Drabbletag - Sleep
Title: Snuggle
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Sleep
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Emma/Mary Margaret
Rating: G
Word count: 220
Notes: Set during Season One, incest
Emma’s never been much of a cuddler, to be honest. She likes her own space, her own side of the bed, and God help anyone who tries to hog her pillow.
But with Mary Margaret, it’s different.
She feels relaxed with Mary Margaret, safe, and she never feels herself bristle or pull away when Mary Margaret pushes up against those fiercely guarded barriers.
Which is why she doesn’t mind waking up like this, curled together, her head on Mary Margaret’s chest and their legs tangled. During the night her hand has formed a fist in the fabric of Mary Margaret’s vest, and Mary Margaret’s fingers are in Emma’s hair.
With anyone else, Emma would instantly be tense, annoyed to be smothered so early. But with Mary Margaret she’s content to lie there, to listen to the rhythmic sound of Mary Margaret’s breathing, to feel the rise and fall of her chest.
The first rays of weak sunlight are creeping around the edge of the blinds and Mary Margaret’s skin has that sleepy-warm scent that Emma’s grown to find comforting.
She’s needed at the station and Mary Margaret will have to get up soon or she’ll be late for school. But for now Emma closes her eyes again, a smile on her lips, listening to the beat of Mary Margaret’s heart.
Prompt: Drabbletag 5 - Sleep
Fandom: Once Upon A Time
Pairing: Emma/Mary Margaret
Rating: G
Word count: 220
Notes: Set during Season One, incest
Emma’s never been much of a cuddler, to be honest. She likes her own space, her own side of the bed, and God help anyone who tries to hog her pillow.
But with Mary Margaret, it’s different.
She feels relaxed with Mary Margaret, safe, and she never feels herself bristle or pull away when Mary Margaret pushes up against those fiercely guarded barriers.
Which is why she doesn’t mind waking up like this, curled together, her head on Mary Margaret’s chest and their legs tangled. During the night her hand has formed a fist in the fabric of Mary Margaret’s vest, and Mary Margaret’s fingers are in Emma’s hair.
With anyone else, Emma would instantly be tense, annoyed to be smothered so early. But with Mary Margaret she’s content to lie there, to listen to the rhythmic sound of Mary Margaret’s breathing, to feel the rise and fall of her chest.
The first rays of weak sunlight are creeping around the edge of the blinds and Mary Margaret’s skin has that sleepy-warm scent that Emma’s grown to find comforting.
She’s needed at the station and Mary Margaret will have to get up soon or she’ll be late for school. But for now Emma closes her eyes again, a smile on her lips, listening to the beat of Mary Margaret’s heart.