FB3X Drabble Cascade #135 - 'spade'

FB3X Drabble Cascades

Welcome to the FB3X Drabble Cascade, a weekly blog hop where we want you to share your drabbles, or flash fiction inspired by our word of the week. To join in, just post your piece to your blog/social media/website and add your link to the list with Title (Rating, Genre), e.g. A Little Bit of Fun (PG, Science Fiction) and then to perpetuate the cascade, add the list code to the bottom of your post :)

Follow the link here



Title: Plausible Deniability (G, m/m, Fantasy)
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 100



Flames lit the room, the candles sending out the perfumed scent of warm beeswax. That flickering light threw shadows across the green felt covered table top where the card game played. One hand worth so much.

Derrick slowly fanned out his cards, his pulse heavy in his throat as each appeared, low hearts but a flush of them. His eyes closed.

“Call,” the rough voice said making Derrick shudder.

“Flush,” said Derrick and sighed at the fan of Andrel’s winning spades.

“Sometimes I think you lose on purpose versus admitting you love me fucking you.”

“Don’t be silly,” Derrick purred.

Prompt Fic

tsuki_no_bara posted this photo prompt



Title: The Rains Came
Author: charisstoma
Word count: 335

The two chairs stood side by side inside the ruin of a building where they’d sat, was it only last month, when Artie had calmly as if discussing the weather asked him if perhaps their weekly fucking could be more often as in him moving his things into Artie’s place? It wasn’t romantic but then Artie wasn’t.

He should have said yes then but he’d needed to think on it and said so. And Artie being Artie had nodded.

That Monday the rains had come and with it the floods. Who knew where everyone had been evacuated to. With time people moved back and cleaned up their places enough to live in again.

He stood gazing at the chairs wondering. They were remarkably dry looking as if the heavens hadn’t opened and made a pond around their legs with newspapers dissolving ruppled sheets below the surface of the water and the cement floor growing green algae. Perhaps the roof had selectively admitted the rain or the missing panes of the windows that were reflected in the water’s surface were responsible. And he wondered if Artie had made it. If he had returned. Would he still want him to move in with him.

“Took you long enough,” Artie’s voice echoed off the wall. “Made up your mind yet?”

“Yeah, I made up my mind. Your place good for living in?” he asked.

“Hell, yeah. I live up on the Hill,” Artie’d replied.

“What in the hell do you come down here for then, to this decrepit place?” he’d asked.

“Family used to own it,” Artie had shrugged. “Why did you come down here?”

He’d grinned, “Used to work at the place before I moved away. Retired and came back.”

“Glad you did,” Artie said. “So when you want to move in?”

“Sooner the better, I missed you you old coot,” he smiled at Artie. “Worried too.”

“No more than me. Let’s get your stuff. We got a month of catching up to do.” Artie said leering.