#ofaflower

The Doctor had invited Donna and her family to his home for the holidays. Who better to spend it with than his family? He'd invited Kate Stewart and a few others, but they had unfortunately turned down the invitation. He didn't mind, he understood they had their own lives and family.

The Doctor was sitting and reading early in the morning when something that reflected the early morning sunlight caught the corner of his eye. He turned his attention from the book to the window and watched as snowflakes began to fall beyond the glass. He stood up to double check and it really was snowing!

😚 to clara from twelve ! ( NEW YEAR'S KISS | @ofaflower )

✧ IT WAS CLARA who snuck up on him first at Christmas. Of course, she kept score.

After falling through layer after layer of nightmares, she was overcome with joy. At every turn, the Doctor was always there with her. Through the figment of Danny and Santa alike, he subjected himself to the dream crabs for her.

It was typical for them to share hugs or a rare dance after some life-or-death adventure. (That was her well-planned excuse) But this? Clara would be more worried if she wasn't already giddy from whatever alien champagne she downed.

She smiled at him as if he raised the morning sun himself. "You copycat," she chided to poke fun at him. "Not an original thought under all that grey. What's gotten into you?"

An Assortment of Dialogue Prompts | Accepting | @ofaflower

Locke lets an awkward chuckle escape his mouth. "I'm wearing a bandana, my hair is always a mess." An excuse, of course, because he tell already feel his heartbeats go faster as she approaches him. But he lets her do it because he can't truly refuise such a simple. That's what he's repeating himself: it's just a simple thing. But he shouldn't feel the way he does, and it's getting harder and harder to ignore it. She deserves so much more than what he could offer her. He's like a curse. He always ends up hurting people he cares for. He couldn't save Rachel. He would never manage to save anyone else.

the area that had once been a gleaming atrium when they'd first walked through had been reduced to mostly debris and shattered glass in the wake of the explosion that had rocked it. thankfully there had been no casualties, though some had been badly injured and taken into the medical facility in the city, beverly had been working for the past hour or so to tend to the ones with lesser injuries.

the enterprise team had originally beamed down to be in diplomatic talks with this planet about folding them into the federation - but as always, there were dissenters who had targeted the meeting place with the explosive devices, determined to disrupt the talks. it's certainly not the first time she's seen this sort of reaction and surely it will not be the last - still, it's not the excitement she'd expected for the day (frankly diplomatic talks were her least favorite orders from command).

"so much for quiet peace talks." beverly murmurs as she skims the tricorder along jean-luc's head in a quiet spot of the ruined atrium, away from the others. she's only just now corned him to let her tend to his superficial injuries. "at the very least, it doesn't seem to have deterred our hosts from their interest in joining the federation." she trades the tricorder for a dermal regenerator to address a small bleeding cut at his temple.

❛     ✩   ----- & i suppose that no answer is just as bad as the wrong answer , correct ? ❜

The kettle sitting on the stovetop began to whistle with steam right as she finished turning the handle of the grinder. It was a motion that had become routine, her timing perfect, her measurements exact, such that Shinobu reached for a wide spoon, rather than a measuring cup, in filling the bottom of the press. The hot water followed, accompanied by a gentle stirring until a thin foam formed at the top, then the whole thing fastened with the lid for four minutes. Twice daily, once in the morning before archery club practice and another in the afternoon, every day since she'd abandoned her dorm room.

It was also, Shinobu thought, a moderately acceptable excuse to take a few moments to herself. Four minutes hardly constituted free time, and one couldn't easily fill it with assignments, exercise, or equipment maintenance. As such, the archer had grown accustomed to simply standing at the counter, their hands upon the cool metal countertop, waiting and thinking and thinking and waiting. It was quiet, aside from the faint sounds from inside the press - another thing that felt impossible outside the little cafe. Surely, had she been out and about, some girl or other would be chasing her down for affection.

"Mm," she hummed to herself, thoughtfully. This wasn't a bad place for her. Her situation made roommates difficult, and having to entertain frequent visitors in a crowded dorm was a nuisance. She'd found this little cafe by happenstance, tucked away in the far corners of the Ohtori Academy grounds, neatly-maintained but empty. There was a small loft above the store, too. Perhaps they should have questioned it more thoroughly, but in their relief, they hadn't. And so, it had become her place, as much as Shinobu Yaguchi had a place - there seemed to be no staff, nor a tenant, and no one ever came by, aside from the chairman once or twice a month, simply to check up on her. That was kind of him, she supposed.

Though, neither had Shinobu truly moved on from everything. Despite having quit the Student Council months prior, she still wore their custom uniform - a white top with red trim and a red breast pocket, without the hip pockets that typically accompanied a male uniform, and dark trousers. That much, at least, she could explain - she'd outgrown her boy's uniform from a few years prior, and buying another was cost-prohibitive. What was harder to justify holding onto was the rose seal ring worn not on her finger, but rather dangling as a pendant from her necklace. The letters from End of the World were piling up on the desk in the loft, and the bells had started ringing again. Perhaps that made it harder to throw the ring away.

Once the minutes had passed, she pressed the plunger down slowly, pushing to the bottom the grounds, then neatly pouring out a fresh cup of coffee. Then, as she'd done every day, twice a day, Shinobu took a sip, frowned, then begrudgingly added a small cube of sugar and a splash of cream. Still so childish, she thought to herself, as she cleaned from her glasses the steam-induced fogginess.

What she hadn't expected - would never have expected - was the sight of someone opening the cafe door. Instantly, a dark expression clouded their face, unable to hide the displeasure with someone entering where they had designated as theirs. These days, Shinobu kept to herself more than she had before, when Student Council duties required of her more frequent visibility, but being the so-called Cold Prince wasn't something that went away so easily. Were it a girl seeking a date, she'd agree and swiftly usher her out. Were it anyone else, she'd find some other way.

Neither   of   them   were   very   quiet   lovers,   having   received   at   least   several   complaints   from   their   neighbors   for   their   inability   to   keep   it   down.   They’ve   never   really   taken   those   complaints   to   heart,   expressing   their   pleasure   without   any   restraints.   So   their   dressing   room   was   probably   the   most   soundproof   place,   considering   the   amount   of   clothing   in   it,   making   the   near   perfect   barrier   between   their   sex   life   and   easily   annoyed   neighbors.   Was   it   the   wisest   choice   from   them   to   bang   there?   Probably   not;   there   was   a   potential   possibility   that   the   scent   of   sex   would   cling   to   his   cashmere   sweaters.   

But   he   can   worry   about   that   later,   when   he’s   no   longer   feasting   on   Annie’s   breasts;   one   nipple   stuck   between   his   teeth,   tongue   flicking   against   the   tender   bud,   while   the   other   one   was   receiving   love   and   attention   from   his   thumb   and   forefinger,   pinched   and   rolled   in   between   them.   His   unoccupied   hand   glided   slowly   down   their   waist,   feeling   the   soft   skin,   making   its   way   towards   their   pussy.   Already   imagining   the   wetness   he’d   find   there,   intent   on   bringing   out   much   more   of   it,   make   her   gush   around   his   fingers   as   he   slowly   fucks   her   with   them.