#She did start doing the dishes unprompted and continues to do so (mostly out of fear). Croc told her she didn't have to but allows it

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[somuchnonsense]

October Drabbles 21-25

More drabbles

21. Late Night          (post-canon Wangxian fluff, mildly NSFW)

It’s past the time that Lan Wangji should be asleep—and he was, actually, until Wei Wuxian crawled into bed with him. Often, Wei Wuxian will just curl up beside him, or perhaps wrap his arms around Lan Wangji and tangle their legs together, and then go quietly to sleep. Tonight, though, he woke Lan Wangji up with kisses on his neck turning into soft nips to his collarbone, pulling his clothing aside to reach further down.

“Go to sleep,” Lan Wangji murmurs, half awake, a soft rumble under Wei Wuxian’s mouth on his chest.

“I will.” Wei Wuxian’s lips flutter against his skin and Lan Wangji shivers. “After.”

Wei Wuxian continues to move downward, kissing a meandering path across Lan Wangji’s stomach. Lan Wangji reaches down, half thinking about pushing him away or pulling him up to settle beside him, but in the end, he only rests his hand on Wei Wuxian’s head, fingers sliding into his hair. “Is that a yes?” Wei Wuxian smugly murmurs into Lan Wangji’s lower stomach, tongue venturing out to trace a line between his muscles while he waits for an answer.

Lan Wangji hesitates for only the briefest of moments before answering, “Yes.”

22. Blushing     (post-canon Wangxian fluff, more mildly NSFW)

It was so easy for Wei Wuxian to fluster Lan Wangji when they were young. All he had to do was make a nuisance of himself, say something blatantly flirty (despite not realizing himself that he was flirting), lean into Lan Wangji’s personal space, and he’d be rewarded with subtle hints of panic, yelling, red ears and, if he was really successful, a blush spreading pink and pretty across Lan Wangji’s cheeks.

Since his death and return, though, the tables have turned and it’s Wei Wuxian who finds himself flustered more often than not, all his shameless behavior backfiring on him. Even now, when he understands that flirting with Lan Wangji will never turn him off, Wei Wuxian can’t seem to find a way to tease that doesn’t end in him blushing, usually with Lan Wangji’s lips on his or in other more interesting places. Lan Wangji has become very good at shutting him up, sometimes making an absolute mess of him in the process and sometimes only making Wei Wuxian desperately wish he would, holding tight to his wrists or pinning him down so he can’t get what he wants until Lan Wangji says he can.

And worse still, sometimes when he flirts obnoxiously, Lan Wangji will turn and just give him this look, not quelling, not threatening, not even promising, but just so fond,  so openly, unabashedly in love that Wei Wuxian doesn’t know what to with it. He loves Lan Wangji just as much, but it’s still a shock sometimes that anyone could love him so deeply and unshakably. It brings heat to his cheeks, but more so a warmth to his heart, and a feeling that it doesn’t matter if he can’t tease Lan Wangji anymore; all that matters is this.

23. Poetry          (modern AU Wangxian fluff, feat. songwriter LWJ)

Lan Zhan writes a lot of songs for other people, working hard on the kind of poetic lyrics and dramatic orchestral music he loves, and which he’s managed to make a name for himself with. He’s only written one song for himself, though, and not so much for himself as for Wei Ying. It’s one of the first songs he ever wrote, when he was an idiot teenager in love wondering if he’d ever fulfill his dreams of being a songwriter, or of having Wei Ying by his side, not just as an annoying classmate and maybe friend, but as someone who knew how Lan Zhan felt and loved him back.

There’s a part of Lan Zhan that always cringes when he hears Wangxian, which (mercifully) exists only as a demo recording sung by him. What was he thinking with that title, or those painfully unsubtle lyrics? But mostly it makes him smile at how quickly and helplessly he fell in love with Wei Ying, even before he particularly liked him, and how he’s only fallen more in love with the passage of time. It also makes him smile because there’s so much hope, not explicitly in the lyrics, but in the feeling of the song, translated from how he felt when he wrote it—and he knows now that he was right to hope.

“I still can’t believe you wrote me a love song when I thought you hated me,” Wei Ying says once when he convinces Lan Zhan to play the demo again. “A sappy as fuck love song.”

“I never hated you,” Lan Zhan responds, a fond smile playing at his lips at the memory of when he tried to convince himself that he did. “And I know perfectly well that you love this song.”

Wei Ying grins and gives him a kiss. “I do love this song, and I love you.”

24. Spicy          (unspecified Wangxian fluff)

Wei Wuxian finds it impossibly cute when Lan Wangji tries to eat spicy things for him, especially dishes he cooked which no one in their right mind would try to eat. (He thinks they’re good, but he’s aware that other people are weak and wrong—uh, have different opinions.) It’s not that he wants Lan Wangji to suffer, but it’s sweet that he loves Wei Wuxian enough to try, and it’s simultaneously adorable and hilarious how he tries to hide the effects as his cheeks flush and he starts to sweat and he blinks furiously, his eyes watering and his lips pressed tightly together to hold back a cough.

On the other hand, Wei Wuxian loves Lan Wangji and wants him to be happy always, and that’s why one night when he’s cooking for the two of them, he makes a sincere effort to make the most bland and inoffensive food he can manage. It looks so pale and dull and his hands itch to douse it in pepper, but he restrains himself, setting the dishes on the table as is and calling Lan Wangji in.

He can see the moment Lan Wangji notices, his brow furrowing ever-so-slightly as he scans the table and then looks up at Wei Wuxian, his expression midway between confused and affectionate. “Well, go on. Eat!” Wei Wuxian prods.

It’s the most boring meal Wei Wuxian has ever eaten in his life (when he had a choice, anyway), but it’s worth it for the way Lan Wangji actually seems to enjoy eating it instead of having to brace himself before each bite, and for the fond, appreciative looks he flashes Wei Wuxian in between. “It was very good,” he says at the end, entirely unprompted.

“I’m glad,” Wei Wuxian says, “but I’m not making any promises about it happening again soon.”

Lan Wangji smiles softly and shakes his head. “I would expect nothing less.”

25. Clothes          (pre-canon WWX gen, feat. Jiang sibs & JFM)

For the first few years in Lotus Pier, Wei Wuxian accepts whatever clothes are provided to him without complaint. He’s grateful to have a place to live and food to eat and clothes without any holes in them to wear. What those clothes look like isn’t important—and even if it was, he’s afraid to object to anything, afraid of being too greedy in case Jiang Fengmian decides it’s more trouble than it’s worth to keep him. Even when Uncle Jiang asks what he wants, he’s hesitant to really ask for it

Eventually, though, he starts to feel more comfortable, more secure in his place here. (If Madam Yu hasn’t managed to kick him out by now, he’s probably safe, right?) And one day, when a tailor comes to measure him and Jiang Cheng and Shijie for new clothes, Uncle Jiang asks, “What color robes would you like this time?”

“Black!” Wei Wuxian answers. He imagines he’ll look very grown up and manly in black, not to mention have an easier time sneaking around at night if the mood strikes him.

Belatedly, he worries that he’s being too demanding, but Uncle Jiang only smiles and says, “Black it is, then.”

“Only black?” Shijie asks. “You don’t think it’ll look nice with some color underneath?”

“I suppose.” Wei Wuxian considers, trying to picture himself in his new robes. “What color do you think, shijie?”

“Decide for yourself,” Jiang Cheng grumbles, but Shijie ignores him and says, “I think you’d look great in red.”

Wei Wuxian beams as though she’s given him high praise. “All right, then. Black and red for me.” He can’t wait to see how he looks in his new robes.

[chyrstis]

You won’t be the one (2/2)

I love how an excuse to write about a drunken radio call has lead to this weird weaving back and forth that I really did think was mostly going to be silly banter. At least at first?

Pairing: F!Dep x John Seed (the strange pseudo-flirting really can’t be denied here) Rating: T Word Count: 3.2K

Link to AO3!

___

A conversation in two parts. (Part 1)

______________

She was drunk. Not just a little, but heading full on into embracing whatever chaos the night might lead into, dare or no dare provided.

Sharky was her primary instigator, working harder than usual to keep her from thinking back to the mess they’d made of the convoys in the afternoon. It didn’t make sense. They should’ve found a way to make a serious dent by now, but for every one lost, another two took its place, like some sort of strange vehicular hydra.

It was an exhausting dance. One Hana knew was going to be painful from the start, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept, or forget. Especially when John knew which resources to lean on as a counter.

So, with that frustration fresh in her mind, she let one drink turn into two. Then into four. With Sharky by her side, she tacked on one more after that, and he reminded her that breaks like this really did lead to better ass kicking tomorrow.

“Just flush all of that negative shit out, double-down on you being you, and it’ll be smooth sailing. Trust me,” he said. “We’ll be swimming in so much Peggie ass tomorrow.“

She nearly choked on her drink. “Kicking. You mean we’ll be kicking so much ass tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah! What’d you think I said?” he asked, nearly spilling his shot. The fact that it was on fire – courtesy of him, and not Mary May - should’ve been a concern, but she was well within swatting distance if she needed to intervene. He put it out and knocked it back before she could say anything else. “We’ll be kicking it up, and fucking them up. Cause that’s how we do things.”

At least, that’s how they were planning on doing things. Tomorrow.

Within the hour, Hana was dragging him upstairs, barely able to stand on his own two feet. Even after somehow losing a bet and promising to get him his weight in accelerants, she wasn’t about to let him stumble up there alone, and helped deposit him into the room Mary May was letting her crash in.

Sharky faceplanted onto the bed, and after draping the blanket over him, she made him promise he wouldn’t suffocate on his own hoodie – while also making sure he actually wouldn’t. She would’ve felt awful if he did after teasing him about it. Lucky for her he was listening, but the minute said hoodie hit her in the face, she wisely decided it was time to cut out and leave.

With that she was left alone and free to roam. Her head buzzed, the sensation more pleasant than not, but standing there idle with a half-finished beer wasn’t going to help her burn any of that energy off.

So, she wandered outside, taking a moment to stand on the Spread Eagle’s porch.

In moments like this it was easy to see how someone could’ve fallen in love with this place. How she could’ve fallen in love with it before things went straight to hell and back.

The breeze ruffled her hair as Hana followed the road to the outskirts of town before cutting across the grass, looking to head to the hills. Glancing skyward, she took in the stars above, marking old constellations that she used to love as a kid.

Orion. Always Orion, with his belt of stars, one, two, and three. Cassiopeia, with the zig-zag of the W. If she squinted, there was at least one of the dippers to find too.

Out here, the lights above weren’t drowned out by the city below. She pointed up, running her finger from one bright point to another, her head bobbing as she tried to trace out the image. Rough as it was, there was still a picture to be made even if she had to blink fast to keep it in focus.

But her finger came to a stop, resting right on the edge of the horizon. Right where the white, glaring eye sore stood out up in the mountains, drawing her attention completely.

She chucked her empty beer bottle in the general direction of the YES sign, and didn’t care that it wouldn’t come anywhere close to reaching it. It shattered somewhere nearby, her annoyance rising at having fallen short, and she stood there, staring out over the fields as she forced herself to relax. To curl back into the peace out here. To breathe in and out.

In and out.

She took in her fifth breath, hearing it whistle between her teeth, before reaching down for her radio. Silence wasn’t going to cut it any longer, and she’d take anything else at this point.

Not bothering to check to see just which station she’d picked was a mistake. Mostly harmless, but still a sizable one given her current mood. With the Peggie station came a chance of hearing each of the Seed’s songs. She’d heard most off and on, but only for short bursts due to the cultists playing them.

John’s followers, however, seemed to take this a step further. Seemed to play his theme with a frequency that grated on her more and more every time she heard it, and hearing it now out of the blue? Here, well in view of his lasting mark on the valley?

That was the cherry on top of her irritation-flavored sundae.

Oh, John! The words ran right on repeat through her mind, and there it was. A melody that was going to stick around right up until the point that she passed out, mid-curse into her pillow.

“Petty fucking amusement, my ass,” Hana muttered, messing with the radio. “I’ll show you who’s a joke.”

If that was how her night was going to go, fine. Maybe he did have a point, and maybe, just maybe, he could be hers.

---

“Brother John?”

He didn’t raise his eyes from the papers set in front of him on the table, but when the Chosen didn’t respond further, he waved his hand for them to continue. At this hour interruptions were few and far between, but not impossible. “Go on, I’m listening.”

“Our channel’s been picking up on a strange message. One that’s been repeating, but doesn’t appear to be an SOS. It hasn’t stopped. Not once.”

John turned towards her, and set his pen aside. “If it’s not an emergency, or a threat, then what is the problem?”

The Chosen’s posture straightened as more of his attention was turned on her, but she held up her radio and stood her ground. “It’s been the same thing over the last five minutes. Cutting in and out, just…noise at first, but it sounds like singing.”

“Singing?” John raised an eyebrow.

She turned it on, and the voice came through in bursts, some of it too difficult to understand at first. Once the words started coming through, however, he listened, taking in the melody as it became quite clear which song it belonged to.

He set his chin in his hand, and let his eyes slip shut. That was his name being said, and this song was one he did admit a degree of, albeit prideful, fondness for. Even with the words slurred and the voice exaggerating each note’s rise and fall.

But this voice, this one, he was used to hearing nothing but provocations from. In a way, this also fit the bill. After the crude defacement of his message, along with the taking back of the Widowmaker, the county’s only free deputy kept on going as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

And while he had seethed over her actions - and her dismissal of him days back – other areas had demanded his attention first.

Her time to atone would come. She would take those steps, willingly, if he had his way, and from there progress could truly be made. If he needed to guide her further he would, but it was so much more satisfying to see what steps she might take unprompted. Especially when those steps lead to instances like this.

This wasn’t an immediate problem. It wasn’t another blow to their resources or a strike to their convoys. It was a distraction at best, which didn’t require his intervention at all, but the temptation remained. Like before, she was reaching out to him. Calling for him, even if only to provoke him.

It was still an effort, and it lingered in the back of his mind when he motioned for them to hand over their radio.

“Allow me. Maybe there’s something to this after all.”

---

"My dear Deputy-“

The radio flew out of her hands, sailing through the air towards the ground, as she fumbled it completely. It landed on a patch of grass, the tumble making only static come through for a few seconds. Soon enough, however, John’s voice was back.

“How unexpected. I wasn’t aware that song left such an impression on you. To hear it come straight from your lips, to hear it repeated so fervently. I’m amazed.”

Hana stared at the radio, both hands still clasped over her mouth, and felt the blood rush straight to her face.

“And over such a public medium as well. What would the others say if they heard you?”

If they had the right idea, they would’ve turned off their radios long ago. Hopefully before John actually decided to tune in, but too late now. She’d deal with that in the morning, along with the massive hangover she’d be courting.

She grabbed for the radio, struggling not to trip over her own two feet trying to pick it up fast, and almost forgot to hit the button before replying. “This isn’t about them. It’s about…shit.”

“You? I’d suggest myself, but after hearing what I have for the last few minutes or so, that might be presumptuous of me.”

He was back to using that strange teasing tone of his again, and none of it sat well with her. Not after what he’d shown her a few days back, but if he was willing to do this, she’d gladly dish it back.

“You liked that? Hearing your name over, and over, and over?“

“Very few would object to such a thing. Especially when said so…enthusiastically.”

Her face flushed again – or had it stayed that way? – and she kicked herself for being just that damn petty. The words had been messy from the start, and she’d looped back to that simply because her poor brain had hit a snag and couldn’t get past repeating variations of it.

“Jesus, John. Hearing this shit would grate on a normal person.”

Hearing it from her? Drunk and garbled? It should’ve been irritating. That was exactly what she wanted to begin with. Instead, he was a mix of amused and delighted? Shouldn’t he have already ambushed her and carried her off to God-knows-where days back just for the damn sign?

What the hell did she actually drink? Mary May said it’d been strong before she shot it, but -

“Why are we speaking, Deputy? I have a feeling there’s something on your mind. Intoxicated or not.”

You. She nearly bit her tongue. Bugging the shit out of you. “I thought my intent was pretty damn clear.”

“No, I think there’s more to this. A reason for you to seek me out. Are there regrets? Looking for another chance to consider-“

“No.”

“Deputy.” He almost sounded disappointed. “So quick to say no.”

“After listening to you tell me how, if given the chance, you were going to ‘open me up’ and, or, peel me like a fucking apple, did you really expect anything different?”

He paused. “Ah. That.”

“Yes, that.”

John chuckled, but didn’t offer up an explanation or an excuse. Just his amusement at what she was sure was her expense. That put a shot of anger through her.

“Real cute asshole, but you’re going to have to give me more than that.”

“I was merely suggesting you could share a part of yourself with me.”

Not just one, Hana reminded herself. Multiple parts. Multiple layers.

“Suggesting, huh? Suggestions are made about movies, and songs to listen to. Both usually to share and enjoy with those closest to you. And okay, people do that too. Sharing, and baring just enough of themselves to see if they’ve got a good thing going, but applying that to us, John, just doesn’t work. Because one, we’re just not that cozy, and two, we’re sure as hell not that close.”

“Hence, the suggestion.”

“I might have a few for you, if we’re going to stick to this topic, but none of them are going to be that nice.”

“And I’m sure you would love to go over them in extensive detail with me, my dear. Some of which I might even entertain, given just how you might choose to pitch it to me.”

She wasn’t even sure what topic they were on anymore at this point. “Oh, I think you’d like my delivery. Maybe even my pitch.” Yeah, she’d lost it, and the breathy tone was laying it on way too thick.

“Deputy!” The smile her mental image conjured up for that was a wicked one. “You’re far from shy, aren’t you? Just be sure to remain clear on what exactly you’re hoping to accomplish. Otherwise, I may end up drawing my own conclusions on the matter. But don’t worry,” he said, almost imitating her. “No matter what you decide, you won’t have to be nice with me.”

Jesus. This was getting weird. Way too weird for her to keep on going with it. “Now I know you’re just trying to keep me talking. Dangling shit like that in front of me hoping I’ll just, I don’t know. Ramble on about something interesting, or just make a bigger ass of myself in the process. Either or.”

“We’re simply talking. Trading pleasantries, and possibly even a step beyond that. Surely that can’t be a problem.”

“Nothing is ever simple when it comes to you. At least, that I’m learning.”

“You were the one that called me. Let me remind you of that, yet again,” he replied, an edge creeping into his tone. “But this is the longest we’ve talked so far. I’d like to call that…progress.”

“I don’t think we’re supposed to make progress here.”

“Given my role, I’d have to disagree. Progress is precious. All too delicate and easily lost, much like trust. And I understand yours is not given easily, Deputy.”

She took in a slow breath and let it out through her nose. “What do you want, John?”

“Let me be honest with you. Not that I haven’t been from the start, but if you need to hear it, need me to tell you this directly, then I will.”

“To build trust?”

“To build progress. But that could lead to trust, if given the opportunity.”

This was swinging back in the other direction. Back to a topic that she knew they shouldn’t be heading towards, and the repeated question came out harsh. “What do you want, John?”

“Let me make my offer again. To give you a proper chance to-“

“Confess?” That made her want to pitch her radio right out over the hills. “You never quit with this shit, do you?”

“Have I become that predictable?” he asked drily. “But yes, I doubt I will, because it's not in my right to deny you that. That chance. That opportunity. It still remains, even now.”

“You want to hear a confession? Hmm? You really want to? Like the actual reason why we’re talking right now? Why I made an ass of myself earlier singing at you?”

Hana held the radio right up to her mouth as she hissed out the next few words.

“I hate this song. I hate it every time it comes on, and I hate the fact that this entire county only has two stations to choose from. That if I get into any vehicle, or if I walk to any area within reach, there’s a decent shot it’s playing, and I have to spend the next five minutes listening to it crooning, ‘Oh, John,’ over and over until I can flip the damn switch.”

“It should be a source of inspiration, to bolster, and-”

She pressed the button on the radio to cut him off. “I blame the subject. He’s kind of a self-absorbed prick.”

He grew silent after that, and she knew she was getting close to hitting a nerve.

“John the brave. Building us a family, and working hard to keep us safe. Isn’t that how it goes?”

“I would. All of you, if you’d let me.”

“It’s not that simple of a thing, John. To wave your hand and brush away everything. To wipe the slate clean.”

“It’s not about forgetting or dismissing memories, thoughts, or actions. It’s about accepting them for what they are, and finding a way past that. To wash them away, opening yourself up to the possibility of becoming something greater. We all have things that we regret, don’t we?”

Staring down at the radio, she wet her lips and wished like hell she had another beer nearby. This was not a conversation she wanted to have with him of all people.

“I know you’ve felt that. Not just here, in this place. But before. Long before coming here. The difference is that this time, you wouldn’t have to be alone.”

Coming from the same man that had promised to spill her guts out in front of him earlier, to dig for all that she’d keep from him, stung.

“Stop, John.”

“I would listen. Patiently, until you’ve given me all that you could offer. Every word, every action, as we name these things we bury, these sins, and from there they can be shed. So you can begin anew. Unburdened and unashamed.”

“I don’t want to do this with you,” Hana said, the buzz giving way to a weight in her body. “I don’t.”

“But you could. Just say yes.”

Yes.

A shiver ran through her, sinking deep into her as it spread.

“That night by the lake. The Cleansing, or whatever you called it, you remember that? Holding me down as I kicked and screamed my lungs out?” He went silent, and her head swam as she tried to steady herself. “You were going to drown me that night, weren’t you? Right up until Joseph spoke up. Saving me from you.”

She held the radio in her hand, waiting for a denial, acknowledgment, anything.

She’d suspected it. But this, after hearing him say those things to her, spoken low, intimately, was the icing on the goddamn cake.

“If anyone’s going to save me, it’s not going to be you,” she replied, hating how the words wavered. “Good night, John.”

She hit the switch and the radio slipped out of her hand, landing right on the grass by her feet. She'd know where to grab it come morning, she thought, leaving it behind.

Sure enough, she would.