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#ship drabble challenge
amiwritesthings · 1 year
Note
Deanjohn 12 please and thank you :)
ok, this is more dean&john than deanjohn but hope you enjoy anyway. warning for underage but nothing sexual happens.
Dad comes home in the middle of the night. Dean is wide awake the second the key slides into the lock while Sammy keeps snoring softly on the other bed, face buried in his pillow.
He's sitting up and knuckling at his eyes by the time Dad shrugs out of his jacket with a heavy sigh. Dad walks over, squeezes Dean's ankle through the sheets before jerking his chin into the direction of the bathroom.
Dean nods in acknowledgement, slides out of bed as silently as possible to follow Dad to the bathroom. He blinks for the brightness when he enters, yawns, then turns his attention to his dad. A quick once-over does not reveal any obvious injuries and Dean relaxes a fraction as he sinks down onto the closed toilet seat.
Dad starts stripping down, leaves his dirty clothes in a pile on the floor before he steps into the tub. Dean can still make out his form through the flimsy shower curtain, can see him scratching his nails through his hair under the sad trickle of the shower.
Dean picks at a cuticle as he listens to Dad tell him about the hunt, provides details about how their week has been when Dad asks. He's tired, and Dad's voice, low and rumbly, has his eyes drooping for a moment. He blinks them back open when the water shuts off, and the curtain rattles on the rod.
Dad wraps a towel around his waist, looks at him expectantly, and Dean hums, part answer, part question, and prays that whatever Dad had said was covered by it.
He startles when Dad takes a step closer and grips his chin, tilts Dean's head back, into the light. "What the hell is this?" A calloused thumb presses at the tender skin around the cut on his cheek.
Dean swallows. "It's nothing, sir. It was an accident."
Dad looks him straight into the eyes, says, "Dean," warningly, and Dean can feel the heat rise to his cheeks.
"I cut myself trying to shave," he mumbles out, and Dad huffs in surprise. When Dean looks back up at him, Dad's eyes are sparkling with amusement, a hint of a smile pulling at his lips.
"And what, pray tell, where you trying to shave, boy?" he asks, stroking his knuckle down Dean's smooth cheek almost tenderly.
Part of Dean bristles, he's had some stubble, thank you very much. But in the end, he just ducks his head in embarrassment, murmurs something intelligible.
Dad's palm cradles his face, gently tilts his head back up. "I'll show you how to tomorrow, yeah?"
Dean nods, and Dad pats his cheek before releasing him.
"Go back to bed, I'll be along in a few."
Dean rises, squeezes past Dad, says, "Ew," when some water drops from Dad's hair onto his sleep shirt.
Dad reaches to ruffle his hair, drips some more onto Dean, and Dean winds himself out of the tight space with an indignant little noise.
He closes the bathroom door quietly, makes his way back over to his bed. He strips out of his shirt, and slips back under the sheets.
The bathroom door opens again a few minutes later, and the light clicks off.
The mattress dips as Dad slides in behind him. His skin is still a little damp but it's warm and Dean is lulled to sleep before he even realizes.
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asha-mage · 8 months
Note
rand / "selene", prompt: breakup
[Send me a character or pairing, and a one word prompt, and I'll write you a drabble!]
            Lanfear felt at her throat as she stepped out into the night, divided between amusement and annoyance. It had been a long time since she had taken a wounded that required the Great Lord’s intersession. It always irked her a little, needing the aid of someone else, even the Great Lord. Yet she knew, deep down, the day would one day come when it was no longer necessary. When she would stand entirely upon her own power, her own gifts.
            Her’s and Lews Therin’s.
            She felt a cold smile twist her lips as she watched the little so called Aes Sedai flee with Lews Therin into the night. For a moment she considered simply striking with Balefire, but no. No need to ruin all her careful spadework with Lews so far. This could be set rights still, if she was careful and clever and patient.
            She had been patient a very very long time already. Three thousand years and more, waiting for the chance to reclaim what had been stolen from her. She could wait a little longer now, especially knowing how close he was to yielding to her, at last and forever.
            “One final parting. One final break, and then you are mine forever, Lews Therin.” Lanfear whispered. “As it should have always been. As it always will be.”
            She was the Daughter of the Night, and he was the Prince of the Morning. They where destined to never be broken apart.
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heavenssexiestangel · 5 months
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SPN Pro-Ship Bang Weekly Drabble: Baking with Dad
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MAIN MASTERLIST FOR THE CHALLENGE
Rating: General
Ship: Arthur Ketch/Dean Winchester
Word count: 200
Written for: @spnproshipbang Weekly Drabble Challenge
Prompt: "What the fuck?"
Tags and Warnings: Double Drabble, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Original Child Character,
Summary:
There is never a boring day in their small family
Beta: none
Notes: I promise I'm also writing things that aren't drabbles XD
Read on Archive of Our Own
To have updates on my fics, make sure you follow me and join my Discord Server to have bonus snippets, deleted scenes, make requests, and the like. It’s FREE.
If you’d like, donate me a Ko-fi
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elismor · 1 year
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Recent Fic Omnibus
Closet Space written for 501st Bingo. Rex and Kenobi are trapped in a closet (but not like that)
Lost in Translation also written for 501st Bingo. Fives is a bit of a polyglot, but Echo has to clean up a lot.
And, 5 spicy drabbles in a collection called Bite Sized Spice I'm working my way through a list of smutty prompts as practice. These bring me to #61 in my 100 drabble challenge. These five contain clone sex (w/b, jessix, and 5sCase as well as Thire/OFC).
All links go to AO3.
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bokatan · 5 months
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i could get used to this. nights in bed with you laying beside me. For Sweetjane x reed and the shack...
Hier sind kekse.
[ prompts for intimate pillow talk ] + [ bonus "I accidentally told you I loved you and now we're actually talking about it" prompts ]
Dialogue prompts: "I could get used to this, [mornings] in bed with you laying beside me." + "Friends don't say stuff like that." I'm gonna say this one takes place after this drabble and before this and this. Just a little drabble thing with @bleumanouche's Sweetjane
The storm had subsided overnight, leaving heavy rain following in its wake. The pattering on the metal roof above them drowned out the soft noise of turrets from the surrounding settlement. The shutters on the windows were closed over, filtering out a large portion of the dreary morning light; the makeshift bedroom had taken on a warmer hue from the oil lamp set out on the dresser where they’d moved it to push the two beds together. Reed and Sweetjane were still in bed together, curled against each other.
Reed gently ran a hand through Sweetjane’s ash hair, then toyed with a small section of it. Sweetjane leaned into the touch with a contented sigh. She brought the cigarette up to her lips and inhaled while he pressed a kiss to her temple and continued to play with her hair. Sweetjane brought the cigarette up to his lips as an offering that he gratefully accepted. 
“I could get used to this.” Reed said softly as he pressed another kiss to her temple, then moved lower to her jawline. 
“What’s that?” Sweetjane asked. She brought her hand back to herself and shifted a bit into his touch. 
“Mornings in bed like this, with you laying beside me.” Reed brought his attention down to her neck, nipping at the still-forming bruises along the pale muscle before moving down to her clavicle.  
Sweetjane couldn’t help but feel a slight pang of apprehension. Through the handful of months they’d been on their current mission now, Reed had been vocal about supposed ‘rules against fraternization’ and ensuring that they were nothing more than friends, despite his actions saying otherwise; she was suspicious that he was saying it more for his own sake than hers at this point.. “Friends don’t say stuff like that.” 
Reed stopped his ministrations and glanced up at her with a wry expression. One of his hands dropped to her hip, ghosting over the bruises left from the previous night. “Do you want me to stop?” 
The feather-light touch made her shiver. “No- keep goin’.” She murmured. 
“Alright then.” Reed smirked. He repositioned himself a bit before turning his attention back to Sweetjane. She couldn’t help the pained-but-not-really groan that came out of her when he pressed down on her hip lightly. He shifted down more to press a kiss to her sternum, then glanced up at her as his hand started to move lower. 
They were interrupted by the sound of nails hitting a door, followed by the very distinct sound of teeth trying to crunch into a wood plank. Reed swore under his breath. 
“Sorry. Just- stay here, okay? I’ll be back in a minute.” He gently kissed Sweetjane’s forehead before getting up and quickly getting dressed to take Margot out.
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miss-grimwood · 11 months
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Library - Bellatrix / Mrs Zabini
Evelyn knew how to seduce men. It was easy; they were simple creatures really, all one had to do was dress up nicely, bat your eyelashes and flirt discreetly, and they would fall at your feet. Honestly, the speed at which they’d get on one knee and offer precious stones would be alarming in any other circumstance, but it let her know they’d be willing to give her anything she wanted.
Seducing a woman, on the other hand, now that was a challenge.
Particularly the woman she’d had her eye on. 
Getting rid of the husband was easy. She hadn’t even needed to kill him; just sent a pretty young blonde his way, and made sure they were seen heading into a cheap room for the night at the Hog’s Head.
She assumed the newly single witch would be after revenge, she’d always been hot tempered. She would offer her assistance, and Bellatrix’s gratitude would encourage her to fall for Evelyn; the plan was foolproof.
But for some reason, she’d retreated, sheltering herself away in the home that once belonged to his family, but she’d demanded to keep in the divorce. She wouldn’t sleep in their bed, wouldn’t eat in their dining room, she was practically living in their library.
Evelyn began to doubt herself. If the woman wouldn’t leave her home, how would she ever get her to a ball to seduce her.
She had to take matters into her own hands.
Under the guise of a friendly visit (despite rarely speaking to Bellatrix before), she convinced the house elves to guide her to the library.
When the doors closed behind her, submerging her in the darkness that Bellatrix had created to mourn, she approached gently, as if she were a stray kitten.
‘Hello, Bella. How are you feeling?’
@sapphicmicrofics
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fineosaur · 2 years
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If you still want to do prompts: 126. “You nap. I’ll stay awake” for arya and gendry pls
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only our love | e | gendrya
from this drabble challenge
Arya and Gendry cross paths ten years after they last meet in ASOS. Their awkward silences become less awkward once they ease the tension that had been building between the two of them.
He never expected to see her again. 
It had been years since he last laid eyes on her. So long that her face had started fading from his memory. 
When he saw her again, there was no mistaking it. There well should have been, she had grown so much he almost felt shame from gazing upon her for too long. 
He had done some growing up of his own too. The years had begun to cloud his judgment after a while, he was no longer a hot-tempered teenager, he was now a grown man acting upon fully justified anger. 
They still called him the Bull. Only now it wasn’t so much a joke, and more a respected statement. 
They first heard of her in passing word. She was a shadow, a weapon, not even a woman but a myth that was not even human. 
He knew much of those that were more than human. But with her walking at his side, leaves crunching underneath her boots, he knows she’s just a girl. An extraordinary one, but a girl nonetheless. 
“You’re different,” she told him firmly. 
He didn’t know if her voice had always sounded this soft. It was deep but caressed his ears like the velvet off a white stag’s antlers. 
Since they crossed paths, little words had been exchanged between them. Tension hung like the humidity of the forest air. 
“It’s been some years, I would worry if you said the opposite.” 
She giggled. It was a delightful sound, much like the song of a snowshrike. 
“Some years and even some more,” she joked back. “I wondered if you would even remember me?” 
Gendry laughed at her words. There was no believable reality where he would forget her. She’d seen all of him before he was ready to see himself. And she broke him just the same when she left. 
“I thought you dead, I never forgot you,” Gendry explained. “I mourned you.” 
He grieved in anger, and years later he accepted it all and chose not to hold onto a broken heart at such a stage in his youth. 
“Not dead, not yet,” she told him with a smile. 
Behind her smile, much remained hidden. She might not have been dead yet, but parts of her seemed worn away, much like the rest of them that suffered the war. They were once children of the war, now sour adults still pacing through it all. 
They reached the river soon enough. The sound of the steady stream of fresh water filled their ears. 
It was cold, he did not have to feel the water to know it was. It did not bother her, however. 
He wandered around with an open ear, checking if they were safe to rest. Just as he found her once again, he saw the scars that marked her skin. Beside her on the bank laid her clothes. 
“Arya–” he tried stopping her, but it was futile. When did she ever listen to anyone but herself?
Now that she was lowered into the waters he remembered to look away. He had known the look of a woman’s body, he was no prude, he had known the company of men, women, and others over the years.
But this was Arya. He had known her when they were children when she thought she could fool him into thinking she was a boy. When he was too young to realise what love was. 
She was the first person to see him and show him what it felt to have someone who cared. 
“Gods, I don’t think I’ve grown that ugly– you don’t have to stare away that angrily.” 
Her tone dripped with mirth. Gendry allowed himself to look her way, but it was hopeless for him. Her body was hidden by the water and her hair pooled around her with dark inky strands. 
“I’m not some peeper, I’ll be on the lookout so you might have some privacy,” he heard her huff as he walked away. 
Gendry quite easily used his march off as an excuse to get some fresh air. As if that weren’t already in abundance. He needed fresh air away from her, where she wouldn’t see him gasping over her getting undressed in front of him. 
He’d been reduced to a teenager all over again. Only she could have such an effect on him. Gendry walked through the forest, knowing better than to stray too far; though she did not look like someone in need of protection. 
He circled back, allowing his fingers to run through his thick hair. He was relieved enough to find her more or less dressed upon his return. She did not seem to feel the cold air at all. 
She twisted her wet hair several times with a dexterous finger. “Gods, do you always look so pained?” Arya quipped. She gave him a smile, a pretty one, he noted. 
Gendry cleared his throat. “I’m not the one who’s gotten comfortable getting naked in front of people during my time away,” he shrugged. 
He kept the same mirthful air as she did. As they always had, only now it seemed they weren’t worrying for their lives. It was as if they were suspended in time now. 
Gendry relaxed and walked towards her, this time choosing to act more comfortably. 
“How did you get all those scars?” He asked her with a soft voice, as soft as he could muster. 
Arya smiled up at him, only for a moment he watched the levity fall before she cheered herself up once again. 
“We’ve only just seen each other after all these years, must we sour the mood so soon?” 
She had gotten wiser. As if she hadn’t already been the smartest person he had known all those years ago. 
Gendry watched her pull on the rest of her layers, finally guarding herself against the winter air. She looked elated now that she’d gotten the chance to bathe. She wrapped herself tightly and got closer to him. 
Her smile reached her eyes. Eyes that reminded him of tempering steel. The way steam rose and curled around him in his forge.
“You’re staring,” Arya said, walking past him and going straight for the stray branch behind him. 
Gendry chose to ignore her, simply choosing to get a fire going for them. 
Arya came back with a sufficient amount of wood. Finally settling down beside him. She didn’t know much about personal space it seemed. 
“You don’t talk much,” Arya told him softly. “You never really were much of a talker but you at least spoke around me.”
“It’s a lot to deal with, Arya,” he opened up. He met her eyes, allowing his to drop to her lips before speaking. “I thought you were dead for the longest time, it’s like I’m seeing a ghost. But it’s stranger because you’re here and you’re acting like everything is all okay.” 
“Why would I act any other way, must I spend my days miserably thinking about what became of my mother? And how I’m supposed to find my sister, or if I have to believe the rumours that all my brothers have died?” Arya’s voice trembled, the farce had fallen and he was to blame. “I will act as I must to keep going, Gendry.”
“I didn’t mean–” 
“I know you didn’t mean it, but…” she sighed and stared at him. Her palm grazed his beard. His chest got tight and he felt the pleasant flutter in his chest at her touch. “I would just like to spend some time being happy to see you. In knowing that after all these years you’re still here. Right where I left you, unlike everyone else I’ve ever known.” 
Gendry leaned into her touch. He brought his hand to hers, he easily engulfed it. “I’ve missed you,” he admitted. The words left his tongue before he had a chance to second guess them. 
Arya laughed. Her laugh might have been the best thing he had heard in a while. “I’ve missed you too,” she replied, leaning into his chest. 
He held her right there, feeling his heartbeat pick up speed. The fire crackled and she looked up at him. A thin sheen glassed over her eyes. 
Moments passed, and they managed to catch a few fish from the nearby river. Something Arya was surprisingly good at. She still carried her skinny blade and used it like it was part of her arm. 
With full bellies and the warmth of the fire near, they sat quiet in one another’s presence. 
His eyes grew tired, he knew she felt the same by the yawn she let out. She was beautiful. Back when they had been younger, he had not known how he felt, it was love most definitely, but not this way. There was no hunger, he had felt the need to protect her and make her feel safe. Not like a brother, but some other category if it existed. 
Now, the same instinct knocked at the door. Only he could not help but feel the creeping feeling in his chest that he knew to be lust. 
Gendry felt lecherous by all means. She had been her friend, she trusted him. He was no better than any other man.
“You keep staring at me that way, what does it mean?” She asked him curiously. 
“In what way?” 
“Pained, but in a different way.”
The apple in Gendry’s throat bobbed as he swallowed back his guilt. “You look different, that’s all,” he noted in the most neutral tone he could conjure.
“Different?” 
“You were one-and-ten when I last saw you,” Gendry told her. He gestured her way to put some evidence into his explanation. “Now you’re a woman grown… one-and-twenty. It feels hardly real.” 
Arya sipped water out a wineskin. She used the back of her hand to wipe her lips. “And you’re a man grown… though you already were when I left.”
“We’ve both changed in our own ways, I just… I had so much to say to you when you left and now my tongue does not even remember the words.” 
“Let’s make you remember,” Arya said. It didn’t take her even a moment before she pressed her lips to his. 
It was the last thing he expected, but he sat there, pleasantly surprised. It took a moment before he acted upon it, realising when their tongues grazed each other that this is what she meant. 
Gendry pulled her in, bringing her into his lap as swiftly as he would holding a feather. She moaned softly in his arms and sat comfortably enough that she was able to let her hands wander. 
Her hands went into his hair, tugging at his neck to get him as close as possible. His head rang, like a hammer hitting an anvil. His mind went numb and nothing existed but her. 
They broke away just for a moment. A moment made up of heavy stares and dilated pupils. Her cheeks were flushed and he felt his body react stiffly. 
“Arya?” 
She stared up at him. Her grey eyes glittered like the night sky. “I’m not leaving you again,” she told him. Reading his mind before he has to utter the words he was dreading. 
He kissed her again. The kiss bruised his lips and contained the desperation of a thousand soldiers. He didn’t articulate his relief, choosing to let his actions show his feelings. 
Gendry was never a winner when it came to expressing himself verbally. He was better at doing. But for her, he would do it all. 
Her hands were fluid, unlatching his cloak and beginning to tear through the fastenings of his jerkin. He groaned softly and stared at her. 
Arya undid the twists in her hair, allowing a cascade of brown waves to fall down her shoulders. 
“What are you doing to me?” 
read more on ao3 - the rest is pure smut that i won't post on tumblr due to no porn policy and i don't want to have any issues lol
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drabblecember day 1 - cold weather
“It's cold out, isn’t it?” Mettaton said with a dramatic sigh, scoffing slightly. He rubbed his hands over his arms, his teeth chattering. Oliver rolled her eyes, it was not as if he could truly even feel the sensation of heat, or lack thereof. 
“Yes… it feels quite cold out, you must be freezing, darling. Come here…” he continued, his voice soft. 
He opened up his arms, bringing Oliver close into a warm and tender embrace. She loathed the verbiage surrounding it, yet she could not argue that his body was perfect to snuggle with on a cold winter’s day. 
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ironverseocs · 11 months
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Fandom: The Flash (TV 2014) OC: Jared Williamson Canons: Jesse Wells, Wally West
Written for @oc-challenges Week Two: LGBTQ Tropes Summary: [Set sometime in S3] Jared and Jesse had broken up a few weeks ago and are now getting back to a normal, comfortable dynamic. Meanwhile, Wally and Jared are getting closer, and Jesse is one perceptive son of a gun.
AO3 Link | FF Link
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a-mere-dream · 1 year
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This beast is finally finished! Just the final round of editing left, which I'm guessing will add between one to three hundred words. It'll be ready to be posted on this Sunday, title still pending.
… And now just to hold myself back from writing an AU of that world where the story concludes with QiJiuBingYuan.
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amiwritesthings · 1 year
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john/dean(na) and 28? :)
hi hi rose thanks for this, so lovely!
John is tired when he makes it back to the house they are currently squatting in. It's late and the day was mostly unsuccessful and all he wants is a shower and a drink and maybe some quality time with his baby girl.
He lets himself inside, careful not to disturb the salt line too much, and the door creaks and almost immediately, Deanna appears in the hall as if summoned, blond hair flying, eyes sparkling, mouth pulled into a big smile.
"Daddy," she says, and John just about manages to drop his duffle before Deanna comes flying into his arms. She smells like flowers, girly and soft, and John breathes her in as he holds her. "I have a surprise for you," she whispers into his ear, and he blames the shiver down his spine on her hot breath on his cold skin.
He sets her down just as Sam appears in the hall, a frown on his face, lips pulled into a sulk. "Sammy," he greets, and Sam rolls his eyes, grunts out, "Dad," before he thunders up the stairs and a door slams.
"What's with him?" John asks, and Deanna shrugs and says, "I don't know, teenage stuff," like she hadn't cleared 18 just a few weeks earlier herself.
John hums in agreement, then shrugs out of his coat to hang it on the hooks by the door. "What d'you say I get cleaned up and then you can show me your suprise?"
She smiles at him, all sweet, leans up onto her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. "Sounds perfect," she says before skipping up the stairs.
John watches her go with a fond smile, then makes for the bathroom. He showers with military efficency because the water pressure sucks and the water's only tepid, then finds himself some clean clothes from the pile Deanna left out for him. They smell like cheap laundromat detergent and are a little stiff, but at least they are clean.
Deanna is waiting for him by his bedroom door already. She's still in the same zip-up hoodie, a pair of sweat pants. It's only when they are both inside his bedroom with the door closed that he allows her to wind her arms around his neck and press her lips to his. He holds her close, kisses her thoroughly until she gasps softly against his mouth.
She pulls back, places her palm on his chest with a little pressure. "Sit," she says, that smile back on her face and John raises an eyebrow, but sinks down on the edge of the bed anyway.
Deanna toys with the zipper of her hoodie, bites her lip as she draws it down halfway. There's a peak of--John wants to say lace, black lace, and he sucks in a breath.
"Baby girl," he says, voice rough, and color rises in her cheeks as she pulls the zipper the rest of the way down and pushes the hoodie off her shoulders before she takes a step closer. She's--beautiful, the black lace bra so dark against her creamy-pale skin.
John reaches out his hand, pulls her closer the second her palm slides into his. He mouthes a kiss to her sternum, and her hand runs into his hair, strokes gently. The flush has spread down her neck and to her chest by the time John pulls back, runs his thumb along the edge of the bra. "That my surprise?"
She nods, arches a little to chase his touch. "Do you like it?"
He traces a finger along the delicate lace line hugging her tits, and she shivers, her breath coming a little quicker when John slips a finger under the wire, strokes the sensitive underside.
"I love it, baby, you're beautiful."
The way she preens for the compliment is almost as enticing as any piece of lingerie could ever be.
send me a number and a ship and I'll write a drabble (all the usual pairings are a go)
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autumnalwalker · 10 months
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Pride Month Drabble Challenge: Day 30, Belong
Reblog of the challenge rules with links to my posts is here.
“I love you.”
“Obviously.”
“Seriously.  It’s occurred to me that I don’t say it much, and I should.”
“But you do.  A dozen times a day in a hundred different ways.  Every time you bring me coffee on a late night without my needing to ask even though you hate the smell.  Every time you ask a question when I’m on a rant about orbital mechanics instead of trying to change the topic.  Every time you make a callback in-joke that would be utterly incomprehensible to anyone else or laugh at one of mine.  Every time you accidentally lose track of what you were doing because you got caught up in watching me take care of the plants.  Every time you say I make you feel safe.”
“I… Oh… Wow…  I don’t know what to say to that.  Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.  That said, I love you too.”
“Obviously.  You just said it twice.”
“Caught that, huh?”
“Of course.  I know you.  Just like you know me.”
“Better than anyone?”
“Better than anyone.”
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heavenssexiestangel · 6 months
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SPN PRO-SHIP BANG WEEKLY DRABBLE: SHOW YOUR LOVE
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MAIN MASTERLIST FOR THE CHALLENGE
Rating: General
Ship: Arthur Ketch/Mick Davies/Dean Winchester
Word count: 200
Written for: @spnproshipbang Weekly Drabble Challenge
Prompt: “What's your favorite thing about me?"
Tags and Warnings: Double Drabble, Alpha Mick Davies, Omega Dean Winchester, Fluff, Cuddling & Snuggling, Established Relationship
Summary:
Mick asks a somewhat difficult question, but the answer is easier than Dean thought
Beta: none
Notes: I wanted something sweet, so here we go LOL I love these three so much tbh, I can't even
For @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell: Happy belated birthday, another surprise will come your way soon-ish
Companion to:
Between the Three by @lucibae-is-dancing-in-hell
Adventures in Parenting by me
A Growing Family by me
Read on Archive of Our Own
To have updates on my fics, make sure you follow me and join my Discord Server to have bonus snippets, deleted scenes, make requests, and the like. It’s FREE.
If you’d like, donate me a Ko-fi
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elismor · 1 year
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Recent Fic Omnibus
One Shots:
Father Knows Best --written as a treat in the TCWFS 2023 Gift Exchange. Domestic fluff wherein Waxer and Boil do some parenting of Numa. 1378 words.
Just A Number --also written as a treat for the TCWFS 2023 Gift Exchange. Rexsoka --because someone asked and I wanted to try it, even though I personally prefer them in a sibling-like relationship. Mildly spicy. 627 words. Rebels/Imperial era.
One lightly spiced drabble:
For You Alone --Boil likes the way Waxer kisses. #62 in my 2023 100 Drabble Challenge
And one medium spice double drabble (because I just couldn't get it done in 100 words)
Sibling Rivalry Codex --because I guess that's a thing I do now
For You Alone and Sibling Rivalry are part of the series Bite Sized Spice, in which elis works her way through a list of spicy prompts in an attempt to get over her latent Catholicism
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companionwolf · 11 months
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pride month drabble challenge fill #1
prompts: 15. Transmasc + 9. Moonlight + 7. "Do you ever get afraid?" (prompts)
fandom: XCOM 2 (gen verse)
TWs/CWs: none
---
They're standing on the flight deck with Central, the cold moonlight turning them both silver black blue. Beside them, their XO stares out over the railing toward the distant glittering night shine of a city center.
His breath fogs in the air, and the Commander wishes they had those stupid sweaters still. They itched but they were warm, and the wind that rushes over the deck is frigid enough that they'd be willing to wear the damn thing again.
The Commander studies Central's face. He looks like they've always wished, no longer the clean and proper young man he was, more rugged and just--
Their stomach twists.
Masculine. Almost stereotypically so. He has it so effortlessly. They never will-- they don't know the state of gender affirming health care now and frankly? They'd rather not; it'd make them cry more than everything already does.
But they look at Central and they're envious. They look at him and they want to wear his skin. They look at him and mourn what they can't be.
Their capture did nothing to help. They guess it's nice that they didn't age, but... that's time they've lost. They'll never get it back. Time they could have--
Could have what? No time for transitioning when the world's on fire, they think bitterly.
Central looks over at them.
"You're looking awfully pensive," he says. "Something eating you, Commander?"
"Do you ever get afraid?" they ask.
Their central officer's mouth drops a bit in a frown. "Not sure I'm following," he says. "Of the aliens? The war? The Chosen? What's next? You're gonna need to be--"
"Of -- of not getting --"
Their voice trails off. What does their dysphoria matter, in this time? So meaningless admist the horrors. They shove their hands in their pockets and look at their feet.
Central's eyes are on them. "Ohhh," he says as they try not to meet his gaze. "Ohh, you think you don't deserve to talk about whatever it is, I see."
He scoffs. "Well, I think you do," he says, looking back out at the city center. "Even if it seems small to you, it still means something. You should get to talk about it."
"Thanks, Central," they say.
"So what is it?"
They take a long breath of the crisp cold air, feel it burn in their chest. "I'm not who I'm supposed to be," they say, hesitantly. "And I probably won't ever get to be."
Central's looking at them again.
Their stomach churns under his soft gaze. "Stop," they say. "Stop, you're pitying me."
"I am not," he retorts. "I still don't even really get it but maybe I don't have to. This is a trans thing, right?"
They nod.
"I won't ever know what that's like," Central continues. "I won't claim that I would or will, but..." He pauses. "I don't know, if I can help somehow, I'd like to."
The Commander shifts weight from foot to foot, is still avoiding eye contact. "I don't know what you could even do," they say. "I mean, besides what you do already, with pronouns and..."
"Yeah, but that's just being a decent human," Central says.
"Maybe that's all I can really ask, all you can really do," the Commander says. "Not like you can just manifest a surgeon or HRT or whatever."
"If I could I would," he says. "I could... someone has to be helping folks in the resistance transition. I'll look around."
The Commander smiles a little, shuffles a little closer to Central.
"You're right," they say. "There has to be somebody, something." They hesitate. "I just...sometimes I feel like I'm alone, and that it'll never happen, and that I have to settle. That's what I mean."
"You shouldn't ever have to settle," Central says. "Not on something like this-- when it's about yourself and your life and..." He struggles a second. "You should get to be happy."
The Commander wants to reach for his hand. They don't. Instead they say, "You should too."
He looks away, back toward the cityscape and its neon lights. "I've got mine," he says. "Your turn now, Commander."
The Commander closes the distance between them, leans on him. "What if we both got ours? Got to be happy?" they say. "What about that, Central?"
Central stiffens under their weight, and then relaxes a bit. "I'd like that," he says, his voice quiet, slow. The Commander can feel his body rising and falling with each breath under their ear.
"Me too," they say. "Me too."
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acoldsovereign · 3 months
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