#clear eyes full hearts can't lose

[fannyyann]

someone decided to open his eyes all the way for his headshot this year

[undercover-barsoomian]

Last week, nearly four years after I started the show, I finally watched the series finale of Friday Night Lights. And man, I'd heard the finale was emotional, but I had no idea. I have never once cried like that over any piece of media. Fellowship of the Ring is the only thing that really competes, and FNL got me even more than that. (Return of the King may be a different story whenever I get around to actually watching it, but I reckon we'll see). I rarely cry over media (or anything tbh) so the fact that it got me that good was kinda mind blowing lol. Anyway, the show exceeded my expectations in so many ways. The characters, the realism, and themes absolutely blew me away. It has its flaws, but it's definitely still one of the most well-made shows I've ever watched. Not to get sappy on main, but it got me through some stuff the last couple years, and I do think God used it and continues to use it to help me become a better person through the ups and downs of life.

I'm gonna start rewatching it again tonight and I'm really excited tbh. I haven't seen some of these episodes in years, and I'm excited to see if/how my perspective and enjoyment of it changed between now and when I first started. Especially cuz I actually hated the show when I started it LOL. But yeah I'm excited.

[submersivemedia]

Happy Valentine's Day from the only couple that ever existed.

[thosewildcharms]

sometimes I'm like maybe friday night lights wasn't as good as I remember? and then I think about matt saracen singing mr sandman to his grandmother. the look on smash's mother's face when he tells her he got into college. tyra's college application essay. everything vince howard ever did. nevermind it really is that good

[mlobsters]

supernatural s8e4 bitten (w. robbie thompson)

let's see if i can keep this to not-absurdly-long and not full of complaints. i have some control over the former, at least.

okay but the copious blood splatter, it not being brightly lit and oversaturated orange pink, music and slightly more creative angles, tonally dissonant-to-the-violent-backdrop music playing.. i like it. (in my post that got lost with purgatory flashbacks i did compliment the production values and called it juiced up early season aesthetic [with the desaturated/dark gritty look])

the x-files: fight the future (1998) (because all pointing like that reminds me of this)

is that *squints* an untitled document i see there resting on the desktop of this random laptop that had a post-it to be played which surely no problems with this

this has been surprisingly engaging and well done but are we about to see them get hate crimed, cute throuple vibes (that feels like it could also go single white female)

BRIAN Come on. Who loves you? MICHAEL Aww. I wish I could quit you.

glad no one was in fact hate crimed

laughing that the only reason i noticed the impala was because they had the engine rumbling in its best deep throaty growl, job well done

MICHAEL Is it just me or are you getting a workplace-romance vibe from those two?

i mean it had been a hot minute since a stranger assumed they were a couple. i love that the wiki has, of course, a page for these incidents "They're Brothers"

last one before this: 5.18 Point of No Return: To convince Adam Milligan to join Heaven's side, Zachariah refers to Sam and Dean as "psychotically, irrationally, erotically codependent on each other."

this can only end well.

hey, nice effects on the werewolf transformation! and like. this whole found footage thing means no score and it was creepier than they rarely achieve (without banging on an urban legend you [i] might have been traumatized by, hello bloody mary). this bit actually reminds me of district 9, in particular

what

dying! my friend who got me to watch spn to begin with, uses the friday night lights catch phrase to great effect

KATE Shut up! Everybody, shut up, okay? First things first, those guys – those guys aren't FBI, all right? I'm pretty sure that FBI agents don't say "awesome" that much.

you don't know!

MICHAEL Did – did they say anything else? BRIAN Dude, they just sat and talked about how they have been apart for a year. You were probably right about that whole office-romance thing.

got a twofer

so trueblood werewolf professor man has been in the xfiles, the net, altered carbon and the magicians. maybe tomorrow i'll grab pictures.

that was surprisingly good! so much better than the ghostfacers found footage episode. think they did a great job casting the college kids. nearly complaint-free episode!

[kiri-cuts]

A bid for Black Sabbath bravado in “Friday Night Lights”

Within the pilot episode of the masterful mid-’00s teen drama “Friday Night Lights,” we’re presented with two best friends. There��s the all-American, wholesome good boy, Jason Street (Scott Porter) -- the star quarterback of the Dillon Panthers, with little else but a bright future glistening in the crosshairs of his steely focus. And then, there’s his lifelong pal, Tim Riggins (Taylor Kitsch) -- a lovable party boy who turns up to practice with vodka on his breath, and who has seemingly accepted the inheritance of a dead-end future from his deadbeat dad. If Lux Lisbon would have survived “The Virgin Suicides” to have a kid with Trip Fontaine, it would have grown up to be Tim. 

Set in the small town of Dillon, Texas, the two teens occupy vastly different corners of the pigskin pressure cooker within which they exist. Nice guys like Street do well a place like Dillon, and he has everything going for him -- incredible career prospects, a head cheerleader for a girlfriend, and the entire town’s adulation. 

Meanwhile, Riggins is shown to be a reckless rogue, forgiven for his sins only because of how great he plays ‘ball -- and how much the ladies love him. You can see him souring between scenes and his burnout feels inevitable and overdue -- living with his brother amidst a blur of blondes and beer bottles, with nary an emotion in sight. While Street trains and studies and earns his place on the pitch, Riggins emerges with all the discipline of Iggy Pop on a stage full of broken glass -- raw and wounded, he takes whatever fire might fuel that inevitable burnout and pours it like kerosene onto the field. 

At a Panther’s Party hosted at Garrity’s Automobile -- the hottest ticket in town, folks! -- Dillon’s mayor, Lucy Rodell, squares up to Street to tell him some home truths. “You’re a nice boy,” she tells him. “And you got great manners.” And while he’s politely Yes ma’am-ing it up in response, she cuts to the chase. “Knock it off. You can't go into the game tomorrow night like that,” she proclaims. “Carpet bomb 'em, you understand? ...  Chew 'em up, spit 'em out.”

A closeted lesbian who clearly knows her way around unleashing a certain amount of repressed energy wherever she can, Rodell recommends that he listen to the early work of Black Sabbath, assuring him, “It’ll make you mean.” Boys can’t be soft and nice. Winners have to be mean and gristly. The survival of the town depends on this mentality: It chugs at a fountain of toxic masculinity and it lays waste to those who cannot swallow the broth and conform. 

During an episode of the podcast, “It’s Not Only Football: ‘Friday Night Lights And Beyond,” Porter revealed that the sequence wasn’t scripted. But it certainly sets up the tone for the rest of the episode, if not the rest of the show. After all, it was Black Sabbath who performed, “Killing Yourself To Live” in 1973, with singer, Ozzy Osbourne -- a good boy who arguably had to make himself mean to survive -- singing, “How people look and people stare, well I don't think that I even care. You rot your life away and what do they give? You're only killing yourself to live.”

And while the song’s lyrics may be about the hollow nature of the music industry, the song could certainly apply to a small town community that rests all its hopes, fortunes, and futures on the score card of a teenage sports team -- no matter the cost. 

That certainly feels true when Street becomes paralysed after experiencing a catastrophic spinal injury during a tackle on game night. The Rodell scene might have been played for laughs, but it lurches back into focus like a harsh foreshadowing: Was Street too nice? Too polite? If he would have been tougher, meaner, nastier, would his body have experienced the impact of another body differently? Would he have been protected by the dark arts of Black Sabbath?

Obviously, the answer is no. As Coach Taylor (Kyle Chandler) reaffirms to Street, his team, and just about anyone else who needs to hear it, the tragedy was blameless. Unfortunate but unavoidable. Life is cruel. Unpredictable. Much of “Friday Night Lights” pivots around this problem -- like a coach drawing up the strategy of an upcoming game, you have to decide how you’re going to play against the obstacles of being alive. 

Alas, though apt, “Killing yourself to live” isn’t the mantra of the Dillon Panthers, but rather the searingly motivational, “Clear eyes, full heart, can’t lose.” Like much of the storytelling on “Friday Night Lights,” the team motto doesn’t just apply to football -- it’s also a sturdy life affirmation that just about anyone in need can scribble onto the desperation of their morning journals. It’s a statement that urges anyone who can pay attention to it to remain sweet and vulnerable in the face of adversity. You’ll be dealt tough tackles, the mantra insists, but don’t lose yourself in the pursuit to overcome them. 

Ultimately, it’s a mantra that suggests that softness, sweetness, and niceness can also create winners -- but it’s all about strategy. It’s no good being soft, sweet, and nice if you don’t how to apply those qualities properly. Alas, the universe -- and other people -- are generally not so kind. Make yourself too pliable, and life will contort and reshape you into something you may not recognise -- or at the very least, may not want to recognise.   As the show progresses, it becomes evident that much of “Friday Night Lights” also pivots around the “Can’t lose” aspect of that mantra. Say it isolated, without the eyes and the heart, and it sounds desperate -- almost deranged. For many of the male characters, their arcs in the show center around how they reckon with failure, tragedy, and defeat: What loss does to masculinity and how others perceive it. 

For Street, it hardens him. But it’s earned. 

During an appearance on “It’s Not Only Football,” the showrunner of “Friday Night Lights,” Jason Katims, revealed that in the development of the show, he was drawn to the idea of producing stories about marginalised people. “There were very few shows at the time -- or movies for that matter -- that really looked at real small town America [and that were] about people that weren’t privileged,” he explained. “Television, even the good television, was really about privilege.”

In the world of “Friday Night Lights,” all fortune is predicated on football. If you’re within the vicinity of the ball, then you wield a certain amount of privilege. Whether you’re a player, a coach, a financer, or a loved one of any of these people, then you probably have a little of power to leverage within Dillon. But that isn’t to say that this power is versatile or something that can be wielded within the real world.  After all, it becomes quickly apparent that being a part of the game doesn’t protect any of these characters from the indignities of prejudice. Nor does it salvage against the sort of failure that becomes of a person who isn’t equipped with the same access to opportunities as those with more privilege.

With the exception of a sacred few well-to-do, able-bodied white folk in the show, “Friday Night Lights” is populated by characters who are weighed down by obstacles related to poverty, abuse, race, gender, addiction, homophobia, and disability. However, part of the show’s charm is how it centers on these characters not so much overcoming these obstacles, but rather rising above the prejudice and bullshit of it all so they can figure out how to live their lives on their own terms. Even if that means leaving small-town Dillon, Texas -- and the team -- in the process.  

In the pilot episode, Street is presented as being perhaps the most privileged person in Dillon. His parents appear to be happily married and of a fair, stable income. He’s straight, able-bodied, athletically gifted, good looking -- and, impossibly, almost ridiculously humble about all of it. But with one injury, much of that changes. He’s forced to reckon with being paraplegic while watching his family’s savings and income be stripped to the bone due to medical expenses and rehabilitation. 

He’s reconfigured by the community that once heralded him a hero, and he loses access to almost all the corners of the world and the people that meant anything to him: His game, his girlfriend, his best friend. 

While Street reconfigures his idea of masculinity -- featuring some bold declarations about simply being a cripple who wants to listen to Nirvana, moooom -- and toughens up in the process, Riggins stops fighting his emotions, and softens up, instead. When Street becomes paralysed, something inside his best friend breaks open and for episode after episode, he lets life pulvarise him into a tender steak of emotional frailty -- and it’s rare that he ever gets a swing in, himself. It’s a far cry from the beer chugging emo-void of episode one. Regardless, although Street accepts a tougher interior, he nevertheless maintains his heart. He might speak up for himself more now, but his actions are rarely cruel or without merit. 

The character arcs of “Friday Night Lights” lean against this same principle again and again -- the people who prevail aren’t necessarily the ones who give in to the impulse to strike back and be spiteful or seek vengeance. But rather, its those who allow themselves to be vulnerable -- who take the hits without striking back and who rise above, soft and strong. Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose. 

But there’s someone who can put this far better than I ever could. At the end of the pilot episode, Coach Taylor makes a rousing speech to his wounded team. They’ve just watched their friend and teammate be carried off the field, his parents and girlfriend screaming from the rafters. Pushing their feelings aside, they were forced to continue the game and not lose sight of the goal. 

“Life is so very fragile. We are all vulnerable. And we will all, at some point in our lives ... fall. We will all fall,” he tells them. “We must carry this in our hearts, that what we have is special. That it can be taken from us, and that when it is taken from us, we will be tested ... It is these times, it is this pain, that allows us to look inside ourselves.”

Crucially, “Friday Night Lights” hangs its cap upon the stern fist pumps of this speech. It’s a sentiment that offers the reminder that nothing is owed, and everything is earned. Mayor Rodell had it wrong when she encouraged Street to get mean and obliterate the opposition. What the show suggests is that the only path to true success and accord is to leave yourself open to being the one to get chewed up and spat out by life, not the other way around. The victory can be found in however you emerge from the other side. It takes courage to be vulnerable -- and to be vulnerable requires a period of transformation.  Even Black Sabbath dropped their meanness and bat-snacking to reckon with heartbreak via a piano-ballad, “Changes”  -- “The world had its evil way. My heart was blinded, love went astray.” Clear eyes, full hearts, can’t lose, boys. 

[marimelwrites]

@erstwhles

[writersdrug]

Convincing bartender Simon to make one of those overly decorated and sweet cocktails or even add it to the menu because it’s cute and you know it’d do well on the gram and attract the ladies. He’d huff and puff but do it anyway

Like one of these with cotton candy, glitter, and sprinkles etc!: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/825988387943179970/

OMG wait I soooo want to try that-

The video ends, and Simon stares at the picture of the drink with a furrowed brow.

"Looks like somethin' you'd see at a bridal shower." He comments, handing you back your phone.

"Doesn' it?" You say with a smile, shoving your phone into your back pocket. You lean your arms over the bar and poke his side. "Come oooonnnnnn, Simon - imagine how many sales you'd make on something like that! People would love it."

"Imagine the money I'd lose, havin' t' buy bags of candy floss..." he grumbles, hiding his smirk behind his mask when you groan dramatically.

"You could do it as a promotional thing...? Like- ladies' night... in October?"

He snorts. "'Ladies' Night in October', hmm? N' what are ladies celebratin'?"

"Ok, fine- forget Ladies' Night. What about something for Halloween?"

"Like wot?" He grunts, grabbing a glass from the stack and pouring out one of the taps.

"I dunno... something fun, but practical - Oh! You could- like a Moscow Mule, but just serve it in a different glass and use edible glitter!"

Simon quirks his brow as he slides the beer glass to a customer. "Edible glitter?" He asks, wiping his hands on his rag. "Didn't know there was such a thing."

You nod quickly, your eyes full of excitement. "Yeah! God, I could pick up a bunch from the baker's supply down a few blocks. You could call it 'Witches' Brew.'"

He turns it over for a moment - in his opinion, it's ridiculous. He runs a pub, not a college bar. He would have scoffed at the idea of someone else had brought it up - but, it's you bringing it up, and that's a completely different story. You have such a brilliant gleam in your eye that melts his heart. He can't say no to you, especially after making you cry last week. He's still carrying out his penance for that.

"You think it'd sell?"

"Oh, for sure! I can make an insta post about it to get some attention."

He clicks his tongue, turning to the POS and seemingly uninterested by it. "Fine - if you spend anythin' promotin' it, let Price know. He'll reimburse ya."

You let out a triumphant whoop and slide of the barstool. He lets out a huff as you trot back to your tables, a noticeable pep in your step. He chances through the window on the kitchen door to see if his food is ready - what he's met with is Johnny's face, staring through the warming counter as he stands at the stove, a smug grin resting on his lips.

Simon can practically hear the cook's thoughts. Whipped bastard.

You had left without saying goodbye that night. You waited by the counter, rocking eagerly on your toes as Simon grabbed your tips from the night before out of the safe. As soon as he handed them to you, you snatched them and ran out the door. He was a bit irked by that, standing there with a stubborn frown as you pranced out of the restaurant - maybe you're still not back to being cheeky and chipper yet after last week. He can live with that... for now.

However, not twenty minutes later, you come stumbling back in with a paper bag in hand and a smile on your face, panting like you'd just run a marathon. Simon's anxieties quell at the sight of you.

"Got it!" You say breathlessly, walking to the edge of the bar and dropping the bag onto it. Simon folds his arms over his chest as you reach in and pull out a small bottle of glitter. You hand It to him and he takes it, holding it up to the dim light above.

"You can eat this shit?" He asks, brows furrowed.

"Mhmm!" You chirp, settling into a barstool. "Now, bartender - I'll have a Moscow Mule."

He sets the glitter down and grabs a clear glass, working on gathering the ingredients. "Ya only call me that when you want something."

"I'm calling you what you are." You respond, watching as he skillfully mixes everything together, pouring vodka from the jigger between two fingers, tossing in lime juice and topping it off with ginger beer. As shameful as it is to admit, you're kinda attracted to the skill he presents.

"Should be callin' me boss." He says, topping the drink off with a straw.

You slide off your stool and chuckle. "Yeah, you'd be into something kinky like that."

Simon has to bite the inside of his cheek to distract himself from the thought of you - nope. He won't even entertain the idea. He simply steps back a bit as you wedge yourself behind the bar (yes, he actually forces himself to give you enough room - he doesn't need you feeling hiw aroused he is).

You grab a bottle of the glitter and dash some into the drink. After swirling it with the straw, the liquid becomes iridescent with purple shimmer that billows about the glass. You look up at him with a satisfied smile.

"Witches' Brew." You announce, holding the drink out to him.

You look happy - an observation that makes Simon smile, even if he wasn't the one to cause your happiness. He lifts his mask, grabs one of the straws and plugs it, before bringing it to his mouth and sampling the drink.

"Tastes like a mule."

"But it looks like a potion, right?"

"'S this glitter goin' to be in my gut whenever I get autopsied?"

You laugh, grabbing the glass and leaving Simon behind the bar. "That would be a cute party trick." You call over your shoulder.

Simon watches you, arms folded over his chest and his eyes curious. You set the drink on the opposite end of the bar, pulling your phone from your pocket and pointing the camera to the glass. You grimace; your arm reaches over the bar to grab the rag lying over the faucet, and quickly wipe down the bartop. He huffs, grabbing his phone from the register and pulling up his group text with Soap and Price.

Ghost: got ourselves a marketing team.

He looks back up at you - you're hunched over, taking picture after picture of the drink. You twirl the straw in the liquid every few seconds, kicking up the glitter and making it reflect the low lighting of the bar.

Hus phone buzzes.

Price: ??

Ghost: she's making a drink for october and promoting it in social media

Soap: clever girl

Soap: what drink?

Ghost: moscow mule, but in a clear glass and with some edible glitter shit. it's pretty neat.

Soap: picture?

Price: Promoting? Will this cost me anything?

Simon chuckles. He pulls up the camera on his phone and aims it at you-

Except you're in a different position. You're perched so nicely on a barstool, holding your phone at arm's length and your drink in the other hand. You're smiling up at your camera, nose scrunched as you pose for a selfie. Your hair is down, your back is arched, and - did you tug your neckline down? You most certainly did. You're breasts weren't that pronounced before.

Without thinking, Simon takes a photo. The shutter clicks loudly: you look at him, as do the three patrons sitting at the bar.

Fuck. He panicks, clearing his throat and lowering his phone. "Jus' showin' the lads what you're up to." He says, but you can see the tension in his shoulders as he quickly sends the picture to the chat and puts his phone in his pocket.

You smirk - whether it was truly just for Price and Soap, or if it was for himself, you felt a little flattered that you'd caught him in the act. You hoped for the latter.

Simon exhales heavily and rests his palms on the counter. His face burns beneath his mask as he tries to calm his racing heart. Fuck- was that weird? Course it fuckin' was. Goddamn creep.

His phone buzzes again. He sighs and pulls it into his hand.

Price: Cute thing, isn't she?

Simon immediately frowns, any previous shame now replaced with a fire in his chest.

"Fuckin' wot?"

[undercover-barsoomian]

This is a Jason Street song to me. The overall theme of facing the future, knowing that things can never be the same as they were again, really parallels his struggle to let go of his past life and the future he wanted when he had the use of his legs. There is a sense of mourning the past, as well as being uncertain about the future after the proverbial road ahead changed so drastically. The "stuck in the undertow" line also reminds me visually of the part in Season 2 where he jumped off the boat. I don't know that that specific scene and the lyrics line up thematically so much, but I think the visual is still cool and relevant.

Anyway, in this house we love and appreciate Jason Street.

[idkyetxoxo]

Aemond Targaryen - Embracing the Unexpected

Summary - Aemond and his wife navigate the fear, love, and uncertainty of new parenthood, discovering that the joy of new life is irresistible, even when it arrives as an unexpected set of multiple babies.

Pairing - Aemond Targaryen x reader

Warnings - Childbirth (brief)

Word count - 2482

Masterlist for Aemond • House of the Dragon General Masterlist

"You startled me," I gasped, my voice trembling as I felt a pair of hands trail softly across my bare shoulders. My heart raced, pounding in my chest, as I clung desperately to the discarded fabric of my gown.

"It's only me," Aemond murmured, his voice low and soothing. He pressed a gentle kiss to the nape of my neck, his hands gliding along my sides. 

I drew in a shaky breath, trying to calm myself. With a subtle wriggle, I slipped out of his embrace and stepped away, wrapping the nightgown more securely around myself before turning to face him.

His expression was a mixture of concern and sadness.

"What's the matter?" he asked softly as I made my way to the bed. I sat down, crossing my legs and began to braid my hair with methodical movements.

"Nothing," I replied, barely above a whisper. Aemond sat beside me, his fingers gently untangling the strands of my hair as he watched me with a worried gaze.

"Then why have you been keeping me at a distance these past few weeks?" he asked, his lips brushing against the side of my neck. 

I gripped the sheets tightly, my face averted as the flush of distress spread from my cheeks to the tips of my ears.

He pulled back, his eyes searching mine with a pained expression. 

"Am I repulsing you?" he asked, his voice thick with hurt. Before I could respond, he continued, "Do you no longer want me?"

I shook my head quickly, my heart aching at the thought of causing him such pain. I moved closer to him, desperate to reassure him. 

"No, it's not that at all. I promise," I said, my voice earnest. I could see the hurt in his eyes, and it made me feel even more unsettled.

"Aemond, it's just..." I started, the words tangling in my throat as I struggled to articulate my feelings. My mind raced, the weight of the truth pressing down on me until I couldn't hold it back any longer. 

"I'm with child," I blurted out, the confession leaving my lips before I could second-guess it.

His reaction was instant. His head snapped towards me, eye wide with shock. 

For a moment, his face lit up with joy, but as he registered my anxiety, that joy dimmed. The light in his expression faded, and he slowly stood from the bed, turning away from me as if to shield himself from what he feared might come next.

"Wait," I cried out, desperation seizing my heart as tears welled up in my eyes. The mere thought of him walking away from me, from us, was unbearable. "Please, don't leave."

His back remained turned, but his voice was sharp, carrying the weight of his wounded pride. 

"Does the thought of having a child with me cause such distress?" he asked, his words laced with bitterness. I shook my head, realizing too late that he couldn't see my silent denial.

"No, no, Aemond, it's not like that at all," I pleaded, my voice cracking under the strain of my emotions. "I'm just... afraid."

Finally, he turned around to face me, his expression a mixture of confusion and concern. 

"Why are you afraid?" he asked, his voice softer now, though it was clear he was struggling to understand.

"I'm afraid that I won't be enough," I whispered, my deepest fears spilling out into the open. 

"That I'll fail you, that I'll fail our child. I'm terrified of what's to come, of not knowing how to be a mother, of not being able to protect our child from the dangers of this world and most of all, I'm afraid that you'll see me differently now, that I'll lose you in ways I can't even fathom."

Aemond's expression softened, and he took a step closer to me, reaching out to cup my face in his hands. 

"You're not going to lose me," he said, his voice steady and full of conviction. "We'll face this together, whatever comes. You're not alone in this, and I will be by your side every step of the way. We'll figure it out, I promise you."

Tears spilt over, and I leaned into his touch, finding comfort in the warmth of his hands. His words were a balm to my anxious heart, but the fear still lingered, a shadow that would take time to fully dispel. 

Eight months later, I found myself pacing the chamber, one hand pressed against my back, the other cradling my swollen belly. 

Each step was a struggle, my breaths coming in short, laboured gasps as the pain in my abdomen grew more intense. Every contraction felt like a wave crashing over me, leaving me trembling and weak.

I groaned, my forehead resting heavily against the bedpost as another contraction tore through me. My hair was matted to my forehead, damp with sweat, and my body ached under the immense strain. 

It felt as though I might burst from the pressure, the sheer force of it overwhelming me.

"Where is Aemond? Where is he?" I gasped, my voice tinged with desperation as I scanned the room. 

Faces blurred around me, the maids and midwives moving quickly, but none of them were the ones I needed to see.

"The father's presence is not customary during the birth," the maester explained calmly, though his words were drowned out by the scream that erupted from my lips. 

The pain was unbearable, and the thought of going through this without Aemond made it worse.

"I want Aemond!" I cried out, pushing away the handmaidens who were attempting to soothe me. Their gentle hands and soft words were of no comfort, only he could provide that.

As if summoned by my plea, the door to the chamber burst open, and Aemond rushed in, his face pale with worry. Without a moment's hesitation, he ran to my side, his arms encircling me in a protective embrace.

"Aemond, please, stay with me. I can't do this alone," I sobbed, clutching at him as if he were my lifeline.

"My prince," the maester began, his voice tinged with disapproval, "it is not customary for the father to be present—"

"I do not care what is customary," Aemond snapped, his voice steely with resolve. "If my wife wants me to stay, I will stay."

He guided me toward the bed, his hands gentle but firm as he helped me lie down. Another scream tore from my throat, the pain intensifying as my body prepared for the final stage of labour. 

Aemond held my hand tightly, his presence grounding me amid the chaos.

"You're doing so well," he murmured, his lips brushing against my temple as he tried to soothe me. "I'm here, love. I'm not going anywhere."

Each contraction came with a force that seemed to split me in two. Time lost all meaning as I focused solely on Aemond's steady presence.

The pain was blinding, but knowing he was there kept me from being completely consumed by it.

Minutes stretched into hours, each moment a battle as my body worked tirelessly to bring our child or so we thought into the world. Aemond never wavered, his hands steady on mine, his words a constant source of comfort. 

When I felt I could push no more, when I was certain I had nothing left to give, his voice would pull me back, reminding me that I was not alone.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the maester's voice broke through the haze of pain. 

"The babe is crowning," he announced, and I gasped, the realization that the end was near bringing a rush of determination.

"Just a little more," Aemond whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "You're almost there."

With a final, desperate push, I felt a release, and the sound of a baby's cry filled the room. Tears welled up in my eyes as I collapsed against the pillows, utterly exhausted but relieved beyond measure.

"It's a boy," the maester announced, placing the squirming, crying infant in Aemond's arms. His face was a mixture of awe and disbelief as he looked down at our son, and then back at me.

"You did it," he whispered, his voice filled with pride.

Before I could respond, another contraction hit, more intense than before. My eyes widened in shock, and I looked at Aemond, fear creeping back into my heart. 

"There's another one," I gasped, my hand gripping his with renewed urgency.

The maester's expression shifted from concern to realization. "There's another babe," he confirmed, moving quickly to assist with the unexpected second birth.

Aemond's eyes were wide with shock, but he quickly regained his composure, focusing entirely on me. 

"You can do this," he said, his voice steady. "I'm right here with you."

The second labour was just as intense, but somehow, knowing what to expect made it more bearable. Aemond's hand never left mine, his voice guiding me through each agonizing contraction. After what felt like an eternity, a second cry filled the room.

"It's another boy," the maester said, handing the newborn to a waiting handmaiden to clean and wrap.

Aemond's eye was shining with tears as he looked between our two sons.

Before I could catch my breath, a sharp pain tore through me once more, I felt as though my body was being torn apart.. My heart raced, panic rising as I realized there was yet another child.

The maester's expression turned serious as he realized the truth. "Triplets," he said, a mix of amazement and concern in his voice. "This will be the last one."

Exhaustion threatened to overwhelm me, but Aemond's presence kept me from sinking into despair. 

"You're almost there," he whispered, his voice strained with emotion. "Just one more, love. You can do this."

With every ounce of strength I had left, I pushed through the final wave of pain. The third birth was the hardest, with my body protesting the entire way, but finally, mercifully, it was over. 

The last cry filled the room, softer and more delicate than the others.

"It's a girl," the maester announced, his tone gentler now, as he carefully swaddled our daughter.

Aemond was speechless, his eye wide with disbelief and joy as he looked at the three tiny bundles in the hands of the midwives. "Three..." he whispered as if he couldn't quite believe it. "We have three."

I collapsed back onto the pillows, utterly spent but filled with a profound sense of love and accomplishment. Tears streamed down my face as Aemond placed our daughter in my arms, her tiny features perfect and serene.

He sat beside me, holding our two sons, his expression one of utter devotion. "You did it," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "You brought them into the world."

Despite the exhaustion, despite the pain, nothing could overshadow the overwhelming joy of that moment.

A couple of hours passed in a haze of exhaustion and bliss. The room, once filled with the frantic energy of childbirth, had quieted into a peaceful sanctuary. 

The three tiny bundles nestled in our arms were the centre of our world, their soft breaths and occasional whimpers the only sounds breaking the stillness.

Aemond sat beside me on the bed, cradling our two sons, while our daughter rested against my chest. I marvelled at their delicate features, the softness of their skin, and the way they seemed to fit perfectly into our arms. 

It was overwhelming to think that just hours ago, they had been growing inside me, and now they were here each a tiny miracle.

The door creaked open, and I looked up to see Alicent entering the chamber. Her face, usually so composed and regal, softened as she took in the sight before her. 

Her eyes shone with a mixture of pride and love as she approached the bed, her steps careful and measured.

"Aemond," she greeted her son, her voice warm with affection. "And how are you, my dear?" she asked, turning to me with a smile that reached her eyes.

"Tired, but happy," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper, still feeling the lingering exhaustion from the ordeal.

Alicent's gaze shifted to the three babes, her expression one of awe. She reached out to gently stroke the cheek of our daughter, her fingers tender and light. 

"They're beautiful," she said softly, her voice filled with admiration. "Three little blessings. I don't think I've ever seen anything so perfect."

I smiled, my heart swelling with pride and joy. 

"They are," I agreed, my voice catching in my throat as I looked down at our daughter. The love I felt for them was overwhelming, almost too much to contain.

Alicent moved her gaze to the two boys in Aemond's arms, her smile deepening as she reached out to touch their tiny hands. 

"Have you decided on names?" she asked, her tone gentle as she looked between us.

Aemond and I exchanged a glance, a silent conversation passing between us. We had spent countless nights talking about names, but now that they were here, the decision felt weightier, more significant.

Finally, Aemond spoke, his voice soft yet steady. "We have," he said, his eyes meeting his mother's. "Our daughter will be named Viserra,"

Alicent's eyes softened further, her smile widening. "Viserra," she repeated, the name rolling off her tongue with reverence. "A beautiful name for a beautiful girl."

"And our sons," I added, my voice trembling with emotion, "will be named Vaegon and Viserion."

Alicent's eyes flickered with recognition, and she nodded approvingly. "Vaegon and Viserion," she echoed, her voice filled with pride. "Strong names for strong boys. They will carry them well."

She looked between us, her expression one of deep affection and pride. "You have chosen well," she said, her voice filled with warmth.

Alicent leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to my forehead. 

"I am so proud of you both," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "You have brought such light into this world, and I know you will be wonderful parents."

She stepped back, giving us a moment of privacy, her eyes lingering on the three tiny babes who had already stolen all our hearts. 

"Rest now," she said, her voice tender. "You have earned it and when you're ready, we will celebrate these new additions to our family."

As she left the room, the warmth of her presence lingered, filling the chamber with a sense of peace and fulfilment. Aemond looked at me, his face filled with love and gratitude. 

"Viserra, Vaegon, and Viserion," he repeated softly as if the names were a prayer, a promise for the future.

I nodded, smiling through my tears as I looked down at our children. "They're perfect," I whispered, my heart swelling with love for the tiny lives we had brought into the world.

Aemond leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips, his hand resting gently on our daughter's back. 

As we sat there, surrounded by the quiet strength of our love and the promise of our future, I knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.

A/n - I swear thinking of the names took longer than writing the whole thing literally had to hop onto reddit.

Aemond tag list - @darylandbethfanforever9 @lessdepressy

[mayhemthemamp]

So how am I just now realizing that the Big Bad on the Criminal Minds Reboot is motherfucking Matt Saracen from Friday Night Lights?

I STG that one scene from Season 2 where Coach Taylor throws his drunk ass in the shower to sober up and he asks why nobody wants him plays through my mind at least 3 times a month. AND NOW HE'S THE HEAD OF A SECRET CABAL OF SERIAL KILLERS?!

[oraclecat]

Yes, 100% PERFECT pilot. My favorite show EVER.

[bunnyrafe]

hiii bunny i hope you’re having a better day today<3

so i’ve had this idea in my notes for a few weeks that i was gonna hold onto until after kinktober but if it’s ok to send stuff in the meantime… i’ve been thinking about a corruption kink w rafe where he convinces you to make a sex tape of your first time / losing your virginity for like the sentimental memory of it all bc i feel like he would be so fucking perverted about it but you’re just thinking how romantic it is (i love being delusional)

this has bimbo!reader all over it… and her & sleazy!rafe go together REAL WELL. ♥︎ this drabble kind of got away from me a bit but i still love it, not gonna lie. and as always— i would literally kiss your brain if i could, kittybaby.

content / warnings -> 18+, MDNI. f / ditsy!reader, pervy / sleazy!rafe, filming, loss of virginity, unprotected sex.

you have a hard time discerning whether you’re really dumb or if rafe is just messing with your head— maybe a fair mix of both.

it’s hard for a girl that's always been naive.

that’s why you don’t think much of it when he tells you he just wants to take a few videos. he's only being a loving boyfriend... the videos range from some of you kissing all wet & sloppy, some with your pretty lips wrapped around his fingers because your throat isn’t trained for his cock yet, one or two with those same deft digits rubbing your clit and dipping into your sweet, messy cunt while he coos behind his phone in response to your little mewls.

you’re a drooling mess before you even end up on your back, promising that it's okay for him to fully tug your sticky panties down your legs while he feigns concern.

rafe is quick to help you keep your legs spread and your cunt on display for him— your smaller hands are tucked under your knees with his gentle guidance, squishing them against your heated tummy and sensitive breasts. you shy away from the flash coming from his phone in the process.

“ready, angel face?”

rafe grunts, lining his cock up with your cunt and smacking your clit with the fat head until you squeal. he rambles above you— no doubt putting a show on for his self; "so sweet f'me— for letting me record your cherry bein' popped. can't wait to watch it back together— yeah? y'want that, sweet girl?”

“want it,” you whine out. you’re willing to agree with whatever he says at this point as you stare up at him, nearly with baby pink hearts in your pupils— “please. i love you, rafey.”

at that, rafe can’t help but fucking you full. bottoming out and pressing in as deep as he possibly can in the next second, watching you writhe and suck in a sharp breath at the sudden and painful stretch. if you had a clear mind you might have realized just how evil it is of him to do such a thing.

but instead you cream around him, just from him stuffing his dick in you for the very first time. he can’t bite back the breathy laugh that falls from his lips while your glassy eyes lock with camera, cumming your brains out on his dick and digging your nails into your own plushy skin on the underside of your thighs— before he even got the chance to fuck you good.

“that’s a good girl,” he sighs out the praise, feeling his heart swell in his chest while he tries to keep his composure and decides to let you have your moment. no matter how hard it is for him to not rear back and pound into you.

plus— he’s sure your home video will be better if you’re as dumbed down and slutty as you can possibly be, like his own lil’ fuck doll.

[marimelwrites]

@erstwhles

[authorhjk1]

Is it just me or is taeyeon just getting more slutty the older she gets. Her clothing, her style, expressions, etc. Like she’s so horny and just can’t wait to get fucked once she gets back home.

Sunbae #2

As Taeyeon ages, her body changes. She never really cared for sex that much. At least not more than other women her age. But her body knows that she isn't having kids. And it's longing for that. Her womb is in need of sperm and her pussy is begging for cock. For cum.

Taeyeon does her best to suppress all of that. She's scared that, once she actually has sex with a guy, she would lose control. And she can't give up her career right now. She's worked too hard for that. So Taeyeon helps herself with toys. Her entire bedroom drawer is filled with them. She even has those that use a similar liquid to cum, just so she can satisfy her desire to be bred just a little bit.

But her body can tell that she is trying to trick it. By now, Taeyeon can't leave the house for too long, without constantly daydreaming of the guys she walks past. And she is desperate for their attention.

Almost every night, Taeyeon lies in her bed. The wet spot underneath her, the bed full with toys. All evidence of the battle she is slowly starting to lose. And every night, she stares up at the ceiling. Eyes out of focus, but still wide open. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment as she recalls her actions of the day. Why did she dress so slutty? Why did she move like this? Why does she wink and smirk so much in the direction of her male fans?

After her dance practice and a shower, Taeyeon used the wardrobe of SM to get herself a new outfit. She is now standing in front of the mirror, visibly in shock. Her eyes trail along the long, revealing slit on the front of her top.

How could she even think about wearing this? Anyone who's slightly taller than her, would have a great view of her tits. But then again....

"No, no, no. Get yourself together, Taeyeon."

She mumbles to herself, knowing she really is losing control of herself. But she can't go home now. She has a vocal lesson in ten minutes. With herself as the teacher. Taeyeon catches herself drooling a little as she thinks about her junior. If she could just....

She shakes her head to clear her thoughts.

Eight minutes later, she stands in front of the mirror once again. Taeyeon's jaw drops as she looks at herself.

Why is she only realizing now how slutty this makes her look? It looked cute, when she picked it out. She groans in annoyance, disappointed by herself. But there isn't time to change now.

"H-Hello, sunbae."

You start to stutter from the moment she turns around. You came in after her, still sweaty and heavily breathing from your dance practice.

"You're on time. I'm happy you didn't forget your favorite sunbae."

Taeyeon winks at you and your heart skips a beat. This never happened to you before with girls your age. The last person who made you feel this way...

Sooyoung. Taeyeon's bandmate.

"O-Of course not. But would you mind if I changed my shirt? It's completely wet after practice."

You pull at it a little to demonstrate how it sticks to your skin, while holding a new one.

"I don't mind at all. Go right ahead."

Her reassuring smile doesn't falter and she doesn't look away when you're about to pull your shirt over your head. You hesitate. Taeyeon is now just staring at you.

Taeyeon licks her lips as you lift your shirt. She watches how you reveal your abs. A product of countless of hours spent in the practice room. A too familiar tingle arises inside of Taeyeon. The older woman can feel it in her core. Almost like a predator, her eyes follow your every move.

In the back of her mind, her consciousness screams at her. That you're her junior. That this could ruin her career. That you're way too young for her.

But Taeyeon's primal desire to be bred has taken over by now. Her arousal is hightened even more, when she remembers what Sooyoung told her. She never thought of this before, because before, she had herself under control. She had morals.

You don't witness anything of her internal war with herself. But once you can see again, you realize that Taeyeon isn't standing in front of you anymore. You look down. And there she is. Staring at your crotch, licking her lips.

"S-Sunbae?"

"Hmm?"

Her eyes are glued to your clothed cock.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"I don't think this-"

"I guess I will just help myself."

Taeyeon murmurs more to herself than you.

A moment later, your pants are around your ankles. And your underwear quickly follows.

"Oh, yes."

Taeyeon coos, her eyes closed as your cock lands on her face.

"It's so heavy."

She sighs, her lips forming a slight smile.

You are surprised that Taeyeon would ever do something like this. Never in a million years you would've thought that your vocal lesson today would start with your cock lying on Kim Taeyeon's face.

The older woman doesn't move for a while. You feel her breathing against your cock, until you realize, she is taking in your scent. Your smell makes Taeyeon's pussy tingle. She knows that this is how she will satisfy her unquenchable lust. At least for a small while.

You shudder as her tongue darts out. It touches your cock. You let out a shakey breath as Taeyeon opens her eyes again.

"It's so big and tasty."

She goes cross-eyed as she looks up at it.

"Sunbae..."

Your voice is weak as you're unable to fully comprehend what's going on. Is she drugged or something?

"I've waited so long..."

She takes another deep breath, inhaling your scent even more.

Almost painfully slow, Taeyeon starts to actually lick your cock. Her tongue glides along your shaft. It flicks against your tip, it reaches your base, it covers every inch of your cock. The whole time, your dick rests on Taeyeon's face. Her smooth skin makes this experience even more pleasurable. The feeling of her, breathing against your cock, makes you hold onto the wall next to you.

"What a yummy cock."

She whispers as she finally backs away a little. With a disappointed groan from you, your cock slides off her face. It's now pointing at her lips as she stares down at it. Taeyeon's eyes slowly wander towards your balls and you can see her eyes glisten with lust and need.

"They look so full. Do girls your age not drain you properly?"

Taeyeon sounds genuinely concerned.

She let's a finger trace over the skin of your sack, while she looks up at you.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of that. I'll need all the cum you have in there."

Her lips reach your cock and Taeyeon starts to properly suck you off now.

Your legs buckle at her skillful blowjob. She isn't using her hands, like a lot of other idols would. She lets her lips glide straight down to your base, before she backs up again and repeats the process. Her tongue doesn't stay idle, roaming around underneath your shaft.

"T-T-Sunbae..."

You almost slipped up, almost calling her by her name. It seems like you can't say anything else anyway.

"Noona is enough, baby."

Taeyeon keeps blowing you, her eyes now focused on yours. Her slow, sensual work reminds you a little of Sooyoung. But this is different. Taeyeon seems to know every spot she has to touch. She seems to enjoy worshipping your cock. How it feels in her mouth, when she takes it all without gagging. How it rests on her face, when she lets it fall out of her mouth and leans forward, just so she can feel it on her skin as she licks at it.

"Oh, god."

You've never felt this good before. Taeyeon does everything right. She does more than you could eve except of someone. She seems to know your cock better than even yourself.

But you can tell that Taeyeon's lust and thirst for more increases by the second. And eventually, she does stop. Despite losing that wonderful feeling, you don't complain. You almost came right there.

"I need you to eat me real good, baby. Can you do that for noona?"

You quickly nod and Taeyeon gets off the ground, while you lie on the couch. Your view looks incredible.

Taeyeon's pants are quickly gone and you find her sitting on your face. Only a pair of white push buttons hold her top in place, right above her core. You quickly pull them apart, revealing Taeyeon's dripping wet pussy.

A lustful, almost dangerous moan escapes her lips.

You get the hint and quickly dive into her pussy. It tastes delicious. Her slick juices coat your taste buds with peach like flavor. Her weight presses down on you, forcing you take all of her pussy at once.

"That's a good, hobae."

Taeyeon sighs as she feels your tongue inside her cunt. She slowly grinds her hips against your face. Although she likes the feeling of getting eaten out quite a lot, this isn't what she is here for. It's not pleasure shee seeks. Taeyeon needs to be bred.

"Baby, can you do something for me, huh?"

You nod into her pussy, making her squirm.

"C-Can you fill up your noona? Can you do that for her?"

She sounds like she is talking to a toddler.

"Can you please nock up your noona?"

You gulp as she finally reveals what she really wants. You expect it to just be a kink of hers. That she just wants to pretend to get nocked up.

When you finally say yes, Taeyeon has already moved from your face to your cock. Just as you agree, she drops herself on your hard cock.

"Oh, god!"

Taeyeon's eyelids flutter, her eyes roll back, her mouth hangs open. It has been so long since she last had a real cock inside of her. Her toys just can't compare.

Within a matter of minutes, Taeyeon rides you, like there is no tomorrow. Her pussy threatens to strangle your cock as it clamps down around it, whenever she drops herself onto you. Her pace is too quick for your taste. You want to enjoy this moment. You want to enjoy the fact that you are actually having sex with Kim Taeyeon.

But Taeyeon's old self has already been lost from the moment she first laid eyes on your cock.

"I can feel your hard cock throbbing, baby. Don't waste a drop. Fill my slutty pussy with your cum."

Her riding and her words drive you closer towards your orgasm. You won't be ale to hold it in for much longer.

"Put a baby in me. My body needs it."

Taeyeon whines and you start to realize that she isn't joking. That this isn't a kink. But you can't believe this. That would be way too risky. Or is Taeyeon already too far gone to care? And what would you do, if you actually impregnated Kim Taeyeon?

"Noona, I don't think we should-"

Her tight walls shut you up. You can feel how they try to milk you dry.

"No, baby. No, baby. No, baby. I-I need it. I need it so bad."

Taeyeon strokes your hair with one hand, as if she is trying to calm you down, while the other still rests on your chest, supporting her weight.

"I need to feel it in my womb. I need that seed of yours. Make a mommy out of your noona."

Eventually, you can't hold yourself back anymore. It wasn't a matter of if you cum anyway. It was only a matter of when you would cum. And that moment is now.

As Taeyeon keeps riding you, your hips buck upwards.

"Yes, baby. I know you want to put a baby in me. Do it. Fill your noona with all of your seed."

As Taeyeon moans her lewd words, you finally cum inside of her. Rope after rope of your cum paints her pussy. Her insides are white within seconds. The warmth makes her shudder on top of you.

"God, baby. I can feel it flow into my womb."

Taeyeon holds her tummy, her eyes closed. She can feel how her body does everything in its power to get her pregnant.

"What a good hoobae I have."

She sighs, her mind only focused on one thing.

---------

Hi guys!

Couldn't hold myself back after I got those asks and thought about the idea a little too long. I'm gonna do my best to write some more, so you guys will hopefully get a couple of longer fics soon.

I'll also post a small masterlist post, similar to the ones I did for other series, for a new series with SNSD. You guys will have to wait for the first chapter though, since I'm focusing on the other fics first. Just doing this, so you guys know what's coming, because I want to involve you guys with the plot a little bit more, probably through polls.

Stay healthy!

[bbydoll18xx]

Sometimes You Can't Make It On Your Own

When Paige falls apart, you are there to pick up the pieces.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Based on this request

Masterlist

Word Count: 1k

Themes: fluff and comfort !

A/N: this request was so cute!! As an eldest daughter and a nurse, it's ingrained in me to be a caregiver, and I show my love through acts of service so this was so fun to write. Hope you lovelies enjoy!

~

Paige had always prided herself on being a tough girl. It was ingrained into her soul to be a leader, and even more so, it was ingrained into her to take care of everyone around her. So when you had started dating her, you immediately were treated to the princess treatment.

As an eldest daughter yourself, you had appreciated someone taking care of you for once, but you knew the effects of having too much on your plate. It was draining, and so you had vowed to help Paige hold up the weight of her world. 

You were always there. 

You baked her cookies when you knew she was having a rough day. You were always there to listen when she was feeling the pressure from the rest of the team. And your kisses were basically magic, bringing life back into the blonde.

~

You hum to yourself as you walk through the door of Paige’s apartment, unable to deny the bubbling giddiness in your chest at the thought of seeing your girlfriend. 

You had been dating for two years, and while the two of you had fallen into a comfortable rhythm, the overwhelming excitement of her had yet to fade. 

Slipping through the door, you creep through the apartment on light feet, trying to avoid foiling your surprise. Paige wasn’t expecting you, and with the craziness of the basketball season now in full swing and your own work and school schedule, you hadn’t seen her in several days. 

It fucking sucked, but that was life, and now you had cleverly hatched a plan to sneak into Paige’s room during her beloved afternoon nap time and surprise her with your presence. 

A sound cuts through the quiet apartment and a pang cuts through your chest. Paige was sobbing behind the closed door of her room. It shatters your heart, and you gasp, frozen in place for a second, trying to decide whether you should go comfort her or leave her be. 

Paige was a strong girl. She loved protecting her friends and teammates. And she was no doubt an exceptional leader. So when she had her moments of weakness and vulnerability, she hated others to see it. 

You were really the only exception. Your warmth and nurturing disposition coaxed her out of the protective shell she had used to shield herself from the coldness of the media and the unyielding bitterness of those who doubted her. 

Biting your lip, you quietly knock on the door, your voice gentle, as you call out to her. “Paige, baby? Can I come in?”

You hear her sniffle, quickly trying to clear the thick tearfulness out of her own voice.

“I need you,” is all she says. 

Your heart drops into your stomach, and the overwhelming need to just make everything better consumes you, and you pull open the door to quickly get to your girlfriend. 

Paige is laying in her bed, and you can clearly see the tear stains below her red-rimmed eyes, clouding the clear blueness of them. Your eyes flit to see Twitter open on her iPad, and you connect the dots. 

She had gotten sucked into the hate comments again, and it was getting to her. 

Anger and concern rushes through your veins, but you take a deep breath. Now was not the time to lose your own shit. You had a pretty girl in front of you who needed you to make her feel better. And that’s exactly what you were going to do. 

“Oh, baby. What happened?” You whisper, sitting on the bed next to her and soothingly stroking her cheek, brushing away the tears that remained. 

Paige sniffles, leaning into your touch, as if it provided all the comfort that she needed. “Had a bad practice. And then I saw a hate tweet. Just spiraled from there.” Her voice cracks, and the tears in her eyes pool again, threatening to overflow. 

With your free hand, you pull the iPad away from her, trying to make sure she can’t subject herself to the disgusting stream of vitriol spewing from it. You lay down next to her, pulling her into your chest, letting her melt into you. The tension seeps out of her, as she cuddles into your side, welcoming your presence. 

Stroking her hair, you whisper sweet words of encouragement and love into her ear, and it’s not long before her sniffles come to a grinding halt.

Paige lets out a quiet breath and sits up, facing you. She looks sheepish, as if she’s embarrassed by her emotions. 

“Sorry you had to see that,” she chuckles, trying to make a joke out of it. 

“Hey,” you say, bringing a hand to rest against the smooth skin of her face. “You don’t have to apologize for getting upset over something like that. I’m your girlfriend. I want to be able to make you feel better.” You poke her in the belly as you emphasize your point, and she grins. 

And while you were not the one who was necessarily hurting in those moments, seeing the person you loved most, break down in tears over people’s vile words, broke you, too.

But Paige’s smile was like sunshine on the grayest day. And things were going to be alright. 

Paige reaches out to entwine her fingers with yours, making a mental note of how perfectly they fit together. Her eyes move from your gentle fingers up to your eyes, seeing how bright they shined when looking back into hers. 

And when you later fall asleep, curled up in Paige’s comforting warmth, your girlfriend fights the sleep out of her own eyes, preferring to admire the innocence and goodness seeping out of your being. 

You were two girls born having to provide for everyone around you, who found a home in each other, taking on the weight together. 

Because sometimes you just can't make it on your own. 

And that's okay.

~

Woo this took forever and i kinda hate this but thank you for reading! My inbox is always open for more requests!

xoxo katy