#quadruple drabble
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Every Saturday night for the past few months has been Steve’s date night with a random assortment of girls.
And every Sunday morning, Eddie goes to Family Video to hear about how it went, trying so hard not to feel like a bad friend when he finds out that it hadn’t worked out.
The few times when Steve told him there would be a second date felt like a crushing blow, but then the next Sunday would come around and he’d listen to Steve lament about never finding “the one”.
So he’s surprised to come home on Saturday to find Steve sitting on the front stoop of his trailer.
“Hey,” he says, confusion in his voice. “What are you doing here? Thought you had a date.”
Steve stands up and lets Eddie unlock the door before following him inside.
“I canceled my date,” Steve says and when Eddie looks at him, there’s an expression on his face that Eddie's never seen before.
“You canceled? Did something happen?” he asks, running through a list of scenarios that would cause Steve to cancel a date and not liking any of them. Was someone hurt? Was it Upside Down related?
The sudden anxiety must show on his face because Steve steps forward and says, “Nothing bad. I just—I realized something.”
“You—?” Eddie cuts himself off with a quiet gasp when Steve steps even closer, the tips of their shoes touching.
“I realized I wasn't excited to be going on a date. That the part I was most excited about was seeing you in the morning to tell you about it.”
His hand comes up to cup Eddie's face and Eddie leans into it, his heart racing, thudding so loud he can hear it in his ears.
“I—I think I’d much rather be going on a date with you than anyone else,” Steve says, his voice hesitant.
“I’d much rather you go on a date with me than anyone else too,” Eddie says, finding his voice again.
Steve smiles and it lights up the entire fucking room like sunlight peeking in from the window, spreading warmth all over Eddie’s body. “Yeah?” he asks, like he can't believe that Eddie feels that way, like that’s the surprise here.
“Yeah,” he whispers, his eyes drawn down when Steve licks his lips.
“Can I kiss you?” Steve asks, and Eddie is helpless to say anything but yes.
#stwgdailyprompt#stranger things#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#drabble#quadruple drabble#because i could not edit this down any further#janai.doc#prompt: date night
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400 words on a’yuan’s first time cursing in front of his dad
.🤬.
Lan Yuan freezes. He feels the hair on his arms prickle, rising on end. He’s standing on one foot, holding the smallest toe of his other tightly in his fist. It hurts. Even with his whole body frozen stiff, it hurts. A sharp throb that had ricocheted up to his knee and back down to his toenail, but had somehow come out through his mouth.
He turns slowly, his own words ringing loudly in his ears.
Hanguang Jun looks similarly frozen in place. Shocked still like the rabbits in the meadow when Jingyi forgets not to shout.
“Where did you learn that phrase, A’Yuan?” he asks, voice low and gentle.
Lan Yuan looks down at the leg of the table. It appears entirely unconcerned with the drama it has caused. Not even a scuff mark for his trouble.
He looks back up to the man he privately considers to be his father. The man who has been with him for the past four years. The man he’d do anything not to disappoint.
Hanguang Jun doesn’t look mad, though Lan Yuan gets the feeling that anger might just slide off his face, unable to stick, like ink on waxed paper.
“I don’t know,” Lan Yuan answers honestly. In his mind the cadence is rough like untilled soil and the words are the color of fresh cinnabar. But he doesn’t know why. There isn’t a memory to call up so much as an emotion, an instinctual vocal response to pain. “I think I heard it somewhere.”
It’s unlikely he heard the phrase in the Cloud Recesses. Profanity is forbidden. But it doesn’t sound like it would fit into the tongue-tripping Gusu dialect he hears on their day trips down to the Caiyi markets either.
Hanguang Jun still hasn’t moved. His posture is rigid and strange. His eyes are aimed toward Lan Yuan, but they’re not looking at him. Not seeing him. Hazy and far away and… wet?
A small smile lifts the corner of Hanguang Jun’s mouth. He hums.
Then his eyes seem to focus back on Lan Yuan. He says, soft but stern, “Profanity is forbidden. You will copy Conduct.”
Lan Yuan drops his foot to the floor, the pain already forgotten, and bows his apology.
When he rises, the smile is still there.
Then Hanguang Jun adds, “On your hands,” and Lan Yuan fights not to say the phrase again.
#i didn’t have to research anything for this one!#i did for the next one though…. :)#4x drabble#quadruple drabble#i cannot write 100 words apparently#wife prompt no. 2#my writing#lan yuan#lan sizhui#lan wangji#wangxian fam#that feel when you accidentally curse in front of your father figure and he gets weirdly nostalgic about it#you all know the one
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Batkid Drabble - "Competition"
((Reverse Robins AU. Ages: Dick - 8, Jason - 14, Steph - 17, Damian - 23))
“Alfred gave me cookies to...deliver…” Steph trailed off as she took in the scene before her. Damian was cross-legged on the floor, idly sketching, his face doing the aggressively neutral thing that usually meant he was hiding something. In contrast, Dick and Jason, on the other side of the coffee table, were both making grotesque expressions back at him, complete with using their hands and fingers to squish and pull at their features for added effect.
“My mom always said if you make faces like that they’ll get stuck,” Steph said.
“Is that what happened to you?” Damian asked, raising an eyebrow but otherwise maintaining his carefully blank look.
“Just for that.” Steph set the plate of cookies down between the younger boys, not quite out of reach for Damian and his stupid tall-person reach but just far enough to be inconvenient, and dropped down next to Jason. “So what’s up with the monster faces?”
“It’s a laugh competition,” Dick said, grabbing a cookie.
“We’re seeing who can get Damian to crack and laugh first,” Jason elaborated just a little bit defensively. Steph nodded as if this was a perfectly sensible use of their time. (Which, as far as she was concerned, it absolutely was.)
“Can I join?” she asked.
Damian’s “no” was thoroughly drowned out by Dick’s enthusiastic “yes!” (and Jason’s slightly quieter “yeah, sure”).
“He’s really good, though,” Dick warned.
“We’ll see.” Steph cracked her knuckles and grinned sharply at Damian, who met her gaze for a solid couple of seconds before pointedly redirecting his attention back to his sketching.
Predictably but frustratingly, Dick was right. Their combined efforts managed a couple of tiny twitches of expression, but nothing close to a real smile, much less an actual laugh.
“Okay, fine,” Steph finally conceded, shoving a cookie into her mouth. “You’re the poker face master and we all know it.”
Damian allowed himself a smug little smirk in response, but it faded quickly at the calculating look in Steph’s eyes.
“But I know something else,” she continued, grinning.
Damian narrowed his eyes at her.
“Did you guys know,” she asked in a slow drawl, “that Damian,” he sat up straighter and opened his mouth to interrupt, “is ticklish?” she finished triumphantly.
Damian’s vehement protests to the contrary fell upon deaf ears.
(The bruise Steph got from a wayward kick in the resulting tussle was totally worth it.)
((Cross-posted to AO3))
#Dick and Jason are both menaces in their own right but Steph is Queen Menace#Damian is a troll though so it works out#reverse robins#dick grayson#stephanie brown#jason todd#damian wayne#batfam#ceph writes things#quadruple drabble
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What You're Willing To Overlook 3
Chapter 3: Spring Cleaning
Fandom: The Closer/ Major Crimes (Brenda/Sharon)
400 words, T
Read all chapters here
---
Brenda was elbow deep in dishes when her phone rang. “Can you get that? It’s in my purse,” she called over her shoulder.
If she was honest with herself, Sharon had been dreading this moment: the moment when she’d have to look inside Brenda’s purse. She could only imagine what she might find lurking in its depths. Hopefully nothing alive… or previously alive.
She was relieved to find the phone sitting right at the top. “It’s your mother!” Sharon called back to the kitchen.
"I’ll call her back,” Brenda replied with an audible eyeroll.
Now that Sharon had looked in the purse, she just couldn’t look away.
Brenda’s phone and badge sat at the top of the pile and Sharon picked them up gingerly and set them on the table.
Next, she pulled out a wad of papers, receipts mostly, which she smoothed out and sorted into piles.
Empty candy wrappers went straight into the trash, and half empty ones went into another pile to be dealt with later. Loose sticks of gum, crumpled dollar bills, various tubes of lipstick and hair ties all went into their own piles as well.
Keyless entry and the fact that Brenda rarely drove herself anywhere meant that her keys were at the very bottom, tangled with a charging cord and a broken set of headphones. She sat down to untangle the nest of wires and that’s where Brenda found her when she emerged from the kitchen.
“Havin’ fun?” Brenda asked, startling Sharon into dropping the cords.
“I couldn’t help myself,” Sharon shrugged unapologetically.
Brenda leaned over Sharon’s shoulder and murmured into her ear, “You know it’s just gonna be a mess again by the end of the week, right?”
“I know,” Sharon sighed and turned to kiss Brenda softly. “I’ll just have to do this again next week.”
Brenda smiled against her lips, teasing, “And the week after that?”
“Mmhmm, and the one after that…” Sharon hummed through another kiss.
“Finish tomorrow,” Brenda commanded. She began walking toward the bedroom, pulling her sweater off as she went and discarding it on the floor. “That can wait til tomorrow too… Captain,” she ordered seductively, indicating the sweater with a wink as she disappeared through the bedroom door.
Sharon eagerly rose to follow, abandoning her piles and deftly stepping over Brenda’s sweater as she went. “Yes, Chief,” she purred, pulling the door closed behind her.
#fluffspring2024#the closer#major crimes#brenda.sharon#brenda leigh johnson#sharon raydor#femslash#quadruple drabble#flarch#fluff#i wrote this#fanfic#ao3 link#spring cleaning
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In All Seasons, or None
“Do you miss Vulcan?”
Jim and Spock are sitting at the end of a small wooden dock, bare feet dangling just above the lapping water. It’s unusual, this time away from the Enterprise; this time is exceptional for the small fact that Jim convinced Spock to leave his work on the ship. He doesn’t even have a PADD with him.
There’s a nearly imperceptible movement from Spock, one Jim recognizes as Spock’s version of a shrug. “It is merely a place,” Spock says evenly.
The noise Jim makes is perilously close to a snort. “It’s your home, Spock. It’s not just a place. It’s experiences, memories, people.”
“I sometimes miss my mother,” Spock concedes. He stares out across the water, fingers reflexively seeking out Jim’s hand for brief contact. “My relationship with Sarek is…”
“Complicated,” Jim says, bumping their shoulders together.
“And you, ashayam?”
“I don’t miss Vulcan much at all,” Jim quips; this startles a rare, true smile from Spock. He leans into Spock again, relishing even the brief contact. “When we’re on the ship I don’t miss Earth. Not often, anyway. It’s days like this that remind me what it was like to have solid ground under my feet, day in and day out.” He leans back onto his hands to look at the cloudless, bright blue sky. “That makes it sound—” A strangled sound escapes his lips. “I loved Iowa, especially in spring. Cold melting away to reveal tiny green shoots of grass, spring flowers pushing up through the snow, the buds on the trees so bright it hurt my eyes. Summer was warm and full of fresh air and getting into trouble, but the coming of spring was always my favorite.”
“You miss the changing seasons,” Spock says.
“Yes.” He closes his eyes, remembering the reds and golds of autumn, the greens of spring, the bright blue of summer. He doesn’t dwell on the soft white of winter—he’s never liked the cold—but he does have fond childhood memories of stomping across a field of freshly fallen snow to leave his mark on an untouched world. It was partly that joy that morphed into wanting to step on strange new worlds, to place his feet where no human had been before.
“The Enterprise is my home,” Jim says. “You are my home.”
“And you are mine—in all seasons, and in the dark of space.”
**
31 days of ficmas, day 14 - season
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Fandom: tmnt 1987
Note: Set during Splinter Vanishes.
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Raphael curls up in the back of his van, a blanket pulled over his shell. All he’s eaten today is stolen birthday cake and his stomach is both achingly empty and roiling with too much sugar. If he was at home Leonardo or Michelangelo would feed him soup and they’d watch a movie together. But home is gone and the future stretches out before him containing nothing more than himself, struggling to get by. It’s not fair, he understands the others want to obey Master Splinter, but they could have left him with a choice. Instead they’ve just left him.
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Michelangelo is a great cook! He might doubt what skills he brings to a battle but no one can keep his compadres happy and full of pizza like he can. Turns out it’s a bit harder with humans, and he really doesn’t understand why they don’t think peanut butter goes with pickle. Still, when the pizza restaurants wouldn’t hire him, he kept his head up. He’s watched enough cooking shows to know how they go, so why not go to the top? A tubuloso idea that has got him four whole jobs so far! So things are going just great!
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What does it mean to be a ninja master if people only trust you to teach aerobics? For all the enthusiasm about the ninja turtles no one is eager to sign up for a class taught by one. Is Leonardo a ninja master? Maybe “you have learned all I can teach you” just means “you’re as good as you’re going to get”. Ninja turtles might just be the joke they sound like, they’re not good at ninjutsu but it’s remarkable they can do it at all. They defeated Shredder though, didn’t they? When it was all four of them together.
-
No one except Donatello asked “why?”. Theirs not to reason why was how Leonardo and Michelangelo saw it, of course, while Raphael only cared about reasons if they were reasons to stay together. Donatello would have liked more information before deciding. Master Splinter had every right to leave, if he chose, but if he wanted them to leave each other he could have let them ask some questions. Done more than just left a video tape. Donatello picks up the latest repair job. At least when someone’s VCR isn’t working he can take it apart until he knows the reason.
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Kagome’s time between worlds. Drabble collection for @inukag-week 2023 ☆
Chapter 4/7 – Modern: Kagome asks a question she doesn't like the answer to.
Tags: Implied/Referenced Character Death / Pandora's Book
Word Count: 400 (Quadruple Drabble)
《 Previous〡Next 》
Ironically, as subjects go, Kagome hated history the most.
That fact pummelled her with each inhale, the must of the room she’d weaselled her way into erring on the side of overwhelming. The pages under her fingers crinkled as she skimmed the tired, weathered ledger, and she feigned interest in whatever tale the overeager assistant spun.
Questions she’d never dared to articulate clawed and pawed at her until, in a haze of paperwork and lying through her teeth about an interest in Japanese history, Kagome wound up where she figured out too late she didn’t want to be – rummaging through archives from a time long ago, looking for breadcrumbs of people she once knew.
She gasped and slammed the book shut upon finding what she thought to be Sango’s name.
“Miss?”
Her heart sped. People weren’t immortal.
“Miss?”
Her head pounded. Men weren’t immortal.
“Is something wrong?”
Her head snapped towards the man vying for her attention, and his smile wavered as he asked, “Is everything alright?”
She could say she made a mistake, coming here. That their history was so watered down, it was almost laughable. That, as crazy as it sounded, she’d known the people whose names had faded into illegibility. That every preciously useless preservation was thanks to a man whose heritage had been entirely erased, who’d wielded magic and a sword as long as his body, who’d thrown himself into the ether to drag her back into the world and make sure she’d live to see it. That it pissed her off that their legacy had turned to dust, and though she loved her friends here they never shut up, and she missed them and that comfortable silence that she’d wished she cherished more in the moment.
She exhaled.
She’d learned to be careful what she wished for.
Wary eyes followed the book she’d mistreated as she slid it towards him; she was used to people thinking her strange, though an ugly, impish part of her wanted to rip the pages from their spine and throw them in his stupid, helpful face. But he didn’t deserve to weather her storm; few understood her otherworldly insights, and they weren’t the poor man standing in front of her, whose polite façade crumbled the longer she held his stare.
“Yes.” She hesitated, forcing a smile onto her face. “I found exactly what I was looking for. Thank you.”
Fin
Read it on AO3 ▶
#Limerence#kagome#kagome higurashi#inukag week 2023#inukag week#inuyasha#inuyasha fanfiction#inuyasha x kagome#quadruple drabble#anisaanisaff
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Beach Weather (05.04.2024)
Quadruple drabble (400 words, probably not a thing but I'm saying it is). Beach themed. Henry is thirsty and Alex has a Baywatch moment.
Also here on AO3.
...
Alex likes to sit at the end of the dock and dangle his legs, propping himself up with his arms, shoulders braced behind him.
When he sprawls on his back on the swimming platform, he lets the sun bake into him until he shines with sweat, then stretches his whole body taut before diving into the lake.
He doesn't climb the ladder to the dock. Instead, he walks through the shallows to shore, water dripping in rivulets down his limbs, swimming shorts clinging and riding up his thighs by the time he reaches Henry's lounger.
Henry tips his head back, watching.
Alex squints against the sun, damp and sandy, golden brown and glorious. As he pushes his hair back, droplets wind down his neck and shoulders to catch and glisten in the hair on his chest.
“Are you really sure you like it better up here than on the dock?”
“Unfortunately, I'll burn if I stay out there for long.”
There hadn't always been a giant beach umbrella at the lake house, but there is now. Henry has a favorite spot and the umbrella is always next to it, along with a paperback, sunscreen, and an extra towel.
His lounger has the best view.
“Shame you can't enjoy the sun without going all lobster mode.”
“You know I like it anyway.”
“As long as you're not lonely. Hey – come out and swim a little with me in a while?” Alex winks. “We'll stay mostly underwater. You’ll be safe and sound.”
“It's a deal.”
Alex leans down to smack a wet kiss to Henry's forehead and then another to his shoulder, dripping all over him in the process and making him shiver and laugh.
“Later, babe.”
When Alex turns, he's close enough that Henry can spot the mark.
It's on the back of Alex’s right thigh, high up, barely exposed by his shorts. Henry had made that one first last night, with his teeth. Next, he'd made another one on his left cheek.
It had been during the second that Alex had started pleading, writhing and begging for him. His hands had covered Alex's on the sheets when he had slid back up and ground against the space between his thighs from behind, singing the praises of his body into his ear.
Henry shivers again and sets down his book.
He loves the view from up here, but Alex is waiting.
#faketrex writes#faketrex#quadruple drabble#fandom: intro to international relations#rwrb fanfic#rwrb fic#firstprince
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Wintering
Hawkeye writes Trapper letters. The letters are different from the ones he writes to his father. He writes to his father so that he can remember where he comes from. He writes to Trapper so that he doesn’t forget where he’s going. He tells his father about all the things he’s doing, and he expects his father to read between the lines. He tells Trapper about all the things he’s feeling—and he expects Trapper to read between the lines.
Hawkeye writes to his father every week. He only writes to Trapper when he’s sure he’s losing his mind.
Hawkeye’s father writes back, so that the distance between Korea and Maine doesn’t feel insurmountable.
Trapper never actually writes Hawkeye, and so, the distance between the 4077th and Boston seems to stretch across two lifetimes.
Except—
Hawkeye doesn’t really need any letters from Trapper. He doesn’t hunger to know things about Trapper’s life the way he yearns for news from Crabapple Cove. And anyway, all of the things that Trapper sends in place of words are enough.
(Brown paper parcels, tied up with string.)
These are just a few of Hawkeye’s favorite things:
October: There’s last month’s issue of Modern Sunbathing (the one magazine Hawkeye doesn’t have a subscription to) with ink-smudged handwriting scrawled across the cover: “PAGE 21”.
(It’s dog eared, too.)
November: A brand new pair of long johns arrives folded under a hastily scribbled note: “Don’t lose these in a poker game, moron.”
(Hawkeye keeps them for a few weeks but ends up giving them to the kid he just patched up and sent off to Seoul.)
December brings a hideous pair of red and green argyle moccasins wrapped in gold tissue paper. The message reads: “So the new guy doesn’t have to suffer your cold feet the way I did.”
(Hawkeye’s chest aches for a day and a night after that one.)
And then, the next week brings a tin of homemade Christmas cookies. No card. Just a small photo of Kathy and Becky opening up their presents under a brightly lit tree.
Hawkeye smiles and pins the photo up next to his bunk.
BJ doesn’t ask any questions when Hawkeye sits down and writes Trapper a letter the next night.
Thanks for the cookies. Happy New Year. I miss you. Please don’t write.
And in January, a box of cigars and a ridiculous blue ascot arrive.
#piercintyre#quadruple drabble#hawkeye x trapper#mash#luredin fic#hawkeye pierce#trapper john mcintyre#fluff and angst#holiday fic#sort of?#mash 4077#m*a*s*h
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Kiss meme #2 — Erejean
Angry kiss
--
In one swift motion, Jean manages to snatch the ball from Eren’s grubby hands and make off with the prize as his opponent shouts abuses behind him, but he carries on with a poignant grin and ascends into the air like his life depends on it.
Good for his team, too. Eren almost made off with the ball all alone and would’ve earned his team a point had it not been for Jean’s swift intervention thanks to his excellent 3DMG skills. He’s quickly turning out to be his team’s most valuable player, and surely, that will rack him in a nice score on his final evaluation.
Where are his teammates, anyway? Are they off after the ball he saw Armin sneakily make off with while the rest was fighting over the other three?
Ah, whatever. Jean knows he is faster than anyone else in the 104th. When he makes his next goal, it will mark their decisive win.
A sudden movement in the corner of his eyes startles him and Eren’s ambush fails when he screams during his flank. Jean manages to turn just in time for Eren to slam into him frontally, their skulls banging against each other before they both lose control over their handles and crash to the ground with the loud clang of their gear.
As if being entangled in Eren’s lines with a bloody nose and a bruised ass isn’t bad enough, like a rat, Connie swoops in and gloats as he picks up the ball before he makes off with it while the pair remain helplessly stuck in each other’s lines.
“Hey, you asshole, what the hell was that?” Jean shouts, using his sleeve to wipe off his mouth that definitely slammed into Eren’s as they collided.
“You’re the one who fucked up his coordination!” Eren yells back. He spits in the grass several times and sticks out his tongue in disgust, struggling against Jean and only entangling their lines more.
“Oi, what’s wrong with you?”
“What’s wrong with me? What’s wrong with you!?”
He shoves Jean against the face hard, a gesture Jean happily retaliates against with a tight grip on Eren’s collar and a punch to his face.
The two devolve into a fistfight, their four-party game long forgotten, and from somewhere high above, Shadis watches and shakes his head disapprovingly as he detracts points from both boys’ performance in his notes.
#Eren Jaeger#Eren Yeager#Jean Kirstein#Jean Kirschtein#erejean#jeanere#jeaneren#SnK#Shingeki no Kyojin#AoT#Attack on Titan#elidian tidbits#writing by me#quadruple drabble#ship#spoilerless#safe
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Natural
Louise isn’t sure if she should be annoyed or impressed. She decides: annoyed. It isn’t fair!
“You can stop now,” She grumbles as Logan continues to perfectly toss ping pong balls into plastic cups, despite being several drinks in. He holds his booze fairly well, but this is ridiculous. Louise hasn’t drunk nearly as much and she’s still losing!
“Hey, you invited me!” He says and chugs the next cup. His team cheers and Louise scowls harder. She didn’t invite him to beat her at her own game! She’d invited him to show off her hot, successful boyfriend. Louise is competitive AF and she considers Logan a win.
Except now he’s showing her up and she has less cred to lose these days. Her thesis is taking forever, she hasn’t been home in weeks–Mom is driving her nuts with the guilt trips–and now! Now her hot, successful boyfriend is beating her at beer pong, her favorite party game.
Logan finally notices the dangerous glint in her eye. He steps away from the table and fakes a stumble. Louise knows him well enough to recognize the slight tilt to maintain balance while feigning a fall. She loves him all the more for it, even as she rolls her eyes.
“Sorry, guys. That last one hit me pretty hard. Imma head out.” Logan strolls towards Louise as both teams express various levels of disappointment. “Besides, I’m here with the hottest chick in the house, so what am I doing wasting time with beer pong?”
Louise accepts the apology (such that it is) and grabs Logan’s hand to go. “Come on, Hot Shot. let’s get you home. You reek of Jaeger. Why do you drink that shit, anyway?”
Logan pulls her into a side hug, which leaves many of the other partiers cooing. Louise endures it for all of ten seconds. She pulls away but doesn’t drop Logan’s hand.
“Because it makes you feel bad for me when I’m hungover the next day. It’s a ploy, Babe.”
Louise smirks and pulls Logan towards the front door without answering. She’s going to shove this loser into a rideshare, drag his ass into their apartment, and then into bed. She’ll crawl in with him and let the Jaeger fumes waft over her as she sleeps off her own bad decisions.
Tomorrow they’re going to play something other than beer pong. They’ll both win.
#Louiganweek22#Louiganfic#Louiganagedup#Bob's Burgers#BB#Louise Belcher#Logan Bush#Logan Barry Bush#louigan#Notes by Nikki#fanfic#fan fic#fanfiction#fan fiction#my work#my art#my artwork#my writing#my prose#quadruple drabble#drabble
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another 400 word “drabble” on new information
.👀.
He knew. He’d known. He’s very good at his job -- gathering gossip and keeping the Jianghu rumor mills grinding and in check. Moreover, he’s not blind, and Da-ge has all the subtlety of a bear yaoguai crashing through an autumn-dry forest. So of course Nie Huaisang had been aware, in the abstract way of gleaned knowledge, that Da-ge and Lan Xichen were more than “close friends,” “strengthening sect ties” with frequent visits and joint nighthunts.
But, while Nie Huaisang would call himself a connoisseur of erotic works, written and illustrated, he had never -- never -- wanted to see his own brother sweaty and flushed and pounding away into their “closest ally.”
Nie Huaisang slams the door shut, more grateful than he’s ever been for anything in his life when the silencing talisman reactivates, cutting off Lan Xichen’s voice mid throaty moan. He whips his fan out from his belt, waving it furiously, attempting to redirect his mind elsewhere.
He’d had a question when he sought out his brother, he’s sure of it. Something important.
He turns on his heel only to find Lan Wangji standing there, still as a stone carving.
The younger Jade’s face is as unreadable as ever. No creases or tightness to be found. His gold eyes continue staring impassively into the middle distance like nothing in this world could possibly interest him. Like he hasn’t just witnessed his brother being absolutely railed by the heir to the Nie Sect.
For a moment Nie Huaisang considers the possibility that he hasn’t. That the door had shut quickly enough to spare him, or even that he simply doesn’t understand what it is he might have seen.
But there, just there, at the tips of Lan Wangji’s ears, Nie Huasiang spots a touch of color. A camellia petal pink that deepens with every passing second until it is as red as a fairy crane’s crown. Nie Huaisang watches the blush seep down the curve of his ears to the bottoms of his lobes.
He hides a grin behind the leaves of his fan -- though Lan Wangji’s eyes are still distant and unfocused, and Nie Huaisang is starting to think that might be entirely on purpose.
Nie Huaisang lets his eyes flick between the jade-carved features of Lan Wangji’s face and the now virulent color painting his ears -- only his ears -- and thinks, perhaps, he’s learned something new today after all.
#it’s uncomfortable didi time in the unclean realm#no nhs and lwj will Not bond after this what are you even talking about#nie huaisang#nie mingjue#lan xichen#nielan#lan wangji#lwj is being Percieved and he doesn’t even know it because his brain is full bluescreen#my writing#i researched red feathered birds in china#did you know the red crowned crane is also called the fairy crane? because i didn’t#(that’s like the direct translation but i loved it so i rolled with it)#4x drabble#quadruple drabble#wife prompt no. 3
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Batkid Drabbles - "Cassette"
“This one says...Meerkat Map?” Steph squinted at the cassette tape, angling her head back and forth like that would help the smudged writing make sense.
“That cannot possibly be right.”
“You tell me, Mr. Scribbles.” She threw the tape at Tim, maybe a little harder and more head-directed than strictly necessary. He frowned at it for a solid thirty seconds before venturing, “...Woklaus MX?”
“Wow, can’t even read your own handwriting.”
“This is definitely not mine. Is this even a case tape?”
“It was in the box,” Steph said, shrugging.
“Because nobody ever misfiles things around here,” Tim muttered under his breath. Steph graciously ignored him.
“Hey, Dick, can you read this?” she called, gesturing at the tape. He came and leaned over Tim, who obligingly lifted the cassette. Unlike Tim and Steph, Dick barely glanced at it before his face lit with recognition and he pulled it out of Tim’s hand.
“Oh, hey! This is mine!”
“So what the hell does it say?”
“Workout Mix,” Dick said like it was obvious, flipping it around to face Steph.
“I...guess?” Tim conceded, squinting at the theoretical letters. Steph, meanwhile, shot to her feet and lunged to grab the tape.
“Oh, I have to hear this.”
Dick laughed and let it go easily enough.
“Yeah, I used to make tapes to listen to down here during training and things. Bruce hated it, obviously.”
“You rebel,” Steph said sarcastically as she started setting up the tape deck. Dick shrugged, grin going a little sharper.
“You kids have no idea,” he said ominously, ruffling Tim’s hair and getting half-heartedly swatted at.
“As someone who lived through it, you really, really don’t,” Babs cut in via the computer.
“I’m scared to find out what’s on that tape,” Tim said. Considering Steph was busy swapping the audio outputs from headphones to speakers, they were all about to find out. Probably at full volume, knowing her.
“Why?” Dick asked, all wide-eyed innocence. “I’ve got great taste!”
“You had a mullet,” Babs pointed out flatly.
“Yeah.” Dick didn’t seem to take that as the criticism it was definitely intended as. “Is that retro again yet? Should I bring it back?” He ran a hand back through his admittedly shaggier than usual hair.
“No,” Tim said emphatically at the same time that Steph shouted, “Absolutely yes,” and hit play on the tape, blasting obnoxiously upbeat pop music.
((Cross-posted to AO3, gift fic for @outtoshatter! I also made a mockup cassette with my own deliberately awful writing just for fun and to ask my friends what they thought it said.))
#ceph writes things#quadruple drabble#dick grayson#stephanie brown#tim drake#barbara gordon#agent of chaos stephanie brown#dick grayson is a troll#batfam#batkids#batkids being batsibs#I love both Discowing and Mulletwing unironically and I'm not sorry
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What You're Willing To Overlook 14
@flufftober Day 15: Putting down roots
Fandom: The Closer/ Major Crimes (Brenda/Sharon)
400 words, G
Read all chapters here
Thank you for reading! I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing! I'd love to know which was your favorite... although personally I find it really hard to choose!
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Brenda looked up when she heard her name and squinted into the sun from under the wide brim of her hat. The sun had descended enough that it cast the house in silhouette and made it difficult to see details, but Brenda knew who was calling to her. She stuck her spade into the soil and stood, brushing the dirt off of her hands as she moved toward the house. The angle of the sun was better, once she was standing, and she could just make out the hazy figure of Sharon leaning against the railing of their wrap-around porch, and holding out a glass of sweet iced tea.
Brenda thanked Sharon for the tea with a kiss and pressed the icy glass to her forehead, her neck, her chest before finally taking a sip. “Mmm, didn’t realize how hot it was gettin’ out here,” she said appreciatively.
Sharon looped her arms around Brenda and pulled the smaller woman against her so that they could admire the garden together.
“I’m gonna get you all sweaty!” Brenda protested, half-heartedly swatting at Sharon’s arm around her waist.
“Worth it,” Sharon murmured into her ear and rested her chin on Brenda’s shoulder. “How’s the garden coming?”
“Got some buds on the daylilies, so they should be poppin’ up soon. And I think I figured out the trick with the hollyhocks this year, plantin’ ‘em right up next to the trellis…” Brenda stopped her report and began to laugh. “If only all those ex-husbands and boyfriends could see me now,” she chuckled. “They all wanted to tame me. They would all ‘bout keel over if they knew how domesticated I am now. Gardening!” She shook her head and chuckled again.
“Their loss,” Sharon shrugged and nuzzled into Brenda’s neck. “It’s very sexy when you talk about your flowers.”
Brenda set her glass on the railing and turned to drape her arms over Sharon’s shoulders. “I like it. I like watching them grow, I like the bright colors, I like knowing I had a hand in making our home beautiful. Never really cared about that before. Never really felt like I had a home to make beautiful before,” she reflected, half to herself.
“But now?” Sharon prompted, resting her forehead against Brenda’s.
“Now? Yeah, now… I’m home,” Brenda replied with a broad smile as she closed the remaining distance between them to kiss her wife.
#fluffspring2024#the closer#major crimes#brenda.sharon#brenda leigh johnson#sharon raydor#putting down roots#home#gardening#femslash#quadruple drabble#flarch#fluff#i wrote this#fanfic
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A Song of Blood - Quadruple Drabble
Based on @mikaharuka's prompt "poem". As always, thank you so much for the many lovely prompt words you sent in, my dear 🖤
Interview with the Vampire | Lestat de Lioncourt/Louis de Pointe du Lac | 400 words (Quadruple Drabble) | Mild Angst, Mild Smut | Rated M
Louis and Lestat spend a tender evening together. But things might not be quite as picture perfect as they seem.
Send me prompts!
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Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: We Are A Picturesque Small Town And We Refuse To Be The Setting For Your RomCom - Rachel McKenny
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Characters: Original Female Character(s)
Additional Tags: Chet Anderson (mentioned), Gossip
Summary:
"So I heard Fiona met Chet at the cemetery the other day?"
#yuletide#yuletide 2022#yuletide madness#we are a picturesque small town and we refuse to be the setting for your romcom#this new tiny fandom is eating my brain#quadruple drabble#(?)#humour
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