#Ft Sill

[roadtrippinlilly]

Fall All Around Medicine Creek

Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

[chillypepperhot]

Yes We Have Hills In Oklahoma

Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

[pulsar-ray]

1💤 2💀 3🎶

i hope i did it right this time but just so u know i still claim number 2 :3

Briar I am so sorry I meant 3 separate asks but this is okay & I appreciate it ! !

Number 2 is yours, as always <3

WHAT DOES SHE NEED TO FALL ASLEEP?

Sol : Shoot man, the--the desire? I don't really consider it sleep. It's regain, & I can do it whenever I need. Want. I can do it whenever I want.

DOES IT LIKE HORROR MOVIES ?

Sill : oh yeah, yeah, those are my favourite. i used to hate them, actually , but as of late they've been really good. god. something about the insides of someone not being inside anymore, it's so... wrong. everything about them is wrong. i love it. i'm getting more attracted to the uncanny, to the sick. to the insides coming inside out. yeah. i love it. i love horror.

WHAT'S A SONG HE LIKES?

Connie : I only like old classical songs. Funny, I used to love to sing, but now lyrics ruin it for me. I don't remember if I've always hated them or if it came about more... recently. Things are different. Things are hazy. I like Gymnopedie No. 1 by Erik Satie.

[havithreatendub4]

#September 29, 2012 #Native American Comanche #Johnny as the #Grand Marshal of the #Comanche Nation #tattoo #dreamcatcher #amoy #artist #art #johnny's art #fan meeting #johnnys tattoo #Ft. Sill Army Base #Oklahoma City #fans

[1bravo9]

If you know what this is and have ridden in one GOD BLESS YOU!

[chillypepperhot]

Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

Forever In Our Gratitude.. on Flickr.

Memorial day of any other holiday Gratitude is always given to those who sacrificed for our Freedom. Photo is mine taken by me and posted by me…:)

[lalalychee-x]

"Bad Idea!" Boothill x Reader ft. his hat

CW: NSFW! MDNI! fem!reader; sex where ur on a window sill; squirting + licking it off again lol; slight exhibitionism (the door's open); biting; Boothill's tongue has its own warning; clothes ripping; fingering; robo-dick and cyborg fingers lmao; creampie; blood from biting is mentioned like twice and barely; teasing; braless; begging; edging; sweet and soft Boothill bc he's a cutie; empty warnings; he can't breathe since he doesn't have lungs?? word count: 3415 oopsie

song4this Bad Idea by Ariana Grande

♡ Whenever Boothill's hat goes missing, he knows you're responsible, so it ends up with him hunting around for you. You run away with his hat on to tease him, and he runs after you, playfully nibbling at your cheek. It's all fun and games until the hat is the only thing you have on.. ♡ Basically, you steal his hat to tease him, but end up getting fucked silly until you apologise to him. With the hat on. And only the hat on. "Ya wanted to wear it so badly, darlin', so ya got it."

inspo post from @madamofthestars (psst, check them out! They super cool!) art creds: skoukax on insta

"C'mon now, sugar, ya know that ain't yours…!" Boothill called out behind out, his voice a mixture of frustration and amusement.

You rolled your eyes, quickly glancing back through a spin on your heel; the hat wobbling slightly as you held it in place with one hand.

You look back at him, sticking your tongue out, before giggling and darting off. You sharply turned a corner, your heart racing as you waited for the perfect moment to lead him down a wilder chase.

Boothill scoffs, an amused smirk tugging at his lips, "Oh, gettin' smart now, are we?"

You spin back around, your heart racing as the clicking of his boots gets closer and quicker, "I am smart!" You taunted him a little, the brim of the hat bobbing as you picked up speed.

"Ya little fudgin' minx," Boothill muttered under his breath, his curses amusingly censored as they reached your ears. "I swear, when I get my hands on ya…"

"You can't even swear properly!" You call out again, turning your head as you ran, setting the hat askew.

You catch a glimpse of him running towards you, the sight beyond amusing to see when running at such speed. You attempt to call back, but your voice dissolves into a fit of giggles and gasps for air as you ran.

You snapped your head back, facing forward to drag out the chase. It was all fun and games until you realised you'd diverted your attention for too long and cornered yourself in a dead-end room. Boothill's imposing figure filled the doorway, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in the sight of you. You were panting but your index and thumb firmly gripped the brim of the hat, assuring it stayed on your head.

A room was an overstatement; a storage room, just maybe, with a singular horizontal window panel that stretched about a meter wide at most. It let in a few spells of moonlight.

Boothill leaned against the door frame, his arms crossed over the metal plates of his chest, "Gotcha now," He laughed, the star-shaped insignia on his jacket clicking against the metal of his torso as he did so. "My hat looks mighty fine on ya, but I think it's time ya give it back."

You adjusted the hat, spining it on your low on your brow.

"Come on, just a little longer—?" You teased, batting your eyelashes in a futile attempt to charm him.

"No can do, darlin'," He chuckled again, pushing the door shut behind him. The room dimmed as the light from outside blocked out. "But if ya apologise, I'ma let you have it a bit longer."

"Ok ok, sorry!" You smile sheepishly, reaching a hand to the hat. "There, can I keep it for longer?"

Boothill looked at you with a raised eyebrow, as if you were joking. "That it?"

"Well, else do you want me to say?" You stood there, a bit dumbfounded.

He stared for a second longer before edging himself closer, his face close to yours, bionic fingers tracing up and down your neck. "C'mon, apologise properly."

He tipped the hat up by the brim to expose your eyes better to him. He leaned down, the sharp edges of his teeth latching onto the soft skin of your cheek, pressing hard enough that they'd definitely leave jagged crescent-shaped scars in the morning.

He moved some hair away from your neck, his voice low against your ear as he nibbled across your jaw, "C'mon sweetcheeks, I know ya can work that mouth better than tha't. What happened to all tha't smart talk from before, hm?"

A flushed heat crawled up your neck, dusting your cheeks a rosy pink even in the dim light. It took a moment, before your quickening gasps dissolved into stutters, "A-ah, that was a j-joke…"

"A j-j-joke?" He laughed low against your ear, playfully mocking your stutter, "But you look to be takin' it real serious, sweetheart."

He paused, before licking a long stipe down from your jaw down to your collar bone. "M'still wanting that pretty lil' apology. C'mon."

God, his tongue was going to drive you insane-

You let out a shaky breath, lowering your hand from the hat on your head to place comfortably on his metal shoulder plates. "Hey hey, sorry sorry, I won't steal your hat again, ah—!"

You gasped, almost buckling over as Boothill planted a particularly mean bite through the thin skin of your collarbone.

Glancing down through hazy eyes, you watched as he swiped his tongue over his teeth, licking away the small beads of blood across his jagged dentures. "Ya said that last time too, darlin'."

Your grip tightened on his shoulders, "C'mon, I mean it this… t-time-!"

Your eyes widened, watching Boothill's teeth latch onto the neckline of your dress, yanking it roughly until it ripped. You yelped at the sudden rush of cool air against your bare chest, nipples hardening under the sudden exposure.

"Boothill!" Your arms snapped around the obnoxious tear in your clothes. "The door's practically still open!"

He chuckled, tracing a line with his sharp teeth along your breast.

He raised an eyebrow, "No bra? Yer askin' for it now, sweetheart."

Your face felt really warm again, excuses coming out nothing more than mutters, "I-It… was really warm, today…"

"Aight then, darlin'," he cupped his metal palms under your thighs, hoisting you up until you sat on the window sill, your back pressed against the pane of the window. "Besides, if we get caught, then they jus' gonna havet' give us some privacy…"

You gulped away any nervousness as he shyed away your arms from your chest. He trailed his mouth down your teared bodice, ripping fabric as he went, until he reached the waistline of your dress. He paused for a moment, before ripping a tear down it, right to the hem of the skirt, the sliced fabric falling either side of your thighs.

Goosebumps raced up the exposed skin of your thighs, eyeing when he knelt down, two loud clanks as the metal joints of his knees hit the floor.

He grinned at the sight of the thin fabric of your underwear, running his teeth along his teeth again.

"What pretty panties, hm? Was half expectin' yer to be bare down here too, sweetheart." He lifted your right leg over his shoulder. "Shame 'm gonna rip 'em so soon."

"Hey—! Come on, c-careful!" You shivered slightly as his canines hooked around the stretchy fabric, piercing a hole in them.

"Right darlin'. It's ya punishment for not apologisin'."

"H-huh—?"

There was a staggered ripping sound as your underwear ripped from top corner to bottom corner, the material coming off with the dragging of his teeth.

You yelp, gripping his hair, "You—! Are you going to fucking shred everything I'm wearing—?!"

"Yeah, am plannin' on it, darlin'." He chuckled before trailing his tongue up your slit, already a drooling mess between your legs.

You shiver, your fingers gripping his hair tighter, the door cracked open only making your heart race faster. Oh Aeons, if someone were to see you exposed to him like this, pressed up against the window—

"Shh, relax sweetheart. The thrill's the best part. Jus' breathe for me, ok?" He began to rub up and down your slit, his voice soothing and his thumb lingering at your clit for a moment too long just to force a whine out of you. "But if I were ya, I'd start apologisin' if you wanna cum this time."

"H-haah—?!"

He didn't respond to your breathless protest, but circled two fingers around your entrance, watching amused as slick pooled on his fingertips. "Stubborn? Y'need some encouragement, do ya?"

He licked a long stripe up again letting tongue swirl around your clit before slipping a finger in, his mouth still hot against your folds.

He grinned and looked up at your nervous expression melting into pleasure, his head leaning against the inside of your thigh. "There y'go, sweetheart, ain't that feel good?"

"Hnngh—!" You desperately tried to roll your hips on his finger, only to fail and your body halt into a series stutters.

"Really fudgin' desperate, are we?" He laughed a little, sucking in a breath. "Hol' on, darlin', I'll find it."

He slid his finger in and out tantalisingly slow, his tongue brushing over your clit; you could feel the steel of his teeth occasionally that irked your body with shocks of pleasure. Content with your faltering ego, he slipped another finger in, the stretch making you wince before whining.

"B-boothill, 'm sorry, please-let-me-just, a-ah—!" Your eyes widen, one hand curved over and gripping the window sill and the other firmly on his hair.

"Hm, what's that darlin'?" He stupidly grins, his bottom lip glossed over with spit and your arousal. "Didn't quite hear ya…"

He curled his two fingers upwards, the rubber pads on his fingertips pressing firmly against that sweet spot deep inside you.

"F-fuckkknngh…" Your eyes roll out of focus, hips subcounciously rocking against his bent fingers and your back arched until your head pressed against the window pane — with the hat still on.

He clicked his tongue. "There. 'M found it. Now where are my sorries and Iwontdoitagain's?" He began to pump the two fingers in and out, roughly pressing against that sweet spot every thrust of them. "Still want a proper apology, sweetheart—"

He stays substantially quiet — amiss a few amused hums and chuckles — listening to your flurry of apologies and letting you listen to the sloppy squelches of your cunt.

"God, I'm sorry— I won't—"

"Oh, is that so, darlin'?"

"H-hn, god, I won't do it again—!"

"Sure ya won't, darlin'…" He sucked in a breath, voice shaky between your legs, before picking up the pace with a stupid grin on his face, flashing his shark teeth. You whine, rocking your hips in helpless stutters, your pussy openly accepting the change in pace and clenching around his digits while he curls them deeper and quicker inside of you. "Fuckfuckfuckk— I'm sorry, sorrysorry— pleasejust—"

Boothill grinned at your mush of words. Your mouth hung open, chewing at your bottom lip in a desperate attempt to muffle the drunk blabbles that spilled out of your mouth.

He mutters, his voice low between your trembling thighs, "C'mon sweetheart, y'mouth can beg better than that." He rolls his tongue over your clit again, pumping his fingers in and out, sticky threads leaking from your cunt and sprawling between his fingers and the sides of your thighs.

You clenched your eyes shut, tears pricking at your eyes, "Boothill, c'mon, 'm sorryyy— w-won't do it again— promise—!"He lets out a low hum, gently flicking at your clit with the tip of his tongue— oh god, his damned tongue. A flash of panic spread across your face, feeling him begin to slow down.

"Or what, sweetheart?" He experimentally twisted his hand agonisingly slow as he pumped in and out, pistoning your cunt with his fingers at deeper angles, rubbing your clit with his thumb.

"Please, 'm gonna — hic — c-cum—!" Tears began pricking at your eyes, "God, please, fuck, I've learned my lesson —!" Your pleas come out in choked sobs, "Please don't — hic — slow down—!"

"Attagirl," He grinned, the flat steel of his teeth pressed up against your slit as his tongue flit over that bundle of nerves at the tip that drove you insane, quicker this time, "Jus' a bit more, yeah?"

He slid in for a final time and jerked his hand upwards, settling his fingers into you, firmly hooking repeatedly into that sweet spot. His voice and laugh were teasing, vibrations low and tempting between the plush of your thighs. "C'mon — make a real fudgin' mess on m'face, sweetheart."

"B-boothill, 'm gonna—!"

Your fingers grip the smooth locks of his hair, head pushed against the glass, his name shamelessly spilling out of your mouth. Specks of white flash from behind your eyes, vision going hazy and choked moans straggering from your throat.

You hear him chuckle lightly underneath you, cooing at the clench around his fingers and the gushes of viscid liquid coating his tongue, lips and fingers so well.

He slowly pulled away after rubbing strangely vexing circles a few more times inside you. He glances up at you with a satisfied grin, his mouth and chin glossy with your fluids.

Lowering your thigh from his shoulder, he let it dangle back over the window sill before standing up with a loud scrape of his metal joints against the floor.

He cleaned his fingers clean of the sheeny, pretty slick with his tongue and making sure to roll them around in his mouth before taking them out with a 'pop—!'

"Real mess y'made, sweetcheeks." He grinned, flashing his teeth at you, as he used the back of his hand to wipe away any remnants. "Tastes real good, though."

"H-hnn…" Your voice came out rough and croaky, your head lolling to one side, setting the hat to tumble off your head.

He snapped a hand to the hat, placing it back on your head with a mischievious smile, "No no, keep it on. Ya wanted to wear it so badly, darlin', so y'got it."

You blink for a few moments, regaining your breath, "Oh, fuck you—!"

"With pleasure—"

"What am I going to wear when getting out of here?! At least you're clothed!" You motion to the sliced fabric on either side of your legs, and the ripped bodice of your dress hanging on dear threads.

With your comment, he slipped off and discarded his jacket that didn't even cover much anyway.

"Ya won't need anythin' for a while now, darlin'. Think of it when we get there." Boothill laughed, flicking away the torn rags. "Besides, y'look good with just the hat on. Think I've put your mouth to enough good use too."

You lick your lips, opening your mouth to say something but quickly shutting it again at the swift unbuckling of his belt; it heaves down to his thighs from the weight of the cartridges hung on it.

His fingers travel, hitching onto a cock of metal plates, the edges of them encased in thick black rubber right from the girth until reaching a swollen tip of black rubber.

You sharply breathe, eyeing the scale-like texture, taking note of every rib on it as it lined up against you. You suddenly blush at the realisation of mouth almost salivating, muttering, "You so owe me a new dress after this—"

Boothill let out an amused hum, one hand wiping a line of drool from your lip then trailing down to your tits, cupping the flesh with cold metal fingers. You shiver, the skin on your chest pebbled with goosebumps before gasping at a sudden bite along the sensitive skin.

"—?!"

The quick spike of pain quickly subsided into a tingly sort of pleasure as Boothill's tongue drove around the swelling mark, peppering a few more as he went until he was so bent over into you that his cock pushed up against your pussy, the metal cool against your puffy and swollen clit.

"Ah, fudge, darlin'—" He grits his teeth, feeling the warmness of you just on his tip. He huffs a little, barely fitting it in voice raspy as his face is buried into your neck. "Open up a bit, sweetheart will ya—?"

He backs away for a moment to grab both of your legs, hooking them firmly over his shoulders. You groaned at the stretch, keeping both hands on the window sill in desperation. He grinned at your pussy spread wider over his tip now, clenching around it and sheening the bulb of rubber with slick. "There y'go…"

He groaned, breathing shaky as he slid it slowly. "A-ah, God—"

"A-ah, God—" Your eyes widen, rolling out of focus from feeling every metal rib of his cock push into you, forcing it thick and hard into your cunt until it reached the base. You tense, locking your legs around his neck. "Fuck, I told you to be careful—!"

He let out a shaky laugh, "Sorry 'bout that darlin'—"

He places one hand on the window sill for leverage, the other coming to press the hat down on your head. With a sharp breath in, he begins to move, deep long strokes at first to make sure you felt every bump along the scale-plating of his cock against your walls.

And, god, did it drive you insane; the texture was too much, almost sending your sending your already-sensitive pussy into overstimulation. "Hnn, t-too much —! Boothillholdon, itsgonnahmph—!"

"Jus' relax, darlin', you've taken it before…" He whispers low into your ear, stressing the pace of his movements, losing himself in the warmth of your cunt and grinning at your indecipherable mush of words spilling from your mouth again. Muffled groans escape as he listens to your moans, picking up the pace.

You subconciously roll your hips against the thrusting of his cock, every metal plate rubbing smooth and hard against your walls, the thick rubber of his tip hitting hard against your g-spot.

"Killer hips y'got there, baby—" He cooes breathlessly in your ear, his own voice breaking as he thrust in and out of your sopping cunt. You flush a deep red, your face now hot and bothered when you realise how desperate you were against his cock.

You open your mouth to reply, probably with something smart but your lips are greeted with the stark taste of iron and your own slick on his tongue as his mouth kisses yours shut. You whine through his lips, feeling his tongue deep in your mouth until your whole body shivered and tingled. You tried to keep your eyes open, only to end up crossing them over in a fucked-out haze.

Your legs trembled over his shoulders, locking him tighter in place to bully his cock deeper into your cunt. His eyes widened at the lock, then he grinnned.

"Fudge, y'not lettin' m'get away, are ya—?" He groaned before huffing out a laugh, finally lowering his hand from the hat on your head to place them both on your hips, roughly slamming them onto him to target that sweet spot inside you.

"Hnn — hic — god, m'gonna—" Your words come out slobbery, your lips glossed over and drooling.

"C'mon, pretty, cum f'me…" He dug the metal of his fingers into your hips, his own beginning to stutter and shake as he moved. He rubbed the pad of his thumb against your clit in uneven circles to drag the orgasm out of you. "Make a real mess, sweetheart—"

Patches of white and yellow flash behind your eyes, your hips buckling forward. You let out a long choked moan that stuttered with every slackening thrust of his hips that gummed your insides with thick ropey spills of cum.

Gently, he slowed until the stimulation against your slit burned off, leaving you tingly and weak. Weak enough to finally let go of the leg lock you had on his neck.

The grip on your hips slackened as he pulled away, whistling at the mess between you both. He took a moment to watch the white slick drip between your legs. "Feel full as a tick yet, darlin'?"

You tried to respond, but your whole body almost lolled to the side, only stopped quickly by his arm. He gazed down at you, stupidly grinning and laughing at the sight. "What'd I say, darlin'? I did shut up that smart mouth of yours." He clicked his tongue in thought, "Even got m'self the cutest little apologies—"

With any remaining energy you had, you playfully whacked him on the arm and cut him off, to which he faked a wince. He had forgotten the bodily difference in stamina between you two.

"Ouch— fudge, darlin', at least you got some spark left in ya. Fine, 'ma buy you a… no, ten dresses in turn, 'kay?" He pressed a small kiss on your forehead then eyed the dimly lit room, catching sight of the hat that had tumbled off your head at some point and the jacket he had teasingly thrown off. "For now, 'm jacket and that hat are gonna have to do."

"Oh, fuck you—" You scoff, your head in the curl of his elbow.

He smiled, running his hand through your hair. "C'mon, y'wanted to wear that hat so badly. Y'looked real good in it…"

♡ Please do not modify, steal, plagarise or post on other platforms without asking. Thank you!

[mydaylight]

Do you remember when Miss Nilsson sang the "Jewel Song" here? How could I forget.

Carrie Coon and Celia Keenan-Bolger as BERTHA RUSSELL AND MRS BRUCE

(ft. Douglas Sills as JOSH BORDEN)

THE GILDED AGE (2022 -) | 2.08 "In Terms of Winning and Losing"

[crabberman]

Espresso (Atsumu x Reader)

“Now he’s thinking ‘bout me every night oh isn’t that sweet? I guess so.”

Atsumu had a problem. He groans and rolls over in his bed, glancing at the clock by his head. 3:02 it reads, causing Atsumu to groan again. His mind hadn’t stopped racing all day. The mind once so filled with volleyball now had another thing taking up space; you, Atsumu’s classmate. He throws an arm over his face, moving around in his bed again and earning a shout from his twin.

“Stop movin’ asshole, I’m tryin’ ta sleep” Osamu grumbles and kicks at the mattress above his head. He’s had to listen to Atsumu’s whining for hours now. Finally fed up, he begrudgingly asks Atsumu why he's been like this. “I’m tired of listenin' yer bitchin’, the fucks wrong?”

Atsumu groans once more, sitting up in his bed. “Ya know y/n from my class?”

“Yeah, what about em?”

“I can’t stop thinking about em.” Atsumu mumbles out, earning a laugh below from Osamu. 

“The oh so great Atsumu, humbled by some guy from his class.” Osamu snickers. "Thought you didn't care 'bout what people thought?" Atsumu huffs at the teasing remarks and throws a pillow underneath himself at his twin who manages to dodge it. “Fuck off, why don’y you text em or somethin’” Osamu tosses the pillow back up, hitting Atsumu.

Atsumu stops for a moment before reaching towards the window sill for his phone. He turns it on and searches through his messages until he finds who he was looking for. He takes a deep breath in before clicking on your contact typing out a message. He passes the phone to Osamu on the bottom bunk before he sends it. “This good enough?” His voice has an out of character uncertainty to it. 

Osamu grumbles and grabs the phone, reading the unsent message out loud. “Hey you up?” He rolls his eyes. “Are ya fuckin' serious Tsumu? Ya sound like some playboy” Osamu continues his scolding as he types out a new message, passing the phone back up to Atsumu. “There. That sounds a little better and like you wrote it.” Atsumu flips his brother off before he reads the new message. His eyes lit up and he immediately pressed ‘send’. “Thanks Samu! I owe ya!” Atsumu’s unease seems to have dissipated.

“I know yer not gonna repay me.” Osamu rolls over in his bed, pulling his blankets up. “Now be quiet, some people don’t wanna be tired an' hear ‘bout it from the captain.” With that Osamu pushes his pillow to cover his ears, getting a head start on blocking Atsumu out for the rest of the night.

Atsumu stays put, watching his phone desperately. He feels almost stupid, he’s never once cared about what another person thought about him, so what does he care now? As soon as these thoughts enter Atsumu’s mind he sees the three dots appear at the bottom of his screen. You were texting back. He watches excitedly as the message pops up, almost stealing his breath away.

Atsumu: Hey I can't sleep. If you’re awake do you wanna ft? You: Sure :) 

Atsumu feels a wide grin take over his face as he hearts your message. He feels giddy on the inside. Maybe caring about what this one person thought wasn’t so bad.

[hellishmuse]

Maisie watched on with curious eyes, following the dog as he walked back to his owner, looking incredibly smug. Like a menace, apparently. She crouched down to pick up the books, holding them out to the man in front of her. "Don't worry. I'm a klutz myself. Always knocking stuff over. Just usually not when people are around, if I can help it." She averted his gaze, looking down at her hands for a moment. Talking to people was totally normal and easy, and other people who were more shy than she was did it all the time! This was no sweat at all. "Cool dog," she said then shook her head slightly in embarrassment, chastising herself mentally.

Of course it was too much to ask the seeing eye dog to do his job. Not when the librarian was all too familiar with him and he knew she had treats behind the desk for him. Julien sighed as he picked up the books he had admittedly knocked over, if not for any reason other than Teague taking off running to the lady who was already cooing at him despite the disturbance that seemed to get everyone else’s attention.

Even if he couldn’t see well he could tell that eyes were on him and he nodded, waving everyone off. “Yes, yes… so sorry.” The annoyed rolling of eyes seemed to have its own breeze as Teague trotted back, thoroughly pleased with himself. “You’re a menace.” He muttered, lovingly as he scratched the pups chin. That’s when he noticed the stifled laugh. It was soft, but not enough for him to miss. Glancing up, he gave the unfamiliar face a wry grin.

“I��d be lying to you if I said that’s never happened before.” He admitted with a wry grin.

[hometoursandotherstuff]

I can't believe this. Yesterday, I posted an old mill conversion and said that I only like the ones that have the old equipment inside and still look like an actual mill. These people murdered this one. It's nice, but why didn't they just build a house instead of ruining the mill? So, this is a former 1840 mill in Old Lyme, CT with 4bds, 3ba, 5,283 sq ft, $995k.

What old mill? This is a mansion. Where are the stone walls? This is insane. I've never seen anything like it.

There's a powder room in there.

This place was completely gutted. I wonder what they did with all of the antique equipment. It looks like they really didn't know what to do with all the space. Mills are huge.

You can see where the vast floors were.

It's kind of empty, except for the dining room.

In the kitchen, there's a lone original stone wall. Very plain cabinets, too. For such a large building, this is a tight kitchen, considering.

I wonder if that opening was there before.

They really didn't know what to do with the original open layout.

We must be on the top level, which is where they put the bedrooms.

While they carpeted a lot of the floors, this bedroom has a refinished original floor.

The primary bedroom is large and they put in a fireplace.

Large en-suite.

And here, we're on the ground floor of the mill. They put in a fireplace, but it's unclear what this room is supposed to be.

And, then they made a family room in here and put a brick fireplace in front of an original stone wall.

There's an awful lot of unused space. There's another stone wall on the left and another fireplace.

As we saw yesterday, these mills are huge. Look at all this area that they're heating. No they did not put in a suspended ceiling. Looks like a bedroom in the far corner and a large closet. Look at all the carpets, what is the point of this?

Here's the waterfall that powered the mill, still beside it. They put a bridge/observation deck over it.

The wheel is gone.

Beautiful 2.17 acre property and all that's left is the shell of a former mill. I can't believe that they didn't even leave the wheel. It would've been so picturesque.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/108-Sill-Ln-Old-Lyme-CT-06371/157578116_zpid/

[roadtrippinlilly]

Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

[chillypepperhot]

Source Me laf@ilyF ❤️

[honimello]

Instant Crush//Possum Kingdom

Stalker!Cardinal Copia x Sister of Sin!Reader

Summary: He’s been watching you for so long, he can’t wait any longer. He has to have you. (Loosely inspired by the songs Instant Crush by Daft Punk ft. Julian Casablancas, and Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.)

Words: 4,955

Warnings: NSFW 18+, DLDR; Dead Dove‼️intense voyuerism, stalking, obsession, kidnapping, dubious consent/noncon, copia is an unreliable narrator, innocence kink, outcast/evil copia x popular reader slightly cliche, PiV, masturbation, severe stockholm syndrome, mention of lactation

A/N: I don’t know if I would say this is the most intense fic out there but i think it would still be good to put the dead dove do not eat warning on here lol also thought of the ministry having catacombs like halfway through the fic and now i can’t stop thinking about how cool that would be lol

——

“And we will never be alone again… Kinda counted on you being a friend, can I give it up or give it away?” // “Make up your mind, and I’ll promise you I will treat you well, my sweet angel.”

He doesn’t know how it got to this point. The Cardinal can just barely see himself in the reflection of the window pane in front of him, but how can he focus on his own practically-drooling visage when he can watch what’s on the other side of the glass?

Copia knows he shouldn’t watch, but he can’t really help it anymore. He really doesn’t know how it got to this point, watching you bent over your bed with an undeserving Brother of Sin. It would make his blood boil if he didn’t love the sight of it so much. You look so beautiful like this, ass pressed up against this rugged Brother, your sweet little face scrunched up in pleasure. Oh, if only it were him making you feel like that. He’s just glad someone’s doing it, even if it’s not him. At least he gets to watch.

Copia’s cock begins to tent his cassock just a little more as a muffled moan of yours floats through the cracked window sill. How divine, he thinks, why would such an angel spend their time in a pit of demons? This was the fourth Sibling you’d been with this week, and he just can’t seem to wrap his head around it. You’re such a sweet little thing, and they are always so dirty.

His train of thought is cut short when he realizes your big, innocent eyes are locked on his own. He can feel his heart sink all the way to his feet. You look scared. Yet, you don’t say anything to your partner, just continue to stare into his lustful, depraved gaze. He can’t quite tell what sort of expression is on your face other than shock and fear, but there’s something else indistinguishable mingled in there. It’s not until you arch your back and your eyes roll back into your skull that he knows— arousal is hot in your gaze and it’s bringing you over the edge.

It’s like watching a tsunami, or, more relevantly, an angel fall to earth. It’s breathtaking in so many different ways. He can’t help it when his cock twitches, his cassock becoming unbearably sticky. You’re just so beautiful like this, he doesn’t even need to touch himself.

Copia watches on as your partner cleans only himself up and leaves you on the bed with a halfhearted promise to return at a later date, but you couldn’t care less. How long had he been watching you now? The Cardinal tries to recall when this all started.

You were new to the Ministry but had quickly become a sort of people’s princess. Everyone loved you, especially Copia. You had enchanted him with your big eyes and sweet demeanor. Although, it was never directed towards him, he was quite used to this and hadn’t expected any sort of kindness from you. He knew he didn’t deserve it. He had spent his whole life manipulating and fighting his way to where he was now, but soon he wouldn’t be just a Cardinal anymore.

People knew to tread carefully with him, they thought him disgusting and frightful. A part of him was glad for this, it made his job easier. There was a reason everyone called him the Rat and it wasn’t because of his defined nose. If someone were in his way, he wouldn’t hesitate to ruin their lives to come out on top. He’s a liar, a snitch, a traitor, a backstabber, a Brutus, a Judas, if you will.

Ah, yes. Now he remembers. It was fall, he had just finished teaching his Latin class. He was locking up the class room, the night sky shining down on him from a nearby window. A chill ran through his spine. He could hear you, you’re short heels clicked on the linoleum in a strange and specific way that was unique to you. He had been casually watching you in the past week of you being there, any time he found himself in your presence he couldn’t look away.

And here you were, you had stopped in your tracks the second you noticed him. He could practically smell the fear on you, so as he turned to face you, he tried to keep a neutral expression. Even then he knew he didn’t want to scare you, not like how he scares the others. No, he wanted to scare you in a different way. A way that makes you clench your thighs together and beg for release.

“Hello, Sorella.” He said, watching you carefully. You were stiff, like maybe just the sight of him alone had turned you into a statue. He looked off to the side, where he presumed you were heading to. “Ah, on your way to my fratello, eh?”

Terzo’s office was just down the hall from his, and of course a beautiful Sister of Sin like you would visit him late into the night. He saw you fidget where you stood, you stared at your shoes in fear of meeting his eyes. Your voice came out wavering and hushed.

“N-no, il mio Cardinalé. I was on my way to see you.” Your voice was so soft he almost thought he misheard you for a second, but no, oh no, he hadn’t. Now he’s nervous. What could you possibly want to do with him? He was afraid if he thought too much about it he might pitch a tent in his very revealing, tight pants. Seemingly, to spare him, you continued. “Sister Imperator gave me some paperwork she meant to give you in the meeting this morning. She said it was important.”

You held out the stack of papers with a shaking hand, and he couldn’t stop himself from brushing his gloved fingers against yours as he took it from you. Your eyes were so wide, staring up at him with such fear and reverence. And even after he thanked you and you had walked away, he stood in the hallway dreaming of that look.

Yes, this was when he had started following you. From this point on he couldn’t stand it when you were out of his sight, he had to know where you were and who was giving you the pleasure you deserved. So, as he snapped out of his daydream in the hall, he stalked off into the Ministry corridors.

The Cardinal did his best to stay quiet as he caught glimpses of you turning corners and weaving in between the Ministry’s ornate marble pillars. He followed you into the dorm wing, hesitating just around the corner so he could take note of which door you entered. The butterflies in his belly became more and more present as he realized just how lucky he was. Your room was at the very end of the hall, directly next to an exit, and he knew for a fact that there was a window peering into your room.

He exited the wing, and came face to face with what would soon become a sort of second home to him. A bench directly under the window to your room. Copia cupped his hands around his eyes as he pressed his forehead into the window, trying his best to see into the room with how dark it was. A breeze racked its way through his body, but he warmed up fast when he saw you exit from your bathroom.

Steam spilled from the little room, you had started a shower. His heart began to race, you were grabbing a robe from your dresser. Were you about to?— Oh, yes. Yes, you were. You had pulled your habit right over your head after removing your wimple, the vision in front of him could only be likened to holiness. A beautiful angel, clad in dark lace and nylon. You bent forward, presenting your full ass to him, you rolled down your stockings and pulled them off your legs.

The mirror on your dresser gave him the perfect view of your front as well. It sent a jolt of terror through him though, when he had noticed the window reflected perfectly in the mirror, but it seemed your curtains hid him from view. He heaved a sigh, watching as your hands skimmed over your tits, plucking each bra strap and letting them snap back against your skin. He could see the little flinch you made each time you did it, it had him twitching in his pants.

Finally, you slid the straps off your shoulders and reached behind you to unlatch the bra entirely. It fell to the floor unceremoniously, giving him a full view of your chest. And what a view it was, his hand skimmed its way down to his crotch, palming at his hot erection. Your breasts were soft and caught the beautiful glow of the candle on your dresser like an oil painting.

He didn’t have much time to admire you before your hands made their way down to your panties, playing with the band resting on your full hips. You slid them down your legs, bending over once more. Your cunt was slick and glistening in the candlelight. He started to drool. He hadn’t felt lust like this in quite some time, his work had taken the forefront of his attention. But now? You were the only thing he could think of, work wasn’t even a thought anymore.

You slinked off into the bathroom, finished undressing, and he wondered if you would touch yourself in the shower. He wished there was a window in there too.

That night, as he lay in his bed, wet cock in hand, he imagined what it would be like to touch you, to shower with you.

And even as he sits outside your window now, he still wonders what it would be like to give you the pleasure he so desperately wants to give you. Watching you with your little toys and your inconsistent partners can only satiate him so much.

You lay in your bed, covers pulled all the way up to your nose, still staring at him. You look so enticing. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stop himself anymore. A couple weeks ago he had found a way to unlock the window from the outside. He had taken his fair share of your dirty panties from your hamper, and now… Now he wanted to take something else.

His lithe hand creeps down to where he knows the window is cracked open, the latch never quite closed fully, and if he could wiggle his finger underneath he could push the latch off completely. So, he did. The expression on your face makes him hard again, the squish of the cum staining his cassock is barely a thought to him with how strained his cock is once more. He sees tears well up against your long eyelashes.

He starts to shush you, trying to comfort you as he slowly slides the window up. He bends his head down, and slinks into your room. Soon, Copia is standing next to your bed. You haven’t moved an inch, though the tears have slid down your plump cheeks. He doesn’t know what to say, he wants you to feel better. He wants you to come back with him to his chambers. He wants you all to himself.

Only now does he realize he’s said this aloud. This snaps you out of your paralysis and you lunge for the door to your dorm. He’s much bigger than you though, and he’s caught you within seconds of your attempt. He presses your naked body close to him, you try to claw at his arms and scream but his thick hand has clamped over your mouth.

“Shh, shh, angioletto mio… You don’t need your little playthings anymore, bravetta, you have me now.” He presses his lips against your ear and whispers to you, pressing sporadic little kisses to the shell of your ear in between his words. “Shh, shh…”

Copia rubs his face into your soft hair, his voice rumbling like a cat. You continue to try and wiggle your way out, but he just slowly pulls you down to the ground, arms encasing your entire upper torso in a tight grip. He’s finally caught you and he’s not letting you go.

He continues to shush you, his voice a mix of comforting and terrifying. He gently presses you down into the floor, your body now lain flat, face pressed into the ground.

“Don’t move, little one. Your Cardinalé needs to do something.”

Your heart plummets to your stomach at the insinuation, but thankfully, he steps away from you and walks over to your dresser. You think of making another break for the door, but you know he would just catch you again so you decide to play the obedient role for now. He appreciates this as he pulls two long, thick ribbons from your dresser drawer. He had seen you play with another Sibling with these before and he had fantasized about them since.

Now, he can finally use them on you, like he has a wanted for quite some time now. He stalks back over to your body, straddling your hips and trying not to think of how good it feels for your plush ass to be pressed up against his balls. His fingers wrap around each of your wrists and he binds you with the red ribbon. It’s tight and inescapable. He moves down your legs and does the same with your ankles.

As he goes to stand above you, your little voice stops him in his tracks.

“C-Cardinalé?” Oh, the waver in your voice makes him feral. He’s so glad he could give you such a beautiful tremor. He hopes he’s riling you up just as much as you are to him.

“Sí, bravetta?”

“…”

You squirm under him, the sight of your breasts squished up against the floor is driving him insane. What soft nipples, he thinks, if only I had the time to worship them now. He nudges your hip with the tip of his dress shoe, urging you to continue as he’s sure he only has so much time to get you back to his chambers.

“I-I’m so scared, il mio Cardinalé.” Copia kneels back down, carding his fingers through your hair as he presses up against you once again. He gently lays kisses on your shoulder, his mustache tickling your skin.

“Oh, piccolo angialetto mio, there’s no need to be afraid. Shh, just relax now…” His hand rustles around in his cassock for a few seconds, making your blood run cold, but he pulls out a thick leather strap and fastens it against your mouth, effectively muffling any sound that may come out.

He pulls you off the floor, and carries you bridal style out of your room and through the exit he knew so well.

The entrance to the Ministry’s catacombs was a little bit into the edge of the woods near the gardens, not far from where your room had been. Sister Imperator had given him the long-abandoned chamber within the catacombs when he had become a bishop. The last tenant used to care for the burial sights down there, but after his death the entirety of the catacombs has been left untouched.

Sister had offered Copia an upgrade within the upper clergy chamber hall but he had declined, he’s grown fond of the stench of death.

So, as he pushes the large wooden doors open with his back, he encourages you to close your eyes. Many of the coffins and effigies were open or broken apart, and he would hate for you to see something so grotesque. He wants you calm and comfortable down here.

He traverses the old stone steps down into the ground, the old torches had been updated to be electric, the fuzzy warm light has always looked so cozy to him. Even as it reflects off the cold, stone walls. His chambers are down a few more twists and turns, you try to memorize them but it quickly becomes hard to remember. It dawns on you that maybe only the Cardinal knows how to traverse these caverns.

Copia comes at a stop in front of a large, heavy door, he sets you down gently on the freezing stone floor to unlock it with a skeleton key. He pushes it open far enough that he can carry you through safely.

There’s a large, extravagant bed in the middle of the room. All the furniture in the room seems to be Victorian, and of the same set. It looks much more comfortable than the rest of the catacombs. He strides over to the bed and lays you down on the soft covers, turning back to the door to lock it.

Copia watches as your chest rises and falls rapidly, the realization that you’re completely alone with him now dawns on you both. You’re trapped, he could do whatever he wanted now. He could do everything he’s dreamed of. But first, he has to make sure you really can’t escape. He had bought a collar and leash quite some time ago when he had first had the idea to bring you here.

The sight of it makes you wail, though the sound is muffled by leather. As he leans forward to fasten the collar, you try to scoot away but it’s not enough. He has you collared within the next second, and he slides his fingers down the chain leash, pulling it up to the bed post closest to you. He wraps it around the post and locks it in place.

“Hm… There. How does that feel, piccolo angialetto mio?” He unties the leather strap from your mouth, letting all the little gasping sounds you’ve been making float through the still air of his chambers.

“P-please, please, Cardinalé, please, let me go.” You beg, hyperventilating and whimpering. He’s a little disappointed in you, such a sweet, obedient thing and yet you can’t answer a simple question? Maybe he needs to ask it again.

His gloved hand sidles up against your throat. He gives it an experimental little squeeze making your eyes widen in fear. His gaze is like looking into the sun: wide, bright, and burning. He never looks away for a second.

“I said. How. Does. It. Feel?”

You know you have to answer him.

“I-it…It’s okay, Cardinalé… It doesn’t hurt.” You pray to Lucifer that that’s what he wants to hear. It seems it is, as his hand loosens its grip and slowly, softly, slides down your clavicle and ghosts over your breasts. His eyes are wild and deranged, you can see spit gathering against his bottom lip as he ogles your chest. His fingertip traces the shape of your breast, then comes back up to gently rub your nipple. Guilt and shame burns in your belly as a little involuntary moan escapes your throat.

His eyes snap up to yours… He liked that. You can see the urgency in his face, he wants you to do it again. His fingers circle your nipple once more, and it’s so sensitive. Your cunt isn’t on your side, it’s slick and aching. You bite your lip to hold back any other sound that may sneak out. It seems he likes this just as much.

Copia leans even closer to you, his lips ghosting over the skin of your tit. His mustache tickles as he hovers just over your stiff nipple. The tip of his tongue inches out, grazing against your areola. His spit is hot and dries cold, making you shiver in the warm light of his chambers. What is wrong with you? How could you possibly be turned on by this right now?

You had noticed how he was always around, always hanging on your every word even if they weren’t being said to him. You had wondered if he truly was watching you, and tonight you had finally seen him. But it didn’t scare you as much as you thought it would. In fact, it had driven you mad. The sight of him drooling and humping the air as he watched you getting railed, it had done things to you. It made the cock in your pussy almost redundant as you spasmed and creamed all over it.

The thought of having Copia’s cock to cum on flashes in your mind, doing nothing to stop you from giving in to him. His mismatched eyes look up at you reverently, he starts to suck gently on your tit, letting out little whimpers and moans as he does so. His hand trails down your belly, on a certain path to your flushed and pulsing clit.

Any effort to refuse him has gone out the window, you have no idea how long you’re going to be here with him. It would do you no good to pretend you don’t like it as much as he does. Moans spill from your lips as his gloved fingertip gently presses against your clit. He draws little circles on the hot bud, making it twitch and pulse. You whisper his name in poorly contained ecstasy.

He shushes you once more in a placating gesture, his hot tongue laving over your nipple. You’ve had many partners over the years, but none of them felt like this. His hot mouth is what you imagine Hell must be like for the most devout of Satanists.

He continues his ministrations, vaguely wondering if he could get you to lactate if he treats your teat kind enough. He trails his tongue over to your other nipple to give it some much needed attention, and his cock jumps when you let out an airy gasp, your bound arms twitching in place. He suddenly realizes then that you’re still tied up at the wrists and ankles and a wave a guilt washes over him.

“Oh, piccolina, I’m sorry. Let me free you.” He pulls his mouth away from your tit, making you whine in protest. He sneaks his hand under your body, untying the ribbon as fast as he can and turning down to your ankles to untie that ribbon as well. It feels good to spread your arms out next to you and let your legs fall open for your Cardinal.

“What a beautiful girl.” He whispers in praise, his hand sliding back in between your legs. Your fingers toy with the grucifix hanging from his chest as he plays with your clit once more, suddenly it doesn’t feel so fair that you’re naked and he’s not.

“Copia?” You whisper breathlessly, catching his attention immediately. He mindlessly rubs your clit as he faces you with a quizzical expression.

“Sí, bravetta?” His voice has grown husky and his right pupil is blown wide while the other stays the same as it always does. He looks worried, like he’s done something wrong which feels morbidly ironic to you and you can’t help but let out a quiet giggle.

“Will you undress, il mio Cardinalé? I want to see you.” Your desperate voice betrays your neediness, and he looks almost smug at how well he’s riled you up. He barely has any room in his head for any insecure thoughts that crop up, his only thought being to make you happy. So, he pulls his hand away once more, though to start unbuttoning his cassock now.

He gets it about midway to his belly before he starts to pull it off his shoulders and let it fall to the ground. What greets you is freckled shoulders and hairy pecs hidden by a white tank top, and his signature tight, red pants.

His cock looks huge straining against the fabric, it makes your mouth water in anticipation. There’s a little wet spot where you assume the tip is, and it somehow makes you even slicker than before. His nimble fingers start to undo his pants, pulling out the tucked in tank top and tossing it over his head. With his pants fully unbuttoned, he takes a glance at you and sees that you’re transfixed. It looks as if you’ve been put under a spell, watching intently as he fumbles around to try and pull his pants down and off his legs.

His dick is even more pronounced in the tight black briefs he wears, it looks about as thick as your wrist and as long as your belly button to your clit. He looks at you hesitantly, like he’s not sure if you truly want to see all of him but there’s nothing more you want in this moment, not even escape.

He pulls the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, drawing it out as much as possible. Just so he can drink in the desperate look on your face, he knows he won’t have much resolve to tease you once it starts. His newly bare fingers slip down his pudgy, fuzzy belly and hook under the band of his briefs. He strains the band and lets it snap against his skin like he’d seen you do with your bra straps, and he watches intently as you let little gasps out each time he does it.

Copia pulls the band down, revealing his bush with every slow inch. The sight of the base of his cock takes your breath away, and soon enough the entire thing has flopped out and smacked against his belly. It’s monstrous. You want it like nothing else. It suits him.

He crawls over you and straddles you then pulls your legs around his hips, letting the tip of his flushed cock rest ever so gently against your throbbing clit. You whine and squirm, gripping the covers below you and he tuts gently.

“Patience, piccolina.” He warns, but both of you know there’s no real danger behind it. This is better than anything he could’ve imagined, why would he get upset with you for being just as eager as he is?

His cock catches against your aching hole as he tries to rub your clit with it and it makes you both gasp. He lets out a drawn out moan as the tip pushes gently against your cunt, it pops and slides in about an inch and he can’t seem to catch his breath. It’s been so long it feels like it’s the first time, and maybe it should be because no one has ever been like you. Sí, he thinks, this’ll be my new first time.

Just his tip sits nestled in your heat and it starts to make you feel fuzzy and needy, you start to whisper incoherent pleas. He knows what you need but he needs to take this in just for a few seconds longer, so he brings his thumb up to rub against your clit. You’re both moaning like desperate whores, and he can’t help the whimpers that fall from his lips whenever he feels you clench down on him.

He starts to slide in further, you’re so wet it feels like there’s no resistance at all. It feels like home to him, like this is where he really belongs. Here with you, in you and around you. He falls forward to rest on his elbows above you. His hips start to rock gently against you, pushing in further and further with each thrust.

“I-I love you, angialetto mio.” He whispers against your lips, pressing kiss after kiss on them. “I have loved you for so long.”

“I know, Cardinalé… Mmm, yes, just like that.” You groan as the head of his cock starts to nudge against that spot inside of you, pulling you closer and closer to the edge. “I-I… Oh, Copia, I love you too.”

You don’t know what’s come over you. You’re not in the right headspace, you never would’ve said that before. But maybe that’s okay, you think, maybe this is where I’m meant to be. You pull him closer, pressing your chests together and kissing him deeper. His tongue asks entrance into your mouth and you let it, you explore each others tongues as he fucks into you faster.

The sound of your wet bodies slapping against each other and the moans let out between breaths is the only thing that can be heard in the chambers, and as he continues to pick up speed and depth it feels like you just might scream. He’s hitting all the right places, rubbing all the right spots and your eyes roll back into your head. His face is scrunched up in concentration and pleasure, his sweat dripping down onto your own sweaty skin.

“Oh, bravetta, I’m so close.” He whimpers pathetically and he brings his hand back down to rub tight circles on your clit once more, aiming to push you over the edge with him.

“Yes! Yes! Copia, please!” You’re almost there too, your breathing is short and fast as your heart thumps in your chest, your clit throbbing. His thumb nudges the very tip of your clit and that’s what does it. It feels like molten lava has spilled over you from your head to your toes as he grunts loud and jerks his hips forward once, twice, and a third final time as he unloads deep inside you. Your walls spasm around his thick cock in ecstasy and soon enough the reality of the situation starts to set in.

You don’t know how long you lay there silently gazing off but when you come back, Copia has cleaned you both up and wrapped you up in the covers. He is gazing at you lovingly and it makes you sick to your stomach. There’s no getting out of here is there?

You wait til he falls asleep to cry.

“Now I thought about what I wanna say, but I never really know where to go. So, I chained myself to a friend.” // “Give it up to me, give it up to me. Do you wanna be my angel?”

——

[justporo]

Evening Rituals

The sun might be lost for Astarion, but what he can hold onto are the sunsets once the sun itself has hidden beyond the horizon. And so he sits and watches - and you hope to help him mend what's broken.

MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: I wrote this after I thought of that recent headcanon of Astarion liking to catch as much of a sunset as possible - because they're beautiful and we all know he loves beautiful things. Coincidentally the sky this morning - although it was a sunrise - was just as I imagined it for this piece. Pairing: Astarion/GN!Tav (You) Warnings: light mention of past trauma Wordcount: 1k Song: Am I Dreaming - Lil Nas X ft. Miley Cyrus ~~~

The room was dark so the sky could be more vibrant.

At least that’s what Astarion always said when he insisted on getting up as soon as the last golden ray of the setting sun had climbed down below the horizon. He’d thrown open the thick brocade curtains covering the tall window in your room, only to do the same with the window and then perch on the window sill: one leg drawn up, the other hanging casually down from the little nook and his head up towards the gradient sky.

His posture seemed casual enough. Inviting you to think that he was merely languidly relaxing. But for you who’d become accustomed to carefully notice even the most minute of details of your lover, you saw the tension in his spine and the way he leaned towards the last moments of daylight. The way his eyes spoke of yearning and a dear one lost.

It had become an evening ritual this. Since evenings were now the start of your days.

It had been merely a couple of days since your final battle for Baldur’s Gate and so for the time being you’d chosen to remain in the relative comfort of the Elfsong tavern. Until things had blown over a bit, the dust settled.

One of those things being how your vampire had been forced back into the night.

And how he hadn’t been ready for it. Although, if you were quite honest with yourself, who could have ever expected him to be ready for something as cruel as that?

Astarion fully hadn’t been prepared for this sort of breakup yet. That’s what he’d said several times. Sometimes half-joking, sometimes with as much earnestness as you’d heard from the man.

And you knew that even his new found, undying and powerful love for you could only take the sharpest edge off the pain all this was causing him.

He was mourning the loss of the sun. The griefing doubled by it being the second time it had been taken from him.

Because a heart already shattered into pieces, already once broken and barely just starting to stick together again was so prone to breaking down even more.

And so Astarion sat and watched how the last remains of sunlight slowly got drawn from the skies every evening. Observed how the colours changed from simmering, liquid gold at the rim and got drowned out by all shades of the colour blue imaginable. Like a curtain dragged down over the city ever so slowly - until glittering stars and a vibrant moon brought some solace with their silver light. As if offering a soft caress as a small apology to the vampire who would have to make do with them instead from now on.

And you sat with him every night, trying to offer additional comfort even though you knew that even you couldn’t substitute all the warmth of golden daylight. At least you wanted to be there for him while he was trying to mend the pieces as best he could.

It might not have been healthy how Astarion clung to shreds of what was left. But could you really blame him? You saw the pain in his crimson eyes every evening once he had settled down to watch, how he practically made himself sit through the pain time and time again. It tortured you.

But you also noticed the spark on his face, at least a silver lining. When he smiled and whispered to himself how beautiful it looked. “Almost as beautiful as you,” he joked sometimes. And then you smiled at him or kissed him. But not for too long as to not to keep him from his moment of serenity.

Mostly the two of you remained silent. You needn’t speak about this, it was an unspoken agreement between you. And a lot of thoughts must be going through Astarion’s mind at any given time. Two centuries were a hefty time span to sort through. And you felt he needed these moments to slowly work through it. To patiently let the major dust storm settle and see how pieces fit together after that. So usually you just stayed with him, observed him as much as the sunset sky, while you hoped you’d be a piece in the puzzle once he would have figured it all out.

Today you had quickly went down to the taproom to get yourself a mug of hot tea while Astarion had already flung open the window to perform his routine.

When you returned he was already there, head leaning against the window frame, one leg up and angled, softly swaying to a melody only the vampire heard.

Kneeling down in front of the window on a pillow you set down your cup on the window sill and then your head on top of your arms right next to it. Vapour curled lazily from the boiling hot beverage you’d brought for yourself, dissipating somewhere towards its way up to the flamboyant sunset.

The sky was different today. Mixed with the usual oranges, yellows and and blues was a breathtaking blend of purples and pinks, stroked over with some soft sheens of clouds that glowed even more vibrantly with the unusual colours.

Astarion was mesmerised, mouth slightly agape, as if he’d never seen something similar. Truly the way he could admire every single instance of the sky darkening slowly had you in awe and broke your heart simultaneously.

The vampire loved beautiful things, loved to look at them, again and again. And if that was what remained, he would hold onto it.

You took him in, took careful note of how his profile outlined darkly against the softer pastels of the early night, eyes shining. The warm light tones painted him softly - in a way that made your heart ache even more.

Astarion noticed you watch him and smiled at you lovingly - and just a little wicked. You hoped you saw a tiny bit less aching in it today. He stretched out his hand to stroke your hair softly while not breaking eye contact. He admired you very similarly to how you had been looking at him. And to how he previously had drank in the dusk sky.

Tonight his eyes didn’t stray from you while the colours slowly gave way to the darkness of the night.

The pain and the beauty of sunsets might be fleeting. Always prone to betray one.

But you were there. And you stayed even beyond darkness.

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06 @marina-and-the-memes

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 16: TIME WILL TELL

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 15 | MASTERLIST | CH 17 (soon)

summary: a fleeting encounter with a mysterious Trent leaves you wondering if fate is playing a bigger match. your paths continue to cross in unexpected places as the fragrances around you mirror the growing tension between you. maybe it's just a coincidence..or maybe its destiny in the making.

warnings: angst, fluff, language, therapy representation, mentions of mental health, scenes inspired by serendipity the movie, writer/reader inside joke wc: ~11.9k (sorry) 💌: idk how slot got in here but im rocking with it song inspo: The Sun x KYLE ft. Bryson Tiller & Raphael Saadiq

The first year after your break up with Trent went just how you would expect it to go – terribly.

It felt like trying to unspool a stubborn thread that wouldn’t come undone. The breakup coupled with Les Notes d’Amour no longer existing due to sabotage and betrayal left you feeling emptier than ever. You spent weeks replaying the sequence of events trying to pinpoint the exact moment your dreams turned into ash. Ember was nothing more than a pawn for Aaron’s game. She became a vehicle for him to drive his petty vendetta into the heart of your life. Her misguided attempts at gaining his approval quickly backfired and left her a jobless criminal. 

Tara on the other hand, was nothing more than a girl who loved a gossiping yap session, though she was more careless than malicious. None of it mattered anymore though. You already lost everything, including the one person who may have been able to help you navigate it all. You figured it would be easier to cut ties in order to protect him from the wreckage you became. 

The tears came first – there were enough of them that you were genuinely surprised you were somehow still hydrated. They started off as silent tears that soaked into the plush folds of your pillow at night, but then they turned into loud ones that made your chest heave in the shower when no one else was around. You thought the tears would stop as time went on, but they never really did. Instead, they settled into an ache that you became used to. 

The first few months of the year were spent in bed, trapped between the walls of your apartment while the rest of the world passed by. Your days blurred together into one endless loop of doom scrolling, ignoring calls, and deleting messages. Trent’s messages came frequently at first. He went back to the simple texts he used to send when you first started dating, but each notification alert struck you like lightning.

I miss you.

Talk to me Y/N. Please.

I don’t understand why you’re shutting me out.

I love you. I always will.

You couldn’t bring yourself to open any of them, or even read the previews for long. If you let the words sink in for too long, you knew you’d let the warm cadence of his voice play in your head…and you knew you would cave. You couldn’t afford to cave. 

So you blocked him – his number, social media, email, everything.

You thought that would be the end of it, but then an account by the name of ‘scentimental’ followed you. You wanted to relock your account after your break up but never got around to it. The instagram follow made you take a second glance, almost as if your intuition knew something you couldn’t quite place just yet. You weren’t in the mood to entertain any random accounts, but you tapped on the profile anyway. It had one post featuring a blurry picture of a perfume bottle on a window sill with a caption:

Some things don’t fade, no matter how hard you try.

You stared at it for a long time as your finger hovered over the profile. The bio was empty, the follower list was suspiciously small, and the account only followed you and a few random fan accounts. You immediately received a DM, sensing that same magnetic feeling you always felt with Trent. That feeling was something you missed, so you opened the DM, chasing the feeling one last time.

Hey, Y/N. Love your work! I saw something that reminded me of you the other day. You’ve been really quiet lately. Wondered if you were still out there making the world smell better?

The messages were vague, but not vague enough for you not to peep what was going on based on the phrasing and timing. This wasn’t a random account at all; it was Trent’s burner account. You stared at the messages for a while, hovering your finger over the block button.

“Seriously?” you muttered while shaking your head. He couldn’t possibly believe you wouldn’t notice, the man wasn’t subtle at all. He could have at least followed a few more accounts and pretended a little better, but it was clear he would do anything to get even a small snippet into your life now that you had locked him out. You let out a deep sigh, pressing the block button without bothering to send a reply as you tossed your phone on the bed. 

As more months went by, the twins had become your lifeline to the outside world. Ezzie made it her personal mission to pull you out of the pit you sunk into. One day, she showed up with her hands full of groceries as the sound of the door opening broke through the silence of your apartment. She didn’t bother knocking anymore because she knew you wouldn’t answer.

The soles of her trainers stamped against the hardwood floors as she cut through the silence with her voice. “You should really start locking the door properly. What if it wasn’t me? What if I was some random person here to steal all your stuff and murder you?”

Your body was buried underneath a weighted blanket and you didn’t bother looking up. “They would be doing me a favor honestly. I don’t care anymore.”

Ezzie set the bags down on the kitchen counter with a huff, scrunching her face up in frustration. “You’re really dramatic. Just lock the door, okay?” You let out an irritated sigh as she started unpacking groceries filled with ready meals, snacks, and fresh fruit. She knew you probably wouldn’t eat any of it, but she bought it anyway – every week.

“You really shouldn’t spend your money on me” you mumbled as your voice muffled through the thick layers of the weighted blanket you were huddled under.

“I shouldn’t have to, but here we are. Someone has to take care of you if you won’t.” She rolled her eyes, leaning against the counter while crossing her arms. “I should charge you an inconvenience fee. Do you know how hard it is to carry all of this every week? I hate manual labor.”

“Maybe you should’ve stayed home then.” you shot back very weakly.

“And let you rot in here?” she quipped. “No way. Ziggy would’ve sent me up here anyway. He’s downstairs by the way. He didn’t want to deal with your sulking today.”

“I’m not sulking.”

“You’re literally sulking right now.” She motioned toward you huddled underneath the blanket, toying with the remote because the episode of Grey’s Anatomy you were watching had just ended in Derek’s death. That episode usually made you cry, but all you could do this time was shake your head and change the show to something else just as equally depressing. 

“Before you tell me to leave, I’m not. I don’t want to hear your ‘woe is me’ speech. I brought snacks and I’m staying until you eat something that’s not depression air.”

You peeked out from under the blanket, squinting at her like you were seeing daylight for the first time in weeks. “I don’t need you to babysit me, E.”

“Umm. Clearly, you do.” She walked over to the couch, plopping down next to you. “You’re acting like life ended when Love Notes burned down. I get it was really bad and you’re torn up about it, but you’re still alive Y/N. You have people that care about you. You can’t just give up like this.” Your sister’s voice softened at the end. She wouldn’t say it outright, but this was a lot worse than last time and your behaviour scared her.

“You don’t get it” you muttered, pulling the blanket back over your head. 

“No. I definitely don’t” she admitted frustratingly. “You can’t keep hiding from the world. It’s not a healthy way to cope.”

You sighed and pushed the blanket off as you sat up. “What do you want me to do then, Ezzie? Pretend everything is fine when it’s not? My career is gone, my shop is gone. Trent’s gone. Everything I’ve ever cared about is just...gone.”

Ezzie frowned. “Trent is not gone. You pushed him away.. there’s a difference. Love Notes may be gone, but that doesn’t mean your career is. You’re acting like this is the end of your story when it’s not. You can still keep going and rebuild something.”

“No. I don’t want to rebuild.” you snapped as your voice cracked. “I’m tired. I’m really so fucking tired.”

Ezzie pouted her lip and reached out to give you a hug. “But you can’t stay here forever. I won’t let you.”

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hall and Ziggy appeared in the doorway with an unreadable expression. “Can I come in or is this intervention for girls only?” he asked dryly.

Ezzie rolled her eyes. “Come in. Maybe you can knock some sense into her.”

Ziggy walked over and dropped a bag in front of you. “Brought some food,” he said casually. “I thought maybe you would eat it if it was something you like.”

You looked at the bag, shaking your head as your stomach knotted. “I’m not hungry but thank you.”

Ziggy gave a disapproving look but didn’t push it. He sat on the floor next to the couch, sprawling his long legs out in front of him. It seemed like he had the growth spurt of a lifetime as soon as he started academy. He took his hoodie off, revealing the Liverpool emblem stitched on the corner. You froze as you eyed the crest – it sent a pang straight through your heart. You looked away, pretending to adjust your blanket, but in reality, you wanted to cry. You hated that something so simple made you feel this way, but it did. 

Ziggy was on his phone, rapidly tapping his fingers to fill in the awkward silence. “You know…” he started casually, not looking up. “Trent asks about you.”

His name made you stiffen instantly as your hands clenched the blanket. “Ziggy..”

“What?” he asked innocently, as if he didn’t just bring up the person’s name you were desperately trying to avoid. “Just saying he’s concerned. He’s not doing so well either.”

“Ziggy. Stop.” Ezzie said, leaning over to grab his hoodie. She flipped it over so that the emblem was hidden, then she shot him a death glare. “Don’t bring him up right now.”

“I’m not bringing him up” Ziggy voiced defensively. “I’m just saying he cares. He asks how she’s doing every time I see him. That’s all.”

You exhaled, feeling extremely guilty about how you ended things with Trent. “You don’t have to tell him anything. He’ll get over it eventually.”

“Yeah, I know. But he’s really persistent. I don’t think he’s doing it to be annoying. He just really –”

“Isaac.” Ezzie cut in, so irritated that she used his legal name. “Let. It. Go.”

He sighed, scratching his head. “Okay! Damn. I’ll drop it.”

The room went silent aside from the chatter coming from the tv and the sound of Ezzie unloading groceries in the kitchen. Ziggy picked at a loose thread on his joggers as he glanced up at you before quickly looking away. “It’s hard to see you like this Y/N. You don’t even leave from here.”

“I do leave. Sometimes.” you retorted. 

Ziggy arched his brow, not buying your statement at all. “When? When do you leave? Because you’ve been in the same spot every time I come over here. And I’m here a lot.”

You slumped further into the couch, rolling your eyes. “I go places. I don’t need to announce when I go somewhere. I’m not a child.”

“Yeah? Where did you go last?” he challenged, putting his phone back in his pocket.

You opened your mouth, but the brain fog had gotten to you so bad that you couldn’t think of something plausible quick enough. “The shop down the street” you muttered, not sounding convincing at all.

Ezzie popped her head out from the kitchen with a box of cereal in her hand. “She’s lying. I have her location on and the little circle never moves from here. She doesn’t even check for mail.... I do.”

You let out an irked sigh. “Okay. I don’t leave that often. Happy now?”

“No.” Ziggy replied flatly. He gestured toward the untouched takeaway bag. “And you don’t eat either. Y/N you look...bad. Like a sad Victorian child. You need to eat something.”

“Wow. Thanks.” You glared at him, taking all offense. 

Ezzie walked over setting water in front of you. “He’s trying to say we’re worried about you...but in his own way.” she said gently, pointing toward the takeaway. “Maybe just take a bite? At least try it…”

You stared at the bag. You wanted to eat, but your brain wasn’t connecting to any of your hunger or thirst receptors and you just felt numb the majority of the time. The thought of eating anything besides crisps here and there made your stomach churn.

“I’m not hungry.” you repeated the same as earlier.

Ziggy threw his head back, groaning dramatically. “Y/N come on. We’re not leaving until you eat something. I got pad thai.”

You sighed, pulling the bag towards you. The smell of the food was comforting, although you still weren’t all that hungry. You grabbed the container of pad thai and pulled the lid off. Ziggy and Ezzie eyed each other as you took a bite, doing the twin telepathy thing they always did since they were little.

“See? Not so bad, right?” They spoke in unison eerily. 

Them speaking in unison always freaked you out a bit and you found yourself frowning while lazily chewing a mouthful of noodles. “It’s really creepy when you both do that...but the pad thai is fine. Thanks.”

After an unplanned but filling dinner, Ziggy tilted his head, watching you carefully as you wrapped your blanket around yourself again. “What’s your game plan?”

“My game plan for what?”

“To get better,” he said simply. “You can’t stay like this.”

You recently scheduled an appointment for a therapy session, but no one else knew besides Camille. You fidgeted with the edge of your blanket and sighed, finally admitting you were at least trying to be better. “I have an appointment with a therapist in a few weeks.”

Ezzie’s face lit up with excitement. “Really?!”

Ziggy looked skeptical and eyed you to see if you were telling the truth. “Forreal? You’re actually gonna go?”

You glanced between the two of them. They were 17 now, and the tables had flipped. Instead of you trying to take care of them – they were taking care of you like you were their kid, and it made your heart hurt. It wasn’t fair to them and you knew it.

“Yes Ziggy.” you replied in annoyance. “It’s just one session so don’t get too excited. But I’ll see where it goes.”

“That’s just the first step,” Ezzie smiled softly. “I’m proud of you.”

Ziggy nodded, agreeing with his twin but he tried to play it cool. “Yeah, same. Just don’t cancel. Gotta see it through.”

You sighed, scrolling through your phone while cuddled into your blanket. “I’m not going to cancel. Promise.”

The day of your appointment, Camille’s car glided through morning traffic while soft R&B played in the background.

“Nervous?” she asked, glancing over at you from behind her Loewe sunglasses. You were staring out the window, nibbling on your fingernails as the buildings blurred past you.

“No. Not really.” you lied, feeling your stomach knot together.

Camille knew you better than that and was skeptical, but not pushy. “Dr. Ali is good...like really good. She won’t sit there and make vague comments like ‘How does that make you feel?’ She’ll push you but not in a break you down type of way. She’ll build you up with what’s already there.”

You arched your brow up, pulling your gaze from the window. “How do you know so much about her?”

Camille smirked. “I do my research, babe. Never underestimate my sleuthing skills. You think I’d let my bestie walk into a dodgy therapist’s office? Not a chance. Dr. Ali went to Harvard, has years of experience and will probably be able to read you with just one look.”

“That sounds terrifying actually.”

“She’s not terrifying” Camille replied, making a sharp turn that made your body tilt a little. “She’s just real. You honestly need someone like that. I can only do so much. Just let her help you..even if it’s just to unload.”

You felt a pang in your chest and tugged at the hem of your jumper. “Maybe..”

The car pulled into a building with glass windows that reflected against the bright morning sun. Camille turned off the car and turned to you. “I’ll wait here. If you go in and decide you hate it, that’s fine. But at least try first.”

You nodded, swallowing hard as you stepped out the car with your emotional support water bottle, clutching it in your hand as you entered the building.

The waiting area was pretty minimalist and didn’t have anything that was overstimulating. There were a few plants scattered around to add greenery to the muted calming space. You checked in at the desk and sat down, fidgeting in the chair as you waited for your name to be called.

“Y/N?” a soft voice called out.

You looked up and saw a woman who looked like she was in her early 40s standing at the door. She had warm brown skin, curly medium length hair and wore trousers paired with a tailored blazer. You were imagining some old, decrepit lady, but this woman seemed very approachable from the start.

“I’m Dr. Ali” she said with a welcoming smile. “Come on in.”

You followed her into her office, which was just as inviting and warm as the waiting room. Her office had a large window that let in natural lighting, shelves lined with trinkets and books, and plush seating that could make anyone feel comfortable. As you sat down, she settled in the chair across from you.

“So, Y/N. Tell me what brings you here today.”

You didn’t know where to begin as you searched for an answer. “Umm....I guess....everything?” you said in a weak voice.

Dr. Ali nodded. “That’s okay. We can take it one piece at a time. Start with whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You sighed, taking a drink of water from your water bottle, though you weren’t really thirsty. You were carrying the water bottle around more as a coping mechanism than anything. “I really don’t know where to start. My relationship ended, my career went up in flames..literally. And my family…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Everything just feels fucked up and broken.”

Dr. Ali’s expression didn’t change, but she eyed you with calmness in her eyes. “Sounds like a lot of loss,” she said gently. “What was your relationship like?”

“Good. Really good for the most part, actually. His name is Trent. He’s a footballer. You’ve probably heard of him before.”

She didn’t confirm or deny, instead gesturing for you to continue.

“He’s amazing,” you admitted quietly. “He was always supportive and everything I wanted a boyfriend to be. But being with him meant attention. People started lots of rumours and just spewed utter nonsense. And when my shop burned down because of someone I thought I could trust…it felt like too much. It felt like I would just be dragging him into my mess.”

Dr. Ali leaned forward, keeping a curious but non judgemental tone. “So you let him go to protect him?”

You nodded, staring at your hands. “It felt like the right thing to do at the time. But now I really don’t know. I don’t know who I am anymore, honestly. I feel really lost.”

“What about your family? You mentioned them earlier.”

You laughed dryly, no humour laced within. “Well that’s super complicated” you muttered. “My parents are more focused on appearances than the people behind them. They only care about me being the perfect daughter so they can parade me around for their own gain. They don’t really know me. They don’t even know my favorite color and it’s right in front of their face.”

Dr. Ali tilted her head with a calming expression that invited you to continue. “That’s a heavy burden to carry. Do you think that influenced how you approach things in life?”

You nodded, feeling a lump in your throat as you swallowed. “It’s not just me though. My brother and sister feel it too. They’re twins..only 17 but my parents are the same with them. They pretty much treat us like trophies waiting to be displayed. And I have to make sure they don’t end up like me.”

Dr. Ali quickly wrote something down before she spoke again. “So you feel responsible for protecting them too?”

“I’ve been responsible for them since they were born” Your voice cracked. “My parents cared more about grades and achievement. The love and support was all on me. I helped them with their homework and packed their lunches most times. Sometimes it feels like I’m more of a parent than a big sister.”

The therapist kept her eye on you and the silence encouraged you to open up more. This woman was good as hell and you had barely been in there for 10 minutes.

“Now it’s like the roles are flipped” you continued, fiddling with the opening of your water bottle. “Since my shop burned down they’ve been taking care of me. Ziggy brings me food and makes sure I haven’t died off somewhere. Ezzie tries to get me out of bed or make me laugh. It’s like they took everything I taught them and turned it back on me.”

“That sounds like a testament to how much you mean to them. But I can see how it feels strange to have the roles reversed. Especially when you’ve never experienced those roles from your parents before.”

You felt tears begin to sting and fill your lash line as your throat tightened. “It does and I hate it. I hate that they feel like they have to take care of me because I can’t take care of myself right now. I should be the one doing that for them..not the other way around.”

“What about your parents?” Dr. Ali asked gently.

You let out a sharp exhale feeling bitterness rise within you. “They don’t give a fuck. They only call when they want something or to ask about Trent. My mum’s never even met him but was so interested because of who he is. Being with him validated me in their eyes and now that I broke up with him and have nothing they can capitalize on I’m back to being the invisible daughter. I’m only worth something if I make them look good.”

Dr. Ali made another note, keeping her voice steady and calm as she spoke. “It sounds like you spent a long time trying to fill a role they created for you. Have you ever been allowed to figure out who you are outside of that role?”

Her question made you freeze and you thought about it for a second, but you couldn’t answer. Dr. Ali’s question was forcing you to confront something you really never allowed yourself to think about.

“I don’t know,” you whispered finally. “I don’t think I have.”

For the rest of the session, you talked about the destruction of Les Notes d’Amour and how it left you feeling like you lost a piece of yourself. You also talked about Trent and how letting him go was the hardest thing you ever did. When the session ended, Dr. Ali walked you out and gave you reassurance.

“Healing isn’t linear Y/N” she said as you reached the door. “But you’re here and that’s a good start.”

Camille glanced at you as you sat in the passenger seat of her car. “Well?”

You leaned back with a deep exhale. “She’s good.”

“Told you” Camille smirked, starting the car. “So you’re going back?”

You nodded, giving her a small smile back. “Yeah. I think I will.”

For Trent, the first year without you was just as brutal. Trent didn’t expect the breakup to hit him so hard, but it did. At first he thought he could push through the pain by burying himself in training, matches, partying, or anything else to avoid the emptiness he felt in his heart without you – but it never worked. Everywhere he turned, you were there. He could see you in the way Ziggy smiled. Sometimes he would hear someone laugh and the faint sounds of your laugh would come resurfacing back to his memory. He heard your name in the most unexpected places. He felt you in the soft floral notes of Enchantée – your very first creation and his mother’s favorite perfume that filled the air whenever she hugged him. 

You were in the bed he couldn’t sleep in anymore due the void of warmth from where you used to lay. When he did sleep, he would reach out for you out of instinct at night, only to be met with cold sheets instead of the softness and warmth of your skin.

He tried everything to feel close to you again. His texts went unanswered, his calls you never picked up. He sent thoughtful gifts but they always came back marked Return to Sender. On Instagram, he still had your profile saved under his recent searches. He knew your posts by heart because it was the only connection he had to you outside of Ziggy. When you blocked him there, it felt like he had been punched in the gut, but he didn’t give up. He created a burner account – scentimental – a little nod to what brought the two of you together. He thought he was subtle enough leaving a simple message, but you preed it immediately and blocked him there too. He logged in a week later and saw the dreaded User Not Found when he tried to search your profile again.

“How did she even know it was me? Is she psychic or something?” he muttered to himself, staring at the screen in frustration. He threw his phone on the couch and sank into it, covering his face with his hands. He spent the majority of the year chasing after someone who felt like a ghost, knowing he would never catch up.

That night, Trent found himself slouching on the couch, trying to distract himself with the latest season of Love Island. It wasn’t really the same binge watching it without you. You always made watching it more fun from your commentary. He loved that you mocked the drama, laughed at the crazy flirting, or yelled at the screen whenever someone made a questionable decision.

On the screen, an islander named Cassie was crying in the corner of the villa while a boy named Logan was pacing in front of her, furious.

“So you’re just gonna do this now after everything? You’re pulling the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ card?” Logan shouted with his overly groomed brows arched in frustration. “That’s real fucking cliche. Play it up for the cameras, yeah?”

“I just need time!” Cassie wailed with mascara running down her cheeks. The girl looked a hot mess, honestly. “I can’t give you what you want if I don’t know who I am right now!”

Trent tilted his head at the tv in disbelief. He shoved a handful of crisps into his mouth to keep from yelling at the screen. Logan groaned, dragging his hands down his face. “You said you cared about me Cassie. It was all bullshit?”

“I DO care about you but I need space!” Cassie countered, breaking into another sobbing spell.

Trent grabbed the remote to turn the volume up. He could hear it just fine, but the parallels were striking and felt eerily familiar. The universe was funny in that way. He leaned forward, staring at the screen like it was going to give him the solution to his real life problem.

“Fucking hell” he muttered as Logan stormed out of frame. The scene then shifted to a confessional where Cassie started sobbing about how much she wanted it to work but needed to protect her peace first.

“Protect her peace?” Trent repeated out loud to no one in a sarcastic tone. “What the fuck does that even mean?” He turned the volume back down, staring at the ceiling. He couldn’t bear to hear it anymore when it felt so eerily similar to what happened the night you broke up with him. “This is fucking stupid. I hate this show. Cassie’s a fucking producer plant, no shot this isn’t scripted.”

A few weeks later, disappointed chatter from the crowd was heard at Anfield after a terrible match. Trent was bent over with his hands resting on his knees. He was exhausted more than usual. Sweat dripped down his face, mixed with tears that weren’t quite visible to the naked eye. The score was 1-2, mirroring a devastating loss. Trent misplaced a pass during the last crucial minutes of the game, basically handing over a winning goal to the rival team. He walked off the pitch, avoiding eye contact with everyone else as he made his way down the tunnel. Slot was waiting near the changing room with his arms folded.

“Trent!” Slot called out in a sharp tone. “Need to talk. Now.”

Slot stood off to the side, piercing his gaze on Trent. “What the hell was that out there?” It was clear Slot was frustrated with Trent’s performance.

Trent shifted around uncomfortably. “It was a mistake. It happens.”

“A mistake?” Slot repeated in disbelief. “This hasn’t been a one time thing Trent. It’s been going on for weeks. Your focus is shit out there, your passes are sloppy as fuck and your energy is damn near nonexistent. You think you’re on holiday or something? People are starting to notice. You’re supposed to be a leader on this team and you’re not acting like it.”

“I’m trying,” Trent muttered with a tight jaw.

“Not good enough,” Slot snapped, stepping closer. “I can’t afford to put someone on the pitch who’s not mentally there. Pull your weight. Whatever you have going on in your personal life needs to be sorted out. Because if this continues, you’re going to find yourself benched. I didn’t plan on bringing Ziggy on this early, but the kid’s good at multiple positions. I’ll put him in your spot if you don’t fix it.”

The thought of being benched and replaced with Ziggy while he watched from afar made his stomach knot. He nodded stiffly. “Understood. I’ll fix it.”

Slot patted Trent on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “You’re a great player Trent. But you need to think about what brought you here. For your own sake and the team’s.”

When Trent walked into the changing room, the usual post match banter was replaced with mostly silence. Trent sat down, staring at the floor while still in his kit. He felt a familiar presence and looked up to see Mo standing in front of him with his arms crossed in concern.

“You alright, brother?” Mo asked, low enough so no one else could hear.

“Nah. Not really.” Trent admitted with a heavy sigh. Mo sat down next to him, concern still etched on his face.

“What’s going on? You’re not yourself.”

Trent debated brushing Mo off, but the deep concern in Mo's eyes made him decide against it. “It’s a lot. The games, pressure...personal stuff. Don’t even know where to start.”

Mo nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe you should talk to someone. I’m not going to get all up in your business but it could help if you talk to someone professionally.”

“Like who?” Trent asked, frowning. “A therapist or something?”

“Yeah” Mo said, shrugging. “No shame in it. Everyone’s been there. Another perspective could help you get out of your own head..”

Trent leaned back against the wall with his legs stretched out in a manspread. “Nah..I don’t know about that. Feels like I’m admitting I’m weak.”

Mo chuckled lightly. “It’s not. I can give you a contact. She’s a family friend – Dr. Ali. She’s very good.”

Trent stared at Mo, weighing the suggestion. “You think it’ll help?”

“Inshallah. It’s worth a shot. You never know.”

Mo gave Dr. Ali’s contact details to Trent discreetly. Trent saved the number, staring at it before he put his phone back up in his bag. It could be the first step to getting back to where he needed to be.

Or at least figure out where the hell he went wrong.

When Trent arrived at therapy, he expected something a lot more clinical and overly sterile, but Dr. Ali’s office wasn’t any of that. There were no blaring fluorescent lights making his eyes hurt or making him feel like he was being interrogated like a prisoner. She had a diffuser that filled the therapy room with a lavender scent. It would usually be comforting, but it made him uncomfortable because it reminded him of you.

“Trent” Dr. Ali greeted in a professional tone, extending her hand. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Trent wasn’t sure if comfort was an option given how he’d been feeling lately, but he nodded and sat in the chair, leaned back enough to look relaxed but not like he wanted to be there any longer than he had to. The therapist watched him carefully, waiting to see what he would do next. She wasn’t in any rush, and it threw him off.

“Ever been to therapy?” she finally asked while sitting in the seat across from him.

Dr. Ali’s lips quirked, but not in a patronizing way. “Fair enough. The first time isn’t easy for most, but no pressure. Start with whatever you want to. Or we can just talk and get to know each other.”

Trent’s knees bounced restlessly while he sat, shifting around nervously. He couldn’t believe Mo had somehow talked him into this. He felt a bit stupid to try therapy. In his mind, it was too formal for what he was going through. He felt like he overreacted by even showing up to the place at all.

“Not sure what to say really. Feels pointless.” he muttered while frowning.

“You’re not the only one who says that. It can feel like that at first. But you’re here and that’s something.”

Trent’s jaw clenched as he looked up at her. “Yeah? So what’s it mean then?”

“That you want things to be different.”

He huffed and looked away, knee bouncing harder. “Maybe but I don’t know. My mate, Mo, gave me your contact. Said you were really good or something.”

Dr. Ali hummed softly. “Mo Salah, right?”

“Yeah..he said I should talk to someone.” Trent tugged at the string on his joggers, feeling exposed all of a sudden.

“And why do you think he said that?” she asked.

Trent exhaled. “Because I’ve been playing like shit on the pitch. I haven’t been right since…” He trailed off, biting the inside of his cheek.

“Since??” Dr. Ali prompted him to continue, gentle with her tone.

“Since my ex. Y/N.”

Dr. Ali paused her pen over her notebook before jotting down a note. “Tell me about her and your relationship.”

Trent’s throat suddenly went dry. He rubbed his hand down his face, staring at an area on the floor. “I’ve never met anyone like her. She’s smart...but stubborn as hell. She ran a shop called Les Notes d’Amour and made fragrances. It was her dream.”

“So you met her through her work?” Dr. Ali asked.

“Nah...well..sort of. We kept running into each other like it was serendipity or whatever. It sounds mad but that’s what it felt like. We met on a train, then at some café, and again at her friend’s launch. Next thing I knew I was walking into her shop asking for a custom scent. After that I was done for.”

Trent smiled faintly but then it disappeared just as quickly as it appeared. “Her shop burned down because of her ex and an assistant. Then everything fell apart from there.”

“And you blame yourself for that?”

Trent’s head shot up. “No but at the same time, yes. I promised I’d protect her and I don’t feel like I did a good job of doing that. Feels like I could’ve done more, y’know? It’s been a year and I still think about her every day.”

“And thinking about her everyday...what does that look like for you?”

Trent looked at his hands. “It’s stupid stuff. I’ll hear someone that has her name on tv and my heart sinks for a second. My mum wears this perfume Y/N made. It’s called Enchantée and every time I smell it, I think about Y/N. I see her brother in training every day and I want to ask about her, but I can’t anymore because I know he’s trying to protect her.”

Trent went quiet for a while but then he continued. “And then at night..I’m always reaching for her and she’s not there. It sucks because I’ve tried to reach out and it’s gone nowhere.”

“What happens when you try to reach out to her?”

Trent laughed bitterly. “I’m blocked everywhere. I made a burner Instagram account just to check her page. I thought I was incognito and sent a simple message but she blocked me there too. Don’t even know how she figured out it was me behind it.”

Dr. Ali lifted a brow. “Why did you send that message?”

Trent scratched his head, embarrassed. “I just wanted to see how she was doing. We went from talking everyday to nothing. Feels like quitting something cold turkey and I hate that. It’s like I lost her forever.”

“What do you think stops her from contacting you?”

Trent shrugged in frustration. “I guess she didn’t want to drag me down with her but I didn’t see it that way. I would help her through anything..even now I still would.”

The therapist’s pen tapped against her notebook as she watched Trent. “You carry a lot of unresolved feelings about your breakup with her. And a lot of guilt too.” Trent didn’t respond and bounced his knee more.

“Let’s switch gears and talk about football for a minute. How’s that been going?”

Trent scoffed and shook his head. “Going like shit. I can’t focus at all. I replay every mistake in my head and I can’t let it go. I’m letting everyone down.”

“What happens when you make a mistake on the pitch?” she asked in a curious tone.

“I think about it for the rest of the game. Then it just spirals and one mistake turns into a lot more. I can’t get my head back in it and it used to be my escape.”

Dr. Ali leaned forward. “In therapy, I typically teach people how to break those cycles. We can’t change the past, but...we can change how we react to it and replace those thought patterns with healthier ones.”

“So what? You’re saying I need to let go?”

“I’m saying I can help you understand and process those feelings” she corrected in a soft manner.

Trent leaned back in the chair, crossing his arms. “I still don’t know if this therapy thing is for me.”

“That’s okay, you don’t have to decide today.” she said with a smile. “We’ll work on it and see where it goes.”

“Yeah. Okay, sure.” he nodded with uncertainty, but felt less resistant than before.

“Same time next week?” she asked.

Trent stared at the floor longer than he needed to, and then sighed before nodding. “Yeah..same time.”

The second year without Trent wasn’t as bad as the first. You weren’t fixed, but you weren’t broken down either. Therapy helped you alot, and you began to move forward, even if it was just little baby steps. You had a new house, a new routine, and a new normal.

When you started packing your apartment up for the move to Manchester, it felt bittersweet. It was painful, but necessary. The last room you packed was your bedroom. Ezzie and Ziggy helped in their own way, which barely involved any packing. Ziggy was sprawled across your bed scrolling through his phone while Ezzie sat on the floor putting clothes into a box you tossed her way.

“Are you gonna miss living here?” Ezzie asked, looking up at you.

“Maybe a little..but it’s time” you said in a low voice, crouching down to pull out the drawer in your vanity. You reached behind it to make sure you weren’t leaving anything behind, and you felt something hard against your fingers. You tugged at it, revealing your old and dusty perfume diary. The diary had all of your old formula notes and ideas in it. You sat on the floor, staring at the cover like you had just seen a ghost.

“What’s that?” Ziggy asked, giving a quick glance and then going back to his phone.

“Nothing” you answered quickly, flipping it open. It wasn’t nothing. The pages still smelled like bergamot as you flipped through. You landed on a page that had Trent’s handwriting on it. It wasn’t something you saw before, and it made you take a second glance.

I want you for as long as the stars shine.

You scoffed, laughing before you could stop.

“What?” Ezzie looked at you, curiously.

“Nothing. Just a reminder of how stupid I am.” You snapped the notebook shut and tossed it to the nearest box. Ezzie stared at you, but then she decided to let it go.

Ziggy still had his face in his phone but suddenly spoke up with perfect timing. “Trent’s still with his new girl by the way. Alannah.”

“I don’t think I asked.”

“Yeah but I’m telling you.” He flipped onto his back with a groan, his muscles still sore from training. “She’s leng but boring as fuck.” Ziggy propped his phone on his chest, trying not to laugh while he continued to spill the tea. “Forreal though. She’s got no aura. She’s fit, yeah, but she reminds me of mum’s chicken.”

You raised your brow, trying to hold in your laugh. “Mum’s chicken??”

“Dry. No flavor.” Ziggy emphasized, motioning like he was trying to season a chicken breast with something other than salt and pepper. “She’s fucking weird too. She won’t drink water unless it’s a certain temperature and she swirls it first like she’s in the movie ‘Get Out’ or something.” He mimicked her, twirling his fingers in an invisible glass. “Then she won’t sip it unless there’s a straw.”

Ezzie cackled loudly from across the room. “Shut up! You’re lying.”

“Swear down!” Ziggy held up his hand, completely serious. “Watched her do it at a team dinner and Trent just sat there like it was normal. Like bro..say something. Blink twice if you’re in the sunken place.”

You pursed your lips together, trying not to burst out laughing. “And what does she look like?”

Ziggy shrugged, dramatically. “Exactly like you would expect. She looks like a walking Lululemon advert.” 

Ezzie snorted, tossing a pair of jeans in a box. “So she looks like every beige aesthetic girl on Tiktok then?”

“Yeah! Exactly that!” Ziggy pointed at his twin like she cracked a code in his mind.

“Leng, but boring beige girl who swirls her water while wearing Lululemon, huh?” you snickered while shaking your head. “Perfect match if that’s what he wants.”

Ziggy scoffed, sitting up. “Nah, he looks miserable. I asked him about her and guess what he said?”

“What did he say?”

“He said.. she’s nice.” Ziggy mimicked Trent’s voice, void of any enthusiasm. “Not she’s amazing or that’s the girl of my dreams. Just.. nice.”

A tiny smile cracked through your expression, but then it left. Dry chicken or not, she was there and you weren’t. Ziggy noticed your shift and he stopped teasing. He scratched his jaw, briefly stroking the facial hair that had grown on his face.

“Anyway she’s not that great. She’s boring. You’re–” He stopped mid sentence, looking at Ezzie for help.

Ezzie shot him a look that told him to shut up, then she finished his sentence for him. “She’s not you Y/N.”

And maybe that was the problem. 

When you finally arrived at the house in Manchester, it felt like you were closing one chapter and opening a new one. The new house had enough room for the three of you now that you all had officially gone no contact with your parents. It was in a comfortable neighbourhood, where neighbors said hello but didn’t pry too much.

It was a place to breathe...sort of.

Most of your breathing now consisted of Rêveur wafting through the air wherever you went. Thanks to Camille’s ability to persuade you into continuing to sell the scent at department stores through her manufacturer, the fragrance had spread in popularity over multiple continents. It was surreal to smell something that used to be so personal to you on strangers. Men walking past you on the street were wearing it. People’s husbands were wearing it on a simple shopping trip to Tesco. Even teenagers who were way too heavy handed with their sprays were wearing it. It followed you everywhere – almost like the universe was taunting you. You didn’t love the idea of smelling your past on a stranger’s skin, but it brought in a lot of money. Rêveur used to be you and Trent’s creation, but now it belonged to the whole wide world.

“You gotta stop frowning when you smell it” Ezzie told you one morning while lounging on the couch in one of your old hoodies. “It’s iconic now. You’re a fragrance legend.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “It literally feels like it’s haunting me. It’s meant for my footballer ex, but now Steve from accounting is wearing it to Piccadilly station on his morning commute so I can afford to live.”

Ziggy walked in mid rant, dropping his bag on the floor after training. “You didn’t have to keep selling it. I would’ve made sure you were good.”

He was right. Ziggy had been grinding through the academy the past two years and started training alongside the first team. Ezzie’s calendar was filled with castings, campaigns, and now New York Fashion Week. You were proud of them, but you couldn’t help but feel a pang of longing for the life you had before Les Notes d’Amour burned down. Including the life you had with Trent – especially now that Camille was engaged to Jules. She Facetimed you religiously during her wedding planning. You could see the huge diamond ring on her finger sparkling at every angle of light every time she called.

“I can’t deal with him right now” Camille sighed one night, pacing around her living room. You could see Jules in the background, quietly scrolling through his phone and wisely pretending he didn’t exist. Camille had become a bit of a bridezilla since the engagement.

“He thinks sage and laurel are the same color Y/N.”

You held back your laugh, not wanting to set Camille off. “Maybe he just doesn’t care which colors you choose?”

“Of course he doesn’t care. He’s a man.” she responded flatly, tearing up. “I can’t have sage at my wedding Y/N.. it’s sooo tacky. It has to be laurel.”

“So we’ll do laurel then. It’s not that deep.” you reaffirmed her, still not trying to laugh at Camille’s new bridezilla persona.

“It is that deep,” she snapped. “I really can’t deal with this right now.”

You nodded, letting her spiral in the same way she let you when you were worried about something miniscule. As you listened to her ramble about the difference between the shades of green, you started zoning out. You wanted to tell her about your decision to sell your formulas to a fragrance house during NYFW since you hadn’t told anyone else yet, but you couldn’t find a way to bring it up. So you kept it a secret – from everyone.

Little did you know, Trent was headed to New York too – but with Alannah.

The week of NYFW, Trent was in a quiet hotel room with Alannah as she tapped her nails against her phone screen. She sat on the bed in another Lululemon set that was void of any color besides neutrals while her hair was held up with a claw clip. The girl really had no fashion sense at all – not like you did. She looked like she was ready to head to pilates at any given moment. They matched at least – Trent wore his tracksuits as always, while she always wore Lululemon. Alannah irritated Trent though. Everything about her was aesthetically curated, clean, and so devoid of anything interesting or chaotic that it was extremely eerie. He didn’t want someone perfect, he wanted you. 

Trent stood near the window, staring at the city traffic and people watching. New York was a lively city that moved fast, but in the hotel room it felt like life had been sucked out of him.

“Babe?” Alannah said suddenly while looking up from her phone.

“What?” Trent answered with agitation in his voice, his back still facing her.

“I didn’t want to say anything but...I found the ring.”

“Huh?” For a second, Trent thought she was joking.  “What ring?”

“Don’t be daft Trent.” she giggled. “The little velvet box in your drawer? Are you planning something?”

He turned all the way around now, blinking. “Planning what???”

“Babeee. You know what. We’ve been together a while so it makes sense to head that way. I’ll pretend to be shocked when you ask” she winked.

The silence was awkward…very awkward. Trent looked at her like she was an idiot. “Alannah, what the fuck are you talking about?”

“The engagement RING. I’m not stupid. I saw it.”

Trent ran a hand over his face, trying to process how he wanted to continue, but then he gave up. “Yeah, no. That ring isn’t for you.”

Silence.

Alannah looked as if the perfection in her had short circuited, clearly the girl wasn’t used to being told no. No matter how hard she tried to force it. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

“It’s not for you” he repeated more clear this time, painfully obvious to him but not to her.

Her face contorted into a mix of embarrassment but also anger as she processed his words. “Then who the hell is it for Trent?”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s just not for you.” he muttered while turning back to the window.

“It doesn’t matter?” Alannah’s voice went higher. “You’re serious? I’ve been with you for almost a year. Met your mates, travelled, pretended to care about football. And I’m just some placeholder?”

“I’m not about to argue with you right now.” Trent turned back to her, his tone flat. “Not in the mood for it.”

“Oh, we are” she shot back, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. This was the most personality she’d shown since meeting him at the club one night. “You don’t want to have sex anymore, you barely spoke on the plane ride here, and now I’m finding out there’s a ring that’s not for me? You’re wasting my time!”

“Then leave.” Trent said in an unbothered tone.

Alannah’s mouth fell open, caught off guard. “Are you serious?”

“Full stop” he shrugged. “I’m not marrying you. Never planned to, never will. I don’t feel that way about you.”

He didn’t mean to be that harsh about it, but there was no point in keeping up with the charade anymore. Alannah fumbled with her bag as she stormed out the room in tears. “You’re such a dick. And you’re not that cute by the way. Let’s see who’ll put up with all your bullshit like I did.”

Trent didn’t answer and instead watched her as she slammed the door so hard the empty hangers rattled in the hotel’s wardrobe.

“Glad that’s over with.”

A few minutes later, Trent headed outside with his hands shoved in his hoodie pockets as he walked through the Lenox Hill area of Manhattan. He had no idea where he was going, but he needed to breathe in something else that wasn’t stuffy hotel air or Alannah’s suffocating perfume that he never liked. He wandered aimlessly past the people of New York City, letting the noise of the city drown out his thoughts. He really only dated Alannah to keep the other side of his bed warm, but she could never compare to the way he felt with you. He was checked out of that relationship from the moment it started. She couldn’t be you – no one could.

Eventually he stopped. Looking up to see he was at 225 East 60th Street

Serendipity 3 was a cozy spot he never heard of before that was known for selling frozen hot chocolate and had grown in popularity because of a 2000s rom-com film. He could see a couple sitting off to the side, sharing a hot chocolate at a small table with twinkling lights. They looked like they were on their first date, but he saw the way they looked at each other. It reminded him of the first date he had with you.

Then he smelled something. Vanilla and amber. Vanille Étoilée.

The nostalgic scent of you made him freeze on the spot. He whipped his head around, eyes darting through the crowd. He saw a familiar silhouette walking a bit further ahead, just turning the corner. He thought it was you, but he couldn’t be for sure.

“No shot…” he whispered, heart racing. He started weaving through people in a speed walk with the smell guiding him like a thread. When he reached the corner, he looked down the street but he didn’t see anyone who looked like you. There were nothing but taxis, Uber Eats bike couriers, and faceless strangers walking by. He stood there, looking around in a dazed state, staring at everything but also nothing at all as the noise of the city became the soundtrack of his confusion.

In a city like New York, you had to be a fast walker. You were a few blocks away now, but you smelled him too when you turned the corner. The faint scent of Rêveur enwrapped you, bringing back a flood of memories. That wasn’t out of the ordinary for you now that the scent had become a bestseller. You shook your head, laughing to yourself. You figured it was just another stranger wearing a scent you once created for the love of your life. Nothing more.

You couldn’t be any more wrong, but neither of you turned back.

“I’m losing it” Trent whispered to himself, dragging his hand across his face. 

Maybe he was, but the universe had other plans.

An hour later, you found yourself inside Bergdorf Goodman on 5th Avenue. The marble floors reflected the ambient lighting of the circular chandeliers above. The department store was filled with luxury goods like Gianvito Rossi, Moncler and Saint Laurent. You weren’t looking for anything specific, just window shopping and killing time before your big meeting. The fragrance section immediately drew you in. You looked at them all until you saw one single bottle of Rêveur sitting on display. It really was a bestseller. 

You walked over to it, reaching out for the bottle instinctively as your fingers brushed the cool bottle. Another hand met yours at the same time and you froze, smelling the scent of bergamot, lavender, sandalwood and apple drifting into the shared air.

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to–” Trent’s voice stopped mid sentence. His familiar voice threw you for a loop in the sea of American accents. You felt your heart drop as you glanced up, trying not to give away how rattled you were. Trent’s hand pulled away a bit, almost like he wasn’t sure whether to back away or stand his ground.

“Oh.” The word slipped out before you could think of anything else. “It’s you. Hi.”

Trent tilted his head, a small smile appearing on his lips. “It’s me. Hi.”

The silence stretched longer than it needed to as the magnetic tension you used to feel reappeared. You were painfully self aware of everything – how the bottle felt, how good Trent looked, how fast your heart was beating, and how Vanille Étoilée and Rêveur were enwrapping to create one intoxicating scent.

“I didn’t know you shopped at Bergdorfs…” you said finally, looking him in the eye as you pulled away from the bottle of Rêveur. 

“I don’t” Trent shrugged, stepping closer to you. “Was just walking by and something pulled me in.” He eyed the bottle, grabbing it and resting it in the palm of his hand as he smiled back at you. “Guess I know what now. It’s the last bottle.”

“And here I was thinking I was special,” you smiled back.

“You are.” The words slipped out so naturally you weren’t sure if he meant to say it out loud.

You glanced back at the bottle of Rêveur in his hand and cleared your throat, trying to find anything to talk about to settle the awkwardness. 

“So..um..you still wear it then?” you finally asked.

“Never stopped.” He tilted his head, searching your face for something. “Can’t bring myself to switch but it’s getting harder to find nowadays.”

You bit your lip, trying not to show your widening grin. “A number one bestseller will do that.”

“I guess so” Trent’s gaze drifted to your left hand and you clocked it instantly. He was checking to see if someone else had scooped you up.

“Looking for something?” you teased, cocking your brow.

He laughed, scratching the back of his neck. “Uh..nah. Just checking. You’re not all that easy to keep up with these days. You even blocked my burner.”

You blinked, surprised he brought it up, but then you smirked. “...Scentimental. Really Trent?”

“I thought it was a good name” he defended himself with a sheepish grin. “How did you know it was me?”

“You were following a JudeTrent fan account and then you sent me a DM that sounded exactly like you. Didn’t take much. You’re not that subtle.”

“Ah, damn. I thought I was incognito enough” he muttered with a soft laugh.

“You weren’t. But A for effort.”

Trent’s gaze on you softened and he felt an itch to reach for you, but he couldn’t – you weren’t together anymore. He hesitated during a pause of silence, then spoke up. “So how have you been?”

You shrugged, trying to be nonchalant even though you were everything but. “Busy…”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re getting.” You glanced down at your phone, your pulse spiking as seconds ticked by. You needed to go but you didn’t want to be the one to leave first. 

“You free? To catch up, I mean..”

You heard the vulnerability in his voice and it immediately made you want to say yes, but you forced yourself to keep it together. “I have a meeting. I’m already cutting it close.”

His jaw tensed, but he nodded. “Right. No problem.”

You took a deep breath, searching for the right words. “But maybe if it’s meant to be, we’ll see each other again?” 

“You think so?”

You nodded, giving him a bittersweet smile. “Yeah. It’s worked before, right?”

“Guess so.” Trent smiled just enough to make your chest ache. You stepped back, walking away before looking over your shoulder. “Bye Trent. Nice seeing you again.”

“Bye Y/N…”

The further you walked away from him, the harder it was to breathe. You didn’t look back again, but you could feel him watching you leave. As you disappeared into the crowd, Trent stood there – frozen in place as he inhaled the faint remnants of your scent in the air.

“If we’re meant to see each other again..we will.” he said to himself.

After you left Bergdorf’s in a hurry, your heart was racing. It felt like no time had passed between you, even if it was somewhat awkward. You had no time to think about that though. You had an important meeting to get to.

Or so you thought.

By the time you arrived, you were already running a bit late. You glanced at your phone, sighing heavily as the lift dinged with each floor. When you finally arrived, you bolted to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hi. I’m here for the meeting with the fragrance house.” you said, a little breathless.

The lady at the desk gave you an apologetic smile. “Sorry Miss L/N, but that meeting ended over an hour ago.”

Your stomach sank. Thanks to jetlag and a five hour time difference, you miscalculated the time of the meeting. You fumbled for your phone, scrolling through the calendar. The meeting time was clear as day – an hour earlier than what you originally thought.

“Would you like me to reschedule?” the receptionist offered in a kind voice.

“No.” you muttered, pinching the bridge of your nose. “It’s fine. Maybe it’s just not meant to be. Thank you though.”

You walked back to the lift with your shoulders slumped. When the doors opened, you barely noticed the person already in there until they spoke up.

“Y/N right?”

You turned to see a girl in head to toe athleisure, swirling a straw around in the drink she was carrying.

“Yes?” you replied hesitantly. 

She smiled a bit too knowingly. “I’m Alannah. Trent’s ex.”

You were confused, but you kept your expression neutral. “Oh. Hi.”

As the lift descented, an uncomfortable silence filled the tiny space. You could feel Alannah’s gaze on you and it made you feel weird. Something about this girl was strange – Ziggy was right. Her perfume wasn’t a vibe either, it smelled awful.

Coco Mademoiselle, you thought to yourself. In this day and age??

“He’s mentioned you before,” Alannah said in an eerie tone, cutting through your internal judgement. “I mean..obviously not to me directly but..”

You scrolled through your phone, avoiding the awkwardness as best as possible. “I’m sure he has.”

She tilted her head, studying you. “That ring is for you, isn’t it?”

You stiffened, unsure of what she was getting at. “What ring?”

Alannah scoffed in disbelief. “Cut the bullshit Y/N. I know why you’re here. Me and Trent broke up today and all of a sudden you’re here too? I’m not fucking dumb.”

You gave her the nastiest side eye, putting your phone back in your pocket. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to..but it’s definitely not me. It feels like you’re projecting. Maybe sort that out before you come for me babe.” You stepped out of the lift and into the lobby before she had a chance to say anything back, and before you had a chance to give her the filthiest read of a lifetime.

When you got back to your hotel room, you flung yourself on the bed with a groan, rubbing your temples. Trent, Alannah, and the missed meeting. It all felt like some lame, poorly written story on wattpad, but this was your real life.

It was supposed to be easy to get lost in a big city like New York, especially during NYFW, yet somehow you kept running into the past. You didn’t understand it at that moment, but the universe was slowly resewing the loose thread that connected you to him – waiting for the perfect moment to sew the final figure 8 knot in place.

A few months later, you were back at Anfield and it felt surreal. It had been over two years since you last set foot in the stadium. But now you were wearing your own surname on a shirt instead of Alexander-Arnold. The number 16 was displayed on the fabric, representing your brother’s first team debut. Ezzie was beside you, documenting everything on Instagram with her phone.

“This is so weird” you admitted as you sat in your seat.

“So don’t make it weird. We’re here for Ziggy, not Trent.” Ezzie affirmed, sitting beside you. “You probably won’t even notice he’s there.”

She couldn’t be more wrong. The entire game it seemed like him and Ziggy were attached at the hip, mirroring each other alongside the pitch. During the second half, Trent had a near perfect assist and Ziggy was able to score a goal on his debut night. Both of them were obnoxious as hell when they celebrated – they were still doing their crazy handshake that had somehow become even more ridiculous. 

Although the game ended in a draw, Ziggy and Trent’s performance was the highlight of the night. The crowd dispersed from the stadium and you found yourself looking up at the sky – tonight there was a full moon. You decided to stay behind, letting Ezzie head home without you so you could process all the happenings of the night.

The last time you were here your heart was full of love and chaos, but now it was filled with remnants of the past and the newfound pride you felt for Ziggy. It was nice seeing him live his dream, but it was bittersweet at the same time because every time you saw a smile on your brother’s face...Trent was right beside him. 

You made your way down to the pitch, walking to the center. You sighed, crossing your arms to shield yourself from the chill of the night as you tilted your head back, taking in the moon in all its glory.

“I didn’t think you would stay.”

His voice startled you. Mostly because of how much you missed hearing it. You turned around and Trent was standing at the edge of the center with his hands in his jacket pockets. The view of him alone nearly knocked the wind out of you. You had no idea he was still watching every full moon with you while you were apart for two years.

“I just needed a minute,” you replied softly.

Trent walked toward you slowly, trying to figure out if he was welcome or not. You didn’t move, so he continued to bridge the gap.

“Hell of a debut, yeah?” He nodded toward where Ziggy scored his first goal.

You nodded, smiling shyly. “He really thrives under pressure.”

“Nah, that’s all you.” Trent replied in a warm voice. “He’s lucky he has someone like you to keep his head on straight.”

You glanced away from him, taking in the view of the moon again. “Just doing what I need to do. He’s too young to handle it alone.”

Trent sat next to you, but kept a comfortable distance. He looked up at the moon, and then back at you. You found yourself instinctively scooting toward him. You convinced yourself it was because you were cold, but you knew better.

“I missed you,” Trent said, breaking the silence. His guard was fully down, emotion in every word.

“Trent…” you began, but he shook his head.

“Just let me say it Y/N” His eyes searched yours and you felt goosebumps appear on your skin. “I miss you every single day. I tried to move on..I really did. But I can’t. I miss you so much it hurts.” You felt a lump in your throat as tears welled in your eyes. You were trying so hard to keep it together, but you were crumbling fast.

“I thought I was doing you a favor.” you admitted in a trembling voice. “I was really depressed Trent…I didn’t want to drag you with me.”

“I would’ve stuck beside you through it all.” 

“I know,” you whispered. Tears started spilling down your face. “I didn’t mean what I said to you that night. I was angry..hurt..really scared. And I only blocked you because hearing about you or even looking at you hurt so bad. I couldn’t be what you needed me to be.”

Trent moved his hand and brushed them over your knuckles lightly. He searched your eyes and you could see the pain of all the months he spent wondering. 

“Never needed you to be anything but yourself, Y/N. I don’t care if you’re not perfect. I fell in love with you because you never tried to change yourself for me. I fell in love with every bit of what makes you, you. I just wish you would’ve given me a little longer. Been lost without you ever since.”

You glanced down as your tears fell more quickly now. Trent cupped your face, forcing you to look at him. His eyes were glossy, filled with tears threatening to overflow. “You don’t get it Y/N. I’ve never seen you as someone that needs fixing. I love you the way you are. Through the good and the bad I’ll always love you no matter what.”

“I– I love you too....I’m sorry” you whispered. “I didn’t mean to do you like that. I honestly just didn’t know what to do. I–”

A faint crack of thunder made you pause. Trent’s thumb traced over your cheek, wiping away the tears that kept falling no matter how hard you were trying to keep them in. His gentle touch felt just as familiar as the moon hanging above you both.

“I didn’t know how to come back to you.” you murmured in a soft tone.

“I’d wait forever for you baby” Trent replied, barely audible over the soft drizzle starting to rain over you. “I only want you.”

“Trent..” You said his name like it was the only word you ever wanted to say again. Another clap of thunder broke from the sky as Trent pulled you into him, placing his hands on your waist. You couldn’t hold back anymore and found yourself wrapping your arms around his shoulders. The moment you kissed him, it felt like you were kissing him for the first time all over again. Every part of you felt like it was being stitched back together with each movement of his lips against yours – like a stitched figure 8 knot.

When the rain began to fall harder, Trent pulled away breathlessly to take off his jacket, holding it above you to shield you from the rain, then he smirked at you.

“If it’s meant to be, we’ll see each other again.”

“What?”

“That’s what you said to me in New York” he reminisced. “You looked me dead in the eye at Bergdorf’s and told me that. Then you walked away like it was nothing.”

You let out a laugh. “And here we are..seeing each other again.”

“After two, long and miserable years.” he chuckled sarcastically, walking you toward the tunnel. You felt guilty, so you didn’t say anything back, but Trent sensed it immediately.

“I’m not saying that to guilt you.” he added. “I just don’t want to waste any more time wondering if I’ll see you again. I don’t want to leave it up to fate or serendipity or whatever we’ve been calling this.”

You didn’t want to leave it up to fate either. Not anymore.

“Trent..I really don’t want this night to end..” you admitted quietly. “I missed you so fucking much.”

He gave you a big grin, making your heart skip a beat. “Then let’s not let it end, yeah?”

“What do you mean?”

“Come with me” he said, very matter of fact while smiling. “Anywhere. Right now.”

“Anywhere?” you asked softly.

“Anywhere.” he repeated, leaning in closely to kiss you again. “As long as I’m with you.”

thank you readers ily 🫶🏽