Without further ado, the prompts for Yuri On Ice Fantasy Week!
11/13/17- Day One: Red
11/14/17- Day Two: Yellow
11/15/17- Day Three: Mint Green
11/16/17- Day Four: Aquamarine
11/17/17- Day Five: Pink/Silver
11/18/17-Day Six: Gold
11/19/17- Day Seven: Black
Thanks so much to everyone who voted!
As you can see, we had a tie for Pink and Silver. We decided to combine the two into one day, so you can choose which prompt/prompts you would like for that day. You could even combine the two and have a story where a unicorn falls for a werewolf!
We are so excited to share these prompts with you! We hope we’ve inspired to start creating. ❤💙
Reminder that you can incorporate these prompts however you like, and please be sure to send us an ASK if you have any questions!
“Hey.” It was a simple greeting, one that Magnus had heard that same voice utter a thousand times before, and yet no amount of repetition could change the way his heart warmed at the sound.
“Hey,” he replied, setting the open jar of boneset root down on his worktable and turning to greet Alec as he ambled into the room. The quick kiss Alec pressed against his lips was like another, softer hello, and he could feel himself relaxing at the touch. “You’re home early,” he commented, still smiling as they parted.
Alec shrugged slightly, lips curving bashfully upward as his hand lingered for a moment on Magnus’s shoulder. “I got a ride.”
“From the Institute?” There were a handful of people in their lives that Magnus considered capable of operating a motor vehicle, and absolutely none of them were Shadowhunters.
“Yeah. Simon was visiting again, and— I’m sorry,” Alec said, brow furrowing as he noticed the bubbling cauldron behind Magnus, the vials and jars of potion ingredients strewn across the table, “I interrupted you while you were working, didn’t I.”
Authors Note: Hey my lovelies, I hope everyone had a lovely day!! My ask is always open if anyone ever needs to talk or just wants to talk to about anything, nothing is off limits. My blog is an open and safe space! Anyway, here is another blurb, I am doing my best to keep up with these. Enjoy! :) xx
It was no surprise to you when Harry decided to come to you with a proposition of leaving the city for a little bit and relaxing without the excitement of constant buzz, traffic, and the go-go-go lifestyle. He needed a break from the city life, he needed time to himself where he didn’t have to wake up, check his phone, and fight constant traffic and the bustling hustle of busy sidewalks.
You and Harry made the five-hour drive up to Cheshire and just in good timing, you two were left to house sit his old neighbour’s little ranch. It’s a charming and cosy little ranch that looks as though it is straight out of a perfect country style magazine. The air is flawlessly rich and fresh, the grass seems greener and everything just has a different sense of clarity and calmness, there is something it offers that the city doesn’t that you just can’t put your finger on.
You sit on the back porch with a blanket draped over you, a warm cup of tea cupped to the form of your hand as you and Harry rock back and forth on the cosy white swing. The night is sullen but lit up with thousands of stars, something you tend to miss in the city— there are never as many out there as there are here.
“Do you think about the future?” Harry questions softly, distracting you from the abyss of the country air and feel.
“Mhm, do you?” You ask curiously.
You always think about the future and what it may hold, you wonder about where you’ll be, how well you’ll be in your job choice, the house, the kids. It’s something you’ve always managed to think about. From a young age, you had thought about the future, always picking out different things you had hoped your future would have.
“All the time,” he nods, “being out here has me wondering a lot more.”
“How so?” You question, tugging at the blanket as you feel the cold air swirling around you.
Harry lets you slip the blanket off of his legs and allows you to hog it before he clears his throat, “jus’—, it’s easier to think out here with the quietness and no phones, I wonder what’s next, I’m twenty-six and I feel like there’s more I want to accomplish but I can’t quite put my finger on what it is.”
“You have three solo albums, more awards than I can count, you have been in movies, Harry. I think you’re successful and well accomplished.” You chuckle, unsure of what more he could want, he has his dream.
“There’s something missing,” he shrugs, “do you ever think about us?”
“What about us?”
“I don’t know, I guess children? Do you want kids?” He asks and you nod. Of course, you want children, you have it all planned out, somewhat.
“I want two, but I could do three. What about you?”
“I’m fine with two, always pictured myself looking out the back door that leads to the garden to see the two children chasing each other through the early morning breeze, kinda like in a backyard like this.” Harry gestures towards the open space of land that is large enough for twenty children to run around in.
You smile to yourself, a vision of sitting on a back porch and watching children play rushes through your mind. There is nothing else more delightful than children’s laughter as they play felicitously outside in the garden, running, jumping, and just enjoying themselves. You can see them smiling as their father, Harry, (hopefully), teaches them how to ride a bike or kick a ball. You can see him playing tea-party with his little girl on a warm summer evening— you can see him dancing around with you in the backyard when the children are sleeping— nothing but bliss filling the two of you as your feet dance amongst the delicate lawn.
“Harry, can I ask you something?” You softly question, wondering why the two of you are stuck in the city when there is more contenement out here.
“Only if I can ask you one too.”
“Why don’t we leave the city? You seem more content out here.”
“Both of our jobs wouldn’t allow that, love.” … “Y/N,” he breathes out, standing up and offering his hand for you to do the same.
You press your hand with his and stand to your feet, as he guides you down the steps to reach the garden. “Have you made plans for the rest of your life?” He whispers, taking your other hand and gazing into your eyes.
You smile at him and shrug, unsure of what to say. Right now you plan the rest of your like includes him, but nobody is for sure on how life will plan out.
“When you think about the future, do you see me apart of it?” He challenges and you are unsure of how he doesn’t already know the answer. You haven’t invested five years with him for no reason.
“Y/N, when I think of the rest of my life, I think of you, I think of you standing by me, supporting me, and growing with me. I ask you if you’ve made plans because I want to be apart of those— I want to love you for years to come— to cherish you and to hold you. I desire to eventually grow a family with you, no matter how big or small we choose. My mum told me to marry the girl that I’d want to raise children with, to marry the girl that I’d want to wake up every morning next to and still find her as beautiful as the day I first met her. She told me to marry the girl that I wouldn’t want to see dancing with anyone else. I want to raise children with you, and I hope they get your sweet personality and loving soul. I pray they get your gorgeous eyes that I fall madly in love with more and more every damn day. Nothing is for certain in this life, but what is certain is the love I have for you, it can’t be measured nor tamed.” He slowly gets down on one knee, his right hand leaving yours and digging into his pocket. “I love you to the ends of this earth and I’d walk to the end of the earth just for you, darling. Even if we get old and senile and our hair turns grey, How would you like to spend the rest of your life with me? Will you marry me?” His words are sincere and heartfelt as you find yourself holding onto each word that escapes the lips you have kissed for many years.
You gaze into his eyes and your lips curve into a wide smile, there’s no other answer that could possibly fall from your lips, “yes!” You enthusiastically respond, probably a little too vehemently, but you don’t care.
The second he stands to his feet, you find your lips pressed to his, your arms encircling around his neck as he kisses you sincerely.
He stretches away, “you haven’t even looked at the ring,” he chuckles, bringing the box back into view.
“You know I wouldn’t have cared if it was a keyring,” you smile, wiping away a few tears before he takes your left hand and slides the engagement ring to nestle perfectly over your finger.
Stunning, absolutely stunning. He definitely has a good eye for diamonds.
“It’s beautiful, thank you. My plans for the rest of my life are with you, but can we hold off on the old and senile part?” You smile, leaning up and pecking his lips a few times.
“Oh, definitely,” he nods, “Although, I will love you even when you’re old and sick of me,“
“I could never get sick of you, have you had this planned?” you curiously ask, taking his hand and walking back towards the white swing.
“Eh, I brought you up here to specifically ask you, but I didn’t plan for it to be right here, it was meant to be over the bridge that overlooks the lake, but the moment arose here.” ….
“I love you, this was all I needed. Should we go next door and tell your Mum?” You question with a smile, already eager to show off the ring and plan the wedding with his Mum and sisters help, you can just imagine the two of them taking you all around to find the perfect flower arrangments.
(So, I am really bad at finding a right way to end these blurbs.)
"How many times have I told you not to touch my webshooters?"
“How many times have I told you not to use my web shooters?”
“Clearly not enough.” Wade says, from the ceiling. “Really, Peter, I don’t know why you expect anything better from me.”
“I’m not helping you down.” Peter responds, making himself comfortable on the sofa below. “Webbing dissolves in an hour.”
“An hour!” Wade whines. “What if my nose is itchy? Which it is. It started being itchy the second I said that. Isn’t it weird how you can become itchy from the power of suggestion alone? My ass is itchy. God. My ass is so itchy. Peter!”
Peter flicks the television on, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table.
“Peter? Peter! Please, at least put something good on. Like those TV documentaries about how aliens are among us. Or anything on the syfy channel. Peter. Peter? Are you listening to me?”
Antique shopping. Mm. Peter always nods right off to this. He puts his hands behind his head, resting on the back of the sofa. Long day. He could take a nap. An hour-long nap.
“Peter Parker. You’re the worst, and I hate you.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Peter says, eyes already shut.
“Once this webbing dissolves, I’m going to drop on you. And I’m going to injure you.”
Harry had been told, on occasion, by medical professionals no less, that he had developed an obsessive-compulsive disorder. It wasn’t terribly severe, they’d say, but it was something to keep note of. He always replied that no, he was merely a trained, bordering on paranoid, spy that felt an uncharacteristically strong need to check and/or clean his weapons multiple times a day and who liked to keep everything in his home as clean and neat as possible thank you very fucking much.
Besides, even if he accepted their silly diagnostics and he was indeed OCD, then it was of no consequence since he had always lived alone and what he did or didn’t do multiple times in his house (i.e. assemble and disassemble the multiple weapons he owned) it was no one’s business but his own.
It did not affect his performance in the field and being able to assemble any type of long distance and short distance weapon in less than one and a half minutes each was, in his profession, a blessing.
He didn’t need to look any deeper into it. He refused to seek help for it. He didn’t need it. He was fine. It was a quirk in his personality and that was the end of that.
Of course, what he had never expected was to one day be living again with another actual living breathing human being. Especially not one as wonderful and bright and fucking messy as Eggsy. He was the very definition of a human bomb. He left a mess everywhere he went, from reports left haphazardly on the dining room table next to cups of coffee to actual items of clothing left discarded on different rooms of the house, particularly on their bedroom floor.
And it was okay.
Well, no, correction, it was a mental hell for Harry, but it was Eggsy doing this, and he loved Eggsy and he wouldn’t - couldn’t - lose him. But he also knew he couldn’t exactly lose his sanity either. It would do neither of them any good.
He had tried at first to just pick up after Eggsy and, for months, it had actually worked, but the more that time passed, the harder it was for Harry to keep his grated temper in check. There was only so much of it he could take. So of course, his next step had been ramping up relaxation techniques, because if there was one thing he had become good at over the years, it was working under pressure.
Hence how he had ended up sitting by his dining room table, slick black weapons laid out in pieces on the table as he assembled them and disassembled them repeatedly one after the other, counting the number of armaments every pass.
“Harry?” Eggsy asked sleepily as he walked into the room, freezing when he finally took in the scene.
This wasn’t the first time he caught Harry cleaning and assembling his weapons. This was, however, the first time he caught him doing it at three in the goddamn morning with an almost maniacal glint on his eye.
Harry froze in place, turning slowly once it became clear Eggsy wasn’t going anywhere. “You should be sleeping, darling,” he said gently, a placating smile on his lips.
Eggsy frowned, looking more and more worried by the second. “I could say the same.” He pointed out. “Harry, babe, are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” Harry bristled, meeting Eggsy’s gaze with a cold one of his own. “There’s nothing wrong with me, Eggsy.”
Eggsy stilled, every alarm in his body going off. “I never said there was. I just asked if you were okay since you’ve been out of bed for almost two hours now, and you’ve apparently been down here the entire time.” Eggsy sighed, inching closer to brush a hand against Harry’s cheek. “Please Harry… I’m not judgin’, swear down, I just want to make sure you’re okay.” He kissed his boyfriend’s creased brow. “Let me help you.”
Harry sighed, relaxing inch by inch, until he finally slumped forward, letting Eggsy take some of his weight. “I… There’s… well I… There’s something you should know about me, Eggsy,” Harry said eventually, swallowing hard. “I’m… well I suppose the correct term is OCD, but-” He shook his head. “It’s not a big problem, it’s just-”
“Babe, I’m not judging,” Eggsy repeated again, finally sitting on Harry’s lap. “So you’re OCD, that means, what for you exactly?”
“I like things to be… very clean and in order,” he said with a grimace, knowing how absurd he probably sounded. “And I… well I find it cathartic to- necessary really - to do this,” he said as he pointed towards his weapons. “Especially when I’m, ah, a little miffed.”
Eggsy’s eyes suddenly lit up with understanding. “Oh my god, this is because of the mismatched clothing I put in our wardrobe today, innit?” He said, a hint of horror at his own actions tinging his voice.
Harry grimaced. “Perhaps,” he said in a soft voice, burying his head in the crook of Eggsy’s neck. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be,” Eggsy whispered, kissing him soundly. “I mean I don’t know how this works yet, but we’ll figure it out, yeah? Me and you, we always do.”
Written from this request:
Can you write a harry imagine where he comes home from he studio and he had texted you earlier saying he was feeling a little off so he might be home early and whenever he gets home he is kinda upset and anxious because he’s feeling really bad all of a sudden and he starts throwing up and experiencing a really bad headache and you get him laying down and cuddle him and take care of him all night?
Thank you for the request anon! I hope you like it!
At first when Harry texted you, you didn’t think much of it. He was defiantly one to over exaggerate his sickness to get a cuddle from you (He claims you’re warm and it’s therapeutic.) But when you heard the front door open while you were washing dishes, followed by a grunt and the sound of Harry taking, well, kicking his boots off, you became worried. Normally when Harry came home from the studio he would be bouncing off of the walls excited to tell you what he had accomplished.
“Harry?” You asked from the kitchen entrance. You were met with a pair of half closed eyes and a pale, groaning Harry. “Awe, baby, are you okay?”
“Yes…no…i’m just a little dizzy.” He lied.
“Fine, i may be a little sick…but you didn’t seam to believe me earlier when i told you, so i passed it off as me just being anxious about singing.” Harry grumbled.
“Yes but i didn’t know if you were sick or ‘Y/n my stomach hurts and i think a cuddle would cure it’ sick. You engulfed him in a hug to try and comfort him when you noticed he was much warmer than usual. Before you could force him to lie down he broke from your hug and sprinted to the bathroom, running down the hallway and knocking over a plant in his haste. You could hear the sounds of him being sick from where you were. You ran behind him and saw him hunched over the toilet throwing up.
“Awe, H,” You whispered tenderly rubbing his back, “I’ll go get you some water.” You hopped up and poured Harry a glass of water, preparing yourself for your love to not leave your side for the rest of the night. Harry would not admit it but he’s a bit of a baby when he is sick, you secretly loved it, but you didn’t want to inflate his ego too much more.
You noticed he was missing from the bathroom, so you walked to your shared bedroom to see him laying face down star fished across your bed. You struggled to hold back a giggle as you knew he wasn’t feeling well.
After a few seconds of watching Harry be adorable you spoke up, “Hey, H, i brought you some medicine and water.”
In response you heard a faint “Thank you” muffled by a pillow.
He poked his head up when he felt the bed dip a bit due to you sitting on it. He accepted the water and gulped down the pill, trying to ignore the pain in his throat. He plopped back down onto the bead and closed his eyes, praying the pain would disappear.
“Ughhhhhh, I feel like may head may burst.” Harry groaned.
“I’m sorry, H, what can i do?”
Harry opened one eye, “Cuddle me? And i wanna be the little spoon.”
“Okay, scoot over you big teady bear. Let me go get you some pajamas.”
Harry’s arm hooked around your waist and pulled you back onto the bed. “No, stay here.”
“It will only take me a minute, plus, you can’t sleep in a Gucci shirt.”
“But, Y/n! I’m very sick right now and i would appreciate if you would hurry and warm me up-and don’t make fun of me!”
“I’m not making fun of you i’m just saying that you-.”
“And as a sick person it would be border line abusive to leave me without a cuddle.”
Without another word you walked over to your side of the bed and plopped down next to him. You tried your best to wrap your arms around his long body, in response he snuggled closer to you and sniffed, loving the attention. You grabbed the fluffy, thick comforter and pulled it over the both of you.
“Y/n, can we watch the cooking channel?” Harry asked.
“Yes, of course.” You felt around for the remote and turned the TV on, you considered closing the curtains, but decided against it as the heat coming off Harry comforted you.
“And can you rub my hair?”
“Yes, anything for you.” You tenderly began to massage his scalp.
“Oh, and i’m a bit snug, can you get me some pajamas?”
And that’s basically how the rest of your long night went, but you wouldn’t want it any other way.
Thank you so much for reading and i hope you liked it! Don’t forget my inbox is always open and i am currently taking requests! If you would like to send me one i have a small post close to the top of my blog explaining how i do requests and such. Thank You!