#double drabble

[1u11ablues]

“Who were you with?” (John Price x reader)

Price pulls the ribbon off the flowers he got for you, the half-filled vase standing on your kitchen counter, ready for its arrangement.

A video played on his tablet. Ten minutes of someone giving a quick-class on how to make sure flowers stay fresher longer.

Just one of those things one does when they really, really like someone.

Your laughter seeps through the thin walls. He'd hoped to surprise you with the arrangement while you head out to pick up the freshly done laundry from the flat laundromat, until-

A much deeper laughter followed yours soon after.

He rushed  to the front door and waited for you to enter before peering his eyes out onto the hallway outside.

"Who were you with?" He asked, immediately taking the laundry basket off your arms to put away later.

Curious, he was merely curious. Nothing more than that.

"Our neighbour," you answered casually. "The compulsive baker I told you about?"

"The lad fed you and made you laugh?"

You burst out in a fit of laughter as you walked into the kitchen. The little gasp at the end letting him know that he picked well. 

"Don't worry, I still like you best."

[starryeyedjanai]

Eddie’s on a mission when he walks into Family Video.

He heads to the horror section and stops in his tracks when he sees a guy sitting on his haunches, shelving tapes.

Eddie can’t help the way his eyes slide to the guy’s ass— the jeans he’s wearing are criminally tight. And it’s a really nice ass.

He nearly swallows his tongue when the guy turns his head to see who walked into the aisle because staring back at him is Steve fucking Harrington.

He watches as Steve gets up and dusts his jeans off before walking over to Eddie.

“Can I help you find something?” Steve asks.

He has a little mustache.

Steve Harrington has a nice ass and a little mustache.

Eddie did not come here to be attacked like this.

Steve raises his eyebrows and Eddie realizes he’s been staring at him for a beat too long.

“Uh, yeah. Do you guys have Possession?” he asks, throat dry.

Steve looks at him curiously before reaching an arm right past Eddie’s head and pulling a VHS from the shelf. He holds it out for Eddie to take.

Eddie snatches it and makes a beeline for the cash register.

[infiniteeight8]

Stiles Stilinski and his red clothes

Stiles shrugs out of his hoodie and leaves it draped over the back of Peter’s couch. Peter looks up, exasperated, but when he catches sight of Stiles he stops abruptly, then blows out a hard breath. “Okay, I concede, I have to ask. Are you doing it on purpose?”

“Doing what on purpose?” Stiles asks innocently. Throwing his clothes around is definitely on purpose, but he’s not going to admit it.

“The red,” Peter says. 

Okay, that’s unexpected. Stiles just gives him a blank look.

“The red clothes,” Peter nods at Stiles’s shirt. “You wear red clothes far more than average. Is it on purpose?”

“I… like red?” Stiles offers. 

Peter rolls his eyes. “Little Red Riding Hood, Stiles.”

“Oh!” A laugh bursts out of Stiles. “No, not on purpose. It is kind of thematically appropriate though, isn’t it?” He grins. “I guess that makes you the big bad wolf.”

Peter arches an eyebrow. “Not Derek?”

Stiles scoffs. “Derek might like to act big and bad, but we both know he’s a marshmallow.”

Peter’s smile is pleased. He likes being the big bad one. 

Stiles will definitely not be mentioning that, given the right circumstances, Peter is also a marshmallow.

[airas-story]

Morgan dragging Stephen into playing doctor with her and Tony into playing patient

Stephen stared bemusedly at the stethoscope Morgan had handed him. The surprisingly nice stethoscope. He expected most kids had toy stethoscopes; this was not just a real stethoscope, this was a Littman. Those weren’t cheap.

“You want me to… play doctor.” He tried not to laugh. “I am well qualified for the job.”

Morgan nodded. “You’re the doc,” she said, the tone exactly like her dad.

“All right,” he agreed. “How is my patient doing today?” He observed her. “You’re looking in fine health.”

Morgan glared. “I’m not your patient,” she said. “I’m the nurse.”

Stephen blinked, surprised. “Oh. I see. Where’s my patient, then?”

“I set him up with an IV! he’s waiting for you!”

Terror hit him. Had Morgan stuck someone with a needle!? Had someone let her? She was six!

“Come on,” Morgan said brightly, skipping away.

Stephen followed Morgan down the hallway, unsurprised when he they entered Tony’s bedroom to find Tony laying in bed, sucking on a lollipop, and working on his tablet.

Tony looked up as Stephen walked in. His expression turned serious. “Thank god you’re here,” he said. He gestured at where he was laying in bed. “I’m gravely ill.” He paused. “Clearly.”

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Freckle face

When Ian flipped him over, he stared a little too long at Mickey's face. A sharp the fuck you lookin’ at was on the tip of his tongue, his mood souring a little. He thought he was gonna fucked senseless, or at least a good fuckin’ makeout, not Gallagher’s lips stretching into a dopey smile. 

“Holy shit,” he said in awe. 

“What?” Mickey snapped. 

“You have freckles.” 

Fuck. 

Mickey’s weren’t as visible as Ian’s were, or rather used to be from how they kinda lightened up since his time working at Kash and Grab, but they came out a little more in the summertime. Honestly, he would’ve thought Ian woulda seen ‘em before now. 

“Whatever, man,” he grumbled. He was gonna turn over if not for Ian taking his face by the chin with one hand. “The fuck-” 

“I never noticed them before,” he said, sounding almost giddy by the discovery. 

“So fucking what?” Mickey scowled. “You gonna finish what you started?” 

But Ian wasn't thinking about that at all. He grinned, using his thumb to trace along Mickey's cheek. “You're so damn cute, Mick.” 

It was spoken so earnestly, Ian's smile was one of adoration. Mickey felt a flush creeping up his face. Nobody ever said things like that to him before, and here Ian was, marveling over some damn freckles. 

“I ain't cute,” Mickey muttered, his gaze tearing away from Ian's face to look over at the wall. 

“You’re cute,” Ian disagreed, noses brushing against each other’s. One hand came to hold the back of his head, tilting his own so he could softly kiss Mickey. “So fucking cute....” 

[alikelyst0ry]

Jack just wanted to avoid his empty apartment for a couple more hours- grab a decent cup of coffee, maybe something hot and greasy for breakfast.

He wasn't expecting to run into you. And he knows it's you. He knows it's you, but he could've sworn—

"Claire, right? You told me your name was Claire," he says, squinting at your name tag as you refill his coffee.

"No, you assumed my name was Claire. And you know what they say about assumptions right?"

"No," Jack shakes his head. "I distinctly remember there was a badge pinned to that dumb Santa hat you were wearing and it said Claire."

"Probably did, but you still never asked," you shrug, tapping one candy apple red nail against the badge pinned to your dress. "And today, it says Doris."

"So that's your name? If I come back tomorrow and ask to sit in Doris's section, I'll get you?"

"You've already had me, cowboy," you grin down at him. "But I guess the only way you'll know is if you come back and see."

"Alright, Doris Claire," Jack smiles, leaning back in the booth and draping his arms across the back of the seat. "It's a date."

[firenati0n]

"i can explain" - a david double drabble for the lovely @lilythesilly 🐕

Henry’s walked in on something he’s clearly not meant to know about just yet. Too late to close his eyes and back away, he just stands there, arms crossed, smiling at the scene before him. 

Alex finally looks up at him from where he’s fiddling with something on David’s neck. “I can explain.”

“Please do.”

David is currently wearing little Union Jack socks, a sash, a bowtie, and a cobalt jacket. He looks like—

“Okay, so I actually can’t explain, but you will be abso-fuckin-lutely delighted. In, like, three weeks. Now go away.”

Three weeks and two days later, there’s a flat rectangular package on the kitchen table, wrapped up with a sticky note on top. Birthday Present One / ?

“Open it,” Alex urges, camera at the ready. 

It’s a calendar, each month a different version of David. In one, he’s David Bowie. The next, he’s a little writer, pencil in paw. July he’s Uncle Sam—

“Treason,” Henry laughs. 

March, however, is where David is dressed like Henry. Down to the socks. 

“Isn’t our son the cutest?” Alex asks. 

Our son. Henry is emotionally compromised. He may or may not tear up on camera. 

It hangs right by their front door. 

[healedlover]

thinking about voyeur bestfriend!suguru who couldn't help but feel a wave of jealousy and pleasure as he watches you bring another man home for the nth time already.

voyeur bestfriend!suguru who's heart (and cock) felt like it was about to explode as he watched your legs wrap around the man's waist, your tits bouncing in the same rhythm he's pounding you in...god he wishes he was the one doing that to you.

but voyeur bestfriend!suguru couldn't help himself to look away. his perverted eyes peered through the crack of the door as his frail fingers wrap onto his searing length, lazily stroking it as his eyes linger on you.

he was so confused, why would you invite him over if you were going to bring another man home, anyway?

your moans filled the secluded room you were in, they grew louder and louder as voyeur bestfriend!suguru's pace on his cock quickened, faster and faster. he was so, so, sooo, clos–

the sound of your shrieking orgasm echoed your whole apartment and both you and suguru came in sync, a sigh escaped his lips and he rested his head against the wall, listening to you and your little one night stand get ready for bed.

— 𝜗𝜚⋆₊˚ —

its been two weeks since ive written.. sorry :(( but geto's been growing on me so I thought of this <3

[petrifiedforests]

In the eye of the beholder

Written and knitted (more info on that under the cut) for @waxerboilmonth week 1: "Something is different."

"I've got some gold paint left over if you need to touch up some of that too," Waxer said and stuck his tongue back out between his teeth, as he repainted the gold lines on his helmet.

He was lucky that he'd just lifted the brush for the next coat when Boil slammed his bucket down on the bunk with enough force to make it bounce.

Startled, Waxer looked up and came face to face with an irate Boil.

"Wax, I need you to have flight squadron delta scrubbing the fresher floors with their toothbrushes," he demanded. "Or… or the toilet seats!"

"Wha-?" Waxer didn't even get to finish his question before Boil had picked his helmet up again and thrust it towards him.

"Look at this! All paint pots were like that!" he gesticulated wildly. "They contaminated every single one when they painted that twi'lek nose art."

Waxer looked. Well. That was certainly a different color than usual. Very vibrant. Exactly the garish color the deltas had picked for the twi'lek's skin if he had to guess.

"It's not that bad," he tried, even if it really was.

"Not that bad?!" Boil threw his hands up. "It's kriffing pink!"

Knitting background info:

These are about 6,4 cm / 2.5 inches on each side and my first foray into colorwork.

As such, the tension is too high in some places and too loose in others, warping both of them even after blocking (= wetting the piece and pinning it in place until it's dry).

Boil's helmet is a pain in the butt to simplify because half of his paint is only visible from the side. I've included the black silhouette anyways.

All that being said, I am happy with how they turned out because obviously the first time you try something new it's not going to be perfect and needs to be practiced.

[cephalog0d]

Batkid Drabble - "Mimic"

((For @dangerousdan-dan! Reverse Robins AU, ages: Dick - 9, Steph - 18, Tim - 19, Damian - 24.

An important lore note: Damian used to only put on a Gotham accent in costume while dealing with civilians, but someone (Tim) heard him speaking with his natural accent and might possibly had used that to help figure out his identity. No he's not still smug and Damian isn't still bitter, they're grown adults who are totally over this.))

“Ta da!” Steph said as she finished helping Dick into his new sweater and yanked the hood down over his eyes.

Dick giggled and shoved it back into its proper place. The hoodie was definitely a little too big, the sleeves falling down to cover his hands, but it was also soft and warm and had a dark blue chevron design across the chest, subtle but distinctive against the black background.

“You’re a mini-Nightwing!” Steph cooed. “Mitewing!”

Dick folded his arms and put on a serious expression. “Tt. Your footwork is abysmal. I’ve seen fish that could do better,” he said in a shockingly good impression of Damian’s natural accent.

“Nightwing does not sound like that,” Damian pointed out from the doorway (as he uncrossed his arms to make the imitation slightly less accurate).

“Well not anymore,” Tim muttered under his breath. Damian shot him a glare; Steph tried and failed to turn her laugh into a cough.

“Who needs Batman anyway?” Dick said, seamlessly switching to a very passable generic Gotham accent like the one Damian used while in costume.

“Yeah, you get it! Nightwing’s way better.” Steph held out a hand for a fist bump, ignoring Tim’s sigh.

((Cross-posted to AO3))

[jomiddlemarch]

constitute my happiness

“I ought to put my bonnet back on,” Elizabeth sighed. “I know I ought, I know the risk to my complexion and even more, to my tranquility if I freckle as dreadfully as my mother warned me I might and we’re to receive Lady Catherine before I’ve any chance for lemon juice to work.”

“Dearest Elizabeth, it’s England. It rains six days out of seven. Enjoy the sunshine,” her husband replied. It had been far easier than she’d expected to persuade him to leave off his account books to take their afternoon tea in a bright glade she’d discovered rambling over Pemberley’s extensive grounds.

“That’s easy enough for you to say, sir. Should you turn brown as a walnut, no one will think any less of Mr. Darcy. Indeed, they’d likely remark on how healthy you looked, whereas I should be an embarrassment to the very shades of Pemberley,” Elizabeth said.

“You’d never be an embarrassment to Pemberley. Leave the bonnet off.”

“You sound quite determined,” she said.

“It’s far easier to kiss you without the silly thing getting in my way,” he said.

 When she gave him an inquiring look in response, he obliged her by demonstrating at length.

Written for Janeuary 2025 @janeuary-month Day 23, prompt: bonnet

[starryeyedjanai]

It takes Steve three days to notice it.

“What in the hell am I looking at?” Steve asks, expression flummoxed.

“That, my dear, is my newest creation,” Eddie says proudly, looking from the yellow painted dachshund/banana figurine back to Steve's face.

He hid it on their bathroom counter, half-obscured by the face wash Steve uses at night. He’s been waiting with baited breath for Steve to find it, lingering by the doorway while Steve washes his face.

Steve picks up the figurine Eddie painstakingly made and holds it in his hand, marveling at it.

“I love him,” Steve says, biting back a grin. “What’s his name?”

“Banana Dog,” Eddie says and Steve wrinkles his nose.

“You can't name a banana dog ‘Banana Dog’. That’s so lame.”

“You name him, then,” Eddie says, crowding closer, wrapping his arms around Steve, kissing his temple.

Steve hums and looks at Eddie’s reflection in the mirror. “He looks like a Jerry.”

Eddie snorts. “Jerry? Okay. Jerry, the banana dog, it is.”

“Tell me about him?” Steve asks, leaning back into his embrace.

Eddie tells him about how the party will meet Jerry and Steve listens on with adoration in his eyes the whole time.

[infiniteeight8]

Steter & sugar daddy Peter? ♥️

Stiles regards the garment bag Peter is holding up with wariness. “Do I have to?” he asks, even though he knows he does. “I have, like, three other suits.” All purchased by Peter. 

“And now you have another one,” Peters says, holding out the bag. “Get changed, sweetheart. I’m looking forward to showing you off tonight.”

Stiles fights down a blush as he takes the bag. The idea that Peter thinks he’s worth showing off still kind of blows him way, but at least he’s past the denial. Peter pays for his apartment, his tuition, and a monthly allowance on top of that; there’s no way he’d invest if he didn’t think Stiles was something special.

Once he’s dressed in the suit, even Stiles has to admit he looks good. Sharp. Maybe even a bit dangerous, which is typical of Peter. When Stiles emerges from his bedroom, Peter gives him a heated look up and down. Then he smirks and offers Stiles his arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall,” Stiles says, taking Peter’s arm. With Peter for company, at least the event won’t be boring. Still, Stiles is looking forward to taking the suit off again… with Peter’s help, of course.

[airas-story]

Stephen can’t say penguin right for the life of him

Stephen examined the zoo map. They were trying to go on ‘normal’ dates. This was venture number three..

“We need to go see the monkeys,” Tony was saying. “There are golden snub-nosed monkeys here. The cutest monkeys in all existence.”

Stephen didn’t have strong feelings on monkeys, so he accepted it. “As long as we visit—” he paused, suddenly reminded of his… occasional mishap with this particular word. “Our flightless friends from the southern hemisphere.”

“Right, of course, we—” Tony paused, brow furrowing. “Wait what are we talking about? Penguins, ostriches, cassowaries, kiwis—”

Why did all the flightless birds live in the southern hemisphere?

“Not the ostriches,” Stephen said. “I’ve never cared much for how they stick their heads in the sand.”

“They don’t actually do that,” Tony said, brow still furrowed. “That’s a myth. Given you’re king of trivia, I have no doubt you knew that. I’m noticing a distinct aversion to answering the question. There a reason for that?” 

“No, of course not.”

Tony arched an eyebrow.

Stephen swallowed. “I want to visit the penwings.” Dammit.

Tony’s lip twitched, clearly trying not to laugh. “I want to visit the penwings too,” he said finally. “But first, the monkeys.”

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

"Ay, Mick, where you at?"

Iggy's out of smokes. He knows his brother has some, but whether he'll actually share is debatable.

He hears nothing, and groans at the thought of having to get up. He was fuckin' comfortable, fuck you very much.

Pushing himself up from the chair, Iggy makes his way to the bedroom where Mickey and Gallagher are staying. He thinks they might be boyfriends or some shit. His brother is real protective of Gallagher, always snappin' at Iggy for no damn reason.

Cuz apparently askin' questions like if gay dicks are different than straight ones or if he's actually ever seen a tit was fuckin' wrong?

The door is open a crack. Iggy doesn't think twice before opening it completely, another holler on the tip of his tongue.

He pauses.

Mickey's there, so is Gallagher. They're on the bed, but that's not all. His little brother is all curled up in his boyfriend's arms, head on his chest like he's some chick.

Now that he thinks of it, Iggy's never seen Mick look so peaceful before. There's no tension or nothin'. His brother's chest is rising and falling softly. It's nice, he thinks. Mick's never really had the chance to be relaxed in their family cuz of their pops and all.

Still gay as hell though.

He can come back later for the smokes, he decides. Iggy's about to walk out when he gets an idea. He holds up his phone, taking a quick picture.

Colin ain't gonna believe this shit.

look what these 2 do when they aint fuckin, he sends with the picture attached.

[jedi-order-apologist]

A Happier Timeline

In a timeline where the Jedi Order recovers from the war, Padawan Reva Sevander gets volunteered to entertain the younglings. Written for Fandom Empire Fortune Wheel - Week 4: Game and Jedi June 2025 - Prompt: Thrive and Sweet and Short - Prompt: Family and What-if AU Bingo (#71) - Prompt: No-one Dies

READ ON AO3

“Here to play a game with you, Padawan Sevander is,” Master Yoda told the group of younglings. Reva’s eyes went wide, since this was news to her.

“Master Yoda,” she began, but he was already gone with a mischievous cackle, leaving Reva alone with a gaggle of younglings about five or six years old, or equivalent to it, and more than a little out of her depth. Of course, she’d worked with younglings before, but not on her own!

“What game are we playing, Padawan Sevander?” a little rodian boy asked politely.

“Does it involve biting?” a human girl asked. “I’m very good at biting games; even Dalvaka was impressed and he’s a togruta.”

“Jedi shouldn’t brag, Leia,” a quarren girl admonished.

“I’m not bragging, it’s just true,” Leia argued back. “I can prove it...”

Reva held back a sigh. She loved her family, really, but sometimes the younger ones could be a bit much. “No biting anyone, Leia.”

Leia pouted, but met her eyes with a glint that made Reva think that Leia might just bite someone anyway as soon as Reva’s back was turned. This was to be a negotiation, then. Reva could do negotiations.

“How about this…?”