#this photo is my everything i love it so much

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 5: Artemis, Goddess Of The Hunt]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.6k

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“So you smoked grass in college,” Aegon says, pondering you with glazed eyes as he slurps his cherry-flavored Mr. Misty. You’re in Biloxi, Mississippi where Aemond is making speeches and meeting with locals to commemorate the first summer of the beaches being desegregated after a decade of peaceful protests and violent white supremacist backlash. Route 90 runs right along the sand dunes. If you walked out of this Dairy Queen, you could look south and see the Gulf of Mexico, placid dark ripples gleaming with moonshine. “And swore, and had a boyfriend, and presumably, what, did shots? Skipped class on occasion?”

“Yeah,” you admit, smiling sheepishly, remembering. You stretch out your fingers. “I chewed gum, I talked during mass. And I loved black nail polish. The nuns would beat my knuckles with rulers, I always had bruises. I wore these flowing skirts down to my ankles and knee-high boots. My hair was a mess, long and blowing around everywhere. My friends and I would do each other’s makeup, silver glitter and purple shadow, pencil on a ridiculous amount of eyeliner and then smudge it out. If you saw a photo you wouldn’t recognize me.”

Aegon takes a drag on his Lucky Strike cigarette, weightless smoke and the tired yellowish haze of florescent lights. Buffalo Springfield’s For What It’s Worth is playing from the Zenith radio on the counter by the cash register. “I’d recognize you.”

“I used to skip this one class all the time. The professor was a demon. I could do the math, but not the way he wanted me to. Right solution, wrong steps, I don’t know. I learned it differently in high school, and I couldn’t figure out the formula he wanted me to use. So he’d mark everything a zero even if my answer was correct. I couldn’t stand that bastard. Then the nuns kept catching me sunbathing on the quad when I was supposed to be in Matrices and Vector Spaces. I racked up so many demerits they were going to revoke my weekend pass, and then I wouldn’t be able to go into the city with my friends. So I stole the demerit book and burned it up on the stove in my dorm. Almost set the whole building on fire.”

Aegon is laughing. “You did not. Not you, not perfect ever-obedient Miss America!”

“I did. I really did.” You sip your own Mr. Misty, lemon-lime. Across the restaurant, Criston and Fosco are eating banana splits—dripping chocolate syrup and melted ice cream all over their table—and passionately debating who is going to end up in the World Series; Criston favors the Cardinals and the Orioles, Fosco says the Red Sox and the Cubs. The rest of the Targaryen family is back at the hotel watching news coverage of the Republican National Convention, something you can only stomach so much of, Otto’s cynical commentary, Aemond’s remaining eye fixed fiercely on the screen as he nips at an Old Fashioned. “I was wild back then.”

“And you gave it all up to be Aemond’s first lady.”

You think back to where it started: palm trees, salt water, alligators in drainage ditches. “My father grew up in a shack outside of Tallahassee. No electricity, no running water, he dropped out of school in eighth grade to help take care of his siblings when his mom died. They moved south to live with their aunt in Tampa, and my father wound up in Tarpon Springs working as a sea sponge diver.”

Aegon’s eyebrows rise, like he thinks you’re teasing him. “Sea sponges…?”

“I’m serious! It paid better than picking oranges or sweeping up in a factory. It’s dangerous. You have to wear this heavy rubber suit and walk around on the ocean floor, sometimes 50 feet or more below the surface.”

“What do people do with sea sponges?”

“Oh right, you would be unfamiliar. You’re supposed to clean yourself with them, like a loofah. Soap? Water? Ringing any bells?”

He chuckles and rolls his eyes. “You’re a very mean person. Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example for the merciful wives and daughters of this great nation?”

“Painters and potters buy sponges too. And some women use them as contraceptives. You can soak them in lemon juice and then shove them up there and it kills sperm.”

“I suddenly have great appreciation for the sea sponge industry. God bless the sea sponges.”

“So my father spent a few years diving, and he fell in love with a girl who worked at one of the shops he sold sponges to. That was my mother. They got married when he had absolutely nothing, and by their fifth anniversary he had his own fleet of boats, a gift shop, and a processing and shipping facility, all of which they owned jointly. They just opened the Spongeorama Sponge Factory this past April, a cute little tourist trap. But my point is that they were partners from the start. My father listens to my mother, and she works alongside him, and it was never like what I’ve seen from my friends’ parents: dad at the office 80 hours a week, mom at home strung out on Valium, just these…deeply separate, cold planets locked in orbit but never touching each other. I knew I didn’t want that. I wanted a husband who was building something I could be a part of. I wanted a man who respected me.”

Aegon watches you as he lights a fresh cigarette, not saying what you imagine he wants to: And how is that working out? He puffs on his Lucky Strike a few times and then offers it to you. You aren’t supposed to smoke, not even tobacco—it’s not ladylike, it’s masculine, it’s subversive—but you take it and hold it between your index and middle fingers, inhaling an ashy bitterness that blood learns to crave. The bracelets on your wrist jangle, thin silver chains that match the diamonds in your ears. Your dress is mint green, your hair in your signature Brigitte Bardot-inspired updo. Aegon is wearing a black t-shirt with The Who stamped across the front. When you pass the cigarette back to him, Aegon asks: “What music did you listen to? The Stones, The Animals?”

“Yeah. And Hendrix, The Kinks, Aretha Franklin…”

“Phil Ochs?”

“I love him. He’s got a song about Mississippi, you know.”

“Oh, I’m aware. It’s one of my favorites.”

“And I’m currently getting a little obsessed with Loretta Lynn. She’s so angry!”

“She’s sanctimonious, that’s what she is. Always bitching about men.”

“Six kids and an alcoholic husband will do that to someone.”

Aegon winces, and then you realize what you’ve said. Loretta Lynn sounds a lot like Mimi. He finishes his Mr. Misty and then fidgets restlessly with his white cardboard cup, spinning it around by the straw. You feel bad, though you shouldn’t. You wouldn’t have a month ago.

“Aegon,” you say gently, and he reluctantly looks up at you, sunburned cheeks, blonde hair shagging over his eyes. “Why do you ignore your children? They’re interesting, they’re fun. Violeta invited me to help her make cakes with her Easy-Bake Oven last week. And Cosmo…he’s so clever. But it’s like he doesn’t know who you are. He might actually think Fosco’s his dad.”

Aegon takes one last drag off his cigarette and discards the end of it in his Mr. Misty cup. Now he’s fiddling with it again, avoiding your gaze. “I don’t have much to offer them.”

“I think you do.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do,” you insist. “You can be kind of nice sometimes.”

He frowns, staring out the window. You know he can’t see anything but darkness and streetlights. “I should have been the one to go to Vietnam. If somebody had to get shot at so Aemond could be president, I was the right choice. No one would miss me. No one would mourn me. Daeron didn’t deserve that. But I was too old, so Otto and my father got him to enlist. Now he’s in the jungle and my mother has nightmares about Western Union telegrams. If I was the son over there, I think she’d sleep easier.”

I’m glad you’re still here, you think. Instead you say: “Your children need you.”

“No they don’t. Between me and Mimi, they’re better off as orphans. Helaena and Fosco can be their parents. Maybe they’ll have a fighting chance.”

The glass door opens, and a man walks into the Dairy Queen with his two sons scampering behind him, all with sandy flip flops and carrying fishing rods. The dad is at least six feet tall and brawny, and wearing a Wallace For President baseball cap. You and Aegon both notice it, then share an amused, disparaging glance. You mouth: Imbecile bigot. The man continues to the cash register and orders two chocolate shakes and a root beer float. At their own table, Criston is mopping up melted ice cream with napkins and telling Fosco to stop being such a pig.

“Me?!” Fosco says. “You are the pig, that spot there is your ice cream, do not blame your failings on poor Fosco. I have already let you drag me to this terrible state and never once complained about the fried food or the mosquitos. And that thing out there is not a real beach. The water is still and brown, brown!”

“For once in your life, pretend you have a work ethic and help me clean up the table.”

“You are being very anti-immigrant right now, do you know that?”

Aegon begins singing, ostensibly to himself. “Here’s to the state of Mississippi, for underneath her borders, the devil draws no lines.”

“Aegon, no,” you whisper, petrified. You know this song. You know where he’s going.

He’s beaming as he continues: “If you drag her muddy rivers, nameless bodies you will find.”

Now the man in the Wallace hat is looking at Aegon. His sons are happily gulping down their chocolate shakes. Criston and Fosco, still bickering, haven’t noticed yet.

“Oh, the fat trees of the forest have hid a thousand crimes.”

“Aegon, don’t,” you plead quietly. “He’ll murder you.”

“The calendar is lyin’ when it reads the present time.”

“Hey,” calls the man in the Wallace For President hat. “You got a problem, boy?”

Aegon drums his palms on the tabletop as he sings, loudly now: “Oh, here’s to the land you’ve torn out the heart of, Mississippi find yourself another country to be part of!”

In seconds, the man has crossed the room, grabbed Aegon by the collar of his t-shirt, yanked him out of his chair and struck him across the face: closed fist, lethal intent, the sick wet sound of bones on flesh. Aegon’s nose gushes, his lip splits open, but he isn’t flinching away, he isn’t afraid. He’s yowling like a rabid animal and clawing, kicking, swinging at the giant who’s ensnared him. You are screaming as you leap to your feet, your chair falling over and clattering on the floor behind you. The man’s sons are hooting joyously. “Git him, Paw!” one of them shouts.

“Criston?!” you shriek, but he and Fosco are already here, tugging at the man’s massive arms and beating on his back, trying to untangle him from Aegon.

“Stop!” Criston roars. “You don’t want to hurt him! He’s a Targaryen!”

“A Targaryen, huh?” the man says as he steps away, wiping the blood from his knuckles on his tattered white t-shirt, stained with fish guts. “All the better. I wish that bullet they put in Aemond woulda been just another inch to the left. Directly through the aorta.”

Aegon lunges at the man again, hissing, fists swinging. Fosco yanks him back.

“Are you gonna call someone or not?!” Criston snaps at the girl behind the cash register, but she only gives him a steely glare in return. This is Wallace country. There’s a reason why it took four years after the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to finally desegregate the beaches.

“We should go,” you tell Criston softly.

“Yes, we will leave now,” Fosco says, hauling Aegon towards the front door. Then, to the cashier: “Thank you for the ice cream, but it was not very good. If you are ever in Italy, try the gelato. You will learn so much.”

“I can’t wait ‘til November,” the man gloats, ominous, threatening. His sons are standing tall and proud beside him. “When Aemond loses, you can all cart your asses back to Europe. We don’t want you here. America ain’t for people like you.”

“It literally is,” you say, unable to stop yourself. “It’s on the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah, where do you think your ancestors came from?!” Aegon yells at the man. “Are you a Seminole, pal? I didn’t think so—!” Fosco and Criston lug him through the doorway before more punches can be thrown.

Outside—under stars and streetlights and a full moon—Aegon burst out laughing. This is when he feels alive; this is when the blood in his veins turns to wave and riptides. You didn’t think to grab napkins from the table, so you wipe the blood off his face with your bare hand, assessing the damage. He’ll be fine; swollen and sore, but fine.

“You’re insane, you know that?” you say. “You could have been killed.”

Aegon pats your cheek twice and grins, blood on his teeth. “The world would keep spinning, little Io.” Then he starts walking back towards the White House Hotel.

~~~~~~~~~~

When the four of you arrive at your suite, Aemond, Otto, Ludwika, and Alicent are still gathered around the television. The nannies have taken the children to bed. Helaena is reading The Bell Jar in an armchair in the corner of the room. Mimi is passed out on the couch, several empty glasses on the coffee table. ABC is showing a clip they recorded earlier today of Ludwika travelling with Aemond’s retinue after he made an impassioned speech condemning the lack of recognition of the evils of slavery at Beauvoir, the historic home of former Confederate president Jefferson Davis. The reporter is asking Ludwika what she thinks makes Aemond a better presidential candidate than Eugene McCarthy, as McCarthy shares many of the same policy positions and has an additional 15 years of political experience.

“This McCarthy is not a real man,” Ludwika responds, her face stony and mistrustful. “He reminds me of the communists back in my country. Did you know he met with Che Guevara in New York City a few years ago? Why would he do such a thing?”

Now, Otto turns to her in this hotel room. “I love you.”

Ludwika takes a sip of her martini. “I want another Gucci bag.”

“Yes, yes. Tomorrow, my dear.”

“What happened to you?” Aemond asks his brother, half-exasperated and half-concerned. Criston has fetched a washcloth from the bathroom for Aegon to hold against his bleeding lip and nose. Aemond is still wearing his blue suit from a long day of campaigning, but he’s taken out his eye and put on his eyepatch. His gaze flicks from Aegon’s face to the blood still coating your left hand. On the couch, Mimi’s bare foot twitches but she doesn’t wake up.

“There was a Wallace supporter at the Dairy Queen,” you say. “Aegon felt inspired to defending you.”

Aemond chuckles. “Did you win?” he asks Aegon.

“I would have if the guy wasn’t two of me.”

On the television screen, Richard Nixon is accepting his party’s nomination for president at the Republican National Convention in Miami, Florida.

“He’s a buffoon,” Otto sneers. “So awkward and undignified. Look at him sweating! Look at those ridiculous jowls! And he comes from nothing. His family is trash.”

“Americans love a rags to riches story,” you say. And then, somewhat randomly: “He loves his wife. He proposed to Pat on their very first date, and she said no. So he drove her to dates with other men for years until she finally reconsidered. He said it was love at first sight. He’s never had a mistress. And jowls or no jowls, his family adores him.”

Aegon turns to you, still clutching the washcloth against his face. “Really?”

You nod. “That’s the sort of thing the women talk about.”

There’s a knock at the door. You all look at each other, confounded; no one has ordered room service, no one is expecting any visitors, and the nannies have keys in the event of an emergency. Fosco is closest to the door, so he opens it. A man in uniform is standing there with a golden Western Union telegram in his hands. Alicent screams and collapses. Criston bolts to her.

“It’s okay,” you say. “He’s not dead. Whatever happened, Daeron’s not dead.”

Otto crinkles his brow at you. “How do you know?”

“Because if he was killed, there would be a priest here too.” They always send a priest when the boy is dead. Aegon glances at you, eyes wet and fearful.

“Ma’am,” the soldier—a major you see now, spotting the golden oak leaves—says to Alicent as he removes his cap. “I regret to inform you that your son Daeron was missing in action for several weeks, and we’ve just received confirmation that he’s being held as a prisoner of war in Hỏa Lò Prison.”

“He’s in the Hanoi Hilton?!” Otto exclaims. “Oh, fuck those people and their swamp, how did Kennedy ever think we had something to gain from getting tangled up in that mess?”

“But he’s alive?” Aemond says. “He’s unharmed?”

“Yes sir,” the captain replies. “It is our understanding that he is in good condition. The North Vietnamese are aware that he is a very valuable prisoner, like Admiral McCain’s son John. He’ll be used in negotiations. He is of far more use to them alive than dead.”

“So we can get Daeron back,” Aegon says. “I mean, we have to be able to, right? Aemond’s running for president, he’ll probably win in November, we have millions of dollars, we can spring one man out of some third-world jail, right?”

The captain continues: “Tomorrow when your family returns to New Jersey, the Joint Chiefs of Staff will be there to discuss next steps with you. I’m afraid I’m only authorized to give you the news as it was relayed to me.” He entrusts the telegram to Otto, who rapidly opens it and stares down at the mechanical typewriter words.

“I have to pray,” Alicent says suddenly. “Helaena, will you pray with me? There’s a Greek church down the road. Holy Trinity, I think it’s called.”

Obediently, Helaena joins her mother and follows her to the doorway. Criston leaves with them. Otto gives his new wife a harsh, meaningful stare. Ludwika, an ardent yet covert atheist, sighs irritably. “Wait. I want to pray too,” she says, and vanishes with them into the hall.

As the captain departs, Mimi sits up on the couch, blinking, groggy. “What? What happened?”

“Go with Alicent,” Otto tells her. “She’s headed downstairs.”

“What? Why…?”

“Just go!” he barks.

Mimi staggers to her feet and hobbles out of the hotel room, her sundress—patterned with forget-me-nots—billowing around her. The only people left are Otto, Aemond, Fosco, Aegon, and you. The fact that you are the sole woman permitted to remain here feels intentional.

After a moment, Otto speaks. “You know, John McCain has famously refused to be released from the Hanoi Hilton until all the men imprisoned before him have been freed. He doesn’t want special treatment. And that’s a very noble thing to do, don’t you think? It has endeared him and the McCains to the public.”

Aemond and Otto are looking at each other, communicating in a silent language not of letters or accents but colors: red ambition, green hunger, grey impassionate morality. Fosco is observing them uneasily. Aemond says at last: “Daeron wants to help this family.”

“You’re not going to try to get him out.” Aegon realizes.

Aemond turns to him, businesslike, vague distant sympathy. “It’s only until November.”

“No, you know people!” Aegon explodes. “You pick up the phone, you call in every favor, you get him out of there now! You have no idea if he has another three months, you don’t know what kind of shape he’s in! They could be dislocating his arms or chopping off his fingers right now, they could be starving him, they could be beating him, you can’t just leave him there!”

“It’s not your decision. It could have been, had you accepted your role as the eldest son. But you didn’t. So it’s my job to handle these things. You don’t get to hate me for making choices you were too cowardly too take responsibility for.”

“But Daeron could die,” Aegon says, his voice going brittle.

“Any of us could die. We’re in a very dangerous line of work. Greatness killed Lincoln, Garfield, McKinley, Huey Long, Medgar Evers, John F. Kennedy, Malcolm X, Vernon Dahmer, Martin Luther King Jr., does that mean we should all give up the fight? Of course not. The work isn’t finished. We have to keep going.”

“Will you stop pretending this is about America?! This is about you wanting to be president, and everything you’ve ever done has been in pursuit of that trophy, and you keep shoving new people into the line of fire and it’s not right!”

“Aegon,” Otto says calmly. “It’s unlikely we’d be able to get him out before the election anyway. Negotiations take time. But if Aemond wins in November, he’ll be in a very advantageous position. The North Vietnamese aren’t stupid. They wouldn’t kill the brother of a U.S. president. They don’t want their vile little corner of the world flattened by nukes.”

“Still, it feels so wrong to leave a brother in peril,” Fosco says. “It is unnatural. Of course Aegon will be upset. We could at least see what a deal to get Daeron released would entail, maybe his arrival home would be a good headline—”

“And who the fuck asked you?” Otto demands, and Fosco goes quiet.

“Okay, then tell Mom,” Aegon says to Aemond. “Tell her you’re going to pretend Daeron made some self-sacrificial vow not to come home until all the other POWs can too. Tell her you’re going to let him get tortured for a few months before you take this seriously.”

Aemond replies cooly: “Why would you want to upset her? She can’t change it. You’ll only make her suffering worse.”

“What do you think?” Otto asks you, and you know that he isn’t seeking counsel. He’s summoning you like a dog to perform a trick, like an actor to recite a line. He’s waiting for you to say that it’s a smart strategy, because it is. He’s waiting for you to bend to Aemond’s will as your station requires you to, as moons are bound to their planets.

“I think it’s wrong,” you murmur; and Aemond is thunderstruck by your treason.

Without another word, you walk into the bathroom, turn on the sink, and gaze down at Aegon’s blood on your palm. For some reason, it’s very difficult to bring yourself to wash it away.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s mid-August now, the world painted in goldenrod yellow and sky blue. The Democratic National Convention is in two weeks. You and Aemond are posing on the beach at Asteria, surrounded by an adoring gaggle of journalists who are snapping photographs and jotting down quotes on their notepads. You’re sitting demurely on a sand dune, you’re building sandcastles with the children you borrowed from Aegon and Helaena, you’re flying kites, you’re gazing confidently into the sunlit horizon where a glorious new age is surely dawning.

“Mr. Targaryen, what is it that makes your partnership so successful?” a journalist asks as flashbulbs pulse like lightning. “What do you think is the most crucial characteristic to have in a wife?”

Aemond doesn’t need to consider this before he answers. He always has his compliment picked out. “Loyalty,” your husband says. “Not just to me or to the Targaryen family, but to our shared cause. This year has been indescribably difficult for me and my wife. I announced my candidacy, we embarked on a strenuous national campaign that we’re currently only halfway through, I barely survived a brutal assassination attempt in May, in July we lost our first child to hyaline membrane disease after he was born six weeks prematurely, and at the beginning of this month we learned that my youngest brother Daeron was taken by the North Vietnamese as a prisoner of war. To find the strength not just to get out of bed in the morning, not just to be there for me and this family in our personal lives, but to tirelessly traverse the country with me inspiring Americans to believe in a better future…it’s absolutely remarkable. I’m in awe of her. And when she is the first lady of the United States, she will continue to amaze us all with her unwavering faith and dedication.”

There are whistles and cheers and strobing flashbulbs. You smile—elegant, soft, practiced—as Aemond rests a hand firmly on your waist. You lean into him, feeling out-of-place, bewildered that you’ve ever slept with him, full of dull panic that soon you’ll have to again.

“How about you, Mrs. Targaryen?” another reporter asks. “Same question, essentially. What is the trait that you most admire in your husband?”

And in the cascading clicks of photographs being captured, your mind goes entirely blank. You can think of so many other people—Aegon, Ari, Alicent, Daeron, Fosco, Cosmo—but not Aemond. It’s like you’ve blocked him out somehow, like he’s a sketch you erased. But you can’t hesitate. You can’t let the uncertainty read on your face. You begin speaking without knowing where you’re going, something that is rare for you. “Aemond is the most tenacious person I’ve ever met. When he has a goal in mind, nothing can stop him.” You pause, and there are a few awkward chuckles from the journalists. You swiftly recover. “He never stops learning. He always knows the right thing to do or say. And what he wants more than anything is to serve the American people. Aemond won’t disappoint you. He’s not capable of it. He will do whatever it takes to make this country more prosperous, more peaceful, and more free.”

There are applause and gracious thank yous, but Aemond gives you a look—just for a second, just long enough that you can catch it—that warns you to get it together. Fifteen minutes later, he and the flock of reporters are headed to one of the guest houses to conduct a long-form interview. This will be the bulk of the article; you will appear in one or two photos, you will supply a few quotes. The rest of the story is Aemond. You are an accessory, like a belt or a bracelet. He’s the person who picks you out of a drawer each morning and wears you until you go out of fashion.

Released from your obligations, you return to the main house and disappear into your upstairs bathroom. You are there for fifteen minutes and emerge rattled, routed. You pace aimlessly around your bedroom for a while, then try again; still no luck. You go back outside and stare blankly at the ocean, wondering what you’re going to do. Down on the beach, Fosco is teaching the kids how to yo-yo. Ludwika is sunbathing in a bikini.

“What’s wrong with you?”

You whirl to see Aegon, popping a Valium into his mouth and washing it down with a splash of straight rum from a coffee mug. “Huh? Nothing. I’m great.”

“No, something’s wrong. You look lost. You look like me.”

You gaze out over the ocean again, chewing your lower lip.

Aegon snickers, fascinated, sensing a scandal. “What did you do?”

Your eyes drift to him. “You can’t make fun of me.”

“Okay. I won’t.”

There is a long, heavy lull before you answer. When you speak, it’s all in a rush, like you can’t unburden yourself of the words fast enough. “I put a tampon in and I can’t get it out.”

Aegon immediately breaks his promise and cackles. “You did what?!” Then he tries to be serious. “Wait. Sorry. Uh, really?”

You’re on the verge of tears. “I’ve been bleeding since I had the baby, and I hate using tampons, I almost never do, but Aemond wanted me to wear this dress for the photoshoot and it’s super gauzy and from certain angles I felt like I could see the pad bulge when I checked in the mirror, so I put a tampon in for the first time in probably a year. I’m not even supposed to be using them for another few weeks because my uterus isn’t healed all the way or whatever. And now I can’t get it out and it’s been in there for like six hours and I’m scared I’m going to get an infection and die in the most pointless, humiliating way imaginable.”

“Okay, calm down, calm down,” Aegon says. “There’s no string?”

“No, I’ve checked multiple times. It must be a defective one and they forgot to put a string in it at the factory and I didn’t notice, or the string somehow got tucked under it, I don’t know, but I can’t get it out, it’s like…the angle isn’t right. I can just barely feel it with my fingertips, but I can’t grab it. I’m going to have to go to the hospital to get it taken out, but I’m scared word will spread and journalists will show up to get photos when I leave and then everyone will be asking me why I was at the emergency room to begin with and I’m going to have to make up something and…and…” You can’t talk anymore. There are other reasons why you don’t want to go to the hospital. You haven’t stepped foot in one since Ari died; the thought makes you feel like you are looking down to see blood on your thighs all over again, like you’ll never have enough air in your lungs.

“Did you bleed through it? Because that should help it slide out easier.”

“I don’t know,” you moan miserably. “I mean, I guess I did, because there was blood when I checked a few minutes ago. I had to stuff my underwear with toilet paper.”

“Why didn’t you just tell Aemond you couldn’t wear this dress?”

You give him an impatient glance. “I’m tired of having the same conversation.” When do you think you’ll be done bleeding? When do you think it’ll be time to start trying again?

Aegon sighs. “Do you want me to get it out for you?”

“Please stop. I’m really panicking here.”

“I’m not joking.”

You stare at him. “You can’t be serious.”

“I have fished many objects out of many orifices, you cannot shock me. I am unshockable.”

“I’d rather walk down to the sand right now and strangle myself with Fosco’s yo-yo.”

“Okay. So who are you gonna ask to drive you to the hospital?”

You hesitate.

“I’d offer to do it,” Aegon says, grinning, holding up his mug. “But I’m in no condition to drive.”

“But you are in the proper condition to extract a rogue tampon, huh?”

“Two minutes tops. That’s a guarantee. My personal best is fifteen seconds. And that was for a lost condom, much trickier to locate than a tampon.”

Perhaps paradoxically, the more you consider his offer, the more tempting it seems. No complicated trip and cover story? Over in just a few minutes? “If you ever tell anyone about this, I will never forgive you. I will hate you forever.”

Aegon taunts: “I thought you already hated me.”

You aren’t sure what you feel for him, but it’s certainly not hate. Not anymore. “Where would we do it?”

“In my office. And by that I mean my basement.”

“Your filthy, disease-ridden basement? On your shag carpet full of crabs?”

“You’re in luck,” he jokes. “My crab exterminator service just came by yesterday.”

You exhale in a low, despairing groan.

“Hey, would you rather do it on the dining room table? I’m game. Your choice.”

You watch the seagulls swooping in the afternoon air, the banners of sailboats on the glittering water. “Okay. The basement.”

You walk with Aegon to the house and—after ensuring that no one is around to notice—sneak with him down the creaking basement steps, the door locked behind you. Aegon is darting around; he sets a small trashcan by the carpet and tosses you two towels, then goes to wash his hands in his tiny bathroom, not nearly enough room for someone to stretch out across the linoleum floor.

You’re surveying the scene nervously. “I don’t want to get blood all over your stuff.”

“You’re the cleanest thing that’s ever been on that carpet. Lie down.”

You place one towel on the green shag carpet, then whisk off your panties, discard the bloody knot of toilet paper in the trashcan, and pull the skirt of your dress up around your waist so it’s out of the way. Then you sit down and drape the second towel over your thighs so you’re hidden from him, like you’re about to be examined by a doctor. Your heart is thumping, but you don’t exactly feel like you want to stop. It’s more exhilarating than fear, you think; it is forbidden, it is shameful, it is a microscopic betrayal of Aemond that he’ll never know about.

Aegon moseys out of the bathroom, flicking drops of water from his hands. He wears one of his usual counterculture uniforms: a frayed green army jacket with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, khaki shorts, tan moccasins. He kicks them off before he kneels on the shag carpet. He checks the clock on the wall. “2:07. I promised two minutes max. Let’s see how I do. Ready?”

You rest the back of your head on your linked hands, raise your knees, take a deep and unsteady breath. “Ready.”

But he can see that you’re shaking. “Hey,” Aegon says kindly, pressing his hand down on the towel so you’re covered. “Do you want me to go to the hospital with you? I’ll try to distract people. I’ll pretend I’m having a seizure or something.”

“No, I’m okay,” you insist. “I just want it out. I want this over with.”

“Got it.” And then he begins. He stares at the wall to his left, not looking at you, navigating by feel. You feel the pressure of two fingers, a stretching that is not entirely unpleasant. He’s warm and careful, strangely unobtrusive. Still, you suck in a breath and shift on the carpet. “Shh, shh, shh,” Aegon whispers, skimming his other hand up and down the inside of your thigh, and shiver like you’ve never felt before rolls backwards up the length of your spine. “Relax. You alright?”

“Fine. Totally fine.”

“Oh yeah, it’s definitely in there,” Aegon says. His brow is creased with comprehension. “No string…you’re right, it must either be tangled up somehow or it never had one to begin with. Maybe you accidentally inserted it upside down.”

“Now you insult my intelligence. As if I’m not embarrassed enough.”

“I should have put on a record to set the mood. What gets you going, Marvin Gaye? Elvis?”

“The seductive voice of Richard Milhous Nixon. Maybe you can get him on the phone.”

Aegon laughs hysterically. His fingertips push the tampon against your cervix and you yelp. “Sorry, sorry, my mistake,” Aegon says. There are beads of sweat on his forehead, on his temples; now his eyes are squeezed shut. “I’m gonna try to wiggle it out…”

As he works, there are sensations you can’t quite explain: a very slow-building indistinct desire, a loosening, a readying, a drop in your belly when you think about the fact that he’s the one touching you. Then he happens to press in just the right spot and there is a sudden pang of real pleasure—craving, aching, a deep red flare of previously unfathomable temptation—and you instinctively reach for him. You hand meets his forearm, and for the first time since he started Aegon looks at your face, alarmed, afraid that he’s hurt you again. But once your eyes meet you’re both trapped there, and you can’t pretend you’re not, his fingers still inside you, his pulse racing, a rivulet of sweat snaking down the side of his face, his eyes an opaque murky blue like water you’re desperate to claw your way into. You know what you want to tell him, but the words are impossible. Don’t stop. Come closer.

Aegon clears his throat, forces himself to look away, and at last dislodges the tampon. It appears dark and bloody in his grasp. “No string,” he confirms, holding it up and turning it so you can see. “Factory reject.”

“Just like you.”

He glances at the clock. “2:09. I delivered precisely what was promised.” He chucks the tampon into the trashcan and then grins as he helps pull you upright with his clean hand. “So do you like to cuddle afterwards, or…?”

You’re giggling, covering your flushed face. “Shut up.”

“Personally, I enjoy being ridden into the ground and then called a good boy.”

“Go away.” You nod to where he disposed of the tampon and say before stopping to think: “You’re not going to keep that under your ashtray too?”

Aegon freezes and blinks at you. He smiles slowly, cautiously. “No, I think that would be a little unorthodox, even for me.” He pitches you a clean washcloth from the bathroom closet. “That should get you upstairs.”

“Thanks.” You shove it between your legs and rise to your feet, smoothing the skirt of your dress. “I owe you something. I���m not sure what, but I’ll figure it out.”

“Hey,” Aegon says, and waits for you to turn to him. “Maybe I’m not that bad.”

“Maybe,” you agree thoughtfully.

Just before you hurry upstairs, you steal a glimpse of Aegon in the bathroom, the door kicked only half-closed. He has turned on the water, but he’s not using it yet. Aegon is staring down at the blood on his hand, half-dried scarlet impermanent ink.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hi, it’s me again. I’m in solitary confinement. There’s a guy in the cell next to mine; we talk to each other with a modified version of Morse code. Tap tap tap on the wall, he taps back, etcetera etcetera, you get the idea. You’re not going to believe this, but he says his name is John McCain. Well, actually, he told me his name is Jobm McCbin, but I think that’s because I translated the taps wrong. I might be in the Hanoi Hilton, but at least they have me in the VIP section! Hahaha.

Every few hours the guards show up to do a very impressive magic trick: they wave their batons like wands, I turn black and blue. Sometimes one of my teeth even disappears. Isn’t that something? Houdini would love it. There’s a rat that I’m making friends with. I give her nibbles of my stale bread, she gives me someone to talk to. She’s good company. I’ve named her Tessarion.

Allow me to make something absolutely fucking clear.

I would very much like to be rescued.

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon x y/n #aegon x you #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x reader #aegon ii x you #aegon targaryen x you

[rederiswrites]

You can train your tastes. You can choose what you see beauty in.

Lemme go further, actually. You are constantly doing so--or letting others do it for you.

Nearly two decades ago, when we were planning our wedding, I made a very firm decision not to look at any wedding planning magazines or anything with marketing material for wedding products. I wanted our wedding to be uniquely us, and I also wanted not to be bombarded by product advertisement and beautiful photo shoots of very expensive weddings. Consequently, maybe we wasted a little bit of time reinventing the wheel, but we had a wedding we were very happy with that only cost perhaps four thousand dollars at most, probably not that much, spread out over our finances and those of both our families. Our guests went home with live potted plants that we'd paid pennies for at end of season, our florist had a great time getting to design a bouquet that tested her skills because I didn't have any preconceived ideas, my dress was utterly unique--and I really do feel that those magazines would have had a corrosive effect on all that.

When we moved to this property three years ago, I spent a LOT of time looking at images online, trying to form a coherent vision for a property that was at the time a fairly blank slate. I found myself scrolling through a lot of Russian dacha Instagrams, of all things, and they unlocked something for me. Seeing the same homey make-do decorations and techniques I grew up around a continent away, the same plywood cutout old ladies and tractor tire flower planters, somehow chewed through that last binding cord of classism, and suddenly I saw the art in it. The expression of a desire to embellish and beautify, even when you have very little, even when all you can afford is things the more well-to-do consider trash. I saw the exuberance of human love for beauty in a brilliant flower bed planted next to a collapsing shed--it didn't need to be perfect to be worthwhile. They didn't wait til everything was pristine to start enjoying things. And now I earnestly and unironically covet my own version of the tractor-tire Christmas tree at the farm down the road.

We've spent centuries now idolizing the manicured estates and quaint country retreats of the European wealthy elites. We've turned thousands of miles of living ecosystem into grass deserts in service of this vision. We need to start deliberately retraining our tastes. Seek out images of a different idea of beauty and peace. I'm not telling you what it'll be. I'm telling you this is not involuntary. You can participate. You can look at the many beautiful examples of native xeriscaping for arid climates, or photos of chaotic tangles of wildflowers, tamed by narrow paths, a bench under an arbor overwhelmed with wisteria. Maybe instead of trying to get lawn to grown under your mature trees, you'd actually get far more joy out of a patch of dirt. A hammock. A firepit ringed with log sections for seats.

You can free yourself from harmful conventions of taste and beauty, and you do it through imagining something better.

[borderlinebelle]

🪄🧠

a brain busted lunacy letter to:

YOU AND UR VERY OWN HUMAN EYES- READING THIS RIGHT NOW

+ tumblr,

I need each and every one of you to pls hear me out: i want you to feel it too. Remember long form content? Alright, gather your tits. Let’s get into it. 😈 if you remember how to read … come down there and see it for yourself.

hey you little bag of flesh meat, cartridge, water and electricity… come closer i said… 🙂

I deeply find the tumblr space, as a whole, so vitally valuable to our current society. I, like all of you, have painstakingly enjoyed sifting, repurposing, creating, and displaying a woven unique tapestry… mine is currently over 10 years long. A historical virtual “scroll” 📜… Manila ironic in the worst way: the scroll 🤳🏾 that consumes us.

This isn’t MINDLESSLY scrolling… it feels like… peaking penetratingly into the minds of human beings through their own perceptions.

Every fucking photo, gif, text post, meme, story, song, collage, any and all of it … was put there purposely. Everything … means something to someone here. That’s … fucking incredible.

That’s … fucking human magic. 🪄 something no other social media platform can recreate in the world of TikTok’s, we remained tumblr.

Every single mf time I find a new blog or revisit a mutual’s blog… and I just burst with color and vibrance and wild wickedness and I … drift… loosing myself in the back of your brains, I’m saved.

I’m saved from my own brain, trauma, habits, hangups, mental health… I’m just safe.. tucked behind YOUR brain… and they always fucking feel JUST like mine… so thank you.

I love human beings so much and this is my MOST favorite way to experience them. I’m so fucking happy I haven’t been able to log back into my TIKTOK for months. This is the only place I want to be when I’m online.

The tumblr scroll is so much more healthy: i see these feeds as very distinct and endlessly versatile flip book of human ingenuity and stupidity and comradery and community stitched together to make a pattern that mirrors a portion of a person… can you imagine? IT’S FASCINATING! I mean I know It’s equally ugly here and often… yet outstandingly but overwhelmingly … this is a safe space for creators and the many fandoms we express and decompress with.

i remain almost speechless,on the brink of pure pleasure… on how absolutely embedded i am into all of your collective energy on this stupid little imperfectly perfect fucked up little platform.

Look at April Fool’s Day: Tumblr reminded us all.. to just exhale and have fun TOGETHER. Ugh. gut me gently with the sheer scale of talent and genius and curiosity and kindness and skill and silly and authentic and absurd and individual yet succinct creation of … art. Of feed art. 🖼️ the scale and silly of the creativity around that now HOLIDAY, was tremendous and stupid and clever and community and inclusive.

i hope to one day gain support in organizing and leading a team of experts to create a true con for us. i have experience in events and .. I care. 🧠🪄

tumblr… this … is one of my longest lasting relationships, and i cherish the time so very dearly. From screaming at porn bots to whispering to mutuals… I’m so grateful for all of it.

#tumblr community #i love tumblr #tumblr drama #tumblr meta #tumblr theme #tumblr update #writers on tumblr #tumblr girls #black tumblr #tumblr #tumblr staff #staff picks #staff #personal #borderline Belle #mental health #mentally exhausted #healing #mental health matters #girlblogging #recovery #release #tumblr is my diary #tumblr lore #dashcon

[avonne-writes]

Hey! I've been loving all of your MOTA posts lately, especially your insights into Gale and his unhappy childhood. Do you think there are any specific ways that the trauma from that bleeds into his domestic life with Bucky? Any nerves that sometimes get struck on without Bucky realising that's what they are?

Thank you so much! Yes, my headcanon is that this happens sometimes. I came up with a few examples, but there could be more.

In a post-war canon AU:

Gale is shit at expressing his emotions because he learned to suppress them. Post-war, this causes a lot of problems. The silent treatment is not a constructive way of solving disagreements.

If he wants to talk to Bucky / it's dinner time or similar situation and Bucky doesn’t pay attention to him because there's a sports event on the radio, Gale flips out. Unreasonably so.

Interestingly, he doesn’t have a problem with drunk Bucky initiating sex with him but only if he does it in the bedroom or bathroom. Drunken advances in the kitchen, the hall or the living room make his stomach roil. It’s very specific, and given Gale’s communication issues, Bucky is thoroughly confused why he’s so roughly turned down sometimes while Gale is on board on other nights.

This isn’t a negative thing, but Gale is obsessed with soft beds and blankets. He isn’t very picky about furnishing their place but the bed has to be perfect. After so many nights spent on hard surfaces both as a child and as an adult, he craves this comfort. He’s all smiley and cuddly when he’s in that bed.

In my HS AU, when they move in together during college:

Gale jumps at every loud crashing sound, especially glass shattering. He’s withdrawn for hours if someone accidentally breaks a glass or a plate.

Once, Bucky comes home drunk from a party in the middle of the night, and it scares him. He’s instantly on high alert and won't sleep much after. Actually, he moves to the couch that night. When Bucky realizes what happened, he’s very apologetic, but it's not the last time he goes to a party without Gale. But from then on, he stays out all night, sleeping at friends' places. It really upsets Gale but he only tells Bucky this months later, when everything comes to a head. After that, Bucky doesn’t do this anymore.

Gale is triggered by the sight of empty booze bottles. Full ones he doesn’t mind, but empty ones make him anxious.

Gale doesn’t know how to decorate and make a space welcoming so he doesn’t understand why Bucky grouches about their apartment being too sparsely decorated in the first few months. Then, when he finally starts to get more into homemaking, he’s nervous to share any ideas, even small ones - e.g. he spends long minutes staring at souvenir magnets because he doesn’t know which one works best or he agonizes over choosing a frame for a photo.

#mota #buck x bucky #clegan #gale cleven #john egan #hs au #anon #gale's childhood

[kykyonthemoon]

hi, kỳ kỳ!! i hope you're doing well 🤲❤

i just wanted to ask about how rafayel would react and comfort reader who is very insecure about their eyes because it's obviously asymmetrical and can be seen clearly in pictures? thank you so much in advance!!

also, you have a very pretty name 🤲❤

Dear Anon-san,

Thank you so much for the request, and your compliments <3 As a person who isn't so confident with my look, I do feel related so much to the reader/MC here in this fic.

I hope you like this piece too, and sorry it took a while to be published ^^

To anyone who are reading this, remember that you are always beautiful <3

In His Eyes — In his eyes, you are the most flawless creature.

ಇ. Rafayel x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags: soft fluff, no established relationship yet, comfort, self-esteem issues

ಇ. Word count: 1k1

ಇ. Masterlist

ಇ. A big thanks to Tram Hoang for the cute Rafayel pic. Other pics are from X

You had never felt beautiful.

You had never looked in the mirror for more than three minutes.

You had never kept photos of yourself on the phone.

Since you were never confident with your appearance.

Everything about you was ordinary; which meant, you were not as hideous as a monster, yet not deemed lovely. The most dreadful thing on your body was, tragically, the most visible: your eyes.

They were asymmetrical. One of your eyes was smaller than the other, and it seemed as if the eyelid was dropping. Looking from the side, perhaps no one would notice it, but when facing you directly, they surely could not overlook your unequal eyes. That was also the reason you never dared to look anyone right in the eye.

For they would see how ugly you were.

You also avoided taking photos as much as possible. Looking at other people preserving their bright and happy moments, you only felt sorry for yourself. If only you could be a little more confident, enough to see yourself as beautiful.

That happened before you met him. Rafayel was the most flawless person you'd ever known. Everything about him seemed ethereal and exquisite. His hair, his face, his physique. His eyes. It's almost as if he strolled right out of a painting. And you could spend hours lost in those eyes, when he was not paying attention to you.

That day, as Rafayel and you were in his studio, you noticed a little clicking sound. Rafayel stood in a corner of the room, camera in hand.

“What are you doing?” You asked.

"I am taking a photograph of you. May I?" Rafayel tilted his head behind the lens and smiled pleasantly at you.

Your heart dropped a beat. You felt both nervous and scared.

“Why do you want to take a photo of me?”

“Because you are very beautiful.”

You never believed what he had just said.

"You're just saying that out of politeness." You shook your head, attempting to dispel any notion that someone as perfect as him would find you charming.

“If it was just out of politeness, I would compliment you by saying, “This shirt really suits you,” or “You look cute with that hairstyle.” When I declare that someone is beautiful, I truly mean it. Just the person, not anything else.”

Your cheeks heated up, contending for the color red with the bouquet of roses in your hands. You acted awkwardly as you placed them on the table. Rafayel had requested you to get some flowers for his new project. You unexpectedly became his reluctant model.

“So? May I take photos of you?”

Rafayel asked sincerely. After a moment of awkwardness, you nodded in agreement. He asked you to hold the bouquet and pose around the studio for him. But, out of habit, you did not dare to stare directly at him.

“Don't constantly turn your head to one side like that. I'm right here.” Rafayel approached as you sat in the chair. His hand raised your chin, forcing you to gaze directly into his eyes. But you lowered your eyes again.

“Um… I don't really like taking pictures…”

“Wait until you see the pictures I took of you. You will definitely think differently.”

You doubted that, but still agreed to let Rafayel take a few more shots of you in front.

Since then, it appeared that he enjoyed photographing you at any time and anywhere. Rafayel consistently stated you were lovely. You merely smiled out of politeness in response. You still lacked the courage to look at the photographs he shot. Every time you were around him, you felt pity within. He was perfect, and you were everything not.

You were hideous. You had low self-esteem. You did not dare to look at him in the way he anticipated. But, like a withered flower suddenly nurtured with sweet words of encouragement every day, you began to think that he saw something blooming in you, and it was beautiful.

"You don't have to lower your head every time you go out with me."

"Hey, you don't need to stand so far away from me. Otherwise, how will you protect me?"

"Look at me. I'm trying to capture your beauty through the lens.”

Day by day, he made you feel like you were the most beautiful creature in his eyes.

He hung all the photos he had taken of you on the corner of the wall in his studio. The photographs were also organized based on the shape of your portrait. You almost fainted with amazement. No one had ever done anything like that for you. No one had ever made you look at your own photos and realize, I'm so pretty!

“I know you don't like your eyes.” Rafayel's voice burst out immediately behind you as he approached. "But I really do."

"Why?…" You spoke as if choking up. You couldn't breathe after what Rafayel had done for you. “They are asymmetrical… They're ugly… My eyes are not perfect…”

Rafayel placed a palm on his chin, seeming puzzled. He looked to the photographs and said:

“What do you see when you look at these? For me, I don't see anything imperfect. I just see a very beautiful girl whose eyes always light up when she's close to me. Here…” His fingers ran over each frame. “This moment was when she arranged flowers for me while singing to herself. This was when she was so focused on her work that she didn't notice that I covertly took a snapshot. And this was taken when she laughed so hard because of the joke I told... I adore staring into her eyes, because I find my reflection in them. Her eyes always reveal her true feelings to me. I wish she would look at me a little longer.”

Rafayel halted. You had tears in the corners of your eyes. You felt you whole body shaking while attempting to suppress your feelings.

“I wish I could show her how amazing she is through my eyes.”

Rafayel's fingertips left the photographs, then delicately stroked your cheek. He drew a soft line below the eye, which you always thought was unattractive. You were about to burst into tears, but still did your best to convey these sincere words:

“Thank you… Thank you so much, Rafayel…”

He pulled you into his arms as your tears began to fall. Tears of happiness. He had helped you find your beauty, helped you love yourself more. Maybe the self-depreciation would not go away right away, but you resolved that from this point on, anytime you felt like resenting something about your body, you would remember every warm word he had for you.

#heart hunters series #moments with rafayel #fanfic #fanfiction #love and deepspace #love and deepspace fanfic #lads fanfic #lnds fanfic #rafayel #qi yu #homura #rafayel x you #rafayel x reader #rafayel x mc #lads x you #lads x reader #lnds x reader #lnds rafayel #lads rafayel #l&ds rafayel #l&ds x reader #l&ds #lads fluff #rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel l&ds #qi yu x reader #qi yu love and deepspace #qi yu x mc #homura x reader #banners and dividers by me

[rojacatmisa]

Starting over in Madrid

Chapter 1 Chapter 2

Holà, this is chapter 3. Not sure about the trigger warnings but I don't think it needs one. I think the way I want to tell my story works better by leaving some suspense. Let's say it's a slow burn and obviously and they will make out one day, so at a time there will be some explicit but not crude scenes.

Reminder : I'm french. Don't hesitate to tell me if there there's very strange sentences or things you don't get. Sorry I hope to get better by keeping writing.

Chapter 3 : Calmly panicking 

"That one’s actually very good, Hayley !" The camera screen displayed the goalkeeper in the air, her jumping body suspended as she grabbed the ball in her gloves. Droplets of sweat nimbed her forehead and spred all around her. Her thick brows were frowned in the effort. In addition to her beauty, what made the photo stood out was the technically tricky to capture action of Misa s’moving body. 

Things were surprisingly going well at the Ciudad. Nothing had changed between Misa and I and as I was getting very fond of my job, I had commited for it to stay that way. We were having photo lessons almost every day after training sessions. We were occasionally joined by the northern girls Sofie, Freja and Caroline. But most of the time, it was the three of us that sat in a pitch corner, talking for hours until the staff would finally kicked us out of the stadium. 

"Thanks Nicky! I’m thinking about buying a camera, I love photography for real!." Boasted Hayley. 

"You should, teacher says you’re ready". Hayley has indeed proven herself an implicated student. She had applied my technical advices but she had also been willing to experiment on her own. As a result, she was showing she had a taste for moving models and lights effects. Sometimes she would take neat actions with sharp details, sometime she’d rather set the presets to create blurry scenes where the bodies outlines melted in the background. 

As to Misa… well Misa’s photos were Misa’s. She was having a hard time to concentrate and her taste level was really questionnable. She would put too much grain or contrast. Every shots were oddly framed. When I tried to guide her toward subtler artistic choices, she would say "Pero me gusta el efecto !" or "Vale Nicky, but I am the artist" with her now well known over the top manners. Misa was much: pretty, athletic, funny, goofy… and stubborn. She was doing everything at a hundred per cent, perhaps except listening.

So, I have been rather irritated when she sat on the grass, ostentatiously sulking because I had not compliment her own work. Hayley, of course, wasn’t helping. "Maria Isabel hasn’t done her homework but wants to be praised!". 

"I did but teacher doesn’t like me !" She moaned. 

"Maria Isabel should be in detention." I said calmly. 

"Por qué !? No !" She shot me an offended look and grumpily crossed her arms on her chest. 

"Porque no escuchas nada and teacher is fed up." I was clearly enjoying myself at teasing Misa with the most calm. 

"You don’t like my style, that’s all." She laid on her back, arms still crossed. Hayley walked over her, bent and angled the camera into her face and started taking pictures of the moody girl. "It’s because you don’t have one sweetie" She said. Misa opened her mouth wide, outraged. She rolled over on her belly, hiding her face from Hayley unceasing photoshoot. "Come on Misa! I’m sure you can do better, you’re not even trying!" 

"I may have one last idea to help Misa get it…"Both head turned to me." There is a photo exhibit at Matadero Art Center just now. Maybe we should give it a try. And Misa will find what she likes." 

"That would be great !" Said Hayley. She had stopped taking pictures and was now sat besides the goalkeeper. Misa moved to the side. "I already know what I like" she said frowning. We stared at her, eyebrows raised. "All right, we’ll go to your museo…". She sat up still pouting. "But before…" She stood up and reached out to me with an incredible speed. She easily heaved me in her arms and had me laying on my back before I got to know what was happening. "Misaaaa what the fuck ?!"

Misa, on all four over me, smirked and pined me to the ground with her strong hands. "Let’s switch roles ! Hayley come over and take some silly photos of Nicky for a change !" I was laughing hard and… getting aroused by Misa topping me. Her firms grasp and her weight were burying my hands into the grass. A naughty smile appeared on her beautiful face. "Let me go !" I shouted. I was breathing hard from struggle against her and from growing frankly excited. Hayley clicked madly on the camera trigger. She couldn’t see Misa’s penetrating gaze. Was it me or was she breathing harder too while keeping me lying down didn’t seem to cost her in the slightest? I closed my eyelid, too aware of the lens focused on me to look Misa in the eyes. Too turned on by everything that was going on… appart from the oppressing clicking noise and Hayley’s presence. 

"I think we’re good and that it will be ugly, I promise" I heard Hayley. I felt the pression of Misa’s hands disappeared. I opened my eyes to find Misa had straighten up. Her legs on each side of my waist, she was peering down at me intensely. "I think you deserved that" she said, satisfied. 

"I don’t think I deserved that much" I responded, catching my breath. 

"You two, go get a room it’s becoming embarrassing ! Cuidad is closing, we have to leave". I had almost forgotten Hayley. Her voice was taking me back to reality. We both smiled nervously. 

Misa got up, held out her hands to help me standing. As I took them she pulled me a bit too strongly, I lost balance and landed against her. My mouth touched the base of her neck only a second. She smelled a mix of sweat and perfume. She steadied me in her arms an instant. "I just saved the teacher, does it mean I’m no longer in detention ?" She released me. She hadn’t lost her smirk. 

I composed myself again and took my authoritarian tone at once. "You are grounded for a month, both of you ! And in detention at the museum without question!"  

***

I have called Angela on the evening. I have felt the urged to talk. Not especially about me. I just wanted to feel the connection with my best mate again but surely the conversation topic went on my new footballer friends. 

"… and you’ve given them photo lessons almost every day ? Wow, Nicky I didn’t know you had that kind of patience !" 

"How you would you know Angela, Madrid is changing me. I am a much more sensible and patiente personne." 

"Still hard to believe… Anyway, I’m glad you hang with them. I like this Hayley, fuck the clause I would have seen you getting together. She has a sensitive fiber like you and seems fun !"

"humm, no Hayley’s a friend." I was laying down in my bed, calling Angela for at least an hour and a half now. I pictured Hayley in my mind. In derry, she was the total package and the two of us were really getting along well. But as pretty as she was, I wasn’t attracted by her. I was, despite all my efforts, always caught up with my attraction to Misa. Her poor photographer skills and moody behavior were so endearing to me and I felt more and more charmed by the goalkeeper’s whole personality. 

"Nicky are you there ?" I didn’t realized I had stopped listening. 

"Sorry ? What ?" 

"I was saying I admire you, just being friend with such hotties ! I couldn’t !

"Yeah, incredible right ?! I closed my eyes, I was sure Angela had heard the nervousness of my tone.  

"Oh no Nicky !? Which one ?!" I was smiling. It felt good she knew me so well.

"You won’t believe me…" 

"Spit it out !"

"It’s Misa…" I was gazing at the celling, my absent smile widened as I spoke her name. 

"Misa?? But she seems… I mean you don’t seem to have a lot in common."

"I know, anyway I shouldn’t even think about it…"

"But you do… ?" 

I heavily sighed. Misa’s smirking face appeared in front of my eyes. "Yes… but I also think about the clause, the fact that I’m bound to it, that my working visa depends on this job that I love, and so is my lease…"

"Ok ok Nicky it’s alright, calm down. You’re finding a girl cute, what a big deal? You’re at least allowed that ! You are not doing anything wrong, you’re not doing anything at all, relax !" 

"You’re right" As usual, Angela had found the words to reassure me."But still, fucking clause !" I sweared. 

"Fucking clause…" echoed Angela. 

***

I received a message from Hayley on the morning before the exhibition visit. 

My family are paying me a surprise visit just now. They came from Sidney I had no idea !!! This is crazy sorry for the museum I really wanted to go but I’ll spend the day with them. Im so happy 

I answered it was ok and to enjoy her family time. Then I texted Misa. 

"Hayley’s family’s just showed up and she can’t come. Do you still wanna go ?"

Misa’s text bubble appeared and disappeared a few times leaving me wondering what answer I was wishing for. 

"Do I have the choice ? I thought it was my punishment…" 

I grined, loving her playful side. Or was she … flirting ? 

"You’re right but teacher would rather you go to your detention willingly." 

"huh teacher wants a lot. What else teacher wants from me ?" 

I gasped. She was flirting ! My mind ran wild, imagining the numerous things I craved from Misa. I breathed out deeply, tried to focus again as I pictured myself fiery kissing her. I had to take control of my brain again. I had to bury the surging wave of desire I felt at the simple idea of Misa wishing to give me what I wanted. 

"Teacher wants you to have a good time" was the most diplomatic and sober answer I could come up to. I quickly added "See you then" to put a stop to that dangerous conversation. 

"I’d say let’s see what’s going to happen. See you Nicky"

Wow, she was going for real ! How the hell was I going to survive the afternoon ?! 

***

I was gulping down hard when I joined Misa at the entrance of Matadero Arts Center of Madrid. I felt so tensed when we hugged but Misa appeared to be her usual self. Once again, she gave no sign that something was going on between us and once again I wondered if I hadn’t misjudged her intentions. 

We headed inside. The center was formed by many huge bricked houses which happened to be old slaughterhouses. None of the previous gloomy functions of the place has remained, it was now very pleasant to walk in the large aisles between the red buildings. In the middle of the afternoon, the sun was knocking hard on our heads. Misa was looking all around us, her hand above her dazzled eyes. "It’s a shame I’ve never been there before, living all these years in Madrid" 

We reached the exhibition hall a few minutes later. I bought the tickets. Misa was following me closely. She clearly wasn’t in her element as we moved forward inside the vast hall. The exhibition was called "Deportes: fotografía en movimiento" and shown various approaches of taking picture of athletes. I was surprised to see Misa very focused. She looked at each photo, paused a long time when she seemed interested or intrigued by something. 

"Misa, look at this one" The framed picture was showing gymnasts doing incredible acrobatic tricks. "Look at the geometric composition, that's what I was trying to explain about framing." Misa shook her head with enthusiasm. "I think I get it now, yes. But I have found what I want to do." 

She took my hand and led me to a more hidden corner where another series of photos were displayed on the walls. "Wait, what ?" I let out. There were cats and dogs on every pictures, and even a baby pig. "They are the athlete’s pets" She said happily. She hasn’t let go of my hand. "I think I want to photograph animals, or nature." She came to face me with the cutest smile, and thought I had severe doubts this was going to help Misa progress technically, I replied "Yes! Ok! Let’s give a try on naturalistic photography!". 

She smiled more widely, her hand still in mine, and her fingers softly stroked my palm while she loosened her grip. I started to panic. Her lips has worn a more discreet smile as she was watching me unsurely. She took a step forward. I had to react quickly but I didn’t want her to feel rejected. 

"Come on, I’m taking you to the park along the river. There is plenty of birds and plants for you to shoot." I grasped her hand back to take us out of the hall and out of the prickly situation. 

However, as we arrived at the park, I realized I had put myself in an even more perilous condition. The sun was setting. A light breeze was blowing in the trees. Birds were melodiously twitting nearby. An empty bench shield from the view was waiting for us at the end of a very lovely flowery path. I tried hard not to look at Misa. She was walking close to me, unusually quiet. I dared to take a look at her. She caught my side-eye and a shy smile appeared on her lips. What did I do? She was probably getting all wrong, imagining I had picked such a romantic place on purpose! 

We reached the oh so welcoming bench. None of us spoke as we sat. I starred at the distance. I was feeling my heart pounding hard in my chest. Misa was looking at her laps, timid all of a sudden. I had to say something. 

"You should try to shoot those flowers for a start" I tried as a diversion. "The red and bleu ones that look like the Barça kit. See, I’ve learnt about football." I added wanting to diminish the growing tension. "Oh no Barça please…" She rubbed a hand across her face. I had clearly said the wrong thing. 

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you" I put my hand on her shoulder. Her long hair was partially hiding her face. "Do… do you want to talk about it ?" I said hesitantly. She tensed. 

"You don’t know about the Clasico. We keep loosing against them every times and honestly, I’m used to it. It’s ok even though I’m doing my best but…" her voice trailed down as she took a deep breath. "Next Clasico is one week away and that’s the finale of the Copa de la Reina." She lifted her head to look me in the eyes. "I don’t know if I can take the pressure this time..." She was talking so openly to me. The fierce and funny goalkeeper was allowing her unsecured part to finally surface. And that was when I realized I cared for her. 

I took Misa into a hug. She sighed and buried her face in my neck. "You can do it Misa. I don’t know you for very long but I am certain that you can." She stayed there, her heavy breathing gently blowing my hair. "I really want to win!" She almost cried. "We keep doing better but we haven’t won any Spanish championship! Quiero ganar ostia!" She lifted her head again and I stopped hugging her. I was glad to see a frustrated grin back on her face. "You can do it! Hala Madrid! I feel part of the family now." I genuinely said to boost her up. She let out a soft laugh and ran her fingers through her hair. She took my hand again. "Gracias" she muttered. Her brown eyes found mine again. Her expression was so soft at this very moment. Her gaze went down to my mouth. I wanted to kiss her so bad. Her slightly parted lips quivered. My chest was about to explode as I was slowly moving my face closer to hers.

At that precise moment, a loud buzzing sound came from Misa s’pocket and had us both jump in fear. Misa straightened herself and took her phone out. I sled appart on the bench, breathing out a mix of relief and deep frustration. 

"Holà Jenni" Misa answered in a slightly irritated voice. "no, no conozco las noticias…" She rolled her eyes at me. I was too shaken to be amused by the situation. Misa and Jenni kept on talking on the phone. In fact, it was more like Misa was listening to an unstoppable Jenni. I wasn’t getting much of the quick flowing Spanish of Misa. Besides, I was once again buried deep in my thoughts. My heart and reason were battling heavily against each other. Misa was getting seriously annoyed the call wouldn’t finish. She was founding hard to even speak a world between the endless sentences of her best friend. She turned for me to read the word "Perdón!" on her lips several times as I scrolled mechanically on my phone. 

Minutes went by and night started to fall when Misa finally hung up. "I’m so sorry I should never have taken that call !" She sighted. I got up quickly "No prob. But it’s getting late, we should get going". Reason had won over heart for now. Or at least, chance had buy me time to really sort things out. Misa looked up at me, surprised. She hadn’t expected that. This time I didn’t dared to even take a glimpse at her. As I gave her no reaction, she let her head fall down in her hands. I heard her taking a deep breath before she finally stood up and started following me. 

Lulled by the light swing of the train, a part of me had cooled down. An other part was going crazy for real. Misa was wanting me. A calm, almost pleasant panic have filled me entirely on the way home. 

#woso #misa rodriguez #espwnt #fanfic #futbolista #real madrid femenino #spain wnt #misa rodriguez x reader #misa rodriguez fanfic #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #womens football #hayley raso #fanfic art #woso blurbs #woso x reader

[simonjadis]

Jesus christ. I'm scared to ask but... what the hell happened with The Watcher fandom?

I don't even go here, but here's my understanding

Several years ago, Shane and Ryan left Buzzfeed to launch their own company, teaming up with Steven Lim. Watcher has grown, producing multiple shows. Initially, people were supporting them on Patreon (for discord + early access) and YouTube. both of these are increasingly notorious platforms that take cuts from profits. YouTube payouts are massive if you're just 1-2 people getting a million views per video and a new successful video every week. but it doesn't cover a growing company's needs

To be blunt, for Watcher to continue as a company, they need cut out "middleman" services that both regulate their content and take a cut of their earnings. That means moving off of YouTube and it means changing the Patreon to just be for the podcast.

So, on Friday (April 19) Watcher announced that they're launching their own streaming model. Everything that they'd already shared would remain on YouTube, but future content was coming out on their own service for a $5.99 sub. Which in turn would be lower than or about the same as anyone subscribing on Patreon, and would also be without the horror of YouTube ads

(Again, I don't go here, but I will not watch advertisements voluntarily, least of all on yewchube. I have ublock origin/firefox and when it comes to streaming, I have the ad-free subscription or I don't watch it at all)

To be clear, they made this announcement well in advance of launching, and were making sure that international viewers would still be able to view (something that some major corporate streamers have not done). They also emphasized that they're unbothered by profile sharing, so that $5.99 per month could come down to $2 per month for three friends, or just (as I often do) one person buying it and sharing the login with friends.

Also you can gift subs. All of this is unfortunately moot, and it seems that many of the people reacting to the announcement did not learn or care about any of this.

The reaction to this news was, to be blunt, unhinged. Obviously, it's normal for some people who cannot afford $5.99 per month to feel disappointed. And any change can be unnerving for a fandom. But the vitriol (some of it, like the person who accused them of "ruining Taylor Swift's day," was admittedly very funny) was pretty vicious.

I think that a lot of it was disinformation based (unclear on where the idea that they were removing old content from YouTube originated, as it certainly was not from their announcement video) and a lot of it was (predominantly younger) viewers looking for social media clout by coming out with the coveted "worst new take" to impress their friends.

And so, SO much of it was racism. For some reason, a lot of people have invented a narrative where Shane is being held hostage by the other two co-owners, and desperately wants to release content for free to the detriment of his company, but Ryan and Steven have somehow conspired to make their company profitable so that they can continue to (evilly) pay their employees.

From what I can tell (again, I don't even go here), the bulk of the backlash ended up targeting Steven. People in the fandom are already weird about him and have an ugly tendency to invent mean things about him (a couple of years ago, some of these same ill-behaved "fans" decided that he was homophobic, not because of anything that he did or said).

So this was an excuse for these vicious little beasts to let loose. They were leaving abhorrent comments on his loved ones' Instagram photos -- some from months ago.

On the less overtly racist front, backlash included people saying that they just want Shane and Ryan sitting in a room talking about stuff. It is unusual for creatives to not care about the quality of what they make; of course Shane and Ryan and Steven care about production quality, about being able to film ghost-hunting and other shows. They're not 23-year-olds scraping by, they're artists and storytellers and they are also employers.

I don't know these men and I don't generally feel sorry for men, as a rule, but it must have been pretty devastating to find out how many of their most vocal "fans" seem to despise them, feel entitled to their art for free, and will rage against them like this.

Which leads to Monday's grim announcement, which as I understand it was that they're going to put new Watcher content up on YouTube with a delay. I'm not saying that it's a bad policy; I'm saying that it means that they remain tethered to YouTube for what content they can include, and it's showing these rancid trolls that their cruelty works.

I'm not going to say that this is "letting the terrorists win" because I'm not trying to victim-blame Watcher here. But I worry about what these rotten little beasts will do now that they've felt the rush of victory.

I cannot emphasize enough that I do not even go here. plenty of people very much go here and have written at greater length and in greater detail than i have. I'm just horrified. I don't even go here

#watcher #watcher entertainment #I don't even go here #anon #ask #anon ask

[rainbowsky]

You are amazing! I found your blog back in October when I became obsessed with The Untamed. I'm usually not a Chinese drama fan nor do I follow too closely with celebrity culture but something about the way Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo got to me. One thing led to another and I find myself deep in the Yizhan rabbit hole as I slowly transformed into a turtle. I wouldn't call myself knowledgeable about their past or present besides what's posted on YouTube and on here. I'm curious as to how you maintain your dedication to their love story.

Hi new turtle! 💛🐢💛

Thanks so much, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! 😊

I wouldn't say that I'm 'dedicated to their love story', so much as I'm dedicated to each of them as individuals. I think that's the key to fully enjoying being a turtle - loving them each individually first and foremost, and viewing their relationship as icing on the cake.

Over the years I've found that the turtles who go about it the other way around - fixating on their relationship and not really looking at them much as individuals - tend to have more of a negative or roller coaster ride as turtles, and tend to get bored, have emotional meltdowns, lose interest or look for candy in unhealthy places out of desperation to feed their addiction to 'their love'.

I just enjoy the boys. I enjoy the content they put out, I enjoy their dramas and projects, I enjoy their photo spreads and interviews. I trust them both to take care of their careers, their relationship and each other, and I don't really have that 'high maintenance turtle' attitude that leads a lot of people to extremes of emotion.

A lot of turtles have a very binary way of looking at everything GG and DD put out into the world: either as proof their relationship is real, or as proof it's not real or that they broke up. This leads people to a lot of unnecessary agony. In reality, very little that GG and DD put out into the world will have any bearing on their relationship at all. This is totally normal.

So as a new turtle my advice to you is to avoid that at all cost. Just enjoy GG and DD and the rest will happen naturally.

As a new turtle you might also find my masterlist post helpful.

#baby turtle #thanks so much #ask

[slightlymediocree]

☆Update 2:☆

I remembered to take pics today! Sort of. Only after i had put away my machines and stuff...

Here are (most) of my edwardian undergarments

(i am wearing modern clothes under bcs the internet is weird)

Chemise, bustle pad, underbust corset, petticoat

I still need to make a corset cover someday, ive just been using a second thin chemise over all this:

I used these vintage buttons on the cuffs. I wanted some more security but ran out of buttons so i used small snaps:

Also put one on the collar so i could try it on. I think the placket at the back of the blouse is a little ugly and larger than ive seen in extant garments but i forgot to adjust the pattern for my broad shoulders and need the extra width for comfort.

I tried on the blouse and skirt together:

I may need to loosen the waistband of the skirt, the corset is a bit bulkier than i thought itd be. Also the blouse is just stuffed into the skirt and currently only has one closure on at the collar so it looks a little bit disproportionate. The belt/sash will help smooth everything out so i dont look like im drowning in voile.

I might go without the bustle pad during the final shoot because i think it gives too much volume in the waist/hip area for edwardian tastes. Its from an 1890s pattern, so the silhouette is a bit out of date. I should probably try the skirt on without the pad before extending the waistband though.

Im pretty happy with how the sleeves turned out! I have some vintage nottingham lace i bought on etsy from penelope textiles that i was going to add to another project. I think ill sew some different laces together and add it to the cuffs to elongate them a bit. Since this dress is supposed to be from roughly 1905, i want the sleeves to look as they wouldve in that time. The photos ive seen mostly feature large ruffles at the ends of elbow-length sleeves but i dont think ill be likely to wear ruffles very often. Ive also seen tighter cuffs that extend from the elbow to mid-forearm or from the elbow to wrist. I think the elbow-length sleeves are a feature of afternoon dresses but i could be wrong. Maybe that was just day dresses? Not sure.

Im also not sure if i want to get gloves/a hat/parasol for this project. On one hand, it would look really cool for the video. On the other hand, it sounds quite expensive and i doubt ill wear it again. I dont want to buy things i wont use and create waste, theres enough of that in fashion. I have a pink 1900s parasol that i might cover with black fabric, but idk.

There isnt much left to do! Im gonna make a list here so i have it written somewhere:

-sew snaps onto blouse

-finish blouse hem

-attatch lace cuffs

-press pleats on sash/belt

-order synthetic whalebones

-add bones, hook/bars to belt

This is just the sewing tasks though, i need to edit the video clips and record audio. I have no idea how to do any of this. I just downloaded davinci video editor so hopefully i can figure it out. The only experience i have with video making/editing was in 3rd grade on ipads on the imovie app. Ive just been binge watching bernadette banner videos bcs i love her video style.

Any tips/feedback are much appreciated! ♡

Date: 4/22/24

#edwardian fashion #1900s #early 1900s #edwardian era #edwardian #victorian mourning #victorian dress #victorian era #victorian fashion #fashion history #historical costuming #historical dress #historical fashion

[e-dubbc11]

Son of the Sea

Photos are not mine. They are courtesy of Pinterest/Google.

Pairing: Tattoo Artist Billy Russo x F! Reader

Warnings: Fluff, few swear words (courtesy of Little Raven and her godfather🤣), pregnancy, morning sickness, little distress but it all turns out alright.

Word Count: Around 5K-ish

Summary: Part of The Sweetest Pain Series This little family of three is getting a new addition and Little Raven is very excited for his arrival

A/N: I never thought this little series would turn into what it has become and I’m so happy everyone that has followed along from the beginning continues to follow and watch this family grow. Thank you!

As always, thank you for reading!  I appreciate it so much and comments, reblogs are welcome and encouraged. Don’t be shy to tell me your favorite part. 💕💕 💕

The familiar wave of nausea washed over you as you stood at the stove trying to cook dinner without running to the bathroom. You learned quickly when you were pregnant with Little Raven that morning sickness didn’t always strike in the morning and that it basically showed its ugly face whenever it wanted to.

There were only a couple of scents that triggered your morning sickness and continued to bother you even after you had given birth. You had a favorite perfume that you wore every day before you got pregnant with Anna and now you couldn’t stand the smell of it on anyone and had to get rid of the nearly full bottle Billy had given you as a gift because it made you sick to your stomach.

The aroma of any meat cooking was what was bothering you at the moment but you weren’t positive you were pregnant yet. It was a very high possibility though. Just a handful of weeks ago, you and Billy had a wild romp in his tattoo chair.

He had even made mention of another baby after your intimate moment but you had put it out of your mind until right now as you pushed the ground beef around in the pan, trying to keep your stomach from retching.

“Maybe I am pregnant….” You thought to yourself before moving the pan to a cold burner, dropping the spatula, covering your mouth and running for the bathroom.

Billy and Little Raven were quietly drawing at the dining room table as you raced past them, into the bathroom, and slammed the door shut behind you. The porcelain cooled the inside of your wrists which brought your body temperature down a little. Even after everything was out, you continued to dry heave and that’s when you heard a slight knock on the door.

“You alright, sweet girl?” Billy asked softly against the door.

You couldn’t answer him right away as your stomach continued to do somersaults.

“Baby? I’m comin’ in ok?” He said in his familiar gentle tone.

Slowly, he opened the door and found you sitting on the bathroom floor with your back against the bathtub and one hand covering your eyes in embarrassment.

Without looking at him, you replied, “You shouldn’t have to see me like this.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you worse than this, my love. Remember your last birthday before you got pregnant with the little miss? At one point, I had to make sure you were still alive.” He flashed his million-dollar smile at you. “I’ve also watched a baby come out of you too soooooo…” Said Billy, leaning up against the door frame with his arms folded across his chest.

“That was a good birthday though.” You said, returning a gentle smile. “Riiiiiight up until I had that last shot of tequila.”

The two of you started to laugh.

Billy planted himself across from you on the floor, his long legs extended and feet resting at the sides of your hips with his knees bent. He took your hand in his and gently pulled you away from the bathtub so you were sitting upright and he swept a stray hair out of your eyes. His smile made you weak in the knees every time so you were happy you were already sitting down.

“Do you think maybe you’re…?” Billy asked, glancing at your stomach then back up to meet your gaze.

“It’s very possible, my love.” You replied, the corners of your mouth curled into a slight smile.

Just as you said that, you heard little feet running down the hallway.

“Well, we know she’s never gonna sneak up on anyone.” Billy said with a wide smile.

You started to laugh when you saw her little face in the doorway.

“Mommy, ok?” She asked. Her carbon colored eyes that were just like her fathers were full of concern.

“Awww, of course baby. Mommy’s ok.” You replied.

Billy looked at Little Raven and said, “Mommy just has a bit of an upset tummy.”

Anna glanced at her father and then looked over at you, satisfied with that answer and said, “I go get you my dinosaur, ok?”

Then she took off again down the hallway, and back into the dining room. She carried that stuffed dinosaur Shortcake had given her everywhere she went, and held it extra close when she didn’t feel well.

Billy pulled you in close so he could wrap his long arms around you. He leaned in to give you a kiss but you held up your hand to stop him.

“Uh, you might wanna hold off on that, lieutenant.” You said, covering your mouth.

With a wide smile, he kissed your forehead instead. “I’ll go finish dinner, sweet girl. You sure you’re ok?” He asked.

You nodded. “I’m ok, handsome. I’ll take a test in the morning.”

When you were pregnant with Anna, the perfume was really the only scent that triggered your morning sickness. Every other time, it just came out of nowhere but it was different this time. You noticed there were a few scents that bothered you aside from the meat.

Eggs, onions, and trash were bothering you a lot in the past week. Billy was constantly taking out the kitchen trash because you couldn’t stand the smell of it so even though you hadn’t taken a pregnancy test yet, you had a strong feeling of what it would say.

You heard little feet run down the hallway again followed by a little voice.

“Here, Mommy! My dinosaur make you feel better.” Said Anna, handing you her stuffed toy.

A loving smile stretched across your lips as your sweet little girl gave you her favorite stuffed animal to help you feel better.

You replied, softly, “Thank you, baby girl. I feel better already.”

**********

The Next Morning

You opened your eyes slowly, allowing them to adjust to the early morning sun spilling in through your bedroom window. The space next to you, Billy’s space, was empty and cold. He was probably sitting in the kitchen, drinking his coffee like he did every morning. Lately, you had been feeling more tired than usual so you didn’t feel him get out of bed.

You were ready to head to the kitchen to see him when you remembered there was an important test you had to take this morning. Digging through the cabinet under the sink, you found the box of pregnancy tests, took a deep breath, and opened the package.

The edge of the tub felt cool through your thin pajama pants as you sat there waiting for the timer on your phone to ring. The flashback of waiting to find out if you were pregnant the first time played in your head.

You remembered how nervous you were at the thought of becoming a mom, how scared you were to tell Billy the two of you were going to be parents and it was probably the most terrifying but exciting news you had ever received.

After what felt like hours, the timer on your phone went off. Timidly, you stood up and craned your neck to see what the results were. Two blue lines…you were pregnant…again. A sense of warmth flushed across your cheeks as your lips curled into a smile.

The tears that stung the back of your eyes were almost like a reflex; you didn’t mean for it to happen but it did anyway. You and Billy were going to have another baby and Anna Raven was going to be a big sister.

But the smile quickly disappeared from your face when you felt the familiar turning of your stomach. It was a good thing that you were already in the bathroom.

As soon as you walked toward the kitchen, a familiar sight was in front of you. Your handsome husband sitting at the breakfast bar, with a cup of coffee in front of him, and a pencil in his hand.

Billy was always drawing something.

“What are ya workin’ on, handsome?” You asked in a cheery tone.

Billy replied, “Well g’mornin’, beautiful.” He quickly turned the paper over so you couldn’t see what was on it. “You’re not allowed to see that yet.”

Slightly disappointed, you said, “Oh I’m not, huh?”

Biting down on his lower lip, he shook his head and replied with a wink, “It’s a surprise, sweet girl.”

You had the pregnancy test hidden behind your back.

“Well…speaking of surprises but not really. Surprise!” You said, chuckling as you showed him the positive test.

“We’re gonna have another baby?” He asked, softly.

Pointing at the test, you replied, “Well, according to this we are. I’ll have to make an appointment to find out—“

Billy cut you off when his lips collided with yours as he cupped your cheeks, tongue gently pressed against your teeth wanting to tangle with yours. His hands dropped from your cheeks to your belly. Billy was always very gentle with you when you were pregnant with Little Raven.

No matter how many times you told him you weren’t going to break, he was always very careful. Gently touching your stomach, he looked down then back up to meet your gaze and your tattooed hand rested on top of his. A wide smile stretched from ear to ear on his face; he just looked so happy.

Snaking your arms around his neck, you pulled him in close to touch your forehead to his, and you lightly scratched his scalp with your fingernails.

“You ready for another little Russo…Dad?” You asked with a warm smile.

Billy leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours.

“Even though we’ve done it before, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous.” He said, as he glanced down at the floor. “But we’re doin’ ok so far with Little Raven, right? We can handle another one.”

Biting down on your lower lip, you nodded and replied, “I’m sure we can, baby. We’ll wait a little before we tell Anna and then we can tell everyone else too.”

**********

“What my shirt say, Mommy?” Asked Anna, looking and pointing at the shirt she was wearing.

Helping Anna put on her jacket, you replied, “It says, ‘I’m going to be a big sister: Fall 2024.’ Remember what Mommy and Daddy told you yesterday? Mommy has a baby in her belly so you’re going to have a little brother or sister.”

With pure innocence in her voice, she asked, “Do I get to pick? I wanna sister.”

Chuckling, you replied, “Afraid not, baby girl. We don’t get to pick.”

Scrunching her nose, she asked with slight disappointment in her voice, “Are you sure?”

“We get what we get, Anna. You ready to go see Uncle Frank and Auntie Maria?” You asked, zipping her jacket.

The three of you were getting ready to have dinner at Frank’s house along with Billy’s friends/employees from his tattoo studio. After seeing Little Raven’s t-shirt, they will know you’re pregnant and you couldn’t wait for everyone to find out your big news.

“I see Shortcake today, Daddy?” Asked Little Raven.

Billy smiled at his daughter.

“You sure do, little miss. You bringin’ your dinosaur?” He asked.

You answered for her.

“Oh she already packed it, baby. It’s all ready to go.”

You said with a wink and a smile.

**********

Frank cooked on the grill no matter what time of year it was. He’d stand out there with an umbrella or in snow boots if he needed to but it was a beautiful sunny day in April.

The late afternoon sun warmed your faces as you pulled up in front of the Castle’s home, Frank was already outside prepping the grill, and the excitement on Little Raven’s face when she saw her godfather made your heart swell. They loved each other so much.

After getting out of her car seat, Anna took off running toward Frank. Scooping her up, he tickled her stomach and playfully bit at her neck while she laughed uncontrollably. Frank was the only one outside at the moment, everyone else was in the house.

“Show Uncle Frankie your t-shirt, Little Miss.” Said Billy.

Anna had a problem undoing the zipper on her jacket.

“Help peeease, Uncle Frankie.” Anna begged.

Frank pulled the zipper down on Anna’s jacket, read the t-shirt, glanced at you and Billy then back to Anna with a sly grin stretched across his lips.

“You’re gonna be a big sister?!!” Frank asked.

Biting back a shy smile, Anna nodded.

“I wanna baby sister, Uncle Frankie.” She said.

Frank chuckled.

“Well, we don’t get to pick what we want, Little Raven. That’s not up to us.” He said. “Go show your Auntie, she’s gonna lose her shit, er, her mind.”

Anna knew “shit” was a bad word. She let out a devilish little laugh and replied, “Shit.”

It was only a matter of time before she’d pick up on the colorful words her Uncle uttered out loud.

“Anna Raven, you know that’s a bad word.” You said, biting back a laugh.

Frank opened the front door so Anna could go inside, then turned to you to offer his congratulations.

“Congratulations you two. Finally took enough ‘naps’ to get the job done, eh Bill?” He joked, pulling you in close to give you a hug.

“Something like that.” Said Billy, with a wide grin.

“We find out what we’re having in about three weeks.” You said.

You heard squeals and screeches coming from inside the house. It sounded like Maria and Shortcake got a good look at Anna’s t-shirt. Suddenly, the front door flew open and Shortcake was standing in the doorway.

“When are you due?!!!” She asked, her cheeks couldn’t contain her smile.

You returned the smile and replied, “Around Halloween.”

Shortcake turned and shouted back into the house.

“SHE’S DUE AROUND HALLOWEEN!!!” She yelled.

Faintly, you heard Maria shout back, “Tell her to come in here!!”

“Don’t keep that woman waiting, she’ll make ya pay for it.” Said Frank.

You felt a light smack on your ass as you walked past your husband and into the house. Billy winked when you glanced back at him over your shoulder. You could barely get inside the house before you were attacked with hugs, kisses on the cheeks, and glances at your belly. You had already started to show a little because it was your second baby.

Anna got hi-fives from Ed #1 and Ed #2. They told her she was going to be the best big sister and then she proceeded to try and extort snacks from both of them. They both knew Anna was going to be at the Castle’s today so they had stashed packages of goldfish crackers in their pockets. Her face lit up with a bright smile when she found the first package.

“Open peeeease.” She said to Ed #1.

She was smart and waited until after he opened her snack to pull on his dreadlocks. She thought it was the funniest thing but he didn’t seem to mind at all. He laughed right along with her.

Dinner was great and even though Frank grilled all of the meat outside, you still needed to run to the bathroom a few times after the smell of meat cooking floated past your nose.

Lisa and Junior played with Little Raven so you and Billy could have adult conversations with your friends. They were always so good with her and were excited there would be another Russo baby to play with.

You did express to the girls that you were worried about how Little Raven was going to react to a new baby because she won’t be the only child anymore. Maria told you to make sure to include her and each of you spend time with her alone without the baby so she doesn’t feel ignored.

Her mouth downturned a little when she talked about being alone, having two small children while Frank was deployed, and how hard it was to try and give Lisa her full attention when she needed a little extra “mommy” time while trying to take care of Junior at the same time.

Your hormones were all over the place so listening to her talk about it made you very emotional but very grateful that Billy was there so you could do it together.

Taking care of two children by herself, made Maria so strong in your eyes and you were thankful that you had someone you could go to for advice.

**********

Before you knew it, summer was over, you and Billy found out you were having a boy, and you were trying to get ready for Halloween and your new arrival. You were keeping his name a secret like you did for Anna.

It was quite a busy time and all things considered you were moving around pretty well for being nine months pregnant. Anna said she wanted to be Maleficent from Sleeping Beauty for Halloween which is a little fitting since she had a pet raven. She was very excited.

“Mommy, I wear my horns soon!?” Asked Anna, excitedly.

Easing yourself down onto the couch, you smiled warmly at her and replied, “Yes, you do Little Raven. Are you excited?!”

She clapped her hands together, jumped up and down, and she gave you the signature Russo Cheshire Cat smile when she replied, “YES!!”

You wanted a costume that would go with your pregnant belly so you went with Thing 1, the baby was Thing 2, and you were dressing Billy up as the Cat in the Hat which Anna was very excited about because it was her favorite book. She wanted you to read it to her every night before she went to sleep, sometimes more than once if she was trying to procrastinate going to bed.

Just in case your baby boy was born before Halloween, you had a skeleton onesie and a skull and crossbones beanie to go with it for him. Your due date was two days ago and Halloween is tomorrow so it was looking like your little man was going to miss Halloween.

Oh well.

You were becoming increasingly irritable, it was difficult to get comfortable enough to be able to sleep, and Billy felt bad that he couldn’t do anything to put you at ease. Trying all the tricks in the book to jumpstart your labor, you went for long walks, ate spicy food, sex…you tried them all but your little boy just didn’t want to come out yet.

They wouldn’t induce you unless you were a week overdue so you still had a handful of days left before they would. Your labor with Anna came so quickly so you thought it would be quick with this little guy too…you were wrong.

But it wasn’t all bad. You would get to dress up for Halloween (your favorite holiday) and take Little Raven trick or treating with the Castle children in their neighborhood, which may end up being your neighborhood too.

Your soon-to-be family of four was going to need more room and Maria excitedly told you there was a house a couple of streets over that just went up for sale that would be “perfect” for you.

It was definitely something to think about but right now you were focusing on trying to convince baby boy Russo to come out.

“Front and center, soldier! Let me see it!” You called to Billy from the living room.

He replied from the bedroom, “I look ridiculous, baby! Frankie’s never gonna let me live this down!”

You replied, “Well you haven’t seen his costume yet, Billy. He may think twice about saying anything about yours.”

Billy walked out from around the corner in his Cat in the Hat costume and you had to bite back your laugh. The striped hat, the red tie, and the tail…Anna looked very pleased. She started to giggle and point at him.

“You the Cat in the Hat, Daddy!” She squealed.

Covering your mouth to stifle your laugh, Billy could see you were laughing and he narrowed his eyes at you before turning back to Anna.

“You like Daddy’s costume, baby girl?” He asked.

She nodded and replied, “Mommy’s Thing 1 and my baby brother is Thing 2!”

Billy laughed and said, “Well Daddy feels a little silly but Mommy looks adorable.”

He winked and smiled at you before leaning in close to whisper in your ear, “What three-year-old wants to be Maleficent for Halloween?”

“Our child.” You responded with a warm smile and a kiss on his cheek.

He kissed the tip of your nose and said, “Well, I love it. It’s very rock star of her.”

Anna Raven was ready to go trick or treating. She understood it a little more this year so she was really excited to go with Lisa and Junior. She wore a long black robe, Billy fashioned her horns out of moldable foam and electrical tape, she carried a staff with a little stuffed raven attached to the top of it, and her face was painted green. Your little miss was the perfect little Maleficent.

“You ready to go, Little Raven?” You asked, wincing a little at what might be your first contraction.

“You alright, sweet girl?” Asked Billy, his voice full of concern.

“Let’s go, Mommy!” Anna yelled.

Nodding and grimacing at the same time, you replied, “Yeah handsome, I’m fine. The walk will be good. Let’s go.”

Billy opened the door, grabbed his keys and ushered the two of you out into the hallway before locking the door behind him and asking, “So, what’s Frankie’s costume?”

A devilish smile stretched across your lips as you answered, “Oh I don’t wanna spoil that surprise, you’ll see.”

**********

Billy had a hard time recovering after seeing Frank in his costume for the first time. The Castle family was dressed up like the cast from The Wizard of Oz. Lisa was Dorothy, Maria was the Scarecrow, Junior was the Tin Man and Frank was the Cowardly Lion. He didn’t look pleased at all which only made Billy laugh harder.

The picture you took of the two of them was priceless. They tried to look tough but at the end of the day they were both still dressed up as cats.

The tightening in your stomach became more painful and more frequent. You also had a lot of pain in your lower back, more so than you did with Little Raven which had you a little concerned but you really wanted to finish taking Anna trick or treating before possibly going to the hospital.

Anna had acquired quite the stash of candy before you couldn’t take it anymore. Billy had periodically asked how you were doing but you played down how much pain you were in. Finally, you came clean.

“Billy…I think I need to go to the hospital. These contractions hurt… a LOT.” You said in distress.

Billy was holding Anna in his arms when he replied, “Oh fuck, er, I mean…shit! Nope, that’s not right either.”

You tried to laugh but it was too painful.

He passed off Anna to Maria and Frank, then left to go get the car. They said they would take care of her and to let them know when the baby arrives, then they would visit. Luckily, your hospital bag was already in the car. Billy made sure you were ok before closing your car door and speeding away.

It was difficult to sit all the way down because it was so painful. At your last few doctor’s appointments, they said it was a little concerning that your baby boy hadn’t turned to be head down yet but that you shouldn’t worry, he should turn and it would be fine. They told you there were some things you could try to get him to turn on his own.

You were starting to think that maybe he hadn’t turned yet and that’s why you were in so much pain.

“We’re almost there, baby. It’s ok.” Billy said, nervously.

Billy was always calm and in control but this was the first time you had seen him look…scared. He had been told that attachments and showing emotions were a weakness so a lot of the time, he kept his feelings to himself, pushed way down inside so no one else could see. It was better since he became a husband and a father but old habits are hard to break. All of that went out the window when he saw how much pain you were in.

When you arrived at the hospital, and after everyone you saw smiled at your Halloween costumes, your doctor told you that your baby boy was, in fact, breech which was why you were in so much pain. They were going to try and turn him but if they couldn’t, they would need to do a C-section.

Your doctor tried his best but couldn’t get the baby to turn so they prepped you for a C-section. Dressed in a sterile hospital gown and cap, Billy attempted to reassure you everything was going to be alright even though you could see in his deep brown eyes, he was still a little scared.

He couldn’t hide his emotions from you.

“It’s gonna be ok, sweet girl. They’re gonna get him out, alright?” He said from behind a face mask and stroked your forehead.

Billy could tell you were in a lot of pain because you never complained too much when you were in labor with Anna but she arrived quickly so you weren’t in pain for an extended period of time. Pretty soon, you didn’t feel any more pain and your baby boy was here.

After you were moved to a recovery room, tears stung the back of your eyes, and you gazed at your new son with relief that he was finally here and that he was alright.

“Oh Billy…he’s perfect.” You said, as a tear dropped onto his nose just like it did when you held Anna for the first time. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby. Just a quick question…” He said.

Confused, you asked, “What is it, handsome?”

Lightly touching his son’s head, Billy asked, “Um, well, where’s his hair?”

You could tell your baby boy would also have dark hair like his father but unlike his sister who was born with a full head of hair, he didn’t have much to work with at the moment.

You tried to stop yourself from laughing because you didn’t want to pop a stitch but that was a hard one to bite back.

“I’m sure he’ll have plenty of it when more of it comes in but he is definitely your son, look how dark it is.” You said.

Being careful not to squish the baby, Billy leaned in and gently pressed his lips to yours. The hand with his marine corps tattoo on it gently cupped your cheek as he continued to kiss you. Billy smiled at you before leaning down to kiss his newborn son on the forehead.

“I’m gonna go call Frankie.” He said softly.

You smiled back and replied, “Don’t forget to call everyone else too, you know they’ll want to know too.”

Your little boy finished eating just as his first visitors arrived. Frank was carrying Anna who was all clean and in her pajamas. She looked very excited and a little nervous to meet her brother. The Castle family had changed out of their costumes too.

“I missed visiting Anna in the hospital because of that snow storm, I wasn’t gonna miss this little one’s first days too.” Said Maria.

“You ready to meet your baby brother, Little Raven?” You asked.

Chewing on her finger, she nodded and smiled.

Frank set her on the edge of the bed.

“Anna…this is your brother, Dylan. Dylan William Russo. Say ‘hi, Dylan.’” You said as tears welled up in your eyes again looking at the two of them together. They already looked like each other.

Anna was very gentle when she touched Dylan on his chubby little cheek and whispered, “Hi Dylan. Imma big sister.”

“You ARE a big sister, Anna.” Said Billy.

Carefully, Dylan was passed around so the Castle family could each hold him, even Lisa and Junior held him for a minute.

“Well, I know why you chose William but is there a reason behind Dylan?” Asked Maria.

You and Billy smiled at each other before you replied, “You all know how much I love the ocean and we all spent a lot of time at the beach this past summer. Well, this little guy was the most active when we were at the beach, kicking me, stretching, moving all around, especially when I was swimming. And the name Dylan actually means “son of the sea,” so he kind of chose his own name. It’s also no wonder he didn’t want to come out!” You said with a little laugh.

Everyone else chuckled a little too.

Frank looked at Anna and asked, “What do you think of your little brother, Anna? You wanna keep him?”

Anna looked up at her godfather with her ink like eyes, smiled and said, “I keep him, Uncle Frankie. He cute.”

Frank glanced at Billy before saying, “We’ll take her home with us so y/n can get some sleep, you too, you look like shit.”

Everyone heard Anna’s tiny voice repeat, “Shit.”

Frank tickled her neck and playfully scolded her.

“Hey, we told you that’s a bad word? Yeah?” Asked Frank.

Her devilish smile stretched across her lips again as Anna replied, “No, YOU say shit, Uncle Frankie.”

“Why does she only repeat it when I say it?” Frank asked with narrowed eyes and in a confused tone.

“Because she knows you’ll give her the reaction she wants.” Said Billy.

Everyone said their goodbyes to you, Billy, and baby Dylan. Frank scooped up Little Raven in his arms, she turned to wave to you and said, “Bye, bye Mommy, bye Daddy.”

The two of you waved back.

“Bye baby girl. You be good for your Auntie and Uncle, ok?” You said.

Frank paused in the doorway, Anna turned to look at her baby brother once more, she waved at him and said with a kind smile, “Bye, bye baby Dylan. I see you soon!”

Tag List: @wheresthesunshinesblog @rafaelakelley @idaoftheburningmind @snowkestrel @fakehappy27 @music-indie-tv @fictional-hooman @kayhi808 @munsonownsmyass @gijos @celestialend @k-marzolf @nutmeg17 @rosaleenablack @vaguekayla @qu1etwolf @danzer8705 @fireeyes-on-teller-dixon-grimes @mysteriouslydeafeningwerewolf

Others that might enjoy: @itwasthereaminuteago @fluffyprettykitty @jvanilly @ittybxttykxttytxtty @imagine-a-fictional-boyfriend @russosafehaven @mrsbillyrusso

If you’d like to be added (or removed from) my tag list(s) for the ever so handsome Billy Russo, just let me know and thank you again for reading! 💕💕💕 If I tagged you but you didn’t want to be, just let me know and I’ll never do it again.

#billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #billy russo imagine #tattoo artist billy russo #the sweetest pain series #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x you

[jediskywalkerblog]

That one red carpet - Hayden Christiensen

A/N: this fic does include smut, minors DNI. Other than that, enjoyyy!✨

The night finally came. The night where Hayden finally gets to show you off to the world on the red carpet for his new movie.

You’re sat at your dresser as you apply you last little bit of mascara when Hay walks in, of course you had to start getting ready 2 hours before him… you had hair and makeup to do!

“Look who finally decided to come and get ready” you say sarcastically causing Hayden to laugh as he takes his suit off the hanger.

“Look who’s finally finished their makeup” Hay replies sarcastically making you pout. “In all seriousness, you look stunning baby” Hay says as he comes up behind you and begins peppering little kisses along your neck.

“I’ve got something for you” he says as he pulls away. He pulls out a little diamond necklace out of his pocket before putting it around your neck.

“It’s beautiful, thank you so much Hay, you say as you turn to kiss him on the lips.

“Anything for my beautiful girl” he says before pulling you into his tight embrace… “are you ready for tonight beautiful?” He asks as he walks over to his suit and starts getting dressed.

“Ask me in 5 minutes when I’ve got my dress on” you say as you walk into your shared closet room. You’ve decided to go with a crimson red satin dress. A showstopper. You want everything to be perfect… you slip on the silky fabric and hit hugs you in all the right places.

“Hay, can you do me up please” you say as you walk out of the closet, laying your eyes on a very sexy looking Hayden sat on the bed waiting for you. “Ooo, you look handsome” you says as he gets up and helps you do your zip.

“You look fucking beautiful (Y/N), might not be able to keep your hands off you tonight” he whispers, making you blush.

“Then don’t” you say before kissing him passionately on the lips before grabbing your little clutch bag.

…

The second you step out or the limo there’s cameras flashes everywhere and not to mention the screaming fans. You’re not used to this attention, you can feel anxiety setting in. Hayden grips your hand tight.

“You’ve got this baby, I love you” he whispers into your ear as he pulls you close.

“Love you too Hay” you say before kissing him on the cheek.

After what feels like a long walk to the carpet with Hayden getting asked for signatures right, left and centre, we finally made it and it’s almost our turn for photos and interviews.

“You ok baby?” Hay asks you before pulling you into a hug.

“Yes, I’m so ready for photos” you say making Hayden laugh before he puts his arm out for you to hold.

“That my girl” he says as you walk into the carpet.

The cameras on the carpet are way more intense than when the two of you got out of the limo, you’re just trying to focus on keeping your eyes open whilst also having many things shouted at you.

“(Y/N) OVER HERE!”

“HAYDEN, OVER HERE”

“CAN WE GET A KISS?!”

“Just keep smiling baby” Hayden whispers into your ear as he pulls you closer against his body, giving you butterflies. “Just ignore them, I do.” He says making you smile. “I also can’t wait to get off this carpet and rip that dress off you” he whispers, making you blush… you just hope the cameras don’t pick it up.

…

The next thing you know the two of you are heading to the nearest bathroom, Hayden wasn’t lying when he said he wanted to rip your dress off.

Hay lifts you up onto the sink top as he kisses you and pulls your dress up so he has a clear view of your red lace thong. “All of this for me baby?” He coos into you ear.

“All for you Hay” you moan as you fumble attempting to undo his belt in between very hungry, lustfull kisses. You finally undo his belt and pull his trousers down revealing his hard cock bulging in his boxers.

“Want you to fuck me so hard Hay” you say as you begin to palm him through his boxers.

“Whatever you want baby” is all he says before turning you around, bending you over the sink top and pulling your lace thong down.

He teases you a little by running his cock along your soaking pussy. “All wet for me baby?” You can see him smirking in the mirror.

“Yes Hay, ruin me” is all you say before he’s sliding his thick cock into your tight pussy as your walls grip him… he does a few little thrusts to allow you to adjust around him “harder Hay” you moan before he begins fucking you so hard to a point where your almost seeing stars.

“Hay I’m gonna” before you can even finish Hayden cuts you off.

“Me too baby, cum with me” he says as his thrusts begin to get sloppier, you know her near his finish “now baby” Hay moans as he releases his warm cum all into your tight pussy whilst your screaming and clenching around his cock while you also reach your climax.

“I love you baby” Hay says as he kisses your forehead.

“I love you too hay, we should probably get back to the party” you say making him chuckle.

Omg I actually LOVED writing this one!! Just imagine🤤My requests are open so send any that you have via the ask button on my blog <33

- @jediskywalkerblog ✨🛸🚀

#anakin x reader #hayden christensen #star wars anakin #starwarsedit #star wars blog #starwars imagine #anakin fanfiction #anakin gif #anakin imagine #anakin x you #haydenchristiensenimagines #hayden christensen fluff #hayden christensen x reader #haydenchristensenedit #hchristensenedit #hayden christensen fanfiction

[urfavlarry]

hihi! can i request a fic where the read is ben and aidens childhood friend and they both like the reader? like how would that go 🎀

Love triangle

Ben & Aiden x childhood friend!reader

warnings: swearing, bad grammar, brief mention of gagging

A/N: the texting part reminds me of a part from a book called call me by your name :0

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎧🛹 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Your childhood was a wild one. Of course it was! You had Aiden in your childhood! He wasn’t always like that, and you knew. The same with Ben. One lost his sparkle and the other gained it. You couldn’t lie if someone asked if you were some how involved in Aiden dyeing his hair. How could you not! He would be happy so you would do anything for your best friend. You and Aiden were there for Ben when he was going through tough time, you being the one that bought him his headphones to help him calm down. Of course they were there for you too! When you had family issues, personal issues, or even school issues! They were always there for you as if they were your unpaid therapist haha.

Your summers were never dull when with them, Ben being the only reasonable one and got you two out of trouble most of the time. He was the one that you always called at night when something was bothering you, knowing Aiden would probably already be sleeping, his snoring sounding like a damn alarm clock! Aiden however would be there for you during injuries and things like that. He was quite experienced with patching people up since he himself had to do it a lot on himself. Skateboarding injuries suck ass.

And here you were, looking at your phone, two different tabs opened. One with yours and Aidens chats and the other with yours and Bens. Both having the last message as;

— — — — — — — — — — — —

‘I love you Y/N.”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

What were you supposed to do? Yes you liked them but you weren’t sure if you could choose between them. You gagged at the thought of dating the both of them, thinking it would be weird since they are literally cousins. You shake off the thought, groaning and scream into your pillow. Watching the time go by, you get another text from Aiden and Ben;

— — — — — — — — — — — —

‘Hello? Y/N?? Are you there?’

‘Y/N?”

“HELLOOOO?”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

“Y/N everything okay?”

— — — — — — — — — — — —

You open the messages, trying to type out an answer but every single one felt like it wasn’t enough.

‘I need more time.”

You rewrote that to;

‘Could we talk about it in person?’

Nope! Rewriting that to;

‘Maybe we should just stay friends? No hard feelings right?’

FUCKING HELL Y/N, NO!!

‘I love you too, but I just can’t choose between you two, I love you and Ben so so much, you’re my best friends after all, why wouldn’t I? You have been here for me since we were 8, and I appreciate that but I don’t think I can love one and leave the other behind, I’m sorry.’

Yeah, that seems alright. You send the message and send the same thing to Ben, just rewriting his name to Aidens. They both must be so confused, I doubt they told each other about their feelings towards me, knowing the both of them a bit too well. You hear your phone blow up a bit, deciding to ignore them, you start to pack. Oh reader, nobody told you? You’re moving! Out of the state, well.. to a whole new continent! Isn’t that exciting? Well, it would be if this whole thing wasn’t going on. You’re leaving behind the people you love so much, how sad and American high school movie is that? Your mom yells for you to hurry, grabbing the photos and gifts from the group. You look at your now empty room, walking downstairs you send a quick; “Goodbye America<3” with a picture of your suitcase on snapchat and turn off your notifications. Everyone in the group knew, except Aiden and Ben. You walk downstairs, everything packed and ready. Your mom was waiting for you in front of the car, grabbing your things and puts them in the back of the car.

She smiles at you, hugging you and kisses your forehead. “You ready to go ducky?” She asks and you nod, smiling at her. She pats you on the back and you both get in the car. You get comfortable, knowing it would be a long car ride when you see Ben and Aiden sprinting out of their homes. Your dad drives off, Ben and Aiden chasing the car for what felt like hours yet it was only just a few seconds. They looked devastated, heart broken even. But it’s what the three of you needed; a fresh start.

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╰┈➤ ⋆｡‧˚ʚ 🎧🛹 ɞ˚‧｡⋆

#sbg ben clark #ben sbg x reader #ben clark sbg #ben clark x reader #sbg ben #school bus graveyard ben #aiden clark x y/n #aiden sbg x reader #sbg aiden clark #aiden clark sbg #sbg aiden #school bus graveyard aiden #aiden clark x reader #aiden clark #aiden sbg #ben clark x y/n #ben clark x you #school bus graveyard #school bus graveyard x reader #school bus graveyard x y/n #school bus graveyard fanfiction #school bus graveyard requests #sbg requests

[catastrxblues]

EVERMORE by taylor swift (feat. bon iver) — “and i was catching my breath, floors of a cabin creaking under my step. and i couldn’t be sure, i had a feeling so peculiar, this pain wouldn’t be forevermore.”

my #swiftiegiftexchange2024 for @lovesickallovermybed!!!! 🫶🏽🫶🏽

#HIII HII HII how are you <3333 SO sorry for being slightly to the party but HII #i saw that you are currently recovering from surgery and i‘m wishing you all the best and =a faster recovery 💗💗 i hope you’re okay and #are feeling and getting much better every day 💗💗💗 #i’m your anon swiftie and it was really nice to get to know you!! 🫶🏽 you’re super super talented and your gifs are so so STUNNING #it was such an honor to be your anon for this event and i had such a fun time making this ! #i was SO excited when i saw that some of your favorite ts songs are evermore and idsb. really really sorry i didn’t have the time to make #something for both because my laptop went dead for sometime and i ended up only having the time to make this 😭 #evermore the song is something i hold and cherish deeply in my heart too and it was something that has seen some of the worst of my days #and so i decided to do this song for your gift instead! #i can’t really gif much and couldn’t even try #because my laptop in which i had installed ps in went rip so i decided to make you this #(slightly messy sorryy) scrapbook of my view of the song! i tried to incorporate some of the descriptive lyrics and the objects mentioned i #the song and i hope you like it 😁! #and because i think evermore is also something that IS meant to be incredibly personal to the people that listen to it #i decided to include some photos (+added highlights on every lyric that has ever touched me which is almost everything as you can see 😭) #of some of my journal pages on which i rewrote the entire lyrics (except bon iver’s addition 😅) in ‘21 when the song meant to me the most! #i hope you're having a great dayy love 🫶🏽🫶🏽 #SwiftieGiftExchange2024 #taylor swift #tswiftedit #evermore #*my edits #nadine.mp3

[toothfairyfemme]

vampire femme x “guy who is getting his blood sucked” butch

#going through my camera roll rn and this photo is everything to me #the thing about my butch and i is we literally dress like vampire and normal guy #he’s so normal guy he’s my normal guy <3 <3 #and i love her so much…. :) #if anyone comments on the cross not being vampire accurate i’ll bite you #femme lesbian #femme #butchfemme #femme butch #femmebutch #butch4femme #femme4butch #butch appreciation #butch femme #butchfemme love #butch/femme #butchfemme couple #high femme #goth #goth aesthetic #goth lesbian #vampire aesthetic #pretty #leolottie #my love #my pics #cariño

[stafsar]

L. Lawliet is a gifted photographer who believes he has understood the light and its secrets. Light Yagami is a young, unstable and slightly crooked model. Together, they kill time.

I had a bookcover design assignment so obviously I chose @devilinthebox's literary masterpiece of a fanfic Our Bodies, Possessed by Light

#I actually hate this already but its mostly because nothing I could ever draw couldnt even begin to describe the beauty of this fic #The way this fic is EVERYTHING to me #It literally tore me to pieces split in my face made me cry then cradled me and gave me a forehead kiss then threw me into cold water #over and over again #I could talk about it for hours #I love every single character so so much #my favorite portrayal of naomi EVER #also the fact that Beyond is turkish and speaks of his turkish mother missing İstanbul so dearly #literally made me cry #I love him so much #sorry Beyond is canonically turkish now and its my whole personality #anyway maybe I'll ramble more about how much I love this fic on another post sometime later #the photos on the wall are mostly my old art #I thought about doing an A portrait but I have no idea what she looks like #anyway yea #my art #lawlight #l lawliet #light yagami #our bodies possessed by light #obpl #lawlight fic #lawlight fanart