#200 words

For @drarrymicrofic. I didn’t use the word prompt in the fic this time, which is unusual for me, but when you read it Draco’s Veela instincts are—you know what, you get it. All em-dashes and excessive italicizations are mine. 200 words. Mild noncon CW for Draco swimming in Veela hormones the whole time and Harry not knowing exactly what he’s getting into. They’re going to be very happy together, I swear!

“Listen, Malfoy, not that I’m opposed to this, but—mmm, fuck—“

That’s the idea.

The words reach Draco’s ears as if through water; muted. A hand presses against his chest, gently holding him back.

“Malfoy, I need to know you know what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. Focus for a moment, okay?”

Draco opens his eyes. “Potter,” he rasps. “Potter, please.”

“Okay, okay.” Potter steps back, running a hand through his hair. Draco follows, unable to resist the pull. “You still don’t seem—you just showed up on my doorstep at Grimmauld Place. I don’t even know how you got through the wards, no one should be able to—“

“Veela magic,” Draco interrupts, hoping to stop the talking. “Please.”

“Please what?”

Mate.

“Kiss me.”

Draco leans in, desperate for it. Potter hesitates, but then he finally kisses him back.

They end up on the floor right there in the entryway; kissing and kissing and kissing. It’s lovely, but it’s not enough.

“Fuck me.”

“Yeah, okay,” Potter gasps into his mouth, clumsily attempting to shuck off his jeans with Draco’s weight on top of him. “If you’ll fuck me later.”

“Yes.”

Heyyyy! God, you won't believe the day I've had. I feel exhausted. Do you wanna order something? I just wanna take the evening to shut my brain off for a bit.

"Good doll."

Hm? Did you… say something? Sorry, I thought I… it's okay. Hey, can I get you anything? Yeah, I said I was kinda tired, but… I dunno, I feel like I wanna do something for you. Do you want nachos? Nachos are easy.

"Good doll."

Mmmn… Right, yeah. This… I'll get started, then. Do you want anything else while I'm waiting for the oven to preheat, Mi… M, m-maybe I can get you a drink or something.

"Good doll."

Tea. I'll make some tea. It… needs some tea. Are you sure you want nachos… Miss? I… i-it feels like it could make something else, if you'd like.

"Good doll."

Yes Miss, this one understands. It… mn… it will continue to obey you, Miss. Yes, sorry, this one just feels a little… um… strange. Maybe a little... distracted? Maybe... this one just needs to...

"Good doll."

Day 4: Heritage & Relationship (a double drabble)

Mara looked from Luke to the holodisplay.

Her husband’s lips were pressed tight, a grim set to his jaw.

“Why’re you watching this crap?” Settling on the sofa, Mara rested a hand on Luke’s knee. “The remnant does this every Empire Day.”

“Yeah,” Luke sighed. “But this year the newly-formed "Conclave of Vader" has taken a starring role.”

On the screen, sable-mantled acolytes marched ominously through Vjun’s shadowy streets.

Mara understood Luke’s reaction. These fanatics were inspired by his father’s sins, not his salvation. But dwelling on the worst parts of Vader’s legacy was pointless; people believed what they wanted to believe.

“You saved him,” she said quietly.

“He saved me,” Luke answered, closing his eyes.

Luke didn’t deserve to feel guilt for his heritage, no matter what horrors were in the past. She had to yank him out of this.

Mara’s hand moved higher up Luke’s black-clad leg.

“Think they got a permit for that parade?” she cracked, teasing along his zipper.

It worked. Luke grinned, flicking off the holo and dragging her horizontal.

“You got a permit to be this amazing?”

Mara rolled her eyes. “Your lines will never get better, will they?”

“Never,” he promised, kissing her.

So tired I forgot to post this yesterday.

Here’s day two, 200 words, prompt - wrong number.

@10daysto1k

Wrote this in 7 minutes while blasting this song into my skull

IMPLIED SEXUAL CONTENT OBVIOUSLY

Story under the cut. Or on ao3 here

Julian's head drooped low. His stomach rolled with nausea, making him gag, but there was nothing left to throw up. He moaned pitifully, while Bubbles hummed a quiet tune, soft and soothing. With the shower head in hand, he carefully washed the bigger man's shoulders, his arms, his chest and belly. He cleaned his upper body dutifully.

"You good, Jules?" Bubbles paused, poking gently at his companion.

"Mhm. Yeah."

"Alright, bud. Just checking in." He proceeded to lather Julian's raven-coloured hair with shampoo. The soap smelled sweet, scented lightly with vanilla and coconut.

"Thanks for taking care of me, Bubbs." He mumbled. A rosy blush had bloomed across his cheeks. Julian wasn't one to let his guard down easily. With Bubbles, he knew he was in good hands.

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.

prompts: skate, flash

✦ missing scene from good men die, too (I'd rather be with you). Yes, the High School AU; they're all teens in this. Yes, it's cringe. Do Not Perceive Me. | AO3

truancy for beginners

Kate pushed herself off the pillar, wobbling slightly. Laughing, Richie caught her, steadying her with a lingering touch. She grabbed at his hands, holding tight, and with a smirk he slowly drew her out onto the pathway, letting her get her bearings.

Sunlight flickered through the leaves overhead, dappling them as he finally let go of her waist, but she still clung to him, fingers clamped tight over his. She wobbled again, the inline skates awkward on her feet.

“You’re thinking too much,” Richie laughed, squeezing her hands. “Just move. One-two, like I showed you.”

The park was quiet, the wind in the trees hushed. Nobody was here this Tuesday morning; either at work or school. Skipping had been Richie’s idea, naturally. Seth had grumbled, but caved when Kate, in a fit of whimsy, had pleaded with him. Studying for finals was all well and good, but also killing her slowly. They deserved a break, she told herself.

“I need a helmet,” Kate muttered. Richie grinned.

“Just don’t fall. Problem solved.”

Behind them, Seth snorted. “I still can’t believe preacher’s daughter is skipping class. The world must be ending.”