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Wednesday: Dreams

Today's theme is dreams. What do your favorite characters or actors dream about? Each other? Could be angsty dreaming about a lost loved one, or could be total crack dreaming about flying girl scout cookies. Or a fluffy daydream. Or maybe a prophetic dream. Or a scary nightmare. Anything that floats your boat.
Please use the following formats (the second is for crossovers) in order to help out our hard-working codemonkeys:
Fandom, Pairing, Prompt
Fandom1/Fandom2, Pairing, Prompt
A couple of examples:
Heroes, Sylar/Mohinder, second chances
Buffy/HIMYM, Willow/Marshall, badass
Please remember to leave only one prompt per comment and to space out your prompts throughout the day so as not to overload any one page. 

And as usual, if this isn't your thing, there's a boatload of Lonely Prompts just waiting for some love.


( 658 comments — Leave a comment )
Page 1 of 9
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Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:37 am (UTC)
Heroes, Sylar/Mohinder, second chances
Apr. 22nd, 2009 07:44 am (UTC)
Heroes, Sylar/Mohinder, second chances
Every Single Time

Tonight was the last time Sylar would step into Mohinder’s room as the man slept. It was the last time Sylar would close his eyes and concentrate, stepping out of the physical world and into Mohinder’s unconscious mind.

“Get out!” Mohinder shouted, the dream he’d been having about India changing from the beautiful bustling background of his country to something dark and foreboding as Sylar approached.

“Just hear me out,” begged Sylar, holding up a hand to placate Mohinder.

“Never. Not now, not ever,” hissed Mohinder.

“Mohinder,” begged Sylar, feeling his confidence slipping. This was his last chance. He’d promised himself that if this didn’t work then he would leave, and never look back. “Please...”

“What is it this time?” Mohinder asked, “Please take me back, Mohinder? Please forgive me for my past mistakes? Please ignore the fact that I destroyed your life?”

“Please give me a second chance,” Sylar begged. “Give me the chance to prove that I’m not the monster you think I am.”

Mohinder took a deep breath as he looked Sylar in the eye, and then Sylar was duct-taped to a chair, staring down the barrel of that silver gun as he always did in Mohinder’s dreams. As he had done more than a dozen times now. Every single time, Mohinder had pulled that trigger. Every. Single. Time.

“Now I can fulfill my duty as a son,” said Mohinder, taking a deep breath, just like before. Starting to pull the trigger, just like before. Only...

Sylar and Mohinder both blinked to consciousness at the same time, both stared at one another in amazement across the room.

“Tell me,” whispered Mohinder, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, “Tell me how you’ve changed.”
Re: Heroes, Sylar/Mohinder, second chances - daria234 - Apr. 23rd, 2009 12:01 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Heroes, Sylar/Mohinder, second chances - aurilly - Apr. 23rd, 2009 03:52 am (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:38 am (UTC)
Heroes, Mohinder/Elle, "I'm entirely too old for this"
Apr. 30th, 2009 01:25 am (UTC)
Here is an excerpt. The entire fic is here

Streaks of blue lightening streaked down his chest, cutting his shirt open in a jagged line along the left side of the buttons and leaving the ragged edges singed. Mohinder didn’t know if he was suddenly invincible or if Elle was just that precise. It didn’t matter, though, because soon she was almost at the bottom, and Mohinder simply finished the job for her, tearing the last bit of fabric himself. As soon as he had shed it, Mohinder drew an outline around her head on the motel room wall against which she was pressed. He reached forward to remove her shirt, as well. Mohinder grabbed the gap between two buttons, one side in each hand, and prepared to rip the offending garment off her. But soft hands rested on his own and stopped him.

“No, no, hot stuff. Your shirt was ugly. Mine is not. Let me,” Elle admonished seductively. Looking him dead in the eye, she licked her lips and did a sexy little sway as she thrust her chest out and undid each button on her blouse, one by one. Mohinder watched her lustily, savoring each second of the strip tease. Who knew Elle was such a pro? He wanted to kiss her, but that would entail no longer being able to see, so instead he held her firmly around the waist and shimmied her skirt down her hips until it fell to the floor of its own accord.

No underwear. Elle never wore any underwear. Although… how the hell did he know that? No matter, because she’d finished undoing her shirt and it had basically disappeared. No bra either, apparently. How had they gone the whole day without him noticing this? Mohinder ran his hands up and down her breasts, fondling each one, and was just about to bury his face between them when she stopped him again. Dammit. Always stopping him.

“Not naked enough,” Elle stated with a pout. Mohinder looked at himself and saw that it was true. Then it was a blinding race of getting his shoes off, and his belt, and his undershirt, and his pants, and his boxers. It took a frustratingly long time, with Elle doing nothing except laughing teasingly in his ear, tinkling and other-worldly.

Edited at 2009-04-30 01:25 am (UTC)
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:47 am (UTC)
NCIS, Abby/Kate, chances
May. 4th, 2009 07:33 pm (UTC)
NCIS, Abby/Kate, chances
They'd thought they'd have more time. Opportunities came and went without a second thought. Dates cancelled due to cases. The trip to the spa that they had to reschedule. The job came first, it had to; they'd never even considered that it shouldn't.

So, they'd steal time together when they could. A kiss here, a quickie in the storage closet there. They were both careful, not wanting to chance being caught or that someone might make a complaint. They both had too much to lose.

Until they lost everything anyway. Kate was dead. And Abby wished they'd taken more chances.
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:47 am (UTC)
NCIS, Gibbs/DiNozzo, leather
Apr. 22nd, 2009 02:22 pm (UTC)
Do you have *any* idea what seeing you dressed like this *actually* does to me?" Gibbs breathed as he raked his eyes over the long lean body of his Senior Field Agent and lover.

Tony stared at him from across the room, matching his stare and adapting a nonchalant stance, tilting his head and allowing a ghost of a smile to curve his lips. "Care to enlighten me?"

Neither man moved, the air electric with emotion and raw desire and Gibbs' hard on was threatening to breach his pants as his tongue slid out to wet suddenly dry lips. "Remind me," he asked softly. "Why are you wearing all that buttersoft black leather."

"Maybe because I know what it does to you, Boss. Hell, it took me long enough what does hit your buttons - and toight's undercover op's proved it." Tony leant against the doorjam - teasingly belligerant as he folded his arms. "We got him by the way - he's all yours in Interrogation tomorrow."

"Good." Gibbs shrugged. "Now, let me look at you." He took his time crossing the room, his eyes drinking in every detail of his lover. The black leather pants, the sleek black turtleneck and the long leather duster - together with spikey mussed hair, a diamond earring in his left earlobe and a hint of mascara accentuating those oh so long lashes Tony was just asking - begging to be taken there and then across the back of the sofa - fucked into the middle of next week and beyond. Gibbs was nearly shaking with the effort to control himself, his erection thrumming as his eyes roved downwards to spy an equally raging hard on making itself known in Tony's pants and the tight black leather surrounding it only served to draw the eye - and the desire - and the out and out lust.

"Upstairs or here," Gibbs was closer now, his lips brushing softly against Tony's as his hands snaked their way around a firm trim waist to knead his butt cheeks, pulling the younger man against him, crushing their aching cocks together mercilessly.

"I don't give a fuck!" Tony breathed as he captured Gibbs' mouth in a bruising kiss, as his own hands began to hitch off the duster until Gibbs stopped him, and pointed to the floor.

Without question, Tony knelt with his hands at the small of his back, head bowed - his stomach aflight with butterflies - he'd known this was coming and fuck! did he love it.

"Look at me, Pet." Gibbs hissed. Tony lifted his eyes, swallowing quickly. "You will not strip yourself," he said with a smile. "that pleasure belongs to me - and I will peel those clothes off you - inch by tortuous inch until I have you screaming for relief - do you understand?"

"I do," Tony nodded, trying his best not to smile.

"Good boy," Gibbs purred as he walked to the dresser a little behind Tony and returned to stand before him. "You are a willing sub for me tonight?" He held up his hand, a beautifully tooled black leather leash and collar dangling from it.

"Tonight and always, Master."

"Then - let's begin..."


Sawdust, he could smell sawdust and his head ached. Gibbs opened his eyes to find he was lying on the scaffold of his newest boat, the single lightbulb burning into his eyes as he groaned softly.

"Ah," said a voice. "The Kraken awakes."

Gibbs said nothing, blinking rapidly as he sat up, swinging his legs to the floor. "That you, DiNozzo?"

"Who else would it be at this godforsaken time of day."

"Fuck, what time is it?" Gibbs headed for the stairs but not before stopping and turning to face the younger man. "Why?"

"Why what?" Tony asked innocently.

"You're wearing leather - a lot of leather."

"Yeah, I know - I explained all this yesterday - I'm on a case after PFC Graham? Heavens Gate the kinky nightclub?" Tony frowned. "Don't tell me you'd forgotten."

Gibbs took a minute before replying, going over what he could recall of his dream. he retraced his steps, pushing Tony against the work top and kissing him briefly. "I'm going to shower - and when I'm done - I'm fucking you into the middle of next week - case or no case!"

(no subject) - shayasar - Apr. 22nd, 2009 03:13 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dinozzo111 - Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:28 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - utterlystrange - Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:20 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dinozzo111 - Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:30 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - pipisafoat - May. 5th, 2009 06:56 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dinozzo111 - May. 5th, 2009 07:45 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - pipisafoat - May. 5th, 2009 07:49 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dinozzo111 - May. 5th, 2009 08:00 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - pipisafoat - May. 5th, 2009 08:08 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dinozzo111 - May. 5th, 2009 08:19 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - badfalcon - Apr. 22nd, 2009 09:29 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dinozzo111 - Apr. 23rd, 2009 09:04 am (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:48 am (UTC)
NCIS, Palmer/Gibbs, nervous
May. 5th, 2009 01:21 am (UTC)
Nervous, Gibbs/Palmer, NC-17
He locked the bathroom door behind him and slumped against it, unsteady fingers fumbling with the front of his pants. Finally, finally, he pulled himself and wrapped his fist around his aching erection.


Jimmy spun around. "Agent Gibbs! Doctor Mallard is at lunch right now, but he, uh, left a folder... somewhere... oh, no... maybe it's on his desk... I don't..."

"Don't hurt yourself," Gibbs said, going to Ducky's desk and finding the folder for himself.

"Yes, sir. I don't. I mean, I won't, sir."

Gibbs paused in the door. "Don't sir me, and stop being so nervous. You've been here almost five years now and you're still pissing yourself when I walk in the room. Get over it or you'll never be my ME."

He rubbed his thumb over the tip of his dick, moaning and sliding to the floor. Gibbs' ME... He squeezed just under the head of his cock and muffled his yell with his other hand, head thumping back against the door. Christ. Not that he wanted Ducky to leave, but if that job became his...

Gibbs thrust into Jimmy. "Do continue, Doctor."

"As you can see, the bullet broke this rib and then lodged in his lung. Shift your hips a bit right to find the prostate. His death was slow and painful, or it would have been, if they hadn't shot him in the temple soon after."

"I wonder if he was nervous?" Gibbs mused, shifting his hips as requested.

Jimmy chuckled. "I wouldn't have been in that situation."

"No, you wouldn't. You're never nervous anymore. I told you I didn't bite."

Jimmy turned his head and looked over his shoulder at Gibbs. "Unless I ask you to."

As the Gibbs in his fantasy bit into his shoulder, the Jimmy in the bathroom spilled over his hand with a loud groan. He imagined Gibbs coming in his ass, there in Autopsy, with the whole team watching. He thought about Gibbs kissing him, pulling out, and going to see Abby freshly-fucked.

As he cleaned himself up and headed back to Autopsy, he studiously didn't think about the fact that in his fantasy, he had a British accent.
Re: Nervous, Gibbs/Palmer, NC-17 - utterlystrange - May. 5th, 2009 01:28 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Nervous, Gibbs/Palmer, NC-17 - pipisafoat - May. 5th, 2009 01:30 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Nervous, Gibbs/Palmer, NC-17 - daria234 - May. 5th, 2009 05:28 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: Nervous, Gibbs/Palmer, NC-17 - pipisafoat - May. 5th, 2009 05:05 pm (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:48 am (UTC)
Merlin, Merlin/Arthur, what dreams may come
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:52 am (UTC)
Heroes/Lost, Mohinder/Desmond, dream or memory
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:53 am (UTC)
SPN, Sam/Jess, fire
Apr. 22nd, 2009 03:05 pm (UTC)
SPN, Sam/Jess, fire
So did you have something like this in mind:

Snow was falling outside the window, coating the world in its thick white blanket, muffling even the noise in Sam’s head. Jess was nestled against his side, fitting there like a missing piece, warm and snug. They watched the flames flicker in lodge’s huge stone fireplace, relaxing after a long day’s fun, falling down in the snow. He could feel her breathing against his side, air moving steadily in and out of her lungs, inexorable proof that this was real, solid and tangible as the hearth stones, their whole future spread out before the warming fire.

Or maybe something more like this:

She wakes screaming. Always screaming, and always his name. The fire burns away at her, consuming flesh and hair, muscle an sinew, raging away at her until everything that makes her Jessica is gone, pared down into nothing but agony and searing heat, her scream the only thing she can ever hold onto, the only thing she can keep, the only thing her soul refuses to let go of until, every time, she finally breaks – hours, weeks? - and darkness envelops her, it’s cool black soothing as she falls and falls and falls, only to wake screaming again, fighting still, always, certain her Sam will save her this time...

(OMG does Winsync Sammy hate me right now.)
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - ravensword - Apr. 22nd, 2009 11:30 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - rivestra - Apr. 22nd, 2009 11:39 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - (Anonymous) - Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:50 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - rivestra - Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:19 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - varkelton - Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:35 am (UTC) - Expand
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - rivestra - Apr. 23rd, 2009 01:25 pm (UTC) - Expand
Re: SPN, Sam/Jess, fire - varkelton - Apr. 24th, 2009 02:06 am (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:59 am (UTC)
RPS, Ryan Reynolds/Kristen Stewart/Robert Pattinson, too much goddamn pretty
Apr. 22nd, 2009 05:03 am (UTC)
House, House/Wilson, lupus
Apr. 23rd, 2009 12:30 am (UTC)
"Wilson... why are you lying in that hospital bed? You're not trying to take my part, are you? 'Cause almost dying is usually my bid for attention of choice."

"House... um... this isn't just a... bid for attention..."

"You sound terrible! What the hell happened to you? Were you in an accident or something?"

"No. I'm... I'm sick."

"... You're talking... more than a bad case of the flu, here, aren't you?"

"Yeah. It's... it's bad. I'm... I'm dying..."

"No, you're not. Don't be an idiot. I'll figure out what it is, and..."

"They already know what it is... and there's no cure."

"It's not... cancer?"

"No, House, cancer isn't contagious. *sigh*"

"An STD? Because you had to know that was just waiting to happen..."




"Then... then, what?"

"It's... it's lupus."


"House... why are you laughing?!"


"You find my impending death that hilarious?"

"No, Wilson. *snicker* You're not dying. This isn't even real."

"Denial won't help anyone right now, House. I... I kind of need you..."

"Wilson... lupus is treatable. You don't get diagnosed with it one day and die of it the next."

"... Oh."

"Besides... it's never lupus. Therefore, this can't be real. Therefore... I'm dream-"

"House? House!"


"You were talking in your sleep. Are you okay?"

"Yeah. And so are you."
(no subject) - aurilly - Apr. 23rd, 2009 03:52 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dreamsofspike - Apr. 23rd, 2009 04:14 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - lizzielizzie - Apr. 23rd, 2009 04:42 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - dreamsofspike - Apr. 23rd, 2009 05:19 am (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
(no subject) - dreamsofspike - Apr. 23rd, 2009 08:27 pm (UTC) - Expand
Apr. 22nd, 2009 05:10 am (UTC)
Heroes, Noah/Angela, where her dreams and his overlap
Feb. 14th, 2010 11:23 pm (UTC)
I loved the promt, made the fic too long for a comment!
Read in my journal:

Apr. 22nd, 2009 05:11 am (UTC)
Heroes, Sanjog/anyone, dream weaver (lol, I know, I know.)
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 25th, 2009 03:03 am (UTC)
Spn John/Dean/Sam
It always starts the same way. He's cleaning up after a hunt, washing off blood and grave dirt and lighter fluid in a hotel shower. The only way he knows its a dream and not just another night is the hot water, which never runs out. That, and the eerie silence around him. Low budge hotels are never that quiet.

He's showering, and the steam and the sound of water make him drowsy. He drifts, not quite asleep, and eventually he feels hands on him, and voices murmuring around him. Strong hands, that hold him up, that turn his awkward teenage body, too tall and strange and scarred, into something beautiful. They talk to him, telling him all the things they love about him, that they're going to do to him. Deep, male voices. That, as much as the hands caressing him, bring him over the edge.

As he reaches to touch them, he wakes on a pull out in a dark hotel room, his dad and big brother snoring in the beds.

He lets out a sigh, flops back onto the crappy mattress, and thinks to himself, "I can't do this anymore. I have to get out."
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 22nd, 2009 06:30 am (UTC)
Warnings for dream incest, kind of. *g

“Do you realise just how much trouble you're in, boy?”

The growled question from his elder cousin started his heart racing harder, the need to run and run now kicking in hard. But for some reason he couldn't seem to move his feet, looking down he found there were stuck in the mud. “But...but... but, I didn't do anything...” He hated it when he whined and truthfully he had done something, he'd been watching Christian screw his girlfriend round the back of the barn. But the girlfriend had actually turned out to be a boyfriend and the noise that he'd made in shock is what had got him caught. Never mind that said boyfriend had just disappeared in a puff of purple smoke.

“You were spyin' on me.”

“Was not!” The words seemed to fly out of his mouth before he could stop them, as though someone else was speaking for him, because usually he wasn't a liar as such, more just a sixteen year old kid, who didn't know when to stop. And where the hell had that thought come from? Though really he didn't have any more time to panic as Christian's fist grabbed his shirt and pulled him down so they were eye to eye.

“Well as you scared him off, you can take his place.”

And with that his cousin's lips mashed against his own, hard powerful and oh so hot, a kiss that blew his mind and drew soft moans to his throat...

... and a sharp pain to his leg, not once but twice.

… what the hell?

“Dude, I don't even want to know what you're dreaming about but shut the fuck up!”

The pillow landing against his face, thrown by Dean as he'd groused at him, woke him completely leaving him with a few threads of the dream he'd been having. “Turn the radio off Dean, I don't need Kane at three in the morning.”
(no subject) - havenward - Apr. 22nd, 2009 06:38 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - katzb101 - Apr. 22nd, 2009 06:41 am (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
(no subject) - katzb101 - Apr. 22nd, 2009 04:47 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - maab_connor - Apr. 22nd, 2009 05:24 pm (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - katzb101 - Apr. 22nd, 2009 05:36 pm (UTC) - Expand
(Deleted comment)
Apr. 27th, 2009 12:47 am (UTC)
What they do to me when I sleep, I can never be sure. It used to be just Jensen when I found out his secret. It used to be Jensen who would fuck me and feed from me. It was Jensen that would straddle my hips and ride me until the world whited out. And when I awoke, I was safe, bruised and bitten, warm and fed, and safe.

Then there was Chris. Chris who was Jensen's brother by the same sire. Chris who shared everything with Jensen until they each had gone their seperate ways, finding love, companionship and sustenance. Until Chris left Steve or Steve left Chris, depended on your point of view. Chris went from being temporary to permanant, flanking my side as Jensen's arms wrapped around me.

We worked, we fucked, they gave me my hearts desire, they fed, and we slept. But it was the dreams of far off places, of gilded castles, and blood drenched debauchery that would have me waking with a gasp, Jensen's fangs at my throat and Chris' buried in my thigh. And Jensen's quiet of reassurance of "You are mine, Jay, sleep," would send me into the dark with no dreams.

What they do to me when I sleep, I can never be sure.
(no subject) - elebridith - Apr. 28th, 2009 09:08 am (UTC) - Expand
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