#for some reason i keep thinking its later in the day than it actually is...whoops

[linkvcr]

Sighs deeply. I have got to draw the wars twi and sky trio again

[waynes-multiverse]

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

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[alaffy]

House of the Dragon, Ep. 2x08 – The Queen Who Ever Was (Spoilers)

Last episode of the season.  Can’t wait to see how they stall the war even further next year. Two years. Whatever.  This will be short post.

Rhaena roughs it for a few days and I guess this is enough to make her worthy of a wild dragon?  (You know she’s going to be its rider).

Adym basically tells Vaemond to go to hell. (Not that I blame him).

Tywin Lannister goes to make a treaty to get more ships.  He has to impress the captain who’s a woman.  This is going to lead to them fucking right?  Whoops, no.  She wants him to fuck her wives so they can get pregnant.  Got to admit, I wasn’t expecting that one. Kind of found it funny too.

The dragon riders adjust to their new roles.  Some…do it better than others. 

There’s a moment with Sir Bitch that I think was created in order to make his character sympathetic?  It does not make his character sympathetic.

Lyrs convinces Aegon he needs to flee for now and return after the war.  Lyrs keeps pressing the point that Aemond will have Aegon killed.  Funny story….

Aemond is pissed about the new Dragon Riders and goes and burns a town.  He then decides that Helena needs to join the battle on her dragon.  Alicent will not hear of it.  Later, Aemond tries again to get Helena to join, but she lets him know…a lot of things actually.  But the most important is that she knows what he did to Aegon and how Aemond will die. 

It turns out that the whole haunting of Daemon was to prepare him to see the truth about the Song of Ice and Fire.  Daemon understands now that they are a small part of a bigger story and that his part is to get Rhaenyra on the throne.  But we also see that Helena also knows this story through her visions.

But the biggest moment of the episode is when Alicent, who’s just done with everything, sneaks out of King’s Land and to Rhaenyra’s Keep (I just…one competent assassin.  Just one and this whole war ends).  Basically, Alicent just tired of all the whole former Queenie, ruley thing and just wants to disappear somewhere.  She even says that when Aemond goes off to fight (as the armies are finally converging), Helena will be left in charge and Alicent will make her order the guards to surrender to Rhaenyra.  Rhaenyra can become Queen, everyone will stop fighting, and Alicent can take Halena and Aegon and go live somewhere else.  Rhaenyra somehow has the strength and fortitude not to slap the shit out of Alicent in this moment.

What Rhaenyra does do is bluntly point out what I mentioned a few posts ago; there are men who don’t want a Queen on the throne and, so long as Aegon lives, there will not be peace.  Rhaenyra must have Aegon killed, and it must be public.  This will always end in bloodshed.  So, the question is will Alicent agree to also turn over Aegon?  And damned if the woman doesn’t agree.  Here’s the thing; I might be sympathetic toward Alicent if I felt that she was doing this more for the people…I mean, I’m not going to say that the people’s suffering isn’t part of the reason she’s doing this…it’s just that their suffering wasn’t enough to make her do what was necessary to end the war she created; it’s only when she wanted to no longer deal with things…

Wonder what’s going to happen when she finds out Aegon escaped with Lyrs.     

[useyernamesteven]

So Wednesday brainrot, right.

Reading the general wiki pages for the Addams family and found a fun little tidbit: the Addams family curse. Apparently, the reason why Wednesday and Pugsley are constantly trying to murder each other is bcuz they can't. An Addams cannot permanently kill another Addams, they just come back to life/regenerate themselves. (Also, Addams's can't die of natural causes, once the've aged they bury themselves and fall into a deep death-like sleep that rejuvenates them, hence why they have the game "wake the dead").

And this got me thinking, how funny it would've been in the show. Like imagine the chaos that could've been!

So Pugsley usually gets the short end of the dynamite stick--being younger and less cunning than his older sister--and has been victim of Wednesday's murder plots more than he's been able to kill her. But he hatches a plan for the next time he visists Nevermore to catch his sister by surprise.

And so it goes on the next Parents day or something, and everyone is in the quad and Wednesday may be just the slightest bit distracted by the new murder cases (and keeping an eye on her roommate for some odd reason) that she doesn't see the javelin before its running through her chest and she falls to the ground dead.

Its panic and chaos all at once. Weems and the teachers try to keep everyone calm, the students and families start bunching up, afraid of another attack, Yoko and Bianca have to forcibly restrain an incredibly distraught and crying Enid. Morticia and Gomez stare at each other in shock... until Pugsley comes whooping and hollering down from the balconies. "I totally gotcha sis!"

Morticia rubs her temples and Gomez turns to scold his son; this is a school yard Pugsley, where are his manners?! Morticia walks up to Wednesday's body and pulls the javelin from her chest, looking to Weems apologetically, greatest condolences, Pugsley can be a handful at the best of times.

Everyone is still incredibly perturbed, bcuz why the fuck are the Addams family having what seems to be a small tiff instead of freaking out or mourning over their now dead daughter?!

Until Wednesday suddenly sits up, and several people faint while others begin wondering if they should be running for the hills.

Wednesday rubs at the still regenerating hole in her chest, getting blood all over her uniform and hands, slowly coming back to her senses. Then, as it suddenly occurs to her that she should be dead but isn't, she slowly turns to look at her nearby family, eyes murderously zoned in on her brother.

Pugsley cowers behind Gomez, hands up in a plea. "W-Wednesday? Hey, wait, we're even!"

Wednesday gets to her feet, a set of daggers in her hands she procured from somewhere on her person. "You have 3 seconds... 1-"

Pugsley turns tail and runs, screeching his head off. Wednesday waits 2 more seconds before pursuing and they both disappear in the school. Morticia sighs and Gomez shrugs, surprised Wednesday actually gave him a head start.

Everyone else is left staring dumbly and incredibly confused. Wednesday returns 5 minutes later with an annoyed look on her face, more blood on her clothes, and carrying Pugsley's severed arm. Several more people pass out and a few get sick at the sight as Wednesday neatly drops it into the fountain, saying he can fetch it himself when he pieces himself back together.

Wednesday garners a new terrifying reputation among the student body. Seriously, don't fuck with Wednesday Addams.

. . .

Idk something like that would've probably been too goofy to have in the show but its still pretty funny to imagine.

(Also, personally, I feel like Pugsley wasn't accurately portrayed. Nothing against the actor, but where was the general Addams oddities? The flair and calamity of the bomb loving boy? The most unusual thing he did was throw grenades in a pond and eat potpourri. He just seemed so... normal? Maybe thats just me but I expected mischief at the very least)

[be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie]

I'm considering trying my hand at this idea I came up with but wanted a second opinion on if I should go through with it. Basically this is an au where human spirits manifest in the form of daemons, whereas with the Na'vi each clan is capable of shapeshifting into the animal that embodies their clan's spirit (in a way this is my take on how humans and Na'vi see the world differently: a lot of humans see themselves as individuals and separate from nature and the Na'vi have a strong sense of community and a deep connection to the life around them). This difference is something that baffles both parties and helps to feed the humans' thoughts on how the Na'vi are "savage animals" along with fueling the Na'vi's thoughts on humanity's disconnect from pretty much everything, and the rift just keeps on building between the two.

In this au humans have turned a piece of the land (basically what can be considered Hell's Gate + some extra) and turned it into this thriving human community with everything from their own gardens and whatnot to a school and a park, all that fun stuff (I'm picturing one of those beautiful dome cities that's like overrun with vegetation and just kind of a whole vibe) and this is where Spider grew up. Oh, also note that some of the dome goes into the ocean. Anyway, in this au the war still happened but later than in the original movie, and after Jake and the Na'vi won they were able to come to an agreement and though pretty much all of the military was sent back to Earth, the rest were allowed to stay---within agreed-upon borders, of course---especially due to the amount of children already within the city that was at the time just barely finished. Quaritch and Paz still died and all that and Spider was adopted, but not by the people who canonically adopted him.

He actually lives a pretty good life all things considered (I didn't want to make him suffer lol) but there's this curiosity he has regarding the world of Pandora outside of Eden (that's the region of the city he lives in; the city is divided into several regions such as Arcadia, Eden, and Newport. These regions are mostly divided by the main creole & product. For example, Eden grows most of the fruit and veggies and the main creole spoken there is an English-Gaelic variant. Arcadia produces most of the grains and rice and its main creole is an English-Greek variant. Newport is the part of the city the touches the sea, its main thing is seafood, and its defining creole is an English-Mandarin variant. Additionally, all kids are taught true English in school. Na'vi is optional, however a lot of the people who stayed behind were scientists who learned Na'vi and as they began mixing Na'vi with the English they spoke to their children an English-Na'vi hybrid began to rise and might eventually branch off and I'm getting off-track whoops) and the older he gets the more he yearns to go outside of the dome just to at least see what it's like.

One day his curiosity wins and he sneaks out into the forest. This is when he runs into one of the Sullys (feel free to give me an opinion on which Sully you think it could be if you want, I'm spending a decent amount of time thinking about it because this will be his love interest eventually) and from there they begin to learn about one another and slowly rebuild what was lost at the beginning of the war (oh yeah I forgot to mention that in this au most people consider the shooting at Grace's school to be the true beginning of the war for reasons that I won't get into in this ask lol). I feel like Kiri might be the perfect one for this and I have been wanting to try my hand at Spiri but I'm still weighing it.

Other things to note about this au:

Norm is still the ambassador between the Na'vi and the humans.

Avatars are tricky and took a long time to perfect because of the whole daemon/shapeshifting thing. I'm toying with a few possibilities but for now I think their daemon will stay with them but actually change its form to a Pandorian animal.

I'm still debating on what this means for the Sully children. I think it could mean that they all have a chance of either getting a daemon or being able to shapeshift, and if that's the case then I might make it to where one or two of them aren't able to shapeshift but instead have daemons.

Jake, just like all the avatars, cannot shapeshift but instead his daemon changed its form to match a Pandorian animal. Haven't decided what yet. I thought about Toruk but then decided against it because taming a real Toruk was, in my opinion, one of the deciding factors in the clan's acceptance of him after his betrayal (again, feel free to add what you think it could be if you want).

The city has been terraformed, however nothing outside of it has been as part of the agreement (originally they wanted to terraform it it all). In case you couldn't guess, this was a huge source of conflict before the war.

Jake never visits the city (I mean with the man-made atmosphere *that, fun fact, is actually showing signs that it's beginning to manage itself!* it is a bit inconvenient), instead Norm visits New Hometree. This is important to note because most of the common members of the community have never so much as seen an Avatar in person (again, because of the atmospheric difference) and most Na'vi by this point haven't seen a human up close in over a decade.

Earth animals do live within the city walls. Most of them are domesticated and genetically modified or used as livestock, but yeah. Since animals couldn't be shipped via kyro, they were a clone type of situation originally but now they're doing well on their own due to the abundant DNA samples adding diversity to the mix (we wouldn't want another Gros Michel banana situation).

Not really something you need to know, just a fun fact I wanted to add: Jake's daemon was originally a coyote :) Sometimes he'll wake up and forget that his daemon isn't still a coyote and look around for her for a minute.

Anyways, does this seem like an idea I should go through with? Is it too out-there? I'm willing to hear any thoughts you may have!

NO YOU SHOULD YOU SHOULD OMG.

O B S E S S E D. I love daemon aus so so much, as you guys know one of my areas of focus is speculative fiction because I love love love the metaphors of the speculative and how they can be used to represent real life conflicts and issues so fantastically. I am so interested in this idea of a disconnect in the Na'vi/Human soul representations, and how it plays into their prejudices. UGH fuck off the soulmate aus post is happening today probably you got me fired up. I have an essay to draft.

This different world that the humans live in is pretty fascinating too, I always get kinda bummed when the humans get anything besides the few loyal humans getting to stay and assimilate in a fic. I discussed this in the comments with @milesocorro on the end of their fic Please be kind, please be gentle with me (which I know, I KNOW I mention a lot lol, the worldbuilding requires it). I think it comes from the fact that any group of humans sent up to Pandora is not going to be the neediest ones, it's not going to be the ones who's lives were the worst on Earth. The first to leave and get out are going to be the richest, the most powerful, the most influential. It's the Elon Musks of the world, the ones who helped make Earth as bad as it is. Besides, the Na'vi shouldn't have to compromise their own land and their own safety.

Rant aside, VERY INTERESTED in the implications of this world. LOVE the idea of Spider and his undecided love interest bringing about a more communicative relationship. I always get sad when Spider doesn't grow up with Na'vi culture, but I like the Milo Thatch idea of him here lol. I think Kiri is a great choice, I love me some spiri and we as a collective deserve more of it. My second choice would be Neteyam as he's next in line to lead and there could be a storyline of star crossed lovers LEADER EDITION lol. I also just really need more nocorro there isn't enough of them.

I'm very obsessed thank u please do write it. Maybe Jake's daemon is a teeny tiny toruk, like in Harry Potter when they get the mini version of the dragons they'll fight and then they're like lil pets. That always LIVED WITH ME where is my teeny dragon.

[ahsoka-its-all-of-us]

13 PLEASE!!!

13: Too loud

Okay I spent the entire day today as artistic presenter at a classical and art music festival which included multiple performances on non-Western instruments and I got inspired and basically wrote this in between concerts whoops

And then it inspired me a whole lot more and long story short it's now two in the morning and I also already halfway scripted this as a full part of my Kalluzeb series and it's gonna contain an absolutely pivotal moment 👀

All because I think Zeb would be able to play some sort of traverse flute lol

Anyway; thank you for the prompt! It took me a while to think of something for it, but then it happened in the blink of an eye ❤️

Alexsandr Kallus was on the landing platform on Yavin 4, on his way back from delivering a final briefing to Gold Squadron, when a disturbance made him stop in his tracks. A noise, coming from his far right; high-pitched screams paired with an almost animalistic growling. He turned to its source, wary.

The Ghost. Of course.

Half a second later, Ezra came running out of the ship at top speed, an enraged Zeb at his heels. Ezra used his Force abilities to jump over and slide under the various parked ships, but Zeb’s natural Lasat build allowed him to keep up the chase.

Ezra had spotted Alexsandr watching their antics. “Protect me, Alex!” he cried out, jumping behind Alexsandr.

Zeb skidded to a halt in front of him, snarling.

“Should I even ask?” Alexsandr asked tiredly. For some reason, Zeb always managed to get into the pettiest of fights with the Jedi teenager.

“He insulted my flute!” Zeb said indignantly.

“No, I didn’t!” Ezra called from behind Alexsandr’s back. “I just told him to stop whistling, he was being way too loud!”

“No I wasn’t!” Zeb retorted.

“Kanan wants me to practice meditating” Ezra said, in that specific infuriatingly smug tone only a teenager could manage. “You wanna tell him why I couldn’t?”

“Just meditate somewhere else!” Zeb growled.

“Just play flute somewhere else!” Ezra countered.

Alexsandr rubbed his eyes in frustration, already regretting he settled for Cassian’s weak caf that morning instead of making his own. “You can use my office to play flute” he sighed. “If you want.”

Zeb gave him a surprised and somewhat sceptical look. “You’re not using it?”

“I am?” Alexsandr replied.

“Er… won’t that be distracting, then?”

“I have worked in much worse conditions.”

That much was true; after nearly twenty years with the Empire there were few things that could still deter him from doing his duty.

Back in his office, Alexsandr turned his screens back on. “I wasn’t aware you play flute.”

“I don’t” Zeb reacted. “My parents made me take lessons, but I hated it. I was just curious whether I could still do it.”

Alexsandr nodded. “Well, go ahead.”

He swiped through the various programs in his holographic overlay as Zeb started playing. It was a little rough at first, a lot of breathing noises interspersed with various frustrated karabasts, but eventually actual tone appeared, and Zeb began playing tunes, getting into it quickly.

It was.. it was nice. Alexsandr had never listened to music other than checking whether he was walking in step with the Imperial March, but there was something about Zeb playing the flute that drew him in, that filled him with a sense of serenity.

And before he knew it, Alexsandr found himself staring, his work completely forgotten.

When Zeb noticed his gaze, he fell silent, looking insecure as he fiddled with the keys.

“Don’t stop” Alexsandr blurted out softly.

“What?” Zeb asked, surprised.

Alexsandr could feel the blush creeping into his cheeks, but he willed it down. “It’s… it’s nice. I like it.”

Zeb’s fur fluffed up ever so slightly.  “Oh” he said merely.

For a moment neither of them said anything, Alexsandr pretending to have turned his full attention back to the screen.

“I could come play here more often” Zeb suggested.

“I thought you hated playing flute” Alexsandr said, raising an eyebrow at him.

“You know what?” Zeb replied, giving him a warm smile. “I think it’s starting to grow on me.”

[wizard-finix]

director's commentary for stygian ringlet??? 👀👀👀

OH BOY WHERE TO EVEN START

jesus christ this fic is easily the longest fic I've written to date. If you count Ghost of Mementos, it's OVER 70K WORDS TOTAL. AND IT'S STILL GOING. I've never written anything so long before. THIS THING STARTED AS A ONESHOT AND IT JUST E X P L O D E D

Actually this whole fic started after I was looking around on AO3 for PT Minato fics, and while I was bored during class I doodled what I thought Yu and Minato's masks would look like. I wanted their outfits to have some meaning to them beyond the surface-level aesthetics. Yu's outfit didn't get very far, but Minato… holy shit, once I based it off of Ryoji's outfit, it was off to the races. I immediately thought about how that awakening scene would go. and then I made a rough snippet of said scene. and then thought about how they would get up to that point and then before I knew it whoops I had a half completed fic

and then I finished and posted said fic

and then I noticed I still had some ideas left over for what happens later on

and I thought

"why NOT keep going, im having fun and the worst that can happen is I fall out of it, unfinished fics are better than no fic"

and that is how I found myself writing a longfic.

ANYWAY

my whole line of thinking for PT Minato was that I kept thinking about how Minato would bond with the PTs and how he would end up being a full fledged PT himself, because honestly that would make a prime opportunity for some really interesting character development. Minato had originally accepted the price of sealing Nyx at the end of P3, but after somehow accidentally falling back into reality and hanging out with the PTs for a while, he'd probably start to wonder if its ok to want things to be better than they turned out. his rebellion is the fact that he wants to live even though he's not supposed to. He's rebelling against his original fate, and his persona is the very person who fought against his true nature as DEATH INCARNATE just to be his friend. MAN. He'd fit right in with the PTs. (I still have feelings over these two dont mind me)

I was a little worried the whole amnesia trope would be a little dumb or dragged out too long, but it turned out to be fine. I mostly used it for plot regulation, bc I wanted him to have time to learn more about them at the same time as they're learning about him. He probably wouldn't have had a good reason to stick around long enough to bond with them otherwise. Kind of like Sophia, now that I think about it.

I've also learned a lot doing this?? outlining is a GODSEND why the hell wasn't I making bullet point lists before this

uhhhh I cant think of anything else off the top of my head, except that maybe chapters 10 and 12 were my favorites to write so far, though its real hard to pick a favorite

also if you want to see the notebook lecture doodles that spawned this entire brainrot circus here they are, some masks and a chat icon

(kinda wanna make a royal-style character art with him holding his mask but that's self-indulgent art for another day)

[myloveforhergoeson]

omg chapter 20!!! more roxy lore w mag!! cant believe we're in season 2 already wow. whats been your favourite episode/plotline you've written so far? whether its in the main story or bonus chapters

ahhh chapter 20!!!! thanks for hanging in there until season 2 ❤️ like i do for most asks people send in, i am truly unable to pick just one concise answer... here is what i'm thinking...

i have favorite roxy-other character interactions overall, which can be a separate post i make if yall are interested, but i think one of my favorite episodes to have written was either the 6th (writing wrongs; mansion sitting) or the 18th part one (mona lisa (when the world comes down); james and roxy minnesota team up). in terms of stand alone plot lines, i really loved writing chapter 19 (no sleep til brooklyn; letters to jo and camille).

chapter 6 kinda hit me out of left field i'm not even going to lie because i didn't write it in succession with all the other chapters - i completely skipped it because it's one of my least favorite episodes of the entire show. i think once i started writing chapter 11/12/13ish i decided i wanted to start posting my story somewhere so it didn't just live in my docs so i told myself i had to put it in there lol. i'm not sure if from a reader standpoint yall can tell, but if i don't like an episode/plot line/scene in the show i kinda run and make it my own until i like it again and then the chapter ends up being superrr long so chapter 6 was like that for me. i think it really starts to establish roxy as part of the guys' friend group - she kind of solidifies herself as someone that they can rely on and someone who wants to see them succeed and they start to really accept her as someone they can count on (not that they didn't before... but this chapter hits a bit different imo...) plus it has one of my favorite roxy-james moments hehe. i ended up adding that in after i wrote the entire chapter bc i realized they went on their mini date in chapter 5 and i never mentioned it again so i wanted to get some establishment about the beginnings of their relationship together. plus if i ever manage to get myself to write some more his girl friday scenes - minor spoilers for everything about the story i keep in my head to reveal later - we'll learn that that's kind of the first time james begins to see her as someone he likes far more than for purely aesthetic reasons.

chapter 9 at the ice rink... SELF EXPLANATORY WHY I LOVE IT

chpater 17 with the music video and jo and camille!!!!!!!! they ❤️

chapter 18... both part one and two are so so so dear to me but the first part when they're in minnesota is just... my favorite thing to think about... like two forlorn individuals coming together to overcome their situation together and reach their similar goal for each other. theres a few times in there i think where roxy's like, whoop! gotta get back to LA so james can be the star he deserves to be! and doesn't realize its because she likes him and wants to see him successful and happy... girl... it also lets me go 'hmm what would have happened if she had known them in minnesota before' and then i have a little scenario to think about before i fall asleep lmao. i also like it bc its the first time we really see roxy and her dad interact even if its for a microsecond and even how he reacts to james eheh. and the begingings of roxy learning she might actually have feelings for one of her friends while she's going through it and making her comfort food... AHHH I WENT CRAZY WRITING IT!!! sidenote - the part two kiss literally had me shaking in my boots i was so embarrassed writing it so we'll see how i fare writing them as a couple

chapter 19 i like for completely a different reason - that being i wrote it in about two days because it was so easy for me to get inside roxy's head. i swear it's like she was typing through me in a weird sort of way. plus, if any btr historians were reading, i used real locations from their first tour! it was super fun to look up their tour path, map it out and get an accurate amount of time from place to place, learn fun little things about different towns around the US i've never been to. and a little easter egg for me shouting out cities in which ive seen them too <3 roxy never really talks about her emotions before that chapter, so i think it was a nice launching point for her to then feel more comfortable opening up to her friends face-to-face like she did logan in chapter 20 as opposed to on pen and paper. that, and it kind of establishes she's not really built for tour like she thought she was... woah... wonder if that might come back later...

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING once again im sorry im unable to answer questions without a literal essay, but i just get so excited talking about my story with other people :))))

[stupidfatpenguin]

Grogu likes master Luke.

(Partially because he lets Grogu’s father come visit whenever he can, and partially because he lets Grogu keep a free reign of terror over the creatures in the pond outside the temple, but there are other reasons, too.)

Instinctively, from when they first met, from when Grogu first felt him, he had known that his master is someone special. Only someone very special could enter a place with so much fear and anger and despair and make the Force sing tunes of hope. There is a light in him, a place of good and wanting to do good that wells and overflows and makes the galaxy a little less dark of a place.

Master Luke is very different from the other masters—the ones Grogu can vaguely recall from a past that seems so far away now. His temple is different, too, and too large for the two Jedi it houses. But Grogu likes the training they do, likes the way he feels against his mind, assured and strong, and playful and exploring. Like he is learning with Grogu, rather than just departing a lesson.

He likes master’s flying, the acrobatics he’ll sometimes perform in his x-wing that makes Grogu’s stomach churn with excitement; he likes his astromech, and how he bickers and banters with it like they are family or very old friends, and how he convinces R2 to let Grogu ride on top of his dome head as they zoom around the halls; he likes how he asks Grogu to show him his favourite things and happiest memories, and how he ‘oh’s and ‘ah’s at the right parts when he shows him his adventures with father.

More than anything—more than sitting comfy in his master’s hood as they explore the jungle or getting to play in the pond until sundown, hunting down the largest and tastiest frogs with hunter-like determination that surely would make his father proud—he likes the understanding. Here, at the temple, there is no hiding anymore, and no suppressing what he hears and feels in the universe around him, no hiding what he can do. He is safe. With master Luke, here, he feels safe.

(He likes it even better when father is here because that means his father, too, is safe.)

His master is bright, and kind, and he listens, and he is all this even when Grogu does something he was not supposed to do. Whenever he reaches out for him, he reaches back, and he is warm, warm, warm.

So Grogu likes master Luke very much.

And, naturally, he wishes that he can make his master feel as safe and happy as Grogu is.

(Master Luke is not always happy. Often, he hides his pain and his own fears and loneliness, and Grogu knows because he had long done the same.)

There isn't much one can do when one is only very small, and his master is not as fond of the largest and tastiest frogs as Grogu is (even though he has shared with him memories of a time when he ate them often).

But there are some things Grogu can do.

The first time Grogu sees his master hurt is while they are out in the humid jungle, stacking stones and moving water with the Force. The stones come easy to him now, but the water is challenging in its formlessness. Master Luke is demonstrating a particularly difficult manoeuvre, creating fine, cooling mist out of pond-water.

There, where his shirt once covered his shoulders, Grogu sees the angry red and dark purpling of bruises. His ears flatten against his head, and he wonders how his master could have been made to suffer these injuries. He sometimes has them when he returns from off-world, from places that are probably dangerous—places he goes to so that they can all be safe.

This time, master has not been off-world, and these bruises are relatively small. The cause is likely the nasty, large mosquitos or meat-flies that sometimes find their way into the temple, if they’re not careful enough with the doors and windows.

Grogu vows to eat one the next time he sees one buzzing by.

He likes master Luke very much, after all.

Which is why it is so strange to Grogu when master Luke tries to stop him while he is healing his wounds.

“Grogu,” says his master, eyes wide in surprise and his own hand holding Grogu’s away from his neck—now back to its regular, healthy colour.

Grogu coos, askance. Not better?

“I—you didn’t have to…” master Luke pauses, turns a little, as if embarrassed for a moment. “Thank you, I mean. But I was doing just fine. You should save those powers for when they are truly needed, little one.”

Grogu’s head drops, and he feels unhappy for a moment. He had only meant to help.

His master must sense this, for he reaches out, warm and wonderful, and gives Grogu a brilliant smile.

“Some practice doesn't hurt, of course. But you don’t have to do that again.”

Grogu makes a sound of understanding, but he really doesn’t understand why his master would refuse to let Grogu heal him.

Some weeks the biting bugs are more vicious than others. Grogu makes good on his promise to exterminate every such creature he comes over, and even enlists R2 to his aid, incinerating the ones that Grogu misses.

Grogu luckily does not suffer so badly, and his father is so well protected that no insect could ever do him harm. Why are they so interested in master Luke? Perhaps some people, the ones that are good and powerful, like his master, simply taste better.

(Despite his master’s request that he doesn’t, Grogu sometimes, when seated conveniently in his hood or on his shoulder, can’t resist reaching out in focus, and watching in satisfaction as the skin there is healed and turned unblemished, even when master gives him very accusive stares when he discovers it later, although Grogu claims none of the credit.)

To Grogu’s great worry and frustration, the bruises keep returning.

It is only a day later, when father is holding him just after breakfast, and Grogu clearly spies more terrible bruises on master Luke—red and vicious and high on his neck. He reaches out, whines loudly. Perhaps father can help him convince his master to accept his help.

“Grogu? Hey, what’s wrong, kid?”

Master Luke immediately knows his intentions, but his face, inexplicably, slowly takes on a hue of red. To his father, he explains: “Ah, he… wants to heal me.”

“Are you hurt?” father asks urgently, and Grogu feels validated in his concern.

“No! No, I’m fine, he just, uh…” His face grows redder still. “The other day, he saw the… marks and… healed them. He thinks they’re hurting me.”

His father stares, eyes wide, and Grogu can feel his hand twitching and his body radiate a sort of embarrassment. “Maybe I should… stop doing that.”

Master laughs, smiles mischievously. “Maybe you should start leaving them lower.”

Grogu is suddenly confused. Had his father been the one to do this? Are his father and his master fighting? Hurting each other? He remembers that his father hadn’t been happy when he had tried protecting him when he had wrestled with Cara Dune, because she was “his friend”, but they had never wounded each other. Not like this. Were his father and master Luke, perhaps, not friends after all? None of this seemed to make sense. But he can’t allow them to hurt each other anymore.

So when his two most important people are suddenly standing a lot closer, and his father’s other hand touches his master’s neck exactly where he is hurt, Grogu gathers the Force around him and promptly pushes.

(And because Grogu likes master Luke and his father so very, very much, he is not that sad when he is not allowed frogs for dinner that night).

-

Tl;dr: Grogu wants to heal Luke’s injuries, but they are actually hickeys.

(This started as a ficlet about Grogu’s feelings on Luke, and suddenly became DinLuke whoops)

[workofheart]

jean kirstein relationship hcs

sorry for the inactivity lately y’all school is whooping my ass </3 in the mean time, have some modern jean relationship hcs bc i miss him

protective boyfriend #1 ♡ ♡ ♡ will not hesitate to yell at ppl if they’re mean or rude to you, he doesn’t want anyone coming near you like that. thinks his partner deserves the absolute best and will not tolerate people disrespecting you or even thinking of disrespecting you. he will defend you til the day he dies, even if it embarrasses you

asks the waiter for a new dinner when yours is undercooked and you’re too nervous to say something. if you’re a person w social anxiety or just don’t feel like doing something, he would do things for you no problem, whether its fetching you something, paying for you, ordering for you, etc. he’s not gonna tease you or make fun of you, he’s just happy to help

he’s a sappy drunk :’) when he’s hammered, he gets all clingy and drags you onto the couch to cuddle w you/hangs off of you while you walk home and tells you all about how he feels about you and how he wants to spend his life with you and have dogs and a cute home forever. has the cutest little giggle while literally pouring out his feelings for you 

and if you bring it up in the morning, you KNOW he’s gonna get so shy and red like “oh... i said that? haha...”

his biggest dream is just domesticity with you - like i mentioned, living somewhere beautiful in a nice house with a beautiful family or just you and him :( he really cherishes you and just dreams about spending his life with you. his “happy place” is very likely just the two of you sitting in a field by a river on a sunny day, maybe with some sandwiches and sparkling water, with all the time in the world watching ducks swim by

i imagine that you were previously friends before starting to date, but he’d been seriously pining for you since the beginning, just never wanted to make you uncomfortable and was too scared to say anything. he’d go home after hanging out w you and just sigh (probably yell into his pillow in frustration too but shh) bc he just felt like if it wasn’t you, then who else?

meanwhile you’re being so obvious that you like him back but he keeps reasoning that you’re just being nice and wouldn’t actually want him like that 

was ready to settle for friendship and just lock away his feelings when you just pulled him aside and confessed directly. he was a strangely confused yet happy daze for the following weeks

is a sucker for romance movies - likes imagining him and you in those scenarios, romanticizes your own relationship shamelessly. i feel like he’d enjoy 500 days of summer and... wait for it... clueless. I KNOW. it’s his guilty pleasure. also consider: he bawled his eyes out at the end of la la land.

loves beach dates! loves the beach, loves the boardwalk, loves everything about that summer atmosphere. waits in line to get you funnel cake and then you sit and eat, people watching and making up stories for everyone that passes by and just laughing while you enjoy the fresh summer air. in the arcades, totally the type to win himself a cute plushie but when ur like “omg!! is that for me?” he goes oh yeah haha.. but don’t think he doesn’t notice when you’ve been eyeing up a specific toy at the ring toss stand. he will not hesitate to play game after game until he gets it for you. 

lover of back hugs. he is so generous, literally towers over you no matter ur height, just wraps his arms around u and holds u <3 it makes you feel so safe and loved and that’s all he wants for you 

carries you wherever possible. up the stairs, down the stairs, from the kitchen to the living room and back. he always boasts about how easy it is to pick you up bc he’s strong and it boosts his confidence lol

constantly tells you how pretty he thinks you are. jean always thinks you look beautiful so he always compliments your outfits and your hair and your makeup, leans into ur ear to whisper it to u and make u giggle even when it’s just the two of you at home

on that note: always gets caught staring at you and he blushes so easily when you call him out for it. can’t stop looking at you over the top of his newspaper when you’re having breakfast in the morning, can’t stop looking at you while you’re making dinner for him, can’t stop looking at you while you work or study

for valentines/your birthday/holidays he always makes you cute handmade cards out of colored construction paper. he finds a new design every single time and spends so long on it, and finishes by writing out how he feels on the inside. can u just imagine him sitting at his desk, tongue poking out of his mouth with a glue stick in hand as he lays down different colored paper hearts :( 

teases you nonstop. always poking fun at you, probably make jokes about how “irresistible” he is and how you can’t keep away lol, thinks you look adorable when you’re flustered

u give him haircuts when it’s getting long, he sits on a stool in ur bathroom and u just give him a trim every once in a while. trusts you not to fuck it up (not that you ever would) and it always comes out so nice and it makes his heart swell just to have you there to do such intimate, sort of domestic things for him.

pet names! i know so many people have talked about this but it’s just so true. has tried everything in the book to see what you like, watches carefully to see how you respond so he knows, occasionally calls you something silly like “pookie” just to get a reaction out of you

needs verbal communication. jean always has so much on his plate and has a lot of insecurities, so he really needs that reassurance that you need him and love him every day until he can accept it for himself

favorite position to sleep in is him on his back with your head on that area between his neck and shoulder, holds you really close during the night. loves loves loves when you nestle into him and cling to him for warmth when you’re asleep. has trouble sleeping if you aren’t there

dotes on you so much seriously he is so sweet and caring, just so whipped for you. he is literally so weak and always gives into you just bc it makes you happy. you want to drive out for mcdonald’s at two in the morning for an apple pie and a shake? he’s getting his keys rn

nsfw below the cut (18+)

i think mostly everyone is in agreement that jean is a total pleasure dom - he spends all night getting you to cum again and again, always asking if you can give him one more

as mentioned earlier, teases. avoids giving you what you want at first, makes you use your words, and when when you do get it, you’re getting it. aka, overstim galore. he’s not stopping until you’re spent

so much dirty talk, asks so many questions to get you to talk. “louder for me, princess” type of guy. wants to reduce you to babbling with how good he makes you feel - the sounds you make get him so incredibly hard

he is also vocal bc he knows you like it. groans his name into your ear just to feel you clench, then laughs.

never forgets to mark you up, leaves hickeys all over your neck and chest and thighs. loves to look at them later on when you’re changing, and especially loves your reaction to seeing them for yourself

size kink!! this man is almost 6’3 so chances are he’s gonna be bigger than you regardless. likes being close to you, likes being in positions where he can see you, probably has an arm slung around your waist or back whenever the position allows for it so he can hold you close

pins your arms down, holds your hips to the bed so you just have to sink into the mattress and take it

every time he aims to fuck your brains out and make sure the only thing you’re thinking about is him and how good he makes you feel

his fingers are fucking magical, dear lord, he gets you so worked up and knows just how to touch you to make you squirm, loves seeing you go hazy and unravel on his fingers. his fingers are so long and gentle and stretch you out so nice + he knows exactly what to do, where to touch you, when to change his motions to get you there in minutes

needs to be kissing you when he makes you cum. swallows your moans, adores how you struggle to kiss him back with the pleasure he’s giving you

mirror sex is top tier for him, probably has one of those siding door closets w mirrors next to his bed so he can make you look at yourself and watch just what he’s doing to you

eye contact, will 100% grab your jaw to make you look at him, loves seeing you stare up at him through glassy eyes

literal KING of aftercare. takes such good care of you, gets you anything and everything you need, cleans up so well, gives you the world and more

[watchmegetobsessed]

The Hottest Avenger - Bucky Barnes

a/n: im warning you, i will probably not stop for a while with the bucky fics so... brace yourselves lol! also i wrote this before ep 5 came out so its placed in that time

pairing: Bucky X Reader

warnings: TFATWS spoiler, some violence? nothing extreme

word count: 1.8k

summary: Being locked together with Sam and Bucky brings the worst out of you, picking on each other constantly. Following an arguement Bucky accidentally calls you his girlfriend in front of Sam when your relationship was supposed to be a secret.

masterlist

“Did you fucking eat the last dumpling?” you accuse Sam, holding up the empty takeout box where you thought were one more dumpling, one you’ve saved for yourself, but now it’s gone as Sam is eyeing you with his mouth full.

“Thought it was mine,” he mumbles, his words barely understandable from all the food in his mouth.

Taking a deep breath you’re trying not to jump at his throat right then and there. You’ve been locked up together all damn day in the trashy apartment across the street from the building where’s Zemo supposed to be hiding. Sharon had a tip about a possible place where he might be found, but you’ve been waiting to no avail for now. You’ve been growing stressed and impatient. You lost track of Karli and her people and now you can’t seem to find Zemo either. If it wasn’t for the Dora Milaje, you wouldn’t bother to be so after the asshole, but Bucky said if Ayo finds him first, he is dead and every useful information he holds goes to the grave with him so now you are forced to look for him. One failed mission has been following the other these days, that incompetent dickhead John is on the loose too after murdering that man in front of civilians and you feel like control has slipped out of your grip a long time ago. Now you’re stuck with Sam and Bucky in this crappy place, waiting by the window, watching out for Zemo and on top of everything… Sam ate your last dumpling.

Just when you’re about to snap at him, you feel a strong grip on your shoulder. You don’t have to look up to know it’s Bucky right behind you, but not just because he is the only other person in the room beside you and Sam, but also because you know his touch probably more than anyone. Only that most of the times it’s not your shoulder he is gripping…

It’s been going on for a long time between the two of you. Started with just some innocent flirting and you never thought it would grow into something more significant, but it did. And now you are officially in a relationship with none other than the Winter Soldier, only that no one else knows about it and you plan to keep it that way. You don’t need the teasing and jokes and the Avengers are known to be dicks sometimes, especially Sam.

Glancing up your eyes meet Bucky’s blue irises and he sends you a look that says “just let it go”, and though every fiber in you wants to whoop Sam’s ass, you let it slip.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna get mad about a dumpling,” Sam chuckles as he chews on the food that you should be enjoying right now.

“I can get mad about whatever I want to,” you growl back, growing quite irritated of him at this point.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” he huffs under his breath, clearly not as bothered as he should be. Before you could do any harm in him, you leave your spot by the window, needing a breather from… well, from him.

“Hey, it’s still your turn!” he calls after you.

“I need a break,” you growl back.

“Get your ass back here, we agreed to switch every two hours!”

“Sam! I’m walking out because I’m way too tempted to punch you in the face right now!” you snap at him, losing your patience. He rises from his seat with a hard expression, not quite a fan of the way you just talked to him, but you couldn’t care less.

“You think you could actually throw one? Because last time we fought you couldn’t really get a hold of me,” he narrows his eyes at you, coming to stand tall in front of you, trying to intimidate you with how much taller and stronger he might be, but you both know you’re a better fighter.

“It’s easy to talk with your fancy tech stuff. Why don’t we see who wins in a simple battle?” you challenge him with faked boredom.

“Guys, stop. We should be looking out for Zemo, not tearing each other apart,” Bucky tries to end the staring contest, sticking his metal arm between the two of you in case any of you decides to launch at the other one.

“Then tell her to stop bitching!” Sam nods in your way.

“I’m not bitching, I’m just fed up with your bullshit!” you spat back at him, leaning closer, your chest coming in contact with Bucky’s extended arm.

“Don’t talk to her like that, Sam,” Bucky warns him, but Sam snorts dryly.

“Don’t tell me you are taking her side, she is throwing a fit for a fucking dumpling!”

“I’m not taking sides, just trying to settle this stupid disagreement here,” he defends himself and you roll your eyes.

“You can’t tell me she is not overreacting it, Buck!” Sam laughs in disbelief, taking a step back, dropping the act that he wants to fight you. He probably knows he would come out as a ridiculous loser. “This is fucking insane, I’m not in the mood to deal with your shit, Y/N,” he shakes his head.

“Hey!” Bucky snaps at him. “Don’t talk to my girlfriend like that, okay?!”

“I’m just—wait, what?!” Sam’s eyes widen and you freeze too.

Your dumbass boyfriend didn’t just out the two of you, did he? What else is about to come?! Sam’s shock turns into a cocky grin as his eyes shift between you and Bucky.

“You guys… you guys are fucking?” he asks with a delightful laugh and you close your eyes sighing, already tired of his shit.

“That’s not—We’re not fucking, I mean… It’s not like that,” Bucky stutters, but it’s just making it worse. He looks at you with terror in his eyes, but you are way too drained to deal with it the right way.

“Yes, we are fucking! And we are in a mature adult relationship! Get yourself over it!” you bark at Sam before turning around and walking out.

You faintly hear the two men talk inside, but you don’t make out the words. You don’t go too far, sitting on the steps leading up to the third floor. Soon enough you hear the door of the apartment open with a creak and a moment later Bucky shows up in your sight. He sits beside you, remaining silent for a little before speaking up.

“Sorry for running my mouth,” he mumbles, his head hanging low.

“It’s… fine,” you breathe out. Bucky fidgets with his fingers and you know he wants to touch you in any kind of way as a reassurance that it really is fine. You don’t want to hold a grudge, it was an accident, you’re just a little bummed it’s not gonna be just the two of you anymore. Reaching out you take his hand, the real one that’s flesh and meat and you lace your fingers together as he peeks at you, still reserved and hesitant.

“Is it really fine or are you just bottling it up?”

“It really is fine,” you chuckle softly and leaning closer you kiss his scruffy cheek. “The only reason I wanted to keep it a secret is because you know how vickery the guys can get. I just didn’t want them to pick on us.”

“They do it because they are just jealous,” he smirks playfully, his shoulder bumping against yours.

“Yeah? Of what?” A soft chuckle slips through your lips.

“That I scored the hottest Avenger,” he replies smugly and you can’t help but laugh with your head snapping back.

“I didn’t know you were fucking Thor!” you retort and immediately see his smirk vanish from his lips as he stares back at you, not enjoying your joke as much as you are.

“Thor? Really? Not this shit again, Y/N,” he narrows his eyes at you. Back when you were just skirting around each other, you loved pulling his leg, joking about how much you are into the hottest Avenger, aka Thor. He never appreciated it, usually earned you a tight-lipped smile before he mumbled “Tarzan’s got nothing on me” before walking away, leaving you laughing like a hyena.

“Come on, you know I’m more into super soldiers,” you grin, leaning closer as he pepper his sharp jawline with more small kisses.

“You know, it’s not the best thing to say to your boyfriend when there are now about eight more super soldiers running around,” he huffs.

“But none of them has a metal arm,” you point out, finally making him laugh.

“So that’s your kink? A vibranium arm?” he asks with faked shock and you curl your arms around his bicep, resting your chin on his shoulder.

“How haven’t you realized yet?” you chuckle. Bucky turns his head until his lips can capture yours in a sweet, lighthearted kiss that makes you forget about everything that’s been clouding over your mind these past days. All the failures, the mistakes and chaos fades into nothing, because you have him and he has you.

Walking back into the apartment Sam stares back at you, neither of you entirely sure how to act after what just happened. He then grabs his phone from the dusty table before holding it up.

“I could order some extra dumplings,” he offers and you crack a smile shaking your head. This was his peace offering, both of you knows he won’t straight up apologize for the way he talked, but this is already more than what you were expecting from him. Bucky must have had a few words with him before joining you outside.

“It’s all good.”

The three of you get back to work, taking your previous spots, returning to the task on hand as silence falls on the room once again. You catch Sam glancing at you and the Bucky and you can tell he is about to make a snarky comment on your relationship. And just as he is about to open his big mouth, Bucky moves to silence him, but you’re faster. With a simple move you throw Sam to the ground, keeping him down with your hand wrapped around his neck.

“Don’t even think about teasing, understood?” you hiss at him as he gasps for air, his hands wrapping around your wrist as he tries to fight you off, but you hold him a second longer to emphasize the importance of your words. Then you finally let go of him and he coughs for air, fixing him up from the floor as you simply walk back to your spot by the window.

“Hottest Avenger, huh?” he breathes out, revealing that he heard what you talked about out on the stairs. “More like the Avenger with the most anger issues…”

You just grin, glancing over at your boyfriend who is now standing with his arms crossed over his chest, not even bothered by his friend’s struggles on the floor as he smirks back at you, nodding proudly as if he was saying: “That’s my girl.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

[dadsbongos]

trashy dad

Movie/Game/Show: My Hero Academia Dynamic: Shota Aizawa/Reader (Platonic) Warnings: references (2) to un*s ann*s, one (1) use of (y/n), fem pronouns Summary: Shota trying to support his YouTuber daughter :) cuz social media aus own me Word Count: 2.1K ~~~

"Hey, gamers," you grin at the camera before tossing an arm over your father's shoulders, "My dad's in town and as you can see," you hesitated slightly before turning to face your father, "Dad's not super into taking care of himself. So, I figured what's better than doing a Q&A together while I do his makeup?"

"Hitoshi just did a 'what I eat in a day', didn't he?" Shota quirked a brow, already reaching back to tie up his messy, tangled hair.

"Spoilers!" you quietly whine as you open your phone, "He still has to edit it, silly man. We're gonna have to brush out your hair later, by the way."

Shota's eyes widened, "We? I thought this was your idea and video, (Y/n)."

"No," you huff, scrolling through a few of the questions from fans, "I mean it was but your hair is so… Okay, first question is from - oh my God the names - shrekslongtoe, what was my first word?"

"Are you gonna start putting makeup on me or just sit there?" Shota scratched at his nose before snickering, "That wasn't your first word. Your first word was 'Dada' and it drove Hizashi insane."

"Hizashi is my other dad, by the way," you lean over to grab your makeup bag, "'Toshi and I call him papa. Oooh, oh no," you looked up to Shota, "I don't have your shade, you're gonna look weird."

"I don't really care," the man shrugged, watching as you took out a pink beauty blender, "That looks like a buttplug."

"Don't say that!" your eyes were wide at his words while you got out your foundation, "Youtube doesn't like that."

"Whoops," he deadpanned, "Next question."

"Shit, right."

"Language."

"Japanese," you murmur, going to the next reply, "yoonbumskneecap asks, 'Did you believe in me-’ they said my name but you know, ‘and Hitoshi when they decided to become Youtubers?' And 'in 'Toshi's case - drop out of college to become a professional clout man.'"

"To be honest," Shota closed his eyes, only in slight fear, as you began pressing the foundation into his skin, "I was really worried about Hitoshi, I didn't know if he'd stay as big as he was because he's a lot like me, in the sense that people tend to not like us for our bluntness. So I was worried he'd be a meme for like a month and then people would drop him, but thankfully I was proved wrong," he opened his eyes when he felt you pull away and begin rooting through your bag once again, "With you, I was less worried because you're more like 'Zashi, i.e extremely likable, and you were kind of getting a boost from appearances on Hitoshi's channel. I still worry because the internet is a fickle mistress but I'm not staying up at night about it."

Pulling out a dark eyebrow pencil, you grin at your father, "Aww, that was kinda sweet. Not really but kind of."

"What I'm here for," Shota's eyes followed your hand as you uncapped the pencil and reached up, beginning to mark at his eyebrows, "I'm gonna read the next question while you kill my eyebrows."

"I'm not killing them!" you giggled, "But unlike Papa, you already have pretty thick, full eyebrows so I won't be here long."

"Good," he muttered before furrowing his brows in confusion, ignoring your frustrated groan, "who is daddysero and why is he asking if you pissed today?"

"What?!" you pull your dad's hand back to see what he was looking at, instantly calming down when you saw he was still on Twitter, "Oh, that's just Sero, he asks me that every time I tweet. I thought you went to my Instagram DMs," at Shota's questioning stare you grinned, "Mama's got simps in her DMs."

"Don't ever call yourself 'Mama' in my presence ever again," Shota shook his head, once again ignoring your annoyance, "papichulo46290 wants to know my favorite memory of you."

"If you mix me up with 'Toshi, I'll be so pissed," you return the eyebrow pencil to your bag as Shota speaks.

"I won't... probably," he shrugs while you root through your bag, "So, Hizashi had taken Hitoshi out for ice cream because of - has he mentioned his middle school trauma?" at your nod, he continues, "Hitoshi was having a bad day from middle school, shocking, so you and I were left home alone together. You were probably seven and you really wanted to paint my nails and I let you. You..." he shook his head, snickering, "you fucked them up. So bad. But you were so happy to just be spending time with me- "

"Keep talking, but I'm gonna do your eyeshadow," you lean back in, swishing your brush over a navy blue, almost black shade, "Just so you guys know, Dad wanted to look like shit, don't unsubscribe cuz this is gonna come out bad."

"It won't be too bad, you're talented," Shota did his best to remain still, "But overall, you were just so adorable and it didn't even matter that the smudged nails got me teased in the teacher's lounge the next day. It all came off after like a week because it was shitty polish but you get the idea."

"Aww, I didn't know you kept it on, that's so sweet," you fall back briefly to inspect your work, "It's not awful but I'm only posting this because you're my dad."

"Of course, I did," Shota continued scrolling through the questions, "A lot of people are asking if you mean Dad or Daddy, and a lot more people are asking for pictures of your feet, you should block them all."

"Yeah, I got sickos in my replies too, just gotta scroll past em'."

"Disgusting..." Shota grumbled as you moved to his other eye, "Is 'electrodick' Kaminari, perchance?"

"Unfortunately."

"Gross, he asks if you had an 'I'm not like other girls' phase," Shota hummed quietly in thought, "Maybe when you were eight for like a month, but that's probably because except for Nemuri you didn't have any women in your life. Thankfully you moved on from that pretty quickly."

"Oh yeah, that was a gross, weird time. You and Papa also weren’t shitty people so I didn’t have a lot of misogynist influence."

"I like to think we did a good job," Shota sighed, finally moving back into his slouching position when you pulled away completely, "Is 'explosionmurder' Bakugou?"

"You know it."

"Okay well, he's asking if you plan on fucking up your bronzing again?" he thinks for a moment, “Was that from when you looked kinda copper-ish in a video?

"Oh my God, that was one time, Bakugou!" you shout and shake your brush at the camera, "One time!"

"I don't even know what blending is so you're doing better than I am."

"God, how are we related?"

Without hesitation, Shota replied, "Surrogate. Which answers summerlongsock's question."

"Nice," you chuckle, setting the brush back in your bag, "You probably won't need too much bronze or countour since you're going for bad," you immediately turn to the camera, "And Bakugou isn't gonna say a fucking word about it!"

"Is eyeliner next? And if so, I would enjoy a nice wing," Shota muttered, looking through the remaining questions, "Hitoshi asks why I haven't done a video with him yet."

You nod along while uncapping the liner, "I'm curious about that too. I thought my first video with a parent would be with Papa. I was gonna say family but..." you shrug, "Hitoshi was my first video and then Eri came on."

"He never asked," Shota closed both of his eyes, allowing you to move his head around as you pleased, "You just texted me the video idea and we set it up while I was in town. If Hitoshi wants a video so bad he should come up with an idea."

"Jeez, don't bully the poor boy," you laughed quietly, carefully applying more eyeliner to your father's left lid, "We should all do a video together. I think it'd be fun."

"Come up with an idea," he replied flatly before opening his eyes, "davinky wants to know when you got into makeup. Probably after thirteen, sometime."

"Yeah, I got my first real eyeshadow at like fourteen and then you guys just enabled my love of makeup after that."

"Well, the thing with that was, Hizashi and I didn't want you growing up thinking you had to wear makeup for any reason," Shota opened his eyes once he felt you back away, blinking a few times, "So we waited till you were more mature because giving makeup to a six-year-old is weird."

Capping your eyeliner, you traded it out for mascara, "Yeah, even little play kits are a bit ehhh. Don't close your eyes, but look down."

Following instruction, Shota took the opportunity to read off another question, "I can't see the name but someone's asking what we did together for fun. While you were a kid."

Humming quietly in thought, you move from one eye to the other, "We used to go to diners a lot. Those late-night diner trips, remember?"

"Oh yeah, you were such a little demon about bedtime. I had to take you to this little place for scrambled eggs or some shit and you'd fall asleep on the way back home."

Putting away your mascara, you reach out for your hairbrush before beginning to pull out the hair tie in Shota's hair, "Mina wanted me to ask what videos you show people when they ask what your kids do for a living."

"For Hitoshi, the one where he and Kaminari made Bakugou breakfast with sex toys. For you, the one where you turn yourself into Mina's little character - with the pink skin," Shota winced slightly at the tug of your hairbrush, "And Eri's a teacher so that information comes first since it's the least strange."

As you fussed with his tangled nest of hair, you read another question over Shota's shoulder, "When did you know you loved me? Like after adopting me."

"Not too long after the adoption was finalized actually," Shota grumbled as the brush made its final courses through his hair, "You've always been a really great kid. I don't know when I 'realized' but it was definitely around the time you were born, maybe like the day after."

"That's pretty good considering I was a stranger," you giggled, brushing out the final knots in his dark hair, "A baby stranger."

"Hmm," Shota hummed in response, "You almost done?"

Refraining from rolling your eyes, you fluffed Shota's now smooth and detangled hair around his shoulders with a small smile, "I'm done. Your hair is so pretty when it's brushed out."

"I know," the man muttered, handing your phone back, "Wanna do one more question and then sign off?"

"Yeah," you scroll through some of the questions, "I want it to be the best question that's ever been asked."

"Ask your own, you're great at that."

You shook your head with furrowed brows at his comment, "Is that a compliment?"

"It was meant to be."

"Thanks, but no need, I've found one. Midoriya wants to know if raising two attention whores was hard. He didn't say ‘attention whores’ because he doesn't swear but that's the vibe."

"What's Midoriya's at?" Shota asked.

"SmallMight."

"Of course," the man grumbled, closing his eyes to think, "You two were honestly pretty easy to raise. Not a whole lot of fits compared to what I've heard other parents talk about. You both liked to talk a lot to each other, and, of course, to Hizashi and me. Not terribly difficult at all."

"Aww, I'm glad we didn't make you pull your hair out," you grin.

"Oh, you still did. Absolutely."

"Nice," you giggle before turning off your phone and facing the camera, "Okay guys, well, I hope you don't clown on me as much as usual because if you do, my dad will... I don't know… kick your ass."

"Exactly," Shota nodded, a horrific smile on his face, "I'll beam right into your living room."

"Hopefully you guys come back next week where I'll..." floundering for an answer, you turn to your dad as if he’d give you ideas, "Create wings to do it better than Icarus ever could."

Giving a singular stiff nod, Shota looked dead at the camera, "I'd watch it."

"You heard it from the main man himself, peeps," you waved to the camera, Shota copying the motion, “Bye!”

"If there's one comment about my eyebags, I'm never coming on your channel again," Shota lied as you leaned over to stop recording.

"They're gonna love you, I'm sure," you assure your father, "Wanna see how I edit?"

"God no, Hitoshi showed me how long it takes to edit his videos, it looks like hell."

[lost-between-letters]

New Year's Eve

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader (she/her)

Word Count: 1,075

Warning: again, spoiler warning for around 8x13

Summary: New Year's Eve with the Winchesters

A/N: happy New Year!!! As always it's unedited because I have no time management (don't judge me on the title I am not creative enough lol)

This was the first New Year's Eve Y/N spent with the Winchesters and she was surprised how... quiet it was.

At least from Dean she would have expected some sort of party or bar prowl for the last night of the traumatising year behind them. To be fair, a top secret bunker of a even top secret-er elite society wasn't exactly the best place to host a big event.

Still, just sitting around and chatting in the common room, all crammed up on one huge sofa felt weird. Not unpleasant, don't get her wrong, just unusual. Sam had declared the day "case free" and Dean hadn't even tried to fight it. If she wasn't pretty sure they hadn't left the bunker in three days, Y/N would have feared that someone drugged them.

"Dude, gimme some rest, I was high on pain medication and sleep deprivation!" Sam complained and shoved Y/N playfully.

She kicked him right back and let her feet rest on his lap from there. "You're always high on pain medication and sleep deprivation."

"She's got a point," Dean said, a big grin plastered to his face, "We have to patch you up far too much."

"Shut up, both of you."

It would have been adorable how Sam was pouting if he wasn't laughing so much as well. Y/N hadn't seen these boys so smiley in ever - which was really depressing now that she was thinking of it. Which was her cue to put away the champagne for later as while she liked being giggly-tipsy, emotional drunk wasn't on the agenda for tonight.

The brothers were still bickering when she came back from the kitchen with a glass of water and two new bottles of beer (she was awesome, she knew). "Don't get stabbed then next time."

"Don't pass out next time," Sam retorted, a gleeful glint in his eyes as he saw Dean's scowl.

Who totally wasn't scowling from the glare he shot Y/N's way as she started to laugh. The girl the glare was directed at, sat down next to him unimpressed and handed him the bottle. Suddenly, Dean was much happier. "You're a sweetheart, you know that?"

"Only reason I keep putting up with you," she assured him.

Naturally, Dean had to wrap his arm around her shoulders and lean down to her conspirationally. The shiver than ran down her back was purely due to the gust of wind that had made its way through the vents. Nothing else. And the blush was the champagne's fault.

"I stand by my point by the way," Sam stated.

It was a pleasant if slightly confusing distraction from whatever Y/N's mind was preoccupied with.

"...What?" At least Dean was as confused as herself.

Sam put on his Cheshire grin and pointed at the two of them. "There is no way that either of you is better at Mario Kart than me."

"Guess you have to prove it then, library boy," Y/N challenged him, already getting up to turn on the TV and playstation.

Epic battling and lots of screaming followed. Things were said and regretted deeply, Dean threw a pillow at Sam, Sam aimed it back at Dean and hit Y/N straight in the face. Luckily, her enraged scream startled the older Winchester enough to fall off a cliff.

... A sentence that unfortunately would make sense in any other situation of their lives as well.

Due to the Winchesters' and Y/N's competitive personalities, the games soon got pretty intense and for everyone's sake, they moved on to two on two so at least one was always there to negotiate. Or well, rile one of them up. Fun with the Winchesters.

"Guys, it's almost midnight!" Y/N realised with a shock as she looked at the towering clock in the corner of the room.

Had they been playing for so long? Whoops.

"One more round," Sam's eyes were glued to the TV still, adamant on winning this time.

Meanwhile, Dean signed his downfall but actually looking up, checking the clock and finding out himself that Y/N was right. "Ah fuck, let's get going then."

Sam was still celebrating by the time they were topside again and setting up the fireworks. Y/N swore that these two got more childish the older they got. Not that she was particularly complaining.

Dean apparently was not as amused as her though. "Okay big boy, if you're so much better it's your turn to light the fireworks then."

"Jerk," Sam stated but got to work. Smart boy.

And then they were counting down to midnight, Sam checking his watch to make sure they were actually on time. It was filled with laughter and absolutely no feeling for actual time as the boys were counting approximately two times faster than Y/N.

While Sam was getting to work on the lint and lit a match, reaching the last ten seconds, Dean's arm wrapped around her once more. This time, it was her waist he was holding onto and Y/N felt herself being pulled to his front. Close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath fan over her eyelashes.

"Wanna be my New Year's kiss, Sweetheart?" Dean's voice was confident as always but his eyes were flying all over her face.

With a shot of boldness, Y/N locked her fingers in the nape of his neck and pushed him down to her level. Kiss now, freak out later.

"Happy New Year!"

Sam's voice and the explosions of the fireworks faded into the background as Dean's lips met hers. They were soft and warm to the touch, a tingle of electricity running down her back as he went straight for her bottom lip to nibble at it. It made Y/N gasp in surprise which gave Dean the chance to slip his tongue in and turn the kiss in a much more interesting direction. She grinned into the kiss and returned it with the same enthusiasm and angled his head for better access.

Only Sam's groaned "fucking finally" broke them apart. Y/N doubted that she would have ever let go willingly.

Dean on the other hand didn't seem to be half as bothered by the presence of his little brother and took his sweet time with pulling away. When he did though, there was a more than smug grin plastered to his kiss swollen lips.

"Happy New Year, Y/N," he whispered and nudged her nose with his.

General Taglist: @immrbrightsideeee @fandomfoodiedancer

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[calpalirwin]

Spotlight

Summary: Ashton gets back to his craft

Word Count: 2.3k

And away, and away we go!

__

To say that watching Ashton under a year and a half of quarantine and uncertainty was difficult would be an understatement. Watching him ride out his lowest lows as he chased for the slightest high broke your heart in ways you didn’t know were possible. Sure, there were the moments when you thought he was pulling himself out of his personal pit of hell- the immediate release of CALM a week into lockdown, the creation of Superbloom and its release, along with the mini virtual concert. But oftentimes your usually happy-go-lucky sweetheart of a boyfriend was incredibly short-tempered, the smallest of things igniting a wildfire of frustration that tested both your patience and relationship with him. 

It was a tense year and a half, filled with screaming matches, tears falling like broken glass, and slamming doors. But it was also a year and a half of heartfelt confessions, new routines allowing for renewed intimacy, and selfish desires that the time would stay stopped.

Oh, but the way he lit up like the sky on the 4th of July when he learned the news that he could go back into the studio with his boys? Worth every damn thing watching his grin as he circled the date on the calendar in a wide streak of black Sharpie. 

And when those studio days turned into rehearsal days? You thought he’d fall apart as he tried to spit out the words. 

“BABE!” Ashton’s voice boomed the second the front door opened, loud with excitement.

“What?” you asked, coming to greet him.

Your own cheeks hurt looking at the grin plastered across his face. “Rehearsals!” he whooped.

“Are you serious?!”

“Yeah!”

“For tour?!”

“Yes and no. We have a show!”

“ASHTON!”

“I KNOW!” His arms were around you in a flash, picking you up and spinning you around as both of your laughs bounced off the walls. 

“Dizzy, dizzy!” you called out to him still laughing.

He set you down on your feet, and then his lips were on yours in a bruising kiss. “FUCK!” he couldn’t stop laughing or smiling. “Baby, I’m so excited. I have a show. With the boys. It’s real. We’re back. If we get to do this show… God, baby, it changes everything. I- It means we really get to go back. We won’t have to keep postponing our tour. We can put out the new album. And…” the words fell in a flurry as the reality of what he’d been missing for so long being within arm’s reach again set in. A rogue tear rolled down his cheek. “Fuck, I’ve missed this feeling.”

“I’ve missed seeing you this happy,” you smiled at him, catching the tear with your thumb before brushing his wild hair from his face.

“You’re coming right?” he asked, his smile faltering as his voice took on a note of fear. 

“To the show? Of course, babe. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

His lips curved upwards again, but it didn’t quite match the smile he’d been wearing when he first came bounding through the door. “And tour? If we get that far? If we get that lucky?”

“Stop,” you said, holding his face in your hands. “Stop the spiral. Let yourself be excited.”

“But-” The doubts were beginning to rear their ugly head. He had already allowed himself to believe the covid shit was behind him once before. 

“I don’t want the rug pulled out from under you either,” you told him softly. “But allow yourself this moment, Ash. And we’ll deal with the rest later.”

His eyes fluttered shut for a second as he leaned into your touch. When he opened them again, the kaleidoscope of colors that were his hazel eyes were soft. “I-” he started, words of how sorry he was for all the times he snapped harshly at you, how grateful he was for you toughing it out with him, and how he selfishly wasn’t ready to start missing you again a trapped jumble on his tongue. “I-” he tried again.

“I know,” you interrupted, stretching upwards to nudge your nose against his. “I know.”

~~~

While he hadn’t been able to get the words out, he found a different way of expressing himself in a way that left you both breathless and at a loss for words. 

And when you woke the next morning, rolling over to find his side of the bed empty, despite your excitement for Ashton, your heart ached for the reality of what was to come of him stepping back into the spotlight. 

But the bed was still warm, suggesting it hadn’t been long since he had left, and when you stumbled downstairs, you easily found him standing in the kitchen, his back to you as he poured coffee into two mugs. “Morning,” you greeted, wrapping your arms around his bare waist and pressing a kiss between his shoulders.

“Oh, hey,” he said, turning in your arms to kiss the top of your head. “You coulda stayed in bed. I was bringing up the coffee.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he giggled. “What? Did you think I’d left already?”

Your shoulders shrugged as you let go of your hold on him. “Yeah.”

“Without saying goodbye, first? C’mon, you gotta know me better than that.”

You shrugged again, reaching around him for one of the coffee mugs. “Well, thanks,” you murmured, taking a sip.

He frowned as he grabbed the other mug. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.”

“Y/N… C’mon, we’ve been stuck together in this house forever now. You think I don’t know when you’re hiding from me?”

“I- It’s nothing. When do you gotta meet with the guys?”

“Not for a while. Stop deflecting.”

You sighed. “The bed was empty, okay? Let’s face it. For the shitshow that’s covid, it gave us a lot of time. A lot of time we don’t normally get to share because of our jobs. And that’s all I want to say about it because I’m happy, Ash. I’m happy you have studio days and rehearsal days again. I’m happy you have shows again.”

“But you can be happy for me, and pissed about an empty bed. You can be both at the same time.”

“Yeah, but it makes me feel fuckin’ lousy, Ash. Like this is the reality of your job. We’re not strangers to it. I’m just being selfish.”

He chuckled, taking your coffee mug from you and setting it along with his on the counter. “I’m not ready to miss you either.” Then his arms were pulling you in close to him, his hold both strong and gentle. “Wanna be selfish with me before I have to leave?” he asked, his breath hot on your neck, the kiss hungry as it traveled up the column of your throat to your lips. “Be selfish with me until we can’t.”

And how could you deny Ashton’s request when he held you, looked at you, and loved you the way he did?

~~~

A couple hours after Ashton left for rehearsals, you left yourself to go surprise him. The house was too quiet without him, and rehearsals were different from regular studio time. More special in a way you couldn’t put words to. 

For some reason you were nervous as you pushed your way into the studio, his head snapping up at the sound of the door. “Baby!” he grinned up at you from where he was sitting on the floor next to Calum. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d surprise you guys. Bring you all some lunch,” you said, holding up a food bag as proof. 

“You’re the greatest,” he beamed, pushing himself up onto his feet and crossing the room to you. 

“So you rehearse on the floor?” you questioned with a teasing smile.

“Well, we were taking a small break,” he told you with a sheepish smile.

“We were actually ordering food, but this is way better,” Michael chimed in, taking the bag of food from you, and giving you a quick hug hello. “Ash is right. You’re the greatest.”

“Yeah, best surprise ever, especially for Mike,” Luke laughed and Calum nodded in agreement.

Happy chatter ensued as food was passed around, Ashton sitting as close to you as he could, his nerves making the tips of his fingers shake. “You okay?” you whispered, gripping one of his hands tightly in yours.

He nodded. “Yeah. Just nerves about getting back into things.” He gave you a quick kiss before getting up to go sit at his drum kit. And how he could manage to look both so at home and so vulnerable at the same time was beyond you. 

You looked over at the other guys, wondering if they were seeing what you were seeing, and Calum nodded knowingly at you while Luke and Michael offered up sad smiles of confirmation. Sighing, you got up and made your way over to Ashton, wedging yourself between him and his drum kit. “Talk to me,” you urged softly.

“It’s been a long time.”

“It has,” you agreed. “But you didn’t stop being a musician. You still played. You still made music this whole time.”

“What if we mess up? What if I mess up?”

“What if you don’t?”

He scoffed lightly. “I’m being serious, Y/N.”

“I am, too. Look, Ash. These are your boys. Playing music with them is what you were born to do. And I’m pretty sure they’re having the same worry as you about messing up. And it’s okay if you guys mess up. That’s why you’re having rehearsals.”

He let out a slow breath. “Yeah… Suppose you’re right.” He pushed his hands through his hair, taking another slow breath. “Okay. Okay, I can do this. Muscle memory.”

“Muscle memory,” you smiled reassuringly at him, draping your arms across his shoulders and leaning your forehead against his. “You got this, baby.”

“Will you stay? Having an audience… having you… It might help.”

“Of course, babe.”

~~~

The night of the show, you stood off to the side and out of the way as Ashton and the guys talked with the press about being back after almost two years of not playing a show together. You watched with a smile at the way Calum and Luke started humming their responses, and Michael took over the conversation when Ashton started fidgeting with his hands, giving Ashton that brief pause to collect his thoughts and settle his nerves. 

“Muscle memory,” you reminded him softly when they all came back to prepare to go on stage.

“Muscle memory,” he nodded, shrugging out of his jacket. But his hands still shook as he draped it over a chair. So you grabbed them, holding them still in your own hands. “Fuck, I hate this,” he whispered in defeat.

“You’re allowed to be nervous, Ash.”

“I know. I just hate it. Of all the feelings I’ve missed, this isn’t one of them.”

“So focus on that. Focus on how great it feels knowing that there’s a crowd of people out there waiting for you guys. And fuck the rest.”

“It really helps that you’re here, you know that?”

“I wouldn’t miss this moment for anything.”

“I-” he started, but a stagehand came rushing through, ushering them towards the stage.

You kissed him swiftly. “I love you, too. Now go be amazing.”

Again, with a smile plastered on your face, you watched them from the wings. It was effortless how easily they fell back into performing live with each other, as if covid had never stopped them. The perfect team of brothers. 

Ashton’s eyes were lit up like a Christmas tree when he came backstage, a sweaty smile on his own face as he hugged you tight. “That was amazing!” you beamed.

“That!” He pointed a finger towards that stage. “That I’ve missed!”

“This!” You grabbed his face in your hands. “This is the Ash I’ve missed.”

“I was trying to tell you something before I went on. Something I’ve been trying to tell you for a while now actually.”

“Oh?” 

“Yeah… I, um… Fuck, I dunno why this is so hard for me. But I wanted to say thanks. I know I haven’t been the easiest person to love lately. I know I’ve been more moody than usual under covid, and I know I’ve taken a lot of my frustration out on you.”

“Ash-”

He held up a finger, cutting you off. “Lemme finish. I- I know I hit some of the lowest lows I’ve hit in a long time because of covid. And I know this shit’s far from over, and there’s probably going to be more rough moments as we get back into the swing of things after so long. But thank you, okay? I dunno what I would’ve done without you.”

“Ash-”

“Hold on. There’s one last thing. When we go on tour, I want you to come with us. If you can, of course. I just… I’d rather not miss you if I don’t have to. I- I need you. In a way I never thought I’d need someone. And for reasons I don’t think I’ll ever understand. But I need you.”

“Can I talk now?”

“Yeah.”

“For as much as covid has sucked, it gave us a lot of time to be together. A lot of time we didn’t have before.”

“You told me that already.”

“Shush. It’s my turn. We’ve seen the best and the worst of each other. And for all the times we could have given up, we didn’t. Every unlovable moment, we just loved each other harder. And for a while I wondered why that was. And it’s like you said. For whatever reason, I need you the same way you need me. And getting to see you get back to being this happy again… I wanna keep seeing it. And I wanna keep seeing it in ways that don’t keep us apart. So… I was talking with my boss, and with the band, and your team. And this was supposed to be a surprise but…”

“You’re coming on tour?” he interrupted, voice full of hope.

“I’m coming on tour,” you grinned.

__

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[tennessoui]

You kind of already did 31 but pleaseeeeeeee

these ficlets keep getting longer ffs this is 2k

31. One is a sex worker, the other is a client AU

anakin's had his turn as a sex worker in my writing so it's Obi-Wan this time, paired with Vaderkin and i made it more dark than I thought would happen whoops but. warnings are: probably bordering extremely dubious consent even though no sex happens and this is just the lead up. a brief reference to underage sex work, though absolutely nothing comes of it. and vaderkin being a bit creepy.

There is a saying among the workers at the Establishment: if the imperial palace calls for you, you should hope the person that is displayed next to you is prettier.

Obi-Wan has never bought into prayers of any kind and this saying is only ever said with something akin to a worshipful dread. Still, when Ahsoka drapes a cloak of red around his shoulders and whispers those words to him—“May the others be your betters”—he thinks for a second about the nature of prayer and of hope and the futility of both in this galaxy.

“Don’t worry, little ‘Soka,” he smiles from under the cloak’s hood. “I’m sure it’s just a mistake.” He is, after all, one of the oldest workers here, makes most of his money these days tending bar and running the front desk, called in to serve mostly for virgin customers who want a gentler and more experienced hand to guide them in the art of pleasure. He doesn’t think any of the words could be used to describe the Emperor Vader, can’t see the imposing black-suited man interested in the art of pleasure.

Ahsoka can’t look him in the eye, but she hugs him tightly as he boards the shuttle that will take him to the Palace.

The ride there is quiet. Obi-Wan tries to avoid as many glances from the other people as he gives to them. Most of them are young, human. He seems to be the only male above 40. His chances are good.

Maybe he hadn’t been lying to Ahsoka. Maybe, truly, his name being included on the list had been a mistake

Something inside him hesitates though. He’d been out in the Upper levels a week ago, making his way home after one of his rare appointments with an old client turned friend. A child had fallen into the path of a small parade of speeders. A correctional officer had raised a whip. Obi-Wan had reacted on instinct, catching its lash with his forearm. The child had run off. Obi-Wan had stayed. He’d raised his head just enough, eons later, to see the durasteel outside of the largest speeder pass by his prone form, just enough to see the Imperial crest on its hull. Just for long enough to see a glint of a yellow eye from the window.

Bacta had treated his wounds, but his mind had not allowed him to rest easily, caught up in the memory of that eye--had he imagined the interest? Had he imagined it all?

And so to hear his name called tonight--the first calling since The Incident--had felt like the confirmation of all of his most unfounded fears.

Would tonight be the night he died? He had lived a long life. A rough one. Perhaps it is time.

Still, in the back of his head, a selfish, utterly human part of him whispered, may the others be your betters.

---

Those chosen do, often, come back. Sometimes they do not. Mostly they do. Obi-Wan has never truly decided which of these fates is the worse one. Those who survive don’t say anything for days on end, their eyes blank as they stare forward. Their bruises, if they are there, are easy to heal. But something is always wrong with their minds afterwards. And those who don’t come back...well. It’s hard to say what happens to them, where they go. Far away or down below.

Obi-Wan is forced to his knees in between a moderately aged female Togruta and a fairly young teenager. The boy is shaking. He can’t be more than sixteen.

They’re in the Entrance Hall. Obi-Wan has never been here before, but he supposes it makes sense. There will be one person who ventures further into the Palace. The rest will be dismissed out the doors that just shut. No need to bring the scum further in than they have to.

Distantly, like a funeral drum, Obi-Wan can hear the sound of feet falling, making their way closer. Just a single pair. He wants to look up, to watch the Emperor--because it has to be the Emperor--approach, but there’s a Guard behind him, holding his head down.

The footsteps are close now. There’s only ten of them--sometimes, Obi-Wan has heard that there can be as many as twenty or thirty--so the line is short. Vader paces quietly from the first to the last person, before stopping in the middle. Obi-Wan can just see the black of his boots if he flicks his eyes as far as they can go to the left. The boy next to him lets out a muffled sob. Obi-Wan wishes he could offer the kid some sort of comfort, some sort of reassurance that the Emperor will choose one of the other workers, a body more desirable than either of theirs, but there are no words to describe the guilty relief of a suffering passed onto someone else.

On some sort of invisible signal, the Guard behind Obi-Wan wrenches his head back by the hold he has on both the silken hood and his own hair. It’s far from comfortable, tilted so far back. The message is obvious. Submission is not optional. Respect will be shown through any means necessary.

Obi-Wan tries to keep the hulking form of Vader in his eyesight, even though to see ahead of him he has to close his eyes almost completely because of the angle. It’s impossible to see anything from the chest up, but he can still hear. Loud, mechanical breathing fills the halls. Vader stops at each person for no longer than five seconds before he continues down the line. Obi-Wan holds his breath, waiting for his turn. Does he turn his head as much as he can, to try and accentuate the gray at his temples? Does he lower his eyes?

He doesn’t, in the end, do either. Vader is wearing a mask, completely covering his face. He doesn’t even look human, except for the way he cocks his head slightly as he stares down at Obi-Wan. He feels flayed, just under the single look, but he can’t turn away either. He glowers up at him. Five seconds pass. Vader should be moving on by now. The fact that he hasn’t fills Obi-Wan with the sort of fear he’s only felt a handful of times in his life.

“This one,” Vader says through a voice modulator. Obi-Wan closes his eyes in defeat, thinks of Little Ahsoka back at the Establishment, thinks of what she’ll think if he doesn’t make it home.

But the boy next to him bursts into sobs and Obi-Wan opens his eyes to see that Vader’s hand isn’t pointing to him at all, but instead just to his right.

But Vader’s face is still pointed directly at Obi-Wan though, head still cocked. The question is as clear as if he actually spoke the words aloud. What will you do about this?

What will he do? What can he do? It’s the street from a week ago all over. A child is in danger. How can Obi-Wan ever live with himself if he doesn’t at least try to throw himself on the blade?

“No!” he says before he can think it through. The Guard behind him jerks his hair back roughly in punishment, but the monster in front of him runs two gloved fingers down his cheek, the pantomime of a lover’s caress. “Me instead. Choose me.”

“Quiet,” the Guard hisses to him, making him wince with the ferocity of the yank he gives his hair. Obi-Wan pants open-mouthed as he tries to think of an argument, of a single reason why the Emperor should not get what he wants, should settle for a washed up whore instead of a younger model. All he can think of is the moral justifications of it, and he’s not sure Vader would care for that line of reasoning.

“I’m asking,” he blurts out. The fingers pause from where they’ve been absent-mindedly touching his beard. “When has anyone ever asked?”

The Emperor takes a step back and seems to consider Obi-Wan, what he has to offer. He tries to preen, to throw his shoulders back and sit back on his heels to show off his body, but it���s hard when the Guard hasn’t let up on his hair. In fact the grip gets even tighter as the man behind him snorts a common insult.

A second later, the hand and the pressure disappear. Obi-Wan falls forward automatically at his sudden release. He scrambles away instinctively, even if that means closer to Vader. Vader who has his hand raised out in front of him clenching his gloved fist tight. Obi-Wan looks behind him at the guard who had held him. The man is scrabbling at his throat. Obi-Wan knows already it will be a futile effort. With Vader distracted by his execution, he turns to check on the boy. He’s looking down, refusing to make eye contact.

Probably for the better.

The Guard falls to the floor. The other nine Guards don’t move at all. Obi-Wan supposes there’s no room for loyalty in a galaxy like this.

“Come,” Vader says, running a hand through his hair. It’s a surprisingly gentle touch, seeing as that hand just took someone else’s life.

Slowly, Obi-Wan rises to his feet and follows behind him, through the twisting halls of the Imperial Palace. He thinks anyone could get lonely here if they have no one to keep them company. It’s so big. Obi-Wan shares his room with three other people, and he frets if one of them is still gone by the time he falls asleep.

This much space would drive anyone mad for another’s touch.

He blinks at himself, incredulous. Is he actually trying to feel compassion for the Emperor? Is it actually working?

The Emperor flings open a pair of elaborate doors without touching them, and suddenly Obi-Wan’s in the bedchambers of the most powerful man on the planet. And to think, he’s wearing mismatched and terribly darned socks.

He resolves to not ask Vader for permission to do anything with his own body for the entire night. He sits on the edge of the bed and watches as Vader takes off his cape and his gloves.

“Would you like to know my prices before or after?” He asks as cooly as possible.

“Your price is that it’s you here and not the boy.”

“Would you have wanted the boy?” Obi-Wan can’t hide the disgust in his tone.

“No,” the Emperor says succinctly. “But I did want to know what you would do. If you really were the same man as the one in the street.”

Obi-Wan’s breath catches in his throat. “Why would you want to know that?”

“There’s so little good left in the galaxy. It’s fascinating that so much is concentrated in you.” Vader reaches up to unlatch his mask. A cascade of golden curls falls out.

He huffs. The Emperor of the Galactic Empire thinks there’s not enough good in the galaxy. It’s at the very least ironic. “It’s a greedy galaxy, your Imperial Majesty--”

The Emperor turns around to face him, helmet still held in his hands. Obi-Wan is surprised to learn he’s just a man. An attractive man, certainly, young and almost pretty with a perfect arch to his lips and a roguish scar cutting through a thick eyebrow. If he had been one of Obi-Wan’s workers, he’d have taken him under his wing, tried to protect him from the clients who would have paid extra to rough up that face.

He was saying something. Obi-Wan had meant to say something else. Oh. Right. “Good cannot be bought.”

The man in front of him--was it really Vader?--smiles, but it doesn’t reach his yellow eyes. “No,” he purrs, discarding his helmet and stalking forward. “But you can.”

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Wedding crashing, please: Trey stealing the bride (because maybe he was a dense idiot before, idk), with the help of Rook and Tweels.

***Mild spoilers for Trey’s Lab Coat personal stories, and the Ghost Marriage and Wish Upon a Star events!***

“I object to this wedding...!”

Pre-Wedding Jitters

Trey has never understood all the “love” stuff that people gush about, or the heights that it drives them to. You can’t exactly add “love” as an ingredient in cake, and isn’t “love” the whole reason why a ghost bride slapped him? Needless to say, he’s not well-versed in the ways of romance.

As his childhood friend, you’ve always known him to be like this: level-headed and practical. You really look up to him a a big brother figure, someone always keeping you straight-laced and out of trouble.

He was the one that wiped your tears when you scraped your knee while playing, the one that made mud cakes with you after a heavy rainfall, the one you split your profits with after running a lemonade stand for the afternoon. Your best friend, always by your side.

Even when Trey went off to NRC, he’d always keep in touch and make time to visit you on his breaks, a few pastries in hand and a smile to greet you with. You’d lounge under blue skies for hours on end, sharing stories in a field of clovers.

Oftentimes, your stories involve your long term S/O, or how serious your relationship is getting. “I think he might propose soon,” you confide in Trey. He’d respond jokingly with, “That so? Then I’d recommend the Clover bakery to do your wedding cake.”

He graduates and moves back to the Rose Kingdom, taking on a more active position at his family’s business--and suddenly, you’re seeing each other almost all the time again. Your stories become all the more real to him, and you bring your S/O to the bakery a few times.

“This is Trey, my childhood friend. My best friend, in fact! Trey, this is my fiancé.”

“Your... fiancé? When was this? This is the first I’ve heard about it.”

“Oh, you know... Things happened,” you respond with a dreamy blush. “We’re actually here today to order our wedding cake. You always suggested using the Clover bakery for it, right?”

“Right...” (Trey takes your order, but he isn’t smiling about it.)

Later on, he receives an invitation in the mail--an invitation to your wedding. That gnawing sense of unease continues to grow and eat away at him with each passing day.

Finally, Trey can’t take it and ends up venting his frustrations to one of his old classmates and Science Club companion, Rook, over the phone. “I don’t get what’s wrong with me. I should be happy for my friend. Instead, I feel like I just ate Lilia’s... ‘cooking’. It’s strange.”

“Ah, mon amie... It is not strange at all. What you are experiencing is nothing short of love!”

“... Beg pardon?”

Rook talks Trey’s ear off long into the night, pointing out the various little things Trey had never noticed before--how his heart races when he’s with you, how he feels terrible knowing he has grown distant from you, all the time spent together that he cherishes. By the time Rook is done psychoanalyzing him, it’s 5 am, and Trey’s in a daze.

“Okay, okay, you... you’re probably right, but... what good does knowing that do for me now? I’ve realized too late, Rook. The wedding date is already set.”

Trey can’t see the wide smile that unfurls on Rook’s face over the phone. The huntsman only asks for the date and time of the wedding, and for Trey to show up a few hours earlier than its start. “I shall be your marraine fée, Trey-kun!” Rook reassures his friend. “And you, my Cendrillon...! Mark my words, I will see to it that you arrive at the ball at your finest.”

The Crashing

It’s the day of the wedding, and Trey shows up early just as Rook told him to. He’s not sure what he expected, but he certainly didn’t expect to be accosted by Jade and Floyd. Together, the tweels drag him to a spa and dump him into a bath, where Trey is scrubbed and polished until his skin glows.

His flour-dusted apron is exchanged for a beautiful suit and tie, and his makeup is expertly painted on by Rook himself. As the huntsman goes about his work, the twins stand by, snickering to one another as they watch Trey twist in confusion.

“Uh, what’s all of this for?” Trey asks, but Rook tuts and tells him to keep still, or else the eyeliner will apply crooked.

“You must look your best for the wedding crashing, non?”

“Wedding crashing?! Isn’t that a little too extreme of a solution--” He ends up having a coughing fit, for Rook hits his face with a powder puff. “And why are Jade and Floyd here too?!”

“We heard from Umineko-kun that he needed some help busting a party~ Plus, it just seemed like fun!”

“Fufufu... Yes, just as Floyd said, it seemed like fun. That, and... It pains me to see you in such a sorry state, Trey-san. Please, do allow me and my brother to play a role in your happily ever after.”

To Trey’s left is a huntsman in love with the idea of love, and to his right are murderous eels only there to amuse themselves. His stomach lurches, knowing that nothing good can be in store with this formula.

They finish a little late because of their bickering. It’s a race against the clock--the vows have begun, and there’s only so much time left to stop them from being sealed.

When security guards try to stop them from entering late, things get... more aggressive that Trey would have liked. No one dies, but it’s safe to say plenty of guards get squeezed knocked out.

The group bursts into the ceremony with a BAM! (thanks to the twins kicking down the door), drawing all heads to them. Trey mumbles an apology, but he’s cut off by Rook loudly introducing him.

“May I present... Trey Clover.” The huntsman pushes Trey forward, making him stumble towards you.

Your fiancé makes a move to protest, but Jade and Floyd are quick to restrain them (”to keep them from interrupting the ‘romantic’ moment”). Rook stuffs an apple in their mouth to make them quiet.

You stare up at Trey in shock. This was not how you had been hoping to see your best friend on your wedding day.

The Aftermath

“Er... here,” Trey mutters, offering a cherry red food processor to you. “You’re meant to give gifts at a wedding, so I brought you this--even though I’m not here as a guest. This wasn’t exactly my idea, but I got dragged into it anyway.”

You awkwardly take the food processor and ask why he’s here, doing all of this.

He scratches the back of his head and averts his eyes. “... To be honest, I didn’t understand ‘love’ for a long time. I probably still don’t understand it entirely. But if there’s one thing that I do know, it’s that ‘love’ can make even level-headed people do and say crazy things. That’s why I’m here now, crashing this wedding.”

A glance to Rook (giving him two double thumbs up, mouthing, “beauté!”) and the tweels (who seem to be having a little too much fun restraining your groom). Then back to you.

“Oh, and sorry about them. They got... too enthusiastic.”

He shuffles his feet. “I guess what I’m trying to say is... I love you. Your eyes could be grapes, and your veil could be a dish rag, but I’d still love you. That’s what I’m feeling--I was just too dense to realize it before.”

“So... I know this is really late, but...”

Suddenly, you feel yourself being lifted into a princess-carry. You yelp, and instinctively cling onto Trey for support.

“Sorry, but I’m stealing the bride,” Trey announces to the stunned hall of wedding guests. Gone is his usual smile, replaced instead with a cocky smirk.

“Marvelous!” Rook nearly sheds a tear at the beautiful display.

Floyd lets out a whoop of support. “Ahahah! Umigame-kun’s getting with the program now~” Beside him, Jade chuckles. “My, what a surprising turn of events. We should not have underestimated Trey-san.” (He drives the apple Rook had shoved into the groom’s mouth in even harder, smiling pleasantly as he does so.)

Thanks to that, the groom passes out, which sends the guests into a panic. Some start to move to block the door, others shout for security (which does nothing, since the twins already took them out).

Jade, Rook, and Floyd collectively work to clear the way for Trey (... sometimes having to rough up particularly feisty guests).

And so, the wedding closes with Trey marching out with you in his arms... and a trail of unconscious bodies in his wake.