#monthlywritingchallenge

[ficfanofficial]

Colorful June

Sharpen those pencils, open that doc, and get ready to write the rainbow!

This month on FicFan, we're diving headfirst into emotion, color, and creativity with our Colorful June event. Think Turquoise, Emerald, Charcoal and everyt other possible color you can see around you. Each prompt is a new shade of story waiting to be told.

There's a prompt for every mood. You can choose the color itself, the one-word association it goes with, OR the whole quote. Feel free to use the list below:

June 1 - Red – Life - A heartbeat shared between enemies.

June 2 - Orange – Healing – Finding peace in an unlikely moment.

June 3 - Yellow – Sunlight – A letter left in the morning light.

June 4 - Green – Nature – A secret meeting beneath the trees.

June 5 - Blue – Serenity – They find each other again after the storm.

June 6 - Purple – Spirit – A connection deeper than words.

June 7 - Black – Remembering the lost – A vigil no one expected to share.

June 8 - Brown – Inclusivity & grounding – Building a home, one brick at a time.

June 9 - Pink – Love – A confession written in rose ink.

June 10 - White – Hope – Imagined a future and found it waiting.

June 11 - Crimson – Desire – One look, and everything changes.

June 12 - Gold – Power – A crown passed down through sacrifice.

June 13 - Silver – Memory – They forget everything... except each other.

June 14 - Teal – Clarity – The truth was never the enemy.

June 15 - Lavender – Legacy – A diary from the past rewrites the present.

June 16 - Indigo – Intuition – One of them always knows when something’s wrong.

June 17 - Copper – Resilience – They were never meant to survive. So they did.

June 18 - Ivory – Secrets – The white dress hides a thousand lies.

June 19 - Charcoal – Grief – What remains after the fire fades.

June 20 - Emerald – Jealousy – He watches them laugh and feels the fracture.

June 21 - Peach – New beginnings – Spring blooms.

June 22 - Sky blue – Freedom – They run, laughing, with nothing behind them.

June 23 - Rose – Innocence – You don't understand what you gave away.

June 24 - Coral – Friendship – The kind of bond even war couldn’t touch.

June 25 - Amethyst – Dreams – A recurring dream they both share.

June 26 - Turquoise – Communication – The message didn’t need words.

June 27 - Olive – Peace – They called a truce at dawn.

June 28 - Midnight blue – Isolation – The night was too quiet without them.

June 29 - Blush – Flustered feelings – The smallest touch unravels everything.

June 30 - Burnt orange – Change – The past burns down.

If you find inspiration in any of those prompts above, please, don't forget to share with everybody and tag us! We would LOVE to see the results!

Let’s make this June burst with color and creativity!

[agrinsosardonic]

Purgatory--Serenity

“That’s how you clean up, eh?” Reno says after a few more seconds of admiring Cloud’s work. 

“A little dramatic, but efficient.” 

“Yeah like you.” He turns around and the smirk drops immediately from his face when he lays eyes on his partner. “Holy hells, the fuck happened to you?”

“Fire materia.” Cloud tries to shrug, but grimaces when pain shoots up from the wound on his side,  “and Hojo.”

“You look like you’re dead!” Reno stomps over to him and starts the visual examination. His auburn eyes knit with concern, and Cloud can see the way his jaw clenched as he spots the three parallel claw marks running down his abdomen and black and blues that littler his face and arms. 

“If I’m dead, then this must be purgatory.”

“ If I’m here, then we in hell, baby.” He cups Cloud’s chin and moves his head to get a better look at the head wound with a disappointed tsk. And even though he is a bit rough, the way Reno caresses Cloud’s skin with that pensive gaze, sends comforting chills down his spine. And he leans into the touch.

“Heaven. Hell. It’s all the same.”

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64355137/chapters/165358525

[monthlywritingchallenges]

This'll be a low-pressure, creativity-first challenge focused on capturing a single, powerful moment.

Instead of writing long fics or following a daily prompt list, this month is all about choosing just one moment to write about.

🌻 Rules

Write one scene, one interaction, one dialog...

No word count minimum or maximum

All genres and fandoms are welcome

Post any time during June

Tag it with @monthlywritingchallenges #justonejune and/or submit it to our AO3 collection

🌻 Need inspiration?

Just one bed

One summer day

A single one kiss

One last try

This song from their youth

Just one look

One morning together

A missed call

Just one secret

One year later

Just one piece of cake

A shared goal

Let's write 🌻

[crushing-on-hunks]

The taste of cocoa

Prompt: The taste of cocoa

Fandom: Arcane

Pairing: Ekko/Reader

Warnings: None, possible bad grammar

Word count: 427, for Comforcember @monthlywritingchallenges

He does not really get the approval of the tea. (We've all laughed at his expressions to the Jayce's one form that scene in the show.) Thought if you really like this drink and take his distaste too close to heart, he might just swear that it was purely Jayce's fault and awful tea-making skills and not the drink itself. Maybe after some time, you both discover that he is actually quite fond of some specific sweet blends like the berry teas. But overall, he stayed aloof to the ideas of "leaves in boiling water" type of drinks. "Firelight, c'mon! It's like drinking a medicine" - sad puppy eyes and frowning.

- Through trial and errors after almost giving up on the idea that he can enjoy anything beyond fresh water and some light booze. It is then during more cold months, when you discovered just how much of a sweet-tooth he actually is.

- Makes sense though that being from lover levels of Zaun with no access to any luxury products so popular within Piltover, he never even tried hot cocoa. Besides, in line with his altruist nature and leadership position, he would first of all try providing any kind of foods to the firelights first, not really carrying if there will be anything left afterwards for himself.

- Except, when he was swinging by your place after a frosty walk along the seaside bridge. Truly, not the smartest idea, as the winter winds left you feeling numb in your fingers and eyes all shiny from the harsh wind gusts.

- You quickly filled two cups with the hot beverage and thrusted one of them into Ekko's frostbite hands. Young man made a funny expression but complied as even if all those fancy drinks were awful to his personal taste, they at least made a good job at warming one up from the north wind currents.

You can't help but laugh at the astounded look he gives you after the first sip, the mask of pretense disgust slipping.

You move closer hiding the smile behind the rim of the cup as Ekko tries (and fails) to put on annoyed expression again. He can't though, he is too fond of those happy sparks lighting up your eyes.

"Ok, maybe you pilties have at least two good things after all."

"Two?"

"Yep! Hot cocoa... and you" - Ekko slyly tugs you into his side as you squill and almost spill your own beverage, face rapidly warming up as the firelights leader's boisterous laugh makes you want to hide from embracement

[monthly-writing-challenges]

About the Blog!

This blog is an attempt to collate and collect all the non-fandom-specific (writing) challenges hosted annually during specific months posted on tumblr - it is not an attempt to take credit for any of these challenges! Please follow the actual blogs of the challenges you're interested in participating in and check out their individual prompt challenge rules!!

There are many, many more writing challenges out there than these monthly challenges, if you're looking (daily prompts, yearly prompts, fandom specific challenges, etc.). If you know of a challenge that hasn't made it to this blog and fits the above criteria, please let me know, I'm happy to share it.

Monthly prompt blogs for the next three months (Jun. 2025 - Aug. 2025):

June 2025:

@juneofdoom! Category: whump. Running since 2023. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

JustoneJune by @monthlywritingchallenges! First year running. 2025 status: ongoing. [Type: scene/completion challenge]

@genworkjune! Category: gen fics. Running since 2023. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: general prompts and engagement with gen fics]

@pridemonthprompts! Category: LGBTQIA+. First year running. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

July 2025:

@whumperless-whump-event! Category: (whumperless) whump. Running since 2024. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

@fluffuly2024! Category: fluff. Running since 2021. 2025 status: unknown. [Type: prompt-a-day]

@whumpmasinjuly! Category: whump. FAQ. Running since 2020. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: 10 creation/writing prompts, plus question and community prompts on the other days of the month]

@fluffyjuly! Category: fluff. First year running. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

@fluff-cember in July! Category: fluff. First year running (at least in July!). 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

August 2025:

@augustofwhump! Category: whump. Running since 2024. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

@augustwritingchallenge! Category: AU fics. FAQ. Running since 2020. 2025 status: prompts are posted. [Type: prompt-a-day]

@writersmonth! Category: none. FAQ. Running since 2019. 2025 status: will be returning. [Type: prompt-a-day]

@ficwip5k! Category: AU. Running since 2023. 2025 status: signups have started. [Type: single fic, maximum word count challenge]

@aug-kissed! Category: romance/kisses. Running since 2024. 2025 status: unknown. [Type: Aug 4-31; 3 prompts a week.]

Check out the active and inactive challenge lists for other months!

[jerzwriter]

I'm committed to finishing @creativepromptsforwriting 30-Day Challenge, even if it takes me 90 days! lol Day 23 is write about dreaming, and I was feeling a little angsty tonight.

I couldn't decide if I wanted to torture poor Ethan x Kaycee, or Tobias x Casey, so I left it open - it could be EITHER of them. No names are used in the fic; it simply refers to him and her. So it's the readers' choice. (Honestly, this could be for any couple... )

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Pairing: Tobias x Casey OR Ethan x Kaycee (reader's choice) Rating: Teen Words: 680 Summary: Sometimes, when a heart can't have what it wants most in this world, dreams find a way to see it through.

A/N: Take your pick of pairings - it can be either of these two, or anyone else, really. This one is short - but I'm pretty proud of it! :)

Also submitting to @monthlywritingchallenges - Just One June - It's just one dream. :)

30-Day Challenge Masterlist | Full Masterlist

It started on an ethereal train platform - too quaint, too pristine to belong to the real world, let alone anywhere near Boston.

She was running, doing her best to catch her breath as she ran toward the departing train. In a moment of desperation, she kicked off her heels. Fashion be damned - she could not miss this train.

She hadn’t purchased a ticket - didn’t even know where it was going. But the moment she stepped inside, a familiar warmth enveloped her. Her eyes fluttered shut, and a hesitant smile tugged at her lips. It was a defining moment, and she knew: she was exactly where she was meant to be.  

He was already seated by the window when she turned - elbows resting on his knees, hands clasped before him. He looked older now, his hair greying at the temples, delicate lines framing his eyes. They seemed softer somehow, as if they’d finally learned to let go of the weight of things that didn’t matter - but at what cost?

No matter - it was undeniable - it was him.

She took the seat beside him without saying a word, and he turned to her with a smile that was forever etched in her mind.

“You made it,” he said, his voice a peculiar mix of sadness and joy.

“I did. And I didn’t even know I was coming,” she replied.

He took her hand, squeezing it tightly. “Oh, come on. I’d think that you’d be used to it by now. You come every time.”

“I do,” she said, turning away to gaze out the window.

She found solace in the world rushing by – trees, buildings, countryside, city, and shore – each scene quickly blurred into the next, each holding memories that had grown more precious over time.

Neither of them moved, and at long last, time felt infinite. Eternity was theirs. Until her voice broke the spell.

“I tried to forget you, you know,” she whispered. “I thought it would be easier. I really tried.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing painfully in his throat. “I know.”

“But you still showed up everywhere – you live in my mind. You’re in every shadow I see, hovering behind every corner I turn, and at night... every night... I find you here.”

“And you always will.”

He turned back to the window, terrified to face her. Then, in a voice so soft she almost didn’t hear it, he asked, “Will you keep looking for me? Will I always find you here? Or will there come a time...” he faltered, “when I’ll be on my own?”   

She reached over, her fingers grazing the curve of his chin. She turned his face toward hers, his glassy eyes meeting hers.

“You’ll never be alone. I will come. I will find you - every last time.”

His face lit up the way it always had when she looked at him, and then he leaned in slowly. She could feel the heat rise in her cheeks, her heart pounding with anticipation as his soft, familiar lips drew closer. Her body burned for him. This was all she ever wanted - all she ever needed. This was home.

But just before they touched, when they were only a breath apart, she woke.

She lurched upright, clutching the sheets. She turned to the space beside her, the space he once filled, the place she thought he’d always be. But there was nothing there. She was alone with the ache in her chest and the ghost of his hand still warm in hers.

“You came to visit me again,” she whispered, her voice cracking as she hugged his tear-stained pillow close, as if she could will him back to life. “I knew you’d never leave me alone. You - you couldn’t.”

In the silence that followed, she could almost swear she still felt the train moving, and it lulled her back to sleep.

It wasn’t the ‘ever after’ she had longed for – not even close. But it was something. It was hers. And she would never, ever let go.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanart

[the-ellia-west]

Unedited again bc I'm Lazy - I hate it, but I spent like 30 minutes on it so whatever.

7 - A Promise Kept (Kinda)

@monthlywritingchallenges

-

The Spirit smiled, the twinkling glow from her eyes like a dying star's last breath slowly dimming. "Take him."

Khenan gasped, a hollow, choked sound. "I… I can't. He's…" so small. The words died on his tongue as he stared down at the baby, with his mother's starlight eyes, and serene expression. What things he didn't yet know. Not just a baby. His son.

"Take him, Khenan. Keep him close. I know by law he should not be yours, so keep him as a servant in your home if you must. Don't abandon him." Her words strained as she struggled to swallow.

"But I…" The nobleman chased the light in her eyes, desperate for more of her voice to signal she wasn't yet gone as he grasped her hand, cold and clammy in his. Their child lay still and quiet on her lap, the sounds of his soft, calm breaths in time with his mother's fading wheezes. "Lucia! Luce, Don't leave me… please… H-he doesn't have a name yet! I… I don't know what to do without you…"

Khenan pressed his forehead to her shoulder, squeezing her hand as the raspy wheezing grew more shallow and strained. "Please… please, please, please, please. Don't leave me Luce… I'm not ready, I'm sorry… I'm so, so sorry…"

"H…im…" Lucia pulled her shaky hand from Khenan's, pushing the baby toward him as her voice failed and her breath hitched, body beginning to tremble as she struggled for breath but none came. Khenan stared at her, eyes wide and terrified as he cradled his son close to his chest.

"No… no, no, no, no! Luce?" The noble reached for her with a shaky hand, but flinched back, jumping as the little boy mumbled a soft noise, blinking. He glanced back toward the woman he loved, still and growing colder by the second, her choking already fallen silent. His face contorted as he stared at her, breaths quick and shallow as he hugged his son, chest burning like the lungs of a man drowned in the center of hell, unable to breathe as the air grew heavy.

But suddenly, the room snapped back to focus as a small, warm hand brushed the tears staining his cheeks. A small gasp, and a giggle. Khenan swallowed nervously, gently lowering a his hand, shifting the damp tears on his son's palm with his thumb, hesitating as the tiny hand closed around his finger. He sniffed, trying to choke back more muffled sobs as the infant's familiar silver eyes found his.

His name.

He needed a name.

Khenan brushed the tiny black curls away from his son's face. "Your mother would have wanted you to know your heritage… Wildrun. A Spirit's call, for where your heart belongs, and where hers should have stayed. For the stars in your eyes and the magic I know you hide in your fingers. I promise, my little Wild Spirit… I won't let them hurt you."

~

[Thirteen years later]

The figure towered over him, the same man he knew, but missing something. Dark shadows made their home beneath his eyes, stare narrow, hands clenched into fists, the cuts on his knuckles replaced with bruises. Wild scrambled back, hands flying over his head, instinctively flickering out of view as he squeezed his eyes tightly closed.

A rough hand caught his wrist and Wild yelped, expecting a slap across the face or some sort of object jabbed into his ribs. But as he envisioned all the methods of torture, anticipated the pain, he didn't notice the shackles' weight gone from his wrists until they clattered on the floor, and he flickered back into view out of shock. The Phantom opened one eye carefully, fully opening the other as the cuff clicked and Khenan dropped to his knees, metal encasing his ankle. His eyes found the floor.

Wild stared, speechless as he gingerly shuffled a few inches away from the other figure, bracing himself. "K-Khenan?"

Nothing.

"…Dad?"

At the word, Khenan scowled. "Don't call me that."

Wild flinched. "Yessir."

"...But... Why?"

"Because you're worthless. They wouldn't want you. Go on. Run along back to your new family. You're free." He scoffed, voice dripping with sarcasm as he waved a hand, pulling his knees up to his chest.

"Dad."

"I said don't."

Wild hesitated. Khenan pressed a hand flat against the small of Wild's back and shoved him forward, making the boy stumble, "Go! GET OUT OF HERE! What is wrong with you? Don't wait! GO!"

The young Phantom hugged his arms closer to himself as he backed up, tears burning in the corners of his eyes as he turned and ran. He didn't know what he'd hoped, but whatever it was, he was an idiot for hoping it.

~

Wild gasped a sob as he ran, not watching where he was going, and ran straight into Rose, her eyes finding him as he flooded back into view. He coughed, wheezing as the dam broke and the tears wouldn't stop, eyes widening before he buried his face in her shoulder and broke down.

"Woah! Hey, Kiddo! Are you okay?"

Wild squeezed her tighter as she wrapped her arms around him, a hand smoothing his hair as he cried. "I hate emotions."

~

Khenan watched his son disappear down the hall and straightened his posture, the worry returning as he lost sight of him. He hated him. He would never forgive him. Khenan would likely never see Wild again. But he was safe. And that's all that mattered. He didn't even care to worry about excuses as the relief washed over him alongside an overwhelming sense of guilt.

No. It wasn't his fault. Wild was safe now. Nothing else mattered. They'd find him, he'd be reprimanded, he'd be the one tortured. Not the innocent little boy with his mother's eyes, and the heart of the woman who'd raised him. The little boy who brought death wherever he went.

The Phantom of the Wolves.

Wildrun Talos.

His son.

Please comment your thoughts! It would be greatly appreciated! <3

@an-indecisive-nerd @sunflowerrosy @urnumber1star @homelessnerd @vesanal @darkandstormydolls @supercimi @corinneglass @sm-writes-chaos @thebookishkiwi @blargh-500 @lunaeuphternal @write-with-will @yolbert @thewritingautisticat @carb0n-m0n0xide @theweirdbox123

@vyuntspakhkite-l-darling

[hazelestelle]

let the wild take over (shadows lurking close behind)

For @monthlywritingchallenges April Showers prompts "cold, shelter, soaked".

Fandom: Teen Wolf Pairing: Peter Hale/Stiles Stilinski Rating: T Word Count: 1601

Read on AO3

They were deep into the woods, investigating the only lead they had on the strange disappearances that had been happening the past month.

Stiles had wanted to go alone, but as their Alpha, Peter had insisted on accompanying him, in case it turned out dangerous, and Stiles hadn’t been able to say no, not when still no one knew that he was perfectly capable of defending himself.

He’d always had a little bit of magic, but after the Nogitsune, it was different, amplified and powerful, and Stiles loved it.

But he hadn’t told anyone, because he knew they would question if he was still possessed or other such nonsense. They’d trust him even less, and he couldn’t have that.

And it wasn’t like he minded Peter’s company, rather the opposite, he might enjoy it a little too much.

Peter was witty and smart and observant, and as much as Stiles appreciated these qualities, therein lay the problem. He knew that Peter had always been paying attention to him, and now with his amplified magic, it was even easier to spot.

Normally, Stiles revelled in it, loved that someone as powerful and amazing as Peter would be interested in him, but right now, it would have been way easier to just use his magic to follow the lead instead of stumbling around in the woods like they were.

Just when he wanted to suggest giving up and coming back another time, fully intending to just sneak out later and do this alone, the rain started. And not just a light drizzle, a full on downpour that left them drenched in seconds.

“Oh you got to be kidding me!” Annoyed, Stiles threw his hands up, and Peter snorted.

“Don’t like a little rain, sweetheart?” Peter was grinning, and Stiles rolled his eyes, choosing to ignore that the endearment made his heart skip a beat, hoping that Peter wouldn’t hear that over the rain.

“I don’t think this qualifies as little”, he shot back, and Peter just shrugged, still grinning.

“Come on, there was a cabin over there, we can wait it out”, he suggested.

Stiles nodded enthusiastically and gestured for Peter to lead the way. Anything would be better than this.

The cabin was close, and it turned out to be cosy and well maintained, if a little dusty.

Once inside, Stiles realised how cold the rain had been. His clothes were soaked through, and now he was freezing.

And then he made the mistake of looking at Peter.

Of course, he was equally drenched, the water dripping down from his hair over the sharp angles of his face, and his white shirt clinging to him, showing off his defined chest and abs and leaving nothing to the imagination.

Stiles was already mesmerised, his mouth dry and his heart pounding, and then it got worse. Peter lifted up his shirt, revealing the V of his hips and the happy trail vanishing into his jeans, and Stiles knew that he should look away, but he just couldn’t.

Once Peter had gotten his shirt off, he finally looked at Stiles, and his smirk was back.

“Like what you see?”, he teased, sounding highly amused, and Stiles realised what he had just revealed all too easily.

“Don’t you dare make fun of me for this”, he answered sharply. He didn’t care that he had just essentially threatened his alpha, he had to make it absolutely clear where he stood on this.

Still, his heart was beating way too fast. He knew that this could damage their relationship beyond repair, and he hoped that Peter would just drop it, for the sake of the pack, if nothing else.

Looking down, he decided to focus on his own wet clothes, but he could feel Peter coming closer, his presence solid and warm at his side.

“Darling, I would never”, Peter said softly.

Then there was a hand cradling Stiles’ jaw, and Peter lifted up his chin so that Stiles had to look at him, and what he saw took his breath away. There was recognition in Peter’s eyes and hope and hunger and want, and all of a sudden, Stiles couldn't take it anymore.

He fisted his hand in Peter’s hair and pulled him towards him for a fierce kiss.

Peter responded immediately, wrapping his other arm around Stiles’ waist and pressing himself even closer, kissing him back passionately, all teeth and tongue and fervour.

Later, they were lying on the couch, Peter on his back, and Stiles mostly on top of him, relaxed and sated and happy.

Peter was stroking Stiles’ back, drawing nonsense patterns, and Stiles had almost dosed off, when Peter remarked “Well, that’s one way to warm up.”

His tone was light, but Stiles could hear the forced cheer and frowned.

“Not what you wanted?”

Peter’s hand stilled on his back and he had gone tense under him, and Stiles lifted his head to look at Peter, his heart squeezing in his chest.

“Sweetheart, of course I wanted. I wanted you for a long time, I’m sure you know that. I just thought...” Peter sighed. “I was sure you’re interested in Derek.”

“Oh.” Peter sounded so resigned, and Stiles just couldn’t have that.

He leaned in and kissed him, softly, reassuringly, until he felt Peter relax.

“I mean, I was, I’m not gonna lie. When I first met Derek, of course I found him attractive, I have eyes.”

Peter snorted, and Stiles grinned, then he shrugged.

“But now we’re friends, and I just can’t see him that way. But you. You’re so hot, and you’re smart and powerful and mean, but you always take care of me, and you respect my opinion, and yeah, how could I not like that?”

Stiles was aware that he was rambling, and maybe he shouldn’t have said all that, but Peter was looking at him with wonder and awe, and Stiles felt warm all over.

“Darling, you’re a marvel.” Peter sounded a little breathless, and Stiles smiled, feeling a little light headed himself at this turn of events.

Then Peter pulled him into another kiss, hooking one leg around Stiles’ hips, and Stiles could acutely feel just how much Peter liked this.

“Ready for round two already?”, he teased, delighted, and Peter growled, his eyes flashing red, making Stiles shiver in anticipation.

Peter buried his face in Stiles’ neck, biting and kissing and sucking, and Stiles forgot all teasing, moaning Peter’s name.

Afterwards, they were back in the same position on the couch.

Stiles chuckled. “Maybe we should clean up, hang up our clothes to dry and all that?”

Peter sighed. “Probably a good idea. We’ll stay for a bit longer, right? Because I am not getting into wet jeans.”

Stiles laughed, then wrinkled his nose. “No yeah, I’m with you on that.”

He noticed that the rain had stopped, but Peter was right. Wet jeans were the worst. And besides, being alone in this cabin together wasn’t exactly a hardship.

With a groan, he got up and immediately winced. The sex had been phenomenal, and Peter was big, and hadn’t been exactly gentle, and a thrill went trough Stiles at the thought.

“I’ll be feeling that for days.”

Peter grinned, proud and smug. “Good.”

Having located his clothes, Stiles bent down to pick them up and got a good look at himself, the bruises and teeth marks and hickeys littering his inner thighs and hips, and he suspected that his chest and neck didn’t look much better.

“Possessive much?”, he remarked.

Peter had gotten up from the couch too to find his clothes, currently giving Stiles a fantastic view of his arse.

He looked up sharply, his eyes roaming over Stiles’ body. His eyes flashed red again, and Stiles’ heart beat faster.

“Yeah.” Peter’s voice was rough, and he came closer, reaching out and placing a hand on Stiles’ hip, his thumb brushing over a bruise, making Stiles shiver.

“Problem?”

Stiles grinned.

“That is the opposite of a problem.”

He leaned in to kiss Peter, and could feel his grin under his lips.

“Trying to start round three?”

Stiles laughed. “Problem?”

“That is the opposite of a problem.” Peter’s eyes were shining with mirth, and Stiles just had to kiss him again.

“We should still get our clothes sorted first though, and maybe start a fire.”

Peter looked at the fireplace and the little stack of wood next to it, seeming annoyed that he would have to let go of Stiles, and Stiles made decision right there.

With a flick of his wrist, a fire was cackling merrily.

Taking a deep breath, he looked back at Peter. His face was unreadable, and Stiles’ stomach dropped.

“That’s one hell of a secret”, Peter said then, and Stiles blinked.

“You don’t sound surprised.”

Peter smiled, cradling Stiles’ jaw and sweeping a thumb over his cheek. “Anyone who pays a little attention can see how extraordinary you are. And I happen to be paying very close attention.”

His voice was low and his eyes dark and hungry, and Stiles’ heart skipped a beat.

“Thank you for telling me”, Peter said then, and Stiles smiled.

“I trust you.” Trusted him to understand, to keep his secret, to stay at his side.

Peter looked awed by that, and Stiles leaned in to kiss him soundly.

“You do realise I’m never letting you go again”, Peter murmured against his lips, and Stiles grinned into the kiss, something fierce and possessive swirling in his chest.

“Good. Because I’m not letting you go either.”

“Deal.” Peter chuckled, kissing him again, their clothes once again forgotten.

[legofanguy]

A Toy Story fanfiction using @monthlywritingchallenges event April Showers 2025 day 29 glow.

Buzz Lightyear is not amused by the joke that he is the child who’s owned him favorite toy all because Buzz can glow in the dark which made him into a nightlight of sorts.

[carrots-bear]

Forgotten Memory in a Letter

By Bear | Started/Finished - 2/3/25

Tales of Lost-Myth short (og world and story; collab in worldbuilding and lore; nothing posted)

⚠️VERY DARK THEMES AHEAD! BEWARE!⚠️

Lydia was going through the letters in her husbands box that he kept under their bed. The kids were playing outside with the dogs in the fields. There were letters from Axel’s mother, cousins, and from myself that I wrote when I went away to sell our crop and livestock. 

After quite a while, one letter came about to be from the years that we had left far behind us. 

“My Dear Axel,

How’s our inside man? It is nearly time for us to strike Drapple Cove’s Harbor. There’ll be a bloody mess of it, so I hope you’re well prepared. With this letter, as you can see, is a parcel. You have a d§$# good eye, I may observe, so I’m gifting you with one f$£# of a riffle and three magazines. Have a h¥&$ of a time my friend!

— Ombré ”

Lydia looked at the letter with disgust and horror. She remembered that night vividly, though she hated it deeply. It had been years since either she or Axel had willingly discussed their time as part of Cadell’s crew. 

As Cadell had predicted, that night was bloody. Women and men and children were running and fighting and bleeding. Dying. Not just dying, being killed. At their hands, Lydia’s hands. She wanted to erase it, but she couldn’t. 

She used to have nightmares for nights on end after the plunder. She had come to terms that this was a part of her at some point, and then didn’t think about for a while, until it was forgotten. But she supposed nothing was truly forgotten forever. She knew those nightmares of the woman who looked like her dearest friend who had been shot by their Captain, and the little boy who looked like one of her children today, would come back now. She hated it she hated it she hated it she hated it she hated it all. 

She joined in the life of piracy for riches and adventure. Sure, she was rich then, but Lydia wished nothing but meeting Axel had come of it. 

As Lydia put the letters back in the box how she found them, she wished there was a spell that could wipe all of her horrible memories from her mind.

————————————

@monthlywritingchallenges

Still getting a feel for the characters! This is super short for what I usually write, hahaaaa

This is a combo of Days 2 & 3: Day 2 - Forgotten Memory | Day 3 - Letter Discovered

[agrinsosardonic]

21-Gun Salute

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64463332

Rows of black umbrellas march in unison under a canopy of constant rain. And Cid finds it rude of the rain to not have held its tears until after the service. The sky didn’t even cry this much on the day his father died; the light blue had stretched across the whole world with not a single cloud to blemish the smooth sea until 8:48 am when a bellowing black cloud of smoke burned the clear cyan sky. 

Cid shambles with the rest of the mourners across the sea of mud and grass towards the coffin; his fresh shoes sink into the forming swamp. And part of him hopes he gets stuck so he doesn’t have to confront the hole at the other end of the cemetery, but his uncle’s relentless grip on his arm makes that impossible as he drags him along. He keeps his eyes on his mother in front of him; she’s supported by her two brothers on either side holding her up. Her broken sobs cut through the rain like a razer blade and they sound heavy. Like a boulder trapped in her chest and every heave she attempts to break it before she’s suffocated. He pulls his eyes and locks onto his brothers, held by his aunts and look blissfully confused in their tiny suits and scally caps. And Cid doesn’t know which scene burns him more–his mother’s unchained grief or his brothers’ innocent denial. 

But hot is all he feels. White hot. It scorches his stomach and shoots to his cheeks, back down to his fists which he clenches. He digs his nails into his palms until he feels the skin start to give–and even then the universe doesn’t grant him reprieve. 

They stand around the coffin and the black umbrellas take up much of the empty cemetery. The priest speaks of sacrifice and death. He speaks of heroes in the face of tyranny. He speaks of God. And Cid wants to ask the God he no longer believes in why his dad had to be the hero. Why he needed to make the sacrifice? But his uncle’s grip is firm as if he can read the angry thoughts of a thirteen-year-old. 

The priest invites the family to lay roses upon the coffin of the dearly departed. And then his uncle finally releases him. Cid grips the rose and approaches the green and gold tomb. The empty tomb. No body rests within those ornate walls on top of silk lined pillows. He stands over it. His father’s smiling photo next to him, but he can’t bear to look into those empty eyes. He can’t listen to his mother’s hurt. His brothers’ unintentional laughter. He hates the rain. The stiff humidity that buries him. He hates his uncle's disappointed glare. And the hundreds of marching black umbrellas and their false words.

Cid rips the rose into pieces; the soft red petals crash to the floor with a collective gasp. He barrels through the canopy of black umbrellas. He erupts into the storm; the waterfall of rain pelts him until he’s drenched. 

The first shot of the 21-gun salute rips through the air, and he flinches against his will.

The second shot, he gets stuck in the mud and falls into the swamp.

And the third shot he screams into the heavens. Towards a God he can’t believe in. As the rain washes away his tears.

[monthlywritingchallenges]

Prompts 🌧

Our April will be all about rain, renewal, and the emotions that come with it. From melancholic storms to hopeful drizzles. ☔ Have fun, and don't forget to tag @monthlywritingchallenges and #aprilshowers

1. Drizzle

2. Thunder

3. Puddles

4. Umbrella

5. Storm

6. Drenched

7. Lightning

8. Misty

9. Flood

10. Cloudburst

11. Grey

12. Reflections

13. Ripples

14. Shelter

15. Downpour

16. Rainbow

17. Soaked

18. Gloom

19. Petrichor

20. Cold

21. Horizon

22. Hood

23. Soggy

24. Drip

25. Wander

26. Whisper

27. Tempest

28. Stillness

29. Glow

30. Aftermath

[monthly-writing-challenges]

February Challenges Alert!

Looking for a writing challenge? February is almost here, and there are plenty of options to chose from! @febuwhump, @feveruary, @fluffyfebruary, and @fluffbruary all have prompts posted and ready to go! You could even try combining challenges if you have the time!

On top of that @februaryficletchallenge will be releasing prompts the day of throughout February, and @monthlywritingchallenges is promising some February prompts to come! Finally, @femslashfeb and @fluffruaryprompts ran last year, though there are no new prompts listed yet for 2025. (As always, check out the actual blogs if you want to know the full list of prompts!)

Happy writing, and if you've got any other writing goals, good luck!

[jerzwriter]

A/N: Day 26's prompt in @creativepromptsforwriting 30-Day Writing Challenge is to write a story with the title Like Waves in the Ocean. @coffeeheartaddict2 had sent a request to write this for Tobias & Casey, and - admittedly - I was stumped! I hope you like the outcome, Tash - I went a little angsty!

Book: Open Heart Pairing: Tobias Carrick x Casey MacTavish (F!MC) Rating: Teen Words: 732 Summary: Tobias & Casey share a relationship defining moment by the sea.

Also participating in @choicesmonthlychallenge, prompts: ocean, sun, love, and pink, and @monthlywritingchallenges Just One June prompt: One Last Try.

30-Day Challenge Masterlist | Full Masterlist

Casey sat quietly on the shore, arms wrapped tightly around her knees as she watched the tide roll in. The sky was beginning to fade into pale shades of pink over the Atlantic as the day drew to a close. She tucked her hands into the sleeves of her old NYU sweatshirt as the wind picked up - the great disruptor, tugging relentlessly at her hair, stirring the sand and tangling everything around her until the world felt just like she did inside: unsettled, unmoored, uncertain of what would come next.

She didn’t turn when Tobias made his way down the dune behind her, only shifting slightly to make room when he settled beside her on the sand. He didn’t speak at first – neither of them did – letting the waves and occasional call from a gull overhead provide the soundtrack for a long while. At another time, it might have been soothing, but today, they felt like the outro to a song they never wanted to end.

Tobias finally gathered the courage to speak. “I had a feeling I’d find you here. You always come here when you want everything to disappear.”

“I don’t want everything to disappear,” she said softly. “I just needed space to breathe.”

He nodded. “I get that. Breathing is easier here.”

She glanced at him – barefoot, his shirt sleeves pushed up to his elbows, the ocean light softening his features and making his crystal blue eyes appear even more ethereal – if that was even possible. He looked just like the man she fell in love with... the man she still loved with all her soul. But things had changed; sometimes, she didn’t even recognize them anymore.

It had started subtly, then everything seemed to crash down at once. Stupid fights that seemed to start over nothing at all, always ending with slammed doors and tears. They said things neither wanted to say - things they didn't mean. But they said them anyway – too many times to count.

Her toes curled into the sand when she whispered. “What happened to us, Tobias? How... how did we end up here?”

He didn’t answer right away, staring out at the waves like they held answers he had been longing to find.

“I think we let the current carry us too far out to sea. We just kept drifting, letting it pull us apart without stopping to check that we were still holding hands.”

She felt a lump form in her throat, hot tears sprang to her eyes. “Do you want to find your way back?” she asked nervously. “Do you want to find your way back... to me?”

“Casey,” he sighed, heart aching. “I don’t have to come back. I know things haven't been easy, but don’t you see - I never left you. I never would..”

She turned to him, her heart skipping when she saw a single tear trailing down his cheek. She reached for his hand without hesitation. This was the man she loved – and she knew he loved her in return – but was love still enough?  

“I don’t know how to fix us anymore,” she confessed. “I don’t know how to get back to who we were before.”

“You don’t have to fix it, Casey. You don’t fix the ocean,” he smiled, brushing a lock of hair away from her face. “You just learn to swim in it. We can learn to swim together. I know we can.”

A smile tugged at her lips. “That might be the most beautiful thing you’ve ever said to me.”

He let out a gentle sigh, a half smile on his lips – he was almost afraid to hope. “It’s just one of my many talents."

She leaned into his side, her head resting on his shoulder as it had a thousand times before. His arm encircled her, and she nearly cried. Here, in his arms, this was her home.

“I miss us,” she croaked. "I miss us so much."

“Hey! We’re still here.” He placed a kiss on top of her head. “We just have to swim a little stronger- hold on to each other a little tighter. But I have no doubt that we can do it. We’ll reach the shore, baby. You and me? We’ll reach the shore – together.”

Casey couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when it happened, but that didn’t seem to matter. As the two of them sat beneath the setting sun, with the salt air filling their lungs and the waves lapping around them, she felt it coming to life again - the moment she began to believe again.

In the end, they both knew - they were invincible.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

[the-ellia-west]

My first time doing one of these - Sorry if the quality is a little off. It's a little late and I didn't edit it.

@monthlywritingchallenges

Prompt #1 - An Unlikely Duo

-

Finn sighed, a frown twitching at the corner of his lips as he glanced from the others back to Morena. "Are you sure?"

"Of course I'm sure. Get them to safety, I know you don't trust him, but trust me. Neither of us are in a condition to travel. Once you find a place, come back for us. You know where we are, and I can always send a letter if I need you!" The Harpy smiled at her friend, brushing the splint tied to her wing with her knuckles. "It's going to be okay, Finn."

His shoulders slumped and he pulled her into a tight hug. "Realms, I hope so. Be safe."

"I will, don't get your wings in a twist, oh great and powerful leader." Morena squeezed him back, tips of their feathers brushing as he pulled back and gave her a solemn nod. Their eyes met for a brief moment as lightning crackled overhead and thunder shook the wind and drove a shock into her bones before he turned, waving for the others to follow him.

However, Rose lingered for a moment, glancing between the two harpies. "Morena… I… Thank you."

She nodded. "My pleasure, love."

Morena wasn't sure if the faint sparkles catching onto the Fae's lashes were just the rain, but she bowed her head as Rose swallowed any more words, and raced off after Finn and the others.

The Harpy smiled softly, spinning around to face the camp as she tightened her trembling hands into fists, muttering under her breath. "Alright, Morena. You got this." She closed her eyes, a measured breath her only comfort as she calmed her mind and settled down to focus.

Calm down Morena, you know what you have to do. What are your goals? Protect the camp, work with Jakkon. Good. He's not so bad. Just a little stand-offish, nothing you can't handle! He doesn't like you, and that's okay. He doesn't have to. Jsut make sure he's alright. Current tasks: Get shelter from the rain, and …Find him.

~

Jakkon huffed in annoyance, shifting to get a better viewpoint of the clearing as thick droplets splattered onto the stone, rolling into the cracks and racing past him. He scowled, picking at the bandages tied firmly around his leg.

They should've just let it bleed.

He leaned back, eyes lazily scanning his surroundings. Grey rock, the back of the alcove, the dim outline of a hole where the trickles of water likely drained. The faint ache of the cut. The sour fading taste of blood. Rain. What he wouldn't give to be back in Aqendal, a roof over his head and if nothing else, a book to read.

Stupid. He'd let Finn trick him.

"Jakkon?"

The Satyr tensed immediately at the voice, though some of the fear seeped out of his body when he recognized her. "Fuck do you want?"

Morena's eyes lit up at his voice, good wing above her head to shield herself from the worst of the rain. "I uh… I just wanted to know if you were alright?"

"Right, Feathers-for-brains, and I'm just here for the view. Don't treat me like a child."

Morena flinched at his grating scowl, hesitating before she switched her tactic. "Well, would you like some tea? I can't promise it'll be any good in this storm, but I'd like to try and make some!"

He rolled his eyes, folding his arms over his stomach and dignifying her not even with a scoff. Morena frowned. Mangrove had been angry and violent, but she at least saw something behind his claws, the eyes of a scared kid. But the Satyr had a different air about him. Difficult. That's how she'd describe him. But that wasn't going to stop her from bringing him something.

~

Morena ducked into the cave, trying her best to ignore the hot fury that greeted her. "Well, you didn't say no, so I made you some anyway!" She pushed the still-warm cup toward him, and when nothing returned, she continued. "Rose said you liked mint. She's a wonderful woman, a good conversationalist and a better friend. She speaks very highly of you."

That earned a snort of contempt from the other side of the cave.

Morena ignored him. "And she's right. I may not see the majority of what she does in you, because frankly, you're rather rude. But she says you're smart, and you calculate every possible outcome before it happens, and I can see it. You want to-"

"Don't pretend like you know me, Birdie. Fuck off."

"Fine. I won't. And I won't pretend like I appreciate the way you treat me either. But like it or not, we're stuck here together. I don't care what you say, or what you do, I trust that you're a good man. Scowls and insults aside, there's someone in there worth believing in. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here with me right now."

He barked a dry laugh. "Bullshit. I knew you were stupid, but I didn't know your mind matched your feathers! Pretend all you want, Birdie, but unlike you, I know you. You wear those pearls in your hair because you could never possibly be pretty enough to be someone he could even consider loving. You live alone because even the thought of true genuine trust makes your stomach turn because no one in your life had the decency to treat you as any more than what you really are, a liar and a thief. You make others gifts and draw them in with compliments so they'll spill every last pretty secret into your lap and you can feel better about your sad pathetic ass by making them feel better with bullshit lies and empty promises. You chase a home because you've never had a place where you were anything more than the dirt these people walk on. Because everywhere you go, no matter what you do, you're worthless. Completely and utterly alone and unloved. I don't want your pity party, Morena. Go fuck yourself."

The Harpy shrank in on herself with every word, eyes widening as she tried to take a breath to calm herself down, but her lungs wouldn't work and her heart struggled to beat. Her chest and eyes burned as she tried to force her breathing to slow and the buzzing in her mind to quiet as every voice whispered, He's right. He's right. He's right. But before she could stop herself, the pain boiled over and spilled down her cheeks in streaks of burning humiliation.

A long silence stretched between them as Morena gasped, whispering through sobs, "I forgive you."

[I know I know, I'm SORRY y'all, I meant to make it more wholesome, but I came up with some fire dialogue for Jak, so... he made Morena cry again.]

Please comment your thoughts, I'd really Appreciate it!

@an-indecisive-nerd @sunflowerrosy @urnumber1star @homelessnerd @vesanal @darkandstormydolls @supercimi @corinneglass @sm-writes-chaos @thebookishkiwi @blargh-500 @lunaeuphternal @write-with-will @yolbert @thewritingautisticat @carb0n-m0n0xide

@vyuntspakhkite-l-darling @ellowynthenotking

[hazelestelle]

puddles

For a prompt by @apiratefellinlovewithastar and "Puddles" from the April Showers prompts by @monthlywritingchallenges

Read on AO3

Derek had easily agreed to make sure that Kira got home safe.

Lydia had thrown a party on the occasion that most of their pack and friends were in town, and everyone who could had gotten a little drunk.

Derek really couldn’t begrudge them that, even if it meant watching a drunk Stiles drape himself all over Peter. He knew that they were together, but actually seeing it was always a different matter. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy for them, he was, they were good together, but it would always be a little weird to see his best friend make out with his uncle, and he tried to avoid that whenever he could.

Lydia had a planned garden party, so he thought there would be enough space to stay relativity clear, but then the rain had started.

Being crammed into Lydia’s apartment fortunately hadn’t put a damper on the atmosphere, everyone just happy to see each other and have some fun for a change. They didn’t mind being close anyway, and Derek loved how far they had come as a pack.

When the party had finally quietened down, the rain had also stopped, and most of them had left.

Kira had offered to help with clean up, because of course she would, but it had become increasingly clear that Lydia, Jackson and Isaac wanted to be alone, so Derek had offered to take her home.

Now, Kira was skipping ahead of him, jumping into puddles and splashing water everywhere, carefree and giggling. Her scent was cotton candy sweet and joyful, and it made warmth bloom in Derek’s chest.

Suddenly, she stopped and pivoted around to face him, still graceful despite being tipsy.

She smiled and pointed at something, and Derek couldn’t help but smile back. He liked it when she was happy.

“You’re as pretty as the moon.”

Derek blinked. Comparing a werewolf to the moon was a choice.

Then he looked where she was pointing.

“That’s a street lamp”, he said drily, and Kira giggled, then shrugged.

“And you’re just as pretty.”

Derek snorted. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

He found the whole situation amusing, but Kira pouted.

“No, but...” She stepped closer, placing her hands on Derek’s chest and looking up at him earnestly.

“You are very pretty.”

Her eyes were dark and serious, her heartbeat was steady, and her scent was still sweet and happy. She meant this.

Derek swallowed drily. “Thank you. You’re very pretty too.”

Kira blushed brilliantly, her heart beating faster now, but she smiled, just a little shyly. Then she pulled herself up on her tiptoes and pressed a kiss to Derek’s cheek.

“Okay, come on!”

Before he could really react to that, she had taken his hand, lacing their fingers together, and pulled him towards the next puddle.

Smiling, Derek jumped with her, his heart feeling lighter than it had in years.