#blossoming romance prompts

[eloquentmoon]

blossoming romance writing prompts:

accidental hand touching

eye contact across a crowded room

exchanging secret smiles

first conversations alone

admiring them from afar

asking them about their family

visiting them at their place of work

discovering common interests

exchanging gifts for the first time

a surprise encounter

picking a leaf/flower petal out of their hair, or brushing dirt off of their face

nervous embarrassment around them (blushing, fidgeting etc)

complimenting their appearance

looking at their lips as they talk

finding excuses to be alone with each other

naturally gravitating closer together

noticing their individual quirks

hello/goodbye hugs that linger

talking late into the night

clumsy attempts at flirting

sharing long term dreams, goals and aspirations with one another

playful teasing

being unable to keep their eyes off of them

attempting to find out if they are single/available

finding comfort in their scent

creating art inspired by them

sharing an umbrella in the rain, or a coat/blanket in the cold

surprising them with their favourite treat

visiting their home for the first time

confiding in them

[ml-nolan]

1. Accidental hand touching

From Blossoming romance writing prompts!

I realize it has been TWO WHOLE MONTHS since you asked for this Blossoming romance prompt @carnelianmeluha, but hopefully better late than never!

The till is closed, and the bar cleared of all customers and dirty glasses. His employees have gone home, but to Hob's delight, his stranger remains. He sits across the bar from Hob, leaning on his elbows and staring down at a narrow menu. It's looking a little worse for wear, warped by melted ice and flecked with tiny grease spots. He should probably get these laminated, but he's always tweaking the recipes and adding new concoctions.

"So this is what you've done with the last century? Made specialty cocktails?"

"Hey, it's only been the last twenty years. And I had to find something a little closer to home while I was waiting for you to pull your head out of your boney ass and come back to me."

Ok, maybe Hob is showing *his* ass a little with his choice of words, but the guy sort of walked into that one.

"Besides," he continues before they can go too far down that road, "I've done loads of other stuff. Fun to do something a little easier. Being interesting all the time can be a real drag."

His stranger keeps his eyes on the menu and murmurs, "You are not wrong."

"And it only took me six hundred years of trying!" Hob turns to scoop ice into the highball glasses he's set out on the counter. This is a drink best stirred with a long bar spoon. He adds the liquor and other ingredients, then tops them both with a completely unnecessary flourish of his wrist. 

He rounds the bar and sets one glass in front of his friend and one in front of his own seat.

"Behold! 'The Tall Dark Stranger," he says, leaning over the menu to punch each ingredient with a fingertip. "Johnnie Walker Black, a little lemon juice, and a red sour cherry."

On the last poke, the menu slips a little on the bar top, threatening to slide onto the floor. As the stranger reaches down to steady it, Hob accidentally pins his hand with his own.

"Sorry…" he starts, but in the blink of an eye, he finds their fingers intertwined. He looks up into his stranger's blue-green eyes, and the man looks completely unruffled as he sips his drink. He bows his head, considering, then sets it back down, all the while not letting go of Hob's hand. "Striking. But a bit harsh."

"Well, you had been a bit of the bastard the last I saw of you," Hob says through what could only be called a giggle.

His stranger's lips curve into a bow, much the way he had when he had first greeted Hob when he walked through the doors of the New Inn earlier today.

"Perhaps you could call it 'The Lord Morpheus'," his stranger says, words oozing with significance as he holds Hob's gaze. "Or, Dream, if you prefer."

It takes a second for Hob to get it, and his jaw only hangs open for a second before he regains his bearings. He tries to keep the shake out of his next words, but can't help but give his ear a nervous tug.

"I think I might take your advice and call it the former," he says, then takes a deep breath, "if I may call you the latter."

Dream squeezes Hob's hand, runs a cool thumb over a knuckle, and says, "You may."

[sev-on-kamino]

Could you do something for f!reader x tech for prompt 14 or 12? No pressure though. LOVE YOUR WRITING 🩷✨

I can, and I will, friend! Thank you so freakin’ much 🥹🥰 I apologize this took so long 😩, but I hope you love it🥰

Blossoming Romance #14: Looking at their lips as they talk (prompt list here)

Tech x afab!Reader

warnings: prepare yourself for fluff, a lil misunderstanding, followed by more fluff🥰

word count: 772

Tech liked to talk, and you liked to listen. The topic didn’t matter. Linguistics, flora and fauna, the finer points of hyperspace travel. You absorbed it all like a sponge. He would get so excited, yet serious. His eyes lighting up, his hands gesturing about. His voice holding your focus captive.

You loved it all, but lately you were distracted. You’d ask a question, he’d launch into the answer, but instead of focusing on the answer, and adding to your increasing compendium of knowledge, your mind would wander. Your eyes hopelessly drawn to his lips.

Every so often his tongue would dart past his teeth to wet his lips, and it would really take everything you had to pretend you’d heard whatever he’d just said. It was growing more and more difficult not to interrupt him with kisses. You wanted to tug his helmet off, press up against him, and indulge in those lips of his. Unfortunately your split focus had not gone unnoticed.

Tech had been thrilled to finally meet someone who could not only handle his tendency to dig into almost any subject in great detail, but who seemed to genuinely enjoy every moment. Lately though it seemed like your mind was anywhere else. The friendship turned relationship was still new, but according to Tech’s research you shouldn’t have been bored of him already. There was still so much for the two of you to learn about each other.

You still sought him out, still asked him to teach you things. It didn’t make any sense to him when you would inevitably get distracted and he’d lose you for several moments.

“Tech,” you called, as you entered the cockpit holding your holopad. “It’s giving me that error message again. What issue did you say corresponds to code 221B4?”

“Leave it there, and I’ll fix it,” He replied not looking up from the piece of equipment he was working on.

“You don’t have to. I wanted to try myself,” you took the seat next to him, and watched him. “What are you working on?”

“The alluvial dampers,” Tech answered. You waited for him to continue like he always did, but he just kept on working. Your brow furrowed in confusion.

“Those go in the coupling motivator with the artesiatic dampeners, right?” You pushed.

Tech looked up, his lips pursing into a thin line, as he regarded you. Normally recalling information would earn you a smile, and if you were really lucky, he’d press his forehead to yours.

“Yes, that is correct,” he said after several seconds that felt like hours.

“Alright, Tech, what’s going on? Are you upset with me?” You asked utterly confused by his icy behavior.

“I’m merely surprised you remembered given that you no longer bother to pay attention during our conversations.”

Your face warmed up instantly, and you tugged nervously at your earlobe.

“Tech,” you ventured quietly.

“It’s quite alright. Even my brothers don’t listen as attentively as I would like at all times.”

“It’s not that,” you said with a nervous chuckle. “I’ve been wanting to pay attention, I’m just a little distracted is all.”

“Distracted by what?” he asked confused. You cleared your throat and took a breath.

“Distracted by you, Tech,” you said staring down at the floor.

“I’m not following, cyare.”

“It’s…it’s your lips,” You stammered out. He brushed his fingers over his lips, frowning in confusion.

“What about them? Is there something wrong with them?”

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite,” you giggled. “I just keep thinking about kissing you.”

He opened his mouth to reply, but he was rendered speechless by the realization you had simply wished to connect with him physically. It made sense given what he knew of your affectionate nature, and he couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized sooner.

“Well, I apologize for my assumption and subsequent accusations,” He said placing the piece of equipment down, and reaching for you. You took his hand, giggling once more as he tugged you into his lap. You cupped his face with your hands, as you brought your lips to his, satisfaction spreading warmth and comfort through your body.

Tech wrapped his arms around your waist, holding you close. Imparting knowledge to you would always be something he enjoyed, but he decided he would make time for this far more often. The contented hums this simple action elicited were far too enjoyable to miss out on.

You broke the kiss with a sigh, and pressed your forehead to his with a small smile playing on your lips.

“Apology accepted, darling,” You said before leaning in to steal his lips once more

[grinchwrapsupreme]

book runs based on tv shows are usually mediocre at best, like star trek, torchwood, doctor who, etc etc, but i would give anything to get a book run of the BBC Ghosts hotel i need to know what shenanigans those guys get up to in there

[keldae]

Blossoming romance prompt: surprising them with their favourite treat

The last two days had been the longest of Deviali’s life. Being abducted by mindflayers was already bad enough, and it honestly should have been her death sentence by now – maybe it was the gods slowly punishing her for all the times she’d stolen from priests and clerics who left their coin purses unattended in Wyrm’s Crossing. 

But then fighting alongside a Githyanki warrior (who had only reluctantly identified herself as Lae’zel) and another half-Elf stranger (Shadowheart, she had introduced herself as) to crash the ship, and yanking a stray wizard out of his portal, and nearly being shanked by a pale Elf, and spending one night huddled in the ruins of an ancient temple before fighting off a swarm of goblins and being granted temporary sanctuary in a druid grove, along with a pack of tiefling refugees? “No one at home will ever believe this,” Devi muttered, shaking her head. “They’ll think I’m trying a new line to get out from the Fists’ idea of justice.”

“Are you accustomed to trying to talk your way out from law enforcement?” the wizard, who’d introduced himself as Gale of Waterdeep, asked with a small chuckle.

“More used than I am to breaking myself back out of being arrested,” Devi muttered. She poked at her bowl of potato porridge, wrinkling her nose slightly. While she supposed she wasn’t in a position to be picky with food, and she also supposed she should be grateful to the tieflings for sharing their supplies with the pack of tadpole-infected wanderers, she’d grown up on all things potato in the Lower City of Baldur’s Gate, and the porridge wasn’t her favourite food. 

“A common thug. How uncouth.” Astarion – the pale knife-happy Elf – looked down his nose at Devi, having already finished his serving of the porridge, with much grimacing on his part. Apparently whatever upper level of society he hailed from didn’t eat peasant food often. 

“Brave words from the person who pulled a dagger on me less than a minute after meeting me,” Devi retorted. “Besides, I ain’t a thug. Just a damn good thief.”

“Clearly not that good, if you have to talk your way out of trouble regularly…” Astarion commented.

Devi’s eyes narrowed threateningly, but she felt Shadowheart set a hand on her shoulder before she could get up. “If we have to work together to find a cure, then try to get along,” the cleric said, giving both Devi and Astarion a look – with a look tossed at Gale as well for good measure. “Bickering isn’t going to accomplish anything.”

With a sigh, Devi settled back into her seat, leaning against a rock and trying to get comfortable. “Anything about home we’re missing in particular?” she asked after a moment of uncomfortable, awkward silence among the group.

“My library,” Gale immediately said. Somehow, that answer didn’t surprise Devi in the slightest.

“A comfortable bed,” Astarion commented. “And not a bedroll.”

Shadowheart hummed in thought. “Besides having my head to myself? Decent wine.”

Astarion seemed to perk up. “Oh, I’d like to change my answer now…”

Devi snorted in amusement, then set her bowl down. “For me? Honestly, pumpkin soup from this one particular tavern in the Lower City. It tastes almost how my mother used to make it.”

Gale tilted his head slightly. “Of all the things you miss about home, you miss pumpkin soup the most?”

“Not just any pumpkin soup,” Devi clarified. “Just that particular one. I’d actually been on my way to get some when…” She shrugged and gestured to her head. “And I’ve been wanting it the last tenday. Don’t suppose you and your wizardly powers could conjure something up…?”

Chuckling, Gale shook his head. “I’m very good at what I do, but I’m not that good. Conjuring items is one thing, but food is nigh impossible if you want it to be in any way satisfying. You’ll have to take that up with Mystra, I fear.”

Devi groaned and slouched against her rock. “Then I hope we make it back home soon, without our parasites.”

—

Almost a month later, and no decent pumpkin soup had come across Devi’s path. She sighed as she slouched on a chair in the Last Light Inn, nursing a mug of beer and listening to the Harpers and tieflings marching around on different tasks. Moonlight Towers was going to be a huge challenge to undertake, even with the Harpers backing her crew up. And Devi was no tactician, nor strategist – she was just an ordinary thief from Baldur’s Gate, who had somehow been regarded as a symbol of hope that the tadpoles and the Absolute could be resisted.

How in all the hells had her life wound up like this?

She almost didn’t register the sounds of bootsteps on the wooden floor until she saw a flash of purple out of the corner of her eye. When she looked up, she saw Gale standing beside her, holding a tray in his hands. “You looked uncharacteristically melancholy,” he said with a tentative little smile. “May I join you?”

As if Devi could say no to the handsome wizard, even if he didn’t know how fully her heart belonged to him already. She nudged another chair at the table out for him to take a seat beside her. “You’re welcome to interrupt my brooding anytime,” she said with a grin. Curiously, she looked at the tray as he set it down on the table; a second later, her eyes widened at the two bowls filled with bright orange contents. “Is that…?”

“Pumpkin soup,” Gale confirmed with a wink. “One of the Harpers knew the tavern you were speaking of when you mentioned missing their soup, and claims to make the best replica of said soup.”

“I mentioned that once, Gale – I didn’t expect you to remember!” Devi picked up one of the bowls and took an appreciative sniff of its contents. “Oh, it smells right…” She closed her eyes, for a moment imaging herself back in her favourite slightly-sketchy tavern back home, with a bowl of her favourite soup before her, the normal denizens of the Lower City mingling around her, with someone playing a barely-tuned instrument a few booths over and a brawl close to breaking out over a dice game. She could almost forget where she was, in the heart of shadow-cursed lands, trying to figure out how to permanently kill an undead general in service to the Absolute without going insane from the shadows… although she couldn’t quite forget the handsome wizard beside her – not that she wanted to ever forget him.

She took a tentative sip from the spoon Gale had helpfully brought along with him, and softly moaned in pleasure. “Oh, I could kiss you right now,” she said, before her brain quite caught up to her mouth. Her eyes flew back open as she looked sidelong at Gale. “Er, I mean…” she started, trying to figure out how to explain that she’d been entertaining thoughts of kissing the wizard for at least the last two tendays, wondering what his lips tasted like, imagining running her hands through his long, dark hair…

Gale’s ears were red, but he appeared pleased, to go by his smile. “If I had known that I could win your affections with pumpkin soup, dear lady, I would have made a greater effort far earlier,” he chuckled. 

“I���m no ‘lady’ and you know it, Gale,” Devi retorted, although she was smirking. “There’s not much that can buy me so easily, but this soup? Definitely on that list.”

“Forgive my curiosity, but what else is on that list?” Gale settled into his seat beside her, taking his own cautious first sip of the soup. “Oh, that is quite good.”

Devi tilted her head in thought for a moment. “Gold, obviously, or a good heist to plan out. And flowers – I love roses, like you might have guessed from my neck tattoo. And…” She hesitated. “I’ve heard that in the northern reaches, you can sometimes see lights dancing in the sky at night, brighter than even the moon. I saw a painting of them once, and it was gorgeous, and the artist said the painting didn’t do the actual sight justice. That’s something I’d sell my soul to see.”

“Lights dancing in the night sky, and roses, and unlawful schemes?” Gale chuckled. “You are a complex woman, Deviali. I’m sure that you’ll get to see those lights without needing to sell your soul, though.”

“You really think so? I’d never even left the Baldur’s Gate area before this whole adventure,” Devi said, for the moment ignoring Gale’s use of her despised full name. It didn’t sound nearly as bad when it came from his lips. “My plan was to steal a lot of gold and then buy a trip anywhere else, to see the world beyond the Lower City and Wyrm’s Crossing.”

Gale smiled fondly. “Fate has a curious way of making things work out. Waterdeep is north of Baldur’s Gate, far enough that in the winter on a clear night, I have sometimes seen those lights dancing in the sky myself. In another time, I would have taken you home with me and let you see the lights for yourself.”

Seeing dancing lights in the night sky wasn’t usually the reason Devi heard people expressing a wish to take her home with them, and she secretly hoped it wasn’t the only reason Gale wanted her in his home city. “We’ll get back to civilization alive,” she firmly said, “and we’ll deal with our tadpoles and the Absolute, and then you can take me home to see the lights. And if Mystra doesn’t like it, she can kiss my backside about it.”

That got a small smile from Gale. “One of us has to be the eternal optimist, I suppose,” he commented. “And you have a force of will that could make the gods hesitate in their steps… even Mystra.”

“Good,” Devi said with a firm nod. “The Absolute is on the top of my list of gods to throat-punch when I get the chance, but Mystra’s not far behind for what she’s done to you. The rest of the gods can form a line.”

“I’ve never had anyone offer to punch a deity before in defense of me,” Gale chuckled, looking more relaxed and at-ease than he’d been since the crew had met Elminster on the mountain pass road and gotten his grim message about the Orb. “It’s rather flattering.”

“And nothing less than what you deserve, especially for finding my favourite soup in the middle of nowhere,” Devi responded, grinning. “You’re my favourite wizard – I ever mention that?”

“I’ve risen that much in your esteem, just for bringing you soup?” Gale smirked. “How many other wizards am I up against?”

“I mean, most of the other wizards I’ve met were real pricks,” Devi admitted. “But you’re kind, an’ sweet, an’ smart, an’ don’t walk around with your staff up your ass.” And handsome, and talented, and compassionate, and too damn good-hearted to be stuck with an ilithid tadpole in your head… not that she could say all of that out loud.

“Tragically, I do know more than a few other wizards who meet your description,” Gale chuckled. “And few enough would track down a specific pumpkin soup in a cursed region for the behalf of a charming half-Elf thief with a heart of gold. Their loss, I must say.”

“Damn straight. Maybe I wouldn’t be so inclined to rob ‘em all blind if they weren’t entitled, arrogant jerks. Ain’t a bit like you, aside from the whole ‘magic’ thing.” Devi cheerfully nudged Gale in the side, little more than a light tap with her elbow. “Keep pullin’ miracles like finding soup like this, and you’ll be safe from any thievery from me.”

“Oh, I do have a magic touch with miracles,” Gale said, winking at her. “Ask nicely, and perhaps I’ll show you another one later.”

A sentence like that shouldn’t have made Devi’s heart skip the way it did. She was used to receiving flirtatious statements like that – she’d grown up in the Lower City, for hells’ sake! People had been flirting with her since before she was of legal age. Yet the relatively tame statement from Gale, only a little bit suggestive, made her want to squeal in excitement like a girl. Instead, she let a casual grin show itself on her face before she widened her eyes innocently. “Oh Mister Archmage Gale of Waterdeep, would you be so kind as to show your favourite Baldurian thief another miracle?”

That made Gale burst out laughing, half at Devi’s words, and half at the way she made a show of fluttering her eyelashes at him. “How can I say no to such a sincere plea as that? Give me some time, and I’ll work my magic for you.” He chuckled and gently returned Devi’s nudge with his own elbow. “But enjoy the soup for now – I’m told it’s not as good when it’s cold. Your miracle will come along later.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” Devi assured him with a grin. Any excuse to watch Gale at work with the Weave was a good excuse, and if he was doing something with her in mind? She was excited to see what he could conjure up.

[beholdingthegaytimes]

Prompts! Hobrinthian, 20 or 16? (Clumsily flirting or gravitating together?)

❤️❤️

Hobrinthian Clumsily Flirting coming right up! 💞

The Corinthian sometimes wonders if Hob was genetically engineered in a lab somewhere with the specific intention of making him go insane. 

Hob’s wearing a button-up dress shirt that’s taught against his chest, unbuttoned just enough to display a hint of collarbones, a glimpse of chest hair, and his sleeves are rolled up on his forearms in that slutty professor way.

It’s been driving the Corinthian up a fucking wall since the moment he walked through the front door and laid eyes on him. 

There were multiple times throughout that night when Hob smiled or laughed, his cheeks dimpling, that the Corinthian was barely able to stop himself from standing up right then and there and dragging Hob to bed.

But Hob had been very intent on making this a romantic night, pulling out the stops– with the candles, the wine, and a damn good home cooked meal. 

Still, it’s a miracle that he’s been able to keep his hands to himself. But Hob had been so sincere about the whole thing. 

It’s in that increasingly horny frustration while the Corinthian is finishing the washing up that Hob saunters up behind him, wrapping his arms around the Corinthian’s waist. 

“Hey there gorgeous.” Hob’s body is a pleasant heat tucked against his back and he tilts his head to give Hob better access to his neck.

He wants Hob now, wants Hob yesterday, especially when Hob grinds up against him as he asks, “Do you want a ride?”

“A ride?” The Corinthian repeats slowly, moving to put the last clean pot on the drying rack. He smiles to himself where Hob can’t see as he asks innocently, “This late at night?” 

“Whatever, whenever you like,” Hob promises, still pressing hot kisses against the sensitive skin behind his ear, over his jugular. 

“Alright, let me put on my coat.”

Hob pauses, “What?” He lets his hands rest on the Corinthian’s hips as the Corinthian turns to face him. “You want to wear your coat?” 

“It may be summer but it’s still cold.”

“I mean- I suppose.” Hob’s smiling broadly but clearly a little confused.

“We’re going for a ride… aren’t we?” The Corinthian smirks.

Hob blushes, suddenly shy when he’s been nothing but suave confidence all night. “Oh, uh… Yes– sure.” He pulls away hesitantly, “I’d better find my coat too, that being the case.”

That leads to the night ride which is admittedly very fun. They end up parking in some scenic glade, just outside of view of the main road.  

Which is ideal, seeing as it's a ridiculous picture they must paint, both struggling to fit themselves together on the back seats that are much too small to fit two grown men of their statures. 

Even kissing like this forces them to bend at odd angles. 

“You and your expensive little cars.” The Corinthian teases, tangling his fingers in Hob’s hair. 

“They’re aerodynamic.” Hob protests, getting his arms tangled in his coat as he tries to pull it off. The Corinthian helps him push it the rest of the way off his shoulders. 

“Next time we’re in America, I’ll show you my convertibles.” 

“Convertibles? As in more than one?”

“Obviously.” He snarks, pulling Hob down into a kiss that all too soon leads to his neck aching in protest. 

“Wait, just let me–”

The Corinthian moves a bit too quickly while Hob’s re-adjusting himself to straddle the Corinthian’s lap and Hob bangs his head into the car’s padded roof.  

Hob winces, “Fuck!”

“This is impossible.” The Corinthian agrees even as his whole face hurts from all three of his mouths smiling. 

“Remind me why we’re doing this?” Hob jokes. 

“You asked me if I wanted a ride.” The Corinthian points out helpfully. 

“Right… That’s what I said wasn’t it?”

“Maybe if you hadn’t spent all night torturing me, I would have gotten the hint.” The Corinthian says, nipping Hob’s bottom lip. 

“All night torturing you?” Hob's face goes from perplexed to complete understanding in no time flat. “Oh, you absolute bastard.” 

The Corinthian grins, thrusting his hips up enough to jolt Hob’s already precarious balance on his lap.

Hob laughs, a rolling wonderful thing that makes the Corinthian want to consume him whole. 

“And to think, we could have been fucking in bed all this time like reasonable adults.” 

“Fucking? Yes. Reasonable?” The Corinthian trails off.

“Did you like dinner?” Hob asks quietly, “Because if you didn’t I won’t–”

“I loved it.” The Corinthian admits. The care of it all had been ridiculous and yet it's made him hot all over, and not just in the horny way. “I loved it.” He repeats.  

“Good,” Hob smiles, one of his hands finding its way to the back of Corinthian’s neck and dragging him back into another kiss.

[hellbubu]

I was going to pick this one "eye contact across a crowded room" and then I saw this one "finding comfort in their scent" because that is so Kakashi, so I couldn't pick one 🙃🙃🙃

Me:

blossoming romance writing prompts

Kakashi hated these types of events. He was not used to them. He was not used to the intricate games politicians and the upper class liked to play, not that he couldn’t avoid their traps and scheming. He used to avoid these types of events for a reason, but now that he was hokage he had to attend even though he’d rather be at his apartment reading or spending quality time with team 7.

He had just excused himself from talking to a relative of the daimyo when his eyes met black eyes. For a second, it was almost as though everyone but the two of them had stopped existing.

He made his way towards the corner Sasuke had hid himself in. He grabbed a glass of something from a waiter as he passed by.

“You don’t normally drink.” Sasuke was holding a glass of wine when Kakashi stepped next to him.

“There’s no way I can make it through this without being at least tipsy.” Sasuke took a sip of his wine.” I’d have delayed coming back had I known I’d be talk into attending this– what is this even?”

“At least you can avoid them.”

Kakashi was so close to Sasuke he could smell his scent – since Kakashi could remember, Sasuke had smelt like smoke, as he matured ozone and lavender blended in to make a unique scent – under the cologne he was wearing. Something about the smell made Kakashi feel warm inside.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Why’re you asking?”

“It’s been a while since we last sparred.” Kakashi looked at Sasuke with small smile only people who know him well could see.” It’ll be like old times. Some sparring, instead of training, and then we go back to mine. I’ll even make some Kare Raisu.”

“Don’t you have work?”

“I asked to have the day off tomorrow. No meetings, no paperwork.”

Sasuke looked at him with narrowed eyes.” Fine, but only if you stop ‘childproofing’ the place. I don’t see why you’d need to hide weapons from me.”

“It’s because I’d come back home to find them missing, Sasuke.”

Sasuke rolled his eyes and muttered something into his drink.

“I’ll see you at the usual training ground at 10.”

“So you’ll show up at noon? Got it.”

“I’ll be on time.”

“As if.”

[wonda-ch]

For the blossoming romance prompt, 16--naturally gravitating closer together?

For the blossoming romance prompts, a nice day in the air.

On a cloudless day, Tishlia and Daeran laid snuggled together on the grass in their garden. Silently, they watched the majestic dragons being carried high into the sky by the winds.

This day was too beautiful to spend on the ground, they had said, and so they flew, just to feel the wind under their wings. They spiraled higher and higher until they were almost out of sight, only to dive back and be caught by the next updraft.

After a while, they flew side by side in harmony, moving in great curves around the estate. They flew so low that the observers on the ground could see the individual scales of the magnificent blue and gold pair.

Satisfied with this perfect moment, Jax turned his gaze to his companion and let his wing sweep completely over Midnight in the moment of glide. Surprised by the unexpected touch, Midnight twitched his wing, shifting his flight path slightly to Jax's side. In an attempt to regain some distance, Jax's wingtip got caught between the dark blue spikes on Midnight's back.

On the ground, Daeran and Tishlia stood up when they noticed the unusual movements in the sky and watched attentively.

The jolt on his back finally unbalanced Midnight, and he bumped his shoulder against Jax, who was much too close to him. In a last attempt to free his wing, Jax grabbed Midnight with his large claws and held him tight. He managed to free his wing and regain control, but they were too low to stabilize their flight.

They were able to slow their fall a bit, but still they hit a nearby bush with a loud crash. Daeran winced when he heard the impact. "This is the fourth time now. Dragons should be able to learn from their mistakes. Why can't they just keep their distance in the air?"

"I think it's a form of natural gravitation. But it would be enough if they didn't try to make out while flying." Tishlia chuckled and went to help her friends out of the broken brush.

[ml-nolan]

26 for timgerry!

Ok! This one is from SEPTEMBER when I was asking for blossoming romance prompts. Woof. Very sorry for the delay. Unsurprisingly, this is the Love & Nonsense AU and occurs around chapter 10–12 of Hiding in Plain Sight.

The prompt is: creating art inspired by them

----

Every time the office door swings open, heat rushes to Tim's face. It's always Gerry; Fiona never comes back here, and that's probably wise. Over the past few weeks, ever since that first time, there's been at least one extended snogging session between Tim and Gerry per day and sometimes (well, usually) it goes further than that.

Otherwise, Tim spends his time trying to stay focused on social media and newsletters and booking events. It shouldn't be hard for him to do all his little tasks, but when he's in an almost constant state of arousal, literally everything is hard (yeah, that too, obviously). He has to keep his hands busy, his synapses firing, to even keep one foot on the ground.

So today when the knob turns, Gerry finds Tim with all his silly little gel pens out on the desk, his laptop shut, and an open book stolen from the gigantic cardboard discard box.

"What on earth are you doing to that book, you little monster?" Gerry says. He doesn't sound all that upset, though. Not in a way that doesn't make Tim shiver.

"Relax boss," he says, rolling his shoulders back and looking up at Gerry with what he hopes is a you don't scare me expression. "I just nabbed it from the gaylord. You were going to throw it out anyway."

Gerry grumbles. No leg to stand on—he's never been precious about discarded books and Tim doubts he'll start to be now. So instead of scolding, Gerry leans against the lip of the desk. Tim is sure he looks flustered, and when he looks up, the smirk on Gerry's face confirms it.

"Show me your masterpiece, then," Gerry says. Without waiting for permission, he pinches the corner of the open book and slides it toward himself. Tim sits back to let him see the multicolored eyeballs peeking out from every page, overlapping the discarded words that Gerry didn't see as valuable enough to put on the shelf.

"Couldn't really focus, so just some doodles," Tim says.

Gerry glance flicks from the page toward him. "It's very…colorful. Disgustingly so, actually."

"Disgusting! You wound me!" Tim says, with all the exaggerated affront he can muster. 

Then, just to see if he'll be allowed, his hand strays toward where Gerry's holds the book open, thumb brushing over the black-lined eyeball tattoos on each knuckle. Miraculously, Gerry doesn't stop it, a curious look still shaping his face as he flattens his hand.

"Could do with a little color yourself, actually." Tim picks up the green gel pen from the desktop. His heart hammers in his chest, but he tries to ignore it as he colors in the iris of each of Gerry's tattoos, one by one. His heart beats even faster when Gerry does nothing to stop him.

"I do like green," Gerry murmurs.

"I know," Tim says reflexively. How does he know that?

Gerry lets him color in every iris on his left hand before Tim withdraws his pen with a flourish. Raising his fingers to eye level, Gerry admires each enhanced tattoo as if Tim had encrusted his knuckles with emeralds. He blows on the ink, then looks back down at Tim.

"Guess I know who to talk to if I need another tattoo."

"Oh, if you think I know how to draw anything other than eyes, you're sadly—"

But Gerry's already cut him off with a kiss, swooping down to cup Tim's chin with his raised hand. It's a biting kiss, claiming him like it always does, and as usual, it completely melts Tim's knees even as he's coaxed up and out of his chair.

"No offense to your artistic skills, but I can think of something better for you to do with your hands."

So much for trying to focus.

[wywardprince]

tag masterpost

general ;; gallery ;; promo post ;; self promo ;; starters and prompts

sebastian ;; beneath bowed head and hands {ooc} ;; fly straight and fly true {meme} ;; let me see even while my eyes are closed {aesthetic} ;; none of us are free {about} ;; not just ink on paper but what sleeps beneath the words {musings} ;; star-eyed and blossom-mouthed {romance} ;; to have but little yet treasure it well {gifts} ;; the halls of my dreams are red {history}

verses v;; and here i have known you all these years v;; i fear i am just slowing you down v;; i will drink and bed and walk away laughing v;; i will fight and pray for forgiveness later v;; the heir of starkhaven will not fall

companions c;; flow'ring heart and bright eyes {roland | eritvita} c;; shouldering the duty {elissa cousland | daughterofhighever}

relationships

[thegreatwicked]

Writing Resources

I'm back to working on more Obi-Cress and after finishing Padawan I needed to gather my thoughts and some resources because there are only so many ways to describe a kiss! Anyhow, wanted to put some of the great resources I've found across Tumblr here to share with you guys! Happy writing!

Writing Tips

How to Show Emotions @creativepromptsforwriting

Advice for Writing Relationships

The Smut Writers Dictionary @maybeeatspaghetti

How to Write Fight Scenes. @reachartwork

The Ultimate Masterlist @a-cure-for-writers-block

Show Don't Tell @modifieduchiha

How to Give Personality to a Character @bookished

Show, Don't Tell @lyralit

Words to Use Instead of Said @slayingfiction

Useful Websites for Writers @nakajimeow

Rare English Words @er-cryptid

Character Flaws by slayingfiction

Emotions in Writing @mems-sama

Little Romantic Gestures @jaylaxies

How to Go from Daydream to Draft by @endlessburningdarkness

Good Traits to Bad by @writers-potion

50 Questions for Your Characters by @3hks

Writing Help by @nsk96

Writing Resources by @1one2two3three4four

Writing Prompts

Blossoming Romance Writing Prompts @eloquentmoon

Flirty Prompts URfriendlywriter

Touch Starved Prompts @jasminesfury

[inklessletter]

Since I can't draw tonight, here's a steddie prompt for you:

Steve runs away from home once he becomes eighteen because his home environment is absolutely toxic. It's all yelling, and spitting insults, and constantly hearing that he is such a disappointment, so he decides to hit the road and go some city away from everyone he knows and just start over. His trauma response to loud, aggressive spaces leads him to accept a job managing a school library.

And he finds out it is his dream job.

He sees all these teens studying, sharing glances, romances beginning, stress increasing as midterms come closer, annoyed faces, giggling girls gossiping, kids vandalizing his tables... And he feels an observant. A watcher.

And he imagines. He imagines their lives, the tall jock with the widest smile going soft for the sarcastic redhead. The quiet thing blossoming between tose two boys who give longing glances when the other is not looking. The oddest friendship between the meanest eleven year old he's ever met and the most cynical kid to ever set foot in that school. He sees and he imagines, but he's silent.

Because silence is a precious shield that protects his imagination. Silence will never hurt him.

His first real friendship begins in silence. This girl, Robin, passes him a note with a poor drawing of him falling asleep on his desk. It made him laugh. She laughed too. That was enough.

They play this game together in which they both exchanged the craziest theories they could think of about other people's lives.

That one is a Russian spy.

That one runs a secret lab.

That one has mind powers (okay, that was maybe too crazy).

That one is an former cop.

"That one is a rockstar," Robin said pointing an absurdly good looking guy that was checking out a couple of books.

"He does looks like one, though..."

Robin was going to reply when she noticed Steve's rosy cheeks. She just smiled. She noticed the guy looking briefly at them, and then he grinned.

"Metal is more my scene, but close enough," he said.

Shit.

The guy approached them and Robin, the traitor, bolted away. The guy, all dimples and soft hair lent Steve two books and his library card (Munson, Eddie), that he registered and gave back to him.

Steve tried hard not to be an awkward mess, he barely managed to.

"I do actually play in a band, uh, on Tuesdays," Eddie said. Steve looked at him with a twist in his stomach. "And today is Tuesday. So if you want to come, I would gladly buy you a drink."

Steve felt a lump in his throat, and looked down.

"Uh, I—I don't—"

"Oh, sorry, I just—"

"I don't do well with loud noises," Steve said quickly. "I'm sorry."

Eddie nodded.

"Good luck tonight," Steve said, not wanting to leave the conversation in a rejection. He pointed the book. "This one is really good."

"Have you read The Lord of the Rings?"

"Yeah," Steve smiled. "I've got time and silence here."

Eddie looked at him with something hidden in his pupils meant to be discovered by Steve.

Eddie left the library.

There were a few days and a lot of conversations with Robin about that Eddie guy. Steve let himself imagine again, about him. About Eddie. He fantasized a lot, ignoring deliberately the sting in his guts knowing that he blew up his chance.

Two weeks passed and Eddie was there to return the books again, with a small guitar case hanging in his back, and Steve tried his best not to look like a kicked puppy.

"I can do soft noises," Eddie said, out of the blue. It earned him a look from both Robin and Steve. "When do you, uh, have a break?"

"Right now," Robin chimed in, quickly. "He's having a break right now."

A few minutes later they were in the rooftop. They found a comfortable spot with the best views and Eddie took out an old and battered ukulele. Then he looked at Steve.

"I am not a silent person. I exist in noise, and busy environments, and awful high pitched laughs," he said with a smile. "I can't change that, but I can change the noise."

Eddie caressed the tiny guitar strings, and the sound sent goosebumps through all Steve's skin.

"I can change the noise for you," Eddie said, low and soft, and he started playing a song. "If you let me."

His first real love began with music.

[haunting-venus]

enter, sandman

↳ neteyam x fem!omatikaya!reader

content warnings | smut ( minors dni ), somnophilia, oral ( f ), praise and some dirty talk, desperate neteyam, masturbation ( m ), characters are aged up !

word count: 1886

notes | pretty light on the actual prompt but here is my first submission for romancing pandora ! day one — somnophilia, turned out pretty fluffy but who doesn’t love some pussywhipped neteyam, enjoy friends

na'vi dictionary | syil — meer deer ; olo’eyktan — male clan leader ; yawnetu — loved one / lover / beloved person ; tewng — loincloth

You and Neteyam had been circling each other your entire lives, opposing forces drawn to one another despite all your innate differences. You admired each other from afar for years, skirting looks and kind greetings eventually evolving into shared dinners and stolen touches beneath the eclipse.

It was new and terrifying, having the eyes of the future Olo’eyktan so filled with adoration and lust and hope whenever they laid on you.

When Neteyam finally approached you officially to ask for you to be his—in body, in soul, in life—you were sure the earth beneath you shook with the force of your love. You were euphoric, giddy with the prospect that the man you desired so fully from the time you were children wanted you as well.

Some questioned his choice, though it was always clear to you how well you fit in each other’s lives. You weren’t a skilled hunter or forager, but you had a kind heart and strong mind, making you perfect for teaching the younglings of the clan. Neteyam was a born warrior, a boy made of steel bones and gunpowder. Where he had to be strong and immovable, you could be adaptable and kind, giving each other a perfect balance in life.

Being bonded to Neteyam was a lot of pressure, no doubt. Some expected you to be perfect, while others criticized you for being weak, a never-ending pull at your heart. It was all easy to brush off when Neteyam’s strong hands caressed your shoulders.

It helped too that your chemistry grew indescribably as your relationship progressed. The two of you were crazy about each other, hardly capable of containing the heat and excitement you felt in your newly blossoming relationship.

His hand would often find your thigh throughout shared meals, inevitably ending with the two of you sneaking past the trees and with his head between your legs. You would visit him on his breaks from teaching, stealing kisses and teasing touches away from the eyes of the younger warriors. You were often teased by your friends about how you could not keep your hands from your betrothed for more than a minute.

It was part of what made the time apart so unbearably aching.

You knew he had to leave. The syil, a normally elusive creature, would be gathering for mating season in valleys a few days' ride away. The hunting party had been planned for weeks now, with Neteyam at its head. It was a great stride in showing the clan his leadership skills, the longest hunt beyond the village he would lead on his own. The reap of the hunt would be great, sustaining the clan through many days and providing countless pelts for the cold season ahead. 

It did little to stave the emptiness in your heart or between your legs.

It grew lonely at night, especially in the cold drizzles of the rainy season when the hearth fires fizzled. You tucked yourself beneath woven mats, huddling against the soft fibers for warmth as your body craved the solid weight of Neteyam behind you. After what felt like hours of restless turning and shivering, a lonely sleep crept over your mind.

A heated groan rouses you from your slumber.

Your fingers tighten along the edge of the woven mats, flung to the side to expose you to the night’s chill, cooling against your heated skin. Your hair sticks against the curve of your neck, wet with sweat. There was an insistent nudge between your legs and a weight at the bone of your hip, pressing you firmly into your sleeping mats.

Light of the eclipse shadows across your home, dimly illuminating Neteyam’s face where it lay nestled between your thighs. There was a flush high on his cheeks, pupils dilated to show only a thin ring of gold as he gazed upon you. A small moan rumbles across the sensitive flesh of your folds as he notices you blink awake.

“‘Teyam-what the, oh-” Sleep still reached at the edge of your consciousness, muddling your thoughts as an easy pleasure trickled through you. Your hips move before your mind catches up, rutting towards Neteyam’s wide tongue as you moan. You could hardly think clearly with Neteyam’s tongue on you when you were fully awake, now your brain felt completely like mush.

“I’m sorry, yawnetu, I could not wait. You looked so sweet-'' His voice was weak and breathy, and you vaguely noticed one hand snuck beneath his tewng to palm at his cock.

Fuck, he feels so good and so right between you, but when did he get here? When did this start? Great Mother, why did you like it? You could see him in your mind’s eye, tired and worn from the long hunting trek, overcome with such want for you that waking you barely crossed his mind. In your head, he was needy and wanting, thinking of nothing but how he couldn’t stand to be apart from the wet heat between your legs for another second. The thought made you indescribably hot, legs trembling at the voracious way he gripped your hips as he dipped his tongue down into your entrance.

Your tewng hangs half-off your left thigh, rumbled and glistening with either saliva or your juices. Neteyam’s lips are soft and wet, trailing lightly between your slick folds. You try to gather your thoughts between the jolts of pleasure, bringing one hand down to stroke across your lover’s head. “Y-you’re back early.”

“The rains were too heavy, left early.” His fingers massage the plush of your thighs, trailing back up to trace the line of glowing freckles across your stomach. You squirm at the feather-light touches, inching your hips back to his panting lips. “Haah-such a nice present waiting for me at home, yawnetu, all spread out and waiting. Did you miss me?”

“I-I did, I—shit ‘Teyam—missed your mouth, your cock, please.”

“I know, baby, I know, let me give it to you.” His mouth fell back on you, slow licks on the sensitive skin around your labia, skirting around your hole and dipping into the junction of your thigh before darting against your clit. He breathed heavily from his nose, inhaling your scent as your legs tightening around the sides of his head increased the throb in his cock.

Your moans increase as his wide shoulders bully your thighs further apart, tongue giving wide and strong strokes against your clit before sucking it between his shining lips. You can feel the heat growing and tightening at the base of your stomach, fluttering against the dip of his thumb into your cunt. 

The slick sounds of your arousal weave in between the wet sounds of his moans, hot and yearning as they vibrate through your clit and into your bones. You can vaguely hear the sound of him working his own cock, imagining the way the tip peeks between his thick fingers to leak onto himself as he devours you. He always looked so pretty when he worked himself over, eyes blown and pleading.

The movements of his tongue quicken with the pace of your whining moans, finally moving to rub firm circles over your clit that have you keening into his hot touch. Your fingers card through his braids, using the grip to keep his mouth firm against your mound. As if he had any plans of moving.

“That’s-fuck-feels good, baby, but-want your cock,” You mewl, fingers tightening around the back of his head. Your voice hitches with every labored breath, pussy clenching on emptiness with every beat of your racing heart and it’s been so long, your body craves for him.

“Just wait, yawnetu, soon. I-I need to taste you.” He mumbles the promise into your folds, gasping and panting into you with each tug at his cock. His face is near rutting into you, nose bumping at the top of your pussy and inhaling deep breaths of your sweat and slick. “Thought of it the w-whole time, just like this. Let me.” 

The deep breathiness of his voice has arousal shooting through you. You know neither of you will probably be awake long enough to see through on that promise, but it doesn’t really matter. It’s enough to have him here, now, delighting himself so fully with eating at you that it has him desperate and breathless. His moans rumble through you, whispering praises and encouragements into the wetness of your core as he drives you closer and closer to the edge.

“Fuck, Neteyam.” You have one hand on the back of his head, the other gripped tightly into the woven mats as pleasure begins to crest over you. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Yeah? Come on, yawnetu.” You swear you see a devilish grin at the corner of his lips before your eyes clench shut in pleasure. 

Your orgasm rolls through you with a gasping breath, legs tightening around Neteyam’s shoulders as pleasure runs wet and hot from deep in your stomach to every edge of your body. Neteyam groans against you when you tighten under him, tongue swirling softly against your clit until you’re twitching against him, voice heavy with pants of his name and begging him to just get over here already.

Neteyam’s hand is still gripping at the meat of your hip when you open your eyes, now merely inches from your face as he holds himself above you. His hand moves fast and tight on his hard cock, eyes hooded in pleasure.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty-haah-got me so close, baby.”

His deep blue skin is shining under the eclipse with perspiration and your slick, the little freckles over his cheeks and shoulders glimmering lightly. You let your eyes sleepily rove over his wide shoulders and muscled chest, taking in every inch of how fucking good he looks above you.

Your eyes are glassy with pleasure as you gaze up at him with wet lashes, each brush of him against you sending you twitching in sensitivity. “I want it on me, please Neteyam.”

His eyes are unfocused as he comes apart above you, ears twitching and mouth falling open in wet pants. He burrows his head into the crook of your neck as he gets close, licking feverishly at the junction of your neck, the wet head of his cock bumping against your belly.

You reach behind his head again, bringing his forehead to rest against yours, eyes drawn on his face as he groans with each stroke. Your fingers brush along his largest braid close to the skull before rubbing your thumb firmly against the base. His eyes roll slightly as he gasps into your mouth, hips spasming unevenly as his orgasm wracks through him. His hand tightens on your hip, tip of his cock rubbing against you as he empties himself onto you.

The heat in you is slow and lazy, something that will creep into your dreams to be dealt with in the morning. Your bones feel heavy with Neteyam’s heat cuddling up next to you, mind already fuzzy with edges of sleep.

Neteyam’s face is lax in pleasure, nuzzling into the side of your body and pulling you taut to him. You can already hear his breathing evening out with the beginnings of sleep as he mumbles into your hair. “Missed you, yawnetu.”

“Welcome home, ‘Teyam.”

tags | @tallulah477 ; @eywaite @neteyamsoare