#wlw prompt

[bye-bi-girl]

More than the "childhood/best friends to lovers" trope, I like it when two people start dating and are always accompanied by one of their friends. The friend of individual A starts falling for individual B. But they are always just happy to be there. But then A and B eventually have a fallout or A is just not that good to B. So the friend steps up and treats B a lot better. And they start dating. So much pining, so much hurt, so much yearning. But also, SO MUCH comfort, so much love, so much affection and so much soft sex after they both get together.

This is also very much a friends to lover trope for me but elevated😤

[kasheehs]

struggling writer that needs a good wlw plot for a short film </3

so, we have this short film project, and we're planning to produce a wlw film. however, my mind has been clouded lately because of writers block. i cant seem to think of a good plot for two female highschoolers

[lucinesnow]

withdrawn

I wanted to disappear. 

It was my deepest desire to run barefoot to the depths of a forest, escape from all of those responsibilities I was expected to commit and break free from the chains of my chamber. 

Waiting for eternity felt longer than forever itself, and every day was the length of a human life, a Hell on Earth with no exit. I was like a prisoner waiting for her death sentence, an isolated and inhumanly beast that belonged in a cage. I had nothing left but my rusty chains and a stained window, from which a golden light shone its rays through every evening, lighting up my room for only a brief moment.

At night I prayed to the Moon, wishing I could get out, anywhere this world would throw me to. But every morning whilst opening my eyes I could disappoint at the same ceiling greeting me, while shedding salty tears down my cheeks. 

One evening under the silver moonlight I deeply prayed for love, hoping it would shout at me with its bright voice from the shadow of the blue moon, or underneath the tree, to delicately open my heart to it. I kept wishing a day would come for me to feel the freedom and love on my cheeks, I kept dreaming about the passion of the moment and the heatwaves romance caused. 

Evenings on the chilly beach, sand still burning the toes and the red sun setting while there was no rush to go home just yet, it was just me and her. Walking on the city streets while holding hands, kissing in public where every elderly person would stare and judge, though we wouldn’t care at all. Roadtrips to the edge of the world and classic rock playing full volume, nights under the starry skies.

Youth, what a beautiful and romanticized concept of what everything was described to be, as if it was the time of your life – and of which I could only distantly dream of.

[elainiisms]

non sexual intimacy!!!! bathing together, washing each other, playing with each other's hair, kissing every inch of their body, writing love letters on their back with your finger, connecting their moles and freckles to create constellations on their skin, running your hands up and down their thighs, ugh just expressing physical love without it having to be about sex!!!!

[raphaerolo]

@codywanfirstkissbingo : Sleight of tongue

I wasn't super duper focused on the prompt - I mainly just wanted an excuse to draw wlw codywan. theyre pretty.

Bingo card under the cut

[femslash-february]

Welcome to Raptor’s Femslash February Bingo 2025! Round 2: Electric Boogaloo

This year with four different prompt bingo cards—light prompts, dark prompts, spicy prompts, a combined one with all prompts—to celebrate Femslash February 2025. All fandoms, content and warnings welcome! Enjoy! ❤️

Rules and prompts in text form under the Read More!

Rules:

When: all of February

What: focus of your work should be a wlw / femslash / f/f ship, i.e. a ship with two or more female presenting characters, gender bending welcome

How: it’s totally chill, just do a single prompt or aim for bingo(s), whatever you want! You can get your bingos with one fic, with multiple fics, whatever you like. Choose one of the bingo cards and mark what prompts you're using. Interpret the prompts however you'd like.

Any fandoms, any characters, any ships, any content though please tag appropriately, any type of fanwork—fics (no minimum or maximum wordcount!), art, poetry, moodboards... go wild!

Tag #femslash feb bingo when posting it here on Tumblr and mention this blog so we see your posts and can reblog

AI-generated works are NOT allowed

Crossposting with other events allowed

Most of all: have fun!

Prompts in text form

Light prompts: Wilderness Accidental baby acquisition “Tell me again.” Meet ugly Body swap First kiss Mirror History Once in a lifetime “Who else but you?” Wrong number Opposites Token Curse Festival “I’ve been waiting a long time.”

Dark prompts:

“You could have died.” Last kiss Chains Before the fall Attic wife By a thousand cuts “Do you regret it?” Demon Fatal flaw Spite Poisoned Bad neighbors Hunting “And you thought I loved you.” Forbidden Mind control

Spicy prompts:

Begging Rope bondage Shower sex “Does that feel good?” Sex pollen Marking Blindfold Size Difference Breathplay “Stop distracting me.” Power Exchange Dirty Talk “Behave.” Orgasm Denial Praise kink Suspension

[drghostwrite]

Your Honor, She’s irresistible…

okay not a request… but like I’m OBSESSED with this woman right now… like can’t get enough and can I just say round of applause STANDING OVATION for @covenofagatha… please my loves go support her, she’s literally amazing!!💋

side note: if this is bad PLEASE let a girl know, or if there is anything I should change… I’m begging, please let me know.

Okay enough rambling here is my take on an Agatha x reader…

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x fem!lawyer!reader

Summary: Reader is a cutthroat intimidating lawyer, but also a powerful witch… a witch that used to be the enemy turned lover of the Agatha Harkness, the lover that Agatha abandoned… one night Agatha reappears and rekindles an old spark.

Warnings: MINORS DNI, breeding kink, strap-on and oral smut(r receiving)

*******************************************************

You can feel the exhaustion clinging to you as you pull your sleek, black Range Rover into the garage, its low purr echoing in the enclosed space. The leather steering wheel feels smooth beneath your fingers, the faint scent of your signature perfume lingering in the air. You shut off the engine and exhale, leaning your head back against the seat for a brief moment before opening the door.

Something feels… off.

The air seems thicker tonight, heavier, as though it’s pressing down on you. You shake it off, slipping your heels onto the polished floor and shutting the door behind you with a practiced flick of your wrist, and you stride through the door that leads into your home, your designer heels clicking rhythmically against the floor.

You’ve had a long day, winning a nearly impossible case and leaving your opponents scrambling. The thrill of the victory is overshadowed only by the aching knot at the base of your neck. As you shrug off your tailored tan trench coat and hang it neatly by the door, you toss your keys into the porcelain bowl on the side table.

Your brain goes on autopilot as you pass through the living room, your eyes brushing over the soft glow of the fireplace and the way it casts golden hues against your minimalist decor. Nothing seems out of place. Still, that feeling gnaws at the edges of your awareness.

In the kitchen, you pour yourself a glass of deep red wine, savoring the way the liquid slides into the crystal glass. You take a small sip, letting it linger on your tongue, as you move back to the living room. That’s when you hear it—a low, sultry chuckle that sends a shiver cascading down your spine.

“Nice place. Very… you,” the voice purrs.

You whirl around, the stem of your wineglass nearly slipping through your fingers, and there she is.

“Agatha,” you say, tone as sharp as the stilettos your wearing.

Her smirk widened, eyes darkening as she purred, “Well hello to you to darling.”

Her voice was rich, smooth as silk but twice as dangerous as she sits lounging in your favorite armchair as though she belongs there, one leg crossed lazily over the other. Her signature purple pants cling to her in all the right places, the soft fabric stretching across her toned thighs. The white button-up she’s wearing is undone just enough to reveal a tantalizing hint of her breast, the glint of her pendant resting in the hollow of her throat catching the firelight. She looks smug. Dangerous. Devastatingly beautiful.

“Breaking and entering, Agatha?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. You take another slow sip of your wine, masking the way your pulse is racing. “Even for you, that’s bold.”

“Please,” her lips curving into a smirk. “Do you really think a deadbolt is enough to keep me out? Besides…” Her eyes trail over you, “I’ve been dying to see you in your element. You wear power well, darling…”

You can feel her eyes as they take in your strong form, the maroon suit, with your satin black top slightly unbuttoned, your satin designer heels showing off the curve and tone of your legs.

She bites her bottom lip while she smirks, “I mean, look at you… you’re far more tempting than you realize in those designer stilettos”

You scoff, but you can’t help the heat spreading through your body. “And you wear arrogance like a badge of honor… is this your idea of seduction, Agatha?… Breaking into my house and throwing around cheap compliments?”

She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees as she studied you, a suggestive smirk on her lips. “Who said anything about seduction? But… if I were seducing you, I’d hardly call it cheap. I’d say something more like…” Her voice dipped into a sultry tone, and her eyes flashed with something dark.

“Your suit… flawless. But I bet you look even better without it. And those heels?… Darling, they belong wrapped around my waist.”

You tried keeping your composure but your face flushed at her words, at the image of your bodies tangled together, tasting her on your lips, Agatha in your bed, flashing in your mind.

Her chuckle deepens as she leans forward, “I missed this, you know? Missed you… That fire in your eyes, that razor-sharp tongue of yours. Tell me, do you save all your sass for me, or do your clients get to enjoy it too?”

“Get to the point, Agatha,” you snap, trying to ignore the way her words are already winding their way under your skin. “Why are you here?”

“To see you, of course,” she says smoothly, standing in one fluid motion. Her boots click softly against the floor as she steps toward you, her eyes never leaving yours. “You know, I thought time away would make me forget. But then I realized… I don’t want to forget you.”

Her words are velvet and steel, cutting and caressing all at once. She’s close now, so close you can smell her—lavender and something darker, more intoxicating. You don’t step back. Instead, you lift your chin, meeting her gaze head-on.

“You left me, Agatha… I should throw you out,” you say, though your voice has lost some of its bite as your lips are a breath apart.

“But you won’t,” she counters, a wicked smile tugging at her lips. “You’ve missed me. Admit it.”

“Missed what? Your penchant for chaos? Your never-ending ego?… something like that.”

“Admit that you love that I was never afraid of you… never afraid of your power.” she murmurs, her voice dropping to a near-whisper. Her hand comes up, fingers brushing against the lapel of your blazer, and you shiver despite yourself. “You missed this. Us.”

“Maybe… still, you think you can walk back into my life, my home and have me fall at your feet?” You shot back trying to hold onto whatever dignity you had left.

“My love, I don’t need you to fall at my feet… I just need you to take off those pretty shoes and kneel.”

Before you can respond, her hand trails down to your waist, her touch igniting a fire you’ve been trying to extinguish for years.

Damn her. Damn her and her perfect smirk, her piercing blue eyes.

“God, I hate you,” you mutter, your voice betraying you, trembling with need and something far more dangerous.

“Funny,” she says, leaning in again so her lips are just a breath away from yours. “Because I think I’m still in love with you.”

The words unravel something inside you. Before you can think, you’re kicking off your stilettos, pushing her back into the chair, dropping to your knees in front of her.

Your hands glide up her thighs, the fabric of her pants taut beneath your touch. Her breath hitches, and the sound makes the heat in your core pool even more.

“Say it again,” you demand, your voice low as you bury your face against her stomach, your hands gripping her hips.

She tightens her fingers in your hair, tugging just enough to make you look up at her. Her blue eyes are shimmering with something dark. “I love you,” she murmurs, her voice a seductive promise.

You rise slowly, crawling up her body until your lips crash into hers, years of tension and desire finally breaking free. Her hands are everywhere… your waist, your hips, your back… as you kiss her like she’s the only thing anchoring you to the world.

When you finally pull back, gasping for air, your hands move to her shirt, your fingers ghost over exposed skin before ripping it open to reveal dark purple lace. Agatha laughs, the sound rich and full and you can feel your body wanting to have every part of her.

“Impatient, aren’t we?” she teases, her hands skillfully take off your blazer and top, revealing black lingerie underneath, fingers splaying across the exposed skin of your stomach and sides.

“Shut up,” you whisper, pressing your lips to hers in a bruising kiss, her hand finding the clasp of your bra, pausing to see if you stop her.

You don’t.

“Still bossy I see… guess somethings never change.” You cut her off with another breathtaking kiss, her hands coming to support your hips as you straddle her lap.

“Agatha…” you whisper, suddenly very aware of how much you needed her touch.

“What do you need, my love?” She whispers teasingly, placing kisses along your stomach and breast, she bites into your breast leaving marks that will be found tomorrow morning.

“Dammit Agatha… I need…” her hands guide your hips as you grind down into her lap, trying to relieve the ache you feel building, her hand unbuttons your pants ghosting over the black lace panties.

“Your words darling… use your words.”

“I need you… to fuck me…” you moan as her hand dips into your panties, her long fingers sliding easily through your folds, ghosting over your clit, dipping back into you collecting your slick, as your pretty sure you’ve now ruined your underwear and a perfectly tailored pair of pants.

“Darling, I’m going to ruin you…” she whispers, suddenly pulling her hand out, you can see yourself glistening on her fingers as she puts them in her mouth, her tongue cleaning them before she pulls you down to kiss her, you can taste yourself on her lips.

You grind down into her hips even harder a moan escaping your lips at the friction, but this time you notice the bulge in her pants. You pull back and see her pupils blown with lust, her smirk devilish.

“Shittt…” you hiss at the realization making you even wetter than before, if that’s humanly possible. Immediately your hands were tugging at her pants as you stood to pull them down her thighs, the large purple strap on springing free.

“You didn’t think I’d forget your favorite part did you…” she teased, reaching for your chin as your jaw dropped.

“Why don’t you show me how you get ready to ride my dick?” She demanded more than suggested. You dropped to your knees in front of her again, dragging your tongue along the length. You let the tip smoothly slide into your mouth swirling your tongue around the toy, and quickly realizing it wasn’t just a toy when her head dropped back lips parted. Her hand came to wrap in your hair as you slightly bobbed your head.

She could feel this.

You grasped her thigh to steady yourself before taking the whole member in your mouth, almost gagging as it slid into your throat, her hand in your hair tightened but the sting only encouraged you. Your lungs burned for air as her hips jolted against you, but before you could continue she pulled you off, as she breathlessly readjusted in the chair. She smirked down on you before her nails lifted your chin, digging into the soft skin.

“I’m so screwed…” you whispered before bending down to kiss her again.

“fucked, darling… you’re so fucked…” with a wave of her hand you were both completely bare accept for the dick she was currently sporting, she grasped your hand to pull you into her lap, her hands coming to your thighs as she steadied you.

You bit your lip and a small whine escaped as you felt her pull the tip through your dripping core, she could see you dripping down your thighs, glistening in the soft glow from the fireplace.

“I’ve missed seeing you so desperate… so needy for me to fuck you senseless…” She whispered as she pushed herself inside you. You took a moment to adjust as you sank down onto her, you didn’t remember her ever being this big, but the pain quickly turned to pleasure.

You slowly start to move up and down, swirling your hips the best you could, you were so close already.

“Mmm…” she moaned before biting her lip, watching you move, “I forgot how good you look riding me.”

Her sultry tone was igniting a fire in you, your movements speeding up as you brought yourself to the edge of pleasure, one hand pressed to her chest as the other was on her thigh. You could feel her enchanted strap, her dick pulsing inside you, she moved an arm to wrap around your waist and roughly pulled you close.

You tried steadying yourself at the loss of balance, one hand coming to the back of the chair and the other slid up to grab the only thing it met, her neck.

You gently grasped to steady yourself and you could feel her groan catch in her throat, her hips bucking into you roughly and you clenched around her, sending you both tumbling over the edge. You bend down pulling her into a breathless kiss as your orgasm overtakes you, you can feel her painting your walls white as she cums inside you.

You stay like that for a moment before your hands lower to wrap around her shoulders, your brain barely able to form a thought.

The world around you blurs and you barely register as she shifts, so effortlessly changing the dynamic that your head spins. One moment you’re in control and the next you’re under her, her body caging yours on your plush couch. She pins your wrists above your head with one hand, the other slipping down to grip your thigh.

“Still think you’re in charge?” She asks, her breathe warm against your ear.

“I let you think you’re winning,” you grinned lazily, “Don’t get used to it.”

“Oh sweetheart, I never get used to anything with you, that’s the fun of it.” Agatha bends down her lips trailing the soft skin of your jawline and neck. Her hands mapping your curves with possessive hunger as she adjusts herself between your legs.

She has your entire being at her mercy, your magics surging through the room. Her hand comes down between your legs, finding your core dripping from the aftermath of both yours and her orgasms, her cum mixing with yours and leaking out of you, her fingers dip down to collect it before teasingly playing with your clit.

“Such a good girl, greedily taking my cum like that.”

She smiles devilishly, but before you can respond her mouth is on your pussy, eating you out, her tongue swirling on your clit as two fingers easily slip inside you, curling to hit that sweet spongy spot.

Your moans fill the room as she drags your body to the edge, her fingers continue to pump in and out, as her lips trail softly against your inner thigh, her teeth grazing to leave marks that you will find later. Your hand tangles in her hair as her mouth returns to your clit, your hips bucking into her, grinding against her mouth as she smirks up at you.

That’s when she pulls her fingers out, her tongue flatly coming to drag through your folds before she realigns her strap thrusting deep into you… a moan escapes your lip as she leaves wet kisses over your stomach and back up to your chest. You turn into a mess beneath her as she slowly, almost painfully slow, moves in and out of you.

Her voice is low and sultry when she finally breaks the silence, “Do you have any idea how stunning you would look pregnant?” She murmurs, placing wet kisses along your collar bone.

Your breath catches and you blink at her startled, “Excuse me?”

Agatha chuckles, her hands sliding down to grip your hips roughly. Her nails dig into your skin, possessive and firm. She lifts her head, her piercing blue eyes meeting yours,

“You heard me,” she says, her tone dripping with confidence. “I’m going to put a baby in you.”

Your mind spins at her words, a thousand responses swirling through your head. But Agatha doesn’t give you a chance to react, her lips return to your skin, and her voice drops into a whisper.

“Can’t you picture it, darling?” she says, her words punctuated by the warm press of her lips against your neck as she slowly thrusts into you again. “You, round and glowing, carrying our child. You’d look divine. Absolutely ravishing.”

The thought catches you completely off guard, and for a moment, you’re speechless. Agatha takes advantage of your silence, her hand sliding up your side, her touch gentle and grounding as her thrusts become quicker.

“You’d be mine,” she continues, her voice thick with possession as she feels you buck and clench around her. “Completely, utterly mine. Everyone would see it… see you… and know you belong to me. We’d belong to each other.”

You inhale sharply, your pulse hammering in your ears, your brain going completely blank aside from the image of you heavily pregnant with her baby. “Agatha,” you start, your voice uncertain, but there’s no denying the way her words send heat pooling low in your stomach, the knot tightening inside of you ready to burst.

Her voice drops to a husky murmur. “You’re already thinking about it, aren’t you? The thought of me putting my mark on you, making you mine in every way that matters.” Her lips ghost over your jawline, her breath warm against your skin her hips meeting yours harder. “You’d be the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

The boldness of her words makes your cheeks flush, but beneath the surprise theres a thrill you can’t ignore. The idea is outrageous, unthinkable… and yet, there’s a part of you that finds it intoxicating.

You tilt your head, eyes meeting hers and you breathlessly whisper, “You’re awfully confident for someone who hasn’t asked my opinion.”

Agatha’s grin widens, “Oh, I don’t need to ask... I can feel it, the way you clenched around my dick when I mentioned filling you up. You’re tempted. You want it as much as I do.”

Her words are a challenge, daring you to deny her, but instead of pulling away, you arch an eyebrow, your hips grinding roughly against her. “And what if I do?”

Her eyes darken, the air between you crackling with tension. “Then tell me,” she murmurs, her grip on you tightening slightly. “Say it… Tell me to do it.”

For a moment, you hesitate, the weight of her words settling in your chest. But then, as you meet her gaze, steady and unyielding, something inside you shifts. This is Agatha… chaos and passion and raw, unfiltered power. If anyone could make such an impossible idea feel like destiny, it’s her.

You lean in, your lips brushing against her ear as you whisper, “Do it, cum in me and make sure I’m pregnant with your baby… make me yours.”

She grinned before pulling you into a breathless kiss, the sounds of wet skin meeting skin filling the room as she rammed into you over and over, your back arched into her as her hands ran over your body, gently slithering up your sides before one came to grip the back of your thigh.

You could feel her getting sloppy as she thrusted, her lips coming down to suck on a erect nipple as you tangled your hand in her hair, your other hand dragging your nails over her shoulder, leaving a wake of red scratches.

“Agatha… baby I’m gonna…” Before you could finish, the knot snapped, pleasure flooding your body as she continued thrusting harshly into you, soon you could feel her as she released inside of you.

“You did so well darling…” she trailed as she tried holding herself above you, the strap on still inside you.

After a few moments later you moved, with a flick of your wrist you found yourselves in your bed, still naked, but cleaned up and cozily tangled together underneath your blankets.

“You won’t regret this…” she trailed her skilled fingers tracing lazy patterns against the skin of your stomach and hip, “I’ll give you everything you wanted… and more.”

You didn’t say anything as you heard her breathing slow, her hand falling softly against you as she slipped into a deep sleep. There was a part of you that knew it might not work, you had been enemies turned lovers before and she abandoned you, but there was a bigger part of you that still loved her.

No matter how much you wanted to hate her, you loved her and wanted nothing more than to make it known that you belonged to her… and that she belonged to you.

[zhaleys]

ClaireAda week day 1

they meet when claire saves ada at the sewers <3

[glitteryruinsduck]

thinking about motorcycle Omo

the bike it’s forcing them to open their legs and keep hands on the handles, so that the only thing they can really do to hold is bounce or shift around a bit. Pressing down on the seat to help hold it. Being stuck and traffic and the humiliation of knowing the cars around them can see them desperately trying to hold there piss. Bonus if they have a passenger behind them, who unknowingly has there arms wrapped around their waste and pressing there bladder. The passenger being so close to the one driving so they can feel them shifting around and tensing up and breathing heavy. Works with jet skis too. I’m so feral about this.

[femmeetart]

"You have to be quiet, Vi!"

@femslash-february's bingo, first kiss + marking

[sapphic-september]

Welcome to Sapphic September 2024!

These prompts are open to any fandom and any medium as long as the works center sapphic, WLW/NBLW, F/F+, or femslash ship(s). There are no other rules — you can use all, some, or only one of the prompts; do one or more a day or spread them out; begin late or post them after September; or mix ‘n’ match prompts; it’s up to you!

Make sure to tag your work(s) with #sapphicsept2024 or #Sapphic September 2024 so that others can find your contributions and to spread the word!

Prompts: {Day 1: astrology; || Day 2: fortune; || Day 3: attic; || Day 4: teeth; || Day 5: divination; || Day 6: cryptid; || Day 7: whispers; || Day 8: undead/zombie; || Day 9: UFO || Day 10: clairvoyance; || Day 11: bones; || Day 12: ritual; || Day 13: mirror; || Day 14: omen; || Day 15: paranormal investigation; || Day 16: possessed; || Day 17: occult; || Day 18: psychic; || Day 19: underworld; || Day 20: ESP; || Day 21: werewolf; || Day 22: moonlight; || Day 23: cursed; || Day 24: ouija board; || Day 25: surreal; || Day 26: vampire; || Day 27: the divine; || Day 28: ghost/spirit; || Day 29: prophecy; || Day 30: awakening.}

[bye-bi-girl]

A restaurant au where Vivi is a dishwasher at Nini's restaurant. They don't know each other. Haven't met each other yet because of different schedules. But one day Vivi clocks in for work and sees Nini storming out of kitchen. As she walked in, she saw all the chefs standing tensely, looking at the shattered pieces of ceramics and clots of custard everywhere. Vivi didn't know what to make of it. She was there to make enough money to push through college. What chefs in Michelin star restaurants get up to was none of her business. But it made her apprehensive of her own future. How would she survive out there when she actually works in the field of her expertise?

A few days later, way into night, the chefs had closed for the day and left. Vivi was alone, dealing with one dish, out of the piling mountain, at a time. Suddenly, she heared someone clear their throat. When she turned around there was Nini, looking at her with unclear expressions. Vivi turned back and focused on the dishes. Nini quietly walked closed and made space for herself in front of the sink, moving Vivi with her hips. She quietly segregated the different types of dishes to make Vivi's task easier and then started drying them. In the following day, or rather nights, this was how their routine was.

◇

"You never told me you owned the restaurant?"

"I wanted to rizz you without that interfering between us."

[schemmentigfs]

Memories and Mourning.

Summary: After your tragic and sudden passing, your wife Melissa tries to deal with the painful process of grief.

Warnings: mentions of s*icide, death, alcoholism, angst.

tags: @lifeismomentsyoucannotunderstand @lisaannwaltersbra @italianaidiota @kukikatt @dopenightmaretyphoon @schmentisgf @pitstopsapphic @jeridandridge @aliensuperst4rr

Melissa Schemmenti’s house stood as though trapped in a moment of decay, its walls sagging under the weight of too many memories, too much grief. The silence here wasn’t peaceful or comforting, but a heavy, pressing silence, a quietness that whispered of loss, of shattered dreams. It was a silence steeped in pain, a cruel reminder of what was no longer present. One filled with angst, sadness and guilt. That the fifty one year old woman never imagined that would cross her life.

The redheaded woman’s life, once defined by routine and the familiar sensation of a steady existence, had been upended in a single, heart-wrenching moment. The days before were woven with a simplicity she had taken for granted: early mornings with the scent of fresh coffee filling the air, your son’s laughter echoing through the house, and the warmth of your presence by her side. She never once thought that the gentle rhythm of those mornings, the way the sunlight would catch in your hair as you made breakfast for the family, would suddenly be lost.

Now, there was only the ghost of those days, lingering like an unwanted shadow. Each room in the house, each familiar object, was a cruel reminder of what she had lost. The kitchen was the worst—she found herself drawn to it, staring at the worn countertops, the disarrayed stack of dishes, the empty spaces where you used to be. The stove, which she had once only briefly used to heat up leftovers, now sat unused and cold. The empty chair at the table where you had once sat, teasing her with a smile over breakfast or catching her up on your thoughts, was just a hollow space.

Some toys were half-forgotten, lay strewn across the floor, forgotten by time. The dishes piled up in the sink, their edges yellowing with neglect. The upstairs bedroom, where you used to wake up together, lay untouched, the bed unmade as if waiting for a presence that would never return. Melissa’s heart ached at the sight, the house mirroring the chaos within her soul, a reflection of her battle to keep going after everything had fallen apart.

Melissa had always prided herself on being strong. She had been a pillar for everyone around her—her students, her colleagues, her family. Yet now, in the solitude of this house, she felt weak. The strong walls, once study, seemed to be closing in on her, reminding her of the fragility of everything. She had tried, in the beginning, to maintain normalcy for Giovanni. She had pushed through each day, pretending that everything was fine, if only for the little boy who didn’t yet understand what was happening, who couldn’t fathom that his mother’s world was crumbling.

But the truth was, she couldn’t even remember what it felt like to breathe easily anymore. Her chest tightened with every thought of you, every fleeting memory of the life they had once shared. Grief had become a constant weight on her shoulders, a cloak she couldn’t shrug off. The mornings, once filled with light, were now heavy with a kind of emptiness she couldn’t escape. She missed your presence in ways she couldn’t put into words, a quiet ache that wrapped around her heart, suffocating her with its intensity.

She had tried to move through the motions, to put one foot in front of the other, but everything felt like it was slipping through her fingers. The house, once a place of warmth and comfort, was now just a shell—empty, hollow. Each creak of the floorboards, each soft gust of wind that rattled the windows, felt like it was mocking her. She was trapped in a world that continued to spin, a world where everything had changed and yet nothing could be undone.

Days could bled into one another, but Melissa always struggled. She struggled to keep it together for Giovanni. She struggled to navigate the silence. She struggled to let go of the anger, the resentment, the guilt that gnawed at her insides.

How could she have missed the signs?

How could she have not seen what was happening to you before it was too late?

She was your wife for god’s sake! She could have done something to save you.

In the quiet moments, when the space seemed to exhale around her, your widow wondered if the person she used to be—the strong, confident, capable woman—was still somewhere inside her. But every day, she felt herself slipping further from who she was, drifting farther away from the life she had known. The woman she had been seemed like a distant memory, fading as quickly as the fleeting moments she had shared with you. She could still hear your voice in the stillness, feel the warmth of your touch in the air, but it wasn’t real. It wasn’t enough.

The residence, like Melissa Schemmenti herself, was in a constant state of disrepair, a reflection of her internal struggle. No matter how much she tried to piece things together, no matter how many times she tried to restore the balance, there was always something missing. The clutter in every corner were all too much like the fragments of her heart who was currently broken and scattered, impossible to mend. She felt like she was suffocating under the weight of it all. The emptiness, the grief, the loneliness—all of it threatened to pull her under, to drown her in a sea of doubts and “what-ifs.”

The second grade teacher had never imagined her life would be like this. She had never imagined she would be the one left behind. She had always thought it would be you. You, with your quiet strength and your soft smile, the one who held everything together while she let the world slip by. But now, she was the one who had to carry on. She was the one who had to figure out how to live without you. And every day felt like a battle, each moment a reminder that she was fighting a losing war.

Outside, the world seemed unaffected by any tragedy—children’s laughter filtered through the open window, car horns honked, and somewhere, the sound of a neighbor trimming hedges drifted through the air. But inside, it was as if the world had stopped. Her own world had come to a grinding halt. It had been one month—one month since she had kissed you goodbye, not knowing it would be the last time.

“Bullshit,” Melissa hissed, staring blankly at the cold mug of coffee in front of her. The steam had long since dissipated, leaving behind only the bitter taste of something once comforting. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten properly. The last time she had even bothered.

“Mama?” Giovanni’s delicate voice brought her out of her thoughts. He appeared in the kitchen doorway, his gaze innocent and curious, holding his favorite stuffed Bluey plushie. The sight made her almost throw up. He was a combination of both of you, but those bright eyes were just like yours. Hell, almost his entire features were just like yours.

“Hey, bambino,” she managed to whisper, trying to muster a smile that didn’t quite reach her green eyes. The smile was a lie—a mask she wore every day to hide the sorrow gnawing at her heart.

“Where’s Mommy?” he prompted, his voice low, as if he knew the answer would be difficult and painful.

Melissa’s breath got into her throat and her heart twisted panifully. How could she explain to a child so young that the woman he loved most was never coming home?

“Mommy... Mommy isn’t coming back,” she choked, trembling. “She’s in heaven now with Nonna and Nonno.”

Her son’s tiny face scrunched up in confusion, her eyes searching the eldest’s ones for the truth, a truth that no kid should have to face so soon.

“I want Mommy!” Giovanni cried, completely distressed. He shook her head, as though trying to deny the reality of it all. He walked over, grabbing Bluey tightly. As if this was just a silly joke that he was too young to understand. “Now!”

How could she make it better? How could she protect her boy from this pain?

The green eyed woman closed her eyes, trying to hold back the tears. She crouched down to his level and hugged him. “I want it too, bud. I miss her too.” The smell of his hair, still scented with baby shampoo, was a small consolation, but the pain of your absence was overwhelming.

The tiny redhead’s little arms wrapped around her neck, and Melissa buried her face in his soft curls. The familiar scent of the baby perfume grounded her, even as the pain of loss threatened to pull her under. She held him tightly, as if the sheer force of her love could somehow shield him from the hurt they were both feeling.

“Ma,” Giovanni whimpered, his lips quivering. “Mommy promised to play hide and seek, but she is not here..”

She wanted to scream. No, Melissa Schemmenti needed to scream before she collapsed.

“I know baby, I know,” she sighed quitely.

They stayed like that for a long time with Melissa on her knees, holding her son, trying to find some comfort in his warmth.

When he finally pulled away, the second grade teacher wiped her eyes quickly before her son could see the endless tears. “How about we get some breakfast, honey?”

The youngest nodded, but his gaze still lingered on her face, as if he could sense the sadness she was trying to hide. She ruffled Giovanni’s hair and stood up, turning to the counter where she kept his favorite cereals.

As Melissa poured the milk over the colorful loops, her mind wandered back again to the routine she used to share with you. The playful arguments over who made better coffee, the quiet moments when you’d steal a kiss before Giovanni came bounding in.

Stop. She is gone.

“Okay, prince. Here we go! Fruity Loops so my boy can be nice and strong like Bluey.”

The sicilian set the little one’s bowl in front of him and watched as he dug in, his small hands awkwardly gripping the spoon. He was growing so fast, and Melissa was terrified of missing it—terrified that her grief would swallow her whole and leave her unable to be the mom he needed.

As the three-year old ate, olive eyes drifted to the fridge. There, taped to the door, was a photo of the three of you. It was taken last summer at the beach. You had been holding Giovanni in your arms, both of you showing your tounges at the camera while Melissa stood beside you, her arm wrapped around your waist and chin resting on your shoulder. You had been so happy, so full of love and life. It felt like a lifetime ago.

But now that is gone, prematurely and permanently.

As a clue to the redhead’s pain. The boy looked up from the bowl, catching her gaze. “Mommy,” she said, pointing to the picture. “With Ma ‘n’ Gigi.”

The woman’s throat tightened almost immediately. “Yeah, that’s Mommy and us.”

The toddler smiled, a soft giggle escaping his lips. “She’s pretty,” he said with the innocence only a child could have.

“She was.”

Hours passed, the evening creeping in as the house settled into an uneasy quiet once more. The murmur of the people outside had long faded, leaving only the distant hum of the refrigerator and the occasional rustling of the wind against the windowpanes.

Melissa moved methodically through the motions of the evening, though everything felt like a blur. She had to be strong for Giovanni, as much as she felt like crumbling herself. The little boy, dressed in his soft pajamas, had grown more solemn as the seconds passed, his shiny eyes now shadowed with confusion and a sadness too big for his tiny heart to carry. He had said it again earlier, clinging to his mama as though his tiny hands could somehow hold her world together. “I want Mommy’s goodnight hug,” he’d whispered, and the plea unlocked something inside her, something broken, fragile.

Minutes ago, Melissa sat in her recliner, the glow of a forgotten television program illuminating her tired face. Giovanni had fallen asleep in her arms, his tiny body curled against her chest. She hesitated before standing—she hated the thought of letting go of her son, the only part of you she still had.

“Don’t worry, Schemmenti. It’s just a nap,” she reassured her own doubts. “He is safe.”

With careful steps, she carried him upstairs.

Now, as the night wrapped itself around them, the redheaded woman stood in the doorway of Giovanni’s room, watching her son, her baby, nestle herself into the blue blankets. The soft sound of his breathing was the only thing that filled the bedroom, the rhythmic rise and fall a small comfort, but one that seemed so distant, so insignificant in the face of everything else. Melissa leaned over her crib, brushing a lock of hair from her son’s face, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead.

“I love you, sleep tight, piccolo,” she whispered, trembling, though she willed it to sound calm, steady.

He didn’t stir, lost in a world of dreams where his mother’s absence wasn’t so painfully felt. She lingered, gazing down at her child’s innocent face, wishing she could erase the sorrow from it, could somehow make it all better, but knowing deep down that there was no way to fix this.

Giovanni didn’t yet fully understand the loss. But he would. One day, he would.

As she stepped into the bathroom, the light was harsh and unkind, illuminating every crack in the mirror, every line on Melissa’s face. She turned the shower on, the hiss of water filling the room as steam began to rise. Standing there, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror—her auburn hair limp and disheveled, dark circles carved under her sharp eyes, and her skin pale, almost lifeless.

The teacher lifted her arm to scratch her shoulder and caught a faint, sour smell. Realization hit her: she hadn’t showered in days. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d taken care of herself beyond the bare essentials. The reflection staring back at her in the mirror was a stranger—a shadow of the person she used to be.

Stepping under the stream of water, she closed her eyes as the heat cascaded over her. She let it soak her hair and wash away the grime that clung to her skin, but it couldn’t touch the heaviness in her chest.

And then, like a cruel trick, the memory of your last night together surfaced.

You had been lying in bed, her body still warm from lovemaking. Your head rested on her chest, and she’d run her fingers lazily through your long, tangled hair. The scent of your sex lingered in the air along your favorite lotion and the faint, salty tang of sweat.

“I love you so much,” you had murmured, your voice soft but steady, as if saying it for the first time.

Melissa had chuckled, brushing it off with a teasing smirk. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, dumbass.” She hadn’t noticed the weight behind your words, the way your tone had trembled ever so slightly.

You’d pressed on, your hand tracing small circles on her arm. “No, I mean it, Lis. I really love you. You’re my everything.”

She had kissed you then, silencing you with a playful grin. “Don’t get all mushy on me now. You’re stuck with me, kid. Forever.”

But the next morning, you had seemed… different. Clingy. Your hands lingered on her shoulders as she got ready for work. You’d kissed her goodbye with a desperation that now haunted her.

“Don’t forget how much I love you!” you had shouted as your wife walked out the door.

And Melissa had laughed, patting your cheek. “How could I forget, mi amore?”

She was at Abbott Elementary when she got the call.

“Chi é?” she’d answered, distracted, her eyes scanning the hall for Jacob, who had promised to help her with a class project.

“Is this Melissa Schemmenti’s number?”

“Yeah, who’s askin’?”

“This is Saint Joseph’s Hospital. We need you to come in right away. It’s about your wife, Y/N.”

Her blood ran cold. The phone nearly slipped from her hand. “What? What happened?”

I’m sorry, ma’am. We can’t disclose details over the phone. Please come to the ER as soon as possible.”

Panic gripped her chest as she grabbed her coat, running to Ava’s office explaining the situation and asking if a substitute could take care of her second graders. Barbara and Jacob had found her in the hallway, her face pale, her hands shaking. They drove her to the hospital, their attempts at comforting her barely registering.

Something was wrong. Horribly, irreparably wrong.

Melissa hadn’t even taken time to think. She left Giovanni with Seamus that morning—who, thank God, was probably distracting him. While Barb was driving and Jacob was holding her left hand on the backseat, her mind raced with a million of possibilities.

What happened? Were you hurt? Were you sick?

Nothing could have prepared her for what she found when she arrived.

Your wife had barely stepped into the sterile, fluorescent-lit hallway when a nurse approached her, looking grim. “Mrs. Schemmenti?”

Her stomach churned. “It’s me. Where’s my wife?! What’s goin’ on?”

The professional hesitated, and that moment of hesitation would stay with her forever. It was like the air left the room, and Melissa suddenly felt cold all over.

“I’m so sorry,” the nurse said softly. “Your wife was brought in earlier today. She...she took her own life.”

It didn’t make sense at first. The words felt gibberish, like a language she didn’t understand. “What...what the fuck are you talkin’ about!?” she demanded, her voice rising. “Y/N wouldn’t. She wouldn’t do that to me!”

The kind nurse placed a gentle hand on her arm, but the green eyed woman jerked away.

“Do not fuckin’ touch me! No. No, you’ve got it wrong! She’s not gone, she’s not gone. She’s not!” Her legs threatened to give out beneath her as the reality began to sink in.

Jacob appeared from somewhere down the hall, his face pale and stricken. Barb was with him, holding his arm tightly, her expression one of shock and sorrow. Melissa’s knees buckled, and the social studies teacher was there in an instant, catching her before she could fall.

“Mel Mel, stop! You are going to hurt yourself!” the curly hair man sobbed.

“No! No, my baby!” She wailed, her voice raw and broken. “My baby, my baby!” The sound of her hysterical cries echoed through the hallway, drawing sympathetic glances from hospital staff. Her work wife knelt beside her, her own eyes brimming with tears, and wrapped her arms around her friend, holding her tightly.

“It’s okay to feel angry, sweetheart,” Barb whispered. “It’s okay, I’ve got you.”

But it wasn’t okay. Nothing would ever be okay again.

The memory of the funeral haunted Melissa, playing out in her mind like a tragic song she could never silence. It had been a gray morning, the sky cloaked in a somber veil of clouds that seemed to mourn alongside them. The church was full—too full for her comfort. Faces blurred together in her mind: colleagues, family, neighbors, friends, and the Abbott crew, all gathered to pay their respects. Yet the weight of their collective sorrow was nothing compared to the crushing grief that lived in her chest.

Your wife stood stiffly at the gravesite, her body trembling despite her best efforts to appear strong. Her black coat hung loose on her frame, as though even her clothes could no longer fit properly, just like her life. Around her, the group crew formed a tight circle of support, but their presence only deepened her isolation. Barb stood closest, her hand firm and steady on Melissa’s shoulder. Gregory was solemn, hands clasped in front of him, his usually composed face etched with sadness. Janine hovered nervously, her big brown eyes welling with tears she tried to blink away.

Jacob, ever the optimist, had tried to fill the silence with kind words and memories of you, but his voice cracked halfway through, and he quickly sat down, covering his face with his hands. Mr. Johnson, with his usual gruff wisdom, had been the only one to keep his composure entirely, standing near the back of the church and nodding solemnly as if to say. We’ve got you. We’ll hold you up when you can’t stand.

And then there was Ava, holding Giovanni tightly. The little boy had been restless, tugging on his funeral suit and repeatedly asking for you, his voice growing increasingly impatient as if he simply couldn’t comprehend why you weren’t there. The principal, in her own peculiar way, had tried to soothe him, bouncing him gently and whispering words of comfort. But he wasn’t having it. He squirmed and reached out toward the closed casket.

“Mommy! Mommy!” his cries pierced the heavy silence, shattering the fragile control Melissa had managed to maintain.

Her chest heaved as if someone had plunged a knife into it. She wanted to go to her son, to comfort him, to hold him as tightly as she could, but she couldn’t move. She was paralyzed, her feet rooted to the frozen ground, her olive eyes fixed on the casket that held the one person she thought she could never lose.

His godmother stepped in, scooping Giovanni into her arms and holding him close. “It’s okay, baby,” Barb whispered. “Mommy loves you. She’s always with you.”

But Giovanni didn’t understand. How could he? He wriggled in the kindergarten teacher’s embrace, his small hands outstretched, his tear-streaked face twisted in confusion and desperation. “No! I want Mommy! I want Mommy!”

Melissa clenched her fists, her nails biting into her palms. She wanted to scream, to cry, to rip the world apart for what it had taken from her. Instead, she stood frozen, a statue of grief, as the minister’s voice droned on, hollow and meaningless.

When the service ended and the others began to leave, the redheaded woman stayed behind. She couldn’t bring herself to walk away, to leave you here, alone in the cold earth. The group hesitated, lingering by the cars, unsure if they should intervene. But Barb, ever the matriarch, placed a hand on Gregory’s arm and nodded. They left her to her silence.

Hours passed, or maybe it was minutes—time had become meaningless. Finally, when the emptiness became too much to bear, Melissa found herself driving. She didn’t know where she was going until she arrived: the lake where you used to take Giovanni on warm summer evenings. The water was still, a mirror reflecting the bruised sky. She got out of the red car and walked to the edge, her breath visible in the chilly air.

Her knees gave out, and she sank to the muddy ground, her face tilting up toward the heavens. “Why?” she screamed. “Why would you take her? What did I do? What did she do?”

The wind carried her cries, scattering them across the water, but no answer came. Melissa Schemmenti pounded the ground with her fists, the cold seeping through her skin, until her strength gave way and she collapsed, sobbing and gasping. She cursed God, cursed fate, cursed herself for not saving you.

And then, the drinking started.

At first, it was just a glass of wine to get through the evenings, to dull the sharp edges of her grief. But one glass turned into two, then three, then bottles. The nights blurred together, and she found herself seeking solace at the bottom of every glass, hoping to drown the pain that refused to let her go.

The house, already in disarray, descended further into chaos. Empty bottles piled up in the corners, forgotten among the clutter of a life unraveling. Giovanni, too young to understand, would tug on her sleeve, his wide eyes filled with worry. “Ma? Do you have boo-boos?”

“I’m fine, champ,” Melissa would slur, forcing a laugh. But she wasn’t fine. She was falling apart.

One night, after too many drinks and too little food, the older woman collapsed on the living room floor. The room spun violently, and her chest ached on a annoying pain. She thought, for a moment, that this might be it—that she might join you, finally escaping the unbearable weight of living without you.

But then she saw you.

“Y/N?”

You appeared before her, radiant and whole, just as you had been in life. Your eyes, full of love and concern, met hers, and she could feel the warmth of your presence. “Lis,” you said softly, kneeling beside her. “What are you doing, mi amore? This isn’t you.”

Tears streamed down her face as she reached for you, her fingers passing through air. “I can’t do this without you,” she revealed. “I don’t know how.”

“Yes, you can,” you reforced. “Giovanni needs you. He’s counting on you.”

Melissa shook her head, her sobs wracking her form. “I’m not strong enough.”

“You are,” you said, leaning closer, your ghostly hand brushing against her cheek. “You’ve always been strong. But you don’t have to do it alone. Let them help you, honey. Let them love you the way I loved you.”

When she woke the next morning, the sunlight streaming through the curtains felt like an accusation, but also like a lifeline. She dragged herself to the bathroom, emptied the bottles into the sink, and stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her face was pale, her eyes bloodshot, but she saw something there—a glimmer of accepting.

She felt hope. For Giovanni. For you. She had to try.

[milkcioccolato]

My entry for @wolfwrenweek day IV - Body Worship

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Take Them All On

|| Sevika x fem!reader

|| Warnings; reader being followed, brief swearing, group of men flirting with reader, panic/fear, Sevika kicks ass, kinda injured reader? not really, hurt/comfort

|| Summary; when reader goes to meet up with Sevika for a date, she notices she's being followed.

Requests closed!

Started; December 23rd

Finished; December 23rd

HurtCember2024; Day 20, Panic

Author Note; I may open my fic requests up in the next couple days for Christmas, but I'll wait and see how caught up I get on all the stuff I'm writing now

~~~

Zaun. The streets were dangerous, luckily most people didn't dare bother you. They knew your connections to Sevika and her connections to Silco. Neither were to be messed with down here. But occasionally, there was that odd bunch of people that just- didn't know or completely ignored it.

You'd been on your way to meet with your girlfriend, walking quickly with your head down. Wanting to just disappear into the shadows. Something in your gut felt off. Like... there was an extra set of eyes on you. You couldn't shake the feeling. All the hairs on your body were standing tall and it was creating a sense of panic in you. An urge to get to Sevika faster.

Picking up the pace, you turned around a corner. Now moving at somewhere between a jog and a run. You were almost there. The Last Drop lights in view.

"Woah- fu-!" Next thing you knew, your face was in the ground. Having tripped over yourself in your rush. Carefully, you propped your arms up. There was some scrapes you could feel burning but it didn't seem to be anything major.

The sound of men laughing filled your ears," aw, sweetheart. We got you falling for us already?" You turned to the voices. You didn't recognize them, but the gleam in their eyes sent shivers down your spine. Not the good kind. Were they why you had felt eyes on you before? It seemed likely. Panic raised into your throat. You felt frozen, unable to move off the ground. There were more of them than you, you couldn't take them all on. One maybe, this many? No.

"You boys want something?" A familiar voice caught your attention and you instantly relaxed. Sevika. Your head turned to look at her, a grateful smile across your lips.

"Sev..." Her eyes weren't on you, though. There was a fixed glare as she walked past you and right to the group of men that had followed you. Standing between you and them, her back to you. She'd noticed them from the bar window and came out the moment you tripped. Sevika knew what the people in Zaun could be like and was not about to take any chances. Not when those chances came to you.

"We were just admiring the view you got there, Sevika. She's real fine. Ever thought of sharing her?" Another man said with a laugh.

You felt sick just listening to them.

Sevika, however, radiated intimidating energy. The whole room felt tense. Suffocating just with her presence alone, even for someone like you. Who wasn't on the receiving end of what she was about to dish out. You could only imagine what the group of men must feel.

Sevika ripped her cloak off, the fabric falling to the ground beside you and revealing her prosthetic. In the blink of an eye, that same prosthetic had gone from being at her side to slamming against the face of the man that dared speak about you. The force was enough to knock him to the ground. He didn't move so, you could only assume he was unconscious. If not dead. With Sevika it was kind of a 50/50.

The others looked startled for a brief second before regaining their composure. A five vs one fight broke out; Sevika really didn't look like she needed any help- you helped her out anyway. Taking on one of the guys. He was a lot bigger than you and both of you hardly even got a punch in when Sevika grabbed his face with her claw.

"Not a chance," She muttered. His face was met with the wall. You looked around and noticed everyone now looked about the same as the first guy. Just sprawled in different positions, with various injuries. Sevika took a moment to catch her breath then turned to look at you," you okay there, Princess?"

"Yeah... just a little scraped from my fall," you replied. Glancing down at your hands. Sure enough, there was a scrape or two. Sevika took your hands in her larger ones. Relieved that that's all you seemed to have gotten.

"I don't like you walking alone on these streets," Sevika sighed. She shouldn't have let you walk alone. She should have just gone and got you. She made a mental note that next time, she would come get you herself.

"I'm fine, you saved me, right? So, I'm fine," you smiled at her. Trying to reassure your girlfriend. Sevika just nodded, pulling you along towards The Last Drop where she'll take care of your scrapes in the bathroom.

She hated whenever you got hurt; it was supposed to be her job to protect you. Sevika's hardly going to leave your side now and probably make you do some fighting classes with her. Just for her own comfort.

[mlbfemslashfebruary]

Miraculous Ladybug Femslash February 2025 is now here…! 

All main girls get at least one or two pairs, but some are more popular in this chart than others. Once again, f/f starring older female characters are double-booked to allow more pairings.

.

Rules:

• Any fanart, fic, playlist, or edit is welcomed in this event. Just tag your work #mlbfemslashfebruary or @ this blog so your work can be reblogged here!

• You don’t have to follow all the key words or ships for each day, they’re just prompts to help the creative process.

• If you have another femslash pairing you want to write over a certain day’s theme, go ahead! This includes creating content for poly femslash ships.

• Please no male characters or m/m ships that are genderbended. Male characters and slash ships get much more attention in fandom spaces than female characters and femslash ships. This event is supposed to help elevate femslash content, which is much rarer in fandom (and especially lacking in Miraculous Ladybug outside of a small handful of ships.)

• This event is meant to be for romantic pairings, but you can also write platonic or queerplatonic interpretations.

• No NSFW content will be reblogged for this event, but can still be created and posted on your own time.

...

Below is also a written out list of the prompts, for accessibility purposes and in case the image is too hard to see.

[Image ID: A calendar for February 2025 filled with prompts for Miraculous Ladybug Femslash February 2025. Each day has two prompt words and one f/f pairing, with some days instead having two f/f pairings to showcase adult women f/f. Prompt words are bulleted using hearts in the image.

Day 1

• Ambition • Start

Alya/Marinette

Day 2

• Faithful • Lily

Kagami/Juleka

Day 3

• Equation • Daisy

Chloe/Sabrina

Day 4

• Manners • Poppy

Zoe/Fei

OR Emilie/Nathalie

Day 5

• Separation • Iris

Marinette/Kagami

Day 6

• Lion • Clover

Ondine/Kagami

OR Miss Bustier/Giselle

Day 7

• Start • Lilac

Juleka/Marinette

Day 8

• Harbor • Rose

Alya/Zoe

Day 9

• Obligation • Apple

Kagami/Alya

Day 10

• Abandon • Kiwi

Chloe/Lila

Day 11

• String • Grape

Zoe/Juleka

OR Anarka/Penny

Day 12

• Impact • Blueberry

Marinette/Chloe

Day 13

• Screen • Orange

Aeon/Alya

OR Nora/Clara Nightingale

Day 14

FREE SLOT

Day 15

• Opinion • Peach

Alya/Sabrina

Day 16

• Yearn • Dragon

Kagami/Chloe

Day 17

• Urgency • Queen

Chloe/Alya

Day 18

• Respect • Tower

Zoe/Mylene  

OR Miss Bustier/Ms. Mendeleiev

Day 19

• Intention • Prophecy

Marinette/Zoe

Day 20

• Finish • Quest

Rose/Mylene

OR Anarka/Claudie

Day 21

• Unity • Hero

Marinette/Socqueline

Day 22

• Legend • Witch

Alya/Lila

Day 23

• Comfortable • Dawn

Kagami/Zoe

Day 24

• Undertake • Dusk

Chloe/Alix

Day 25

• Pillow • Midnight

Zoe/Jess

OR Olympia/Barbara

Day 26

• Issue • Noon

Marinette/Lila

Day 27

• Disclose • Morning

Aurore/Mireille

OR Amelie/Nathalie

Day 28

• Sweater • Evening

Juleka/Rose

End Image ID]