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nalyniavadelletargaryen · 4 months ago

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[ HOTD - Greif-striken Aegon ]

Summary: At the Queen Dowager's request, you take on the role of Jaehaera’s primary caregiver but bear the burden of catching the King’s eye.

Warnings: canon Aegon + dubcon / noncon + mentions of death + slight angst + hurt/comfort + smut

Grief-stricken Aegon is surprised to see you playing with his daughter in the garden, temporarily distracted from his anger by a curiosity about you. Jaehaera sits on your lap as you play with her, keeping her happy and your focus solely on her. Although the King doesn’t recognize you, he hesitates before approaching you, his anger turning into interest when you smile at him. You had been warned by his mother to be cautious of him, given the grief in the castle after the loss of the young prince. Despite your reservations, you decide to be kind and give Aegon the benefit of the doubt as you respectfully acknowledge him and then return your attention to Jaehera.

Grief-stricken Aegon leaves you with his daughter, slipping back into a quiet rage as the sight of her reminds him of Jaehaerys. You cradle the young girl close as her father stalks down the stone halls. Sighing in relief, you watch his silver locks disappear around a corner, completely relaxing when Jaehrra smiles. In a month, she had grown attached to you, mistakenly calling you 'mama' once or twice, but you always managed to correct her. Although your heart fluttered at her recognition, you knew very well that her birth mother, Queen Helena, needed no more strife and that prying ears would quickly spread the rumor of her quick attachment to you. When it happened a third time, you corrected Jaehaera as always, cheeks warm with gratitude. However, your decision remained firm. Unfortunately, you were not quick enough to hush her with a gentle reprimand, and Sir Larys overheard the young princess's adoration for you as he passed by the library where you read to her before supper. He wasted little time using the new revelation to his advantage. He tells the King of Jaehera's love for you, explaining it as a harmless but vaguely dangerous trust shift. Aegon feeds into his observation with contained interest.

Grief-stricken Aegon, overcome with sorrow, sends for you the following evening, calling you to the council room after a long day of war planning. You come at his command after putting Jahera to bed and bidding the Queen goodnight. You take your time to reach him, rightfully afraid of the man you've heard raging about the castle in a constant state of vengeance. You're particularly fearful of your growing desire to feel his pain somehow. Jaehaera is the sweet and well-mannered maiden child, much like her mother, and you can only begin to imagine how lovely her brother had been. You know well that pitying their father shouldn't be your prominent state of mind, but having a tender heart makes it devastatingly hard not to. So, you heed his call, entering the council room and standing at the doors with your head held preemptively low. You greet him quietly, withholding the tremor in your tone as you try to steel yourself against his scrutinizing stare.

Grief-stricken Aegon was far from displeased by the sight of you. Since he briefly saw you in the Keep's courtyard, hed been considering many details and assets you possessed. You appeared pious, gentle, and careful in how you presented yourself. You held the traits he knew his mother had explicitly sought: modesty and fairness. Aegon assumed you were a young lady, yet how you carried yourself made him believe you had surpassed his sister's maturity. He took note of the seven-pointed star necklace you kept clasped around your neck; the gold jewelry glinted on your bare skin, bringing out the light colors of the dresses you wore. You never bared green, a minuscule detail that pleased him. The influence of his family hadn’t reached you, and it was an odd relief. You had no allegiance to an agenda, were content with your role, and were not invested in the schemes around him. In his eyes, you were perfect, pure, and identical to the maiden herself.

Greif-stricken Aegon doesn’t confess his sins to you, though. You were never bringing to light the thoughts he’s had about you. The very sound of your voice started his descent into obsession. Hearing you sing soothing lullabies to Jaehaera, seeing you cradle her close, watching you praise her most minor achievements drove his mind to places it’d refrained from going after the death of his son. Motherly. You are sound of mind and careful with the last of his children. You embodied what his dear sister's wife couldn’t: motherhood. It drove Aegon mad in the dead night, his chambers filled with the sound of his moans as he fisted his cock to the very thought of you.

Greif-stricken Aegon refrains from forcing himself on you the first night you visit him, choosing to pry into your life with direct questions and bittersweet compliments for most of the exchange. You’re relieved to experience his generally pleasant side, amused by the scathing jokes he tells between conversations, and pleased to make him smile with your witty remarks. Your walls of caution break down little by little as he invites your company, letting you recount stories of impractical adventures with his daughter and surprisingly invested in hearing them. You ramble a bit, unsure how to feel about his direct attention and nervous to speak so casually to the King himself. Aegon reassures you that your talkative nature is anything but frustrating, reaching out to lift your chin and graze the warm skin of your cheeks with his fingertips. Your dormant blush brightens when he smiles at you, leaning in to kiss your parted lips tenderly before you can stop him. You had no intention of kissing him back, utterly shocked he'd even be so bold with you, to begin with, but he refused to let you shy away from him. One kiss spiraled into several, every one messier than the last, and your head spinning as the lingering bitterness of wine on his tongue soaked into yours. Aegon pressed for more when you pulled away to breathe. It was all too much, and you rushed to excuse yourself and leave him for the night. He didn't stop you, loving the sight of fear and excitement consuming your tender exterior at his will.

Greif-stricken Aegon calls on you often after that evening. He is no longer satisfied with pleasing himself alone. Aegon is reckless with his dependence on you, not caring that you put up a fight every time, trying to reason with him as he buries his cock in your fluttering walls. You scratch, cry, and beg. Doing and saying anything for the slightest chance of mercy, but Aegon spares you none. He forces pleasure into your veins, slaving away in your cunt night after night and committed to coating your untouched womb with his seed. You feel trapped in the cycle he starts, fulfilling your duties by day and spreading your legs for him at night. It tore you to pieces that your body ached for him constantly, the very shape of cock engraved into you, the space between your thighs undeniably drenched hours before he had you entrapped in his embrace. It’s distracting. He is distracting, and it's no help that he begins to spend more time with his daughter to spend even more with you. Aegon’s hands constantly wander where they shouldn’t, tracing your curves over the binds of your dress as you tend to Jaehaera, and it takes all of your will not to run from him. He feeds on your unease, your breaths slower, eyes fixed in the distance, and the apple of your cheeks turning red. He tells you to settle down, focus on your duties, and disregard his lingering presence, and by the gods grace, you can do just that. It’s a relief that his mother, grandsire, or anyone of consequence steals him away. You say nothing to keep him at your side, missing the feeling of his hands, the sound of his voice, and the air of control he envelopes you in, but joyous to be free of him. You can focus. You can calm the heat in your core.

Greif-striken Aegon takes no issue with keeping you in his bed for hours on end, marveling at the sight of you falling apart on his cock, begging for more of it as your legs shake from another high. You’ve given up on running, on reasoning, on being moderately intelligent, enduring the deep thrusts and mind-numbing pace he sets in thinly veiled excitement. There’s no point of hiding uit any longer, no viable way of convincing him you don’t want him to take you. Its your obligation to please him, to be that perfect little mistress, to give his lonely daughter a new playmate is it not? So, you resort to embracing his attention - as unforgiving and possessive as it may be.

Grief-stricken Aegon doesn’t ask your permission to release inside of you, forcing his seed as deep as possible, holding you down in a vice grip anytime you attempt to writhe away. It’s warm, thick, and filling. You’ve only tried to bathe once after hours of him bedding you, and he was furious. From then on, Aegon denied you the choice of washing the evidence of his claim on you away and commanding you to let his seed leak from between your thighs for a minimum of a fortnight. Appalled and rightfully defiant to the idea, you first threatened to confess to his mother about your shared deeds, but Aegon taunted you. He knew you’d rather suffer his stipulation than endure the wrath of Queen Alicent’s modesty. “Tell her and see what becomes of you..” he seethes into your ear, hand tangled in your fallen hair to keep you bent over the edge of his bed, snapping his hips harder against you when a half-hearted cry falls from your lips. You won't tell her. You can't even begin to think of unburdening yourself without acknowledging the joy you took in being used for his pleasure. Even now, as your essence dripped down your inner thighs, coating his cock with every unforgiving movement he made, you simply gave in to sin. His sin.

Grief-stricken Aegon is unsurprised when he notices signs that you are carrying his child. You become emotionally and physically sensitive. You continue caring for Jaehera while trying to hide your changing demeanor, keeping it a secret. However, Aegon cannot help but stay close to you and treats you as if you're made from glass with little regard for those who notice him showing you favor, which draws the interest of his council members—especially his ever-vigilant mother. Days pass before the maester leaves tea for you. On the night Queen Alicent visits your chambers, she expresses disappointment and scolds you for being careless. You hesitate to follow the Dowager Queen's advice, refusing to drink the remedy left for you and crying the entire night after she takes her leave.

Greif-stricken Aegon hears of your pregnancy the day after, ever so gleeful to endure his mother's berating and nowhere near ashamed of what he's done to you. He tells you it won't be the last time you carry his child, sitting you on his lap in the privacy of his chambers as the day comes to an end, and you haven't the emotional strength to keep fighting him. What's done is done, and you have no heart for ridding yourself of his so-called ‘gift.’ It's sick and twisted, but you've fallen into the headspace he's wanted for so long. A willing servant, one dedicated to her role in his domain of power, and one who will bear as many children as he desires.

What more could a lovely, loyal girl like you ask for?

A/N: Why is it so hard to write smut for this man?! It's usually so easy, but now I'm struggling. It's unfair because I have a lot of great ideas…

{ BONUS CONTENT + }

Credits to the creator 💚 He owns 85% of the space in my gallery app. I'm obsessed, and it shows…

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imreadydollparts · 4 months ago

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I really cannot be normal about Mattel's head glue, I hate it so much.

Before I got sick I had been doing some experiments to see how different head glue removal methods work and affect the dolls' hair and heads, and then completely forgot about it for a long time while I was recovering. I'm still completely exhausted and don't have much energy for these kinds of things anymore.

I dug up my original notes this morning and did some fresh observations of the heads I'd treated.

Get ready for a lot of cut up doll heads, boringly presented information, and not nearly enough photos because I always forget.

You get a cut for said mangled doll heads.

Important notes:

None of these dolls' hair was conditioned after treatment.

Each head was kept in an individual, sealed container kept in the basement which is consistently 62F since treatment.

Results would be better if I had a whole bunch of the same head with the same glue, but I don't.

If you're curious, I cut the heads with Dollar Tree gardening nips. it worked very well.

001 - Nikki treated with baby powder on Apr 17 2023 hair coated and powder funneled into neck, let sit, brushed a ton and tapped out of head this method dulls the hair's appearance

before - during - after

Jul 19 2024 Kanekalon hair is gummy and dusty, not terribly sticky smells of baby powder no change to vinyl glue inside head is coated in powder

Note: the hair falling out in the recent photos is from me cutting her head, nothing weird has happened to her head nor her hair

002 - 2Ks Barbie - treated with Tea Tree Oil mixed with L.A.'s Totally Awesome on Apr 17 2023 2 drops TTO applied to hair and massaged in 4 drops applied inside head T.A. added, didn't measure container shaken vigorously, T.A. turned cloudy immediately

before - during

Jul 19 2024 head reeks of TTO hair remains clean vinyl of head is supple and soft glue inside head is set and not sticky Saran hair is a bit dry

003 - Ken treated with Goo Gone on Apr 17 2023 sprayed liberally inside and out, massaged into hair, washed with dish soap

before

Jul 19 2024 Saran hair has a fine overall coating of glue glue inside head is sticky vinyl is fine if a little shiny, shine may indicate beginnings of degradation smells of citrus oil from Goo Gone

004 - Millie treated with Oxy Clean in tepid water on Apr 30 2023 Oxy Clean added to water, head placed in container, shaken vigorously

before

Jul 19 2024 head/hair smells moldy Saran hair remains clean vinyl is matte and soft white glue inside head is set (different from the yellow glue, can't say how this would affect the yellow glue)

005 - Summer treated with Triton X-114 on Apr 17 2023 1 tsp Triton massaged into hair with distilled water 1/4 tsp put inside head 1/2c distilled water in a container, put head in, shake vigorously

before - during - after

Jul 19 2024 moldy smell Saran hair is clumpy and sticky at nape of neck glue in head is sticky vinyl is soft and matte

006 - Millie treated with L.A.'s Totally Awesome on Apr 30 2023 done with normal process of putting head in a small cup, filling head and cup with concentrated cleanser, putting a lid on, and waiting. agitate the head now and then and change cleanser if cloudy

after (forgot to take a before)

Jul 19 2024 some stickiness at the scalp on one side, other side is clean Saran hair is a bit dry glue inside head is sticky on one side (same side as stickiness reappeared on the outside and where you can see a very thick glob of glue in the photo), and slightly tacky on the other side She would have benefitted from soaking a good deal longer.

#mattel head glue #doll hair #doll repair

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abouttomakeanameformyself · 2 months ago

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Someone New Chapter one: Someone gets hurt

When you go through a breakup, you find yourself drinking your feelings and looking for a place to stay. You stumble into a seedy bar and meet a certain bartender.

Pt 1/10

1/5 🌶️ (references to sex but it's mostly implied)

This is part of a series I will be updating regularly. Tropes include friends to lovers, friends with benefits, roommates, and GrumpyxSunshine. In flirty bartender Remy we trust.

Rejection hung around like smoke in the air as your doc martens thudded down Royal street. The stench and sounds of Bourbon was overestimating to the senses, but that's quarter for you. You've been avoiding the French Quarter since you started at Tulane University five years ago, but most New Orleans natives did. It was loud, crowded, and busy with sad drunk tourists. Given the fact you were sad and mildly buzzed it was actually the perfect hideaway.

The bounds between Decatur, Canal, Esplanade and Rampart were a personal fucky-Bucky free zone. Plus, open container laws. Since you were old enough to drink now, it seemed appropriate that you could drown your sorrows in $15 of watery sugar booze. The hangover was going to be horrific but horrific enough to jump scare you out of your current while also equally horrific predicament.

You have been with your boyfriend James since the end of your sophomore year, when a booze infused hookup became a relationship. You lasted through the rest of undergrad, and into Grad school. Until today. Nothing says happy midterms like walking in on your boyfriend of 3 years being straddled by your best friend.

You passed pissed a long time ago. Right now it was settled into a mix of numbness and shock. The list of things to do was subtly growing.

Move out

Get a better apartment

Get really hot.

Try not to cry in public.

It sucked. The whole situation fucking sucked. It was still better than forgiving Yelena and possibly seeing her fuck James a second time. It wasn't bad enough that she needed your boyfriend, she had to ruin your rent controlled historic apartment in the lower Garden District. Assholes.

It was worth mentioning that Kate would at one point or another need to know that her girlfriend was bopping your boyfriend. Kate was 18 months younger than you and felt like a baby sister. Forget your own relationship, Yelena was gonna hurt pookie. That was unforgivable. You didn't want to tell her, but the whole predicament of the fact that she deserved to know.

The little voice in the back of your head, that sounded an awful lot like James was telling you that you were projecting your feelings on Kate. The other little voice in the back of your head that sounded like your mother told you that you needed to do right regardless of how it relates to you. Both of those voices combined didn't really help you make a decision at all, it was just starting to give you a migraine.

What started as a walk long walk around campus turned into a streetcar ride to mid-city. Or maybe Magazine street. About 3 hours ago that turned into roaming aimlessly through crowds of tourists. People at the Boot on campus could easily put two or two together, or even worse you could run into the ex-boyfriend and the ex-boyfriend rider. It was all too fresh. You needed a fucking drink, and hiding in hand grenades and voodoo daiquiris with the degenerate middle aged tourists was comforting. Their midlife crisis drinking was a blanket over your own crisis drinking.

The Quarter was jam packed. Especially for a Wednesday. The stickiness of the summer evenings have given way to a warm breeze, with the occasional chill. Louisiana never got cold the way it did back in South Dakota. You had the right wardrobe choice for going on a shame stroll around the city. A pair of mom and James's old Net’s shirt was casual and comfortable.

It was one of your favorite articles of clothing actually. It was soft from years of washing, and hung on your frame perfectly. It didn't matter that you didn't know what a Net even was, you loved the shirt. Well fuck him. He's not getting it back. Sure, holding a shirt hostage was kinda petty, but sliding your dick into your girlfriend's best friend was also petty.

The vibrating in your pocket was the tell tale sign that people were worried. Or that shirt man was trying to crawl out of the hole he buried himself in. Which happens to be your friend's hol- that wasn't important. Half of you wanted to throw your phone on the ground and mentally unplug, but the reality of the situation was you were gonna be too drunk to take the streetcar efficiently. You needed your phone to Uber home.

The tourists seemed to be thinning out the further you moved down Royal Street. All the excitement was a block over Bourbon usually, but it was nice from the crowds you witnessed earlier. Less out of towners destroying the historic district with alcohol containers and public indecency. The fewer people around made the Quarter a little bit nicer. Suddenly the tourists made sense. It was pretty when it was quiet.

The galleries and boutique bars separated Royal from Bourbon’s roll of party spots. It was a completely different vibe. While you didn't hold much artistic ability, it was grounding to look at the masterpieces through the windows. There was something so comforting about the way it made you think about something else. It was a quick reprieve from the memory of your boyfriend's face as he was quite literally balls to the wall inside your long term roommate.

Your wandering around the Quarter turned into a lazy stroll, and the sky turned dim. The weight of the day wore you out and all you wanted was a pick me up. You've heard that Erin Rose apparently had an amazing Irish coffee but that seemed like the opposite of where you wanted to be. At this point, you had a shitty margarita from a crap bar on Bourbon. Just enough to be tipsy but that wasn't enough, you needed to hear colors and see sounds.

You were tired, but a familiar aroma brought you back to life with a single sniff.

Now, Tulane taught you a lot in the several years you've been in attendance. The graduate programs at Tulane were coveted spots. Yet, not everything was an academic experience. Your ability to sniff out the perfect espresso martini was not because of education it was more of a passion based skill. It was a life line. The wave of coffee and vodka and serotonin was far more intoxicating than Sir bottom shelf tequila.

The glittering lights of the bar across the street caught your eye. Glowing yellow lights in a cursive script spelled out Lebeau’s. It seemed like a local place, with the smooth lighting and moody exterior. Carefully, one doc in front of the other you stepped in.

The walls were this beautiful authentic exposed brick. The bar was sleek, with smooth jazz playing low in the background. Dark violet accents framed the dreary wood that the majority of the furniture consisted of. It was almost empty, except for one man in the corner of the bar, playing solitaire by himself on one of the cocktail tables by the door. No bartender though.

Your brows furrowed, and you stepped in. The quiet was inviting. Whoever was in charge was probably just giving a run to the storage room or something.

“I would consider another sponsorship, ‘Cher. ‘Pecially around these parts.” A crisp voice broke out in the quaint silence, absolutely ruining the vibes.

When you walked into the bar, you came with the intention of drinking. While you knew you weren't alone, you didn't really care about the card guy. People go to bars to sit alone and decompress, not to bug random civilians. Only weirdos jump into random conversations with no warning. When the smoky Cajun drawl, it took you a solid 30 seconds to realize that you weren't hallucinating.

Your head slowly turned to face the stranger, only this time there was no maneuvering of cards. He was staring at you. Red on black eyes flicking down your frame quickly. Only, it didn't feel like he was checking you out. It felt more analytical than it was pervy, which was comforting. Well, it was comforting in the way that you weren't being objectified but he was still fucking staring at you, which was an issue. “Pardon?”

“Your shirt, Nets. Not popular in these parts. Ya’ from out of town, Chérie? New Jersey? I think the Nets are Jersey.” He was leaning on his elbows, forearms resting against the wooden tabletop.

He had one of those scruffy patches of stubble on his face, that was still clearly facial hair but looked well maintained. Clearly he was aiming for a rugged appearance, and he wasn't far off. He wasn't unattractive actually. He was quite attractive. You couldn't dwell on it much, because the second you had the realization that he wasn't completely unfortunate looking, James's face flashed in your mind.

“First of all buddy, not New Jersey. The Nets are from Brooklyn. Second of all, no, I'm not from New Jersey. Third of all, don't you dare tee-shirt shame me. It's not even my damn shirt. Also, the shirt is not that important, I just want a fucking drink.” You said in response, brows furrowing in frustration. There has to be a bartender at this place, who has a fully stocked empty bar and isn't behind the count-

The stranger smirked as the realization was dawning on you that he was the Bartender. Well fuck me today I guess. He stood from his seat, grinning at your clear embarrassment, the cheeky bastard. He had one of those faces that always looked like he was sort of smirking. Great. Just what you needed! You just snapped at the bartender and he clearly found it funny.

Suddenly a lobotomy seemed more desirable than a martini. When you have that change up maybe professional help should be seeked.

“If you're wearing another man's shirt, I’d say that he has bad taste. Looking at you though, I can tell that's not true. Remy Labeau is a lot of things but he's not a liar.” Oh lovely. Flirty bartender. How horribly fucking cliche. “Now what can get you to drink, Beau?”

At least he was smart enough to offer you a drink.

“Espresso martini. It's my ex's shirt, it just happens to be what I wore today.” You were still standing in the middle of the room. It was silly, but earlier you halted your movements to have a full conversation about your shirt for some reason. With a few steps, you slipped into a seat at the bar.

Exhaustion hits your body like a ton of bricks the second you find yourself in a position of rest. You've been up since about 7, went to bed at 3, had two midterm- god you've been so preoccupied with the fact James Buchanan shit-for-brains Barnes sucked that you completely forgot that you just finished this semester midterms. To look on the bright side at least he had the decency to get caught cheating after your tests. Fucking asshole. You haven't stopped moving since you ran out of your bedroom hours earlier.

“If it's an ex, then he has bad taste if he gave something up that looks as good as you.” Remy replied, his smirk faltering slightly. The statement sounded flirtatious, but something behind his eyes felt disconnected somehow. Okay, so what if a generic hot bartender had layers? Half of the job requirement is being nice to sad drunk people.

Remy carefully slid over that treasured martini, just as you requested. “Personally, I think you'd be a lot kinder to me if you laid off the caffeine ‘Chérie. Ya’ seem jumpy. So, this ex. Is it a new ex? Or?”

It seemed like curiosity. Harmless. The first instinct you had was to go for the throat and tell him it was none of his business. He was just trying to do his job. Make the drunk girl at the bar feel supported so you get a tip yadda yadda. You sighed, tilting your head back and bracing yourself for the information you were about to dump on this poor man. “Actually, very new. About-” You paused to pull your phone out of your pocket for the time, grimacing at the 17 missed calls and the 43 unread messages. “I would say around 8 hours ago. Give or take.”

Remy’s brows rose, as his dark eyes analyzed your face. He clearly didn't believe you. “You broke up with him? Remy thinks that he wouldn't let one like you get away that easily, beau.”

The flattery was kind in theory. It was this poor blue-collar worker's attempt to make you feel better. That is not what happened, of course. It was like the healing bruise was prodded. So instead of actually responding with words, like a normal fucking person, the tears were immediate.

Remy was less prepared for the random tests than you were. The tall, broad man was startled, his eyes widening in shock. His body ducked down, searching for napkins or tissues or something. The random and very ugly crying had the annoying hot bartender in a state of panic. He seemed so smooth up until now, but clearly you caught him off guard. “Fuck m- I didn't mean to make you cry.”

“It's totally fine.” You mumbled through the tears. Your mental stability hit the wall. It was going to happen eventually. Emotional and physical exhaustion was playing at your mental stability. You needed to get a hold of yourself. “It's not your fault. It's not my fault either. I came back from an exam to find him underneath my best friend. In my bed. I'm-”

You trailed off, taking a moment to control your breathing, before deciding to reinsert your foot in your mouth. Not like you'll ever see him again. “It's just very new. I felt like I had this perfect set up, now I'm back at square one. I had this perfect relationship and I loved my apartment. I have put years into a friendship with this person. I lost a rent controlled apartment in the garden district. An affordable apartment in that neighborhood is about as common as a golden fucking unicorn.”

Remy listened to your words, standing back up to his full height. His dark eyes searched your face. His smirk faded into a relaxed expression. The only indicator that he was actually thinking was his eyebrows, which were furrowed together. He looked quite analytical actually.

“That's a lot actually. I'm sorry.” His words were so genuine. The expected move from the hot bartender handbook would be Remy telling you that you were too good for James, or that he didn't know what he was missing. That never came. Just an apology and an acknowledgement that it was hard news. There was no fake pity in his voice. It was honestly incredibly refreshing.

“I know I need to find someplace to stay. The friend was my roommate, and she's on the lease. I'll have to go get my stuff but I'm hoping to go when they are in work or class. It's basically impossible to completely move out without one of them showing up. I guess I'll have to go in shifts or leave some stuff behind.” Your attention shifted back to your ignored martini, and you were thankful for the excuse to silence yourself by bringing the glass to your lips.

“No bébé. You won't.” He said, his intense thought process breaking as easily as a single strand of hair.

He caught you off guard as you dabbed your eye with a drink napkin. “Wh- I'm sorry. What do you mean I won't?”

“You won't be alone to get your things, beautiful. You won't need multiple trips. I'm taking you to get your things in the morning. You're gonna stay with me. My friend Scott just moved into an apartment with his girlfriend Jean. I have an extra room. You're going to be my new roommate.”

#x men the animated series #gambit #remy lebeau x reader #mcu #x men #gambit smut #its been so long #don't bite me I'm rusty #sunshine remy my beloved #the reader is quite literally just a girl #im sorry for the bucky slander he would never

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mikareo · 1 year ago

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“ ࣭⸰ ★ GARDEN SONG . . . ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ブルーロック ; itoshi rin x fem reader (6.8k)

⊹ ⠀⠀ rin's never been in love. he's never had the right to fall in love. so when sae is betrothed to a foreign princess, he doesn't bat an eye. you're just like every other girl who's attempted to marry his half-brother; yet, for some odd reason, he can't seem to shake you off. his heart aches thinking of you, despite how heated you make his head. he hates you. no. he loves you. no. rin doesn't know what he feels.

contains; royalty au, e2l, sfw, bastard prince!rin, princess!reader, reader is betrothed to sae, slowburn, rin calls reader names (like lowkey sexist sometimes), lots and lots of worldbuilding (bear with me please), forbidden love, swearing?, some sexual innuendos, kind of like...medieval dialogue??, tw rin literally calls reader a breeding ground like..., reader is very princess kaguya coded, some princess kaguya references near the end author's note; literally dropping this out of nowhere sorry lol :3 i think this is my best piece of writing i've like ever produced so pls give it a chance n enjoy it! i rewrote the whole thing today in present tense,, so there might be tense errors

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀this part of the fic is about 2 1/2 years old ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀originally a keiji akaashi fic,, lmk any name errors ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀extremely descriptive worldbuilding writing,, (heads up) if it's not ur thing then u likely won't enjoy reading this ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

It’s humorous to Rin— the perception that titles and notability have complete control over one’s life, obligations, and status. The pure and blind belief that every problem or issue can be solved with a man on the throne; a man whose birthright has always stated that that is where he belongs. Where he’ll rule and live out his days, utterly unhappy and self-sacrificing all for the benefit of people, his people, that he doesn’t even know. Strangers. Where he’ll wear a weighted crown encrusted in sapphires and jade, bound to strands of hair that’ll be ripped out if he dare defy his solemn promise to protect his kingdom. The crown must always be worn with pride and honor— the two things in the unspoken king’s code that every man of status is expected to follow— two simple things that seem impossible in Rin’s eyes.

Yes, he’s been raised according to the precept of manners and fulfillment of duties, but there’s something of the way his own father seems so distant and disconnected from the world around him— from the connections and relationships that he should be closer with— that makes the idea of being emperor completely disheartening. It’s completely and utterly horrid to Rin when he compares a life of golden chains to his dreams of travel and adventure.

It’s for the best that he’s nothing but a bastard child, then.

Prince Rin of the Itoshi family is nothing if not a black sheep. He’s a man who gentlemen aren’t envious of and whom women never lust for. He’s simply a royal with no drive, no meaning to motives or dreams, and no purpose to carry him onwards. Fortune and prosperity have never and will never be the necessary materials for his happy ending— but freedom and individualism, two contrasting colors amidst blocks of the same shade, speak his language. For in his situation, there’s no point in slaving away his natural qualities in hopes of gaining an ounce of respect from his parents.

The second born bastard child is but a shadow of a man when he stands behind the true heir—his half brother, Sae. The golden child, the pure-bred son of the true royal bloodline coming from their shared father’s genes. Sae, the future Emperor of Japan.

An emperor who’s bound to be married off to an unsuspecting princess who’s just recently come of age, and live happily ever after with their countless children. It sounds positively dreadful, doesn’t it? A life that’s been bestowed upon all of the men that have come before Sae— a life void of real love and connection, one that pleasures the theory of bountiful rulings in retrospect to genuine happiness. A life that Rin has never wanted for himself, and has been lucky enough to avoid.

But as his brother stands opposite to him, with his head held high as he’s about to meet his betrothed for the very first time, Rin feels pity.

It’s a sorrowful sight for Sae and the predicament that he’s been cornered into, but Rin knows his brother does not want his comfort. Their broken bond has been laced with new threads of sadness after years and years of competition— yet, everyone still deserves a choice in their future, in their loved ones, and that choice is being taken away from the crowned prince with every second ticking by.

Tick.

The time is now.

As the courtroom doors burst open, gold and silver accents vanish from sight. Five guests gracefully enter the palace— that of two guards, a handmaiden, a king, and the most important arrival…you. You, the princess of the neighboring royal family from the South. The royal family that will be merging with Rin’s father’s in a legal binding between you and Sae— the infamous royal wedding of the century.

“What an honor it is.” Emperor Itoshi greets your father with a firm stare.

The two men analyze one another, squaring out in a power strike before stepping forwards for a decisive handshake. As their palms clap together, Rin can see that this king is much different than his father— seemingly gentle, showcasing a non-plastic smile that’s true and bright whilst his daughter stands behind him— and Emperor Itoshi smiles back. “It’s truly spectacular to finally meet you; well, you and the princess, of course.”

At his words, your father grins and extends his arm out to you, encouraging you to step away from your trusted handmaiden and towards your future father-in-law— the man who’s retiring his lifelong title in a mere two months for the sake of passage that’s occurred for centuries. A sacred passage between fathers and sons, full blooded fathers and sons.

“Your majesty,” you bow your head.

As you curtsy in respect, your skirt drapes to the floor— the gown’s extravagance dusting the marble tiles, shimmering beneath the dense candlelight, and reflecting off the mirror and shined surfaces scattered across the ballroom. Despite the perception of beauty and grace that his father and brother seem to share for you, Rin peaks through the cracks of your facade. He can tell this regal persona you’re displaying is nothing but an act. Your stoic expression speaks all he needs to know, that everything about you is princess protocol and lacking personality, and proper folk have never been his usual cup of tea.

While he’s been ordered to entertain ladies of the court and women in the social ring for years-on-years, there wasn’t one occurrence where he actually obeyed his father’s demands— rather string along every maiden sent his way and bid them farewell after a night or two of endless, droning conversation; that and perhaps a few turns in and out of his bed chambers, which is a fact that is infamous among the palace staff. Rin disregards them, though. Tuning others out is his speciality. He uses it in daily conversation, diplomatic meetings, as well as other important matters such as the one happening now, right in front of him. Just a few feet away.

This is pointless.

Why is he being forced to be here?

It’s not like you're his bride.

Rin doesn’t even bother to tune into the presumptuous meeting of you and Sae. They don’t involve him in any way nor does he care for either of you. Typically, most others don’t give him the time of day, so who’s to say that they deserve it from him? The only thing he owes to others is his mere existence as the kingdom’s greatest mistake— all to remind the ton that there is a good and gracious prince, and they should be grateful that he is to be their ruler and not Rin.

Rin, whose birthright is to stand still and respond to his father’s wishes with no choice other than to agree.

So, as the decadence concludes with the bowing of heads and nods of approval dispersing amongst royals and servants, Rin thinks nothing of the way you and Sae stand beside one another in light conversation.

It’s desperate. The sight of you attempting to find a sliver of mutual interest or some sort of connection that binds the two of you other than royalty, makes him look in disdain. He’s grateful that he won’t be the one spending the rest of his already grey life with you, ruling the kingdom.

You aren’t really his type.

“Rin!” Sae’s voice rings through the courtroom, his eyebrows raise in expectancy as he ushers his half-brother towards his bride-to-be, wanting to introduce the two that’re going to be living in close proximity for the weeks to come. “Do come close, I’d like you to meet my bride. Perhaps you’ll find something in common and make a friend for once, for this girl can’t be another one of your whores.”

Typical Sae.

Whether the dig was intentional or unintentional, Rin grimaces at his brother’s words—pursing his lips into a tight smile and closing his eyes in an attempt to disguise his disdain with faint exhaustion.

“Apologies, my brother. I’m afraid I’m rather tired and would prefer to return to my quarters.” Rin nods towards the two of you in respect. “Do enjoy her company, yourself. I’m sure the two of you will be sharing personal physical matters in the near future— best to be comfortable.”

With a quick turn of his heel, he carries on, making his way towards the exit of the throne room, to his grand living quarters— quarters that are fit for a bastard prince such as himself. However, his rancid suggestions aren’t left unanswered, instead contemplated by you as he hears your light voice speak to his brother. Rin hates first impressions. Not because he gets anxious or worried about being disliked; but because he already knows whoever he’s speaking to already knows his history. They know the truth of his bloodline, and they’re never afraid to step on his already small ego. You’re no different.

“So the rumors are true then?”

You speak aloud in a low tone, deciding the best words to use, and phrasing your statements in the most respectful manner you can muster— not wanting to offend Sae in any way, shape, or form while you address his little brother.

“Your brother is not the royal he’s made out to be?” As your voice trails off, regret immediately overcomes you as the subject of conversation stops dead in his tracks.

A scoff escapes his lips, head tilting to the left as your remark settles beneath his skin— hitting that special little spot that enrages every buried emotion, feeling, and reaction in his heart.

Rin spins on his heel with a manic look on his face as he analyzes the regret hidden in your weary posture; which is in great contrast to the confidence and poise you’d displayed a mere seconds before— poise that appears to be only a facade, a mystery that he’d gladly uncover if he actually cared just an ounce about your wellbeing. Taking long strides towards you, ignoring the words of concern from his half-brother, he stops to a halt at your feet— giving you nowhere to avert your eyes, gaze being forced to rest on his anger and distaste only. The rage bubbling in the pit of his stomach is like an over-boiling copper pot, scorching water taunting the brink of the lid, causing it to fly off and wreak havoc elsewhere.

“Tell me, princess.” He ponders mockingly, finding great humor in how tense he was able to make you with three simple words.

“What is it that you make me out to be?”

There’s a shit-eating grin at the tip of his tongue, a taunting aura to his spite. Perhaps there’s a part of him that hopes your response will be genuine, positive to the darkness that’s held to his head on a daily basis— but no matter. He already knows what your misconceptions contain. He knows that you’d already filed him away in the troublesome cabinet at the back of your brain. It’s almost like he’s looking at an average cavern girl with great beauty. You’d be nothing without the small tiara on your head, that’s clear after determining the lack of assertiveness you assume.

…but perhaps, for once, Rin is wrong.

Not a single response emits from your mouth, the silent stare down between glaring eyes being intimidating enough; there’s absolutely no way you were going to anger the bastard prince any further. Yes, he’s considered to be nothing but a brute, but there’s something in his sparks of blue that makes you believe otherwise.

This man is an underestimated enigma, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be one of those common fools who blindly thinks otherwise.

“Your brother tells me you are a good man.” you speak enunciating each word to ensure that it gives its intended effect, that being of a derogative nature masked with falsified kindness and fortitude. “He says that your people adore you, that you are one in the same. Grounded. Of level head.” Bullshit.

Sae would never say those things.

The people would never say those things.

Rin scoffs, listening to the meaningless and unoriginal acclamations being brought to his attention, tired of having to hear them day after day by not only his fellow royals, but staff and peasants— and every other person who’s ever been fortunate enough to cross paths with the royal family, always being disappointed that he is the one to be met.

As he steps closer, wanting to see just an ounce of fear in your eyes, a frown is brought to his beautiful features. What?

In no way are you intimidated by his presence. There’s no shudder, no wince, no flinching whilst his steps grow closer and closer to your position. Just a blank stare of nothingness at his furrowed brows. You aren’t reacting like the other princesses that’ve come to attempt to wed Sae; all princesses who have come and gone due to Rin’s dark intimidation. You have spirit, a fire that’s not willing to be doused by his ocean of hatred.

“Are these your words?” he interrogates.

One of his hands reaches out to brush a stray strand of hair behind your right ear, noticing the tomato red of your cheeks. Smirking, he thinks to himself how dismantled you likely are beneath your stoney stance. “Or are these all of the things my brother has told you? Do you have any thoughts of your own, princess?”

“No need to answer that. I already know what you think of me.” Continuing on, deaf to the attempted precautions from Sae, he leans in— his lips just ghosting over yours, and whispers his final remarks.

“You’re an open book, beautiful— and I can’t say that I'd ever want to read you.”

So, as Prince Itoshi Rin’s steps recede, the distance between you two grows with every second; and you feel a bright, red, rage bubbling deep within your heart. It’s a hot and heavy anger simmering within your soul for the sly man with dark hair— knowing full well that he will be one of the many, if not the biggest, challenge you’ll face in your newfound kingdom.

And never before, have you felt more ready to take on a challenge.

Annoyance is the most prominent emotion Rin has felt in the past two weeks.

Utter disdain at the sight of you and Sae conversing through the courtyard, picking flowers in the rose garden, and taking romantic boat rides in the nearby lake. It’s one thing to fall in love, feel your heart begin to swell at the physical presence of that one special person— but it’s another to have to witness first-hand with no relation to the budding romance at all. Having no need to be involved in the newfound relationship, yet still being forced to interact as a third party member. It’s absolute madness.

He’s somewhat happy for Sae, he truly is. There’s a sense of pride in his soul at the sight of his half-brother stepping up to the position that he’s been in preparation for for all of his life— but with that promotion comes you.

With the rise of power comes your completely lethargic presence.

Oh how he cannot stand you.

You’re just insufferable. You’re unapologetically and unequivocally insufferable to his mind. The mere sound of your voice sends him into a downward spiral. The mere thought of your existence ruins his day with ease. The slightest mention of your life-lasting role in the kingdom he’d grown up in ignites the most powerful feeling of disgust he’s ever known. The weight of his conscience burns with every snarky remark, dig, and insult that flies from your throat; your trained grace never falling scarce in melody, although your words could be considered crude by any proper lady. Words that allow you to terrorize his brain in the midst of night, keeping him awake whilst the moon becomes one with the sun.

He fully believes that you were created to be the bane of his existence…the hell to his heaven…the demon behind all corners in the everlasting game that he has the misfortune of living.

“You’re looking a little grey today, Rin.”

Oh no…

“Perhaps it’d be wise to freshen up a bit!”

Please, just shut up.

“I’m sure the servants won’t mind spending a few hours by your side in an attempt to make you look handsome!”

He hates that damn sound.

There it is. The dreadful sound of your sing-song voice ringing through the hallowed halls, emptying the painfulness of your personality in the wake of the morning dew— as for some god awful reason, you always insist on being the first person to the dining hall, wanting to mark each new day with a classic and large Japanese breakfast.

“As I’ve said many-a-times before, princess.” His head swivels to face you, eyes rolling at the skip in your step. “You are to refer to me as Prince Rin, it is what I prefer.”

“Is it your honored title or is it what you personally enjoy?” you challenge, looking over your shoulder with a mocking pout, having the knowledge that he has certainly come to despise you in the short time you’ve known one another. “Greatest apologies, my liege; but it wouldn’t be proper of me, a woman, to call you, a man, a name that isn’t of great decadence.”

“Surely you can see where my true intentions lie?”

A pained grin comes to shine on his features, shooing away the rain clouds and allowing sparse rays of phony sunshine to shower you. His teeth bite his bottom lip as he struggles to keep his curses imprisoned between his heart and his tongue. You had to have been born of a despicable nature. In no world that is right, in no paradise would anyone deserve the punishment of having to know you— as Rin believes all tyrants belong with the street rats. Not to insinuate you’re a tyrant, but to express that you’re equivalent to a sickly rodent.

“I’m not a fool, you know.” he spits, striding towards your retreating figure and grabbing you by the forearm and stopping you in your tracks. Rin smirks as his touch forces you to become overwhelmed in shock. “I see you, princess. I see through your poise and ladylike mannerisms. I can see what a lonesome and sorrowful shadow you’ll inevitably become. No wonder you’re going to be nothing but an objectified woman, an accessory to Sae’s power— a dull little doll of a woman who perhaps had moxie in her past— yet still became a lifeless puppet beneath a bejeweled tiara, stuck with the hands of judgment up her arse.”

You’re a fool to go toe-to-toe with him, of all people.

Rin doesn’t think he’s ever seen such fire behind your eyes. Fire that burns hot, raging with seething anger and humiliation. If the world were to be supernatural, there’s no doubt in his mind that you’d have set it aflame in response to his vile predictions; the castle crumbling in ash with you standing alone in its wake atop his lifeless corpse that’s burnt to a crisp.

“You are entirely incorrect, never have I shown servitude for the sake of reputation—”

“Really?” his snarling voice interrupts you, refusing to let you get a single word in amidst his long-winded attack. “Then what is it that you’re doing right now, at this very moment. No princess with a functioning brain would ever find herself working with kitchen servants to prepare breakfast for two royal families. She’d simply order them to do it on their own. Every single thing you do is in order to gain likability from those who shouldn’t ever matter. If you had a backbone of any sort, you’d understand that— and you’d understand that titles are of nothing. They’re of no relation to any true purpose or meaning.”

“Then what are you?” you retaliate, ending the lengthy trail of hurtful words and confessions spewing from his mouth. “What are you but a sorry excuse of a prince…of a son?”

“You say titles are rubbish, yet you continue to wear that horrendous crown atop your hair. You choose to take it off of your placid vanity and wear it with honor; although you aren’t much of an honorable man, are you? If you were, then perhaps you’d have a grain of respect from your people. Perhaps you would spend your days in the throne room, being in the advisory alongside your brother— your splendid and valiant brother who has done nothing but serve for the greater good— instead of dallying away with mundane and useless tasks that no one cares to notice! As why would anyone bat an eye at a mistake, when they could be focused on someone like Sae. Someone of the sun’s decadence?”

The face opposite to yours is almost unrecognizable; with his red skin, flared nostrils, and dead-set eyes, Rin looks as if he’s just murdered a man out of spite and grief. He looks as if he’s just induced a homicide and is preparing to start anew, find another victim…that victim undoubtedly being you.

He tips his head downwards, breath grazing against your upper hairline whilst his dark crown shifts in his hair— nearly falling off the front of his forehead, the large arches seem ominous and unwelcoming along with the deadly ocean depths of his eyes. The usual gem-like blues holding a more dangerous tone than a tsunami.

Rin knows he’s frightening…

…and he’s enjoying it.

“You speak on things you know nothing of.” Rin fakes a straight toothed smile; his outside appearance looking completely opposite to the growing pit at the bottom of his stomach. If the peasant’s freak show has come to the kingdom, he’ll be the opening act—a fraudulent performer behind a mask of stoney emotions. “I have freedom and opportunity. If I so wanted, I could order a horse to be prepared, ride through those gates, and never look back. There is nothing holding me here— not my father, my brother, or the people. When will you realize how little your beliefs matter to me.”

He’s boiling with rage, as are you whilst his words ring truer than you’d like to admit; each one hitting the most insecure corners of your heart. “Your meaningless and unimportant opinions in relation to my kingdom— when in reality, you’re simply another black plague that’s washed upon its shores. Another person who’s crawled out of the local sewers and weaseled their way into the generous hands of the royal family. It’s just so unfortunate...”

“...that in the end, you’re nothing but a breeding ground for my brother.”

On instinct, without a coherent thought in your mind, you feel your arm swing out— open palm flying through the air, only to land against the dark prince’s swelling cheeks— leaving not only a bright, red mark, but also an expression of identical shock on both of your faces.

Taking a step back, he reaches upwards to cup the bruise only to realize that you’ve done far more damage than a measly purple wound. You’ve managed to produce a cut, one that seeps through his scarlet blossoms and runs from the corner of his eye to the bottom of his chin; displaying the path of your anger whilst your ring-studded hand has directed itself across his face.

Raindrops of ruby pour from the injury as you stare in horror at your blood splattered engagement ring.

The shimmering diamond turns dark as the tide of rouge rolls in, encasing the notion of property beneath your outspoken and unintentional hatred for Rin; and before you’re given a chance to respond, a second to apologize, the man has already stalked off towards his living quarters— not wanting to see the look of expected satisfaction on your face at the sight of his uncontrollable winces. You don’t deserve to smug as he rests in pain— despite how you are, in truth, regretful of what you’ve done.

Though, not that he’ll ever come to that conclusion.

As why would you, someone in the same likable ranks as a weathered gargoyle have any intent of remorse. Why would you, a woman who would soon have all the power in the world to hold over his head, care about a lasting scratch; no matter how deep.

You’re a tyrant, and oh-how he loathes a tyrant.

A garden of statues would perhaps have more purpose than Rin in his current predicament— standing between his father and half-brother, listening in on the up-and-coming preparations for the royal wedding; whilst even the breaths he takes are ignored, lost in a sea of ignorance and invisibility. Emperor Itoshi gleams with pride, his mindset focused on the change of power— the crown on his head that will soon be worn by his eldest son, the one of pure royal blood. Yet, with the happiness in his heart, his smile only reaches so far; never shedding light on the tundra that consumes his bastard child.

“Rin!” The man hollers beside him as he grasps Sae’s shoulder in a love-bound strength; his god-given touch of a father being miles-on-miles away from the fragile prince who needs it most. “Look at the life your brother’s going to make for himself! Witnessing him amidst the coronation will be splendid—”

“Remind me again, father.” Rin interrupts, not wanting to hear a minute more of the relentless doting. It’s night and day, a never ending string of praise and compliments, all for the great, Sae. “Where is it that I am to be for the duration of these wondrous festivities? I don’t believe I’ve heard spoken word of that as of yet.”

A wave of ignorance acts upon itself through his father’s careless hand, dismissing the trivial concerns of his youngest son; his heart only having enough room for one soul other than himself. “I suppose you’ll stand with the castle staff, it’s likely we have a limited space at the head of the church due to the size of our friends' traveling blood.”

The castle staff?

He’s to stand with lowly servants?

Rin doesn’t know why he feels so shocked, after all, he should’ve been expecting to be cast aside with those of low status. While his title associates himself with the royal lineage, he’ll never truly be accepted into the upper class— that divide has always been inflicted upon him by his own father.

“So, I am not to be in our primary aisle? I am not to have a sliver of sight at Sae’s crowning?”

There’s a hint of spite in his tone, a spite that was usually hidden from the eardrums of others, revealing itself to the people who’d known it was lurking for decades. While Sae simply disconnects himself from the conversation, a privilege that he’s lucky to have, refusing to meet his younger brother’s eyes— their father pushes further. He’s well aware of the growing insecurities his bastard child has, but he also knows how to obliterate the subject in its entirety.

“You aren’t pure.” His voice is stoney and directed at Rin whilst gesturing to Sae, as he shakes his head at his least favorite son. “I can’t possibly have you, a boy I conceived with a gutter whore, stand at the equal sides of neighboring royalty. It would be seen as disgraceful.”

This isn’t the first time Rin’s heard these words.

“You are a disgrace.”

His father tells him these things often.

“All you are is a physical representation of my shame, boy. You’ve already embraced the darkness—it’s about time you allow the shadows to consume you whole.”

That doesn’t lessen the pain, though.

With that, Kyohei turns away and grasps Sae’s arm, leading him towards their higher chambers; ones that Rin has never been honored to walk upon. There are no glances, no solemn, not a single look back by his father to perhaps ensure that his son is somewhat okay or devastatingly upset— though, neither one is true. The only emotion racing through the thick blood in his veins is emptiness. Just the familiar feeling of being worth absolutely nothing in the eyes of the man who should see him as the world. From the beloved emperor that cares for nameless peasants and civil servants, his father is seen as just and valiant— his true nature of disdain and cruelty only being known by his immediate family.

So as he walks alone, with no council weighing down on his heart, no angel on his shoulder, and no devil in the ranks— Rin is blind to the world around him. He chooses to maintain blindness in relation to any matter that seems regal and of importance. Since, after all, who is he to state a claim on that significance…

…when he, himself, has no significance at all?

His feet move on autopilot, like a white pawn at the match’s first mark. As if there’s a knife at his throat, forcing him to play down the chessboard— across the bi-colored tiles and towards the blackened queen. Him being a simple sacrifice; one of many to ensure a victory, no matter the underlying consequences. No matter the fact of how he’ll never hear the final calling, the call of wind inducing the fallen king and victorious player— as he’ll be far too acquainted with death to rise back from the shattered stone. A small sense of relief overcomes him as he steps into the courtyard. His soul is satisfied and alleviated at the location his muscle memory has taken him. While the twilight moon is nearing, his mind is awake; fully conscious and stormy of his own self-doubt and insecurities. Two things that can typically only be dissolved by his favorite location on the castle grounds.

The secluded lake amidst the willow trees. It shimmers and glistens beneath the draping branches, and acts as a hub of life and growth. His secret spot is possibly the most beautiful feature in the kingdom, at least Rin feels so; with its evening flowers and low-light critters, the soft grass and blossoming lily pads, and the perfect view of Andromeda— it’s his safe haven.

A safe haven that he prefers to keep to himself.

A place that no other person has stepped foot in for as long as he’d known of its existence.

A place that has just now been infiltrated by the disguised cockroach that is you.

“You torment me day and night within the walls of my own home; yet you still find it necessary to follow me as if you’re a lost duckling during ungodly hours.” he deadpans, shaking his head at the sight of your furrowed brows and taking a seat at the bay. Rin sighs deeply as his calloused skin comes in contact with the grassy fibers. “A proper princess would be in her chambers by the time midnight struck. It’s nearly 12:30, princess.”

Why are you looking at him like that?

The strange look on your face is laced with some sort of emotion that he’s never seen before. It's buried beneath the layers of organic makeup and skin. He can only assume it’s something similar to discomfort, and despite your intentional mask being well kept— he can see through anyone. He has the rare ability to understand the thickest of thieves, as he, himself, is the biggest phony of them all.

The sparse shadows soften your usually antagonized features in his mind, a more human appearance alleviating in its wake; and Rin swears he sees a tear drip from your right eye, swimming down your cheeks, and dropping off at your chin into the dewey land— becoming one with nature’s true beauty. The earth embraces your unexplained sadness with open arms, blowing the willow branches around your body. In a strange way, Rin thinks this is the first time he’s truly seen you as what you are. A princess. You’re beautiful beneath the moonlight, but perhaps it isn’t your physical beauty that’s catching his eye…but your emotional vulnerability.

“Dearest apologies, my liege.” you mutter, voice droning on with not a sliver of spite in your tone; only exhaustion. “I’m afraid that I’m not much of a proper princess, tonight. If you’d prefer it, I’d be more than welcome to leave you be— perhaps I’d regain some of my lost dignity in doing so.”

He studies you for a moment, his eyes grazing your posture, the physical habits you display on the daily are missing beneath the moon’s kisses. All that’s left in its disappearance is a small-spoken and sadness-consumed girl. A girl that’s tired and painstakingly sick of the expectations and predecessors that she’s been forced to live up to by birth…and as much as he hates to admit it, even just to himself, he’s found a similar identity in you. A familiarity he’s never quite noticed before.

“Stay.” His voice is so faint that even he is surprised at his statement.

“Perhaps we’ll both freeze to death.” he continues on, feigning the annoyance he typically spits in your direction. “I’d quite enjoy seeing your ghastly face covered in ice.”

While Rin believes his offering to be nothing out of the ordinary, your expression tells otherwise. It’s clear that you’re able to read through the misconceptions he’s trying to give you; looking straight into his eyes with an amused gleam and giggling softly in response. He’s never made a princess laugh before— usually the only girls he spends one-on-one time with are the tavern girls who wish to sleep with a prince— and he’d be a liar to say he didn’t like the sound. You have a beautiful laugh and Rin hangs onto every second it continues to carry through the wind. Perhaps he’s been misjudging you just as you misjudged him. Perhaps you’re not like the others.

“I’m sure you would, Rin.” you smile, sitting down next to him on the plush comfort of uncut grass. “But I have had such an awful day, that I don’t think there’s anything you can say to me that will make it worse.” An awful day?

“May I ask what happened?” Why does he suddenly care?

“Yes, you may.” Why do you want to tell him?

A sigh breathes out of your lips, whistling in the wind and getting lost in the space of stars. “I’m a lousy princess.”

He chuckles, shaking his head and nudging your shoulder. There’s no way that you, little miss prim and proper, are a bad princess. You’re practically the model that every father bases his daughter on when raising her in a royal setting; he knows because he’s met his fair share of truly lousy princesses. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am.” you’re not looking at him anymore, rather at the constellation ceiling above you. The stars reflect themselves in your eyes, and if you weren’t a princess on earth, Rin would think you were a gift from the moon himself. “I could barely keep up with Prince Sae today. We had dance rehearsals for the wedding, and our instructor is so strict that I can barely breathe around her without being reprimanded. I couldn’t even memorize the basic steps, I don’t know what is wrong with me. I have practically been training for this duty for my entire life and I can’t remember a few dances? I’m not fit to be a queen. I just turned eighteen, I’ve barely lived at all. How can I protect an entire kingdom, when I cannot even fend for myself?”

“Prince Sae is perfect. He’s amazing. I can’t possibly be enough to be his wife. I can’t live up to those standards. It’s impossible.”

Suddenly, all of the broken pieces seem to come together. They’re swept by a broom, one that the moon king holds above the two of you, as your shattered stars of insecurities collide into one pile of stardust. Rin sees himself in you. He sees himself from a perspective that he’s never known before. Never in his life has he met someone who understands and agrees that royal duties are impossible; usually common folk and other royals tell him what an honor it is to be of a royal bloodline. They don’t care or consider his feelings on having to be held to a higher standard, while also being at a disadvantage as a bastard child. You are different. He knows you won’t judge him for these fears he has; a small part of him trusts you now.

“My brother is a golden boy.” Rin smiles at you, and it’s the first genuine smile he’s ever given someone. “Please do not take it too personally if you cannot live up to his excellence.”

You gaze at him in appreciation, scooting slightly closer while keeping a healthy balance that wouldn’t ensue romantic implications. “Thank you. I can’t even begin to imagine how difficult it must be for you, though. How do you handle all of this? I can barely keep my head above water.”

Wow…you’re the first person who’s ever asked how he feels.

“It’s difficult,” he explains, “but manageable. I’ve only ever known this life, so I’m quite used to being at the end of the line so-to-speak. My brother— I’m not sure why I even call him that, he’s not my brother, I’m sorry. My half-brother is the kingdom’s blessing. He’s my father’s blessing. He’s perfect like you said; but his destiny isn’t his own. Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

Your head shakes in confusion, not quite understanding where his story is going.

“I’m sorry, I’ve never spoken of these feelings before; at least not out loud to someone other than my own mirror.” His human instinct shuffles himself closer to you, wanting that physical comfort whilst knowing that he can never have it. “I’m not unhappy that I am not the one to be emperor. I would rather be a bastard, because at least I have freedom to run away one day without worrying about feeding the masses and avoiding war. I can leave this kingdom and not have to think about my father or Sae ever again. That’s the one luxury I have always had— and it’s the one thing that I look forward to. I’m so sorry that you don’t have that same privilege.”

Nothing comes as a response and Rin feels a little concerned, that is until your soft voice reaches his ears.

“I’m sorry for being so difficult towards you.”

You’re apologizing?

“I don’t regret anything, though.”

That makes more sense.

Another laugh bubbles up from the pits of his soul, setting off the volcano of amusement that’s been dormant for so long. “You’re a tyrant princess, my kingdom should be more weary of you.”

You giggle beside him, “Tyrant princess sounds more fun than disciplined empress.”

Maybe he’s gone mad or maybe the chilling breeze has gotten to his brain and made him delusional, but Rin feels his heart pounding— and not in the familiar way of anger and aggression. This rapid heartbeat is something warmer…fonder…gentler. If he’s not mistaken, he believes it to be the warmth that comes with falling in love; something that he’s only read about and wished for when he does eventually run away from home. However, he never believed he’d find that feeling within the palace walls— especially with you, whom he despised prior to this night. He promised himself he’d never fall for another royal, but his destiny is shaping itself in ways that are unpredictable.

He should thank the man in the moon.

Rin stands, dusting off his pants, before offering you a hand. It’s an earnest gesture, one that you cannot ignore, and he’s vulnerable with his sincerity. “I can’t promise that I hold any skills near to my brother, but I swear on my soul that I won’t push you into that lake if you give me one dance.”

“Just one?” your tone is teasing, yet you accept his offer. The feeling of your hand in his sparks flickers of jealousy in Rin’s mind. Why is Sae the one who gets to hold you? It isn’t fair. “If you push me in that filthy water, I’ll give you a matching scar…”

“...right there.”

One of your fingers softly grazes his cheek, the spot underneath his right eye and flicks upwards, brushing against his thick eyelashes, before you lace your hands around his neck. You sway together, with the moonlight showering its stars down upon you, blessing you with well-wishes from the galaxy— and drift away from the worries of royalty and betrothals. Rin is miles from the anger that nestled itself inside of his heart, freezing it and shrinking it until he no longer knew what the emotion felt like. You’ve melted that ice. You’ve found a crack and broken the cycle of rage he’s so accustomed to…and he’s grateful.

For this is the first time he’s ever felt loved…

…if only you were his…

…but you aren’t.

⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀thank you for reading! reblogs are greatly appreciated! ⋆⋆⋆⠀ ⠀will have a second part titled swan song in the future!

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featherandferns · 2 years ago

Text

book shelf

* - contains sexual content (MDNI)

series

daylight

jj maybank x fem!reader | new to Kildare from Vancouver, Canada, you befriend JJ Maybank. Your life in Vancouver, and the things you went through, make it hard to face the unspoken feelings the two of you share.

prologue - 0.5k. words | content warnings: none

part one - 3.5k. words | content warnings: none

part two - 3k. words | content warnings: alcohol, mentions of sex

part three - 2k. words | content warnings: alcohol

part four - 1.6k. words | content warnings: mentions of sex

part five - 3k. words | content warnings: sex, alcohol

part six - 2k. words | content warnings: sexual content

part seven - 2.7k. words | content warnings: none

part eight - 2.5k. words | content warnings: sexual content; drug use (weed)

part nine - 3.9k. words | content warnings: mentions of sex; mentions of alcohol

part ten - 1.5k. words | content warnings: mentions of abuse and bereavement

part eleven - 1.8k. words | content warnings: mentions of sex

part twelve - 3.7k. words | content warnings: sexual content

epilogue - 1.6k. words | content warnings: mentions of sex; alcohol

multi-part one shots

F.W.B

jj maybank x fem!reader | fics which are part of the 'F.W.B' universe, the sequels can be read as stand alone fics but they make better sense in the context of the main fic.

F.W.B * - 9k. words

blurb: friends with benefits (phrase) - a friend with whom one has an occasional and casual sexual relationship; no feelings attached.

the night it all began * - 3k. words

blurb: JJ Maybank has some corny-ass pick-up lines, and can't seem to back down from a bet, but maybe you might just give him a try anyway. What's one night, after all?

you find out - 2k. words

blurb: you find out the truth about his tumultuous relationship with his dad.

outdoor pool * - 5k. words

blurb: your latest 'date night' involves breaking into a Kook's back garden to swim around in their pool. After fooling around, JJ comes to a realisation.

surfs up - 4k. words

blurb: you meet JJ's friends. whilst Kiara and Sarah grill you about your boyfriend, John B and Pope are still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that you've managed to tie JJ down.

underneath the gloves - 7k. words

blurb: after you lose a match, things seem to spiral out of control. it seems to come to a head after a confrontation with Kelce, leaving you to confess to JJ why you sometimes are the way you are.

fascinating new thing

jj maybank x fem!kook!shy!reader | fics which are part of the 'fascinating new thing' universe; the sequels can be read as stand alone fics but they make better sense in the context of the main fic.

fascinating new thing - 18k. words

blurb: after your band plays a show at Kiara's parents' restaurant, you find yourself face to face with JJ Maybank. Shy and socially awkward, you fumble through, knowing that a guy like JJ would never want a thing to do with you, right?

angel * - 3k. words

blurb: JJ knows there's something hidden beneath all the layers of quiet and meek; he just has to coax it out of you.

'shut up' - 3k. words

blurb: it's been a month since the moment on the hammock. JJ calls you 'baby' like it's the most natural thing. But some things have been left unsaid? Maybe one night, at Pansy's, where things seemingly started, one of you will kick up the nerves...

first time JJ saw you drabble

pirates

jj maybank x fem!bestfriend!reader | fics which are part of the 'pirates' universe; the sequel can be read as stand alone fic but it makes better sense in the context of the main fic.

pirates - 9k. words

blurb: if you ever needed to find yourself or JJ Maybank, one would recommend you head to pirate's cove, no matter the age or day.

confessions *- 6k. words

blurb: now that you and JJ have crossed the lines from friends to lovers, you're ready to take the next step. It shouldn't be a problem, considering the womanizer JJ is, unless he's been confabulating the truth.

guilty as sin

jj maybank x fem!routledge!reader | a two part series, where part 2 only makes sense in context of part 1.

part 1 * - 14k. words

blurb: when you, John B's half sister, return to Kildare after over two years of living in Colorado, your adolescent crush that you harboured for his best friend comes screaming back. Because you and JJ can't be together in real life, what's the harm in a fantasy?

part 2 - 10k. words

blurb: you and JJ start a secret relationship under the radar of your half-brother, John B. But with your life in Colorado becoming more and more unavoidable, and stupid slip-ups as the two of you grow closer, it becomes harder to keep your affair secret.

risk

jj maybank x fem!kook!reader | fics which are part of the 'risk' universe; the sequel can be read as stand alone fic but may make better sense in the context of the main fic

risk *- 18k. words

blurb: after a hurricane, a Labrador shows up at JJ's house. After some posters go up around the country, JJ begrudgingly returns the dog to you on Figure Eight. Little did he know that his life was about to change forever.

gamble * - 22k. words

blurb: you love JJ Maybank for who he is, but as more people find out, more secrets are uncovered, things start to feel different. Why does it suddenly feel like JJ's keeping things from you? And why does he never tell you that he loves you back?

gamble alternative ending

one-shots

sugar * - 18k. words

blurb: JJ comes back into your life - older, richer and different again from before. Can the past stay the past, and the two of you be friends, or is there too much history there to let it all lie?

god's test * - 18k. words

blurb: what if the Pogues never found El Dorado? Life in survival mode at the age of twenty-two sure had lost its shine. In that tarnish, JJ wonders if your relationship has too.

rumours - 20k. words

blurb: your life has been surrounded by rumours and so has JJ Maybank's. One night, out of the blue, he strikes up conversation with you. From there, the rumours only grow, and some rumours are far worse than others.

orange juice * - 7.5k. words

blurb: in the most unlikely of settings, you and JJ reunite after five years apart in radio silence.

hurricanes - 7k. words

blurb: for so many of your memories, bad and good, it feels as if hurricanes are at the forefront. One night, during the midst of a storm, JJ comes to your house, seemingly to bring you one last memory of him

slipping * - 18k. words

blurb: you and JJ have been in a secret relationship for seven months. And it's great. It's perfect. It's just what JJ's always wanted. Except, you don't want to be a secret forever, and JJ can't risk you finding out his history with Barry

1000 followers specials - where are they now?

Since starting this blog in May of 2023, I have written so many characters and storylines. I get so many lovely anon messages telling me about their favourite universes and wondering what happens next after my fics have ended. So, I thought to celebrate 1000 followers, I’d indulge. Here’s the (current) where are they now for all of my fics…

F.W.B

fascinating new thing

guilty as sin

hurricanes

orange juice

pirates

risk

rumours

slipping

drabbles

drabbles which I have written, all jj maybank x fem!reader. some are inspired from this prompt list

happy anniversary (prompt 1) - smut

a mistake (prompt 2) - angst

plan b (prompt 3) - smut

not funny (prompt 4) - fluff

wasps (prompt 5) - angst

the fire (prompt 6) - angst/fluff

beads (prompt 7) - fluff

neutral (prompt 8) - fluff

salmon (prompt 9) - fluff

pumpkin (prompt 11) - fluff

vampire (prompt 12) - fluff

have your cake and eat it too (prompt 13) - fluff

sea and sand (prompt 14) - fluff

wake the sleeping beast (prompt 15) - fluff

dumbass (prompt 16) - fluff

dinner tomorrow? (prompt 17) - smut

pumpkin (prompt 18) - fluff

storeroom (prompt 19) - smut

john james (prompt 20) - smut

the twinkie (prompt 21) - smut

promises (prompt 21) - angst

your idiot (prompt 24) - angst

not the navy! (prompt 25) - fluff

dumbass (prompt 27) - fluff

hungover (prompt 29) - fluff

little mouse (prompt 30) - fluff

acts of service

'mama'

poorly

opposites attract

covet

happy halloween *

'what just happened?'

nothing sexier than consent... *

jj has dyslexia

post-election

coming soon: the obx christmas countdown

...

#jj maybank #jj #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank fic #outer banks #the outer banks #outer banks fic #jj maybank series #outer banks masterlist #jj maybank masterlist #obx #updates #navigation #masterlist #bookshelf #book shelf #masterpost #jj x reader #obx masterlist

695 notes · View notes

rotworld · 2 months ago

Text

6: Dinner and a Show

art by @exorbitantsqueakingnoises

you've attended more nightbound dinner parties than you can count, pouring drinks and keeping the festivities running smoothly. nothing really surprises or impresses you anymore, but this particular evening is going to be unforgettable.

->original work. briefly explicit but mostly suggestive; contains non-con, biting, blood drinking, feral behavior, power imbalance, aphrodisiacs.

When approaching the nightbound, it’s best to do so from the front. You should ensure the heels of your shoes audibly strike the floor when you are within ten paces. Clear your throat, if necessary. Their hearing is excellent, of course, but the creak of floorboards and the clink of crystal goblets and the croon of string instruments singing sweetly in the foyer may leave them unable to distinguish you from the rest of the noise. Announce your presence before you are within arm’s reach. Avoid sudden movements. Do not turn your back towards them until the interaction is over and their attention is elsewhere.

Every member of the waitstaff attending Gracewood Manor tonight has been given the same instructions but there will be mistakes. Minor mishaps, for the most part. Someone will get the scare of their life when a nightbound engrossed in conversation doesn’t hear them coming, but they’ll be alright. This is a Council event. The only hatchlings in attendance are servine wine with the rest of you and everyone is on their best behavior. The warnings are overzealous, wishful thinking more than anything. The nightbound are always dreaming of a day when there will be more of them. More hatchlings. More clutches where every member survives intact. More young who live to see the passing of a century, unscarred by war.

You’re on ballroom duty tonight. You walk slowly, pacing in front of tall arch windows with the curtains drawn to let in the silver spill of moonlight. Decorative sconces, gilded candelabras with tall, slender candles, have been lit for the benefit of the human staff. Some of the others are struggling, tripping over their feet in the flickering shadows, but you’ve been in this ballroom so many times that you know exactly where the floor dips and creaks even with your eyes closed.

“Good evening,” you say over and over again, smiling politely and inclining your head in a bow. “Would you like a drink? May I take your glass? Would you like a refill?” You pour carefully, always holding the bottle by the body and not the neck. “Yes, it’s double decanted,” you inform the indignant and curious. It comes out in a smooth gust, dark like black cherries. “No, this is actually a phalene. The taste is more balanced, I’m told. Slightly less sweet.” Finished glasses are placed on your serving platter, empty save for the thick, dark splotches accumulated at the bottom where the leftover wine has clotted into a gelatinous mass.

The nightbound are the same as always, dressed in the ostentatious formal fashions of bygone eras; ruffled bustle skirts, tophats and tricornes, frock coats and high-collared doublets. It tells you less than one might expect. Nightbound often favor clothing that was in style at the time of their turning, but not all do. Some dress as they always have; some dress as they always wished they could. Age is impossible to guess but you can tell these are elders. Hatchlings still look human. They move and talk like you do. Past a certain age, it all starts to seem like uncanny mimicry; a wool-clad wolf sauntering through a pasture of sheep. They step lightly and hardly make a sound.

You can’t avoid the Council all night. You try, keeping yourself busy and sending other servers their way when you see their glasses emptying, but eventually you’re requested by name. Slipping through the crowd, you make your way to the back of the ballroom, beneath unlit crystal chandeliers and a ceiling mural of angelic figures in a vibrant garden. You see a long wooden table and a small crowd gathered around it. Some nightbound are seated but most are standing.

The members of the Skelveross Dusk Council are all familiar faces. They smile and nod politely, trying to draw you into conversation despite your obvious reluctance. “How nice to see you again,” they’ll say, as if you haven’t been forced to attend every event this year. You don’t recognize the rest of the nightbound gathered here which means they’re outsiders representatives from other territories come to gossip and negotiate. They’re cold and cordial, sparing you little more than an acknowledging hum, but their eyes are drawn repeatedly to the symbol stitched to the breast pocket of your uniform in gold thread.

Half of a butterfly. One slender antenna. The upper wing scalloped along the edge, the lower one rounded. None of them comment on it but you know what they’re thinking. You feel their gazes burning into your back.

You ignore them. It’s the Lord Regent who wants to speak with you. You find him leaning against the table, dressed like a boyar in a dark blue tunic with intricate golden stitching, a fur-lined cloak thrown over his shoulders. He’s speaking to another nightbound—one in jeans. You can’t help but do a double-take. Not just jeans, but ripped jeans and work boots with scuffed, muddy toes. His jacket is unzipped and hanging open. He’s wearing a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. You struggle to make sense of what you’re seeing. Is that an elder? Casual dress aside, he’s standing in the rigid, straight-backed pose of a soldier before his superior, hands clasped behind his back. His hair is long and obviously dyed, stark white with blue at the ends.

“And the hatchling? Is he well?” the Lord Regent asks.

“Hard to tell,” the other nightbound says. “He’s adjusting well in some ways. Others, not so much. I’m not sure if keeping a human is helping or hurting him.”

“Mm. The early days are the most difficult.” The Lord Regent pauses to sip his bloodwine, gazing wistfully out the window. Moon-capped ripples float gently on the surface of a pond in the manor garden. “And you, Virgilio? How are you faring?”

“Just fine, sir.”

The Lord Regent raises a brow. “At ease,” he says. Virgilio relaxes, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “Now answer me honestly.”

“I hate these fucking parties. Sir.”

“You have become too isolated,” the Lord Regent chides. “It is rare that I see you at Council meetings as of late. How do I ensure your needs are met if you do not share what is on your mind?”

“I’m not a hatchling—”

Someone touches your elbow to get your attention, a disgruntled nightbound with an empty wine glass. It startles you badly enough that you stumble. Just a step or two, just a clumsy lurch to the side before you get your bearings, but that’s all it takes. The Lord Regent and Virigilio both turn at the same time and your stomach lurches in the same primordial fear you’d feel facing a wild animal in the woods at night. The Lord Regent purrs your name. Virgilio takes his chance to flee and you can’t blame him.

“Ah, what a shame. I’d hoped to introduce the two of you,” the Lord Regent says, watching the other nightbound vanish in the crowd. “Another time, perhaps.”

“Do you need something?” you ask.

You should really know better by now. The Lord Regent tilts his head slightly, regarding you with faint, amused surprise. “Soften your tone,” he says, quiet and dangerous.

“My apologies, Lord Regent. Is there something I can do for you?”

“Do not test me this evening. I do not have the patience for it.” He holds out his glass and you fill it, carefully avoiding his eyes. “I simply wanted to see you. You have been well, I hope? In good health?”

You feel the weight of his expectant gaze. You know what he’s really asking. “I’m fine,” you say quietly.

“And you would tell me if you were not?” he presses. “You would inform me immediately?”

“Yes, Lord Regent,” you lie.

He sees right through you. He smiles and shakes his head. When you stop pouring, he lifts the glass to his lips and closes his eyes, savoring the taste. “You may go,” he says. You’re not supposed to make any sudden moves but you can’t stop yourself from walking quickly away.

The Gracewood Manor is riddled with hidden places and secret chambers. There are several on the way from the ballroom to the kitchen, curtained alcoves and storage spaces tucked into the walls. Your favorite is a small lounge on the second floor. In the library, a certain bookshelf doubles as a revolving door when pressed in the right direction. Everything inside is dark wood and antique carpeting, warmer and softer than the rest of the manor. You push your way inside, exhausted, overwhelmed and needing to get off your feet. You flick on the light switch and hear an animalistic snarl.

“Occupied,” someone growls.

You nearly drop your serving platter. Virgilio is stretched out on the leather sofa, legs up, boots on, dirtying the upholstery. He sighs heavily, slamming shut the heavy book he was reading and dropping it on the floor. “Sorry,” you stammer. “I’ll just—”

“Nah, my bad,” he says. He sits up, running a hand through his hair, giving you a quick glance up and down as recognition fills his face. “Ah. Are you avoiding him, too?”

“Yeah,” you admit.

He chuckles. “Well, come in. Plenty of room for both of us.”

Hesitantly, you spin the bookshelf the rest of the way, keeping the two of you properly hidden. You set your serving platter and a line of empty drinks on the table, settling into the armchair across from Virgilio. “I’ve never seen you before,” you say.

He tilts his head at that. It’s a common gesture for nightbound, a peculiar, sharp motion like a curious bird. “Do you work a lot of these?”

“All of them, unfortunately.” Before he can ask, you tap the butterfly emblem. “I’m latent. The Council keeps a close eye on me.”

Virgilio leans forward suddenly, his eyes wide. He didn’t notice the symbol before, you realize. A storm of emotions flicker across his face in rapid succession; surprise, then disbelief, then wry amusement. “That sucks,” he says.

You look him over again, disbelieving. “How old are you?”

“Nosy, huh?”

“I’m wondering how you got away with talking to the Lord Regent like that.”

“Ah. Fair enough. You mind if I turn the lights off? You can use the lamp on the table, if you want.” He stands up and stretches, rolling his head over one shoulder and then the other until something pops. You watch him walk over to the wooden wall panel, the graceful, precise way he moves. Definitely not a hatchling. He waits until you’ve pulled the lamp cord and flick the light switch, plunging the room into thick shadow. His eyes shine like an animal’s. “I was around during the Century of Nightmares.”

At least two hundred, then. You watch him saunter back to the sofa, stretching out the way he was when you found him. “I wouldn’t have guessed.”

“I don’t want people to guess. Gum?” He fishes a packet out of his pocket, mint flavor.

You blink slowly. “You have gum?”

He shrugs, unwraps one and pops it into his mouth. His fangs flash in the low light. “I work with humans and they tell me blood breath is pretty rancid.”

You sit up and snatch one before he can put it away. It’s a risky move—sudden movement, getting close to him without warning. It implies a lot of trust. Virgilio’s gaze softens and he tosses the gum packet onto the table between you.

“So tell me about you,” he says.

You lose track of time in the lounge. Virgilio humors your curiosity and returns it with questions of his own, the time between spent complaining about the Council. He shrugs off his jacket to show you his tattoos, two full sleeves and a few designs on his neck, an eclectic collection of designs and styles. He remembers where and when he got each of them, regaling you with tales of the kindest artists and the sleaziest parlors around the world.

“That’s so cool. I wish I could go anywhere,” you say.

He pauses, looking at you in confusion, and then his eyes find the butterfly patch again. He frowns. “They don’t let you leave?”

“I have to stay in the territory.” You roll your eyes, slumping back in your chair. “I don’t know why I’m sticking around. All the latents I knew left already. They saw the writing on the wall, even before the Lord Regent ordered us to stay put. Maybe that’s why they’re so weird about it. I’m the only one left.”

“He’s just desperate. They all are. There hasn’t been an active witch in Skelveross since…” Virgilio trails off, staring at the ceiling. “What was it, a couple decades ago? I think they caught her at the border.”

“It doesn’t matter. Do you know how many latents become active? It’s barely anything. Like, less than five percent. He gets to ruin my life just because of a five percent chance—” You stop to cough, covering your mouth. There’s a tickling sensation in your throat. A slight heat, like you inhaled something spicy. You cough again and Virgilio looks alarmed. “Need some water,” you try to tell him, but the feeling’s getting worse. It’s painful now, spreading from your throat to your head and making the room spin. You hunch forward, feeling sick and feverish. “Virgilio, I need…”

“I got you,” he says, already beside you and slinging your arm over his shoulder. He helps you back through the bookshelf passage and down the hall. You mutter apologies as you sag against him, struggling to keep your head up and your eyes open. In the back of your mind, you recognize symptoms you’ve read about: the heat, the searing headache, the suddenness of it. But that can’t be it. “Latent” is just a thing they call people to control them. It’s not real. It doesn’t mean anything. Your parents weren’t witches, or your grandparents. You don’t know the first thing about magic. Maybe you’re coming down with something.

The floor changes, your feet dragging from a red rug to polished stone. Your ears fill with chatter, the whisper of long dresses across the floor. You’re in the ballroom again. You need a bathroom, or the kitchen. “Virgilio?” you say. You try to pull in the other direction. His grip tightens. He keeps you marching forward through a parting crowd, every pair of glinting eyes watching you. Lively conversation dies to a whisper. “I need to leave.” He doesn’t answer and your pulse quickens. You know everyone in the room can hear it. “It’s not what you think,” you insist. “This is just—just allergies, or something. The room was dusty. I need to sit down.”

“Don’t make this difficult,” he says.

He won’t look at you. He keeps his gaze forward, ignoring your attempts to stall, to drag your feet, to go limp in his arms. The ballroom has fallen utterly silent, no one moving, no one speaking, bloodwine abandoned. Hungry gazes follow you all the way to the table at the back. The Lord Regent, seated at the table, looks up at you both. He tilts his head expectantly. His smile is calm and confident, like he knew how the night would end. “Virgilio,” he greets. “I see the two of you have become acquainted.”

Your struggles get you nowhere. Virgilio tosses you forward, using what you know is just a fraction of his strength, and you go sprawling across the table. You’re too dizzy to get your bearings before he’s right there, leaning over you with both hands pressed against the wooden surface. “Lord Regent, I would like to make a request,” he says. His voice quivers, an overwhelmed rasp as though he’s on the verge of tears. You try to get up. You squirm and twist your body around. Virgilio shoves you back down, hard. The back of your head slams against the wood and you groan.

“Yes?” the Lord Regent says.

“This latent might have just become active. Permission to test them, sir.”

“No!” You try, and fail, to move again. Virgilio easily brushes aside your fist, catches your wrist, and twists you around onto your stomach. The table creaks and groans when he climbs on top of you, his breath coming in quick puffs. Not exhaustion. He hardly exerted himself subduing you. This is anticipation. Eagerness. “You’re different,” you insist desperately. “You’re not like them.” Virgilio hooks two fingers into the collar of your uniform and pulls, ripping it open down to the sleeve. Your eyes meet and there’s a moment where he hesitates, frozen on top of you. He studies your expression. Your wide eyes and heaving chest. The tears spilling down your cheeks. “Don’t,” you beg him. “Virgilio, please. Please don’t do this to me.”

He swallows. You watch the muscles in his throat move, how it flexes his tattoos. His thumb brushes your cheek, wiping away some of your tears.

“Hm. Permission granted,” the Lord Regent says. “But this is not the proper place for such a thing. There is paperwork that must be completed, and there is the matter of assignment—”

Virgilio doesn’t listen to him. He presses his face against the side of your neck, nuzzling into your skin to find just the right spot. He noses against it first. He licks it. Kisses it, chase at first and then open-mouthed and sucking at at your skin. When you try to push him off, he grabs your wrists and pins them on either side of your head. He inhales shakily. He drags his fangs over your pulse. You feel a nip, soft and testing. Then harder. Sharper. A tingling sensation warms your skin.

Nightbound venom, you think. It’s your last coherent thought of the evening.

Virgilio’s bite makes you orgasm. There’s no fighting it, no way to resist the shocks of pure pleasure pumping through your veins. Your toes curl and your hips buck against his thigh slotted between your legs. You throw your head back and he purrs against your neck, the motion giving him more room, a better angle to feed. He’s on the edge from the first hungry suckle, rock hard and twitching in his jeans. He doesn’t bother to stroke himself, barely needing to rub against you before you feel him shudder and stiffen. He bites down harder and you feel yourself opening to him, tearing apart, the squelch of soft tissue yielding to his teeth.

You can’t distinguish between pain and pleasure anymore. Everything feels good. Everything is perfect. Virgilio’s teeth in your neck feels better than sex, more filling than penetration. You might say his name. You might cry and babble nonsense. When his teeth rip free from your neck and you feel a warm, wet splatter, you think, distantly, that you should be worried about something. Afraid, for some reason. Your mind is too hazy to know for sure. You’re dimly aware of movement—of noise. Of growling and clawing, bodies shoving against each other, the nightbound throwing themselves forward to taste the witch blood spilled across the table and floor.

You’re hurt, but there’s no pain. You’re gushing blood. You feel it coming in rhythmic trickles, puddling warm underneath your body. Something cold and soft presses against your neck. It stings for just a moment before the sting turns to pleasant tingling numbness. If you could think straight, you’d recognize it as a mending poultice. You’d realize just how much blood you’d lost. Virgilio looms over you, his mouth red and open. You see yourself on his teeth, blood and skin and delicate insides.

“You were supposed to test them, Virgilio. Not stake a claim,” the Lord Regent says. You don’t hear him. You don’t hear anything but your own pounding heartbeat and the raggedness of your breathing.

And Virgilio, when he murmurs, “Sorry, sir,” and doesn’t sound even a little bit sorry.

#rotpeach writes #goretober #original #this one is a followup to day 3 with a familiar face!

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areagreenerygallery · 6 months ago

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Vertical Gardening: The Future of Urban Green Spaces

"Vertical Gardening: The Future of Urban Green Spaces" is a comprehensive guide exploring the innovative practice of vertical gardening. This book is an essential resource for urban dwellers and gardening enthusiasts looking to maximize their green space in a limited environment. It covers a wide range of topics, from the fundamental benefits of vertical gardening to the latest technological integrations, offering practical advice and inspiring examples.

Key Topics Covered

1. Space Efficiency

Vertical gardens are a game-changer for urban areas where space is at a premium. By utilizing vertical space on walls, fences, and other structures, city dwellers can grow a variety of plants without needing a large footprint. This section discusses how vertical gardens can transform small balconies, rooftops, and even indoor spaces into lush green areas.

2. Aesthetic Appeal

Beyond their functional benefits, vertical gardens can significantly enhance the visual appeal of urban spaces. The book delves into how these gardens can be used as living art pieces, adding beauty and a touch of nature to urban architecture and interior design. It also covers design principles and tips for creating visually stunning vertical gardens.

3. Environmental Benefits

Vertical gardens contribute to the environment by improving air quality, providing insulation, and reducing the urban heat island effect. This section explains the ecological advantages of vertical gardening, including its role in filtering pollutants and fostering biodiversity in urban settings.

4. DIY Vertical Garden Projects

For hands-on gardeners, the book offers detailed, step-by-step guides to creating your own vertical garden. From selecting materials and plants to installation and maintenance tips, these projects cater to different skill levels and budgets, making it accessible for everyone to start their own vertical garden.

5. Types of Vertical Gardens

The book explores various vertical gardening methods, including living walls, trellises, and hydroponic systems. It compares their advantages, disadvantages, and suitable applications, helping readers choose the best method for their specific needs and conditions.

6. Plant Selection

Choosing the right plants is crucial for the success of a vertical garden. This section provides recommendations on the best plants for vertical gardening, considering factors like light requirements, water needs, and growth habits. It includes lists of suitable herbs, flowers, vegetables, and ornamentals.

7. Maintenance Tips

Maintaining a vertical garden requires specific techniques to ensure healthy growth. The book offers practical advice on watering, pruning, feeding, and pest control tailored to vertical gardening. Seasonal maintenance schedules and troubleshooting tips are also provided.

8. Technological Integration

Modern vertical gardens often incorporate advanced technology to enhance their efficiency and ease of maintenance. This chapter discusses innovations such as automated watering systems, smart sensors, and LED grow lights. It highlights how technology can simplify gardening tasks and improve plant health.

9. Case Studies

Real-world examples of successful vertical gardens are presented to inspire and educate readers. These case studies cover both residential and commercial settings, showcasing a variety of designs and applications. They demonstrate the transformative power of vertical gardening in different environments.

10. Future Trends

The book concludes with a look at the future of vertical gardening and its potential impact on urban planning. It explores emerging trends and technologies that could shape the evolution of vertical gardening, emphasizing its role in creating sustainable and resilient urban landscapes.

"Vertical Gardening: The Future of Urban Green Spaces" is a must-read for anyone interested in innovative gardening practices. It offers valuable insights and practical advice, making it an indispensable guide for transforming urban spaces into green, thriving environments.

#home garden #garden #container gardening #benefits of gardening

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vidavalor · 7 months ago

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"Will you get into trouble?"

Trouble: To make an effort to do something.

Trouble: Public "disorder", especially of the illegal variety.

Trou: Slang for-- and shortened version of-- trousers. Americans will often refer to those as pants, which is what the British also call underwear. To pant: To breathe in short, quick breaths from excitement and/or exertion.

Trousers: Trousers. To rouse: To awaken or excite. Base of arouse.

Trou (in French): An orifice; a hole.

Trou: Contains Rou. Homophone: Rou/Roux. Roux: A base that acts as a thickening agent for different French sauces.

Base: Sordid, "sinful", lewd. Thickening: You get it lol.

Ble (in French): wheat. The wheat berry has the same fruit structure as an apple, which is one of the reasons why it has been theorized by some humans to be what it was that Adam and Eve ate in The Garden of Eden that led to their fall. It is, technically, a fruit that is cultivated as grain. In Hebrew, wheat is referred to as khitah, which is a pun on the word khet, which means sin.

Roub: Within the word 'trouble', is homophonic for rub. But, also...

Roub (in Czech): a scion/a graft.

Grafting: The act of inserting a scion/a graft (which is a shoot or twig) of one, living tree into another, living tree, for the mutual health benefits of both trees. By botanical definition? Once grafted, the trees are actually considered one, single tree.

Botanically-speaking (and, so, euphemistically-speaking 😉), if different kinds of trees are grafted together, though? Whichever tree is the scion/graft in any given situation of grafting- and it does vary- determines which kind of fruit ("sin") the joined trees make.

If Hell doesn't show up first and ruin the woodsy romp, that is.

#ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens 2 #crowley #aziraphale #good omens meta #good omens #ineffable husbands speak #etymology

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chernabogs · 10 months ago

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I made this post yesterday which @/hanafubukki and @/rayroseu and I kind offfff got inspired to actually write something LMAO

Labours Gained

Inc: Malleus, groundskeeper, nanny, briefly Maleficia WC: 2.2k Warnings: None, except swearing Summary: Consequences for your actions come in many forms. For some, it's a time out. For others, it's mucking around in mud all day.

Eirnan was a man who has endured many challenges in his life. Over 600 years of employment as head groundskeeper at Black Scale Palace meant he had faced wyrms, blight, drought, tenebrae boars which had torn up the root vegetables, and the odd employee who nicked a few carrots for their own personal use. He had served during Queen Maleficia’s first reign, and then the wars, and now her second reign. He knew which plots of land were most fertile for which plants, he knew of companion flowers and the medicinal benefits of the herbs, and his mind was an almanac of its own right.

Eirnan was a learned man… until it came to the matter of child-care. He never knew how to act around children, nor did he have any interest in interacting with them to begin with.

But now it’s a beautiful cloudy day in Black Scale Palace, and there is a very, very miserable boy standing before him.

He’s poorly dressed for the occasion—fine garments in the fields are a recipe for disaster—and the eight o’clock hour shows residual glossiness in those green eyes. His arms are crossed firmly over his chest and his lower lip is jutted out in a pout.

Crown Prince Malleus is a temperamental boy—everyone in Black Scale knows this. His latest explosion of emotion regarding an off-handed comment a tutor said (it was a jest! the man had cried while diving for cover behind trees to avoid furious lightning bolts) had resulted in a complete annihilation of the palace gardens. Eirnan had spent much of yesterday repairing the damage while mumbling about how ‘some things truly are genetic’ under his breath.

Then he had received a missive. A missive, which led them to this moment, in which he stands before the prince with his own arms crossed over his chest and his own equally unimpressed expression on his face. At a glance, one would think the two are related with how mirrored these looks are.

Eirnan pulls out a pocket watch and raises an eyebrow. “On time today, hm?”

“I was told not to be late,” Malleus bites back, attitude in his tone as he glares up at the groundskeeper. He doesn’t want to be here. Eirnan doesn’t want him here either. It’s Queen Maleficia who has shoved them together like two children in a time out.

Eirnan can’t help but wonder if he may have slighted her in the past and this is her round of revenge.

“Right, well, you’re on time but you’re certainly not dressed right.” His gaze skims over the boy's proper attire before raising to look at his nanny instead. The woman ducks her head and focuses intently on the book she holds, making it obvious that no aid will be given. This earns a scoff from Eirnan as he reaches up to rub the back of his neck.

What exactly can he make the prince do? Queen Maleficia made it clear that a lesson was to be learned today for his actions. Malleus was barred from using any magic, and the nanny was here to ensure that this was followed through. The prince knew no loyalty or secrets were kept by his staff—a sad reality for a seven year old to face.

“It isn’t like I just have clothes to get dirty lying about.” Malleus retorts again while continuing to glare up at him. There is little to no remorse present—just sheer grouchiness. “I don’t usually muck in mud.”

“Well, you’re mucking in it today.” Eirnan can’t help but have his own bite in his words as he turns and treks towards the nearby gardening shed. Malleus stands rooted in his spot for a moment before following, having to run a little to keep up with the older man's long strides.

The inside of the shed contains the extra attire that the staff wear when working the fields in the on-season. Although the prince is significantly smaller than many of Eirnan’s employees, he does manage to scrounge up some pants, a top, and gloves for the boy to wear.

The shoes are a lost cause. There are no boots that can fit the boy without making him goose walk around the field.

“Put these on then, either over your clothes or not, and then meet me back outside.” He tosses the fabric into the prince’s arms, making the boy stumble back with an oof! of surprise. Malleus looks down at the clothing before his lip curls in disgust. Eirnan does his best to stifle the satisfaction he feels about that as he steps out of the shed and slams the door shut.

It’s a beautiful cloudy day in Black Scale Palace, and this is going to be a long ordeal.

_____________________________________________________________

Twenty minutes of protest later finds Eirnan and Malleus standing before a re-soiled plot of garden near the edges of the palace. The boy's act of destruction yesterday had uprooted a majority of the roses that had been planted there, but a few bushes still remained standing—albeit charred and drooping from the assault. Near their feet are bundles of rose plants that Eirnan had been soaking in the greenhouse overnight in preparation for what was to come today.

The nanny had followed them to this area and is watching with interest from her position on a nearby bench. Malleus looks significantly less intrigued. His gloves are lying discarded on the grass along with his shovel and there’s a distinct air of boredom about him.

“So, what we’re going to do is use our shovels to dig up some holes, ‘bout 18 inches deep, 18 inches wide, yes? Then I need you to mix compost in there—”

“Compost?” Malleus’ head snaps to look up at Eirnan wide-eyed. “But I read that compost has—”

“Shit. Yes, there’s shit in there. Do you still want to fight about putting on those gloves?” Eirnan leans against his own shovel as he looks down at the young boy. Malleus’ brow furrows and his lower lip trembles before he’s grabbing the gloves and shoving them on his hands. He looks ready to cry or throw another tantrum. Eirnan tenses in case that does happen, the memories of the tutor running through the gardens yesterday still fresh in his mind. If Malleus’ does snap, that means he’ll be out here tomorrow, too.

Tough lesson.

“Anyway, mix the compost, and then we need to loosen the roots and put them in the mound. Keep the bud union—that’s the little knob there.” He pauses to squat down and point at the bud on the root. Malleus leans down to look at it as well before Eirnan continues. “About 1 to 2 inches below the ground. Briar Valley has a colder climate, so if we keep it up, it’ll kill the plant.”

“If a plant can’t survive the weather, should we really be planting it?” Malleus’ question is fair. Most of the time, one wouldn’t try to grow plants that can’t acclimate well.

“They can survive, they just need a little help. Princess Meleanor herself was an enormous admirer of roses—it’s her notes of how to plant them that we’re following right now.” Eirnan clears his throat before re-focusing on his explanation. He misses the flicker of interest in the prince’s gaze at the mention of his mother’s name. “As I said, keep it below ground. Then we refill the hole ‘bout three quarters with soil and pat it down. Water it a little, let it soak, and then water it again.”

“There are too many steps.” Malleus grabs at the shovel with an apprehensive glance at the dirt. “Can’t we use a little magic? We don’t need to use it for all of the steps, but one or two? I can just make all the holes appear—”

“No magic. Her highness’ strict orders. Unless you want Queen Maleficia to come out here and watch you herself, which I’m sure is the last thing you want, I’d advise listening to instructions.” Eirnan grabs at his own shovel before tapping it on the back of the prince’s heels, making the boy step forward. “Hop to it, then. This will take up a good part of your morning.”

___________________________________________________________

The first few plantings are painful. The boy doesn’t dig deep enough, and then he digs too deep, and then he buries the plant too deep, and then he doesn’t bother burying it at all. The process reminds Eirnan why he never had any children himself as he carefully explains and fixes all of the prince’s errors. Despite his complaints, the boy actually does listen to his advice, and soon the two fall into a quiet pattern of dig-plant-water.

The compost part is still met with many vocalized protests, though, and Eirnan soon does relent to doing that himself.

“How long does it take to grow?”

Malleus’ question disrupts the silence they had fallen into, causing Eirnan to pause and lean on his shovel again. “Three or so years for these ones. The one’s that are still rooted are fully mature, but I’m not too sure they’ll be blooming this year. The buds got damaged.”

Malleus, who has been sitting cross legged on the dirt with a bundle of rose plants in his hand, stares at the bushes for a moment while his thumb plays with the stems. “Did my mother plant those ones?”

“Before she left, yes. She used to plant new ones at least once every few years. When she got her own palace, she had an entire garden there as well.” Eirnan digs another hole as he speaks. He had been in service long enough to see Meleanor weaned off of Queen Maleficia. The girl had sat where Malleus sits now, and their near identical likeness strikes Eirnan as unnerving, as though he’s been projected into the past and is witnessing those spring days once more.

He clears his throat. “They’ll recover. Roses are hardy plants. Strike ‘em down, and they’ll get back twice as strong.”

“Are you sure?” Malleus looks up at the groundskeeper, his green eyes squinting against the light. Eirnan doesn’t look back as he keeps digging.

“Mhm.”

At the affirmation, the prince returns to planting, now with significantly less attitude than before. He’s almost enjoying the rhythm after a while. Despite his status, in the end the boy is still a boy, and it’s hard to keep a child from loving messing around in dirt.

It’s when the nanny clears her throat and brings over a basket of food that the two finally take a break from their labours to sit in the nearby grass. Eirnan rarely gets to appreciate the fine foods served to the nobles, so he’s indulging himself heartily in the miniature sandwiches that are present when Malleus begins to speak again.

“How long have you been doing this?”

Eirnan pauses, ham sandwich halfway to his mouth. “647 this spring.”

“647 years?” The boy's voice is incredulous as he looks at him. “You’re old.”

“And you’re a baby.” Eirnan grumbles back as he wraps a few of the sandwiches in a napkin.

His comment causes another flash of annoyance to cross the prince’s face. “I’m not! Grandma says I’m very mature for my age!”

“Did she say that to you before yesterday, or after?” He challenges back. Malleus’ cheeks flush as he grabs at a sandwich and takes a bite. After a few more, the scowl on his face softens before he continues his questioning.

“Why do you do this? The manual work? It’s easier with magic.”

“Keeps my stress down.” Eirnan chuckles. The nanny gives a sound that might be mistaken as a laugh, which is quickly covered by a cough while she begins packing the extra food. He mourns the finger sandwiches being lost to the basket. “There’s always something to do for these gardens, and when you’re planting, you can let your mind just fall quiet. Watching something that you worked hard to grow get appreciated by others is a rewarding feeling. Magic takes away from that. The instant gratification fades faster than the long-term that labour brings.”

Malleus falls quiet again as he finishes his sandwich. He then fiddles with his gloves, which are still too big for his small hands. He has dirt on his cheek and his chin that he seems entirely unaware of. Eirnan offers him a napkin to wipe it off, albeit gruffly.

“It isn’t bad.” Malleus finally mumbles when he accepts the napkin and hastily wipes his face.

“What, using magic?”

“No, planting.” Then Malleus looks up quickly with another furrow in his brow. “Except the compost. The compost is bad.”

“It’s shit.” Eirnan shrugs his shoulders and ignores the sharp look the nanny gives him. Malleus’ lips do twitch slightly into a smirk.

“It’s shit.” The boy repeats, causing the nanny to say his name in a scolding tone, which finally does draw a laugh from the prince. “How many more do we need to plant?”

“Three, maybe four. Shouldn’t take long.” Eirnan rises with a grunt and brushes a few spare crumbs off of his pants. The prince is quick to scramble to his feet as well. He seems oddly reinvigorated as he pulls his gloves on and grabs his shovel. He then cranes his head back to look up at the taller man with a spark of challenge in his gaze as that cheeky smirk continues to play on his lips.

“Let’s hop to it then, shall we?”

Eirnan snorts in amusement as the two return to the dirt patch, both unaware of the figure watching from the windows of the palace above, a pleased smile present on her lips.

#malleus draconia #twst #twst fanfiction #i didnt know if it was ok to tag directly so i just did a lil slash #i always feel awk tagging ppl LMAOOO #anyway this was super fun i love writing the 'exhausted adult and devious child' dynamic #i feel like malleus was just a cheeky lil guy growing up yk

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foreverisntenough · 7 months ago

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- YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestion, smut (unprotected sex,) mentions of pregnancy, love bombing, occasionally sad, kind of angsty, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 27 - ‘You’re Mine’

“You want to come inside with me, baby? Because I’m really thinking you should.” Trent whispered greedily into your ear as your hands worked over his body. At this point you were practically grinding your body on him, his hands were all over you. Your innocent lay at a hang out with your friends in the back garden was starting to heat up. Unbeknownst to you the two girls Marcel had invited had been listening to your whole conversation start to finish, watching the interaction, since you strutted over from the pool to Trent currently kneading your ass with his big hands. The girls were over in an outdoor bar area close by and really there’s no better word to describe what they were doing other than fangirling over the pair of you. Since your ‘expose’ girls alike that followed or knew of Trent seemed to have a small obsession over you. The fact that the girls ended up in your back garden watching you first hand was just surreal to them.

“I’m actually obsessed with them, I’m shook we are here right now…” one girl quietly squealed to the other squeezing her arm trying to be nonchalant. To their benefit, in moments like this, you and Trent were in your own world. You had no concept that anyone else even existed. “He’s so fucking hot, I would do anything for him.” She continued whining and dreaming his hands were on her instead. Marcel had invited the two girls although one he knew better than the other. The lesser known clearly was a little more infatuated with Trent then he’d care for.

“I still can’t decide who I want to be in the relationship, to be fair.” The other confessed giggling as they tried to listen closer to your conversation watching Trent’s hands massage your bikini clad body while you kissed his bare chest. Hearing you talk about your lives had the girls torn between if seeing and listening to you on top of Trent was making them horny or if the whole thing was incredibly sappy and endearing, breaking their hearts wishing they had that type of love. The one Marcel knew better was leaning towards envy. When he eventually walked over to the girls to ask what they were up to they wouldn’t divert their attention away and just yessed his question, he followed their line of sight to see that they were gawking at you. He rolled his eyes unamused but not particularly surprised either. Whenever you and Trent hosted parties or hang outs you always allowed him to invite whoever he wanted, you trusted him and his friends but it wasn’t all that uncommon if he didn’t know them as well for them to be a little more than excited to be at a particular Alexander-Arnold’s home. He disregarded the ogling and wrapped his arms around the two girls before grabbing another drink for the three of them. As time passed you eventually peeled yourself off of Trent with the intention of meeting him back inside per his cheeky request. You scurried over to the bar area where they were first in hope of finding your currently missing phone.

“Marccce! I haven’t seen you all night where have you been?” You cooed, squeezing his shoulder, waking by him, eyes scanning the counters for your phone. You could’ve left it out but lately it started to make you more self conscious about what people could do with it so you began to search before your rendezvous with Trent inside.

“Been busy avoiding you.” He laughed a little, coming to give you a hug from behind while you still sought your phone out. You shook him off feigning annoyance. The two girls watched the interaction with eyes wide deducing the close relationship you two shared.

“Just rude all the time… I hope you’re at least being nicer to your guests.” You laughed back at him taking your first glance at the two younger girls standing beside him. One in a tiny bikini the other in a little cover up. Cute, you thought. “Have you seen my phone?” You asked him sliding your hand along the bar in hopes you’d miraculously graze over it.

“Nah, sorry… but by the way Y/N this is…” Marcel went on to introduce you to the two girls who were there now looking at you as if you were a celebrity. Both their faces nearly dropped, jaws slacked staring at you before their faces turned to show big gleaming smiles.

“I literally follow you on insta I’m so obsessed with you and Trent. You two are literal goals. You're both so hot… it’s insane.” One girl eagerly blurted out. Marcel looked less than impressed but he just ignored her. Your eyes widened as well surprised by the straightforward compliment. You weren’t sure you’d even call it a compliment but nevertheless. It was a little bold but fine, you were flattered. The other girl that stood slightly closer to Marcel spoke a little quieter, thanking you for having her at your home. It was clear fairly quickly that these two girls had very different personalities. One brave and outgoing, the over more timid and sheepish.

“Really… she and, most definitely, Trent are not that great. Don’t be too excited.” Marcel quipped with a laugh wrapping his arm around the more shy girl pulling her closer to him. Internally you furrowed your brow trying to deduce the situation between the three. You tried to recall his comments at dinner but were lacking so you attempted to try and read their body language for clues.

“Oh wow well that’s nice of you… all you.” You winked at Marcel. You were genuinely referring to the one girl's appreciation for your hospitality and sarcastically to Marcel all at the same time. You finally spotted your phone and grabbed it off the counter and squeezed Marcel’s arm glancing at the girls “Nice meeting you both! Hope you have a fun night! If you need anything just ask me! Marce isn’t exactly the most helpful.” You said as your voice tailed off walking away from them. You made your way through your back garden before you spotted George and beelined over to him. He started to shake his head as you came over.

“He’s inside already…” George spoke to you before you even got within arms distance. You gave him a big smile and swirled on your heel to turn around. You skipped towards the house in your little bikini excitedly. You slid open the big glass door and stepped into the warmly lit house. It was relatively quiet inside compared to the blasting music outside. You walked into the kitchen and looked around only for no Trent to be seen.

“T…” you cooed quietly as you skirted down the hallway slow peaking your head into every room. There was no response. You continued down the hall in your search. You peeked into the pantry, you looked into the laundry room, then you started to feel a little discouraged with your luck. That feeling began to disappear quickly though when you opened the door to a study, it was kind of like an office that neither of you really ever used but there leaned back on the desk was a very, very pretty Liverpudlian boy. The two of you definitely were going to put the room to use now.

“Took you long enough.” Trent cooed, coming to stand up straighter taking a step towards you with a big smile.

“Well, why did you have to go so far away!” You giggled stepping into his embrace as he spun you around, his hands dropping around your waist. Your hands coming to wrap around his neck as your nails scratched gently on his skin.

“Because, baby, I want you to be loud for me.” He whispered pulling you into a hot kiss. You felt your body shiver at his words, the warmth of his breath so close to your skin. You moaned as his hands slid down to grip your ass. He slapped it harshly as he slid his tongue in your mouth when you gasped. He picked you up from under your ass and placed you on the desk gently but forcefully. He stood between your legs spreading them apart with his looking down at you. His hands were just everywhere on you in an instant. He teased your nipples through your bikini, then suddenly your top hit the floor, your tits spilling out into the cold air. He was so nimble you couldn’t focus and he just couldn’t get enough of you. “Look so fucking beautiful like this.” He moaned as he rolled your hard nipples between two of his fingers. Swiftly he let go and grabbed your chin with his hand. “Gonna be a good girl f’me?” He cooed with a sinister smile. You just nodded, returning a similar grin. His hand slid down your front into your bikini bottoms.

“I’m so wet already, T…” you whined as you felt his fingers run through your folds. He gathered your slick before he began rubbing soft circles on your clit. Your whole body trembled in shock at how quick and rough he moved. You were desperate for him already.

“You’re horny baby aren’t you?” He asked pulling you a little closer to the edge of the desk towards himself as his fingers worked meticulously. “You’re fucking soaked, hmm? You’re so good f’me aren’t you, baby?” He whispered closer to you as his lips started to kiss on your neck leaving behind bite marks. He groaned when your hand slipped to palm his cock. You both were grinding into each other's hands. You nodded eagerly at him with a pout.

“I need you, T. Please, baby. I want your cock.” You moaned out when his fingers slipped inside you and began to work in and out of you at an inhumane pace.

“Nah, nah, nah baby. I want to hear you, pretty girl. I want to hear you make a mess all over my fingers first.” He cooed as he found a perfect rhythm. It was fast and hard. You were so close to your climax. You clawed at his back needing to feel him as you collapsed your head onto his shoulder, your mouth sucking ferociously on his neck, no doubt leaving behind a trail of evidence from your lips.

"Please let me cum, T, I need to cum" you cried with no shame, you needed to release. You couldn’t handle his teasing. The knot in your stomach was about to snap. You couldn’t maintain any composure if you wanted to.

"Cum all over my fingers" Trent said assertively coming to kiss your mouth as his fingers continued to plunge into your throbbing pussy, his thumb circling your clit. He continued at the fast pace leaving no time for you to tell him your high was about to crash over you. You moaned his name as you came before Trent’s hand slowed pulling out. His drenched hand slid up to push into your mouth. You desperately sucked around his fingers moaning. “Good girl. Tell me you’re a good girl.” He cooed watching you suck and shudder, your chest heaving.

“Fffuck.. fuck, T. Jesus.” You breathed so heavily. “I’m your good girl. I’m yours baby.” You felt hazy as Trent began to pump his cock with his other hand. He was so achingly hard for you. He squeezed his base as he dragged his leaking tip against you.He looked down at you with a devious smile. You nodded enthusiastically, “Please, baby.” You whined, begging. You bucked your hips before Trent grabbed them pulling you into him as he slid his thick cock inside you. You both let out pornographic noises feeling the other. He felt fucking perfect.

“You're so fucking perfect. You take my cock so well, baby.” He murmured as he sucked on your neck. He pulled out slowly before slamming back into you. You purred as he started to fuck into your pussy faster. He brought his hand down to massage your already sensitive clit. “Fuck baby. Needed you all night. Think you needed me to. Listen to how wet you are?” He groaned at the sound of your soaked pussy squelching as he rammed in and out.

“Uh huh, fuck T. You’re so big. Oh my god.” He lifted your leg over his shoulder, hitting a deeper spot that he knew would send you into a frenzy. Your body was jerking into his as he hit that spot over and over and over. You babbled, unable to focus on anything other than how massive he felt at this angle, hell, how massive he felt all the time. “l love you, baby.” You practically started crying as you hooked your arms around his neck.

“Watch, baby.” He pulled his body off yours some. He groaned, looking down at the sight he wanted you to see. “Watch it go in.” The view of his cock perfectly sliding in and out of you covered in slick had you practically orgasm instantaneously. He was obsessed with the way you’d arch your back in pleasure beneath him. His hand sliding around your body to hold the small of your back as he continued to fuck you. You moaned uncontrollably as hips stuttered when you clenched tighter around him. “Fuck, gonna fill you up, baby. You gonna cum for me again, beautiful?” You couldn’t answer the question too lost in the feeling before he let your leg drop, wrapping it around his waist as he laid his heavy weight onto you.

“Tell me you love me, T.” Tears started rolling down your cheeks as his hip movements slowed and a smug grin came over his face. He rocked into you softer before his fingers came and began to rub your clit in tight, fast circles again. He relished in getting you into a state like this,

“I fucking love you Y/N, I fucking love you baby.” He said punctuated by thrusts. Your arms gripped him tighter. “Hold onto me, just like that. Take my cock just like that.” You were dripping down your legs and all over him at this point. And with that realization, just like that, your walls pulsated around him creating an even stickier mess “Cum on my cock, baby. Just let go for me” he whispered almost out of breath as you tried to wrap your legs tighter around him. You nodded as you high crashed over you, fucking you deeper than before. You came and he didn’t let up, your thighs twitching with overstimulation. “Doing so good f’me. Almost there.” He cooed, gripping your waist harshly. His hands were bound to leave bruises, your nails dragged down his back.

“Fuck, fuck!” you moaned, digging your manicured nails into his skin further. “Please, T. Please, fill me up! I need it, I need your cum in me!” You whined when his hand let go of you and move to grab onto some of your hair. He pulled it and you back harshly so he had full access to your bare chest and neck. He dragged his lips from you collar bone up your throat. He pushed into you deeper one last time before painting your insides white. You cried out, letting your head rest against his shoulder as he moaned. Thick, hot ropes of cum spilled into you.

“Jesus, baby… fuck, that was so good. You feel so good.” He fumbled his words as he let out contrived breaths holding you to him. You stayed close to him, your sticky bodies stuck together as you whispered ‘I love yous’ into his ear, your hand lightly raking up his spine after his movements halted. You whimpered as he slowly pulled out. Your legs went limp, falling from his waist. You probably should have gone and showered after that but instead you cleaned yourselves up slowly and returned outside with smug smiling faces. You held his hand walking back out and you gazed up mesmerized by that million-dollar smirk plastered onto his unfairly pretty face. You think you fell in love a little more in that moment as the moon and fairy lights cast over him. He gave you a cheeky wink before diving back into a conversation with friends casually like nothing just happened inside. You could only stand there with a child like grin clung to him, internally still recovering from your earth shattering orgasms.

The night started to fade closer into morning when the last person you didn’t really know all that well finally got an Uber and left so you felt like you could relax. It was a really fun rest of the night but now things had returned to normal. George was slumped on your couch watching TV with Trent and two other boys, where they were meant to be. Tyler being his usual helpful self was with you picking up a few things outside. You made your way back inside and saw your pretty boy still shirtless sitting on the couch. You beamed seeing him look so comfortable and so goddamn handsome. Tyler hopped over the back of the couch to sit near George but you opted to be slightly more graceful and walk around the room to them. You circled the couch and stood in front of Trent blocking his view, still dressed in your tiny bikini and a sly grin. He looked up at you with amusement. He definitely wasn’t complaining about your scantily clad body in the way of whatever was on the tv, he couldn’t even remember what it was once you were there.

“Yes?” He laughed some at you reaching his hand out to try to wrap his hands around your waist. You stepped back sucking your teeth. He looked back a little surprised and a furrowed brow that you weren’t letting him touch you.

“Youuuu are coming with me.” You sang, switching your facial expression to a big grin. You grabbed his hand and pulled him up out of his seat. He stood up and allowed you to drag him across and out of the living room. Everyone else in the room whistled and ‘OOooOoooOo’ teasing and just being the usual and general pain in the asses they were making fun knowing exactly what you wanted Trent upstairs in your bedroom for. Trent shook his head with a smile feigning annoyance at his friends and brother’s razzing him.

“Night lads!” Trent said, waving his hand over his head refusing to turn around to look back at them. He wrapped his arm around your shoulder and pulled you closer to him for you to lean your head onto his shoulder.

“Wrap before you tap please!” Tyler yelled jokingly or probably seriously while the rest of the boy’s cacophony of laughter echoed in the big room. Trent leaned over to you to whisper in your ear.

“Nope.” He popped the ‘p’ hushly in your ear. You slapped your hand at his chest lightly and jokingly. “Oh I’m sorry, pretty girl, have you suddenly changed your opinion on creating what’s going to be arguably the most perfect baby ever? Or hmm… I don’t know the past two years of unprotected sex? Which one is it, baby?” He started to giggle, poking fun at you.

“Oh shut up, T!” You squealed, breaking out of his embrace and running up the stairs. You ran into your bedroom and had never gotten ready for sleep faster, makeup off, face washed, teeth brushed, hair care done, and well… you decided it would be best to wear a skimpy black Fleur du Mal lace bodysuit you’d been saving and tuck yourself immediately under the covers. Trent made his way to the bathroom after you and by the time he came out you had changed and tucked into bed to be a little surprise for him to ultimately unwrap. When he walked over to the bed he was a little suspicious seeing how smug your face was laying waiting for him. He peeled back the blankets to get in and his jaw dropped.

“Baby… baby… baby… what am I going to do with a girl like you, honestly. I don’t think I’ve ever gotten into this bed without getting rock hard. What are you doing to me?” He groaned, shaking his head. He ripped the blankets back more to get a full view of you. “Jesus Christ.” He muttered. He climbed over you and hovered before he started kissing every inch of you, every single inch. He kissed over your whole body. Slow, dedicated, but also almost harsh. He left behind little signs of him, shiny spots caused by his warm spit. “You are the most beautiful women in the world, Y/N. I don’t understand how I got so lucky.” You giggled and pulled him up for a big wet messy kiss. He rolled you over on top of him and he wiggled some to sit back against the headboard. You straddled him before he asked you to sit back some. He leaned you back holding onto your waist. “Just let me look at you.” He groaned at the view. You sank down further on him letting him feel your lace covered core over his leg. His hands were all over you, yours all over him. Your lips came crashing together but moved slow and sensually. You nibbled on his plump perfect lips. He moaned into your mouth, while you slipped your tongue in. Heavily breathing in between every kiss. You leaned away for a moment with a big smile. Trent and your eyes still closed, mouths still parted, dying for more, a string of saliva connecting you two but giggles took over you. “Let me keep kissing you, baby.” He begged not wanting to stop.

“I like kissing you, baby but I wanna look at you. Makes me excited seeing you under me.” You giggled in a lighthearted moment giddy and a little buzzed to see his beautiful face beneath you, his perfect lips flushed and swollen. The room had gotten hotter, your core was aching. Your wet pussy was grinding slow on his strong thigh at this point.

“I know, pretty girl and I can feel how excited you are on my leg right now so just let me make you feel good.” He said getting restless as his hand started to slide to reach between your covered folds. You squirmed away a little. Suddenly your body and your mind were not in sync. You wanted to fuck him. There’s no doubt about wanting to fuck him but you were paralyzed for a second feeling self consciousness wash over you about the rise of media attention on you. You shook your head ‘no’ with a guilty but silly grin. He returned a smug smile gesturing to the wet spot of your slick that was now beneath you on him.

“Stop! I can’t help it! Look at you!” You gestured at his body.

“Baby. I fucking think about you, and this…” he then gestured to your body mimicking your movement, “and this pussy probably 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.” He laughed a little.

“T! Hey! That’s mean, I’m cute and funny… and I don’t know have other attributes… other things too...” You actually weren’t offended, you loved to know that he found you that attractive but it was fun to tease.

“Baby, I know. You’re so amazing and so amazing at so many things. You just also happen to be incredibly attractive and very very good in bed so I’m sorry but I’m not not going to think about all of it if I’m the lucky lad that gets to have you in my bed for the rest of my life.” You smiled softly because even though it sounded image based, it really wasn’t. It was really adorable and just made you feel amazing to hear. You felt so special he thought you were beautiful but it plagued you thinking of the headlines that’d been popping up as of late.

“Baby…” you cooed and he hummed eager to have you. “Erm… can I ask you something?” You spoke quietier as Trent’s eyes were glued to your body. “T…” you paused picking his chin up with your hand to look at your face and not your tits. “Do you care what everyone thinks about me?” You sheepishly asked.

“What? What do you mean? I would never care.” He said, his words were fast and rushed. You didn’t feel very good about them. Your idea to be extra sexy tonight had kind of backfired on you. You now felt like nothing like that. You had gotten more self conscious somehow. You sighed and rolled off him.

“Nah, nah, nah, beautiful. Alright, what’s going on here?” I don’t like when you’re upset ever and definitely not if you’re in something like this. Did I do something?” He pulled at the strap of your lingerie with a little pout. Trent hated when your face dropped. When the light and warmth behind your eyes faltered. He preferred to be the one to make everything a little brighter in your life and he was determined to fix it when it faded.

“No, of course not. It’s never you, baby. I just mean…” you sighed. “Just like all the articles about me, my life, my intentions, I don’t know.” You whispered shyly. He pulled you close to his chest. He pressed a kiss to your forehead. He giggled and you weren’t sure why so you pulled away some to look up and see his face. Your eyes fixed on the most gorgeous smile in the world.

“Baby, no. I know you, they don’t. Hmm?” He cooed, coming to press a kiss to your lips now. “I love you. I love you and know you by your words and your actions. I love you not because of what someone types up and what someone typed up would never change that, sweet girl.” He spoke softly and he looked at you with more love than you've ever seen in your life. The ways his eyes filled with warmth had your heart faltering. You weren’t sure you knew what air even was anymore until he breathed life back into you with a kiss. You started to giggle giddy that the man whose arms you were in, whose bed you shared, whose home you had made with, whose life you wanted to spend the rest of yours with, loved you.

“Okay.” You managed to get out through your massive beaming smile. “You can go to sleep now” you continued giggling pulling him into the tightest hug you’d ever given someone. Squishing your cheek against his bare skin. You just about squished that boy to death. He grunted under your grip.

“Thank you for your permission but you’re insane if you think I’m letting you go to sleep next to me in this.” He looked down at your perfectly sat boobs pressed up against him. He pulled you in for a big kiss. A messy makeout ensued. You fell asleep a few rounds and orgasms later on Trent’s chest dreaming that maybe this time or sometime soon it would result in having a baby. Trent watched you as your eyes gently closed, your lips in a perfect pout, the lingerie tossed on the floor. You clung to him safe and happy. He adored you just like this.

You woke up the next morning alone in bed. You pulled Trent’s pillow over to you and pouted like a little kid. His scent made you calm but you missed him. You forget he had told you he was doing an early workout today but even when you did remember you still kept your pout missing and wishing he was cuddled up with you this morning. You got your morning started and headed downstairs in a t-shirt of his. You slowly walked to the kitchen, eyes half closed. You walked past the stairs going to the basement where Trent was in the gym. You could hear the vibrations of the speakers; it made you smile imagining him working out. God, he was hot, just even thinking of him had you almost drooling. The kitchen was scattered with cups which bothered you, you knew the boys who stayed up after you had gone to bed had remade a mess you had already cleaned up last night. Moments like this made you think of university sometimes like just a bunch of friends were living together except the thought burst the feeling of nostalgia when they all left you in a mess like right now. At the end of the day this was your home, not some university apartment. Your home with beautiful furniture and now subsequently ubiquitous icky boys. You loved them but ugh… so you cleaned before you started to make a coffee and preemptively the protein shake Trent would come up and want.

“Erm… hi, I’m sorry.” You heard a meek voice round the corner into the kitchen. You practically jumped it scared you despite her being incredibly soft spoken.

“Oh shit!” You laughed as you pressed your hand over your now very fast beating heart. “Sorry, sorry hi! Morning!” You said with a cheery smile looking at one of the girls Marcel had invited over who seemingly had spent the night.

“I’m so sorry!” The quieter of the two girls giggled too. “I don’t mean to bother you but I’m so hungover do you think I could get a water?” she asked shyly. You handed her a water immediately. She seemed so introverted you almost felt bad asking but you couldn’t not get some information out of her initially with the incentive to tease Marcel.

“It’s Gracie, right?” You looked at her standing awkwardly in a shirt of his. She nodded her head with a timid smile. “Did you have a good night?” She kept her voice low and told you she did but something told you that it maybe wasn’t the whole truth. As you said her name and looked at her standing in your kitchen something pinged in your head. Her name, her face, you started to remember a lunch you had with Marcel one time where you think he had mentioned this girl. You asked if she wanted to sit with you in a little area off the kitchen and she said she would so you started to prod her with questions more intrigued by her and not so much the intent of teasing him anymore.

“So how do you know Marce?” You asked sweetly with a smile. She stirred in her seat taking a sip of water first before a familiar Liverpool accent began to accentuate words.

“I grew up with them.” She giggled. “We all went to school together for a little. We were really close and then I guess… drifted, I don’t know.” She shrugged and looked out the window.

“I get it, I feel it’s just like that when you’re close with boys growing up.” You tried to make her feel better but didn’t really know her situation and it felt like there was more to this story. You were praying it stayed connected to Marcel only and didn’t involve Trent. You didn’t think the current headache you had from last night could handle something like that right now.

“Yeah, well once I got tits things kind of shifted so I’m around a lot more now…” you were relieved when she laughed after making the comment. Marcel was really sweet deep down so you were continuing in prayer hoping he didn’t do anything mean to this girl.

“So you guys…” you paused waiting to let her fill in the blank for you.

“Oh well yeah, I mean we have. We do. I don’t know, we’re close friends but..” The thought of Lauren came ringing in your mind and you felt a little guilty but Gracie assured you her relationship with Marcel was a pretty relaxed one so it subsided. “Anyways I came last night because I wanted to see him but he also invited my friend so I figured whatever” she shrugged again. “I just wanted to be with him and if that meant she’d be in the bed too I guess that’s just how my night was going to go.” She giggled some more. For someone who had such a shy demeanor she clearly was down to mess around and you kind of loved it.

“I get it. I don’t blame you.” You held your hands up in innocence and giggled with her before reaching out to squeeze her arm to reassure her.

“It wasn’t pre planned or anything!” She tried to unnecessarily defend herself for the threesome she was explaining she had last night.

“Do you, Gracie, I’m here for it” you couldn’t not laugh. “If you do like him though you should tell him. You know… maybe so it can just be the two of you next time. He really is sweet, probably go better than you’d think” She gave you an ‘I know’ look and you both giggled before being interrupted by the sound of feet running up a staircase.

Trent came up from the gym. He looked as you would expect, absolutely jaw dropping. The sweat still rolling down his chest and abs. His shorts hung low showing a deep v. You sat facing the back garden when he snuck up behind you. He wrapped his arms around you tight pressing his sweaty body to your currently dry one.

“Ew, T!” You squealed as he pressed a fat wet kiss to your cheek. Gracie sat there and smiled at his sweet affection before you peeled a clingy, perspiring Trent off you.

“You alright?” Trent cooed looking at Gracie. You could tell he recognized her but wasn’t totally sure so he didn’t really say much else. She told him she was all good, nodding. He then leaned his head on your shoulder. “Can I get you some breakfast, pretty girl?” You smiled and shook your head ‘no.’ “Can I get you to come take a shower with me maybe then?” You giggled at his follow up as he squeezed your waist.

“Yes to the shower, no to the breakfast, baby but I did already make yours though.” You looked up at him with doe eyes. He smiled mouthing a thank you and walked to the kitchen to go get the protein shake you had made.

“Is he always like that?” Gracie watched Trent’s muscular back round the corner to go get his breakfast.

“Like what?” You giggled watching the same sight completely enamored with the boy.

“That. The whole making breakfast, offering you to go shower with him, the kisses.” She said, “I don’t know, perfect?” You smiled widely thinking of a few things she was missing from her list of what made him so great but you agreed, he was perfect.

“Yeah, T’s always like that, I guess. He just is…” you paused and smiled and watched him walk back into the room and sit next to you. “He’s just T.” You smiled at him before kissing his cheek. Gracie rolled her lips. She was starting to realize that what she had was not what she was looking for. She wanted someone to be just themselves. A version of themselves that was perfect just for her.

You woke up the next day and you couldn’t not think about Gracie and Marcel. It was playing on your mind on repeat trying to put together all the facts as Trent cuddled closer to you. He snuggled on top of you laying across your stomach. He wrapped his arms around your waist nuzzling his face onto your soft skin. Sadly for you, preseason was fast approaching. It was making you sick… as a matter of fact everything was making you feel sick this second. As Trent muffled ‘I love yous’ into your skin you started to feel queasy.

“T… can you like loosen your grip.” You said with a serious tone. He only squeezed tighter thinking you were kidding. “Trent, serious. I feel really sick.” You peeled his arms off you and sat up against the headboard. He sat up with you and looked at you with furrowed brows concerned.

“Baby…” he cooed quiet. You didn’t respond, dropping your head. He just stared at you trying to analyze what was wrong. You were normally so affectionate even if you were sick. Abruptly you sprung from the bed and ran to the bathroom. “Shit!” He yelped as he followed you hearing your body slap to the cold marble floors before you started to throw up. He came to your side, gathering your hair, holding it back, stroking your back up and down your spine slow. “You’re okay, beautiful. It’s okay, you’re okay.” He hushed you softly. You started balling crying as you sat up wiping your mouth leaning against the wall.

“T…” you whined crying. He tried to ask you what was wrong but the tears just kept falling. You couldn’t get any words out and to be fair you had no idea what was wrong.

“Okay, okay. C’mere. It’s gonna be okay.” He pulled you into him. You collapsed in his arms and his embrace as he stroked your head kissing it softly. “Love you so much, gonna be just fine.” He tried to assure you but something felt incredibly off. You laid around the house the rest of the day doing nothing curled in a ball on the couch. Despite his best efforts, not even Trent’s bribes for food, the dogs, shopping, cuddles would get you to move. When it approached day two of you being immobile he had passed a level of worry he was comfortable with. Trent was always protective of you but this had gone too far. “Sweet girl, I’m calling someone, something is not right.” He whispered, rubbing your arm. You shook your head unhappy with the suggestion.

“No, please baby I’m fine. I’m just…” you couldn’t finish the sentence because in fact you didn’t understand what was happening. It wasn't until a random advert flashed across the tv featuring a pregnant mother. All the color just about drained from your face. Trent watched it empty out of your full cheeks. He furrowed his brow with eyes fixed on you and turned to the tv to see what could’ve caused it but the advert had changed by that point. At that moment you stopped fighting and you let him call a doctor. Later that day a doctor made a house call and sat next to you on the couch. You cuddled into Trent scared of a possibility he was unaware you were even thinking of.

“I have to ask… are you currently using any method of contraception?” The words hit Trent like a freight train. You felt him wince. You started to cry.

“Hey, hey, nah, none of that. Nothing to be upset over.” Trent whispered to you before explaining your situation to the doctor. He brushed his knuckle over your cheek. Suddenly you felt like you were 15 and having sex was somehow wrong or taboo. You discussed at length with the doctor symptoms and possibilities before they asked to do some blood tests. It wasn’t something you wanted to do but you had to. They took the vials and sent them out with a nurse. The turn around would be a few hours and said they would give you a call. Trent walked the doctor out. The front door closed and you started crying all over again. Trent came back with the dogs jumping on top of you. The affection should’ve made you smile but it didn’t. They really tried their hardest to make you feel better but it wasn’t working.

“Baby…” Trent cooed, almost silent. “I thought you wanted this?” He asked you, reflecting on what the doctor had said and the possibility of being pregnant, completely terrified you’d had a change of heart. You just kept crying as you grabbed his waist holding onto him.

“I do, I do.” You sniffled out. “I’m just scared.” You said between tears. He hushed you before finding something on the tv to watch in an attempt to distract you. You nestled under the blankets and he held you tight as you waited.

“Okay, thank you. Yeah, we’ll be in touch if that happens. Thank you again.” You overheard Trent hang up the phone as he paced in the hallway outside your living room. He walked back in and your stomach dropped. He gave you the type of soft smile you knew wasn’t good. You had shut your eyes in pain trying to think of anything else but at the moment you couldn’t possibly think of anything but the baby you knew wasn’t in your stomach.

“They said it was just premenstrual symptoms, an effect you’re having coming off birth control. It’s going to be okay, baby.” His tone just about shattered your heart. You could feel his sadness and disappointment fill the room. You curled further under the blankets and tried to cover your face with them to muffle the gasps. Your eyes started to well. You cried uncontrollably. If you weren’t so lost in your emotions you’d probably have noticed that Trent had looked pretty close to tears but he would’ve never cried in front of you right now, not now, not like this. Trent jogged over to the couch and swiftly grabbed you holding you tight to him. He hushed you trying to wipe your tears at the pace at which they were falling. “I love you. I love you so much, baby. Shhhh. It’s okay. I love you.” He whispered as your body shook. You felt like you couldn’t swallow, like you couldn’t breathe, like you couldn’t still your heart as it thumped against your chest. It felt like the whole room was collapsing and yet he held you so calmly and securely.

“I’m so sorry. I’m sorry… I’m sorry.” You quivered out squeezing your eyes tighter. You felt like you disappointed him, like you had somehow messed up. Your whole body felt tired and deadened. You two hadn’t even been actively doing much of anything to have the baby yet but this felt like someone had stabbed you in the heart hearing that you weren’t pregnant. “I don’t know why I got my hopes up.” You whispered into his shirt. You felt the soft cotton of it dampen from your tears. His warm hands rubbing you stung. You couldn’t look at him. You failed him. You thought he’d hate you. It was a sudden yet slow burn that you in fact were not on your way to starting a family. For some reason all you could think of was just how perfect you had described and talked about Trent with Gracie and yet here you were being anything but that to him. He was absolutely everything and you couldn’t do this thing for him.

“We’re gonna be fine, pretty girl.” He gave you the same soft broken smile. It was so different from his normal full, toothy, childish grin it almost made you sick. Days began to blur by and you mostly kept to yourself. You didn’t feel like you could tell anyone; not your mum, Tyler, not Lauren, Marcel, your sister, Dianne. In fact, Dianne had called you a few times but you just let them all run to voicemail. You couldn’t face her. Trent tried to cover for you and said you hadn’t been feeling well but Dianne knew you both better than that. Nothing really had happened but you wanted this baby so bad. The dramatic drop from possible to nothing was so jarring.

“So tomorrow… we go again I guess, yeah?” You spoke softly looking into the mirror putting on a moisturizer watching Trent dry off with a towel.

“Yeah, yeah… we go again. It’ll be good but hard. Will miss you so much sweetheart.” Wrapping the towel around his waist. He cooed walking up behind you, his strong arms came around your frame. He squished your body tightly eliciting a giggle from you but your face fell more into a pout just thinking of him not being around for almost two weeks. “Sure you don’t want to stay with my mum?” He asked with a kiss to your temple.

“No, no, I’ll be fine. Don’t want to put her out like that.” You shyly admitted but really you just didn’t want her to catch you crying over a baby you never had and missing your boyfriend who was only gone for his preseason. Your emotions felt so misaligned and so out of control since the doctor's visit.

“Will go by quick.” He lied and nodded before kissing you again. “Got you a little something you know?” He started talking walking out of the ensuite so you followed him back into the room and then into your wardrobe. “Stay there!” His laugh echoed in the room as he gestured for you not to come any closer to him as he rustled around looking for something. “Close your eyes, baby.”

“T…” you whined not particularly in the mood to play any games.

“C’mon. For me please. Close them.” And so you did. You heard him come walk back over to you. “Gimme your hand.” And so you did then feeling his bigger soft hand hold yours and a cold metal drape over your wrist. You squinted your eyes open some. “No peeking! You little cheat.” You smiled with a pout opening your eyes fully now. You looked down and Trent was clasping a dainty diamond gold tennis bracelet onto your wrist. You mouthed a thank you before he pulled you into a tight hug. “So you don’t forget me while I’m gone.” He giggled.

“You’re dumb…” you giggled “not in a million years.” Leaning up to kiss his lips.

You laid in bed that night unable to go to sleep feeling his chest rise and fall under your cheek. You watched the light from outside dance and reflect off your new bracelet that rested over him in silence as your mind raced.

“I got you, baby.” Trent whispered into your hair.

“You’re awake?” You whispered back into the quiet room before placing light kisses all over his bare skin. He hummed in assurance. He rubbed his hands over you and you purred back. Even though you were dreading his departure tomorrow, right now you felt more comfortable than you had in days. His hands slowly ran down your back and cupped your ass.

“It’ll happen.” He muttered in a low voice. You nodded and picked your head up resting your chin on him, your hand stretched out to play with his perfectly plump lips. You pulled at his bottom one before swiping your thumb over it.

“You’re so gorgeous, pretty boy.” You cooed back with a soft smile trying to change the subject, “These are absolutely heavenly.” You said pulling once more on his lip.

“Oh yeah? Good use too.” He cheekily said before he flipped you over and was on top of you. You gasped as he disappeared beneath the covers to in fact put his perfect pout to very good use. It wouldn’t result in a baby by any means but it sure as hell would feel good. An hour and a few orgasms later you were laying back on top of him dragging your foot slowly up his toned leg. The feeling of his soft skin under you was sublime. The sound of his quiet breathes synced with yours as he started to doze off. His smell comforting you into a sleepy haze. And when your eyes fluttered open the next morning suddenly the bed was empty and he was gone leaving you with a new braclet and no baby.

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Thank you for continuing reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next part - Chapter 28 xx

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