#Was Alexander the Great handsome?

[jeannereames]

In "Dancing With The Lion", you seem to say that Alexander was not handsome. But when I searched about Alexander's appearance on Google, I found that almost everywhere he was described as a handsome man. He was even called extremely handsome in a couple of articles. I have seen the copy of Alexander's bust originally made by Lysippus. It's said that Lysippus made the bust during Alexander's lifetime & Alexander looked like that. The bust doesn't look bad. Why do you then think that Alexander wasn't good looking enough? By the way, I loved the guy who seemed to represent Alexander on the cover page of "Dancing With The Lion". Alexander might very well look like that :-)

First, a comment on my description and why I made it, then some background on the history.

What Hephaistion thinks to himself is actually, “Only a flatterer would call him handsome.” He doesn’t say he’s ugly or plain. He’s just normal looking. I made that choice partly for historical reasons, but also because I wanted to humanize him. Same reason I gave him acne. 😉 I don’t see him as unattractive, I just don’t see him as especially handsome. (A link to the novels, for anybody looking, with the new covers.)

I would caution about taking seriously much that you find via a Google search. It’s kinda a dumpster fire, honestly, unless you know exactly what you’re looking for.* Always check who wrote an article. How did they learn the information they relate? That’s part of why I cite things here, even if I don’t load y’all up with citations the way I would in a scholarly article. But I want readers to be able to chase down references for themselves, even as, in our post-expert era, I also want readers to trust that I know where to look in the first place—what’s reliable.

Although it’s now 30+ years old, probably the best book on Alexander’s appearance is Andrew Stewart’s Faces of Power: Alexander’s Image and Hellenistic Politics (1993). I know it’s expensive (LOTS and lots of picture plates inside), but because it’s been out a minute, you can probably find it used, or in a library.

So, let’s look at the history. There are several things going on here:

The ancient Greeks conflated wealth, class, intelligence, and beauty with heroic status. So Achilles is beautiful but Thersites is malformed and ugly. This motif rolled over onto historical individuals, and the Greeks purposely practiced “idealizing” in their sculpture, especially of anybody presented as heroic. There’s quite a lot written on Greek idealizing, but again, beware a simple Google search; I just tried to find something useful and gave up by the time I was on page 6; the best thing was an article in the NYT, behind a paywall. I’d suggest grabbing an art history textbook, especially a specialized one, like Shiela Dillon’s.

The Alexander head on the Akropolis (which was used to find the model for the cover of Becoming) is a perfect example of Classical-era idealization. We’d call it Photoshopped. 😉 Yes, it’s recognizably Alexander, but his face is made to match the canon of Greek ephebic beauty. (The publisher liked it. ha)

Add to this the divinization of Alexander and its impact on his sculptures across time. See Stewart mentioned above for a great description of how his Successors molded his image for their own purposes. Generally speaking, his hair gets longer and flowier, his eyes get larger, and his face get softened until he looks feminized. The sculpture below, from the Capitoline Museum, is a great example. It’s Alexander as Helios (the sun god), a Roman copy of a Hellenistic original, and that original is speculatively dated to sometime in the late 200s or early 100s BCE, based on style.

We in the modern world are inclined to these same assumptions. We got it from them! I’ve noticed that most sketches (especially AI pictures) of Alexander on the internet turn him pretty. One (below, yes with 6 fingers) has him looking suspiciously like Henry Cavill! LOL

There have been some better attempts to use AI to render him, based on ancient statuary, but most use statues I’m less fond of. Yet the one that uses the Azara Herm is, I think, pretty close. I agree with Stewart that the Azara Herm is as near to a likeness as is out there; see Stewart’s discussion as to why. I believe it’s the bust you’re referring to in the ask. Below with link to Royalty Now, who made it. I want to be sure she gets credit. I bought myself a copy of this one. She did two reconstructions, but I don’t care for the other because of the statue used. Royalty Now may have airbrushed him a bit (he lacks scars, for instance—highly unlikely in a soldier), but at least in basic facial structure, it’s good. Note the long face. If a long face with sharper features is more accepted today—largely thanks to what photographs well—the Greek ideal was a rounder face, like the Akropolis head above.

So the real Alexander wasn’t an ugly man, no, but if you passed him on the street, you probably wouldn’t stop and stare. Unless he wanted you to. It was his CHARISMA that people noted, not his physical appearance.

That, I also tried to note in the novels. At one point, Aristotle remarks to himself that Hephaistion might have the looks, but Alexander would always be the one to draw eyes. 😊

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* For instance, my educational website on Hephaistion appears pages and pages and pages down from the top on Google … even though it’s written by one of the two leading world experts on him (Sabine Müller is the other). Ergo, you have to wade through a lot of stuff put out by sites that know how to rank themselves higher before you get to the actual specialist. Once upon a time, btw, it popped up higher, but pay-to-play has changed search engines.

[aarontveitisonfire]

Aaron Tveit, Alexander Ludwig, and cast at Earth Abides Los Angeles red carpet premiere November 20, 2024 | Photo: Barry King LA

x x x

❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

[jamesnorthcotefanblog]

James Northcote as Alexander Bezborodko in Catherine the Great (2019)

[keikikait]

ᴛᴡᴏ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴇᴅ (ʀᴀꜰᴇ ᴄᴀᴍᴇʀᴏɴ x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ)

this is part two. for part one, click here!

pairing: rafe cameron x kook!f!reader, (not au, both are early to mid 20s)

word count: 4.4k

summary: rafe gives you an ultimatum, and in the setting sun, you see another

warnings: ANGST!!!!, pining/whipped reader, kook!reader & kook!rafe, suggestive but no outright smut, ultimatums, jj is alive, arguing, not proofread

a note: i'm sorry this is late!

please reblog and like, it means a lot! let me know what you think!

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

Were you being punished by your love for him?

You tried to move on, you really did. You tried everything you could think of, bar from ignoring Rafe all together. You had even joined a dating app, where you met a fellow Kook named Alexander, and you went on a few dates with him. He was a great guy, handsome, smart, and charming, but he wasn’t Rafe. Alexander didn’t draw your attention away from your best friend that you were hopelessly still in love with, even after trying to gaslight yourself into believing that you had a crush on him.

You kept Alexander around for a while. He was a fun guy, he paid for your little lunch or coffee shop dates, and he was a good fuck. You had lied and told him that you just weren’t a very vocal girl in bed, but in reality you were biting your tongue to keep from moaning Rafe’s name into his ear. It had been a few weeks, and even after everything, Rafe was still the only person you thought of when you slipped your hands under your panties at night. You eventually started to feel bad about leading him on and tried to break things off amicably. He didn’t take it well, but you didn’t expect him to.

You had tried to distract yourself, going to party after party and club after club, making out with whatever guy you could get your hands on. But nothing worked. You couldn’t stop thinking about your Kook prince, the most feared man on Kildare that had a soft spot in his heart for you. 

You had almost hoped that Rafe would’ve ditched you, would’ve kicked you to the side like a dog. At least it would be easier to move on that way, and you wouldn’t be stuck under his thumb, thinking about the ways you could get out of the hold he has on you. He still wanted to see you and be around you, constantly calling and texting like it was normal, like you hadn’t professed your undying love to him only three weeks ago. You felt like a two-headed monster. One head was his best friend, one head was deeply in love with him.

You know he’s fine, but what about you? What do you do?

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Even after everything, you still have to show up for your Friday night tradition; sitting on Rafe’s sofa, tucked under his arm, watching a shitty 80s zombie movies while eating a Costco pizza. You shouldn’t have agreed, knowing it would only make things harder, but you would do anything for him. Your poor heart would always surrender to him.

Maybe this time he would start falling for you, too.

You pull into the driveway of his new house, grabbing the pizza from the backseat before heading up to the front door, balancing the giant box with one hand as you knock.

The door swings open a second later, with Rafe standing in the doorway, grinning at the sight of the pizza box in your hands. He steps aside, gesturing for you to come in. “You’ve arrived with the goods, I see.”

You swallow hard. He looks so fucking good, wearing a tight black t-shirt and a pair of dark green sweatpants. You hug him with one arm, burying your face in his shoulder and inhaling deep. Your eyebrows furrow slightly and your free hand clenches around your keys. He smells different. Sweeter. Almost like candy.

Sofia must’ve been here earlier.

You pull away, carrying the pizza box into his living room. “Yup. I got you extra cheese, too.”

He follows behind you, shutting the door behind the two of you. His arm wraps around your shoulder when you reach the sofa, pulling you in tight to his side. “Extra cheese for my girl.” he teases, taking the box from you to set on the coffee table. You’re on the edge while he’s so goddamn polite and composed.

You tense up slightly as you settle into his sofa, grabbing the remote. You turn the TV on, trying to distract yourself from the empty feeling building up inside of you and gnawing at your guts. “Which movie are we watching tonight?”

“Mm…” He stretches out on the sofa, his legs tangling with yours as he looks over your shoulder at the TV. His body is pressed up against yours, and as usual, his proximity starts to stir up feelings deep inside of you. Feelings you thought you had managed to repress. “How about Romero?”

Your eyebrows furrow again. This man was going to give you wrinkles. “I thought we were watching zombie movies. Not ones about a Salvadoran archbishop.”

“No, not Romero like the actual archbishop, I mean like--” He lets out a frustrated sigh. “The man who invented the zombie film genre, dumbass. Do you need me to find a new best friend or something? Because you’re starting to get a little too idiotic for me.”

What the fuck? “Excuse me?”

He snorts, watching you get defensive. “Come on, it was a joke,” he says, nudging you with his knee. “Lighten up, I’m just teasing.”

“It wasn’t funny.” You say.

It’s then that he notices the way your shoulders are tense. Your jaw is clenched, and your eyes focus on the screen in front of the two of you with a bit too much intent. You’re upset. He can feel the agitation radiating off of you, and he hates it. He’s too used to his best friend being comfortable with him, happy around him. He lets out a breath, sitting up straight. “Don’t be like that,” he mutters. “Relax.”

“You don’t get to call me a dumbass, Rafe.” You say, your tone sharp.

Rafe stares at you, his irritation rising bit by bit. He takes in your expression, your sharp tone, the agitation that was practically coming off of you in waves. This was new territory for him. You weren’t just being cold, you were pissed. He’d never seen you this pissed at him. He didn’t like it.

He wanted the old you back, the you he thought you were. His best friend, his confidant, not the girl who’s helplessly in love with him, not the girl who lies awake all night thinking about him. Not the girl who moans his name into her pillow as she cums, hoping one day he would fall in love with her, too. He wanted you to just move on, to give up, to completely wipe your romantic feelings for him clean. He wanted more, while leaving you with less.

“You didn't use to care about this shit,” He says. “Not until you decided you were in love with me or whatever.”

“Decided?” You ask, scoffing. “It isn’t something you just wake up and decide.”

Rafe stares at you, his gaze hard, almost like he’s trying to search for the words that he wants to say. He was never good at this, talking about his feelings. He sighs, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “I… I don’t know.” He mutters, staring down at the floor. “I just wish things were the way they used to be, okay? I didn’t ask for all this bullshit. I never asked you to feel this way, so why are you making things so difficult?”

“I didn’t ask for this either.” You say.

“Well, you’re the one whose in love.” He says, the words almost bitter on his tongue. “You’re the one who made things difficult. I didn’t ask you to feel this way. I didn’t tell you to go and fall in love with me. So why are you getting pissed because I’m not in love with you too?”

“I’m not pissed, Rafe,” You say, although deep down you truly are. “I knew from the very beginning that I had no chance with you. I wouldn’t love me, either.”

He falls silent, running a hand through his hair. He didn’t know how to respond to that. He knew that wasn’t true. He knows that you’re beautiful, and sweet, and kind, and funny. He knew that you should have every chance with him. But he just didn’t love you that way. “How many times do we have to go over this?” He asks, his voice soft. “I’ve never loved you like that. You’re my best friend, you know that.”

“Thanks for the reminder.” You say bitterly.

He grits his jaw, frustrated now. He hated how bitter you were when it came to this. He hated that you expected him to be in love with you back when he just didn’t see you that way. He hated that he had to keep explaining this over and over again to you, and he hated the fact that you were just sitting here, pouting like a toddler. Like a girl who was in love.

He was tired of being the bad guy in this. “Then you shouldn’t have fallen in love with me.”

“I wish I never did.” You say.

He doesn’t speak. He doesn’t know what to say. He just turns to look at the movie, his jaw clenched. He hated that you said that. He hated that you wished you’d never fallen for him. He didn’t want you to wish that. If you didn’t fall for him, how long would it be before you fell for someone else? Someone who wasn’t him? He didn’t want the thought of you with another guy to piss him off so much.

Rafe sighs. “Quit looking at me like I’m the bad guy here.”

“Do you want me to pretend you’re a good guy?” You ask, crossing your arms.

“I am the good guy,” He snaps, his eyes narrowing. What the hell? He knew he wasn’t an angel by any means, but he was a good guy. He took care of his family, protected his friends, and stayed loyal to his girlfriend. “You’re the one who fell in love with me. I didn’t do anything wrong.”

You sigh, looking away. This was pointless, even more pointless than the daydreams you filled your mind with when you couldn’t sleep. “Whatever.”

He looks at you for a moment, jaw clenched, his body tense.

“You know, this whole self-pitying, 'woe is me, Rafe is the bad guy' bullshit is starting to piss me off. It’s getting annoying.” He says.

“I don’t know what you want me to do, Rafe.” You say.

“Stop acting as if I’ve done something wrong. Like I’ve wronged you,” He says, exasperated. He can’t understand why you’re being like this, and it’s pissing him off even more. “I don’t like you that way. I’ve never liked you that way. Why is that such a hard concept for you to accept?”

“It isn’t,” You say, your voice starting to get thick with emotion. “I know you don’t like me, I know you aren’t attracted to me, I just… it’s just so hard for me to move on, and I don’t know why.”

Rafe is silent for a moment, watching as your face starts to crumble. He can’t help but sigh. He moves closer to you, placing his hand on your thigh. Normally, it was the opposite. Normally it was you comforting him, not him trying to comfort you. “It’ll pass. You’ll get over it eventually.”

It’ll pass.

It’ll pass.

It will never pass, will it?

You sniffle, one hand reaching up to wipe the corners of your eyes. “I should go.”

He catches your wrist, tugging you back down on the sofa. “Sit down,” he says, his voice firm. “You’re not going anywhere yet. We need to talk about something.”

“About what?” You ask, not looking at him.

He lets go of your wrist, crossing his arms over his chest. “This,” He says simply, gesturing towards your face. “This…depression, sadness, self-pity bullshit. I hate seeing you the way you are right now, like you’ve just been kicked down. It’s pathetic. It’s not you.”

You don’t reply, finally looking over at him, eyes red rimmed with tears.

He stares back, his expression unchanging. You think he would’ve softened up at the sight of you, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t want to see you like this anymore. You’re supposed to be his best friend, the person he confides in and takes comfort in. “You’re supposed to be the person I come to when I’m upset. Not the other way around. This pity party you have going on needs to end. You’re better than that.”

You look back down at your lap, starting to pick at the skin around your thumbnails. “What do you want me to do?”

“Move on,” Rafe says, his tone harsher than he intended. “Move the fuck on. I want my best friend again, not this whiney, insecure brat. I don’t have any romantic feelings for you, and I’m tired of treating you with kid gloves because you can’t handle the truth. Get a grip and get over it. You either move on, and things go back to normal, or we stop being friends.”

You feel your stomach drop, your throat constricting, air getting caught in your windpipe. You don’t look at him, continuing to dig your fingernails into your skin. He watches you for a moment, noticing the way your chest shakes as you try to keep back the tears. He knew your habits by now, and he noticed the way your hands started to fiddle and pick. You did that when you were trying to distract yourself. You did that when you were upset, hurt. 

“Stop that,” He mumbles, reaching out and grabbing your hand.

You pull your hand away and stand up, fists clenching as your chest shakes. You couldn’t break down. Not here, not in front of him. “I should go.”

Rafe reaches out, grabbing your wrist again. He stands up too, using his grip to tug you back towards him. “We need to talk about this. Sit down.”

You pull away again, taking a step back, a soft squeak tumbling out of your mouth as you start to cry.

The squeak causes his stomach to twist. His face falls. “Don’t pull away from me.” He pleads softly, his hand reaching out for you again.

You retreat again, shaking your head as more tears start to fall. Your legs shake, your hands coming up to cover your face.

He grabs your wrist again, gently pulling you into his arms. “Stop it,” he says firmly, pulling you in close to his chest, his arms wrapping tightly around your trembling frame. “Stop.”

You sob into his chest, your hands still covering your face, shoulders shaking violently as you try and take a deep breath.

He stays quiet, one arm wrapped around your waist to hold you firmly against him. His other hand comes up to tangle in your hair, playing with the roots of it as his chin rests on the top of your head. “Stop crying,” He repeats, his voice a bit gentler. “I’m not worth it.”

“Yes you are.” You mumble, wiping your tears with your fingers, palms still pressed against your face, mascara smearing across your cheeks.

“No, I’m not,” He says firmly, his breath fanning over the crown of your head. His fingers tighten slightly in your hair, rubbing slow circles into your scalp. Not to offer comfort. No, he knew that wouldn’t work. But to just keep you where you were, firmly held against his chest. “I’m a disaster. Even after everything, after trying to change, I’m still a disaster.”

“You're not a disaster.” You say, pulling back to look at him.

He stares down at you, his expression hard to read. He has his usual, guarded look on, but the way his hand reaches up to gently wipe away one of your tears gives away the fact that he’s affected. “I am,” He repeats, his voice quiet. “And I won’t ever be the man you think I am.”

You hesitate. “I want the Rafe I’m looking at. Not the picture of you in my head.”

He lets a huff of air out through his nose, his expression softening for the briefest of moments as he looks down at you. You were so beautiful, even when you were crying and on the edge of a breakdown. But he couldn’t allow himself to get caught up in it again, like in high school. He had moved on. At least, in his mind. “You’ll never be satisfied with that. I’m no saint, and I’ll never be the romantic, fairy tale guy you want me to be.”

“I just want--” You try to correct yourself, although you meant the former. “I just wanted to be yours.”

He stiffens for a second, his gaze hardening again as he studies your face. “No,” he mutters, a tinge of something you can’t place in his voice. “You can’t be mine. I’m not yours, and I’ll never be yours. You’re not mine to keep, you’re not the one I want, you’re not the one I’m in love with.”

You sigh, your voice soft. “I know.”

He lets out a breath, the expression on his face pained. He cupped your face, wiping away some of the smeared mascara. “I don’t want to keep hurting you,” He says softly. “I don’t want to keep making you cry. I don’t want to keep disappointing you.”

“I’m hurting myself,” You say. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who just can’t move on.”

“You’re not the one at fault,” Rafe says, his thumb still wiping at the tear stains on your cheek. “I’m the one who can’t love you the way you want to be loved. And I’ll never be able to. You deserve someone who can, and I want you to find that person.”

You did find that person, the one holding your face and looking at you like you’re his saving light in eternal darkness. You had ignored so many bad omens, hoping that the universe was wrong, that they made a mistake, that your red strings of fate were intertwined in the stars.

But they weren’t.

You swallow hard. “I’m sorry. I’ll try harder. To get over you.”

“Good.” He says, his thumb brushing under your eye one last time, wiping away a tear. His thumb brushes across your cheek, pressing down slightly to feel the softness of your skin. He moves his other hand to your jaw, moving his thumb side to side on your neck, feeling your pulse. 

His eyes meet yours before his gaze travels over your face, soaking in every detail of you. They linger on your lips, just for a second too long, and much to his dismay, you notice it. His eyes move back up to look into yours.

Your breath hitches ever so slightly, your lips parting. Rafe purses his lips together slightly, rubbing them together, his eyes looking back down at your mouth. He mumbles your name quietly, his voice soft.

“What?” You ask.

He doesn’t answer. 

His eyes are still looking at your mouth. He watches your lips move as you speak, watches how your tongue peeks out of the corner of your mouth ever so slightly. 

He can’t think straight. He can’t think at all. His mind has gone fuzzy, and every cell of his body is telling him something he knows he shouldn’t do. 

His hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, and he pulls you in closer.

He places a kiss to your forehead, his eyes closing.

Your eye twitches, your stomach churning, your face getting hot with shame and embarrassment.

He pulls away, looking down at you. “I’m sorry, alright? Can we just… can we just chill and watch a movie?”

You should say no. You should scream at him, yell at him for manipulating you, for looking at you like that and acting like he was going to kiss you.

But you can’t. You can’t bring yourself to hate him, even after this. 

You swallow hard, blinking a few times as you look at the long forgotten pizza box on the coffee table. “Yeah. We can watch a movie.”

He feels relieved. That’s good. 

He gives you a small smile, placing a hand on the small of your back and ushering you towards the sofa. He turns you towards the sofa, gesturing for you to sit down, his hand still lingering on your back, the feel of your skin under your sweater making his heart race. 

His eyes linger on you for a moment, before he turns to grab the remote off of the coffee table. He sits down next to you, trying to keep a normal distance between the two of you, instead of pressing himself up against your side. He opens the pizza box as he opens Hulu, handing you a slice. 

You take it, your fingers and hands numb and tingling as you try to suppress the bile in your throat.

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The Outer Banks is truly paradise on Earth.

Although The Boneyard isn’t the nicest beach on the island, it has a few secluded spots that still manage to take your breath away. You find your favourite spot easily, a small sandbank by the entrance to a long-forgotten cove. It was once filled with rumours of pirates and treasures, but now it’s full of seaweed.

You settle into the sand, holding your sandals in your hands, arms draped over your knees. You watch the sunset pink and orange streaking across the sky, listening to the soft crashing of the waves and the distant call of a seagull. The wind gently pulls through your hair, and you push some behind your ears, closing your eyes as you feel the sun on your face.

It’s peaceful.

Another soft breeze brushes over you, carrying with it the scent of weed, an uncommon occurrence for this particular spot. Not a lot of other people on the island knew of your spot, mainly just Rafe and Sarah.

You turn your gaze to your left, finding a familiar figure sitting about a yard away from you.

JJ smiles, head tilted to the side, a lit joint between his fingers. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You say, smiling softly. You had always had a little soft spot for JJ, considering him to be one of the few Pogues you could actually stand, maybe other than Kiara.

JJ takes a hit of the joint, looking out over the ocean, the sun starting to descend towards the horizon. He sighs contently before turning to look at you again, raising his eyebrows as he studies you. “What’re doing out here all alone?”

“Just watching the sunset.” You say. You pat the sand next to you, inviting him to take a seat.

“Yeah? Me too,” He says, moving closer to take a seat next to you. He stretches out his legs, leaning back onto his hands and resting his head against the sand. He takes another hit from the joint, sighing out the smoke before offering it to you. “Want a hit?”

You nod, taking it between your thumb and pointer finger. You take a deep hit, sucking in the smoke and blowing it out in a thick white cloud. You hold it out towards him. “Thanks.”

He takes it from you, his fingers brushing against yours. “Anytime,” He says, leaning back. He watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face. The sun is setting in front of you, casting a warm, orange glow illuminating you that catches on your hair. He can’t help but admire the way the sunset looks against your figure, casting a glowing haze around you. His gaze softens in the presence of your soft glow. “You look pretty tonight.”

You smile softly, feeling your face get warm. “Thanks, JJ. So do you.”

He smiles back, his eyes locking with yours. It’s just the two of you out here, and JJ likes it that way. Just you and him sitting alone on the beach, watching the sunset. “Just pretty?” He asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

“Handsome.” You add.

He’s silent for a moment, staring back at you. He lets out a breath through his nose, trying to hide the grin on his face as his cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink, but it’s still clear on his face. “Damn right, I am.” He mutters. The two of you just stare at each other for a minute, the quiet sounds of the ocean in front of you and the distant sound of a fish jumping, trying to catch a bug flying across the water.

You smile at him again, looking back over the water.

JJ studies your profile for a moment, taking a hit off of his joint before passing it back to you, still staring at you. His eyes linger on your eyes, before slowly dropping down to your lips. He watches you, the soft expression on your face and how your hair blows in the wind. He’s always liked the way you look when you’re relaxed. You always look pretty, but you really look beautiful when you’re relaxed, when there’s no stress or worry in your mind. 

He studies your face, committing every detail to memory. He sits up straighter, placing the joint back in his mouth. He hesitates before throwing one arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer to his side. You oblige, slotting yourself against him, leaning your head against his shoulder. 

He smiles to himself, feeling you move closer. His arm tightens around you, fingers absentmindedly tracing circles into your shoulder. He watches the sun over the ocean, noticing how the light dances over the rippling water. He takes the joint from his mouth once again, taking a hit. He holds it in his lungs for a second, before leaning forward slightly, his gaze shifting down to your cheek. He lets out a cloud of smoke from his mouth, the smoke hovering in the air between the two of you.

You take the joint from him and take a hit before handing it back, holding it in your lungs before exhaling slowly. You look up at him, watching as he puts the joint in his mouth as he shifts in the sand. You smile softly again, admiring the way his eyes shine in the pink and orange hues of the setting sun.

Sometimes the one you want is not the one you need.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ*:･ﾟ✧

part three is here!

★taglist: @ietss, @momoewn, @blairsblg, @teenwolfbitches28, @dasia21, @drewsphswife, @gilwm, @watchmerora, @odairtrqsh, @wearemadeofstardust0, @rafesbabygirlx, @slumnit, @babygirlwilly, @rafeyswife, @evermorx89, @ivy-34, @marlenee3e, @koibleufish, @user381963, @monkey-d-juliana, @ursogorgeous1313, @drewstarkeysstuff, @ts1mp0ne, @kayreblogs, @rafeycameronsgf, @lulbabes, @karmasloverrr, @greyswaren, @tini5, @witchmoon10, @xcinnamonmalfoyx, @arivh, @devils-blackrose, @goldsainz, @vonhoe, @exhaustedbutelated, @enjoymyloves, @rinasauruss, @danikasthings, @danicl25, @outlawedmando, @lucifersie, @wtfisastiles, @maybankslover (italics means i couldn’t tag you!)

join my permanent obx taglist here!

[blackynsupremacy]

UNDER WRAPS

pairing: nicholas a. chavez x black!fem!reader

summary: you try to be the most loving and supportive girlfriend to nicholas and his career, but can your relationship stand a chance when his pr forces him to be in a relationship with another girl?

contains: based off this request, fluff, kissing, angst with happy ending, sadness, crying, jealousy, arguing, insecurity, anxiety, swearing, established relationship between reader and nicholas, reader is tabyana ali’s cousin and bff, mentions of fake dating with victoria abbott

a/n: if you want to be added to my taglist, please dm me so i can easily find it! i don’t want to leave anyone out!

taglist: @greengoblinswifey @thabiddie23 @hopefully-saturn @jkr820 @hoffmansgirl @austeenbootler @niteskysx @sabrinasopposite @thabiddie23 @hnch33rios @xoxoglittergossip @supaprettyg @motherismotheringggg @oscarisaackissmykitty @simply-lovley44 @elitesanjisimp @gxuxhdjdu @venic-bxtch @stargirl-mayaa

a pang of hurt increased the prominent heaviness in your heart as your thumb held down on the screen of your phone. on each of their instagram stories, you saw your boyfriend of one year, nicholas chavez, and his “girlfriend”, victoria abbott, walking hand in hand at another red carpet event. that’s right. your boyfriend has another girlfriend, but it’s not one would think to be normal. you still question to yourself—where did it all go wrong? after he got his big break from projects such as monsters and grotesquerie, nicholas had been in the spotlight everywhere by booking roles, interviews, photoshoots, and attending prestigious events for actors such as himself. this was all thanks to his immense talent and strikingly good looks, but also to his manager who’d made sure that nicholas’ name will be a name to remember in hollywood.

you couldn’t be more proud of the love of your life. you and nicholas had a great relationship. you both met through your favorite cousin who was basically your best friend, tabyana, who was his co-star on general hospital. you don’t watch the soap opera, but to support her, you went to one of those fan meet events for the show. you found nicholas to be very handsome and charismatic, but you really liked his passion for acting and his humbleness. he was exactly your type, but you didn’t think much of it. he was a whole celebrity and his chemistry with your cousin was off the charts, so you thought the chance of him ever getting with you would be little to none. the event was wrapping up, so you went to find your cousin and bid her a goodnight because you had work the next day. you gave her hug and she grabbed onto your wrist before you could take another step.

“taby—girl, where are you taking me?” you frantically question as she drags you to a table. it wasn’t just any table though. as soon as tabyana stopped, you look over to see none other than her fine ass co-star, nicholas alexander chavez. it was like love at first sight when the warmth of his deep brown eyes met with yours. as you both examine each other’s features, the temperature of your faces rise and the tempo of your heartbeats increase. you just stare at the man in awe as your cousin introduces you to each other,

“hey, nicholas! this is the one i was telling you about. this is my cousin and bff, y/n l/n.” she amicably says, wrapping an arm around your shoulder to sort of push you in closer. “y/n, this is my co-star, nicholas chavez.” a smile is instantly visible on his face as nicholas stands to meet you where you stand. you try not to swoon as his cologne intoxicates your senses, but you manage to keep it cool. you take his large awaiting hand into yours for a cordial shake.

“it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, y/n. you’re even prettier in person.”

his heart flutters when you thank him and flash a pearly smile at the compliment. then it dawned you that he said in person.

“thank you, nicholas! i’m curious, what do you mean by in person?” you had to ask just be safe, hoping that he wasn’t a creep, but the next thing he said almost sent you to heaven. nicholas chuckles in bashfulness, a hand in his pocket and the other running through his brown hair. tabyana gave him a knowing look with a smirk,

“do you want me to tell her or…?” she playfully trails off, waving her hand for nicholas to speak up. he clears his throat to meet your gaze,

“i’ll say it, i just don’t want to make a bad first impression— okay, so, taby and i were on set taking a break and she was on her phone scrolling until she just squealed out of nowhere—”

“i did not squeal. i just got hyped up.” tabyana chided, cutting him off. with a playful eye roll, you settle your cousin, so that you could hear nicholas out.

“anyways! she scared me and i asked what’s the matter. she gave me her phone and it happened to be your instagram and you just posted pictures from your vacation when you were on the beach. he paused to clear his throat before he proceeded to speak, “and uh, you looked absolutely stunning, so—i asked about you and that’s how i found out that you were taby’s cousin. she also told me that you were gonna come tonight, so that we could officially meet.” he finished, giving you a nervous, but adorable lopsided smile.

tabyana smiled in satisfaction as her plan to get you two together was working, now she had to get you alone.

“hey, i gotta make my rounds and chat with some fans, nicholas keep y/n company. i love you, cuz! byeeeee!” before you could even protest, she was already scurrying to another area in the venue, leaving you and nicholas alone at the table. not long after, he offered to buy you a beverage and stay a while longer to talk. you wanted to politely decline because you had to go home, but with the new knowledge you just received from him, it was only fair to give him a proper shot. as the time passed by, you two shared joy, laughter, and eventually, a budding romance. the romance was blissful, but still a bit private. you both wanted to make sure that this relationship was going to last before running it to social media, so you and nicholas kept it cute, sweet, and lowkey for the next few months. it was like you were in your own peaceful bubble of love and happiness, but it abruptly popped a week after celebrating your one year anniversary.

“make this make sense, nicholas! what the hell do you mean that you’re getting into another relationship? are you seriously breaking up with me right now?” you stood up from the sofa in the living room of your now shared apartment.

“babe, look. i don’t want to do this either and i’m not breaking up with you, i would never— this is just something that these agents do to ensure that i get more projects. the more i do, the better at acting i get and i could support us both. acting is my life’s dream, but what’s the use of that when you have no one to share it with? i only want you.”

nicholas had just broken the news to you that he had to be in a public relationship with another actress named victoria, which was instructed by his pr team. he stands up to gently take your hand before guiding you into a warm embrace. your head pressed against his chest to hear his steady heartbeat as you pondered. this was all so crazy. you knew that dating a celebrity had its perks and flaws, but why couldn’t you be known to the world as his girl? was it because you’re not an actress or a celebrity in general? was it because of your background? would nicholas fall out of love and leave you for her? so many questions ran a race in your brain as you felt a lump in your throat, your vision blurred by the moisture building up in your pupils which didn’t take long to rain on your face and his t-shirt. at the first whimper, nicholas gingerly pulled away from the hug and guided your chin with his fingers as you struggle to meet his sympathetic gaze. you hated crying in front of him sometimes.

“baby—baby, look at me.” he whispered, never taking his eyes from your blushed, teary face. you sniffled, the soothing pads of his thumbs to wipe the falling tears from your melanated skin calms you enough to listen to him. nicholas presses a gentle kiss to your forehead before he speaks,

“i need you to understand that i’m not just doing this to get my name out there, i’m doing this for us. i know we’ve only been together for a year, but i want to build our future together and i don’t want it to crumble before i start, okay?” nicholas gulps, holding both sides of your jaw not daring to break eye contact,

“do you love me, y/n?” he questions, you don’t hesitate to answer,

“i love you, nicholas. i love you with everything that i am. it’s just—” you pause to sigh before communicating, “i want to be able to show everyone that i’m seriously in love with you. we’ve already kept this private long enough and now you gotta be public with someone else? i don’t know how we’re gonna do this.” you confess, your eyes watering again. you know there’s going to be pictures everywhere of them on different sites and platforms. hell, maybe you might even hear it during lunch break gossip at work. you felt your entire abdomen painfully cave in at the thought, but it dissolves to that familiar warm, tingly sensation when you feel nicholas’ lips press to yours in gentle earnestness, you instinctively return the kiss and he pulls away to press his forehead to yours.

“i love you more, but do you trust me to do this? it’s only temporary.”

trust. you ponder on the short word with such an immense meaning that determines the foundation for any type of relationship. you thought back to all of the times you’ve shared with nicholas, he’s never given you any reason to doubt his loyalty towards you before, but this opportunity for him could change that and that made you worried. for your relationship and your peace of mind, you silently nodded in response.

“use your words, baby, i need you to say it.” he softly urges, intertwining your fingers with his. you peer into his eyes, it was like he wouldn’t make a move without your verbal approval, so he was serious about this after all.

“i—i trust you, nicholas.” you confirm, squeezing onto his palm as if he’ll fly away from you right this second. it was now your turn to initiate a kiss, just to reassure that even though both of you weren’t fond of this situation, you were still going to make this work.

TWO WEEKS LATER

once nicholas went public with his new “relationship” at first you were a bit supportive, but now you were starting to sulk in loneliness. with each passing day, you were starting to feel like nicholas was slipping away from you. during the day, he’d be with victoria out on the street, the beach, on set, anywhere where the faux couple’s pictures could be captured for all of the world to view. in the night, he’d come home eager to see you, wrap you in a warm embrace, and comedically dish out any details concerning all of his “dates” he went on over dinner and a movie. he admitted that some of the places they went to would be great enough for you both to check out. you smiled and pretended to agree, but the idea of taking your real girlfriend on some of the same dates as your fake one felt off to you. social media was starting to become a train wreck for you. no matter how far down you scrolled, they still managed to show up on your feed. it hurt like hell to see a video of them dancing in a nightclub, victoria lovingly gazed up at his figure as if he hung the moon. it was obvious that she developed feelings. nicholas didn’t look too interested, he just tried to be polite with a cordial smile on his face for the camera as they swayed to the beat of the music. the comments rooting for this lie of an alliance wasn’t helping either, so you just deleted all socials except for tumblr and pinterest until it all died down.

that should be you. he’s your boyfriend—if that’s even the truth anymore. you desired to tell the world about the love you had for nicholas, but this could ruin his reputation, his life’s work. this was all too much. damn his agent, damn his pr, and damn this whole thing! you weren’t sure if you could pretend that this was okay for any longer. before you made any drastic decisions out of bitterness, you had to communicate it with nicholas first. all week you’ve been trying to get nicholas alone to speak your heart, but due to his schedule, he was out later than usual which had you fed up at this point. although you were fuming, you patiently waited for him to get home. it was half past midnight when he tiredly walked through the door and jolted a bit when he saw your burning gaze.

“hey, babe! i’m so sorry. the after party ran over so late and i—” he tried to explain, but you cut him off. you wish you weren’t so angry because it sounded like he wanted to be here.

“nicholas, we need to talk.” at your words, he didn’t hesitate to stride from the door to where you sitting. he bent down on one knee to meet your eye level.

“anything, sweetheart. what’s on your mind?” he inquires, taking your hands within his to reassure that was listening. the bitterness within you wants to take them away because these are the same hands that were holding hers. thankfully, your love for him conquered all of that. you sigh out, your eyes shooting to the ceiling as they blur in tears.

“i think we need to take a break—until this whole fake relationship thing is completely over. nicholas, i love you, but i feel like that you’re not even mine. i love what we have, but keeping it a secret while you’re presented as someone else’s perfect lover is tearing me apart.” you confess, your teardrops drizzle on your connected hands as your heart continues to break. he hastily shakes his head, his brown gaze painted with worry.

“no, no—babe, y’know that i’m yours. always. remember what i said i’m doing this for us. don’t you trust me?” he asked.

“i do, nicholas, and i support you and your dreams, but do i really need to suffer for it? how would you feel if i were out some other guy? yeah, i don’t love him, but someone always ends up getting hurt or left out , so there’s gotta be a decision made. heh, i bet you don’t even know that victoria has feelings for you—i’ve seen the way she looks at you in those pictures.”

nicholas is speechless, gazing into your eyes. he gulps before mustering up the correct words,

“so—so what’re you saying? are you leaving me, y/n?”

“not completely, nick. i just—need some space away from all of this. i don’t want you to choose between your career or me, you’re probably under contract and i don’t want to ruin things for you.”

“y/n, please don’t—just give me a chance, maybe i can talk to my team to shut this goddamn thing down. i don’t ever want to lose you. i—” with each word his voice starts to crack and tears form in his eyes at the thought of losing you. it shouldn’t have to be this way. you shouldn’t have to suffer due to the tricky business of hollywood, nicholas realized that roles come and go, but having a love like yours was rare to come by.

“nicholas, i understand, but i think it’s best if don’t see each other right now, so i’m going to be staying somewhere else for a little bit. once this is all over, we can pick up from where we left off.” you confirm, getting up from your seat and walking into your shared bedroom with nicholas not traveling far behind you. he leans against the doorway and observes as you gather a small suitcase that’s already packed with essentials. before you could even walk out of the door, his large frame is blocking your way.

“nicholas—move.” you command while gripping on the handle of your luggage. your eyes begging him to not make this harder than it is for you.

“y/n, don’t do this, please. let’s just sleep it off and i’ll get it straightened out first thing in the morning. besides, where would you go?” he questioned, not moving from his spot.

“i’m not telling you that! look, i want my space, nicholas. at least let me have that until this is over. i can’t stand it anymore. we can’t keep pretending like everything’s fine when it’s not.” you rebutted, you moved around the room to located your phone, so that you could text tabyana that you needed to crash at her place for a few days and that you would explain later. that’s when you saw him take out his own phone and dial a number. you watched in confusion when he put it on speaker,

“hey.” he firmly greeted on the phone with a hardened gaze and tightened lips. you heard the voice on the other end respond with such an enthusiastic tone,

“aye, nick! how’s it goin’? i just wanna say that the people love you and victoria. i can see the headlines now!” it was his manager on the phone and his words only made want to shrink into nonexistence. this wasn’t how it was supposed to be. he glanced at you, your eyes filled with hurt and frustration, and it ignited a fire within him. this had to stop.

“actually, um—can you hold on a second?” he requested, his voice steady despite all of this drama. nicholas took a deep breath, before he went straight to the point.

“this—with victoria and i, it can’t go on. it’s over. period.”

with a baffled look, your tight grip on your suitcase started to loosen as you stepped in closer to see if this was really happening. there was a pause of silence that grew thick in the air with an awkward tension.

“you there?” nicholas question with an arched brow.

“yeah, i’m here,” his manager replied, slightly puzzled, “but kid, you gotta realize this is just business—acting. you’re basically putting on a show and the world loves to watch it.”

with the shake of his head, nicholas took another deep breath, his heart racing.

“not if it means hurting those who don’t deserve it. look, i can’t keep pretending to be with victoria when my heart belongs to someone else—and what if victoria catches feelings, huh? do you think that’s fair to her? you’re basically stringing her along and that’s messed up.” he glanced back at you, your expression softening as you realized he was fighting for you, for you both. “i want—no, i need to tell the world about my real relationship. we’ve kept things private long enough and i want to be with her openly.”

there was another moment of silence on the other end, and nicholas could almost hear his manager’s fingers pinch the bridge of his nose and a sigh of exasperation in the office. “nicholas, you know how this works. what about the fans—”

“the fans deserve the truth,” nicholas firmly interrupted. “a stable relationship is built on the truth and i’m not losing mine because you want me to live a lie for some views—so, call whoever the hell you need to while i’ll break the news to victoria because this is all over. do we understand?” he concluded, not taking his eyes away from you. you felt your heart swell as you watched him stand his ground, the weight of the world seemingly lifting from both of your shoulders. his manager sighed in defeat before responding and nicholas smirked because he knew he got his way.

“alright, alright. let me see what i can do, but you know this could shake things up, right?”

“that’s cool.” nicholas said, shrugging his shoulders, but with determination in his voice. “consider me ready.”

you heard his manager let out a chuckle,

“you got balls, kid. that girl of yours sure is lucky.”

nicholas warmly gazed at you, a simper growing on his lips.

“you’re damn right, but i’m luckier.” with that, he hung up the phone and strided to you to place his hands on your shoulders. his expression a mix of hope and vulnerability.

“baby, i am so sorry for everything. i was so selfish and blind that i couldn’t see how much i’ve hurt you. i thank you for believing and trusting in me, but it shouldn’t have to cost you your happiness—ever. i love you too much for that to happen again and trust me, it won’t happen again. i don’t care about headlines, i care about you. i care about us.”

tears brimmed in your eyes, but this time they were tears of sweet relief instead of painful sorrow.

“are you being for real, nicholas?”

“i’m dead serious. y’know how you say that you don’t play about me? well— i don’t play about you either.” he sincerely said, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you closer proximity. “i love you, and the whole world deserves to know. i don’t give a damn about who supports it or not.”

you finally show a genuine smile through the sadness, and you nodded, your heart racing at every word. this felt like a dream, but this was reality, your reality. “i love you too, nicholas. god, i was so tired of feeling like a secret.” his burly arms enclose tighter around you, your own reaching to clasp together around his neck.

“no more secrets. from now on, it’s just you and me. no one else. unless—the future is good to us and we start a family.” even though there was a glint of mischief within his eyes, you could tell that he was dead serious.

“you big softie, c’mere.” you playfully roll your eyes and stand a bit taller to press your full lips against his. as you kiss, the tension of the past few weeks instantly melt away as you both step into a new era of your relationship, ready to take on any challenges as soon as the world finds out about your no longer secret love.

[napoleonic-sexyman-tournament]

All the propaganda is under the cut. It's long for both of them:

Alexander I Pavlovich:

a. “Maybe not the most handsome or charismatic man in this tournament, but he has ample chaotic neutral energy that both baffles and fascinates contemporaries. In short, if you're into mysterious men, you won't find a sexier enigma than our imperator.”

b. “Look. Is this or is this not the monsterfucking website.”

c. There are lots of monuments dedicated to him. There's one in Moscow in the Alexander Garden right by the Red Square. While nowhere near as grand as the Alexander Column, I think it's still worth showcasing!

The monument is meant to celebrate his victory in the 1812 Russian invasion. He's holding a sword, proudly standing on top of his enemies' weapon.

The sculptors, however, have never seen the man in their life - all the people involved in the making are still alive and well (i think), so that should tell how new it is. The monument was opened for the public just a decade ago in 2014.

d. quote about this bust from the memoirs of Sophie de Choiseul-Gouffier: “No painter was able to properly capture the features of his face and especially his soft expression. Alexander didn’t like to pose for portraits and they were mostly done with some stealth. In this case sculpture have produced a better likeness. The famed Thorvaldsen made a bust of this sovereign worthy of a hand of such a remarkable artist.”

e. His family nickname might have been ‘our angel’ and the medal commemorating his death bears the inscription “Our angel is in heaven”, but did you know that to this day Alexander looks down on Sankt Petersburg as an actual angel, wings, cross, trampled snake and all? Alas, you cannot see it from the ground, the Alexander Column being so very tall, but the statue of the angel on top certainly seems to take after our sexy thrice-angel Emperor.

f. Apotheosis of Alexander! An eminently universal image, perfectly serviceable for his rise to the throne… of Napoleonic Sexyman Tournament.

It really looks like Peter and Catherine are instructing the Electorate. Gentlevoters, surely you wouldn’t dream of disappointing Sasha’s Grandmother and his scantily clothed giant of a Great-great-grandfather?

g. What is sexier than a man in a dress???

Thomas-Alexandre Dumas

a. “mustache”

b. “Tall! Daring! Swashbuckling! A devoted husband and father! Had a personal conflict with Napoleon! Also it was said he could, while holding onto a bar above his head, LIFT A HORSE WITH HIS THIGHS. How is he not on this list ten times already! Vote for General Dumas!”

c. “He was so hot that he inspired The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, and many more books that his son, Alexandre Dumas, wrote. He definitely looked the part of a sexyman, as he son recounts in his memoirs: "My father, as already stated, was twenty-four, and as handsome a young fellow as could be found anywhere. His complexion was dark, his eyes of a rich chestnut colour […]. His teeth were white, his lips mobile, his neck well set on his powerful shoulders, and, in spite of his height of five feet nine inches, he had the hands and feet of a woman. These feet were the envy of his mistresses, whose shoes he was very rarely able to put on." He could crush you between his thighs: "His free colonial life had developed his strength and prowess to an extraordinary degree; he was a veritable American horse-lad, a cowboy. His skill with gun or pistol was the envy of St. Georges and Junot. And his muscular strength became a proverb in the army. More than once he amused himself in the riding-school by passing under a beam, and lifting his horse between his legs." He was so badass he could beat 13 men with 4 and take all the enemy prisoner, and defend against hundreds of men on a bridge by himself. He performed these acts of valour numerous times in Italy. He was so formidable that the Austrians named him the "Schwartz Teufel", or the Black Devil, and his feat at the bridge earned him the moniker of "Horatius Cocles of Tyrol". He wasn't afraid to stand up to his morals and protest against unfair treatment. When unjust executions by the guillotine were happening outside his quarters, he closed the blinds of his curtains, earning him the nickname "Mr. Humanity". When in the Vendée, he complained about the wanton indiscipline in his troops. When in Italy, Berthier wrongly reported his actions as one of "observation" in St. Antonio. Dumas wrote to General Bonaparte that if Berthier was in the same position, he would have shit his pants. Dumas abhorred plunder, never exhorted the locals, and ordered the Directory agent who had come to persuade him otherwise be shot if he dared present himself to Dumas again. Integrity and a sense of moral justice is sexy, mark my words. For Dumas' final qualifier as a sexyman, look no further than this Tumblr heritage post (https://www.tumblr.com/petermorwood/133803437020/hortensevanuppity-elodieunderglass), with 300,000 notes and counting. And I quote: "- daddy general dumas was an immense fierce french warrior who was a 6 foot plus, stunningly gorgeous and charismatic Black gentleman - he invaded egypt - the native egyptians said “is this napoleon? this must be napoleon. we for one welcome our majestic new overlord” - then napoleon showed up - napoleon has all the presence of yesterday’s plain Tesco hummus - the native egyptians were like “… no… no, we’ve thought very hard and we’ll have General Dumas actually” - this did not make napoleon happy - in fact it made him jealous - napoleon felt so emasculated that he launched a campaign of revenge against General Dumas, including taking away his pension, that probably inspired a lot of Alexandre’s rather satisfying scenes in which fathers are nobly avenged and the money-grubbing villains are rubbed in the mud" I rest my case. Tl;dr: He was so hot he inspired multiple books, he was a stronk man who could crush you between his thighs or carry you like a sack of potatoes, and he was so badass that he could take on odds of 1 to 3. He had a foul mouth but a heart of gold and his actions were never self-serving. Posts relating to him on Tumblr have had 300,000 notes and counting. He is qualitatively and quantitatively qualified to be a sexyman.”

[sportswriters]

please a trent fic (smut) morning sex after you both wake up surprisingly h0rny??🩷🩷🩷

hey, thank you for requesting! sorry it took so long to be posted, i really loved writing this scenario with trent. hope you enjoy it as much as i did, have a good read! ;) - ella

a morning off - t. alexander-arnold

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x female!reader | s, f | established relationship | wc: 3k+ | warnings: unprotected sex (wrap it up, everybody, be fr out there)

WHEN THE LIGHT COMES IN, brightening the room, greeting the morning sun to wake us up, my mouth moves in a low, involuntary curse, because any bit of light bothers me and wakes me up almost instantly. I roll over in bed, bumping into Trent's heavy body, not daring to open my eyes, but I know I won't be able to go back to my previous sleep in the same way. He's a heavy sleeper. The world could fall, the light could blind us, Trent won't wake up.

The bad mood reverberates through me for a moment. I lift my hand to scratch my burning eyes and feel his heavy hand on my stomach, an involuntary moan escapes my lips when I realize that he's completely glued to me, our legs tangled together, I couldn't tell where I started and where he ended.

"Trent," I whisper, the complaint taking shape. He doesn't move and I snort. “Damn, you forgot the curtains open again.”

I finally open my eyes. For a week now, the exhaustion of work has taken over our bodies and our routine and we've barely spent any quality time together. The demands of the office have left me stressed and the pressure he felt to get better from his recent injury made him shrink into his own world, but he tried not to add his stress to mine, so we always had dinner together and went to bed afterwards, this being our routine for the last few days and the closest thing to physical contact we had with each other. I can't remember the last time we had sex.

More awake now, I stare at his face, almost too close to mine, serenity taking over his soft expression. Neither of us has to wake up so early or get up for the next few hours, as we finally got the morning off to adjust our sleep and rest our bodies, but my plan to sleep late was ruined by him forgetting to close the curtain so the light wouldn't get into our room.

My lips move involuntarily in a smile. I roll over so that I can lie on my side, facing him, a little closer to his body, and his chest rises and falls in regular breathing. He's shirtless, which gives me a privileged morning view of his body and I start to feel warm. My body has been craving his for days, but exhaustion always overcame me. Now, without the rush that used to surround us almost every morning, I feel compelled to enjoy the moment.

“Darling.” I snuggle up to him, throw my leg over his waist and kiss the tip of his nose, which makes him smile, but he still won't open his eyes. “Wake up.”

I run my hand over his face, admire his beauty in silence and feel my heart skip a few beats. I'll never get used to the feeling of loving this man and that it's all real, because it feels like a dream. A dream that I expect to wake up from every day, but he lives to show me that it's real, that he loves me just as much or more.

Trent starts to wake up. The english player squeezes my waist a little too tightly, forcing me closer and that's when I bump into something hard, quickly realizing that he's aroused. That's great. That makes it easier for me to play.

I kiss his face, move down his chin and onto his neck. I rub against his hard cock and he gives me a husky moan, his hand moving down to my ass, where he squeezes and presses me against him.

“Trent,” his name comes out of my mouth in a moan.

My clit throbs and he finally opens his eyes, staring at me with that sleepy expression of a person who's just woken up, the sideways smile messing up the butterflies in my stomach and I hate that he's so effortlessly handsome. I understand all those girls who insist on sending him DMs on his Instagram profile.

“I've been missing this," he murmurs.

His body pulls me into a hug and he takes the opportunity to kiss the sensitive spot on my neck. I can't remember the last time we woke up so horny like this and I was missing it as well. I'm missing his whole body, his kisses full of ulterior motives, the vibration around my belly that he always made me feel, yearning for more.

“I'm not kissing you," I warn.

The sound of his laughter vibrates through the room and he places one last kiss on the skin at the nape of my neck before turning his face towards me, staring. His fingers smooth the skin of my ass, covered only by a thin pair of panties, all that covers me from then on is just an old shirt of his. He knows I don't like morning kisses before hygiene, so he never objects, although he never fails to tease me.

“But you're going other things, right?” he teases.

His obscene smile gives away his whole idea. There was only one intention for both of us there, and it wasn't the least bit pure. As encouragement, he rubs his hard cock against me again, the friction making us both moan at the same time. Trent's hand slips between my legs and slides down to my panties, teasing me over the cloth.

“Your panties are dirty, baby.”

His thumb swirls against my sensitive clit, the cloth of the panties wet with my moisture. It doesn't take much effort for him to get me like this and, the first few times, I used to be embarrassed by how quickly I got wet because of him, but I've abandoned my shyness. Beads of sweat begin to drip from my back and forehead. I crack a feline smile.

“I am dirty," I tease.

His eyes shine with something I can't identify. The emotion passes through his irises and disappears as quickly as it appears, but the smile has frozen on his handsome face and, taking me by surprise, he gets up and turns me over, leaving me on my back.

“I'll sort it out for you," he promises.

Trying not to throw the full weight of his body on top of me, he starts trailing kisses down my skin, at the same time as his hands go up the shirt I'm wearing by the hem. He does all this slowly until he pulls the cloth over my head and leaves my breasts free, the nipples already stiff with his touch.

“I don't know how I've gone almost a week without this sight," he says, a sigh escaping through his parted lips. I rub my thighs against each other, a bit bewildered by the pleasure taking me, and he smiles. “I'm happy for this morning off.”

“Trent…”

He leans over and bites the nipple of my right breast. The sensation takes me over completely and I thrust into him, wanting more. His tongue circles and sucks and I can't hold back the moans. I want to wake up like this every day. I even forget that a few seconds ago I was angry with him because of the curtains. Now nothing matters more than his mouth causing me indescribable sensations.

I moisten my lips and adjust myself underneath him. His mouth is still busy on my breasts and I want to tease him as much as he's teasing me, but he makes it difficult. His hands slide down to my waist and he spreads my legs further apart, wedging himself in between.

It's a better position and one I take advantage of, crossing my legs around his waist, pressing myself against his cock, feeling it harden. I want to feel him inside me, the morning boner overwhelming me, the longing to be with him like that consuming me and I've never been so grateful for a morning off.

He starts to lower his mouth to my belly and makes a trail of kisses down my skin, sending shivers down my spine, the anticipation moving to the one spot between my legs and I don't mind moaning out loud with his mouth causing me all these sensations so early in the day.

“You're so hot, Y/N” he mutters, kisses my thigh and starts to pull my panties down, getting rid of them by my legs. “That's it, baby, spread your legs for me.”

I obey. He gives me a look before leaning back on the bed, moving his body back a little and leaving his face right between my legs. When his tongue finally touches me, I grip the sheets tightly, gasping, my clit throbbing.

Trent slips his hands under my ass, holding me down, moans escaping me and I'm so immersed in the pleasure he's giving me that I can barely think, sweat dripping down the side of my forehead.

“Oh, that's it,” my moan rises and my hips buck against his mouth, begging for more; a scream almost escapes me when he bites and sucks hard, reaching a spot of mine that drives me crazy. “Trent!”

He laughs against my pussy and tries to make me come. I'd forgotten how delicious it is to wake up like this. I think from today onwards we should think of a way to have some time for both of us in the morning, before we face the day. Maybe it would be a separate exercise to help him with his recent injuries.

A few minutes later, I come in his mouth, my back arches and my breathing quickens. He pulls away and gets rid of the last piece of clothing, his hard cock visible and his mischievous smile mirroring mine. I prop myself up on my elbows and stand halfway up the mattress, admiring him, while he stands by the bed. His curious eyes catch up with me.

“What's wrong?” he wants to know.

My smile widens and I make a point of looking him up and down, proud to be sure that this man is mine and no one else's. If it weren't for my stupid rule, I wouldn't be able to see him. If it hadn't been for my stupid rule about not kissing on the mouth before morning hygiene, I would certainly have pulled him to me at that very moment, but there were still other things we could do.

“Come here," I demand.

I lie back on the bed and he readily comes to me. His body rises on top of mine and he struggles not to let all his weight fall on me, his eyes staring at me with lust. I touch his face, caressing his cheek.

“Make love to me," I ask.

Something in his eyes changes and he adjusts himself between my legs. His smile widens and I know he likes my request, something we haven't done for a while too, although we both enjoyed it very much.

I cross my leg over his body so that he can fit inside me more easily. He moans as he thrusts his cock inside and I hold onto his shoulder as he begins a slow back and forth movement.

“I'm sorry I haven't paid much attention to you over the last few days," he says, his voice a little hoarse, his hand caressing my back, moving up to my face, where he brushes my hair away from my face. “I didn't realize that maybe you were missing me or feeling left out.”

Our bodies move together and it feels so, so good. It's even better than our first time or every other time we have sex. I thrust against him, demanding that he increase the speed a little, his cock sliding in and out easily with my wetness.

"Take this off your mind, Trent," I whisper, kissing his cheek, hugging him as tightly as I can. “There's no way you can make me feel like this.”

There really isn't. He gives me all the attention he can and I understand that our routines can be exhausting, as they have been lately, which has influenced our sex life, but he has never stopped giving me attention because of that. And he always finds a way to reward me. Like now.

“You're amazing, baby," he mumbles, biting my chin to hold back his desire to kiss me, and I smile at his effort.

He increases the speed of his thrusts and my body is still sensitive from the first orgasm, but I don't mind, enjoying being totally intoxicated by the pleasure he gives me. We play a teasing game with each other as he surrenders inside me, our moans and giggles mingling, my nails scratching the skin of his back, his hands squeezing and spreading my buttocks, our sweaty bodies together.

God, I want to wake up like this every day.

“Y/N…” his hoarse voice echoes through the room and I know it's a warning of how close he is.

When Trent mentions pulling out of me to cum, I stop him, wrapping my legs around him. He looks at me with a mixture of confusion, his eyes narrowed.

“Come inside.”

“But…”

I roll against his cock and he moans eagerly. It's enough of an attitude for him to understand that it's okay with me. It's not the first time we've had sex without a condom. Trent turns our bodies, taking me by surprise, and gets on top of me, adjusting himself better. His thumb starts to massage my clit and he wants to speed up my orgasm so that we can both climax at the same time. My back contracts, my toes stretch out and I surrender to him, admiring his beauty with him there, on top, thrusting his cock into me with a speed that’s overwhelming.

My pussy squeezes his cock and he gives me a reproachful look, pinching the skin of my thigh on purpose in silent protest at my teasing him like this. My lips draw into a wicked smile, victorious and satisfied. When I feel him shudder, I know he won't last much longer before he collapses over me with his cum.

He splits my legs even further, pulling them away from his waist, his hands firm against my thighs as he increases his speed, our bodies colliding, the sound echoing in the room. My breathing becomes irregular and I hold back a moan as I feel his thumb continue to caress me, sensitive to his touch.

“Darling, are you sure?” he asks once more.

“Stop holding back and cum already, Trent.”

He laughs at my impatience and fucks me a little harder. My mind can't think of anything else but this, the two of us, his cock inside me, his fingers teasing me, his lips reflecting my smile, our bodies sweating together, our rapid breathing matching the fast, almost erratic beats of my heart.

I push myself even harder against him, I feel him shudder again, his eyes roll back in pleasure and it's when he softens that he finally lets his body reach the apex of orgasm, spilling inside me. I feel the hot liquid and gasp, a thousand sensations reverberating through my body at the same time, all because of him. Trent doesn't pull out immediately; instead, he throws himself over me, without putting his full weight, and I hear his shallow breathing.

“We need to do this every day," he decrees, which makes me laugh.

I put my hands on his shoulders and he pulls out of me, but just when I think we're done, Trent throws himself to the side, but lowers one hand back to my pussy and begins to masturbate me slowly.

“It's your turn," he says.

I meet his mischievous gaze at the exact moment he thrusts two fingers inside me unawares, making sure I come for the second time that morning. He pinches my clit, a moan comes out of my mouth and my eyes light up in his direction. Trent increases the speed of his thrusts, but I don't need much stimulation, the sensitivity of the first orgasm was still present in my body. A few more minutes at that speed, with his mouth now teasing one of my breasts, I reach climax for the second time, my pussy contracting against his fingers.

I feel completely limp, my knees lose their strength and I mentally thank myself that I'm already lying down, or I'd lose my balance. He removes his fingers from inside me and brings them to his mouth, licking up our mixed cum. I'm still recovering, trying to regulate my breathing, but my heart won't calm down at the sight of him.

He pulls me to him, my back against his chest and his hand on my stomach. Trent places a kiss on my shoulder and it's in that position that I forget the world outside, because there's just the two of us, between four walls. It's inevitable not to want to stay in that embrace forever.

“We need to find a way to adjust our routines," he starts. ”I'm a lucky guy that you're understanding of my stresses and all, but I can't not pay attention to my girl.”

I moisten my lips, an affected smile on my face. I place a hand over yours and intertwine our fingers.

"You know I don't mind, Trent," I whisper, reassuring him. “As long as you reward me.”

“Like now?” This time, he bites my shoulder lightly, teasing me.

I turn around, facing him, without letting go of our hands. He looks at me with something in his eyes that looks more like adoration. I love everything about him: the way he always makes me feel safe with his feelings, the way he looks at me, touches me, loves me. I've never even had an excuse to suspect or doubt that. From the start, he's always been transparent.

“Like now.” I touch his face, smiling. “But much more so.”

He laughs, kisses my nose and squeezes my waist. This time, his eyes shine with pure lust and I know what he's going to suggest before his mouth even forms the words.

“Round two?”

[jsprnt]

a date at the local spring fair seems to bloom your situationship into a relationship

trent alexander-arnold x reader

A/N: based on this request! Also been dyinggg to go to my local fair, so I immediately came up with this idea!! 🫶🫶 (does this photo of trent not make you weak in the knees?? 😭)

W/C: 1.804

your eyes dart to your phone screen again, reading the last text message your date sent you. he said he’d be there in a minute, so you shove your phone back into your jacket.

the fair isn’t very busy today, most likely due to it being a weekday. the weather had started picking up these past few days. gloomy, rainy winter days replaced with sunny, warm spring days.

you’d missed seeing the blue sky and the pretty, colorful flowers in the park. you had noticed most people were much happier and of course, just like the little lambs being born, symbolizing a new life- your own life seemed to also flicker to another chapter.

you and trent have known each other for a couple of months now. first meeting through a mutual friend at a small, intimate party on a rainy november night. you hadn’t thought much of it at first. of course- he was handsome, and that wasn’t something you could look away from.

you knew who he was, as a football player for one of the world’s best clubs- you’d assumed he would be too busy interacting with other people to notice you.

obviously, you also were too busy speaking to the people you did know. until- one of your mutual friends had introduced him to you.

unbeknownst to you, he’d been eyeing you across the room since he’d caught sight of the pretty smile you’d flash your friend when they said something funny. at first glance, he had almost choked on his unnecessarily expensive tequila, it burning horribly in the back of his throat.

he barely recovered from the shock before one of his best mates had dragged him across the venue, insisting he’d talk to you. only, because he thought ‘you two would be a great couple’.

you were caught off guard at first, but the looks your friends were sending you- had given you enough courage to speak to him without being flustered.

you two only hung out more after that night, accepting frequent invites to his games, and random visits to each other’s place, which only increased when trent got injured.

you look up at the shout of your name, turning around to see trent walk up to you. he’s dressed nicely as usual, comfy enough for all the rides and games you’d planned to play.

“hi!” you beam, greeted by his pearly white smile. his lips turned up when he makes eye contact with you.

“hey, you alright?” he asks, his scouser accent familiar as he gives you a warm hug. you bury your face in the crook of his neck for a moment, smelling his signature cologne.

“I’m fine, how ‘bout you and your knee?” you question, knowing that he didn’t have to wear a brace anymore.

“better, I can walk properly- at least..” he replies, the both of you starting to walk past the various games and food trucks.

it doesn’t take long before you’re both immersed into the money-grabbing games available. from popping balloons with darts to a donut-eating contest. which you won, that left you with powdered sugar all over the corners of your mouth. prompting trent to gently wipe the sugary product off with his thumb and a raised heartbeat he had difficulty controlling.

“let’s try that roller coaster over there..” you suggest, pointing up to the least intimidating one.

“you don’t want to go in the one that goes upside down?” he asks, pressing the bunny plushie you had won into his chest. you hold back a chuckle at the sight, shaking your head.

“nope, don’t trust going upside down on a rollercoaster that’s practically been pulled out of a suitcase..” you state, lining up with him so you can get on the attraction.

he chuckles at your explanation, glancing at your impatient expression. thankfully, it’s your turn after a few minutes. you both strap in safely, making sure the bars are as tight as possible against your chest and stomach.

“aren’t you scared?” he asks, looking at your giddy expression. you shake your head almost immediately, making sure your pockets are zipped so your phone won’t fall out.

soon, the cart you’re in slowly starts rolling up. your breath hitches in excitement, wind starting to blow into your faces. you glance at trent, who’s sporting a less excited expression, so you shout in excitement when the cart drops and goes up multiple times. hoping your happiness will be infectious and cheer him up.

it works! the couple of looks you sneak, tell you he was pretty satisfied, cheering and shouting along with you.

you take a deep breath when the cart stops. the both of you slightly dizzy when you step out.

“you liked that one?” you ask, fixing your jacket as you both start walking away, walking past other attractions.

“i did! i was nervous for a moment, won’t lie..” he replies, scouser accent thick and laced with excitement.

“good, I’m glad you liked it- oh look!” you suddenly exclaim. pointing to the haunted house, fake skeletons, and more ‘scary’ props used to decorate the entrance.

“you want to go inside?” trent asks, raising a brow at you. he wasn’t aware that you were such an adrenaline junkie, or were you?

“yes, let’s go!” you urge, paying the entrance fee, and stepping inside. the bunny plushie now pressed into your side as you both start walking into the dark maze.

“i can’t see anything..” you murmur, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. your arm grazes trent’s, which in turn makes your breath hitch. your temperature rises, despite the coldness of the room you’re in.

“me neither..” you hear trent mutter, he glances at you in the dark. your arms touching each other every now and then. the numerous fake spiderwebs and bone-chilling moving skulls making you freeze up often.

entering another room, you’re immediately greeted by a zombie. the special effects props and makeup, too good not to jump and scream.

“shit!” you exclaim, back pressing against trent’s chest when you take a step back.

“what the fuck!” you hear the scouser shout against your ear. it hurts for a moment, but you’re too focused on the zombie trying to get close to you to care about it.

you feel strong hands grab at your jacket. instinctively you know it’s trent, so you keep scuffling forward. trying your best to ignore the groaning and gurgling sounds coming from the too-talented actor.

walking through the empty hall, you look at him, his grip on your jacket loosening.

“you’re such a coward..” you accuse, laughing when remembering how he shouted in fear.

“you’re the one who yelled first..” he retorts, and you can make out a smirk on his face.

“here, take my hand.” he offers, holding his hand out. which you can only see because of the green lights strung along the dusty hallway.

your heart skips a beat or two, stopping you in your tracks. you feel your face heat up, and you’re glad he can’t fully make out your dumbfounded expression in the dark. you quickly shove away that lovesick feeling, trying to compose yourself.

“that’s a really weird way to propose, but okay..” you tease, your fingers intertwining with trent’s. knowing you’d probably made him more dazzled than he made you flustered.

“wait, no- i meant-" he stutters, mind going totally foggy as he forgets how to form a proper sentence in his state. you hold back a smile, knowing his brain was probably running kilometers an hour.

“wait, did you say you’d marry me?” he suddenly questions, face contouring into confusion and a dumbstruck expression.

“uh, no?” you feign your upmost innocence, thumb grazing his knuckles. a sweet, comforting touch, but it only makes the short circuit in his brain worse.

you smirk to yourself, carefully dragging him along. mindful of his injury as your hearts beat in unison, like electric sparks flying off the pads of your fingers.

the hold on each other’s hands only gets tighter, until the last jumpscare. this time, your entire front is pressed against his back, it scaring you a bit too much. you thought the cackling clown was the end of the attraction.

you catch your breath when you finally step outside, trent’s hand on your back. soothing rubs helping you calm down faster.

“why- why would they think using a knife prop was a good idea?” you pant, questioning if the ten-pound entrance fee was worth it.

trent squeezes into your hand, reassuring you with his touch. “you’re good, it’s all fake- remember?” he rationalizes your thoughts, slowly pulling you away to the food trucks.

he sits you down on a small wooden bench and table, eyes roaming on your face to check up on you.

“are you alright?” he asks, face inching closer to yours. his breath hitting your lips.

“I’m fine, really..” you reassure, squeezing into the plushy for comfort.

“let’s have something to eat, then we’ll get on the ferris wheel. is that okay?” he asks, voice patient and sweet. the kindness in his expression and words cheers you up a bit. so, you smile, nodding in agreement.

“i’ve heard that they have really nice tacos. want to try?” he suggests, glancing up at the food truck in question.

“sure, let’s try them.” you answer, he nods walking away to order and collect your food. he comes back fairly quickly, placing the delicious and warm tacos on the table. not to forget, the extra cups of guacamole, lime and sour cream.

“eat up before they get cold..” he says, the both of you digging into your food and drink of choice. a comfortable silence ensues, with soft hums and small comments made in delight.

“i love fair food..” you hum, taking the last few sips of your drink. trent nods in agreement, leaning over to wipe some of the sour cream off your lip.

you pause your movements at the action, eyes darting to his brown ones. his touch is delicate and careful, and he folds the napkin after pulling away.

“there, all clean..” he mutters, cleaning the table off and coming back from the recycling bin.

“do you want to go on the ferris wheel now? it’s getting dark, and the view will be nice..” he asks, unconsciously holding his hand out for you to hold.

you nod excitedly, clutching onto his warm hand as you both make your way to the ferris wheel. your bodies touching as you lean them against each other, waiting in line for the last attraction of the night.

it’s imminent that a sweet first kiss will be shared, right? a flicker to the next chapter of your life. the city lights witnessing a love blooming like a patch of yellow daffodils in spring.

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 84: Alexander's Ending

Previous > Masterlist

tw: suicidal thoughts, abuse, blood drinking, temporary character death

November 1820

It must be nearing winter, because the manor was becoming chill and musty again, and Lex found himself needing a woolen blanket at night. From the few glimpses he had out of the windows, only brown and dry leaves were left on the trees, but there hadn't been snow yet. These were the ways he tracked the changing of the seasons, because he had only been outside of the manor three times in total since that night the Maestro had revealed his plan to turn him.

It was a dread that sat in his mind every day, and by now it felt more numb than fearful. He'd grown accustomed to it, just as he'd grown accustomed to his master's cruel punishments, something he thought would never happen. It was normal for his young body to ache with scars and bruises, his muscles crying out with fatigue. There were no mirrors here, but when he caught a glimpse of himself in the reflection from a window, he could see that he was thin and pale, with dark marks under his eyes and a deadened expression. He looked more like a dead thing than like the handsome student who had once sang in a choir.

That other Lex, the one who had friends and talents and a promising future, would have been finished with his schooling by now. That was the Alexander who had been buried in the churchyard, that his parents and friends must have mourned.

One of the other thralls, one that was allowed out into the yard, had brought in firewood, and there was a meager fire burning in the hearth of the parlor. Lex had finished his dusting quickly, and he had enough time to spare a few moments by the fire, warming his hands, before taking his evening meal and moving on to his next task.

Truthfully, he probably could have spent even longer. The Maestro was in one of his rare moods where he didn't emerge from his chamber for weeks, only opening his door to admit a thrall to feed from. It meant no training, no punishment, a chance to heal and rest -- but not too much. Lex had once made the mistake of sleeping for an extra hour on one such occasion, believing his master wouldn't emerge from his room, and had caught an extra whipping. He didn't dare risk it again, and neither did any of the other thralls, broken things that shuffled quietly through the halls and never spoke to each other, following their inscribed routines like automatons.

Lex wished he could spend the whole evening warming himself by the fire, dozing, dreaming of nothing, but if he didn't tear himself away, he wouldn't have enough time to eat. With great reluctance, he made his way to the kitchen. No one had heated the stove today, so it was particularly frigid.

Lex was in no mood to heat the stove, either. The food deliveries had been ample lately, so instead he helped himself to a loaf of fresh bread. It was strange that his master had increased both the quality and quantity of the food, because no new thralls had been added to the household in some time, but none of them dared question a small bright spot in a bleak existence.

He slowly carved the bread with a knife. The knife was sharp and long.

He could plunge it into his wrists, or slit his own throat open, and be free.

As always, his hand trembled as he moved the knife to press against his flesh. He knew it was what he must do. He must do it before his master decided to turn him into a truly dead thing, condemning him to an eternity in this state of purgatory. That fate would be much worse than death, he knew.

There wasn't anything here worth living for, anyway. Each night only differed in the amount of punishment he endured. Nothing else ever really changed. He couldn't remember what sunshine felt like, could hardly imagine a warm touch. If he didn't take the only escape afforded to him, and soon…

All he had to do was muster his bravery and press down, opening up the veins that his master opened regularly. His precious, valuable blood would be spilled across the kitchen, pooling underneath him as he slept at last, for as long as he wanted. That is where his master would find him, the thrall who disappointed him one last time. One of the other thralls would bury him in the yard, a shallow grave in hard ground, and no one would mourn.

And he would be free.

But as always, he couldn't. Fear stayed his hand. Fear, and perhaps a longing for better that had dimmed but not gone out.

He returned to carving the bread, knowing that he'd come to regret his cowardice.

The bread and cheese were dry in his mouth, but he did try to enjoy it a little. Soon it would be winter, and the whole manor would be frigid, and he wouldn't be able to eat without his hands going numb. Soon his master would emerge from his torpor and resume the endless cycle of practice and punishment. Lex would continue to perfect his musical skills for an audience that would never be pleased.

The clock struck midnight.

One of the other thralls, an older man who resembled a skeleton, entered the kitchen. "Your presence is required in our master's chamber."

He wished to feed, then.

Lex followed behind the other thrall silently, steeling himself for the unique pain of his master's feeding. It was one thing that he couldn't quite get used to, his body instinctively rejecting the fangs that drained out his life. Still, it was over quickly, and he usually fell asleep against his will afterwards, forcing his master to leave him be for some time.

When he entered the chamber, his master was sitting on the bench at the foot of his bed, his eyes boring into Lex. There was something different about him, though -- Lex had become an expert at picking up his master's subtle moods, out of sheer necessity. There was something almost sad in those eyes. He beckoned Lex forward.

"Alexander," he said, "tonight is the last night I will feed from you. Tonight is your final night as a human."

And all at once, the cold fear returned to Lex. All at once, he felt so dizzy he thought he might pass out, so nauseous that he might evacuate his food. His time was up. He would die, and a monster would arise in his place, a monster still bound to his master, birthed into misery. Would the monster even remember being human? Or would he believe that this was all there was, no world beyond the cold, dark manor?

"No, sir," he said, surprising himself with his first act of actual defiance in years. "I don't want to be one of your kind. Please, simply kill me instead."

The Maestro's eyes hardened, but he didn't slap Lex -- not that it would have mattered if he did. No punishment his master could administer would be as awful as the promise he'd made that day in front of Lex's grave.

"I will do as I please with you, as you are my property," he said. "And you will be my property forevermore, until the day I return to dust."

"Please, sir, please," he said. It'd been so, so long since he had actually begged. "I've tried so hard to be perfect. I've attended to all of my lessons, I've done all of my assigned work, I've fed you my blood -- is none of that worth anything?" Hot tears were streaming down his face now. "Have I not ever pleased you, sir?"

It must have been Lex's desperate imagination, but for one brief moment he saw something in his eyes, something other than anger and hardheartedness. "You have," he said finally, "or else I wouldn't consider this."

"Then please, sir, if you have even a shred of mercy for me, please allow me to live at least a little longer."

Lex was a fool to have any hope. He'd spent so much time surgically extracting it from every corner of his thoughts, and he knew that mercy was a foreign concept to his master. And yet, the way his master actually seemed to consider the request --

"If such mercy was not shown to me," he said, "then why should it be shown to you?"

"If you understand my position, sir, then why would you do this?" Lex said.

"I have no intention to explain it to you."

"But it's my life, sir, I deserve --" Lex's mouth was clamped shut.

"You deserve nothing," said the Maestro, grabbing him by the front of the shirt and pulling him in close. "After all these years, have you forgotten your gratefulness?"

Lex wanted to protest that he'd never be grateful for this, even if he were punished for it, but he was no longer able to speak.

"If you think that your insolence will steer me from my chosen course, you are gravely mistaken," he said, as though reading Lex's mind. "You will be still, you will be obedient, and you will die when I choose."

Lex's body was made to maneuver into position, sitting rigidly with head slightly tilted to expose his neck, a vessel from which to drink. Lex himself was trapped inside, in bindings strong as iron chains, unable even to struggle against the end. He thought back to the knife, wishing he would have had the courage to protect what remained of him.

And now, he'd be condemned to hell for his cowardice.

His master's fangs slid into his flesh, the familiar pain made so much sharper by the knowledge of what was to come. All the stoicism and numbness he'd carefully cultivated over the years he'd been trapped here, all of his defenses against the mundane horrors, all of them were crumbling now that the end was near.

Lex's imagination filled with all of the things that were lost to him, the things he had shut away and not allowed himself to think about. He thought of his room at the university, reading a book by the warm fireplace. He thought of crisp autumn days and warm summer evenings. He thought of his parents' house, of his mother's embrace. He'd been safe and happy then, and he hadn't appreciated it properly, regrets burning in his heart.

And his master drank, and drank, and drank, and drank.

Just as Lex was sure it would never end, the fangs left his neck, leaving behind a throbbing pain. Frozen in place, Lex could only watch as his master pulled his silver knife from his coat and used it to slit his own wrist, opening his vein, an action that might have killed him if he were human. A drop of deep red blood welled up, and it was pressed to Lex's unwilling lips.

It tasted putrescent, and Lex wanted more than anything to push it away, to prevent the infection from entering his own body. But it was no use - his lips and tongue and even his throat were manipulated to force him to swallow. Lex could feel his body trying to retch and being stopped unnaturally. Although it could only have been a few drops, Lex felt as though his throat were coated in it.

His master returned to drinking. He didn't make any additional wounds, instead simply drawing more of Lex's blood through the punctures he'd just made, and it wasn't long before Lex grew weak and woozy. A profound sense of drowsiness flowed over him as his body began to give up. If the sleep were merely death, Lex might have welcomed it. But he was about to enter a nightmare, and so he fought with the last of his strength to stay awake.

He was so cold.

Lex struggled to keep his weary eyes open even as his mind fogged and his strength flagged. The room seemed to be fading from sight, almost as if he were floating far away. He couldn't feel the pain, he couldn't feel the fear.

Perhaps tiring of Lex's fruitless struggles, his master paused for a moment to whisper in his ear, "Sleep, Alexander."

It was the last thing he knew.

Previous > Masterlist

Next week, Alexander turns.

Thanks for reading and for all your comments! The last chapter was difficult for me so it was good to get so many nice words about it.

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[whencyclopedia]

Hephaestion

Hephaestion was a member of Alexander the Great's personal bodyguard and the Macedonian king's closest and lifelong friend and advisor. So much so, Hephaestion's death would bring the young king to tears. From 334 to 323 BCE Alexander the Great conquered much of the known world. He led his army on a ten-year odyssey across Asia Minor and into Persia, Egypt and India. Eventually, after his defeat of Darius III, he became the self-proclaimed King of Asia. Of course, he could not have done this without the support of his loyal army and staff of skilled officers – Ptolemy I, Perdiccas, and Craterus, but above all others, Hephaestion.

Early Life

The son of Amyntas, Hephaestion was raised in the Macedonian capital of Pella and according to most sources born in 356 BCE, the same year as the king. Being from an aristocratic family, as were many of the staff officers who would follow Alexander into Asia, he became a student, alongside Alexander, of the philosopher Aristotle at Mieza, a city west of Pella. His intelligence impressed the Athenian academic, and, like the king, they would correspond with each other during the long Persian campaign.

Hephaestion was considered handsome by many, and Alexander's father, Philip II of Macedon, regarded him as an excellent influence on his son. Shortly after Philip married Cleopatra, the future king became concerned about his position as successor. A disagreement erupted between Philip and Alexander, a dispute fueled by his friends. Because of this, many of Alexander's friends were sent into exile; however, because of Philip's respect for Hephaestion, he was spared this humiliation.

Continue reading...

[aphroditelovesu]

⸻ The Lost Queen - II ⸻

— summary: You woke up near a military camp without remembering how and why you got there, you didn’t understand why they were dressed like ancient Greeks, all you knew was that you weren’t safe and you needed to get out of that place as soon as possible. Too bad for you that you found yourself attracting unwanted attention from the Macedonian King and he won’t let you go so easily.

— genre: yandere, dark!au.

— warnings: time travel, obsessive and possessive behavior, murder, mention of torture, kidnapping, angst, fluffy (very rarely), dub-con, eventual smut, pregnancy.

— pairing: yandere!alexander the great x female!reader, yandere!generals x female!reader.

— word count: 1,820.

— tag list: @devils-blackrose, @faerykingdom, @hadesnewpersephone, @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 , @kadu-5607, @zoleea-exultant, @borntoexplore11-blog, @silmawensgarden, @elvinapandra, @jennifer0305 , @his0kaswife, @animetye-23.

— the lost queen series masterlist.

Chapter 2

You were afraid.

In fact, you felt mixed emotions. Fear, dread, horror, terror.

You didn't know why the hell you were in an old military camp, let alone why you were facing one of the greatest conquerors in history. Nothing that was happening made sense and your mind tried to look for logical answers, but it was in vain.

Because nothing that was in front of you was logical.

Maybe it was a really bizarre dream, maybe you were high or drunk, but you knew better. It was real and very real.

Nothing made sense and you felt like crying and going to your mother's lap for comfort but you couldn't do that. Not while you were being held by a scarred man and the others were staring at you with curiosity and... disdain? You couldn't tell.

How did you end up there? It was your first question. Your last memory was of you in your room, reading a book about the conqueror and falling asleep. Was that book cursed? No, that was not possible. But it will be? It seemed like the only acceptable option considering the fact that you were over 2,000 years in the past.

Fuck.

You took a deep breath, trying at all costs to avoid the urge to scream and cry. That wouldn't be acceptable to do now, you needed to stay calm and try to find a solution.

''Can you speak greek?'' You blinked in surprise when one of the men addressed you. It was the one who was next to Alexander. You glanced at him lightly, why he looked familiar?

''Hephaestion, I don't think she's fine or that she even understands what we're talking about.'' One of the slightly tall men spoke up. You shifted your gaze to him when you heard him say the name.

Hephaestion.

Oh, oh.

''It doesn't hurt to ask, Ptolemy.'' Another man said. You looked at him and blushed a little. He was handsome, maybe not by 21st century beauty standards, but he was attractive. Blonde hair and dark blue eyes.

And Ptolemy? Like in Ptolemy I Soter of the Ptolemaic Dynasty?

''She could be a spy sent by the persians. I mean, just look at the way she's dressed.'' The man with dark brown hair and green eyes said, looking you up and down with disdain.

You glared at him, daring him to say one more thing about your pajamas. Yes, it wasn't the kind of clothes they wore but it suited you it was comfortable and the print had kittens!

Adorable.

But the man held your gaze and you shuddered slightly as you noted their intensity.

''Look at the way she's dressed, friends. She clearly is a whore.'' One of the men said, looking at your breasts shamelessly.

If you weren't trapped in another man's arms, you would have kicked ass.

''Whore is my hand in your face if you say another word!'' The words came out before you could stop yourself and everyone looked at you in shock and you felt like slapping yourself.

You could have feigned madness, claimed amnesia or that you couldn't speak greek and, you really didn't, but apparently the ''magic'' that brought you to this place decided not to screw you around so much.

''She has spirit!'' The man holding you laughed and you glared at him.

Finally, Alexander decided to say something.

''Bring her to my tent. I want you all there.'' Were his only words and he turned his back on you without another word, with Hephaestion following, but not before giving you one last look.

You gasped as you began to be dragged towards what appeared to be the King's tent. Several people in the camp watched you curiously as you were led away and followed by the other generals.

You were so fucked up and not the way you liked it.

Alexander didn't know what to do with himself at that moment. He didn't understand what was going on and he hated it.

There were so many questions in the King's mind and none of them were answered. But the most puzzling of them was why he felt awkward around you.

Alexander felt an unknown feeling and what it attracted to you. How a stallion was attracted to a mare in heat. Not that he was thinking about sleeping with you, no, it wasn't that but he felt weird.

It was like he already knew you and that bothered him a lot. You had never seen each other, he was sure of that, but then why did he feel that way?

He needed answers and fast. He looked at his best friend who was looking at him with concern.

''Are you alright, Alexander?'' Hephaestion's soft and warm voice rang out and the friend touched his shoulder to try to calm him down.

''I'm fine, just tired.'' He lied quickly and something told him that Hephaestion didn't believe his words.

But there was no time for questions, not when the mystery woman was led into his tent, surrounded by the curious generals. Alexander frowned, but held the pose.

He looked right at her and his mind filled with disturbing thoughts.

She was the strangest woman he had ever met in his life. She was beautiful, albeit in a different way, but what really drew him to her was the fear in her eyes, the kind of genuine dread he had only ever seen in the eyes of his enemies. And the way she was dressed… He had never seen such clothes, even in Persia.

And that attracted him.

Alexander cleared his throat before asking the question that had been on her mind since he met her, ''Who are you and what are you doing in my camp?'' The King's voice was serious and authoritative and he could have sworn he saw her shudder.

The young woman opened her mouth to speak, but stopped and closed it again, avoiding Alexander's piercing gaze. It made him uncomfortable, but he could not and would not show weakness in front of anyone, let alone in front of his generals and a complete stranger.

He watched her for a few seconds and realized what made her sulk, the fact that she was still being held by Cleitus the Black.

''Let her go.'' It was a simple command but the general obeyed instantly. Alexander smiled a little when he noticed that the woman's posture visibly relaxed when she was released.

''I'll ask you one more time.'' Alexander said and moved a little closer to the woman, ''And I suggest you answer.''

She just stared at him as if she was seeing a god in front of her. Well, maybe he was a god.

''Who are you and what are you doing in my camp?''

''I'm (Y/N) and I don't know how I came to be in your camp.'' She finally said it in a low voice but he could hear it loud and clear.

Alexander was stunned. (Y/N)... A name he had never heard in his life and yet it seemed to suit this woman. And when he was finally able to hear her voice again, the King found himself wishing he could hear her speak more often. She was so strange yet so endearing and Alexander found himself wanting to know everything about her and he would.

He was the King, after all, and he always got what he wanted.

"It's an unusual name. What it means?''

She shrugged, ''I don't know. I never tried to find out.''

She was so insolent and disrespectful. Did she not know who she was talking to?

A laugh was heard and Alexander glared at Nearchus, who stopped laughing at the same moment.

''Where are you from?'' Alexander asked, looking at her curiously. He had decided that she wasn't a threat, she seemed too stupid to be a threat anyway.

She thought for a moment and smiled. Alexander felt his heart skip a beat when she smiled at him.

''Uh…I come from a very, it's... a distant place.'' She said between pauses.

Alexander scoffed. She was a terrible liar, and he felt like laughing when she looked insulted when he scoffed.

''And where is this place so far away?'' He insisted.

(Y/N) glared at him.

''As far away as you could tell.''

''The name?''

If she looked angry before, she looked furious now.

''You would not understand. It's not your language.''

''Really?'' Alexander thought, ''And how come you speak my language so well?''

She paled, but recovered very quickly.

''I studied.''

Alexander hummed and decided to stop questioning her. For now. She looked tired and scared, from what he could read from her body language and something inside him told him not to disturb her anymore.

''Call the servants. Give her a tent, clothes and food.''

All of her generals looked perplexed, even Hephaestion.

Even the woman, (Y/N), looked confused.

In fact, he didn't even know why he was doing this, but he needed to make sure she was going to be alright.

It was a need that screamed inside him. The need to protect her and he didn't know why.

He needed to find out about her. Who was she, where did she come from, everything.

You were taken to a tent away from the camp and left alone.

You looked around curiously. It was a small tent but it had a small bed, which you recognized as a cot, and some candles. It was just that.

You wondered if you could freak out now, but it wasn't feasible. No, everyone could hear it and it would get you in more trouble than you already were.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You started to feel the tears in your eyes. You wanted to cry and scream and cry some more. But you couldn't. Not when you were in such a vulnerable position and you were scared.

So scared.

You were scared of everything. Fear of being tortured, dying and being abused. You noticed some soldiers looking at you with lust and it scared you so much. What would stop them from making you a booty? A toy?

Nothing.

And it was so desperate.

You sat down on the small cot and finally allowed yourself to cry, the hot tears running down your face, as you sobbed and contained your screams of frustration.

You didn't even notice the servant entering your tent and placing a plate of food beside you or the clothes that were brought for you. You didn't notice because you were so desperate and you were sinking in your fear and despair.

You needed to go. You needed to go back to the 21st century.

And you had no idea how to do it.

And just that thought made you cry even harder.

— lady l: I was going to post it tomorrow but I got some time and I didn't want to keep you waiting any longer so finally chapter 2 is here. I hope you enjoyed it, what did you think of Y/n's first interaction with Alexander and some generals? Feel free to give me your opinion. I love you all and until the next chapter!! ❤️

[damecolacao]

Alexander Progressov

[aarontveitisonfire]

aarontveit Be sure to tune in to the premiere of #EarthAbides 🌎💙 December 1st on @/mgmplus

[a-girl-forever]

Hello Mother I wanted to call you to let you know everything is going great here at the Academy

Well that's wonderful honey, I think if you allow your teachers to help you, you'll find that becoming girl can be a rewarding experience, I’m so looking foward to seeing the new you!

I’m looking foward to seeing you as well, I’ve gone through a lot of changes, my name has been changed from Alexander to Amy.

The hormone injections i've been receiving have helping me move out of my training bra to a full A cup, as well as widing my hips and giving me a rounder behind and soft skin! My hairs grown out as well! I just love to style it in different fashions, I’m also getting better at doing my makeup!

Well it sounds like you're having a great time there. I always knew you'd be better off as our daughter, you just needed some help to realize your inner girl!

l've got a feeling the boys will be lining up to take you out once your transformation is complete!

Yes you're right Mother, I am better off as Amy, I feel so special when I put a pretty dress and heels on, with my hair and makeup done.

As far as boys, i think thes hormones flowing through me are causing me to find boys cute and handsome and all I think about is having a cute boy hold me in his arms and kissing me!

Oops Mother I have to go, I’ve got cooking class coming up, they say we need to learn to cook to make our future husbands happy, amongst other ways *giggle*

I love you Mom and thank you again for sending me here and opening eyes to the fact i'm better off as a girl!

Daddy and I will see you soon sweetheart. Maybe we can have a family reunion so everyone can meet our new ‘Amy’

[firstprincehornyramblings]

WEEEEEEEEEEE Hello, I hope everyone is having a lovely Sunday. I feel like I haven't done a Sentences Sunday in years! Thrilled to be back, with Sugar Baby Alex, AND a new WIP. Things are under the cut so this isn't the longest post in history.

-

Let's get into it with Sugar Baby Alex first, shall we?:

“Alex, I am not ‘putting you off’, I am thirty-eight years old, I do not have that glorious refractory period you have, anymore,” the blond huffed, “As much as I would love to go again right now, and believe me, I would, it’s impossible. So, surely you can wait until this evening when we can both get hard, hm?” “Damn,” Alex whispered, “That fucking sucks actually, I didn’t know fucking an old dude would have drawbacks. So, like positive is that you can make me cum like never before but negative is that your dick has a tim-MMPHM!” That sentence was cut short by Henry picking up a pillow and pressing it into the brunette’s face, holding it in place for a moment as Alex flailed, “Such a mouth on you, I’m almost certain I liked it better full,” he teased before lifting that pillow, “Don’t make me confirm your sister and friend’s worst fear.” “Oh baby,” Alex laughed, smiling so wide now that he was free of the pillow, “Killing me with a pillow is so intimate though, that’s incredibly sexy of you.” “Shut up, Alex!” “Make me!”

AND new WIP time, Doctor Alex :)

What Henry was not expecting was for the door to open and the most beautiful man he’d ever seen in his life to walk in. He was fairytale prince level tall dark and handsome. Even in the scrubs, his physic was broad and built, and the long-sleeved shirt under his scrub top fit tight around wide biceps. He had coal colored, luxurious curls, high cheeks, and obscene lashes over gorgeous brown eyes. His jawline was sharp, covered in a few days’ worth of stubble. Miles of tanned skin, the same dark hair on his forearms, large hands that he was currently slipping into gloves. The few inches of exposed wrist from slightly pulled up sleeves made Henry feel like he was seeing something pornographic. But anything to keep himself from locking eyes on those incredibly soft looking lips. “Hi, I’m Alex, it’s nice to meet you.” Ah, Henry remembered reading something about Alexander the Great being the son of Zeus. Yes, a demigod, right here in Oxford, that made sense. No, wait, that accent- “You’re American?” Henry blurted out before he could stop himself. If asked, he would blame it on this man’s, well- everything. “Yeah, sorry,” Alex laughed, “Always forget that catches ya'll off guard, I’m from Texas. I’m going into clinical medicine, but I’d like to travel, work with the Red Cross and do outreach things; help with natural disasters and pandemics. It’ll be easier for me to break into that if I do the rest of medical school and residency in Europe.” “Oh.” “But that’s not why you’re here, hm, Mr. Fox? May I touch you?” the brunette asked stepping closer to the exam table Henry was sitting on. “Please. Erm, I mean, uhm, yes please, go ahead.”

-

🏷️(no pressure tags darlings)

@taste-thewaste @onthewaytosomewhere @henrysfox

@mikibwrites @eusuntgratie

@softboynick @catdadacd @sheepywritesfics

@henryspearl

@basil-bird @caressthosecheekbones

@henfox @anti-homophobia-cheese @redlipstickandglitter

@thesleepyskipper @tailsbeth-writes @thighzp @lfg1986-2

+ literally anyone else I'm tired and forgot. (Im queueing this at 2am) or anyone who sees this and wants to tag me, I love reading yall's stuff. <3

[archduchessofnowhere]

Queen Victoria to her daughter Crown Princess Victoria of Germany, on the engagement of Princess Stephanie of Belgium to Crown Prince Rudolf of Austria:

BUCKINGHAM PALACE, MARCH 12, 1880 On Tuesday 9th the Empress [Elisabeth] of Austria came and stopped for luncheon and was most amiable. She is a little aged, but still very handsome and graceful and distinguished looking and the figure beautiful, only her dress was so tight she could hardly move or sit down. Poor little Stephanie’s engagement took everyone by surprise including the Empress and Leopold of B [King of the Belgians, Stephanie's father]. The poor thing has been completely shut up—never seen anyone—never been to a dance or a play etc. and suddenly the C. Prince of Austria is brought, speaks to her and she is engaged and brought out!! It is a most wonderful arrangement but you like children’s engagements and so you won’t be so astonished.

Crown Princess Victoria's reply:

PEGLI, MARCH 15, 1880 (...) I decidedly think with you that dear little Stephanie’s marriage is very sudden, and taking such a great leap all of a sudden, is of course very trying to a young girl’s mental and moral development! Though I was engaged at 14—and there are many other examples of the same kind, yet in principle I am strongly against it and think it far better to be a little older, but what I always pleaded is that there are cases where peculiar circumstances make it advisable and desirable—and unavoidable. I have heard no details yet. I suppose the Crown Prince (who has been rather wild and flighty) was urged to marry and chose Stephanie young as she was. It will be a great trial to the poor dear child to be grown up on such short notice and engaged to a young man she does not know, and had never seen.

Queen Victoria's reply:

WINDSOR CASTLE, MARCH 22, 1880 (...) Neither Leopold B. or the Emperor of Austria knew anything of the Archduke Rudolf’s plans. It seems Stephanie was entirely his own choice. It is a great thing that the Emperor and Empress have at length allowed the marriage or rather the engagement to be announced, and I hope Willie [Prince Wilhelm, Crown Princess Victoria's son] will travel and see the world a little before he marries, which I trust will be next year. Those very long engagements are very trying and not very good and poor Victoria [Auguste Victoria of Schleswig-Holstein, Wilhelm's fiancée] will be 22 in October.

Fulford, Roger [ed.] (1981). Beloved mama: Private correspondence of Queen Victoria and the German Crown Princess, 1878-1885

Pictured: Princess Stephanie and Crown Prince Rudolf's engagement photograph, by Géruzet Frères, 1880 (left); Crown Princess Victoria of Germany, by Alexander Bassano, 1879 (right). Via Wikimedia Commons and the Royal Collection Trust.