#Flowers in Liverpool

[zenasflower]

Flowers in Liverpool

In February, NWTC launched a new floral-themed restaurant concept called The Florist. Located in what was the old Goldbrick House, this venue features a grand central staircase and plenty of flower decoration.

Madeleine Pires has completed eight out of the nine gable end murals for the Flower Streets project in Kirkdale. These beautiful artworks adorn the houses on Crocus Street, Pansy Street, Daisy Street, Woodbine Street and Harebell Street.

Proteas

Proteas, also known as sugar bush flowers or rose spoon Flowers in Liverpool, are dense and dramatic collections of rose-pink to multi-coloured florets which look a bit like artichokes. They are the national flower of South Africa and are even featured on their passports and 5 Rand coin!

The species Protea cynaroides (common protea) is often used as an indoor house plant in the UK. It is a member of the family Proteaceae, of which there are 80 genera with over 1,600 species. Proteaceae are a group of plants with cluster roots and solitary ovules, and they are divided into four tribes.

Exotic-looking proteas are native to sunny South Africa and belong to one of the earliest groups of flowering plants. They have long been a popular symbol of the country and, along with the springbok, have been a feature on their flag. The king protea is the national flower and gives its name to the country’s cricket team, who are nicknamed the Proteas.

Bird of Paradise

The genus Strelitzia (sometimes called bird of paradise) is one of the most spectacular tropical plants. It can be grown indoors or out as a houseplant throughout the year. Its beautiful, eye-catching flowers are an added bonus, especially when the plant is mature and producing a lot of flower spikes – up to 36 per season in the right conditions.

Bird of Paradise plants grow well as garden plants in USDA hardiness zones 10 to 12, where they can be sheltered from frost. They also thrive as container plants in greenhouses and conservatories, where they can be brought in for winter.

The large paddle shaped leaves of the plant develop natural splits along the edges as they grow, which is normal and helps them withstand wind. Repotting a bird of paradise every three to four years is also a good idea, although it is best not to give them a much larger pot than they previously had as this can lead to wilting and reduced flowering.

Anthuriums

A popular houseplant, anthuriums produce stunning tropical blooms above glossy dark green leaves. Their flower-like'spathes' are a vivid mix of red, pink and white with a central spike known as the spadix (also known as the nose or tail).

The anthurium is a tropical plant so will require a warm, humid environment. They will adapt well to average home temperatures but are sensitive to temperature fluctuation and prefer to be kept in a warm room where they can 'breathe'. Place them close to a window but be careful not to burn the foliage.

Anthuriums should be repotted every 3 years or so when the roots begin to come out of the bottom of the pot. A good time to do this is in the spring. Feed the anthurium regularly with a high-potassium organic liquid plant feed. It is also a good idea to dip the ends of the stem and aerial root cuttings in hormone rooting powder as this will help increase their proportion that successfully root.

Spring Flowers

In spring, a tapestry of floral hues unfurl across Preserved flowers gardens and parks. Pastel pink roses, white hyacinths, and burgundy ranunculus adorn bouquets, while lilac blossoms bud on trees and foxglove bloom along walkways. Meanwhile, Common hawthorn buds in robust tones adorn garden beds and community spaces, embodying the city’s resilience.

Daffodils abound in woodland areas throughout spring. They are thought to symbolize new beginnings and rebirth. Daffodils are available in a variety of shades including a soft yellow, buttercream, and bright gold.

Lilies are a classic spring flower favourite. Their elegant petals and symbolic meanings make them an enduring choice for celebratory occasions. They’re also a great addition to wedding bouquets and can be purchased in a range of colours from apricot, peach, and lemon to white and fuchsia. These flowers are usually in season from February-September. They last longer if you trim the stems diagonally and change the water every few days. You can also add flower food to your lilies for an added boost of longevity.

[szszsz108]

He threw the hair gel away🥹🧸

[ollieflopkins]

this is disgraceful lol 74% possession, over 3 xG, 24 shots, 6 shots on goal, and Lucho out of everyone has to be the one to salvage something. god bless him and what he and Harvey did for us there at the end. but where was everyone else

[richarlisonny]

hello

[sickofcaffeinesworld]

Respectfully saying this for everyone on my Tumblr. Fully aware we’re hyped about a midfield rebuild for Liverpool but if this shiny new midfield doesn’t give me the thrive y’all seem to be promising. I will be extremely insufferable because my old midfield boys have spent the entire season almost breaking their backs for them to be called the problem always and anyways. Like I am about to enter my girlboss gatekeep gaslight era and keep my old geriatric midfield to myself and like 2 other people

[bootleg-nessie]

Rating band names based on their accuracy:

(I keep updating this list so check back later)

The Beatles: 3/10. None of these people are beetles, they’re just a bunch of fruity guys from Liverpool with matching haircuts

(Edit: changed from 0/10 to 3/10 because John Lennon beat his wife)

Pink Floyd: 4/10. There is not a single person named Floyd in the band, but some of the members do arguably look kinda pink

Nirvana: 10/10. Getting high and listening to Nirvana is roughly what I imagine actual nirvana to be like

Foo Fighters: either 0/10 or 10/10. I have never seen foo in real life so either they’re pretending to fight a problem that doesn’t exist or they’re doing an absolutely fantastic job of fighting it

The Eagles: 0/10. Same as the Beatles, there is not a single eagle in this band. The name is misleading and we have all been lied to

Queen: 6/10. Partial points for Freddie Mercury

Led Zeppelin: 0/10. I don’t think any of these guys have ever even seen a zeppelin, let alone one made of lead. A lead balloon would crash faster than my hopes and dreams

The Rolling Stones: 3/10. There is not a single stone in this band. Some points added because I’m pretty sure they rolled quite a few

U2: 0/10. Despite what the name says, I am not a member of this band

Metallica: 9/10. Naming a metal band “Metallica” is like naming your dog “doggy”

Red Hot Chili Peppers: 2/10. These guys are not chili peppers. They’re not even that hot, let alone red hot

Guns N’ Roses: 0/10. How the fuck could a gun or a flower play music

Backstreet Boys: ?/10. Depends entirely on their current given location

Simon and Garfunkel: 10/10. No notes

The Doors: 1/10. Jim Morrison is kinda shaped like a door tho

Chicago: 4/10. The number of people in this band does not come even remotely close to the population of Chicago. Points added because it originated in Chicago

Earth, wind, and fire: 2/10. This is even more innacurate than Chicago. Points added because wind instruments were often used

Def Leppard: 3/10. There is not a single leopard in this band. Some of the members are probably kinda deaf by now tho

The Beach Boys: ?/10. Accuracy depends entirely on location

The Black Eyed Peas: 6/10. Not sure what the hell an ‘eyed pea’ is but the black part is pretty accurate

Imagine Dragons: ?/10. Depends entirely on whether or not they’re thinking about dragons.

Cage the Elephant: 1/10. Why would you do that. Let the elephant go

Green Day: 0/10. They’re not even green

The Police: 0/10. There is not a single cop in this band

KISS: 5/10. I’m sure they probably kissed sometimes

The Monkees: 0/10. Are you fucking kidding me

We Butter the Bread with Butter: 8/10. I can’t verify this but I have no reason to suspect that they’d lie. Butter seems like the most logical thing to butter bread with

King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard: 0/10. I got really excited about the concept of a lizard wizard only to be let down. My disappointment is immeasurable

They Might Be Giants: 5/10. I googled everyone in this band’s height, the tallest guy’s only 6’1 so I wouldn’t exactly consider him a giant. Then again, I can’t really argue because the claim was only that they MIGHT be giants

The Presidents of the United States of America: 2/10. None of these people are Joe Biden nor are any of them former presidents. This is incredibly misleading. I’m pretty sure “Lump” was written about my first girlfriend tho so I’ll give them a point or two

Gorillaz: 2/10 Not quite but we’re kinda close genetically so I’ll give them partial credit

The Killers: ?/10. I have no way of verifying if they’ve actually killed before but the fact that they’re not in prison tells me probably not

The Offspring: 10/10. These guys are definitely somebody’s offspring

Arctic Monkeys: 1/10. They are neither monkeys nor are they from the arctic

Thirty Seconds to Mars: 1/10. It takes WAY longer to get to mars than that

Beastie Boys: 8/10. They’re pretty beast on the guitar

Jimmy Eat World: 1/10. Slow the fuck down Jimmy, you’re biting off way more than you can chew

Hole: 9/10. One point deducted because I’m pretty sure they had more than one hole

Rage Against the Machine: 10/10. They did exactly that

Alice In Chains: 0/10. This is illegal. Let Alice go

The Band: 10/10. This could not possibly be more accurate

Nine Inch Nails: 1/10. I can’t find any good pictures of their feet but from what I can tell their fingernails definitely aren’t nine inches long

Bush: ?/10. Not quite sure about this one, felt uncomfortable asking

The Who: 2/10. I’m not dealing with this “Who’s On First” bullshit

Radiohead: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a radio for a head

Queens of the Stone Age: 0/10. This band should be called “five random dudes from the modern era” but FRDFTMA is a bit of a mouthful

Soundgarden: 2/10. Sound does not grow in the garden

Sonic Youth: 5/10. They’re not exactly youth anymore but the sonic part checks out

Talking heads: 8/10. There’s more to the band than just a bunch of disembodied heads but the heads do tend to talk

The Cranberries: 0/10. Decent music but I only added them so that the Beatles and Freddie Mercury weren’t the only fruits on this list

The Wiggles: 8/10. They do tend to wiggle a lot

Blue Man Group: 10/10. Yep!

Weezer: 5/10. They all look like they definitely have asthma

Limp Bizkit: 3/10. While the visual image of baked goods playing the guitar is hilarious, Fred durst is not a biscuit. Points added because he probably has erectile dysfunction

Stone Temple Pilots: 0/10. None of these people are accredited as being licensed to pilot anything, much less an entire stone temple. Stone temples don’t need pilots anyways

Wasted Youth: 8/10. I guess it really kinda depends on how you frame it but yeah, they probably wasted a lot of it

Them Crooked Vultures: 3/10. These are people and not birds but Dave Grohl’s posture is kinda bad and John Paul Jones is so old that his neck kinda looks like a vulture’s so I added some points

Audioslave: 0/10. Slavery is illegal

Traveling Wilburys: 4/10. Sure, they traveled a lot but not a single one of those lying bastards was named Wilbury

D12: 6/12. There were only 6 people in this band

NWA: 10/10. I’m a little too white to safely comment on this one but I’d say they nailed it

Jet: 1/10. A real jet would be way too loud

Goldfinger: 0/10. Not a single person in this band has a finger made out of gold

No Doubt: ?/10. I can’t really be too sure how Gwen Stefani felt but I think it’s probably a safe assumption that she had some doubts

The White Stripes: 3/10. I bet if you stripped them down naked and made them stand shoulder to shoulder and squinted really hard they’d probably look more like white stripes

Screaming trees: 3/10. They scream occasionally

Garbage: 2/10. I think they’re being a little harsh on themselves, their music isn’t THAT bad

Butthole Surfers: 5/10. Not even gonna touch this one

Megadeth: 3/10. To be fair, some of the former members are dead but only a little amount of death, not mega death

Dead Kennedys: 2/10. Last I checked Kennedy was still dead but neither he nor his clones are members of this band

Cake: 0/10. The cake is a lie

Cracker: 8/10. Most of them are

Tool: 7/10. I don’t know much about their music but they sure look like tools

Counting Crows: ?/10. Is this what emo kids do instead of counting sheep? Accuracy depends on whatever bird they happen to be counting at the moment

Dave Matthews Band: 10/10. It certainly is

Oasis: 1/10. Their music is the opposite of an oasis

Blur: 2/10. They are not that fast

Barenaked Ladies: 0/10. If I wanted to be this disappointed I’d reestablish a connection with my biological father instead

Meat Puppets: 10/10. Technically, aren’t we all?

Live: 8/10. Apparently they still do live shows but I deducted some points because I’ve only ever heard their music on Spotify

ABBA: 9/10. I’m still not giving any points to Guns N’ Roses but that’s mostly out of spite

5 Finger Death Punch: 8/10 I guess it probably depends on how hard you hit them but this seems to be the usual amount of fingers to punch somebody with

All American Rejects: 9/10. They’re all rejects from America so I don’t really see any issue with this

T. Rex: 0/10. Even if any of these people WAS a T. Rex I don’t think their arms would be long enough to play their instruments

Free: 0/10. Unless you steal their music, in which case it becomes a 10/10

The Strokes: 3/10. To my knowledge, none of them have had a stroke but I still added a few points because the name was probably accurate for other reasons

The Smashing Pumpkins ?/10. Another thing I have no way of verifying but this seems like a waste of perfectly good pumpkins

Therapy?: ?/10. The hell are they asking me for? I don’t know their medical history

Twenty One Pilots. 0/10. There’s only two of them and neither is a licensed pilot

Finger Eleven: 0/10. Leave the poor Stranger Things girl out of this

Fall Out Boy: 9/10. I conferred with an expert on this one who confirmed that they are in fact boys who had a falling out

Cream: 8/10. Considering this was the OG supergroup I’m sure a lot of people did in fact cream when their music came out

Edit: humans aren’t fucking monkeys. Stop saying we are

[lovelybrandt]

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Source: Posts Images From TaoBao.

[liverpoollomo]

Daffodils, Sefton Park. Olympus Trip 35. Fujichrome 100D (shot at 80iso.)

I try to get a few shots of the daffodils every year. I realise I have a very small window in which to do it and generally just have to take the opportunity when I can.

This year I took the opportunity whilst loaded with expired Fujichrome 100D. I think next year I shall ensure I am loaded with a colour negative roll.

[belovedmemoryblvd]

Autumn Equinox 2023 - Part 2

St John's Gardens, Liverpool, UK.

Taken with Panasonic Lumix DMC - ZS100/TZ100

[zenasflower]

Flowers in Liverpool

Joseph Massie’s mesmerizing floral creations challenge perceptions, evoke emotions, and transform spaces. His impact extends beyond his awe-inspiring designs through his commitment to nurturing the next generation of florists worldwide with revolutionary online education and coaching.

Liverpool flowers reflect the city’s diverse culture and rich history. From celebrations to condolences, flower arrangements reflect deep-rooted traditions.

Lilies

Lilies add a touch of elegance to Flowers in Liverpool, especially when combined with other classic flowers such as roses and tulips. They’re also the perfect choice for corporate offices and upscale hospitality spaces, as they create a sense of sophistication and refinement.

When Spring’s gentle warmth coaxes Liverpool out of its icy embrace, a mosaic of floral hues unfurls across the city’s landscape. From delicately scented crocuses () to the iconic Welsh heritage flower, the daffodil (), the delicate blush blooms of cherry blossoms () contribute to this ephemeral display of renewal and rebirth.

Lilies, however, add a touch of sophistication to the season with their long-lasting presence in the garden. Whether you opt for the Asiatic lilies displayed in pots in formal gardens or Martagon lilies grown as part of woodland understory planting in naturalistic gardens, these perennial beauties complement all gardening temperaments and styles. And best of all, they’re easy to grow. Unlike tulips or narcissi, which are often grown from bulbs, lilies are hardy plants that require minimal winter protection.

Tulips

Tulips are the quintessential symbol of spring. They're a big contender against roses in the battle to be the spring’s most popular flower and are the embodiment of fresh starts and new beginnings.

For a show stopping display plant bulbs in drifts at the front of a mixed border or use them to edge paths. They can also be planted in grassy areas to form a naturalised meadow. Species tulips, such as 'Spring Green' and 'Greenland', are particularly good for this. Allow 50-75 tulips per square metre to give a dense and long-lasting display.

Many tulips are perennial, relying on 'offsets' or daughter bulbs to grow and mature into flowers each year. However, to achieve a full bed coverage solely through this method will take several years. Planting a few reliably perennial varieties will speed things up. Some include 'Anna Pavord', 'Mabel' and 'Crispa' (pictured above). These were bred by a Lancashire weaver more than 165 years ago and look beautiful with red, rusty orange or apricot tulips.

Daisies

As a child, you probably made daisy chains in your garden or on the school field and this perennial is still one of the UK’s most popular flowers. Commonly referred to as ‘the gardeners’ friend,’ it is a hardy plant that thrives in many different climates and soil conditions. It is a popular addition to rock gardens, cottage gardens, and wildflower meadows and will often self-seed.

Daisy plants come in a variety of colours and each flower has its own meaning. For example, white daisies symbolise innocence and purity so they make a great choice for wedding bouquets and spring gifts. Yellow daisies can be used to convey happiness and optimism so they are great for congratulating new parents or friends who’ve just got engaged!

In contrast, pink daisies are a symbol of gentleness and love, making them perfect for romantic gifting. And lastly, blue daises are used to symbolize loyalty so they make the perfect choice for long-term relationships and family members.

Orchids

The UK’s orchids are a Perfection flowers and diverse group, with some 50 species. Some are native to the rainforest and others hail from far-flung climes. But they all share the same flower structure: a spike of flowers with 3 sepals and one lower lip (known as the labellum).

The flowers of the bee orchid have evolved to look just like bees, and even emit a chemical pheromone that tricks male bees into trying to copulate with them, increasing their chances of pollination and seed-set. The bee orchid is a rare plant that you can see on the Wirral peninsula and the dunes at Crosby.

Another rare wild orchid to look out for is the Early Purple Orchid which can be seen amongst Bluebells and in older woodland or grassland in mid-May. It has a fuchsia pink/purple colour with spotted leaves and long racemes. Orchids like indirect sunlight, but not direct sun that can scorch their leaves.

[fishlockukonline]

Flower delivery Liverpool

Flower delivery Liverpool

Fishlocks are one of Merseyside’s most popular and trusted flower shops. Having been established for over 130 years, Fishlocks pride ourselves on creating  luxury bespoke floral hand-tied bouquets and displays for all occasions. Our flowers are carefully selected and will always have the wow factor. Have a look through our website at our vast range of bouquets, Flowers, wedding, Spring Flowers and event displays as well as our gift range and corporate flower and plant packages. If you have a specific request, please do get in touch and we will do our best to accommodate it, particularly at the moment with flowers in short supply.

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We are an Interflora approved partner delivering online all over Merseyside, Wirral  and beyond. Call today to place and order a stunning  hand-tied bouquet, custom arrangement or beautiful luxury floral piece of art. We are open six days a week from 8:30 to 5 pm(3 pm on Saturday)and we deliver 7 days a week, including Sunday( Orders for Sunday must be placed by Saturday 1 p.m. latest, as on Sunday we are delivery only). Our delivery locations include most of Merseyside, Liverpool, Wirral and beyond.

florists in liverpool

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[eowynstwin]

the rain

previous - neighbors - next

You return home, and let John do to you what he's promised. cw: cunnilingus

The moment you ’re home, I’ll give you everything you want.

There’s a dangerous cast to the sky—dark, heavy, near-splitting at the seams. It’s not a night to have rejected a ride home from the station, not with those words ringing in your ears.

But when the ride was your ex, you’d rather risk getting caught in the downpour.

The pavement is hard and cold beneath your tired feet. Your whole body is sore from the long train ride home, spent stiffly across from Ben as you’d avoided his gaze, but you’d walk twice the distance home to even halve the time you’d spent with him. His sad eyes and kicked-puppy stare had been stuck to you the whole time, as if magnetized, and they weigh on you now as heavy as the suitcase you drag behind you.

This trip was a mistake. You should not have gone anywhere with Ben, professionally or otherwise. Not with how weird the energy has been between you and him, ever since you broke it off.

“Can’t you just try to be happy with me?” he’d asked you then. “I’m a good partner, aren’t I? I just want to make you happy, sweets, and it’s like you won’t even let me.”

Objectively, Ben had been the boyfriend everyone seemed to want when they talked about romance—interested and engaged, excited about a future together, sensitive and willing to talk about his feelings. He even knew where the clitoris was. There was nothing—no red flags, no warning signs—that should have scared you off.

It was just you. There was something wrong with you, because none of that made you happy—not the lunch dates, not the weekly flowers, and not even the sex. All you knew was that when he started wondering when you would introduce him to your parents, ice had run down your spine.

A bad gust of wind slaps you from behind, followed by a crack of thunder, too close for you to make it home dry. Indeed, there isn’t much time after finishing that thought before the deluge unloads, raindrops falling heavy and cold and fat as bullets.

You come to a resigned stop in the middle of the sidewalk, tilting your face up to the sky. There’s no point in rushing now—thick, late-winter clouds spread low across Liverpool, slow-moving. By all appearances intending to linger as long as possible. You’d neglected an umbrella, and your coat is nowhere near waterproof. You think of the warm interior of Ben’s car and shiver.

You want John.

You struggle to understand it. He is nothing like what you’d assign yourself for a match—there is a wide gulf of difference between you and him, too wide for you to ever expect an easy crossing. He and you should feel disjointed, incongruous, as ill-suited as a war horse might be to a hummingbird. There shouldn’t be anything you could offer each other that either would have use for.

And yet, you do. It is easy. Breathable, in a way that feels unearned enough to make you nervous.

How are you supposed to navigate something that shouldn’t be working, but is anyway? How can something feel this good with barely any effort on your part? How can you go through with this, when you’re not even sure what it means?

The rain reaches its fingers down into your collar, pools around your feet. You close your eyes and try to hear John’s voice in your head again. Soft and low over the phone, coaxing. Inviting your fears out into the open to be soothed.

You’re walking again before you realize it—one cold foot in front of the other, heavy suitcase clattering behind you, familiar with the way home even through the sheeting rain. And what feels like mere moments later, you’re walking up the steps to his front door.

The window beside it glows a soft yellow around the edges. You can’t help but stand there, frozen again as this suddenly becomes real. John, and everything he’s offered you, is on the other side of the door. All you have to do is take it. All you have to do is knock.

But John opens the door before you can even lift your hand.

“Jesus, love,” he says, the moment he looks at you.

Time slows. Warmth pours from the open portal. He looks… comfortable. Soft around the edges in blue jeans and a knitted sweater—the same one he’d worn to dinner at the pub. You hadn’t realized how much you missed him, even in the few days you’d been gone, but once your eyes land on his you don’t want to look away. The angle of his brow; the shape of his mouth beneath his old-fashioned mustache. Looking at him is like looking at your bed at the end of a long day.

“Hi, John,” you reply, smiling apologetically.

“Come on, get inside!” he exclaims, hurrying you in as thunder claps behind you.

In his flat, the lights are low. As you stand dripping on his entry, you take in an arrangement of somewhat retro furniture and sparsely decorated walls. It’s utilitarian in a way that probably isn’t meant to be; spare of anything particularly homey because the inhabitant just doesn’t have time to pay attention to it. You’ve never actually been inside before. It’s very much like John himself; tidy but old-fashioned, practical, hiding absolutely nothing.

You don’t think the candles, though, sitting on a few end tables and shelves and glowing soft gold, are his standard decor. Nor is the crystal bottle of liquor languishing in an ice bucket at the center of a small coffee table, attended by two whiskey glasses off to the side.

“When you said you were on your way I didn’t think you’d be walking,” he says, taking your luggage and setting it aside. “Why didn’t you ask me to come get you? I have a car, would’ve been happy to drive you.”

“I—” and you laugh a little nervously, magnetized to the concerned slant of his brow, “I didn’t know you had a car.”

You’re not sure you would’ve asked him for a lift even if you had known.

He draws close, so close his warmth cuts through the chill of your wet clothes, his gaze moving across you like he’s drinking you in. He cups your face lightly with one hand, thumb tracing a gentle line across your cheek. The expression on his face is almost too tender for you to bear.

“You’re here now,” he murmurs.

There’s a tremble working its way through your chest. You feel desperately seen again, recognized in a way no one ever has before. “I’m a mess, I—maybe I should go and change, come back…”

“No,” he purrs, taking your chin between thumb and forefinger. “You’re stayin’ right here.” And quite easily, John kisses you for the first time.

His mouth is warm along yours. His free hand hooks your waist, pulls you closer as he moves to cup the back of your neck. You’re so surprised you don’t react for a moment, but that doesn’t deter him; he just coaxes you into responding, sipping at your lips, teasing at the seam with the tip of his tongue.

It throws you off balance. He kisses you as if he’s known all along how to do it; as if he’s studied you, all of those mornings, noting the way your lips touch the rim of your coffee mug and the way you look up at him when he talks to you. Calculating the angles, the ways your mouths could fit together.

He shifts, angling to kiss you deeper. A wave of vertigo threatens to overtake you—your hands fly to his chest, which is broad beneath your fingers. You dig them into the cable of his sweater, a little whine escaping you, and John huffs a laugh against your mouth before greeting your tongue with his.

You have never felt as small as you do now in John Price’s hands, at the mercy of the way he holds you—like he’s planning to keep you in place until he’s finished with you.

When he finally pulls away, you have the opportunity to take a deep gasp as he chuckles again. He thumbs your bottom lip, almost playfully.

“Mm,” he murmurs. “Wanted to do that the minute you walked into the pub that night.” You don’t have time to reckon with this confession—if you can even call it that, because once he says it you realize you’ve known the whole time—before he continues. “Come on, you must be freezing. Let’s get you warmed up.”

John helps you out of your coat, unwrapping you like peeling away a chrysalis. It exposes the thin, damp fabric of your dress to the warm air—and to his gaze—and you can’t help but feel suddenly naked in front of him. He’s revealed nothing that he hasn’t seen before, but irrationally, you want to cover your chest, or cross your arms over your stomach. Shield the most vulnerable parts of you from consumption.

John takes your hands in his and pulls you to an armchair—a comfortable, plush thing with a low back. He backs you into it so that your knees buckle, and you sit, looking up at him as he stands over you.

“First order of business,” he says.

He turns away from you to lift the decanter from the bucket, and pours a finger of liquor into a glass. You try to pretend your heart isn’t thrumming, like a bird’s beating wings behind your ribcage, as he turns back and holds out the drink, long fingers dwarfing the rim.

“As promised,” he purrs, “Balvenie.”

You accept it the glass; the scotch sparkles, amber-rich and glittering gold where the low candlelight catches it.

“It looks good,” you say, looking up at him.

There’s a pleased look on his face. “Give us a taste, then.”

Heat blooms across your face, spreads down your chest. You bring the rim of the glass to your lips immediately, still held by his gaze—

Smoke blooms across your tongue, heavy and soft, pricked with notes of honey and vanilla. You roll the scotch in your mouth, close your eyes as its warmth slides along your tongue, pressing it up into your soft palate, citrus appearing in a sudden, tangy splash. You let the drink flow into your throat and feel the smoke fill your head as you swallow.

You open your eyes and look up at John. “That’s really good.”

It shouldn’t surprise you, really, but it does: John bends over you, takes your chin in his hand, and kisses you again, dipping his tongue into your mouth as if searching for leftover drops of liquor. Your head swims; warmth suffuses you, waking up the nerves along the back of your neck. The hair on your arms stands on end as the world narrows to John’s mouth on yours and nothing else, the wet heat of his tongue, the prickle of his beard against your skin. It’s slow and molasses-sweet, rich and decadent. Thunder rumbles, far away.

“Mm. It is,” he says when he pulls away. Another brief kiss—like he can’t get enough of it, like he’s been saving up every moment he hasn’t kissed you, and is spending all of his chances now. “Promise me you’ll never drink Walker again.”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, taking an unsteady breath.

The ends of his beard move against your face in a smile. “Enjoy that. I’ll be right back.”

He straightens, and steps away. The tug of his gravity is so strong that you list forward, toward him, until he leaves your orbit.

You look around his apartment again, helpless, as if to find some sort of anchor that isn’t John Price—he’s going to get you drunk on his presence alone faster than the liquor ever could. You catch sight of a bookshelf, sparsely populated with a short line of books; as you stare at them, trying to figure out what they are, you realize with a start that they’re all brand-new copies of what you’ve lent him.

Actium. Nafisi. Da Vinci. McMurtry. They’re all here. The textual foundation of your relationship aligned in a tidy, even row. Living here, in the center of his home.

You take another nervous sip of scotch.

John returns with a stack of clean towels, unfurls one, and drapes it over your head. But before you can tend to your hair yourself, he lays his big hands overtop of the terrycloth, pressing down into your scalp.

Your breath leaves you in a rush, depressurizing your lungs. Pure sensation dances up your spinal cord, suffusing the space between your ears, as he kneads with an even, firm pressure, massaging the water from your hair. Your eyes slide shut of their own accord. Your mouth drops open as he digs his fingers into the tense nerves down the back of your head.

The little sound that escapes the pit of your throat is utterly involuntary.

John huffs a chuckle. “That good, then?”

“Uh-huh,” you hear yourself mumble again. Somewhere in the back of your mind, obscured by smoke, you think you should feel embarrassed, ashamed of how naked your pleasure must be. But John gives you no time to ruminate.

He tilts your face upward and presses his lips to your forehead, down the bridge of your nose, gentle, soft, to your mouth. Your mouth, over and over again, as calloused thumbs caress your temples.

It’s a gentle way of taking control. You have no need to reach out with unsure hands, or stumble your way through half-desires with no time to think about them. John has seen into you, divined your quietest, sincerest needs, and feeds them back to you now like he’s only been waiting for your go-ahead to do so.

The bird in your ribcage flutters nervously. Is this really alright? Should you be letting it happen like this? Shouldn’t you be…participating, somehow, in this, other than to take what he gives you?

“John,” you start, but you have no idea what you want to say to him. “Shouldn’t I…shouldn’t—”

“Shh,” he says. “You should let me take care of you.”

John squeezes your hair one more time, then sets the damp towel aside. With an expression you can only describe as beatific, he smooths errant strands of hair away from your face, and then lowers to his knees in front of you. He touches your ankles; nods toward the glass of scotch encircled by your nervous hands. “Don’t stop on my account.”

You hold his gaze, and take a sip. The satisfaction on his face is almost too much to bear.

“Good girl,” he says. He lifts the heel of your shoe onto his thigh, smoothing his hand up and down your shin. “You’re doing such a good job, letting me do this.”

He takes your shoes off as tenderly as he’d removed your jacket, tucking away the laces and setting them off to the side. With warm hands, he rolls your wet knee-high socks down your legs, exposing your chilled calves to his palms. After he folds them and places them by your shoes, his mouth and the warm scratch of his beard meet the top of one foot…move up your instep, and to the inside of your ankle, then to your shin…up your calf…to your knee—

“Is this—” you begin, and have to swallow the trembles in your voice, “what you talked about on the phone?”

“Mm-hm,” he hums, kneading your other calf as he urges your legs to open for him.

Your breath is shallow in your lungs—as if any one too deep might startle John away from his quarry, convince him you’re not aching for this. John kisses inward along the inside of one thigh, keeping the other open with his kneading hand. The flesh molds like clay to his touch, extruding between the gaps of his fingers. He makes an appreciative sound, a hum, as he slides his hands further upward and under the damp hem of your dress, cresting the angles of your hips. Inexplicably, you go tight, anticipatory, like the skin of a grape exposed to a knife.

It isn’t like you haven’t been here before. Your sex life with Ben had been—while not particularly active—not nonexistent. And yet this feels new anyway; as if John is sweeping dust off a body long left unused. Your thighs are taut and sensitive as a yearling’s flank, ready to twitch at the barest whisper of breath.

But isn’t this new, after all? No one, not Ben or anyone else who’s ever touched you, has made you feel this way.

“Lift your hips, darlin’,” John rumbles, and for the first time you catch a hint of scouse in his accent—low, slung around his words and leaving off the hard edges. Like a vein of gold unearthed. “Bring ‘er closer to me.”

Heat blazes across your face. There’s a small end table beside the armchair; you take one more pull from your scotch glass and set your drink aside. Then you shift, edging your hips forward, tilting your pelvis—angling your pussy toward John’s face.

He kisses the crease of your thigh and groin. “That’s a girl,” he purrs, and then presses the bottom half of his face directly into your underwear, opening his mouth over the wet fabric and inhaling deeply. The panties are nothing fancy, simple cotton with a floral pattern, but his eyes slide shut in what you can only describe as ecstasy.

“It’s like you’re getting as much out of this as I am,” you say, trying to laugh, to make this feel like less than it is if only for the sake of your nerves.

“I am,” he says, rough around the edges, and pulls at the gusset of your underwear with his teeth. “I’ve thought about this every morning—” he runs the flat of his tongue along the outer seam, touching bare skin “—and every evening—” edging his fingertips into the leg hole at the top of your hip “—since I met you.”

“You barely knew me,” you whisper, trembling.

“I knew enough,” he says, lifting his face to meet your eyes—his pupils are blown wide, encased in a thin rind of blue. Delicately he takes the waistband of your panties between his fingers, eases it down. “Knew you were a good girl, who wouldn’t even fuss at mean old bastard for waking her up. Wanted to eat your cunt to apologize.”

Something flushed and hot radiates from your core, molten and liquid. “Every time you call me that I—I don’t know what to do, John, I feel…”

“Good,” he says. “Lift your hips again.”

You obey. You think you’d do practically anything, if he told you to in that voice, rough and commanding like far-away thunder. John peels your underwear from your hips, dragging it down over the swell of your bottom, closing your legs to pull them down and—you swallow—shoving them in his pocket when they’re off. Then, like opening the shutters of a window, he parts your legs again, and slots his face between them.

The first thing that strikes you is how hot his mouth. He eases a molten tongue into your folds and you watch his eyes slide shut, feel the soft groan he gives vibrate against your flesh. Your body heat blooms, sight going liquid around the edges—or maybe your temperature is just rising to meet John’s own, thermoregulating to avoid meltdown as he stokes a fire between your legs. Hot breath meets you as he opens his mouth, gets as much tender flesh between his lips as he can.

He’s slow. Exploratory. He tongues your pussy luxuriantly, indulgently, as he loops his arms under your legs to hook them over his broad shoulders, thick forearms dark with hair snaking overtop of your thighs. Holding you in place as he eats— savors . He maps your topography, delving and cresting the landscape like trying to discover every significant landmark, and finds a spot on your clitoris that makes your thighs seize up and your hips jerk under his mouth. He chuckles low against you, playfully flits his tongue across it at what you’d swear is the same rapid pulse of your heartbeat.

You look at him between your legs. The curls of his dark lashes are pretty against the pale hue of his skin, freckled with sun exposure. Fever pink spreads across his cheeks as his brow furrows in the middle, creasing as he laps at the beads of moisture pearling up from your entrance. You watch him, mouth hanging open to allow your shallow breaths to flow free—and he opens his eyes, sharp blue, meeting your gaze.

A sound escapes you, raw, rough in the back of your throat. He smiles, drags the flat of his tongue up your folds as if to show off, and strokes along the sensitive border of your mons and lower stomach with the rough callus of his thumb.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “I’ve got you, love.” He kisses your mound and then takes your pussy, soft and slow, back into his mouth.

There’s a trembling behind your sternum. Something in you breaks open—seeps cloying and honey-gold—into your bloodstream. Your head lolls back as his tongue slips deeper into you, stoking pleasure, your old friend, your old enemy, like turning embers out of ashes. Your thighs relax over the ballast of his shoulders. They’re broad enough that even as your legs fall further open, they don’t slip off.

It’s like your body and his are dovetail joints cut long ago, yet still now slide easily into place. Your heels rest comfortably on the expanse of his back with plenty of room left over; his big hands, as they spread wide across your stomach, fit along its curves and dips like rain sliding along soft green leaves.

It soaks you to the bone, warm and deep into your marrow, filling your veins and blotting the spaces between your alveoli until John, John, John is on every breath.

You must be saying his name aloud, because John’s grip tightens around you. The flint-strike of his tongue against your clitoris, lightning-sharp, catalyzes the pleasure in your bloodstream into a tight, unfamiliar gnarl. You gasp hard, almost painfully—how long has your body been able to feel like this, somewhere beyond your reach?

Has this pleasure always lived at the end of John’s tongue, along the contours of his hands, draped over his body like a mantle?

(How can something like this be a fair exchange for books and clumsy conversation?)

Your hand flies to John’s hair as it grows—a trembling feeling that touches places inside of you that you’ve always been dimly aware of, but never have given much thought to. It loosens you at the seams, grinds the fault lines inside of you together, dislodges your inhibitions from their foundation.

“John, please,” you whimper, brows drawn together, “please, please—”

He growls against you. Grinds through your center and then sucks your folds into his mouth, grazing the hood of your clit with the edge of his teeth, teasing your entrance with the tip of his tongue—

Suddenly, it overtakes you.

Flying sparks finally catch along aching tinder. A single point of furtive, glowing heat blooms between your legs, unassuming except for that you’ve never felt it before. It only sits briefly in your folds before bursting outward, seizing every nerve ending in the immediate vicinity, blazing bright like fire spreads over paper. Then you tighten around nothing, the inside of you desperately grasping something that isn’t there, body snapping taut as you arch from the backrest, mouth hanging open as a sharp gasp dies in your throat. Sensation consumes everything. Your vision darkens; the air stills in your lungs.

The only thing spared is the heat of John’s mouth, the cords of his arms around your thighs, and the ballast of his shoulders hooked in the bend of your knees—he keeps you anchored, held together as you try to fly apart. The caress of his hands and fingers across your lower belly does not stop as his mouth continues moving over your cunt, moves until your whole body is shaking, moves as you finally gasp for air and cry out in overstimulation.

You collapse back into the chair, pushing now against John’s head even though you’re not sure you want him to stop. He resists—kissing your pussy, once, twice, three times as you come down—and then takes a wrist in one big hand and kisses your palm.

“That,” John rasps, “is a fucking climax, love.”

You swallow, throat dry and smoke-rough. Even in the aftershocks, the pleasure lingers, and you squeeze your inner muscles to hold onto it for as long as you can.

It doesn’t escape his notice. Of course it doesn’t. John’s fingers trek inward, gathering some of the wet slick between your folds and then lazily circling your clitoris.

“Look at you,” he rasps, “my poor girl needs more, doesn’t she?”

Ecstasy grips you again; you whimper as he manipulates your flesh. “John…”

“How long you been aching for it, love? Years? How long’ve you needed me, and I ain’t been there, mm?” He kisses the soft part of your lower belly. “You don’t need to worry anymore. I’m here now.”

You angle your head to look at him, running your dry tongue along your lips. What you see on his face steals the meager oxygen you’ve managed to pull in since your climax abated.

His face is flushed. Lips rosy and swollen from their work. The blue of his eyes has been eclipsed almost completely by black singularity—inescapable, unfathomable, a depth more vast than comprehension. Ready to swallow you whole.

This whole time, you’ve been afraid of John’s touch the way you are afraid of a hot bath on a cold night. There is a comfort beyond the first step into the water, languorous ecstasy waiting only for you to claim it, but the toll separating it and you—the shock of first contact, the split second of violent adjustment, makes you nearly content to remain in uncomfortable but familiar dissatisfaction.

Thunder cracks outside as you reach for him, as he reads your mind and surges forward to kiss you, hand catching the back of your neck to reel your mouth to his. You kiss each other hard and fast, over and over again, eager to end each one only so you can start the next.

Nearly content, in the end, is not content at all.

“John,” you murmur against his lips, as his hand still works your cunt, “I’m still cold.”

[libraryofloveletters]

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

Warnings: fake dating, the boys love to tease virg, past players make an appearance, takes place at robbo's wedding (I just made up random dates, forgive me if it's not accurate lmao), begging for a favour, wedding softness, some teasing, alcohol and the consumption of, a few awkward moments, julia and thiago are their biggest fans, some nsfw humour, virg doesn't know how to use an iron, some childishness at the end, all around sweetness.

Word Count: 7.9k

Author's Note: okay, I've come back to bring you all a new virg fic, since you've been living in my inbox, asking for it. hopefully you like it as much as I do.

---

"And this one's for you," Andy says, passing the light green envelope over to Virgil, catching his friend on his way out. "You've got a plus one, make sure you bring that girlfriend of yours you're always talking about."

Virgil nods, a smile on his face as he takes the invite from Andy. The panic fills his head, slowly moving down to his chest as he walks out of the training centre.

Andy's wedding was coming up in a few weeks. The boys have known about it for months, and as much as Andy insisted to Rachel that they don't need actual invites, she still sent them with her husband to be.

The defender finds himself driving home, thinking about how on earth he was going to find someone to join him at this wedding.

See, the thing was, the boys thought he was seeing something. That wasn't a total lie, as he was seeing someone but it ended as quickly as it started. He wasn't sure how to tell his friends that it was over and it spiralled, coming up with random details to tell them every time they asked about this non-existent girlfriend.

He didn't think Andy would go as far as giving him a plus one.

Virgil pulls into the driveway, opening the envelope as he reads the invite.

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

Wedding Ceremony: July 3rd, 2022 at 3pm - Evening Reception to follow.

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

The rest of the details were on the back of the card, the invite was white with green accents to match the envelope. Must be their theme, he thinks, making a mental note to see if he has anything green to match.

He gets out of the car, putting the envelope in his pocket when he sees his neighbour, y/n, pulling into her driveway. He waves to her, the woman smiles at him as she pops her trunk open, a million bags waiting to be taken into the house.

"Need some help?" He offers, crossing the lawn to her driveway.

You smile, nodding. "Sure. Thank you, Virgil."

Virgil starts taking the bags out of the trunk, carrying them over to the front door as you unlock it. "I'm surprised you're home so early." He says.

"Keeping tabs on me?"

"No," he shakes his head, cheeks red. "I meant.. I usually see you come in late."

"Closed the clinic early today, we've got a staff party tomorrow, hence.." You gestured to the bags. Virgil nods, helping her carry them into her kitchen.

The two of you were on friendly terms, Virgil often helped you out around the house if you were busy. Despite being a footballer, he tended to take care of the yard work and you stopped by to make sure were in order at his place if he was away for a match or pre season training.

"How about a cup of tea?" You offered and he smiled, "you sure? I don't want to be a bother."

"Not a bother at all, make yourself at home. It's the least I could do to thank you for your help."

"It wasn't much help, I only carried the bags to the kitchen." He chuckles, sitting on a stool by the counter.

You shrugged, "still. It would have taken me like, 12 trips to get all of them, you used your big footballer muscles and did it in one."

Virgil smiles, watching as you filled the kettle with water and took two mugs out of the cupboard across from him; one with little flowers along the rim of it and the other a red mug Liverpool logo on the front.

"Surprised you have that," he says, you drop the teabags into the mug. "What? This?" You nodded to the red mug. "It'd just be wrong not to support the local team." You two laughed, you referred to Liverpool as if it was a rec league team.

You two are there in silence, you leaned on the counter as you stood across from the footballer. The man looked around while you looked at him, counting to yourself quietly. Once Virgil hears your whispers, he looks over at you with furrowed brows.

"What are you counting?"

"Your wrinkles," you say nonchalantly, pointing to his forehead as you count each one. Virgil rolls his eyes playfully, swatting your hand away. "You okay?"

He nods. "Yeah."

"You sure? I mean, you usually can't see the wrinkles on that big forehead on yours. So unless you've aged drastically since I've last seen you, I'd say you're worried about something."

"Is that your official diagnosis, Dr. L/n?"

"Yup," you nodded, smiling at him as you crossed your arms over your chest. "100%, now tell me, what's on your mind?"

"Well," he sighs as he starts. "I was invited to a wedding today."

"And? Is it for an ex or some cousin you hate?"

"No, nothing like that. It's actually Andy, you know, Robbo?"

You nodded, shutting the stove off when the kettle begans whistling. "He finally put a ring on Rachel? Good for them, tell them congratulations for me."

Virgil smiles, "I will."

"Wait, so if it's for Andy, what's the problem? I thought you two were good friends."

Virgil makes a face, wondering if he should really tell you what's bothering him. "We are, I uh.. I need a date for a wedding."

You laughed, "that's what's worrying you? C'mon Virgil, you're a footballer. You're handsome, you're young..ish- regardless, it shouldn't be too hard for you to get a date."

He rolls his eyes at your comment, "yeah well, easier said than done. Especially since I've - never mind."

"Oh no," you turn to face him after pouring the water into the mugs. "You're not going to leave me hanging like that! What, since you've..?

"Since I've been telling the guys I have a girlfriend. That's why Andy gave me a plus one, I really thought he wouldn't do that."

Your brows furrowed, you were beyond confused now. "Okay, you've officially lost me. You're nervous to ask her to be your date? Or - oh my god! Is she a married woman, Virgil?!"

"No!" He laughed, shaking his head at your outrageous suggestion. "I'd never date a married woman, in fact, I'm not dating anyone."

You were getting the milk from the fridge when what he said finally processed. You turn to face the man, "so wait, let me see if I got this right. You've been telling them you're seeing someone but you're not actually seeing anyone?" You say, looking for some clarification. Virgil nods, avoiding your gaze.

"Why would you lie to them?"

"I really didn't mean too! It wasn't a lie in the beginning. I was seeing this girl, she was cool but we didn't want the same things so it just sort of.. ended? They kept asking and I don't know why I didn't want to tell them the truth but I wasn't sure what to say so I played along and now, well, you know where I've ended up."

You sigh, unsure what to tell him. You didn't even think there was advice to help someone who's gotten themselves into such a position.

"That's a messed up thing you're in, dude." You added the milk to his mug, handing him the one with the flowers. Virgil nods, stirring the spoon in the mug.

"Do you have sugar?"

"Mhm hm," you turned, reaching up into the cupboard to get the sugar from the middle shelf.

Virgil watched, admiring you; not only on a surface level but deeper than that. He likes spending time with you, even if it was something as simple as a chat across the lawn. You were beautiful and kind, funny and smart, your humour was witty and you were charming. You could talk yourself out of a crime if need be - you were exactly who he was looking for.

Seems his lies have sent him in your direction; imagine if he hadn't helped you take your bags in today.

You turned to him with the sugar, you could feel him staring at you but he was sitting there, elbow on the counter with his chin resting in the palm of his hand as he smiled at you.

"What?"

"Will you be my date to the wedding?" He asks and you laugh, taking the top off the sugar jar.

"You're not serious."

"I am, what are you doing in 3 weeks?"

"Probably work, but I can't be your date, virgil."

He pouts, much like a child when they're told no. "Why not?"

"How would that work?"

"It's fine, I'll handle everything y/n. You just need to pack your bags and get the time off work. Hotels, flights, everything we need there, I'll take care of."

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

"Portugal," he says, doesn't miss the slight raise of your eyebrows.

"I've always said I'd go back to Portugal, even if it's just for a short time."

"See," Virgil says, "it's like my lying led us here, this can be a good thing for both of us. I'll have a girlfriend for the weekend and you get to visit Portugal again."

You can't help but laugh at his justification. "Please," he says, "I'm begging you now. I'll own you big time." His hands clasped together under his chin as he looked at you with big, brown, puppy eyes.

"Like season passes to your box at Anfield big time?" You asked, a raised eyebrow. Virgil laughs, nodding. "Exactly like that."

"You've got a deal then." You tell him, he smiles. "Perfect, I can't thank you enough."

"Mhm hm, now drink your tea before it gets cold."

--

The week of the wedding arrives faster than expected, you had been in prep mode all week; getting your hair and nails done, trying to pack whatever you think you'd need for a wedding.

A celebrity's wedding isn't different from a normal one, is it? Is that what a footballer is? A celebrity ? Can you call it a celebrity wedding- Your thought was interrupted by a knock on the door.

It's Virgil, a big smile on his face despite it being 8am. "Why are you so happy?" You asked upon opening the door.

"Oh, good morning to you too, sunshine. Are you ready to go?" He makes a face, chuckling. He starts carrying your luggage out of the house as you make one last walk through, assuming you had everything and things were in place for the few days you'd be away.

"Yup, all set." You notice he was putting your suitcase into his car. "You're driving?"

"Yeah, I figured it'd be faster than an Uber."

"We've got," you glanced at your phone, "4 hours before our flight."

"I know, it's fine." He waves you off, shutting the trunk before opening the passenger side door for you. You lock up and walk over the lawn to his driveway, getting into the car.

It was a short drive to the airport, the music played quietly and Virgil hummed as he drove. He glances over to see you typing away on your phone. "Who are you texting so early?"

"Playing the possessive boyfriend already, Virgil?" A raised eyebrow as you looked at the man. His cheeks flush red and he shakes his head. "I'm kidding," you rested a hand on his knee. He looks down and you move your hand. "I was just replying to some work stuff, I've never left them for so long."

"It's only 3 days, they'll be fine. Plus, don't they know you're on vacation?"

"Not really," you set the phone on your lap, "I told them I had some family stuff, couldn't exactly explain that Virgil Van Dijk was asking me- no, begging me, to be his fake wedding date."

"Technically," he points a finger at you, "it's a real wedding date, you're just my fake girlfriend."

"Technicalities, Virgil."

He laughs, pulling into the parking lot. The two of you head into the airport and after checking in, the woman sends the two of you down a hallway that seemed like a dead end.

You didn't travel often but you knew this seemed.. sketchy to say the least.

"Where are we going?" You asked Virgil, the man opens the door for you and leads you right onto the tarmac. There's a plane a few feet away and you turn to look at him, dot connecting in your head. "Private?" You asked him another question.

He nods, "figured I'd spoil my girlfriend," he jokes, smiling at you as you two walked over to the plane.

You sat across from Virgil, checking your phone for the millionth time since you've left home. "You know, they won't be able to reach you when we're in the air, I'm sure they'll be fine."

"I know," you switched it off and set it down before the plane took off.

The two of you were eating breakfast, a rather large spread for being in the air and considering the flight was barely 3 hours.

"So," you set the fork down on the plate, "get me the details, who's gonna be at the wedding?"

Virgil takes a sip of his coffee, "well, Andy and Rachel obviously."

"Obviously," you chuckled.

"Thiago, Jordan, Millie, Adam and their wives, Ox and his girlfriend, us and then Trent."

"What, Trent doesn't get a plus one?"

He shrugs, "I don't know, I don't think he's seeing anyone right now. Plus he's in the states, he said he's coming but we have to see."

You nod, the two of you chat a bit more. Virgil updates you on a few matches, how they think they're going to do, what it's like being captain. You tell him how the clinic is doing, how you're liking it so far compared to when you used to work at the hospital. Just small details that might come up in a conversation with his teammates.

Once you landed, Virgil collected your luggage and you were off to the hotel. It was a short walk to the venue from the hotel, the two of you put your stuff away and decided to go for a walk, grabbing a coffee before heading back to the hotel.

The rehearsal dinner was in a few hours, giving you two more than enough time to get ready. "We need to get our story straight," he says to you when you come in from the balcony.

"What story ?"

"Our outfits," he says with total seriousness, "what are you wearing tonight?"

You shook your head with a small smile on your face, taking the two dresses out of the wardrobe to show him; a light blue dress with a halter top, the small white flowers going from the waist to the bottom hem and the other was a burnt orange that was backless.

"I figured the blue was a bit more family friendly, classy enough without being too dressy," you hold it up to yourself to show him. He nods, "yeah, good. It's pretty."

You hung it back in the wardrobe before turning to him. "What are you going to wear?"

"We need to match." He was already searching through his suitcase for the shirt to match your dress. "Do we really need to?" You sat on the edge of the bed, looking at him.

He nods, pulling out the baby blue shirt. "This is close enough, no?"

"Yeah, but why does it look like you've had it rolled up in the bottom of a box for like.. 4 years?" Your brows furrowed as you looked at the state of it. Virgil shakes the shirt, trying to rid it of the permanent wrinkles. "Do you not have an iron, Virgil?"

"I do, but uh, I forgot to iron it."

You shook your head, getting up to search for the iron you knew you saw. You find it in the drawer in the wardrobe, handing it to him. Virgil spreads the shirt on the bed, plugging the iron in before fiddling with the settings. He looks between the iron, the shirt and you, a bit clueless before attempting to iron the shirt.

He works on the sleeve, making it worse than it was before, you watch as he helplessly works at the shirt. You figured maybe you were making him nervous in some weird way so you excused yourself to the bathroom to unpack your makeup and hair stuff.

When you came back, 7 minutes later, he was still working on the same sleeve. Your lips pressed together, arms folded over your chest as you watched.

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

"You're terrible at that. Do you not know how to iron?"

He sighs, "it's been years since I've had to do it, I usually just get my stuff dry cleaned."

You smiled as you walked over, taking the iron from him and putting him out of his misery. "If I leave you to iron this, you might take the whole 3 hours to finish it. Why don't you go shower or whatever you need to do, I'll do it for you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, go. Before you ruin the shirt," you shook your head, switching the setting from wool to cotton. You wondered how he ended up on wool to begin with. "Thank you," he smiles, walking into the bathroom.

While he showers, you finish up on his shirt and hang it on a hanger in the wardrobe. You also looked for his pants, ironing the 3 pairs of dress pants he had brought as you didn't know which one he'd be wearing.

Virgil returns to the room post shower, white towel wrapped around him that sat right below his hips, and you had just shut the wardrobe after hanging up his pants. You turn to find him behind you, your eyes fixed on the man; the water dripping down his chest, down to his stomach and it stops at the towel wrapped around his waist.

"You're staring, y/n." He says, you can hear the smirk on his face before your eyes meet his face.

It's not like you've never seen him shirtless before, he used the pool in his yard quite often, not to mention the glimpse of him you catch in the media or what the Liverpool account posts.

Clearing your throat, you blink a few times before speaking. "I uh, I ironed your pants as well, I wasn't sure which ones you were gonna wear so I ironed all of them."

He smiles, "thanks."

You nod, excusing yourself to the bathroom to shower. You shut the door, back pressed to it for a moment before going about your routine. You weren't sure how long you were in there but you had showered, done your hair and you were mid way through your makeup when there was a knock on the door.

"Can I come in?" Virgil calls from the other side of the door. "I need to fix my hair." He says and you open the door for him, concealer all over your face, hair pinned up with the robe wrapped around you.

He smiles when he sees you; you look so.. well, beautiful but there was something else, a domesticity of sorts. The two of you getting ready in the same bathroom, there's some intimate in the way you were seeing each other right now. Moving in silence as you both did your own thing beside one another.

You break the silence, "how did we meet?"

"We're neighbours..?" His eyes meet yours in the mirror, confusion all over his face.

"I mean if they ask, your teammates. What did you tell them?"

"Oh," he says, wrapping the hair tie around his hair. "I told them we met through mutual friends, my friend, Kevin. His wife knows you and we were all at the same party and we hit it off from there."

You hum, finishing up on your makeup. You were searching for your lipstick, "and how long have we been together?" You find the one you were looking for.

"Almost a year. If my math is right, it should be like.. 10 months?"

The lipstick in your hand, you look at Virgil with a shocked look on your face. "You've been lying to them for almost a year? How the hell did you manage that?"

His lips pressed together then he shrugs, which makes you laugh. "Okay," you nod, "almost a year it is." You turn back to the mirror, applying your lipstick.

Virgil watches as you do it, your hands steady while you go over your lips, pressing them together to make the colour even. "What do we think?" You asked, turning to him when you notice he's watching.

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

"So cheesy," you chuckled, walking out of the bathroom to change into your dress.

The two of you head down to the venue a few minutes later, all dressed and ready to meet his teammates at the rehearsal dinner.

Before you walked in, Virgil grabbed your hand which caught you off guard. Your fingers interlocked with his and it took you a moment to realize why he did that; the two of you were a couple, of course.

It was already full in there, most of their family had already arrived and a few friends were scattered through the venue. You see a few of his teammates but Virgil leads you to the front, tapping Andy on the shoulder.

"Virg!" Andy smiles, pulling Virgil into a hug. "You made it," he steps back and sees you next to the man, his grin only widening. "You must be the famous girlfriend we hear about all the time."

"That would be me," you smiled, "I'm y/n, it's nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you too, this is Rachel, bride to be." He introduces you to his fiancee. You smiled at her, the two of you exchanging niceties.

"It's nice of you to make it, Andy was saying how he was certain Virgil wouldn't be bringing you." Rachel says, her arm interlocked with Andy's.

"Well to be fair, Virg seemed a bit nervous to ask me to come but I wouldn't miss it for the world. I don't think I've said it but congratulations."

Virgil's heart skips a beat, it wasn't out of ordinary that someone called him Virg, but you've never had. You always called him Virgil, so to hear the nickname come out of your mouth, make him rather.. soft.

"It's my fault," Andy starts, "we did tell Virg to bring you around before but he always said you were busy with work. So I think it's fair of me to think you were fake."

You laughed, "I can assure you I'm alive and real, feel free to pinch me to confirm." Andy laughed at your comment, smiling at his teammate in approval of you. Virgil returns the smile.

"Anyways, make yourselves comfortable, we're going to start the rehearsal soon." Rachel tells the two of you, leading Andy off to greet someone else.

Virgil's hand rests on your lower back, the two of you sitting towards the middle of the chairs, watching as they went through the rehearsal. It was mostly family, his teammates were only there so they could all mingle and catch up as they had been on break for a few weeks at this point.

At some point after they were done the run through, Virgil suggested drinks and you followed him to the bar, his hand once again on your lower back.

"Virg!" You hear someone call for him, the two of you turning at the same time to see who was coming his way. Both Jordan and Millie were making their way over to the two of you.

"Hey," Virgil smiles at his teammates. "Guys, this is y/n, my girlfriend. This is Jordan and James."

You smiled at the men, "it's nice to meet you both."

"We thought you weren't coming," Millie says and Jordan follows up with a, "it's nice to meet you, we thought you weren't real."

"That seems to be the general consensus tonight," you laughed.

Ox makes his way over to the bar, seeing his teammate with a woman he's never seen before. "You must be Virgil's girlfriend, I'm Ox." He introduces himself.

"I'm y/n, nice to meet you."

"I can't believe you're actually here."

You turn to Virgil, making a face at him. "Why do all your teammates think I'm not real?"

"He wouldn't show us pictures," Millie says, shrugging. "I guess that's true," you nudged Virgil, "between Virg's practices and games, and then with my work, we barely get time to see each other and when we do, we're not on our phones."

Jordan makes a face, looking between you and Virgil and you instantly know what he's thinking. "No!" You laughed, shaking your head. "That's so not what I meant."

"What is it that you do, y/n?" Ox pipes up.

"I'm a doctor, an OB actually."

"Oh wow," Ox smiles at his teammate. "She's good, you've got good taste, big man. I see why she hasn't been around."

You smile, your phone buzzing in your hand. You excuse yourself, walking away to take the phone call. You can hear the boys talking behind you, you glance over your shoulder and smile at Virgil, the man's heart skipping a beat. Despite you not being his actual girlfriend, it did feel good to get the approval from his teammates.

Virgil hadn't even realized how long he had been chatting with his teammates, he went in search of you and found you just outside, chatting with Julia, the two of you talking about their kids.

"There you are," Virgil says, walking down the steps towards you. You smile at him, "I see you've met Julia." He gives the woman a quick hug before standing beside you.

"Yeah," you smiled at her, "I'm mad at you, you know."

"What for?" His brows furrowed, looking at you. He's wondering what he could have possibly done.

"You've been hiding me from her, Julia and I are best friends now."

The blonde smiles at you, "yes we are. We've already made plans to get lunch when we get back to Liverpool. I can't believe you've never brought her around before, Virgil." She tells him, her voice similar to the one she uses when she scolded her children, and or Thiago, when they misbehave.

"Oh well, I'm sure y/n's told you about her hectic schedule. Blame her, not me. I do hope you two have fun at this lunch." He laughs, his arm over your shoulder.

The rest of the night was quiet, everyone caught up with each other with their summer plans and you met the rest of the players and their partners over the course of the night. Eventually you two decide to call it a night, heading back to the hotel.

You were by the door, taking your heels off when you saw Virgil stop in the middle of the room, in front of the bed.

"What's wrong?" You asked him, walking over. You seem to realize what he's thinking; there's only one bed.

Not like they've taken a bed out of the room while you were gone but you two had been too tired and too busy getting ready for the dinner that neither of you seemed to register that there was in fact, only one bed in the room.

It didn't occur to Virgil when booking the room that you'd need a separate bed, you weren't really a couple after all.

"I'll take the couch," you tell him, not wanting him to feel bad for his slight mess up.

He shook his head, turning to you. "No, it's fine. I'll take the couch, you take the bed."

You glance at the couch next to the window, it was spacious - that's if you were under 5 foot. There's no way he'd sleep comfortably if he did manage to fit on it.

"You know what, we're both adults. We'll sleep together." You tell him, his eyes widening at your words. "Not what I meant," you smack his arm. "We can both fit on the bed comfortably, no need for either of us to suffer on the couch."

"You're sure?" He asks and you nod, "of course, but hands to yourself mister." You pointed a finger to him, making him laugh.

Virgil raises his hands, "I swear I'll be on my best behaviour," he says, watching you walk into the bathroom to get ready for bed.

--

The sun peeks through the curtains, waking you from your sleep. You shut your eyes, trying to get a few more minutes but you can hear the shower running and then shuts off followed by the bathroom door opening. The smell of Virgil's body wash fills the room and you sit up, rubbing your eyes.

"Mornin' sunshine," he smiles at you, sitting on the edge of the bed. You yawn, stretching as you try to wake yourself up. "What time is it?"

"10:27," he looks at the clock, "how about some breakfast?"

"Yes please," you get out of bed, fixing the comforter as you walk to the bathroom. "Lots of coffee please," you smiled at him, shutting the door.

Virgil orders room service while you shower, you return to the room just as it arrives. The two of you sit on the couch, eating breakfast in comfortable silence. Virgil grabs his phone, "Andy sent over some pictures from last night," he shows you a few photos that the groom to be had sent.

"Those are cute, send them to me."

Your phone buzzes on the bed and you look over at the clock, "shit, I've got to do my hair." You set the cup down on the table and walk towards the bathroom. "Do you need the bathroom?"

"No, I'm good." he tells you, "do your thing."

You walk in and walk back out, leaning on the door frame. "What are you wearing today?"

He smiles, "don't worry, I ironed it and put it in the closet."

"Properly?" You asked, walking over to confirm.

"Yes," he shook his head, watching as you took the shirt out to confirm that he did in fact iron it properly. "Wow, good job. Big upgrade from yesterday."

"Watched a YouTube video," he says, making you laugh.

You leave Virgil in the room, off to shower and then to start on your makeup and hair as you weren't 100% sure what look you wanted to do. Virgil left you alone, letting you get ready in peace. He could hear the music playing, your humming accompanying the melody.

He thought to himself that it was something he could get used to, that his house would feel so quiet and empty without you humming.

The line between real and fake seemed to be getting blurred more and more as the time went by.

"Virg?" You called for the man, he got up from his spot on the couch. He had been ready for some time, you still had an hour before you needed to leave. "Yeah?"

"Can you zip me up?"

You stepped out of the bathroom, hair pulled over your shoulder with your dress on. He smiles, nodding as he walks over to you; the sage green dress hugged your body in the right places, it was as if the dress was made for you and only you.

Virgil's hand rests on your waist, the other holds the zipper and gives it a soft tug, pulling it up to the top. The hand holding the zipper now turns into fingers trailing down the curve of your spine, coming to rest on the other side of your hip. "There you go."

Turning around to face him, Virgil's hands remained on your hips. "Thank you," you look up. He nods, "you look.. wow."

You can't help but laugh, straightening his shirt. "You look pretty wow yourself."

Virgil lets go of you when you take a step back, walking to the vanity to put your jewelry on. It takes the two of you half an hour to gather the last minute things you needed, assuring you were ready before heading out for the ceremony.

It's a short walk to the venue, everyone was being ushered into the church to take their seats while the bridal party was lining up to walk in when you two arrived.

The weather was beautiful, the sun was out and the church was full with their families and friends; they couldn't ask for a better start to their wedding day.

The ceremony was short and sweet, Andy and Rachel exchanging vows and promises, everyone was beyond happy for them.

Most of the guests were now outside, the doors to the church open as everyone was heading out.

You stood next to Virgil by the stairs, letting him block the sun from your face as you checked your phone. You hear the footsteps before you hear the voice. "You're actually here, you're real?" The Scouse accent thick, Trent.

"I am real," you looked up, smiling at the man who looks like he's seen better days. "You must be Trent."

"Yeah, it's nice to meet you. Excuse me." He says, covering a yawn with his hand.

Before you two could speak, Andy was calling the two players over for a group photo. You stop Virgil, standing on your tiptoes to reach his collar, his hand on your hip you keep you steady as you fix it before sending him on his way; a small act of intimacy that you'd only find between a couple.

You had been checking your emails, something you knew Virgil would complain about if he caught you doing it yet again. You were so caught up that you hadn't noticed him calling your name. When you do, you look up, making a hand motion as to ask him what he wants. He waved you over, pointing to the spot in front of him. Your brows furrowed, still unsure what he wanted as the dots didn't seem to connect. Virgil realized as much, pointing towards the photographer and then back to the spot in front of him.

Only then did it click what he meant.

You head over, joining the other girlfriends and wives in the photo. Andy and Rachel were front and centre, the rest of you around them.

"Alright everyone, squeeze in a bit more please!" The photographer shouts, showing you all with his hands to move closer to each other.

Virgil moves you from beside him to in front of him, his arm over your shoulder and your hand instinctively reaches up, fingers interlocking with his.

The photographer gives everyone a moment to situate themselves, "perfect, alright everyone look here! Smile!"

A few moments later, you were all allowed to move. Andy and Rachel were off to take some more photos, there was only about 30 minutes before the reception which wasn't too far from the church.

Everyone makes their way over, waiting for the official entrance from Andy and Rachel as Mr and Mrs Robertson for the first time.

You were sat next to Virgil, Jordan and his wife, Rebecca, to the right of Virgil and Thiago and Julia to your left.

Andy and Rachel were having their first dance, the whole venue was quiet as you all watched the two of them, wrapped up in love and giggling as they whispered to each other mid dance.

You wiped the outer corner of your eye, blinking a few times in an attempt to save your makeup. Virgil turns slightly when he hears a small sniffle. He sees your watery eyes, smiling to himself and leans in to whisper to you; "are you crying?"

"Shut up," you whispered back, turning him back around with a small nudge. "Weddings make me emotional."

The evening was quiet, dinner consisted of everyone chatting, Andy and Rachel made the rounds to say hello to everyone who they didn't get a chance to talk to at the church. Eventually they reopened the bar and the dance floor, everyone started making their way around, mingling, drinking and dancing.

You were replying to a message when Virgil came over, two shot glasses in hand. He passes one to you, "to Andy and Rachel," he says, tapping his glass to you. The two of you down the shots, tequila, based on the after taste.

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

"It's a wedding, you have to dance!" He takes your phone from you, putting it into his pocket and grabbing your hand. "Virg," you groaned, the man ignores your pleas and takes you to the dance floor, spinning you around.

Before you know it, the two of you are giggling and dancing, his arms over your shoulders as he hugs you from behind, swaying to the music.

"I'm gonna get a drink," you tell him and the man lets you go while nodding before shimmying his way over to Trent, who looks like he was about to fall asleep in his chair. You laughed, leaving Virgil to bother Trent as you walked to the bar.

You had barely made it to the bar when someone shouted for you. "Y/n!" You see Thiago off to the side, "can you take a picture for us?"

"Sure," you take the phone from him, he and Julia standing together, arms wrapped around each other as they smiled, then Thiago kissed her.

Sometimes you wonder what it'd be like if you had a stable and loving relationship like theirs.

"I thought you got lost!" Virgil says, walking towards you. You shook your head, handing the phone back over to Thiago. The Spaniard then turns, passing the phone to Virgil. "Okay now you come in, let him take the picture."

"Are you sure?" You asked, Thiago was already pulling you into the photo.

He nods, you and Julia on either side of him, the 3 of you smiling as Virgil takes the photo, the camera flashing. Thiago steps out, letting you and Julia have some together, his wife telling him something about they have enough pictures of them together. You laughed, the two of you smiling for the camera.

"Do you want one together?" Thiago looks at Virgil, who then looks at you and you shrug, waving him over. Virgil hands his phone to Thiago while Julia replaces him by her husband's side.

Virgil's arm over your shoulder, your arm around his waist, the two of you smiling while Virgil pulls you into his side. "Alright Virg, give your lady a kiss." Thiago says, smiling.

Your 'boyfriend's' cheeks are red, a flush he can blame on the Portuguese heat or the liquor but you know the real reason. "Come on man, what are you waiting for?!" Thiago says, laughing at Virgil's shyness.

"Leave them alone," Julia tells her husband, rolling her eyes at his childishness.

"It's fine," you whisper to Virgil, turning to him a bit. He looks at you, whispering back, "you sure?" You stood close, the air between you two charged with a mixture of tension and anticipation.

"Mhm hm," your hand rests on his chest while he leans down, you tip toe a bit, meeting him half way when he kisses you.

But as your hand found its way to Virgil's cheek and your lips met against each other's, something shifted. What was meant to be a quick moment blossomed into something real, something raw. When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, a shared realization dawned upon them.

The kiss may have been staged, but the feelings it stirred within were undeniably genuine.

As you glanced at each other, a silent understanding passed between you and Virgil. This fake relationship may have begun as a charade, but perhaps, just perhaps, it held the promise of something more.

Thiago grinned, "perfect. The picture of love," he says, handing the phone back to Virgil. You smiled, your own cheeks now flushed and red. You reached over, your thumb brushed over his lips to wipe away the lipstick left behind. Virgil's arm wraps around your shoulder, the two of you chatting as you join Thiago and Julia for a round of shots.

The night wrapped up just after midnight, everyone waiting at the front to wish Andy and Rachel well, seeing them off as they left before everyone else headed to wherever home was after that.

Virgil's jacket over your shoulders while you walked back to the hotel. Despite the humidity earlier in the day, there was now a slight chill in the air.

"Did you have a good time?" He asks, opening the door for you. "I did," you walk in, waiting for the elevator to your room. "Thank you for bringing me."

"Thank you for coming, you really saved my ass."

It hits you in the moment that this was in fact, fake. You were doing him a favour, you weren't a couple, you never will be. Just a good friend helping him out in a tough situation.

When you returned to the room, Virgil announced that he's gonna go take a shower while you got ready for bed. The two of you moved in silence, you sat at the vanity taking your makeup off while the sound of the water running filled the room. You had to remind yourself that this wasn't real yet again.

All the feelings felt over the weekend were just for show. Certainly Virgil didn't feel the same way you did.

The steam filled the bathroom, Virgil lets the water run as he stands there. The kiss was real, the moments you shared were real, his feelings for you were real.

How the hell was he used to bring it up without it being awkward?

The shower shut off just as you were about to get into bed. Your phone bus is on the nightstand, and you reach over to grab it. There's a notification from Instagram.

juliavigas tagged you in a post. - 2mins ago.

You opened it, checking to see what she posted. There's a few photos from the wedding. Some of her and Thiago, the venue, one of you and her, as well as the one with you, her and Thiago. She also included the one in front of the church, Virgil's arm wrapped around you as you all smiled.

Virgil finds his way to the bed, sitting next to you. "What's so interesting?"

"Julia posted some pictures," you show your phone, letting him scroll through the pictures. "I guess everyone will think we're together now." He looks at the one in front of the church before handing the phone back to you.

"Wasn't that the whole point?" You ask, setting your phone on the nightstand.

"I guess so," he shrugs, the two of you sitting there in silence, the tv playing quietly in the background. There's a million thoughts going through his head at this very moment.

As he looked over at you, in the soft glow of the bedside lamp, Virgil couldn't help but admire your beauty, the way your eyes sparkled with a warmth that mirrored a flickering flame. It was in shared moments like these that he felt a pull, a force pulling him closer, urging him to take that leap of faith. But as the silence went on, Virgil felt the weight of his hesitation, suffocating him with its embrace.

How could he confess his feelings when the fear of rejection spun around in his mind, an unwelcome shadow over his every thought?

He glances at you once more, your eyes meeting in a brief exchange, Virgil felt a sense of longing wash over him, a wave of emotion threatening to consume him whole.

Still, the words remained unspoken, trapped behind the barricade of his uncertainty.

He had to take the leap of faith, he wouldn't know if he didn't try.

"What are we?" He blurts out, breaking the silence.

You turn, looking at him with a confused expression. "What are.. what do you mean?"

"Well.. we.. we kissed, so like, are we.. what are we?"

"We're not in high school, Virg. A kiss is a kiss, no?"

His smile fades, your heart breaking the moment you see that. He nods, turning his attention back to the tv. "Yeah, no. Of course."

"I'm kidding," your hand rests over his on the bed, "if you're asking me if I like.. if I like you, then I'll only answer if you put it into a note, like high school." You raised your eyebrows, making him chuckle.

"Yeah, okay." He nods. The topic was dropped, the tension lifting slightly.

--

The next morning, you and Virgil leave bright and early, heading to the airport for your flight back to England. The plane had barely taken off and you were still not fully awake, nursing your coffee as Virgil's fingers drummed on his knee.

"Dude," you groaned, "I have a headache, it sounds like you're playing a gong right now."

He stops tapping on his leg, brows furrowed and lips twisted in a weird expression. "Can you play a gong? Is that what it is?"

"I don't know, you know what I mean." You tell him, leaning your head back, eyes shut. You barely got all but 3 minutes of silence before Virgil speaks up again. "Do you have a pen?"

You open your eyes, reaching over to dig through your purse next to you before fishing out a pen and handing it to him. You watch him as he uncaps it, scribbling something down on the napkin in front of him, sliding it over the table to you with the pen.

'Do you like me? Check yes or no.' The two little boxes labeled yes and no under his question.

You smile, shaking your head at his childishness and the fact that he took what you said seriously. You picked up the pen, checking a box and sliding it over to him.

The yes was checked, Virgil glances at you with a cheeky smile before picking up the pen, flipping over the napkin and writing something else before sliding it back to you.

'Will you be my girlfriend?' the same yes and no boxes drawn under the question.

Your answer was yes but you wouldn't give into him so quickly. You picked up the pen, chin in the palm of your head thinking as if it was the hardest question of your life. You can see Virgil shifting nervously in his seat, and it's as if you can hear him overthinking his decision to ask you.

To put him out of his misery, you check a box and slide it back over to him.

There's a sigh of relief when he sees you've checked yes. You toss the pen at him playfully, shaking your head. "You're so cheesy."

"You said to ask it in a note!" He says, folding the napkin and putting it into his pocket.

"I didn't think you'd actually do it!" You laughed, the man shook his head and unbuckled, leaving over the table. His hands cupping your face, smiling at you before he kisses you.

Your hand interlocked with his, stretched over the table when he sat back down. "How about when we get back, I take you on an actual date?"

Your thumb brushes over his hand. "Not sick of me yet?"

"Could never get sick of you, y/n."

--

taglist: @thesnailus @alwaysclassyeagle @lettersfromvenus @mehrmonga @callsignvenus @kmc1989 @valentinehrts @pulpfixion @ironmaiden1313 @candacels @muglermami @leclerces @yuoluver @themandaloriansdiaries

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 4: YOU, ME, US*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | READ CH 3 HERE | MASTERLIST | READ CH 5 HERE

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

warnings: extreme fluff, SMUT, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), language, implied anxiety genre: fluff, angst, slow(ish) burn romance wc: ~6.5k a/n: y/n did a number on this man, he's enamored! i wanted to evoke every emotion with this one. hopefully it worked bc i had to dig deep in my feels for this.

You were already awake when Camille barged in, coffee in hand with a grin plastered across her face. The scent of jasmine filled the room from some flowers Trent sent earlier; the jasmine flower was woven intricately into the stems of a garden rose bouquet, curling through the air like a gentle reminder of him. It made your heart race every time you caught a whiff, butterflies enveloping your body as you tried to think of anything other than match day. “Okay mystery girl,” Camille announced as she plopped onto your couch without hesitation. “How are we feeling about being in WAG territory?” You groaned, throwing your head back against the couch cushion, “Ughhh, you’re not helping Camille. I’m not a WAG!” You took a sip of coffee, biting your lip as the feeling of uncertainty twisted around in your stomach. “I don't know if I'm ready for all of this. It's a lot.” Camille stood up, giving you her full attention, “Real talk, if you can survive running a business then you can survive this. You're the most capable person I know.”

You smiled nervously, “It's just...different. Everything is so intense. It's happening so fast.” Camille raised a brow, her curiosity growing. “Okay..I gotta know. How did this even start? You didn't tell me you knew him already!” You exhaled, setting your coffee aside as you explained the story in full detail, Camille's eyes widened in disbelief. “Your meet-cute with TAA happened on a train?? Why the fuck was he on a train?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “It was completely random..and then it took me so long to realize it was him. He said he just wants to be like everyone else.” Camille's jaw dropped, “So, he could have a private jet and he just... chooses to be on the train? That's kind of hot.” You rolled your eyes, but the nerves still lingered below the surface. “Yeah but..I just—I don't knowww. I feel like I'm getting swept up in it because it feels like a fairytale.”

Camille sat back down, leaning in as her expression softened with her trademark sass. “Y/N, you've bumped into this man three different times in two different countries. Sometimes you just gotta ride the wave. But…” she paused, raising a finger, “keep your head on straight, yeah? From what I know, Trent's great but he's still a baller at the end of the day.. so, no tripping head over heels immediately. Just see where it goes if that’s what you really want.” You smiled, still feeling the weight of the situation clinging to you. “Ugh, but what if it's too good to be true?” Camille shrugged, giving you a no nonsense look. “Maybe, maybe not. You can still see where it goes. Worst case scenario? You have some crazy stories you can use as inspiration for a new line. Best case? Liverpool’s most gorgeous WAG.”

The nerves in your stomach were hard to shake as you settled into your seat with Camille. The weight of Trent's name on your back felt heavier than you anticipated, it felt like there was a spotlight shining down on you. You didn't want Camille to catch on to that though.

“Okay Y/N..how are we feeling now?” Camille teased as she nudged your arm. You rolled your eyes, snorting “I'm not feeling anything right now. Just trying not to have a public meltdown.” 

She gave you a side eye as she laughed, “Stop being dramatic and just enjoy the match girl.”

Camille kept cracking jokes to try and soothe your nerves as the match started, it helped, but only for a moment. You felt a rush of excitement watching Trent on the pitch, it was like he was born to be out there. You tried so hard to focus on him and the game, but every time you caught someone glancing in your direction your nerves spiked again. You leaned toward Camille, keeping your voice low “Do you think anyone’s noticed?”

Camille scanned the crowd, looking around dramatically before turning back to you with a grin. “You're wearing his shirt..in the best section. But nah, you're blending in.” She winked, amused at your discomfort. You placed your focus back on Trent, watching him on the pitch as he sprinted across. Part of you wanted to shout and cheer him on, but the other part of you was still battling the fear of being seen, especially in his shirt. As if the universe decided to dial up the pressure, Trent glanced up into the stands, locking his eyes on yours as his familiar smile spread across his face and blew you a kiss. You tried to keep your cool, but the butterflies in your stomach were having none of it. Camille noticed immediately, nudging you excitedly. “Ooo Y/N, look at him! That's all for you!! We're getting a highlight reel moment right now.” You smiled, feeling a bit more confident as Trent's eyes caught yours before he turned back to the match.

But then the talking started. It was faint at first but grew louder as people stared between you, Camille, and the name on your back. Your heart began racing and you could feel the attention shift as if everyone was putting two and two together. Camille noticed your expression change immediately and swiftly leaned in, her voice low and firm. “Hey hey. Eyes on the pitch, not on them.” You swallowed, taking a deep breath as you tried to shift your focus back to the match, but the stares were hard to ignore. Camille nudged you again, pointing down toward the pitch. “Look at him. Don't let them get to your head. He wants you to be here. Remember that.”

You took another deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. She was right. You weren't here for anyone else, just Trent. You refocused on the pitch, feeling your nerves calm slightly. Camille, who was always the best at calming your anxiety leaned in and whispered “He's been looking at you so much. Just focus on that.” And with that, you found yourself slightly more relaxed as you watched Trent's presence on the field. At the end of the day, none of the cameras or whispers mattered. The only eyes you cared about were already on you.

When the whistle blew for halftime the crowd erupted into chatter and movement. You exhaled deeply, grateful for the break while Camille stretched dramatically next to you. “Okay, I'm getting a bev. Want anything?” Camille asked, already scanning around the crowd. “Just water,” you replied, glancing around nervously as fans moved about. 

“Water?? We’re at Anfield babe. You don’t want anything stronger?” Camille smirked, nudging you playfully. You laughed, shaking your head, “No thanks. I need to stay calm, not get buzzed.” Camille rolled her eyes, “Fine, water it is. Be right back.” As she disappeared into the crowd you leaned back into your seat, trying to focus on the positive energy surrounding you. The tension in your chest started to loosen but then you heard a conversation happening behind you.

“Isn’t that the girl who owns ‘Love Notes’?” a voice asked, which provoked your curiosity immediately. You froze, daring not to turn around but listening intently. “Oh my god, yeah! It is her,” a second voice chimed in. “I follow her on Insta, her brand is blowing up. Did you see the new collection she teased?” 

Your heart skipped a beat as your body stiffened, unsure of how to feel about being noticed so quickly in public.

“Yeah she's killing it. I’ve been dying to work with her” the first voice continued, “I was actually thinking about reaching out to see if she’d be down to collab for her next launch. She seems so sweet.”

A mix of pride and panic built in your chest. They didn’t seem to notice that they were talking loud enough for you to hear them. “She definitely has the ‘it’ factor, she’s gorgeous. But you know how it goes…one bad headline and it's over.” the second voice said casually, as if they were discussing the weather and not the career you worked your ass off for. Your heart sank as you took in their words.

“Especially if she’s really with Trent. That's all anyone will care about. The press is going to eat her alive, poor girl.”

Camille’s words from a couple of days before echoed in your mind. 

Don’t give them more fuel. Just be chill. But it felt like it was already too late for that. People were talking about you regardless, you were suddenly feeling overwhelmed, a spiral of panicked thoughts repeating in your mind. 

Is that really what’s going to happen? 

Camille returned, oblivious to your inner turmoil. “Here’s your water, Boring.” she teased, handing you a bottle before plopping back down in her seat. “Anything exciting happen?” You forced a smile, trying to push away the sudden stab of discomfort before staring blankly down at the pitch, “Nope, just enjoying the view.” But your mind was racing. The two girls behind you had planted a seed of doubt in your mind, one you just couldn't shake. You worked too hard to build your business from the ground up and the thought of being reduced to ‘Trent’s girlfriend’— if it ever even went that far, gnawed at you. You tried to shake it off and focus on the match, but your fears lingered like a heavy rain cloud. 

What if this really does change everything? What if this overshadows everything I’ve built?

When the second half started, the cheering of the crowd faded into the background as you mulled over the weight of the strangers’ words. You hated that it was affecting you so much, but you didn’t want to be reduced to a footnote in Trent’s life. Camille noticed your silence and leaned in, “You okay?” she asked in a concerned voice. You nodded but you couldn't bring yourself to speak. Every time Trent touched the ball the crowd erupted and your heart pounded. There was no denying the connection with Trent, it was there from the very beginning, but this public life? 

It terrified you. 

Liverpool won but you barely registered it. The uncertainty that had been swirling around in your chest was a full storm, pulling you inside your head as you overanalyzed every little thing that had occurred since meeting Trent on the train. Your phone vibrated in your lap, thrusting you back into reality. 

T: Meet me by the side exit, we can head out.

You exhaled, grateful he understood how you felt about being in the spotlight. Despite having his life on display, he was growing increasingly mindful of your boundaries when it came to your personal life. 

On my way.

Camille nudged you playfully, noticing another shift in your mood when you looked at your phone. “Oop, is that your man?”

You nodded, speaking quietly, “Not my man yet..but yes. He wants to head out. I just don't want this to blow up.” Camille squeezed your arm in support, “Don't let it. Control the narrative. Go have fun, babe.” You appreciated her words but as you slipped through the crowd towards the exit, you started to wonder how long it would be before Trent's world came crashing directly into yours. You made your way through the corridor near the exit, spotting Trent leaning up against the wall with his hands shoved into his pockets. You admired how easy it was for him to look so good without trying, just being around him made you feel calm..and the view wasn’t bad either.

“You again?” he teased, looking up at you. “First it was the train, the café, Paris, now Anfield?” I'm starting to think you're stalking me.” You laughed as you rolled your eyes, playfully pushing your hand against his chest. “You can’t escape me now.” Trent chuckled as he pulled you closer. “Y’know..we did everything backwards. Random meets, sex..but we haven't had a proper first date.” You raised an eyebrow, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, “And whose fault is that?” He smirked, leaning down slightly to meet your eye. “My fault for sure. But I'll fix that real soon.” You grinned, lightly massaging the back of his neck with your fingertips. “I'll hold you to that.” He gave you a quick peck on the lips, “Enjoy the match?” he asked, in a soft but curious voice. You bit your lip, hesitating for a moment before answering. “Yeah..it was fun. Parts of it anyway.” Trent pulled back slightly, his smile faltering. “Parts of it??” You sighed, glancing down at the ground before meeting his eyes. “Everything is moving so fast..people are talking. I just don’t want to lose myself in all this.” His expression softened as he gently cupped your chin, forcing you to look at him directly. “I get it Y/N. It’s a lot. But I won’t let that happen to you, you’ve worked too hard.” You smiled, leaning into his touch; his reassurance meant the world to you, but you still had some lingering doubts in the back of your mind. You took a deep breath, deciding it would probably be best to lighten the mood. 

“So…where are we going for our first date?” you teased, as you and Trent headed toward the car. He grinned, opening the car door for you, “I was thinking we could do a private cooking class. We could make something fancy..it’ll be just us and the chef. Lowkey..no pressure.” You slid into the passenger seat, raising a brow, “You? Cooking??” Trent laughed as he got into the driver's seat. “Don't doubt me! I have some skills..sorta. But that's what the chef is for. We can have fun, maybe a little competition.” You giggled, buckling your seatbelt. “Okay..but don't be mad when you lose.” He leaned over, kissing you quickly before starting the car. “Oh yeah? We'll see about that Y/N.” 

After arriving at Trent’s, he led you through his house, his hand resting on your back as you navigated the space before settling on the couch for a cuddle. The two of you had been lounging for hours, your feet resting in Trent’s lap. The TV hummed in the background with whatever show you decided to binge, but you really weren’t paying attention anymore. You stretched a bit, glancing at the time, and sighed. “I should probably go…” you said softly, trying to prepare yourself mentally but not really wanting to get up. “Gotta get back to work. I still have so much to do.”

Trent, who was absentmindedly running his fingers along your legs, smirked. “Or you could stay longer.” You laughed, but the way his hands were sliding up your leg made you feel a little dizzy. “I..I can't. I have to work.” He leaned forward, placing a kiss on your ankle “I'll go with you tomorrow. I’ll help,” he muttered. You laughed, rolling your eyes playfully. “You?? What are you going to do? Stand guard all day?”

“Maybe” he said with a grin. “Just teach me. Like how you’re learning my world, I want to learn yours.” Your heart rate increased as his kisses trailed higher, reaching your knee. 

“I can't think when you're doing that” you whined, trying to keep your composure but failing miserably. He knew exactly what he was doing and it was working. “Then don't think.” he whispered in a low and husky voice, making you thrum with need. You bit your lip, trying to stay focused. 

C'mon.. be strong. Don't let him distract you Y/N, you told yourself. 

His kisses moved to your neck, your mental strength quickly slipping away. Your body was reacting faster than your brain could keep up. “I really need to get going..” you managed to say, not really sounding convincing at all.

“Stay,” he suggested as his lips moved dangerously close to your ear. “Just stay the night and I'll take you back in the morning. I’ll wake us up.” You tried to focus on the reasonable part of your brain. The part that knew you had to get up early to meet deadlines, but Trent's lips found your neck again and your brain went foggy. “Trent..” you tried, though your voice betrayed you. “I can't just—”

“Why not?” he interrupted, moving his lips to your collarbone. “I'll go with you tomorrow. It'll be fine.” Your body started reacting before you could come up with a decent argument. His kisses were soft, so slow, and perfect with each one sending waves of heat to your core. All rational thoughts dissipating. “Y/N, you know you want to,” he whispered.

Oh, he was absolutely fucking right and that was the problem. 

Your heart was racing as his hand moved to cradle the back of your head, pulling you closer. You were rapidly losing the battle to keep it together. "I really..should..go," you barely managed to say, it sounded weak even to your own ears. You could barely breathe let alone think straight. “Stay with me tonight,” he whispered, voice full of promise. “I'll make it worth your while.” You let out a soft moan, barely able to hold it back as he kissed you deeper. Your thoughts of leaving were long gone, being drowned out by the feeling of being wanted, desired and completely out of control. 

“Okay..I’ll stay,” you managed to say in a faint whisper, but he heard it. He pulled you onto his lap swiftly, your legs straddling him. “Mmm good,” he murmured, his hands roaming your body as they reached for the hem of the shirt you were wearing. “You looked so fucking good in my shirt today. But I need it off now.” He lifted the shirt over your head, immediately moving to the clasp of your bra to unhook it. You giggled, running your hands up his chest as you began to roll your hips in a teasing motion. “Ride me, baby. I wanna see you move,” he whispered.

You bit your lip, rolling your hips against his lap as you began to feel him harden between your thighs. The sensation made you gasp and Trent let out a groan as his hands squeezed your hips. “Fuck, you feel so good already.” He lifted you up off his lap, pulling your bottoms and underwear off before removing his own. You shifted your hips, slowly lowering yourself onto his cock as he filled you completely. The feeling made both of you gasp as your hands tightened on his shoulders. You started to roll your hips in a slow, but teasing rhythm. Trent groaned as his fingers dug into your waist. 

“You like it when I ride you?” you asked, your voice breathy as you moved your hips with more urgency against him. “I fucking love it,” he mumbled as his head fell back against the couch. “You look–fuck..so fucking pretty on top of me Y/N.” His praise encouraged you to move your hips faster and harder as you rode him. Every roll of your hips sent waves of pleasure through you as your moans turned into desperate gasps. “Write your name on me baby,” Trent growled, his voice now strained as his hands tightened on your waist. “I wanna see you really fuck me.”

You laughed, not fully understanding what he meant. “My name?? Like this?” You started to spell your name with your hips, continuing to grind against him. “Yeahhh. Just..like..that.” he groaned, thrusting his cock up into you in a way that made you gasp loudly. “Look at you taking me so good baby.” Your laughter quickly turned into loud moans due to the intensity of his thrusts, each one driving you closer and closer to an orgasm. The passion between you two was off the charts. Every touch and sound pushed both of you closer to the pinnacle of ecstasy. 

“Oh my goddd. Trent...I can’t–” you gasped as your body began trembling, the tension inside of you snapping as you continued to ride through your orgasm despite your thighs burning from exhaustion. Trent groaned beneath you as he watched the way your body shook with pleasure. “Gonna make me cum moaning my name like that.” he grunted, his voice rough as he thrust into one last time, his cum spilling inside of you.

For a moment, you both stayed tangled in each other, still trembling from the intensity. You were breathless and slumped against his chest as the aftermath of your orgasm washed over you. Once you caught your breath, a wicked thought crossed your mind. Before Trent could fully recover, you slipped off his lap and kneeled between his legs as you parted his thighs. “What are—”

You silenced him with a kiss to his inner thigh, “Shhh.. just relax,” you whispered in a teasing voice. Trent's breath hitched as soon as he realized what you were about to do. His fingers tangled in your hair as his body tensed with anticipation. You licked a slow, deliberate path on his shaft, pausing as you reached a small, sensitive patch of skin just below his balls. You flicked your tongue there and his reaction was instant. “Oh fuckk—” Trent gasped, his hips jerking involuntarily as a deep groan escaped him. “Holy shit.” You smiled, loving the way he reacted to you. You licked that spot again, teasing him with enough pressure to make him squirm. His hands tightened in your hair as his head fell back against the couch. His body was trembling with each flick of your tongue, his moans filling the room as he let out a string of curses. 

“You're unreal,” he moaned in a strained voice. You continued your slow assault, your tongue tracing the sensitive line along the underside of his dick before swirling around the head. You looked up at him through your lashes as your lips curled into a wicked smile. You sucked gently on the tip before moving back down in a zigzag pattern with your tongue. Trent groaned loudly, his body shaking as his hips bucked toward your mouth. 

“Where the fuck did you learn that?” he gasped, his voice filled with disbelief and pleasure. You didn't answer him. Instead, you wrapped your lips around him fully and took him deeper, your tongue working in a rhythm that had him at your mercy. “Shit..keep going..please," he moaned as his grip on your hair tightened the harder you sucked. Your movements were purposeful and teasing. “Fuck. Baby, I'm gonna cum.” Hearing him moan like that spurred you on, and you hallowed out your cheeks to take him deeper; your tongue still tracing the sensitive spot beneath the head that had him trembling. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I'm cumming baby,” Trent gasped as his body tensed beneath you. You didn't pull away, you kept his cock in your mouth as he spilled into you, his groans loud and raw as he came hard. You swallowed every last drop, your lips still wrapped around him as you continued to suck him gently through his aftershocks to savor the taste of him. Trent's body slumped against the couch, his chest heaving as he dragged a hand over his hair lazily. “What the fuck Y/N?” he muttered in disbelief. “You're something else.”

You grinned as you wiped the corner of your mouth, climbing back up next to him to nestle into his side. “I told you to relax.” Trent laughed, pulling you into his arms and giving you a deep kiss. “You're stuck with me now. I'm never letting you go.”

“Good.” you whispered against his lips. “I have more where that came from.”

After spending some extra time on the couch enraptured in the night's events, you glanced at your phone and your eyes widened. It was already 1AM, and as much as you loved spending time with Trent, you had to wake up in a few hours. You felt Trent shift underneath you, his fingers brushing over your back. He pressed a kiss to your shoulder and you knew he wasn't done just yet.

“Don't even start.” you stated, already knowing where this was headed. As much as you didn't want to admit it, you were tired after so many rounds. “What'd I do? I'm just enjoying my view.” Trent grinned as his hand traveled up your waist. You laughed as you nudged him playfully. “Well 'your view' is getting up to shower and go to bed.” He groaned, dramatically throwing his head against the couch. “You trying to run away from me now?” You rolled your eyes, standing up to make your way to the bathroom as he watched your every move. “I'm not running away. I just don't want to be all sweaty and gross.” He was already up and following you, “Damn. You're just gonna leave me out here like that..after all we've been through?” You shot an amused look at him over your shoulder, “Why are you being so dramatic?? It's just a shower.” 

Before you could say another word, he caught up to you and wrapped his arms around your waist. You turned to face him, your back pressed against the sink as you tried to hold back a laugh. “You're not going to let me shower in peace, huh?” Trent's hands moved to cup your chin as his lips brushed against yours in a teasing kiss. “Nah, not a chance,” he muttered before giving you proper, deep and slow kisses.

“Trent..” you murmured between kisses. “If you don't stop we're never going to get any sleep. It's really late.” He laughed, clearly not giving a fuck. “I'm not tired yet,” he teased before kissing you again, his tongue tracing the curve of your bottom lip. “We can stay up..” You pulled back a little, lightly pushing against his chest. “Nooo. I'm getting in the shower. Behave! Or get out.” Trent grinned as he stepped back to turn on the shower before looking over at you. “I'm definitely staying,” he said, with cheeky confidence.

Steam filled the bathroom as the water hit the tiles, and you slipped past him to get under the water. Trent followed close behind, his hands already finding their way to your waist as he pressed his naked body against yours from behind. “You're being so clingy” you teased as he leaned in to kiss your neck. “Can you blame me after you just took my soul like that?” You turned to face him, the water streaming between your bodies. “Don't make me regret inviting you in here.” His hands slipped down to your hips as he pressed you against the cool tile before finding your lips again. “Just making the most of our night.” The kiss deepened, his hands were everywhere. On your waist, your ass, tracing the curve of your back, pulling you close until there was absolutely no space left between you. When things started heating up again you laughed, breaking the kiss and pushing gently at him. “If you don't stop we’ll be in this shower all night.”

“Ah, okay okay. I'll be good then.” he said, though his hands were still cemented on you. 

Once you were both clean, you stepped out the shower. The bathroom was warm and steamy. Trent reached for a towel and wrapped it around you. His playful banter from earlier softened and was replaced by something more tender as he dabbed at your skin with the towel. He grabbed a bottle of lotion from the counter, squeezing some onto his hands. “Can't have my girl out here dry and ashy. C’mere.” You burst out laughing at his comment, “Hmm..'your' girl?” You gave him a teasing look, trying not to smile. “I don't remember you asking.”

He grinned up at you as he kneeled down, gently smoothing the lotion over your legs. “Ah, you're right. Guess we have to talk about that, huh?” You giggled, crossing your arms as you watched him work his way up. The way he focused on you made you feel things you weren't really expecting to feel. “I guess so. I'm not yours until you ask and you haven't asked.” He stood up, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your shoulder as the fresh scent of the lotion mixed with the leftover steam from the shower. “Got it. But I'm still not letting you be ashy. My girl or not.”

You burst out laughing again, the sound filling the bathroom as Trent gave you a fake offended look, as if lotioning you up was the most important task he'd ever done in his life. His hands moved deliberately as he massaged the lotion over the rest of your body, his fingers trailing lightly over your skin. “You're a mess but I'm kinda into it.” you said, feeling your heart melt at how sweet and tender he was being.

“Only for you Y/N.” Trent replied as he gave you a peck on the lips. He rummaged through a drawer before handing you an old, worn LFC shirt that smelled like him, and a pair of his boxers. “Put this on, you’ll sleep better.” You smiled as you slipped the oversized shirt over your head. He watched you as you pulled on his boxers, which sat low on your hip since they were too big. “Feeling better?” he asked.

“A little. But I'm sooo tired. I need sleep” you whined. He let out a dramatic sigh, pretending like he was annoyed. “All that effort and no cuddle? No reward? C'mon.” You laughed, pushing him lightly as you made your way to his bed. “You're cute, but I still have to work in the morning.” He followed you, still being needy as he wrapped his arms around you from behind, both of you settled in the bed. “Yeah, yeah. The shop,” he said in a soft murmur. He pulled the covers over you both. The way he held you close to him without making it feel like a big deal was so sweet. It felt natural and easy. “Goodnight,” you whispered as your eyes started to close.

Trent's voice was soft, “Goodnight, beautiful.”

You stirred awake the next morning as faint sunlight crept in through the blinds in Trent's room. You shifted slightly, feeling Trent's arm wrapped around your waist. It was comforting, but something felt too peaceful.

Too perfect. 

You opened your eyes, reaching for your phone on the bedside table. It was 9:37AM.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, sitting up quickly trying to wake yourself up fully. You smacked Trent on the chest. “Trent, get the fuck up! We're late!” He groaned, still partially asleep as he muttered something incoherent and tightened his arm around your waist, pulling you back down on the bed. “Gimme five minutes.”

“GET UP!” you yelled, pushing against him. “We're late, late! I have to open up and we're still at your house!” Trent slowly opened his eyes, his face scrunching in confusion before finally realizing what you said. “What time is it?”

“Past 9:30! I was supposed to be there by now, you were supposed to wake us up!” He laughed sleepily, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and stretched his arms. “Universe had other plans for us like always.” “Oh yeah? The universe wanted me to be late because you couldn't keep your hands off me last night?”

Trent swung his legs over the side of the bed, laughing. “Maybe so.” He stood up, his toned torso catching your attention before you snapped yourself out of it. “We're awake now though. Relax, we'll make it.”

“Relax?? A business can’t run itself!” you scoffed. You got up, hurrying to the bathroom as you tried to pull yourself together. Trent followed you, moving a lot slower than what was acceptable for how late you were. He leaned against the bathroom door, watching you with amusement as you tried to tame your hair. “You look fit in my clothes y’know.” You shot him a look. “We're not doing this right now Trent. I'm gonna be late forreal and it's your fault.”

“It was worth it though.”

You were annoyed at first but as you turned to face him, the annoyance faded when you looked at his satisfied smile. “Maybe..but I still have to get to work.”

Trent smirked, stepping closer as he wrapped his hands on your hips. “I'm sorry. Couldn't help myself.” You shook your head, leaning into him for a quick kiss. “You're lucky you're cute.” He deepened the kiss for a second, knowing it would annoy you before pulling away laughing. “Stoppp! I need to get ready,” you whined, gently swatting him away. “We need to stop by my place so I don't have to wear your boxers to work.”

“Boxers and all, you're still the hottest girl out there.” You grabbed your phone, beginning to head out the door. “Shut up and lets go!” The two of you bolted out of his house, Trent still pulling on a hoodie while you jogged to the car in his oversized shirt, his boxers fluttering around you as you tried to check the emails on your phone. Trent unlocked the car, you slid into the passenger seat muttering to yourself. “Oh my god how are we this late?” 

He shrugged, “The universe wanted us to sleep in.” 

You laughed, tossing your head back, “Will you shut up and drive?”

“I'm just saying!” he exclaimed, pulling onto the road. “Fate or whatever you wanna call it..that's why we're here aren't we? Maybe the world wants you to chill.”

You shot him a glare. “I'll 'chill' after I open up the store.” Trent turned up the music to something that matched the sunny morning as you glanced at him, a loving smile creeping up on your face. You couldn't deny the connection between the two of you. The sex was amazing but it wasn't just physical stuff. The ease you felt with him despite being the most anxious person ever, the laughs you shared, the way he made you feel like time was an illusion...that was something else.

But you had absolutely no time to be thinking about that right now. 

Zero.

Once you got back in town, you quickly stopped at your apartment and sprinted inside to polish yourself into something more presentable. When you finally arrived at Les Notes d'Amour you were running around, unlocking doors, turning on lights, and trying to remember every little detail you needed to put in place. Trent followed behind you lazily with his hands in his hoodie pockets, looking entirely too relaxed. “Need any help?”

You were still frantic as you glanced over your shoulder. “I think you've caused enough chaos the past twelve hours.” He laughed as he started to wander around the shop. “Just making your day more exciting.”

“Exciting? This is stressful.” you echoed, shooting an annoyed look at him. “It's different.”

You couldn't stay mad at him though, not with that beautiful face and dazzling smile of his. He looked like he was having the time of his life watching you scramble around the shop.

After things finally settled down, you leaned against the counter. Trent wandered, scanning the shelves of the different fragrances and oils. “So what's this new collection you're working on?” Trent picked up a small bottle, giving it a curious sniff. “Tell me about it again.” You shrugged, feeling a little deflated as you leaned on your elbows. “It's supposed to be about unexpected moments in life..like chance encounters. But I haven't figured out how to tie it all together.” Trent raised his eyebrow, coming to a realization. “Kinda like us, yeah?” You shot him a look but there was something in his eyes that made your heart feel like it may burst out of your chest. “Maybeee…”

He picked up a bottle, wafting it in the air. “What's this one?”

“That's bergamot,” you said, walking over to stand next to him. “It smells fresh. I was gonna use it to represent the first time we met.” Trent looked down at you, surprised. “The train?” You nodded, “Yeah..when you had on that ridiculous outfit.”

He grinned, looking into your eyes, making you feel butterflies. “Yeah, yeah. I remember.” Trent picked up another scent. “What about this one?”

“That's cardamom. From when we saw each other at the café.” He brought his hands up to your face, faintly tracing the outline of the cupid's bow on your lip with his thumb. “and Paris?”

You picked up two bottles, one pistachio, and the other ylang-ylang. “I thought these could represent Paris.” His expression softened as he leaned in to kiss you. 

“Paris was nice.”

“Yeah..it was,” you agreed, pressing your lips to his for a kiss. At that moment, it felt like a missing piece of you had just connected back to you. Trent pulled away from you slowly, “Y’know what's missing?”

“...What?”

He leaned in, his voice low. “An aftershave. Something for me.” You burst out laughing. “Are you being serious right now?” He shrugged, grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah..you said I need to step my game up. Let me be your muse or something.” You gave him a teasing look, "Oh, now you want to be helpful?”

“I'm just saying..I'll test it out. I’ll bring it to all my matches. Just for you.” You rolled your eyes, still laughing at him. “Maybe I will.”

The air between you thickened, not from the scents surrounding you, but from something far deeper. Something that was undeniably felt yet still unspoken. The quiet understanding that every moment you shared with Trent had woven itself into something you couldn't explain. You didn’t feel like you were even close to defining what the two of you were. Yet, the gravitational pull between you was so strong, so sincere. It wasn't just attraction or a coincidence, it was like the universe took these random moments and stitched them together. 

You looked at him, so calm and comfortable in your space, your world. His fingers brushed against a glass bottle with the same ease he carried with everything else. His presence wasn't loud or overwhelming. But it lingered, like the perfect note of a scent that stays with you after it fades from the air. It felt like you were both waiting for something you couldn't name. 

Love was just like that. 

Soft at first, barely noticeable. Like the first trace of a perfume in the air, you might even miss it if you weren't paying attention. But just like the notes of a carefully crafted scent...it settles into you. It deepens, wrapping itself around you until it becomes something you can't imagine being without. Love didn't need to be loud to be transformative. It didn't need grand gestures or declarations. Sometimes it simply shows up quietly, filling in spaces between words and moments. It changes you in ways you don't see coming. 

Every laugh, playful nudge, and quiet glance had woven into something deeper...even if neither of you had spoken it out loud yet. 

“I don't know how this happened,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked up at him. “It feels like—” 

He nodded, his hand brushing lightly against yours. “Like we weren't supposed to meet any other way.” It felt like fate had nudged you into each other's paths.

Every missed chance or twist of time was always meant to bring you..

Right here.

When love feels like magic, it's called destiny. When destiny has a sense of humor, it's Serendipity.

READ CH 5 HERE

i think this may have dethroned ch 3 as my fav..feeling very lovey dovey atm 🕊️ if you made it this far, thank you for reading! feel free to share any thoughts in my inbox.

[pixelpony-cc]

Part 2 of the Hunter Over Fences set is here!

Included are decorative objects you can use to build hundreds of fence combinations:

8 jump standards

separated jump cups

pole

cross poles

wave pole

plank

lattice plank

star plank

2 brush boxes

2 flower boxes

2 liverpool water features

roll top

brick wall and arches

and more!

These are decorative objects, but can be combined with the jumps from part 1 or the invisible jump mod from Forgotten Pixels to make functional jumps in game!

SimFileShare | Alt: Patreon (free!)

[tinycoffeeroom]

tiny room | arthur hill

again inspo from the lovely @mrstelevision [and by extension @whoetoshaw :) ]

face claim: sophia birlem ᡣ𐭩

request: here !

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liked by arthurtv, georgeclarkeey and 10,394 others

arthurnfhill i'm going on my first ever headline tour! manchester, glasgow, liverpool and london see you in feb! (tix in bio)

arthurtv can you dedicate a song to me xx ↳ arthurnfhill only if it can be fuck you

georgeclarkeey big sexy arthur hill can i be a groupie ↳ arthurnfhill you get enough of it at home big boy x

fan1 !!! may have accidentally got 2 tix to london instead of 1 but i will clone myself if i have to!!!!! ↳ arthurnfhill appreciate the support <3

📍 london

liked by georgeclarkeey, youruser and 19,083 others

arthurnfhill despite the absolutely terrified look in my eyes, london you were amazing! ended ar-tour on a complete high! thank you to everyone who came along, you made this chappy very happy <3

youruser was not familiar with your game but you're not a god has rearranged my brain chemistry ↳ arthurnfhill that song is definitely one of my faves ↳ fan1 youruser thanks for coming with me! glad you enjoyed the show and the cocktails after! <3333 ↳ youruser fan1 thank YOU for introducing me to his music, love you! ♥️ arthurnfhill

👤 fan1 liked by fan1, arthurnfhill and 19,495 others

youruser enjoying new music with new friends fan1 absolutely adore you sweetie pie ❤️

fan1 could do a little weep... sweetest girl alive!! ↳ youruser excited for our next adventure ❤️

max_balegde the second slide... no one has ever looked at arthur like that before ↳ arthurnfhill ?? well fuck my life i guess ↳ youruser apparently i'm a sucker for a good singer :p ♥️ arthurnfhill

📍 ibiza

liked by youruser, arthurtv and 29,485 others

arthurnfhill don't let my cool exterior fool you, june in ibiza is no joke

youruser this is certainly a look mr hill ↳ arthurnfhill it's called fashion sweetie, look it up x

arthurtv the sunburn really ties the look together ↳ arthurnfhill i will bring up the surfboard incident. ↳ arthurtv apologies big man 🫡

liked by arthurnfhill, faithlouisak and 21,493 others

youruser happy halloween from your fave fembot ❤️

arthurnfhill still think my dress looked better ↳ youruser idk i think george looked the best... before the incident :p ↳ georgeclarkeey uncalled for?

faithlouisak absolutely obsessed with you 😍 ↳ youruser date me xx ↳ faithlouisak behzingagram gonna have to leave you sorry babe

👤 queenofthebabies, arthurnfhill, friend1, friend2 liked by arthurnfhill, queenofthebabies and 59,283 others

youruser save a horse, ride a cowboy xx (also arthur's big head stretched out my cowboy hat 😡 )

faithlousiak its a yes to you, a no to arthur ↳ youruser come over babygirl xx ↳ behzingagram being cucked in my own household wow ♥️ youruser

theburntchip bet that wasn't the only thing he stretched out ↳ youruser pooja what is this behaviour sabrinablair come get ur man ↳ theburntchip dragged the mrs into this... i won't forget this y/n

arthurtv yeehaw🤠 ↳ youruser yeehaw!! 🤠

liked by fan1, arthurnfhill and 83,948 others

youruser another trip around the sun ☀️ excited to see what this year brings :)

fan1 happy birthday loml! would have gotten you smth else if i knew there was gonna be 6 whole cakes 😭 ↳ youruser don't be silly!! yours tasted the best ❤️ (don't tell the others :p)

faithlouisak january is y/ns month only!! happy birthday pookie can't wait to give you a million kisses tonight xx ↳ youruser ditch ethan, tonight can just be about me and you xx

arthurnfhill happy birthday y/n 💜 the fella in the second slide seems to be having fun ↳ youruser tbh he's a bit of a nuisance, rocked up at my door at 8am with arms full of flowers 🙄

👤 youruser liked by youruser, fan1 and 42,942 others

arthurnfhill happy birthday lover 💜 so glad you stumbled upon my silly little show

youruser thank you my love, so excited to experience life with you ❤️

fan1 y/nnie got the guy 🥹 i was serious arthur, don't fuck this up ↳ youruser can always count on you to have my back xx ↳ arthurnfhill even though you threaten me, i appreciate you for bringing her into my life :)

behzingagram now you're official can she leave my girlfriend alone? ↳ youruser NEVER! that's wifey ♥️ faithlouisak

👤 arthurnfhill liked by arthurnfhill, georgeclarkeey and 78,939 others

youruser 1 whole year of us :) will always be your #1 fan ❤️

fan1 happy to give up his #1 fan title to you, a worthy opponent x ↳ youruser we come as a pair!! #1 fans together 4eva

arthurnfhill most successful groupie award goes to... ↳ youruser behave mr hill

georgeclarkeey we get it you're in love blah blah blah ↳ youruser you'll find someone clarkey xx (also stop trying to take my someone you lil homewrecker) ♥️ arthurnfhill

TIME SKIP 2 YEARS

👤 arthurnfhill liked by faithlouisak, arthurtv and 89,394 others

youruser easiest yes of my life ❤️ my forever lover

arthurnfhill guess i gotta rerelease bride and gloom ↳ youruser i take back my yes ↳ arthurnfhill no can do sweetheart, you're all mine now 💜

arthurtv HE'S DONE IT LADS !!

faithlouisak y/n it's not too late, i'm right here xx ↳ arthurnfhill womp womp thats MY wifey now ♥️ youruser, behzingagram

georgeclarkeey g'warn lad!! gonna miss our snuggles xxx ↳ youruser he'll still be getting shipped off to yours regularly, don't worry

fan1 y/n!!!!!!! actual tears in my eyes!! wedding of the year incoming!! ↳ youruser hope you have a good bridesmaid dress in mind ❤️