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Prompt me!
Oh, sweet Jesus, I need inspiration. Or lots of chocolate or a lobotomy, I don't even know. (Btw, does anyone out there watch Boardwalk Empire? No? Right. Moving on.)
I definitely know I need to get my fingers typing, so...prompt me!
Leave me a prompt, a pairing or a charactor, and a fandom and I will write you a three line fic.
I definitely know I need to get my fingers typing, so...prompt me!
Leave me a prompt, a pairing or a charactor, and a fandom and I will write you a three line fic.
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"What will it take to get that off of you?" she asks from where she's eating a bowl of half-decent noodles at an stall just by the precinct. "The reason I ask is because I'm afraid you're going to get mustard all over your helmet and I'm fairly positive that's against regulations; you know, to have condiments smeared all over your gear."
It's amazing how she can gauge the level of glare he gives her even as he manages to shove a double decker sandwich into his mouth without getting anything on his helmet.
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There's a part of her, a teeny-tiny part of her, that delights in wearing something sexy around him. She's not necessarily proud of it - oh, who is she kidding, she's TOTALLY proud of how his jaw slackens and his pulse speeds up. But only for a second; he usually follows it up with snarky comment, but his pupils stay dilated and she just likes it, okay?
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- or -
Janice Rand/Jim Kirk: "Tell me again, why haven't you taken over the universe yet?"
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"You--"
"Yep."
"But--"
"I know."
"Marry me?"
He wasn't exactly reassured by her peals of laughter.
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*whistles innocently*
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nothing in this world will ever break my heart again
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