A side blog, and something of a project to learn to tame and master words once more. Main content: drabbles/ficlets written in 10-30 minutes. Any and all concrit and commentary vastly appreciated. Prompts welcome.
A/N: So, this little piece, inspired by this lovely fanart by @vamp4rebatscave (I dearly hope neither you nor the commissioner mind!) has been sitting in my drafts forever, and what is this blog even for if I never post anything I write, so... Enjoy?
(Title from D'Angelo by Diablo Swing Orchestra.)
--
"So? What do you think?"
"Hm." Armand crooked a critical eyebrow at the screen and then picked up the device from Lestat's hand as if to verify his assessment with closer scrutiny.
"I've seen better."
With that, he rolled onto his back and stretched languidly like a lazy housecat; back arching, fingers spreading. With a dull thunk, the phone fell onto the plush carpet.
"Insolent imp," Lestat hissed around a grin tugging at his mouth as he drank in the sight: auburn curls fanned out like a rusty halo on the maroon silk, the arched brows, the dark eyes sparking with challenge.
With one lithe motion, he got up on his hands and knees and crawled over Armand's body and made as if to reach for the fallen device – but then stopped, and let his hair fall forward to tickle Armand's face, earning a deeply unamused look which only made him grin wider.
"Brat," Armand countered, and then, lightning-fast, buried a hand in his hair and pulled him down to nuzzle his nose into the underside of his jaw, lips brushing against his hammering pulse.
He froze – only for a second, undecided – and then lifted his head to grin down again while one hand drifted over Armand's chest, deftly undoing the buttons of his shirt. Armand watched him, eyes dark and cheeks flushed; his beauty bewitchingly mortal, belying the hungry darkness beneath.
A spattering of freckles adorned his pale chest, right between two rosy, peaked nipples. He could not help himself – he leaned down to press a kiss to the cool, smooth skin. The hand in his hair shifted, into something of a caress. He took it as encouragement and kissed him again, nails dragging lightly over his exposed ribs.
Armand squirmed and hissed softly, both hands now tightening in his hair. He chuckled deeply, pressing his lips to his throat while flicking one hard nipple with his thumb.
"Figlio di puttana!"
And then he was on his back, Armand straddling his hips, nails digging into his chest through his shirt, cheeks rosy and eyes wild. His own hands drifted to Armand's narrow waist, thumbs caressing his hipbones.
"What a dirty mouth you have on you, chèri."
But Armand was... somewhere else, even he could tell. Under the spell of some evil memory, perhaps, lost somewhere within the centuries of dust and darkness, or beyond. He dared not look.
Chèri?
No, no. That wasn’t right. Not this time.
“Caro?” His thumbs resumed the soothing motion. “Torna da me, carissimo.”
Slowly, focus returned to Armand’s blown pupils and his fingers loosened from his shirt. His claws had torn through the thin fabric. Ah, but he had others.
With careful movements, Lestat tugged him down and framed his face, his beautiful doll’s face, between his hands. Armand's hands, in turn, slipped under his shredded shirt as if seeking warmth, coming to rest over his racing heart.
A/N: Well, Shadow and Bone S2 blindsided me with a new "I don't know how the hell this would work but I'm here for it" ship and I had to write something, even if it's just a quick 10-minute ficlet. Why the hell my brain insisted on Kaz POV I have no idea, but I hope it works.
Name, as is my tradition, from a Diablo Swing Orchestra song.
---
When the Volkvolny returns to port, he's there. Of course he's there. A distance away from the pier, perhaps, but he's there.
Oretsev gives him a nod as he strides past carrying ropes and hollering orders at the disembarking crew. He nods back -- already distracted.
She's walking down the pier in confident strides, hair blowing in the breeze, sun glinting on her daggers. Tolya's big arm rests around her shoulders and she's not shrinking away. In fact, hers is curled around his waist, fingers tucked into his belt.
His jaw tightens and his fingers ball into tight fists around his cane. He plants his feet and locks his knees, forces himself not to be a coward for once.
Her gaze lands on him. And brightens, softens.
His follows suit, with a warm, knowing smile.
He blinks and takes a breath, momentarily reeling.
-
When she's standing in front of him, she squeezes Tolya's arm. The pirate's gaze sweeps her face before he gives them a gentle nod and steps away.
Not far. And while his gaze ostensibly searches for his sister, he knows he's still tuned into her, listening for her breathing, her heartbeat. He can respect that.
"Did you find your brother?"
She exhales. Relieved, but her smile is bittersweet. "Yes. He has a new family, now. We... promised to write."
"Hmm." His gaze bores into her. "And you?"
She tilts her head in that familiar, exasperated way and sighs, challenge heating her eyes and sharpening her voice.
"I came back, didn't I?"
The to you is silent and he wonders if he imagined it. He blinks slowly and glances five steps away and to the left. "Yes. You did."
This time she does not fail to roll her eyes. She reaches out her left hand and Tolya is there at her side, fingers intertwined with hers, his gaze steady and warm on her. And then on him.
She lifts her right hand in front of her, palm open, eyes burning. Willing him to figure it out. Willing him to swallow the dregs of fear and pride and accept.
A/N: @phantomdivine requested darklina + ‘an abandoned or empty place’ and @iamaweretoad requested ‘playing with hair’ so I thought I’d combine them since I already had an idea. Again, I’m your regular Jon Snow: I know nothing. Hope you enjoy!
“Sing me a song, Alina.”
--
She slowly becomes aware of the damp grey of November woods, of cold stone against her back, of birdcalls in the fog. Of the weight of his head in her lap.
“Is this your dream or mine?”
“Yours,” he says, but his lips curve into a thin smile. “I am dead, remember?”
“Right,” she scoffs, but her fingers slip into his hair of their own accord. His skin is very pale, dark veins like a web of shadow, and she has to look away.
She never noticed the gravestones before, right beyond the overgrown fountain, under hazel trees and oaks. Were they there before? Does it matter?
“I wanted to tell you,” he says. “When I brought you here.”
“But you didn’t,” she bites, and the silence stretches between them. “I might have understood.”
“Yes,” he says, and a weary sigh stirs through his body. He closes his eyes. “Sing me a song, Alina.”
“You want a lullaby?”
But her fingers shift through his hair, soothe over his cheekbones and eyelids, and she thinks of all the songs and folktales she knows. Of ravens and rowan trees, of winter and wolves. Of dreamless, deathless gods.
Send me character(s) and a letter and I’ll write you a minific!
A. Fire, flames, or excessive heat.
B. Under cover of darkness.
C. A moment’s respite.
D. Subtle kindnesses.
E. Sharing a drink.
F. An absent look or touch.
G. A fistfight.
H. Someone’s greatest fear.
I. Broken glass.
J. When words aren’t enough.
K. On the edge of consciousness.
L. A stolen kiss.
M. When it rains/snows/storms.
N. The color green.
O. The stars or space.
P. While driving or in/around a car.
Q. One missed call.
R. A deafening sound.
S. Music [send a song or a lyric]
T. An obscure AU.
U. Coming home.
V. An abandoned or empty place.
W. Waiting impatiently for something.
X. A flash of anger.
Y. Tears.
Z. [Make up your own]
A/N: Ficlet #3 of Shadow and Bone + forehead kisses, as promised to @iamaweretoad. Some Genya x David, as per @phantomdivine’s request. Again, totally new to this setting, so if I get something wrong (or accidentally too right), I plead my ignorance.
--
“Genya.”
Her name falls from his lips haltingly, as if he’s surprised at himself for saying it out loud.
She composes herself with a breath and turns; her face a mask of tranquil pleasantness.
“For you,” he says before she can ask. “That is... I made this. For you.”
Dark eyes dart over her face, fleetingly bold, before dropping towards his hands.
Cupped gently in them — “Oh, David,” she exhales — a pendant of shimmering sea glass set in burnished silver, in a cord of sky-blue velvet.
“To protect you,” he says softly, his jaw tightening and his eyes flashing towards hers with something like defiance, and she wants to smooth his wild hair and kiss him and laugh and weep.
“It matches your eyes,” he then says as if realizing it for the first time, and a grin lights up his face. “May I?”
“Oh.” Her cheeks burn. “Of course.” She turns and sweeps her hair aside, closing her eyes in trepidation.
He clasps the pendant with light, sure fingers, and she’s not sure if the jolt she feels is the magic settling around her or his touch against her skin.
“Done,” he says and steps back, and she once again tries to school her face into a neutral sweetness as she turns.
He won’t look at her as he bows deep, hands clasped behind his back — and before she loses her courage (or gives in to some bolder impulse), she quickly steps closer to cup his face while it’s on level with hers.
“Thank you, David,” she whispers, pressing a lingering kiss to his brow. “I shall treasure it.”
A/N: Second bit of forehead kisses + Shadow and Bone for @iamaweretoad. This time a bit fluffier stuff with two of our favourite Crows. Again, total Grishaverse noob here, but... I tried?
--
She's nodding off against a crate, graceful limbs folded in some incomprehensible cat-like way that manages to look elegant instead of profoundly uncomfortable.
He stretches out his own legs in response and thinks of catching a few winks himself — but based on the sound of the steady breathing, Kaz is finally out cold.
So he cleans his guns for the third time, checks the butts and the barrels for damage, thinks he might as well have been gifted with something bloody useful when Inej whimpers in her sleep.
The second time it happens? He scoots closer before he can think, lips pressing to her temple.
"Shhh, love. S'alright."
He barely has time to scoot back before his throat is damn near skewered by a gold-handled blade.
"What was that??" Her eyes are wide, her fingers touching the spot just left of her eyebrow.
"Uh, a weird impulse?" He lifts up his hands in surrender. "Won't happen again."
He looks away when her face threatens to crumple into a teary smile.
"And... Don't tell the boss, yeah?"
She gives him a Look. An utterly beautiful 'what the shit are you on??' look and he shrugs because what could he even say? That's something for her to figure out.
Then he realizes something and his face stretches into a grin.
"Hey. Snuck up on you, didn't I? Yeah. I did."
She tosses dried mouse droppings at him — which he dodges with ease, of course.
A/N: First part of a trilogy of forehead kisses I promised to write for @iamaweretoad. Please be gentle, this is my very first foray into Grishaverse, having only seen the Netflix show. Anyway, getting the angst out of the way with some darklina, enjoy!
--
A light brush of fingers against her cheek calls her awake, her lips slowly curving into a sleepy smile.
“Mal...?”
“Guess again.”
Her eyes fly open. The small cabin is dim with a haunted half-light: no longer quite dark, nor yet quite dawn. And on the side of her bed, in his shirtsleeves, shadows in his eyes...
Aleksander.
“This is a dream,” she whispers, her body tensing with a familiar flush of fear and desire. He doesn’t move.
“Is it?”
The words are arch and brittle. One long finger reaches out to curl idly around a lock of her hair. She slaps his hand away, squeezing her eyes shut against the hot sting of tears.
“You’re dead.”
“Am I?”
But this time he sounds... sad. This is a dream, she repeats to herself. Wake up.
On a soft rustle of silk, on a soft exhale, she feels cool lips against her forehead.
36 + the pairing of your choice. I'm just weak for characters (especially dudes) being pushed against a wall... :3
You went straight for the horniest option, eh? 😆
I had another idea first but it didn’t want to come out properly so you’ll have to settle for a snippet of another thing that has been knocking around in my head for a while -- even if it might not technically fit the assignment:
---
“Hey, V?”
“Yes, Johnny?” She drags out the vowels in a sing-songy way she knows will annoy him. Real mature, V. In her defense, she’s having a pretty fucking shitty day.
To his credit he only rolls his eyes and falls into step beside her. No shades today, huh?
“What would you do if I was really here right now?”
“This again?” She shoves her hands into the pockets of her vest and kicks a chunk of crumbling concrete out of her path, earning herself a sidelong glance and quirked eyebrow.
“Come on, you’re the only source of entertainment I have. Pretty please?”
“You know saying ‘pretty please’ is not gonna work every time, right?”
He smirks. “Coulda fooled me.”
She rolls her eyes all the way up towards uncaring heavens. “Fine. Slam you into a wall and have my way with you.”
He huffs a surprised laugh. One point for V. “In public? Ooh, kinky.”
“Figured you’d like that. Now can we focus on the job at hand?”
“We’re nowhere near the damn ganger lair.” He honest-to-goodness pouts. “At least give a guy some details.”
The corner of her mouth twitches. “Nope. Told you what you wanted to hear, now shut it.”
“Heh.” He lights another cigarette and takes a deep drag. “Tease.”
A/N: Um. Very spontaneous Eivor/Basim? Damn you, Ubisoft
--
"I imagine I deserved that."
He touches fingers too delicate to be a tool of death to his split bottom lip with an arched brow; the blood, glittering and dark like his gaze, dripping into his beard. It does nothing to mar his visage.
But then it wouldn't, would it?
His voice remains mild, infuriatingly so, and she wants to shake the passion free from behind his eyes, where it simmers and burns her skin every time she feels his eyes on her. (A warning against predators, she's told herself.)
She sighs, flexing her bloodied knuckles. "I don't know, Basim. Did you?"
The corners of his generous mouth lift slightly.
"I must have, for you to save your ire for a private setting."
She rolls her eyes and turns, wondering why she even bothered, the sunlight and laughter beckoning her beyond the stable doors.
"Wait."
The hand on her forearm flashes her back into a memory – a real one, this time – of a strong arm pressing her against a hard body, of a cold blade kissing her throat. She stills, shivers, and takes a deep breath.
A chuckle, closer to her ear than she'd calculated:
"My blade is as sheathed as yours, Eivor."
She forces her shoulders down, her posture to relax as his thumb idly sweeps the underside of her arm. Closes her eyes and listens.
Hers is not the only breath coming out ragged in the dark.
"Hmm." She tilts her head – much like Synin, she reckons. "Is it?"
I just went through my files and found something I wrote on impulse a couple of months ago and then just kinda forgot because I thought it was self-indulgent crap.
But since it’s the only thing I have managed to write in fricking ages I thought I’d at least put a snippet of it here. So, have a bit of random bellarke:
---
She has probably been avoiding him and she knows it. Even without his eyes boring into her from the doorway as she paces the room in a vain effort to look busy.
The look on his face is dangerous again even if his body language is deceptively casual, hands deep in his pockets and his shoulders down. Nowhere to run.
”What?” she finally snaps. ”You’re staring.”
He lifts his eyebrows, the smile playing on his lips not getting any less dangerous.
”Do I have to say it?”
No. Yes. Don’t say it. Please say it. If you say it it’s real. I’m not ready for it to be real. If it’s real it can hurt. I want it to hurt.
”Say what?”
”Clarke.” He rolls his eyes at her and gives her a look like she’s an obstinate child. When did he become so annoyingly wise?
She takes a deep breath and squares her shoulders, looking up at the ceiling for courage. The steel paneling stares back with her blurred reflection. It scoffs at her cowardice.
”Do you want to say it?” It rolls out of her mouth, more curious than confrontational. She’s pretty sure that’s not what she was thinking.
Or he was expecting. The corner of his mouth pulls up in that thoughtful way he has. He worries his bottom lip between his teeth in that thoughtful way he has. She wishes she could look away but... frankly, she doesn’t want to.
”You know…” His eyes meet hers. ”Yeah. Yeah, I think I do.”
It’s my first prompt list! Thank you to my followers for helping. Credit not needed but please don’t repost. Feel free to link back to the list! These may be cliche but I love them.
There’s people chasing us and I pulled you into the alley with me and wow you’re close
Your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and I couldn’t help but steal it
I’m dying and I’m confessing my love for you
Kissing in the rain and getting soaked before running inside laughing
Playing with their hair while their head’s in your lap.
Jolting awake after a nightmare and being comforted
“Good morning, beautiful/handsome”
Hands brushing unexpectedly
There’s only one bed and we sleep as far away as possible from each other but wake up cuddling
You confessed your feelings and we’re about to kiss but we get interrupted
Secret relationship
We dated in high school but then you moved away but now you’re back in town
Both going to grab the same thing and touching hands, then making eye contact.
We’re roommates but we’re falling for each other
Drunkenly confessing feelings
I need a date for this wedding
“I think I’m in love with you.”
Fake dating AU
Blurting out a confession of love
You’re in a coma and I confess all my feelings only for you to wake up
Blind date set up by friends
You’re my new bodyguard and you’re cute.
“Just tell why you did it!” “Because I’m in love with you, okay!”
You’re my ex but I think I still have feelings for you
Wrapping arms around them when they make breakfast
Cuddling in comfortable silence before murmuring “I love you”
Help me I’m being hit on at a bar please be my fake boyfriend for a second
We literally ran into each other
You’re leaving for something dangerous and I can’t help but kiss you
Painting the house that ends in a paint fight and giggles
“You’ve got something on your lip, here let me.”
A soft smile before leaning in for a kiss
Everyone thinks I should stay away from you because you’re dangerous
Spin the bottle
“Do you trust me?”
Friends with benefits and both people catching feelings.
We’re dating and I didn’t know you were a mobster/biker
Everyone thinks we’re already dating, but we’re just best friends- oh wait
Having a bad day and the other noticing
“You saved my life.”
Overhearing they have feelings for you
I’m going to save you from the terrible date you’re having
Taking care of the other when sick or injured
I’m your new neighbour and I got locked out, help!
You took a bullet for me
Argument leading to kissing/sex
“I’ve been in love with you for years.”
I called you at 2am because I need you
You caught me doing something dangerous and flipped out
