#great for drabble

[someguywriting]

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[parrish-the-thot]

A continuation of this post I made

I imagine Steve genuinely doesn’t think about Eddie, like at all. Besides the occasional “what is he yelling about in that table” or “ Munson actually showed up to class” or once in sophomore year he thinks “how much does Munson charge for an ounce of weed? Would he take a $50 for an ounce” which causes Eddie to wait around all day at the picnic table wishing for some shmuck to offer $50 for just an ounce, but no one shows up (Steve had to go pick up Dustin after school and didn’t want him to find weed the weed when he inevitably starts going through Steve’s car)

The lack of soulmate thoughts really irks Eddie, because he knows his soulmate is in Hawkins, but he never thinks about Eddie, like at all??? Positively or negatively?? Eddie jumps on more tables, he blares loud music from his van, he is in a band, he is the drug dealer for all the teens in Hawkins and all his soulmate thinks is “why the fuck did Munson double park his van, I’m going to be late looking for a parking spot now” it absolutely drives him crazy.

He eventually figures out his soulmate must be a jock of some kind because one day he hears “what is Munson doing under the bleachers?” when some sports team is let out of playing with balls practice. He is briefly heartbroken his soulmate isn’t a nerd like him, but then spends the night thinking about how a certain fluffy haired jock could play with his balls anytime.

Steve isn’t not thinking about Eddie on purpose, but they just don’t run in the same circles, so he doesn’t really think about him too much, just in a genuine, “I don’t know them, don’t interact with them, so I don’t really think about them” sort of way. Especially after befriending the kids, Steve’s focus goes to keeping them safe and being a babysitter instead of finding his soulmate.

Steve’s experience with his soulmates thoughts is completely different. Starting in middle school he heard his soulmate think he was cute which he thought was nice. As he got older his soulmate would still think he was cute, but also handsome or pretty which, he doesn’t know any girls who call their boyfriends pretty but ya know, he can roll with that. He thinks he will have to roll with a lot of stuff, since hai soulmate seems to into a…a lot of interesting things, to say the least. Steve has dated a lot of girls but none of them seemed to want to rub their face in his chest hair like his soulmate did, who also wonder is Steve was that hairy everywhere which- he was but he didn’t think a girl would want to know about that.

He would be in the middle of a basket ball game and he hit with a 15 minute monologue about how wonderful his ass looked in “thise little green shirts that ride up his ass in the best way” and how his soulmate “wanted to be those shorts” causing Steve to miss three different shots. Also with all this wildly kinky stuff and even general sex things Steve has never heard of or thought about he figures he should become more knowledgeable to better be prepared for his soulmate.

One day when Steve is cleaning up a drink he spilled in the cafeteria and heard “god Harrington looks good on his knees, bet he would look even better with my cock in his mouth” figures chances are his soulmate isn’t a girl at all.

With not much else to loose and a new door opened up to him, Steve starts spending time thinking equally horny thinvs about different guys he sees in class, just to see if they will react to what he is thinking. This is how he figures out Eddie is his soulmate.

Steve notices eddies table is getting a little rowdy, as is always does before Eddie gets up on someone’s table and he rants about jocks and preppy girls while stepping on people’s lunches, Steve thinks “what if comes over here, spits in my stretched out hole, and fucks me right next to Heathers Halloways tuna sandwich”

Eddie, whose soulmate didn’t even think about Eddie that one time his car got spray painted a fit was all the school talked about for a week, was NOT expecting that at 12:30 on a Tuesday and promptly trips on a chair and slams face first into the lunch table, breaking his nose.

Eddies friends rush him to the nurse and Steve is torn between this being a sign Eddie is soulmate or Eddie just clumsy, Steve has seen him walk into a door twice, so he don’t 100% sure. Steve decided to test this anytime he has a clear viewpoint of Eddie and starts thinking the most horny, kinky things possibly about Eddie to see if Eddie reacts proves he is Steve’s soulmate (also revenge because Steve had to go through years of Eddie horny pondering interrupting Steve during important tasks games or tests so Steve figures he should pay that forward during eddies dungeons and dorks games)

[seungfl0wer]

*𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕*

Pairing: Bangchan x Reader (Fem)

Genre: Smut

Warnings: Dom!Chan, Brat!Reader, Hair Pulling, Spanking, Unprotected Sex, CreamPie, Degrading, Mentions Of multiple rounds, Studio Sex, P in V, Sir Used, Slightly proofread.

You can find this beautiful request (here)

-🖤

You had been testing Chans patience all day today, but what broke the straw was you getting a little too handsy with Changbin. You were sitting in the studio with Chan when Changbin had come into grab something. Somehow you ended up feeling his muscles making him all blushy. When Changbin left for the gym Chan shot you a death glare. He was always so patient, way more than he should be honestly. Today though? He had enough.

He got up locking the door, he hovered over you looking down at you. You stared at the ground not wanting to meet his gaze. That gaze, you knew damn well he was done with your bullshit. He sighed loudly before sitting beside you. Yanking you over his lap making you yelp at the suddenness. He laid your body over his lap ass pushed up. He pulled your shorts down with your underwear as you squirmed at his touch.

“Don’t move.” He said in a low voice. “You know the rules, count and do not look away.” He said staring daggers down at you.

You nod only for him to let a quick slap to your ass. “Words.” He said with a growl.

“Yes- sir, I’m sorry sir” you said voice trailing off a bit at the end.

“And what happens if you don’t keep eyes on me or don’t count?” He said rubbing his hand over the area he had slapped.

“Starts over” you all but whimper out looking at him with big doe eyes.

“Good girl” he said softly before letting another slap hit your ass. “Now start counting”

“1” the first (third) slap hard, his hand soothing it a bit before another smack.

“2” you groaned out eyes staring deep into each others gaze.

A few minutes had passed, with a whimper you kept going. “8.” Tears pricked at your face as you blinked the tears away.

“You gonna learn your lesson next time hm? Or are you gonna keep testing my patience.” He said another spank hitting your ass this time harder. The area was red, sensitive and getting sore. He normally did it on both sides but this was a sort of punishment he did when you were really bad.

“M’sorry sir, I didn’t-“ a louder yelp left your lips as another smack connected. “N-nine” you stuttered out.

“You didn’t what? Be a brat all day and then feel up my friend’s arms like a dirty little whore? You didn’t mean to do all that?” His voice was low but also a mocking tone. Another hard smack came down to your ass connecting with the sensitive spot once more.

“10!” You basically screamed. This slap the last one, was hard. Full of all the anger you had made him feel through the day. It stung, it hurt, it sure was gonna bruise. He ran his fingers over your ass looking down at your tear stained face. He spread your legs slightly running his fingers down your folds slowly. The sensation made your body jump, Not expecting it.

“You took your punishment so well, I’m proud” he said voice a bit softer than it had been. The slight pain dying down now you could feel how wet you were. He ran his fingers across your clit before pulling them away. You wanted to whine out but you knew it was a bad idea. So you bit your cheek trying to be good for him.

“Up” he said patting your ass, and you did so. You stared at him while he unbuckled his pants pulling everything down letting his cock slap back against him. He was rock hard, pre cum dripping from his tip. “Over the couch now.” He demanded.

You obeyed taking position, as soon as he made his way behind you he was already pushing into you. He gave you no time. No time to adjust and definitely no time to think. He was pounding into you mercilessly, balls slapping against your skin as he bottomed out. A string of curse words and grunts left his mouth as you moaned below him.

He gripped your hips harshly as his nails dug into the sensitive soft skin. You could feel his cock so deep into you, he was twitching already. He slapped your ass this time on the other cheek before bringing his hands up to wrap around your neck. “Tell me how much of a slut you are, tell me how you were probably bad cause you’re a needy whore and just want my attention. He growled.

“M’need- always need your attention. Always want all of you” he groaned. You could feel your legs becoming jelly. Your cunt squeeze around him. “G’onna cum!” You moaned out spit dripping down your chin.

“Did I say you could? You think you’ve deserve to cum?” He said as he took a chunk of your hair pulling it harshly. Your head came back where he could whisper into your ear. “Think I should let you?” He said almost a chuckle.

“Please sir I’m sorry- I- I’ll behave just- aah” you moaned out. Chan grinned as he pulled out before quickly flipping you over.

“You’re gonna keep eye contact with me until I cum got it? Then maybe I’ll let you cum” he said pushing himself back into you. His pace was fast he was hitting every spot inside you. Your body shook under him, in return making him laugh. “So pathetic” he said as his hand found its way to your clit. He rubbed small circles as he drilled into your eyes never leaving one another’s.

“Sir! Mm fuck- so good- only you. Only you make me feel so good.” You babbled out. You were seeing stars and so was Chan. His high washing over him faster than he thought it would. His cock pumped deep into you as he groaned. Hot liquid filling you to the brim as his movements start to stutter.

“Shit princess” he said he leaned down leaving sloppy kisses to you as he rubbed you clit. “Cum for me princess, I wanna watch you come undone from me” he groaned out. It didn’t take long for you to let go. Gushing all over his long cock as you arched your back.

“Thank you sir” you said panting out. “M’sorry for being bad” you said softly looking up at him.

“I know baby” he coo’d rubbing your head as he came down from his high. A few moments had passed before either of you said anything else, But you were the first one to break the silence.

“Chan” you said softly. “Chan! The recording sound was on! You recorded this whole-“ your eyes went wide looking at him. He couldn’t help but laugh, he just shrugged “maybe I’ll put it in a song” he said smiling at you as you rolled your eyes.

He cocked an eyebrow “attitude back already?” He teased making you pout “no..” you said softly “don’t worry baby I’m not done with this punishment yet, I think I got 2 more rounds in me” he said before kissing you as he wrapped his arms around you. Those 2 rounds? Yeah, turned into 1 more at the studio and 2 more at your house.

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

💙 If you’d like to read more of my stuff you can find it Here: Master List . Thank you for reading and if requests are open or you just wanna talk feel free to send me something

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

Taglist: @satosugu4l @do-you-remember-summer-127 @xines16 @minh0scat

[dreampolices]

thinking about yelena teaching bob russian. he’d be a perfectionist about it because he really wants to hold conversation with her in russian. he wants to feel like they have their own secret language.

one day alexei catches him saying something over and over in russian as he’s doing the dishes, he vaguely makes out that he’s trying to say he wants to go out and has to stop the protective papa bear in him from going crazy when he realises bob is rehearsing how to ask yelena out in russian.

[rottenherbs]

Your Champion

Pairing: C.D x Potter! Reader Request: hello, can i have a Cedric Diggory request where the reader is Harry's sister (they are the same age). They meet at the quidditch world cup and immediately hit it off. Harry is very protective of her and disapproves of her dating Cedric but then he saves her during the second task? W/C: 2.7k Author's Note: HERMIONE WING WOMAN! This was a good challenge for me! I hope I wrote Cedric well :) I apologize I skipped the Yule ball, i feel if they went together it wouldn’t make sense for the request plotline, and I already have been writing this for too long. — [mastserlist] Much Love, Saige

Being a fan of the Bulgarian Quidditch team in the Weasley house was no small feat. It was undeniable that they had such a warm and inviting nature, especially allowing you and your brother to stay at their home over breaks, but conversations became quite pointed once the world cup came around.

The house was so starkly pro-Ireland it astonished you. Luckily Ron and Ginny both had some sense in them and wore their red and black proudly alongside you and Harry. Fred and George on the other hand practically questioned your every move, seeing your allegiance to their rivaling team sparked insidious competition.

“For the last time, I am NOT gambling with you.” You whispered starkly. The whole Weasley family was walking their way through the forest. Fred and George flanked either side of you, far enough away from their father who was oblivious to their antics.

“We're not asking for galleons here-” Fred started.

”Yeah, perhaps just a couple knuts or sickle if you can spare.” George finished, wagging his eyebrows jokingly. “Why.. .dont think you’ll win eh?”

You just sighed, not knowing how far you all still had to travel, you shoved your hand in your pocket digging around for any loose change that would shut them up. Once you removed your hand, both twins shot their fists in the air, happy to see their egging finally broke you into having a little fun.

“We thank you for your business.” Fred chirped, sliding the coins into his own pocket, while revealing a small notebook, swiftly writing down your contribution.

“And you won't regret it!” George slurred, both of them jogging up to their next unsuspecting victims, Ron and Hermione.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed by their brotherly love, but also feeling deep admiration for the day set ahead of you.

It had to have been an hour or two when the scenery ahead widened into a beautiful hilltop. Still quite a ways away, everyone’s attention was focused on something else coming from just over the horizon.

Two figures came into view, one much taller than the other, both waving their arms beckoning the group to come over. Either parties walked briskly to each other, meeting just at the base of the hill. After a moment it became acutely aware to you who they were before Mr.Weasley introduced the groups.

Your attention couldn’t help itself, glancing ever so often at the boy, charmed by how he carried himself, his brown hair lit by the morning glow. Hermione nudged your shoulder, smirking at her feet. Both of you giggled to yourself, the special bond of your friendship could say everything without having to say a word at all.

Like most girls at Hogwarts, you knew of Cedric Diggory; The hufflepuff king. He was known for his academic knowledge and superb quidditch skill, and most of all his popularity amongst anyone who laid eyes on him —

but he wasn't popular like Draco… no, not at all.

He was known for the right reasons, his wit and ability to make friends with anyone was the reason he was so well known - not because of money or power or some evil greed.

You suddenly became nervous, hands clammy and unable to act normally.

Piling with Hermione as the adults chatted, both of you whispered to each other in the back of the pack.

“You know, I heard he liked someone in our grade-“ Hermione started, the sentence only making your stomach flutter.

”Please, we all know it's Cho,” you rebutted, trying to cover your distaste for the girl. You didn't have any serious issue with Cho, but a jealous streak flowed through you, a childlike pain of not being wanted by yet another one of your crushes.

“No no. I heard from Ernie that they both went on a study date and nothing happened. Like nothing.” Hermione whispered, biting her lip slightly at you. Her eyes were attempting to communicate to you, but all you could think about was the fact that it was clear you all were traveling to the game together, and the close proximity was inevitable.

You sucked your teeth at her, a small sound of annoyance yet acceptance as you nodded your head towards the group. The both of you looked up, seeing the group shift towards the hill, the Diggory’s making quick strides ahead.

For a second, Cedric turned, smiling deeply at your brother, smiling politely and making conversation, every so often looking around. You watched your brother curl his hands, laughing and bantering as best as he could before shoving his thumb over his shoulder and directing his attention towards you.

You were too far away to distinct what was being said, but you could decipher that he was (from afar) introducing Cedric to you, the words “sister”, “same age”, and “wicked smart” all following in quick succession. Your cheeks reddened, both you and Cedrics eyes meeting, a soft inviting smirk growing as he looked at you over his shoulder. Harry’s eyes followed between the two of you, suddenly aware of the implications and interests Cedric had in you. Though he thought little of it and changed the conversation.

Your heart fluttered once you got to the top of the hill, standing precariously close to Hermione and Ron, doing your best to focus on Mr.Weasley.

“Now, if everyone would please touch the boot.” He spoke, smiling from ear to ear. “Yes yes. Just a finger will do. Scoot close please.”

As all the children got close, you became shoulder to shoulder with others, your eyes fixated on the large mangy shoe in front of you. As you took a deep breath in, you looked up and locked eyes with Cedric, his face

“Hold on tight-“ Mr.Weasley shouted, everyone taking a deep breath in.

“THREE” Mr.Weasly started counting down.

“Hey-“ Cedric whispered, smiling softly at you.

”TWO!”

”Hi-“ you breathed out, feeling a warmth rush over you. He blinked slowly, licking his lip nonchalantly.

“ONE”

And with that, the world began to spin. Wind was blowing through your hair and eyes, shutting them out of fear. You couldn’t tell how high up you were or what was happening. You could hear small yelps from Hermione just next to you, your bodies colliding with each other as the air got colder.

“Let GO.” Mr.Weasley announced, his words cut through the wind easily, frightening your eyes open. Cedric and Mr.Diggory were missing, slowly one after another Fred and George let go, their bodies flying out of sight.

You took a breath in feeling zero sense of confidence in your actions and released your grip from the boot. The world continued to spin, your stomach and your heart felt to change places, your consciousness feeling something out of this world.

It only took a few seconds to get to the ground, an invisible net catching your body from slamming into the earth, holding you just a foot above the grass before dropping you roughly.

Harry landed just next to you a second later, the sight of his glasses hanging onto his face for dear life made you break into a deep guttural laugh. He looked at you through his disheveled hair, his hand swinging back to hit you playfully, slumping back into the ground to catch his breath.

Your attention was quickly diverted, Hermione’s hand pointing eagerly towards the sky.

Like out of a movie, Mr,Weaslys, Mr.Diggory, and Cedric were gliding on hair down to the ground.

”You’ve got to be joking.” Fred started, sitting up in the grass yanking his jacket over his shoulders.

”They didn't teach US that.” George rolled his eyes, running his hand through his hair.

Once Cedric landed, he adjusted his clothes quickly before making his way over to you and Hermione. His hand extended to you both, hoping to help you up. Hermione looked at you quickly, the excitement showing deliberately through her eyes.

She grabbed Cedric’s hand and helped herself up leaving you in the dust. Just behind Cedric she winked at you, turning to catch up with Ron and Harry. Cedric smiled, his hand still enveloped with you.

“Come on, they might leave us behind.” He smiled, tugging your arm lightly urging you up. You just nodded, feeling his strength pull you easily from the ground. Once to your feet, you brushed off the front of your pants, grass and rocks flinging from your clothes.

“Is my back bad?” You asked innocently, turning and facing your back towards Cedric. He was grateful you couldn't see his expression, his eyes tracing the outline of your body. There were dark dirt marks on your bottom and he wasn't sure how to tell you.

“It’s not.. well.” He coughed, clearing his throat. “Nothing that won't come out in the wash.” He laughed, your face dropping as your hands covered your butt, wiping it frantically.

“It’s that bad?!” You asked, realizing what you had just asked him to do. He shrugged, cocking his head to the side.

“Cedric!” Mr.Diggory yelled, catching both of you off guard. ”It’s time!” His father coxed you both over, the group now congregating a bit away leaving you alone at the top of the hill.

”Let the games begin-“

———

The events of the World Cup were memorable to say the least. You stayed close to your brother the entire night, fear filling your mind with each step. You tried your best to not show your fear going into your next year at Hogwarts, but you knew something would change, for better or for worse.

You prayed for a simple year, each being more laborious for Harry, seeing life not allow the young boy to grow and be a teenager. It hurt you, but it seemed to be going well… at least until the other schools showed up.

The prospect of the triwizard tournament bothered you to your core. Children, yes at least 17 years of age, but children nonetheless being thrown to the dogs for entertainment and forever glory to the school. It was insane!

But it only brought you and Cedric closer

———

“Dragons?” Cedric gasps. Both of you were hidden in the courtyard,

“Yes…Harry wanted to tell you, but his pride.. those damn buttons-“ You stunned, smacking his lapel as the button changed, clearly showing Potter Stinks glimmer in green. Cedric smirked, taking it off at once and holding it in his hand.

“It’s just house pride.” He snuffed, handing it over to you. “I know he didn’t put his name in, but no one else believes it. I’m sorry.” His words were soft yet firm. You hovered your hand over his before grabbing it, the proximity of his body became incredulously apparent to you; your lungs halting their movement.

You could’ve sworn he leaned in-

“Yes. Dragons” You cleared, looking up at the boy. His head was turned down towards you, his height staggering in comparison. He nodded, his soft brown eyes admiring you from his view.

He has been enamored with you ever since the summer. His mind raced with fear for your health and wellbeing the moment the warning shots went off. He selfishly deprecated his father and attempted to look for you, any trace of your presence in the fighting crowds would have eased his anxiety.

But he’d never tell you that. Not now.

“Each student will have a dragon and need to save the egg.” You sighed.

“Sounds invigorating.” Cedric beamed, leaning against the wall behind him running his hand through his hair.

“Sounds irresponsible” you choked.

“Oh please, y/n. They wouldn’t put us in a situation they couldn’t get us out of.” He smirked, watching you fuss with your fingers. He suddenly became aware of your anxieties, biting the side of your cheek, eyes fixated on the ground.

“Listen, darling,” Cedric started, pushing himself back from the wall, standing tall in a way to show his confidence. His arms held either side of you.

“I promise, nothing will happen to me, or your brother for that matter.” He leaned down, trying to lift your chin to look him in the eye.

“Okay?” He whispered, his eyes dancing between yours, the air suddenly becoming stiff.

“Okay.”

He wrapped you in a hug, swaying you back and forth casually.

“Chin up. I’ll put on a show.” He smiled, resting his chin on top of your head. You leaned your head tirelessly on his chest, the thumping of his heart gave you peace, but the thought of never feeling it again sent a new wave of shivers down your spine.

You attempted to gather your emotions, pulling back the tears, too embarrassed to cry in front of him.

“Please tell your brother thank you, and I’ll return the favor.”

———-

The first task came and went with utter success. With only minor cuts and scrapes, both Cedric and Harry had surpassed their dragons. And yes, you could admit Cedric put on a show.

The second task continued around the corner. To the surprise of no one, the confusion of the golden egg stumped each champion.

Harry hadn’t asked you for your help, knowing your small allegiance with Cedric and having his own help from Ron and Hermione; but he had a strong distaste for the older boy and how he had swooned you, worried he would treat you like the other girls and move on quickly.

Harry was nothing but protective. Both of your namesakes brought trouble; people who just wanted to know you or people who wanted to use you.

You hated it, but it was justified and trouble always came when Cedric’s name was brought up around you

“He tried to repay your hint!” You bellowed, confused to Harry’s annoyance at the golden egg

“Right like that does anything. I think he was telling me I was stinky more than anything-“ Harry scoffed. He held the large egg in between his hands, aimlessly tracing the opening with his fingertips.

“Harry. Underwater. Listen to it underwater.” You spoke plainly, looking at your brother with a blank stare. His facial expressions didn’t change, instead they stayed indifferent- the cogs in his mind working slowly.

He stood up at once, shooting you a soft smile, though his eyes said differently.

“I’ll go take a bath then.” His lips tightened, leaving you in the library alone. You sighed, leaning back in the chair. You knew he was under an immense amount of stress, but sometimes it felt like he was competing with you just the same.

———

The night before the second task, Hermione and Ron and you were all round up by professor Mcgonagal after the dinner bell, pulled away from the celebrations in the great hall.

Unsure to what it could be, you caught Cedric’s attention in the hall, walking opposite to you. Knowing you had no time to speak, your eyes met.

You both said nothing at all, but the softness in his eyes lingered, turning his body to watch you walk. Just before you rounded the corner, you blew him a kiss, hoping you would have time later tonight to see him.

You had no clue what that kiss did to him, his head hung as he walked away smiling foolishly to himself.

Neither of you knew he would have to save your unconscious body underwater in just 12 hours time.

[glitchxavier]

"i'll never be her."

mc remembers all her past (and future) lives.

she was angry at first. why did no one tell her?

now, she's just sad.

rafayel, xavier, and sylus aren't truly in love with her - rather, they love a version of her that doesn't exist.

zayne... well. he seems like the only person who loves her for who she truly is. but now she knows how all of his lives end in tragedy, and it's always her fault.

so, she pushes them away. she disappears, leaving a note for each of them. "i'll never be able to truly make you happy. i'll never be her."

[thepagemistress]

Thinking half-thoughts but like... what if, in order to pull Cas out of the Empty, Jack had to leave the vessel behind? I've seen theories on getting Cas out by leaving the grace behind (which does make more sense lore-wise) but stick with me...

They can't get the vessel back or create a new one whilst it still exists (whatever, the logistics aren't the point) and obviously Claire is the only other bloodline vessel which isn't even worth entertaining. So essentially Cas is stuck in Heaven in his true form. And in the beginning, he did try and check in on Dean but it hurt too much to see him so listless and spiralling and not being able to do anything about it so he just went cold turkey and threw himself into helping Jack rebuild Heaven.

Until he feels a barrage of emotions so strongly that it would have brought him to his knees were he to still have any. Pain, regret, sadness, acceptance, hope... a cacophony of chaos and he knows the source immediately. And he knows the reason. Dean is dying. It's barely been the blink of his many eyes and Dean's already dying. And there's nothing he can do about it.

But he could at least be there for him, even if Dean can't see him or know he's there. So he flies down to some decrepit barn to find Dean and Sam. Immediately, he is overcome with the need to FIX-IT. Why should he accept this? Why are any of them just accepting this?? If only he could...

And then an awareness shakes him to his core. The vessel is willing. The vessel has given permission. And Cas doesn't give himself time to talk himself out of it. He'll beg forgiveness later, just as long as Dean is alive.

And so he possesses him. Sam's still cradling his face and crying when Cas speaks through Dean's voice. "Pull him down."

Sam sniffs. Blinks. Frowns. It takes him longer than it usually would to connect the dots. Too long. "Sam!"

Sam starts and makes a grab for a weapon he doesn't have. "Who are you?"

"It's me," Cas says, also not thinking too straight through his own panic and the sudden onslaught of Dean's emotions battering him from the inside. "I can't heal him with the rebar still in. Hurry!"

Sam isn't hurrying. "Cas?"

"Sam, please!"

In a display of trust that Cas will be grateful for later, Sam finally bursts into action, pulling Dean from the beam, marvelling at how Cas keeps him upright. Then he begins to heal him from the inside, pouring his renewed grace into the wound and the rest of his body just because why not when he's already there?

Blinking Dean's eyes open, he finds Sam waiting, anxious. A nod from Cas has Sam sucking in a breath and launching himself forward to hug Dean. Or Cas. Or both.

It's nice. He wishes he could stay but he's done what he needed to and it was time to leave them to it. Shrugging out of Sam's grip, he offers a sad smile as he says, "I'll be waiting for you both. Just take your time about it, please."

It's clear Sam wants to argue but he needs to leave, now. And so he does.

Or...doesn't?

With a frown, he tries again. But still he remains. And Sam is now arguing but Cas can't focus, he's too busy panicking. And Dean is hammering on the little door in his mind that Cas put up to dull the unpleasant feeling of being possessed and Cas tries sending him reassuring pulses that yes, he's trying, he'll be out soon. But strangely that just increases the pounding which take on an edge of desperation until Cas has no choice but to open the door and-

"DON'T YOU FUCKING LEAVE ME AGAIN."

Everything stops. The pounding in his head, the tether on his grace, the desire to flee. The only thing that remains is an overwhelming sense of anticipation. And Sam still rambling about something that is probably very heartfelt and that Cas absolutely could not give a shit about right now.

To test a theory, Cas tries again to exit the vessel, only to have what he now realises is Dean's soul clamp down on his grace, keeping it rooted, nestled inside him.

"You ain't going anywhere, sunshine," comes Dean's shaky voice from inside his head. "We got some shit to talk about, you and me."

And so talk they do. And when Cas says that he's without a vessel and that's why he hasn't been by, Dean tells him that now he does. Just like that. As if he hasn't spent the entire time Cas has known him trying to avoid being a meat suit for an angel. But Cas can hear the eye roll as Dean says that Cas has been the exception to that rule for awhile. He made his peace with that fact years ago. Which explained the open permission he seemed to have.

"So, listen. We'll try to figure out how to get your body back. But, if we can't? Don't be using that as an excuse to not visit, yeah?"

If Cas had the choice, he'd never leave.

A flash of warmth roll through him, reminding Cas that he's not alone with his thoughts right now.

"Well. That'd be OK with me, too."

Cas smiles with Dean's lips. But that's OK because Dean's smiling too.

"...Have you listened to anything I just said?" Sam asks.

[everythingspokenfor]

All characters are aged up 18+.MDNI.

Pussy Dick inspection with Bakugou...

Bakugou hears the front door open, it's only a matter of minutes before you'll strut into the kitchen, objectify him and move to the bedroom to clean up.

It's a routine, something he has gotten accustomed to with years of living together, a pattern he recognised the second time you acted deranged, in the much smaller kitchen of your old apartment.

For you, it's just post mission treat, something to look forward to, a little reward for not dying out there.

"You look good, babe." You rumbled, barely crossing the threshold of the kitchen, mouth salivating at the gray sweatpants he adorned. "Fucking delectable."

"Nice to see you too, Princess." He turns around, wiping his hands with the spron, pulling you into a hug, eyes scanning your frame for any bandages or bruising.

"Were you good while I was gone?" You chimed, hands already clawing at his waist, fingers tracing over his nipples, before you let out a low growl, almost humping against his leg.

This is new, he thought. "What do you mean, Princess?" He spoke, voice soft and sweet, as if he is talking to a baby, he is though, you are his baby, "How could I be bad?"

"Did you play with your joystick?" You answered, eyes trained at his chesticles, your fingers kneading them, you look up at him, "Did you touch my dick?"

"Your dick? Last time I checked it was attached to me-"

"And if you wish for it to stay like that than you should address the rightful owner of the phalus!"

He let's out a sigh, "No. I didn't play with your cock." He watches as you hum silently, still drooling over his tits pecs.

"Should I check?"

"How exactly will you do that?"

You don't answer him, just sinking to your knees silently, you pull his sweats down, revealing his slowly hardening cock, you admire, before leaping forward and pressing kisses along his length.

His breathing slows, as he watches you rub your face against his cock, "You plan on sniffing me all evening," he catches your eyes narrowing at him, before you kiss the tip, soft lips against the slit of his cock.

Your hand slides up from his thigh to between his legs, fingers cupping his ballsac, his breath hitches, throat drying up, as he feels your tug at them, massaging each sac between your fingers.

"They seem full, Suki." You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock, bobbing your head, taking him further into your mouth.

He groans, hips rutting forward unintentionally, he watches you choke a little, his length hitting the back of your throat.

You pull off his cock, a string of spit connecting your lips to him, "You'll have to behave if you want to cum." You kiss along his length, nails digging in his thighs, tracing his perineal raphe, with your tongue.

A shiver runs down his spine, precum oozing out of his tip, you take mercy on him, taking one of the balls in your mouth and sucking gently, hand moving to wrap around his cock.

"Ah fuck, I'll shoot." He grunts, balls tightening up, you push your face deeper, suckling at his taint, before pressing against his rim.

Bakugou moans, hips jerking ahead, as his load shoots out, he stares dumbfounded at the cum painting the kitchen floor.

You slow down a bit, kissing leisurely against his thighs, before slowly standing up, "I'll go take a bath, why don't you step up dinner till then." You turn around strutting to the bedroom, leaving behind Bakugou to clean up his mess.

It's later in the evening, both of you cuddled up in each other's arms, winding down after having a big dinner and multiple rounds of sex. It's well past his usual bedtime, but you can tell that he is still awake.

"What's going on in that pretty head of yours, baby?" You queried, turning your head to look at him, fingers tracing mindlessly across his bare chest.

"Can you actually tell, if I ejaculated by holding my balls?" He mumbled, lips pouting slightly as he continues to stare at the ceiling.

"Is that what kept you from falling asleep?" You scooty closer to him, arms wrapping around his waist, as you nudge your face into the crook of his neck.

"I am just curious, because you were right, I didn't cum throughout the weekend."

"No, I can't tell that, by holding them." You answered his question, feeling as he settled in, ready to sleep now that his query was sorted, "but I can watch through the cameras to know."

"Princess, what cameras?!"

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics 💖✨

[ruinix]

nico saw u’re having a bad day and makes ur day better with cuddles

Lovely anon, amazing day to you 🙂‍↕️ My first nico ask…umm…so how bad is bad? 😱😭Nico, the Man. Anyways… cuddles 🙂‍↕️ It's a bit messy. idk. i blacked out while typing this. I tried my best 🥹

In His Arms

TW/CW: None, Hurt/Comfort, Cuddles and Kisses, Crying, Protective Nico

Count: 1520 words | Masterlist

You arrive home with shadows in your eyes. Nico can see it gnaw at you. He sees your exhaustion. His heart aches for you.

He halts, hands gripping cups of freshly made coffees—one cup for each of you, his little welcome home gift every time he arrives earlier than you—as you give him a sad smile, eyes barely locking with his.

You walk past him, softly and stiffly dumping your stuff on the coffee table like something would just attack you. Your shoulders are curled inwards, lips slightly downturned. Your hands slightly tremble. You stand there, pondering, wallowing in your pain.

Putting down the cups, he can just make more later. Coffee can always wait. He can brew a dozen or a hundred more if he needs to.

You come first. Always. So he crosses the room, just in time as you let out a whimper, covering your face with both of your hands.

He can feel your pain stabbing through his heart. Feel how it ate at you like it’s his own. Whatever that hurt you, you don’t deserve it to happen to you.

He just knows.

You’re too good for this world.

Nico wraps you in his arms. The way you melt into him while silent sobs—so silent that you’re still so scared to be heard, so silent that you’re still not ready to let go, just curling and curling into the pain-filled void—wreck you. It makes him hold you tighter. He can only convey that he’s here. He will always be here.

Nico rubs your back, softly, firmly. He’s trying to coax you to cry. You need to cry louder. You need to let him hear you. If you try to keep it in, how can he help you? You’ll destroy yourself in the silence. In the pain. You need to let it out.

Cry. Scream. Howl. Punch. Kick. There’s so many ways to vent it and he’ll be by your side.

Nico whispers your name as he presses a firm kiss over your head. He finally says, “I’m here.”

Finally, you cry. Harder and louder like you’ve been waiting for him to declare his presence. Your delicate hands grasp at his shirt. You rub and dig your face into his shirt which is becoming wet from tears—and maybe snot. It doesn’t matter. Nico will just wash it away. He’ll be honored to.

“That’s it, sweet girl,” he mutters, his heart breaking from how hard you cry.

He won’t cry though, because if he did, you will worry and fuzz about him when you have a lot on your plate. He would rather die than make your burdens heavier. You don’t deserve that. He’s sure you won’t see him as a burden, but he will.

He’s not important right now. You are.

You’ve taken care of him and been there for him. This time, you need him. If you need a shoulder to cry on, he’s here. If you need him to just hug you, he’ll hug you, squeeze just how you like it, and ease your nerves.

If you need him to just be, he will.

Soon, your cries turn to small sniffles and hiccups. Then you finally look at him, chin to his chest, eyes—so adorable—puffy yet so much lighter. Less shadows. You’ve lessened your hurt, didn’t you? He’s glad. Now, he just needs to hear what happened.

“I wanna go to bed,” you say, sniffling. “Carry me please.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. He lifts you in a princess carry and nearly bolts to your bedroom, but he just walks. No need to shake you up and stress you. He lays you on the bed, slipping in the covers before wrapping his arms around you, one leg hooking up over yours to properly cuddle you.

“Do you…want to talk about it?” he asks, wiping your wet cheeks.

Your lips purse. You nod, but instead of telling him, you simply reach up and touch his face. Nails scratching along his jaw, tracing where his dimple should be, then his eyebrows. You scoot closer, hugging him tighter.

“Tell me you love me first,” you shakily demand as if you’re too scared that he won’t.

“I love you, schatz.” Nico leans, kissing your forehead. Then again, “I love you.”

Your eyes shine with fresh tears. Nico kisses over your eyes and that opens the floodgates. You sob in his arms, curling more into him like you’re using him to hide you from the world. He’ll do that. He’ll hide you from anything. Anything you need.

“Everything about this day is against me, Nico,” you start.

You explain to him how everything piled up. The little inconveniences like your water bottle were still slightly soapy, your favorite pen ran out of ink, no tissue in the bathroom stall.

Then, alarming things that had Nico seething—silently, because you don’t need him to be angry nor will it be a good response—like people bumping into you without apologizing, someone scoffing when you voiced out your opinion on one report, someone accusing you for being stupid when you forgot one period. One. Fucking. Period.

Are they fucking serious?

“Then I had a fight with a friend. We both said bad things to each other. I feel awful. I don’t want to lose them.” You sniffle. “It’s too much. I feel like I’m nothing. I’m sorry for being no—”

Nico can’t bear to hear those words. He kisses you, stealing your words, not letting those despicable words out. You’re really going to apologize for something you’re not? His heart aches. You are never nothing. How can you be when you are his everything? His schatz. His treasure. His darling girl. His love.

“Forgive me, schatz. I cut you off,” he whispers against your wet cheeks, kissing the tear tracks. “You’re not nothing. You need to understand that.”

A shaky breath escapes you, fingers clinging and tugging at his shirt, as you seek more from him.

So, Nico continues, “It is a horrible day that threw you to the ground. But, schatz, you’ve done well.”

When you frown, not fully getting what he’s saying, he shakes his head. You should get it. Why can’t you see how strong you are for being able to get through those things when it hurts? Then again, if it hurts, it’s hard to see. He’s been there and you are always there to pick him up.

“You’ve done well. You’ve faced them. All of them. I know full well that you fought. Didn’t you?” Your frown deepens, lips pouting in confusion. “What did you do when you bottle tasted like soap?”

“I washed it…”

“When you ran out of ink and tissues?”

“I just dug through my drawer and ask a coworker for tissues. I don’t think—”

He gives your lips a peck. “What did you do when somebody bumped into you?”

“Nothing. I did nothing,” you sigh, looking down.

“You continued with your day,” Nico supplies. “You’ve tried. Even if someone scoffed and berated you, I know you’ve tried to hold your ground. You did so much. You’ve done well. I am proud of you.”

He can see the gears shifting in your brain. He knows the fresh batch of tears coming so he scoots closer, closer, and closer. Even a millimeter of space feels too far when Nico wants to soothe you. He wants you to feel him. Feel that he’s there. Always.

He kisses your head—over your hair—your forehead, your temples, your eyelids, your cheeks. You shaky breaths are warm against his skin. From tight, your hold loosens as you relax. Even more when he captures your lips.

“I’m”—kiss—“proud”—kiss—“of”—“you.”

“Even if I hurt my friend?” You turn away, lips curving down.

“I know that you’re already thinking about apologizing.” Nico presses a thumb over your lip, almost getting distracted with how soft it is, his mouth watering at the sight, at the feel. “Right?”

You nod. “Gonna make it right with them.”

You’re so kind. So gentle. So true. He really is proud of you. He knows you’re trying your best all the time. He trusts you can stand for yourself. Although, he truly needs to do something about your coworkers. They’ve hurt you. And your friend…he knows all of your friends. It will be a matter of phone calls to know which hurt you. Perhaps, he’ll have a word with them before and after you apologize.

But that comes later. He might not even need a phone call because you are already telling him who said what.

Nico lists down every name, every wrong, every detail that he can get.

He’ll make everything right. Soon.

You won’t be crying about them again. These are the last tears you’ll shed. The last pain you’ll feel. He’ll make sure of it.

For now, Nico softly rubs your back, encouraging you to spill, while he eases you.

It will be fine.

You’ll be fine, because he’s here to make it better. You’ll never be alone. Never.

[plistommy]

Omega Steve who has never been knotted before.

He has only ever dated betas before, not really caring for alphas and they couldn’t give him that feeling of pure fullness.

But then, he meets Eddie. An alpha who’s too loud for his own good, but still surprisingly sweet and kind to Steve like no other alpha has been. And Steve?

He falls hard for the older boy and it doesn’t take long for him to start feeling slick dripping down his hole every time he even sees a glimpse of the alpha.

Steve knows Eddie smells it on him, how could he not, but the alpha doesn’t do anything.

He waits until Steve’s the first one to make the move, to kiss Eddie with so much hunger that Eddie finally lets his alpha instincts take over. He knots Steve for the first time ever and it makes the omega cry under him as he begs for the alpha to breed him.

[prythianpages]

thinking about the New Year’s Eve trend where you go under the table (also I always grew up hearing that going under the table will bring you a luck in finding a partner but now I see the trend is to go under the table and eat 12 grapes so now idk what the actual tradition is lol, anyways back to my little thought):

You made sure to have the grapes ready at this year’s NYE, talking excitedly about the man you want to manifest with Nesta…who knows what she’s doing and suggesting traits that tease at Azriel. Cassian thinks it’s hilarious and he is also excited to see if you’ll actually be able to devour all 12 grapes so fast, already placing bets with Feyre.

Meanwhile, Azriel, who is madly crushing on you, watches from his corner of the room. He thinks it’s just all fun and games…this can’t really work, right? I mean, why would it work? There’s no real magic behind this…

But then Mor casually brings up that she had done this one NYE and it brought her, her most memorable fling and she sighs wistfully…panic begins to stir in Azriel.

The clock is ticking…

Azriel’s shadows begin to dance frantically around him, mirroring his inner turmoil as the inner circle prepares to cheer you on.

His eyes widen when you scoop a couple of grapes into your hand because Mother above, you’re actually going to do this and what if it actually works and he never gets a chance to confess…

10…9…8…

Azriel suddenly appears at your side, wings knocking awkwardly against the table, his shoulder bumping yours as he makes himself fit in that small space.

“Az, what are you—“

“I have to tell you something.”

“Right now??”

7…6…

Azriel reaches for your hand, the one that is holding onto a handful of grapes, and lowers it. A confused frown settles on your features and he coaxes your gaze to his with his other hand, eyes searching yours.

“Az—“

5…4…

The hand clutching the handful of grapes twitches in his grip, still determined to complete the tradition.

3…2…

But Azriel tightens his hold and wastes no more time. He leans in, crashing his lips against yours and pulling you into a frantic but sweet kiss.

“Happy new year!”

When he pulls away, your cheeks are flushed and eyes are wide but there’s a smile on your face. “What else do you have to tell me?”

Azriel only grins and says “so much more,” before kissing you again.

[beskars]

If you haven't gotten too many requests yet... a short drabble where reader gets a sneaky squeeze on Vander's butt in behind the bar and he immediately retaliates

long night

The Last Drop is packed tonight. You've been working in tandem for hours, sliding past each other with barely a breath between you, the dance of service requiring constant awareness of each other's movements.

When Vander reaches past you for a bottle on the high shelf, his substantial frame temporarily boxing you against the counter, an impulsive thought becomes action before you can reconsider. Your hand drops briefly, giving his backside a quick, teasing squeeze before attempting to duck away to serve another customer.

You don't make it two steps.

His large hand catches your wrist, deftly spinning you back toward him. Before you can register what's happening, his mouth is at your ear, beard tickling your skin as his deep voice rumbles low enough for only you to hear.

"If you wanted to touch me that badly, love, you should have just asked. I'd be happy to give you much more to hold onto later."

Heat floods your face immediately, spreading down your neck as you register his words. When he pulls back, the dark promise in his eyes combined with the slight curve of his mouth—that rare hint of a smile—only intensifies your reaction.

He releases you then, returning to service with his usual composed demeanor while you remain momentarily frozen, your mind racing with implications that have nothing to do with the drinks waiting to be prepared.

"Everything alright?" he asks after a moment, that hint of satisfaction in his tone making it clear he knows exactly what effect his words have had on you.

"Fine," you manage, voice embarrassingly unsteady as you try to recollect your scattered composure.

"Good," he replies, brushing deliberately against you as he passes. "Because we've got a long night ahead of us."

-

masterlist | drabble requests

[ysaefinn]

Retired sorcerer househusband satoru....nod nod nod nod??!?!?!??!?! (Fluff, suggestive?)

such a sweetheart!!!! The way he rushes to you once he hears your keys click the lock open, so excited to see you as if he hasn't been blowing up your phone the whole time you were away on missions. Hugging you tight in his big buff arms and kissing your face silly!!!!!!! All while wearing an adorable apron!!!!! >0<, may not be THEEEE greatest cook but can follow recepies just fine, that being said your favorite foods are his top learning priority, so trust and believe dinner WILLLLL be ready to serve by the time he takes off your shoes for you, despite you insisting you can handle it just fine, he just refuses to listen, (yes he's whipped like that), you bath together after dinner, he says it's to relax your sore body but you just know it's an excuse to get his hands on your muscles lol, either way you let your sweet hubby have his fun, rubs you down with thheeeee best massages, his big ass hands taking care of every single knot in your back, his fingers kneeding into your soft skin, would sometimes let his fingers stray just the liiittlest bit down down down.... but a single playful glare from you puts him back in line, and he laughs it off before pressing sweet chast kisses to your bare back as an apology, worshipping your body further. He holds you tightly through the night, your face pressed against his bare chest, just the way he likes it, fingers lost in your hair and the occasional kiss on the crown of you head, you lay there in his firm arms drifting to sleep knowing full well he won't make it easy for you to leave the bed when the time comes for you to leave his side again <33

[tennessoui]

Would you like to do this one for Obikin ? 👀

22. “I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I don’t notice.”

💯

[from this list of prompts]

[2. 'have you lost your damn mind?' (LATEST) - 5. 'are you jealous' - 13. 'kiss me.' - 14. 'hey, i'm with you, okay? always.' - 18. 'this is the stupidest plan you've ever had. of course i'm in.' - 19. 'the paint is supposed to go where?' - 24. 'you're the only one i trust to do this' - 27. 'i'm pregnant' - 28. 'marry me?' - 29. 'i thought you were dead' - 32. 'i think i'm in love with you and i'm terrified' - 37. 'wanna dance?' - 44. 'if you die, i'm gonna kill you' - 41. 'you did all of this for me?' - 46. 'hey, have you seen...? oh']

22. 'I've seen the way you look at me when you think I don't notice.'

"Oh," a very familiar voice says. "I wasn't aware you were attending the banquet tonight."

Anakin stares down at the empty plate before him. The servers are moving around the tables as guests rise from their seats and begin to chatter amongst themselves. Anakin thinks for a moment about trying to catch his master's eye, but Qui-Gon is across the hall in deep conversation with the representative of Alderaan the last time that Anakin checked. And anyway--he's not sure his master would intervene to help him with this problem.

Even though, technically speaking, this problem is half Qui-Gon's problem. Or, like. At least a quarter of it.

Probably.

"Though I suppose I would have known if you'd responded to my comm-message," the voice says in a lilting and crisp Coruscanti accent that Anakin knows is as much of a ruse as the rest of him.

Anakin scowls down at the table and counts to five. He is here to represent the Jedi Order as a senior padawan. He is not here to start a diplomatic incident by stabbing Prince Kenobi in the hand with a shrimp fork.

Or is it Lord Kenobi?

He thinks, yes, technically probably a lord. Or maybe it was a knight? A duke? Anakin can never remember all the words that make up Kenobi's title. He just knows that Kenobi's elder brother married the queen of Stewjon, so he's now the king consort, and Obi-Wan got to claim a bunch of useless titles without even doing any of the hard work.

And so Obi-Wan Kenobi gets to call himself a prince now when once, he'd called himself a padawan.

Once, even, he'd called himself Qui-Gon Jinn's padawan.

Anakin counts to five again and gathers up all the diplomatic words and scripts he's learned over the years. Then, he actually turns and faces Kenobi, and all of those words fly out of his mind.

Kenobi looks unfairly good in the ivory white of his outfit. The top half is mostly lace, which--isn't it cold in space? Isn't it cold on Stewjon?

He's wearing a small, ceremonial circlet atop his auburn hair, and the glinting gold of the crown offsets the white of his robes nicely. He just--

He looks so beautiful, even as he's lounging in the chair next to Anakin, eyes pinned on his face as if he'd wait all night just to hear him speak.

That sort of look is dangerous. Anakin knows that intimately well. That sort of attention...Anakin isn't built to withstand it for long. Not without succumbing to all and any of Kenobi's demands. He's sure he has a backbone, but it just melts when he's around Kenobi.

But not anymore. Anakin's twenty now, and he's going to be Knighted any day. He's above such weakness.

"I'm sixteen years your junior," Anakin bites out, hand becoming a fist in his lap. "Don't you think maybe it's a little inappropriate to be comm-messaging me without my master's approval?"

Despite the venom he tries to weave through what should be a cutting rebuke, Kenobi's eyebrows raise. He doesn't look ashamed nor does he look particularly discouraged. "After all the rest of the inappropriate things we've done together, darling, I'd think you'd overlook a comm-message."

Anakin's scowl grows exponentially, but Kenobi continues without pause, "Though if you'd like me to get your master's retroactive approval for every time we've interacted, I shall of course. Do you think he'd approve of your judicious but creative use of the Force when you used it to hold me up against the Senate Commons wall and kriff me silly before my meeting with the Chancellor, or should I leave that out?"

Anakin can feel his face flushing, and he's quick to stand, throwing his napkin onto his empty plate and striding away. He needs--he needs to be further away from Kenobi. He needs to not look at the man, not hear him. Then, he'll stop wanting him.

He must stop wanting him. It's ruining his life.

So of course Kenobi follows him because there's nothing he loves more than ruining Anakin, apparently. He's not even being subtle about it anymore, grabbing Anakin's wrist in plain view of all and sundry and using his grip to tug him out of the banquet hall and into an unused nook of space.

It's small enough that there's not much room to stand apart, but Kenobi at least makes the good faith attempt to drop Anakin's wrist and step away from him. In the Force, he feels strange. Worried, almost, which is not an emotion that Anakin has ever felt from Kenobi. Kenobi, who crafts an air of not caring about anything or anyone whenever Anakin and his master are near. Kenobi, who's purposefully disrespectful to Master Jinn, acts purposefully slow and air-headed and conceited.

He could have been one of the best of us, Jinn had told him once. It was the only time he'd ever talked about Kenobi. He made different choices, and I suppose he still blames me for them.

"Come now, Anakin, tell me what's wrong," Kenobi says, nudging at him almost clumsily in the Force. The touch startles Anakin. It's been twenty years or so since Obi-Wan left the Order. Or since Master Jinn refused to take him back as his padawan after a mission on a civil-war struck planet and Obi-Wan had had no choice but to leave the Order.

Jocasta Nu told him once: all stories have different endings and beginnings when the teller changes.

He thinks that's especially true when it comes to whatever tension exists between Kenobi and Qui-Gon. Though Anakin wasn't wise enough to keep himself out of it, he's certainly not stupid enough to shove his nose so forcefully into the middle of it.

"I've seen the way you've looked at me tonight when you think I'm not looking," Kenobi is saying, wheedling really, as his Force signature rubs even more insistently up against Anakin's, like a--like a loth cat winding around his ankles, searching for affection it knows it will be offered.

No. Not anymore.

"Enough," Anakin snaps, throwing up his highest shields and pushing away from Obi-Wan.

"Just tell me what I've done, darling," Kenobi says. Pleads, really. A part of Anakin thinks it's a very good look on him, and then hates himself for thinking it. Weak. Kenobi makes him weak. "It's not that you don't want me anymore, or you'd have spent less time gawping at me all night."

The words are cruel in their truthfulness and they hit unerringly at Anakin's shame, and so he's snarling back at him before he can stop himself: "Everyone was gawping at you, you're dressed like a schutta."

Kenobi doesn't look to be offended, which riles Anakin further.

But then--then the man steps closer and rests a hand on his chest. They're of a height now that Anakin's grown another two inches over the summer. Obi-Wan's eyes are right there. His lips, also.

"And yet who have I dragged off into a dark corner to ravish me?" Kenobi asks, voice pitched low and eyes blinking sultry blue at him from beneath his eyelashes.

"Yeah," Anakin bites, "only because even after twenty years you're still trying to get back at my master for throwing you out like trash. But the stupid thing is that he doesn't even think about you anymore."

The words hit the way Anakin had meant them to, but as he watches the way Obi-Wan's eyes shutter, the way his mouth tightens and the way he takes a step back and his hand coming up to hold his elbow, Anakin realizes that he didn't--he didn't realize what it would look like, to hurt Obi-Wan.

He hadn't realized Kenobi could be hurt, that Anakin had that sort of power.

And maybe he doesn't really, maybe this is just Anakin's master hurting Obi-Wan all over again, but it's still Anakin wielding the weapon. Anakin who was trusted enough that Obi-Wan did not see it coming.

"I see," Obi-Wan says, and Anakin can't hide his wince at the tone. He doesn't like that tone. Didn't realize how warmly Obi-Wan spoke to him until the chill set in.

But it's not as if what he said was wrong, Anakin tells himself. And it's not as if Obi-Wan's been fair to him either, using Anakin like that.

And--and sure, maybe when they first started...whatever this is--was--maybe Anakin had wanted to use Kenobi too. After all, he'd been eighteen and charged with guarding some rich senator at an event just like this one. And Padmé Amidala had been there, and Anakin had been so desperate for her attention that he'd thought--maybe if he could make her jealous by talking with Kenobi--

And talking had turned into kissing had turned into bedding, but it hadn't been about Kenobi, not really, not that first time. It'd been about Padmé and how much Anakin had wanted her to notice him, see him for the man he'd become.

And he's sure that Kenobi had bedded him with ulterior motives too--not to make Qui-Gon jealous, of course, which is a thought that Anakin doesn't even like to think about, honestly--but to make Qui-Gon upset. Master Jinn didn't like the slimmest reminders of his old apprentice. To find out that his old apprentice had bedded his new one...no, Master Jinn did not, in fact, appreciate that.

So they'd both had ulterior motives the first time they slept together, and they'd probably had them for a while after too. It was an arrangement. A casual affair.

Before Anakin had gone and developed feelings for Kenobi, of course.

And now it's not fair. None of it's fair, because Anakin's in love with him and Kenobi's still just sleeping with him for the sake of some bruised pride he's been nursing for twenty years and now Anakin's gone and hurt him, genuinely hurt him, and he doesn't feel the way the Chancellor had told him he'd feel when he told the prince where to shove it. He just feels awful, like he'd been hurt too.

"I apologize for wasting your time, Padawan Skywalker," Kenobi is saying when Anakin tunes back into his voice. His face is hidden behind a cool mask of untouchable indifference. His arm is still crossed in defense over his chest. "I was mistaken in the understanding we had between each other, and I have thus overstepped erroneously."

It's not fair, Anakin thinks wildly as Obi-Wan steps away from him like he's going to move out of the alcove altogether. It's not fair that Obi-Wan's apparently so good at the diplomatic script of the Jedi that he can fall back on it at any moment, even after all of these years, and it's Anakin who can apparently only ever use his words to hurt.

So Anakin doesn't use his words. It's instinct, probably the first one he ever learned, to reach out in the Force instead. Nudge their Force signatures closer together and drop his shields so he can feel--truly feel--the heat of Obi-Wan's presence in the Force entangled around his own.

It's easier after that to reach out his hand and catch Kenobi's wrist. Then it's easier than anything else to use that hold to push him up against the wall and bracket him in with his body to keep him there.

Kenobi doesn't fight against his touch, but he doesn't bloom under it either, the way Anakin's gotten used to him doing. He doesn't even look at him, keeps his eyes on the neck of Anakin's Jedi robes.

"No, I'm sorry," Anakin murmurs, squeezing Obi-Wan's captured wrist. "I didn't--I didn't mean that. Not at all."

"If you didn't mean it at all, you wouldn't have said it," Obi-Wan points out, which is...well, correct, technically, but Anakin doesn't like to hear it.

"I was just...someone told me that," Anakin admits. "And I--I mean, I know you and I know--what we have. And what it is. And I'm fine with that, I understand it. I just let it get to me, that maybe you only like me cause you're still out for revenge against my master. But, um."

Obi-Wan is looking at him now, something soft and quizzical and confused coloring his gaze.

"I thought I couldn't stand being nothing but revenge to you," Anakin makes himself say, even though his breath feels caught in his throat. Danger, danger. He is skirting too close to the truth. He is saying too much. But if he doesn't say anything, what then? "But that's not so bad, I guess. It's better than being nothing to you at all."

Which is a lesson that Anakin has just learned and is eager to never experience again. Even if it makes him pathetic and weak and spineless and some prince's playtoy, or whatever else the Chancellor had implied. He'd like to see the Chancellor stand up to Obi-Wan's dignified yet wounded eyes.

"Darling," Obi-Wan says, and for a moment his hand cups Anakin's face. It's just long enough of a touch that Anakin can't help but to lean into it with an exhale. "You've never been nothing to me."

Anakin gives into the urge to kiss him. It's a miracle that Obi-Wan lets him.

It's also nowhere near enough; Anakin is a greedy sort of man. He doesn't want nothing or a little more than nothing from Obi-Wan. He wants everything.

[rottenherbs]

Your Champion (pt.2)

Pairing: C.D x Potter! Reader Tags: Fluff / Forbidden Feelings / Nervous Cedric EEE Summary:: After being unexpectedly chosen as Cedric’s hostage in the Triwizard Tournament’s second task, you recover in the hospital wing, where Cedric nervously asks you something that's on his mind W/C: 2.1k Author's Note: What if i told yall i wrote part three too 0_0 [mastserlist] Much Love, Saige

You weren’t sure what unsettled you more—the thought of being bound beneath the lake or the fact that Cedric had no idea you were his hostage.  

Madam Pomfrey had explained it to you gently, her voice calm as she reassured you that you wouldn’t feel a thing. “It will be like falling asleep,” she had said. “And when you wake, it will all be over.”  

But it wasn’t the sleep that scared you. It was Cedric.  

You knew what the second task required—each champion had to retrieve someone they would “miss the most.” The words had lingered in your mind long after you had been pulled aside and told that you were Cedric’s hostage.  

It didn’t make sense. Sure, you and Cedric were friendly—shared jokes between classes, exchanged glances across the Great Hall, and maybe, just maybe, there had been a moment or two where the air between you felt charged with something more. But surely, there were others he’d miss more. His parents? One of his close friends from Hufflepuff? Cho Chang?  

And yet, the tournament had chosen you.  

You didn’t get the chance to dwell on it. The moment the spell took hold, the world faded, and everything dissolved into quiet nothingness.  

—  

The world was quiet beneath the Black Lake. Cold and dark, the water pressed in from all sides, muffling sound, slowing movement. You drifted in stillness, bound to the stone pillar alongside the other hostages.  

Somewhere in the distance, movement stirred the water. The first champion had arrived.  

A shadow passed through the lake’s dim light—Cedric, swimming with practiced ease. His expression was focused, determined, until his eyes landed on you.  

He froze.  

Even through the rippling water, his shock was evident. You watched as his mouth parted slightly, bubbles escaping as if he had just exhaled in disbelief. His brows furrowed, his grip tightening on his wand. He hadn’t expected to see you here.  

But before he could move, another figure shot through the water—Harry.  

Your brother’s wild black hair floated around his face, his green eyes scanning the hostages frantically. The moment he saw you, his entire body tensed. He kicked toward you immediately, his hand reaching for the ropes that bound you.  

The merpeople moved fast.  

Two of them darted forward, crossing their spears in front of Harry. Their gills fluttered as they shook their heads, their sharp teeth glinting in the dim light.  

Harry’s eyes widened in alarm. He tried to push forward, but the merpeople shoved him back, pointing their spears toward Cedric instead.  

Not his to save.  

Cedric was still staring at you, stunned, but the merpeople’s warning made something click in his expression. The hesitation, the disbelief—it all melted into sharp realization.  

You were his to save.  

Without wasting another second, Cedric surged forward. His hands moved quickly, untying the thick ropes around your wrists and ankles. As the bindings loosened, your body began to drift, but he caught you effortlessly, one arm wrapping around your waist as he turned toward the surface.  

Harry was still there, watching, his expression torn between confusion and something else—something more protective, almost wounded. He hadn’t expected this either.  

But the merpeople didn’t let him interfere.  

With a powerful kick, Cedric pushed off the lakebed, pulling you with him as he swam upward. The cold water rushed past, bubbles trailing behind as he held you close.  

—  

The moment you gasped in air, reality crashed into you. The roar of the crowd, the biting wind against your wet skin, the way your body trembled from the cold.  

And Cedric.  

He was still holding you, keeping you steady in the water. His face was inches from yours, his breath coming fast as he searched your expression.  

“You—” His voice was hoarse, as if he couldn’t quite find the words. “You were—” He still looked shaken, his brows drawn together in disbelief.  

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. “They told me beforehand,” you admitted. “I—I knew I’d be your hostage.”  

Cedric exhaled sharply, running a hand through his soaked hair. “I didn’t,” he murmured. His eyes met yours again, something unreadable flickering in them. “I didn’t know it would be you.”  

A sharp splash signaled Harry surfacing beside you. He coughed, shaking water from his face before his gaze snapped to you, frantic. “Are you alright?”  

You nodded, though you weren’t sure how truthful it was. “Yeah. I think so.”  

Harry looked between you and Cedric, his jaw tightening slightly. “Why—” He hesitated, then turned to Cedric. “Why them?”  

Cedric held your gaze for a moment before answering.  

“I—I don’t know.” His voice was quieter now, almost uncertain. But then, after a beat, he added, “But I think… I think I do.”  

The meaning in his words lingered between you, heavy but not unwelcome.  

And despite the cold, despite the exhaustion, warmth curled in your chest. 

-

The warmth of the hospital wing was a sharp contrast to the freezing depths of the Black Lake. The fire crackled softly in the corner, casting a golden glow against the white sheets and polished floors. The beds were lined up in neat rows, each occupied by the hostages and champions, their bodies still recovering from the cold.  

You sat upright in your bed, a heavy blanket draped over your shoulders as Madam Pomfrey bustled around, fussing over each patient. Your limbs still felt sluggish, your skin slightly numb despite the warmth, but the worst of the discomfort had passed.  

It was only now, as the adrenaline wore off, that you truly had time to think.  

Cedric had saved you.  

You still weren’t sure what that meant. You hadn’t been expecting to be his hostage, hadn’t thought the tournament would see you as someone he’d miss the most. And yet, when he had found you beneath the water, the look on his face—the sheer shock, the disbelief—had spoken volumes.  

You weren’t sure how to feel about that.  

The quiet creak of the hospital wing doors pulled you from your thoughts. You turned your head just in time to see Cedric stepping inside.  

His hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends, and he had changed into warm, dry clothes—his Hufflepuff sweater slightly oversized, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. His grey eyes scanned the room before landing on you.  

You froze.  

For a moment, he just stood there, as if deciding whether to approach. Then, with quiet steps, he crossed the room and stopped beside your bed.  

“Hey.” His voice was soft, hesitant.  

“Hey,” you murmured back, your fingers tightening around the edge of the blanket.  

Cedric shifted, rubbing the back of his neck. “How are you feeling?”  

“Better,” you admitted. “Still a bit cold, but I think Madam Pomfrey is determined to drown me in hot chocolate before I leave.”  

That earned you a small chuckle, and the sound sent warmth curling through your chest. Then, after a beat of silence, Cedric exhaled.  

“I didn’t know,” he said quietly.  

You looked up at him, your brows knitting together. “Didn’t know what?”  

“That it would be you.” His voice was steady, but there was something in his eyes—something sincere, something open. “When I saw you down there, I—I couldn’t believe it. I thought they had made a mistake.”  

You swallowed. “So did I.”  

Cedric huffed out a small, almost breathless laugh. “Yeah,” he admitted. “But I guess… I guess it wasn’t.”  

The weight of his words settled between you. The tournament had chosen you for a reason. And despite the initial shock, despite the confusion, Cedric hadn’t hesitated to save you.  

You glanced down, fiddling with the edge of your blanket. “Did you mean it?” you asked softly. “When you said you’d miss me the most?”  

Cedric was quiet for a long moment. Then, slowly, he lowered himself onto the edge of your bed, close but not too close, his hands resting on his knees.  

“I think… I didn’t realize it until now,” he admitted. “But yeah. I think I would.”  

Your heart stuttered.  

His gaze was unwavering, his expression open in a way that made your breath catch. You had always known Cedric was kind, had always admired the way he carried himself with quiet confidence. But this—this was different. This was something fragile and unspoken finally being acknowledged.  

After a moment, Cedric offered you a small smile. “At least now I know if I ever need a good excuse to talk to you more, I can just say the tournament made me do it.”  

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that all it takes?”  

“Maybe.” His smile softened. “Or maybe I just needed a push.”  

The space between you suddenly felt smaller. Not uncomfortable, not uncertain—just something new. Something neither of you had expected, but maybe, just maybe, had been there all along.  

And as Cedric sat beside you, the firelight flickering in his eyes, you realized something:  

You didn’t mind being the person he’d miss the most.  

Not one bit.

You hadn’t realized how much you needed this moment, this quiet connection with Cedric, until it had arrived. But now, as the flickering light cast shadows over the two of you, there was a gentle tension in the air—a shift that you weren’t sure how to navigate.  

Cedric seemed to sense it too. He shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming lightly on his knee as he stole a glance at you. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then closed it, clearly unsure. His usual confidence—so natural in everything else—seemed to have faltered just a bit.  

You arched a brow. “Is something wrong?”  

He looked at you, a sheepish smile tugging at his lips. “I—uh—maybe. I mean, no, not really, but…” He paused, clearly struggling with his words.  

You waited, a curious smile playing on your lips. “But?”  

Cedric hesitated, his fingers now fidgeting with the hem of his sleeve. “I just… I don’t want to make things weird, you know? With Harry, especially. He’s your brother, and I—” He let out a frustrated breath. “I just don’t want to upset him.”  

You blinked in surprise, a soft chuckle escaping your lips. “Cedric, are you nervous about Harry?”  

His cheeks flushed slightly, and he scratched the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. “Well, yeah. I mean…, I don’t want him to think I’m doing something wrong, or—”  

You reached out, placing a hand on his arm. “Cedric, it’s really not a big deal.”  

He stopped talking, and for a moment, just looked at you, his expression a mixture of relief and surprise. “You’re not—upset?”  

You shook your head, your smile widening. “Not at all. It’s your choice, not Harry’s. And to be honest, I think he’d understand. He’s not the type to get upset about something like this.”  

Cedric let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, his posture easing. His lips curled into a shy grin. “You’re sure?”  

You nodded. “Positive.”  

There was a beat of silence, the words hanging in the air, before Cedric seemed to find his courage. He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice as though unsure of how to word what he was about to say.  

“Okay,” he began, a slight nervousness lacing his words. “I don’t know if this is… well, if this is too forward or anything, but I really like spending time with you. And I, uh, I was wondering if you’d want to… maybe go out with me sometime?”  

The question hung in the air, Cedric’s eyes searching your face anxiously, as though he expected you to say something that would break the fragile moment.  

You could feel your heart flutter at the simplicity of it, at the way he was almost unsure of himself despite everything.  

You didn’t hesitate. “I’d like that. I think it sounds like a great idea.”  

Cedric blinked, clearly caught off guard by your quick response. “You would?” His voice was almost disbelieving, but his eyes shone with hope.  

You smiled, leaning back against the pillows as you looked at him. “Of course I would. It’s

It’s not every day someone as brave as you asks me out.”

A small, relieved laugh escaped him, and his smile spread wider, more genuine now. “Brave, huh? Well, I guess I’m glad it worked out then.”

He shifted closer, though not too much, respecting the space between you. “So… we’re really doing this?”

“Yeah,” you said softly, meeting his gaze. “We’re really doing this.”

Cedric’s grin softened, and for a moment, you just sat there together, the noise of the hospital wing, the quiet voices from the other beds, all seeming so distant.

It was just you and him, a new chapter starting between you, and neither of you could help but feel like it was the beginning of something wonderful.

[blackseafoam]

Gift for @ladysongmaster For the @galactic-gift-gathering !!

Prompt: “Can you just… stay? Please…”

Genre: angst with a happy ending

Of course Hera worried every time her father and his posse left. But what truly scared her was knowing that Cham Syndulla’s captain would lay down his life for the freedom-fighter without hesitation. Hera knew her father was safe with Howzer around, but who was there to protect him?

She grabbed the captain’s wrist as he walked, halting him, even though he could have easily removed her grasp. “Can you just… stay? Please?” Tears welled in her eyes.

The Twi’lek was too young to understand. The why in a war. Yet smart enough to figure out the fact that he, someone created to be a soldier, would be the most at risk in battle. The thought was plastered in fear on her little green face.

Eleini had caught up with her daughter at this point, taking her shoulders in her hands to still the now sobbing child.

“I wish I could Hera. I promise you I’ll be back. I promise.” Howzer wished he had time to say more, but the transport was waiting.

Hera nodded and let go of the captain’s bracer, tears falling as she hung her head. Howzer donned his helmet. “I promise.” he muttered to himself as he jogged away.

-

I like to think that Captain Howzer totally became a part of the Syndulla family during the war, and I know I’m not the only one. It’s pretty evident in his monologue in the Ryloth prison.

While I was drawing this I was reminded of the little kids in Nausicaä begging her not to leave, so I added some big fat ghibli tears.

Blah blah blah, Star Wars kids growing up in a war, blah blah, turning them into emotionally intelligent, resilient, and protective adults, blah blah, make me cry thinking about them etc…