my main account @novelbear is beginning to look a little more serious as i plan to expand my prompts to other platforms!
and with that, i think it's right that i make sure my account(s) are safe! i made this second account just to be ensure that i have a place to land back on if anything were to happen to novelbear.
i have plans to maybe post mini-prompt lists and things so that this account isn't just sitting here so i would appreciate if you'd all reblog and follow!
if (optional and specific) commissions were something that i'd offer, would you all be interested?
hell yeah!
no thank you :(
Voting ended onJul 21, 2025
there is a lot of thought and consideration going into this idea, but for all of your that follow or wait for me, of course your opinions matter.
i'm going through a rough patch right now and potentially opening this up would help immensely! if anyone has any suggestions or ideas for possible options i would love to hear them, anything you guys are interested in is my first priority <3
I keep coming across writing prompts, and wanted to throw them all together. I've tried my best to organize them for those who wish to use them. Please give credit to those that have created the prompts. Happy writing!
I'm trying to update this and make it more organized. The post is doing better than I thought and it's too long for my liking
(If someone wants to suggest a better way to make this more organzied, I will greatly appreciate it)
thank you for requesting!! i hope you like husband timo 💗 (dialogue prompts taken from here if you want to send any and i'll happily write some drabbles)
“i don’t feel like cooking,” timothée sighs, curls falling into his eyes as he ambles down the darkening street. he brushes them away impatiently, scrunching his nose as he looks back at your face lighting up his phone screen. “how does takeout sound?”
in lieu of response, you lift the pizza box triumphantly into shot, watching his features soften in gratitude.
“fuck, you’re incredible,” he moans obscenely, making the tips of your ears burn.
“love you too,” you smirk, moving around the bathroom, opening the cabinets to search through your bath bombs.
the apartment is lit with candles; it smells divine, and the flickering flames are soothing and relaxing to watch as you fill the bath with bubbles. after his nineteen hour shoot day, it’s the least you can do for him.
“i just wanna be home,” timothée grumbles, his disgruntled face reappearing on screen. “i miss your face. your in person face.”
you smile sadly as the signal glitches for a moment, then angle your phone so he can see the steady flow of water streaming into the bath. “i know, baby. there’s a bath running already, i know it was a long day for you.”
“have i told you i love you lately?”
“only every day,” you grin cheekily, propping your phone up on the bathroom sink so that you can pull your shirt over your head.
timothée almost collides with a tree.
he fumbles. the phone shakes in his hands, the view of your husband suddenly replaced by a blurry few seconds of new york city skyscrapers.
you stifle a laugh, biting your lip to hide your amusement as you hear him curse out the uneven sidewalk he just tripped over.
your smile, radiant, is what greets him once he regains his footing. he’ll have to chase his heart, at least put it on a lead, as it races ahead, an entire avenue in front of him as it yearns to reach you.
“chère, you’re naked.”
smooth, chalamet. it’s a good job you’re already married.
“and you’re not naked. hurry up, gorgeous,” you chastise, opening the pizza box and nibbling on a slice.
“listen, i love you, but i’m not running,” timothée chuckles, though despite his exhaustion he does pick up his pace a little.
“not running, huh?” your voice lilts with the question and you watch your husband’s jaw clench.
“baby…” he warns, throat bobbing as he swallows.
you tilt your phone until, agonizingly, all he can do is watch as you lower yourself into the bath, the water velvety smooth as it laps against your skin.
sliding yourself further under the water, you bite your lip, running a hand through your wet hair, suppressing a giggle when timothée breaks into a jog.
when you want to introduce them to someone but you have that slight hesitation before saying "they're a friend."
"you called me your friend." "was i not supposed to say that?" "you really think i'm just your friend? after these last few weeks?"
A/N: usually I write flirty, sexy, happy RoyJamie but I feel like shit so you're getting sad prompts today. (Ficlet under cut)
“This is Jamie, my …friend.”
Friend, friend. It feels like a slap in the face, because it is. Because Jamie is not going back in the closet for anyone.
Not for Man City. Not for Love Island. Not for his fucking father. And sure as hell not for Roy fucking Kent who Jamie had been considering, exclusively for weeks now, as his boyfriend.
“Yeah. Hey, how you doing mate,” Jamie says diplomatically, through clenched fucking teeth as he shakes the hand of some old fuck Jamie could care less about.
*
He’s fully trapped in his head by the time they reach the restaurant.
“You’ve been quiet.” Roy says, and Jamie struggles to make eye contact.
“Have I?”
“Eerily. Usually can't get you to shut the fuck up.”
Any other day, in any other mood, the comment would have rolled off Jamie’s back. Roy and Jamie teased each other constantly. But right now, after the ‘friend’ comment. After so much time listening to the hateful insecurities whispering venom in his ears, it just feels like a kick to the gut after he’s already down.
“Fuck you Roy,” he says, louder than is polite for a half full restaurant, but it at least the message gets through. Because Roy’s eyebrows shoot to his receding hairline and his mouth drops open in shock.
“Whoa, hey. The fuck’s going on?”
Jamie scoffs, pushing his hair back for something to do that's not destruct.
“The fucks goin on? You called me your ‘friend’ Roy. To someone important to you. Is that all this is? All we are? It’s been months Roy!”
Roy is stunned, embarrassed, and angry. Jamie’s spent enough time looking at this assholes face to understand the nuances in his expressions.
“I don't want to talk about this here,” Roy says, probably thinking he's compromising but it just sets Jamie off. He stands and leaves the restaurant without another word.
*
Roy stares at the empty place across from him for another second before tossing cash on the table for the drinks and getting the fuck out of here. He can already hear all of the chatter in the restaurant escalate as more seconds pass.
He needed to talk to someone. Jamie, ideally, but maybe after he’s cooled down a bit.
He wished Keeley wasn’t the first person that jumped to his mind. Only because it wasn't fair to burden her with news of a second failed relationship after he was the one who ended theirs.
“Fuuuuuuuuuuuucccck.”
*
Jamie goes home. And he drinks. He hates himself for it, but, well, he’s already at the bottom of the well, can’t get any lower than this right?
*
He loses track of time, and how much he’s drank. Of how many pictures he's taken of his body and dick as revenge postings to maybe piss Roy off more. They don't go any further than his camera roll though, because the liquor makes his eyes heavy and he’s asleep less than 5 minutes later.
*
Waking up alone is one of the worst feelings in the world in Jamie’s opinion. Especially once he's in a relationship. And now, after 5 months and 16 days, he’s grown accustomed to waking up against Roy’s frame. To falling asleep with his light snoring in his ear.
Waking up alone, hungover, because your actions may have ended yet another fantastic relationship? Take the worst feeling in the world and compound it by 100.
Jamie isn't getting out of bed today. Maybe not even this week. Maybe he’ll quit the team all together. It would save him the embarrassing feeling of seeing Roy everyday. Of explaining to everyone how they went from best friends to enemies again over night.
He thinks about calling his mom. But then he remembered she and Simon were out on holiday till the 19th.
