#drabble tag

[imashybear]

“I know.”

(a Reylo drabble)

The moment comes when she’s not looking. The hairs on the back of her neck prickle and she instinctively stutters in her walk, pausing at the shuttle door. The distant sounds of violence aren’t loud enough to drown out her awareness of him. Even if he weren’t standing just behind her, as reluctant for her to go as she is to leave, she knows that she wouldn’t be able to miss the feeling of this.  It would be less obvious getting blind-sided by a speeder. The sensation is so strong, a vibration of energy screaming her name, that she doesn’t even have to think before she’s turned around to face him. She doesn’t even have to reach out in order to hear the tenor of his thoughts.

Rey.

His eyes say it when his mouth doesn’t. Deep and soulful, the fear in them puts a lump in her throat. And just like that she can feel his uncertainty; and another emotion, approaching something close to raw panic. They both put a sharp edge on his thoughts as he gazes at her. They had discussed this plan, he knows this, she knows this. It’s their best option to come out of this fight, hopefully with themselves and the Resistance mercifully intact. And yet, she can feel her skin shaking on her with anxiety nearly as much as his. The sensation is practically doubled, her awareness of him is so concentrated in this moment. The tightness in both of their chests makes it hard for her to breathe; to think. He seems to be having that difficulty as well, and she watches his soft lips quiver, then part just the barest amount, as if with great effort.

“I…” His throat writhes when he stops and swallows. He lets out an unsteady breath and his head ducks infinitesimally, as if bowing under the weight of some great admission. Then she stiffens as it suddenly hits her.

The force of it surrounds her like music, and now everything around them does go quiet. Everything except for this vibration, this sonorous hum, saturated in just…feeling. A wave that crashes over her without leaving a mark. She almost feels like she should stagger under it, but there is no weight to the sensation. The swell pulls her under like a crystal tide, transparent, but lined with brilliant fractures; with longing and hope and remorse and needing and gratitude and…

She doesn’t realize that tears are streaming down her cheeks, but she feels his warm breath snagging on their tracks as she steps incredibly close to him. As natural as breathing, she reaches out, she reaches up, and threads her fingers through his dark hair, gently combing it away from his face. His eyes lever up to meet hers, moving just a little too quickly to be composed, like taking a gasping breath after holding your mouth shut for a long time. And even if she hadn’t just felt everything he wanted to say to her, she’s certain she would have been able to read parts of it in the look he gives her now.

“I know.” She whispers the words, hoping he can understand them. But she knows him too well to have any doubt that he feels the current around them as utterly as she does. Resonant and visceral, it speaks more eloquently than words ever could.  She cradles his face in her hands, feeling his jaw tremble beneath her palms. And she hopes that, even though he didn’t say the words out loud, he knows that it’s enough. It’s more enough than she’s ever had in her life. It’s everything.

[baenakinskywalker]

#20, 'things you said I wasn't meant to hear' for rebelcaptain? :D

i’m cheating and combining @strong-bottle-of-jyn‘s prompt: things you said at one am. anywho, in honor of rogue one leaking and slowly murdering me, please enjoy this angst fest!

Jyn hasn’t been out of her quarters all day. After the ordeal she’s been though, nobody much feels like admonishing her. Even Draven, rivaling Kaytoo in terms of not caring about Jyn’s feelings, keeps telling everyone to give her space.

Bodhi comes round in the middle of the day with a mug of honest to god tea instead of the crap caf from the mess. It’s Kay, standing guard by the door, who lets him in. Jyn thanks him, voice hoarse, and tries to hide her red rimmed eyes by rubbing at her face with the sleeve of Cassian’s shirt. 

She doesn’t touch the tea.

In fact, by the time Cassian slides into bed beside her, hours later, Jyn hasn’t had anything to eat or drink. He presses a kiss to the crown of her head and slips an arm around her waist. Jyn pushes him away, fresh tears welling in her eyes. 

“Jyn,” Cassian sighs, “Draven told me. Are you alright?”

She nods, biting her lip to keep from breaking into sobs.

“Jyn,” he repeats. “You know I don’t — I’m not angry. Or disappointed. I’m just...glad that you’re okay.”

She just nods again, pressing a fist to her mouth. 

“I know you’ve been resting all day, but Kay told me you...well, people in your — “ Cassian stops. “He said you’d want to sleep,” he finishes. 

“I,” Jyn starts, voice thin as ice. She feels Cassian tense, in anticipation of something. “I’m fine.”

He relaxes, pulls away a little. His hand seeks hers beneath the blankets and Jyn lets out a strangled noise. Still, she laces her fingers through his. It’s enough and too much all at once. 

What feels like days later but must only be a few hours later, Jyn still isn’t asleep. She can’t feel Cassian beside her for the first time all night and her heart drops. Her eyes squeeze shut, trying to contain the tears that won’t stop slowing. “Please don’t leave me,” she whispers, voice breaking, overcome with hiccuping sobs.

Suddenly, Cassian’s arms come around her, pulling Jyn flush against his chest. “I’m right here, mi amor. I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time since Kay carried her from the refresher, blood coating her thighs, to the med bay, Jyn lets herself be held. She turns into the frame of Cassian’s shoulders, fists her hands in his shirt, and lets the fragile veil of strength she’s managed to piece together shatter. 

Jyn clings to Cassian until she has nothing left to cry. She holds him like a lifeline, willing the images of the family she’s just lost to fade like any other scar. 

[mommyjemma]

are you still taking prompts? because FS + '...why is there a dog in our bathtub?'

rated a light T, i think. also dedicated to the sandpenis group chat <3

More often than not, Jemma Simmons prides herself on her lifelong history of waking up before everyone else around her. It allows a blissful moment or two of calm solitude before the storm of whatever the day could bring. She’s done it for years, but many of these personal moments were lost rather than found with the storms turning into hurricanes as her ever-changing world grew more and more dangerous.

But, here and now? In a little cottage in Perthshire, not too big and not too small and without the weight of the world on her shoulders, her favorite pre-morning ritual involves Fitz, her other half who, though the path has been a jagged one, has stood by her side in the eye of even the worst of storms. Even after their two years spent together together, Jemma still likes to take the time to memorize his sleeping face as calm and peaceful as she’s ever seen it, as if to counteract the monsoons it’s witnessed head on. 

So when she stirs from slumber with fluttering eyes and pointed toes, naturally she allows herself to bask in this quiet moment and simply take him in. He’s all messy curls and steady breaths and lashes longer than they have any right to be and hers and hers. She watches him for another five, ten, thirty seconds before giving in and pressing kisses along his jaw.

Fitz mumbles something incoherent, rolling to his side to chase the sensation. Chuckling softly, she starts kissing his cheeks and forehead and eyelids and the bridge and tip of his nose. He whines, blindly moves his face towards hers as best as he can with closed eyes to capture her lips with his lazily. 

“Morning,” she murmurs against him. Fitz echoes the word roughly; she lets out a little squeak when his fingers skim over her side and beneath his faded tee she stole long ago, and she gets the tiniest peek of blue in the morning light from his eyes just cracking open before he closes them again, tugs her flush against him. 

Jemma can’t fight her lips curving into a grin when his tongue grazes hers, even though it makes it much harder to kiss him; she rolls them over, sliding a leg between his and thumbing at his jaw, and she then decides exactly how she wants to spend this blissful early morning—when a sharp, high-pitched yelp jolts them both wide awake and all traces of arousal disappear.

Frozen, they wait just a beat. There it is again. And again.

It takes her much longer to put two and two together than she’s willing to admit. She sits up, half on his stomach. “Um.”

“Shit.” He tries to hide his face in the pillow but she pulls him out.

“Fitz? Um...why is there a dog in our bathtub?”

Peeking at her between his fingers covering his face, he groans and squeezes his eyes shut. “Well, it was supposed to be a surprise.” he lets out an oof as she clambers off of him and rolls off the bed and dashes to the bathroom. 

“See, the kennel made too much noise so I put him in here after you fell asleep, and the little bastard just passed right out too,” Fitz explains, stumbling after her. “I was gonna wake up early and put him in our bed, it was gonna be really romantic and heartwarming, but—” but she’s not listening at all, too preoccupied with cooing and giggling at the tiny, spotted puppy wiggling in her arms and licking at her face.

“Aww, Fitz!” Jemma manages out between laughs, noting the red and currently untied ribbon loose around his neck.

“He’s a rescue pup,” he informs her, smiling, “so the exact breed’s a bit of a mystery. Didn’t think you’d mind, though.”

“He’s perfect.” She shifts him to the crook of one arm and catches Fitz by the wrist. “C’mon, then. Let’s go pile up back in bed and pretend it happened the way you planned. Have to one-up me romantically and all that.”

And they do just that, curl up in bed with the newest member of the Fitz-Simmons household with kisses from every party involved. Fitz murmurs happy birthday against her mouth and the puppy intervenes by nipping at his jaw with both paws on his chest and Jemma cannot picture a better way to spend every early morning from here on out.

[tomakeitbeautifultolive]

Gif-Inspired Drabble Tag

I wrote this last night and waited to post it until today. As many of you have guessed, I've been a bit down today in light of the news I received this morning. I know Allegra wouldn't want me withholding drabble on account of my moping.

And so, this drabble is dedicated to my kindred spirit, my Lucasta @allegre17

Tagged by @drakhus and challenged to write a drabble around a Jonerys gif (inserted below), as suggested by @noordinarylines (extraordinarylines! 😉)

If anyone is up for s'more drabble, feel free to join in! The prompt is to base a short drabble around any Jonerys-related gif. Dedicate it to Allegra if you'd like!

I'll challenge @ktwrites (Team Rhaego!) @northernlights37 and @meisiesmut

With that aside, here’s a short intro: You could say my expectations for the meeting between Jon and Daenerys were a bit... high. I thought that there would be a bit more recognition there, due to their blood, or perhaps that they were clearly destined for one another.

Though my hopes were shattered, there is one curious look from Jon—a look of almost fleeting recognition. And so I ran with it. This drabble is a bit sappy, but... *shrug* Isn't that what we're here for?

On to the drabble... “I Know You”

Having been tucked away at the edge of the world, Jon had been fully immersed in a realm all his own, paying little mind to politics and goings-on outside it. Even after begrudgingly becoming King in the North to his people, the adjustment proved difficult—having to reacclimate himself to the rigid social structures that sent him fleeing north in the first place. Luckily, his sister had been more than happy to lend her expertise—to fill in the gaps his ignorance had left behind. Sansa didn't trust this dragon queen, and perhaps he shouldn't, either.

To Jon, Daenerys Stormborn was something of a mystery. Of course, he had heard echoes of the Targaryen queen's beauty, and just as many tales of her monstrosity. From Winterfell to White Harbor, no two rumors of her aligned quite right. And so, he'd taken the time aboard the ship sailing south to prepare himself for the worst, unable to help but remember the gruesome tale of his uncle and grandfather, and how they'd perished at the Mad King's hand.

From the moment he'd entered the throne room, Jon could tell, even from afar, that the dragon queen was beautiful. Though he wasn't a shallow man, he couldn't help his eyes from lingering on the sight of the fabled queen in the flesh.

It was only when Daenerys rose from her throne and started toward him that he felt something stirring inside. A familiarity that had spooked him enough to make his hair stand on end.

I recognize her.

How?

He tried his best to focus on her words, to listen, but her gaze had proven most distracting. Though her expression was as stern as her tone, her eyes gave her away. They told her tale of woe more thoroughly than could any of her three languages. Appropriately, those violet pools had reflected his dark outline—as, inside of them, he could see the very things that festered within him—sorrow, suffering, loneliness.

The dragon queen had left him wondering whether he was the one who'd gone mad, teetering before her as if resisting a magnetic pull, some unseen force beyond his control.

His thoughts were a shattered mess, and though he worked feverishly to collect the pieces in time for his turn to speak, to focus on the task at hand—his mind chimed over and over at the sight of her.

I know you.

[lesbianfreyja]

23 + macden ✨

23. Well the probability ofthat is zero, but you go ahead.

-

Mac ducked to kiss him, whichseemed like a much better option than continuing this semi-argument over theepisode of The Office that they were theoretically watching, sprawled out ontop of each other on the couch. Dennis surged up to meet him halfway, windinghis arm around Mac’s neck the way he did when he was ready to get settled intoa very nice, long period of making out.

But Mac barely let it lingerfor a few seconds, and he didn’t kiss him full-on again afterwards, instead skatinghis lips over the corner of Dennis’s mouth and then down across his cheek. Dennisfrowned, combing through Mac’s hair when he ducked to nose lazily at Dennis’s throat.

Privately, he thought this washis favorite place in the whole world. Anywhere he could lean into the warm curveof Dennis’s neck. His skin was soft and flushed, and Dennis hadn’t gotten dressedafter his shower so he smelled like soap and natural pheromones instead of hisusual cologne.

Of course Dennis had to go and ruinthe mood.

“What are you doing, man?”Dennis laughed. He dragged Mac’s hair between his fingers more deliberately, adeep and soothing rhythm.

Mac lifted his face away fromhis neck — again, goddamn Dennis for making him do that — and pinned Dennis tothe couch by the shoulders. He studied his face seriously.

“Do you love me?” Mac asked.

Dennis’s hands dropped awayfrom his sides. His brow furrowed, and he took a beat longer than Mac wouldhave liked before answering.

But all he ended up with was, “What?”

“Are you in love with me?” Macrepeated. He drew it out long and slow, like Dennis had a tough time keeping up,which — clearly, he did.

Dennis frowned at him for along time, until Mac gave up, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off. He wasfully ready to storm out, make a real good scene about it, but before he could getfurther than the other side of the couch Dennis grabbed his arm. Huffing, Macrefused to twist more than halfway toward him, but he did stop.

“Wait, wait, wait.”Dennis pulled at him, to no avail. “What is this about, dude? We’ve got areally good thing going, what are you doing?”

Mac sighed. His knee bumpedDennis’s when he turned.

“I tell you I love you, like,all the time,” Mac said.

“You don’t do it that much!”Dennis protested, but he looked shifty. Mac elected to let that one slide.

“Why won’t you say it back?”Mac demanded. He bit his lip. “Is it just because you, y’know…don’t feel thatway about me?”

He hated asking, mostly becauseit felt really fucking pathetic to be begging somebody to love you, but Macdidn’t know what he was going to do if Dennis said that he didn’t. Probablynothing at all, but it felt important to be aware of something like that. Atleast he could try to stop saying it so much and embarrassing himself over andover.

Dennis groaned, which was notwhat he was expecting; he stopped his shame spiral cold to stare.

“Look,” Dennis said finally. “It’snot that easy for me, okay? I don’t know how — I’ve never — I can’t say it,alright?” He squeezed his temples. “I just…I don’t know how to say it.”

He glanced up at Mac, lettinghis hands drop back into his lap. He looked nervous, and Mac would havecomforted him but his brain was all white noise and static.

“I…Oh,” he said brilliantly.That wasn’t what he was expecting, either.

“Is that okay?” Dennis asked hesitantly,sounding like he was trying to keep Mac from blowing up again. “I mean…I likewhat we have, Mac, and I even like it when you say it. But every time I try,it just sort of—”

Before he could stumble his wayblindly to the end of that sentence, Mac pushed in until their thighs weretouching and pulled him in to kiss hard enough to hurt. Dennis took a second tojolt into returning it but then he shifted even closer, enough where if he wentany further he was going to be in Mac’s lap. Mac didn’t exactly hate the idea.

He grabbed Dennis’s waist,working out a game plan.

“You know,” Mac saidconversationally when Dennis paused to tilt his head the other way, and Dennisdidn’t stop pressing his lips to Mac’s even while he talked, until Mac waslaughing and had to push him back by the shoulder. “I’m gonna make you say it. Notnow, but eventually.”

Dennis rolled his eyes. Fromthis close, Mac could see the blush where it ghosted high on his cheeks.

“Good luck with that,” Dennissaid. He yanked Mac back in by the front of his shirt, putting his mouth on hisjaw.

“I’m serious,” said Mac, doinghis very best to ignore Dennis’s lips on him. “I don’t know how, but I’m gonna wineyou, and dine you, and make you feel comfortable enough to—”

“Well the probability of thathappening is zero, but you go ahead and try,” Dennis cut smoothly across his brilliantand well-motivated scheme. “Now shut up and kiss me, asshole.”

Dennis split into a grin. Macdid as he was told. What else was he supposed to do? He loved the guy.

[5ivebyfive]

drabble for @clairebear1127. set in a vague timeline of (It’s Such a Wonderful Thing) To Love

Kimberly sat at the bar with both hands flat on top of each other and pressed to the bar, and her chin rested on top of her hands. She watched Trini move around behind the bar mixing drinks and pouring beers. She was entranced. How could she not be? Trini was beautiful and the way she moved -- magical. Kim watched with a pounding heart (god how it pounded for Trini, every time, every day) as Trini approached her with a glass of something red in her hand.

“It’s not your cranberry and vodka poison, but try it,” Trini said, sliding the glass across the bar. 

“What is it?” Kim sat up straight and peered into the glass.

“I call it a Hart Attack,” Trini replied with a blushing smirk.

“Hart like Kimberly Hart?” 

“Just drink it.”

“Aww, you named a drink after me!” Kim clapped her hands together once and grasped them. “You big softie.”

“Okay, at this rate I’m changing the name,” Trini said with an eye roll.

“Noooo,” Kim grabbed the glass and pulled it close to herself. “Mine. Thank you.”

“You’re welco-...what are you doing?”

Kimberly had her hand in the glass as she fished around in it. A moment later she pulled a cherry out by it’s stem with a proud look on her face. “Got it!” She popped the cherry in her mouth, twirling her tongue around the fruit between open lips, and bit it off. Trini just watched with wide eyes. Kim chewed the cherry and swallowed. She twirled the stem around in her fingers, staring at it, before grinning mischievously. She popped it in her mouth and started moving it around on her tongue. She stared into Trini’s eyes, which had only gotten wider, and she tied the stem with her tongue. She pulled it from her mouth slowly then licked her lips. Trini seemed frozen. Kim felt victorious.

“You okay?” She asked Trini, innocently.

“I...uh...you....”

Kimberly took a sip of the drink. It was fruity and slightly sour, and she smiled as she swallowed it down. “I like this.”

“You...I, uh...”

She seemed to have broken Trini. Oops.

[seungcheolsbodyharness]

for the dabble game! 22/28 with seokmin, plsss?? thank you ❤️💕

22 - jealousy + 28 “if i kissed you right now, what would you do?” + seokmin

x

“you’ve been awfully quiet, seokmin.” 

you’ve been walking together for some time, considering he’d practically demanded to walk you home after the group outing you’d been on. it had run a little late, and none of the boys had been comfortable with you making your way home by yourself. seokmin had nearly jumped out of his seat, shouting, “I’ll do it,” which caused everyone in the cafe to jump. 

he shrugs, hands shoved into his pockets. his face is pulled into a scowl, which looks awfully wrong in place of his usual bright smile. 

“are you okay, seokmin?”

he sighs and shrugs again, and you’re pretty sure you see him rolling his eyes. 

“seokmin, i feel like something is wrong.” you jog a bit get in front of him, stopping in your tracks to get him to stop walking. “why won’t you tell me what’s wrong?”

he huffs. “it’s nothing.”

you pout, making sure to exaggerate it. “you’re sad, seokmin, and i want you to tell me why.” you take his hand and drag him towards a bench and forcing him to sit with you. “please? please tell me what’s wrong.”

he runs a hand through his hair, one leg jumping up and down. “it’s nothing. really. i - i don’t want you to worry.”

“i’m already worried, seok. you’re so...unlike yourself.” you place a hand on his thigh, looking into his face. “you don’t seem as happy as you normally are.”

he mumbles something under his breath and you frown, face pinching. he sighs and repeats himself, louder. “jealousy can do that to you.”

you feel yourself going cold. “jealousy?”

“yeah, uh - this, this friend of mine has been flirting with another friend of mine who i really, really like, and it’s been, um, it’s been kinda hard for me.” he shrugs. 

you bite your lip, your chest filling with a dull pain. “i’m so, so sorry, seokmin. that must be awful.”

“yeah.” he sighs. “it really sucks.”

“is - is it someone i know? maybe...maybe i can talk to them. or-or something. i don’t know.” 

seokmin looks at you, chews his lip a bit. “yeah, yeah it’s someone you know pretty well actually. it’s - god....it’s you. it’s - the person i like so much is you.”

you sit in silence, shocked, and he continues.

“mingyu has been flirting with you so much lately, and mingyu is my friend so i can’t just go to him and tell him to stop, because i don’t own you or anything, and you always blush so cute when he compliments you but i’m too shy to do it too and i just -”

“seokmin, if i kissed you right now, what would you do?”

he stops in the middle of his rambling, eyes going wide as he stares at you. “wh-what?”

“i want to kiss you seokmin. can i?” you take his hand again, trying your best to put all the things your feeling onto your face. “i’ve wanted to for a while now, actually.”

“really?” his voice is high and shrill and you can’t help but giggle. 

“yeah, seokmin, really. really really.” you cup his jaw in your hands and smile at him and he giggles back. 

he leans in and presses his lips to yours, cupping your face in his own hands, pulling back and smiling before pressing more kisses all over your face. 

“you beat me to it.” you whine as he presses a kiss to your nose. 

“don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of chances to be the one kissing me. if - if that’s what you want, of course.” suddenly he’s nervous again and he’s pouting. 

you lean forward to kiss the pout away. “i can’t believe you were jealous of mingyu.”

“hush. and....kiss me? again?”

[neondomino]

Promised a show

Drabble tag response from @steelprisms

Prompt: Handcuffs

-

"Well, that went as expected," James mutters, as he looks between the handcuffs and the drainpipe.

Sirius lets out a sigh. "At least Moony can trace our phones." He glances towards where their phones had been tossed away. "So... you're stuck with me."

Sirius is a little too happy about this. James knows it's going to rain soon and he's dreading the idea of being trapped in the pouring rain. James tends to look like a drowned rat. Sirius looks like he's just walked out of the sea, hair falling around his shoulders, kinda with a 'sexy lifeguard' vibe, his shirt sticking to his skin.

Remus is the luckiest bloke ever.

"So, we have time, what do you wanna do?"

"A game?" James suggests.

Sirius scoffs. "A waste of handcuffs," he laughs. "Come on. Let's something a bit... risky?"

"Risky? That's what landed us in this mess," James grumbles, but he's curious. "Sure. Risky."

He doesn't expect risky to mean lips on his. For a moment, James loses himself in the unexpected kiss, realising exactly why Remus goes weak at the knees each time he kisses Sirius. But when he thinks of Remus, he realises just what he's doing and he shoves Sirius, hard.

Sirius looks hurt.

"Don't you ever do that again," James shouts. "Poor Remus—"

Sirius laughs. "What's so funny?" James demands. He's angry. Angry at Sirius for kissing him when he's taken. Angry at himself for enjoying it.

"Mate, it was Moony's idea," Sirius says, trying to control the laughter. "Look, we both fancy you and he said that I need to take the leap and snog you, it's the only way you'll realise we both want you."

"I..." James falters. "I don't believe you. Moony—"

"Can you both get on with it," comes Remus' voice from the nearby shadows. "Sirius promised me a show."

James stares over at Remus, bewildered. "You're giving me permission to kiss your boyfriend?"

"You can do more than kiss him. I suggest we all go home and put those cuffs to better use."

James likes the sound of that.

[organicclownfarm]

honestly i just think a Lot about the tragedy of oliver and graham’s relationship. like. you’re in love with a man, been in a stable relationship with him for six years. you know all his little quirks and habits and he knows yours, you can trace constellations in the freckles on his back, tell him anything and everything and he loves you back. you move to london with him looking forward to this life you will share but things start to go off the rails.

he stops talking to you as much. he no longer wakes you up with tea, he doesn’t seem to listen when you tell him about your day. he barely sleeps, doesn’t eat nearly enough. just writes in his notebooks and mumbles under his breath. you used to think his dedication was endearing, the mumbling was cute, but now it just fills you with dread. he needs help that he either can’t or won’t take- the man you love is falling to pieces in front of you and it seems like all you can do is watch until that becomes to painful and then you have to leave and its a hard and awful thing but you just can’t stay.

with that and the stress of your job, things fall apart soon after. the nervous break, losing your job, the dreams of death, one right after the other. for ages and ages you walk through a parody of london in your dreams, you watch tendril’s snake and burrow into people, acquaint yourself with the ghosts.

you can’t decide what would be worse; seeing graham woven through with the snaking vines or never knowing what happened to him. you’re never able to find graham in the dreams even when you look and look and look. you miss him, sometimes.

[baenakinskywalker]

say yes, run away now

rating: t

words: 849

a/n: first up in my quick feysand drabble(ish) series! here's a take on ACOMAF right after rhys and mor rescue feyre from the spring court — i'm playing fast and loose with canon to build in a marriage of convenience. first paragraph comes directly from ACOMAF!

for @popjunkie42, even though i did not answer your actual prompt at all. saving it to come back to later!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ✧・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“As your presence here isn’t part of our monthly requirement, you are under no obligation to go back.” Rhysand rubbed at his temple. “Unless you wish to.”

I felt sick. Unless I wished to. As if any of that mattered to the male who had just locked me in his house, even when he knew what it would do to me. He knew. “He’ll come for me.”

Rhysand stood from the low couch opposite me. “And if he does, we’ll be prepared. We’ll even come for him first, if you like.” He smiled, but there was no warmth behind it. Nothing but thinly veiled rage leaking from his skin like smoke under a door. Only destruction on the other side. My teeth chattered despite the warm air in the mountaintop palace. 

There was a steaming mug in front of me, the scent of sweet spice inviting me to take a slow sip. I felt Rhysand’s eyes on me as I drank, saw the way his posture relaxed as I drained the cup. I hadn’t felt thirsty until the cup was pressed to my lips. I set the mug down, and a thought occurred to me that sent my heart into my throat. 

“Your shields are holding, Feyre darling,” Rhysand said. “But I can tell there’s something you’re not sharing. Tell me, please.”

I swallowed hard, wishing I had another mug. Maybe something stronger. “If I had married Tamlin, would you have called in our bargain?”

Rhysand clenched his jaw, eyes going a darker shade of violet — near black. “What are you asking me?” “If I had married him…would you have been allowed? I mean, could you have taken me?”

Something dangerous glimmered in those eyes. “It would have been difficult. There are…” He paused, tilting his head. “The same protocols that made it so Mor had to take you from Spring would have hampered me calling in our bargain if you were married to Tamlin, yes.” 

So even in Prythian, a female needed marriage to have any semblance of autonomy. Not so different from life below the Wall. It made my next move crystal clear. “So if I were married, Tamlin would find it…difficult to collect me.” Rhysand growled, a purely animal sound. “Feyre, I swear to you that you are safe in the Night Court. We have our own sentries — my own generals and spies — who will ensure that he doesn’t cross into this land.”

I shook my head. “It’s not enough. It won’t be enough — you know it.” My voice grew frantic. I had to convince him. “You know what he’s willing to do,” I said. 

Across from me, Rhysand paled. Then he took a deep, steadying breath, inky black like a starless night sky rolling off of him in waves, and sat beside me. “So what exactly is your plan?”

“Marry me.”

“What?” Rhysand went completely still. “You have no idea what you’re asking.” His eyes were wide, like that moment when he said goodbye to me Under the Mountain, after I had been brought back by the High Lords. 

I bit my lip. “If you marry me, I can stay here. I’ll be protected.” 

“I’ll protect you anyway.”

“But if I’m your wife — ”

“By the Cauldron. You’re serious.” He looked pained. 

“I understand that it’s not ideal.” I pictured it: Becoming Rhysand’s wife, Lady of the Night Court. In name only, just for my safety. “It could be a small affair, just us and a high priestess.” I shuddered on the last word, remembering Ianthe. 

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose. “You want us to marry so that Tamlin will have no further claim to you.”

I nodded, palms going slick. He could easily refuse, and then what would I do? “You hate it,” I said softly. 

A long silence stretched between us. His eyes closed, and he slumped a little. I waited for the rejection, for him to politely extricate himself from the situation. Then he looked up, violet eyes meeting mine, flecks of stars circling his pupils. “I hate that it could actually work,” Rhysand groaned. 

My heart pounded faster in my chest. “So you’ll do it?” If this worked, if it kept Tamlin from capturing me and forcing me back into the Spring Court, I’d be safe. Free. For once in my life.

Apart from being tied to the High Lord of the Night Court. 

“Feyre,” Rhysand started, taking my tattooed hand in his, “if this is really what you want — if you understand what this means…what you’re giving up, then yes. I’ll do everything in my power to keep you safe. Even this.”

My eyes were drawn to his hand curled around mine. “I do.”

Beside me, a dry laugh. “You’re getting ahead of yourself.”

I exhaled, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. There was so much still to cover — my powers being most important, given the destruction in Tamlin’s manor — but so long as I didn’t have to go back, I could chip away at it all. Slowly, and with Rhysand’s help.

Together…for better or worse.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. ✧・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

[mommyjemma]

fs + 16

things you said with no space between us

As wonderful as exploring the more physical aspect of their relationship has been (and yes, wonderful doesn’t even begin to describe it), in the past seven months, Jemma has found herself basking more in the simple things. Tiny buds in their flourishing wildflower. 

The reassuring hand squeezes, the tender caresses to one’s arm or back in passing, their toothbrushes side-by-side in the bathroom, the heartbeat below her ear each night to remind her what she has, and,

“Jemma, you’re smiling. I know you’re awake.”

She bites her lip, trying to regain control of her face as Fitz rains gentle kisses along the freckles of her nose and cheeks. It doesn’t work.

“No, I’m not,” she mumbles, voice happy and laced with sleep.

“Yeah,” he moves to her jaw and neck. “You are.”

“Nope I’m definitely asleep; so you should keep doing that.” He laughs against the skin over her pulse, causing his teeth to graze her there and a shiver to shoot down her spine.

“You’re a terrible actress,” he informs her, stopping any protest in its tracks with a heated kiss to her lips. She chuckles against him, deepening it at a matched pace. 

Well, as deep as possible with a giddy grin engraved into her features.

The happy bliss after breaking apart breathlessly lasts mere seconds, as the assigned ringtone for the director summoning her (which Fitz had pitched using the Imperial March before she’d elbowed him), interrupts the silence. Fitz groans as she rolls away to check her phone.

“Sorry,” she winces after a tick.

“No, it’s fine. You’ve gotta go.”

As her promotion into the new director’s pocket cuts their time short, Jemma treasures what they do get with everything she has. Cradling these moments fiercely and protectively, and carrying them always.

After she’s changed and ready for the day, she bends over her boyfriend still in bed to catch his lips with hers in farewell for now.

“I’ll see you when you come in,” she murmurs, squeezing his bare shoulder and turning to leave. Duvet outstretched by his grip at arm’s length, Fitz unexpectedly tugs her back down by the waist before she can get too far. 

“Fitz!” Jemma shrieks, squirming in his hold. She’s laughing in surprise, so he only pulls her closer. “Fitz I have to go!”

“Five more minutes,” he barters, scratchy chin tickling the back of her neck.

“The director is expecting me! Let me go.”

He’s quiet for a moment, then whispers, “Never,” so sincerely it makes her whole body sing in his warm embrace.

At long last, she gives in, pulling the covers higher and tugging his arm tighter around her stomach. Fitz smiles triumphantly, nuzzles against her shoulder blade.

And she does leave the director waiting for five extra minutes with pillow pressed hair and a slight wrinkle in her blouse, but with a spring in her step and the familiar scent of her best friend at her collar, she finds that she doesn’t really care.

[deadboyswalking]

send me a number and pairing and I’ll write you a drabble

No. 40 “Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?

(I think i’m physically incapable of writing a drabble. This is so long! Might re-purpose some of the dialogue for Shades but Shades!Dabi has a slightly different personality than the one in this drabble)

Dabi knew that he was being annoying, okay, he knew. But like his Quirk itching beneath his skin, begging for use, bothering his new boss whenever the mood struck him was a need that could not be ignored. He physically could not stop himself from bugging the man at every opportunity, narrowly avoiding decay on a daily basis, and today was no different. 

The two of them lay sprawled out on their stomachs on Shigaraki’s bedroom floor, looking about as much like two innocent schoolboys as two of the most wanted grown villains in Japan could. Swapping homework and textbooks for maps and reports, Shigaraki kicked his feet in the air as he rested his masked face on one hand, reading over the intel sheets for U.A.’s upcoming super-secret summer camp. Dabi was captivated by the sight as he rested his chin on his hands on the floor, especially the way that Shigaraki occasionally twisted one of his silver curls or the sight of his neck pulse beating beneath scarred, nearly translucent pale skin. He felt a little dizzy, was he getting sick? Tired? Too many nights smoking too many cigarettes? He shook his head to clear it.

“Either take half the stack of intel reports and get reading or I swear to god, I will turn you to dust and replace you with Spinner,” his boss suddenly said, crimson glare through dead fingers meeting Dabi’s shameless gaze. 

“What do you look like?” Dabi blurted out, still somewhat trapped in the fog. Shigaraki blinked at him.

“What’s your real name?” Shigaraki shot back.

“None of your fucking business,” came Dabi’s clipped, automatic response to the question. The response he’d locked into place for ten years. 

“There’s your answer, then,” Shigaraki replied, “Now either get to work or get the hell out of my room.”

Dabi, for once, shut the hell up and started reading, occasionally making notes for his first major mission as the Vanguard Action Squad leader. Not out of respect or anything, don’t be fucking stupid, but to regroup and think of how to rile Shigaraki up enough to make him remove the hand. He had a burning curiosity to satisfy, after all, and it was only about 10 minutes before the itch started again.

“Why hide? You’re at home. You ugly or something?” he needled, watching with satisfaction as Shigaraki’s shoulders tensed, along with the hand holding a report in a tight four-finger grip. Ooh, it had been a while since he’d made the boss get mad enough to lose control of his hands and decay something! Almost as satisfying as the chance to see his face at last. 

“Why do you care?” Shigaraki asked, but not in the harsh or hysterical way that Dabi had come to expect from him when he got annoyed. He sounded... a little bit sad. Dabi ignored his sudden and random urge to apologize and shrugged.

“Just wanna know. What if we need to I.D. your body or something?” 

“Bold of you to assume that you’ll outlive me, patches,” Shigaraki sighed, “But fuck, whatever. If I show you, promise you’ll drop the subject and get back to work?” 

“Sure, boss,” Dabi said, feigning nonchalance. His heart beat wildly in excitement, plus the smug feeling of getting the boss to cave. 

Shigaraki carefully pushed himself up off the floor, fingers tucked into palms and sat cross-legged. Dabi mirrored him, sitting back on his haunches.  

The leader reached up to his face and removed the hand with two fingers on each hand, gently setting it next to him on the floor. His head was still tilted down, face hidden by his curtain of long hair (Dabi wondered if it was as soft as it looked). Dabi watched Shigaraki take a deep, shuddering breath, then he finally lifted his head, pushing his hair back and....

Dabi stopped breathing, open-mouthed gaping at the man before him. There was no possible way that he was this pretty under the dead hand. Dabi had to be dreaming, right? A trick of the light? Without thinking, he shuffled a bit closer to get a better look at Shigaraki in the light, shoving papers out of his way. 

Huge crimson eyes locked on Dabi’s own, hypnotizing him in place. Up close, Shigaraki’s face was a combination of delicate and wild, a mess of contradictions. Pale skin, covered in scars and wrinkles. Full lips, chapped raw and marked by a long vertical scar. Those big, burning eyes, run through with another scar. Thick but messy silver hair, curling along his elegant but heavily scratched neck. Dabi had never seen anyone like him before and his heart thudded. If he couldn’t breathe before, he certainly couldn’t now, transfixed. Shigaraki finally dropped his gaze. 

“Okay, enough staring at my ugly mug,” Shigaraki said, ”Take about five steps back and get back to work.” He reached for the disembodied hand and Dabi watched his own stapled hand shoot out automatically, grabbing the wrist of a man who could turn him to dust in seconds. Idiot. He finally tore his eyes from Shigaraki’s pretty face as they both stared at their connected limbs. 

“Don’t,” Dabi breathed, “Don’t put it back on. I wanna see you.”

“Why?” Shigaraki muttered, “Why do you have to be such an asshole? I know I’m ugly, okay, don’t make fun of me. Just this once, leave it alone.”

He didn’t know. How could he not know? Just like that, Dabi’s mission for the day changed from ‘annoy Shigaraki into a murder attempt’ to ‘make Shigaraki realize how breathtaking he really is’. Hand still circled around Shigaraki’s wrist, Dabi pulled the other man up to a kneeling position, eye-to-eye. Shigaraki searched Dabi’s face for answers, concern or confusion at being manhandled clearly written across it. 

“Ugly? Never. Not at all,” Dabi said, surprised at his own softness. Crimson eyes widened as Dabi released Shigaraki’s wrist at last, cupping his face in his scarred hands. He leaned in, brain still in a fog, and met a full pair of warm, chapped lips with his own. He kissed Shigaraki gently, and the other man tentatively draped his arms around Dabi’s scarred neck, lips moving slowly as he kissed Dabi back. The kiss only lasted for a few seconds, but Dabi could stay in that golden bubble forever. It felt so real and so right. 

Shigaraki pulled back face, unsure eyes lighting up as a grin broke out on his face. God, he was beautiful like that. Dabi resolved to make him smile more often, but he couldn’t resist one last joke at his expense. 

“Have I entered an alternate universe or did you really just crack a smile for me?” 

[lesbianfreyja]

idk if u still do prompts but .... 59 + 101 mayhaps

59. Look at me.

the blame for this lies in thesepersonal reasons. fyi a bang bubble is just what crazy ex girlfriend calls a love nest, and yes, i stole it. happily.

-

Dennis wrapped his arm aroundMac’s back, pulling him closer. Mac hugged him around the waist and curled easilyinto his side.

“Don’t you think we should getup and go to work soon?” Dennis asked, as Mac nudged his ankle between both ofhis.

Mac looked up and squinted athim. He propped his chin up on Dennis’s chest.

“Are you…Are you, like, joking?”he asked.

Dennis laughed.

“No, man.” He rolled his eyes. “Butwe’ve been in a bang bubble for three straight days. We’re gonna have to payrent soon.”

Mac snorted.

“Shut up,” he said, nuzzlingback into Dennis’s chest. His hair brushed the underside of Dennis’s chin. “We’veleft the bang bubble, dude.”

“Walking into the living room sowe can chow Chinese takeout does not constitute going out,” Dennis told himfirmly.

Mac groaned. He sat up, pullingout of Dennis’s arms even though Dennis scrabbled for his hand, reached out totouch his thigh.

“Oh, my god!” Mac dropped hisarms dramatically onto the bed. “I don’t wanna talk about this anymore! I’mgoing to make a sandwich.”

He climbed out from beneath theblanket, ignoring Dennis’s “Wait — Wait, come lay back down, I won’t—” to gorooting around in the closet. Dennis didn’t know what the hell he thought hewas doing in there, considering they were in Dennis’s room.

Mac pulled on one of hishoodies and got as far as tugging his underwear back up before Dennis scootedto the edge of the bed so he could wrap his arms around Mac’s waist. He yanked himto a stop mid-step.

“No, no sandwiches,” he said. “Thedeal was stay in bed or we go down to the bar, that was the deal.”

Mac turned around in his arms.Dennis propped his chin on Mac’s stomach to frown up at him.

“Okay,” Mac sighed, running hisfingers through Dennis’s hair. “I guess I choose bed. Twist my arm.”

Mac rolled his eyes dramatically;Dennis grinned, making sure to hide it by the time Mac finished climbing overhim and could see.

“Wanna watch TV?”

Dennis shrugged. “Yeah, sure.”

Mac curled up on his lap whilethey ran through an episode and a half of The Wire, and Dennis played with hishair for a while. The next time the show cut to a commercial break, Dennis glanceddown to smile at him, fingers combing through the stubbornly flat fringe, whenhe got stuck on the logo of his sweatshirt and paused.

“Come on, really? My UPennsweater? You’re not stealing this again,” he complained.

Mac frowned up at him. “Huh?”

“This is the one you alwaysgrab,” Dennis sighed. “And then I don’t see it for six more months and youalways bring it back with a brand new stain.”

Mac glanced down at the frontof his hoodie and crossed his arms over his chest, covering up the stitching.

“I don’t know what you mean,”he said.

“Oh, come on.” Dennis rolledhis eyes. “Sit up. Mac, sit up and look at me.”

Mac sighed. He pushed himselfup off Dennis’s thighs, frowning in the other direction.

“I knew it,” he yelled, as Mac’sarms dropped back into his lap. Dennis pushed him in the shoulder. “You dick. Iwant this back immediately, you know. Like, as soon as you change or take a showeror whatever.”

Instantaneous classic mistake: Heknew better than anybody that he should not be bringing up anything tangentialto Mac stripping naked, because then Mac went abruptly into the gutter. Normallyit was one of his favorite characteristics about him but that type of behaviorwas not conducive to serious conversations about Dennis’s favorite, mostwash-worn sweatshirt.

“Oh yeah?” Mac grinned at him,the one he thought was sexy but just looked exactly like the smile he alwayswore when he told himself a joke in his head that he laughed about out loud.They were never funny. “Why don’t you come over here and get it back from me?”

“I shouldn’t have to. You stoleit from me,” he said, but he turned to plant his hand on the other sideof Mac’s waist and moved to loom over him. Dennis’s grin was nearly bumping hiswhen he ducked down, pretending to glare.

“I like it,” said Mac, nudgingcloser to Dennis. He felt knuckles brushing up his bare sides. “It smells likeyou.”

Dennis settled his hand in Mac’shair, smiling at him for a moment before ducking down to kiss him. Mac woundhis arms around him, pulling him down to crush Dennis’s body into his.

Mac rolled him over onto hisback, still kissing him. Dennis heard himself let out a soft sound when he did.He tightened his grip on Mac’s hair, and Mac was so pretty when he did it, hismouth falling open further, his body curling closer.

Mac was right, Dennis thought, backand neck arching when Mac dipped to bite at his throat. They could definitelyafford to miss a couple more days’ work.

[seungcheolsbodyharness]

Hi can I request scenario 2 and sentence 20 with Minghao? Love ur work, thanks!

hiiiii bby i’m really sorry i took so long to get this out, i hope you like it~

minghao + stuck indoors on a rainy day + “I just want to let you know that I love you. A lot. Never forget that.”

x

standing on the porch, you shake your arms out at your sides to rid your coat of some of the excess water. the doorway shields you now from the downpour as you wait for minghao to come open the door and let you inside with the takeout you’d decided you’d absolutely had to have, despite the warnings of the coming weather.

the door flies open and minghao steps out to grab the bags from you and pull you inside, tutting at you under his breath as he takes the food into the kitchen and you leave your coat on the rack. 

“i still can’t believe you insisted on stopping for food on your way over! you’re going to catch a cold now, not to mention how worried i was you’d fall and hurt yourself or- or whatever.” he sighs and pulls you in for a hug when you join him in the kitchen.

 that was the thing about minghao - no cup of tea or warm shower could warm you all the way through the way his hugs could. there was nothing better than coming in from the cold to where minghao would welcome you into his arms. 

the two of you take your food to the couch where minghao is sure to pull you close against him. 

“i -” he reaches out to run his fingers through your damp hair. “i don’t mean to nag, you know that, but i really was so worried about you. the weather started almost as soon as you left but you just had to get that food.” 

“but i ordered your favorites, and you’d been saying all week about how much you wanted this...” you give him your best pout, exaggerated to make him giggle and throw his head back over the back of the couch. 

“okay, okay, you’re right, and i appreciate you going out into that weather just to make me happy.” he leans down to kiss your cheek, and you can feel the smile on his lips before he pulls away. ��although i still think you going out like that was crazy.”

you rolls your eyes and reach up to grab his chin, pulling him down to kiss his lips. you can feel him smile again and you smile back, pulling back to press a quick peck to his nose. “now eat your food. i worked so hard to get it for you.”

minghao laughs again and picks up his food from the coffee table, ready to dig in. the two of you eat mostly in silence - save for the tv going in the background - and when you’ve finished, you slide yourself closer to minghao as he wraps an arm around your waist. with a full stomach and warm cushion of a boyfriend, you nearly find yourself dozing off.

“can i tell you something?” 

minghao’s voice cuts through your fog and you hum, playing with the fingers minghao has settled on your waist.

“i just want to let you know that i love you. a lot. never forget that.”

you hum again, now taking his hand off your waist and up to your lips to kiss the back of it before letting him put it back. 

“i love you too, hao. i hope you never forget that either.”

“well,” he says, “with you running out into storms to prove it, i don’t think i ever will.”

[sicksoulmark]

For the @sterekdrabbles prompt: Neck, Connect, Unable.

Stiles forces his eyes closed and focuses very hard on not breathing. His neck is bared invitingly; his nails are buried in damp spring mud. Every inch of him is on fire. Stiles is burning, alight with fear and deep-seated want. 

He knows he should run, hightail it out of the woods, barricade his door and never, ever go snooping around the Hale house again, but Stiles is man enough to admit he can’t. His fascination with Derek has gone too far; he’s unable to let go.

When Derek’s nose finally connects with Stiles’ neck, Stiles deflates and breathes again.

[lwtis]

Drabble: Language Barriers

Pairing: K2

Teacher AU  

---

“I need you to look at these sentences and tell me how wrong they are.”

With a slow blink, Kenny takes in his colleague’s features, contorted in furious anger. He smooths a finger over the wing of the crane he’d been folding right before being interrupted, lips already tugging into a grin.

“Good afternoon, Professor Broflovski.” he says pleasantly, a picture of professionalism. “Are you having a good day?”

The look he receives in return could curdle milk.

“Oh, yes. Absolutely wonderful.” Kyle practically sneers. With more force that strictly necessary, he slams a folder down on Kenny’s desk, making his mug rattle.  “I love the week when a third of my class decides to completely ignore my reading list, and turn in bloated essays - four hundred words over the word limit, mind you - that’s basically pretentious literary masturbation on the same three novels, all written by narcissistic alcoholics without a shred of compassion!”

The man really should be writing poetry. The eloquence would entertain the literature professor’s successors for years.

The redhead finally seems to run out of steam, collapsing on the single spare chair next to Kenny’s desk. “If they’re going to include pretentious Latin quotes, I want to know how wrong they are before I fight them on it.”

“You know, Professor.” the linguistics teacher remarks cheerfully, head resting in his palm. “I recall someone telling me that the worst thing an English Literature teacher can be is an elitist snob.”

Predictably, he gets a particularly scandalised glare for that.

“I’m not being a snob!” Kyle snaps. ”You don’t take my class to get to wallow in your comfort zone! You take my class to expand your damn horizons! To read something you wouldn’t have otherwise, and discover stories from different perspectives to yours!”

He takes a moment to catch his breath. It’s enough for Kenny’s eyes to wander, committing all the little details to memory.

“I’m not saying they are wrong for liking those books.” Kyle continues eventually, motioning to the folder with one hand. “Narcissistic alcoholic sociopaths write surprisingly good novels, and if that resonates with you, great! But that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t try and read something else too! Especially when it’s on the reading list!”

Kenny doesn’t bother hiding his amusement as he reaches for the folder. “I’ll have a look at them as soon I can, and will email any corrections over.”

His fellow teacher’s smile is grateful as he gets to his feet, rolling one strained shoulder back with a grunt. “Thanks, Kenny.”

Anything for you. “No worries, man.”

He busies himself with shuffling through the contents of the folder, sticking an obnoxiously bright pink reminder on the top page. When he glances back up, he finds Kyle staring at the assortment of origami animals scattered across his desk.  

“...is that supposed to be a raccoon?”

“Yeah. My sister got me an advanced book for Christmas, I’m making my way through it.”

Kyle’s lips twitch at that. Carefully, delicately, he traces along the edge of the newest crane. “Cute.”

Yeah. You are.

“Here.” Quickly, he plucks the crane off his desk, nudging it into Kyle’s palm. “To keep your overworked coffee mug company.”

-

Despite his promise, Kenny ends up returning the folder and his feedback in person.

Later, when Kyle reaches into his pocket for his keys, his fingers will brush against a folded piece of paper, hiding a single, barely legible sentence.

// Sunt tibi nates pulchrae //

---

(I blame this on an assorted number of enablers, but it was started by @townycod13, @kivea and @mysterikat - y'all need to go easier on people's muses <3)