#(the more I think about it and the more I get a clearer understanding of how everyone involved should be super cancelled)

[lemonlover1110]

𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐃𝐎𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐎𝐎 𝐌𝐔𝐂𝐇!

Pairing: Firefighter!Toji Fushiguro x f!Reader

Summary: Toji tries to be the best father he can to his baby boy

Warnings: Fluff

*This isn't finished and it probably won't be but do enjoy what I did end up writing🥹🫶 I'll do a different AU for firefighter Toji

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Toji!” You call out for your husband, wondering why he isn’t in bed. You approach the nursery, and that’s where you find your husband putting his finger under his son’s nose to check if he’s breathing. You never thought that you’d find Toji of all people doing this, but he really is doing everything he can to make sure the baby is breathing, while also making sure he doesn’t wake Megumi up.

Even after six months of having Megumi, Toji makes this part of his nightly routine. Megumi’s tiny stomach very visibly rises and falls, so there’s no need for Toji to be doing all of this. But Toji’s scared, and a new parent, so he still does.

He shushes you before you even dare speak too loud, you better not wake up the baby. You roll your eyes, a chuckle leaving your lips as you walk back to your bedroom, and your husband follows behind not too shortly after. 

“I love seeing you worry about the baby, but don’t you think you’re doing too much?” You ask him as you get in bed. Toji takes off his shirt before getting into bed right next to you. He pulls you into his warm embrace and kisses the top of your head. “Please tell me you turned off the alarm.”

“I have to get up and check up on him.” He responds, and you would laugh if you weren’t affected by it. Toji’s alarm wakes you up, and it’s annoying to be constantly woken up in the middle of the night. 

“Toji, you’re also really tired. If Megumi needs anything, he’ll cry.” You assure him, but Toji won’t listen to any of it. You understand him better than anybody since you’re also a new parent, but you already have to wake up to feed the hungry baby in the middle of the night, you don’t need to be woken up four other times by Toji.

“I still want to make sure he’s okay. What if he’s just sitting in his crib, waiting for daddy to come?” Toji asks, and you let out an exasperated sigh.

“You’re so right, Toji. But can you please go to the couch? I need to rest because I actually have to wake up and feed him.” You tell him, and Toji groans before letting go of you and sitting up on the bed. 

“You don’t mean it.” He says as he grabs his pillows. He drags his feet as he walks to the door, waiting for you to stop him. You hate to sleep without Toji but you’re tired and you don’t want to be woken up multiple times in the night for no reason.

“Close the door on your way out!” You yell at him, getting comfortable in your space. You want to go one night without interrupted sleep, and you hope tonight is that night. As much as it sucks to sleep without Toji, you need at least one night of good sleep. You hate to hurt his feelings, but you’re also too tired to care.

“Look here, Megumi!” You put on your baby voice as you talk to your son, attempting to get him to look at your phone camera. Megumi doesn’t care though, he’s looking away, kicking his feet and yelling for the dog. He’s opening and closing his little fist in the direction of the dog, he can’t make it more clearer what he wants. “C’mon, baby, I want to send your father a cute picture.”

He keeps ignoring you, yelling to the dog. You watch the dog walk toward you and the baby, so you pick Megumi up from his play mat before the dog can lick the baby’s face. You take Megumi back to your bedroom, hoping that once you put him down on your bed, you can finally take the picture that you want to send to your husband. 

You put him down on the bed, and just as you open the phone camera to take the perfect picture before he can look away, you receive a call. Toji is calling to facetime, which is perfect timing. You accept it, immediately flipping the camera to put the attention on the baby.

“Oh my god, is that my cute little urchin wearing a sailor outfit?” Toji isn’t the type to fawn over this type of stuff, or so he thought. Toji has grown soft, in his own ways at least, for his baby boy. He’s laughing, calling his coworkers over to show off his baby. Yup, Toji has become that person.

Toji just loves being a father, he was scared that he wouldn’t. He knows some parents love their kids to death but don’t like being a parent at all– Luckily for him, that isn’t the case. He loves the fact that he’s teaching this little human the basics of how to live while also filling him with love. He loves it so much that he’s almost about to ask you for a second baby.

“You look tired.” You tell him when he stops showing off Megumi to everyone, flipping the camera on you. Toji is barely getting any sleep, even though you keep pushing him to get rest. 

“I’m fine.” He replies, and before you can argue with him, he changes the topic to more important manners, “Show me the baby, I miss him.”

“I was just showing you the baby.” You roll your eyes but you still turn the camera so Toji can watch his baby boy. 

“Megumi! Look at the phone.” Toji says, noticing how Megumi looks away. Megumi is stretching. Your hand goes to his tummy, tickling it which causes the baby to look back at you and giggle. It fills Toji up with immense joy but also regret that he can’t always be by Megumi’s side to experience it all.

Until he hears a sound you both dread, something that makes the loudest sigh leave your lips. That part is the only thing he hates about being a father. 

“Alright, I’ll see you later.” You hang up the phone before Toji can even mutter a goodbye, picking up the baby and taking him to the changing table.

You realize that in the past six months, you haven’t had any proper alone time with him. You’re both too focused on being the best parent to Megumi, that you’ve completely put your relationship on the side. He’s put everything on hold, even his own health, to be there for Megumi whenever he’s free. 

You miss him, and while you knew that your life would completely change the moment Megumi came along, you didn’t expect to be so separated from him. You want to get Megumi off your hands for a couple of hours so you can spend some nice alone time with Toji, without having him worry about Megumi needing something. 

It’s hard to get Megumi off your hands, especially when he’s so attached to you. He’s also a crybaby which certainly doesn’t help your case. 

“Do you want to go see your daddy soon?” You ask your son, picking him up from the changing table. It’s not like he can answer, so you take his coo as a yes. You need to arrange something with the help of a couple of people, and who’s better for this than some of Toji’s coworkers?

“Fushiguro! You have some visitors here!” Toji hears from the kitchen, and he raises his brows, wondering who’s looking for him. When he walks into the kitchen, his heart skips a beat at the sight of his wife and son. Toji practically runs to your side when he sees you, pecking your lips before he takes Megumi from your arms.

“What are you two doing here?” Toji’s happiness radiates off his voice. Out of all things, he didn’t expect you and his son to come visit, but here you are. Toji kisses Megumi’s chubby cheek, while the baby’s hand grips the collar of his dad’s shirt.

“Just wanted to visit daddy for a bit since you’re always complaining about not spending enough time with Megumi.” You give him your best smile before you catch a glimpse of the woman that you came here to talk to. You squeeze Toji’s forearm before telling him, “I have to talk to Yuki, I’ll be right back.”

“Huh?” Toji furrows his brows but ultimately he doesn’t care because he has his baby boy in his arms and Megumi is trying to shove his hand into Toji’s mouth. He often wishes he could trade places with you– Toji loves his job but the moment Megumi took his first breath, he became Toji’s first priority. His favorite person; and you, of course. 

“Yuki, can we talk?” Your voice comes off as a whisper, and she raises her brows. A smirk comes to her lips before she lets out,

“Are we getting another mini Toji?” She’s rather loud, and you feel your face burn. You look absolutely mortified, and she bursts into laughter. She nudges her head to the table and begins to walk to it, making you follow behind. She pulls out a chair for you, but you shake your head since you don’t really have plans of staying for long. “What’s up?”

“You’re the person here that I trust the most… And you’re great with baby Megumi.” You bring up, and you feel yourself dragging it out. She knows, but she waits for you to say it, tapping her finger on the table as she waits for you to ask the question. “Can you take care of Megumi on Friday? I want to go out with Toji.”

“Man… I don’t know, I’m not that great with kids.” She responds, and you know it’s a lie, at least from what you’ve seen she’s great with Megumi. You’re willing to argue just about anything because you want to get Megumi off your hands for a night. 

“Really? Baby Megumi adores you.” You claim, which isn’t a lie, but Megumi likes just about anyone. “It’s a way for baby Megumi and his favorite auntie to get closer.”

She laughs, she knows what you’re doing, but she doesn’t mind. She has Friday off and has no important plans so she might as well try to figure out what goes on in a baby’s mind. She ends up saying, “As long as I don’t have to take him anywhere, I’m not sure how I’d work a carseat on a motorcycle.”

“Of course! If anything comes up you can call me and we’ll be at home within minutes.” You answer excitedly, and before you run in search for Toji, and even though he was just in the kitchen, he’s nowhere near the place when you look for him.

“Toji!” You call out for him, unsure of where he went with the baby. The firehouse is a big place, you sure aren’t going to look in every room. 

“Check the fire truck!” You hear from Yuki, and you roll your eyes at the mere suggestion. She’s not looking at it, you’re not going to entertain it– But she also knows Toji and that sounds like something he’d do. You stop in your tracks and let out a sigh before going to the firetruck. 

You walk over to the driver’s side, opening the door to find Toji putting Megumi’s hands on the wheel– A sight you find the most hilarious since Toji made it his mission to put a firefighter hat on the baby’s head; but you notice it’s smaller, leading you to assume that Toji bought this just for him and kept it hidden until now.

“Look, honey, Megumi told me he wanted to be just like his daddy when he grew up.” Toji chuckles, moving Megumi’s hands on the wheel which Toji finds hilarious. Megumi doesn’t find it as funny though. 

“Baby, he can barely sit up. Try it again in a few more months.” You say as you take the baby from his arms, and Toji clicks his tongue. He follows behind you as you walk back to the kitchen to take the diaper bag and go back to your car.

“Why are you leaving so soon?” He asks, annoyed that you’ve given him his baby and taken him away just as quickly.

“We just came to say hi and talk to Yuki, and since we’ve done that, we can go home now.” You respond. The man is pouting, something that you never thought you’d see from a man as big as Toji. When you have the diaper bag in your possession, you peck his lips, “Go save lives, baby.”

“What did you need to talk to Yuki about?” Toji questions, wondering what was so important that you decided to come all the way here.

“Babysitting, we’re going out on Friday.” You tell him, and his brows perk up. He’d think that would be more of a question instead of a statement, but it’s the latter. “You can’t say no, we haven’t had some proper alone time in months.”

“I wasn’t going to say no.” He mutters, crossing his arms and looking at the ground like a child. He was going to say no, and you can’t help but chuckle. Your hand goes under his chin and you begin to inspect his face.

“You’re also turning off those alarms to get proper rest. I think you’re annoying Megumi too by constantly coming into his room to invade his space.” And before he can argue with you, you leave him alone to share his thoughts with himself.

He guesses you're right.

[aalghul]

Saying that what fans (and post-flashpoint) make Jason is what Helena already is always gets one of two reactions: I hate Jason and this is true, I love Jason and this is completely wrong. Everyone's losing with that btw.

Helena and Jason are fundamentally different enough that it can't be exactly true. Helena and Jason's backstories don't have much in common either. Helena's involved betrayal, schemes and fights for power. Jason's was a product of Park Row being continually failed by Gotham. Jason also has a history with the Bats specifically, as the second Robin and a son of the family, that Helena doesn't. There is an appeal in that that's not transferrable; Jason's been a Bat and has had his own various roles since his he was created pre-crisis, not just since his resurrection or since he got a softer role post-flashpoint. He doesn't get to just not be a bat character.

In going "fanon Jason is exactly like Helena" you're also ignoring her time on the JLA and BOP, because remember that fanon thinks Jason sits around staring at his wall angrily until his family tell him to stop being a brainless killer OR runs around half-assing missions with his brothers friends because he has none of his own. It's honestly a disservice to her to pretend that brand of fanon Jason could ever be her.

However, Helena is the one who fought to be trusted by the Bats and compromised on killing because of them (whether that be due to the aforementioned struggle to fit in with them, or, at low points, because they know her identity). Jason did not due this pre-flashpoint, and even those abandoned attempts in Countdown didn't begin with the main timeline's version of Bruce. Pre-flashpoint Jason was not asking for anyone's trust or for a seat at the table. That's not even to say that any interpretation of Jason that has him reconciling with the Bats if a rip-off of Helena, it's just that Jason put himself on the outskirts of the family because he has personal issues with them. It's not just them making that decision. The role that Jason now occupies is very much the one that Helena had.

I'm not going to sit here talking about all the similarities and differences, or how they got tangled along the way. I just want to say that people who act like Jason was dealt a good hand by being given Helena's characterization by fanon and post-flashpoint are never going to be able to prove their point because you're focusing on the wrong thing (something that isn't even true). People who refuse to accept that the Jason they're talking about is a whole different character are going to miss out on any of the many interpretations of Jason that aren't just knock-off Helena's. And they're all pissing each other off in the process.

[rawliverandgoronspice]

It's always so very strange to me that some people seem to think I want Ganondorf to not be a war criminal and do nothing wrong and be little uwu baby when... like, I know people often don't follow the fanwork produced by a given blog and it's completely cool and neat and fine, but.

In Descant, not only do I explore some of the horrible stuff he does, I'm *adding* war crimes. I'm like, making him more indefensible.

[oreegaanoo]

Once again I am fueled by comments from my thesis supervisor and feel like I can actually do this thing hell YEAAAAHHHH

I CAN WRITE THIS THING!!! I CAN DO IT!!!!! AAAAAAAHHHH

[unproduciblesmackdown]

speaking of the horrors brian goosebumpsphantomoftheauditorium is still So funny for being like yeah i'm a ghost i know i'm a ghost. & he's befriended the horror fan menace duo who are giggling clutching each other like omg omg okay. we're fine. we're breaking into the school at night to investigate the horrors aaaa what if there's a ghost eek ok ok!!! & brian ghost who knows he's a ghost is like omg guys aaaa stopppp ;;m;; suffering thee Most but he's not putting on an act to conceal his phantomly destiny. he's just like that

[astrxealis]

comin in ere just rq to say tldr (final. real.) fuuta !! i want him to be voted innocent/forgiven bcs i hope he can. make peace with himself. i think he's truly a good guy at heart even if that doesn't excuse all that he did (i think he's. some sort of victim too and he deserved better. by this i mean like w his friends?? some sort of pressure and all. also the fact all the blame got put onto him which sucks but also with context, if that context is right, is rather deserved ngl. also i'm worried if he gets voted guilty bcs something bad will def happen)

[immaterial-girl]

guys……i think im gonna go back to school.

[coryosbaby]

1. 𝓑𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓢𝓮𝔁

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼: Inviting your incredibly nice and incredibly married family friend to your birthday party was not meant to be a way of seduction— or was it?

𝓢𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼 #2: You clean your neighbor and family friend Anakin’s house, and he comes to your birthday party with a special gift.

𝓒𝔀: bimbo! Reader, infidelity, age gap (reader is twenty, Anakin is in his mid to late thirties)— nsfw . oral (m & f recieving), vaginal fingering, smell kink, daddy kink, sub! Reader, dom! Anakin | | 𝓝𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓮𝓼 𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓭: angel, baby, little girl, sweetheart, dollface, kid, honey

𝓝𝓸𝓽𝓮: This is part 1 of the Insatiable series ! (Click link for series masterlist)

You’ve never really liked Padme.

And honestly, it’s clear that she doesn’t like you that much either. You don’t know why— you’ve always been nothing but fake nice to her.

At least you have a reason to hate her— that reason being her absolute sex symbol of a husband. Or, aka, a man that’s been hanging around your family for as long as you can remember.

Your hate for Padme originally spawned from the fact that she married Anakin. But as the years have went on, your hate for her has reigned even more clearer than before. She lies, steals Anakin’s money, and cheats— a lot. You know about the last part because you’ve seen random men spew in and out of the house when Anakin is working to make money and pay for the things that she wants. And it enrages you— you don’t understand how she could treat someone as perfect, handsome, and kind as Anakin so terribly.

If he was yours, you would never let him go.

—

You decide to invite Anakin’s to your birthday party.

Of course, he’s always went to them— but reminding him wouldn’t hurt, right? So, on a sunny summer day, you decide to walk across the street to his house. A box of cookies in your hand and in your favorite short skirt due to the scorching hot weather, you knock and wait for him. When he answers, he’s in nothing but a t shirt and boxers. The sight of his muscled thighs and his strong arms makes you a little weak in the knees, but you try to shove your sinful thoughts down. It seems that Padme is gone— thank god. If she knew you were here, she’d have your head.

“Hi, Ani!” You greet sweetly. Although run down and exhausted, Anakin still gives you a smile back. You always lighten the man’s mood.

“Hi, sweetheart.” he replies back.

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

“I guess it is,” his eyes had avert down to the clear box in your hands, the lid pink and adorned with hello kitty stickers. “Are those for me?”

“Mhm! ” you say excitedly. “I just made them! I knew you’d want some.”

Of course you did. You always give your neighbors sweet treats— Anakin the most often, because he’s your favorite. And because you know he loves the things you bake.

Anakin’s steps towards you, a small smile playing on his lips.

“Always know when I need something sweet, don’t you, honey?”

He looks at you with true affection, though you can sense something teasing underneath that pleased lilt. You can feel heat creeping up your neck as he grabs the box from you.

“Thank you.” He says, after a moment. “Have a nice day.”

He goes to shut the door. You shuffle nervously, and then loudly, you blurt out, “Wait! You’re coming to my birthday party this weekend, right?”

Anakin’s brows furrow as he opens the door back up, but he seems amused by your question.

“Do you want me to?”

“I-I mean—“ you stutter, rolling forward on the balls of your feet. “Of course I do.”

“Hmm…” he pretends to think for a moment, a small smile grazing his lips. “And what do I get in return? I’d have to take a day off, if it’s on a Friday…”

Shit. It is on a Friday. You bite your lip, doe eyes looking around as you come up with a plan.

“I’ll.. clean your house?”

It’s a dumb suggestion, one that makes Anakin crane his neck to look back at his slightly cluttered home. He tries to act serious as he looks back at you and crosses his arms.

“What, do you think my house is… dirty, or something?”

You flush, immediately shaking your head.

“No! No, Ani, that’s not what I meant. I- I just… I know you work a lot, so I assume that it’d take a lot of strain off of you. God, I’m sorry-“

“I’m fucking with you,” he interrupts. A smirk glazes his lips. “I know what you meant.” His eyes sweep across your body, and you feel a little dizzy. After a moment, he relaxes and his face splits into a grin.

“Of course I’ll come to your birthday party, kid. Y’know I always do.”

“Okay!” You smile sheepishly, but nervously bite your lip as you speak again. “Uhm.. you don’t have to get me anything. Not at all.”

“I’m gonna get you something.” He states bluntly.

“Okay! That’s— that’s fine.” Your eyes avert from his piercing gaze, something that you should be used to after all these years but aren’t. “I’ll still clean your house, though. I can do it right now, if you want!” You pause, trying to think of how to word the next sentence.

“I… I wanna do something nice for you, Ani.”

There it is again. That look in Anakin’s eyes, hungry, as he steps closer to you once again.

“Well…” he murmurs. ““…Aren’t you just a sweet little girl?”

He brings his fingers up to tank top, toying with the thin material.

You’re slick with wetness, and suddenly feel very shy. Your eyes look down at the wooden porch below you as his fingers brush up on your collarbone. You’re too flustered to really speak again.

Anakin, done with his teasing (for now), steps back and gestures towards the inside of his home.

“Go on,” he says. “Cleaner’s in the cabinet below the sink. You know how I like things to be organized.”

—

Getting the yellow sponge handed to you wet and sudsy, you begin to work on his kitchen counters first. It’s not like they’re gross, per say— his house is more cluttered than nasty. As you intensely work on getting the countertop nice and clean, you can feel Anakin’s gaze pierce through your skin. He had decided to sit at the bar of the kitchen a few moments ago, after finishing half of the container of fresh chocolate chip cookies. Now clad in a pair of jeans and a white wifebeater, he lights a cigarette in his hand. Finally finishing up the counters, you decide to work on the dishes.

Anakin moves to the other side of the bar. He always keeps a radio in this spot, and with idle hands he turns the knob to up the volume a bit. You smile when you hear a Brittany Spears song blaring through the speakers. It’s not Anakin’s taste, but he keeps it on anyways. He knows Brittany is one of your favorite artists.

“So,” he starts, beginning to strike up a conversation. “Twenty one, huh?”

You nod, as you pick up the dish sponge in front of the sink.

“Yeah. Legal drinking age— thank god.” You chuckle, remembering all the times that Anakin had brought you alcohol when you wanted some but couldn’t buy it.

“You’re growing up so fast,” he inquires. You hear rustling behind you— he must be moving around the kitchen. “Not a little girl anymore… ‘s really starting to freak me out.”

“I guess so,” you laugh.

“Time flies.”

It’s quiet after that, for a moment. But something creeps up your neck, like Anakin’s eyes are burning through the back of your skull.

You can feel his presence moving closer to you.

Closer… closer.

And with wide eyes, you feel his breath on the back of your neck.

When did he get so close?

Anakin can’t help but stare at your behind as he watches you— your body is absolute stunning, your thighs soft and absolutely kissable. He loves watching the gap in between your legs as you shift from foot to foot. Loves watching and imagining what your pussy must look like. Probably so wet, so tight underneath that skimpy little outfit. His cock aches at the thought.

He’s feeling bold, now. He doesn’t know why — maybe because he saw his wife leave in a random car earlier that morning, or maybe because he saw the explicit pictures on her phone sent to another man the night before that had caused him to get extremely wasted. But either way, his fingertips reach up and graze your hip.

You exhale sharply, his touch setting off fireworks on your skin.

“It’s different now, isn’t it?” You say, and the insinuation in the question is obvious.

Anakin’s fingertips continue to brush your hips, and then slowly— he wraps his arms around you. Hugging you from behind, pressing his face into your neck and his obvious hard on against your ass.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. White hot heat licks up your spine at his gruff voice. “…very different.”

You know it’s fucked. You know it’s wrong. You know he’s fifteen years your senior, you know that he’s married, and you know that he’s been a family friend for years.

But something is tempting you to turn around.

Call it instinct, but your body adjusts to come face to face with the older man. He was closer than you thought he would be. His lips are almost grazing yours. Anakin’s got a look on his face that can only be described as holding back. His eyes shine with desperation and lust.

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s a sentence that seems to be more of a beg than a question. You can’t help but nod. And slow, like an awaiting storm, his lips are on yours— and that slowness soon gives way to electric sparks and teeth and tongue. His arms wrap around your waist, covering your body with his much wider one. He tastes like cigarettes and booze.

Your body is shoved against the sink. Anakin’s tongue rubs against the roof of your delicious, wet mouth. He can’t get enough. He kisses you and kisses you until lips feel bruised.

You savor this feeling, of him using your mouth as his own personal meal. And you fucking love it. No amount of guilt in your body can outweigh the neediness you have for him. Your arms wrap around his neck, and you part your legs so he can rest his hips against you. His jeans catch on your skirt— the flimsy material lifts up past your thighs. He follows the expanse of your legs and takes sight of your pink lacy underwear. Its cute, Anakin thinks, and his thumbs are about to pull them down and ravage you.

But you’re interrupted. Because as quick as lightening, Anakin’s phone is blaring out it’s loud call ringtone.

Jumping back, you and him are both surprised. He huffs, wiping at his kiss bitten lips as he makes way to pick up his phone.

The caller id reads “Padme”.

And fuck, you want to kill yourself right now. Of course, it has to be her of all people.

You hate her.

Anakin is quick to answer, and you can’t hear anything but a distraught voice on the other line.

“Padme? What is it?” His voice is laced with concern, but he lets out a breath when she yells something else. He sighs, his eyes glancing at your for a quick second as he rubs the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Fuck. Okay, okay! I’ll come get you, just— stay there, alright?”

He hangs up with a groan, and turns to you.

“It’s just— Padme. Being Padme. She crashed the car… again. She’s fine, though.”

Unfortunately. You want to say. But you bite your tongue.

And just like that, the tension between you and Anakin goes back into hiding once again.

—

Friday comes quicker than you expect.

Your father and mother wake you up with your favorite breakfast, and you pick out your birthday outfit. It’s a pink dress with puffy sleeves, and you’ve been wanting to wear it for this occasion for months. Your birthday cake is your favorite flavor and decorated— of course— with hello kitty plastered on the frosting.

Your mother gushes at your dress, deciding to take many, many, many pictures of you. But you don’t complain— you’re grateful of all the decorations that she’s put up for you. They suit your taste.

You would’ve invited your friends but you figured this would be a family only type gathering. You may have a second party reserved just for them later.

It’s not long before your relatives arrives. Five o’clock on the dot, your cousins, uncles, aunts, and grandparents have all showed up. You open a few presents, have a good time, have some shots for the first time in front of your family. It’s fun.

But he still hasn’t showed up.

Looking at the clock— half past six now— you can’t help but be disappointed and upset. Anikan promised he would be here!

Your gut starts to churn with different anxieties. What if it was because of that moment back in his kitchen? What if he never wants to speak to you again?

But then, there he is. You hear the familiar roar of his black convertible outside— and your heart instantly soars.

He comes in a bit disheveled, as if he had rushed to get here, with a band tee and black jeans on. The way he still dresses like a young and corrupted boy amuses you— and also turns you on just a little bit.

He smiles when he sees you, and of course you smile right back. You’re so thankful he didn’t make Padma tag along with him— that would completely ruin this entire day.

“Hey, kid,” he says, as he pulls you in for a hug. His fingers trail down past your lower back and graze your ass, though know seems to notice.

“Hey, ani.”

“Happy birthday.” He congratulates you.

You thank him, and his eyes linger on yours for a bit too long as he speaks.

“You look nice.”

The butterflies tingle in your tummy again.

“So do you.”

And after that, it’s not long before everyone else recognizes his arrival and your dad is sweeping by and pulling him into one of his conversations.

As the night goes on, more of your family members slowly begin to leave. You prefer it this way; your judgy aunt Hilda was becoming way too much for you to bear right now. You’re sitting on the living room couch with your mom when she asks you to go and get her bag from the kitchen.

And when you go into the room, Anakin is there. And not only that, but he’s alone. He’s leaned up against your refrigerator drinking a beer.

Your eyes lock with his, and he follows the outline of your curves as you pick up your mom’s bag.

“Everyone leaving?”

His voice rings out through the room, piercing the awkward silence. You shrug, becoming intensely concentrated on the granite countertops all of a sudden.

“It’s late.” You reply. And then, in a smaller voice, “You were late.”

He sighs, and you look back to see him running his hands through his dark locks of hair. He looks frustrated.

“I know, honey. Im sorry. I had work, you know that. And… Padma’s been giving me a rough time.”

“When isn’t she?”

It isn’t meant to come off as snarky as it does, but your comment has Anakin huffing out a breath of air.

“Don’t give me attitude, okay? Im here, aren’t I?” He moves beside you, a look of guilt flashing across his face. You don’t say anything— you simply look at him with those eyes. Those pretty, doe like eyes that Anakin can’t bring himself to stop looking into. His eyes trail down to your lips.

“We should talk,” He says. “About..last weekend.”

You really don’t want to. That’s all you can gather right now. You half heartedly take your mom’s bag into your grasp and gesture towards it.

“I have to go give this to my mom,” you mutter. “See you around, Anakin.”

—

The night is over, but Anakin still hasn’t left. You wouldn’t expect him too, though. He stays over late once or twice a week sometimes to chat with your father. You’ve showered, gotten rid of the pesky hairdo that had taken you hours to do and was so frustrating the whole night but still was worth it anyway, and painted your toes a fresh, hot pink. You’re extremely happy to have your nightgown on, now. That dress was very tight.

Your bedroom door is open, but you don’t mind it. You can hear the sound of a football game from downstairs as you read one of your favorite magazines. Too busy wondering which breaking bad character you are through a printed out quiz in the booklet, you don’t even realize Anakin is at your door until he knocks.

It makes you jump, and when you whirl around to see who it is your bones almost jump out of your skin.

“You scared the shit out of me!” You exclaim. You slam the magazine down onto your vanity, and Anakin chuckles.

“Sorry.”

His footsteps approach you, but not before they’re moving so he can close your door shut. You become drastically nervous now that he’s alone with you. He must’ve made up some excuse about having to go to the bathroom so he could sneak up here.

“What are you doing in here, Ani?” You question feebly. He shrugs, taking a seat on your silky pink bed.

“What? Do I have to have an excuse to see the birthday girl?”

You shyly turn back to face your Vanity mirror. You begin to concentrate on brushing your hair. In the reflection you can see that Anakin is watching you.

“We both know that’s not why.” You reply quietly.

“I guess you’re right,” Anakin agrees. “Maybe it’s because I want us to continue where we left off. ”

Face flushing, you baffle yourself by throwing out an unintentionally disgusting line.

“So you wanna do me in my bedroom while my dad is downstairs? Is that it?”

Anakin smirks, amused, leaning back and seeming cocky. He doesn’t say anything, but you know that the answer is yes.

You turn around, watching this older man manspreading on your bed. Against your better judgement you decide to get out of the chair and sit beside him.

He smiles fondly at the closeness. His fist closes around something in his pocket.

“I got you something.” He says. “Your present. Open your hand.”

It’s a scary request, because Anikan has played tricks on you before by telling you this. Sticking a whole snake in your hand one time and making you cry for hours on end after is proof of how much of an asshole he can be sometimes. But he seems to be genuine, and this is your birthday present, so you hold out your hand for him to take.

He pulls out a box. Anyone could recognize it as one that has jewelry inside the packaging. And you were right. Because when you open it, you’re blessed to see a beautiful set of diamond earrings encrusted with your initials.

You gasp, picking them up and admiring them with excitement.

“Thank you so much, Ani!”

Your gushing over the present makes Anakin’s chest swell, and he’s surprised when you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug.

It’s been a while since Anakin has been hugged like this. Padme hasn’t touched him in months, or shown him any type of affection. Surprised but pleased, he’s quick to return it, his big arms wrapping around your waist and burying his face in your neck. The smell of your natural scent and strawberry perfume fills his nostrils. He pulls away after a moment. You see the wedding band on his finger, and it brings reality back to you.

“Where’s Padme?” You ask slowly, questionably, but still genuinely curious.

He doesn’t seemed angry by the question, but Anakin’s mouth forms into a thin line.

“Out.” he states. “Probably fucking some random guy she met on tinder.”

“She doesn’t deserve you,” You say, and frown, hand reaching out to touch his bicep. “You’re so nice, and she’s so mean to you. I hate her.”

“Don’t say that. You’re too nice to hate anybody.”

“But it’s true!” You exclaim. “I hate her.” And then, quietly. “She has you and I don’t… ‘S not fair.”

Anakin doesn’t like when you get sad, and he especially doesn’t like when you remind him of that fact.

“I’m not hers, y/n.” He replies, and it’s the truth. His feet move closer to your angry form. “I never have been.”

“Then why are you still with her? Why aren’t you with me?”

“How do you expect me to be with you, y/n? What do you think everyone would say?”

It’s actually a good point, but you dont want to think about that right now.

His arms wrap around your waist, and his face finds the crook of his neck as he breathes you in. You sigh, looking up to the ceiling, your pink curtains, anything but him.

“I want you,” he whispers to you. You try so hard not to look at him. “I want you so bad, angel.”

“You don’t know what you want, Anakin.”

“Fifteen years older than you and I don’t know what I want?” He scoffs, his lips forming into a thin line. “I know what I want.”

His voice takes a much darker turn then, something twinged with arousal and feral possession. “I want to bend you over your vanity and pound my cock into you until I can’t see straight. I want to kiss you, hold you… I’ve wanted it since you were nineteen years old. Cmon, sweets. Why don’t you let me in?”

Let me in. You shiver, and your clothes become unbearably uncomfortable on your body.

“I don’t know, Ani..”

“It’s okay, baby.” He coos, comforting. “Why don’t you let uncle Ani give you the second part of your birthday present, huh? Cmon, let me make you feel good.”

Its once again, truly fucked.

But with the way he’s holding you now, with the words spilling from his lips in that tone.. god, your knees are buckling. You sigh, and mindlessly you begin to run your hands down his body.

“I don’t want you to ever mention Padme to me” you reason with him, as your hands circle his waist. “Ever. Only ever talk about me.”

“I won’t mention her. She’s dead to me.”

You contemplate more deals to make, and then pout. “And I want to be paid for all that cleaning I did last week!”

“Done.”

It’s insane how quickly he agrees to what you want. But alas, he does.

And when his lips press against yours for a second time, you can’t resist falling into him and finally giving in.

To Anakin, you taste like your chapstick— he doesn’t know what flavor it is, but he wants to figure it out soon so he can buy it for himself and always have that familiar sweetness on his mouth. His arms wrap around your waist and he’s desperate, practically consuming you with a neediness he has never felt for anyone else. His teeth scrape against your bottom lip and you feel his tongue enter the warm canal of your mouth. Mewling and pulling yourself away, you press your half naked body against him and begin to trail kisses down his neck.

“Wanna suck you…” you whine. “but—your house— not here..”

Your hands grope his thighs, then one of them moves up and takes hold of his awaiting bulge. He’s big, and you can tell by how fat he feels in your palm already. He lets out a moan, pressing himself further into you and breathing against your cheek, “Yes, here.”

And so be it. You know once Anakin decides something, it’s going to get done. If he wants it, you’ll give it to him. You drop to your knees in an instant, previous request forgotten, pawing at the confines of his jeans and unbuckling his belt. He watches you through hooded eyelids, watches the way your mouth practically drools as you pop the button on his fly and unzip him. His briefs are almost cute. They have little looney toons characters on them. Scoffing and letting out a giggle at the sight of these on a thirty six year old man, who probably knew he was gonna get laid, you look up at him.

“Nice underwear.”

“Shut up,” he groans, gripping your hair with his big hands. “Just suck my cock, baby. C’mon, please?”

Slick forms and leaks down your thighs at his words. Jokes forgotten, you pull the silly material down and his aching cock springs free. Slapping against his stomach, all big and thick with a patch of brown hair at the base, you can see a drop of precum beading on the tip. Your thumb brushes over the spot and smears the creamy liquid around the head of his cock. He exhales sharply, his grip on your hair tightening.

“Shit,” he hisses, eyes shutting closed at the feeling of your hands.

“Ani,” you breathe. Your tongue licks a stripe up his cock, licking up the dribbles of fluid you had just smeared. You lick your lips with need. “You taste so good.”

“Yeah?” He bucks his hips against your face, watching how you greedily slurp his cock into your mouth. “Look at you, baby. Such a needy girl.”

You hum around him, making sure to breathe so the man doesn’t strangle you with his fat cock. The smell of his arousal invades your senses, and your head gets fuzzy. You down him all the way to his base— pressing your nose against the hair there, you almost pass out from how good it all is. He smiles, watching how easily you submit to him. He begins to thrust shallowly into your mouth.

“So fuckin’ good, angel. ” He grunts. “Take it this isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked? Shit— too good at it to not have been dicked down or throat fucked at least twice.”

You moan around him, knowing it’s true. But all the men you’ve hooked up with, they’ve always been older, brunette, with tattoos and an interest in ratty band t shirts— all of them have looked like Anakin. They’ve always looked like Anakin.

Looking down at you, Anakin’s gaze is hypnotized by your glossed lips moving up and down on his cock. His balls slap against your chin at a rapid pace, his cock aching for a warm release. He thinks about what you look like underneath that dress, thinks about how you’re such a fucking bitch for making him give into his raw and primal sensations like this.

“Don’t think you need to call me Anakin anymore, baby,” he inquires, with a growl grazing his plump lips. “Fuck… think you need a daddy, instead. One that’ll actually discipline you—“ he yanks on your head when you try to lift up and get some air, forcing you back down on him. “— and not let you act like a fuckin’ brat. Do you like tempting married men all the time like this, huh? Do you like tempting all of your dad’s friends? Don’t lift your fucking head up, baby, ‘m not done…”

Whining against his cock, your hand moves down against your clit. His degradations are making you desperate to reach your peak— and as fucked up as it is, yes, you do want to call him daddy, want him to take care of you and always keep your throat as his own personal fleshlight for his aching prick. His grip on your hair is causing blinding pain but it doesn’t matter.

As long as you please him.

He finally pulls you off of him, after a moment. Your chin is caked with drool, your eyes watery and tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re gasping, finally gulping in air after being smothered for so long.

“Breathe, honey,” Anakin murmurs, sweet despite his initial angry throat fucking. His thumb grazes your bottom lip. “Breathe for me.. there you go. Good girl.”

Relaxing against his thighs, you’re unbearably hot.

“Daddy..” you cry against him, wrapping your arms around his thick thigh. He frowns.

“Too much?” He asks, concerned. “Do you wanna stop? Or we could take a break..”

His caring demeanor makes your heart clench, and you can feel the tears actually stream down your cheeks now. No one has ever cared for you like this.

But as overwhelmed as you’re feeling, your pussy aches like no other and if you stop for even a millisecond you think you’ll die. You shake your head.

“No, daddy.“

He looks down at you, brows furrowed, and he nods.

“Okay, pretty. Cmon, stand up.” He gestures for you to get onto your feet, and when you ask why, he leans in close to your ear and gestures to your large vanity.

“I wanna fuck you.” He coos gently. “Wanna bend you over, right there. Can I?”

You nod as you pick yourself up on wobbly legs. You fall into him, allowing him to guide you over to the large table. He bends your pretty body over it, your ass in the air.

Anakin’s fingers play with the hem of your night. He loves it on you, thinks the color is so sweet and hypnotizing, but it has to come off or he thinks he’ll go crazy. He lifts up the fabric, yanking the material off to reveal yourself to him. Your cunt is exposed, all puffy, creamy, and slick. Anakin takes note that you aren’t wearing underwear and that your ass is almost too perfect. His hand comes down to lightly smack one of your cheeks. You whine, backing yourself up against him.

“Like a fuckin’ porn star,” he groans. “Body like a fuckin’ porn star, dollface. It’s perfect. And no panties? Sweetheart, you’re a dream.”

His finger ghosts over your swollen clit, and your hips buck against him desperately.

“Thank you, daddy. Wanted to be ready for you. Knew I wouldn’t be able to stay way if you started touching me..”

He smiles, his fingers spreading your slick across your button and down to your slit. He slips a finger inside, and you gasp a little bit. He rubs against your walls with his long digits, and he hits a certain spot that has your thighs crushing his hand. A smile forms on his face.

“Already?” He chuckles as he watches your desperation, rubbing against that spongy spot inside you. Your legs quiver. “Have you ever even been fingered before?”

“N-N-“ you pause, as he slips in another finger beside his first one. He begins to thrust rapidly, a burn forming in your core but nonetheless it feels fucking amazing. “No, no guy’s ever wanted to.”

“How the fuck could they not want to?” Anakin scoffs, baffled. Your wetness coats his fingers in creamy strings as he pulls them in and out of you. “Jesus, you’ve really been needing me. Huh, baby?”

“Always need you,” you whine. You’re close already; it’s insane how much Anakin’s touch affects you. Your wetness makes a loud gushing sound as he continuously finger fucks you. After a moment there’s rustling behind you, and Anakin’s fingers leave you. You whimper, but it’s not long before you’re moaning again when Anakin drops to his knees.

You’ve always dreamed of his tongue; watched how it looked poking his bottom lip, when he rubbed the inside of his cheek and made a noticeable bulge. And now, spreading your pussy lips with his strong hands, Anakin doesn’t hesitate to dive into your drenched cunt.

You gasp, his tongue beginning to draw harsh circles on your clit and then go back down to your tight hole. He pushes the muscle in as far as it can go, feeling against your walls. He practically whines as he does it— never in his life, not even with the woman he had decided to marry ten years ago, has he ever tasted a pussy this good. His cock is still out and rubbing against your calf, all wet and red and hard.

And after he makes you cum, he intends to split you in half with it.

He begins gliding his tongue over your clit again, and shoves his fingers back inside of you. Working you over and over, you can feel that you’re about to reach your peak. You can’t even say anything— his tongue is too perfect, too wet and warm against your aching bundle of nerves. The only thing that can leave your lips is his name as you cream all over his handsome face. You ride your high out with your hand behind you, burying itself in his black hair.

Breathing heavily, Anakin moves back up to grab your neck and turn your face towards his. He kisses you, passionate and with something else you can’t quite place. He grinds his cock against your lower back.

“Gonna fuck you now,” he grunts, as he lifts one of your legs up onto the vanity’s surface. It gives him easier access, and he bumps his tip up against your entrance. “You okay with that?”

You nod instantly.

At your confirmation, Anakin breaches your hole and pushes in slow.

It hurts at first. You’ve taken cock but never any as big as his. He holds your leg with one hand and your hip with the other. You can feel every ridge, every vein as he breaks you apart on him. Your head is down and the vanity digs into your skin, but it doesn’t matter because the way that Anakin holds you makes you feel safe, protected. As if your entire family isn’t downstairs, as if he isn’t taking you like a cheap whore in your childhood bedroom, while his wife is taking a ride in the car that he bought for her.

But you don’t think about that. You just close your eyes, bite your lip, and gratefully accept the birthday present beginning to pound your guts.

[beescake]

i am in love with your sollux i think

sollux love party :]

if you’re interested heres some of my personal fondness thoughts on him.. big warning for the mega long read ahead aye

as we alr know sollux's rejection of participation somewhat mirrors dave's rejection of heroism, but even without getting cooked to completion i still find sollux's character v compelling beyond the fourth wall

as someone who doesnt get a pinch of that Protagonist Sparkle to begin with, he can openly say he wants to leave anytime…. and unlike dave, he actually Can leave the scene anytime. but he can never be truly Free from the story via permanent character death like the other trolls.

his irrelevancy is indeed relevant - he’s there so u can point him out.

while his image is intended to be a relic of past internet subculture, his role is not only about hehehaha being a Chad or a 2000s cyberforum 2²chan haxxor ragequit gamebro.

his continued existence also happens to add a Bit to the overarching themes of homestuck! a Bit that gives him longer-lasting thematic relevance compared to the trolls who could’ve had more character potential but didnt get to survive beyond the main story.

the Bit in question:

his defiance contributes to the illusion of agency (treating characters = people with autonomy). he’s “aware” of it, and that recognition is worth noting enough to forcibly keep him alive as both reward and punishment.

considering how his personality & classpect is designed its definitely a very haha thing for hussie to do LOL. he’s made to be op asf so he's resigned to doing dirty work, gradually deteriorating along the way but never truly dying. as fans have mentioned before, him openly rejecting involvement after a while of grim tolerance is like if the sim u were controlling suddenly stopped, looked up and gave u the finger while u were step six into the walkthrough for Every Possible Sim Death Animation.

but since he’s just a sim… the more he hates it, the more you keep him around. if ur sim started complaining abt your whimsical household storyline you’d definitely keep that little fuck.

but yeah i like that sollux is just idling. the significance of his presence being that one dude who's always reliably Somewhere, root core Unchanged, no individual ambitions (possibly due to fear of consequence?), and design-wise: a staple representative product of his time.

compared to dirk's character, who has aged phenomenally well into the present (themes of control + AR + artificial intelligence, clearer exploration around navigating relationships/sexuality, infinite possibilities of self-splinterhood and trait inheritance), sollux's potential is really... contained. bitter. defeatist. limiting and frustrating in the way old tech is.

the world continues moving on to shinier, brighter, more advanced automated things - minimalist and metaverse or whatever but sollux is still here 🧍‍♂️ going woohoo redblue 3d. (tho personally i imagine his vibe similar to what the kids call cassette futurism on pinterest mixed w more grimy grunge insectoid influences eheh)

conceptually-speaking,

at the foundation of it all, the rapid pace of modern development was built off the understanding of ppl like sollux in the past, who were There actively at work while the dough was still beginning to rise

thats one of the cool things abt the idea of trolls preceding humans! the idea that trolls like sollux excelled back when lots of basic shit still needed to be discovered, building structures like networks and codes from scratch, and humans will eventually inherit and reinvent that knowledge in ways that become so optimized it makes the old manual effort seem archaic, slow, and labour-intensive.

but despite information/resources/shortcuts being more accessible now, much of the new highly-anticipated stuff released on trend still end up unfinished, inefficient, or expiring quickly due to cutting corners under severe capitalistic pressures

meanwhile, some of the old stuff frm past generations of thorough, exploratory and perfectionistic development still remains working, complete, and ever so sturdy.

those things continue to exist, just outside our periphery with either:

zero purpose left for modern needs (outdated/obsolete)

or

far too important to replace or destroy, bcs of its surprisingly essential and circumstantial usefulness in one niche specific area.

which are honestly? both points that sum up sollux pree well.

dramatic ending sorry. anw are u still on the fence or are u Sick abt him like me </3

[drakoneve]

A Dragon's Wrath

Request: hello hello, how are u? Idk if u write for Harwin Strong, but I'm obsessed with this man, so if you're not taking requests for him, forgive me for being rude. So I wanted to make a request where the reader is the younger sister of Rhaenyra Targaryen, also daughter of Aemma and Viserys. She married Strong, and lives a dream life with him (they love each other very much, so please, Rhaenyra's children are not his 🫠) and the legitimacy of their children was questioned, of course the queen would never imagine that Harwin had a birthmark, which none of his brothers inherited from Lyonel, he being the only one to have it and ALL THE CHILDREN OF HARWIN AND THE PRINCESS HAVE THAT SAME BRAND, JUST LIKE THE FATHER'S. Maybe I went on too long and was stupid, sorry, you can do whatever comes to your brilliant mind, I just really wish the legitimacy of the children of the OC was proved by legal means and gave no right to be questioned even by the queen. Thank you for your attention, I understand if you don't want to do it 🤍.

pairing: harwin strong x targ!fem!reader

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of childbirth, alicent being snakey

a/n: first harwin fic, harwin girlies lmk what you think!! for the sake of this fic, Rhae's children have Targaryen silver hair

In all the years the pair were married, King Viserys and Queen Aemma were blessed by the Mother with only two healthy, living babes. First born has been your elder sister Rhaenyra, whom you followed two years later.

Growing up the two of you remained close through your lessons and dragon riding, but as Rhaenyra grew older she would end up spending more and more time with her lady in waiting Alicent Hightower. Rhaenyra and Alicent being two of the only other girls your age in the Red Keep and their refusal to have anyone join them in their activities, you felt somewhat dejected by your sister's budding friendship.

This is what led you to find solace in the Red Keep's training yards. Day after day you watched knights, and knights in training, battle it out in the yard while you worked on your studies. It was there in the yard you saw him for the first time- your future husband, Ser Harwin Strong.

At the time you had no idea you would end up marrying him, of course, but you should have.

You'd heard all about Ser Harwin Breakbones, son of Lyonel Strong, one of your father's most loyal council men. Harwin's reputation truly preceded him and was rightfully earned.

You hadn't noticed it at the time, but you'd abonded your books and parchments in the stands by your supervising Septa as you approached the rail separating the stands and the training yard in an attempt for a clearer view.

Harwin stood taller than his opponents, shoulders back, sword in hand ready to defend himself. He watched his opponents carefully, calculating their next move. His short brown curls were halfway pulled back out of his face with a tie, exposing Harwin's jawline, much to your own enjoyment.

That afternoon you watched Harwin take down man after man without so much as a proper blow to his own body. He wielded his sword as if it were an extension of his arm in fluid, rushing movements.

When he had finally finished for the evening you applauded him, finally grabbing his attention as he had held yours.

"You are quite the swordsman, Ser Harwin!" you call out to him. "I feel much better knowing there are knights as skilled as you protecting my home."

Harwin grinned largely at your praise, twirling his sword in his hand for show as he approached the rail you supported yourself on. "I mean only to ensure you are safe at all times, my princess."

You smiled down at him now that he was almost right below you. "Well I have no doubts of your capabilities, Ser. I have a feeling you will do great things here, should you wish."

"You are too kind, princess," he chuckles. Then he looks up at the sky, towards the sun on it's way to set. "It is getting quite late, princess. Shall I escort you back to your chambers?"

The excitement and hopefulness in his face brought butterflies to your stomach.

"I would like nothing more, Ser."

After that night it was scarce the two of you weren't side by side, which all but pushed your fathers to wed the two of you.

Now you stood in those same stands, watching Harwin in the yard yet again, but now he's joined by your two eldest sons. Maevor has just passed his tenth and second name day, and Daeragon his ninth. Your two youngest babes, however remained with you and your maid and close friend, Malina.

Malina had first been assigned to you after your marriage to Harwin, and she'd stood loyally by your side as you birthed all of your children.

Malina's elder brother Ellion, a knight of the City Watch, stood closeby on the order of Harwin. He'd been one of Harwin's best men as you'd heard him compliment the younger knight on many occasions in the past. Being a Targaryen princess and wife of the Lord Commander in such uncertain times in the house of the dragon could be dangerous, and Harwin meant only to protect you and your babes.

Your first daughter, eldest of your month old twins, Naelora cooed softly in your arms as she played with the loose sleeve ends of your dress. You indulged her for a moment, raising your arm to lift the sleeve from her reach to tease her.

She gurgles in laughter, stretching her chubby little arms to grasp your sleeve once more.

The moment is over by the approach of Queen Alicent's lady in waiting, Talya.

"My apologies, Princess," Talya bows to you first. "But the Queen has requested Malina's presence for this afternoon."

Why would the queen need Malina specifically? Surely she could find another maid within the Keep to aid her?

Malina looks to you, pale brown eyes silently asking to stay. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, of course. After giving birth to your second son Daeragon, Queen Alicent began requesting Malina's presence more often.

Still sore from your labors, Harwin had taken the day off to aid you and watch over Maevor to allow you to rest.

You watched happily from your spot on the bed as Harwin held little Daeragon, to introduce him to his elder brother. Maevor, a boy of three years, stood as high as he could on his toes to get a peek over Harwin's bulk of an arm to get a glimpse of his brother.

Then your chamber doors open and Malina returns to your side after serving the queen all day. She approaches the foot of your bed, hands clasped together in front of her with her eyes cast slightly downwards.

"Malina, you needn't worry about me," you begin to dismiss her kindly. "I'm sure the Queen-"

But Malina shakes her head, brown curls following her, still refusing to meet your gaze. "I need to speak with you, Princess. And you, Lord Harwin, in privacy."

You share a concerned look with Harwin, who's joyfulness has been replaced with worry. In the time she's served you Malina had never been afraid to look you in your eyes.

He wastes no time escorting Maevor to his chambers just off your own, and placing little Daeragon in his crib next to your side of the bed. Harwin returns and stands dutifully on the other side of you as if protecting you.

"What is it?" you ask, and pat the bed in front of you for Malina to sit.

Malina makes no move to sit on your bed. "My princess," her voice wavers nervously. "I have served your for near half a decade now, and I know you to be the most true and kind person I have ever had the pleasure of serving-"

"Malina," Harwin interrupts sternly. "Speak it plain, what have you heard of my wife?"

Your heart thudded hard in your chest as you instinctively reached for Harwin's hand. He intertwined his fingers with your in an attempt to comfort you.

Malina takes in a deep breath before finally looking up to meet your gaze. "Queen Alicent requested my presence after your labors today for questioning."

"Questioning?" you tilted your head slightly. "About what?"

"Your sons," she answered swiftly. "She... She wanted to know if this babe looked like Harwin or..."

Harwin pulled his hand from yours, placing it on the hilt of his sword. "Or who, Malina?"

"Ellion," Malina whispers. "The Queen seems to believe that you spend too much time with Ellion, princess. She asked if I knew of any relations between the two of you, but I swore to her you are deathly loyal and would never-"

You move from your spot on the bed to bring yourself to stand. Harwin aids you as you steady yourself, then reach for Malina's forearm.

"You needn't explain yourself to me, Malina," you assure her. "I know you to be true to me, and you are one of the kindest ladies I know. You should go, retire for the night. We shall do the same."

Malina apologizes the whole way out your chamber doors despite your assurances. Harwin begins to strip his armor as you settle yourself back into bed.

Daeragon's crib sat just off the side of your bed, close enough for you to have a view of the newborn's little face.

Harwin soon joins your side clad in his nightclothes. You can feel his gaze on you, but you refuse to meet his gaze. Emotions ran rampant through you. You knew it must be the strain and high emotions of you and your new babe surviving the day, but you couldn't stop the rush.

It's when the tears begin to fall from your lilac eyes that Harwin wraps you up in his arms and pulls you back against him.

"My love," he cooes. "Sweet girl, do not worry yourself with the opinion of a misguided, jealous woman."

He raises his right hand to show off the inside of his right wrist, showing off the small, discolored patch of skin he inherited from his father, Lord Lyonel. A small, almost missable, seemingly insignificant patch of skin both Maevor and Daeragon had inherited.

Harwin leans in close, placing his lips against the shell of your ear. "We know I have fathered your sons, my love. Do not worry yourself with this, it is not worth it."

"You're right, husband," you hum, settling into your husband's arms for the night. "I'm just glad he's here, and healthy."

He kisses your temple softly. "You did that. You made him the healthy babe he is."

As you promised Harwin that night, you did your best to ignore the rumors pursued by Alicent. In the years following Daeragon's birth you'd heard more whispers within the court questioning your son's parentage, though you said nothing.

You tried your best to pay them no mind, other days they really got to you. But for now you simply obliged to the queen's wishes.

"Ser Ellion," you motioned your friend forward with one hand. He looked much like his sister as they shared the same nose, and brown curly hair, though Ellion's eyes were an elegant green. Still, no man in the Seven Kingdoms could come close to Harwin in your eyes.

"Would you mind taking my sweet Raemor from your sister? I'm afraid I cannot tend to both babes at once."

Ellion nods and leans down slightly to make a peaceful transition from his sister's arms. He wore an awkward grin on his face as he cradles the blanket wrapped babe the best he could in a full suit of armor. "It is an honor, Princess. Though I'm not certain he will be comfortable against such steel."

Malina bows and takes Talya's arm in her own. You know Malina's dislike for the woman, and you can only guess she's done this to ensure Talya is led away from you and your family.

You shake your head in response to Ellion yet keep your attention on your daughter in your arms. "It is no issue, Harwin holds them in his armor every day. He has with each of them."

A moment passes in silence and you look up to your husband and eldest children. Maevor's brown curls are just long enough on the top to be tied back while leaving some down thus his hair is relatively tame. Daeragon's, however, is tousled and absolutely untame.

Both boys are breathing heavier now, their cheeks flushed. But the beautiful, pure look of excitement on their faces melted your heart. They knew their father was Lord Commander of the City Watch, and that Harwin worked hard for his family at his very important job, and they treasured their father for it.

After taking them to see Harwin train with some of the new recruits of the City Watch two fortnights ago had been a mistake on your part for the boys had not shut up about training themselves. At first you had been hesitant, of course other Targaryen princes had been taught to fight years before your boys, but you were afraid of the things they might encounter so instead you encouraged them to spend time in the libraries and their respective dragons.

As a result the boys were extremely well read and years ahead of their pupils in their studies. Maevor is practically fluent in Valyrian now, and Daeg is not far behind.

Their insistent pleading had wore on you though, and you gave in to them with Harwin's reassurance he would personally oversee their training. In the end, Maevor and Daeg's immediate joy at being granted permission made it worth it in the end.

Harwin and the boys were cleaning their training gear and putting it away.

Ellion clears his throat, pulling your attention from your family. "I fear something is happening, Princess."

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing from your seat and brushing your skirts with one hand.

"I have been approached twice now," he explains carefully, watching who was sat in the immediate area. The closest people sat on the complete opposite of the training yard in those stands. "Once by a fellow knight, and then by Talya herself. I only mention this as a warning, Princess."

Harwin and the boys are nearly there and you don't want the boys to hear such slander.

"Thank you, Ellion," you force a smile to give him. "And I apologize for what has been whispered around court these last years, but I plan now to make it right."

Harwin approaches you then, slinking one arm around your waist as he presses a kiss to your temple. "Come, my love, the boys need to bathe and our littlest ones must be ready for their nap."

Maevor perks up, "Mother, may I carry Naelora back to your chambers?"

Your hearts melts at the question, Maevor ever the doting older brother. You grant your son permission, gently reminding him to hold her head carefully.

"And I shall take Raemor from you, Ellion. I thank you for your services for today."

He bows respectfully, "Tis my duty, and an honor."

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ 

Once the twins are down for their naps and the older boys off to the bathhouse with Malina you informed Harwin of everything that had transpired this afternoon while he trained with the boys.

His thick brows furrowed almost immediately, angre written upon his face. Harwin had shed his armor by now, settling for more comfortable leathers for the evening. His sword however, stayed attached to his hip with one hand gripping the hilt.

"I am sick of hearing your name and reputation tarnished by fools!" Harwin seethes, angrier than you've ever seen him. "I have half a mind to slay them all down for even thinking such things of our children, of you."

You shake your head softly, approaching him to cup his face. You press your forehead against his own, something you've always done to comfort him.

"I have a plan, my dutiful husband," you assure him. "I happen to have a wonderful relationship with my father by law, if you must know. And I just so happen to know that a Small Council meeting starts in mere minutes."

Harwin eases a little, but now he's wrought with confusion.

"What have you planned, my love?"

You smile mischievously and press a sweet kiss to your husband's lips. "Just you wait husband, I first require our Maevor."

The boys are back from their baths by now as you can hear them bustling about Daeragon's chambers, which is the adjoining room to your own.

You knock before you enter as you always do, to the sight of your boys on Daeg's bed, books sprawled open before them.

"What have we there, byka zaldrīzoti (little dragons)?" you ask as you join them on the bed.

Daeg pulls the leather bound book to cover his lap to show you. "The Histories of Old Valyria!" he chimes. "Maevor was reading it to me in Valyrian."

You stroke Daeg's plush cheek with one hand, still able to see the babe he used to be in his face, and take Maevor's hand in your other.

"He's smart, your brother," you 'whisper' to Daeragon. "I would study hard, my Prince."

Maevor breaks his hand away to rustle his brother's brown curls. "Muña's teasing, Daeg. You are smarter now than I was your age."

You swoon, heart melting at the relationship between your boys. "Oh my sweet Maev," you kiss his temple. "Might I borrow you for a awhile, I have something important to discuss with the Small Council and I need your help."

Maevor's brown eyes widened slightly, "Of course, mother."

"Have no fear, sweet boy, I have a plan."

And you sure did. Once you explained what you could to Maevor while sparing his innocence best you could, he'd been more than willing to join you.

You squatted down to be closer to your son's level, Harwin by your side. "You are special, Maevor," you explain to him. You grab Harwin's right hand and Maevor's to put them side by side. Both birthmarks were near identical save for Harwin's being larger and slightly darker than his son's. "Each of my babes have this mark, all from Harwin, who inherited it from your grandsire, Lyonel. Do you understand?"

He nods, but says nothing. Harwin crouches down next to you, reaching to cup his eldest son's face.

"I wish we did not have to burden you with such a task, my boy," Harwin admits grimly. "I want you to know we are only doing this because we love you children, and I love your muña too much to let people speak of her in such a way any longer."

So the three of you set off, accompanied by Ellion as Malina had stayed behind to watch the twins and Daeragon.

Despite the Kingsguard outside the meeting room of the Small Council, you march right past them and push the doors open yourself.

Each member of the council turns to you now silenced. Otto sat up straighter in his seat as he looked towards his daughter. Alicent looked shocked to see the group of you, and you noted her visible nervousness.

Lyonel stands and comes to Harwin's side, demanding answers most likely. Harwin begins whispering in his father's ear, explaining the situation.

"Sister," Rhaenyra stands, hand placed over her round stomach. "What is wrong?"

You cross your arms over your chest, eyes blazing as you glare at the Hightowers at the table. "Since the birth of my Daeragon I have endured vile slanders against not only myself, but my marriage, and every one of my children."

Alicent shifts uncomfortably in her seat.

"Princess," Otto pokes in. "I can assure you-"

"Assure what?" you snap, slamming down on the table to lean towards the Hand. "Alicent has been the one to pull my ladies from me just after giving birth to insinuate my babes have been fathered by knight of the City Watch who is not my husband. Even now, a month after having my twins, I am approached with more blasphemy. No more."

You usher Maevor forward, who happily extends his right arm before you have to ask. Harwin joins you, followed by Lyonel, both of whom put out their wrists as well.

Alicent's mouth widens in shock before she grits her teeth. Even Larys' wears a look of shock as he checks his own wrists, coming up with nothing.

"I am tired of my children being put under scrutiny," you say finally. "And of my loyalty to my husband being questioned. Now, if you all do not mind, I would like to enjoy the rest of the day with my family undisturbed."

You step back from the table to leave when Rhaenyra wraps you up in a hug. "I am so sorry, sister," she whispers.

You assure her with a simple kiss to the side of her head before reaching for Maevor's hand.

The boy is practically bouncing on his feet as the two of you make your way back to your chambers, both Harwin and Ellion following close behind.

"She is very scary, your wife," Ellion admits to Harwin lowly. "I would to want to be on the receiving end of her wrath."

He only chuckles, "No, nor would I."

[tarotwithavi]

3 things you need to let go of in order manifest your dream life

1. Fear of Rejection

Do you realize that your fear of rejection is holding you back from doing so many things? Also why do you fear rejection ever thought about that? Yes we all fear something and rejection is a really scary word. Nobody likes rejection but the truth is the fear of rejection is what is holding us back and those who have let it go of this fear have achieved great things. Everybody is afraid of rejection so to say but what kind of rejection? Societal rejection that the society won't accept you for who you are, romantic rejection that your crush won't like you back or rejection from your own self? Why do you reject yourself? Why do you reject your thoughts? Why do you think that you are not capable of what you desire? This may not be a big thing but in order to evolve and grow you need to go through these questions and ask yourself why you fear rejection.

3 things to do to let go of this fear

Understanding Impermanence: Recognize that rejection is a part of life, and it doesn't define your worth. People's opinions and circumstances change, and rejection doesn't necessarily reflect a permanent state.

Focusing on Growth: Embrace rejection as an opportunity for personal growth. Learn from the experience, adapt, and use it as a stepping stone towards self-improvement.

Building Resilience: Develop resilience by realizing that not every rejection is a personal attack. Building a strong sense of self allows you to withstand setbacks and move forward with confidence.

2. Expectations

Sometimes you expect too much from people and from yourself too and when you cannot fulfill those expectations you feel upset. You have a great heart and there is no doubt about how pure and innocent your energy is. You do your best in everything you do, if you love someone you love them from all your heart and you will do everything for them. You expect others to do the same for you, expecting is not a bad thing but being upset over others not fulfilling YOUR expectations is not good. You need to let go of those expectations. And you don't have to live up to others expectations also. As a human we always expect others to do something for us or we just expect something in return. It's in our nature. You don't have to fulfill others' expectations and others don't have to fulfill yours. So you just need to let go of “expectations”.

Mindful Awareness: Be conscious of your expectations and question whether they are realistic. Sometimes, expectations can set you up for disappointment if they are too rigid or dependent on external factors.

Embracing Flexibility: Cultivate flexibility and openness to different outcomes. This doesn't mean lowering standards, but rather being adaptable to the twists and turns that life may bring.

Communicating Expectations: Clearly communicate your expectations to others when appropriate. This reduces the chances of misunderstandings and aligns everyone involved.

3. Self-Doubt

We've all been there, right? Dealing with self-doubt is like a universal thing and is a common human experience. But, let's be real for a moment, when did we let that self-doubt become the boss of our lives? Like, where did it even come from? Because, let's face it, it's not like self-doubt runs in the family or is scribbled into our DNA. Nah, it's more about what others toss at us. I used to doubt myself and still do actually(sometimes). But hey, I'm putting in the work. The more I do, the clearer it gets why the wise ones always say, "Who cares what anyone else thinks?" It's like, do you, be you, and forget the noise from the peanut gallery.

Positive Self-Talk: Challenge negative thoughts with positive affirmations. Focus on your strengths and past successes to counteract self-doubt.

Setting Realistic Goals: Break down larger goals into smaller, achievable steps. This allows you to build confidence gradually and see tangible progress.

Seeking Support: Share your concerns with trusted friends or a mentor. External perspectives can provide valuable insights and encouragement, helping you overcome self-doubt.

[itaipava]

— f1 boys reacting to their crush setting them up with someone else.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

internally, he would panic; his mind would be racing with a thousand thoughts and questions. he’d act a little interested just to please you, but honestly, he’d only be half-listening to you talking about your friend because he’s too busy staring at your lips. when you’re done, he doesn’t say anything, he just stares at you. he knows he won’t be able to fully confess then and there, but it won’t be more than a few days after he decides to let you know of his feelings for you.

“so, what do you think? will you go on a date with them this weekend?”

“uhm... they seem to be nice but like... i don’t want to, y/n, there’s someone else i like.”

“oh, alright. who?”

the only reply you get is a nonchalant shrug and a very, very deep and a sweet gaze.

˒ ⌕ DANIEL RICCIARDO

he’s little slower to recognize his feelings, so this event might just be what causes him to see things clearer and realize that he likes you more than a friend. he half-reluctantly goes on the date you set up for him and your friend, and although he is polite to your friend the whole time, all he could think about is you. by the end of the night, the first thing he does is call one of his closest friends aka you.

“hey, wanna hear something crazy?... i think i like y/n, as more than a friend.. isn’t that crazy??”

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

although a little upset, he tries to go along with it. he remains polite but drops hints that he has someone he likes and that his crush is too much of an idiot to notice. basically, he puts up with you playing matchmaker and patiently waits until the end of the day when it’s just the two of you. you’re walking home together in silence when he casually brings up the subject.

“you know, you trying to set me up with your friend - as annoying as it is - isn’t going to make me lose my feelings for you.”

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

apart from feeling a little awkward, he would be really chill about it. he finds the situation amusing, letting out chuckles and barely sparing a few glances as you show him pictures of your friends on your phone, scrolling one by one. only when you get pouty, he relents and try to give the impression that he’s paying attention. and when you get to the group photos, he casually points at your smiling face in the picture.

“this one is so cute; are they available?”

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

he would be polite to your friend who you’re trying to set him up with, but even if he tried, his disinterest in them would be so obvious, which would only make the situation more awkward. he would honestly feel all kinds of emotions at the same time: understanding yet hurt because you put him with someone else clearly shows that you don’t feel the same. he would then be honest with you, but accidentally let a confession slip.

“i do appreciate what you’re doing, but i don’t need your help okay? i am capable of finding a date myself...i think.”

“then why haven’t you?”

“because i’m trying to move on from you first, y/n...”

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

this would put him in such an awkward position. he’s also frustrated because he has his own plans as to how and when he would confess but you trying to set him up with someone else would make him not want to wait any longer. a lot of nervous laughter that he tries to mask as genuine laughter;

“you know what would make this whole situation even more awkward? me confessing how much i like you and that you setting me up with your friend is kinda breaking my heart...”

“well— wait what?”

“what? no no. i mean... you know what, no. no, that is exactly what i mean.”

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he’s in denial of his feelings for you, which is the only reason why he’s - hesitantly af - agreed to go on a date with your friend. this pushes him to come to terms with how he feels about you. and, reluctantly, he tries to make it clear that he only has eyes for you, so when you confront him about what happened between him and your friend, he just rolls his eyes and starts to say his ‘ideal type’

“yeah right but what’s the difference between your ideal type and my friend? c’mon max, she’s perfect for you!”

“don’t be a idiot, my ideal type is you, and only you. do you want me to draw?”

[askablindperson]

In what way does alt text serve as an accessibility tool for blind people? Do you use text to speech? I'm having trouble imagining that. I suppose I'm in general not understanding how a blind person might use Tumblr, but I'm particularly interested in the function of alt text.

In short, yes. We use text to speech (among other access technology like braille displays) very frequently to navigate online spaces. Text to speech software specifically designed for blind people are called screen readers, and when use on computers, they enable us to navigate the entire interface using the keyboard instead of the mouse And hear everything on screen, as long as those things are accessible. The same applies for touchscreens on smart phones and tablets, just instead of using keyboard commands, it alters the way touch affect the screen so we hear what we touch before anything actually gets activated. That part is hard to explain via text, but you should be able to find many videos online of blind people demonstrating how they use their phones.

As you may be able to guess, images are not exactly going to be accessible for text to speech software. Blindness screen readers are getting better and better at incorporating OCR (optical character recognition) software to help pick up text in images, and rudimentary AI driven Image descriptions, but they are still nowhere near enough for us to get an accurate understanding of what is in an image the majority of the time without a human made description.

Now I’m not exactly a programmer so the terminology I use might get kind of wonky here, but when you use the alt text feature, the text you write as an image description effectively gets sort of embedded onto the image itself. That way, when a screen reader lands on that image, Instead of having to employ artificial intelligences to make mediocre guesses, it will read out exactly the text you wrote in the alt text section.

Not only that, but the majority of blind people are not completely blind, and usually still have at least some amount of residual vision. So there are many blind people who may not have access to a screen reader, but who may struggle to visually interpret what is in an image without being able to click the alt text button and read a description. Plus, it benefits folks with visual processing disorders as well, where their visual acuity might be fine, but their brain’s ability to interpret what they are seeing is not. Being able to click the alt text icon in the corner of an image and read a text description Can help that person better interpret what they are seeing in the image, too.

Granted, in most cases, typing out an image description in the body of the post instead of in the alt text section often works just as well, so that is also an option. But there are many other posts in my image descriptions tag that go over the pros and cons of that, so I won’t digress into it here.

Utilizing alt text or any kind of image description on all of your social media posts that contain images is single-handedly one of the simplest and most effective things you can do to directly help blind people, even if you don’t know any blind people, and even if you think no blind people would be following you. There are more of us than you might think, and we have just as many varied interests and hobbies and beliefs as everyone else, so where there are people, there will also be blind people. We don’t only hang out in spaces to talk exclusively about blindness, we also hang out in fashion Facebook groups and tech subreddits and political Twitter hashtags and gaming related discord servers and on and on and on. Even if you don’t think a blind person would follow you, You can’t know that for sure, and adding image descriptions is one of the most effective ways to accommodate us even if you don’t know we’re there.

I hope this helps give you a clearer understanding of just how important alt text and image descriptions as a whole are for blind accessibility, and how we make use of those tools when they are available.

[popponn]

i didn't expect to see a future with you.

summary: it began as another fun and beneficial thing to have. until suddenly, it was about wanting ‘you and him for a very long time’. (in other words, he really didn’t mean to fall for you. really.)

characters: kaiser, reo, nagi.

notes: i tried to write about l word without mentioning it once. i hope i manage to get them right, this is my first time writing reo and kaiser especially. warning: relationships that started as casual and unserious, gacha at nagi's part. i really like fall later and harder troupe recently...

kaiser

months ago, if kaiser knew you got a fever, he would type a message of ‘get well soon’ without much meaning behind it along with a few extra sentences just to charm it all up. he would just cancel the date the two of you were supposed to be having and do anything else. practice, review his performance, or hell maybe have a different date and have fun with someone else. it was written all over the place, how this thing between you and him were anything but serious. he would never ask for your care, therefore he wouldn’t give you anything other than ‘the fun’ either.

and yet, here he sat on your bedside, porridge in hand like a nagging nanny because a moronic idiot—you—thought it was smart to walk through a storm instead of calling him or someone to pick you up. the thought of relationships and definitions and such as became the furthest thing in his mind the moment you called him with your slurred voice. you, being a helpless mush that could only wrap yourself with a blanket, couldn’t exactly protest to both his presence and harsh words. kaiser certainly didn’t shy away from calling you names—incompetent fool, being one of the tamer ones—the moment he arrived at your bedroom with medicines.

after cursing you and your useless outdated static of a brain, kaiser ushered you into the bed as he searched through your cabinets and ordered foods for your empty stomach. under the haze of your fever, you apologized to him and thank him. kaiser just gave you another comment about being stupid and baited a laugh from you. it was raspy and uglier than usual, but kaiser thought it would suffice. then, like a noisy sickly chatterbox, you asked why he choose you instead of his ‘anything else’.

“…it’s because I’m not an idiot,” Michael Kaiser replied to you after a long moment of silence. His back was turned towards you, the tone in his voice unshaken and flat, yet undeniably honest. “I know what I want.”

Your head throbbed painfully not truly understanding what he meant. But for him, you pushed out a chuckle, “’s that so, Michael…?”

“Do you even know what you are saying?” he shot back, his blurry figure walking closer towards you. As the view of his profile became clearer, you realized how you couldn’t quiet put a name on his expression. “Just rest up, you big baby.”

reo

as cruel as it was to say this, reo didn’t exactly begin with seeing you as a ‘person’. to him, you were more of the embodiment of ‘momentary excitements, rest, and escapism’. somewhere for him to have fun without thinking much, a someone who he could interact without any law of cause and effect following him. reo was certain you too saw him the same way. the two of you were a ‘why not?’ that could and would end like a passing breeze. it was nice, but it wouldn’t last long.

then, slowly came the late night chats, the voice notes filled with mundane things and lame jokes. afterwards, long talks about both anything and nothing followed. you came to his match, you were introduced to his teammates, you were a presence that was almost became a constant in every hour reo spent awake. and reo knew more than anyone else that he didn’t hate it when he watched you cry uglily at a movie he didn’t bother to pay attention to. in a way, he knew he was gone.

snotty and messy, your hand blindly reached around his sofa for a box of tissues. reo couldn’t take his eyes away from you as he laughed lightly and pushed the tissues towards you. hearing his chortles, you threw your cold feet towards his lap. you were looking at him with a pissed off questioning look whilst reo could only think how he could do this everyday.

“Is it even that sad?” Mikage Reo asked, teasing even when he slowly shifted your legs to comfortably rest on his lap. When the ‘pissed off’ look on your face intensified, Reo wondered if you would let him took a photo. For what, he didn’t exactly know either, but he certainly would be happy if you would let him.

“It’s about him finally realizing what he should have done, Reo!” you said, as if it answered everything. Reo could only chuckle—because perhaps it did. “Stop laughing! I didn’t laugh the last time you cried at that lame movie!”

He pushed himself closer towards you, a smile that felt like it wouldn’t die down plastered itself on his face. As the space between the two of you disappeared and you slotted yourself on his side like a piece long gone, he leaned his head against yours and didn’t stop himself from wrapping a hand on your shoulder. Still with a feeling he would soon said out loud to you, Reo continued to laugh merrily, “Come on, don’t say that. Here, here, let me wipe off those tears.”

nagi

the two of you started as a pair of gaming buddies simply because he found you funny and became what was pretty much ‘maybe-dating by convenience but still play together every now and then’ because one of his nosy sponsors who would love nagi to date his daughter. you were not troublesome, you did not ask much from nagi, you did not disturb his soccer career, and you seemed to like choki a lot. nagi didn’t exactly understand why you ‘date’ him, but if the comments from his friends were anything to go by, he supposed whatever reason you had were not terrible for him in any way.

the two of you sometimes hang around his room. usually it because you wanted to pull a gacha character and demanded nagi’s hands for luck. nagi didn’t exactly get it, but it wasn’t rare for you to made an interesting expression depending on what you got, so he supposed it was entertaining in a way. and each time the two of you did this, he also found it was fun to sit beside you and had you grab his hand for ‘luck’.

then the sunset came through from the window that day and you grabbed his hand yet again. suddenly, nagi found it unsurprising for him to remember every contour and corner of your hand. his eyes were trained on your face, watching you focusing on your phone screen and it felt like seeing you for the first time. when he intertwined your fingers with his as you cheered, it felt natural.

“Did you get her?” Nagi Seishirou leaned his weight towards you, letting the bed tilted along with him. He let you held his hand tighter as you too pressed your side to him. A grin that was bright and messy plastered itself on your face and Seishirou thought it suited the color of sunset. “You get her, huh? Yay.”

You were still buzzing with joy and excitement, your other hand reaching over him to hug his head to your chest. “Thank you! Thank you! Sei, I owe you!”

“Owe me, huh…?” Seishirou tried his best to think of a respond, but honestly all he could think of was how pleasant it was to be hugged by you, even if you probably weren’t thinking much of the action. Perhaps he really was as lucky as you had stated through big words and stressed intonations. As he returned your hug, Seishirou said, “Then, can I ask something for my payment?”

[cal-flakes]

mean!rafe with prompt 30

╰┈➤ prompt thirty, mean/dealer!rafe

warnings: swearing, violence. (i changed this a bit because i really wanted to write this with a not-so mean rafe)

‘what are you? my dad?’ the snarky words circled in his mind as he fidgeted with his hands, eyes on the road as barry drove. “what’s got you in such a mood man?” his friend teased as he steered the car with ease. “she’s too fucking nice, that’s what” he retorted, leaning on his hand as his arm rested against the window. “too nice? the fuck you mean’ too nice?” barry chuckled, brows furrowed in confusion.

rafe sighed as his head fell back against the passenger seat, thinking over the situation from earlier. if he’d just agreed to go with her, he wouldn’t be so anxious, he thought.

“we got in a- in an argument earlier-” he started, stumbling over his words before barry cut him off. “argument? what’d you do?” he laughed, glancing at his frustrated friend. “i didn’t do anything bad man, was’ just tryin’ to protect her y’know?” he rambled, his eyes flitting around as the neared the coast.

“see- she came downstairs, all dressed up for the fuckin’ bonfire and shit man, and i- and i told her not to wear that shit, said’ she’d get too cold or someone would do something” sighing, he pinched the bridge of his nose. “and look, i know it sounds like i was being a dick, but i just- just want her to be safe, y’know? i don’t know man, i just have a bad feeling..”

barry nodded along as rafe spoke, for once actually understanding what he was saying, rather than him speaking in incoherent mutters. “nah man, i get you..” he agreed, eyes narrowing at the street sign with directions to the beach. “listen bro, we could just fuckin’ go down there, find her? put your mind at ease or somethin’ y’know?” he suggested, using his free hand to toss the end of his joint out the window. the pair nodded in sync as silence ensued, both rafe and barry now focused on the task at hand, finding y/n.

rafe was first out of the car once they pulled up, his eyes fixing on the glowing orange light of the annual bonfire, guiding them both to it. “yo man, where abouts’ you think she’ll be?” barry called, aware of the sudden loudness surrounding them. “she’s wearing a white dress kinda’ thing, s’got flowers on it” rafe called back as the pair exchanged a knowing nod, parting ways to scour the groups of young adults.

after what felt like forever of pushing and shoving, rafe’s eyes fell on a small frame, cowering into the rocks as a taller boy caged her in. closing in, his eyes narrowed as his vision became clearer, and the look on her face said it all. anger coursed through the veins in his hands as they clenched, his eyes locking onto her wide ones, a nervous look behind them.

as well as his sight, his hearing only got better as he got closer to the interaction. “i don’t see your boyfriend anywhere, what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him..”

rafe’s ears perked up at the sly tone, suddenly finding himself spinning the boy around to face him. “no but this will you fuckin’ cunt” he spat, launching himself forward to land a nasty right hook to the boys jaw, who turned out to be significantly smaller than himself.

once the boys back met the ground, rafe stood over him tauntingly, almost daring him to get back up.

satisfied with his intimidation, his eyes wandered to the trembling girl beside him, her hands grasping at his untucked shirt. “you’ okay sweetheart?” he cooed, turning fully to cup her face while barry dealt with his newest victim. “mhm..” she hummed, letting her head fall into his chest as she wrapped her arms around his lean torso.

“m’sorry rafe..” she whimpered as she pulled away from the hug, her glassy eyes meeting his hardened ones. “you were right..”

“don’t you apologise, alright? you’ve got nothing to be sorry for, this was that assholes fault, not yours” rafe stated sternly as his hands found her face once more, forcing her to look at him. “okay..” she whispered, her lip quivering slightly.

“c’mon, let’s go home..”

[clairdelunelove]

cigarettes and exchanges

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (smoking drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, smoking, suave!ghost

synopsis: ghost understands that his cigarette addiction is getting out of hand. but, in his defense, he's just never had a motive to quit! you offer to help and perhaps your new reward system will work for the lieutenant!

a.n. this could be read as a continuation to 'frosty kisses' or a standalone! and no, I typically don't like when men smoke but will I make an exception for ghost? yes. I hope you lovelies are doing well! let me know what you think about this headcanon I have for him heh! here's my kofi! <3

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been pondering about ghost’s inclination to smoke a cigarette whenever he’s stressed and how you might’ve found a better alternative– one that he craves even more.

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another operation typically meant an increased likelihood of risking a multitude of unknowing, blind lives– an embittered fact that accompanies the line of duty he’s in. it’s a cruel contract that he’s familiar with yet the guilt never dissolves. in truth, it’s the torture of bad conscience that he can never shake off. he shoulders through resting recruits, footsteps heavy on the patchy floorboards while weaving clear of the crowd. some shift on their feet to avoid being pummeled by his powerful gait as he makes a beeline to the door. it’s assumed that such a strong reaction from the man would raise alarm but no one pays him any mind– aware of the lieutenant’s ache for solitude after the completion of a mission. whispers of his infamous smoke break settled amongst the lips of veteran recruits. and truthfully, it acts as a deliberate retreat that he wouldn’t commit to in the public eye. stepping outside and gazing into the abyss was an escape from the detached facade he gives into when he slips into a role of leadership. a position that’s necessary yet promises contempt– an emotion that not even he could run away from.  

ghost who perceives that his reliance on cigarettes is a bad habit he should break. knows that he could quit, in all honesty, since his self-discipline was so tenacious that many envied him for it. was never tempted with superficial vices that other task force members sought after. however, cigarettes are a psychological and chemical crutch that he’s been unwilling to drop. and he’s wise enough to realize that the chemicals do more harm than good to his body but it serves as a form of self-medication for him. helps him deal with wartime stress– the unyielding tension and restless nerves that disturbed his rare nights of sleep. reasons that his thoughts are clearer whenever he pulls out his lighter. he rationalizes that his incessant, troubled mind is finally hushed. lulled to rest. all he has to do is flip open that little white box and he’s instantly rewarded with the one predictable outcome in his life. 

ghost who wordlessly offers a spare cigarette to you when your figure slips beside him. his gloved fingers pinch at the small roll as he outstretches it towards you. you shake your head, muttering a gentle, “no, thank you though,” and he wittingly predicts the polite decline. there was nothing else you could’ve requested from him at this moment. food, entertainment, and rest were all found within the base– not outside. he rocks back on his heels. your tendency to keep him company is a habit you’re guilty of. not that he minds. recalls a similar scene that unfolded the night before the new year. and he’s aware that your lingering is intentional; as deliberate as the giggles that he manages to pull out of you during these softer times. the companionship sparks a fervor in him. one that he’s compelled to cultivate and cherish with you. 

ghost who rumbles, “your life expectancy just went way up then, pup,” due to your unwillingness to smoke. it’s a praise. don’t engage in the faults he has. you’re too pure for that. his heavy-lidded eyes spot the tinge of a smile dancing on your lips on behalf of the nickname. satisfaction burns within him. possessiveness claws at him. needs to get his mind off of the strong emotions. grasping at the lower edge of his balaclava, he tugs the darkened fabric up and neatly folds it over the slant of his nose. it’s not the first time he’s been partially unmasked with you. presumes that you wouldn’t actively question his identity and throw him into a crisis. yet, your curiosity magnifies to unveil the enigma that is simon ‘ghost’ riley, your lieutenant, who unknowingly causes your stomach to excitedly flip and churn with every interaction. 

ghost who turns away from you to place the cigarette in his mouth. it balances atop his full lips, a position so enticing that you’re willing to trade places with the inanimate object, and ultimately quell the yearning. his other hand fondles the box of cigarettes. “you can always replace the cigarettes with a new reward system, ya know,” you suggest. your voice is light, dipping on the last syllable, and he understands that you mean well. yet, he raises a dark eyebrow while flicking on his engraved lighter. connecting the cigarette to the end of it, there’s a satisfying burn before he deeply inhales. a cloud of misty smoke swirls around you even if he shifts away. the stench intermingling with your sweet fragrance and lingering. a sort of imprint that brands you as his. your gaze flits over to him to eagerly trace the fair, sharp jawline that’s visible without the guise, and you sputter, “like having something sweet. I heard people quit smoking by chewing bubblegum or having lollipops.”  

ghost who curiously prods, “somethin’ as sweet as you?” and the idle thumping in your chest accelerates into hammering when his gaze locks onto yours. his teasing is too sudden. you stiffen at the inviting drawl of his voice and the mannerism is one that he’s too familiar with. his eyes skim the soft features of your face, noting your skittish behavior, and deems it necessary to compose himself a bit. doesn’t wish to scare you off. but he’s pleasantly surprised to hear you ask, “you think I’m sweet, lieutenant?” his gloved fingers lift the cigarette to his lips again to take another long drag, “oh, I think we both know the answer to that, pup.” another mention of the nickname– another wave of heat rushing to your core. the statement throws you into a frenzy because his deep-set eyes seem more fitting for the bedroom and the revelation has you internally scolding yourself for the stray path your mind takes. 

ghost who’s unaware that it’s his turn to be as motionless as a marble statue when you edge closer. speculated that the rancid cigarette smoke would dampen that sugary aroma that invades his senses when you’re in his proximity. it doesn’t. just promotes the stark difference since it’s a specific scent he traces back to you. always causes his skin to tingle whenever he catches a whiff. a curse abruptly leaves his lips when he’s broken out of his reverie. your hand settles on the center of his chest, a tender touch that compels him to trail his gaze to your face. makes no effort to halt your movements. why should he when you’re the root of all his desires? immediately, his brain conjures up an arrogant remark; a natural reaction to his usual encounters. however, when he drags his eyes to yours and perceives that your usually bright eyes are hooded– he’s silent. 

ghost who allows you to push yourself up on your toes and pluck the cigarette from his mouth. doesn’t even manage to get another drag of it. never finds himself craving for it once it’s taken from him. instead, he’s fixed to the spot while you stare at his lips, revealing a small scar blending in with a muted shade of pink. your thumb gingerly brushes against the meager feature. a detail that is so ardently ghost. the rather concealed scar ignites something affectionate between the two of you. a shared secret that he’s let only you uncover. you slide your fingers underneath the sharp curve of his jaw and the gentle touch seizes his attention. pressing close to the juncture of his neck, you murmur, “let's exchange your cigarette for something sweeter, yeah?”   

ghost who stifles a groan of satisfaction when your glossy lips finally press against his cheek. warmth blossoms in his chest. fiery sparks, a discerned emotion that he thought he had lost, set him alight. for once, he’s rejoicing at the mere coincidence of being partially unmasked. and when he conceived that this overwhelming rush was fulfilled, you stunned him again by pressing another delicate kiss dangerously close to the corner of his lips– directly where his scar was. “a prize whenever you don’t smoke,” you propose while pulling away. he curses a resounding, “fuck.” it was dizzying. a singular glance was all you needed to discover that he’s completely flushed from your touches. his breathing is uneven too, teetering on what some would call desperate. drawn out and amplified. however, if that’s what he is– for you– then so be it. ghost was free-falling. plunging into another bad habit. a dependence that he’s afraid is more addicting and chronic than nicotine. you.  

ghost who hums deliciously low, “playing a dangerous game here.” his voice invokes a shiver within you. a sweltering heat crawls up your face, lingering at the uppermost part of your cheeks. the vowels dripped from his tongue like honeyed venom and you caught it. stored it, like it was fundamental to your existence. before you can withdraw, a strong hand encloses around your wrist. the touch is sure and solid– undoubtedly his. and when you peer at him, he’s admiring you through thick, pale lashes. his eyes are like silvered stone, cutting through all your defenses as his focus darts along your face. mapping– no– sketching out your softest features for the sake of his pleasure. the pleasure of admiring art. 

ghost who then raises the hand that’s gripping the box of cigarettes, notably to gain your attention, and tosses it behind his shoulder. the cardboard carton falls to the floor with a muffled thud. and in the span of a couple seconds, ghost completely eradicates his dependence on cigarettes. the promise of something sweeter causing him to reconsider and amend for all the time he could’ve spent smothered in your syrupy kisses. he leans to graze his lips against a sensitive spot in your neck, his nose nudging at the tantalizing crevice of skin. without the barrier of his mask, you’re hyper-aware of the greedy nip that ghost leaves and he’s awarded with a breathy exhale escaping your glossy lips. anticipates the way your knees buckle but he easily steadies you. he hums, dark and encouraging, at the receptive noise. fancies hearing it regularly. surely reserved just for him. you distinctly sense a corner of his lips tug upward once they’re on your neck again and he questions, “gonna give me ‘nother prize now, sweetheart?”