#new year new pinned same old prompts

[nightprompts]

welcome to nightprompts, a sideblog dedicated to dialogue prompt sentence starters for roleplay. this blog is completely self indulgent because sometimes i can't find the right vibe i'm looking for. feel free to reblog at your own leisure, but please don't send any prompts in. thanks, and have a good night.

text post inspo blog: @museinspos. | prompts masterlist below for mobile users.

GENERAL PROMPTS:

an assortment of dialogue. 

puns.

short sentences for ships. 

subtle smut. 

smut (part 2).

various questions. 

SHIP PROMPTS: 

hero x villain. 

lone wolf x soft spot. 

platonic. 

rivals (to lovers?).

THEMED PROMPTS:

angst. 

angst (part 2). 

apocalypse.

crime. 

dark and angsty. 

fluff. 

halloween. 

horror.

medieval / fantasy. 

said from the hero.

said from the villain. 

winter. 

MEDIA PROMPTS: 

the batman 2022. 

the bear s2. 

everything everywhere all at once.

f. scott fitzgerald. 

glass animals. 

hozier.

joji.

jujutsu kaisen. 

one piece live action.

spy x family. 

werewolf by night. 

[bweirdart]

#mARTch 2024

text version (with more info!) under the readmore! please check it out if you're confused about anything <3

F.A.Q

do i have to draw every day? no!!!! there are skippable days built into the event, please use them whenever you need them! i really don't want anyone getting a wrist injury!

can you share my art? yep! i try to share entries to @bweirdevents daily during the event!! the tags can get busy tho so i might miss some posts OTL sorry

what are the tags? #mARTch is the main tag, but this year you might find posts in #mARTch2024 too!

wait, i'm confused about a prompt... full breakdown of all the prompts below ↓ with helpful hints if you're stuck!

_____

INTRO WEEK

this week is all about your artistic identity ... technically, you don't have to draw anything new this week if you have some art that already fits. the starter days are:

1 ⭐ self portrait who are you? it doesn't have to be you IRL .. if you feel more comfortable drawing a fursona or mascot, that's fine too! if you don't wanna draw, you can also just share old self portraits today and talk about why you drew yourself that way!

2 🤍 inspirations see how this day doesn't have a star? that means it's optional and you don't have to do it at all! but if you really wanna- tell us all about what inspires you to create art! this could be anything from the people that inspire you, the shows you like, the pins on your big messy pinterest board, or concepts that you're drawn to! you can draw something about it, talk about it, or just post your inspirations! anything is fine

3 ⭐ fav thing to draw what do you like drawing most? backgrounds? animals? one specific animal? bust of your oc facing left? cars? the same anime boy over and over and over? no judgement!! show us :)

_____

STUDY WEEK

this is the week we actually start drawing from reference! polished art is not required at all, quick sketch studies are fine! please don't burn yourself out

4 🤍 plant

5 🤍 body

6 ⭐ animal

7 🤍 object

8 🤍 food

9 🤍 face

10 ⭐ hand

these ones are pretty self explanatory! you can do them as realistic studies, or adapt them into your own art style, it's all fine! you can reference from your own photos or from resources on the web.. have fun!

_____

COLOUR WEEK

this is the week for playing with palettes and working on your colour theory skills! if you're really struggling with these ones, don't worry about drawing scenes or characters, you can just have fun splashing colours around on an abstract canvas!

11 🤍 RGB a set or primary colours typically used in digital/screen art - red, green and blue!

12 🤍 CMYK a set of primary colours typically used in traditional/print art - cyan, magenta, yellow ... and key (black!)

for both of these days ↑ you can add in black and white. and feel free to combine the two days into one, if you're struggling with a three-colour palette! use all six!

13 ⭐ WARM COLOURS the warm side of the colour wheel, reds oranges and yellows!

14 🤍 MONOCHROME monochrome doesn't mean black and white ... it means one colour! that can be any colour at all- shades of red, shades of purple, shades of green .. or yeah, grey if you really want!

15 🤍 COMPLIMENTARY complimentary colours are the ones opposite each other on the colour wheel! they're kinda married

16 🤍 YOUR FAV COLOURS pick any palette that works for you! where's your comfort zone? what looks nice to you? what colour combos do you always go back to?

17 ⭐ COOL COLOURS the cool side of the colour wheel, purples, blues and greens!

_____

CREATIVITY WEEK

this week is all about vibes! try to create something that matches the mood of the prompt .. they're vague on purpose! don't overthink it, just draw from the heart!

18 🤍 SMALL you could draw something that's really small, like an ant .. or draw on a canvas that's really small .. or use a really small brush .. get creative with it!

19 🤍 DANGER try to capture the adrenaline .. the rush .. the fear that you associate with the word danger!

20 ⭐ SOFT soft colours, soft textures, soft vibes ... whatever makes you comfy!

21 🤍 MIDNIGHT darkness and secrecy .. spooky witchy vibes .. the tranquility of a forest at night .. the fun of a late-night party .. there's lots of ways you can take this!

22 🤍 POWER what does this word make you think about? superpowers? control and oppression? literal electrical power? something else?

23 🤍 CHILL chill as in calm? or chill as in cold? who knows .. it's up to YOU!

24 ⭐ LOUD try to draw something that feels LOUD! BRASH! IN YOUR FACE! how can you convey sound through art?

_____

FUN + GAMES WEEK

this week is just for enjoying yourself! take it easy and have fun! also .. another reminder! there are skippable prompts! if you're tired and struggling to get to the finish line, please don't hesitate to skip a day!!! or multiple days!! as many as you need!!!

25 🤍 TRY A NEW ART STYLE copy the art style of a show you like, ask a friend if you can try their style, draw the eyes a new way, develop a totally new style on the spot... whatever you want!

26 🤍 DRAW WITH YOUR NON-DOMINANT HAND righties, draw with your left! lefties, draw with your right! ambidextrous nation ... our time to show off!

27 ⭐ DRAW WITH YOUR EYES CLOSED don't peek! try to draw something without looking! if you really want, you can colour it with your eyes open after you draw the lines/sketch with your eyes closed... but please try not to cheat with the actual drawing part!

28 🤍 RE-DRAW SOMETHING OLD find some old artwork you like, or something you feel like you can do better on now, and give it another go!

29 🤍 RE-DRAW A MEME find a silly picture on the internet to redraw .. do you have any in-jokes with your besties?

30 🤍 DRAW A GIFT FOR A FRIEND create something for someone you love <3

31 ⭐ FREE CHOICE final day! you can draw anything you want today! show off your skills! draw something you've been meaning to draw! whatever!

_____

please refrain from reblogging this post after march ends - next year's prompts will be different, thank you! if you have any additional questions, don't hesitate to shoot me an ask!

[slvtforfiction]

Hi I think your request are open. 😭

Anyways I have a prompt where it’s like Jonnie meets a fan and like later on he kind stalks her media and accidentally likes something for an old emo phase and she dms him “??” And it just spirals from there into something cute?

An old phase,A new like

☆ Yesss!

☆ Love this,thank you anon x

☆ Sorry it’s so short

☆ Johnnie Guilbert X Reader

☆ Fluff

☆ If you are going to request: please check at the pinned post if requests are open,otherwise I will delete your requests which I have already been doing

☆ Creds to @cafekitsune for dividers :)

Masterlist | Pinned post

“So today we are-“ I look down at my phone as a notification pushed past my do not disturb, Johnnie Guilbert like your photo.

I knew Johnnie,we had text back and forth for a while about doing a video idea even though we had never done it. I had met him at a convention and most likely acted like the biggest fan girl alive.

I clicked on the notification and saw that the like was a photo from 2020,almost 4 years ago.

You:

Liking photos from 2020,huh?

Johnnie:

Sorry didn’t mean to.

You:

Nooo it’s okay sorry lol

Johnnie:

Okay good lol,thought you were mad

You:

No,no lol

Johnnie:

So how are you?

2 weeks later,

“I’ll see you again next week? Maybe another date?” I ask with a schoolgirl smile on my face, “Yeah ofcourse,I’d love that.” He replied and I smiled,kissing his cheek.

We walked back to my apartment and watched a movie,cuddling up to each other and sharing some popcorn whilst we watched some shitty romcom. Neither of us cared about the movie,though neither of us would say it. We just enjoyed the comfort of each other.

Around nine o’clock Johnnie left,I was sad to see him go but I knew he had an apartment to sleep in so I couldn’t exactly keep him.

6 months later,

“Hey Johnnie!” I smile down the phone,we hadn’t hung out a lot this week but I didn’t mind,opting to sleep on call for the week instead.

“Hey love,you okay?” He asks me and I smile at the nickname, “Yeah,im okay,you?” I ask and I could almost hear his smile.

It was always nice to hear johnnies voice,it had become comforting over the past month or so,despite his energetic attitude. He always knew when it was time to settle down and he always knew what to say and how to say it. It made me envy those closest to him.

“So how was your day?”

1 year later,

“Happy 6 month anniversary!” He said as he hugged me,I smiled and kissed him as I grabbed some chocolates I had bought him.

He handed me some flowers and chocolate and I smiled, “Happy 6 months!” I smiled at him,my face beaming with excitement.

One phone call 6 months ago had led me to become infatuated with him,though I would be lying to say that I hadn’t had a small crush on him since I first text him.

We sat down on his sofa in his apartment and smiled as we put on the same shitty romcom that we always do,it had become our tradition and no one was complaining. As long as I got to snuggle up to the comfort of his chest I didn’t mind.

It had become apparent to both of us that we didn’t really care what we watched as long as we were with each other. I smiled as I snuggled into his chest,something that had become somewhat familiar with us. He snaked his hand around my waist and we sat their in comfortable silence as we admired each other.

2 years later,

“Happy one year!” I say as I wake up next to him in our apartment, “Happy one year.” He smiled at me,clearly as tired as he always was,I smiled at his goofy little smile and kissed him on the cheek.

“I got you something.” Johnnie whispers as he reaches into his draw,on the other side of the bed. He pulls out a ring box and I smile as he opens it, “I got us those Pandora promise rings you like.”He says with a smile. I sit up in bed and shimmy onto his lap pulling him into a deep hug. “Thank you Johnnie!” I almost yell as I kiss all over his face.

“Do you wanna be the moon or the sun?” I ask and he shakes his head “Whatever you want princess.” He chuckles and I immediately give him the moon ring. “Johnnie,we’re literally the sun and the moon.” I smile and he nods his head, “I love you so much,thank you!” I say happily and he smiles at me as he gives me a peck to the lips.

“I got you something too!” I say with a huge smile beaming across my face, I reach into my draw and pull out three wrapped presents. I feel like a parent watching their child open their presents with glee.

“Awh thank you baby!” He says pulling me back in for a hug and I smile,accepting the hug gratefully.

6 years later,

“I love you so much,I couldn’t imagine spending the rest of my life with anyone else,Y/n Y/l/n, will you marry me?”

“Yes!!!”

[schemmentisbranzino]

No bra?

Note: Someone sent me this prompt and I thought it would be a fun one! Shoutout to AvaB96 on AO3 for the idea and I hope I did a decent job.

As per usual, I am a mess and this is not proofread but i had a lot of fun writing it. Let me know if you enjoyed it.

Warnings: Throw up. Let me know if there are any others.

Part 2

It has been a nightmare of a morning for you. You didnt’t have time to pick up coffee on your way to school and you couldn’t even make it to the lounge to make some before the bell rang. It had not even been 11am and Jamal had already thrown up on your already old and stained carpet. After getting the kid cleaned up and arranging for someone at his home to pick him up you barge into the teacher’s lounge during lunch.

“Ava we need new rugs, one of my kids threw up this morning and as much as i tried salvaging there is just so much puke a piece of fabric can take, I had to throw it out” - you said basically imploring Ava to get you a new one

“Does it look like Abbott can afford new rugs, sweetcheeks?” - she says laughing

“Well im pretty sure you can find some room in the budget for one rug Ava, I am not asking for a new computer here” - you state obviously frustrated

“I have been trying to make her buy me a new chair after the kids broke mine and nothing” - Janine intervenes and as per usual everyone ignores her whining

“What you need to sit for? You need to grow” - she says cackling but none of the teachers laugh

“Come on people, you need to be more like Melissa, she aint bothering me for nothing” - Ava says and tries to nudge Melissa before she stops her with a death stare

“I bring the stuff I need myself, I would never expect you to do your job Coleman” - the redhead states

“Come on Melissa, can you give me a little support here?” - you say to Melissa giving her puppy eyes, lately you had started suspecting that the older woman might have a soft spot for you.

It almost worked, but the older teacher would never allow herself to show that she has a weak spot for you in front of her co-workers. One thing is Barbara knowing she has had a thing for you since you first stepped a foot in Abbott but another one is the rest of them being aware of it.

“My support was gonna do about as much as that five‐year‐old bra you've got on right there.” - she said in an attempt to poke fun at you

“Well Melissa not that is any of your business but personally I dont wear bras” - you say calmly and confidently but with a slight expression of amusement in your face

Melissa tries her best to not look down to your breasts but you can tell she is thinking about them when you notice the blush creeping up in her cheeks and the way she dragged her tongue over her bottom lip.

“Oh” - you say with a smirk taken aback by her reaction and trying your best to keep your composure. Everyone else tries to ignore the interaction.

“No bra? Little inappropriate giving the setting, no?” - she says as she starts gathering her stuff to leave without making eye contact.

Melissa sprints out of the room and you are left so confused but amused and excited at the same time. You don’t want to be delusional but the way she reacted to your statement tells you that the teacher you have been pinning for since the year started might be more into you than you had originally thought. Butterflies start swarming in your belly. “Calm down y/n, it might be all in your head” you think to yourself.

“Someone gots the hot for someone else here, not naming any names” - Jacob says as he takes a sip of his iced coffee

“Oh shush” - Barbara tells him giving him a stare that would have left him dead if looks could kill.

You smile to yourself as you leave the teachers lounge. Torturing Melissa might be your new hobby from now on. You never thought you had a chance but now all you want to do is have her constantly thinking about your breasts.

The day is over and coincidentally you and Melissa are in charge of covering the after school program after the teacher in charge of it had to quit. You walk into the room and notice how chilly it is in there.

“Wow, the electricity bill is about to be so high, why is it so cold in here?” - you say rubbing your arms in hopes of warming yourself up.

“You better walk out of here soon, cold air and not wearing a bra is not a good mix” - Melissa says to you while focusing on the papers in front of her, still trying her best to not look at you.

“Oh wouldnt you like to see that” - you say with a smirk as you get even closer to her.

“See what kid? Nipples? we all got em” - she says as she starts turning red again.

“Then why are u blushing Schemmenti?”

“Me? blushing? its just cold, it irritates my skin. You wish kid” - she says mumbling, the panic in her voice very evident. “Here, cover yourself and save us all the embarrassment” - she says as she gives you the sweater she keeps in her classroom for when it gets really cold in there.

“Thank you, Melissa! - Who knew you cared so much about me and my…”

“Stop, just put on the damn thing” - She gives you the softest smile as she sees you put on her sweater, its almost as if she likes you.

“Thanks” - You softly said as you kiss her cheek, she freezes and you can feel her body rigid under you

In that moment all the after school kids run inside and you two dont talk again for the rest of the day.

The next day is better than the one you had yesterday. You got to admit that the fact that Melissa might have the slightest interest in you have filled your body with enough serotonin to keep you happy throughout the day.

On the other hand, Melissa is not having such a great time. The thoughts of her coworker going braless around the school do not leave her mind. She tried to focus on her classes, but found her attention repeatedly drifting away to thoughts of you. Ever since you told her that it had been hard for her to stop imagining how your smooth, braless skin would feel in her hands. She tried grading some of her students homework, but it was impossible to ignore the way her skin felt hot and tingly at the thought of you.

It’s now lunchtime and you make your way into the teacher’s lounge. You realize that no one is there but Melissa. This takes you as a surprise but you say nothing as you make your way to the fridge to get your food and heat it up.

“Oh if it isn’t miss free the nipple” - Melissa says as she turns to you, finally facing you for the first time since she found out about your no bra situation.

“Looking for an HR meeting Schemmenti” - you jokingly threatened her.

“Didn’t peg you for a snitch hon” - she tells you without breaking eye contact, its almost as you she wanted to you to continue the banter.

“Well you are the one so concerned about my bra wearing status, thats not something you need to be thinking about your cowoker, is it?” - You say putting your lunch down and taking a step closer to her, you are merely inches apart and you can see her breath quicken as you push her against the counter.

"Well, you don't often see coworkers getting this close, do ya?” Melissa stepped closer to your face and raised an eyebrow, as if challenging you in a playful way. The closeness felt intimate and exciting, making your heart beat faster and your mind start to wonder where this would lead.

“Well, you are the one out here thinking about my tits” - you say as you get even closer to her face, you can feel her breath on your lips and you want to give in so badly but this is just way to fun.

"mmm I guess I can't deny that I've been thinking about them." Melissa smiled and stepped even closer to your face, her warm breath on your lips. The tension was electric and the air seemed to crackle with anticipation. You felt your knees weakening as you wondered if Melissa was as tempted as you were, but the thought of just giving in was tempting enough.

With all your willpower, you managed to reply, "I know, its just a little hard not to, isn’t it?"

“I bet you are imagining what they look like, what they feel like, do you wanna touch them, Mel?” - she slightly opens her mouth, unsure of what to say or what to do next, you are challenging her and she likes it.

Next thing she knows you grab her hand and as soon as you are about to put it under your shirt everyone else rushes in… Melissa sighs and curses under her breath, very annoyed at the interruption.

“Sorry we were having lunch outside but it started to rain and…” - Janine goes on rambling and everyone ignores her.

You resume heating up your food, trying to ignore the sensations of Melissa's gaze on your body, but it's almost impossible not to be distracted by her. As she continues to scan you up and down, not paying attention to Barb's words, you feel a tingle of excitement run through you. Even though you're in the break room at work, it almost feels like you're in your own intimate space with Melissa, away from the distractions of daily life. You find yourself imagining what it would be like to truly be alone with her, free to explore each other's bodies. This is good, this is exciting, this is so exactly what you wanted.

Before leaving to go eat in your classroom in peace, you go up to the redhead, lean in her ear and softly whisper: “Pick me up at 7. I'll promise not to wear a bra." The words rolled off your tongue as you imagined the effect they would have on her, sending her imagination into overdrive as she imagined the possibilities of our date. You smirked as you backed away, knowing that you had just planted a seed in Melissa's mind that she would spend all day thinking about.

You guess you now will have to get used to not wearing a bra.

[silly-little-gooses]

the inheritance games royalty au headcanons/story ideas!

I made a post about this a little bit ago and many seemed to like the idea of tig taking place in a royalty au so here are some headcanons or perhaps story prompts! :)

recently, the wealthy king of their kingdom (tobias hawthorne) passed away under mysterious circumstances. instead of one of his children or grandchildren receiving his inheritance, it goes to a peasant named avery grambs who lives in a small cottage on the edge of the kingdom.

the royal family is shocked when they find his hand-written will in the kings old office but they cannot let the news get out to the public. citizens would riot! so avery was summoned to the palace for a formal talk.

grayson was raised all his life to become king. instead of ‘heir apparent’, he was the royal successor. he still has his iconic blonde hair and cold gray eyes, but his suits are adorned with royal badges and pins to flaunt his status. he doesn’t care for citizens much, but avery may change his mind…

jameson was the prince that all the girls in the village would fawn over, like in the original tig universe. he was charming, clever, cocky, and didn’t care much for being a prince. he has a history of dancing with numerous ladies at balls and drinking a few too many glasses of champagne.

nash is the oldest grandson, but rejected the throne from an early age. he always preferred casual clothing over royal dress and practically raised himself. he’s tired of the fortune and fancy class that is royalty, so he’s especially curious when a certain goth catches his eye…

xander is a goofball, loved by his people. he’s imperfect, not sure which spoon goes with which dish. but he’s kind, intelligent, and charming. scones? try crumpets.

libby loves to bake and dreams of becoming a baker but following the storyline of tig, she is struck with poverty and abuse. when avery must live in the palace for a year, libby is happy to join her. she always wears gorgeous gothic dresses. she soon finds her prince charming in nash, and they live happily ever after.

alisa is a royal advisor for the king when he dies and then begins work as avery’s royal advisor. a few years ago, she was engaged to prince nash before a sudden break up. even if she cannot be queen, she will find a way to make a change in her kingdom.

oren is avery's personal bodyguard ofc! he’s basically the same guy from the series, but make it a bit fancier.

avery is legally not old enough to be queen and all of the complications with the will would still happen in this universe.

instead of meeting on a balcony, jameson and avery meet at a welcoming ball for avery where jameson is very drunk on champagne and is stumbling around the empty hallways of the palace. avery needs some peace and quiet and to just be away from it all when she finds him. he asks her the same riddle as always.

emily was the daughter of a wealthy duchess who was close with the royal family. rebecca, jameson, and grayson still have their trauma with emily’s death.

skye and zara and toby are the children of the late king. princess skye is furious that she doesn’t have the crown which is what turns her evil ig.

this deserves its own freaking fanfic or headcanon list or something but the royal balls at the palace are wild. instead of the blackwood shooting taking place in the actual forest, I imagine it takes place in the royal gardens.

imagine a scene where avery is struggling to get on her corset for an event of sorts and asks jameson to help her. the tension? it would be so good.

overall, I think this au is SO COOL and I definitely want to see some work done with it! if you have any requests, I will be happy to take them! byeee! <3

[red-flagging]

💛 seb/lewis :-)

(kiss fic prompts!)

a little epilogue to rabbits are chasing :)

Lewis's flight lands at 8:02PM, which means that by 7:31PM, Seb is parked outside the airport arrivals door, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel and scanning the sky for approaching planes.

It's quite silly, getting here so early, but it's not as if there's much left to do at home. There's roast vegetables waiting in the oven, the cauliflower steaks that he started marinating earlier this morning chilling in the fridge. Mina and Ellie are safely ensconced in their duck coop with the heater turned on for the night. The sheets on the guest bed are freshly washed.

The car parked behind him starts up. Its headlights illuminate Seb's cabin. For a moment, he catches a glimpse of himself, harried and too-bright, in the rearview mirror. He scrubs his hands down his face. Christ. Get it together, Sebastian. He is a full 39 years old. Far too old to be getting the same jitters that he did the first time he invited a girl over at age 17, agonizing about what album to have playing when they came back to his room. Lewis is far too old for Seb to be doing all this. Lewis might not even be gay.

His phone buzzes. Seb nearly jumps out of his seat.

Lewis

just landed

getting my luggage now

hows it so freaking cold here

The inside of the car is already fogging up. When he'd asked Lewis to send dates he could come visit and Lewis had said just so you know the next few months are kind of crazy for me, Seb had expected late fall, maybe the holidays. Not the middle of slush season, when all the roads up the mountain have a 50/50 chance of being so muddy that they're undriveable.

Sebastian

I'm outside, in the blue Infiniti :)

He glances back up at himself in the mirror. The scab from where a wood chip caught the corner of his eyebrow while he was sanding the new planter box is almost healed over. His hair looks as good as it's ever going to. If Lewis asks whether he's been using conditioner, he's fucked.

It shouldn't feel like this. Seb beat Lewis to Senna's record, and Lewis still laughed at all his jokes the next season. Lewis watched Seb DNF twice in five races and still said in the media pen that he was waiting for the day Seb would be back up on the podium with him. When they inevitably auction off Lewis's Le Mans racesuit, it'll have to be with Seb's snot all over the front of it, because Lewis let Seb sob all over him and then laughed as he wiped sweat off of Seb's cheek with the sleeve. After all that – the fact that he's about to be in Seb's house for the next week shouldn't make Seb feel like he's standing in front of Lewis naked, without even the promise of a fast car or a good competition to distract Lewis from looking right at him.

His phone buzzes again.

Lewis

outside i think

Seb peers through the windscreen. Lewis – or rather, the blurry figure lugging a giant suitcase behind him that he assumes is Lewis – waves at him from the sidewalk. Seb flashes his lights at him twice.

The back door opens and Lewis's head, along with a burst of cold night air, pops in. "Hey," he says, a little breathlessly. "I don't think this is going to fit in the back."

It does, eventually, but not without a fight that involves Seb having to climb into the trunk alongside Lewis's suitcase and physically wrestle it into place while Lewis shoves from behind. They're both out of breath by the time they finally climb back in the front and slam the doors shut.

"You know, there are beds at the farm," Seb points out. "You didn't have to pack your own."

Lewis shakes his head, tugging off his gloves. His coat collar is turned up around his neck. He's wearing an an ear warmer headband, held in place by two butterfly pins. Every other bit of uncovered skin is pink, even with the heat in the car up at full blast. Lewis shoves his fingers in front of the vents and sighs with relief, closing his eyes. "Ugh, thank God," he says. He sounds exhausted. "Listen, you're lucky I fit everything into one." It sounds far less like a joke than Seb would hope. The fact that the fondness in Seb's chest still manages to outweigh the exasperation is probably a sign that Seb's beyond salvation.

"Next time I'll bring a trailer so you can fit your bathtub and toilet, too," he says, reaching for the keys. The engine purrs to life as he flicks the lights back on, then leans forward to scrub the worst of the fog off the windscreen. The thermometer on the dash says it's still 3 degrees outside. They might still be able to make it back before the slush freezes over. "Okay," he says, sitting back down and twisting around to reach for his seatbelt. "Ready to go?"

Lewis doesn't say anything. When Seb looks over, he's staring out the front window, playing with one of his rings.

"Lewis?" Seb asks.

Lewis's head jerks around. "Hm?" he says. "Oh. Yeah." He doesn't move to put on his seatbelt.

Seb frowns. Kills the engine so he can properly turn in his seat. "Lewis," he says. "Is everything –"

Lewis leans across the console and kisses him.

It's barely half a second. Seb still hasn't moved by the time Lewis sits back down on his side of the car.

"Uh," Lewis says, after a second. He clears his throat. "Sorry. I just – Shit. Sorry. The whole way over, all I could think about was – I had to get it over with before I chickened out."

He's fiddling with his rings again, but his eyes stay fixed on Seb's. His jaw is set. He still looks half-ready to bolt through the door behind him, out into the night.

"Well, you don't have to make it sound like taking your medicine, Christ," Seb says hoarsely, and drags Lewis back across the console to kiss him properly.

Lewis's lips are still cold. When Seb opens his mouth, Lewis sighs, pressing in closer with a soft sound that makes Seb want to go twenty years back in time and kick himself for not figuring out how to make Lewis make that noise sooner. His hands settle on Seb's wrists, holding him in place. Seb slides his own hands up, cradling the back of Lewis's head, to return the favor.

When he finally pulls away just far enough to catch his breath, Lewis follows him, close enough that their noses bump. His eyes are wide. This close up, Seb can see the dark circles under them more clearly.

He closes his eyes. Lewis is still there when he opens them.

"How long have you been awake?" he asks.

Lewis blinks. "What," he says. "Are you talking about."

"Sleep deprivation," Seb says. His heart is pounding hard enough that he feels it in his throat. "People start to get delirious when they're tired enough –"

"I was awake for 24 hours and I didn't kiss you at the end," Lewis interrupts, his eyes sharp and bright. "I'm not making the same mistake twice."

Seb opens his mouth and nothing comes out. He tries again. Still nothing.

"Fuck," he says, closing his eyes. "Okay. Okay." He drags himself back upright and reaches for the keys. "We can – tomorrow. But we should – you need to shower. And sleep." Lewis's hand settles on his leg. Seb rests his own on top of it; after a second, he squeezes Lewis's fingers gently. Lewis flips his hand over and laces their fingers together.

"Yeah," Lewis says. His thumb traces over Seb's knuckles. "That – tomorrow sounds good."

The slush crackles under the tires when Seb starts to move. Ahead of them, the headlights carve a path through the darkness. Lewis's hand is a solid, steady weight against his leg. "Okay," Seb says, to himself, to both of them, to no one. Lewis hums softly from his side of the car. He squeezes Seb's knee gently.

Seb closes his eyes for a second. "Okay," he says quietly. "Yeah. Let's go home."

[iheartzegras]

different type of love -jack hughes

request: @your-mom369 14 and 18 with jack?

prompts: “i don’t want to be just friends anymore” and “what’s the matter? you can tell me”

requests are still open, and my prompt list is pinned!

——————————————————————————

you and jack had been best friends since the first grade. inseparable really. you both never left each others side, no matter the distance between you two for hockey, you still talked daily.

it all started when you had moved to toronto during the summer. you just so happened to become neighbours with the soon to be familiar boys. as your parents were taking the boxes inside from the van, you saw jack and his brothers playing outside. jack particularly caught your eye because of his energy. you were normally a shy girl, but he really did look like he would be a fun person to stick with.

a couple minutes later you felt a tap on your shoulder. standing behind you is the boy that interested you the most. he held out his hand and introduced himself. “hi. im jack, i live next door!” he said while grinning like a fool. “hi, im y/n” you shyly said. “it’s okay, don’t be shy! wanna be friends?” “yeah sure!”

that one small introduction, lead to a lifetime friendship. after that day, the two of you, occasionally his brothers that you found to be quinn and luke, would always play after school. even at school, the two of you would stay by each other’s side the whole time.

fast forward until now

ever since you and Jack became best friends, his family invited you to the lake house every year. this year in particular you were extra excited because you got to see jack. you hadn’t seen jack since he moved to new jersey for hockey.

after packing your things, you began your drive to the lake house. it was quite a long drive, so after making some stops on the way there, you finally arrived. it looked just the same. the deja vu coming back every time you came.

waking inside you were greeted by luke and quinn who both yelled “y/n!” at the same time. although your bond with jack was seemingly better, you also were incredibly close to the pair of brothers as you practically grew up with them. you were like a sister to them, and they were like your brothers.

as you walked into your designated room, it was refreshing. everything still in its place from last summers events. this space was your comfort place. the smell of the room just like your perfume. you plopped right on your bed, and before you knew, you were dead asleep.

you were harshly awoken by a tall figure jumping next to you on the bed. with your vision blurry you tried to see who it was. looking a bit closer you realized, it was jack. oh how you missed him too much. you practically jumped into his arms and giving him the most loving hug you’ve ever given.

“jack!” “y/n!” the two of you yelled in synch. you both dove into another hug, but this time with passion. that was new. to say that you haven’t thought of you and jack being a couple, was a lie. you definitely have, but you brushed it off because you felt as though it would never work. maybe some old feelings were being brought back up.

later on, after dinner, some of the other friends showed up. trevor who you had grown close with greeted you with a big hug and then whispered something into your ear. “so, you and hughesy? i think you’ve got something going on” to which you replied with “what, where did that come from? and no, we’re just friends.”

all of you were sitting by the fire roasting some s’mores. everyone was busy, but you couldn’t help but replay what trevor said to you earlier. could jack feel anything or was he just joking? do you like jack more than a friend? too many things crowded your mind as you tried to relax but couldn’t. you needed to be alone to gather your thoughts.

“hey guys, im gonna head off to bed. goodnight!” you announced and hugged each of them. when you got to your room, you had changed into some shorts and an old t-shirt. you got into your welcoming bed and tried to doze off.

after hours of trying to fall asleep, you couldn’t. you had been restless all night and nothing helped. you decided to sit on the deck to see if the cool night air would help.

opening the door to the deck, you stepped outside and quietly shut it. you took your favourite seat that you had claimed to be yours, and sat down. you had gotten all trapped looking at the stars that you hadn’t noticed that someone had joined you. “what’re you doing out here all alone?” jack asked. “nothing, just couldn’t sleep. that’s all.”

too much silence had been happening for your liking. you look over at jack and said something truly bold. “have you ever thought of us as something more than friends?” you asked. he responded with “yes, actually. why? what’s the matter? you can tell me.”

after more silence you quietly said “i don’t want to be just friends anymore” “pardon?” he asked you to repeat. “i don’t want to be just friends anymore” you repeated louder.

jack was astounded. he wasn’t upset though, because secretly he had felt the same way all along. he paused for a minutes before responding again. “thank god. i couldn’t deal with the pain of being just friends for any longer. i’ve liked you since we were sixteen and skating laps around the rink holding hands.” he admitted. “really?” “yes. y/n, this is a big question, but will you be my girlfriend?” “yes of course jack!”

the new couple sat happily next to each other before jack took you inside to get some rest. the two of you cuddled for the rest of the night.

your childhood friendship had blossomed into something much more passionate and loving. as a small child, you would have thought such love would be intimidating and gross, but now, you feel so much more. it’s indescribable how much you feel for the man you love. it had only been a few minutes since he asked you to be his, but you already knew, he was the one.

——————————————————————————

ahhh, omg! im in love with this fic!

this was one of my longest pieces (i’ll still try and write longer in the future)

hope you all enjoyed! 🫶🫶

[mangoshorthand]

Prompt from @missjiru that I picked up from this post. She is an incredibly talented artist and I can personally attest that her lewds are 🔥🥵🤤(check her profile for the tiniest hint of the possibilities!). Luckily for all of us thirsty people, she accepts commissions.

The whole crew is out for karaoke for whatever reason (wedding, everyone's collective birthday or something) and fem!reader sings this track and Five is mesmerized. They eventually go back home/to the academy. Maybe they are chilling in the bar area. Five asks if she'll sing it again just for him. Burlesque-y, strip tease-y, sexy shenanigans ensue?

The Birthday Boy | Five Hargreeves/ F Reader 3.8k words, Rated E

October 1st: the communal birthday. 

Until recent years, bad memories of being ‘the birthday kids’ meant that Five’s siblings liked to celebrate their birthday apart. Since regaining a new sense of themselves as a family, however, October 1st became a family gathering more strictly observed than Christmas or Thanksgiving. 

The routine was a loose one: the afternoon was spent with the entire family at Griddy’s Doughnuts, laughing and, on Five’s part, complaining about how it wasn’t what it used to be. Every year he had the same complaint, and every year he was told not to be a miserable old bastard. After that it was dinner, drinks and a night of karaoke on the town. 

You’d woken Five that morning with a steaming pot of coffee, a lingering kiss and birthday gifts. He’d recently expressed an interest in learning the guitar, so you’d got him lessons, but you privately didn’t hold out much hope for these: you’d seen him try to learn the basics of violin with Viktor once, and he’d lost patience as soon as it became clear he wasn’t going to be an immediate prodigy. You thought the cufflinks and tie pin you got him, however, might have a longer lasting benefit. These, he sported proudly in the bar.

It was lucky the lights were low, Five thought, because Diego was a total mess. He held a beer loosely in one hand and swayed expressively along with the music. It was refreshing to one of the most sober in the group. 

“-And love dares you to change our way of Caring about ourselves,”

Beside Diego on the stage, taking the part of David Bowie, Five side-eyed him as they sang in unison. He had to admit, despite being this drunk, Diego was really going for it with his Freddie Mercury.

“This is our last dance, This is our last dance,”

Five smirked as Diego stumbled, belched and hit a bum note.

“This is our- Jesus, Diego!” 

Five shook the deluge of spilled beer off his now-soaked jacket 

“Under pressure!” Diego continued, unperturbed, now holding the beer bottle upright again and raising his arm above his head.

“You’re paying for my dry cleaning,” Five said, swiping at his waistcoat before rejoining Diego to sing the last two lines.

“Under pressure, Pressure.”

Five was conscientious in karaoke, as in most things: leaving a song unfinished was bad form in his opinion.

“Idiot,” he grumbled, as the song came to its end.

“It’s my birthday,” slurred Diego, “don’t be an asshat.”

“Don’t remember wishing for a beer-shower when I blew out my candles.” Five grumbled.

He slotted the mic back into its stand, shaking his head and left Diego to his own devices. He stepped off the stage and craned his neck over the other patrons to where he’d left you at the bar. 

“She’s gone to powder her nose,” said Lila, appearing unexpectedly at Five’s side. 

“Right.”

“You look like you’ve pissed yourself,” she said, matter-of-factly.

Five rolled his eyes. Behind him, he sensed Diego’s unsteady gait approaching.

“I’m gonna go clean up. Try to make sure he doesn't end up in a ditch.”

Lila gave a mock salute and Five edged around her, moving in the direction of the men’s room. 

He fixed the spill as best as he could. First dabbing it with folded toilet paper, and then drying the wet patch beneath the hand-drier, earning him stares and the odd smirk from other bathroom users. 

When he at last pushed open the heavy bathroom door, he was greeted by the sound of slightly-distorted piano, drums and electric guitar over the speakers: a tune he vaguely recognized. 

Just as he was about to turn his steps towards the bar, the voice of the singer caught his attention.

“-And they could never tear us apart.”

He smiled, recognising you before his eyes could turn to see you on the stage. When his eyes caught up with his comprehension, they were well rewarded for the effort: he was enthralled immediately. 

You swayed gently from the shoulders, in circular movements back and forth. Effortlessly alluring in that wrap dress he loved on you: the way it skimmed your curves, swelled and dipped in all the right places like a lush range of hills and valleys. It showed just enough smooth skin to make him crazy, and hid just enough to make him anxious to see more. 

He was staring, he knew, but the way your lips moved only an inch before the mic was already giving him ideas. 

You caught his eye, and a glowing smile lit up your face. To be the object of that look was the best gift you’d given him that day. 

In turn, you studied him as you inhaled to sing the next line. There he was, his back and one foot against the wall, leg bent. His arms were folded and his brows raised in interest.

“You, you were standing,”

You maintained eye contact deliberately as you sang it, giving him a cheeky wink for good measure. It let him know that, from your perspective, ‘you’ wasn’t some lyrical archetype, but him.

His expression flickered: one corner of his mouth twitched, and his eyebrows quirked, but it was his eyes that made the greatest impression. They fixed you with a brooding, assessing gaze.

You knew perfectly well what was on his mind. You knew that look: it was the one that removed your every inhibition and left you happy for him to do as he pleased with you. With that look, you knew something of what would be in store for you when he got you home. 

“I was there, Two worlds collided”

Klaus appeared at Five’s shoulder. 

“Heavens, you should be using protection rather than eye-fucking her raw.”

“And they could never-” Ever, ever, tear us apart.”

He and Klaus clapped as the music finished, Klaus watching Five with amusement, Five still watching you.

“I’ve got a viagra guy if you need some little blue pills, grandpa?”

Heading over to rejoin you as you stepped down from the stage, Five flashed Klaus his most dangerous smile.

“I’ll be quite alright, thank you.”

As you made your way through the crowd, he came upon you suddenly, stepping out from behind a rowdy group of women.

“Hello,” he said, simply, his hand coming immediately to your lower back- a reassuring and slightly proprietary presence.

Smut below cut

*** You snuck out early, arriving back at the Academy before everyone else. Five dragged you into the living room for one final drink before turning in. His soaked jacket and waistcoat were thrown on the couch behind him, and he sat on one of the barstools in his shirt and tie. He watched you as you moved busily behind the bar and winced as he took a sip of his newly poured drink.

“Oof. You don’t skip on tequila, do you?”

“Nope,” you said, placing a cocktail umbrella in his drink with a flourish. 

He let out a breath or two of laughter.

“Thank you, dearest.”

He was eyeing you with the same look he’d given you back in the bar. You tried to meet his gaze, but the knowing smirk that appeared there made you flush and look away.

“You have a good voice,” he said, while you studied the polished surface of the bar, “I was sorry to only hear the end of that song.”

“Thanks,” you said, a little embarrassed, stirring the straw around your own cocktail. 

He considered you for a moment, head tilted. 

“Would you please sing it for me?”

“What?”

“I want you to sing it again.”

He jerked his head, indicating the space on the rug in front of the bar- an informal stage for his viewing pleasure. 

“Five-” you said, trying to dissuade him, but he interrupted you with an imperious look. 

“Hey- it’s my birthday, remember.”

And then he grinned. It was a maddening expression. He looked, honest to god, as if he’d just beaten you with an infallible argument. Which, of course, he had.

Slowly, you stepped out from behind the bar and set yourself in the space he’d indicated. He pivoted on the stool, so that he was sitting facing you. Drink in his left hand, he leaned casually backwards against the bar. He looked effortlessly sophisticated; confident; self-assured. 

“There’s no music,” you said, hoping for an excuse to wriggle out of it.

You should have known. He just smirked and produced a remote control from his pants pocket. He pressed play and the sound of the mellow piano issued from unseen speakers. 

“I set it up while you were in the bathroom.”

You shook your head and huffed, half exasperated, half gratified. He inclined his head at you expectantly, as if to say: ‘Well, go on then.’

With no more than a quick roll of your eyes at this, you let the music take you away from the slight self consciousness around performing this way for an audience of one. Despite the feeling of exposure, your hips loosened, the flow of the music taking them into a soft sway. 

After all, you’d been ‘exposed’ in front of Five many times before, and in various different ways. Why should this be any different?

He watched, satisfied: the way your legs went on forever in those heeled shoes, the way the snug fabric around your hip stretched and undulated with the tidal movement of your pelvis. They’d look good moving that way on his lap, he thought, with the skirt hitched up nice and high, of course.

“Don’t ask me, What you know is true,”

Even with your eyes closed, your voice wavered with nerves. You could feel his eyes on you like a breath of wind, raising the hairs on your exposed skin.

“Don’t have to tell you, I love your precious heart,”

“Strip,” came his voice. 

You stopped singing, wrongfooted. 

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.” his voice held a quiet command, “it is my birthday, after all.”

He gave you another imperious raise of his eyebrows, slurping his margarita through his straw. He looked as if you were a mildly-entertaining TV show that he was reserving full judgement on. 

You shook your head, laughing disbelievingly at his cheek.

“Don’t pretend you don’t want to.” he said, silkily, “I know the idea turns you on.”

“Anyone could walk in!” you said, unable to hide your delight at the idea.

“Exactly,” Five said, voice low, “and you like that, don’t you?”

A smile spread slowly across your face. You did like that. He could read you like a book, and this knowledge combined with the situation itself made your pussy give a little twinge. You could feel yourself becoming wet already.

You stepped backwards onto the rug, to give him a better view. His little demand made you miss the whole first chorus, and now the drums were beating stirringly towards the second verse. You made the most of this, looking him in the eye as you rolled your hips more suggestively this time, letting their flow bleed into your waist and torso. You raised your arms above your head slowly, arching your back so that your breasts were thrust into greater prominence.

You grinned as his eyes flicked there, just as you intended. So easy to direct.

Time to up the ante.

“We could live, For a thousand years,”

Your hands skimmed your body on the way down, cupping and rubbing across your breasts and coming to rest on your hips. Five’s lips pursed as he watched, readjusting his seated posture to spread his legs fractionally wider. 

“But if I hurt you,”

Your hands came to the tie at your waist.

“I’d make wine from your tears.”

Slowly, you began to loosen the knot, Five watching hungrily. Seemingly without his knowledge, the hand not holding his drink left the bar and came to rest on his thigh.

“The shoes stay on,” he murmured.

“I told you, That we could fly” The dress undone, you held it around yourself, loose enough to give him a better view of your cleavage, but tight enough to tease. “Cause we all have wings,”

A twitch of the skirt’s hem to reveal your upper thigh. Five put his drink down.

“But some of us don't know why.”

You began to sing the chorus, but your voice petered out. Five’s longest finger was in motion,  stroking softly up and down his inner thigh. In another situation, it might have been an innocent fidget, but not in this one. 

While you hadn’t expected this, exactly, you had anticipated Five wanting to see you in your underwear before his birthday was out, so you’d chosen lingerie: black lace bra and panties and, for good measure, stockings with a suspender belt.

You dropped the dress.

“Mm,” he said, softly.

You gyrated to the music, closing in on him and running your hands down his chest. His hands reached out for your hips, but you moved them away.

“Wait. Don’t touch yet.”

He nodded, both hands moving to his knees. You bent from the waist, fingers continuing their journey: skimming past his waist, stomach and down both his thighs. He ogled your breasts, this angle making them seem extra full, cupped perfectly by the bra. He had to control an almost-overwhelming impulse to rub his thumbs over your nipples, poking prominently behind the delicate lace.

You heard his controlled, huffed out exhale and smirked.

When you straightened back up, his eyes were back on yours. 

“Can I touch myself?”

His voice was low, gravelly. 

“Only because it’s your birthday,” you said, grinning and stirring your hips with honey-smoothness. 

His hand immediately cupped himself through his pants, his thumb stroking lazily up and down his shaft. So far, the fabric had hidden the significant bulge between his legs, but as his palm flattened it around him, you could see it, the manhood swollen and heavy in his hand.

You revolved on the ball of one foot, still moving your hips in that syrupy way. You sat softly on his lap, grinding your ass into him where he was hard. 

“Oh shit, that’s just not fair,” he groaned, both arms returning to the bar, “how am I supposed to not touch you now?”

You chucked as you rubbed yourself sinfully against him, glorying in his tight breaths; his gentle shifting beneath you as he tried to increase the friction. With the song having ended a minute or so ago, the only sound was his sighs and the slight creak of the barstool.

When you noticed his knuckles turning white, gripping the ledge of the bar, you thought he’d had enough.

“You can touch me now,” you said. 

His hands immediately came to your hips and firmly slid you off his lap. 

“Get on your knees,” he growled, with a glimpse of teeth visible beneath the curve of his upper lip, “blow me.”

You moved to obey, but not fast enough, he used his grip on your hips to urge you faster, turning you towards him before grabbing your shoulders and push-pulling you down towards his crotch.

Your knees hit the plush pile of the rug and you looked up at him as he feverishly unfastened his belt, parted his flies and pulled his cock unceremoniously from his underwear. It was thick, stiff and a deep, fierce red at the tip.

“I’m in charge now, okay?” he said, barely moving his lips.

“Yes sir.” you replied, the epithet half in jest and half not. 

At this confirmation, his right hand laced itself in your hair immediately, reinforcing the message. In his left hand, he held his cock by the base and, angling your face towards it, he let it drop so that it lay obscenely across your face. The soft impact of his weight brought a sting of pleasure to your core, radiating outwards from your pussy. You could feel your own wetness collecting against the lace of the panties.

“Put out your tongue.”

His voice was still deeper than usual. If you didn’t know better, you might have thought he sounded angry. 

You did as you were told. Taking himself back in hand, he slapped himself into your tongue, wetting his tip liberally with saliva and enjoying the view.

He let out a growling breath as he directed himself slowly into your waiting mouth, sliding across a slick tongue until your nose met his neat curls. This was the best part, he thought, the first time he was wholly inside you. The feeling was something like sinking into a perfectly warm bath, cock first.

“That’s it,” he whispered, still in that gruff tone, “that’s it angel. Go nice and slow.”

His grip loosened on your hair, signaling for you to take over. 

He was hard and hot in your mouth, his skin silky against your lips.

You looked up at him, watching as expressions passed across his handsome face, changing and morphing from one to the other as the sensations took over him: smug satisfaction became ecstasy and ecstasy became mild amusement as the movements of your mouth kept him on his toes with unexpected spikes of pleasure.  As you drew your head back, your lipstick stained his skin, leaving a colored smear all the way up his shaft. 

He looked down at this, mouth agape; wide-pupiled eyes shaded by his thick, dark lashes. Amusement was gone now, replaced by nothing short of incredulity.

“My God,” he whispered.

Your lips formed a seal around his head, to hold him in your mouth as you licked eagerly at his tip: something that always made him weak at the knees. Tonight was no exception: his grip on your hair tightened again and he made an abrupt, pained noise, as if he’d just been struck by an enemy rather than pleasured by his lover. 

As his neck arched and he looked straight at the ceiling, he rocked forwards on the barstool, getting his cock as deep as you could take it. 

“Ah shiiit,” he called out, the words almost an inarticulate sound. 

Encouraged by this, you tried to swirl your tongue again, but his shaft pinned your tongue down.  Instead, you bobbed your head, swallowing his cock again and again, letting your lips stroke him as they dragged and plumped with his passage between them. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he breathed, as he tried to stop himself thrusting against the barrier of your throat, “just incredible, baby. I’m so…I’m nearly there.”

One of your hands came to his, still rooted in your hair, and gripped it. You guided his hand to push and pull at your head, inviting him to control its movement and take his own pleasure.

He made a low grinding sound in his throat as took you up on your unspoken offer. He held your head more firmly in his hands and stroked himself with your face, slowly pushing you down and bottoming out in you and then, just as slowly withdrawing with hissing breaths. Every time, with intense self-control you could sense in the set of his grip, he stopped just short of your throat.

As he continued to use your face this way, you could feel his fingers tightening and loosening spasmodically. Hiis movements were becoming more erratic, his breathing ever more shrill and gasp-like.

Amd then he moaned, tensed, and froze.

He turned his face back to you and drew your gaze to his. He began to tremble. His eyes were hazy, strung out. 

“You want to swallow it?”

By way of answer, you sucked his cock again, resuming at the same tempo he’d been at before he stopped.

“Oh fuck!” he barked.

Again, his pelvis was thrusting messily into you, incapable of the finesse needed to avoid occasionally butting up against your throat. Your eyes watered, your larynx constricted, but you held out, (it was his birthday, after all). 

Your tolerance wasn’t tested long. With a shout, his pleasure burst its bounds inside your mouth, painting your tongue with the evidence of his orgasm: thick, salty and potent. He held your head to his crotch as if letting go might mean death. His shrill breath hitched as his cock throbbed with pump after desperate pump deep into your throat-

The sound of the door and rowdy voices. 

Five, preoccupied as he was, didn’t immediately register this, so you thumped your fist on the outside of this thigh. This brought him back to the here and now and, instinctively, he blinked, dragging you with him by the hold he had on your head. 

You emerged, dizzily, behind the bar, shielded from the eyes of his siblings, newly arrived home. Still coming, Five let your head go.

“Shit, your dress,” he muttered, distractedly, leaning against the polished wood and wriggling tensely. 

His hands went urgently to his waistband to cover his dick, still shooting out thick but waning splashes of come, but he found your head still resolutely in the way.

“What are you-? Oh shit,” he whispered. 

Unbelievably, you were still sucking him off, still swallowing his seed even as his siblings were saying their goodnights in the atrium. He closed his eyes and shuddered, keeping his moans in with difficulty as you diligently ensured that every last moment of his orgasm was earth-shattering, even at the risk of being caught this way. 

“God, you’re such a freak,” he whispered, as your tongue swiped at the final drops of come beading at the end of his dick.

“Thanks for noticing,” you said, giving him one of his own, self-satisfied little smirks, “Happy birthday.”

You kissed his tip one final time.

Five shook his head, unable to believe his luck, but he couldn’t bask in the afterglow.

Hurriedly, he made himself decent and blinked back around the bar, leaving you to crouch behind it alone.

“Hey Five. You’re still up?” 

Luther’s voice. His footsteps were approaching the living room.

“Just off to bed actually,” you heard Five reply, slightly out of breath. At that moment, your dress landed just in front of you, flung over the top of the bar by Five. You reached for it and scrambled to put it on.

“Oh okay,” came Luther’s voice again, slightly disappointed and closer now,  “I was gonna have one more drink if you-”

“Um, no!” said Five, stepping between Luther and the bar. I got some margarita left. Let me pour you one.”

“Huh,” Luther sounded pleasantly surprised at this obligingness, “thanks Five.”

Fully dressed now, you straightened up, smoothing your tangled hair and holding a bar towel.

“Oh, hey,” Luther said, sounding even more surprised now, “I didn’t see you there.”

“That’s because I’ve been on my knees for so long.” you said.

This made Five’s head whip around to stare at you. If looks could kill…

“I’ve been cleaning up,” you said, looking directly at Five now and smiling sweetly, “I spilled some tequila.”

“Oh, right,” Luther said, unconcerned and totally unsuspicious. 

Five’s lips pursed. Clearly, he intended to deal with you when you got upstairs to bed. 

…And you’d make sure you held him to that. 

Request masterlist >> HERE

NOTE:

I take Five requests, I'm fairly versatile in what I write (fluff, smut, angst, psychological character study- I'll try it all) but I will consider them on a case by case basis. See masterlist for request status and more.

[missmaywemeetagain]

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

A/N: Somehow, against all odds in this absolute chaos of a week, I managed to bang out the "Army Elvis" prompt for this week today, like a maniac. I am both shocked and amazed that I wrote a smutty one-shot without overthinking it but also be warned this is hardly edited or revised, nor even really thought out! 😂

Thanks always to my sister wives in chaos and crime: @be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis and @from-memphis-with-love

TW: Smut! Orgasms! Basically no plot!

Rating: Mature 18+ || Word Count: 2.7k

Sergeant Presley (a one-shot)

He wants to fuck you. Oh lord how he wants to fuck you, from the moment you walk in the room and sit across the aisle from him.

Maybe it’s the curve of your calves and the way they disappear under your pencil skirt. Maybe it’s how your jacket notches in at your waist, accentuating your ample hips. Or perhaps it’s the fact that even with the conservative uniform and minimal to-do with your hair and make-up (as per regulations, of course), you still are absolutely gorgeous.

Or I’m just horny, Elvis thinks sardonically, shifting in his seat.

The movement catches your eye, and he watches curiously as you do a bit of a double take, eyes widening slightly in recognition before your head whips straight ahead.

He smirks to himself at that. It never gets old, the light that goes on in women’s eyes when they take him in in person. And he certainly isn’t getting much of it lately, being effectively shackled here in Germany, clad in his drab green Army fatigues.

Well, that’s not entirely true, he thinks as he pictures the fans that gather at all hours outside the house he’s renting while he’s here, about the girls he invites in. But it’s not quite the same, not the same at all, because his fame is tenuous and teetering here. Part of him is certain that they’ve all forgotten about him at home, despite the Colonel’s reports to the contrary, despite the new movie contracts and albums he is set to record as soon as he returns. However, the sliver of fear about his fate has burrowed deep these past two years and poisons him slowly, each day he is gone.

But now he’s counting days and weeks instead of months and years, and he can nearly taste being home. His fear and the antsy feeling that permeates him is overcome by anxious excitement now, so he’s feeling better than he has in a long time.

And here he is, getting his Sergeant stripes, and that fills him with a different sort of pride altogether.

So, perhaps it is all these factors combined that have him wanting to jump across the aisle, pull you into his arms, and kiss you silly.

He’s never seen you before and doesn’t know your name until they call you up to present you with your earned rank. Feeling a bit lecherous, he admires the view of your ass as you walk to the front and the heaving of your breast as they pin your stripes. Your pretty eyes catch his unabashedly heated gaze and pink floods your cheeks as he locks you in.

Elvis knows what he’s doing. While much of it is a natural sort of gift, he’s also honed his seductive abilities quite a bit in the last four years and gets paid a lot of money because of it. He’s also well aware that he looks good, filled out in a manly way but slimmed down in all the right areas, and right now, he’s not above using his looks to get your attention. And he so does want your attention, as much as he knows by virtue of your uniform and rank, you are completely off limits. He’s not stupid—he’s too close to the end for a court martial. Though he may not be able to fuck you the way he wants, it doesn’t mean he can’t have a little bit of fun.

Crossing his arms, he brings one hand to his mouth, letting his thumb catch on his full bottom lip and his mouth fall open slightly. Then he gazes at you with a pointed but dreamy stare, his eyes blinking slowly.

He watches you gulp and fidget at front of the room, all of which could be explained away by nerves of being put on the spot, but he knows he’s hit jackpot because there’s a little fire stoked in those lovely eyes now.

Tilting his head and raising a brow, he makes a private show of looking you up and down as you walk tenuously back to your seat. Giving him a glare of admonishment, you very purposefully do not look at him once you are seated again, but your hands wring in your lap, your leg crossing over towards him.

He’s flustered you. Warmth rolls over him, pooling in his pelvis, and through the rest of the ceremony, he tries not to think of bending you over your chair, yanking up your skirt, and sinking deep into your silky heat.

His cock twitches at the thought.

Later, fate intervenes on his behalf when he realizes you’ve been seated with him at the dinner banquet following the ceremony. He shakes your hand, introducing himself, letting his fingers squeeze and his thumb graze your palm a little too intimately. The gamut of emotions that flashes over your face before you bring down a stoic smile makes him chuckle.

He guides you to sit next to him, and while you hesitate at first, he knows he’s already won because of the way your eyes widen at the suggestion.

Now that you are close, his body goes into overdrive, and he is drunk on the sweetness of your perfume and the smoothness of your skin. He realizes he’s likely being too obvious in his flirtations but can’t bring himself to reign it in. The other men and women at the table have either consciously or subconsciously deferred to him and his charms, leaving no one to compete for your attention. He lays it on thick, wanting to eat you right up.

Elvis is hyperaware of every time you glance his direction, which is happening more often as he pulls you deeper into conversation, your cool exterior thawing bit by bit. But the way your eyes dilate and how you lick your lips when he brings the bottle of cola in front of him to his mouth has a zing of arousal shooting down his spine and straight into his cock.

Oh.

Nothing if not responsive, Elvis tongues the lip of the bottle before taking a slow drag of the sweet, fizzy soda. Your eyes are fixated now on his mouth, on the bottle, and he watches you catch your lower lip in your teeth as you stare.

Heat courses through him as he pulls the bottle away, tongue rolling over his bottom lip to catch the lingering drops of sugar caught there. You swallow visibly, and he doesn’t stop his teasing, unable to keep his lip from quirking into a delighted smirk at your attentions. Your eyes fly back up to his, as if just realizing you’ve been caught, and you flush a charming shade of red before clearing your throat and looking away quickly.

But every time he raises the bottle to his lips, your eyes catch like a moth to a flame. This time they follow his hand down as he sets the bottle on the table. Condensation gathers droplets on the cool glass and he relishes the smooth, wet feeling as he strokes the bottle with his thumb.

You fidget in your seat. It takes him a second to understand why, but once he does, he feels his cock chub up, caught mercilessly in his briefs and dress pants. The little, mischievous devil in him takes great pleasure watching you watch him make a show of gripping the bottle in his whole hand, slowly thumbing over the opening at the top again and again.

You choke a little and reach for your water, taking a deep drag and blinking rapidly, as if trying to come out of the spell he seems to have you under. You attempt to throw yourself into the conversation at the table, ignoring him with all your might, your body tense in your seat.

A challenge, he thinks, smiling.

Slowly, Elvis presses his knee into the side of your thigh, loving the way you nearly jump out of your seat in surprise at the contact. It’s like a bolt of electricity between you, and he starts to strain against his underwear.

Now that he has your attention, he places his hand back around the cola bottle, lewdly gripping it and slowly twisting his hand down and back up the glass. It’s truly not that far off from his actual size, so the motion feels almost too familiar, too easy. Your mouth pops open at the suggestive gesture and it takes everything in him to not lap his tongue into that delicate little mouth of yours. He matches his rhythm, stroking his knee against your leg, which also happens to provide some delicious friction in his pants. He feels you tense, squeezing your thighs together, and he cannot help but think of your little pink snatch likely staining your panties with slick right at this very moment.

Elvis almost groans aloud at that, catching it in his throat at the last second, but you seem to hear it and your eyes fly to his. Your pupils are blown out and cheeks are hot, and he can almost smell the arousal on you. Goddamn it, he wants to make you come, right here at the table, just for him, in front of everyone, who, wrapped up in their own conversations seem none the wiser at the seduction that is happening before them.

He’s hardly touching you but feels a surge of power when you fidget again, caught like willing prey in his stare. He can’t touch you more than he already is because that would get him in trouble, but if he can’t lay you across this table and fuck you senseless, he’s going to do it the only way he can.

His ministrations on the bottle are serving to arouse him just as much as you, each stroke making his cock twitch and strain and stiffen. Your eyes dart from his to the bottle, back and forth, your breath shallow and rapid. His eyes are heavy on you, unyielding, and look upon you as though you were under him, as though he were trapped and undulating in the heat of what he just knows is your perfect, untouched cunt.

You look back at him as though you know exactly what he’s thinking, as though your tight little hole is snug around him, sweet as honey, treating him right. Your hands clutch at your silverware, your napkin, anything you can get your hands on that isn’t him, and he knows you are well on your way to where he wants you because he can feel how your legs move back and forth, creating the friction you so desperately need between them.

He wonders if he can get away with touching you under the tablecloth, with sticking his hand into those wet panties of yours to play with your swollen and sensitive nub, but your skirt is too long and tight, and your jacket hides the waistband. No, he’s gonna have to be satisfied with eye-fucking you and jerking off this cola bottle.

Your chest starts to vibrate with tension as you try desperately to hold back the short little gasps emanating from your lips and he knows then that you are set to explode. You brace your elbows on the table, hiding the lower part of your face with your napkin, as if wiping your mouth, and he feels your hips buck. You do a helluva job not moaning and rolling your eyes back as you come for him, but he sees you drift somewhere else for a moment in your ecstasy, your eyes going blank as you pant as measured as you can into your napkin-shield.

Watching you unravel so gracefully and so untouched has his own orgasm sneaking up on him. The fact that he made you come just by looking at you but also at the element of public indecency involved has him clutching the cola bottle so hard he might break it. He wants to palm his dick with his other hand, but he knows he can’t be subtle about it and kind of likes the fact you’re making him come untouched, too.

Elvis manages to hold on until you come down from your high enough to look at him with dreamy, satiated eyes and that finally sends him over the edge. His cock pulses heavy and hard, springing against the confines of his slacks, his eyes drifting closed and lips parting as he shivers through his orgasm as quietly as he can. Holy fucking hell.

Your shy, knowing smile is the first thing he sees when he opens his eyes, and he can’t help but smile right back at you in kind. Your rosy cheeks and gleaming eyes make him feel giddy. His face feels red hot and he can’t help but bring the cold cola bottle to his face to cool it off. You choke back a laugh.

“You alright there, Sergeant Presley?” another soldier questions him.

“Ohhhh, I’m fine,” he drawls, amused, “Just feels like it’s a thousand degrees in here is all, in this getup.”

For once, he’s glad of his regulation briefs, as they kept him from shooting his load straight down his pant leg, but he doesn’t have to look down to know by the sheer force and amount of his release that he’s soaking through the front of his pants. His only consolation is that he knows you must be soaked through your panties, too.

If he can get his jacket on, he’ll be okay because it’s long and will cover the mess, but how he’s going to do so without the entire hall seeing he just jizzed his pants, he’s not so sure. It might not be a problem for the average Joe, but people can’t help but watch his every move, whether he wants them to or not. He realizes in his haze of horniness that maybe he didn’t really think this through.

You seem to realize his predicament, however, pretty eyes widening after looking down in his lap. You snap your head up quickly and he can sense your wheels turning. He starts to panic a little when you don’t let him in on the plan, though, as you start telling some story that he can’t seem to pay attention to with the sticky, rapidly cooling mess in his underwear.

Before he knows what’s happening, you are sweeping your arm to the side in a dramatic retelling, knocking the half-full bottle of cola over, directly into his lap.

He yelps in surprise as the dark cola soaks into his slacks, right over the other stain that had begun to set.

“Oh! Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Sergeant Presley!” you cry apologetically, quite convincingly, and in other circumstances, he might try to get you into the movies with your level of commitment as you place your napkin into his lap.

He chuckles, “Oh, it’s fine, darlin’, it’s just a little soda. After all, I was going on about how warm I was gettin’, so you cooled me right off.” He gives you a wink at his obvious double entendre, and you purse your lips to hold back a laugh.

“Well, I’m awfully embarrassed,” you say quietly, fully leaning into the role. “Please send me your dry cleaning bill. It’s the least I can do.” Pulling a little pad out of your clutch, you scribble something down on the paper, tear it off, fold it, and hand it to him.

“Oh, don’t you worry about that. It’s no big thing,” he says, but takes the paper anyway, sensing that you have written something other than your dry cleaner’s information on it. He motions for your pen and paper. “Can I?”

You nod and hand them over. In his chicken scratch handwriting, he scrawls a note:

If you ever find yourself in Memphis someday, honey, come to Graceland for a visit. Ask for ‘Sarge.’ I’d love to have ya.

Love, Sergeant Elvis Presley

He finishes by adding one of the numbers at Graceland and hands the pad back to her. Wishful thinking, but maybe someday, when it’s not a court-martialed offense, he’ll be able to show you the good time you deserve.

He excuses himself, then, sloshing in his soggy, ruined pants, waiting until he gets to the car to read your note.

Sergeant Presley,

One must watch out for those pesky cola bottles…Try vinegar and cold water for that stain…wouldn’t want it to set!  

Corporal Y/N  Y/L/N

He laughs heartily as the car pulls away.

Taglist:

@atombombbibunny @yesimwriting @uselessbutinteresting @mirandastuckinthe80s @dark-as-love

@domaniquessidehoe @im-lame-irl @allybrooke05 @hangmanswhore

@jazmin2211 @kvcssghbjbcd @coldonexx @dudinhahoff @whatstruthgottodowithit @tiredbuthappy @amiets2 @saintmagx

@kvcssghbjbcd @butlersluvbot @babydollie43 @vainbimbo @meladollsims @wstelandbaby @dre6ming @normatural @ash-omalley @xcallmetaniax @galvz-42 @thejezebel @fullmetal-falcon @robinismywife @dre6ming @seaweedbrain00 @amiets2 @mslizziesblog @heisatroubleinapinksuit @calusussss @dont-feel-so-good-peter @rainydayz101 @pizzaisrelationshipgoals

@liaaacantwrite @kittenlittle24 @kaitaesupremacy @butler-trouble @eliseinmemphis @russian-soft-bitch @tattywood

@sassanoe @re3kin @thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle @carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23 @ab4eva

@fic-over-cannon @lacyluver @littlebitofgreen @paigevis @godlypresley @bugg06 @xhannahbananax03 @artlover8992

@18lkpeters @frozenhuntress67 @girlblogger2002 @kendralavon7 @elvisgf @misspresley @ohjustpeachy1 @whositmcwhatsit @be-my-ally @precious-little-scoundrel @vintageshanny @from-memphis-with-love @prompted-wordsmith @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @stylespresleyhearted @elv1s-is-pretty @crash-and-cure

[suwbuns]

E-DATERS! | 3 am endeavours

SYPNOSIS. moving back to korea from america, y/n is excited to reunite with her old friends and make new ones. what she doesnt expect is to find herself reuniting with her “ex-boyfriend” from 10 years ago who she dated over minecraft. what makes things worse? he happens to be her favorite streamer who she has been pinning after for years.

written + ss below (not proofread)

perhaps you had gotten your hopes up.

it had already been a quarter past 2 am, the past 30 minutes consisting of pacing back and forth in your room, clad in pajamas and a pair of fuzzy socks. you glanced at the clock as every minute or two passed by, an acknowledgment that more time had passed yet not a single knock on your door had been heard.

the invasive thoughts of what couldve prompted beomgyus late arrival had taken over your brain, scenarios that made you gnaw at the inside of your cheek due to its absurdity. for all you knew, this couldve been a cruel joke that the boys decided to play on you, and within the next week, your face streaked with hot tears would be plastered onto the thumbnail of one of their videos.

yet a part of you still clung to the hope that maybe he got caught up with something and forgot to show up, although the loud snores from the boys who were asleep down the hall would have been a large enough reminder.

your feet soon grew tired of pacing and your head dizzy from overthinking. by 3 am, your back had been leaned against the headboard of your bed, eyes threatening to shut due to exhaustion. it wasn't until you heard the faint sound of a piece of paper being slid under your door, that the fatigue you felt had instantly vanished, your body immediately gravitating to the corner of your room to read it.

sorry i took so long, u awake?

— gyu

you didnt even give yourself the chance to surpress the raging smile that had formed across your lips, your hand moving faster than your brain as you swung the door wide open just for it to collide with a hard figure.

“ow!” you retracted the knob to reveal the owner of the voice, and just a few inches away stood a boy with a pained expression, his hand rubbing his forehead in order to soothe the searing pain.

“im so sorry!” you squeaked out a frightened apology, biting your lip in embarrassment as you guiltily stared up at him. without giving him a chance to respond, you urgently grabbed his hand and pulled him into your room, the side of your foot nudging against the door to close it shut. with your hand still attached to his own, you guided him to take a seat onto your bed, reaching out to touch his face in order to make sure there were no visible marks, in which luckily there were none.

the adrenaline you experienced quickly wore off as you realized the close proximity between you two. you wete secretly grateful for how dim the room was, your bedside lamp failing to expose the faint redness on your cheeks.

you cleared your throat, scooting an arms length from him which initiated a period of awkward silence, the only sound that could be heard were the distant snores that resounded in the hallway.

“so…” he started, shifting awkwardly on your bed, his eyes darting around the room in order to avoid eye contact.

“so…” you followed, staring intently at the boy who sat beside you. he wore a grey hoodie paired with plaid pajama pants, his dark hair hung messily over his eyes which made your heart soar over how effortlessly attractive he managed to look.

you didnt know how you got quite lucky, nor how you have been able to maintain sanity up until now. perhaps if it had been any other day prior to this moment, you would have been passed out cold on the floor from a heart attack due to being in the same room as choi beomgyu.

“what did you want to talk about?” you asked innocently, swinging your feet back and forth off the side of your bed. you watched his lips purse, opening them to say something then automatically closing them as if he lost his train of thought.

“nothing in particular, i just wanted to talk to you.” he said quietly, his voice barely audible for you to hear.

“really?”

“yeah.”

beomgyus trademarked loud and chaotic personality seemed non existent at this moment, being replaced with a shy boy with fluffy hair who happened to show more interest in playing with the hem of his sweater sleeve than you. the silence that surrounded the both of you felt suffocating, the urge to say something constantly tugged at the back of your throat yet no word managed to come out.

it didnt help that beomgyu was currently facing a similar dilemma. he was no stranger to this position that he undeniably seemed to always be in, in which he is confronted in what he could possibly say to you in order to interrupt the silence that grew more uncomfortable the longer it lasted.

“i think youre really cool” beomgyu blurted out, watching how your eyebrows raised in concern—possibly due to the fact that his tone came out a bit more aggressive than what he intended it to be.

“sorry, was that a little weird?” beomgyu added shyly, biting back his bottom lip to suppress the disappointed expression that was starting to form.

“what? of course not!” you exclaimed. “im actually a huge fan of you, ive been subscribed to you since the beginning of your channel.” you beamed at him, removing your phone from its charger to show him the evidence.

beomgyu pretended to act surprised at this supposedly new information, almost as if he didnt know about your massive crush on him, that your entire spam account had a dedicated lay out to him, and also the fact that you found him incredibly hot in flannels.

time passed by quickly while talking to beomgyu, the short compliment that he blurted out earlier had manifested into long conversations consisting of various pillow thoughts. by the time you realized how late it was, the both of you were lying down side by side with your backs sunk into the mattress, your shoulders pressed against eachothers. your eyes staring at the blank ceiling as you continued to chatter about various topics.

it didn’t feel like you were speaking to your long term idol, but rather a friend who youve known on your life. for some reason, it was like beomgyu knew you like the back of his own hand. he brought up topics that he somehow knew you were interested in, he listened to your stupid childhood stories, and he even would laugh at your unfunny jokes. it was a bond that had formed from an unusual circumstance, yet for some reason it just felt right.

“its so easy to talk to you,” you commented, the smile on your face not wearing off from the previous joke he made. you rolled onto your side to face beomgyu, watching his chest steadily rise and fall as he took each breath. “its like ive known you since forever, ive never got a long with somebody this fast before.”

“maybe its because you have” he voiced out silently, yet still audible enough for you to hear.

“what do you mean by that?” you questioned, eyes furrowing in confusion at his comment. you watched beomgyu turn his body to mimic your own position, your faces merely inches away from eachother, causing you to freeze in your current state. the light glow from bedside lamp reflected onto his face, illuminating his facial features. his eyes stared softly at yours, containing an emotion that you couldnt quite pinpoint.

“w-well,” he hesistated, contemplating his next response. “what if i told you that we have known eachother for a long time?”

you paused as you pondered the thought, trying to make sense of whatever he said to you. the silence that followed was deafening, so much that he was afraid that his own heartbeat was loud enough for you to hear it.

your soft laugh had thankfully cut the silence short, turning back to face the ceiling. “i wish. that would be crazy though, wouldnt it?”

“yeah, maybe.” beomgyu exhaled, glancing at your peaceful figure, a light smile spread across your face. it was a sight that he wasnt quite sure he was ready to give up yet, especially when he had just barely been able to form a friendship that he so desperately wanted to escalate into something more.

because with each moment that he spent with you, he sunk deeper into his problem. he knew that every second that drew him closer to you, would also contribute to the distance that would occur once you found out.

thats something that he doesnt know he would be ready for.

previous | masterlist | next

TAGLIST. @openingssequence @suburbiataehyung @shinypieceofgarbage @fairysoobx @koeuh @captivq @beowmgyu @qluvrv @ikaeryn @whippedforbeomgyu @i8lhee @heyanonymous123 @vanicogh @sulliefimmie @tae-ology @milkycloudtyg @ox1-lovesick @soobsfairy444 @sulliefimmie @jaxavance @peachenle @pokyloky @peachybeom @alpha-mommy69 @fatoompie @ashxxgyu @soobsdior @viagumi @rikismiel @luvsoobs @lovejunz @wccycc @enha-cafe @kaeslily @hiddenboopy @cashew00nut @merendis @reverbtunes @lcvesickgyuzz @dear-dreamie @fragmentationss @chuuinggummy @hafsa-hoofsa-heefs @beomsbeanie @shigamiryuk @soobliss @woncheecks @sserafimez @ahnneyong @ghostfacefricker6969 @flrtsbin @beomomb @cathaerin (closed)

A/N. BYE THIS CHAPTER LITERALLY TOOK ME FOREVER TO WRITE AND ITS SO SHORT ☹️☹️

[everythingdenied]

promptober-13

leaves fallen sparse-dad!matty

a/n: lil blurb inspired by the fact that matty has been looking painfully dilfy atm...and also bc i am hormonal & freezing and feel like i haven't posted anything in agesssss. also promptober YAY!! tysm @abiiors u have reminded me i don't hate writing.

wc: 620

"Fuck me, i'm freezing my tits off. Can we not just...go home?"

I turned my head, walking a few paces ahead of Matty to try and keep up with the very enthusiastic toddler wobbling along the cobblestone in front of me. Amelie had only learnt to walk less than a month ago but, from the minute she'd figured out how, she'd been eager to use those little legs of hers, putting both me and her dad on pins whenever she decided to toddle anywhere near the edge of the coffee table at home.

"Matty..." I scolded, glaring at the man as he grumpily shoved his hand's into the pockets of his trench coat, kicking at a pile of dried, amber leaves at his feet. "You were literally the one who suggested this."

He rolled his eyes and puffed out a dramatic sigh, jogging the few steps forward to catch up with Amelie and I.

"Yeah. Didn't think it'd be this cold" he grumbled. "I feel like Scott of the fuckin' antarctic."

Matty dug his hands deeper into his pockets, pouting when he found no relief from the crips autumn air, nor any sympathy for me, who only breathed a quiet laugh at his melodrama and pulled him into my side. His teeth chattered, clicking against each other exaggeratedly, and he nuzzled into the crook of my neck, whimpering like a small child.

"You are such a man child sometimes, jesus christ" i giggled, but gave in to his fawning, placating him with a soft kiss to the tip of his rosy nose, only pulling back when I felt something bump against my leg.

Looking down, I noticed our nearly two year old had stopped dead in the middle of the pavement, crouched down to inspect something she'd found between the cobbles.

"Careful, baby..." I hummed, the momentary concern I felt dissipating when I squatted down beside her to take a proper look at what had captured her attention so desperately she'd felt the need to stop walking. "What've you got, Am?"

Clutched in my little one's hand was a leaf; a perfectly shaped, dried out, copper leaf, reminiscent of the one's you'd see on some slightly kitsch advert for a pumpkin spice latte. It wasn't anything particularly magnificent, it was just a leaf, the same you could find sparsely peppering every street in England after the month of October, and yet Amelie stared at it in awe, her mouth agape as if she'd just discovered a new planet.

"Leaf!" she giggled happily and held it out for me to take. Her eyes flit between Matty and I, presumably waiting for the two of us to catch up on the joy this leaf was supposedly meant to bring us, and she prompted me once more to take it from her.

"Well done, baby" I smiled and gingerly took the singular piece of foliage from her, careful not to crinkle it as she grinned toothlessly. "S'pretty, huh?"

Amelie nodded vigorously, her little mustard bobble hat threatening to tip off her hid, and pointed once more.

"Pretty leaf..." she babbled thoughtfully, gazing up at Matty as I settled her woollen hat back in its rightful position, sitting perfectly atop her mop of dark ringlets she could have only inherited from one place. "Daddy, look! Pretty leaf."

Matty laughed warmly, his heart swelling tenfold, and crouched down to pick Amelie up in his arms, hugging her little frame to his chest as her elated squeal bounced through the empty estate.

"Mhm...'s a very pretty leaf" he nodded, and reached out to grasp her tiny hand in his own, his lips brushing over her knuckles as she wriggled in his arms. "But not nearly as pretty as you, my littlest darlin..."

[spikybanana]

@wolfstarmicrofic - prompt: dark/key - hello folks happy chinese new year. which means they're chinese today :) [cw: talk of food]

Harry pushes open his godfathers' front door to the sound of Remus shouting up the stairs.

"Sirius! Sirius? Oh, hello there Harry" Remus waves at Harry with a rolling pin in his flour-covered hand, and chuckles. "Didn't even hear you come in. I really thought we aren't old enough to be deaf yet."

"Alright Moony?" Harry finds his lips twitching up, accepting a flour-less pat on the back.

Remus gestures vaguely at he roof. "Want to see what your dogfather is up to up there?"

"I thought he'd gone out."

"Well no, there's his key on the wall right there."

"Ah, he must have forgotten it then. I bumped into him at the store." Harry says, dropping the bagfuls of fruits on the kitchen counter, "He was determined to get the right kind of vinegar for the dumplings."

Remus snorts. "He likes to pretend he can tell the difference. You know, I think Tesco's plastic bottle works just fine. Did he take the bike, then?"

"Ye. I saw it parked outside the shops."

"You never see him forgetting his bike keys." Remus shakes his head, and Harry laughs. "More likely he's not even locking it anymore. I keep saying, nobody here would bother stealing it. The moment anyone sees someone other than a crazy old man on that thing, they'd know something's off."

As they speak, the living room window slides open, and Sirius pokes in his head before he proceeds to climb through the window. "Now who are you calling a crazy old man?"

"Oh my dear lord." Remus mutters, though his voice is fond. He shoves the rolling pin at Harry, hurries to take the bags off Sirius and helps him through. "Don't remember the door bell?"

"What's that? Never heard of it." Sirius grins, blowing a strand of silver hair from where it fell out of what Remus has dubbed the drunk McGonagall bun.

"You're not a day past seventeen in your head."

"Have patience, we're a few years off from seventy yet— oh hello Harry, pass me the rolling pin?" Sirius says as he weaves fluidly through the room, "besides, Moony-dear— the man who refuses to retire has nothing to say about ageing gracefully."

"Oh, maybe next year." Remus waves a hand dismissively, and Sirius and Harry snorts at the same time because he's been saying the same thing for a decade.

Then, they get to task, descending upon the pile of half-rolled out dough and dumpling filling on the living room table. They've been doing this for two and a half decades, every Chinese New Year's Eve, ever since the end of the war. If you asked Remus or Sirius, they'd no longer agree about why this started. Sirius says that Remus missed hope, and Remus says Sirius wanted to replace what he hated about his family. But Harry remembers that first year, how they barged into Harry's miserable apartment and chased him out of bed, shoved a cabbage into his hands claiming they've dug out Remus' mother's recipe. It had been such a mess, none of them quite knew what to do and Hope's instructions said little more than "proved dough, no yeast; pork filling; boil". It took them all day. In the end, all the dumplings came out precariously shaped and half of them disintegrated in the pot. But as they packaged some of the less malformed dumplings to Ron and Hermione's families, Harry thought— that was the most any of them had laughed, since the war.

After that, it just kept happening, year after year. Harry would bring along his friends and then his kids, and they banter through the afternoon into the night, while making an amount of food that could give Molly Weasley a run for her money. Every year, they tell the story of how Hope once taught James' whole family how to fold dumplings, and they laugh about how Sirius would religiously stick to Hope's preferred brands of seasoning. Every year, they try to put up the state-run celebration programme, only until Sirius inevitably turns it off in anger. They've never made it to the New Year's countdown.

"Merlin's bloody balls. How do I always forget what narrow-minded bigots they all are." Sirius would say, throwing down the remote that may or may not be vaguely smoking.

"Not all of them," Remus would reply lightly, "Ma had loved the traditional operas, back in the day."

And now, after all of Harry's kids have grown out of the firecrackers, it's quiet again. But they're still here, the three of them.

"It's not yet dark out. The days are getting longer." Remus says, as he starts kneading the second batch of dough.

Sirius hums, leaning back and watching Remus' forearms appreciatively. "Weather's beautiful out there. 'S bloody cold, though, I miss when I could stave through a winter with the leather jacket. At least the night will be clear."

Remus snorts, shares a side glance with Harry. "See what I mean, Harry? Old man still thinks he's a teenager."

"We balance out perfectly. Not all of us have been old men since we were a teenager."

"To be fair, Remus, he's right. You've dressed like this for as long as I've known you."

"Oh no darling. Moony's been dressing like this for as long as I've known him."

Remus calmly flicks pieces of dough at Sirius, who's laughing roaringly. And Harry thinks only about how it means more than the world, that these two men, after their whole lives, could have this easy warmth and happiness with each other. He thinks, no, he wouldn't give this up for the world. He'd be right here year after year, helping them through the frankly ridiculous amount of dumplings they still insist on making and mailing out. And after he leaves for the night, Harry just knows that they'd be out in the garden, arm in arm under nothing but stars. Remus will pretend he can recognise anything beside Sirius' namesake, and Sirius will pretend he's looking at the stars at all, and the new moon is kind, as will be the year they begin at each other's side.

[sublimecatgalaxy]

♥️ Billy Hargrove Masterlist ♥️

This is a masterlist dedicated to things I've written about Billy Hargrove.

Check out my Prompt List and my Character List in my Masterpost which is pinned for more info on who I write for and some inspiration for requests.

Asked Out: 

Summary/Request: “Meeting billy for the first time? Maybe the reader is dustins sister or something. They could go on a date etc?”

Favorite Pain:

Summary/Request: “prompt 7 and 14;) with Billy Hargrove, do whatever it is you please!!"

Ass Is Grass:

Summary/Request: “billy hargrove - enemies to lovers with prompt 17?? <3333"

Make Me Stay:

Summary/Request: “Billy and the reader having a fwb relationship but he's not really nice or gentle, more just using her and she finally has enough of it?"

I'm A Gentleman Now:

Summary/Request: “the little thing you wrote about Eddy comforting reader was so cute!!! sooo naturally my mind wandered off to Billy immediately and now I would like to request the same prompt, but with him :))"

Not Afraid:

Summary/Request: “CAN YOU PLEASE DO BILLY HARGROVE W THE PROMPT 'I'm not afraid of you.' PREFERABLY NSFW?"

Gentle:

Summary/Request: “can you do 18 and 21 from your prompts list with billy hargrove🤍"

Don't Believe You:

Summary/Request: “So... Can I ask about prompts 2, 8 and 21 with Billy Hargrove please? Like, the reader have a pretty heavy life trying to be perfect for her family, and stuff."

Heroic:

Summary/Request: “billy opening up to the reader abt his childhood, and the reader comforts him?"

Precious Cargo:

Summary/Request: “Following the move of the Byers, with El, to California and everything that happens with Vecna, the reader and Hopper move back into his Cabin in the woods, taking the time to fix it up. She has trouble adjusting, even after the years of being free from the lab, she still struggles to fit into the puzzle that is Hawkins. But with the new friends she's made while attempting to save the world and the object of her attraction, Billy, she begins to understand what it's like to be an actual 18 year old, not a lab rat."

Like This:

Summary/Request: “I'm literally obsessed with how you write soft Billy, so I would like to request a little fluff/angst/soft-in-general fic with Billy and trope 1 (There's only one bed)"

Loving This:

Summary/Request: “FUCK man like imagine eddie or Billy hitting it from behind, hand fisted into your hair or gripping your shoulder to force you back into their thrusts 🤤 or them leaning all the way forward so their chest is pressed against your back and whispering dirty words to you🥵"

Bitten:

Summary/Request: “Billy would leave such dark hickys and bite marks along your neck and thighs so when you wear shorts or skirts they're visible and he'd cover ABSOLUTELY every inch of your chest with hickys 🤤 making sure everyone knows your his"

Backdoor:

Summary/Request: “Okay but a fic of reader and Billy doing anal…..?"

Seething:

Summary/Request: “Billy finding out that the reader gets hit by their parents because the parents are drunk?"

Worth Your While:

Summary/Request: “okay okay, but after Eddy and Steve,, what about Billy cumming too fast ??"

Overstimulation:

Summary/Request: “PLEASE im begging you to do something with billy being submissive and the reader edging/overstimming him and maybe possibly having a slight mommy kink 🙏 this inspired me im on my hands and knees rn"

Devour Me:

Summary/Request: “prompt number 17 wirh billy pls!!"

Purely Wholesome:

Summary/Request: “i love your work !! can you maybe write something with billy? like maybe the reader acted the whole day like a brat, teasing billy and now he gets to punish her and fuck the attitude out of her?😩"

Gentleman Nonetheless:

Summary/Request: “22, prompt list, billy Hargrove, nsfw"

Little Things:

Summary/Request: “ic with Billy where you and him have been in a relationship for a little while and one day you happen to find out that all this time he’s held onto all kinds of little things you have him. Like for example little notes you wrote him in class, or receipts from dates, maybe things you don’t even recognise anymore. You had never expected Billy to do this, yk, cause he’s Billy."

Enemies:

Summary/Request: “OMG CAN YOU DO AN ENEMIES TO LOVERS W BILLY HARGROVE?"

Gain or Lose:

Summary/Request: “Could you please do a Billy Hargrove fluff of the reader being insecure of their looks as their mother is pestering them to continuously fix themselves up please and thank you?"

Feisty:

Summary/Request: “lifeguard billy x reader one shot? Like he’s all touchy and kissy with her even tho he’s at work and maybe a bit steamy? And he makes sure she knows that he only had eyes for her and doesn’t give a shit about the others (moms in particular lmao)"

Twelve Pack:

Summary/Request: “Hi I was wondering if you could write about Billy and reader having the biggest argument in their relationship but in the middle of the argument the reader gets an anxiety attack?"

Bloody and Broken:

Summary/Request: “recently i’ve been a little bit too interested with billy hargrove fics pfft but i wanted to mix two things from the prompt list and wanted to see your take with it:) 22 and 10"

Abandoned:

Summary/Request: “I peeped into your prompt list and was inspired to request a Billy Hargrove x fem!reader fic 👀"

Sacrificial Lamb:

Summary/Request: “billy x reader fic where the reader has this negative idea of billy bc she heard rumors that he was just a terrible person, but they end up being forced to spend time together for whatever reason."

Pull Over:

Summary/Request: “Hiii! Can I please request Jealousy/Friends with Benefits with The Prompts 'Make Me”with Billy Hargrove please"

NSFW Alphabet

[evesaintyves]

989 words, for @remadoramicrofics prompt "haunted."

Read it below or on AO3 🎸

Tonks's old bedroom floor is a mess of rumpled t-shirts and her rattiest underpants. Five days since Remus took off his ring, knotted the strings on his traveling case, and told her he'd made a terrible error. All she's done is sleep. She dozed off on the macrame throw pillow and it left a crisscross red rash on her cheek, went downstairs before she noticed, and her Dad gasped, "Dora?" 

She just fled back upstairs without breakfast.

It's not even her throw pillow. Mum has snuck them in her old room sometime since she's been gone. Other things, too, an elegant white bowl to hold all the knuts and plastic hair clips and ticket stubs that were scattered across her chest of drawers. Mum's things, minimal and clean, make Tonks's stuff, the fairy lights and the thrashing band posters, seem like they're trying too hard. It's just like her last year at school, the stress-cracking of all the faultlines between who she is and who she is supposed to be. She was constantly reinventing herself back then—a new chin, a chelsea cut, a ring in her eyebrow. But she's not the only one in charge of her body anymore. It's making decisions without her.

And it's so shit to want Remus here to settle behind her on her squeaky old bed, tuck his bony knees into the parenthesis of her legs, stroke his skinny fingers up her arm and say, like he does, that he's sorry—but at the same time to want to scream at him so hard he vapourizes into a fine red mist.

In the afternoon, her mother does her two-tap no-time-to-pull-your-knickers-up knock and comes in with cups of tea.

"Your father tells me you've been looking ill."

"I'm not."

Andromeda sits on the side of the bed.

"You were a terrible pregnancy," she says. "I'd have sworn you were trying to fight me from the inside."

Tonks pulls her knees to her chest. "This one's a scrapper. I can tell already."

Andromeda smiles into her cup.

Tender moments have a way of making Tonks show her belly. Her mother doesn't say much, just sits and keeps her company, and before long Tonks is compelled to overshare. That she isn't even sure Remus ever really loved her, but maybe loved an idea of her that she led him on into believing while they were still just awkwardly clicking teeth in stolen moments at headquarters; an idea worn smooth and shiny by those months they were apart.

Almost as soon as she married him she was up the duff and puking, breaking out in spots faster than she could morph them away. Still having dreams that Sirius was just tilting on his heels—suspended in the moment he might have been saved—waking up choking. Remus seemed perturbed that she could spend hours staring at the telly, not watching, just trying to shush the noise in her head. It seems so stupid now, but she'd really thought that he, of all people, would understand.

"My mother used to tell me," Andromeda says, "that I'd better stop all my moping about, that men don't care for girls who brood. And that I'd never get married and out of her hair, acting that way."

"What did you say?"

"I didn't say anything. I made a plan and then I climbed out my window in the middle of the night. Your father picked me up in his old car and took me to his parents' flat—you know the story. Let me tell you, Nymphadora—" She pins Tonks with a look. "—how much brooding I did in his old bedroom. I was a wreck. The room smelt of some horrible potion he used on his model railway. The carpet crunched underfoot. And I was worried about what was going to happen to—to some of the people I left. I was crying every night. Waiting until your grandparents left for work in the morning to creep into the kitchen like a ghoul. I had..." She pulls her posture up straight. "Difficulty adjusting, at first."

Tonks's throat is getting tight, and tears are needling the rims of her eyes. It's not just that she's grabbed for that kind of love story and missed; it's also that her mother never talks to her like this—spilling the way Tonks sometimes does, talking fast, saying things she probably shouldn't. It makes the world feel all the more unfixably cracked.

"Dad—Was Dad...?" Tonks can't even finish, her voice is cracking and squeaking. She curls forward and hides her face in her mother's sleeve.

"He'd lie with me—and touch my hair. He used to tell me if I didn't eat I'd disappear and it was going to be very difficult to explain to the officiant why he had an invisible bride."

She says it gently, sadly, as if she knows what it'll do to Tonks, and she's right. It's full waterworks now, the type Tonks has always sworn she wasn't going to do over a bloke. It's coming out her eyes and nose, it's thick and salty in her mouth, it's getting all over her mum's silk blouse. She's going to hate that. Tonks flops back against her pillows, sniffling, wiping her face with her palms, automatically morphing the puffiness out of her eyelids.

Her mother turns to inspect the shiny web of snot Tonks has left on her sleeve. Her face gets that pinched, long-suffering look for just an instant. Then she takes Tonks's empty cup of tea and stacks it in her own, and tucks Tonks's feral bedhead back behind each ear with her cool fingers.

"Supper's at seven," she says. "Your father's trying out a lasagna."

She shuts the door behind her when she goes, and it's just Tonks and the frenzy of the rock bands on her walls: forever joyfully flailing, forever faithful to their own silent beat.

image: egon schiele, woman lying on her back

[shamelessler]

Tickletober: prompt 1

Anticipation

fandom: lego batman

Bruce was breathing sharply as he entered the room, trying not to feel anxious about meeting the Joker. Anxiety was one of Joker's favorite looks on Batman and he refused to give him the satisfaction of playing into his games. He swung open the door to see Joker sitting cross legged on the floor, a smug grin on his face that told Bruce everything he needed to know for how this interrogation would go.

"Oh hi, Batman!" Joker waved, his shark-like grin disappearing into one of innocence, "how are you feeling about the little surprise I left for you?"

Bruce's face was practically aflame after all the stress and annoyance Joker had caused, going through all that trouble of placing a bomb in the center of Gotham City. Over the years, Bruce had managed to come up with a system to categorize the crimes Joker commits. This one fell into the petty attention seeking side of the system.

With a dramatic wave of his cape, he appeared behind Joker and pinned him to the floor with ease. The Joker remained calm, that infuriating lazy smile still glued to his face even after being straddled and taken down with force. "Cut the baloney, Joker. You'd better give me the code to diffuse the bomb or- "

"Or what? You'll hit me?" Joker grinned sadistically, his eyes lighting up with excitement. "Ugh! I hate that you like this." Bruce growled as he shook the Joker with pent up frustration.

Joker merely laughed at this and rolled his eyes, "You're so simple, Bats. I love that about you." He bit his lip flirtatiously. Bruce ignored the heat rising in his cheeks and twisted Joker's arm around his back and vented his anger by punching the Joker's jaw.

Joker made a quick recovery, easily managing a sly smile. "I guess it's true what they say, huh? You just can't teach an old bat new tricks!" he cackled, "don't you get it, genius? The old tactics of pain don't work on wittle ol' me! You'd better find some other way to entertain me, I'm getting bored, darling."

Normally, the Joker's babbling would throw Bruce off, but he caught a word in the monolouge that intruiged him. Pain? Is that the problem? He eyed the Joker, frowning at the self-injurious behavior written all over him. Pain wouldn't solve anything when it came to this man. So, the question remained, what would be torturous to the Joker that wouldn't hurt him? Joker must've taken Bruce's silence as tolerance and he grew upset, he wanted Batman to engage. He wanted anger, or anything related to the feeling of passion.

"Can't you just play with me a LITTE?! What's stopping you from tickling my funny bone occasionally?" Joker pouted. The dark slits of Bruce's eyes widened a little bit at this.

"Now that you mention it..." His deep voice rumbled out, adjusting his grip on Joker so that his hands were pinned above his head and his lower body straddled by Bruce's legs. "Maybe that's just what you need." Bruce quipped, flexing his gloved fingers threateningly. To Bruce's pleasant surprise, the action elicited a small squeak.

He couldn't help but smirk and draw his hands slowly closer...The closer the wiggling fingers got, the higher in pitch Joker's voice became.

"Okay- Wait. No no no, BATMAN WAIT!" Joker gasped, the claw like hand just inches away from the Joker's ribs. Bruce raised a brow, "You were saying?" He stopped drawing his hand closer, but remained right next to where he was about to tickle. Joker's breathing shallowed as he nervously eyed the hand that his body was twitching away from.

"I-I was saying what??" Joker squeaked out, resisting raising his voice at Bruce in fear of the hand finally landing onto his electrofied nerves.

"The code to the bomb, I believe." Bruce said indifferently, copying the same lazy smile tne Joker had taunted him with just a few minutes ago. Joker's brow furrowed and cheeks puffed out slightly like a child getting scolded. When he remained silent, Bruce made his hand jump closer to Joker, swallowing a smile when Joker let out a shrieky giggle and hid his face in his restrained arms.

"Oh, screw you!" Joker yelled, but it didn't have the desired effect when his voice was laced with restrained laughter.

"I know, I know. Aren't I just so terrible for not letting you blow up the city?" Bruce mocked sarcastically, "now come on Joker. Unless you...want to be tickled." His voice dropped low again when he added the last part. Joker's usually pale face turned a rare shade of red, gulping as he muttered out, "I'd rather not."

Bruce couldn't help a triumphant smile from spreading across his face at making Joker blush, a task which required a great amount of skillful teasing. He knew this was exactly what Joker wanted, and he was happy to give it to him. "Don't clam up. We don't have all day." Bruce urged, sounding sterner. The familiarity of the roughness in Bruce's tone seemed to relax Joker enough to make one of his bold observations. "That's exactly what I was about to say to you, bats. You'd better hurry this thing up before the whole city goes BOOM!" He mimicked the sound of an explosion. Bruce paid no attention to the threat, what caught his attention was a hidden desire behind Joker's words, one much more innocent than anything he'd ever sought.

"Joker, do you actually...want to be tickled?" Bruce asked, alluding to what he'd said earlier, but with a more genuine tone. This seemed to be all it took to clear out the last bit of venom in Joker's voice, because he started babbling like an idiot and giggling nervously. "I-I mean...I could handle it...but it's not like I- ahaha.. want you to or anything..."

Bruce rolled his eyes, although behind the mask you might be able to see the fondness behind the eyeroll. "Oh, just shut up and get tickled, you clown." He finally placed his fingers onto Joker's stimulated ribs and resisted a smile at the huge jerk of Joker's body as he burst into laughter after yelping in surprise. A stream of swears followed soon after as he arched his back and kicked his legs out from behind Bruce.

"O-OHOKKAY! OKAY!!" Joker shrieked out the plea with such desperation thst Bruce quickly felt compelled to retreat his hand from Joker's apparently deathly ticklish ribs. "God. That's new.." Bruce whispered to himself, looking a little exasperated at how well the new tactic had worked.

Joker stammered out the code through half formed giggles, "H-Ha...you're gonna laugh. The c-code is 69."

Bruce stared at Joker, looking unimpressed at his immature attempt at humor. "I don't think I will." He lets go of Joker and the man immediately scrambles out from under the bat. Bruce took a step forward, "What? You don't want a round two?" Joker took a step away and gave Bruce a provoking sneer, "Don't you have an entire bomb to diffuse or something?!" Bruce smiled knowingly, "I checked the time frame on the bomb. It isn't set to explode for another 24 hours. Looks like someone wanted to give me all the time in the world to come and tickle the code out of him."

Joker's breath hitched at this and his face slowly grew warm. Bruce found the Joker's reaction amusing and decided to go for one last snide remark, "Now get in the Batmobile so you can help me clean up your mess."

Joker glared at Bruce. "And it looks like someone would rather have me than anyone else in the world to help you with something. I believe we're at a stalemate." He quipped coldy, but his eyes were filled with playfulness as he got into the passenger seat on the Batmobile.

There was an unusual feeling of warmness as the two worked together to diffuse the bomb, Bruce would tell you it was due to the extreme heat warning.

Joker would tell you it's because they wanted to soak each other up before returning to opponents...

_______________________

A/N: whew that was my first batjokes fic in forever! hope i got the characters right<3

[polyacotarweek]

Here are some questions and ideas that you can use to help develop your own creations for poly+ ACOTAR week! These prompts are meant to be suggestions, so feel free to do whatever you'd like for each prompt! All formats of creative expression are welcome.

We encourage you to create something that brings you joy, and maybe even something you haven't done before. This is a safe space to explore new ideas and develop different things that help celebrate consensual non monogamy (CNM) within the fandom.

Read more under the cut!

Day 6: 4/12 ~ Celebrations

Solstice, Calanmai, Starfall, weddings, birthdays, baby shower, whatever holiday or celebration you can think of!

Solstice/Equinox: There are two solstices (winter/summer) and two equinoxes (spring/autumn) in a year, and we’ve only seen one celebrated so far! Which solstice would your group most look forward to and why? How do they celebrate? 

Calanmai: Is your group the main event of Calanmai or are they off to the side? Is your group part of the Spring Court or are they simply visiting for the event? 

Wedding/Mating Ceremony: Is or was part of your group human? Are they all fae? What kind of fae are they? Do you think high fae and other faeries have different mating ceremony rituals (possibly Illyrian, nymph)? Is your group a mix of different heritages? How do they combine their different rituals?

Starfall: How many people in your group are part of the Night Court, if any? Have they experienced Starfall before or is this their first time? Where do they go to see the event?

Nynsar: On the same night as Starfall, all other courts celebrate Nynsar. This holiday is celebrated around the spring equinox and is also known as the Day of Seeds and Flowers. Do you think they’re the same celebration or separate holidays? How do you think Nynsar is celebrated? 

Baby Shower: Who is having the baby? Is it someone in your group or someone outside your group? How does your group react? Does it spur them to start their own family? 

Birthday: Whose birthday is it? How do they prefer to celebrate, and what do the other members of the group do for them? Is it a small get together, a raging party, or an intimate evening together? 

Fathers/Mothers day: How old are the children? What does the group do to celebrate this day? Are there multiple people being celebrated? This is a great way to explore how your group handles parenthood!

Welcome Home Celebration: Has one or more of your group been away for a long time? How is their return celebrated?

Other holidays/celebrations: Feel free to get creative! Are there modern day or ancient celebrations that you think might have a Prythian equivalent? How would they be the same or different? Does Prythian have celebrations for certain battles that have been won, or important people? Consider if you can adapt one of these holidays: Samhain, Dia de los Muertos, Earth Day, Veterans Day, April Fool’s Day

Feel free to reach out to the page with any and all questions. We are happy to help you brainstorm ideas as well. You can always refer to the pinned post to access the CNM misconceptions posts and general CNM information post as well. These posts may help you determine which aspects of CNM you wish to explore in your fic!

Happy creating, we can't wait to see what you all come up with!