#august fic prompts

[boltedfruit]

I'm too tired to make a fancy graphic, but I made a prompt list for AU August, where every day of the month is a different prompt for writing/art/what-have-you.

[scealaiscoite]

⋆˚࿔ august prompts 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

¹⁾ orange peels

²⁾ blood under fingernails

³⁾ glimmering pools of gasoline

⁴⁾ burnt coffee

⁵⁾ a martini glass

⁶⁾ jasmine perfume

⁷⁾ a knotted gold chain

⁸⁾ whiskey on someone’s breath

⁹⁾ blue lace trim

¹⁰⁾ a cornfield

¹¹⁾ an arm draped over shaking shoulders

¹²⁾ messy handwriting

¹³⁾ a chef’s white coat

¹⁴⁾ cherry pits

¹⁵⁾ a tie on a bedroom floor

¹⁶⁾ an overgrown garden

¹⁷⁾ boxer shorts

¹⁸⁾ sweet incense

¹⁹⁾ an early phone call

²⁰⁾ a chaise lounge in a dark room

²¹⁾ cheap cocktails

²²⁾ birthday candles

²³⁾ torn curtains

²⁴⁾ the snack aisle in a gas station

²⁵⁾ a riverbank after a storm

²⁶⁾ the radio shows on at 2 am

²⁷⁾ vermouth

²⁸⁾ a cold necklace against warm skin

²⁹⁾ ruined mascara

³⁰⁾ a home-cooked meal

³¹⁾ an orange-tiled shower

[apassingbird]

🤎 + bucktommy please

kissing in bed / lazy kissing / cuddling

The thing is, Buck isn't new to kissing. He's kissed plenty of women over the years and, yeah sure, the occasional guy, too. Doesn't really matter who you're kissing because the mechanics are still pretty much the same regardless, because kissing is... it's kissing, right. And Buck- well, Buck likes kissing. It might even be in the top five of his favorite activities. So, no, Buck isn't new to kissing as a concept, but what he is new to is the way Tommy kisses him.

Sometimes, he kisses Buck as if he's a man possessed, starving and presented with a feast; his hands firm on Buck's jaw, on the back of his neck, as he licks Buck's mouth open and pulls moan after moan from his throat. It's- it leaves Buck almost dizzy with arousal sometimes, knees turning jelly and buckling beneath him, his heart pounding in his ears when Tommy circles an arm around his waist and holds him up with ease, his mouth not leaving Buck's for even a second.

And sometimes, like right now, he kisses Buck slowly and languidly, like they have all the time in the world to map out each other's mouths and bodies; fingertips gently tipping Buck's chin up, lips soft and warm as they press against Buck's over and over again. This, too, leaves Buck dizzy with it. The way Tommy bites down on Buck's bottom lip and then quickly soothes the spot with his tongue; how his fingers fall from Buck's chin down the side of his neck, unhurried as they continue their path over Buck's shoulder, his ribs, pausing a second at his waist, before slipping down to his hip, fingers spreading over his ass before pulling Buck closer, their legs all tangled up.

So, Buck likes kissing, always has, and always will. But, he loves kissing Tommy. It's addictive, exhilarating still. It is, in many ways, new, different. Tommy kisses Buck the way you hold something precious in the palm of your hands; carefully, gently, with reverence. He kisses Buck as if every press of his lips is a confession and a prayer all in once; as if he's giving away a tiny piece of himself to Buck, one kiss at a time.

[medusapelagia]

14 The betrothal

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Lake), @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: prince and princess ), @aug-kissed (prompt: Hand Kiss) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: omegaverse, Omega Steve Harrington, Alpha Eddie Munson, Beta Robin Buckley, violence, blood and injuries, vomit Words: 1563

If Steve was a proper omega he wouldn't be on that stupid carriage, to be shipped from Loch Nora's Kingdom to Forest Park like an unwanted pack.

A proper omega would honor his family, stay home, cross-stitch animals and flowers, and learn poems and music. But Steve never was a proper omega and after he rejected his last suitor his father told him that he wasted his last opportunity to choose a proper alpha and that he was going to find one willing to take in a rebel omega like him.

Male omegas are a blessing and a curse: they are very rare, so Steve's father was able to ask for a high dowry from whoever wanted to marry him, but there weren't many alphas willing to tie their life to a male omega. 

Steve has heard talking about Forest Park. A lot. And never in a good way.

They have a very bad reputation, but they are rich, so Steve has no doubt that his father got a really good dowry for selling him to those people. Well, not selling, betrothing him.

Thankfully, Robin is coming with him. Moving from one Kingdom to another and being completely alone would have been terrible, at least his beta best friend is trying to make him laugh by making silly comments and distract him from the long journey.

Even if the carriage is big and cozy, spending hours sitting on a carriage isn't that comfortable, and Steve's royal ass is in pain.

He doesn't even have enough space to stretch his long legs because in the carriage with them, there are the two guards King Munson himself sent to escort the future bride.

The guards are heavily armed, as they were expecting something to happen, and Steve isn't totally surprised. After all, Forest Hill has a terrible reputation. Their King was an outlaw before he rebelled and became king by killing everyone and conquering the castle, so Steve isn't really looking forward to moving in the same bed with a notorious assassin. But it’s not his choice anymore.

Savages, that's the kindest word Steve’s mom used to define those people, while what everyone thought but none dared to speak out loud was that King Munson was the new Warlord.

A warlord. Not a high-born, just a man with enough power and money to hire the strongest knight and mercenaries to help him keep his power. And Steve is going to get married to a Warlord’s son, or nephew, he's not really sure. Bloodlines are mixed in their Kingdom and they don't give a fuck about dynasties and the only blood that they care about is the one the blood spit by their enemies.

Steve has heard terrible stories about how cruel and violent those people are. One of Steve's servants has told him that Prince Munson killed his first wife with his own hands because she wasn't too sick to give him a child.

Being a male omega Steve knows he can bear pups, even if his heats are irregular and it's harder for him than for other omegas, but he never thought that the ability to bear a child or not could have been the cause of his premature death.

His scent gets sour and acrid while he thinks about the monster that he's supposed to wed. Maybe he should have been more pliant with his previous suitor. Lord Hagan wasn’t that bad after all. A little bit too presumptuous for Steve’s taste but he doubts he would have had him killed if he wasn’t able to bear a child.

"You ok? Do you want to take a break? Stretch your legs a bit?" Robin proposes, drawing soothing circles with her thumb on Steve's hand.

"Yeah, that would be nice." He confirms, rubbing a hand through his hair.

"No break and no stretching. We are still in hostile territory." One of the guards replies without even looking at Steve.

"Couldn't we stop just for a moment?" Robin insists, "We have been on this stupid carriage for hours!"

But an arrow flying through the window and ending his journey a few inches from her face makes her shut up.

"Stay down!" One guard yells, yanking Steve toward the carriage’s floor so abruptly that he falls badly on his own wrist, spraining it, but he doesn't have time to yelp because the carriage stops in the middle of the woods.

"Stay inside!" The first guard yells, jumping out of the carriage and drawing his sword. For a moment Steve catches a glimpse of a bloodied body staring blankly at him with a long arrow in the one eye socket.

"It's ok. It's ok." Robin tries to soothe him, releasing beta relaxing pheromones, but the other guard stops her, complaining that he can't afford to get relaxed by her pheromones, so Steve and Robin hug each other, trying to hide themselves from the attackers.

"He's here!" Someone yells, kicking the carriage door open, but the second guard is quick to pierce the intruder from side to side, what he wasn't expecting was someone else opening the door on the opposite side and grabbing Steve with no kindness, yanking him by his hair.

Robin screams, reaching out toward Steve, the guard turns his head just for a moment and another attacker takes his chance to stab him in the leg while Robin keeps screaming, but the clenching of the metal armor is so loud that Steve almost can't hear her.

A strong hit on the back of his head makes everything turn a warm black and he loses consciousness.

***

When he opens his eyes, Steve is surprised to find himself resting with his back against a big oak tree. In front of him the bluest lake he ever saw.

He puts down his hand, trying to get up, but immediately desists when a bright pain makes him whimper.

"I would stay put if I were you. Your wrist is sprained and you took a nasty hit to the head. Are you feeling dizzy?"

Steve startles, looking around himself, and finally finds a tall man with dark eyes and a nasty scar on his face staring at him with an amused smile.

His kidnapper!

The omega tries to crawl backward, but the unknown man is right, his wrist hurts too much and he still feels lightheaded.

"I think I'm going to puke…" he mutters, before turning on his side and emptying his stomach on the green grass.

Surprisingly, his kidnapper is quickly at his side, holding his hair out of his face, whispering encouraging words while he holds him to his chest with one arm.

When Steve's body gets limp into the kidnapper's arms, he takes a moment to breathe in his scent.

Embers and earth.

An alpha.

A proper omega should never be left alone with an alpha who's not family!

Steve tries to wriggle out of the stranger's hold, but he gently chuckles and pushes Steve's neck closer to the scent gland on his neck, "You're fine, omega. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm betrothed." He objects in a soft voice, while the alpha pheromones make him pliant and docile.

"That's what you're worried about? your honor?" The unknown alpha chuckles. 

He has a nice laugh, Steve decided in his drugged state of mind, and he smells delicious. No other alpha ever smelled so good to him.

Steve must have said something because a very pleased rumble comes from the alpha's chest.

"You don't smell bad yourself, sweetheart." 

Steve should be ashamed of himself, but the alpha's sturdy body is holding him tight and for the first time in his life he feels safe in an alpha's embrace.

"That's good. Come on, sip some water for me to wash away that bad taste."

The omega prince doesn't really know if the alpha is using his alpha's voice, or if he's already scentdrunk or whatever, but the only thing he wants to do is obey this alpha.

Steve spits a few times to clean his mouth from the horrible taste and then drinks some water, while the alpha keeps holding him tight.

The man’s wearing a beaten armor, stained with blood, and for a moment Steve wonders if he will kill him, but the way he keeps holding him makes him think that he’s affected by Steve’s scent as he is from his.

They aren't left alone for long. When Steve turns his head someone is riding toward them. Too many people.

Steve turns toward the alpha with eyes wide with worry, "You have to go. My future husband will kill you. He's a warlord! He won't be pleased you kidnapped me!"

"Kidnapped?" The alpha asks, staring with confusion at the omega, feeling Steve's head with gentle fingers, "How badly did they hurt you, omega?" he asks worriedly, and this time is Steve's turn to frown in confusion.

“I might not look so but I’m a prince. And I was on my way to wed the Forest Park’s Warlord's son. If they catch you, they’ll kill you.”

Eddie bursts out in a loud laugh, shaking Steve who quietly complains of being jostled by the huge Alpha's body.

"Let me introduce myself," the alpha says, grabbing Steve's uninjured hand and kissing the palm of his hand in the most chivalrous way, "I'm Edward Munson, King Munson's nephew, your betrothal." 

[magistralucis]

From Darkness Unto Thy Light [Obyron/Zahndrekh Fanfiction]

He is the very model of a modern Sautekh nemesor: Botanically inclined and philosophical in spite of war, In grace and fair appearances you'll see no better epicure, He'd love a recitation by his vargard about paramours. In crises he's undaunted by traditional sagacity, His speech is most compassionate in infinite capacity, Of Setekh diabolical he's teeming with a lot o' news: (It's thanks to him the bastard won't receive his undeserved dues.) He merits the inheritance the world of Gidrim occupies, His regal might and army shall command that noble enterprise, He honours his Obyron true, they'll be together evermore: He is the very model of a modern Sautekh nemesor.

-----

Written for Sehn during the Summer Fest Gift Exchange 2024! 💖✨ A retelling of Obyron and Zahndrekh's beginnings at Yama, up to Zahndrekh's rule of Gidrim. Heavy spoilers for Severed ahead.

Minor content warnings for violence, PTSD, and Setekh. Obyron POV. Multichapter, pre-biotransference. SFW.

(EDIT: Now accompanied by this amazing art by the wonderful @eleooooooo!)

[Originally published 10/08/2024 - AO3 link here.]

[dick-helmet-magneto]

AUgust

Along with @okayigetitifuckedup a challenge has been made. We present: AUgust

It is exactly what it sounds like, Alternative Universe prompts that are made with the month of August in mind (nothing related to the month specifically other than the first two letters and this challenge taking place)

The prompts are being posted early to give people time to find this and get an early start if they want to but no pressure to anyone.

The rules are simple: Any media goes. Art, edits, writing, anything. And any fandom is welcome to participate these prompts weren't made with any one particular fandom in mind (creators are in different fandoms and came up with the prompts together). And the tag for posting works: #superior AUgust The only real rules are start posting the prompt fills in the month of August. Go past the month? That's okay! Start early? Go for it!

Prompts under the cut:

1.) Royalty AU 

Prince and princess, king and king, a peasant who falls in love with the prince, anything.

2.) Fake Dating AU 

Faking love, falling in love along the way, or trying to hide feelings they already have.

3.) Secret Relationship AU

A well kept secret or so poorly kept that only the two in the relationship doesn’t know.

4.) Soulmate AU

Matching tattoos, first words, red string, do as you please.

5.) Criminal AU

Already a criminal? Then take it away from them.

6.) Supernatural AU

Vampires, werewolves, and zombies oh my

7.) School AU 

Professors, college or high school students, high school teachers

8.) Sugar Daddy AU

One rich fuck and one struggling, together they make one fully functional being.

9.) Sci-Fi AU

Aliens, time travel, space, parallel universe, the possibilities are out of this world.

10.) Android AU

Turn man into metal and have him slowly learn and explore emotions. 

11.) Institution AU

Prison, mental institution, rehab. We couldn't decide

12.) Happily Ever After AU

Give them the happy ending canon won’t.

13.) Sex Work AU

Pornstar, stripper, or just good old fashion sex work

14.) Roommate AU

And they were roommates

15.) Poverty AU

Take that poor little meow meow and make him a poor poor little meow meow

Need something more? Don't want to use one of the other prompts?

Alternatives:

Stalker AU

Fantasy AU

Addiction AU

Omegaverse AU

[jamiesfootball]

Augusnippets Day 1

Brainwashing

CW: brainwashing (pre-brainwashing technically, these are early stages), referenced child abuse, sports injury

Summary:

When Jamie's career is still in its early stages, one of his teammates witnesses his dad's abuse. Unfortunately that teammate is Zava.

Here on ao3

“You do not need to put up with this.”

Jamie righted himself quickly, trying to hide his wince. With a quick swipe of his eyes, he turned to defend himself, discarded shoe at the ready, only to realise it wasn’t his father who stood behind him this time.

Cold horror filled his chest.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snapped. His eyes darted around the treatment room, but if there were somewhere to hide, he would’ve found it ten minutes ago. The corner of his lip throbbed from what had been a quick but brutal slap. He wasn’t sure yet if it’d bruise, but the residual heat felt like a neon sign to anyone who looked.

Zava, the Zava, stood in the doorway watching him, his head cocked as he studied Jamie like one of those evil Australian birds with the necks.

“That man, he is your father?”

Shame curled under his skin; an ugly flush sprung up to his cheeks.

“None of your business, is it?” he spat. He leaned down to fetch the other shoe from where it’d missed his face and smacked against the far wall. Even that small movement made his knee sing in agony, fingers shaking as he snagged the laces. “Don’t you have post-match incense to light or something? Or a shower? Your man bun’s looking a bit flaccid there.”

Zava ignored him the same way he’d ignored Jamie ever since the man arrived at City four months ago. “You are ashamed.”

“Fuck off.”

“He is upset because you did not play long enough for his liking.”

“Are you fucking deaf or something?” Jamie choked; even to his own ears he sounded screechy and overemotional. He dug his nails into palms, trying to ignore the heat where it sprung behind his eyes. This was exactly the kind of behaviour his dad wouldn't tolerate. Zava was far from the first dick to catch him vulnerable and decide to poke at the bruise. This should be nothing.

The knee brace was still right on the counter where his dad had tossed it after demanding Jamie show him what was so bad that they’d had to pull him fifteen minutes into play. Only his third time starting this season too. His dad hadn’t been impressed.

“Zava agrees.”

It took Jamie a moment to catch up. When he did, he paused, knee brace forgotten in his hand. “What?”

“Zava agrees. If not for the unfortunate tackle, Zava would have preferred you to play longer. You are not unskilled.”

“Oh. Uh-,” he choked, his throat gone inexplicably dry. After months of his dad riding him, even a backhanded compliment like ‘not-unskilled’ sounded like a choir to his ears. “Thanks?”

Zava nodded in approval. For a dizzying moment, Jamie found himself struck with the need to make it happen again – only to remember that he couldn’t do shit until his knee healed.

Just his fucking luck.

Shaking himself out of his stupid, short-lived daydream, he sat down on the bench. He needed to get the brace back on. Already, the swollen joint had started to turn black around the edges, an unnerving ink blot into how long it would take to recover-

“Stretch your leg out.”

Jamie glanced up. Even disregarding the fact that Jamie still hadn’t hit his growth spurt, Zava was tall. Standing this close while he was still seated, he loomed over Jamie like a god.

Hesitant, Jamie slowly slid his leg out. He watched dumbfounded as Zava — Zava — knelt down in front of him to redo the straps. He worked quickly, professionally, the exact opposite of the irritated rage with which his dad had ripped it off.

Once it was secured, Zava worked his finger under the sides, testing and readjusting the straps.

“You are on contract with City,” he said. “Do you intend to stay after next season?”

Jamie nodded. Zava didn’t spare him a look; he appeared focused on efficiently tightening the straps. When the silence grew awkward, Jamie finally said out loud, “Yes.”

“You should not. During the summer transfer window, you should come with Zava.”

Zava did something to the brace, and Jamie hissed through his teeth as a sharp pain shot up his leg. Biting his lip was one of his habits that needed breaking, and the hot swell at the corner of his lip was the price he paid for forgetting. Jamie was certain now that it’d bloom into a bruise. His dad always got a bit heavy handed towards the end of the season – and this was the end of the season for Jamie.

Regret settling thick in his stomach, Jamie shook his head. “My knee’s fucked. Physios said I won’t even be able to train for another three months.”

Zava disregarded this. “It does not matter. Come play for Zava.”

“Mate, even if another club wanted me like this, my contract ain’t up for another year.”

“Irrelevant. Come play for Zava.”

“The fuck does that even mean?” Jamie demanded, overwhelmed and lightheaded as Zava gave one final, businesslike tug on the straps.

The hands that settled on Jamie’s knee were gentle; the stare that was levelled at him was heavy as granite and pinned him to the bench.

“It means you come with me. You leave behind the sad man with the bad aim. You come with me; you play for me. You give your life to Zava.”

The magic spray had worn off over an hour ago, and the physios still hadn’t returned with any pills. His face hurt. His eyes stung. He’d limped off the field with only two touches and a bad tackle to his name, and his teammates — the senior team he’d envied from a distance, the ones who hardly tolerated having a younger kid about anymore than his dad did — had barely clapped him off the pitch. He didn’t play enough to matter to them anyway. An entire season, and he’d only started three matches – and he’s been made to regret every one of them.

He didn’t play enough to matter to anyone. Yet.

Jamie swallowed. Out of curiosity, he asked, “Where are we going?”

Zava raised his hand. Jamie couldn’t hide his flinch in time, but the older man ignored it. With no regard for personal space, he settled his palm on Jamie’s face, right over the impression his dad had left behind.

“You do not need to know. You need only to say ‘yes’ to Zava.”

Something tilted in his head then. 

For years, Jamie had existed with a soul that felt too heavy for the skin it was supposed to ride around in. The pressure of it weighed him down, the bones in his chest squeezing and buckling under the pressure until he feared that one day it’d crush him dead in his sleep.

Whatever that weight was, wherever it had come from, it abruptly sprung loose, and for the first time in years the world felt… lighter.

Easier.

A shiver ran down his spine.

“Okay,” he said carefully, a bit scared that saying he wanted it might make the offer vanish. “Yes.”

The intensity of Zava’s stare made him feel as if he was being weighed, tested for that ugly stone inside him.

He bore the scrutiny with all the feigned strength his bony shoulders could muster up and tried to make himself a feather.

“Three more times,” said Zava. “Three more yeses. One for every time you made Zava ask. And one more for making him explain.”

That seemed fair.

“Yes,” said Jamie Tartt, eighteen and bruised, with hope flapping in his chest. “Yes, yes, yes.”

It would be the hope that killed him.

[merlinmicrofic]

Behold, the August Prompts! You have until September 14th to get your fills in.

1. Sunlight | 2. "Tell me." | 3. Shipwreck

For info on how this works, please check this post.

Please remember - when posting to tumblr, please name ship/characters/gen relationship, the prompt(s) you're filling, and, if needed, rating + warnings (so, for example: "Fill for @merlinmicrofic prompt 'Sunlight', Gwen/Leon, Teen, Violence") at the top of your post!

Prompts can be interpreted loosely, although if you pick the dialogue prompt, the line should make an appearance!

Remember, your fic has to be 500 words or shorter! For an additional challenge, make it an exact drabble (100 words to the point!) When you post to tumblr, we'll check wordcounts with wordcount.com

Places/ways you can post: only to tumblr, to our AO3 collection, or to both. Whichever way you choose, do make sure to make a tumblr post of some kind and tag this blog directly, so that we can reblog it, and log it for the masterlist!

Prompts can be submitted through the ask box (see here for more info), and one of the monthly prompts will be picked from those by random choice!

If you have any more questions that aren't answered by the posts linked in our pinned post, please don't hesitate to reach out.

Most importantly, have fun! <3

[throneofglassmicrofics]

Welcome to the August Masterlist for ToGMicrofics!

You can write for everyday or just one.

Combine prompts or not, interpret as you want.

Write the story in less than 1k words.

Write for whichever ship you want, or general characters/relationships.

Be sure to @ us and we'll reblog your work here for all to see!

Be sure to add triggers if/as needed :)

Any other questions? Send an ask or dm!

FAQ // Intro Post

Reminder, there will be no prompt list for September. Instead, check out the prompts for Rowaelin Month! (not associated with this blog)

Text list of prompts beneath the cut:

Notebook Spiral Closure Lake Bridge Forest Acceptance Dock Ferris Wheel Toolbox Bingo Splurge Hand-In-Hand Fort Whistle Arcade Quake Season Backpack Splash Lazy Practice Wrestle Vanish Gifted Absorb Indigo Track Museum Knowledge Golden

[twistedshipper]

The Well written for @merlinmicrofic

prompt: sunlight | Not Rated | Morgana & Aithusa | Graphic Violence, Torture

It is dark. And in the dark, if kept there for a long time, the mind slips, human need, identity evaporating like the still water in the bottom of the well, where he has kept her chained in black pitch.

Who is she? Can she remember?

Thoughts become voices. A buzz. Like the drone of flies feasting upon a carcass. It is damp at the bottom of the well, moist, putrid with the stench of idle flesh and grime.

Sometimes, she remembers, it is her flesh, with the sensation of maggots crawling, biting, itching her skin. She claws at her arms, her chest, her jagged nails cutting her where infection can seep in.

In the dark, no light to determine day or night, and so they bleed into each other, behind her open eyes in myriad splotches of haze, like midges come to devour her eyes. What she would give to pluck out the eyes of the man to have done this to her, to them. Coiled beside her, warped, her body broken, cries her companion, the small, silver dragon whose wails she hears not with her ears but in her head, imprinted upon her mind.

It is only when she raises a hand to her mouth that she understands the screams are her own.

Then there is light, sunlight, an agony worse than the dark, that sears her eyes so that they are on fire, burning, and so she closes them, but still the white hot light flashes behind the lids, and she knows that soon she will be fed, food for the prisoner that she is, scraps fit for no beast, but the animal that she is.

She gorges herself on the food, picks it apart with her fingers, savoring each bite of what with time becomes indescribable to her tongue; it takes hours, or days; there is no longer meaning.

Except in sleep. Then she can escape the cell, but the dreams are diabolic and fraught with terrors—visions of various futures to come, and dreadful pasts, those which she tried to suppress for so long, come hurling back.

Former friends, now enemies. She beholds them all plastered behind her eyes; sometimes, she sees them in the well with her, where she is at their mercy, and so, she clutches at her neck, gasping for air, for breath.

But they are not there, and it is only she, Aithusa, and the well.

And the dark, how could she forget.

It is in the dark, that the darkness seeps into her soul, her heart and mind too battered and marred to come back from this breaking intact, and so she splinters, and the pieces of her splinter into monstrosity where she vows—the one lucid thought in her mind, whispering it to herself over and over again—that if she sees the end of this death pit, she will have her revenge. Swears it.

After all, if anything, she is dogged and patient where just deserts are due.

[soupbtch]

*ed teach voice* whatever 😐🙄

[uncertainwallflower]

*cough* 6 please 👀

Anything for you, Kelsey dearest. 6. shh. there’s people in the other room.

It started out as innocent fun. A day spent under the blistering sun ending in half a dozen lumpy mattresses transfigured from couch cushions and crammed into the library on the bottom floor of Potter Manor. Innocent fun. They had had to share a mattress. Innocent fun. James always slept with his shirt off. Innocent fun.

They hadn't meant to stay up so late, whispering and giggling in each other's ears. Everyone else had fallen asleep hours before, and James's arm had at some point wound its way under her head, and she had twisted onto her side, and his thigh had slotted perfectly between her legs, and her fingers had tried not to trace his torso. Tried.

His eyes had flicked to her lips. Ever so quickly. Ever so innocently. Mindlessly, really. And she had seen the motion. Wet her lips instinctively. Innocently. And he had taken a clipped breath in as his eyes flicked down again and she had leant forward infinitesimally and he covered the rest of the distance. Chaste at first. Quick and burning. He pulled away to see his flush mirrored in her face. Then came the scramble. Arms reaching, fingers fisting, lips parting, tongues sliding, lungs stopping, legs locking. Gods, it was teeth and saliva and beating hearts and breathless apologies and wandering hands. Frantic hands. Hands planting flags on swathes of sunburnt skin hitherto forbidden. Within reach yet unreachable. Now thoroughly fumbled.

They only pulled away when a choked sort of moan ripped from one of their chests and they froze, lips millimetres apart, eyes wide, dear caught in headlights, etc. etc. She wet her lips again and he tested his voice—it felt like years since he had last used it—with a soft broken ‘Lily.’

She melted into him like butter in the sun and he almost lost his head again before he tore his lips away, pressing his forehead to hers and urging, "Lily."

"What?" A whisper. A tiny thing filled with all the stubbornness in the world. Stubbornness and white hot want.

"Come with me."

More of an offer than an order but she followed as such. She might have saluted. He might have rolled his eyes. Either way, they were tiptoeing around the snoring corpses of their friends and she was eyeing him up like a piece of meat and he was—let's admit it—straining against his shorts, almost painfully so.

As it turns out, he didn't have much of a plan beyond against the wall just beyond the door. The hallway was too exposed, penchant for house elves tottering about dusting, buffing, polishing, you get the gist. But seventeen years in a house apparently weren't enough when faced with the whimpers Lily Evans would make when James's calloused fingers found their way under her clothes, few though there were.

"Where can we...?" Her voice was an octave higher than usual and it set his brain on a slant. Set his world on a slant.

No matter how hard he tried to think he could only push her further into the wall which would send her fingernails digging into his scalp and coax a whine from her throat and set his blood alight. “Lily.” He was struck dumb. A scratched record stuck on a loop. Lily, Lily, Lily. Honestly, it didn’t sound too bad.

But it had her scoffing and pushing him from her and her from the wall. “Come on.”

The dread that had temporarily plunged him neck-deep in icy waters drained instantly away and he was grinning—a wanton lopsided thing—and hurrying after her. The door squeaked terribly. They winced. But the room—the drawing room, how had he not thought of that?—was empty and the moon through the high mullioned windows was bright and blue and she was smiling at him and backing away and had he less control over himself he would have chased her down and torn the clothes from her body. But he didn’t. He trotted dotingly, achingly, like a love-sick puppy, after her while she giggled and by the time he reached her, she was all but chortling and he had to quiet her with a press of lips and whisper: “Shh. There are people in the other room.”

She smacked his shoulder then wrapped her arms around his neck, elbow to elbow, and pulled him in and he didn’t get another word in for a good long while.

Also going to tag @jilymicrofics because it is jily and it is a microfic. 'Nough said.

[medusapelagia]

12 Nothing left

written for @steddieangstyaugust (prompt: Terrible Things – Mayday Parade ) and @augustwritingchallenge (Prompt: animagus ) Rating: Mature Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: mention of plane crash, mention of Steve’s parents death, suicidal thoughts, magic Words: 1735

The grumpy black cat shows at his door for the fifth night in a row, demanding loudly to be fed the fancy tuna Steve’s mom used to buy in the bio shop.

He has never had an animal and even if the cat is definitely a stray with no collar and probably full of fleas, he doesn’t seem eager to get a family. He wants his fancy tuna, nothing more.

Steve sighs, goes into the kitchen to grab a little dish and the can of tuna then he gets back and grabs some water too, and goes back to his backyard. The black cat is still there, staring at his reflection in the water like it was something unusual, but his pointed ears flinch when he hears the door slide open and turns toward Steve with a soft mew that makes Steve chuckle.

He doesn’t step closer until the food and the water are neatly positioned on the plates and Steve has moved away, staring at him from one of the deck chairs. The cat eats quietly, always very aware of Steve’s presence, and when he’s done he licks his thick black fur and then he blinks at Steve with his eyes so dark that they seem to hold all the secrets of the universe and then he disappears through the woods.

Steve sighs, realizing that the cat visits are the best moment of his day. In the last two weeks, his entire life was destroyed. He lost his place as the alpha male at school and his parents… 

He puts his hands into his hair and pulls until he chokes back the tears.

His parents are dead. The plane they rented to get on that stupid island never made it. They are dead somewhere in the ocean. No flight data recorder, no plane, no emergency call. Nothing. Just Cindy, his father’s secretary, calling him to give him the news.

And that’s not all. 

His father wasn’t the great businessman he pretended to be. He had so many debts that Steve would have to renounce his inheritance if he doesn’t want to drown in his debts. Still, he’s feeding a stray cat the best tuna in town and pretending that everything is fine.

The news of the accident didn’t make it on the news to protect Steve from debt collectors so none knows that he has nothing left. None knows that some days he wonders if it wouldn’t be easy for him to just put an end to his misery.

He was having those kinds of thoughts the first time the cat showed up. Big, furry, and loud. He has mewled until he got Steve’s attention and since that day he has shown up every night, at the same hour, when waves of despair fill Steve’s lungs, making breathing an unbearable task.

It’s just a coincidence, Steve isn’t so naive to believe that a stray cat is trying to save him, but he has found himself waiting eagerly for the elegant animal to come to visit. 

While Steve cleans the little plates he reminds himself that he should try to find a job, but that would mean that the entire town will know that he has nothing left and his stupid pride won’t let him. He sighs loudly. He has one week to leave the house, then it will be put on sale and he’ll have to start living in his car like a homeless guy at nineteen.

That’s not the life he thought was waiting for him.

A scratch on the door attracts his attention, and the big black cat is back, holding a lizard in his mouth.

Steve chuckles, opening the door to let him in, “Come on. I don’t bite.” Steve chuckles, while the cat weary gets inside, leaving his bloody prey on the Persian carpet. Steve will put it in the trash as soon as the cat leaves, but it’s nice seeing that at least he has a friend left.

“Milk?” he asks the cat, not really waiting for an answer but pouring some in a little plate while he grabs his beer, “You must be thirsty after your hunt.”

Steve cracks the beer can open while the cat slowly laps the milk.

“I’m having a hell of a week.” Steve complains, drinking his beer, “My parents died in a plane crash. They didn’t even have a funeral because there was no body to retrieve. They asked me if I wanted a commemoration ceremony but it didn’t make sense to bury two empty caskets in old Lord Harrington chapel, you know?” he drinks some more, “Oh, and I’m full of debts. And I’m going to lose the house soon. Hope the new owner will be kind to you. You’re a good guy. You even brought me a lizard.” Steve chuckles, grabbing another beer, and another until he’s too drunk to stand and he simply sits on the Valentino’s tiles his mom personally chose when they moved.

“I won’t even be present at the graduation ceremony. The Principal told me he’d have my diploma delivered where I wanted. But I have no idea where the hell I’m going to stay. Not here, that’s for sure, but I don't know how comfortable my car is for sleeping. Had a few hookups but never slept there. Not even once. Maybe I should have tried ahead. To be ready. And you have to take care, little friend.” Steve sighs, “I'm only telling you this because life can do terrible things. You can’t know it but I used to be sort of good at school, I was rich and famous and had the prettiest girl in school. Then another boy came and claimed my crown. My friends left me. My parents died. And all I’m left with is a car and a stray cat that loves my mom’s fancy tuna.”

The cat steps closely so slowly that for a moment Steve thinks that he’s imagining it, but after a few moments the cat is standing next to his feet, his dark eyes pointed at Steve like he had understood his entire discourse and he was sorry for him.

Those eyes are dark, so dark, almost magnetic. But he’s just a cat and Steve has drunk too much. He should go to bed.

“Yes, you should.” the cat says, and Steve giggles.

“Cats don’t talk. God I drank too much.” he decides, standing up and wobbling toward his room, moving one leg after the other but feeling that it's not him who’s ordering his limbs to move.

Bullshit.

He’s just drunk.

***

When he wakes up the next day the sun shines too brightly and he curses himself for drinking too much. On his night table, there’s a big glass of water and some Advil. At least past him foresaw that he was going to need them in the morning.

He slowly steps down the stairs, but he freezes: someone is singing in his kitchen. Steve grabs an umbrella from the umbrella rack and steps quietly into the kitchen. In front of the fires, cooking some eggs and bacon stands a beautiful man with long black hair and deep dark eyes.

“Good morning.” He says, smirking, and his teeth look a little bit too sharp.

“Who the fuck are you?!” Steve asks, holding the umbrella tight to his chest.

“Are you threatening me with an umbrella, Steve? For real?”

“How do you know my name?!”

“I know many things about you. And I know you had an awful week and that you need to eat something more than chips and candies. Sit down. It’s almost ready.”

“How did you get in?”

“You invited me.”

“I never did such a thing.”

The man turns with a little smirk, and his tongue flickers on his lower lips just for a moment in a very familiar way.

“This can’t be true. I must be still asleep!”

“What can’t be true?”

“You… your tongue… the cat… it’s not…”

“I need my opposable thumbs to cook, but I guess I can indulge you for a moment.” the man winks, and with a puff he disappears.

“Where the hell…?”

But when Steve circumnavigates the table the big black cat is staring at him with the same smirk the man had.

“Do you prefer this form? My uncle says I’m cuter like this.”

Steve startles and falls on the ground, hitting the floor harshly, while the cat steps closer to him, climbing his legs with ease.

“Hi, Steve. I’m Eddie. Nice to meet you. Now can you tell me where are you hiding that incredible tuna? I really enjoyed it.”

Steve points a shivering finger toward a kitchen cabinet, and Eddie gets down from his lap and turns back into a human to open the kitchen cabinet, “Here it is! I’m going to miss it when we move.”

“We… what?”

“My uncle is coming to visit soon, he’ll decide if you are one of us, but I already know you are.”

“One of you?”

“Animagus. Mages that can change into animals.”

“Am I?”

“Yes, you are, Eddie confirms, putting some eggs and bacon on a plate and offering it to Steve, “That’s how I found you.”

“I… I didn’t transform into an animal.”

“No, you didn't.” Eddie replies, nudging the plate closer to him, “But you almost did. I smell the stench of your despair from miles away. I just had to make sure before calling Wayne, don’t want to make the old man travel so long for a false alarm, you know?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.”

“Eat, Stevie.” Eddie insists, taking a chair and putting the tuna on a little plate but eating it with a fork this time, “Phoenix burn themselves when they’re desperate.” Eddie says, licking his lips, “And you almost did.” He explains, holding the fork and gesturing with it while he talks, “I thought you were a grumpy old man tired of living between normies. You can easily understand how surprised I was to see a young phoenix with no training abandoned in a huge and empty house.”

A knock on the window interrupts them and when Steve turns the biggest eagle he ever saw is staring at him with his head tilted to the side.

“Oh, that’s Wayne.  He’ll explain it better. Anyway, if he says you’re one of us you’re coming with us.”

“Where?”

“Home.”

[jegulily-microfics]

August 2024 Prompts!

Here are your August 2024 prompts! You can still post the prompts for the days that have passed. We will be reblogging posts the minute it reaches our notifications! Thank you!

If you’re interested, all you need to do is write a short microfic for the prompt. You can write for any prompt, as long as you include in your post which one you used. Stating the word count and tagging us afterward is necessary for our blog to be able to reblog your post!

(The 31st isn’t on this list on purpose. That day will be the day I start getting September’s prompts up!)

Prompts listed for accessibility below the cut.

fairy tale

lovely

enchanting

swift

breeze

honeycomb

locks

trapped

moon

sun

earth

life

water

feelings

watching

hands

nails

resource

magic

type

universe

flower

glasses

puppy

school

teachings

purse

lies

truth

yours

[necrotic-nephilim]

Fandom: Batman and Robin (Comics) Rating: Explicit Warnings: Underage Relationships: Dick Grayson/Damian Wayne Characters: Dick Grayson, Damian Wayne Additional Tags: Omega Dick Week (DCU), Omega Dick Grayson, Alpha Damian Wayne, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, First Time, Oral Sex, Dominant Bottom, Topping from the Bottom, Gentle Sex, Praise Kink, Soft Dom Dick Grayson, Control Issues, Unrequited Crush, Pre-Flashpoint (DCU), Dick Grayson is Batman Summary: Damian is pent up, lashing out, and Dick is just about at his wit's end about it. When he tries to talk to Damian about it, he learns that Damian is suppressing his own ruts to have some form of control over himself. Dick convinces Damian to give up control to Dick, instead. - Omega Dick Week 2024 - Day 7: Free Day

[lily-alphonse]

"A Beautiful Thing" by Lily Alphonse

Content: GN/M

Rating: G

Words: 300

I knew I was destined for a soulmate when my vision went gray. That’s what everyone said, anyway. That it was a beautiful thing. It didn’t feel like a beautiful thing. My colours were gone, my world dark. For twelve years. Until I met him.

AU August Day 2: Colourless. Colourless soulmate AU for Elliott, or any green-eyed ginger man you want lol, it's pretty vague. You can read on AO3, or under the cut. First POV gender-neutral reader, no content warnings.

I knew I was destined for a soulmate when my vision went gray. That’s what everyone said, anyway. That it was a beautiful thing.

It didn’t feel like a beautiful thing. 

My colours were gone, my world dark. For twelve years. 

Until I met him.

His hair was the first colour I had seen in twelve years, and it was magnificent. 

My heart stopped to see colour for the first time in so long. I thought I might forget.

But it was so clear. 

It was every sunset I had seen as a child, maybe the copper of a newly-minted penny mixed in. It was the orange of a fire that burned my world back to life, slowly, slowly spreading out from him to reveal what I had been deprived of. 

His jacket was burgundy. It looked beautiful with his hair. But how would he know that? Did he know his jacket was burgundy, and went with his hair? He couldn’t, if he was truly my… 

It didn’t feel real. How could he be for me? 

His colours were brighter than the rest, the world still catching on fire by his radiance when he turned and saw me. 

He froze; my journey in his eyes as the world caught up to him, too. 

What did he see in me?

What happens now? 

His eyes are green– I can see forests in him. 

“Hello,” he says on a wisp of breath, eyes sparkling with something like reverence though every fiber of my being insists it could never be for me. But he must be experiencing what I am.

What… I am. 

I have brought the colour back to his world too…

What do you see in me, marvelous creature, my starburst of flame and forest?

“Hello,” seemed like a better start.