#double drabble

[bilbosmom-belladonna]

I attempted to write a drabble and... failed. So here's a double drabble instead! Also posted on ao3. Steddie for your soul:

“How much do you like Eddie?”

Robin was disappointed. She had brought Steve to meet her new friend Eddie because she thought they'd really hit it off. Eddie was, like, Steve's polar opposite, but that was supposed to be a good thing, right?

It had been going well, she'd thought. Eddie was his usual manic self but Steve hadn't sneered; he had seemed really interested in what Eddie was saying. Robin had watched Steve's eyes track the movements of Eddie's ring-covered fingers and thought, yeah, this'll work.

Then Steve had pulled her aside and whispered his question: “How much do you like Eddie?”

Robin frowned. “Like, a normal amount? He's a good guy. What's your damage?”

Steve tugged her closer, turning their bodies away from the table where Eddie still sat. “I’m about ten seconds away from asking him on a date, okay, because wow. But you know my track record with relationships, it could end badly and you can't ever see him again if he breaks my heart,” Steve took a deep breath, “so I'm asking you: how much do you like Eddie?”

Robin smiled slowly. “Not as much as you do, apparently.”

Damn, she was good at this.

[starryeyedjanai]

Eddie’s on a mission when he walks into Family Video.

He heads to the horror section and stops in his tracks when he sees a guy sitting on his haunches, shelving tapes.

Eddie can’t help the way his eyes slide to the guy’s ass— the jeans he’s wearing are criminally tight. And it’s a really nice ass.

He nearly swallows his tongue when the guy turns his head to see who walked into the aisle because staring back at him is Steve fucking Harrington.

He watches as Steve gets up and dusts his jeans off before walking over to Eddie.

“Can I help you find something?” Steve asks.

He has a little mustache.

Steve Harrington has a nice ass and a little mustache.

Eddie did not come here to be attacked like this.

Steve raises his eyebrows and Eddie realizes he’s been staring at him for a beat too long.

“Uh, yeah. Do you guys have Possession?” he asks, throat dry.

Steve looks at him curiously before reaching an arm right past Eddie’s head and pulling a VHS from the shelf. He holds it out for Eddie to take.

Eddie snatches it and makes a beeline for the cash register.

[seokmn]

pairing: bf!mingyu x gn!reader

wc: 0.2k words

warnings: physics (ykes)

physics is something you never understood, no matter how much you tried to learn, all the effort was useless at the end of the day. however, the universe decided to stop playing against you and not only gave you a caring, amazing and hot boyfriend, but also an intelligent one, specially when it comes to physics.

which led you to asking mingyu for help quite often, just like right now.

“okay, newton’s laws of motion are very easy, but you gotta pay attention, alright?” he says as he looks through your textbook. “ill pay attention this time, i swear”

mingyu gives you an unconvinced look and sighs, “if you say so…” and just like that, he begins to explain to you the three laws.

you pay attention as your boyfriend starts to explain, noticing the way he speaks about the principle of inertia with such confidence and with such a calm voice, making sure he’s speaking not too quiet so you couldn’t hear him and not too loud so you wouldn’t get kicked out of the library.

as the time goes by, probably 5 minues later, mingyu’s voice starts to make you a little too comfortable to the point of getting sleepy.

mingyu only notices your situation too late, “now that i explained the three laws, its time for you to do some exerci-“ he stops when he sees your sleeping figure next to him, your head resting on your crossed arms while they’re on the table. “oh.”

mingyu chuckles quietly while shaking his head before kissing your forehead and, even tho he knows you wont listen, whispering, “i love you and i truly believe in your potential, but youre so gonna fail this test”

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

"Ay, Mick, where you at?"

Iggy's out of smokes. He knows his brother has some, but whether he'll actually share is debatable.

He hears nothing, and groans at the thought of having to get up. He was fuckin' comfortable, fuck you very much.

Pushing himself up from the chair, Iggy makes his way to the bedroom where Mickey and Gallagher are staying. He thinks they might be boyfriends or some shit. His brother is real protective of Gallagher, always snappin' at Iggy for no damn reason.

Cuz apparently askin' questions like if gay dicks are different than straight ones or if he's actually ever seen a tit was fuckin' wrong?

The door is open a crack. Iggy doesn't think twice before opening it completely, another holler on the tip of his tongue.

He pauses.

Mickey's there, so is Gallagher. They're on the bed, but that's not all. His little brother is all curled up in his boyfriend's arms, head on his chest like he's some chick.

Now that he thinks of it, Iggy's never seen Mick look so peaceful before. There's no tension or nothin'. His brother's chest is rising and falling softly. It's nice, he thinks. Mick's never really had the chance to be relaxed in their family cuz of their pops and all.

Still gay as hell though.

He can come back later for the smokes, he decides. Iggy's about to walk out when he gets an idea. He holds up his phone, taking a quick picture.

Colin ain't gonna believe this shit.

look what these 2 do when they aint fuckin, he sends with the picture attached.

[hastalavistabyebye]

Fox’s brothers always loved his smile. It wrinkled his eyes until they were practically closed, completely hidden. Like two little smiles adding to the first one. It was warm and bright and full of joy. It was peaceful and reassuring and so much Fox. Something so familiar and loved that didn't disappear with the war. When it all ended, the sight of that smile, of those hidden eyes, was what made them finally realize. It was over, they survived, they were still there. They were home. 

Fox had sad eyes. They hadn't always been sad, they certainly weren't on Kamino. The sadness was Coruscanti and grew heavier with each passing day. With each passing tragedy. Heavy like the bags under his eyes, like the weight tugging his shoulders down. Full of the pain and grief of its home planet.

When the war ended, after Palpatine was killed for his treason. When they were all celebrating. Finally at peace, finally free. Master Yoda looked at him with big, wise and old eyes, with a big, wise and old soul. 

“Sorrowful you are mmh ? Old, in your heart, the pain is.” He said, ears dropping low. 

Fox didn't answer. He simply smiled. 

[airas-story]

"I love you"

"No, you don't"

“I love you,” Tony said, voice soft and adoring.

Stephen flinched, because god he wanted that to be true. “No, you don’t,” he reminded Tony. “That’s the spell.” He was still working out which spell it was, but Tony professing his love narrowed it down significantly.

Tony’s brows furrowed. “No,” he said. “I do.”

“It’s most likely infatuation,” Stephen said. “It’ll wear off in a few hours.” Until then, he was keeping Tony contained before he professed his love to some stranger. Tony didn’t need the repercussions of that.

“Infatuation,” Tony repeated, skeptical. “An intense but short-lived passion or admiration for someone or something.” He shook his head. “By definition, that’s impossible.”

Stephen sighed. “Just sit still for a second,” he said. “I found a diagnostic spell to figure out if there’s a way to end this faster.” He couldn’t bear hearing Tony say those words again and not mean them.

Tony didn’t look happy about it, but nodded. “Fine. When this is over, you’ll believe me when I say it again.”

Except Tony wouldn’t say it again.

Stephen cast the spell to diagnose Tony’s curse.

He froze. That… that wasn’t a love curse.

No. It was a truth spell.

[firenati0n]

"don't fuck me" - a double drabble for @sherryvalli and a little addition to my deranged tiktok au, An Amateur's Guide to Piping That Cream and Beating That Meat

Look—Alex is a good person, okay? He says please and thank you, treats people with respect, works hard to keep his lightning-fast brain in check, tries not to be too demanding of people's time. 

But, he's standing in the doorway after his run, watching Henry cook breakfast in the kitchen, wearing Alex's nadie me ayuda en esta casa apron. 

And nothing else. 

So, fuck decorum. 

“Baby. What the fuck?”

Henry looks over his shoulder and Alex doesn't know whether to look at his bedhead or his, frankly criminal, ass and thighs framed by the apron. 

“Good morning,” he says with an air of nonchalance as he whisks the eggs. “How was your run?”

Asshole. “Cut the shit, Wales. Are you trying to kill me?” 

Henry turns back to the eggs with a smirk. “Now imagine how I feel scrolling through your ridiculous TikTok page. Thought I'd take a page out of Hips and Salsa’s book.”

Alex plasters himself behind Henry, his thin running shorts doing a poor job of hiding just how much this scene is affecting him. 

“Can I please—”

Henry fills in the necessary blanks. “If you don't fuck me in this apron, then what's the bloody point?”

[dixkens]

You Rebuilt My Car

A double-drabble for fest.

--

“You rebuilt my car,” said Bond, stunned.

“Yes,” said Q. “An interesting technical…”

“I could kiss you,” Bond teased.

“Please don’t,” said Q after a nearly imperceptible pause.

His tone was dry and bored. He’d rolled his eyes and was almost the picture of the disinterested quartermaster­—who dealt with multiple deadly, flirtatious agents on a regular basis—almost.

Bond’s life, too often, depended on him noticing the things others didn’t want him to see. And right now, there was something that Q didn’t want him to see.

So, he looked.

“You didn’t rebuild the car I dunked in the Tiber,” said Bond.

“Please,” said Q. “It’s still drying out.”

“Nor the Jag 004 crashed in Monaco.”

“Unsalvageable,” said Q. “Not worth the effort.”

“I’d assumed this was too,” said Bond.

“Recreating the original modifications was an interesting technical challenge,” Q repeated.

“I’m sure.” Bond took a step closer. Q held his ground though there was a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“You rebuilt my car,” said Bond, more gently than the first time. “I could kiss you.”

Not a statement.

An offer.

“Don’t,” said Q, eyes moving restlessly, looking everywhere but at Bond. “Not unless you mean it.”

[1u11ablues]

50: “I could never get sick of you.” (Price x Reader)

This was an odd day to begin with. John was home, for once, not in another country or cooped up at the base.

You'd always done errands alone, but today—your older lover decided to tag along.

"We just needed to pick up some milk from the store," you say to him as he drives you around instead, when you were so used to taking the bus. His hand resting on your thighs, and yours, playing with his fingers.

In the end, the trolley had more in it than the milk you promised. He'd moved up front to pay for the month's worth of groceries before you could even look at your bag for your purse.

You tried not to feel guilty. After all, he should be spending his break actually taking a break.

"I'm sorry," you apologised, watching as he carried everything within a single trip. "I'm sure you're tired. I would get sick of driving myself here and there, too." You scoffed.

"I could never get sick of you, doll," he shook his head as he replied, brows knitted in that stern expression you love. "If I had it my way, I would take you everywhere you wanted to."

[dallianceangel]

𝐀 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐡 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭 🏍️💗

Might turn this into a multi-chapter fic, so please comment if that’s something you’d like to read😊

👋🏼 comments, likes and reblogs are highly appreciated 👋🏼

“Don’t even bother, Ope,” you sigh heavily, trying to avoid eye contact with the man you once loved. “You’re married, and I’ve got a life to live.”

“I know,” Opie says, trying not to let his emotions show. “I just wanted to say goodbye.”

“Goodbye. Now go home to Lyla.”

Exhaling deeply, he decides to walk away, a stray tear rolling down his cheek as he gets back onto his bike. Just as he’s about to start it up, he hears the roaring of a motorcycle edge closer. Turning around, he notices you jumping onto the back of the bike before it speeds away, the rider unknown but most definitely a Mayan.

A few hours later, you find yourself sitting on the back steps outside of a beautiful bungalow, sipping a mug of coffee as you watch the sun begin to set.

You feel someone caress your back, before they sit next to you. “Beautiful, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely,” you whisper, turning around to look at him.

“But not as beautiful as you.”

Snuggling in closer to him, Bishop presses a loving kiss on the top of your head. Sighing contently, you can finally breathe.

You’re never going back to Charming.

[furashuban]

Fairy Memories

Words: 200

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57228424

Summary: Johanna remembers being a kid and meeting Hilda in the Fairy Isle.

Curled up cozily on the sofa, Hilda kept herself busy with her sketchbook over her lap and a pencil on hand. She drew herself and Twig strolling along fairy country, and beside her was a younger girl, staring and grinning back at her as they held each other’s hands and pressed on.

“Aww, Hilda, that looks lovely,” Johanna admired, taking a seat beside her daughter.

“Thanks, mum,” Hilda held up her artwork for her and Johanna to behold, “it’s been helping me relax drawing our time at the Fairy Isle. Well, all the good parts about it, at least.” She carried on putting the finishing touches on the gargantuan mushrooms and overgrown shrubs surrounding the girls as her mother watched closely.

“I still have memories of that day, you know,” said Johanna, “You finding me alone while I was crying, exploring fairy country together, yet somehow, it really feels like that happened so long ago for me. I always realize one thing whenever I look back on it, though.”

Hilda looked up at her mother curious, and Johanna grinned softly, caressing her cheek in return.

“It’s that you aren’t just my daughter, Hilda, you've always been my best friend, too.”

[jedi-order-apologist]

You were never one for waiting; still I always thought you'd wait for me

Obi-Wan, at Qui-Gon's funeral. Written for StarWars100 - Prompt: "Memorial" and Jedi June - Prompt: "Non-attachment/Letting Go" and Lyrical Titles Album Challenge - Song: "Alone You Breathe" - Savatage - Handful of Rain

Read on AO3

It was something Obi-Wan knew he was always going to witness at some point, his Master’s body on a funeral pyre. But the possibility that Qui-Gon would not even live to see Obi-Wan knighted was not one he had prepared himself for, and the weight of that reality was crushing.

But grief was deceptive, and Obi-Wan knew this. It tried to trick one into believing it was vast and endless, all-consuming, leaving nothing but itself.

Obi-Wan saw his grief, and recognized it for what it was. But he pushed himself to look beyond it, too, and found other things.

Gratitude. Towards the Naboo, for letting them hold this service on their planet. Towards the other Jedi, who had traveled far to pay their respects to their much-loved friend.

Joy. For the happy memories he had shared with Qui-Gon. For all the good that Qui-Gon had done in his life. Death could not erase this, pain and grief would not change this.

Grief did not disappear with this acceptance, but instead flowed freely, no longer catching on him and pooling up to drag him into its depths.

And released from that grip, Obi-Wan turned and extended his hand to the boy.

[starryeyedjanai]

It takes Steve three days to notice it.

“What in the hell am I looking at?” Steve asks, expression flummoxed.

“That, my dear, is my newest creation,” Eddie says proudly, looking from the yellow painted dachshund/banana figurine back to Steve's face.

He hid it on their bathroom counter, half-obscured by the face wash Steve uses at night. He’s been waiting with baited breath for Steve to find it, lingering by the doorway while Steve washes his face.

Steve picks up the figurine Eddie painstakingly made and holds it in his hand, marveling at it.

“I love him,” Steve says, biting back a grin. “What’s his name?”

“Banana Dog,” Eddie says and Steve wrinkles his nose.

“You can't name a banana dog ‘Banana Dog’. That’s so lame.”

“You name him, then,” Eddie says, crowding closer, wrapping his arms around Steve, kissing his temple.

Steve hums and looks at Eddie’s reflection in the mirror. “He looks like a Jerry.”

Eddie snorts. “Jerry? Okay. Jerry, the banana dog, it is.”

“Tell me about him?” Steve asks, leaning back into his embrace.

Eddie tells him about how the party will meet Jerry and Steve listens on with adoration in his eyes the whole time.

[lqtraintracks]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Words: 200 Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter Additional Tags: Shaving, Facial Shaving, Shaving Kink, Praise Kink, Hand Kink, Size Kink, Hair Kink, Body Worship, Sensory Deprivation, Blindfolds, Implied/Referenced Blow Jobs Summary: Draco Malfoy's a barber. Harry goes for a shave. He gets that and more. A/N: Written for @maesterchill whose prompts slayed me! <3

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Freckle face

When Ian flipped him over, he stared a little too long at Mickey's face. A sharp the fuck you lookin’ at was on the tip of his tongue, his mood souring a little. He thought he was gonna fucked senseless, or at least a good fuckin’ makeout, not Gallagher’s lips stretching into a dopey smile. 

“Holy shit,” he said in awe. 

“What?” Mickey snapped. 

“You have freckles.” 

Fuck. 

Mickey’s weren’t as visible as Ian’s were, or rather used to be from how they kinda lightened up since his time working at Kash and Grab, but they came out a little more in the summertime. Honestly, he would’ve thought Ian woulda seen ‘em before now. 

“Whatever, man,” he grumbled. He was gonna turn over if not for Ian taking his face by the chin with one hand. “The fuck-” 

“I never noticed them before,” he said, sounding almost giddy by the discovery. 

“So fucking what?” Mickey scowled. “You gonna finish what you started?” 

But Ian wasn't thinking about that at all. He grinned, using his thumb to trace along Mickey's cheek. “You're so damn cute, Mick.” 

It was spoken so earnestly, Ian's smile was one of adoration. Mickey felt a flush creeping up his face. Nobody ever said things like that to him before, and here Ian was, marveling over some damn freckles. 

“I ain't cute,” Mickey muttered, his gaze tearing away from Ian's face to look over at the wall. 

“You’re cute,” Ian disagreed, noses brushing against each other’s. One hand came to hold the back of his head, tilting his own so he could softly kiss Mickey. “So fucking cute....” 

[eilinelsghost]

Gwindor and green things even among the pits and rocks? 💛

Thank you so much for the prompt! SO sorry this took [checks calendar] five months to answer, but it has been incredibly helpful having these prompts in my pocket for when the writer's block is needing a disruption!

Here's a double-drabble of dear, long-suffering Gwindor:

Seven there were, each stalk a prayer lifting up from the slag. And on each stalk, a spray of leaves fanning out like feathers and stretching their fingers toward a wind that would not lift them. 

Gwindor fell motionless upon the slag where the foreman ordered them and let his eyes flutter shut—nay nearly shut, slits lingered just beneath the lashes and his gaze was fixed on these hallowed tendrils, green things even among the pits and rocks. 

Once before he had seen a brush of lichen, clinging against reason to the arch above the west mine’s entrance, and in his surprise he had exclaimed aloud. But the line guards had followed his eyes at once, and the nearest laughed and spat upon the stone and scraped their blades along the surface, shearing away the growth and trampling it into the ash. 

So he lay now as one in the trance-slumber of the spent—cheek pressed to the slag, breath shallow and even, eyes veiled as he peered between the shattered boulders and clung with all his soul to the solace of Yavanna’s whisper. Seven stalks in the darkness, each stalk a prayer his lips would no longer utter.