#microfic prompts

[ecstarry]

"Ring" a microfic for my dear @starchaserwrites

Regulus had been sucking on a candy ring for the past fifteen minutes and James was delighted. His boyfriend’s sweet tooth had blessed James with regular performances of Regulus’ tongue. James could never conceal his eagerness as he waited for Regulus to pull out his candy of choice for the evening: Lollipops, candy rings, gummies, James loved them all. 

He was particularly fond of the way his lover went one by one through a pack of skwinkles. Regulus would throw his head back, take his time eating each one and licked his finger after every single one. Somedays, Regulus would be feeling benevolent and with his gaze fixed on James, he would suck his thumb until a flush spread across the Gryffindor’s face. 

But however scrumptious Regulus looked when he enjoyed his treats, James’ favorite part was afterwards; tasting whatever remains of sugar were left in Regulus’ lips. A true delicacy.

all of my microfics with your prompts are here

#len tag <3 #this was so fun #jegulus #marauders #james potter #regulus black #gay dead wizards #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus microfic #microfic prompts #microfiction #euge's microfics

[sapphicmicrofics]

HP Sapphic Microfics: April 2024

These prompts can be taken and interpreted every which way you want, including changing the tense or pronouns or order of any dialogue. You do not have to stick with what might be the most straightforward association, and every individual prompt post will include a few suggestions to get you started.

This event is open to any HP femslash ship, any era, any character, OCs welcome.

All these prompts can be combined with other events (as long as they also allow you to combine prompts)!

If inspiration strikes, you are still allowed to write for any of the previous prompts!

The rules for this event can be found here, the previously submitted fics are all here and in this collection on AO3, and if you want to search them by ship you can do so here!

Sapphic Microfics is hosted by @hpsaffics, whose discord server holds a specific channel where these prompts and the incoming fics are excitedly discussed, so if you’re looking for people to talk with, check them out! (The server is 18+, keep that in mind!)

The prompts:

Spring

Volunteer

Royalty

Soccer

Pathetic

Celebration

Marriage

Fireplace

Cheating

Shower

Break

"I'll remember"

Experiment

Death

Candles

Taken

Orange

Design

Anguish

Tide

Mushroom

Poetry

Train

Birthday

Alley

Crystal

Grand

Lost

Victorious

Confusion

#harry potter #marauders era #hp femslash #microfic prompts #femslash prompts #hp fic #monthly prompt list

[hinnymicrofic]

May Prompts!

Secret

2. St. Mungos

3. Ride

4. Family

5. Anticipation

6. Bold

7. Despare

8. Divination

9. Press

10. Flower

11. Restricted Section

12. Diaries

13. Memory

14. Finally

15. Hogwarts

16. Picture

17. Lessons

18. Retirement

19. Smell

20. Station

21. Drunk

22. Grief

23. Phlegm

24. First

25. Letter

26. Home

27. Fight

28. Caught

29. Stuck

30. Cry

31. Perfect

#hinny #hinny microfic #prompts #may prompts #hinny microfic may prompts #pro hinny #hinnymicrofic #hinny fandom #writing prompts #ideas #writing ideas #writing #fanfiction #fanfiction prompts #microfic #microfic prompts #microfic prompt #harry potter #ginny weasely #ginny potter

[thebumblecee]

I’m doing one word micro-fic prompts:

7. Dating

“Keeping presents your exes gave you is weird. It’s a weird reminder of them. When you break up with someone you should get rid of the stuff. It’s only right.” Nancy defends. She’s been having his argument on and off with people all night since she found out Mateo wears a watch his high school girlfriend gave him.

No one expected Nancy to be the jealous one out of the two of them.

She has an ally in Paul but Marjan disagreed. Mateo doesn’t see the issue and TK claimed he was Switzerland on the issue to get out of it (but he sided with it’s a little weird after Nancy threatened to hit him with a cushion).

She rounds on Carlos. “What do you think? You’ve been quiet. Weird or not weird.”

“Not weird.” Carlos says instantly but he wishes he kept his mouth shut as soon as TK snorts.

“Carlos would say that because if he felt the other way he would have to give back the fancy, shiny, car his old sugar daddy gave him.” TK teases. Carlos shoots him a look that screams you are so dead but TK only smirks at him.

Now everyone is looking at him and the old argument is over.

“You used to have a sugar daddy? How did we not know this.” Marjan practically yells. She abandons what she was doing with Paul to come over for more information.

“He was not a sugar daddy, he was just a guy I was dating who happened to be older.” Carlos defends. The more he defends the more the group are going to double down on this. They’re like a hyena pack with an injured antelope.

“And just happened to buy you a fancy car.” Marjan points out. “That screams sugar daddy to me.”

“And he took him to Europe one summer.“ TK cuts in, sounding gleeful at everyone’s reaction.

Carlos rolls his eyes and takes a sip of his beer. These people are impossible sometimes.

“No, no, no, you don’t get to shrug this off.” Nancy says, she links her hand with Mateo all previous arguments forgotten. “Spill.”

“There’s nothing to spill. It’s actually very boring.” Carlos says. He cannot believe TK dropped him in this because he was bored of hearing Nancy argue about a watch. Little shit.

“I met a guy when I was in the academy and he was older than me and we dated.” He hopes they drop it but he knows they won’t. “When I graduated, yes, he bought me a car as a gift.”

Paul let’s out a low whistle. That’s ironic from a man who got a firehouse bought for him but whatever Carlos isn’t going to fan the flames of this.

He catches TK mouthing sugar daddy at the group.

Fine, he wants to play, they can play. Carlos leans back in his chair and crosses one leg over another to get comfortable. He smiles at TK then addresses the room.

“There’s nothing wrong with liking older men.” He says. He can see the second TK clicks onto his train of thought and he pouts. “It’s just a preference I have with the men I date.”

“Except TK.” Mateo points out. TK looks at him sourly and Carlos feigns innocence.

“No, I’m including TK in that.” Carlos can feel everyone doing the maths in their heads. There’s some realisation dawning over their friend’s faces. Carlos would laugh at the way Nancy’s mouth drops open if he wasn’t trying so hard to it together to annoy TK.

TK has always hated when Carlos points out that he’s the older of the two.

“It’s six months.” TK says in a huff. “I’m six months older.”

“That’s enough for me, baby.” Carlos winks at him.

#911 lonestar #writing #carlos reyes #tarlos #tk strand #911 ls #911 ls fic #911 Lonestar fic #microfic prompts

[mkaugust]

Microfic prompts: (I've made them all Moonchaser for you)

Remus walks in on James and Lily and decides to watch 👀

James proposes

Remus says goodbye after Oct 31st

First kiss

Hello gorgeous 😘 thank you so much for these. 🥰 Answering this so people can see what sorts of things they can expect to read from me on March 10th.... One of these may already be completed. 👀

Send me prompts for Remus focused microfics for a birthday collection in his honor!

#chat #microfic prompts #Rory gave me the perfect mix of sexy fluff and angst #and yes i will be writing them all these are excellent

[steddiewithachance]

Vampire Pancakes

A response to this writing prompt. Thought it was too cute, had to write it! @dwobbitfromtheshire

🥞🫐

No one really knows what to do with Eddie right now. Everyone is jittery around him, going so far as to hold their breath when he so much as twitches. Even Dustin is squinting at him with calculating eyes; he's analyzing Eddie for threat.

Eddie will continue to courteously ignore the hand that Nancy is keeping stationed on her belt conveniently close to the little pistol everyone knows she's hiding. It doesn't matter that Eddie helped them kill Vecna, or that he saved Baby Byers' life. It doesn't matter when he has sharp teeth, dark eyes, and a thirst for blood. He can't blame 'em for being scared.

Eddie thinks about his dad. Wonders if even Al would see Eddie as a monster now.

Eddie got picked on a lot as a kid and he'd often come home from school tired and weepy. Al would look up from the couch in that black tank top he always wore. He'd set down whatever he was smoking to pat the spot next to him.

"What happened Ed? Was some little shithead mean to ya?"

Eddie would nod and slump into his father's side, eyes burning from the spicy, smokey air. When Eddie pressed his face into his dad's arm, Al would pull back and pat his head with sorrowful eyes. Al didn't really know how to comfort a kid or maybe he thought that being distant was in Eddie's best interest.

"You're too soft, Ed. Ya gotta make those kids think you can pack a punch. Chin up, eyes mean, shoulders back. Make 'em intimidated, make 'em fear ya."

So like any kid who thinks their dad's word is law, Eddie listened, or tried his best at least. But his dad never said that mean eyes, dark clothes, and loud music would get him accused of witchcraft by a bunch'a angry jocks and chased straight into hell.

Now his sheepies -his kiddos- are looking at him like they're scared, like they can't trust him and that is a fucking gut punch. Because pretty early on in his high school career, he decided that his purpose was gonna be standing as a shield for other kids like him. He wanted to be a source of safety and warmth in an otherwise cold and unforgiving storm.

Being feared is lonely and sad, Eddie has discovered, and he worries this is his new permanent reality.

Eddie quietly sits through his friends hammering out the logistics of a nighttime schedule to organize sleeping shifts so someone always has an eye on him. It's sick. Eddie has to excuse himself to cry about it. He has no uncontrollable urges to eat anyone here, Steve does smell appetizing, but he wouldn't jump the guy.

He can still eat human food apprently, it barely does anything for him, but it's something. Eddie thinks it's enough to quell any feral urges he may or may not get. He thinks the party is being unreasonable about their safety precautions, but really, he'd probably do the same if there was a monster in the same house as him.

🥞🫐

It's a long night, he can't fall asleep but he'll pretend to so that everyone can relax a little. The changing of the guard chafes at him and makes his lip quiver. He bites his lip to prevent a wounded sound from slipping out when Robin nudges Steve awake and says it's "his turn on hell shift". Eddie jolts because he remembers he has real sharp teeth now, and biting his lip does, in fact, hurt like a bitch.

"You're not asleep, huh?" He hears whispered into the air of the big living room after Robin has settled back into sleep. It's Steve's sweet and melodic voice.

"I'm trying." He responds, brokenly.

"Wanna get some fresh air with me for a minute? I need'a smoke." Steve is already shrugging the sheets off of him and carefully stepping over his sleeping friends towards the back door. Eddie doesn't think he has a choice, but to follow. Stepping out of this stuffy room does sound like a relief though.

Eddie makes the same journey through the sea of teenagers sprawled across Steve's floor and out the sliding glass door. When he steps onto the patio, all of the crickets stop chirping around him. The night goes silent. What the fuck? Is that because of him? He loves the sound of crickets, though.

He walks over and curls up in one of the Harringtons' fancy-loungy-pool-chairs. Steve stays standing, leaning artfully against the side of his house next to the glass. He flicks open his lighter and the small flame illuminates his square jawline with a warm glow. He's so achingly handsome. He's like a movie star, or a model.

"You okay?" Steve asks conversationally.

"Not even a little."

Steve sighs and pushes off the wall to walk towards Eddie's chair. He sits at the foot of it and swivels so he's looking at Eddie.

"I'm really sorry Eddie. I can't even imagine how you must be feeling. I won't pretend to." Steve sets a hand on Eddie's ankle and Eddie could cry from the small gesture of comfort that he's practically writhing for. "I feel like what happened to you is all my fault. I know that 'sorry' wont cut it, but for the record, I am. Completely and utterly sorry." That's a silly thing to think.

"It's not your fault, are you kidding? How do you reckon it's your fault?"

"Sending you with Dustin? Alone? Putting all that responsibility on you?" Steve looks down at his cigarette with disgust. He twists it into the cold concrete next to his socked foot and looks back at Eddie. There's no fear in his expression, and for once Eddie is grateful for his reckless bravery.

"It was the best plan and we all agreed to it. Don't sweat it, Harrington." Eddie feels like he's not all there. Feels like maybe if he was more composed he could comfort Steve better, but he's hungry and dazed, sad and tired. Steve nods solemnly, and clears this throat.

"And about everyone being kind of on edge... It'll pass. I think they're all thinking about when Billy Hargrove got possessed by the mind flayer and went homicidal on us. He tried to kill all the kids."

Eddie desperately wants to hear all the other Upside down stories one day. He keeps trying to stitch together all these scraps of lore that keep getting dropped on him. He has no right to ask about something so traumatic, so he'll just be patient and wait for more lore to drop.

"Everyone's just being cautious. Vecna's dead though, so I'm not really sure who they think would possess you." Steve finishes and squeezes Eddie's lower calf where his hand rests.

"I get it. Kinda hurts my feelings, but I get it." Eddie mumbles and feels his eyes getting heavy. He wonders if he could fall asleep out here. Maybe if the crickets were still chirping and it wasn't so goddamn quiet.

"I'm sorry, Eddie." It's fine, this might not even be the worst thing that's ever happened to him.

🥞🫐

In the morning Eddie curls himself into Steve's little kitchen nook. Eddie kind of loves the window seat, it's something his mom would have wanted, Eddie theorizes. She was always looking out windows, probably daydreaming about escaping. Eddie does it too.

The kids seem warmer this morning. There's no more hushed whispers or pointed looks. They're talking and moving around the house less cautiously. Hopefully, the stiffest interactions and the worst of their distrust is behind them. Nancy's still watching him like a hawk though.

Steve shuffles into view, his socks are bunched up around his ankles. It's cute.

He holds out a plate for Eddie with a dumb smile on his face. When Eddie reaches for it, he sees a stack of pancakes and the top pancake has a little face made out of blueberries and two whipped cream fangs. It's a vampire pancake. Steve made Eddie a sweet little vampire pancake.

"Oh my god, you're so adorable." Eddie squeaks and makes a grabby hand for the fork Steve's holding. Steve blushes and hands over the fork.

"Do you like it?" Steve asks coyly. The pancakes feel like a hug, they feel like an apology that Steve doesn't even owe.

"I love it, chef." Eddie pokes at the pancake-vampire's cheek. "I don't know if I can eat him. He's too cute." Eddie giggles. Steve looks up at him with bright sparkly eyes. God he's perfect. Eddie's hungry for him in five different ways.

Robin and Dustin come up beside Steve to look down at the plate.

"I want one!" Dustin announces loudly. Steve turns around and heads back to the stove, he looks so proud of himself.

"You can have normal pancakes. Those are special for Eddie." Steve says with a wink. Dustin looks down at Eddie and pouts at him as if Eddie has any say in who gets what kind of pancake.

"Dustin had to watch it all happen, he should get one too." Eddie tells Steve earnestly while Steve is pouring more batter into the pan.

Dustin gloats and yells "Exactly! Thank you, Eddie."

And it feels like things are gonna be okay.

#eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie #steddie ficlet #steve x eddie #steddie fluff #soft steve harrington #steve harrington is a sweetheart #kas eddie munson #vampire eddie munson #vampire eddie x steve #writing prompt #steddie microfic

[eddie4bat-president]

Hands. Who knew?

@steddiemicrofic written for the prompt: "edge" | rating: G | wc: 509 | cw: none

It catches him off-guard when it happens. Eddie has never really thought too much about hands. Sure, he likes how his own hands look covered in silver and he knows the effect dramatically steepled hands can have when prompting a party of adventurers on their next move in the face of danger. He's also had a girl here or there look a little too long at his hands from the edge of what the Hideout counts as a stage while he had been shredding his heart out; comparing their hand sizes afterwards in a move that always worked on him more for its boldness than the hand thing itself. His hands are just... part of him. An important part, for sure, they're what he uses to write and draw and play guitar until his fingers bleed but also a part he has never consciously wasted a thought on.

So he isn't ready for the way it makes him feel to have Steve push the palms of their hands together to compare while still talking about... something. Basketball, maybe. Something about holding balls? In the back of his mind there is a voice telling Eddie to make a joke but he can't make the thoughts connect. Eddie's hands aren't small by any means but Steve's are bigger. His fingers longer. They're peeking out from behind Eddie's. Thicker too. His whole palm wider. Radiating heat.

And while Eddie is still grappling with that view and the thoughts that follow, Steve continues to manipulate his hand whichever way strikes his fancy. Looking at his rings, tapping them one by one in a rhythm that makes sense only to him. Following the last one with his own finger while turning the whole hand so the palm faces upwards. He starts tracing the lines there - softly, so softly - following the outline of Eddie's fingers with the edge of his fingernail. Had Eddie's hands always been this sensitive? The threat of a shiver begins building at the back of his neck. Steve starts paying special attention to the calluses at Eddie's fingertips, tapping his own fingertips against them.

Eddie only becomes aware that Steve had fallen silent when he starts speaking again, "You know... I used to be good at this... knowing if someone was into me." Tap tap tap. A self-deprecating laugh, "or not into me, that's been happening a lot..."

A few more soft taps, like he's steeling himself for something, a determined look on his face though his gaze remains locked on their hands.

"But with you, I... I don't know. I can't imagine, like, platonically holding my buddy's hand. But everything you do is so out of the ordinary to me. Maybe you do?" Everything seems far away except for the heat of Steve's hands on his and his words echoing in Eddie's head.

"...Fuck it." Steve wraps his fingers under Eddie's, his thumb on top and makes devastating world-shattering eye contact while he presses the softest kiss onto Eddie's knuckles.

"Are you? Into me? Because I'm so very into you."

#this got away from me i'm not gonna lie #steddie #steddie microfic #prompt: edge #steddie fic #eddie munson #steve harrington #hey i'm talkin' here #i should probably invest in an actual writing tag #steddiemicroficfebruary #why is this so nerve-wracking

[lihhelsing]

Waiting on You

written for @steddiemicrofic, Promtp: ‘Pin’ | wc: 388 | rated: M | no warnings

Eddie was on his stomach, head resting on the pillow and his hair pinned up on top of his head while Steve's fingers slowly traced his spine up and down.

Steve liked to do that. His fingers moved on Eddie's skin feeling the different textures of it. The softness of most parts and then the roughness of his scars. 

Eddie didn't like them, but Steve loved them. They told Eddie's story. They proved Eddie survived.

They made it possible for Steve to know what Eddie meant to say to him at that last second before the biggest battle of their lives. Even if Eddie still hadn't said it, Steve could wait.

So he did. Waited as he and Eddie danced around each other. As each touch seemed to hold so much meaning even if neither of them said it out loud. 

Steve wasn’t pining over Eddie. He wasn't. He was just... waiting. For him to be ready for Steve to love him. And Eddie was getting there, Steve knew it.

So he waited, and he traced the lines of Eddie's body when it was just the two of them and he ignored Robin's constant teasing about how badly he was pining over his best friend. 

"At what time is Robin getting here?" Eddie asked, pulling Steve out of his thoughts. 

It was their weekly scheduled movie night and Robin would probably complain a lot about third-wheeling but Steve knew she secretly loved seeing them like that, all cozy and domestic.

"Not for another three hours," Steve said, hand sliding to the side of Eddie's torso. 

"Good. We've got plenty of time, then," Eddie said, and before Steve could ask what he meant, Eddie was wiggling his hips in the way he did whenever he wanted Steve to do something about it.

It made his body hot and his fingers slip down until he could press it between Eddie's asscheeks. He was still loose from the night before and Steve was taken by all this need to feel Eddie's body under him. 

Steve draped himself over him, pressing his dick on the swell of his ass and kissing his neck. Eddie shuddered under him. They hadn't kissed yet, but Steve didn't mind. 

He didn't mind waiting because he knew Eddie was it for him, and they were almost there.

#steddie #microfic #steddie microfic #hurt/comfort #steve harrington #Eddie Munson #drabble #Canon Divergent #Post S4 #steddie prompt #Ali's stuff

[queenie-ofthe-void]

A Desperate Fool

written for @steddiemicrofic

Prompt: 'fool' | wc: 454 | rated: T | cw: hurt/no comfort, break-up

~~~

“Stevie, baby, please answer the door,” Eddie begs just as the front door bursts open to reveal Robin Buckely in all her righteous fury.

“You need to leave,” she says, and god, he’s never heard her sound so cold before.

“No Robin, please, you don’t understand. I’ve been a complete f-”

“Fucking asshole?” Robin spits.

“Well,” Eddie sheepishly replies, “I was going to say fool, but, yeah.”

“Fool is a bit of an understatement, don’t you think? It’s been almost a year, and you just show up?" Her hands are white-knuckled and shaking, like she’s physically restraining herself from attacking him. Eddie’s pretty sure he'd deserve it. "How did you even find our new place?”

Up and coming rockstar money certainly has its perks, so he hired a PI.

“I asked Dustin,” he lies.

“No,” Robin cuts him off, “no you didn’t. The kids would never betray his trust.”

Not like you did rings unspoken. 

Months worth of tears finally spill over, a small sob wrenching his body forward. He harshly rubs his face in an attempt to ground himself. Gathering his breath, he looks up again to find Robin glaring, hard and unyielding.

“Robin please,” he sobs, leaning to glance around her, desperate to catch a glimpse of the boy he left behind. “I just want to talk to him. I need to tell him how sorry I am. I regret everything. All of it. I never should’ve said what I said or did what I did.”

“Oh!” she rages. “Do you mean when you celebrated your first big show by ditching Steve and hooking up with some rando in the bathroom?”

She’s yelling now, stepping out onto the front stoop to crowd his space. People are starting to gather on the sidewalk, among them a group of girls with their phones out, recording everything. 

This could ruin him. His reputation, future gigs, possibly the band as a whole. 

He doesn’t care. It’s his reckoning.

“Or, was it after he moved out and you threw a massive drunken doxxing bitchfest on TikTok and said– how did it go again?”

Her voice drops to mock his own ”’a rockstar can’t be seen dating a normie, suburban, ex-high school jock who’s only bullshit dream is to raise kids. That’s just bad for business.’”

“I didn’t mean any of it,” he whispers.

“I don’t care,” Robin says, voice hard and resigned. “You cheated. You embarrassed him publicly. Then you left without a word. Now I need to you to get off my porch and kindly fuck off.” 

Robin steps backwards into the townhome, and just as she’s slamming the door in his face, Eddie swears he sees a flash of chestnut hair and wet hazel eyes.

#I'M SO SORRY *throws this at you and runs away* #steddie #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #steddie prompt #stranger things #stranger things ficlet #steddie microfic prompt: fool #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie munson whump #hurt steve harrington #platonic stobin #stobin #robin buckley #QueenieWritesStories #hurt/no comfort #steddie breakup #breakup fic #i have no intention to fix this

[ecstarry]

"Ten Years" a microfic for the increidble and lovely @malchai

Regulus Black had been married to James Potter for almost ten years. They had dated five more years before that. So, now, fifteen years in, he considered himself an expert in anything related to his husband, especially: grand gestures. 

Over the years he had gotten the most beautiful gifts paired with an enchanting letter. Notebooks, paintings, holidays, James had given him everything. When Regulus arrived mere hours before the clock marked the start of their anniversary, he could feel his heart leaping out in anticipation. He felt seventeen again.

As he opened the door he was overwhelmed with tenderness as he saw James wearing a sweater Regulus’ had knitted him last winter. He was simply waiting, as if Regulus couldn’t instinctively find his way to James with his eyes closed. There had never been a day where the sight of his husband didn't melt him instantly. Like magnets, they reached for each other, James placed a chast kiss on Regulus’ forehead and guided him closer to the next room. 

“You bought me a piano?” Regulus’ voice cracked as the beautiful grand instrument filled their living room. 

“Actually, I bought us a piano,” James smiled and Regulus was full. “I took lessons, love, we can now play together. Have our own little private concerts.” 

His husband. His sun. His James. His love. His life. 

“I would love that, baby,” as the last word left his lips he settled next to the warmth of James. Before he could play a single note, Regulus carefully removed James' hands from the keys and kissed him. Senselessly. Lovingly. Devotedly.

all of my microfics with your prompts are here

#this was so adorable i love married jeggy #renn tag < 3 #jegulus #marauders #james potter #regulus black #gay dead wizards #james x regulus #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus fanfiction #jegulus microfic #microfic #writer #microfic prompts #pov regulus black #romance #fluff #euge's microfics

[sapphicmicrofics]

Little announcement: HP sapphic microfics will be back for March and April!

If you have prompt or ship suggestions, feel absolutely free to leave them in our ask box. As always, any era, any (femslash) ship allowed!

#harry potter #hp femslash #lightning era #marauders era #golden era #microfic prompts #sapphic microfics #housekeeping

[veryinnovative]

@jegulus-microfic | january 1, prompt: decent | word count: 1.366 featuring bodyguard regulus black and multi-billionaire heir james potter

“I am not here to be your friend, Mr. Potter.”

There's a crease marring Regulus' forehead, hidden just behind the curl of his sable strands, sculpted brows knitted into a censorious frown. It indicates his internal turmoil well enough, showing just how hard he's struggling to gauge the extent of reprimand he can justifiably express, given his position as the head of James Potter's security team, which still remained a subordinate one at that.

There’s the cocky cant of James’ head as he tries and ward off the smile threatening to quirk at his mouth’s corners. It had taken a decent amount of brainstorming, planning, and persuading to get Regulus to comply—have him begrudgingly acquiesce to the idea of accompanying James inside the club as a more hands-on approach to extending security, even though the former’s constant presence was painstakingly redundant in a heavily monitored club as Godric. But James had pushed his luck even then, insisting Regulus keep wearing his body and thigh holsters, convincing him the ‘streetwear chic’ would be greatly appreciated by the club’s dressing code and grant them easy entrance (as if any club would deny James Potter out of all people, a multi-billionaire heir and continent-renowned philanthropist.). 

The straps of the harness glitter underneath the fluorescent strobes of vibrant purple, though nothing as piercingly brilliant as the dangerous glint catching the edges of Regulus’ withering glare. 

Ah, fuck.

James traces the sugar-coated rim of his glass, biting down on his tongue, only loosened further by the nth cocktail he’s consumed as he speaks with a beguiling drawl, “But I don’t want you to be my friend, Regulus.” 

Life is unfair. Let alone that he lives in a penthouse situated on London’s South Bank overlooking the River Thames or that he can afford designer wear not recognizable by most seeing how James Potter wears quiet luxury clothing brands like Gran Sasso and their perfectly manufactured cashmere sweaters or his current thousand-and-three-hundred quid shirt by Bottega Veneta that’s missing a button at the front with how much he’s been puffing his chest in attempts to draw the attention of his unfairly hot bodyguard.

 Because Regulus Black is just it. Black hair meticulously combed so smoothly, inky-black ringlets curling around his face—complexion milk-white and skin undoubtedly just as soft to touch if James was given the chance. Lithe but possessing swift reflexes and at least seven black belts in seven different martial arts that don’t mandate physical strength. Just three days ago, James had seen him throw a man almost three times his size over his shoulder with effortless ease, and how badly James had wished it had been him being tossed around.

The past months have been torturous, especially when Regulus wore his white button-up, that specific white button-up that stretched around his torso, accentuated his small waist, made only smaller when the straps of his harness clung to his chest. And his legs, those fucking long legs, clad in black dressing pants that made the swell of his ass all the more prominent, like a peach. James wanted to fucking squeeze it and devour the pulp left behind, slurp it like an animal that needed to be caged.

Whether it’s the words or the uncurbed lust he’s exuding, Regulus’ features rearrange into something far more complicated. He sucks on his teeth, squints his eyes, and then casts his gaze back into the crowd—the moving masses of bodies lost to the thrum of music.

“No,” he answers from behind the curve of his drink.

James smiles. He’s got him.

“No?” he asks, scooting closer, shit-eating grin only growing wider when Regulus makes no move to increase the distance between them.

“It’s highly unprofessional and breaks every code of conduct I strictly maintain. Not to mention, you’re my employer and—”

“And you want me.” Because he hasn't missed the glances exchanged between them and will be damned if he doesn't do anything about it.

Regulus coughs, sending drops of whisky flying across because Regulus Black is the type of man to drink something so old-school in a club. “What?” he sputters

James shrugs, an act that makes the fabric around his shoulders stretch thin, and does not miss how Regulus’ gaze briefly flits to the sliver of cleavage showing behind the missing button. “Right now you’re just listing reasons that, on contract, prevent any sort of intimacy between us, but if there weren’t any there, you would want this.”

“You’re being highly presumptuous,” Regulus scoffs.

“No, I’m good at reading people.”

“I am paid to guard you,” Regulus deflects.

This, he saw coming.

“Oh, it’s a money thing then?” James asks, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. He flips it open and thumbs through the wad of bills stashed in the compartment. “That’s fine, I can pay.”

This, however, also doesn’t have its desired effect. Regulus makes a face, downright spiteful this time, and does inch away from him, glass slamming onto the counter so hard James fears it might shatter. “What— So now you treat me like a prostitute?”

“What?” James asks, brows furrowed in confusion. He looks at Regulus, his wallet, back at Regulus and— 

James Potter, an Oxford graduate, top-of-his-class, can also be a massive idiot.

“Oh— Oh, no— Shit, I didn’t mean— No!” He’s fumbling for words and his wallet, almost dropping it in the act of trying to put it away, nearly releasing it when he misses tucking it back in his pocket. “I just thought— Fuck, no, I’m sorry,” Regulus doesn’t look any more convinced and now James is very much panicking, thank you. “I— You know what, fuck it. Hi, I’m James Potter.”

Regulus looks like he’s having a stroke.

But James is insistent, waving his hand like the gesture will dismiss the awkward, terribly embarrassing interaction from just seconds prior. “Can I get you a drink?”

Regulus blinks at him, then his extended hand, and drags a palm down his face, pinching his nose bridge and breathing in deep.

But James is nothing if nothing stubborn. “Must’ve had a long day, huh? Need an ear?”

“I got a boss that’s stupid as fucking rocks,” Regulus mutters, and oh, James swoons. No one ever dared call him stupid or insult him in this manner, and he might just discover something about himself tonight.

“Yeah, what else?”

Regulus down the remnants of his whisky before raising his glass. “I need a refill for that”

The refill comes quick and this time, James doesn’t feel too scared about bridging the gap between them bit by bit. “So this boss of yours…” he starts, because he’s already a little tipsy and on a streak of dauntless moves. “Is he hot?”

Regulus rolls his eyes. “He’s okay.”

“Oka—” James starts, bridling, before he catches a sight of the subtlest of smirks. Then, excitement, coiling down his spine like a lick of flame kindled further by the challenging gaze Regulus looks at him with. “I think you’re selling him short.”

“He’s arrogant, I don’t think I could bear him with an ego that’s any more inflated.”

“Oh, but you wound him. He’s been trying very hard to be noticed these past couple of months. Even started waking up early to catch glimpses of a certain someone that moved in with him for work purposes.”

Regulus makes a face that reads like ‘Is that the fucking reason why you have been putting your alarm on 4:30 a.m. in a pathetic effort to catch a glimpse of me preparing for the day and trying to be an unnoticeable presence in your life because that’s expected of me as head of security?’ and James smiles like he’s trying to say ‘Yeah, I did. Seeing you drink coffee, freshly showered, is worth it even if I struggle to stay awake during meetings in the afternoon.’

Regulus quirks an eyebrow. “Why is he trying to be noticed by me?”

James links a leg around Regulus’ bar stool and yanks it closer, relishing in the little gasp that leaves his lips as a result. Their legs bump, James’ knee sliding inside Regulus’ thigh, coming to a rest against it.

“Why spoil the fun by talking? I could just show you instead.”

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #marauders #marauders au #marauders fanfiction #starchaser #sunseeker #this is for you mil my little iced oat milk latte with millionaires shortbread #MY FIRST MICROFIC FOR JEGULUS PROMPTS! #ino microfic tag!

[thebumblecee]

I’m doing one word micro-fic prompts:

2. Bubbly

“Champagne at 1pm is a little excessive, no?” Carlos says sinking into the sofa. His sister scoffs at him.

“If I want some bubbly to celebrate my baby brother’s engagement then the time isn’t going to stop me.“ his sister tells him. She looks happier than he’s seen her in a while. Not that they’ve managed to catch up in a while.

“Hardly a baby, mija, you’re 20 minutes older than me.” He points out. It’s a familiar argument they’ve had since they could talk. Although it’s a lot more affectionate now they’re not teenagers slamming doors in each other’s faces.

She holds her champagne flute up for him to clink against it. He does happily, enjoying the moments of celebration his engagement is bringing him. His and TK’s happiness spreading around everyone in their lives.

The first bottle was a reasonable celebration. The second bottle was pushing it. The tequila shots were a mistake and by 5pm he’s calling his sisters husband and putting her in an Uber that’s going to tank his rating.

He should sleep it off and hope he sobers enough to make dinner and do everything he actually should be doing today.

Instead he calls TK.

“Babe, is everything okay?” Is how TK answers the call. Carlos can hear the noise of the firehouse behind him. The humdrum of first responder life.

“Yeah, I just wanted to call because I love you.” He says, he frowns at himself, that wasn’t what he meant to say even if it’s the truth. “I mean, I do love you but I meant to say miss you. I miss you.”

There’s a pause over the phone before TK laughs. “Babe, are you drunk?”

Panic floods through him that this could be triggering for TK and he tries to lie. “‘No! ‘m not drunk ‘m just…” This was a terrible idea.

He mumble something else down the phone.

“Carlos, baby, I don’t speak Spanish.” TK says and his voice is so light. God, he has a beautiful voice. And face. And everything. His aura, that’s what his tía Lucy would say, he has a beautiful aura.

Carlos didn’t realise he was speaking Spanish. He sighs ready to own up.

“Okay, I’m a little drunk. My sister is a baaaad influence.” Every since they were kids and Carlos stands by it. Even the times it was his fault.

“I’m sorry.” Navigating TK’s addiction has been difficult for the both of them. Carlos has had to learn so much about his own behaviour and habits. TK won the argument about Carlos having beer with dinner and Carlos still feels guilty when he has one.

“Don’t be sorry, you’re allowed to have fun.” TK tells him. Carlos can hear the affectionate smile in his voice. “It’s not hurting me.”

Carlos hums TK is the best.

“What will hurt though, is that hangover.” TK says and yeah that’s going to suck.

“Go and sleep it off, lie on your side, and I’ll see you when I’m home. I’ll bring in dinner.” TK instructs and Carlos will do anything he asks of him when he uses that voice.

“I love you.”

Carlos grins at his phone dopily. “I love you too, TK.”

I have a full prompt list now, thanks for playing ❤️

#Tarlos #writing #tk strand #Carlos reyes #micro-fics #911 Lonestar #911 ls #911 Lonestar fic #911 ls fic #microfic prompts

[alcohen]

The first time they go out in the Muggle world, they go dancing.

The lights inside are vibrant and tacky. There are too many people. Draco doesn’t know how to dance to this music, so he just jumps, and Harry jumps with him, threading their hands together, pulling Draco closer by his t-shirt. They’re sweaty and a little bit out of breath, and it’s perfect the way it is.

They don’t drink much, but it still feels like they’re wasted thanks to the sheer novelty of the experience and the breathtaking freedom of being anonymous. No one gives a fuck about them, so they can dance and kiss and not think about a single other thing.

What an absolutely underrated thing—to be able to be yourself.

#this is a series and so if you have a prompt for me please say so #drarry microfic #drarry #harry potter #draco malfoy #drabble #hpdm #harry x draco #fanfiction #ao3

[mrsjellymunson]

Filler

Written for the @steddiemicrofic January prompt, ‘hole’ (thank you for this gift that keeps on giving).

Pairing: handyman!Eddie x new tenant!Steve || Rating: M MDNI || WC: 404 || CW: sub/dom dynamics, suggestive language, implied subspace, strangers to lovers, porn-worthy plot (can anyone else hear the waka-waka of guitars…?)

“I heard you’ve got some holes that need fillin’?”

Steve can’t help but drink the maintenance guy in. Long hair tied back in a messy bun, tight-fitting black shirt, tool belt slung low on his hips over snug black Dickies, one knee kicked out and a metal box hanging from a nicely toned arm.

“Uh, yeah, the last tenants had a wall cabinet or something. Come on in!”

In Steve’s living room, the damage is appraised.

“Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll be out of your hair in no time.”

“No rush, I don’t have anywhere to be.”

Steve extends his hand, introducing himself.

“I’m Steve. Just moved in.”

Calloused skin meets sweaty palm.

“Eddie. S’good to meet you, Steve.”

Steve gulps and suppresses a shiver at his name gruffly falling from Eddie’s lips, and returns to kneel at his altar of disassembled flat pack furniture. He doesn’t get far, distracted by deft arm movements as Eddie stretches and bends to repair the wall, his black ink dancing and occasional glimpses of his torso appearing as his shirt rides up.

Steve forces himself to look back at the instructions. They might as well be in Swedish. Maybe they are…

Noticing Steve looking, Eddie enquires, “You need some help over there?”

Bashfully chuckling, Steve admits, “I think so, yeah. S’funny, I’m usually quite good at following instructions.”

With a lopsided smirk, Eddie raises his eyebrows and comments in a barely audible tone,

“Oh really? I might just have to test that out later...”

“I’m all done. Is there anything else I can do for you?”

Eddie’s standing closer now. From his low vantage point, Steve can almost count the stitches in front of his pants.

“Uh- I, uhh…”

He leans forward, beginning to stand.

“No, Steve. Stay where you are. On your knees.”

A flash of heat consumes Steve’s entire body, followed by an unfamiliar but very welcome feeling of relaxation.

Eddie runs his fingertips lightly through Steve’s hair, tugging gently to raise his face. Steve’s eyes stay half-lidded, and as he looks up his jaw slackens. He salivates as he notices the bulge enlarging beneath Eddie’s tool belt.

Cupping his palm gently around Steve’s chin, Eddie pulls the pad of his thumb across Steve’s bottom lip. Steve hums, almost drools. In a low voice that’s somehow both gravely and velvet-soft, Eddie murmurs, slowly,

“You got any more holes you want me to fill, big boy?”

Thanks so much for reading!

#steddiemicrofic #steddie microfic #steddie ficlet #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie smut #handyman!eddie munson #steddie prompt challenge #stranger things fanfic #Eddie munson has a tool belt #dom!eddie munson #sub!steve harrington #top!eddie munson #bottom!steve harrington

[a-little-unsteddie]

sleepless nights

written for @steddiemicrofic’s december prompt, pine. not sure if it makes sense at all, but ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ i think it does and i like it.

wc: 508 || prompt: pine || rating: g || tags: semi-nonverbal!steve, insomniac!steve, pre-steddie

—

Ever since July, Steve often found himself unable to sleep. It wasn’t every night, but it was definitely more of them than he’d ever care to admit. He would lay in bed, staring at the unchanging popcorn ceiling, willing himself to fall asleep, to close his eyes and let sweet unconsciousness take him.

Those nights, it didn’t matter how much Steve wanted it, sleep eluded him. So, instead of laying there uselessly, he would get up and pull on some clothes, grab his bat, and head outside. To the forest.

Mostly, he didn’t pay attention to where he was going, Steve would just wander the woods. He lost himself, most of the time. Zone out, listening to the sounds of the woods around him, letting it soothe the anxiety that more monsters lurked around the pines.

This was one of those sleepless nights.

He couldn’t remember how long he’d been walking, but the moon was high and bright in the sky, casting the forest in a dim light. The steady crunching of the leaves beneath his feet helped him focus on nothing at all, instead letting his attention wander.

“Harrington?”

The sudden voice startled Steve badly enough he prepared to swing at the intruder before logic caught up and he was able to stop himself.

“Woah, woah, woah!” the voice continued in a panicked tone, which Steve thought was understandable, given he was definitely about to swing his nail-studded bat at him.

A figure came into focus in front of him, first the wild hair, then the Hellfire shirt, and Steve knew exactly who had found him.

“Munson.”

“Whatcha got there, buddy?” Eddie asked, voice concerned. Steve blinked slowly and glanced at the bat.

“…a bat.” he explained uselessly.

Eddie hummed, all high-pitched and whiny, “Yeah, bud? What for?”

Steve pondered this for a moment, “..monsters..” he settled on.

Eddie didn’t look relieved at that answer, and held out a hand, “Why don’t I take that from you, sweetheart?”

Steve blinked, looked at the bat, still poised for a swing, and slowly lowered it into Eddie’s hands. The metalhead immediately looked more relaxed, but still concerned about Steve.

“Let’s get you somewhere…not here,” he said, gently trying to coax Steve with him. Unable to really fight back, and not really wanting to, Steve followed his lead.

“What..” he tried speaking, but his voice got stuck in his throat. Eddie looked at him curiously, so he tried again. “Why…in the woods?”

“Nothing important,” Eddie assured, “at least, not more important than getting you out of here.”

“Like your voice,” Steve mumbled, suddenly feeling the exhaustion that had been hidden behind the fear, the unending anxiety that something was still out here.

“Do you?” Eddie asked, effectively distracting Steve from his thoughts. “Luckily for you, I do too.” he said jokingly, before starting to talk about anything that came to his mind. He talked about his band, the nerd club the kids were also in, his uncle, anything to keep Steve distracted.

At least until they got to his trailer.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #pre-steddie #this almost ran away from me #but it didn’t! #this time #might write more for this prompt bc i like it #steddie #steve x eddie #steddie microfic #prompt: pine #unsteddie writing #sleepless nights