Drabble Challenge - Post #3
I finally had time to sit down and type up all of the handwritten drabbles that I had worked on during school. Yes...some of these are a little more adult than others have been. Let's not focus on the fact that I wrote these while in an elementary school.
I really tried to be creative with the prompts/requests, so I hope that you enjoy them. I'm really nervous about this batch for some reason...*holds breath*
Please comment. Comments are love :D
For the first batch of prompts, click here.
For the second batch of prompts, click here.
Fandoms include: The Hours, Harry Potter, Grey's Anatomy, The X Files, The Devil Wears Prada
Requests by: kitnkabootle , missmarge2005 , lakela , mrschimpf , dragonwine .
Title: Anchor
Prompt: sex
Fandom: Sally/Clarissa, The Hours
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: R
Word Count: 382
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This begged to be written from Sally's perspective. I hope you like it.
-
Sally presses a tentative kiss to Clarissa's throat, pausing, inhaling, waiting for permission. Has enough time passed? Is this too soon? Is it presumptuous to assume that Clarissa is ready for this? Clarissa turns her head slightly, the green light opening a floodgate for Sally. The relieved exhale releases the trembling of her own body in response to what she's been without for so long. So much time has passed that she's worried that she'll have forgotten the map of Clarissa's skin.
After all these years, Sally still takes her time, recommitting Clarissa to memory. She doesn't rush. She and Clarissa don't have that fumbling, rushed sex anymore; she likes it better this way. She likes it slow and likes to feel Clarissa's body unwind and relax, only to tighten in its impending release.
She yearns to kiss the sadness out of Clarissa's eyes, to anchor her in something tangible and real instead of the dizzy world of shadows that she's wandered through since Richard's death. She wants to remind her that there's so much more to live for. Not to live for Sally, but to live for herself. That was always her issue with Richard--modest as he acted, he expected the damn world to revolve around himself and expected Clarissa to blindly and willingly follow. Sally's never spoken out about it, knowing that had Clarissa been given a choice between Sally and Richard, Sally may not have ended up the victor. She's mostly okay with this; she isn't naïve enough to assume that a relationship can outweigh a friendship that's lasted at least twice as long.
She's pissed that she's thinking about Richard now and bites a little harder at Clarissa's collarbone. Clarissa cries out and asks for more. So this is what she wants: to experience physical feelings to the max, to drown in sensation. Sally can do this for her. She gives all she has, surprised by how quickly and eagerly her own body responds to the limbs twining around her own, to the noises she's heard for years, to the look on Clarissa's face that's no longer sad but looks overwhelmingly satisfied. She presses her tongue, fingers, body into every corner and fills the emptiness. She guides Clarissa from the shadows. She reminds Clarissa that she is alive.
---
Title: The Games We Play
Prompt: late night library perhaps? or lonely night at the burrow?
Fandom: Hermione/Ginny, Harry Potter
Requested by: missmarge2005
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 399
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This was way more difficult than I thought it would be, given that Hermione/Ginny are not my favorite HP pairing, but I hope you like it nevertheless.
-
Ginny watched as Madam Pince passed by and slipped the piece of parchment to Hermione when she was safely out of sight. Hermione looked up as she felt the paper crinkle beneath her elbow.
Ginny's note had been short and to the point. "Who would you rather snog: Ron or Harry?"
Hermione's scribbled "neither" was passed back quickly and her attention returned to her Ancient Runes paper.
Ginny frowned at the lack of response she'd been hoping for. "Okay, how about between Draco and Seamus?"
"Neither."
"Come on! I'm bored!"
"So study! That paper won't write itself, you know."
"I'll write it later."
"Talk to the boys then."
Ginny looked up at Harry and Ron, comparing notes on their Charms essays. "Yawn!"
"Why are you so concerned with who I'd prefer to snog?"
"It's just a game. It's fun."
"Oh is it? A pro, are you?"
"Well, I don't like to brag…"
Hermione rolled her eyes at this response. When her quill did not return to the parchment, Ginny wrote another question. "So - Snape or…Lucius Malfoy? You have to answer!"
"Fine. Snape then."
"Ooooooooh!"
"Shut it."
"How can I shut it when I'm not even talking?"
"Cute."
"I know. I'm downright adorable, aren't I? Now come on…your turn."
Hermione pursed her lips and tickled the feather of her quill on her cheek as she pondered an appropriate pairing. "Crabbe or Goyle?"
"You git!…Uh…Goyle, I guess. You asked for it though with that one! Professor McGonagall or Madam Hooch?"
Hermione's scribbled "McGonagall" was almost illegible.
"You didn't ask me back."
"Lavender or Pansy?"
"Ew - Pansy. No sloppy seconds from Ron for me, thanks! Cho or Parvati?"
"Parvati. Katie or Alicia?"
"Both! Okay, here's a super toughy -- reputations aside!!! -- Bellatrix LeStrange or Rita Skeeter?"
"I hate you, you know."
"Answer!"
"Rita, I suppose. Bellatrix is too vile. Rita is pretty enough despite being a twit."
"Yea, pretty in a foxy kind of way!"
"Gin, do you fancy girls?"
"What's it to you?"
"You started this game. You know…it's okay if you do. You can talk to me about anything."
"Then yea. I think I do. A bit."
"Have you ever, you know, been with one?"
"Not yet…"
"Why not?"
"It's sort of a new development. And I guess I'm waiting for the right one…" Ginny blushed and allowed her knee to brush against Hermione's beneath the table.
---
Title: Curses
Prompt: Scully gets injured and goes to SGH, jealous Mulder
Fandom: Dana Scully/Callie Torres, The X Files/Grey's Anatomy
Requested by: lakela
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 575
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This was NOT an easy pairing, but I hope I managed to give you want you asked for nonetheless!
-
Special Agent Dana Scully was not entirely surprised to find herself in the emergency room of Seattle Grace Hospital sporting a black eye and a dislocated shoulder.
"Out, Mulder," she glared, pointing with her uninjured arm towards the waiting area. "I can't be around you right now."
"C'mon, Scully. I said I was sorry."
Scully pinched the bridge of her nose and winced as she fingered the edge of the bruise. "Not. Now. Mulder."
"You might want to listen to her," came the voice of the doctor in the doorway. "You're gonna have one very unhappy wife in a minute here when I pop this bad boy back into place."
"Not my husband," Scully said through clenched teeth. "Partner. Work partner. FBI."
"Well jeez, Scully; you didn't have to make it sound like being married to me would be some kind of curse."
Scully raised an eyebrow and glared. "Right now, it would be. Now go."
Mulder frowned but left the exam room, hovering just outside. He looked back over his shoulder.
"What's with the puppy-eyed partner?" Dr. Torres asked, setting down a sling on the tray beside the bed.
"The injury is his fault, more or less. It's dislocated?"
"Yup," Dr. Torres replied.
"Is this where you distract me and relocate it when I'm least suspecting?"
Dr. Torres smiled, her eyes gleaming. "You've done this before?"
"Not exactly, but the knowledge comes with the medical degree."
"And what's a doctor doing in the FBI?"
Scully sighed. "Investigating paranormal phenomenon."
"Paranormal phenomenon, huh? So like UFOs and ghosts and stuff?"
"And stuff."
"Sounds pretty cool to me," Dr. Torres replied.
"Want to trade jobs for a while?"
"It's tempting," Dr. Torres said, quickly popping Scully's arm back into place. As the redhead shrieked in pain, Dr. Torres added, "but I love this way too much."
"I can see why," Scully winced sarcastically.
As Dr. Torres smiled sympathetically and fit the sling around Scully's shoulder, Mulder stuck his head back in the exam room.
"You okay, Scully?"
"No, Mulder. Go. Away."
"Are you--"
"Go!" Scully rolled her eyes and sighed. "Perp had been hiding behind a door. As luck would have it, I'm the one who was knocked down the stairs while Mulder apprehended him. Go figure."
"Ouch. Sounds like you need a little break," Dr. Torres said with a grin.
"And then some."
Dr. Torres avoided Mulder's gaze as she crossed the room and closed the door. "I don't usually do this," she said, pursing her full lips. "Fraternization and all, but we could get a cup of coffee or something when my shift ends? Give you a chance to vent to a complete stranger about the job?"
The last time Scully took a little break, she ended up with a tattoo and a near-death experience. She'd flirted with promiscuity, with impulse, with spontaneity. She was overdue for a break. She looked at Dr. Torres, the antithesis of her partner, and then glanced at the window, where Mulder stared at the exchange with a curious look on his face. "You're not exactly a stranger," she answered, forcing a smile.
Dr. Torres grinned as if she'd won the jackpot. Pulling the prescription pad from her jacket, she scribbled the necessary information for her painkillers, followed by a separate note with her cell phone number. She folded the scrap of paper and tucked it into Scully's hand.
Scully stared at Mulder. "It's a date," she said.
---
Title: Silver Linings
Prompt: strawberry wine, hair coloring, slip dress
Fandom: Izzie/Addison, Grey's Anatomy
Requested by: mrschimpf
Rating: R
Word Count: 466
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I twisted this prompt a little bit…I hope you don't mind!
-
Izzie had always counted herself as a glass half full kinda girl and was not about to let her big, bad tumor scare away her ability to find a silver lining to a situation. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, so whenever she found something about her situation that made her smile, she clung to it. One thing could be said for this tumor thing-- it did amazing things for her REM cycle. She'd go to bed every night and be completely blown by her dreams. It was king of awesome really; as long as Denny kept his distance, she was usually pretty happy with going to sleep.
Assuming she slept, anyway. Sometimes she didn't. Sometimes the fear of not waking up was too much to handle and she only rested when her body shut down as a result of pure exhaustion.
But the dreams--the dreams were definitely worth sleeping for. Most of the time she felt like she was on an acid trip or something. She'd never been on acid, but at least now she could say with a fair amount of certainty that she knew what it'd be like.
Her most recent dream (and her favorite by far) had been about Addison. She'd never tell Alex about it; he'd feel emasculated and get weird and Izzie did not need a weird boyfriend to deal with.
In the dream, Addison had been complaining about her hair and said she wanted to dye it blonde because they have more fun. Izzie had told her she was crazy and that she could experience just as much fun with a blonde. And Addison conceded and allowed Izzie to take away the bottle of hair dye, which somehow turned into a bottle of strawberry Arbor Mist. They swigged out of it together, dancing in OR 2 to something that sounded suspiciously like Preston Burke singing Barry White songs with Miranda Bailey as backup. In the middle of a dance, Addison had stopped and stripped out of her flimsy salmon-colored slip dress. She'd ended up all naked and bronzed and lean and leggy and when Izzie had woken up, she'd been a little miffed to find out it was only a dream.
Izzie liked these dreams, and not because she got to live out sexual fantasies with hot former co-workers.
They made her feel like her mind was still intact. This disease hadn't eaten away the best part of her. Her body felt like hell, but even with the hallucinations, she was still lucid and aware and imaginative. She was tired all the time and her body was ragged, but her mind was still strong.
She'd be okay as long as the dreams kept coming, as long as she was still Izzie in mind if not in body.
---
Title: Submission
Prompt: S&M club
Fandom: Miranda/Andy, The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: dragonwine
Rating: R
Word Count: 1250
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Um. Well…let's just pretend that this is a drabble and not…something else. I got a little carried away. This begged to be longer than the standard drabble length, and who am I to protest when the muse is begging for attention? I hope this is what you're looking for. And look -- I flirted with a little AU for you!
-
After being called a hermit and a spinster for the thousandth time, Andy finally submitted to being dragged along to a club with Doug. The red flags should have gone up immediately upon standing in line outside of a nondescript old building that required a password to get into, to say nothing for the leather-and-latex clad people in line around her.
As the door was bolted behind her, she immediately longed to be in the safety of her apartment with her sexist monikers. She could handle being a spinster.
She could not, however, handle what she had just walked into.
"Loosen up, Andy," Doug said before eyeing up a tall blonde at the edge of the dance floor. "Get a drink and have some fun."
"Right. Fun." Andy watched in horror as he left her side and headed for the dance floor. She considered following but was unable to move from the metal railing that overlooked the throng of gyrating bodies. Beneath the pulsating flashes of the strobe light hundreds of sweating, eager people moved in a manic fashion, searching for contact from friends and strangers.
She released the railing, not realizing she had been gripping it hard enough to cramp her fingers. She searched for the bar, frowning upon noticing that it was across the dance floor. She'd have to brave the dancers or brave sobriety and neither option seemed entirely appealing.
With a sigh of relief, she noticed that there was another staircase that would allow her to bypass most of the dancers. She headed for it, passing by a row of doors, most of which had glowing red lights lit above them. She nearly stumbled upon hearing a shrill scream behind the third door she passed.
Andy considered turning back. She told Doug that she'd go with him but never said she'd stay. He wasn't exactly forthright about where they were going. As a journalist she'd developed a keen eye for observation; this was not the average, run of the mill dance club. This was…a specialty club. When a pair of women wearing leather corsets passed by carrying paddles and riding crops, she gulped.
One of the women paused as they walked several paces ahead before finally turning to Andy. She gave her a once over, licking her dark lips. Under the dim lighting and the flashes of the nearby green strobe light, the woman's dark skin glistened. Her curly black hair bounced as she tilted her head to grin at Andy's obvious discomfort. Andy recognized this woman based on Doug's description; she was Lily, an employee of the club that he had recently befriended.
"Fresh meat," Lily preened, lifting Andy's chin with the leather paddle. "You looking for me?"
"Uh…um…no. I'm, uh, meant to be in there," Andy stammered, motioning to the closest door behind her.
Lily glanced at the door and to her friend. She backed up, nodding knowingly. "Guess I was wrong. Good luck, princess. You're gonna need it."
Before Andy could ask what she meant, the other woman, a fair-skinned redhead, opened the door for her and motioned for Andy to step inside.
Andy had no choice but to walk into the room. When the door closed behind her, she jumped.
The room was fairly empty save for a large cabinet against one of the brick walls and a large chair in the center of the room, upon which sat a woman. Andy couldn't be sure, but she thought there was a long table behind the chair.
Andy swallowed as she took in the sight of the woman sitting before her. She was older, at least in her forties or fifties, and had a shock of silver-white hair. Her eyes were dark as they studied her in turn, her lips pursed in a curious line. She was dressed head-to-toe in black leather. It may have been a cat suit but Andy wasn't sure; over the leather top and leather pants the woman wore a floor length jacket.
Andy didn't begin to shake until she caught the woman's choice of footwear. Where Andy's boots were thick-soled and round, this woman's were pointy and adorned with a thin, five-inch heel. She was surprised when her mouth began to water.
"Are you lost?" The woman's voice was low and firm. Andy jumped.
"Uh…I'm not…I don't know. My friend…"
The woman held up her hand. "You will address me as Mistress. I will not be pleased if you disobey this order. Is that understood?"
Andy stammered. "Uh, yes, Mistress."
"Come. Sit." The woman stood, motioning to her seat.
With unsteady feet Andy obeyed, sitting at the edge of the chair. She looked up at the woman.
"You don't have the faintest idea what you're doing here, do you?"
"No, Mistress."
The woman walked in a slow, steady circle around her, taking in every inch of Andy's body. "I think you will respond quite well to submission."
Andy's forehead scrunched tightly. "With all due respect, Mistress, I don't even know where I am. I don't know what kind of place this is and I certainly didn't come here of my own free will. I'm just biding time 'till the women out there disappear and till my friend is occupied enough not to realize I'm gone."
"A fiery one, aren't you?"
Andy frowned.
"Sit back," the woman instructed, coming to stand behind the chair. She placed her hands on Andy's shoulders and pulled her back until she was pressed completely against the chair. The woman's touch was surprisingly soft and Andy shivered uncontrollably when she ran her hand down the length of her arm. "I am very exclusive," the woman began, circling her once more. "I choose clients very selectively. The balance between pleasure and pain is not handled well by the average person. It takes a certain fire, a certain…dedication. A predisposition, if you will" She lifted Andy's chin with two fingers, leaning close to her.
Andy swallowed, staring into the older woman's crisp blue eyes.
"Yes. I will take you on."
Well, who the hell was this woman to assume that Andy was interested in being spanked and tied up or whatever they got up to here? "I'm sorry for the confusion, Mistress, but I really don't think this is for me."
In a quick flurry of movement, the woman had propped one foot on the chair between Andy's legs, leaning forward. Andy's hips jerked involuntarily. The woman smirked.
"You will return to me in five days. When you leave here, you will also leave behind any notion of what you are entering into. You will detach yourself from your history of awkward fumblings with incompatible sexual partners and you will open yourself up to experiencing what I can provide. Is that clear?"
Andy could do nothing but nod as she gripped the arms of the chair.
"I didn't hear you."
"Y-yes, Mistress."
The woman backed away with a satisfied grin. "That's all."
Andy knew a dismissal when she heard one and was not dumb enough to linger. She quickly swept past the woman and left the room, hurrying towards the front entrance. She didn't bother to cast a second glance for Doug.
When the glow of the moon and the cool, fresh air assaulted her senses, Andy allowed herself to issue a confused moan. She was not one to flirt with unconventional sexual practices but she found herself…intrigued. She could wait five days to see what this striking woman had to offer.
She would come back.
---
I really tried to be creative with the prompts/requests, so I hope that you enjoy them. I'm really nervous about this batch for some reason...*holds breath*
Please comment. Comments are love :D
For the first batch of prompts, click here.
For the second batch of prompts, click here.
Fandoms include: The Hours, Harry Potter, Grey's Anatomy, The X Files, The Devil Wears Prada
Requests by: kitnkabootle , missmarge2005 , lakela , mrschimpf , dragonwine .
Title: Anchor
Prompt: sex
Fandom: Sally/Clarissa, The Hours
Requested by: kitnkabootle
Rating: R
Word Count: 382
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This begged to be written from Sally's perspective. I hope you like it.
-
Sally presses a tentative kiss to Clarissa's throat, pausing, inhaling, waiting for permission. Has enough time passed? Is this too soon? Is it presumptuous to assume that Clarissa is ready for this? Clarissa turns her head slightly, the green light opening a floodgate for Sally. The relieved exhale releases the trembling of her own body in response to what she's been without for so long. So much time has passed that she's worried that she'll have forgotten the map of Clarissa's skin.
After all these years, Sally still takes her time, recommitting Clarissa to memory. She doesn't rush. She and Clarissa don't have that fumbling, rushed sex anymore; she likes it better this way. She likes it slow and likes to feel Clarissa's body unwind and relax, only to tighten in its impending release.
She yearns to kiss the sadness out of Clarissa's eyes, to anchor her in something tangible and real instead of the dizzy world of shadows that she's wandered through since Richard's death. She wants to remind her that there's so much more to live for. Not to live for Sally, but to live for herself. That was always her issue with Richard--modest as he acted, he expected the damn world to revolve around himself and expected Clarissa to blindly and willingly follow. Sally's never spoken out about it, knowing that had Clarissa been given a choice between Sally and Richard, Sally may not have ended up the victor. She's mostly okay with this; she isn't naïve enough to assume that a relationship can outweigh a friendship that's lasted at least twice as long.
She's pissed that she's thinking about Richard now and bites a little harder at Clarissa's collarbone. Clarissa cries out and asks for more. So this is what she wants: to experience physical feelings to the max, to drown in sensation. Sally can do this for her. She gives all she has, surprised by how quickly and eagerly her own body responds to the limbs twining around her own, to the noises she's heard for years, to the look on Clarissa's face that's no longer sad but looks overwhelmingly satisfied. She presses her tongue, fingers, body into every corner and fills the emptiness. She guides Clarissa from the shadows. She reminds Clarissa that she is alive.
---
Title: The Games We Play
Prompt: late night library perhaps? or lonely night at the burrow?
Fandom: Hermione/Ginny, Harry Potter
Requested by: missmarge2005
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 399
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This was way more difficult than I thought it would be, given that Hermione/Ginny are not my favorite HP pairing, but I hope you like it nevertheless.
-
Ginny watched as Madam Pince passed by and slipped the piece of parchment to Hermione when she was safely out of sight. Hermione looked up as she felt the paper crinkle beneath her elbow.
Ginny's note had been short and to the point. "Who would you rather snog: Ron or Harry?"
Hermione's scribbled "neither" was passed back quickly and her attention returned to her Ancient Runes paper.
Ginny frowned at the lack of response she'd been hoping for. "Okay, how about between Draco and Seamus?"
"Neither."
"Come on! I'm bored!"
"So study! That paper won't write itself, you know."
"I'll write it later."
"Talk to the boys then."
Ginny looked up at Harry and Ron, comparing notes on their Charms essays. "Yawn!"
"Why are you so concerned with who I'd prefer to snog?"
"It's just a game. It's fun."
"Oh is it? A pro, are you?"
"Well, I don't like to brag…"
Hermione rolled her eyes at this response. When her quill did not return to the parchment, Ginny wrote another question. "So - Snape or…Lucius Malfoy? You have to answer!"
"Fine. Snape then."
"Ooooooooh!"
"Shut it."
"How can I shut it when I'm not even talking?"
"Cute."
"I know. I'm downright adorable, aren't I? Now come on…your turn."
Hermione pursed her lips and tickled the feather of her quill on her cheek as she pondered an appropriate pairing. "Crabbe or Goyle?"
"You git!…Uh…Goyle, I guess. You asked for it though with that one! Professor McGonagall or Madam Hooch?"
Hermione's scribbled "McGonagall" was almost illegible.
"You didn't ask me back."
"Lavender or Pansy?"
"Ew - Pansy. No sloppy seconds from Ron for me, thanks! Cho or Parvati?"
"Parvati. Katie or Alicia?"
"Both! Okay, here's a super toughy -- reputations aside!!! -- Bellatrix LeStrange or Rita Skeeter?"
"I hate you, you know."
"Answer!"
"Rita, I suppose. Bellatrix is too vile. Rita is pretty enough despite being a twit."
"Yea, pretty in a foxy kind of way!"
"Gin, do you fancy girls?"
"What's it to you?"
"You started this game. You know…it's okay if you do. You can talk to me about anything."
"Then yea. I think I do. A bit."
"Have you ever, you know, been with one?"
"Not yet…"
"Why not?"
"It's sort of a new development. And I guess I'm waiting for the right one…" Ginny blushed and allowed her knee to brush against Hermione's beneath the table.
---
Title: Curses
Prompt: Scully gets injured and goes to SGH, jealous Mulder
Fandom: Dana Scully/Callie Torres, The X Files/Grey's Anatomy
Requested by: lakela
Rating: PG13
Word Count: 575
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: This was NOT an easy pairing, but I hope I managed to give you want you asked for nonetheless!
-
Special Agent Dana Scully was not entirely surprised to find herself in the emergency room of Seattle Grace Hospital sporting a black eye and a dislocated shoulder.
"Out, Mulder," she glared, pointing with her uninjured arm towards the waiting area. "I can't be around you right now."
"C'mon, Scully. I said I was sorry."
Scully pinched the bridge of her nose and winced as she fingered the edge of the bruise. "Not. Now. Mulder."
"You might want to listen to her," came the voice of the doctor in the doorway. "You're gonna have one very unhappy wife in a minute here when I pop this bad boy back into place."
"Not my husband," Scully said through clenched teeth. "Partner. Work partner. FBI."
"Well jeez, Scully; you didn't have to make it sound like being married to me would be some kind of curse."
Scully raised an eyebrow and glared. "Right now, it would be. Now go."
Mulder frowned but left the exam room, hovering just outside. He looked back over his shoulder.
"What's with the puppy-eyed partner?" Dr. Torres asked, setting down a sling on the tray beside the bed.
"The injury is his fault, more or less. It's dislocated?"
"Yup," Dr. Torres replied.
"Is this where you distract me and relocate it when I'm least suspecting?"
Dr. Torres smiled, her eyes gleaming. "You've done this before?"
"Not exactly, but the knowledge comes with the medical degree."
"And what's a doctor doing in the FBI?"
Scully sighed. "Investigating paranormal phenomenon."
"Paranormal phenomenon, huh? So like UFOs and ghosts and stuff?"
"And stuff."
"Sounds pretty cool to me," Dr. Torres replied.
"Want to trade jobs for a while?"
"It's tempting," Dr. Torres said, quickly popping Scully's arm back into place. As the redhead shrieked in pain, Dr. Torres added, "but I love this way too much."
"I can see why," Scully winced sarcastically.
As Dr. Torres smiled sympathetically and fit the sling around Scully's shoulder, Mulder stuck his head back in the exam room.
"You okay, Scully?"
"No, Mulder. Go. Away."
"Are you--"
"Go!" Scully rolled her eyes and sighed. "Perp had been hiding behind a door. As luck would have it, I'm the one who was knocked down the stairs while Mulder apprehended him. Go figure."
"Ouch. Sounds like you need a little break," Dr. Torres said with a grin.
"And then some."
Dr. Torres avoided Mulder's gaze as she crossed the room and closed the door. "I don't usually do this," she said, pursing her full lips. "Fraternization and all, but we could get a cup of coffee or something when my shift ends? Give you a chance to vent to a complete stranger about the job?"
The last time Scully took a little break, she ended up with a tattoo and a near-death experience. She'd flirted with promiscuity, with impulse, with spontaneity. She was overdue for a break. She looked at Dr. Torres, the antithesis of her partner, and then glanced at the window, where Mulder stared at the exchange with a curious look on his face. "You're not exactly a stranger," she answered, forcing a smile.
Dr. Torres grinned as if she'd won the jackpot. Pulling the prescription pad from her jacket, she scribbled the necessary information for her painkillers, followed by a separate note with her cell phone number. She folded the scrap of paper and tucked it into Scully's hand.
Scully stared at Mulder. "It's a date," she said.
---
Title: Silver Linings
Prompt: strawberry wine, hair coloring, slip dress
Fandom: Izzie/Addison, Grey's Anatomy
Requested by: mrschimpf
Rating: R
Word Count: 466
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: I twisted this prompt a little bit…I hope you don't mind!
-
Izzie had always counted herself as a glass half full kinda girl and was not about to let her big, bad tumor scare away her ability to find a silver lining to a situation. It wasn't the easiest thing to do, so whenever she found something about her situation that made her smile, she clung to it. One thing could be said for this tumor thing-- it did amazing things for her REM cycle. She'd go to bed every night and be completely blown by her dreams. It was king of awesome really; as long as Denny kept his distance, she was usually pretty happy with going to sleep.
Assuming she slept, anyway. Sometimes she didn't. Sometimes the fear of not waking up was too much to handle and she only rested when her body shut down as a result of pure exhaustion.
But the dreams--the dreams were definitely worth sleeping for. Most of the time she felt like she was on an acid trip or something. She'd never been on acid, but at least now she could say with a fair amount of certainty that she knew what it'd be like.
Her most recent dream (and her favorite by far) had been about Addison. She'd never tell Alex about it; he'd feel emasculated and get weird and Izzie did not need a weird boyfriend to deal with.
In the dream, Addison had been complaining about her hair and said she wanted to dye it blonde because they have more fun. Izzie had told her she was crazy and that she could experience just as much fun with a blonde. And Addison conceded and allowed Izzie to take away the bottle of hair dye, which somehow turned into a bottle of strawberry Arbor Mist. They swigged out of it together, dancing in OR 2 to something that sounded suspiciously like Preston Burke singing Barry White songs with Miranda Bailey as backup. In the middle of a dance, Addison had stopped and stripped out of her flimsy salmon-colored slip dress. She'd ended up all naked and bronzed and lean and leggy and when Izzie had woken up, she'd been a little miffed to find out it was only a dream.
Izzie liked these dreams, and not because she got to live out sexual fantasies with hot former co-workers.
They made her feel like her mind was still intact. This disease hadn't eaten away the best part of her. Her body felt like hell, but even with the hallucinations, she was still lucid and aware and imaginative. She was tired all the time and her body was ragged, but her mind was still strong.
She'd be okay as long as the dreams kept coming, as long as she was still Izzie in mind if not in body.
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Title: Submission
Prompt: S&M club
Fandom: Miranda/Andy, The Devil Wears Prada
Requested by: dragonwine
Rating: R
Word Count: 1250
Disclaimer: Not mine. Wish they were. Please don't sue.
Author's Note: Um. Well…let's just pretend that this is a drabble and not…something else. I got a little carried away. This begged to be longer than the standard drabble length, and who am I to protest when the muse is begging for attention? I hope this is what you're looking for. And look -- I flirted with a little AU for you!
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After being called a hermit and a spinster for the thousandth time, Andy finally submitted to being dragged along to a club with Doug. The red flags should have gone up immediately upon standing in line outside of a nondescript old building that required a password to get into, to say nothing for the leather-and-latex clad people in line around her.
As the door was bolted behind her, she immediately longed to be in the safety of her apartment with her sexist monikers. She could handle being a spinster.
She could not, however, handle what she had just walked into.
"Loosen up, Andy," Doug said before eyeing up a tall blonde at the edge of the dance floor. "Get a drink and have some fun."
"Right. Fun." Andy watched in horror as he left her side and headed for the dance floor. She considered following but was unable to move from the metal railing that overlooked the throng of gyrating bodies. Beneath the pulsating flashes of the strobe light hundreds of sweating, eager people moved in a manic fashion, searching for contact from friends and strangers.
She released the railing, not realizing she had been gripping it hard enough to cramp her fingers. She searched for the bar, frowning upon noticing that it was across the dance floor. She'd have to brave the dancers or brave sobriety and neither option seemed entirely appealing.
With a sigh of relief, she noticed that there was another staircase that would allow her to bypass most of the dancers. She headed for it, passing by a row of doors, most of which had glowing red lights lit above them. She nearly stumbled upon hearing a shrill scream behind the third door she passed.
Andy considered turning back. She told Doug that she'd go with him but never said she'd stay. He wasn't exactly forthright about where they were going. As a journalist she'd developed a keen eye for observation; this was not the average, run of the mill dance club. This was…a specialty club. When a pair of women wearing leather corsets passed by carrying paddles and riding crops, she gulped.
One of the women paused as they walked several paces ahead before finally turning to Andy. She gave her a once over, licking her dark lips. Under the dim lighting and the flashes of the nearby green strobe light, the woman's dark skin glistened. Her curly black hair bounced as she tilted her head to grin at Andy's obvious discomfort. Andy recognized this woman based on Doug's description; she was Lily, an employee of the club that he had recently befriended.
"Fresh meat," Lily preened, lifting Andy's chin with the leather paddle. "You looking for me?"
"Uh…um…no. I'm, uh, meant to be in there," Andy stammered, motioning to the closest door behind her.
Lily glanced at the door and to her friend. She backed up, nodding knowingly. "Guess I was wrong. Good luck, princess. You're gonna need it."
Before Andy could ask what she meant, the other woman, a fair-skinned redhead, opened the door for her and motioned for Andy to step inside.
Andy had no choice but to walk into the room. When the door closed behind her, she jumped.
The room was fairly empty save for a large cabinet against one of the brick walls and a large chair in the center of the room, upon which sat a woman. Andy couldn't be sure, but she thought there was a long table behind the chair.
Andy swallowed as she took in the sight of the woman sitting before her. She was older, at least in her forties or fifties, and had a shock of silver-white hair. Her eyes were dark as they studied her in turn, her lips pursed in a curious line. She was dressed head-to-toe in black leather. It may have been a cat suit but Andy wasn't sure; over the leather top and leather pants the woman wore a floor length jacket.
Andy didn't begin to shake until she caught the woman's choice of footwear. Where Andy's boots were thick-soled and round, this woman's were pointy and adorned with a thin, five-inch heel. She was surprised when her mouth began to water.
"Are you lost?" The woman's voice was low and firm. Andy jumped.
"Uh…I'm not…I don't know. My friend…"
The woman held up her hand. "You will address me as Mistress. I will not be pleased if you disobey this order. Is that understood?"
Andy stammered. "Uh, yes, Mistress."
"Come. Sit." The woman stood, motioning to her seat.
With unsteady feet Andy obeyed, sitting at the edge of the chair. She looked up at the woman.
"You don't have the faintest idea what you're doing here, do you?"
"No, Mistress."
The woman walked in a slow, steady circle around her, taking in every inch of Andy's body. "I think you will respond quite well to submission."
Andy's forehead scrunched tightly. "With all due respect, Mistress, I don't even know where I am. I don't know what kind of place this is and I certainly didn't come here of my own free will. I'm just biding time 'till the women out there disappear and till my friend is occupied enough not to realize I'm gone."
"A fiery one, aren't you?"
Andy frowned.
"Sit back," the woman instructed, coming to stand behind the chair. She placed her hands on Andy's shoulders and pulled her back until she was pressed completely against the chair. The woman's touch was surprisingly soft and Andy shivered uncontrollably when she ran her hand down the length of her arm. "I am very exclusive," the woman began, circling her once more. "I choose clients very selectively. The balance between pleasure and pain is not handled well by the average person. It takes a certain fire, a certain…dedication. A predisposition, if you will" She lifted Andy's chin with two fingers, leaning close to her.
Andy swallowed, staring into the older woman's crisp blue eyes.
"Yes. I will take you on."
Well, who the hell was this woman to assume that Andy was interested in being spanked and tied up or whatever they got up to here? "I'm sorry for the confusion, Mistress, but I really don't think this is for me."
In a quick flurry of movement, the woman had propped one foot on the chair between Andy's legs, leaning forward. Andy's hips jerked involuntarily. The woman smirked.
"You will return to me in five days. When you leave here, you will also leave behind any notion of what you are entering into. You will detach yourself from your history of awkward fumblings with incompatible sexual partners and you will open yourself up to experiencing what I can provide. Is that clear?"
Andy could do nothing but nod as she gripped the arms of the chair.
"I didn't hear you."
"Y-yes, Mistress."
The woman backed away with a satisfied grin. "That's all."
Andy knew a dismissal when she heard one and was not dumb enough to linger. She quickly swept past the woman and left the room, hurrying towards the front entrance. She didn't bother to cast a second glance for Doug.
When the glow of the moon and the cool, fresh air assaulted her senses, Andy allowed herself to issue a confused moan. She was not one to flirt with unconventional sexual practices but she found herself…intrigued. She could wait five days to see what this striking woman had to offer.
She would come back.
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