I'm not going to lie, the soundtrack for The Fault in Our Stars is amazing and I listen to it whenever I can. This OS was inspired by the song T-Shirt by Birdy.

Warning: I didn't intend for this chapter to be kind of kinky by the end, but don't worry.


Photo #17: T-Shirt

Eadlyn looks at the next photo and sees her young mother with her arms wrapped around herself with the brightest smile on her face. Eadlyn mimics the smile for a bit before studying the image more.

Her mother is wearing a baggy navy blue t-shirt that looks to be a couple sizes too big as it hides her features and drapes over her thighs.

Eadlyn doesn't know why her mother would ever be wearing such a garment, but she knows that her mother is one of the most beloved queens Illéa's ever had because she could be casual, yet professional at the same time.

-o-

"I hate my pajamas," America says, rummaging through her dresser drawers. "It's all silk! Silk dresses, silk tops, silk bottoms, all silk!"

At every mention of an article of clothing, America threw a couple over her shoulders. She turns around and sees Maxon sitting on their bed, covered in everything silk.

"And then there's lace! And satin!"

More clothes are thrown on Maxon. America puts her hands on her hips and huffs in frustration as she looks at her empty dresser. She turns around and sees her royal husbandness covered in all her sleeping garments.

"Frankly, I have no complaints," Maxon says, gazing at all the pajamas on his lap.

America tries not to grin. "I want something comfortable to sleep in. I mean, silk pajamas on silk sheets - I would slip right out of the bed."

"Well, love," Maxon says, pushing all the clothes off his body. The silk ones fall right to the floor. "I will hug you for the whole night to guarantee that you won't fall out."

America smiles at the thought of that. Then an idea approaches her mind.

"What could be more comfortable than my arms?" Maxon asks.

"Back home in Carolina, whenever Kenna and James would visit, she would use James' old t-shirts as pajamas. They're cotton and they're comfy - I want some."

Maxon cringes at the thought of baggy t-shirts as pajamas, but to please his dear, he would get her some. He approached the tailor and requested the odd fashion choice. Just like when Maxon requested jeans for America years back, the tailor was questionable about her clothing choices, but nevertheless, the order was completed.

He approaches America with a variety of oversized-cotten t-shirts perfect for sleeping in. Her eyes open wide as she gives Maxon a quick kiss on the cheek as a thanks for the deed. She quickly strips what she was wearing and puts on the t-shirt on top of the pile. She flattens out the dark navy top which is from one of Illéa's universities.

All the shirts vary from concerts, tourist souvenirs, media, etc. All of them bring a bright smile to America's face.

"I love this," America says. "I love them all."

America hugs herself in her soft t-shirt, making her red locks swing around with her shoulders. Maxon grins, especially since his dear is happy. He quickly makes his way to his dresser and snaps a picture of America in her baggy pajama tops.

"Maxon, you'll learn to love it," America says. "Sure, it hides my features, but not all of them."

America spins around in her baggy top and it flies around her. Maxon realizes that since the baggy top is almost like a dress since it stops mid-thigh, fans out, and she doesn't need to wear pants or shorts underneath (nor did she bother to). His eyes open wide.

"I could learn to love it," Maxon comments.


I'm not going to lie (again), but baggy t-shirts are my pajamas. Although I wear booty shorts underneath.

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