#sunday prompts

[quietwingsinthesky]

gut eight for me please. kitty

>problem: don't know any of eight's other companions >solution: let eight interact with characters I do know >rose noble sure was casual about keeping an injured alien in her shed, huh. almost like she'd done it before.

The Doctor wakes up, not in the same alley that he was stumbling through in a haze of blood loss and pain but somewhere warm and soft. He gingerly opens his eyes, but the light that illuminates the room isn't so bright that he even has to squint. He hears a sharp breath and turns his head towards it. There's a girl with his blood drying under her nails and a look on her face that's half hope, half fear. "You're alive," she says. "I don't know what I was going to do if you didn't wake up."

The Doctor tries to sit up, but his abdomen screams in pain. His hand flies down, expecting to find himself still bleeding out, but it skims along a mostly dry bandage instead. He pokes at it and feels the twinge of skin pulled too tight beneath and the pinprick pains of stitches. He looks back up at the girl, and her voice shakes a little when she says, "I don't know how I did that, either. I mean, I sew, but that's completely different, that's-"

"You may have saved my life," the Doctor says. That's a relief to her, he can tell. He frowns. Unless he's been yanked off-planet, she should be human. "You didn't call an ambulance, did you?" He'd rather not walk away with the stitches so fresh, but…

"No," she says. "I should have. But-" She falters, searching for an explanation she doesn't have, and eventually, all she can give him is, "I've never liked hospitals." He smiles.

"Me neither." He gets a better look at his surroundings. He's been laying on a pile of plush toys. He picks one up and finds it bloodstained. "Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine," she says. "Most of the ones I keep stacked up over there, I'm not selling. It'll wash out." He turns over the toy in his hand.

From the oddly shaped head to the thick body, he can't help but ask, "Is this a Judoon?"

"A what?"

"A Judoon. Intergalatic police force. They…" He trails off at her expression.

"Holy shit, you really are an alien." She finally takes a step closer to him. "I thought I was crazy."

He holds out his hand. She steps forward again to take it. "I'm the Doctor."

"Rose," she says. "Rose Noble- Sorry, just the Doctor?"

"Just the Doctor." For a moment, she frowns, pursing her lips like there's something right on the tip of her tongue she can't place. It's the strangest thing; he's got the same feeling. He searches her face for answers, but she's just an ordinary human teenager. His mind slides right off of figuring out the source of how familiar she seems, no matter how he tries to focus. She sits down next to him and takes the Judoon plush from his hands, examining it like she's seeing her own work for the first time.

"I knew I had to help you," she says. "I didn't even know you were out behind our house, but it was like I could feel this weird pull. I had to." He pulls another plush out from under himself. A cyberman. He's surrounded by the cutest forms of his worst foes. He laughs softly as he squishes the cyberman's face. "I felt your pulse. I didn't think it could be real."

He holds out his wrist to her. Rose presses two fingers against it. Her eyes widen at the doubled heartbeats.

She looks up at him again, and for a moment, her eyes glow.

A reflection of the shed's light, something reassures him. Rose blinks, and it disappears.

"I have to find somewhere better to hide you than my shed, though. If Mum finds you in here, she'll kill you." He nods.

"My ship isn't far from here," he tells her. "Could I keep one of these, Rose?" At that, she looks delighted.

"Absolutely. Any of them."

(When he leaves Earth again, after asking Rose to come—a grin, then hesitation, then she looks back home and he knows, already, what she's going to say before she says it, "I don't want Mum to come home and find me missing. Maybe… next time?" but he does promise her, and means it, next time—and pinpointing where his attacker has fled back through space, there's a tiny plush dalek sitting on his TARDIS console, the most and only adorable one in the entire universe.)

[melaerotica]

send me a "you did WHAT?" for my character to share an awkward sex story .

[rocksama24]

The light of the family.

You're like a lighthouse, beckoning everyone with your light while burning yourself alive.

Good luck to everyone pulling for her!

[virtuerph]

𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 …

✦ a collection of prompts that can be considered nsfw, with a lot of teasing and tension driven prompts. adjust as needed ; send ‘ + reverse ‘ for sender and receiver to switch spots. Combine prompts by sending more than one.

「 SQUEEZE 」 : for sender to rest their hand on the receivers thigh , giving it a squeeze .

「 LINGER 」 : for senders touch to linger on the receiver.

「 MASSAGE 」 : for sender to give receiver a massage .

「 LOTION 」 : for sender to rub lotion into the receivers skin

「 SLIP 」 : for senders hand to slip between the receivers legs.

「 TUG 」 : for sender to tug on the receivers hair

「CLIMB 」 : for sender to climb into receivers lap

「PULL 」 : for the sender to pull receiver into their lap

「BITE 」 : for sender to bite the receiver ( include the location )

「 MARK 」 : for sender to leave hickies on receiver

「 BARE 」 : for sender to undress in front of receiver

「 HELP 」 : for sender to help receiver undress

「 GRIND 」 : for sender to grind against the receiver

「 HOT 」 : for sender and receiver to share a heated kiss

「 OOPS 」 : for sender to accidentally send receiver a risqué image.

「 CHIME 」 : for sender to purposefully send receiver a risqué image.

「 WHISPER 」 : for sender to whisper something suggestive in receivers ear

「 HOLD 」 : for sender to hold receivers throat

「 THROW 」 : for sender to throw receiver onto the bed

「 PRESS 」 : for sender to press receiver against a wall and kiss them

「 CAUGHT 」 : for sender to catch receiver pleasuring themselves

「 LIGHT 」 : for sender to touch the receiver with a feather light pressure.

「 INNER 」 : for sender to kiss along the inside of receivers thigh

[hydrachea]

Thinking about Robin and Sunday's halos.

About how Robin's halo isn't a closed circle, but more like a branch forming a circular shape, where the start and stem don't touch. It's also uneven in shape and splits into three flowers, like it's allowed to grow freely, unobstructed. Something about Robin having left Penacony and having escaped the confines of her cage, being able to flourish. About her being able to let people in, and connect to them.

Meanwhile Sunday stayed behind to be the head of the Oak family and conform to the strict role that's expected of him, and his halo is a perfectly symmetrical shape that's practically fully closed off. It's sharp, almost more like a crown of thorns than a halo. And it almost doesn't have any openings to let anything, or anyone, in easily. It actively discourages getting close to it.

And then if you want to get sappy about, which I will - Sunday doesn't let anyone in, with that almost completely sealed, thorny halo of his... But there's an opening in Robin's halo, and so it can fit around Sunday's. Something about him always being able to find solace in her, because there's room for him in her (halo) heart always, by design.

Anyway I'm not normal about them.

[rainbow-rebellion]

You put your arms around me and I’m home

Inspired by X

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 107

“Hey uh pal, what you got there…?”

Grundy hummed a rumble, blinking slowly as he turned slightly towards his… what were they… Not an enemy, not a threat… they were… friend! Yes, they were the friend that didn’t mind that whenever he came back he came back different. 

He uncurled his arms slightly, proudly showing his friend what he’d found splashing in the water growling angrily. His friend blinked, mouth opening and closing for a few moments as he waited patiently, careful not to drop the squirming duo. 

“Babies,” he proudly declared as they let out squeaky roars. 

[luxaofhesperides]

For the ghostlights drabbles: “Say my name” with a favor being called in?

Duke had saved Phantom years ago, back when he was just out of high school and working to take down a branch of the government that was kidnapping and experimenting on people, targeting magic users and metas. Phantom had been working on his own to take them down, and they met in the middle, trashing a lab and freeing as many people as they could.

They had managed to shoot his back, knocking him down and making him bleed a glowing green. Phantom couldn’t move, protecting two kids with his body, and Duke couldn’t reach them in time before they were taken away by another swarm of agents. 

He was able to go after them in time, free Phantom and the kids, and evacuated the victims before Phantom rained hell down on the facility.

At the end, standing in the background as they watched paramedics treat the victims and take them towards the nearest hospitals, Phantom had turned towards him and thanked him.

Or rather, he thanked the Signal and offered him a bracelet with a rounded orb of ice, glowing faintly in the dark. If you ever need me, he had said, Hold this, and call me name.

Phantom vanished once the last of the victims were transported to a safer location, and Duke hadn’t seen him since.

He’s kept up with news about Phantom as best he can, but from what he could tell, Phantom is based primarily in Amity Park, Illinois, and the town is fiercely protective of their hero. News rarely leaks out of there, and with them running on their own servers and independent internet, it was nearly impossible to get in from the outside. 

Phantom remained a curious and distant figure in Duke’s life. He holds onto the bracelet still, guarding it carefully and sometimes running his fingers over the ice that never melts.

But he doesn’t call in that favor. He’s never to.

At least, not until now.

Sucking in a breath, Duke prepares himself and holds the orb of ice in the palm of his hand. He’s in civies, unable to hide his identity for this, and closes his eyes. “Phantom,” he says.

For a moment, nothing happens. Duke blinks his eyes open and frowns, mind already forming new plans to contact Phantom. Then the ice goes bitingly cold, almost painful, and the temperature in the room drops dramatically. The ice lifts up from his hand, floating in the air, then cracks open.

White-blue light spills out of it, growing brighter as it seems to swallow up the room entirely. Duke hurries to back up, an arm thrown up to protect his eyes. His breath mists out before him and he shivers as the sound of ice cracking fills the room.

And then, just as suddenly as it started, the light disappears and the cold fades away like a bad dream. 

Slowly, Duke lowers his arm and looks up at Phantom, floating in the middle of his living room with a crown made of ice, engulfed in blue fire, hovers above his head. He looks older, more regal, holding his head high. 

He regards Duke carefully for a minute, then tilts his head and says, “Signal?”

“Yeah, it’s me. Man, I’m so glad you came.”

“You… need help with something? You’re calling in your favor now, right?”

Duke nods. He understands Phantom’s confusion; being in the hero business means that favors like these tend to be used only during the most hopeless of times, when the world is close to ending, when the chances of getting out of a situation alive is close to impossible. It’s exactly the kind of thing Duke was expecting to call Phantom in for.

Not the kid sleeping on his couch.

“You’re a ghost, yeah?”

Phantom blinks at him. “Ghost king, now. Why?”

“Well…” Duke rubs the back of his neck, nervously. “I didn’t really know who else to call, and I can’t do this on my own since I’m not a ghost. But this kid got attached to me and won’t leave, so now I’m taking care of her and I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“I don’t know why you think I have any experience with kids but—”

“She’s a ghost.”

Phantom stops short. “Ah. I see.” He floats down until his feet touch the floor, and then he’s standing like any other person. “Where…?”

Duke looks past Phantom’s shoulder, and Phantom turns to follow his gaze. Chelsea, the ghost girl, looks to be around nine years old and is fast asleep on the couch, curled up under Duke’s softest blanket.

“Signal,” Phantom says quietly, “What, exactly, is the favor you need from me?”

“You can say no,” Duke starts. “I get that this is a lot. But I need help raising her. And since you’re a ghost, I figured you could help me learn about the ghostly side of things. You don’t have to raise her with me or anything! Just… I would appreciate any help you’re willing to give me.”

Phantom doesn’t say no. He doesn’t say anything. He just stares down at Chelsea, an unreadable expression on his face. 

On the couch. Chelsea shifts in her sleep, brows furrowing as she makes a choked noise in the back of her throat.

Moving on autopilot after so many nights of this routine, Duke kneels next to the couch, fishing one of her hands from beneath the blanket. He gives it a few reassuring squeezes, keeping it a slow rhythm to pull her gently from her nightmare. She settles down in just a minute, brow smoothing out as she continues to sleep. 

The silence grows and Duke is all too aware that his heart is the only one beating. 

He doesn’t hear Phantom move. Doesn’t realize he’s right next to him until he sees Phantom’s hand reach out towards Chelsea. When Duke looks, Phantom is sitting on the floor next to Duke, looking at Chelsea with something soft and devastated in his eyes. His hand hovers about her head for a long moment, then slowly lowers to rest on her head. 

The touch looks gently, barely putting any pressure on her head, but it’s enough to make Chelsea’s eyes snap open, suddenly wide awake. She stares at Phantom with wide eyes, then sits up and looks between him and Duke.

“Who are you?” she asks in a small voice that makes Duke want to stand against the world to keep her safe. 

Phantom smiles. It’s casual and charming and makes him look like anyone else, as if he’s not a powerful king from a realm unreachable to humans. “Hi there,” he says, “I’m Danny. I’m a ghost like you. Signal called me and asked me to meet you.”

The Ghost King is good with kids. Who would have thought?

Chelsea looks at him for confirmation and only relaxes when he nods. “I’m Chelsea. What do you mean ghost? I’m not dead.”

Both he and Phantom tense, carefully keeping their expressions neutral. She hasn’t told him much at all, just that her parents were gone and forgot her and she got hurt, so she wanted to stay with ‘Mr. Signal’ because he’s a hero and heroes keep people safe and he was the only one who was Black like her. Duke hadn’t had the heart to say no, and began searching for her family, only to find that her parents had fled the state, and likely the country, after killing their only child through neglect and a dangerous environment. 

It was then that he realized that her powers were not because she was a meta, but because she was ghost.

It still hurts to realize how young she is, how much of her life had been stolen from her in an instant. Duke hadn’t been brave enough to broach the topic with her, instead choosing to let her grow comfortable in his presence, get them both settled into a routine now that he was her primary guardian. 

“I know it sounds scary,” Phantom says, “And you may not want to believe me, but it’s true. I’m sorry that you died so young, but that just means you get to hang out with me and other ghosts from now on!”

Chelsea crosses her arms over her chest and glares at him. “I am not dead,” she says.

“Cici, I’m sorry to say this, but you are,” Duke cuts in. “That’s why I called… Danny. You have new powers as a ghost, and he can help you get used to them.”

“I’m not dead!” she says again.

“Kid,” Phantom begins, but Chelsea shakes her head hard and hops off the couch.

“I’m not lying! Watch, I’ll prove it to you!” She closes her eyes and scrunches up her nose, concentrating. Her hands curl into tight fists by her sides, and the glow around her grows dim. Two faint, stuttering rings of light appear around her waist. They flicker and wobble in the air, as if weak and uncertain of their own existence, then split apart, one moving up towards her head while the other falls to her feet.

Beside him, Phantom sucks in a sharp breath, but Duke can’t turn to see what’s wrong when he’s trying to take in the sight of Chelsea suddenly full of vibrant color, looking more solid that he’s ever seen her, very much alive.

“See?” she says proudly, lifting her arms and doing a spin to show off her right she was. “I told you I’m not dead!”

“No, you’re not,” Phantom agrees, sounding shell-shocked. When Duke is finally able to look away from Chelsea to check on him, he looks awed. There’s the smallest smile on his face, just the slightest upturn of his lips, but it makes him look softer.

Duke turns his attention back to Chelsea before he can be caught staring. “Cici, can you come here for a second?”

She goes before he’s finished speaking, crossing the space between them in a single jump, then grins up at him. Her hair is a bit of a mess, the two buns he managed to get her hair into falling askew. He makes a note to visit the old aunties in the Narrows later to ask them to teach him how to do hair. For now, he holds out a hand and Chelsea drops an arm into it.

It seems to good to be true, having her be alive, but her pulse is steady and strong when he presses his thumb against the inside of her wrist. 

“Well,” he says, leaning back and letting go of her arm. “You certainly proved us wrong.”

Chelsea doesn’t have much time to look smug before PHantom quietly says, “You’re like me.”

“What?”

“You’re like me,” he tells Chelsea. “A halfa.”

She tilts her head to one side. “What’s that?”

“Someone who is half human and half ghost. Both dead and alive.”

Duke blinks, taking in the words, then turns to face Phantom so quickly he’s worried he might give himself whiplash. Halfa, he said. Like me, he said. 

And sure enough, two rings of light, bright and strong, appear around Phantom’s waist before splitting in half, moving over his entire body. 

Gone is the Ghost King, all powerful and adorned in dark clothing with a crown of ice above his head. In his place is a guy who looks to be Duke’s age, eyes a deep blue and his black hair messy, feet set solidly on the floor. He looks completely normal, completely human, and no longer an impossibility.

“You still up for learning how to use all your new powers?” Phantom asks.

Chelsea grins. “Yeah!” And then, with a quick flick of her eyes going from Phantom to Duke that he almost misses, very innocently asks, “Are you going to stay with us then?”

“I… don’t know?” Phantom looks to Duke for an answer.

Already, Duke can see this going two ways. The correct way forward, the normal one, has Phantom popping in every so often, taking Chelsea out for a few hours to work on training her and her powers. It’s easy and routine and they can keep their boundaries uncrossed and be professional. 

The other path is what Duke wants most that he shouldn’t impose onto the literal Ghost King. He could have Phantom living with them while he’s on Earth and out of Amity Park, having a place at the table, a section in the closet for his own clothes, a quietly domestic night together while Chelsea sleeps where they can get to know each other more, get to know each other outside of news reports and texts on a screen.

“You can stay with us if you want,” Duke offers, casually, “It might keep my apartment safe from her powers acting up on their own again.”

“Are you sure? I could always just fly in on the weekends or something.”

“I’d appreciate having you around. So you can help Cici.”

“If you don’t mind,” Phantom says, looking away. Like this, fully alive with a beating heart, it’s easy to see the blush steal away across his cheeks. 

“I don’t.”

“I don’t either!” Chelsea pops in, looking far too gleeful by their awkward conversation.

Duke can’t help but laugh, feeling lighter than he had in ages. The relief of knowing that Chelsea is alive, for the most part at least, eases the guilt of thinking he had been too late to save her, that there was no chance she could have made it out and had a future, makes him feel weak. All the exhaustion of the past few weeks hits him all at once and he wants nothing more than to collapse in bed and sleep for twelve hours.

“Alright, squirt,” he says, reaching out to pat her head. “It’s late. We can talk more in the morning, so go to bed. In your actual bed this time, not on the couch.”

Chelsea stands up taller, ready to argue, but Duke gives her a Look™ and she quickly shuts her mouth, nods, and drags her feet back to her room (the former guestroom he can never give any of the other Waynes ever again, once they find out about her). 

Sighing, Duke collapses onto the couch once he hears the door shut behind her. Phantom joins him after a few seconds, sitting tentatively on the edge of the couch. The cushion moves beneath his weight, another reminder of how solid and alive he is right not.

Duke wants to touch him, to reach out and feel for himself his pulse, the warmth of his body, his chest lifting with each breath. 

He doesn’t move. He stays where he is, hands carefully still, and tries to think past the dizzying thoughts of she’s still alive, I’m not too late, he’s still here, he’s alive.

“Rough week?” Phantom asks, voice purposefully light.

“Something like that.”

“You should get some sleep too.”

“I don’t think I can. Not after everything. My mind’s too loud right now.”

Phantom shifts closer to him, hesitant in a way that Duke has never seen before in him, and asks, “Want me to stay with you until you mind quiets down some?”

“Yeah. I’d like that. Thanks, Phantom.”

“You know, if I’m going to be around so often as Chelsea’s halfa mentor, then you might as well call me Danny.”

Truth be told, Duke didn’t think that was his real name. He’s glad to know it’s not. 

“Then call me Duke.”

“...Are you sure? You could still hide your identity from me.”

“Nah, I trust you. A name for a name, yeah?”

Danny smiles. “Duke,” he says, testing out the name, and it’s never sounded better than when it falls from Danny’s mouth.

“Danny,” Duke returns. He belatedly realizes that they’ve leaned towards each other, drawn together like gravity, stuck in each other’s orbit. It feels natural. It feels like this is where they’re meant to be.

Maybe he should be more cautious. They’ve only meant once before, after all. But he’s read all he could on Phantom and has seen how Amity Park loves him. He’s stressed and exhausted and trying to figure out how to look after a half-ghost child that’s already been dealt a bad hand in life. He should be keeping Phantom at a distance, watching over him carefully to ensure he isn’t a threat to Chelsea.

But Duke saw how he acted with Chelsea, so gentle and understanding and kind. That’s all he needed to see.

He may not know much about Danny, but he knows this: he is trustworthy.

Enough to entrust his identity to him.

Enough to entrust Chelsea to him.

It’s more than a favor; it’s a promise to walk this road together. 

There’s no one he’d rather do this with. 

“Thanks,” he says again, “For all of this. I know it’s a lot.”

Danny shrugs. “I don’t mind. Really. It’s nice to know there’s another halfa out there, no matter how she came to be one. Makes things feel less lonely.”

“Will you tell me more about halfas?”

“Later. Once you get some proper rest. We’ve got time, haven’t we?”

“We do,” Duke agrees, affection settling warm in his chest. “We’ve got plenty of time.”

Learning how to control her new powers won’t be easy for Chelsea. Learning how to take care of her won’t be easy. Learning how to do things together, as Duke and Danny rather than the Signal and Phantom, won’t be easy. But Duke knows with a certainty he feels in his bones that they’re going to be fine.

So long as they’ve got each other, they’ll be fine.

[wigglebox]

Merry Christmas! 🎄✨💙💚

[myokk]

Eloise is VERY studious but it’s just because she needs to prove herself. She’s very insecure that she started at Hogwarts so late & studies like crazy to catch up & so nobody can ever doubt her😤😤 She HATES some classes though and will do the bare minimum for them and is fine with getting a possible T in her OWLs (Beasts), unless she deems the subject important somehow (Divination), but with subjects she LOVES (Transfiguration and Arithmancy) she does a lot of extra work outside of what’s necessary.

She’s never been able to stay awake longer than 2 minutes in History of Magic🥲 she swears Professor Binns infuses his voice with some sort of somnolence charm…

Her two best friends are Imelda and Anne😇🙏they drag her along EVERYWHERE with them

[quietwingsinthesky]

Something with the master getting relief from the drums? Bonus points if the “comfort” is insidious in a background way w him not not realizing bc it’s too good

<3 gently mindbreaks him <3 for his own good <3

It’s the sweet relief of quiet that has the Master leaning into the Doctor’s hands.

“There we go,” the Doctor murmurs. There’s nothing but silence and him, and the Master hasn’t felt so relaxed in his entire life.

He was upset earlier. He can barely reach the feeling through the liquid comfort filling his mind. Something about what the Doctor offered him to drink, and the thick feeling of his tongue, and heavy weight of his limbs as he clambers into the Doctor’s lap. He tries to call the anger back, but all he can feel are pleasant waves lapping around his mind again and again.

There’s a beat on the edge of his awareness, growing louder. Returning.

The Doctor squeezes the back of his neck. His eyelids fall shut, leave him in the dark with the Doctor’s touch and the Doctor’s voice to hold onto.

“They’re persistent,” the Doctor says, frustrated. “Fine. Let me take some more out. We’ll see if that gets rid of them.”

He’s too slow to think or react as the Doctor’s mind presses into his. For a moment, he has the energy to fight, but not the means. His body tenses as the Doctor shushes him. He presses the Master down, down, down, under the water. It’s calm and quiet below. He melts under the Doctor’s hands as he holds him, in his mind and in reality.

Something flows out of him into the deep water. He frowns against the Doctor’s shoulder.

But it’s so quiet. It doesn’t matter what he’s lost as long as it’s quiet.

His thoughts come slower. Every feeling turns into relaxed joy. He tries to remember who he is. The Doctor drowns him gently and only draws him up again when he’s satisfied. The drums are gone again, even above the surface.

“All better, Koschei?” the Doctor asks. The name sinks into him, remembered and accepted.

(Wasn’t there something else? Hadn’t he made himself into someone-)

Koschei leans into the Doctor, the source of his peace, always his friend, the only thing in the universe he thinks about or needs. All these things become perfectly true, and he doesn’t notice the Doctor’s mind curled around his own to whisper them to him while he’s so empty of his own thoughts.

He’s never been more happy than he is lazing under the Doctor’s hands as they pet down his spine and through his hair. His touch makes Koschei’s skin tingle, drawing his attention to the Doctor’s hands and away from what the Doctor’s doing to his head. It’s all so easy.

Vibrations at the back of his skull. He whines into the Doctor’s shoulder.

“Back again?” the Doctor says, but he sounds a little too pleased. Koschei can’t remember if he should be worried about that. Why he would be. The Doctor only wants to help him. He can keep the drums away, if Koschei lets him do anything he wants. Though, Koschei’s not sure that there’s a choice, or if he’d even be able to make it, so maybe it’s best that the Doctor doesn’t ask, only plunges him back down into the water in his head and all that’s left of the Master slowly drains away.

Koschei blinks sleepily into the Doctor’s shoulder. He’s not sure who that is that he’s feeling slip from his fingers. Someone important? He’s not sure who he is, either, but the Doctor’s most loved friend.

It doesn’t matter, he decides. As long as it’s quiet. He lets his mind be washed out to blissful emptiness.

[ethosiab]

[day 27] it pains me to post these out of order but i have not finished the off day drawing and just want this one posted

[mitamicah]

Day 7 of @kaarija-inktober is hair; now the Bolero seems no more maybe the boy should dye the hair käärijä green y'know ... to keep the colour connected to him and all (I am just kidding x'D but it was fun to draw him with green hair :3)

[paracosm-draw]

Omg if you’re taking prompts… what about Anakin and Obi-Wan starting a relationship and Anakin is so shy about the fact that he’s turned on by the Master/Padawan dynamic. He’s nervous about calling Obi-Wan “Master” when they’re intimate… it’s so taboo, after all. He thinks Obi-Wan won’t like the reminder of their power dynamic. But maybe… Obi-Wan is secretly into it…

Here we go for today's second prompt ! This one made me think a lot about their relationship dynamic, I hope I interpreted it in a way you will like 💕

TW : implied sexual content, light smut

Enjoy ☄️

________

The first time it happens, it slips from Anakin’s mouth before he can stop it.

Anakin is nineteen and he just came back from his first solo mission, which was a complete success, and Obi-Wan agreed to take him to a bar - after a few hours of negotiations and begging from Anakin’s part - to celebrate.

They’re both a bit tipsy, Anakin is laughing at something Obi-Wan didn't catch. His head is thrown backwards, exposing the golden expanse of his throat, his cheeks are pink due to the alcohol and his eyes are sparkling with joy and mischief. He looks incredibly free right now. From his insecurities, from the underlying pain and anger gnawing at his heart. He looks as carefree as he should be for a young man his age. He looks beautiful.

Obi-Wan is not the only one to notice it. He can see people staring in his padawan’s direction, both men and women with interest in their eyes. It makes his inside twist with something he doesn't really want to address tonight. He takes another shot to drown whatever unwanted thoughts are trying to make their way to his mind.

They’re here to have a good time, Anakin deserves it. His apprentice never stops surprising him with his clever mind and unorthodox methods. He’s bound to become an incredible Jedi Master, powerful and wise. If only he listened a bit more to his teaching and stopped being so reckless. But he’s confident it will pass with time. After all, Obi-Wan kind of had a rebel phase when he was his age too, being a living nightmare to Qui-Gon.

He's smiling lightly, lost in memories, when Anakin leans in his direction with a smirk on his face. His gaze is a bit blurry, his movements unsteady and he has to stabilize himself with a hand on Obi-Wan's knee not to fall forward.

“Master.” He whispers in a conspiratorial tone. “That lady over there has been staring at you for a while. I think she likes you. The one with the tentacles.”

Obi-Wan makes a face. He doesn't even bother turning around to check.

“I’m not interested.” He simply replies, staring at the hand Anakin keeps on his leg.

“Oh.” His padawan says, and opens his mouth again, certainly to push the subject further. Obi-Wan interrupts him before he can form a precise thought.

“What do you want to do now, Anakin ?” He asks. “Are you having fun here ?”

“Yes.” His padawan’s eyes are sparkling, he’s already forgotten about questioning his master. “I want to go dancing.”

“Dancing ?” Obi-Wan’s eyebrows shot up. “Well… You can certainly g-”

“I want to dance with you.” Anakin blurts out, cheeks red but it has nothing to do with the alcohol this time.

“With me ?” Obi-Wan blinks, he gives a worried look to the center of the room where all sorts of bodies are tightly pressed together, moving along with the music. “I don’t really do dancing.”

“Please Master.” Anakin pouts, leaning closer. “You said we could do whatever I wanted tonight.”

Obi-Wan suppresses a sigh. He did say that, though he didn't imagine that his apprentice was into dancing. And he’s always been weak for Anakin’s puppy eyes.

“Alright.” He says reluctantly. “Have you ever danced…?”

“No.” Anakin grins and gets up on his feet, holding out a hand for Obi-Wan to take. “But it seems fun.”

Obi-Wan stares at his padawan’s hand for a while before hesitantly taking it. He’s so sure he will regret this. But he doesn’t have the time to think further about it that Anakin is already pulling them through the crowd.

There’s way too many people for Obi-Wan’s liking but he really wants Anakin to have a good time so he lets himself be carried around until they’re in the center of the room, surrounded by sweaty bodies swaying like they were all alone.

Obi-Wan doesn't really know what to do, it’s been a while since he’s had a chance to dance with someone. At least ten years. And surely not to this kind of music. But once again Anakin doesn't let him time to think as he wraps his arms around his shoulders and pulls him closer. Obi-Wan has no choice but to wrap his own arms around his waist as his apprentice starts awkwardly wiggling left and right.

“What are you doing ?” He laughs as Anakin nearly steps on his toes trying to sway them around.

“Dancing.” Anakin giggles against his hair, and Obi-Wan can feel his laugh resonating against his chest. He presses him closer.

“It’s a murder attempt on my feet, that’s what it is.” He complains but he can’t hide the amused smile on his lips.

“Shut up, old man.” Anakin whispers playfully against his ear, sending a shiver run down Obi-Wan’s spine.

And it’s probably just a coincidence that his apprentice’s lips linger a bit too long against the shell of his ear, making his heart skip a beat or two.

“Young insolent.” He huffs back but his voice sounds unsteady to his own ears.

He blames it on the alcohol. It’s probably the shots that make his body feel warmer from one or two degrees, or paint his cheeks red. Certainly not Anakin’s proximity, his fingers brushing against the back of his neck or his breath tickling the side of his face.

“You secretly like it.” Anakin smirks, turning his head just enough to lock eyes with him.

In the semi-darkness of the bar, his eyes had taken a stormy color. Obi-Wan had to get used to the intensity of his gaze that he had found rather disturbing in the beginning. Like everything about Anakin at first. About his passion, his beliefs. About his black and white way of thinking. About his way of being whole and blunt and unapologetically himself. Like right now.

He’s too close. Obi-Wan feels like his throat is suddenly as dry as the Tatooine’s deserts, and he runs his tongue on his lips, trying to think about something to reply. Anakin’s gaze falls to his mouth, following the gesture.

He knows what’s going to happen before it happens.

But when Anakin closes the distance between them and hesitantly presses his lips on his, it’s like everything and nothing he had ever imagined. It's soft and awkward, tentative and determined at the same time.

He doesn’t push him back like he always thought he’d do. He can blame it on the alcohol, he can find a thousand excuses but the truth is that he knew the moment Anakin was going to take that step he couldn't resist him. He didn’t want to. Instead he tightens his embrace, closes his eyes and kisses him back.

He can feel Anakin’s body buzzing with contained energy, the way he has stopped breathing, how strong his feelings are flowing in their share bond. He feels dizzy at how tenderly Anakin’s fingers are tangling in his hair, at how reverently he kisses him. It’s such a contrast with his usual fiery, fervent demeanor.

He lets him take control of their very first kiss, and when Anakin draws back to breathe, pressing their forehead together, close enough to share the same air, he then dares to open his eyes to look at him.

Anakin’s mouth lies half-open, his pretty lips pink and tasting like sweet alcohol. Obi-Wan wants to taste them again, trace their shape with his tongue and bite in their fullness.

He does nothing, waiting with his heart beating.

What if Anakin regrets his gesture ? What if Obi-Wan stole his first kiss for nothing ? He doesn't even want to think about what the Code has to say about this. The thought petrifies him.

Then Anakin moves again and every worries of Obi-Wan fly over the window when their mouth find each other again.

It’s still tender but it’s a bit more decisive, a bit more desperate. No words are being spoken, their body expressing everything that has to be said. To be felt and discovered.

It’s exhilarating, once they both have the certitude that the other is not going to push them away. Anakin’s fingers are running against the side of his neck, thumbs brushing his jaw and gently angling his face so he can deepen the kiss. It’s still clumsy and a bit messy. It’s obvious that the young man doesn’t know what he’s doing, only relying on instincts and desire to guide him. Obi-Wan lets him. His brain is still processing the thought that Anakin wants him too. He gladly lets him take everything he needs.

His padawan breaks the kiss again, gently panting against his mouth. He can feel him glowing brightly in the Force, and the sight of him makes Obi-Wan’s belly clench with want. His padawan looks debauched, lips wet and slightly swollen, hair sticking to his neck and temples as they’re now both as sweaty as the other dancers. He still keeps his eyes closed, so Obi-Wan presses a hand on his cheek and gently brushes his thumb over one of his eyelids.

“Look at me.”

He can feel him hesitate, but as always he obeys and opens his eyes, looking at him through thick eyelashes.

“Master…”

The way he says it, low and adoringly, makes Obi-Wan blush from his chest to the roots of his hair. It sounds so intimate, like Anakin’s putting his trust and his whole heart into his hands. It sounds like something a lover would say, not a padawan.

“I’m sorry.” Anakin whispers when Obi-Wan doesn’t answer. He pulls away a bit. “I shouldn't.”

Obi-Wan keeps him close.

“It’s okay.” He replies softly before placing a gentle kiss on Anakin’s jaw.

It takes a while for his padawan to relax again, but they end up dancing some more and kissing some more until the sun rises on Coruscant. Anakin doesn’t call him ‘master’ for the rest of the night.

____

It takes a couple of months until it happens again.

It’s Anakin’s twentieth birthday. Obi-Wan flew them to Naboo to celebrate with Padme and a few other friends. A welcomed break in his intense training.

Anakin is one of the most promising padawans, so he's more often gone on missions than home on Coruscant. Obi-Wan has mixed feelings about this.

They’re navigating trough their budding relationship as well as they can, but being away from each other doesn’t make things easy. So when they have the chance to spend more than a few day together, they try to make the best of it.

The sun is setting when Obi-Wan finds Anakin on the balcony of the senator’s palace. He had disappeared from the party at one point, probably overwhelmed by the people and the noise. Obi-Wan knows it's often too much for him, so he decided to give him some time alone before coming looking for him.

Anakin is looking at the lake, shoulders tensed and hands clasped behind his back. Obi-Wan throws a look around to make sure they’re alone and approaches, gently brushing his consciousness against Anakin’s to let him know he’s here, even if his lover probably already sensed him a while ago. Anakin’s power are beyond his comprehension, even beyond the council and Yoda’s comprehension. It makes Obi-Wan immensely proud every time he thinks about it.

“Hello.” He whispers while embracing Anakin’s tall frame from behind, and he can’t resist placing a soft kiss on the golden skin behind his ear.

He smiles when he feels the young man’s body relax a bit in his hold.

“Hi.” Anakin replies, eyes still on the lake. “I’m sorry, I needed to get some fresh air.”

“I know.” Obi-Wan says, resting his chin on his shoulder and looking at the view with him. “Are you feeling alright ?”

“Better now that you're here.” Anakin replies and turns around to face him, a coy smile on his lips.

Obi-Wan resists the urge to roll his eyes fondly.

“You’re such a sweet-talker.”

“You secretly like it.” Anakin retorts with a grin.

“I do.” Obi-Wan admits and leans in for a kiss his apprentice immediately melts in.

That’s something he loves in Anakin, the way he’s always so eager to please him, always so enthusiastic to discover and learn. He didn’t realise how touch-starved his young lover was before they got into a relationship. Anakin is constantly seeking his presence and affection, always stealing a kiss whenever he can, holding his hand, playing with his hair or calling through their comlink when they're away from each other.

They started becoming intimate a few weeks before and Anakin turned out to be both insatiable and extremely sensitive. Obi-Wan had to learn how to be patient again.

Anakin had a hard time focusing long enough to find release, and had an even harder time letting go and allowing someone else to take care of him. He was easily getting frustrated. Obi-Wan had to forget everything he knew to learn to comprehend how his lover’s body worked. It took time and a lot of trials to figure out what was working and what wasn’t. They're still discovering.

Obi-Wan smiles into the kiss when he feels Anakin’s metallic fingers hooking on his utility belt, gently tugging at it. He can always tell by the way he stands, the look in his eyes or the way he feels in the Force if he needs sex, a lot of kissing or just to be held gently.

Tonight his padawan seems to look for a way to blow off some steam. But Obi-Wan will do nothing until he clearly voices it. Anakin has a hard time asking for what he needs, so they’re working on it.

“Yes ?” Obi-Wan smiles as Anakin starts unbuckling the leather band with a concentrated frown. “Are you trying to achieve something, dear one ?”

Anakin groans as an answer, he looks up at him.

“Need you.” He mumbles.

“What do you need ?”

Obi-Wan already knows, because the young jedi is fumbling with the loop of the belt, not really undressing him. But he wants to hear it.

“Needyoutotouchme.” Anakin mutters almost inaudibly, his eyes stubbornly fixed where his hands are fidgeting.

“I didn’t get that.” Obi-Wan replies and gently grabs his chin to lift his face. “I’m listening.”

Anakin rolls his eyes but his brazen attitude is counterbalanced by the dark red colour of his cheeks and the way he’s looking everywhere but at Obi-Wan. It’s still hard for him to assume his desires but he also knows that his lover is not going to do anything about it until he says it out loud. So he takes a breath and tries to reassure himself that Obi-Wan is not going to judge him.

“I want you to touch me.” He says before clearing his throat. “Please.”

Obi-Wan smiles and rewards him with a kiss on the lips.

“Here ?” He asks. “Someone could see us.”

He watches Anakin take a look around.

“I can't feel anyone here.” He says, taking a step back to lean against the railing and pulling the older man with him. “We’ll be discreet.”

“Yeah ?” Obi-Wan rises a teasing eyebrow. “Everyone knows how discreet you are.”

“Stop it !” Anakin hisses, cheeks even redder. “It was one time ! And it’s your fault, you should have locked the door.”

“Locked the door of the council room.” Obi-Wan hums, sliding a hand under his padawan’s tunic to run his fingers on his warm chest. “That’s not suspicious at all.”

“You’re never gonna shut up about that, are you ?” Anakin groans but pulls him closer to tangle his fingers in the hair at the base of his neck.

“Maybe you should put a little more efforts in shutting me up.” Obi-Wan smirks, gently pinching a nipple on his way, which earns him a not very convincing glare.

“Come here.” Anakin growls, tugging at his hair until their mouth find each other.

Obi-Wan is shamelessly addicted to the way the younger man kisses him. Every kiss feels like the first one, triggering a fire in his belly like nobody ever did before. Anakin is still as eager and passionate as the first time in that bar, minus the awkwardness.

They've found their way around each other and now Anakin knows every single one of his weaknesses, like he knows how to make his knees go feeble in a minute. He knows most of his padawan’s fantasies, even if he’s too inexperienced to even consider all the possibilities. He knows what he likes and what he’ll never admit he does, what turns him off and what makes him forget his name.

He thinks he has a pretty good general idea of his own likings and boundaries, but there’s one thing they never adressed together…

As Obi-Wan spreads the layers of Anakin’s tunic and tabard to expose his chest and shoulders, peppering wet kisses all over the smooth skin of his throat, he can hear him pant softly, already desperately grabbing at his waist for more contact.

He knows that when Anakin wants to be touched, he wants to be touched all over, worshipped on every inches of his body, and Obi-Wan intends on doing just that.

Taking his time, biting at a collarbone, licking at a strong muscle, kissing a fresh scar. Using his mouth to mark every place uncovering just for him. Using his fingers to brush and grab and squeeze and caress. Using his imagination to draw as many pretty sounds from Anakin’s mouth as possible.

“A-ah… M-Master…”

It escaped from his apprentice’s lips before he can hold it back. Obi-Wan can feel it, and the immediate wave of shame coming with it, so strong in the Force that it overwhelms their bond.

Obi-Wan pulls away from where he was sucking on Anakin’s pretty nipple and braces himself to face the tsunami of raw emotions his lover is going to display sooner or later.

He honestly doesn’t know how to feel about Anakin calling him like that when they’re intimate, but he cannot blame him as it’s so intrinsically bound to their relationship. That’s what they are, a Master and his Padawan. But they’re also lovers and if their dynamic is balanced in their personal life, Obi-Wan is under no illusion that it’s not the case in their Jedi life.

As much as he's trying to treat Anakin as his equal, the council doesn’t. Obi-Wan is still responsible for him, still has authority over him and that reality earned him a couple of sleepless nights.

Now Anakin is looking at him, mortified. If he could disappear in the Force he would probably do it right now.

Obi-Wan can have a glimpse of his thoughts as he’s projecting chaotically into it. He can feel a lot of shame, anxiety about his reaction, self-blaming but also arousal, curiosity. It piques his own interest.

“Anakin…” He starts, deciding to go straight to the point. “Does it turn you on to call me like that during sex ?”

Anakin looks like he's going to throw up, or faint. Maybe both. Obi-Wan admits it’s a blunt way to ask but he needs to know for them to talk about it.

“I know we never discussed it.” He continues as his lover doesn't answer, looking like he rather be anywhere else but here, having this conversation. “But I think it's time to. I don't want it to become an uncomfortable taboo between us.”

“I didn't mean to say it.” Anakin blurts out desperately. “It's just… That’s what you are, I’m used to it… But I understand if you don’t want to… I'll be more careful.”

Obi-Wan reaches out for his flesh and bones hand, gently pressing his thumb on the pulsing point on the inside of his wrist. It tends to ground his padawan when he’s starting to panic.

“I don't blame you.” He says softly. “I just want to be sure that you know what’s involved.”

“What’s involved…?” Anakin frowns, calming down a bit as Obi-Wan traces soothing patterns on his wrist. “I don’t understand.”

The older jedi sighs and pulls Anakin’s tunic back on his shoulders as he’s starting to have goosebumps all over. The sun has been replaced by the moon a while ago.

“I don’t have to teach you that words have a meaning.” He begins. “Calling me like that since you’re a child, the weight it carries… It’s representative of a certain dynamic. An unbalanced one where I have more power than you do.”

“But you’ll never use it to hurt me.” Anakin frowns deeper, confused.

“No, of course not. But you grew up with that idea and I’m afraid that your subconscious has integrated that power imbalance and is playing a role in your decisions. Or mine. I don’t want to risk the health of our relationship because of it.”

Anakin shakes his head.

“What are you talking about ? I don’t feel… manipulated or whatever you're trying to say. I’m feeling safe with you. And I think it’s kinda hot.”

Obi-Wan blushes a little a the last words.

“You think it’s… hot to call me ‘Master’ during sex ?” He asks to be sure he understood right.

“All the time.” Anakin nods despite feeling his face grow warmer by the second. “I like that you’re being my Master in every aspect of my life.” 

Obi-Wan feels at loss for words for a moment. He doesn't know if Anakin truly understands what he’s implying. Maybe they should have a whole serious talk about it. 

But now, now he just wants to kiss Anakin because what he just said is really, really hot and he can't deny that it's doing something to him. He'll rationalize about it later.

He cups Anakin's face and presses his body tightly against his, closing the distance between them until he can brush his lips with his own. 

“Alright, Padawan.” He whispers against his mouth. “Where were we ?”

[disposal-blueeee]

VARGASTOBER - day 24 : mirror

[thesleepyskipper]

Six Sentence Sunday!

Glad to be back and glad to be writing again! The last few weeks have been draining and exhausting from life and I felt like I didn't even remember how to write.

Thank you to all of you wonderful friends who tagged me in all the writing games over the last couple weeks, I do really appreciate it! I should have the spoons now to write and participate and enjoy your snippets too!

Many thanks to @suseagull04, @onthewaytosomewhere and @cha-melodius for today's tags!

@flufftober is right around the corner and I'm excited to have some stuff to share!

Henry’s sky blue eyes lock in on him and Alex completely loses his breath. Somehow he is even more beautiful in person. Alex has no clue how it’s even possible, but he’s awestruck and he knows he’s staring.

Sparks fly. Every spark that exists in the universe has somehow converged onto this specific spot at this specific second, and he feels each one of them in every cell of his body. Nerve endings he didn’t even know he had were buzzing.

Open tag for anyone who wants to share (and I will definitely be checking out your snippet so please tag me!) and I apologize for my excessive tag list below the cut 😂

@welcometololaland, @cricketnationrise, @myheartalivewrites, , @kiwiana-writes, @firenati0n

@rmd-writes, @celeritas2997, @noahreids, @alasse9, @14carrotghoul

@three-drink-amy, @stereopticons, @smblmn, @leaves-of-laurelin, @lilythesilly

@nontoxic-writes, @indestructibleheart, @maxbegone, @orchidscript, @piratefalls

@anincompletelist, @anchoredarchangel, @emmalostinwonderland, @littlemisskittentoes @sparklepocalypse,

@clockwrkpendrxgon, @run-for-chamo-miles, @tinyarmedtrex, @getmehighonmagic, @henryspearl

@judasofsuburbia, @heysweetheart-writes, @blueeyedgrlwrites @bitbybitwrites, @iboatedhere

@jmagnabo92, @wordsofhoneydew, @zwiazdziarka, @theprinceandagcd, @miss-minnelli

@hgejfmw-hgejhsf, @dragonflylady77, @agame-writes, @nocoastposts, @lightningboltreader

@inexplicablymine, @na-dineee, @notspecialbabe, @benwvatt, @cactusdragon517

@onetwistedmiracle, @ninzied, @porcelainmortal, @aforgottennymph, @caterpills

@kordeliafawkes, @stratocumulusperlucidus, @idealuk, @stellarmeadow, @eusuntgratie

@lizzie-bennetdarcy, @dreamtigress, @duchessdepolignaca03, @tailsbeth-writes,

@priincebutt, @stellarmeadow, @softboynick, @fullsunsets, @na-dineee

@firstprincefairytale, @rachelica9, @readstheroom, @anti-homophobia-cheese, @thighzp

@mikibwrites, @swearphil, @flowerfan2, @rarelyrad, @letloverule1111

@endlesstwanted, @glasshouses-and-stones, @swoonoveryou3, @thedramasummer, @jackzimmermemes

@miharaikko, @kj-bee, @dani-dabbles, @henryhenhazza, @firstprincehornyramblings

@sophie1973, @msmarvelouswinchester, @henrys-vodka-shot-glass, @shadegarden, @imintomakinghistory