#five sentence drabble

[broadwaybaggins]

For the May prompts:

Kingdon, juice box.

AU, I think, from the other stuff I've written for these two. On his first day, his very first fucking day, back at work from rehab and six weeks of outpatient therapy and multiple-times-a-day meetings after that, there's another MCI. Thankfully, not a shooting this time. Frank didn't know whether he'd be able to handle that. It's an industrial accident at a chemical plant, bringing in chemical burns (some severe, he treats more than a couple that he knows aren't going to make it once they get sent up to the burn unit), blunt force trauma, ruptured eardrums and broken bones in a never-ending barrage. They must treat 40 people in the first hour alone and Frank already knows Santos will never stop crowing about the guy with the piece of rebar in his chest. It's past time to clock out when things finally settle, as the accident happened right at the start of the plant's second shift, and he bypasses his locker completely to go sit outside and breathe the fresh air, or he would, if it wasn't currently pissing down rain like he's in the middle of a damn monsoon. The south stairs would have to do. He tries to sit, then finds he can't fucking sit still, his body still humming with adrenaline. Abby, if she could see him, would be driven crazy by now--she hates when she's restless, his wife. Ex-wife, Frank reminds himself. Soon to be ex. Divorce is hard to get used to. That thought makes his body almost scream with the urge to move. He jumps to his feet and starts to pace, and upon his fourth circle of the stairwell landing, that's when he almost runs right into Mel. Most of her hair has fallen loose from its braid. Frank has to physically hold himself back from acting on the ridiculous impulse to brush it back, tuck it behind the shell of her ear. Blame it on the adrenaline, he tells himself. "Hey." "Hey."

Like him, she's ditched her trauma gown and has her hoodie zipped up against the chill of the stairwell. She gives him a little half-smile and he bounces on the balls of his feet. "Everything okay? We get any stragglers?" "No, things are calming down. More of the minor injuries are being rerouted to smaller centers to take some of the burden off of us. I came to check on you, actually. See if you needed a pick-me-up after all of the excitement." He gives her a wry, sarcastic smile. "Unfortunately I think you'll find I'm very limited these days in what pick me ups are, uh, sanctioned." She holds out two juice boxes, one bright green, one red. "Vending machine didn't have a whole lot of options and I wanted to save our stock for people who needed them after the incident or if they donated blood. I can offer you apple or fruit punch." "Fruit punch for me," Frank said quickly. "The more sugary sweet, the better." "Excellent selection. I might've had to fight you for the apple juice. Here, sit." She hands him the juicebox and they both lower themselves onto the cold concrete step, punch in their straws, and stare at the boxes for a second. Finally Frank holds up his. "To another MCI, come and gone," he says softly. "We've got to keep meeting like this," "Pardon?" He grins. "I mean next time, let's try not to have a mass-casualty happen on our shift." "But if it does, we can definitely handle it." "I'll fucking drink to that." They clink their waxy cardboard juiceboxes together, share a tired smile, and drink. And the next day at work, when he's finally able to slip away for lunch, he spies Mel waiting in the cafeteria, sipping from a water bottle, with an unopened fruit punch juicebox sitting at the spot in front of her. Waiting for him.

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

“i don’t remember too much after last year.”

— for ur sentence game ♡

okay so, this was... surprising and I am manifesting this outcome.

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem. reader

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR TLOU S2, amnesia, angst, little fluff?

“I don’t remember too much after last year,” Joel said, sitting on the bench next to you, the house he had build for you behind you on the hill as you overlooked almost all of Jackson.

"But I do remember that you're important, you gotta be, I dream about you almost every night," he said and you looked up at him, a scar running up the side of his face, and you were itching to run your fingers above it, reminding yourself that he was here, that he was save, alive.

You never thought you would get to see him, let alone talk to him again after what had happened the year before at the ski lodge, what had been done to him. That he couldn't remember you? Nothing compared to the alternative of never being able to see him again.

He reached for your hand, his finger absently rubbing over the golden band on your left ring finger that was engraved with his name.

"Will you tell me about us again?" he asked and you smiled softly, allowing yourself to lean your head against his shoulder as you began to tell him about the day he had saved your life, about the day you fell in love with him.

get you own five sentence fic here

[temilyrights]

"all this to prove a point?" for the writing prompt

emily prentiss x reader

no warnings. no use of y/n or pronouns for reader.

sentence fic prompt

You rub your hands together, trying your best to generate some heat in your body. Emily’s car, while lovely, did not provide the warmth of an suv on a usual stakeout and you were seriously regretting your inability to tell this woman no. 

“All this to prove a point?” You mumble, the humour fading from your tone the longer you sit in the cold car, the September air biting away at your fingers and toes. 

Emily sits with her camera pointed at Morgan’s apartment, a determined glint in her eye. “Better personal life than me, my ass. He came straight home and hasn’t left the building since!”

You roll your eyes, wishing desperately you were home, “Yeah but he’s also not wasting his evening stalking his friend.”

Emily lowers the camera and turns to face you, brows drawn together. “He can’t make accusations like that and not expect me to find proof.” 

“Well maybe if you focused a little bit more on yourself and a little less on him then you wouldn’t need to prove it and you’d have a private life he couldn’t argue with.”  

She scoffs, “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

Always so clueless.

You shake your head, annoyed, embarrassed, and frustrated by the woman in front of you. “I’m right here.”

Emily’s frown only deepens and you blow out a breath, “I invited you out for dinner tonight and instead we’re stalking Morgan and have completely missed our reservations. Every time I try to move us forward you find a way to shut it down.”

“Reservations? I thought you wanted to get take-out and head back to one of ours, like usual.” She says with genuine confusion. 

“No, I booked that nice Indian place you like.” 

“Oh,” She responds, dropping the camera firmly in her lap. 

“Look,” you sigh, “I just need to know, okay? Because maybe I’m just failing to get the hint and you’re really not interested but I thought we were going somewhere. I like you Emily.” 

“You like me? Tonight was supposed to be a date and instead I blew you off and made us sit and stake out Morgan.” She says slowly, words strangled.

“Yes.”

“Fucking hell.” She blows out a breath. The car is silent for a moment as she comes to terms with the news and then her gaze focuses back on you. “I’m so sorry. I will make this up to you. I’m taking you for the best date night starting right now.”

Your eyes widen, “Wait so that’s a-?”

She smiles, wide and happy, “Yes, idiot, I like you too. God, why else would I ask you to sit here with me?”

You can’t help but smile too. Head in the clouds as Emily puts the camera away and the keys back in the ignition. 

“Ready to go?” She asks, a playful smirk on her lips that your eyes linger on. 

“There’s just one thing first.” Because you can’t wait a moment longer. You’ve waited years. 

You lean over the centre console, hand cupping her cheek and pulling her towards you to meet you in the middle. Emily’s eyes darken instantly, her gaze dropping to your lips before they fall close and her lips softly meet yours. 

Your body hums, alive as your lips move tenderly against hers. A gentle whine escapes your lips and your body heats up as you regretfully pull away. 

“Mmmhmm,” Emily hums, lips well kissed and eyes dark. “We can definitely do that again.”

“Food?” You ask, voice strangled. Avoiding the knowing look in her eyes, suddenly shy. 

“Oh, babes, I’ve got the perfect place.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @mckennamayfairgoode @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @alexbllake @ssa-sapphic @storiesofsvu

[deanstead]

Hi Resa! I hope you’re well! I’m happy to see you on again! ☺️

For the five sentence prompt - would you be willing to write something for Jay Halstead using the sentence “what do you think you’re doing here?” Thanks so much! 🥰

hiii thank you so much! things are slightly better, so i thought i'd try to venture back here + writing!

===

"What do you think you're doing here?"

You wouldn't mistake that figure or walk anywhere, even with his face partially hidden by the umbrella in the pouring rain as you stood under the tiny shelter you were stranded under.

Jay didn't answer and you glared at him as he stepped up toward you. "I'm still mad at you." You added, for good measure.

Honestly, you weren't that mad any longer, but you didn't feel like giving in so easily this time.

"I know," Jay said quietly. "But even so, I couldn't let you get drenched."

You glanced at him and he gave you a small smile.

You narrowed your eyes at him but stepped towards him, as a sign of a truce. "Don't you ever..."

"Never again," Jay whispered, putting a hand around your shoulders and tilting the umbrella toward you before leading you out of the small shelter so that the both of you could return home. Together.

send me an ask with a prompt or a first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish

[hold-him-down]

“I thought you’d be happy to see me.” For five sentence fic

falls after this piece from this ask game

tw: hospital setting, restraint mention, institutionalized slavery

✥ ✥ ✥

“I thought you’d be happy to see me,” Otto says from the doorway of the hospital room. His former ward lies on his side. His expression is as neutral as ever, but the heart monitor gives him away. Otto takes a step forward and lets the door close behind him.

A few endless seconds pass, with Leo’s eyes focused intently on the window, before Otto says, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

Leo sucks in a breath, shrinking away as Otto moves closer.

“I don’t know how much you remember, but you… ran into a handler at the store, had a…” He gestures vaguely, the words leaving a bitter taste on his tongue. “A panic attack.”

He locks his jaw, crosses his arms over his chest. He’s disappointed, but this is not entirely Leo’s fault. He’s had a hell of a year, Otto thinks, first with Petrov and now in this… incredibly public, scandalous, almost, contract with the senator. 

“Mr. Bennett has been contacted– he's on his way, I don't think it'll be too much longer,” Otto says softly, surprising himself with a bid to comfort the boy. Something in Leo has always softened him, but looking at him now, he can’t help but feel for him. Leo’s eyes finally break with the wall and meet his. Panic, sadness, maybe some hope. It all wars under the surface.

“I just wanted to stop by while you waited… make sure you were okay?” Otto closes the distance between them and sits at the side of Leo’s bed, carefully ignoring as he cowers away. He’ll have another go at him one day, he thinks. He’ll earn his trust back, just like he did the last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, too. He lets his hand rest on Leo’s wrist, just above the handcuff.

“I told them to take it easy on you,” Otto says. He squeezes Leo’s wrist as Leo nods, swallowing hard. “I think I can get them to take these off,” he continues, then stands, and moves to brush the hair out of Leo’s face. It’s a little overgrown, but it suits him. “You’ll be good?” he asks, and takes a step back.

Leo nods, but says nothing. His hand shakes where it clutches the blanket.

“Say it.”

“I’ll do good,” Leo responds. And although it isn’t quite what he asked for, given the circumstances, Otto accepts it.

[enjoythesilentworld]

another sentence, less painful this time (sorry about those other two)

"I am terrified to fall in love with you"

look i didn't even make it angsty like i said i might! ily Nina thx for this one 💜

“That first day we met,” Wille says, “I remember looking at you and thinking, I am terrified to fall in love with you."

Simon’s lips turn down in a frown, making him look so young, and Wille shakes his head because Simon doesn’t understand yet. 

They’re standing in the middle of the street because they’d just been hanging out at Wille’s, and Wille spent the whole time working up the courage to finally, finally tell Simon how he felt, but he couldn’t, at least not until Simon had already left, so Wille chased after him, and here they are now, random strangers passing by as Wille lays his heart out on the pavement. 

“I was so terrified to fall in love with you because I was so afraid of what would happen to us. And then,” Wille hesitates, bracing himself, “I did.” 

Simon’s mouth drops open slightly, and Wille can’t read his expression, can’t tell if he’s about to receive pity or anger or excitement, so he pushes on, words overflowing now in such a way that he can’t stop them. 

“I fell in love with you, and then I spent the next five years terrified— absolutely terrified that you would find out, because it was even worse now that I knew you, and I knew what I might be losing if you ever found out, but I can’t keep doing this, Simon, I can’t keep pretending that every time you come over I don’t want to hold your hand on the couch while we watch a movie, or pull you closer when we share a bed, or kiss you when—” 

In the time it’s taken Wille to babble out this messy confession of love, Simon has crossed the small gap of asphalt between them and promptly cuts off Wille’s rambling by pulling him into a kiss. And Wille can barely compute what’s happening, can barely connect his words to this outcome because he could’ve never, ever imagined that Simon would feel the same about him.

But, here they are now, Simon’s lips on his, Simon’s fingers in his hair, beautiful, beautiful Simon laughing and pulling away to say, “I’m in love with you, too, you idiot.”

[ankahikoibaat]

74. Are You Challenging Me? Graydon and Airk

five sentence drabble meme

Graydon pressed his lips together tight, eyebrows furrowing as he frowned down at the notebook in front of him. Airk’s hands tried to grasp the book away, but Graydon held fast, eyes skimming over the scrawled words before he looked back up at the other prince and asked his question.

Airk stopped and stared. “No?” Graydon frowned deeper in disbelief and Airk sputtered a few times before – with a blush high on his cheeks in a very distracting manner – managed to say he was emulating Graydon in the hopes of impressing him.

This time it was Graydon’s turn to blush and avert his eyes.

[skyblueartt]

You know when you get into a loop of drawing like, the same two characters over and over and over again? Well apparently that’s also how I am with writing. I’m fuckin obsessed with writing William and (specially teenage) Michael Afton interacting🤨 sometimes I just have ideas and I wanna put those two fellas in a SITUATION‼️‼️

I wrote this a month ago-ish, idk if I’ll finish it. Maybe I will hmm. Just a little scene where Mike gets in trouble for beating up a kid at school (other kid started it tbf lol) and William gets called in as the parent to have a chat 💁‍♀️

I know people like it when I write these two together, so I thought I’d post this WIP!

[madasateacup]

@dkgwrites prompted a 5-sentence fic revolving around Lillian Luthor and regret.

Lillian Luthor had a lot of regrets from her life. At its end, she came to regret more and more of her actions throughout. She'd picked the wrong child to back, even though Lena wasn't hers biologically. She'd gone too far. But at the end of her life, as Lena cried over the hand she was holding, she had peace.

[boltlightning]

56 for Will Turner and James Norrington???

56. danger ahead

The Flying Dutchman is a doomed, drenched place, doomed and drenched to the very fiber of her planks. Will is brooding over how his search for the key is doomed as well, his and Elizabeth's last hope drenched, when someone touches his arm.

Will jumps and whirls around; in a sliver of moonlight, he sees the sailor’s face, and knows it. Norrington is pale and gaunt, and though his glower is unchanged, Will cannot help but notice all the things that are: silvery scales coat the skin of his throat, the fingers of one hand are transformed halfway to claws, and the pupils of his eyes are dilated to slits in the light.

“It isn’t safe; you shouldn’t be here,” he says, low.

“What happened to you?” Will whispers, unable to suppress the tremolo of horror in his voice.

“I traded my life for my crew’s,” Norrington says bitterly, with a sharp-toothed smile, “and the devil always makes good on his bargains.”

send me a prompt, get a drabble! ✨

[broadwaybaggins]

Luka/Carter, #5

#5, Seeking Solace Luka doesn't know where he first heard the American (or, at the very least, English) expression that April showers bring May flowers, but if the downpour that is currently soaking Chicago is any indication, May should be absolutely bursting with blossoms. His shoes are squelching across the floor as he walks into work and the first hour of his shift is spent uncomfortably damp as he sutures, orders tests, diagnoses, and discharges. By the time he's able to step outside for a bit of air, the rain has slowed to a soft but persistent drizzle, but that doesn't stop whoever is playing basketball in the ambulance bay. Luka can hear the ball pounding against the pavement as he steps outside into damp, clammy air and spies Carter shooting the ball over Dr. Greene's head. It hits the backboard and then the rim before finally tumbling in. "I call traveling," Mark complains with a smile, and Carter grins and holds up both hands in a triumphant gesture. "Luka, what do you think? You're the only one that can be objective." "I only saw the shot. I didn't see a travel," Luka admits. "Playing basketball in the rain?" "County's chief coping mechanism since time immemorial," Mark says sagely. "And on that note, I gotta get back inside. Sub in for me. Luka?" He bounce-passes Luka the ball, and Luka catches it against his chest as Mark jogs back inside. "I'm not very good," Luka says as he dribbles the ball experimentally. "I watch basketball, I don't play it." "Eh, stick around here long enough, we'll make a player out of you yet. You're tall enough. We usually don't keep score, it's just to blow off steam. Have some fun. you know." "Difficult case?" Luka asks, bouncing the ball again and taking a shot. It circles the rim before rolling out and Carter stretches out a long arm to grab it, misses, and chases after before it hits the outside wall of the building.

"Slippery road. Twelve-year-old and his grandma. Both with spinal injuries. Doesn't look good. You?"

Luka smiles sadly. "Recurrence of leukemia. Doesn't look good either, unfortunately."

"That sucks." Carter dribbles the ball back over to him, does a behind-the-back move that makes Luka give him a real smile. "Show-off," he comments, drawing a grin from Carter. "And yes. It does suck. And when things suck, we...play basketball?"

"We play basketball."

[toomanystoriessolittletime]

“Don’t stop now!” And Harry Castillo?

uhhhh... a break from all the angst, I love it!

Pairing: Harry Castillo x fem. reader

Warnings: semi public sex, smut, kind of established relationship?

"Don't stop now!" you moaned, trying to keep your voice down, fingers gripping the edge of the large wooden table in the conference room you were supposed to have a meeting in within the next ten minutes.

You felt his lips on your neck and you swore you felt him smile as he kept moving, his cock filling you perfectly with every thrust as his hands kept the fabric of your skirt up against your waist.

"I thought you just told me to keep it professional," he teased, his teeth pulling your earlobe into his mouth.

You let your head fall back against his shoulder, meeting his thrusts, already getting close, wondering how he managed to get you there every single time this happened.

"We can... fuck... we can discuss your professionalism of fucking the CEO of your company after you make me cum," you mumbled, gasping when he brought his hand between your legs, beginning to play with your pussy.

Six minutes later, when the door opened and you were the picture of absolute innocence, the people had no idea what Harry Castillo had been doing with the hand he reached out to welcome them only moments before.

get you own five sentence fic here

[deanstead]

Oh oh oh, here is my prompt.

How about some angsty hurt reader, Morgan trying to fix her. Reader:"Why am I never enough?"

thanks for sending this in! the fact that the first submitted prompt was for Morgan when I've never shared anything I've written for him before lol.

===

"Why am I never enough?"

The words slipped past your lips almost uncontrollably and Derek's eyes flicked toward yours as he sat in front of you, dressing the gash on your head.

"This wasn't your fault," Derek spoke, his voice gentle.

You didn't answer him and Derek sighed, gently covering the gash with some gauze before he sat next to you, pulling you into his arms, more gently than usual, acutely aware you were probably hurting all over.

"We couldn't close half the cases we had if not for you," Derek said quietly, his lips pressed close to your ear.

You glanced up at him giving him a disbelieving look and he chuckled lightly. "Well, at least I couldn't."

You nuzzled your face into the crook of his neck and stopped talking, just letting yourself sink deeper into Derek's embrace.

send me an ask with a prompt or a first sentence of a fanfic and I’ll write the next five-ish

[temilyrights]

The amount of patience that it takes to deal with you, it could drive someone insane.

Good luck with your writing 🥰

temily (tara lewis x emily prentiss)

a short one, but a little temily scene. no warnings (thank you for the request!)

sentence fic prompt

“The amount of patience that it takes to deal with you, it could drive someone insane.” Tara groaned and rubbed her temples. “If you insist on watching that terrible show, can you please do it in another room? I really need to get these evals completed and emailed before I sleep tonight.” 

Emily chuckled, and switched off The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills. “You know it’s a good thing I have strong self confidence or that sort of comment might hurt a girl.” 

Tara sighed and dropped her head into her hands, “I’m sorry. I’m just stressed about getting this work done and I’d much rather be sitting with you on that couch and it’s got me in an awful mood.” 

Emily pushed herself up from the couch and made her way over to her girlfriend’s desk, unable to stop the small smile that tugged at her lips. “Well, lucky for you I’ve always got work to be doing. I’ll come and join you and then you don’t need to feel like you’re missing out.” She tilted her head, “And maybe afterwards we can agree on something to watch together.” 

Tara looked up at her girlfriend, “You’d do that?” 

“For you? Of course, babe.” She leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss before pulling away with a smirk. “Still driving you insane?” 

Tara's eyes lingered on her pretty lips and hummed, “You? Yes, always.”

taglist: @ry-kills-jemily @sapphic-stress @xrainydazeteax @enduringalexblake @augustvandyne @themoontaxi @prentissology @quinnharkness @storiesofsvu @alexbllake

[pearlypairings]

Puzzle (Trip + T’Pol)

"Y'know, I hate puzzles. Just tell me what I did wrong."

Trip was desperate. It had been two hours of the Vulcan silent treatment, with an occasional scrutinizing glance from under her pointed eyebrows. Vulcans were supposed to logical, but clearly T'Pol was upset with him and wouldn't explain why."

Her eyes lit up, a small twinkle of amusement at the edge of her irises. "Commander Tucker, you're an engineer. If you didn't like puzzles, I cannot imagine you would achieve chief of engineering."

Trip set her up perfectly for that, he couldn't even be mad at the jab. But his skin did prickle with irritation, since he was no closer to solving his own crime against her. A sigh escaped him.

Whether by mercy or concession, T'Pol put down her PADD and gave him that knowing look. "This morning you compared our relationship to resembling bricks."

"Yes, I believe the words I used were, 'we are as good as bricks.'" Trip said in agreement.

"So, you think we have a cold and burdensome partnership, and you don't see how that may insult me?"

A missed translation, of course. He smoothed a hand over his mouth in relief. This much, as a simple engineer, he could fix.

"It's supposed to be a compliment, a positive statement. Bricks would build sturdy houses on Earth. So I meant to say our relationship feels solid, reliable. But I can see where you would have taken it the wrong way. I apologize."

His mother taught him that last phrase. When his father and mother had a misunderstanding, no matter how silly, Charles Tucker the Second didn't shy away from making amends and apologizing nicely. T'Pol nodded, deep in thought, but the annoyance that had marked her forehead dissipated.

"I apologize for not communicating sooner. It was illogical for me to wait to tell you."

Trip moved to sit next to her, brushing the last strands of her bangs away from her gorgeous, hazel eyes.

"It's alright," Trip said, kissing her brow. "Like you said, I enjoy a good puzzle. As long as we solve all of 'em like this, without a cold bed involved.

[timoluke]

Lukemarino - sleep

It's been a long time since John has had someone regularly in his bed; must have been back in college, there were a couple boyfriends who stuck around long enough to get comfortable in his space before deciding that they really couldn't deal with his focus being on hockey most of the time.

Being with Luke was so different in every way, not the least bit because John was allowed, encouraged even, to talk about hockey all the time with both Luke and his entire family; a family who had been surprisingly welcoming to the quote unquote veteran dating their 20 year old son; he probably had Jack to thank for that, must have put a good word in.

He still woke up in the night a couple times a week, startled by the presence of someone else in his bed, some nights he would jump enough to rouse his partner, Luke would pull him closer and mumble nonsense in a vaguely soothing voice trying to lure John back to sleep; it would be stupid if it didn't work most of the time.

John's favorite nights were when he woke up slowly and silently enough to get himself all the way conscious without waking Luke, that way he could take his time to just look at him.

He was so beautiful, maybe not conventionally, but to John he was the most beautiful person in the world, and seeing him like this, without all the stress of being an NHL rookie with two brothers worth of expectations piled onto his shoulders, without the tension he was far too young to be carrying, he was John's favorite thing in the world to look at and he could stare forever; or, at least, until hazel eyes open up and catch him staring, like they always seemed to do eventually.