cocktail suit

unbreakablejemmasimmons  asked:

If you're still taking prompts-- Fitzsimmons + 25) things you said in the back seat of a cab please! :-)

I’m always taking prompts, it just takes me a million years to get to them, apparently! Here you are, lovely! Set in the unspecified future when everyone’s free from these framework shenanigans.

++

He leans forward to give the driver their address and then collapses against the back seat. Jemma melts against him, soft and giggly in his arms. It’s not that he thinks he deserves to be rewarded for saving the world so often, but these occasions are rarer than they should be. And how can he regret anything about his life when it’s led him to this particularly perfect moment, but even still would it kill the universe to let evenings like this stretch past the hours allotted for their happiness?

He feels Jemma twisting to look up at him, a pretty frown darkening her features. “Fitzy,” she draws out in a whine that he absolutely shouldn’t find attractive, “why are you being serious now?”

“I’m not,” he tries, but the rest of his protests die on his tongue at her knowing eyeroll. It’s no use; there’s never been any use in hiding things from her, but the desire to protect her from everything bad extends to his own melancholy thoughts.

“Do you remember when I left to find Coulson with Fury’s toolbox, and you made me my favorite sandwich?” The cab driver, on the phone dealing with some minor family emergency, isn’t paying any attention to them, although Fitz is sure this conversation would make no sense to him anyway.

Jemma wrinkles her forehead in confusion. “Of course I remember. What brought that up?”

“That’s the last time I was in a cab.”

Really?” she asks, eyes wide. “That can’t be right.”

“It is, though. Ever since then it’s been the Zephyr or some other high-tech SHIELD transport. And in…” he pauses, looking away from her briefly. “In, uh, Morocco I hired a car and driver.”

Jemma inhales sharply and her fingers grip his arm so tightly it stings. He’s desperate to draw the hurt from her before it spreads like a poison, so he places a kiss to her forehead and smiles bracingly. “That ended up being quite expensive. Had to buy the guy a new car. Left him a 5-star review on TripAdvisor, though, so maybe he’s forgiven me by now.”

His joke falls between them with a dull ache. “That’s not funny, Fitz,” she says, voice trembling.

“I know,” he sighs. “I’m sorry. I just…that’s not the point.” He pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to form coherent thoughts with alcohol muddling his system. “I was thinking about the last cab ride because…I was really scared. Not sure if I could find Coulson. I was scared of what they’d do to me if they found me, and I was so terrified to leave you behind. But when I saw you’d made me that sandwich I felt…genuinely happy. It was the first time I really believed you and I would be okay. You know, that we were friends again.”

Jemma blinks slowly up at him before grasping his hand between hers, drawing it up to rest against her heart. “We were always more than that,” she says quietly, her words weighted with a truth so long unspoken. Even now, when they’ve entwined their lives as deeply as possible, it feels like a secret too precious to share with the world. 

He swallows thickly, suddenly overwhelmed with how much he loves her and how he’s still sometimes convinced it’s all a miraculous dream.

“The point is,” he says, clearing his throat and leaning his head back against the car door, “that cab rides are better with you.”

She laughs, and he does too, because he’s done a terrible job at expressing the feelings rending his heart. “Everything is better with you,” he clarifies.

Jemma slides her fingers across his brow, tracing his nose, the curve of his jaw, trailing along his lips like the softest kiss.

“We need a vacation,” she says suddenly and he stills, drawn to her honey-eyes and the tenderness she can’t contain. She nods decisively when he doesn’t reply. “That’s what this is about. We had a lovely evening off and now you’re moping because it’s about to end—”

“I’m not moping,” he grumbles, but she presses a quick kiss to his lips and effectively shuts him up.

“You’re moping because it’s about to end,” she repeats. “Come on, Fitz, we deserve this. And we never made it to the Seychelles.”

He can see them so clearly—lounging in bathing suits, drinking cocktails and getting sunburnt despite their best efforts and his lungs ache with the want of it.

“We’d never get the time off approved,” he says sadly, and Jemma smirks at him.

“Maybe you can’t get time off approved, but I’ve already got two weeks secured.”

“What?” he gasps, genuinely shocked. “Since when?”

She shrugs. “I talked it over with Coulson a few weeks ago. I was waiting for the right time to surprise you, which is apparently…now. In the back seat of this cab.”

They both look around at the decidedly unromantic interior of their cab and simultaneously fall into laughter.

“When should we go?” Jemma asks, when she’s gotten herself back under control.

“Now,” he replies, grinning at her eagerly, suddenly looking years younger. She raises an eyebrow and he knows it’s pointless; Jemma Simmons, who creates binders of research for any small decision, will not allow their first romantic getaway to happen with zero planning.

“Next week?” she offers as a compromise and he has to stare at her for a moment before he realizes she’s being completely sincere.

“Yeah,” he says, stunned and breathless. “Next week. Me and you. The Seychelles.”

She draws him towards her, smiling into a kiss. “I’m gonna do something with you on that island that will take your breath away,” she whispers, causing his entire body to go numb.

“Yeah, snorkeling, I know,” he says archly. “Someone told me there are over a thousand species of fish in the Seychelles.”

“I’m not talking about snorkeling,” she replies, voice lower and throatier than it has any right to be, and he audibly gulps.

“Can we perhaps finish this conversation at home?” he pleads, throwing a glance towards the front of the cab where the driver, thankfully, appears still engrossed in his own conversation.

Jemma giggles delightedly. “Whatever you want,” she says softly, like a promise. With her warm weight pressed against him, he can’t imagine any universe in which he might be happier. When he’s sure Jemma has half-dozed off, he sticks the hand not wrapped around her deep into his pocket, fingers grazing over the small black box. He grins to himself. He might need to create his own binder of Seychelles research after all.

Beach Barbecue Reunion

Shepard was dying. There was no way around it. Every breath he took was harder than the last, his energy was draining away, he wasn’t going to survive. It had been a long fight, against Saren, against Cerberus, against the Reapers, but he had finally won, even if it was the cost of his own life.

He only wished that he had more time, time to see the milky way flourish, free from the threat that had dominated it for thousands of years. He only wished that he could see the Krogan live free from the genophage, and the Quarians reclaiming their lost homeworld. He only wished that he had more time with Kaidan, Their time together had been short, but those months had been the happiest of his life. At least he would leave this world knowing that his beloved was safe.

He was too tired to think anymore, and instead he lay there, surrounded by ash and rubble, staring up at the great blue and green marble in front of him, content to know that the galaxy was safe.


Kaidan gazed at the swirling purple nebula outside. He was lying in a hospital bed on the Citadel, Liara asleep in the chair beside him. He smiled, she still looked the same. It had been over eighty years since the first met, and she hadn’t aged a day. She still wasn’t even a third of the way through her life, and he felt a deep sorrow knowing that she would have to bury him, and all of her friends she loved so dearly. Except perhaps for Wrex, who seemed to be healthier than ever. He and Eve ruled Tuchanka with a gentle but firm hand, and he showed no signs of slowing down.

He’d lived a good life. After the Reaper war, he took a lateral promotion out of active duty, instead choosing to train young biotics with Jack. He grieved for Shepard but he moved on. He’d tried dating but there was no one quite like Commander Shepard. He knew it wasn’t healthy but he didn’t care. After a few years he realised he was missing something, and adopted two kids, Scott and Sarah, twins, and it was one of the best decisions of his life. He loved them both dearly and was so proud of them. Scott was helping guard a relay, and Sarah was helping an Asari research team unearth Prothean technology. He wasn’t worried about them, they were good kids, and Liara promised that she would look out for them once he was gone.

It wouldn’t be long now. Maybe a few more days, but he was ready. He’d lived a full life, and he had no regrets. He didn’t know what was going to happen next, and it scared him, but he knew that he was walking into the unknown with the knowledge that he had done a good job of the past.


The sound of waves gently breaking on the shore woke Kaidan up. He opened his eyes and looked around. He was sitting on a beach, warm sand flowing through his fingers. A bird lazily drifted around in circles far above, calling out to its companion. Behind him, the white sand crawled upwards for a few meters until it met tall palm trees that formed the edge of a luscious forest. In front of him, the sea stretched out in all directions, shimmering gently as light from the sun reflected off it’s clean, calm waters.

He sat up and realised he was wearing new clothes. A thin white linen shirt and shorts, the fabric resting gently against his skin, reflecting just enough of the sun’s heat so that he was pleasantly warm.

He heard someone approaching him from behind, and turned around to see none other than Ashley Williams walking down towards him.

“Long time no see Alenko” she said playfully as if they’d spoken only a couple of days ago, instead of the decades it had been.

“Ash… what, what’s going on?” he stuttered, still in a state of disbelief 

She laughed. “Welcome home Alenko, come on the others will want to see you”. She held out her hand and he grabbed on to it, pulling himself up.

“Where are we?” He asked, this time with more confidence than before.

“No more questions, for now. Don’t worry it will all make sense soon” she said firmly, in a way that suggested that he could try asking again, but would get the same response. Kaidan smirked, it was definitely Ashley he was talking to.

She turned and began walking up the shore and through the forest, along a path that seemed to appear a few steps ahead of her. Kaidan followed her, curious as to who these “others” were.

She led him along the winding path until slowly the forest turned into the sand again. As far as Kaidan could tell they were coming up to a lagoon that stretched for miles across, the bay sheltered by a long barrier island. He noticed a new smell of burning charcoal in the air.

They rounded a bend in the shore and Kaidan saw something that he never thought he would ever see again. Tali was lying in a beach recliner, drinking a colourful looking cocktail. The suit she used to wear had been replaced by a bright purple floral kaftan. Standing beside her was Edi, gazing across the lagoon at the island protecting it from the sea as she mulled something over. Mordin, the Salarian, was sitting cross-legged in the sand, methodically searching for shell fragments and bits of bright, smooth glass. Thane, who Kaidan had grown close to during his stay at the Huerta Memorial Hospital, was sitting on a beach blanket facing the sea, his eyes closed as he meditated peacefully. Anderson was flipping burgers on the grill, and he was talking to non-other than Commander Shepard who was leaning nonchalantly against the grill.

Shepard looked up and locked eyes with Kaidan. Before Kaidan could move Shepard began running towards him, arms outstretched and a smile on his face. As soon as he reached him, Shepard grabbed Kaidan into the tightest hug the other man had ever felt.

“I’ve missed you Kaidan. I’ve missed you so much.” He whispered into Kadian’s ear, his grip still not loosening.

“I missed you too Shepard, but could you let me go, if you don’t I think I’m going to start turning blue”

Shepard laughed and released Kadian from his bear hug. Before he could say anything Kaidan pressed his lips against Shepard’s, and the two shared a long overdue kiss.

Finally breaking away, Kaidan rested his head against Shepard’s and let out a small laugh. “I never thought I’d see you again. I love you, I never stopped loving you, and I am never letting go of you ever again.”

“Not even for dinner? I grilled some steak and there’s some beer in the cooler” Shepard said with a mischievous glimmer in his eye.

“Well, I suppose I could make an exception” Kaidan replied, grinning from ear to ear.

ryleigh-and-cats  asked:

(Dexydex) Congrats on the 1001 followers!! Could you do dexnursey and they get set up as each winter screw date? Thanks!

Oh man, thanks!! And thanks for the sweet prompt, here’s 1700 words of Dex being a baby and Nursey being a Secretive Douche


“What do you mean you don’t have a Screw Date yet?” Ransom looks horrified. His palms spread across the table as he brackets his body over Dex’s, leaning in much too close for any semblance of comfort.

Dex lifts a shoulder, knowing the tips of his ears are a bright red, his cheeks soon to follow. “I just… haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“But, Dex.” Holster leans over Ransom’s shoulder, looking concerned, like not having a date to a stupid, too expensive, winter dance is the end of the world. “You have to have a date. It’s like, tradition. Even Bitty has one, and he’s…” Holster’s voice drops, even though everyone in the room knows the Big Secret. “Dating you-know-who.”

Dex sighs. “I-”

Nursey cuts him off, finally looking up from his book. “Guys, chill.” For once, Dex is thankful for Nursey’s overuse of his favourite word. “I don’t have one either.”

Keep reading

my father frowns and says, “your generation is making this world muddy.”

no, love. we are getting ourselves dirty. I know it’s a foreign concept to somebody who never bloodied his palms trying to hold onto something. we are now old enough and angry enough and sure enough of what we believe in that we are shoving our hands into the soil up to our elbows. we watched you with your suits and cocktails as you stepped on the backs of your friends and your children. we decided we wouldn’t be party to it. we decided injustice against one is injustice against everyone.

please pardon our appearance, we’re busy remodeling. we’re tilling this country until it’s good ground to grow a better government in. we’re making a mess but you better bet it’s for a good goddamn purpose. in order to make an omelette, you gotta break a few eggs. in order to change this whole fucking world, you gotta scream until your words get through their heads.

you can blame technology or our student debt or how lazy we are working six minimum wage jobs to keep a shabby roof over our heads. you can blame us and complain when your walk to the park is interrupted by our protests. at this point, we don’t give a shit. what have you done but whine about those rascal social justice kids? what have you done but make the world a harder place to live? you can’t scorn us for our lack of interest and then get mad when we demand more out of the system.

no. we weren’t the ones to make the world like this. but you better fucking bet that we will do anything in order to change it - and if that means our hands aren’t clean? so be it.

—  you gotta get dirty to plant a garden. // r.i.d
he’s not a siren

Chapter 2:  Arioso - airy, or like an air (a melody); melodious

Summary: Merman AU. Their meeting is orchestrated by fate, conducting them one at a time to step on the stage. With the flick of the baton, in time, they will sing the same song, but only if they aren’t swept away by the ocean’s mighty waves. 

Pairing: Ladynoir/Adrinette

WC: 5490

Part: 1

Also: AO3//FF.net


It is more than busy on the Boulevard Haussmann in the 9th District of Paris, people going to and fro from place to place. Even as the afternoon sun drags steadily across a clear blue sky, the air remains comfortable as tourists and families enjoy what the city has to offer. With careful hands, foreigners hold their phones up high, bending their backs to take snapshots. For them, each photo is a thousand words; allowing them to fall in love with elegant buildings, tall with precise and clean architecture, and absorbing in awe the crafted spectacle of apparent French refined city living. However, it is past expensive apartment buildings, and instead centered around Parisian sophisticated shopping, that Paris’s superhero finds herself today.

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