 

“Yeah, she already did all that,” Jane teases. “A year ago.”

That sours Maura’s mood again. “You know what? Maybe a little sparring would do me some good,” she responds. She gets close, fingers still tight against the strap of her bag, and even though she has to look up at Jane, it’s still one of defiance. 

“Frost? Get out,” barks Jane. 

“Jane, I drove Maura here. She’s-”

“You can go,” sighs Maura. She walks over to the ring and sets her bag down, rolling her neck. It’s the first stretch that signals the beginning of an entire routine and Barry looks excited enough to wet himself. 

“You got it. There’s a salami sandwich over at Graziano’s that’s callin’ my name. You just text me when you need me to come get you, a’right?” He says with his hand already on the front door, whole demeanor altered. “Have a good workout.”

He leaves the two women alone, and they’ve already begun to pace around each other in routine. Maura ties her honey hair up in a pony tail, unzips her windbreaker meant more to guard her fair skin from the sun than to keep her warm. When she straightens up, Jane already holds a jump rope in her hand, outstretched towards Maura.

Maura narrows her gaze again. “Where’s the other one?”

“This is your workout, not mine,” Jane says. “I already got cardio in. At five. This mornin’. Like I always do - I didn’t think you’d forget.”

Maura breaks the icy exterior for just a moment of whining. She might even stamp her foot. She hates the rope. “I didn’t forget, but you know how I feel about jumping rope and so you should have saved yours to do with me in miserable solidarity.”

Jane guffaws, her belly laugh deep and booming. Maura rubs her lips together so she doesn’t join in. “I can’t argue with that except that Frost didn’t call me until like nine.”

“Meaning Frankie had already worked you out and served you your breakfast of raw eggs,” Maura gags for show.

“I don’t do that anymore,” Jane tells her with a tinge of red on her cheeks. “Now stop stallin.” 

Maura snatches the rope with disdain and drops it on the floor while she runs through her stretches. She sits and pulls one foot against the opposite thigh, leaning forward to get a nice, strong tug in her calves. She runs through it for both legs, and then stands to do some hip rotations, and Jane watches quietly. “What?” Maura asks to break the silence.

“Legs feel good?” Jane answers, sort of. She leans one elbow on the closest ring post and stares at the legs in question. 

Probably Jane’s favorite part of her, if Maura had to guess. Jane had always praised Maura’s footwork, but with the way Jane looks at her legs now, in skin tight yoga leggings, she’s not thinking about footwork. She’s thinking about they feel wrapped around her waist, the only clothes on either athlete the layer of sweat built up from a workout between the sheets.

And now, Maura’s thinking about it. She starts with the rope just to send all that noxious sexual energy somewhere. “Legs feel fine,” she says as she starts slow, reacquainting herself with the whistle of the rope, with the jumpstart of her heart when her feet start to dance.

There is art in the torture, she’ll concede. 

“Legs’ve always been fine, legs’ve never been the problem.” Maura likes how the rope makes her normally verbose speech choppy and efficient. She likes how it makes her sound like Jane. 

“It’s the elbow,” Jane says that part for her. “I’ve dealt with it before. The dead arm is fuckin’ demoralizin’.” She talks while she backs away from Maura, and goes to the lockers toward the back of the gym. She pulls out a pair of white pads and slams the locker shut. “You bring your own gloves?”

“Of course,” Maura calls out, and the volume of it burns her lungs. Jane is annoying for having made her do it. 

“Well leave ‘em in your bag. You’re usin’ some of mine,” Jane says, and she grabs those from another cubby area.

“I like my gloves,” Maura huffs. “I want my gloves.”

“Too damn bad. They’re all wrapped up in your psychobabble bullshit right now,” Jane argues. She drops the gloves on the side of the ring and adjusts the pads until they’ll fit just right. 

Maura wants to snark back but she catches sight of Jane’s hands. Those capable, deadly hands, with a scar in the middle of each one. They didn’t talk about the obsessed fan, about Hoyt, before they got together, when Frank Senior was training both Jane and Maura. They didn’t talk about him after, either, when they dominated their respective classes. They didn’t even talk about him following the blow to the head that ended Jane’s career, when they said awful things to each other and devolved into an ugly type of resentment.

And now, they haven’t talked at all since Jane drank herself into a stupor and climbed drunk into a car with her brother. They haven’t talked since Maura walked out with statistics about concussions and alcohol on her lips, love mysteriously absent. A year ago. “Psychosomatic,” Maura corrects weakly, her own voice quiet in the face of the flood of memory washing over her. 

Soon enough, Jane’s scarred hands disappear in to the curved focus pads. “You got two more minutes,” says Jane, busy again with preparation.

“We’re doing padwork already?” Maura asks.

“Yeah,” Jane says. She thumps the pads together and rolls her own neck. “You get all mixed up when you’re punchin’, accordin’ to Frost. So, while I would normally send you straight to the weight rack, punchin’ is the only way we’re gonna break you outta this.”

Maura is pleased with the words coming out of Jane’s mouth for the first time today. “Ok then,” she says. She wants nothing more than to throw fists at her ex. “You won’t get any argument from me.”

“Didn’t think so,” Jane says. She grins to let Maura know she’s seen the saucy glint in Maura’s eyes. “Ok, enough of that. Get some water and let’s go.”

Maura, thankful for the reprieve, drops the rope and throws her head back. She puts her hands on her hips, sweat already dripping from her neck to her chest, already staining the front and back of her gray tank. After she squeezes water into her mouth from her bottle, she realizes Jane is studying. She licks her lips just to be a tease.

Whether consciously or not, Jane bites her own lip. 

“You know I’ve never been fond of Everlast,” Maura grumbles like she can’t be pleased when she grabs the gloves waiting for her.

“How can you be a boxer and not like Everlast? You have never made sense, Princess,” Jane tells her, holding up the pads.

“It’s the limited weight-”

“Aht! Save it,” Jane interrupts. “I don’t wanna argue before you even get started. Now c’mon. Show me what you got.”

Maura takes a deep, eyes-closed kind of breath to clear her mind. Instead, she smells Jane, lavender perfume and gym equipment. Her mind races. 

“Quit overthinkin’ it,” Jane goads. “Hit me.”

Maura throws her first punch. She barely registers that she does it, but the pad sings and Jane whistles. “You asked,” Maura says.

“And you delivered,” Jane replies. She takes Maura’s slow combos with some grace. “But stop pussyfootin’ around. It’s me. You know I can take it.”

“I don’t want to reinjure myself, Jane,” Maura chides, and continues her methodical warmup.

“Bullshit. Timid and tender is what got you here. Time to get a little messy. A little mean,” Jane blocks, finding the rhythm of Maura’s work quickly. 

“That’s your style,” Maura responds. 

“So? Try it on,” Jane says. Each hit on the pad, Jane catching them dead center, reminds Maura how lucky she is she never had to fight Jane. It’d be the hardest fight of her life. Jane knows it, too, which makes her insufferable. “Won’t kill ya.”

“It just might,” Maura quips, but she adds a little more power. Imagines being Jane, controlling Jane’s arms, what that would feel like. The dissociation lessens the tingle in her elbow and she slips into a 1, 2, 3 combo. Huh. “Faster,” she demands.

“Been awhile since you said that to me,” Jane chuckles, winking when Maura glances up at her. 

Maura speeds up, glancing a blow on Jane’s forearm as a warning shot, but she smirks. “And it’ll be a lot longer yet,” she says, “especially in that context.”

“But not never again, huh?” Jane gives her that pretty boy smile that she knows is Maura’s weakness. Well, one of them. Another is when she talks shop. “Remind me to work in some dumbbell shadowboxing next time. Get your speed back up.”

“Am I telegraphing the hook?” Maura asks.

“Little bit,” Jane answers. “But maybe I’m just good at reading your body.”

That pesters Maura. The innuendo is unprovoked, more pointed. “Watch yourself,” she growls. She punches harder.

“I’ve been takin’ care of myself in the time you’ve been away. After you bailed,” Jane says. “You ever need to blow off some steam, you know, the old fashioned way, I’m around.” Maura lands a vicious jab from which Jane should recoil, given its force. Jane doesn’t. She leans instead, steps forward. “That was never the problem between us, huh?”

“You didn’t hear me say ‘watch it?’”

Jane continues. “Not a drop to drink in a year. I haven’t stopped thinkin’ about you,” she leads. “Who could?”

“You’d need… a lot more than sobriety,” Maura cuts. 

Jane doesn’t seem to mind. “I thought about you so much, I watched your last fight. Gotta tell ya, you stank it up. No guts in that performance.” Maura’s pulse pounds in her temple, her body so worked up that she didn’t realize how fast she’s been fighting. Jane’s faster, though. “No speed, either,” Jane says, and she proves it by smacking Maura in the face with one of the pads. 

Maura’s right hand thunders in from the side, already in motion before Jane could even finish the taunt. Glove connects with Jane’s cheek, and another blow explodes against her ribs just before Maura lands the next face punch that flattens Jane on her back. 

“Jane!” Maura calls out when the anger dissipates with the sickening thwack of Jane’s body on the hard floor. She tosses her gloves off and straddles Jane’s torso, stabilizing Jane’s head between her hands.

Jane smirks, however, gaze alight and alert. “For someone who was so worried about my concussion, you sure got no qualms about a blow to the head.”

“You provoked-! You provoked me on purpose,” Maura realizes mid-utterance. “From the gloves to the comment about the guts.” She stills holds Jane’s face, and of their own accord, her thumbs stroke the crow’s feet just starting to come in around Jane’s eyes. 

“Any pain?” Jane presses, cocky as ever.

Maura blinks, and then gasps. “No. None.”

“Hatin’ me’s a good look on you,” Jane tells her, nodding to Maura’s figure. “It’s pretty good for your fightin’, too, apparently.”

“Do you think you can get me to feel like this all the time?” Maura asks, serious.

“Pissed off? Murderous? I think we’ve established I’m pretty good at that,” says Jane. 

“No. Well, maybe. Pain-free,” Maura pleads.

“No guarantees,” Jane replies. She puts a hand on Maura’s thigh and pats softly. Maura lets her. “But if you wanna try it, wanna try fightin’ pissed, this is the gym for you.”

Maura chuckles and is shocked to find that it’s wet, that she’s crying. “I’ll say.”

“Missed you, kid,” Jane tells her. Her voice trembles with its own wave of emotion, but her eyes stay dry. Maura’s thumb trails to Jane’s lower lip, and rubs the plumpest part of it.

“Is this going to work? Are we going to kill each other? Are you going to resent me for doing what you can’t?” Maura asks, one after the other. 

“Don’t tell anyone that works here,” Jane begins with a theatrical whisper, “but takin’ care of myself might include seein’ a shrink. From time to time. And I think that trainin’ you would be the honor of my life.” Jane finishes. Maura hiccups with new tears. And the broadest smile she’s sported in weeks. “So I’ll do it for free - on one condition.”

“For free, hmm?” Maura asks, buys herself some time to wipe her face, “what’s the condition?”

“You go on a date with me,” Jane says with a smirk.

“Absolutely not,” Maura, assured of Jane’s well-being, smacks her shoulder. 

“One date. C’mon,” Jane pleads. “Anywhere you wanna go.”

Maura sighs. “Just one? After that I don’t have to go on any more?”

“Well, after one you’re gonna wanna go on a lot more, but sure, I’ll keep my word. One date,” Jane answers.

“Then we go to Maison de la Mer,” Maura asserts. Jane glowers. “And you eat what I order for you, and then we never speak of it ever again.”

“Really? The fancy French place with the plate of oysters that costs a rent payment?” Jane gripes, but then she props herself up on her elbows. “Y’know what? Deal. Now let’s seal it with a kiss.”

Maura scoffs and pushes her back down before getting up. “You’re intolerable.”

“Whatever. Still pickin’ you up at seven tomorrow,” Jane sits up while Maura throws her things in her bag.

“It takes weeks to get a reservation,” says Maura as she zips and tosses it on her shoulder.

“I know a guy who knows a guy. Who would love a Frankie Rizzoli, Junior autograph. You don’t think I called that in as soon as I knew you were comin’?” Jane retorts.

Maura’s jaw drops for a split second, and then she throws the towel she’d just used to wipe her face at Jane’s. “In. tolerable,” she repeats.

“And I better see your ass here at four thirty tomorrow morning!” Jane yells, and Maura chuckles quietly now that she knows her face can’t be seen. She pushes out into the rippling heat without another word, and pulls her phone out to call Barry. She can’t believe she’s looking forward to getting her ass kicked in the morning. By Jane fucking Rizzoli.

[5ivebyfive]

Hi! Welcome to my first MonSam fic. I’m following a prompt list for every day of March. I’m gonna try to write one every day, and it may be any of my ships. But first, MonSam. Please be gentle with me on this one. As I said, it’s my first MonSam fic and I’m not sure if I got the sound of it right. Happy reading!

March 6th: flutter (nothing explicit)

Mon leaned back in the large bed with the cushy duvet and pillows swelling up around her. She wore a brand new pink nightie and a black ribbon around her neck. Her hair had grown out enough to trail over her shoulders. Her fingertips tapped a silent tune against the duvet as she waited for her love to return from work. 

“Mon?” Sam called out from downstairs. “Mon?”

“Come find me,” Mon called back with a little smile.

“Oh Monnn?” Sam played along, her voice getting closer. “Where is my MonMon?” Sam hummed a tune. “Where is she?” Mon giggled excitedly and watched the door slide open. Sam stood in the doorway and stopped. Mon watched closely and saw Sam’s eyes widen for a moment before it went away, so that her stone cold look was on her face again. “Mm,” Sam said. “What does my girl have for me?” She crossed her arms. Mon noticed the corners of Sam’s lips twitch every so slight, as though she wanted to smile but was holding it back.

“Something to make Lady Sam happy,” Mon replied. Sam had explained to her time and again that she no longer had to call her that since they were married, but Mon still did at certain times. Like this one. She didn’t tell Sam how hot her eyes became when Mon called her ‘Lady Sam’. She loved it. It wasn’t as if Sam calling Mon her “little girl” didn’t heat her up.

“Are we playing games tonight?” Sam asked, stepping further into the room, her eyes on the ribbon. She had shed her jacket and briefcase already and looked beautiful in her work clothes. More than. 

“I missed you.” Mon ran a finger to her neck and across the black ribbon. Yeah, she knew how much Sam loved her neck. So what if she played it to her advantage? She watched Sam crawl into the bed and slowly crawl closer to Mon. She stopped at Mon’s feet.

“MonMon missed her Sam?” Sam asked, eyes already darkening. Mon nodded and giggled slightly. God, she couldn’t help herself. She loved this woman so much. Her wife. She played with the ribbon again and Sam crawled up over Mon until her thighs braced Mon’s. Sam reached up and tugged Mon’s hand from the ribbon. She shook her head and brought Mon’s hands to her lips to kiss her fingers. One by one. Slowly. 

Mon frowned. “MonMon wants a kiss.”

“I gave you five,” Sam said, her lips turning down in confusion.

“Lovely wife, please,” Mom begged softly. Sam smirked then moved closer so they were face to face. 

“You did say please,” Sam said. Then she leaned in until their lips met. The kiss started warm and slow, a ‘hi’, but quickly heated up into a ‘god, I missed my hot wife’. They kissed fervently, Mon cupping Sam’s neck and Sam, one hand holding her up on the bed, and the other on the ribbon. She gently tucked her fingers into it. Mon had tied it loose for just this reason. It wasn’t uncomfortable, and she trusted Sam that she wouldn’t choke her.

When they had to part, Sam sat on Mon’s stomach and just gazed at her. Brushed her hair behind her neck and stared at her with all of the love Mon had seen in Sam’s eyes from the start. 

“If you had come to work today, you wouldn’t miss me,” Sam stated.

“I did my work here,” Mon said, pointing to her pink laptop beside the bed. She had started the day with a bad stomach ache. Sam had even tried to stay home and take care of her, but Mon was able to convince her to go. And by that evening, she was feeling a lot better. But she saw Sam’s tightened jaw. “I’ll come to work tomorrow.” Her hand moved up and brushed over Sam’s jaw to loosen it. Then she pulled Sam in and trailed kisses down it. “You have me now,” she whispered.

“I don’t like working without you,” Sam pouted.

“Should we get dressed and go to work now?” Mon asked, raising a brow.

“You’re not getting dressed.”

“And you’re too dressed, my Sam.” Sam leaned up on her knees and slowly pulled her top off. She set it beside them on the bed and looked at Mon with a ‘that good?’ look. Mon frowned deeply. Sam smirked and got off the bed to take off her skirt. She climbed back on top of Mon and reached for her again. Mon pulled Sam down against her chest and held her there. “I did miss you,” she said softly. Sam only tightened her hold, hands gripping Mon’s hips. A ‘me, too’. Sam ran her fingers against Mon’s silky nightie.

“Now you’re wearing too much,” she said.

“We’ll change that soon,” Mon promised. She just wanted to hold her wife. Sam kissed Mon’s chest right over the top seam of her nightie and Mon felt her heart flutter at the soft touch. It amazed her how Sam could still make her insides flutter like that. As if they lay together for the first time. Mon kissed the top of Sam’s head and heard and felt her sigh deeply, letting her day go in Mon’s arms. Mon put her fingertips to Sam’s back and dragged them up and down her skin slowly.

“Sing,” Sam ordered. Mon looked down at Sam’s face and gave her a look.

“Sam.” She saw Sam roll her eyes.

“Please sing for me, wife.”

Mon nodded and started to sing Sam’s favorite tune. She saw Sam smile contentedly as she burrowed closer to Mon. Mon sang the whole song, then went quiet. They were both quiet for a while before Mon said, “Should we continue where we were?” Her fingers slid into the back of Sam’s bra. Sam was quiet. “Sam?” She asked. “Sam.” Nothing. Mon tilted her head and looked at Sam and realized that she was asleep. Mon chuckled and rolled over so that Sam lay on her side. Then she got up and finagled the blankets out from under Sam and pulled them over her. Mon climbed back into bed and under the covers. She curled up under the blankets and cuddled up against Sam. She looked up at Sam’s peaceful face and smiled. “Goodnight, my wife,” she whispered, kissing her cheek. Then she closed her eyes, still smiling, and soon drifted off to sleep. They would have time in the morning for the rest.

[topsyturvy-turtely]

turtely's OTP challenge

now on ao3! (tumblr link)

read part 17 here: (prompt: washing something)

summary:

"I don't get it!", a very grumpy John Watson stomped through the flat. Almost aggressively searching for the one jumper.

Out of a sudden spur, John marched into Sherlock's room without knocking. Sherlock looked at him, startled. With John's jumper in his hands.

"Is that... my jumper?" John asked surprised.

Sherlock - looking caught - stared up at John. Looked at the jumper in his hands... looked at John again. "It... might be?"

Gen, 1.068 words, Getting Together, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, John Watson is Perfect

☝︎john watson looking for his favorite jumper be like (lmao i feel so unhinged for adding this gif to that fic , especially since he is fucking wearing it 🤣)

tags under the cut ✨

tag list! (tell me if you wanna be added or removed please 💚) @justanobsessedpan @helloliriels @catlock-holmes @fluffbyday-smutbynight @inevitably-johnlocked @hisfavouritejumper @rhasima @forfucksakejohn @ohlooktheresabee @turbulenttrouble @so-youre-unattached-like-me @totallysilvergirl @peanitbear @train-mossman @loki-lock @smulderscobie @timberva @grace-in-the-wilderness @chinike @jawnn-watson @whatnext2020 @escapingthereality @missdeliadili @kettykika78 @musingsofmyown @7-percent @speedymoviesbyscience @astudyin221b @francj15 @ladylindaaa @we-r-loonies @mxster-jocale @sherlockcorner @noahspector @our-stars-graveside @jobooksncoffee @baker-street-blog @macgyvershe @myladylyssa @battledress @a-victorian-girl @dreamerofthemeadow @oetkb12 @ohnoesnotagain @mutedsilence @jawnscoffee @raenchaosandcozyadashofmurder @lisbeth-kk @quickslvxrr @compact-and-beautiful @kabubsmagga @sunshineinyourmind