#quintuple drabble

[justonemorewallflower]

Here is one of the Starpollo one shots I promised I'd post this week! I'm posting this one first because it'll be deleted from my drafts first. It's another quintuple drabble so it's short. I'm also not the most content with this one but I still wanted to post it because I had it almost done and decided to just finish it. Hope y'all enjoy it!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64627771

(I'm not sure if the links still work or not since I've archive locked my works, but let me know! I don't wanna post links that don't work lol)

[sithfox]

August of Whump - Day 24

Prompts: humiliation / gilded cage / jewelry

Fox lounges on the steps before the throne, his golden jewelry and clothing a striking contrast to the blood-red carpet spilling down and across the receiving hall. He's all dressed up today, some important visitors coming that his Sith wants to show him off to. His clothes are buttery soft and revealing, his jewelry heavy and filled with trackers and electronodes and who knows what else.

Things could be worse. He's technically a hostage, kept to ensure the Mandalorian Empire abides by their treaties with the Sith. His first few weeks had been miserable, kept in a reinforced cell with nothing to do but bodyweight exercises—Fox was not going to lose his skills during this indefinite vacation from his duties as a Prince of Mandalore. He'd caught the eye of a Sith noble who'd offered him a deal: be his pretty little arm candy and military advisor and in exchange be allowed to move freely around the palace and grounds. The Kiffar had barely finished speaking before Fox had agreed, absolutely losing his grip on reality after only a few weeks of isolation.

He could feel the weight of the man's attention whenever they were in the same room, sometimes even when they weren't. He doesn't know much about the Force, just that it's a powerful enough weapon to keep the Sith in control of a significant chunk of the galaxy—that it can twist the mind. But his Sith hasn't made any moves, just leered at him in his draping silks and dragged his fingertips along Fox's exposed skin as he asked his opinion on skirmishes with the Republic.

His Sith stalks into the room, leonine in his movements in a way that leaves Fox's mouth dry. He's very aware of the power dynamics here—he's not stupid. But the Sith is attractive, Fox has eyes, and he's had a distressing number of dreams about the man that he wakes from hard and wanting.

He stops at the foot of the stairs, dragging his eyes over Fox before he graces him with what passes for a smile here: a baring of teeth with a hint of amusement in the eyes. "Foxy, you look delectable. You ready to greet our guests?"

Fox nods, expression controlled. "Of course I am. You asked me to be." The Sith likes it when he plays along, acts like he's notjust here because he's a painfully effective tool for keeping his father in line.

His Sith settles on his throne, grinning. The doors swing wide and Fox almost chokes on his own tongue. Their honored guests are his father and his two oldest brothers, Cody and Wolffe, all dressed in gleaming armor, expressions horrified when they land on Fox in his golden chains. He swallows down his protest—please, not in front of my brothers—he knows better than to speak up; the Sith will just draw the meeting out to prolong his humiliation.

Long fingers pet across his hair, mocking—and comforting.

On ao3

[cephalog0d]

JL Drabble - "Fairy Tale"

((Day 20 of @fluff-cember, some Wally and Shayera for @dangerousdan-dan that ended up way longer than I meant it to. XD This isn't a specific point in canon or a specific villain, although you could call it some version of Mirror Master if you want to.))

“I am done playing your games!” Shayera shouted, hands tightening on her mace. “Let him go, or I will make you!” It had taken her days of searching and brute-forcing her way through stupid, pointless puzzles to reach this point and she was entirely out of patience.

A thousand laughing voices echoed from a thousand glittering mirrors around the hall.

“Threaten all you like,” the voice said. “It will do no good.”

“Fine.” She hefted her mace and lunged forward to the closest mirror.

“Your simple mortal weapons-” the voice started only to break into an unholy shriek as her simple but not exactly mortal weapon shattered the mirror into nothing but a cloud of sparkling dust.

“No!” the voice shrieked at her, reverberating from the remaining mirrors. “You can’t!” One of the nearby ones exploded of its own accord, razor sharp shards spraying over her and slicing into her skin.

Shayera ignored it and ran forward, smashing as she went.

“Flash!” she shouted, trying to focus past the furious, frightened screams of whatever third-rate magician had decided to kidnap her friend and set up this whole stupid test. It got a little quieter with every mirror she destroyed, but there were still far too many.

Finally, underneath the repeated shrieks of “stop” and “no” and “you’ll pay for this” and all that usual nonsense she heard a different voice, distant and strangely warped. She followed it to a full length mirror tucked back in one corner, turned to face the wall. With a surge of strength she grabbed it and hauled it around.

Wally stared back at her, wide-eyed behind his mask, hands pressed to the inside of the glass.

Technically, Shayera didn’t know what breaking the mirror would do. It might release her friend, or it might shatter him into a bunch of tiny fragments.

The way all the other mirrors rose in pitch, vibrating and bursting in a last ditch effort to stop her as she drew back her mace, made her think she was on the right track, though. She swung at the large mirror in front of her.

It exploded, huge shards flying past her, adding more fresh cuts to the ones she already had, but she didn’t care. She dropped her mace and lunged forward to catch Wally as he toppled out of frame, hastily dragging him backwards as what had been some sort of portal closed up behind him, leaving nothing but plain, broken wood.

The other mirrors wailed at her, but all the nearby ones had already burst, leaving them impotent for the moment.

“Are you okay?” she asked, squeezing Wally in a quick, tight hug before steadying him on his feet.

“Are you?” he asked a little frantically. Shayera glanced down at how bloody she looked and shrugged.

“I’ve had worse. You up for breaking a few more mirrors?”

“Yeah, I think I’ve had enough self-reflection,” Wally said with a smirk, bouncing on his toes a little.

“Oh good, you’re fine.”

((Crossposted to AO3))

[avida-heidia-5]

Marchtian 2025 | PROMPT 2: Challenge

Available to read on AO3.

[aquanafrahudy]

Semperdistans

Why do you cry when nobody’s listening? What makes you sigh to the mists of the morning? What won’t you tell me of demons that plague you? Why won’t you tell me, when I want to help you? Is there a mystery you hold to your bosom? Is it your feelings that scare you away? Are you afraid I’ll ignore all you tell me? Should I ask you these questions anyway? Probably not. 

Ugh. 

There you are, standing by the side of the road, with an expression on your face that tugs on my heartstrings, and plays them as if I am the guitar which you fondle so, and here am I, watching and waiting, always at a distance, never getting any closer to you, even when you hold me in your arms and tell me you love me, and we whisper to each other all the night through until dawn peeps through the curtains and we sink into sleep in each others’ arms. It is as if you, the real you, the you in the very centre of yourself, is in another country, and I am left with the husk to content me. If only you would just open up to me, talk to me, tell me how you feel, but you never do, do you, you just shrug and say “I’m alright” even when you clearly aren’t. God knows I’m not good at that either. When was the last time I told you about my actual feelings? When was the last time I opened up to anyone? I think you and I need to have a little talk, don’t we? Heaven knows why I’m talking to you as if you can hear me when you can’t. Why do I speak to myself like this? I have so many questions, and none of them seem to have answers. Maybe because I am too scared to look for them. I shall have to talk to you, shan’t I? I shall have to tell you about how I feel. I wish I were better at talking. Words come so easily in my head, so much so that I think I am talkative, but out loud they are stuttered and stilted, and come slowly and haltingly, and sparsely at that. You are the same, I know. Perhaps that is why we were drawn to each other. It is such a silly thought. Such a silly thing. Two people who cannot speak to each other, how is that a healthy relationship? But there we are, such things happen. We shall simply have to make the most of it, I suppose. Right. Talking, talking, talking. Talking. 

I suppose I am going to have to simply tell you how I feel. All of it. Right, I’m going outside. I am definitely going outside now. I — I don’t know. I’m scared to talk to you. I’m scared to know. But I have to. We can’t go on like this. It’s not healthy. Right. 

“Hello,” I say. 

***

Just a short thing that happened to come to me as I sat, I thought I may as well share it. Exactly five hundred words today, it's becoming something of a habit. Title is a Doctor Who reference because why not, it's a portmanteau word the old lady played by Sian Phillips (I do love Sian Phillips) makes from the Latin semper, or always, and distans, meaning, surprise surprise, distance, and it fitted better than any other title I could think of.

I may make a habit of this, one little story a day. See what happens. (Actually, yesterday's story was from a while ago, but I finished it off yesterday, so.)

[radarsteddybear]

Torn between wanting to just post this missing scene fic already and wanting it to feel more...idk. Complete, maybe? Like there's a point to it? Except I'm not quite sure how to accomplish that, so it continues to languish in my WIP folder.

[regularspongebobfan]

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply

Category: M/M

Fandom: Gravity Falls

Relationship: Stan Pines/Tad Strange

Characters: Stan Pines, Tad Strange

Additional Tags: Snow, Winter, Some Humor, Romantic Fluff, Short & Sweet, Inspired by Tumblr, Inspired by the Shapes and Pines AU, Demon Tad Strange, Past, Quintuple Drabble

Summary: Stan and Tad share a sweet moment while it snows outside.

I was inspired by @void-dude's Shapes and Pines AU to write this drabble.

[phaerlax]

Eiden/Everyone quintuple drabble

For @nuflashfic's new Drabbles for the Birthday Boy event

Rei takes Eiden's pulse, expert fingers pressed at the Grand Sorcerer's neck. Something in the man's suddenly grave expression casts a pall of silence upon the otherwise noisy, chaotic gathering. A silence quickly broken by Rei's somber muttering– 

"I'm sorry. I know this is shocking, but… he's dead."

There's a cacophony of intakes of breath and distressed cries; most immediate is Yakumo's, who currently has his arms and legs coiled around the 'corpse' and constricts it further with a choked, disbelieving sob. Gasping, Morvay holds back a fully credulous Garu from leaping atop them in a burst of speed, and Blade's 'huuuh?' serves as backdrop to Aster's squeaky cursing—as the vampire hurls a dildo at Rei with what little strength he has. 

Rei just chuckles grimly as the rubbery phallus bounces off his pale back.

"What a time to start your comedy career! If Yakumo flies off the handle with Master out cold, who's gonna rein him in, huh? You? Birdbrain!"

(Meanwhile, still asleep after his contribution, Quincy turns away from the loud-ass group.)

"It's, it's okay Mr Aster– I can feel Mr Eiden's heartbeat, and he's– not cold!" The serpent hisses a sigh of relief by Eiden's neck.

"Riiight!~ I'm always monitoring darling's vitals. He's just suffering from 'essence depletion' now! From showing us his cutest face too much and too hard!"

"Hmph, it's just like this dumbass incubus' victims… I knew I shouldn't have let you have your way!"

"Yeow– as if you did! I was tied up and gagged almost the whole time, how is it my faaault–" Morvay shrieks and lets go of Garu as his tail is twisted. "You drunk his damn blood, shitty vampire, how am I the– and remember how rough Olivine was riding him last, that's what did iiit!"

At this point in their relationship, the priest simply smiles at that, a beacon of serenity amid chaos. "Lord Aster, do you have an Essence Vial for Eiden? I believe I can replenish him…"

"Tch, those don't come cheap… buut, of course! It's Master's birthday after all~ I'm sparing no expense! Be useful and fetch it for Father Olivine, Morvay!"

Olivine chants a soothing incantation after uncorking the Vial, unleashing a glittering nimbus of magic that happens to react with the many gemstones present—drawing Rei's curious eye to each. The whole clan is gathered, save for Dante (who'd made up some excuse about having to return to Solaria), Edmond (who'd been all too eager to escort him), and Kuya (who loathes a crowd he can't control, but had doubtlessly stuck around nearby). 

Now everyone (except Quincy) watches as the Grand Sorcerer takes in a deep breath, inhaling all that magic and shuddering back to consciousness with a drawn-out moan–

"Wah, Master woke up down there too–"

"Heey, Garu, dibs–!"

There are assorted chuckles as yokai and incubus spat over who gets to slobber over Eiden's rapidly re-swelling cock—including from the man himself, who wakes from a pleasant dream into another.

[cilil]

The Elder King's New Clothes

AN: Written for this thread by @feanope, based on @thecoolblackwaves' idea that Manwë could use his feathers as clothing. Might have turned out a bit naughtier than that, but oh well. My dearest fellow Manwë fans, take this as a tiny treat🤍

ഒ Characters: Manwë x Fëanor ഒ Synopsis: Manwë shows Fëanáro the true beauty of his fána. Fëanáro studies him. ഒ Warnings: Nudity, sensuality ഒ Quintuple drabble (500 words) ഒ AO3

"You asked me about my feathers, Fëanáro." 

"I did, my lord." 

Fëanáro turned when he heard the voice of the Vala and froze in place. 

Manwë was walking towards him, his fána unclothed. Bare were his pale feet that only just touched the floor as he went, bare were his lithe figure and slender waist that were usually concealed by flowing robes, bare were well-shaped shoulders and his swan-like neck, freed from collars and heavy jewellery. 

The only thing protecting the Elder King's modesty were his feathers. They were no mere accessories, they were part of his fána like his hair or his limbs, and had been grown and preened with great care to cover what needed covering. 

A second pair of wings had sprouted from the middle of Manwë's back, in addition to the mighty pair growing from his shoulder blades, and they hugged his form from behind, one covering his chest, one his crotch. Between long flight feathers Fëanáro espied a layer of soft down, reminiscent of a small cloud obscuring what lay underneath. Long tail feathers swayed from side to side as he walked, gently and elegantly. 

Fëanáro swallowed. "I take it I may study your form then?" 

"You may." 

"Good. I was hoping for that." 

Manwë smiled mildly in response. 

His wings were relaxed, Fëanáro noticed when he ran his fingers through his plumage. If he wanted to, he could surely move them and see what was underneath. Feeling bold, he pulled on the wing covering Manwë's chest, and it released its embrace, feathers rustling as it withdrew and folded by his side. 

The mysteries of the Elder King's fána were his to uncover. His mouth watered. 

"Should I remove my other wings too, Fëanáro?" Manwë asked.

Fëanáro couldn't help feeling like he was acting coy, though his mien betrayed nothing. Calm, serene, slightly curious at most.

Then again, he believed to have noticed in the past how little the Vala's mien shifted, always kind, always pleasant. Only strong emotions could change his demeanour. 

He would get a reaction out of him, Fëanáro swore to himself. 

"Yes, please," he said confidently. 

As if emerging from a flurry of white, Manwë revealed himself to him fully. "Like this?" 

"Yes. Perfect." 

Fëanáro was already walking around him, admiring the regal curve of his spine and backside. Intrigued, he reached up to place his hand at the base of Manwë's wings, soft down tickling his fingers as he traced bone and muscle underneath the skin. His efforts elicited a pleased hum that permeated the air around them, filling it with warm resonance. 

"Do you enjoy this?" he asked. 

"Very much, yes." 

So it was a sensitive spot, Fëanáro noted, then began rubbing, fondling and lightly scratching the area like he assumed a bird would do, and Manwë fanned out his wings in enjoyment. 

The sight alone was breathtaking. He could count every single feather if he wanted.

"Continue please?" 

And now he had the Elder King begging for more. 

Thanks for reading! I'm too tired to write more tonight, but if you want more of Fëanor fondling bird men let me know ♡

taglist: @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @blauerregen @elanna-elrondiel @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @saintstars @singleteapot @urwendii

[justonemorewallflower]

I'm trying to distract myself from the election stuff and maybe I can offer some distraction for others with this haha but I have posted another BSG/Starpollo drabble on AO3! This one has been in the drafts for a while and I finally posted it! I hope y'all enjoy!!

[sithfox]

August of Whump - Day 12

Prompt: deal / monstrous / anger

"No, I will not be one of your experiments—" Fox is spitting with rage, self-preservation a thing he's long since long left behind. "You've killed my men, good men, and it got you nowhere—"

Palpatine's smile is oddly indulgent; that chills Fox's blood more than anything else. "I wonder if you might be convinced to change your tune. Bring in our guest." One of his Red Guards turns on their heel and slips out a side door at his order. "You see, Commander, everyone has their price. For some, it's money. For some, it's power. For others..." he trails off, smile uncomfortably wide. "It's love." Fox's stomach drops out right as the Red Guard returns, dragging a chained individual behind them. No, please— "As you can see," Palpatine continues, "Master Vos so politely appeared right near one of our bases. Perhaps he wants to be my experimental subject?"

"No—" Fox stops himself and takes a fortifying breath. "No. You let him go, swear not to hurt him, and I'll let you do whatever you want to me."

Palpatine's smile softens into something more genial. "See, was that so hard?"

Fox drops his gaze to the floor, refusing to meet Quin's eyes as he pulls a knife from his belt. "I want it sealed in blood."

"Of course, of course—no tricks for you, my boy." The Emperor accepts a sharp blade from his Guard and slices his palm in tandem with Fox; they shake hands and it's all Fox can do to not cower from the feeling of the Sith invading his mind. He should've known Sideous wouldn't let him keep his dignity; would force the change on him right in front of Quinlan. He feels his body twisting, muscles pulling unnaturally as his shape is violently changed. He screams as pain engulfs him; it drags out into an inhuman screech as he gives himself over fully to the corrupting power. If he fights it he'll die, and while that might be better for him—

If he dies, Sideous keeps Quinlan, and Fox will not let that happen. The pain drags out, twisting his sense of time, and ends as suddenly as it came. Fox must have fallen at some point; he comes back to awareness on the cold stone floor of the throne room, Quinlan watching in horror from where he'd been dragged to the base of the stairs. Sideous laughs chillingly, his tone are rot-sweet. "Oh, you are magnificent, my monster. Don't you agree, Master Vos?"

The gag is ripped from Quin's mouth, leaving him gasping. "What—" he coughs harshly. "What did you do to him?"

Sideous leisurely circles Fox's new form, admiring the fruits of his labor. "I made him match his name—poetic of me, don't you think?" He cradles Fox's elongated jaw in his hand, unafraid of his razor-sharp canines: Sideous holds the power here and he knows it. "Now my attack dog in fact, not just in action." Fox bows his head in defeat.

on ao3

[cephalog0d]

Fluffcember 2024 Masterpost

All the drabbles (of varying lengths) that I did for Fluffcember this year, sorted by fandom!

DC

"Roasted Marshmallows" (Steph, Tim and Damian, double drabble)

"Winter Flu" (Cass and Damian Reverse Robins AU, triple drabble)

"Snowman" (Cass, Steph and Harper, drabble)

"Christmas Sweater" (Dick and Donna, double drabble)

"Northern Lights" (Steph and Kara, double drabble)

"Condensed Breath" (Steph, Dick and Damian, double drabble)

"Sparkling Snow" (Bruce and Kid!Dick, drabble)

"Sugar Rush" (Steph, Cass and Tim, drabble)

"Slippery" (Maps, Steph and Cass, drabble)

"Hot Bath" (Selina and Isis, double drabble)

"Chocolate" (Dick, Damian and Steph Reverse Robins AU, drabble)

"Snowed In" (Steph, Damian and Titus, double drabble)

"Fairy Tale" (DCAU Wally and Shayera, quintuple drabble)

"Cabin in the Snow" (Steph, Damian, Tim, Cass and Dick, double drabble)

"Winter Storm" (Tim and Dick, double drabble)

"The Perfect Gift" (Dick/Koriand'r, double drabble)

"Fallen Through the Ice" (Dick and Donna, double drabble)

"Family Gathering" (Cass and Duke, drabble)

"Cold Turkey" (Damian, Steph, Jason and Jerry the turkey, drabble)

"Mint" (Dick and Kid!Jason, double drabble)

"Warming Up" (Steph, Cass and Babs, drabble)

"Fireworks" (Steph and Damian, triple drabble)

Teen Wolf/DC Fusion

"Gingerbread House" (TW/DC Fusion AU, Stiles and Derek, quadruple drabble)

Dungeons and Daddies

"Carols" (Lark, Sparrow, Nick, TJ and Grant, double drabble)

"Winter Soup" (Lark, Sparrow and Nick, double drabble)

"Mistletoe" (Sparrow, Lark, Nick and others, triple drabble)

"Fondue" (Lark and Nick, drabble)

Leverage

"Naughty List" (Breanna, Harry and Parker, drabble)

"Holiday Decorations" (Parker, Eliot and Hardison, drabble)

OC

"Fire and Ice" (Original characters, triple drabble)

[heliopauseentertainments]

Choice Location

Part of MegOp Week 2024 Prompt - Day 4: Role Reversal/Peace

Continuity: IDW1

Rating: General

Relationships: Megatron & Optimus Prime

Characters: Megatron, Optimus Prime

Warnings: Quintuple Drabble, Vignette

Summary: In which Megatron waits on a quiet moon for Optimus to arrive.

Crossposting: AO3 | Dreamwidth

Fic under cut. See AO3 for complete notes.

It was quiet, Megatron thought.

The void of space usually was but the silence on a barren rock, little more than a desolate asteroid named only by an automatically generated number and tucked away in a scarcely visited solar system, was different. Here there was a weight to silence, pressing down on his body rather than in space where the nothingness tried to pull his frame outward.

The small planetoid was just large enough to hold its bulk in a spherical shape, to have a small horizon…. Just large enough to have the gravity necessary to keep Megatron from floating off into space as he reclined against its rough silicate surface, waiting.

It wasn’t quite sizable enough, however, to hold onto any detectable atmosphere, which meant being functionally deaf and mute without any gaseous molecules to transit the pressure waves of sound.

When Optimus touched down on the opposite side of the planetoid, as planned, Megatron was alerted by the combined subtle tremors in the rock and the buzz of a familiar voice through his internal commlink.

“I’ve made it.”

The synthetic voice, simulated by their internal systems to mimic what was mechanically produced by a vocalizer, wasn’t quite the same. A near perfect imitation, but there was always something off. The imperfections in audio quality added to the surreality of a clandestine meeting on a nowhere “world.”

Megatron slowly pushed himself to his feet, ignoring the coating of moon dust that clung to his armor through static attraction. Standing up too quickly in such low gravity could have sent him careening into the void.

“You kept me waiting.”

“My apologies; you know how traffic can be.”

Megatron tried to scoff, but with no air for the pressure to travel, all that happened was a soundless, dull clunking sensation in his throat.

“Yes.”

His own synthesized voice was a low buzz in his signal feedback, flat and crisp around the edges. It lost so much, but it didn’t feel like it would blow away the smooth dust coating the planetoid.

“I’m sure you had to battle armies of commuters on the way to this popular vacation destination.”

The shuttle that Megatron had brought with him was only tenuously parked on the unstable regolith. Optimus’s was likely in a similarly precarious position on the other side of the rock.

It was almost as though the physicality of the meeting place itself was enforcing a peaceful interaction. Any violence, rough movements, or recoil from gunfire could send them flying away, unable to reach their respective vessels. No wonder Optimus chose this location for their meeting.

Unfortunately, Megatron would have to give credit where credit was due.

An almost poetic tactic given what they had hoped to achieve here—peace at long last— far away from the belligerent eyes of their officers and soldiers.

Cresting what barely constituted a low rise, Megatron saw Optimus, a bright, vivid bloom in the dust, waiting on the other side.

“Tell me, Prime, where shall we start?”

[sugareey-makes-stuff]

My first Sterek art piece for spooky season (and also something I can finally share with y'all)! This was definitely inspired by a lot of things, and heyyy, there's even a ficlet to go with it! For @sterekweek-2023's Day 6 theme: Myths & Legends, Fairytales & Folklore. Also incorporates @whumptober's theme No. 23 prompts "shadows" and "stalking" and @tw-anchor-down's 2023 Waning Crescent Round prompts "sacred" and "choose." It's always fun to explore myths and monsters in a story, so naturally I gave a nod to Supernatural's S1 Episode 16 Shadow, and thus pulled in some shadows (or demons of darkness, if you will). Title: Dancing Shadows From Behind (<- read on AO3) Rating: Teen WC: 500 Tags: Mythical Beings & Creatures, Urban Legends, Demons, Shadows, Daevas, Monster of the Week, Pack Alpha and Protective Derek Hale, Spark Stiles Stilinski, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Stiles is Derek's Anchor, Derek is Stiles' Anchor, Anchors, Hugs, Hopeful Ending, Quintuple Drabble, Digital Art, Mixed Media, POV Derek Hale Summary: Derek pulls Stiles closer to his chest as more shadows appear. Stalking, taunting and dancing around them. Ready to strike again at any moment. [Or: Derek has no idea what to do when the Pack is trapped by daevas. But something ignites a Spark, and that's enough.]

[furashuban]

Not-So-Afar

Wrote a ficlet/quintuple drabble for @sketchbookweek Day 5: Teenagers or Secret Admirer. Hope you enjoy!

Words: 500

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60038863

Summary: After finding a new book from the library and returning each day just to read it, Johanna gets an unexpected surprise in her book.

Johanna had thought about reading more for some time now; her job as a graphic designer meant she could stay at home to work and thereby having plenty of time for at least one book chapter in between her self-determined breaks. The Trolberg Library came to mind immediately for somewhere to acquire a new book she hoped would catch her liking, and sure enough, she found a collection of mythology stories, one of her favorites to read as a child and, as she felt, even up to now.

She then realized just how little she visited the library at all, reveling at how grand and comfortable all at once the inside was in person. Not wanting to wait to get home to read her new book, she picked a desk by the window, deciding to spend a few minutes before checking out the book. A warm grin etched her face throughout as she delighted in stories of gods and shapeshifters, feeling so immersed that the only thing to snap her out of her preoccupation was the clocktower by the city square, reminding her of the commission at home in need of finishing.

Johanna put her book back in its shelf deliberately. She wanted a reason to come back, feeling an unexplainable sensation of calm and safety where she was that afternoon. And so, she did in fact returned the second day in a row to enjoy her book at the library, then a third day, never having checked it out the library nor read anything else but the mythology book; she tended to be a slow reader when it came to stories, she thought. But on the fourth day, picking the book out from its shelf, she noticed a folded letter slightly sticking out from the cover.

“Hang on, what’s this now…?” she spoke to herself before pulling it out and unfolding it. She began reading:

To bobble hat lady,

I could not help but notice how much you’re enjoying this book. It’s a great read—if you could not already tell, haha. With that said, you must have wonderful taste in literature, and I’ve never seen anyone smile and appreciate something with so much heart. I adore these things about you, and I fail to bring myself to tell you up close in fear that I might be off-putting, but I can no longer resist this need to tell you anyway. I really hope we can have proper conversation together one day, I promise I will work my way up to that.

-Your admirer from not-so-afar

Johanna’s cheeks flushed, turning her head left and right to see if the writer of the letter was around. She smiled tenderly before holding the letter close to her heart, refolding it and keeping it in the pockets of her yellow jacket. Little did she know, however, that the librarian was upstairs quietly but anxiously watching her from above, whispering the softest YESS imaginable as she watched her read her letter to Johanna.

[t4tfitpac]

Hideduo Week Day 5 quintuple drabble !!

This is my quintuple (!!!) drabble for @hideduoweek , for day 5 and the prompts Late Night, Rain, Touch Starvation

title from a very fitpac song, Misty by Lesley Gore. and also, the mist of the air !!!!!!

Misty | feyscape | G | Slash | Day 5 | Late Night & Rain & Touch Starvation

Fic under the cut !

Fit sang Ramón his lullaby almost 3 hours ago, and not soon after tried to fall asleep himself. Exhaustion permeates his bones, but rest would not find him earlier, and it continues to evade him as he lies in his bed, eyes wide open and unfocused.

He counts another five minutes in his head before he finally gives up on his endeavor. First, he sits up, then he swings his legs off the bed. He looks at his arm, leaning against the wall, and considers putting it on, but it would only make him more sluggish than he already is. He turns on the light to wake up a bit more, and then immediately regrets his decision, blinking rapidly in adjustment.

Not 20 seconds later, his communicator vibrates on the nightstand. It's Pac.

i saw your light turn on, i'm by the river

Fit gets up and walks over to his window. He looks down and, sure enough, Pac's sitting at the small fishing spot, waving up at where Fit's standing. His dark clothes would make him indistinguishable from his surroundings if not for the lit lantern placed by his side.

Waving back, Fit sends a brief be right there in response. He leaves his lavacast home, shrugging on a jacket on his way out. Quesadilla Island's spawn region doesn't get cold, not really, so despite it being January, the only chill tonight is from the light dusting of raindrops in the air.

He makes his way over to Pac quickly, like a piece of metal pulled by a magnet. Their official relationship is new and exciting, and it makes things flutter in his stomach. Words between them are careful still, but there's an undertone of relief, of finally, and conversation flows easily after the first shy hellos of the night.

Only a few minutes pass before they're lying next to each other in the dewy grass. The moon is faintly visible through a thin layer of clouds blanketing the sky. Stargazing is saved for another night, but as they lie next to each other, none of them mind that much at all.

Fit's elbow is inches away from Pac's own, and his skin itches in response. It surprises him, the way he doesn't feel the need to flinch away from the almost-contact. Rather, he has the urge to close the distance, to shuffle closer, take Pac's hand in his and breathe in their closeness.

So he does.

With clothes dampened from the drizzle and cheeks hurting from smiling so wide, they share the warmth of each other from their embrace as the night grows old. Fit's head rests on Pac's upper arm, and their intertwined fingers have settled on his stomach. The lantern flickers soft light across Pac's face, across the slope of his nose and the bow of his lips, and Fit thinks, just maybe, he wouldn't mind it if he leaned in closer.

As the moon continues its trajectory, the sun eventually follows and brightens the horizon.