#scouse moment

[circumlocutoryconlanger]

my favorite hobbies include:

yelling "shut the fuck up" at inanimate objects in a falsetto northern british english accent if they make unexpected or unwanted noises

[storyshark2005]

Just some STF Carraville moments from today's episode with Rio!

[iinatilda]

george harrison ❤️

[inuyashaluver]

Hi lovely I love ur stuff 🩷 I have a little request/idea - obviously feel free to ignore it

I was thinking R has a really thick accent (English - either Scouse (Liverpool), Geordie (Newcastle) or West Country (Devon/Somerset/Farmer) or Aussie or something really thick like hard to understand from native speakers let alone anyone else) but R plays in Barca and has a crush on a Spanish player (Maybe Patri? maybe Ona? Maybe Alexia?) and is tryna talk to them more and maybe ask them out but they just get looked at funny and they walk off and she goes to Kiera and Lucy and is like what have I done? Do they all hate me? And [Crush] overheads them and goes round to their house after training and is like I really wanna get to know u, I think you’re really pretty etc but I cannot understand a word that comes out of ur mouth to the point where I am questioning whether it’s English

qué? - alexia putellas

alexia putellas x reader

description: in which your accent proves to be difficult to understand

warnings: LONG!! swearing, misunderstandings, spanish in bold italics

a/n: i love this woman, your honour!! i was writing alexia angst but had to put out the fluff haha!! thank you so much for the love and request, lovely!! ily and enjoy ❤️

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you never thought your accent would get you into trouble but you were entirely wrong. and we’re not talking about trouble like criminal, we’re talking romantically.

—

you’re from liverpool, your thick, scouse accent distinct in your dialect. at home in england, the accent was understood most of the time, with an occasional person asking for clarification about your words but you didn’t mind.

even some of your england teammates had to ask you to repeat yourself occasionally when you got overly excited or stressed, your accent proving to be the hardest to understand at those moments.

you often needed a translator for even native english speakers if you spoke too quickly, lucy and later grace helping out when people were truly confused.

when lucy and keira moved from manchester city, you moved with them, having played in the club for 2 years and desperately wanting a change. and so, when the contract arrived from barcelona for the three of you, you accepted it without a second thought.

you had supported barcelona in liga F, having a huge appreciation for the way the spanish players moved, the quick passes and the goals that came out of nowhere. you were excited to pick up those skills to adapt to your own play.

and through your extensive research, you grew a special appreciation for alexia. in your eyes, alexia was the definition of perfect, not only her football skills, but her as a whole.

you would watch her interviews and videos for ‘research purposes’, claiming it was to practise your spanish. and it was, until you zoned out hearing the gentle hum of alexia’s voice, getting distracted entirely but you weren’t complaining.

when you got caught making heart eyes at your phone during england camp, the teasing was so relentless it wasn’t even funny.

—

“our little (y/n) has a crush on la reina! (the queen)” lucy exclaims in the change room, you immediately turn off your phone and look up at her with an icy glare, only making her smile at you affectionately with a pinch to your cheek that you were quick to swat away.

“you’re not much older than me” you glare, “5 years is 5 years” she shrugs, moving away when you launched an empty bottle at her.

“go on, tell us about your crush” leah smiles, millie and rachel pretend to kiss each other while looking at you and you heat up in the cheeks.

“i’m only watching so i can pick up spanish” you defend, lucy laughs loudly, out of the three transfers, she was definitely the one who picked up the most spanish.

“excuse me, lucia, and everyone in here,” you scoff, “is it such a crime to watch a video of my future captain?” your accent was so heavy at this point, everyone cracked a little smile at you.

“so you were watching videos of alexia then?” leah smirks, you let out a frustrated groan, “leah, shut up man” everyone laughs, the teasing continuing until keira and alessia told everyone to stop.

during the whole of camp, it wasn’t uncommon you got caught looking at photos or videos of alexia, the teasing was so bad you thought you would explode.

—

when the time finally came for you to join barcelona, you were incredibly nervous. the fear of underperforming playing on your mind, only becoming worse at the thought of embarrassing yourself in front of a certain blonde you couldn’t take your mind off.

lucy and keira assured you everything would be fine, but you weren’t convinced, unsure of how you’d react when you finally saw alexia.

when you all walked to the change rooms, it was shocking how welcoming everyone was. hugs and kisses to the cheeks had you feeling so accepted amongst your new team.

and funnily enough, the last person to greet you was alexia, sending you a charming smile that had your stomach erupting with butterflies.

“(y/n), yes? bienvenida! (welcome)” alexia grins, her arms pulling you into a warm hug, her scent enveloping you and making you borderline dizzy.

“(y/n) is a big fan of you” lucy teases as alexia lets you slip from the hug after you mumble a quick hello. alexia gives a surprised smile, looking between a cheeky looking lucy and a sheepish looking you.

“you’re very good, too, I look forward to playing with you,” alexia’s hand moved to give your bicep a gentle squeeze and you swore your heart stopped, your cheeks were tinged with pink and you could barely formulate a sentence.

“yeah, i’m excited to play with ya” you breathe out, you move to your new cubby and get changed into the barcelona kit, feeling at home already even though it was your first day.

due to you busying yourself with avoiding alexia, you missed the way her gaze lingered on you as you changed, she was intrigued by you.

what you didn’t know was alexia had done her own forms of research. she had heard your name countless times in the media, a rising star in the making.

she respected the way you played, a midfielder who wasn’t afraid to take risks but also managed to avoid fouls frequently.

she wanted to get to know you as much as you wanted to get to know her.

—

weeks and months fly by and it was easy to say you felt comfortable amongst the team. your spanish was surprisingly getting better, being able to go through training without a translator most of the time.

the girls reciprocated you well, you’d go to team bonding nights and laugh and joke around with them. it was obvious to everyone except alexia that you were harbouring a crush on the captain.

the ways your eyes would follow her every move with pink cheeks honestly exposed yourself. and what made it harder was that alexia and you were growing closer each day.

—

one day you were chatting with mapi and ingrid, more like you getting teased while you begged them to stop before you were interrupted by a certain someone.

“do you want to be my partner?” alexia questions from behind you suddenly, making you choke on your own spit as she looked at you with a kind smile. “really?” you breathe out, she nods, nodding her head to the pitch for you to follow her.

you’d both been able to converse easily as the months went by, she’d have to ask you to slow down a couple of times when you both talked about something you had in common but it worked.

as you both trained together, you chatted and laughed, talking about random topics.

when you both got to shooting practice, alexia analysed your every move. she would give little nods of approval when you touched the ball, sending you an encouraging smile if you made eye contact, your heart was fluttering around her.

“you should put more weight into your hips when you kick” alexia corrects, you look at her questioningly, she huffs out a little laugh and comes to stand behind you.

her large hands place themselves on your hips and she turns them slightly to the front. her front was pressed against your back and you certainly weren’t breathing. she noticed you tense but chose to ignore it.

“focus here before you kick so it’s stronger” alexia says next to your ear, squeezing your hips gently before letting go of you. “try again, vamos! (let’s go)” she exclaims, you do as she says with her corrections and it was a much better result.

she smiles proudly, “buena niña! (good girl)” she laughs, coming up to you to squeeze your shoulders encouragingly, your cheeks were burning.

the entire team watched the interaction with big grins, ready to tease you for how sheepish you looked.

“gracias (thank you), ale” you scratch the back of your neck with an embarrassed smile, she shakes her head, “it’s nothing, thank me with a goal next game” she jokes, pinching your cheek teasingly before walking off to get some water.

you’re left there in shock, lucy and keira approaching with cheesy grins. “you’re in love” lucy coos, poking your shoulder teasingly while you shielded yourself in a hug from keira.

“i’m so fucking stupid, why can’t i be normal” you groan, keira laughs, her hand rubbing up and down your back. “you’re just shy, which is weird to see because you’re the complete opposite” she laughs, you pull back to throw her a glare.

“it’s cute” lucy chuckles, “i can’t wait to tell everyone about the development” she grins, her and keira share a hearty laugh seeing your face go pale, while you attempted not to scream.

“don’t you fucking dare” you grit out, “i won’t” lucy winks, unfortunately she did and by the time training was over, your phone was blowing up with text messages talking about the interaction.

you looked at lucy with a stone cold glare while she blew you a kiss, alexia watched how angry you were, she could practically feel it radiating off you on the other side of the change room.

“estás bien? (are you okay)” alexia walks up to you, holding a cold drink out to you. you take it after a moment of hesitation, “uh, yeah, sí” you smile, “lucia is annoying you?” alexia grins, looking over at lucy to see her and keira whispering while looking at you. “yes, she’s very annoying” you grumble, your eyebrows furrowing.

alexia smiles fondly at you, her hand moving to your face, her thumb smoothing out the crease between your eyebrows. “wrinkles” she tutts, your breath caught in the back of your throat as you looked up at her.

“are you coming tonight?” she says like she didn’t just make you flatline. she’s talking about a team bonding session at her house. “yeah, i think so” you smile at her, “think or know?” she teases, was she flirting with you?

“know, i’ll be there” you mock, she nods with a pleased expression, “hasta luego, lindura (see you later, cutie)” she winks, moving to grab her bag from her cubby and leave, making sure to look back at you another time with a soft smile before walking out.

you get pulled out of your trance once you hear your phone blowing up again, checking it to see lucy had recorded you watching alexia leave. you throw your head back in frustration but chose to avoid letting the older girl feel your wrath, you were still on a buzz from the thought of alexia flirting with you.

—

when you arrived at alexia’s house, you brought her a bottle of wine with a sheepish grin. when she opened the door for you, she pulled you into the warmest hug, both of you fitting together like a puzzle.

“finalmente! (finally) i was waiting for you!” she grins as she pulls away, taking the wine out of your hands and grabbing one of yours to drag you into the living room where everyone was.

her hand was so warm against yours, soft against your skin and you really didn’t want her to let go. “you look beautiful” alexia smiles before she ushers you to sit down, you barely had the time to tell her how breathtaking she looked, dressed casually but still looking like she could be on the front of a magazine.

you sit next to mapi and she immediately bombards you with questions, “have you kissed yet?” she questions, you slap her knee, “ingrid, your girlfriend is a bully” you huff, ingrid laughs, nodding along with you with an apologetic smile.

everyone was watching a movie while eating, alexia sitting beside you, the two of you would chat back and forth with small giggles and smiles shared between you.

by the time the night was ending, alexia’s arm was resting behind you on the couch, basically over your shoulder while you were in your own little bubble.

when you left that night, you couldn’t stop thinking about all the interactions you had with the catalan, you needed to do something about it. fast.

—

on a match day for barcelona, you decided it was time for you to tell her about your feelings. it was clear you were flirting with each other. confirmed during the game.

in the second half, you managed to get a goal, using the technique alexia had taught you a couple of days prior.

she was the first one to you after, the loud roar of the crowd drowned out when you felt alexia’s strong arms wrapping around your waist.

you both smiled so brightly as she congratulated you, placing you on the ground, giving you an affectionate kiss on the forehead and squeezing your shoulders. this told you everything. it wasn’t just her being friendly, it was alexia making a move.

at the end of the match, the two of you lingered in the middle of the pitch, you were fidgeting so much alexia was worried.

“(y/n)?” she dips her head to make eye contact with you, “estás bien? (are you okay)” you nod, opening your mouth to speak but nothing came out. “take a deep breath” she smiles, a hand on your shoulder offering you comfort but also stressing you out.

“ale” you start, she nods with an encouraging smile, “i really fancy ya, ale, i’ve been wantin’ to tell ya for a while” you blurt out, alexia’s eyebrows furrow, she looks a little confused.

the silence was loud, why hasn’t she said anything back. if this was her rejection, it hurt more than anything she could have verbalised.

“you know what, forget i said anythin’” you run off before she could say anything. “qué? (what)” she was about to ask you to repeat yourself, one - because you were speaking too fast, two - she didn’t know what fancy meant.

you heard her call out for you but you ran into the change room, knowing keira and lucy were in there. “keira!” you yell, “fucking check my pulse!” you shove your arm in her face and she looks at you in shock. only a couple of people were inside, and the ones that were were shocked at how you tumbled into the room.

“jesus, your heart is going so fast” keira says as she presses her fingers to the inside of your wrist. “fuck, why couldn’t you tell me i’m dead and this is a nightmare” you groan, your hands running over your face frustratingly.

“what’s wrong with you?” lucy says as she walks out of the shower to see you in absolute shambles. “everything!” you explain each and every detail and they look at you sympathetically, understanding now why you were so upset.

what you didn’t know was alexia was outside, ear pressed to the door as she heard you explain that you were trying to confess. she feels her stomach tighten, cursing herself for not understanding what you were saying.

“whatever, i’m going home, don’t follow me” you grit, tears pooling at your waterline as you rush out. alexia had moved out of eyeline when she heard you, quickly going into the change room and drilling lucy and keira for your address that they happily gave her with sly grins. happy to know it was all a misunderstanding.

—

that afternoon, you hastily wiped your tears away thinking about alexia. you had misunderstood her intentions clearly, you were disappointed with yourself.

you heard the banging from the front door and groaned, knowing your fellow england teammates were probably on the other side with ice cream and apologetic smiles.

“i told you both not to follow me-” you huff, the door opening to see alexia standing there, a bouquet of bright flowers in hand. “hola (hello)” she smiles, “what are you doing here?” you ask softly, “can i come in?” you nod, moving back a little so she could step inside. she hands you the flowers and you take them with a confused expression.

what type of rejection was this?

“i heard you speaking to lucy and keira before” she starts nervously, both of you walking to the kitchen so you could put the flowers in water, they were beautiful.

“it’s fine if you don’t feel the same” you shrink into yourself, brushing the petals of one of the flowers between your fingers.

“hermosa (beautiful)” she calls out, moving around your counter to stand directly in front of you. “me gustas mucho, y quiero estar contigo (i like you a lot, i want to be with you)” she says earnestly, speaking in her mother tongue and hoping you understood because she was speaking from the heart.

you freeze, each and every word quickly translated in your head. “amor (love), you’re very beautiful and nice but you speak very fast, i did not understand a word you said before” she laughs, you can’t help but laugh too, shaking your head at how fast you fled the situation.

“i’m sorry, ale” you grin, “don’t be” she dismisses, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, relishing in the blush she just produced on your cheeks.

“me gustas mucho (i like you a lot), alexia” you smile, she gives you a dazzling expression, appreciating how you spoke her mother tongue to her so she really understood this time. “muy bien, preciosa! (very good, precious)” she coos affectionately, her hand cradling your cheek as she directed your eyes to hers.

“we will teach each other, sí?” she grins cheekily, you hum along with her words, “sí”.

she pulls you closer to place a sweet kiss on your lips, your stomach lurching at how soft they were against yours.

you both smile into it as she drew you closer, your arms wrapping around her neck while her free hand came to rest on the small of your back to press you against her.

she pulls away, not without pressing a few more kisses to your lips through the giggles and the small chatter between the two of you.

—

when you both came to training the next day hand in hand, sighs of relief were heard from everyone. lucy whipped out her phone as quickly as she could and sent pictures to the england group chat, your phone blowing up more than ever.

now that the team saw you interact, the teasing somehow got worse every time alexia would kiss you, or even hold your hand.

the pining drove everyone insane but the loved up versions of the two of you were insufferable. you were attached at the hip, just how you and alexia wanted.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you xx

liked by keirawalsh and 44,232 others

alexiaputellas: mi niña (my girl)

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yourname: mami

↳ alexiaputellas: i didn’t teach her this

↳ marialeonn16: sureeeee

lucybronze: the most annoying couple ever

↳ yourname: shut up man

↳ leahwilliamsonn: there she is!!

↳ keirawalsh: she went soft but is still a shit head

↳ yourname: @/alexiaputellas bebé! defend me!

↳ alexiaputellas: you are soft

↳ yourname: the betrayal is unreal

[hopefulromantic1]

The Sweetest Taboo part 4 - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent x Bellingham Sister

Summary:

The day he met you he was instantly enamoured. He’d never felt instant attraction the way he did with you. That feeling only grew with everything he learnt from a far - everything was perfect about you except that you were his best mate’s sister. He didn't know how to achieve it but he knew being with you would be all he needed.

Warnings: This story will contain fluff, smut, maybe angst

Word Count: 10.2 K

Masterlist | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four , Part Five

Note: unrelated but if you're reading this I'd appreciate if you liked my masterlist ☺️😘

The morning after your date with Trent you woke up early and went for a swim in an attempt to clear your mind from your problematic situation with your brothers. You were at a crossroads because you didn’t want to keep secrets from them but you wanted to keep seeing Trent. Your family always came first for you and in another situation you could see yourself not bothering with a guy your brothers didn’t approve of because blood was thicker than water. The big sister in you wanted your brothers to be happy, however, the girl in you wanted Trent and right now the girl was winning. The way you felt about him and around him at the moment was not something you’d felt before and you felt silly to pass up on it because your brothers didn’t like the idea of you dating him. 

You hoped swimming would help but despite the wash of the pool water against your ears, you couldn’t get the debate over what to do out of your head. At the end of your current lap you poked your head out of the water and rested your arms on the pool’s edge to take a break. 

“Good morning,” you heard the now familiar scouse account charm the morning air. You turned your head to see Trent walking toward you in a white vest and his basketball shorts low on his hips. “How are you little mermaid?,” he came over to where you were, a smile on his lips. You laughed at his greeting and climbed out of the pool to talk to him, forgetting your worries on seeing him. 

“So does that make you Prince Eric?” you raised an eyebrow at him and his sweet smile. 

“If that’s what you want me to be,” he took a step closer and held your chin in his hand. 

“Are you planning to kiss me?” you asked him, smirking as he got closer. 

“Yes,” he confirmed and brushed his nose past yours, titled your face by your chin to meet his lips. 

“Anyone could see us out here,” you warned him in a whisper against his lips. 

“So what,” he kissed you, silencing your concern. You fell weak to his touch instantly, stepping closer and letting him kiss you. He started to pull away first but you caught his lips before he could, snatching one more kiss. He dramatically looked around when he pulled away before looking back at you, “I think we’re in the clear,” he winked and you playfully pushed his chest. 

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” you stepped away from him to step away from the temptation, “they don’t want me to see you,” you told him the truth, turning away to pick up your towel. 

“I know, Jude spoke to me last night,” Trent shrugged but you immediately spun back to him with your eyes bugged out of your head. 

“He what!? When!? What did he say!?” you shrieked with your rapid questions.  

“Late last night, he came to my room and he wanted to talk,” Trent remained passive over a topic that was far from passive to you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me!?” your mind started to race about how that conversation went down. 

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he shrugged, remaining calm in contrast to your panic. 

“But you could have come to get me! I could have done something,” you reprimanded him but he remained unscathed. 

“It’s okay, I handled it,” he smoothly responded. 

 “Handled? What exactly happened? What did he say?” you pressed him - not feeling reassured by his ‘handled’. Jude did not tell you he was going to speak to Trent after your conversation last night so you were stunned this even occurred. Yes, you knew Jude was upset but you thought it was squashed last night. 

“He just said he didn’t like the idea of me dating his sister and I said that’s something he’d have to get over,” Trent laid it out plain and straight but you were left with your jaw open. 

“You said what?” you asked in disbelief. Get over? You were sure Jude was fuming because before that you essentially told them you would stop seeing Trent. That was a lie, but you needed them to believe it. You absolutely didn’t need Trent to say the opposite!

“I told him he’d have to get over it because I like you,” Trent continued like it was a lesson he was teaching and not a war in your family he was starting. 

“Trent,” you groaned. 

“What?” He asked confused as to why you were distressed about this, his face telling that whatever he said last night was probably even more blunt than what he was telling you right now. 

“He is going to be fuming!,” you whined in dismay. 

“Yeah, he wasn’t happy,” Trent confirmed and you sighed heavily. “Don’t let this stress you out so much,” Trent closed the gap between you two once more and put both hands on your arms. 

“How can I not Trent, they are already raging at the idea of you and me talking, now ? they might kill you and me,” you heavily frowned. “I just really hate that they are mad at me,” you pouted, leaning into him as he rested his arms around your waist. 

“Do you want to stop talking to me then?” he genuinely asked you, worried about how upset you obviously were. He wanted you, but he wanted you to be happy more.  

“No,” you shook your head but continued to pout, “I just want them to be okay with me and you,” you told him what you actually desired.

“In time I think they will,” he gave your lips a light peck. You sighed and nodded, hoping that would be the case. Trent kissed your forehead before letting go of you completely. “Do you want coffee?” he asked you, changing the conversation to something much lighter. “I’ll make you some,” he offered before you could ask. You accepted and told him what kind of coffee you wanted then parted ways with him. You needed to do a few more laps after the news Trent gave you. 

Trent went to the kitchen, focused on making the coffee the way you said you liked. Although he didn’t regret being straight with Jude, he did feel awful about how upset you looked when he told you so he wanted to make sure he got this right, in hopes it would make your day better. 

“Morning,” Jude’s voice announced his presence in the kitchen. Trent looked up to see him and returned the greeting. “Can I have a coffee?” Jude asked, thankfully not bringing up last night’s conversation. 

“Uh, after this,” Trent told him whilst mixing yours. 

“You’ve got two though,” Jude pointed out the obvious, “What you gonna drink two coffees?” Jude asked, not catching on to who the coffee was for. “No, it’s not that,” Trent thought about telling the truth but he didn’t want to re ignite the anger his friend had last night by mentioning you. 

“So what? You’re being selfish about coffee now?” Jude asked, truly aloof. 

“Trent, is the coffee ready?” you asked, stepping into the kitchen with your hair covering your line of sight as your scrunch dried your hair. Trent’s face fell as you entered the room and Jude turned to you with a now vexed expression.

“Its for her?” Jude scoffed, realising immediately why Trent was being selfish about the coffee. Your eyes widened on hearing Jude and it forced you to stand straight with the towel at your side. 

“Jude, hi, morning,” you smiled at him, hoping you could pretend Trent wasn’t in the room. 

“Am I interrupting another breakfast date?” Jude asked with scorn. You sighed to yourself and went over to him. 

“No, do you want breakfast though? - I’ll make it, whatever you want,” you rubbed his back, hoping your offer would distract from the truth that was before his eyes. 

“I’m not hungry,” he grumbled, the frown still on his face. 

“I know that is not true, I’ll make breakfast for you and Jobe okay and I’ll make you the coffee,” you offered your peace offering. He looked at you with frowned eyebrows but sighed and nodded in acceptance. He was upset but he couldn’t say no to you making breakfast for him. 

“I still don’t like this,” he pointed between you and Trent before walking out of the kitchen. You turned to Trent with a frown and he handed you your coffee with a sorry on his lips 

“You think he’ll ever get over this?” you asked Trent, walking around the counter to get next to him. 

“I think,” Trent put his arm around you and pulled you to him, “Jude knows I’m a good guy, so hopefully he can get over the whole we’re teammates and friends thing and see that I can be a good guy for you,” he looked at you, watching while you sipped the coffee in thought. 

“I hope so,” you mused, “in the meantime, we should keep this thing quiet,” you told him, referring to your budding romance. You wanted Jude and Jobe to accept the situation just as much as Trent, but you also didn’t want to push their buttons too far and you needed Trent to be on the same page. He looked at you and sighed, clearly disappointed but he agreed with you, accepting your terms, “thanks, the coffee is good though, great job,” you looked at him with a little smile on your lips that could fix all his problems. 

“You’re welcome,��� he kissed your temple, leaving the drama of your courtship behind, before removing his arm around your shoulder. 

“Now I’ve got to make this food for the boys,” you took your coffee with you to the fridge in search of ingredients. 

“You really care about them huh?” Trent asked as he watched you look through the fridge. 

“Of course, they’re my family, I’m sure you feel similarly about yours,” you started to take items out of the fridge. 

“I do, but it’s different…you really take care of them,” Trent observed. 

“Yeah well that’s what big sisters are for,” you shrugged and went about gathering ingredients. Trent nodded and silently watched you for a bit until you asked him to bring your phone you left outside by the pool. 

“Here you go,” he announced his return, standing behind you and dangling the phone in front of you as you diced potatoes. 

“Thanks, can you put it there for me,” you gestured to the counter with your head. 

“For a kiss, sure,” he dropped the phone into the palm of his hand in front of you and kissed your shoulder. You bit the insides of your cheeks to stop the smile that wanted to burst at his demand. 

“So you can’t just do it for me?” you asked, putting down the knife and turning to face him. He was so close you were basically pinned to the counter behind you. 

“I could, but I want to kiss you,” he came closer, making your back press into the counter. 

“My brothers are awake,” you warned him with an inviting tone. 

“Ummhmm,” he acknowledged your warning but his eyes dropped to your chest. He hooked the fingers of his left hand under the strap of your swim top, pulling it gently off your skin before letting it go and drifting his hand down to your rib, passing along the side of your boob. He leaned into you, his cheek against yours as he tightened his grip on your side, pulling you against him with it. “All I think about is kissing you,” he drawled into your ear, deep and sultry. 

“Please kiss me,” you folded and he gave you what you wanted. He met your lips, and you pushed the pace, greedy for more. In the haze of your mouths melding together you took his left hand in yours and pulled it up to your boob, letting him touch where you wished he had before. He took your cue, cupping your right boob in his hand, squeezing gently and making you moan into his mouth. His right hand slid around your body to rest on your ass and his left held your boob while his tongue explored your mouth. You put your hands under his shirt, pressing your nails into the muscles around his spine as he stroked his thumb across your hard nipple. You were one second away from pulling down your suit so he could play with your bare boobs but your phone shrilled behind you. You cursed, pulling away from him on hearing it. Trent groaned and dropped his head on your shoulder at the interruption. You reached back for your phone and saw your mother’s photo across the screen. “It’s mum, I have to answer,” you told him, pushing him back slightly by the chest to step out of his trap.

“Hello, mum?” you answered the phone with a nervous quiver as if she had physically caught you. 

“Hi y/n, how are things?” she asked. You tried to shake the heat off of your body but you couldn’t because Trent had moved back to stand behind you, kissing your shoulder once more. You held the phone close to your ear, hopeful your mother wouldn’t hear the sound of his lips against your skin. You swatted Trent away silently but he didn’t stop. He held on to your hips, pressed his body against yours - letting you feel him against your body as he continued to kiss at your shoulders, back and neck. You were struggling to keep up with your mother’s questions between his kisses. 

“Yeah they’ve been good, I’m making breakfast for them right now actually,” you informed your mum, closing your eyes tight after your words to keep your voice calm as Trent’s lips rested on your warm skin. 

“Okay and what about you? Are you having fun?” She asked you and you paused before answering.

“Yeah yeah, I’m having fun,” you swallowed the moan that Trent’s teeth softly grazing the curve of your ear almost drew. 

“Alright, I know you didn’t really want to go but I appreciate you did, your dad and I feel much better that you’re with them,” your mum continued to speak as your tummy clenched and your legs felt weak. 

“Yup, of course, I uh- can I call you later mum?” You asked, your voice getting weaker as Trent’s hands found themselves brushing up your sides. 

“Sure, have a good day,” she wished you and you squeaked the same out before rapidly hanging up the phone and turning to Trent. You should have told him off when you faced him but instead you grabbed his head and kissed him. You kissed him hungrily, open mouthed and messy. You let the moans pass your lips now as he slotted between your legs and you felt him pressed against you - hard and delicious. He put his hands on your boobs and you hooked a leg around his waist, pulling him to press against you more. 

“You’re so sexy,” he growled in between kisses. You pressed your hips into him, wishing he’d touch you further south than your boobs as you felt your pussy pulse with need. You almost took his hand off your boob and pushed it down your body but you remembered where you were and pulled away from his kiss. 

“Trent,” you weakly called for his attention but he kept kissing at your skin, moving to your neck now. “Trent, wait,” you slightly pushed his shoulder and he looked at you with confusion. “We can’t, we need to stop,” you reluctantly told him. He looked at you and sighed before dropping his head onto your chest. 

“I really don’t want to,” he grumbled into your chest. 

“Me neither,” you assured him you two were on the same page and stroked the back of his neck with your nails, “but we have to - we can’t do this here,” you stated the obvious to him. 

“Can we do this somewhere else?” He looked at you asking with hope in his eyes. You looked back at him, considering for a moment before shaking your head no. The cookie has to stay in the cookie jar…no matter how bad you want to let him have a taste. 

“We can’t Trent,” you made the tough decision and he frowned but nodded in agreement. He didn’t push any further, he stepped back from you and took a deep breath. You watched him, the flush on his skin, his prominent Adams Apple sat in the middle of his thick neck, leading into the muscular curve of his broad shoulders put on display by his white tank and almost went back on your decision. He started to speak but your brain was slow to tune into his words because you were lost in admiring his physical form. 

“I would help but I really need a cold shower right now,” he told you, running his hand down the front of neck and making you wish you could put your hands there - preferably while riding him. “Is that okay?” He asked you directly and you forced yourself to snap out of your daze. 

“Uh, yeah, yeah,” you agreed, not totally sure what you agreed to. 

“Okay, I’ll see you in a bit,” he stepped closer, kissed your cheek and left the kitchen. You stood there for a moment trying to piece together what he left for but you just shook your head and went back to focusing on making breakfast. You had to wash him from your thoughts or you would follow him and push past boundaries. 

“I need to get a grip here,” Trent spoke to himself, closing the door of his room and sighing heavily. He was totally enraptured by you; it was almost unbearable. He wanted to spend every second of the day with you. When he woke up he thought about you, when he saw you, he wanted to be near you, when you spoke to him he wanted to record you in his mind so he could replay the music of your voice, when he went to bed - he wished you were next to him. He’d never felt this consumed by a woman before - it was like you had a spell over him. 

He walked into the bathroom, stripped his clothes and stepped into the shower. He didn’t bother to let the water warm up before because he needed a shock of icy rain to cool the heat down. He turned the cold water on, taking deep breaths as it ran down his chest. It was supposed to help but he looked down at his body and his cock was still painfully hard. 

“We’re not getting any,” Trent spoke to his other head, reminding himself he had to reel in the sexual feelings toward you. He was attracted to more than just you physically, but unfortunately, the more he liked you, the more he was physically attracted to you. “Bro please,” he spoke to himself, feeling his cock only get harder at the subconscious thoughts of you. He took himself in his hand, squeezing his cock in an attempt to settle it down but instead his debauched mind went to what your manicured hands would look like around his cock. You had such pretty hands - they looked so delicate and felt so soft rested on his thigh with your pretty pink polish. The same pretty pink manicure that made him want to fuck you on the counter when you dug your nails into his back. He didn’t know he had a thing for being scratched before but the feeling of you pressing your nails into him turned him on an unexpected amount. He liked it so much, just the memory of your nails on his skin had his cock swelling in his hand. He groaned, seeing it leak for you. He shouldn’t, it wasn’t right but fuck did he need to. He couldn’t get you out of his head. 

What would you look like on your knees for him? Perfect. 

If you would tease him or if you’d take him all at once? You seemed like a tease. 

If you swallowed? Fuck he hoped you did. 

He couldn’t stop, the thought spiralled into more obscene scenes behind his eyelids as he pressed one hand against the wall of the shower and one hand stroked his cock. “You’re so good baby, you’re doing that so good,” he spoke to the image of you on your knees in the shower in his head. He’d gone past shame. He was deep in the fantasy of your soft lips around his cock, of your nails pressed into his belly as you bobbed your head along his length. He thought about your pretty face stained with tears as you took all of him. He thought about how your eyes would shine with the water washed over them. He thought about your moans vibrating on his cock as he picked up the pace of his hand along his cock. He couldn’t hold back his guttural moans that matched the ones from you in his fantasy - it was too good, you were too good. He bit down hard on his bottom lip as he pumped himself to release - your name on his lips when the cum spilled from his aching cock. He dropped his head back after he came and sighed heavily, trying to shake the desperation from his mind with a shake of his head. He put his entire body under the water after that, not caring to get his hair wet, hoping the cold water would wash away his uncontrollable need for you. 

He came out to the main area later, after his shower and a pep talk on self control to see you eating breakfast with everyone else in the house. He said good morning to everyone as a group, avoiding eye contact with you and taking a seat a few down from you. He didn’t say anything much during the breakfast, only speaking when spoken too. He took what you wanted to heart - you wanted to keep the two of you on the low so he kept a tight lip around everyone. 

He was hoping to get you alone but even after everyone ate, you were busy chatting with the boys in what felt like a never ending conversation. He sighed, realising he wasn’t going to get his opportunity to ask you in person so he resorted to texting. 

Are you busy today?

He asked you and watched for you to get the message. You did and you smiled when you saw it, taking a second out from your group conversation to reply. 

No

You kept your response brief, glancing up at Trent when you pressed send. 

Do you want to come out with me today? I have a sponsor thing to do 

He quickly replied, hoping you’d say yes. He wanted to spend time with you and the only way to do that was to get you out of the house. 

Okay, sure ☺️

You agreed and put your phone away before anyone got suspicious. Trent sat grinning at your answer and your smile matched his on seeing him across the table. 

You left the table not long after Trent’s message, excusing yourself that you had to get ready to go shopping because Halle wanted you to get some things for her. You needed an excuse for why you were going to leave the house and your brothers easily believed that. When you got to your room you messaged Trent about the details, where you were going and what time. You told him you’d meet him outside when it was time to go - as to draw less attention to the two of you going out together. 

“Hi,” you smiled, sitting next to him in the car and putting your hand on his thigh. 

“Hi,” he smiled back at you and told the driver you were ready. You leaned into him, resting your head on his shoulder and settling into the spot with your hand on his thigh. You were so happy to be alone with him where you could touch him in peace. “Have I told you I really like your nails,” he mentioned, with his eyes on your nails. 

“Yeah? Thanks, I haven’t done my nails in a while but I thought I should for holiday,” you lifting your hand off his thigh, holding your hand out and admiring the nails before resting your hand back on his thigh. 

“Looks really good,” he bit his lip, his eyes still on your hand. 

“Thanks,” you lifted your hand to cup his chin with it, stroking his beard with your nails. Trent hummed at the touch, his eyes closing a bit before wrapping his much larger hand around your wrist and pulling your hand off his face. He gently kissed your fingers and pulled you a bit closer by your hand to rest his arm around your shoulders. He kept his eyes on your hand that was placed on his lap, stroking his thumb along your fingers in silence. You found his focus on it a bit odd but you liked the compliment - you’d definitely be getting your nails done more often. During the ride you settled into his side, watching tiktoks with him until you got to your destination. 

When you got to the photoshoot site, Trent introduced you to people and you mostly kept a low profile until he was done. You sneakily took little photos of him while he spoke to people and posed for photos. You sent a few of them to him, as a joke, teasing him that he was so focused but some you kept for yourself.  

“Ready?” he asked when he was done and you nodded. He put out his hand and you happily took it, following him out of the building with your hand in his and a smile on your face. After he was done with work, the two of you did a bit of shopping where he offered to get you things but you spent most of the time picking out things for him. He was sweet throughout the day, he even didn’t complain when you grumpily frowned about being hungry after having fought off the hunger for a couple hours because you didn’t know what you wanted when he asked initially if you were hungry. He just chose a place and took you to lunch. Fortunately, he had a growing knack for knowing exactly what you’d like and you were happy with his choice. 

“So what’s your family like?” he asked you, taking a sip from his drink the waitress had just brought out. He was sitting opposite you in the modernly decorated restaurant. 

“You already know my family,” you told him, clasping your hands together on the table. 

“I know your brothers, but from your view, what’s your family like?” he rephrased the question. 

“Hmm well my mum, she’s the boss of the house - she’s really great honestly, I could ask her about anything and she’d know what to do but she can also be a bit overbearing at times,” you started, talking to yourself a bit before catching his engaged expression. 

“Do you fight?” he asked you. 

“No…I mean we have arguments, I’m her only daughter of course we have arguments but we get over it…,” you shrugged, “we fought a lot when she left with Jude,” you continued in a softer tone, dropping your eyes. Trent noticed the shift in your attitude and sat up more in his chair. 

“What happened?” he asked gently. 

“It was tough, I felt like I had a lot more responsibility, she was treating me as if I was now the mum of the half of the house left behind,” your voice softened as you recalled, “that's kind of why Jobe and I are really close because he didn’t really cope well with mum and Jude moving to Germany so I had to support him through that,” you spoke freely about a topic you never did. Trent didn’t prod much, he moved to sit closer and he just listened. You uncharacteristically  felt comfortable enough to get it off of your chest around him. 

“So how are you with your mum now?” he asked.

“We’re good, I mean that might be because I accepted the responsibility and stopped complaining but yeah we’re good,” you relayed to him but he looked concerned. “We’re good, like I said she’s the kind of woman who can do anything, I admire her actually,” you mused, focusing your eyes on your drink and spinning the straw in the glass cup. 

“Well it seems she’s raised you in that light,” Trent commented, making you look at him. “You think?” you asked, not really thinking you were half the woman she was yet.

“Yeah, you definitely seem like that kind of woman who could do anything,” he smiled at you and you could see the truth behind his eyes. 

“Thanks,” you smiled at him and put a hand over his forearm, “that’s really sweet,” you added and kissed his cheek.

“You’re welcome,” he politely replied. You continued to talk about your families, how you grew up; that you were really close with your brothers and your parents and Trent expressed he also was. It was comforting to know you both were family orientated. It made you more attracted to the idea of being with him. You felt like he was understanding you. 

When you got back home you parted ways before walking in, he went to back and you went through the front of the house. You hid in your room for a bit, pretending like you didn’t come home at the same time as Trent, who was outside with the boys at the pool. After a while you went out to the pool, having felt bored and wanting to see your boy again. When you got out there in your purposefully sexy bikini you definitely felt the eyes on you. Everyone but your brothers stole a look but the only person you wanted to notice was Trent but he was in the pool lounging on a pool float unaware of your arrival. You went over to the pool chair facing the pool and away from everyone else. 

“Having fun?” you asked and brought his attention to you. He double taked when he saw you, lifting his sunglasses off his eyes and starred a bit before answering. 

“Yeah yeah, hey,” he stumbled over a response, his eyes glancing down to your boobs.

“You like my bikini?” you asked him and he turned his body more to look at you from his position on the floaty.  

“Yeah,” he said, his eyes back on your chest. You smirked on seeing his eyes shift once more. 

“Me too, it’s a bit tight though,” you started to tug at the top a bit. 

“It looks good though,” he mindlessly commented, not knowing anything about if it fit well - he just knew you looked good. 

“Yeah?” you asked and held the bottoms of the top, “you sure?” you asked and purposefully lifted the top up, letting your boobs free for him to see. His jaw fell open and he fell off of the floaty, splashing into the pool. You clamped your mouth shut not to laugh and quickly fixed your top because the splash got the attention of the lads behind you. 

“Bro you okay?” Jude shouted to him as he resurfaced, wiping water off his face and looking around the pool for his sunglasses that were previously on top of his head. 

“Yeah,” Trent coughed from swallowing the pool water, “yeah yeah, I just slipped,” he tried to save himself. You remained sitting on the chair fighting not to burst with laughter. Trent retrieved his sunglasses from the bottom of the pool and the group of boys' attention went back to their card game after a good laugh. 

“That was very rude,” Trent said to you, having glided over to your side of the pool. 

“What was? I didn’t do anything,” you played coy, smirking at him as he rested his arms on the edge of the pool. You sat on the edge of the pool chair, one leg folded on the chair and one foot on the floor. 

“Really?” he asked, in disbelief you were acting innocent. 

“Yes really,” you smirked, leaning over with your arms pressing your boobs together. He couldn’t help himself but look. 

“You know now I can’t get out of this pool,” he chastised you. 

“Why is that?” you continued to play dumb. 

“You know why,” he gestured to the problem in his pants. You giggled and put on your sunglasses, smiling at his dilemma you proudly caused. 

“The water looks warm, hope you enjoy it,” you continued to smirk. 

“Come in with me,” he tugged your leg and you lifted your sunglasses and looked at him like he was crazy. 

“Everyone’s here,” you warned him.

“So, they know you love the pool, I won’t touch,” he held his hands up in promise before resting them back on the pool ledge. 

“Hmm,” you mulled it over, glancing back at where the boys were engrossed in their game and conversation, “fine, but I want the floaty,” you agreed and stood up. Trent watched you as you put up your hair and walked around the pool to the step-in entrance. He watched you slowly make your way into the pool until you were in deep enough that you were gliding over him. You always looked so comfortable and graceful in the water but then again he’d never seen you take an ungraceful step. 

“Hi,” you smiled innocently, when you got close to him. Trent looked over your sweet smile but deviant eyes and shook his head in disbelief over what you’d just done without a care. 

“I can’t believe I thought you were a good girl,” Trent came closer, enough for him to speak  lowly so the conversation would only be heard between the two of you. 

“I am a good girl Trent,” you winked at him, your smile morphing into a  sly smirk on your lips, you moved even closer to him, glancing toward the boys who fortunately weren’t looking before looking back at Trent. “but that doesn’t mean I can’t be bad,” you smiled. You were within arms length of him and you took advantage by taking his hands under the water and putting them on your boobs. His eyes widened at your action but you pulled his hands off and backed away before he could say anything. 

“You’re not helping me,” he groaned when you turned away. 

“I didn’t plan to,” you said to him, moving over to the pool float he was previously on, “help me please,” you put your hands on the floaty, intent on going on it. Trent immediately came over to help you, holding on to it as you lifted yourself up. “Thanks,” you smiled at him and touched his face before laying out on the floaty, “this is nice,” you commented, sliding your sunglasses over your eyes. He chuckled and shook his head at your comment. You were so collected and he was on edge, fighting against himself to calm his horny thoughts - it was laughable. He tried to swallow his salacious thoughts and kept one hand on the floaty, keeping it steady as you lounged under the late evening sun. He didn’t say anything, he was too busy in his head thinking of dead cats to calm down. 

You glanced over to him, seeing him spaced out and obviously in his head and decided to interrupt his thoughts. “Can I come to your room later?” You asked him, your sunglass covered your eyes to the sky. Trent snapped back into reality and questioned if he heard that correctly before grinning due his face tearing with excitement. 

“Yeah of course,” he agreed with more excitement that he planned to express but he couldn’t help it. 

“Cool,” you kept your expression calm to avoid attention and avoid giving him the benefit of how happy you were with that response, but you were excited as well. You’d spent most of the day with him but it had only made you want to spend more, particularly  time where you didn’t have prying eyes. 

You had a bit of casual conversation with him, mostly in whispers and keeping your eyes off him for your brother’s not to notice. Eventually, you told Trent it would be best for you two separate to not draw attention and since Trent got a grip on himself and talked his dick down from the excitement he left the pool and joined the boys playing cards. You spent a little time alone on the floaty, enjoying the somewhat solitude a bit before deciding to get out of the pool yourself. You dried off and went over to join the boys on Jobe’s invite. You were about to sit next to Trent but Jobe scooted over and you knew you wouldn’t get away with sitting next to Trent. You instead took a seat next to Jobe with your towel around your waist and waited to get dealt into the game. You played a few rounds and joined in the jokes with the boys until it was dark out. It was surprisingly enjoyable - especially watching Trent’s face light up when he was winning and watching him complain when he wasn’t. 

You called it a night before the boys because you wanted time to really shower. You knew his full government name, you knew what kind of man on a date he was, you knew he opened doors and pulled out chairs, you knew what he did for work and you knew he was single and didn’t have kids and more importantly you knew you were horny as fuck. You knew enough to do more than kiss. You could only hold it together for so long. You spent a long time in the shower making sure when you stepped out you were squeaky clean and radiating the scent of vanilla. You thanked your earlier self for not getting your hair wet in the pool so you didn’t have to wash it and fight with your curls to dry just right. You restyled it and went on to moisturise every inch so wherever he kissed would taste good. You thought about makeup but you decided to be casual so you stuck to your lip gloss you’d caught him staring at your lips when you applied it and a little mascara to make your eyes pop. You got dressed, in sexy matching black underwear but with your button up silk pyjamas over to not give away all of your intentions right away. You’d just got done spraying your maneater perfume on when there was an aggressive knock on your door. You rolled your eyes knowing exactly who it was and begrudgingly told them they could come in. 

“Hey,” Jude smiled, walking in with your youngest brother Jobe in tow, “Smells nice in here,” Jude commented before flopping down on the bed. 

“Yeah it does,” Jobe agreed, joining Jude on your bed. You sighed, turning to face them with your hands on your hips.  

“What are you two doing here?” you asked them, obviously not pleased with their presence. 

“Mum wants to talk to us,” Jude explained and got off the bed to explore your vanity. 

“About what?” you asked, looking over your shoulder at Jude picking up your perfume, “what are you doing?” you asked him but he already sprayed it in the air. 

“Oh this is nice,” he ignored you and sprayed it on his skin. You rolled your eyes and tried to take it back from him but he held it above you at a height you couldn’t reach. “Are you wearing this?” He brought it back to his line of sight to read the label, “why do you need perfume at night?” he asked and looked at you. 

“Can’t a girl smell good?” you rhetorically asked, hiding the reason why. Jude shrugged and put the bottle down on the table, exchanging it for another beauty item of yours. 

“Can you put that down and leave me alone,” you told him, looking back to Jobe as well to imply you wanted them both gone. 

“Can’t, mum wants to talk to all of us,” Jobe said from the bed. 

“Tell her I’m busy,” you successfully snatched your lotion from Jude after he scooped a disgusting amount out. 

“Busy with what?” Jude asked, rubbing it into his bare arms. 

“I’m just busy,” you folded your arms, refusing to explain. They both looked at you like you were being weird and ignored your excuse. 

“I’m calling her,” Jude announced, going back to your bed and pulling out his phone. He called your mother before you could complain again. You sighed when you heard her voice and took up your spot on the bed, knowing your plans were definitely delayed. 

You three spoke with your mum on video for a long time, she wanted you three to update her on everything and she went on tangents about what she and your dad were up to. Eventually the conversation circled to your activities and Jude with his big mouth spoke before you. 

“She went out with our friend on a date - can you believe that?” Jude spoke to your mum, laying out all of your business that you would have kept to yourself. 

“Jude!” you pushed him immediately on hearing his spill. 

“A date?” your mother’s ears perked up, “with who?” she asked, wondering which friend you could’ve been out with. 

“She went on a date last night with Trent,” Jude continued and you rolled your eyes away from the screen so your mother wouldn’t catch you giving attitude. 

“Trent? Alexander-Arnold?” She clarified and you internally groaned, “Y/n is that true?” she asked and you sucked it up and took the phone in your hand. 

“It wasn’t a date,” you tried to swing it that way first. 

“It was, you told us it was,” Jobe cut off your attempted derailment from the truth. You shot him a sharp glare before looking back to your mother on the phone. 

“It was just dinner,” you still tried to play it down, “he’s a friend,” you shrugged. You hoped mum would believe you and not press it but Jude stirred the pot with his agenda before you could read your mother’s feelings. 

“She’s lying,” Jude stabbed through your ploy. “I spoke to Trent and he said he likes her,” he added to your demise. 

“Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone y/n?” your mother asked, with intrigue “Wait, isn’t Trent staying in the same house as you?” she asked, flipping from intrigue to concern you were under the same roof as a boy you liked. You almost scoffed at the tone switch. You knew you were in for hell now. 

“Yes he is - can you please tell her to not date him, it’s actually gross,” Jude jumped into the conversation, not giving you a chance to surface for air. 

“I agree, it is,” Jobe agreed and you fought back the desire to slap the teeth out of both their heads. “He keeps looking at her all the time and it’s making me ill,” Jobe pressed the point and you sat in shock at the ambush. 

“Y/n,” your mother called your name in a tone that you knew the discipline whip was coming your way. 

“Mum, before we get ahead of ourselves here - he’s…I…,” you stumbled a bit over what you wanted to say, “we’re friends!” you tried to circle back to that point.

“Well Trent would say differently - he said you two were getting to know each other,” Jude turned to you, stopping you in your tracks. 

“He didn’t,” you said in disbelief, you knew Trent spoke to Jude but now you were worried about how much he said. 

“He did and he said that he wanted to keep seeing you and you liked him too,” Jude carried on spilling your business. 

“I-,” you didn’t know how to reverse this. 

“They are together all the time and it’s really uncomfortable,” Jobe popped in. You didn’t think he'd put you out to the wolves like this but clearly they cared more about ruining your happiness than anything else. 

“Y/n, maybe you could let this Trent thing go,” she sided with them.

“Mum!” you instantly protested, “they are being dramatic, it’s not that serious,” you tried to plead your side. 

“Well if it’s not that serious you can let it go since your brothers are uncomfortable with you dating their friend,” she threw your argument out and continued to side with your brothers. 

“Mum please, we aren’t even dating - we just hang out a bit,” you continued to try and play the friendship card even though you thought you’d be on his dick right now and not fighting for your life with your siblings. 

“Well then it shouldn’t be hard to walk away, it would make things more peaceful,” she continued to agree with them. Of course, you loved her but you often had to be the one to take the high road in comparison to your brothers to keep the peace under her rule. 

“So should I be talking to the walls then?” you folded your arms in a bratty display, truly pissed off now. 

“Y/n don’t be like that,” your mother sighed at the obvious tension between you three. 

“Don’t be like that!? Mum they are being so childish about this, “uncomfortable” you’ve got to be kidding me,” you outwardly complained. Your resolve snapping in half. 

“He’s their friend y/n,” she tried to sympathise with the boys.

“Mum I’m sorry, but you’re actually losing it to agree with them, I already had to come here on this trip and now I can’t even talk to anyone?” your words rushing out in a louder tone as you complained, “now if I sat here and talked about all the girls they are talking to is making me uncomfortable then what?” you dropped and Jude’s face dropped with it. 

“Y/n,” Jude said your name in a quiet plea for you to let that point go but you were already pissed off. 

“No, because since you’re so loud about my life, why don’t you tell mum about the girl no sorry girls you were chatting to in the club or what about you, Jobe? Care to let mum know about what you’ve been up to?” you threatened to expose them further. The blood left Jobe’s face and Jude got immediately flustered, snatching the phone out of your hand. 

“Mum, we got to go but we’ll talk later,” Jude rushed to say. 

“Jude wait, what is y/n talking about?” she questioned and you smirked. 

“Nothing, nothing - we’re supposed to watch a movie with everyone now and they’re calling for us,” Jude made up a quick lie. 

“Yeah, they just texted its time so we’ll call later,” Jobe picked up his phone to add to his brother’s lie. 

“Alright but I will call tomorrow,” your mother promised her questioning would come - you didn’t feel an ounce of remorse. 

“Okay bye love you,” Jude added and hung up before she could say anything further. 

“Y/n what the fuck!” Jude snapped at you as soon as he hung up the phone. 

“I should be asking you that! Why did you go to her about me and Trent!” you got off the bed, standing on your feet. 

“Because you lied to us that it was over,” Jude also got off the bed, standing on the opposite side. 

“I didn’t lie,” you told them, but your tone fell because you did actually lie. 

“Really? Because when I spoke to him he seemed very sure you two were going somewhere,” Jude dug into your lie. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to speak to him, what do you expect?” you found the fault in his story. 

“So have you spoken to him?” Jobe joined the battle, “Have you told him you’re not seeing him anymore?” Jobe asked directly and you looked at him with shame behind your eyes because you definitely didn’t. 

“I…this is none of your business,” you stood your ground on the most important point here, “and I’d appreciate it if you two stay out of it,” you decided to push back rather than concede to appease them. 

“How can we when it’s Trent you’re talking about,” Jude folded his arms. 

“Well at this point Jude if you don’t stay out of it then I won’t be staying out of your business,” you threatened him, “Neither your’s Jobe,” you turned to him and levelled the playing field. They both frowned at that. 

“Let’s just go,” Jobe got off the bed, knowing this was a lost battle. He went to Jude and started to drag him to the door. “Y/n we’re sorry,” Jobe apologised from the door but you had a feeling this apology was more of a plea to get you not to throw him and Jude in the fire they threw you in with your mother. You rolled your eyes and ignored his apology, getting into your bed. Jobe thankfully took Jude out of the room with him and left you in silence. You huffed and folded your arms across your chest before getting so frustrated with the reality over what just happened that you kicked and screamed in your bed to get out the frustration. 

“I am never coming on holiday with them again,” you got out the bed once more, grabbed your phone, slipped on your house shoes and charged out of your room on route to the one person you felt you could talk to right now. You knocked heavily on Trent’s door with a scowl on your face. He opened the door soon after you started knocking but his face fell from a gleeful smile to confusion and concern over your obvious sour mood. 

“You think if I beat my brothers to a pulp the American police will arrest me?” you surprised Trent with the fire in your voice. This was not what he expected when you asked to come to his room tonight. “I think I could handle prison abroad,” you commented in anger, walking past him into the room and confusing Trent further.

“What is going on?” he asked as you paced the room. 

“My idiot, idiot brothers told mum I was seeing you in front of my face and now mum agrees with them that I shouldn’t talk to you,” you informed him while pacing in front of him, “can you believe that? They are so rude, like okay I get it it’s weird to see me with you but our mother!? They seriously had to involve our mother!” you complained with more pace in your speech, “I mean come on! I don’t rat out their personal lives to our parents! However, maybe I should since they have no damn respect!,” you spoke wildly with your hands, stopping periodically in your pacing to emphasise your point to Trent. He just stood there watching, trying to catch everything you were saying as your accent thickened with each word.  “They are so evil because they know mum would side with them if they whine about it and what did they do? Whine about it! They know that and they used it against me!” you ranted and ranted. “Ugh I am so fucking pissed!” you cursed, surprising him with how upset you were. You were always so composed it was new to see you so snappy. You continued to pace, mumbling to yourself rather than speaking out loud to him. He watched you for a bit before taking a cautious step toward you. 

“Y/n…,” you called your name to get your attention and stepped closer. You stopped in your tracks and turned to him with a deep scowl on your face - eyebrows furrowed so deep wrinkles formed between them. He sighed seeing the frown on your face and pulled you into him, wrapping his big arms around you and holding you tight. You were still at first, but soon melted into him, sinking into his hold as he rubbed your back. “I’m sorry that happened,” he spoke softly and kissed your head. 

“I’m really annoyed,” you muttered into his chest. 

“Do you want me to talk to them?” he offered and you shook your head against his chest, “No,” you looked at him and pouted, “That’ll make it worse,” you were sure. 

“Maybe I should, I don’t like seeing you so upset,” he brushed his hand over your hair you spent so long to get perfect but in the moment you didn’t care. You sighed in his arms and rested your head back on his chest. “Tell me how I can make this better,” he continued to stroke your back. You weren’t sure what he could do but his offer alone made you feel better. It was nice to have someone on your side. 

“Could we cuddle?” you looked at him with wide hopeful eyes and your arms tightly around his waist, “I really just want to sleep after that,” you admitted, a bit worried he’d be disappointed given the previous unspoken plan. 

“You want to sleep here?” he asked, a bit shocked that you wanted that.

“Yeah if that’s okay,” you started to feel self conscious about your ask. 

“Yeah of course, come on,” he swiftly assured you, sensing the drop in confidence in your tone. He took a small step back, releasing you from his hold and taking your hand in his, pulling you gently toward his bed. You started to follow him but then stopped. 

“Wait, I can’t get into bed like this,” you stopped him. 

“Why? You’re wearing pyjamas,” he looked over your pyjama set. 

“Yes but my hair,” you told him, “I can’t put my hair on those pillows,” you told him looking over to the obviously not silk pillowcases on the villa bed. 

“What?” he looked at you, thoroughly confused. 

“Trent, my hair,” you thought you were stating the obvious, but he continued to look at you like you were speaking German. “I’ll be back okay, I just need to get my bonnet,” you patted his chest and left. You went back to your room, your mind totally focused on comfort.  It was default when you were upset and you couldn’t see past that right now. You washed off the mascara, wiped off the lip gloss, and tossed the push up lacey bra aside. When you walked back into Trent’s room, he was standing there confused but when he saw you tying the bow in the front of your satin pink bonnet he got what you were talking about. 

“Oh,” he said in realisation. 

“Aren’t you going to cover your hair?” you asked him, putting your hands down once your bonnet was secure. 

“I never have,” he admitted but immediately felt like that was the wrong answer when he saw your baffled expression. 

“How do you expect to make those braids last Trent!?” you asked him in a level of outrage he didn’t expect over such a topic. 

“I umm…I didn’t think about it,” he felt like he was in trouble. 

“You didn’t? Okay whatever where is your durag you have to put it on,” you switched to ordering him rather than trying to understand his logic against the obvious requirement. 

“I don’t have one,” he regretted admitting as your eyes widened in shock. 

“You don’t have one? Trent!” you called his name like he committed a crime. 

“I didn’t realise this was a big deal,” he shrugged. You looked at him and shook your head in shame. 

“Tomorrow, I’m getting you one and I’m going to show you what to do because that’s crazy,” you told him and walking past him instinctively to the side of the bed furthest from the door, “raw dogging cotton pillow cases, what a crazy guy,” you mumbled to yourself and Trent chuckled at you, hearing your mumbles as you passed. He initially felt shame but now he liked the idea of taking it into your hands. 

Your head was elsewhere when you got into his bed but once you were under his sheets you became very aware you were in his bed. “This isn’t your side is it?” you turned to him and asked, seeing he was now pulling the covers back on the side he was going to get in. 

“Whatever side you want is fine,”  he assured you and got into bed. 

“Okay,” you turned to face the ceiling, tucked up to your chest below his sheet, “I mean if this is your side you can tell me,” you turned your head back to him. He laughed at your hyperfocus on the issue and pulled your body to him. 

“It’s not,” he kissed your temple which calmed you down to comfort once more. You settled into his arms, feeling soothed by the soft strokes of his hand along your thigh that was across his body. 

“This is not how I planned tonight would go,” you admitted to him. He hummed in response, having thrown out the idea of anything else from his mind the minute he saw you so stressed. “I wanted to be sexy not annoy you with my family drama,” you chastised yourself a bit internally for pouring out all your feelings a while ago. 

“You aren’t annoying and…you are always sexy,” he gripped your thigh in his hand with that. 

“Really?” you lifted your head to look at him, pressing your hands against his chest, “Sexy?” you asked, thinking he was overshooting that complement given in your upset state you just wanted to put on your bonnet, take your lipgloss and mascara off and jump into bed. 

“Always sexy,” he put his hand under your top to rest it on your lower back and  looked you over with the same lusty greed you’d seen in times you purposefully wanted to be sexy in his eyes. You giggled, leaning in closer to him. “And you smell so good,” he lost focus as you neared. You smiled at his compliments and kissed  his cheek. He pushed your hip slightly, pushing you to straddle him. You took the cue, moving to lie over him rather than the side of him. You kissed from his cheek, to his ear and down his neck with soft kisses while he rubbed your back and took in how good you smelt. So good, he wanted to taste you. Your touch was innocent but the place his mind was going to wasn’t. 

“Trent,” you pulled away from kissing his neck and lifted your head to look at him. 

“Yes?” he answered, his eyes still closed until after the word left his lips. 

“Thanks for letting me sleep here,” you gave him a little smile and climbed off of him to lie back on the bed. He was startled by your recoil and slow to respond because by the time he turned to you, you were facing away from him under the covers.

“Y/n?” he questioned you, not sure what he was going to ask. You didn’t answer, you reached behind you and pulled his arm to spoon you. He followed, moving closer to give you what you wanted. He was still confused as to how this went from you on top of him to this but he was still happy to cuddle. He settled into the position, his arm rested over your belly and you tucked into him - it was so comfortable he almost completely dozed off when he felt you move his hand. You quietly shifted his hand under your top and on top of your bare boob. His eyes shot wide awake at the obvious position his hand was now in but he waited for you to say something. When you didn’t, he decided to speak up. 

“Y/n,” he called your name, and you said a soft and sleepy yeah in response, “is this what you want?” he asked, unsure if he should take the liberty to leave his hand on your boob.

“It’s comfy,” you told him, pushing your ass into him a bit under the guise you are getting more comfortable, “your hands are warm,” you told him. They were and it was comfortable but you also wanted to be a bit of a tease. You were no longer in the mood to push the boundaries all the way like you were early. Your fight with your brothers snapped you out of your mood but that didn’t mean you didn’t want any fun. Trent didn’t say anything but after a moment he inched himself a bit closer, adjusting his arm under your shirt to probably cup your boob in his big hand. 

“Whatever you need,” he kissed behind your ear after adjustment. You nodded to his words and let your eyes flutter closed. It wasn’t as easy for Trent to settle into rest with your ass against his cock and your boob in his hand but eventually found rest. He drifted into sleep with the girl of his dreams in his mind and in his arms. 

.

thanks for reading this series thus far, I hope you enjoyed this part and will stay tuned for part 5

let me know your thoughts ☺️❤️

Check out Trent x Bellingham sis tag on my blog for community conversations on this story 🥰

[consistantscreaming]

I'm relistening to The Magnus Archives, and I made a list of Actual Canonical Details we as a fandom forget about

- sasha gets coffee from a specific coffee shop every morning

- Jon has an excellent sense of direction

- canonically in artifact storage there is: a wardrobe light cannot penetrate, a carved rock eye that interferes with the video cameras and therefore is kept in a black velvet bag, and a scalpel ride with disease no matter what they use to sterilize it, kept in a hermetically sealed plastic box

- during halloween week, they have to call in the archives as backup due to the influx of statements. jon canonically gets a good nights sleep after disproving these statements.

- Jon sincerely believes he is far too unlucky for statements to just be a hallucination

- Not-sasha asked not to be recorded multiple times

- when told he benifited from gertrude's death, jons only response was "...I didn't?"

- [daisy became police in ~2002, almost 15 years before the story starts...meaning she is canonically late thirties/early 40s

- even when compared with the paranormal, daisy considers car accidents worse

- mary keay made an eye pun "i know the institute and i haven't always seen eye to eye, as it were"

- jon noticed when ghost hunt uk stopped updating

- sasha is taller than not-sasha

- annabelle dresses like a vintage clothing store exploded on her, has bleach blonde hair and dark skin

- annabelle looked "like the type of person that talked to cleaners as if they were actual people"

- annabelle looms over the cleaner by almost a full foot, meaning she Tall

- "the moment i die will feel just the same as this one" is not just a georgie thing, it's an End thing in general, as proved in ep 70

- not-sasha tends to stay late

- martin worked at the institute in 2009

- micheal has curly sandy blonde hair

-micheal is tall

- melanie and jon are on the same wavelength, and when working together they both came to the same conclusions with the same evidence

- elias does not think daisy is smart

- georgie is observant, and pays attention to peoples behavior

- melanie thought jon killing someone with a pipe was "wildly out of character" for him

- georgie and jon have a mutual friend named Jess who thinks Hungarian food is "too Soviet"

- jon borrowed georgie's coat when he went to meet jude perry

- jon tells jude to kill him as an ultimatum every five minutes

- elias tells tim that when presented with horrors, he finds comfort in beaurocrocy

- jared hopworth is handsome with cheekbones and a jawline to die for

- georgie was canonically willing to cover for jon to the police with no context after an unpleasant breakup and after no contact for almost 5 years

- georgie grew up poor in liverpool, and had a scouse accent until she went to oxford

- basira is a huge nerd and will talk about what she's reading to anyone who will listen

- nikola makes an allusion to not having a face

- martin and melanie got along fantastically

- georgie told jon that he needs anchors

- "if something happened to you, or-or god forbid, The Admiral, I-"

- "Don't be a Stranger." georgie thinks she's funny

- michael had a childhood friend who was taken by something like michael (schizophrenic) and that's what drove him to the magnus institut-he never you over what he saw or didn't see

- Hannah is a black woman who works in the library, had a "Thing With The Milk In The Breakroom" in april 2016. Went on maternal leave to have a baby in June of 2017.

- elias enjoys scheduling

- martin zones out when he has to read a statement, and often takes little notice of his surroundings when doing so/about to do so

- martin was looking for a book called "marvelous spiritualism and the circus in tge 19th century" and a guy named tom said tim had it checked out

- danny and tim didn't talk much, but were still close

- Abigail Ellison-who tim calls abby- is a mutual friend of tim and danny's from "back home"

- tim shipped danny and abby

- out of the two of them, danny was more assertive and tim "had never been able to stand in the way of his confidence"

- tim has a big armchair, a printer, and a couch

- melanie has made everyone in the archives cry

- [basira loved wtg until it "took a weird turn in season 3" when they introduced something she thought was odd

- melanie, basira, and martin used to go out for drinks, and martin and basira were gossip buddies

- Melanie's dad had dementia relatively young, but he always remembered her. He called her "Little Moth", and her mothers life insurance helped pay for him to be put into Ivy Meadows Care Home-where he was killed by the Corruption at the hands of John Amherst before Julia and Trevor burnt it down.

- julia is in her early thirties and wears nondescript hard wearing denim

- jon thought that reading statements could be a classical addiction, but decided that even if it was he had no time to, as he put it, "experiment"

- Peter was surprised that elias killed people kimself-implying elias has people to do murders for him. what other murders did he commission

- martin and basira both noticed something wrong with melanie after the Elias Incidint when her work started to deteriorate-martin said she'd always been "quite conscientious"

- right after being told by basira that standing by with a cup of tea wasnt enough, when melanie entered the room Martin immediately offered her a cup of tea.

- Martin knocked over a stack of papers and defended himself by saying that they shouldn't have been there. the absolute madlad

- after micheal stabbed jon, jon told martin he stabbed himself with a bread knife; and martin then proceeded to A) believe him and B) not trust him with anything sharp after that

- Gerry didn't care abt what happened in the unknowing bc he's a book. jon asked if he was serious. Gerry responded that he was, in fact, dead serious.

- gerry teases jon by saying he doesn't know anything before rescinding that statement avd giving the vaguest hint possible. he's such a dickhead i love him

- gerard didn't trust gertrude-he wanted to, but she reminded him of his mother

- gerard called trevor and julia "the van helsings"

- gerry was jealous of lietner bc his mom paid so much attention to them

- mary haunted gerard for 5 years before gertrude destroyed her, and gerry cried with relief when gertrude gave him back the destroyed book

- before the unknowing, daisy was running around killing mannequins and other Strangers

- tim didn't think they would be able to stope the unknowing

- jon would rather have tim where he could see him-which is why he let tim come (guilt guilt guilt guilt GUILT GUILT GUIL GU

- basiras dad couldn't stand people who passively whined about their problems. he always said "If you don't like something, you accept it and you adapt, or you fight, and you change it. Whining doesn't help."

- Melanie was depressed before the unknowing

- jon rambles about his latest insights and melanie wants to punch him.

- martin: "it felt good, weaving my own little web." "Also, i get to burn some stuff, so that's cool"

- basira was the one to suggest that they not tell Melanie they were doing surgery

-Daisy made jon listen to the Archers. "I hate it. but it feels... good, to hate something that can't hurt me"

[sentientcave]

Retirement Party

Chapter 5 - Wouldn't It Be Nice?

<<First Chapter - < Prev Chapter -

Contains: No Y/N, Kidnapping, Forcible relocation, Dubcon, Plus-sized Reader/OC, female Reader/OC, John introduces Doll to some normal people, Everyone learns new things about each other, Manipulation, PTSD, Doll has a tragic backstory, Doll is kinda sorta Catholic? Who knew (me I knew)

~3.8k - MDNI - Dark fic! Please mind the content warning above but honestly this chapter is pretty mild all considered.

Ghost, Soap and Gaz come back a few hours later with the blue sports car (a bit scratched up, but tail-light repaired) and a pick up truck that looks a lot like the one John had before, but a generation older, and green instead of gray. John speaks to them briefly before he coaxes you into the truck and drives off, promising that the others will be gone before you get back.

He drives a few miles down the road, and pulls up in front of a little farmhouse. It looks idyllic, children and a dog playing in the yard. Two people on the porch wave, and John hops out and circles around right quick to open your door and help you down.

The couple trots up to greet you both. "Who's this?" The woman asks, looking at you and beaming. "You finally introducing us to a girlfriend?"

"Doesn't feel like the right word, does it, doll?" John winks at you, like your circumstances are all just a funny little blip, nothing nefarious or terrifying about it.

"No, it doesn't," you agree, keeping your face carefully neutral. "I'm Dalisay. Nice to meet you, um, Melissa, right?" You stick your hand out and shake hers. There’s no sense in being rude to them, just because they know John. He’s probably smart enough to keep his old life, and his boys away from his new one as much as possible.

"The very same! We were a bit worried John was going to be an eternal bachelor. Nice to see he's found someone." She introduces her husband, Rob, and her kids, Hannah, Haley and Jackson, who are ten, seven and five, respectively.

"Do you want to see the puppies?" Haley asks, grabbing your hand. Jackson grabs the other one and they pull you along to the garage, not waiting for an answer. You very deliberately don’t look over your shoulder at John, because you’re fairly sure that he’ll be looking back at you with a sickeningly hopeful expression. His comments from last night still ring in your ears, and you’re not willing to indulge that foolish fantasy of his.

The puppies are in a play pen with high enough walls to contain them, but still allow their mother to hop in and out. She hops out to inspect you, sniffing your outstretched hands warily. Her tail starts to wag after a moment, and you give her a proper pat, smiling. The dog has soft ears and a silky, black and tan coat, but you're not sure what type of dog she is.

"What's her name?" you ask, kneeling down.

"Bonnie-bell," Hannah says. "And our other dog is Charaid."

"Proper Scottish names," you say. The kids all have a slight burr, and although Melissa sounds scouse, it's the first hint as to where you are.

"Da said we was gettin' too English, livin' in London," Haley says. "I like it better here anyway. Mum says maybe we can get some coos. "

"I grew up near Aberdeen," you say. "But I've lived in Manchester too long. Lost my accent."

"No' far off, then, aye? We're only about an hour and a bit south and west," Rob says, appearing at the open garage door to supervise. His stern face looks friendlier now that he knows you're not proper English. "Was worried John dragged some poor city girl out'f England to live out here."

You hum. "Well, I am something of a city girl now. Been in Manchester since I was seventeen."

"Weel, welcome home then," Rob says with a wink. "We'll get ye proper re-acclimated soon enough." He leans over and plucks a puppy out of the sleeping pile inside the pen, and hands it to you. The pup is at the age where its somewhere between looking like a potato and a proper dog, maybe six or seven weeks old. "Gordon setter, by the by," he says. "Good dogs."

"Cute too." You settle the puppy in your lap, petting its soft little head. Bonnie-bell licks your wrist and hops back into the pen to lay down next to the others.

"Ye want one? This girl's no' spoken for yet. John's been hemmin' and hawin' about it, but I figure he wouldna want ta leave ye home alone, neither."

"Oh, I'm not sure I'll be staying that long. I'm only here because there was an incident at my apartment and John wouldn't hear of me staying anywhere else." You're not certain why you're stretching the truth to fit around what he and his wife think is happening, but you have no idea what John would do if you did say something. Maybe he would laugh it off like you were making a joke, or maybe he would snap. You don't really think he would hurt these people, but there's a wide-eyed prey animal in the back of your mind that warns you to be cautious, to be careful.

"We'll talk about it," John says from behind you. You hadn't even noticed his approach, with the noise the kids had made when they dashed back outside. "I'm trying to convince her to stay."

"Ye've gotta buy her a ring, ye daft bastard," Rob says, laughing. "A good catholic girl isna goin' ta wait for you ta get yer head out'f yer arse."

"If you don't, I'll introduce her to some lads in town that will," Melissa threatens. "Pretty girl like her has better options than you, old man. Better make your move before she realizes it." She swats John on the arm playfully.

You laugh nervously, touching the little cross around your neck absently. The puppy in your lap seems to sense your discomfort, because she starts wiggling in your arms and trying to lick your chin, little tail wagging. John kneels down beside you so he can pet the puppy too, eyes creased with a smile. "Is that it, doll? You need me to buy you a ring?"

"John," you say warningly. "We don't need to talk about this right now."

"No, I suppose you've had a rough morning. I'll try again later."

"You're impossible."

"Think you might kind of like that about me," he says.

"Not remotely. I think you're an awful, stubborn man," you tell him. Your voice comes out softer and sweeter than you intend, like you don't really mean it, even though it's true. The smile around his eyes grows deeper.

"I am." He picks up the puppy and holds her up in front of his face. "What do you think, girl?" he asks. The little dog's tail wags furiously, and she answers with a high pitched yip. And then she endears herself to you by trying to bite John’s nose. He looks stunned for a moment, but he grins when you start laughing. “Guess we’re all in agreement then,” he says, setting her down in the pen and standing up.

You accept his hand up, and quickly put a little distance between the two of you, before he anchors you to his side with a solid arm, or tries to reel you in close for a kiss. Rob and Melissa invite you in for a cup of tea, and somehow you end up sitting at a dining room table that’s obviously mostly used for crafts, and handed a piece of blank printer paper by Haley, and told by Jackson that you should draw dragons with them. The walls of the dining room are filled with tacked up juvenile masterpieces— Dragons seem to be a particular fixation of Jackson’s, whereas Hannah and Haley have more varied portfolios.

John stands leaning in the door to the kitchen, talking to Rob and Melissa quietly enough that you can’t quite pick up his words over the children’s chatter. You hate him a little for this, dangling Rob and Melissa’s idyllic little life in front of you. The implication is obvious. We could have this, his blue eyes seem to say when you look his way. Wouldn’t that be nice?

It’s frustrating, and confusing. You want to keep him at arms length for your own safety, but he’s already doing his best to roll right past your doubts and better judgment, like they’re just silly barriers between now and the future he’s dreamed up for the two of you.

And worse, you do want it.

“Didn’t know you were an artist,” he says on the drive back. Jackson had been so excited about the dragon that you drew for him that he’d shown his parents and John.

“There’s a long list of things you don’t know about me,” you say.

"For now. We'll get there, sweetheart."

You hum, looking out the window. Spending time with the Stuarts has you wistful and homesick for something you can't get back. Days like this, you'd usually pour yourself a glass of wine, look through your family photo albums and have a good cry before going to bed early. It's been a while since it's caught up with you like this, but you'd always been reliant on your routine, burying grief in structure and familiarity. "Do we need to?"

"I'd like to."

"I'm not going to be what you want me to be."

John drums his fingers against the steering wheel. "What is it that you think I want?"

"Some little housewife. Someone soft and sweet to come home to."

"You seem plenty soft and sweet to me."

You sigh, pulling your arms around yourself. "I'm not consistent. I don't know what Johnny told you I was like, but he only knows me from work. I'm not like that all the time."

"I don't expect you to be."

"You say that now, but you'll change your mind."

"I'm not stupid enough to change my mind based on a bad day or two, doll. You're allowed to be upset. I wouldn't blame you if you spend the next week slamming doors and snapping at me. I'm still going to like you." He puts a hand on your knee and squeezes gently. Men like him shouldn't be allowed to have such attractive hands, and you shouldn't be attracted to hands like his, scarred knuckles, a few fingers broken and healed crooked. You know he's killed people, know it would be so easy for him to kill you. It turns your stomach that you feel any kind of desire for him at all.

Men like him are no different than the ones that killed your parents. Dealing death is not a noble trade, there's nothing honourable about exporting violence.

You push his hand away, and keep your eyes trained on the window.

He sighs, but he doesn't press the issue, just clicks on the radio to fill the silence.

When you get back to his house he sets you up in a cozy room down the hall from the more open main space where the kitchen is, an office of some kind with a couple of arm chairs and a desk with a clunky looking laptop set on top. The room smells kind of smoky, but you're just glad to have a door you can close while he "moves some things around". He opens the laptop up so you can watch something, but you just curl up in one of the armchairs and fall asleep.

When you wake, the door is open, one of your blankets is draped over you, and there's a mug of tea sitting on the desk, alongside a couple biscuits. You uncurl, your muscles stiff and joints cracking from not moving for too long, and pick up the tea. It's cold, like it had been left a while ago, but you drink it anyway, and eat the biscuits. There's a note underneath, explaining that John had run out to the shops, and that he'd be back by 18:00. You shake your head, and check the time on the laptop. 18:00 exactly.

Military habits must die hard. You imagine he’s usually prompt too, so you wander out into the main room, and put the clean dishes in the rack away. You realize that the living room side has been rearranged, condensed to a slightly smaller footprint, with some open space left by the far corner behind the bigger couch. The smaller leather sofa has been replaced with the little red love-seat from your apartment, and your T.V. is sitting on it’s familiar perch on the refinished credenza that you’d painted twining vines and little red flowers up the side of. You’d found it on by the curb on the Kinsey’s street a few years ago, and your friend Ripley had bused over and helped you carry it all the way back to your apartment.

You’re not sure you like seeing more of your things merging into John’s house, like any of it belongs there when you still want to insist that you’ll be leaving soon. You hate him for being presumptuous, but you can’t help but think it’s sweet, too, that he makes space for you so readily, that he’ll happily include your painted flowers and colourful blankets and bright red couch into space that was all his just twenty four hours ago. That he would leave you tea and biscuits for when you woke up, that he would tuck a blanket around you while you slept. You’re not used to someone wanting to take care of you, and it feels strange.

Strange, but nice too.

You glance at the clock on the wall, realizing that it’s twenty past six, and John still isn’t back. It’s getting darker out there, the sun nearly setting, and as much as you try to tell yourself that you’re not worried, it’s hard to deny the stab of relief when you finally see the truck's lights pull up the wooded drive.

You slip on your trainers and step outside as he parks. He grins at you around a lit cigar as he hops out. “Did you miss me, doll?” he asks, insufferably smug.

“Your note said you’d be back at six,” you say lamely. “I just wasn’t sure if you’re usually on time.”

“Usually am. Got caught talking to Wells, down on the corner. Seems someone drove right through his fence last night. Teenagers, like as not. I’m goin’ to help him fix it tomorrow.”

“Oh.” You grimace. He must know it was really you. “Sorry about that.”

“No harm. By the sounds of it, you’re quite the driver. Soap said you nearly ran him off the road. That what they teach these days?”

“Defensive driving is well and good, but offensive driving gets you the last good spot in the lot,” you say.

He laughs out loud at that, and leans over to pick up a big paper bag from the passenger side. “Here, can you take this in while I grab the groceries?”

You take the bag (which is slightly greasy and smells like curry), and shift it to one hip. “Can I take anything else?”

He nods and hands you a second paper bag, this one with two wine bottles inside. “Wasn’t sure if you liked red or white, so I got both.”

You settle the bags in your arms and turn to walk away. “Bad time to tell you I like rosé hm?” you tease, glancing over your shoulder.

“Terrible timing. But that’s alright. One more thing, doll.”

You turn back toward him, and he’s right there. One big hand cups your jaw and then his lips are on yours, pressing a kiss that tastes like smoke against you. You stand frozen, holding onto your cargo for dear life, too surprised to do anything. It’s just as well, because in that moment you’re not sure if you’d slap him or pull him closer.

He pulls away without trying to deepen the kiss, which is a relief. You’re certain that you’d drop dinner and the wine.

“John, that wasn’t fair.” Your feet are still frozen in place, and his hand is still on your cheek, his fingers threaded into your hair.

His eyes practically sparkle. He’s entirely too pleased with himself. “Not fair because I kissed you, or not fair because I stopped before we got to the best part?”

Your cheeks flame hot, and you pray that he can’t feel it. “You can’t just— You’re impossible.” It takes concentrated effort to take ordinary, measured steps to the door instead of running. The effect he has on you is apparently very obvious. He never would have tried it if he didn’t know you were teetering on the edge of giving in already.

Boundaries need to be set-- Set and followed-- before you can really even contemplate letting this get any further. Unchecked, you have no doubt that John will have you underneath him in a matter of days. Once that happens you know he'll never let you go, and you'll never have peace of mind if you don't really get to know him first. You know he's not as good as he makes himself out to be, but you suspect he's a better man than your deepest fears might whisper to you. He's genuine about his wants, but that's not enough. You need to know him before you can trust him.

You set your packages down on the table and turn to open the door wide for John as he carries a tote full of groceries into the house. “Thanks, doll.”

The paper bag rips when you open it to pull take-out containers out, setting them on the table neatly. "John, can we talk?" You ask, glancing at him as he stows things in the fridge.

"Course, doll. What's on your mind?"

Nerves threaten to choke you, so you take a steadying breath, in and out, trying to quiet the sea of dread that pitches back and forth in your stomach. “You can’t just take what you want from me. Not if you’re serious about wanting this to be something. I’m afraid of you, John, and I’m not going to fight you. If you push me, I’ll fold, and I’ll hate you for it.”

He pauses, holding a box halfway lifted to the cupboard. It takes a moment before he moves again, setting the box on the shelf slowly. The silence is palpable in the room, settling across both of you like a thick blanket of snow. You fold the ripped takeout bag flat, nervous, the crinkle of heavy paper hardly breaking through the rush of blood in your ears, the panic that grips you by the throat. It’s as though the admission has given your body the chance to catch up with everything that’s happened in the last two days.

You’d been drugged and taken from your home, you’d been handed off to someone you didn’t know, with no clear indication if you’re free to leave or not, you’ve been picked up and manhandled and shot at.

Darkness flickers in the corners of your vision. All you can hear is the pounding of your own heart, the sick, dizzying drums of war, and high pitched ringing like a flat-lining hospital monitor, and screaming, and the rapid burst of machine gun fire. No. The screaming you hear is just in your head, the gunshots aren’t real, they can’t be. It’s not happening, it’s over, it’s been over for a decade, you’re safe.

Except you’re not safe.

Hands land on your shoulders. You lash out, fists striking something solid, knocking the hands away. You have to get away, you have to hide until it goes quiet again. Arms wrap around you in a tight hug, stilling your thrashing limbs and bringing you down to the floor gently.

“Doll! Dalisay, sweetheart, you’re alright, come back.” The voice has authority. You know that voice. It rumbles, shaking loose memory. “Come on, love, breathe slow. You’re okay.” You breathe in, warm spice and tobacco smoke, not burning petrol, not scorched flesh. You’re kneeling on the floor, and John is holding you tight, thighs bracketing yours.

The fight melts out of your limbs.

You’re not safe, but you’re not in danger either. John loosens his hold on you and cups your face, his worried face eclipsing all else. “Doll, where’d you go?” he asks. “What happened?”

“Panic attack,” you lie, because that’s easier to say than My parents were killed in a terrorist attack while we were visiting London ten years ago and sometimes I get so stressed out that I forget it’s not still happening. “I’m fine, I’m sorry.”

“That wasn’t a panic attack, doll. Worked with Simon long enough to recognize PTSD. You were somewhere else.”

It’s hard to imagine that Ghost is as fallible, as human as you are, but you suppose there’s no shortage of opportunities for even the the biggest, toughest military men to to wade hip deep in trauma. The worst day of your life would be just another mission for them. The worst day of their lives would probably kill you outright.

"Yeah, I guess it was," you admit haltingly. "Everything just caught up with me. I won't let it happen again."

He shakes his head. "Did I set it off? I need to know— I don’t want to hurt you, sweetheart.”

"No, it's not like that. It’s just stress. It's been building since I got here."

"I guess that's what you meant in the truck, huh?"

You nod weakly. "I don't think I can explain it any better right now. But maybe tomorrow."

"Alright." John sighs, some of the tension in his shoulders releasing. " I don't want you to be afraid of me, doll."

"Then you're going to have to give me time, and space. I need to know what kind of man you are. And you should get to know who I am too.” There’s a wrinkle in his shirt, so you fixate on that rather than look right at him, smoothing it out with your fingers. “Let’s worry about becoming friends, for now. And then we can see if there’s something more.”

He doesn’t like that, you can tell by the way he pulls his hands back, reluctant to let go of you. But still, he nods, and smiles ruefully after a moment. “Guess I’m not as patient as I think I am. Too eager to get to the good part.”

You laugh lightly, the sound shaky from frayed nerves. “John, if we can be kind to each other, and come to an understanding, then it’s all the good part. You can’t build the things you want on foundations like this and hold it all together with sheer force of will.”

“You sure about that?" he jokes, trying to lighten the mood. "I’ve heard I’m pretty stubborn.”

Your eyes flick up to meet his. You still feel unsettled, your heart still pounding, your stomach still roiling with anxiety. The emotion in those blue eyes is something you can't identify, something fathomless that strikes you with a foreign kind of fear, the kind that's shot through with hope that you shouldn't feel.

“You don’t know me too well yet, John,” you say gently, “but so am I.”

Image Credits: Banner

Dividers: 1 - 2 - 3 by @/Cafekitsune

[burningcomputers]

Lazy Day Cuddles

Imagine you're cuddlin' with Lucy Bronze Word Count: ~550

(P.S. This is my first fanfiction ever, and at the time, I was playin’ with the poetic and metaphoric side of writin’! Let me know what y'all think!)

---

The room was bathed in a soft, golden light as the sun began to set, casting long shadows that danced upon the walls. With her head nestled in the crook between my neck and shoulder, I found tranquility in the cocoon of intimacy. Rivers of power flowed beneath her sun-kissed skin as her muscled frame lay against me. Her fingers playfully skimmed the edge of my panties where skin met fabric, a gentle reminder of the strength that lay hidden beneath her graceful exterior. Her fingers traced lazy patterns in the dip of my hips as if committing every curve and contour to memory. Her arm was loosely draped over my stomach, while the other was cradled around me, her palm gently pressed against my heart. Her legs intertwined with mine, and with each subtle movement she made, I could feel the rippling muscles that bore testament to the stories of battles won and scars that whisper of valleys crossed.

The scent of citrus and spiced whispers wafted through the air, unraveling creamy florals atop a warm, musky ghost. Her Grecian nose inhaled deeply, seeking out my own scent subconsciously. An aroma of refreshing lavender with a hint of spicy amber, tempering the other notes into a harmonious chorus, adding some woodsy elements. She murmured in her thick Scouse accent, "God, I love your scent. It's mesmerizing and peaceful but so alluring and goddamn sexy."

Invariably, she would always cuddle up to me, her nose buried into my shoulder or my head resting on her chest. Her breaths were soft and steady, lulling me into a state of serenity. The world outside seemed to fade away, replaced by the warmth of her embrace and the soothing rhythm of her heartbeat. She knew that the stress of getting older in a sport that meant everything to her was left outside of the sacred space.

As the tension in my muscles began to melt away, the tightness was replaced by a sense of peace and contentment that I had not known in a long time.

"Lucy?" I whispered.

"Hmm?" She mumbled out in a long sigh.

"I love you." She shifted just enough to press the lightest kiss on my forehead, her eyes drifting down to my lips.

I arched my neck to meet her halfway, and our lips met in the dwindling light. A symphony of passion ignites as our lips meet in the twilight. The tender touch of her lips, soft as petals in the rain, is a sweet refrain against mine. A whisper of desire and a sigh of bliss escape us both as we become entranced in this moment.

Her tongue dances with mine, a sultry waltz, as we speak a silent language of lovers entwined and lost. Our kiss tells a tale of passion and love's sweet vengeance.

A spark of fire and a burning glow ignite within us as we become one and flow together. A river of passion and a torrent of desire course through us as we become lost in this kiss. A reason to love and a reason to be, we become free in this moment.

Simplicity and domesticity enveloped us as we lost ourselves. The weight of the world seemed to lift from our shoulders, and for once, we allowed ourselves to succumb to the whims of fate.

---

Hope y'all had fun readin' this; let me know if I should do more short stories with tender moments like this!

P.S. I took inspiration from some perfumes that Lucy has mentioned and combined three of them (Baccarat Rouge by Maison Francis Kurkdjian, Colonia by Acqua di Parma, and Mojave Ghost by Byredo).

[jobesbabe]

my forever valentine / TAA

summary: trent surprises you after training with something that makes your valentines day that much more special

warnings: established relationship, fluff

a/n: hi! new to this still but please leave feedback and requests because they’re always appreciated

Trent had been training with Robbo when he told him the plan. He would propose. Tonight, in the most romantic, perfect moment. He had picked out a gold diamond ring that was still simple enough that you would wear. Trent’s nerves were at an all time high as he expressed his plan to Robbo. A few others gathered around to see what the scouser was so passionate about. As they listened, they began to understand the emotional intensity and admiration Trent was feeling.

Dominik grabbed his shoulders before quickly massaging them.

“You’ve got this man,” He said smiling his signature Hungarian smile that was straight out of a magazine.

Robbo nodded.

“I’ve seen you two together. That woman is smitten for you. I don’t understand it, but she is,” Robbo gushed earning a bashful smile and swat from Trent.

Training ended a few hours later and he couldn’t wait to open up his door and see your shining, adorable face grinning back at him like a little kid. He drove home in his audi smiling the whole time, The engagement ring boring a whole in his pocket. He was done with having it, he wanted it to be on your beautiful hands and not stuck in a box.

He opened the door to your home and the smell of food hit him in the face. You ran to go meet him at the door, apron on and flour stains on your face. You pulled him into a hug.

“Happy Valentine’s day baby,” You said.

He smiled and leaned into your warmth before pulling away and giving you pecks on the forehead and each cheek. Resting his head on yours, he brought you in for a deep passionate kiss neither of you wanted to end.

“Happy valentine’s” Trent replied.

His scouse accent made you crazy. the way he said simple words like happy or morning would make you smile and obsess for hours.

As you smiled he reached his hand up to your eye, brushing over the flour with the pad of his thumb to wipe it away.

“I love you,” He whispered and you both became engulfed in each other’s arms, lips on the other instantly. Your make out session was cut short by the ringing of the kitchen timer you had set for the handmade pasta you had spent hours crafting. You pulled away. “It’s ready!” You exclaimed and he laughed, and then his face got serious.

You turned to run to the kitchen but were stopped by the man you love’s voice.

“y/n, darling” he said.

“mhm?” you replied turned away from him.

“Turn,” He asks and as you do, you see Trent, on one knee, with a velvet box that he opens to reveal a ring that is so you, you swear you would’ve picked out yourself.

“Trent? Is this real?” You ask, hands over your chest.

“yes baby. I knew from a few months into our relationship that you would be the person. My ride or die, my soulmate. My one. My person. I want you. Forever. I love you, Please make me the happiest scouser on the whole planet and marry me?”

You gasp and nod your head, tears filling your eyes.

“Trent, Oh my gosh. Yes, Of course. I love you so so much.” you gush.

He slipped the ring on your finger before standing up and cupping your face with his massive hands.

He kissed you, and you kissed him back with more love than you had ever felt.

“my forever valentine,” he whispered into your ear before leaving a trail of kisses along your face and neck.

The two of you held hands as you ate the pasta you had poured your soul into making, taking moments to examine each other before smiling.

Every so often, he would take your left hand and kiss it just below your engagement ring. He was obsessed.

a/n Ahh thats it! kinda love this one, and heres the rings i think Y/N would love but obvi u are y/n so whatever you like &lt;3

more 1 than two but idk

[mrdrwrites]

Pairings: Oliver Quick X !fem reader

Summary: Oliver is invited to Saltburn by your twin brother Felix and after the first dinner things get a little heated.

CW: SFW!! kissing, bad language, mention of sexual content (not much)

WC: 2.1k

warning: i am dyslexic so don’t expect all words to be spelled correctly, also i don’t autocapitalise my words

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

being a Catton had many advantages, a never ending list of friends, money, a level of smartness that seemed to be genetic, and sex. lots of sex. my brother, Felix, knows this too well. Felix Catton, my twin brother, is, for a use of better words, a whore. a new girl on his arm every single night. although recently there has been less women and more of a certain man. a very handsome man. Oliver Quick is his name, i had been told by my friend, and one of Felix’s little fuck buddy’s, Veronica. Oliver Quick is a beautiful man, not the type that Felix would usually hang out with. Oliver Quick is a nerd, a man who always has his head in a textbook, a man with glasses, a man who hangs out with Michael Gavey for fucks sake. he is beautiful, a loony, but beautiful nonetheless. when Felix had told me Oliver would accompany us back to Saltburn for the summer with our cousin Farleigh Start, i had almost choked on the very air i was breathing. this information became known to me three months after i had first seen Felix and Oliver together in the pub with Felix’s group of dimwit friends. poor Oliver is going to be eaten alive, Saltburn is going to eat him alive.

two months later.

Saltburn never ceases to amaze me, it’s the home i’ve lived in all my life and yet every time i’m here it feels like the first time. i’m sitting by the pond when Felix comes behind me and scares me. i scream and hit him in the chest when he crouches to my level.

‘Ollie is looking around. when he gets here be nice,’ he warns me with a straight face.

‘i’m always nice. it’s mum you have to worry about,’ i roll my eyes, ‘let’s not forget Venetia too, she’s been anticipating his arrival after your little description of the poor boy.’

Felix sits beside me, ‘i’ve told Venetia, no more Eddie situations. i do not want to lose another friend,’ he sighs.

‘if you do, you’ve still got me,’ i nudge his side with my shoulder, ‘you know, twin sister, built in best friend.’

he chuckles and puts an arm around my shoulders. the both of us stare at the pond until we hear a voice.

‘Felix? Felix, where are you?’ Oliver.

‘over here mate,’ Felix shouts over his shoulder, Oliver soon appears from the side of the house and he sits with Felix and i.

‘this house is,’ there is a pause, ‘beautiful’ Oliver lets out a sigh.

my lip quirks up, ‘Felix given you the tour yet?’

‘yeah. when i first got here,’ his Scouse accent is strong, a stark contrast to Felix and i’s.

‘you meet Venetia or mum and dad yet?’ i question.

Felix flicks my ear, a scowl on his face, ‘leave him alone. enough of the questions.’

i roll my eyes and shut my mouth.

‘no i haven’t. Felix told me to watch out for Venetia,’ Oliver speaks up after a moment of silence, ‘said she has been parading herself round all morning in hopes of finding me, whatever that means.’

‘it means she wants to fuck you, Ollie,’ Felix grits out harshly.

i hit him in his side and he lets out a huff, moving his arm from around my shoulder and to where i hit him. Oliver laughs at the two of us and the sound makes me smile a little myself.

‘Sir Felix, Madam y/n,’ Duncan speaks up from behind the three of us, making Oliver jolt, ‘your mother has requested that the three of you get ready for dinner.’

‘no problem Duncan we will go now,’ Felix waves off our butler and stands.

he lifts a hand in my direction and i grab it for him to pull me up. he does so and the same is done for Oliver. we all part ways once back in the house and go to our respective rooms. i decide on a blue dress for dinner, an elegant dress. it hugs my curves and finishes just above my knee, its off the shoulder and used to be my mothers. she had given it to me as a birthday present. she knew id always dreamed of owning a dress like this. i look at myself in the body length mirror and spray a little perfume on my neck. a knock has me looking from my reflection to the oak door of my bedroom. i make my way over and open up to see Oliver on the other side, looking sheepish.

‘uh, Felix left me in my room to get changed and he, uh, left. i don’t know where the dining room is,’ he averts his gaze to the floor.

‘it’s okay, i get lost sometimes and i’ve lived here my whole life. i’ll take you to the dining room,’ i smile and link my arm with his, closing my bedroom door behind me.

we are in the dining room a moment later, everyone already there. including mums friend Pamela. Oliver and i take a seat and i give a smile to my mother. she returns it and begins to speak.

‘welcome to Saltburn Oliver, we hope everything is to your liking. my name is Elspeth, this is my friend Pamela,’ she points a hand in her direction, ‘that is my husband Sir James,’ and dads, ‘and this is Venetia,’ she finally points toward my younger sister, ‘i assume you have been acquainted with y/n and Farleigh.’

‘yes Mrs Catton, Farleigh and i had a few classes together, and y/n and i have briefly met,’ he looks at me and interlinks our fingers under the table, ‘it is lovely to meet everyone else,’ he smiles.

‘oh please, do call me Elspeth,’ mum states, ‘Felix has told us so much about you, how are your parents?’

the conversation picks up with Oliver being the centre of it. we all eat, Oliver’s finger still entwined with my own under the table. the night finishes when mum has successfully fried all the information out of Oliver about his personal life. parents, siblings, education, friends, favourite colour, heck she knows it all. we are all excused from the table when it has been cleared and Oliver and i’s fingers finally break apart.

‘can i talk to you for a moment,’ i feel a hand on my own as i’m leaving the dining room, i turn and see Oliver, ‘alone.’

‘sure, yeah. is everything okay?’ i question as we make our way to my room.

he says nothing, he just continues to walk with me, his hand in my own. we make it to my room moments later and i let him inside, our hands detach.

‘you’re very beautiful y/n,’ Oliver says as i close my bedroom door.

a blush spreads across my cheeks, ‘thank you Oliver.’

he comes closer to me and my breath catches in my throat. i have had a little tiny crush on Oliver ever since my brother first started hanging out with him 5 months ago. Oliver is handsome, brown hair and big blue eyes that are the perfect colour as to not look too bright or too dull. his hand comes up to stroke my cheek and i lean into it.

he hums, ‘Felix doesn’t shut up about you, you know that?’ he tilts my head so i am looking up into his eyes.

i don’t get the chance to open my mouth before he is speaking again, ‘you’re an easy person to like y/n, i know everything about you because of Felix,’ his thumb rests on my bottom lip, ‘i know your favourite colour is pink, i know you didn’t talk til you were 4 years old, i know you have never let anyone touch you the way i’m touching you now,’ his voice is suddenly deeper.

my lips part and a breath of air is let out. my cheeks becoming even more hot the longer Oliver goes on.

‘you’re beautiful y/n, i mean that. you’re drop dead gorgeous, such a pretty face,’ his thumb tips back so it is half way in my mouth, my tongue is laid flat against the bottom of my mouth, cautious of not touching the pad of Oliver’s thumb.

Oliver’s eyes trail down my face, stopping at my mouth, ‘do you think Felix would understand if i were to kiss you?’ he questions, his accent getting thicker with each word.

his thumb moves from my mouth and there is an icy hot sensation left where he once had it, my lips still agape.

‘i don’t think he would,’ i finally speak up, my voice scratchy, ‘not if he doesn’t find out.’

Oliver’s lips quirk up into a smirk, ‘sneaky y/n, what if i were to fuck you?’ the breath i was taking in gets caught in my throat and i let out a strangled sound, ‘would you still keep that from him?’

i nod. all sensible thoughts seem faraway at this moment and i need Oliver.

he leans close, so that his lips are mere millimetres away from my own, ‘you’re beautiful y/n, the most beautiful girl i’ve ever seen,’ his arms snake around my waist, hands stopping just above my ass.

i lean up to connect our lips, my head is spinning, warmness pooling in the bottom of my stomach. i don’t realise how bad i have needed Oliver until he is pulling away from me. my lips are, no doubt, a mess. Oliver has my pink lipgloss all over his lips, i smile and reach my hand up to cup his jaw as he had done to me a moment earlier. my thumb reaches out to his lip and wipes away the lipgloss. he pulls me closer to him so i can practically feel every muscle in his chest and stomach.

‘kiss me again Oliver,’ my hands now lay flat on his chest.

he obliged and pulls me into him once more. the urgency of this kiss is more than the first, Oliver’s hand slips down from my back to the curve of my ass. he gives it a squeeze and i let out a little noise into the kiss. we continue kissing for what feels like forever til a knock comes from my bedroom door. i pull away from Oliver quickly and shoo him into my wardrobe. i know that knock, it’s Felix.

‘y/n? you in there?’ Felix questions from the other side of the door.

‘yeah hang on i’m changing,’ i grab the first piece of clothing i see, one of Felix’s shirts, and put it on after quickly slipping my dress off. i look at myself in the mirror and wipe the remains of my lipgloss off from around my mouth and open the door. Felix doesn’t wait before barging into my room.

‘have you seen Ollie? he hasn’t come back to his room yet,’ Felix is worried, that much is evident in his tone.

‘no i haven’t. maybe he’s talking to mum or in the garden or something,’ i lie straight through my teeth.

Felix quirks a brow, i hate lying to Felix but it has to be done. he would hate Oliver if he found out what he was doing to his baby sister a moment ago.

‘i’ll go check in the garden. will you go ask mum please?’

‘yeah, i will,’ i reply.

‘thank you y/n’ he gives me a kiss on the cheek and leaves my room.

i let out a sigh and make my way to my wardrobe. i open it and Oliver comes out quickly, ‘i hate small spaces,’ he shudders.

‘i’m sorry Oliver. i didn’t know,’ i feel bad.

‘don’t worry about it. it’s fine,’ he smiles, i instantly feel better.

‘you need to go to your room. Felix is looking for you,’ Oliver’s eyes widen, ‘i told him i’ll check with mum to see if you’re with her so I’ll take you back to your room, okay?’

‘perfect,’ he confirms.

before i can move he gives me a quick kiss and a slap on the ass.

‘behave,’ i tell him as we walk out of my room to which he replies with a chuckle.

we are in Oliver’s room in 5 minutes, all his belongings had been unpacked by the maids during dinner.

‘so how are you liking Saltburn?’ i question Oliver, sitting on his bed.

‘it’s amazing. nothing like home. it’s bigger for starters,’ he lets out a laugh, ‘and it is so beautiful. truly incredible,’ he looks out of the window.

i lay back in his bed and let out a sigh, ‘i’m glad you’re here Oliver.’

‘me too.’

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

AN: would like to thank my best friend @lovandr for being as Saltburn obsessed as i am and making me feel like whatever i make, whether that be a story or an edit, is good enough.

[m1ssunderstanding]

Get Back Rewatch 55 Years On: Day 13

Ah it’s “coordinate with the carpet” day.

John could probably say “2+2=3” and Paul would be like “Oh you're sooo right, John.”

Literally the ADHD antics (jumping over a chair because it’s there and you can and it would be funner than going around) are so relatable.

Ringo putting Zac’s picture up? I don’t know much about him as a dad. Does anyone know? I mean I know part of the reason he and Mo left india was because they missed their kids, and in late 66 when John was making HIWTW and Paul was working on TFW and George was off learning filthy eastern ways, Ringo stayed home and ‘enjoyed the baby’. Was he a really good dad?

John: I really liked how that lead singer was singing so soft and nice. Paul: like this, John? Like this? John? John, look at me, do you like this?

Literally why are you even there, Yoko. Like, genuinely, not for the bands sake or anything, but for your own sake, go find somewhere else to be! Something, something, one of the few ways to find success as a woman was to attach yourself to a man and she was hustling with the best feminist tools available okay, okay. Ugh, I just don't know if I could stomach it.

I heard John say “Rickie and the Red Streaks” and I was like, ummm, did you mean “Suzie and the Red Stripes”? But apparently it’s a real band. They were in the same Cavern show as the Beatles when they came back from Hamburg but never made it big. And Paul was purposely referencing them with Linda's pretend band because, as he said, he would have been happy to just have been them instead of the Beatles. 

“John, can you take a little bit of bass off your guitar?” The faces. Paul told him to take some bass off a minute ago, didn't he? Or he just knows how much John hates to be told that. Anyway it's the silent communication for me.

Paul: *stops his little wordless moan-singing for two seconds*. John: Everybody had a wet drea–SING, Paul! Paul: Ooohh yeah! He’s sooo happy I’m melting. Paul McCartney wants one thing in this life, and it’s for John Lennon to tell him to sing.

“He would’ve been president, you know.” John, bless your naive, lovely heart. 

Paul: shrieking. John: moves the microphone the way a mom takes the sharpie out of her toddler’s hand. 

“If you can get ‘em off Mimi’s wall.” I have a hard time with Mimi. Sometimes she’s adorable. Sometimes she’s horrible. I really can’t get a read. And maybe that was the problem. Maybe John couldn’t either. 

This moment. My little ND baby. Someone just hit your g spot, didn’t they? But to be fair, it is incredibly impressive. Billy has never heard the song before, and he just jumps in with the perfect fill? I love Billy. So talented, such a cutie, so cool, so kind. And look at him. Having such a good time.

The silent communication again here. “Are you hearing this?” “Yeah, baby, I’m hearing this.” Then, John vocalizes the decision. How many Beatles decisions were made like this? Thinking specifically of Brian's account of their decision for him to manage, but probably this happened constantly. 

Yoko reading “The Beatles Complete History”. I love that she’s like, “Everything John tells me is ‘Paul this, Paul that, wah, wah, wah’. I need to get some cold hard facts.” 

Billy’s piano actually is insanely sexy though.

John: *complains about his rock and roll finger* Paul, turning up the scouse: Come on, son, now try your hardest. John continues, soft, needy' Lookie, look at him. *holding up his finger* Paul, genuine: Ah, I know. I just love the different ways they take care of each other. 

Poor George, dissociating himself into another dimension as John’s crooning about Paul’s eating habits. Look. At. How. He’s. Looking. At. Him. You’d think Paul was in that moment creating the heavens and the earth. Nope. Just rocking back and forth like a catatonic, probably getting crumbs all in his greasy beard.

But seriously HOW is everyone in this room watching these two men, taking in to account all of their behaviors, scream "All I want is you!" at each other and not forcing them immediately into either fucking or therapy or both?!

Ringo’s holey pocket, my beloved. 

The guy with the RP accent and the suit coming up to John like the bad guy in every American children’s movie. “I’ve spoken to Mr. Klein.” Dun, dun, dun.

[a-freemaniac]

The Responder!

Martin Freeman:

" Chris wants to be a good dad and a happier person but he's not in a good way and that’s at the heart of the story. It’s not all about Chris but we do see him experiencing different levels of stress, anger and regret. What Tony does brilliantly is let his scripts breathe and that’s my favourite thing about them. Rather than be too plot driven, the drama is story and character led and in series two we get to see more of the lives of the characters we came to care about in series one."

Tony Schumacher:

Martin loves playing dislikable characters, I think all actors do, really, because there's a challenge in making someone who's dislikable likeable. I think what people relate to with Chris and saw in Martin's performance, was that he was a guy who was genuinely trying to do his best and trying to not to be a bad person.

Adam Nagaitis:

Martin's performance was close to perfect. Nuanced, beautiful, moving and incredibly frustrating and depressing. He also might be the most available, aware in the present moment actors I've ever been opposite.

Read extended interviews with the whole cast and the writer.

You are in for a treat full of thoughts and insights!

@safedistancefrombeingsmart @martinfreemanspotter @compact-and-beautiful @whatnext2020 @colourfulwatson @free-martinis

[ang3lb1iss]

Notre Dame | paris paloma | Part 1 of 2 

Word count: 2.7k 

Pairing: James Potter x F!Bestfriend Reader 

Summary: Hogwarts years | You were James’ best friend since first year. Throughout your years at Hogwarts, you had started to develop a crush on James, but you refused to act on your feelings due to the fact James only ever had eyes for Lily. Now you're sitting at his funeral, reminiscing about the past and you can't help but feel regret and guilt. 

Authors note: This is my first fic /one-shot so forgive me if it isn't that great to read, I just found it fun being able to interpret lyrics into stories about characters I love. The story loosely follows the Marauders scenes in the HP movies. I picture James with either a scouse accent or a really chavvy London accent, but you can picture him however you want. I apologise in advance if the tenses get mixed up, the story is made up of the reader looking back on the past and reliving certain moments. 

______________________________________________________________

‘I'm in the rafters looking down  It's cold up here  Between walls of stone  I made my home’ 

The church is cold and dim. Especially in the upstairs seating, which is where you are situated. As you try to listen to the speeches full of childhood memories and happier times, you can't help but lose focus and think about the what-ifs and how things could've gone differently. If you had never met James in that cabin on the way to Hogwarts, you wouldn’t be feeling this pain and heartache, but you also wouldn’t have had such a joyful and exciting time at the school. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. “What if it was me and not Lily? Why wasn’t it me? Why did I have to fall for him?” You wonder what the answers to these questions could be, but the harsh truth is that you never will, and you will live with the never-ending ambiguity until the day you die. 

‘And the air hangs heavy with the incense  Feathers fall from pigeons  Cooing in the tower’ 

Your first year, you remember it all so clearly. You were looking to find a cabin for the journey to Hogwarts, but the majority were filled, and in the rest, there were stone-faced older kids that openly sneered at you anytime you walked past them. Until you found his cabin. 

 He was the only one in there and you thought that he looked somewhat friendly, so you decided to take a chance. It ended up being one of the best decisions you’ve ever made. 

 He welcomed you in with a bright smile on his face, despite looking like his face would split with how wide his smile was, he asked you the standard questions, “What's your name? What house d’ya think you'll be in? D’ya want to be mates?” Of course, I wanted to be friends with him, I probably would have been miserable without him in my life but then again, I wouldn’t be so heartbroken now. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. 

You can recall the way his eyes gleamed when he introduced himself as James. James. Tears sprung to your eyes, making your surroundings go blurry. You can't help but miss the way he proudly said he was a Gryffindor “where dwell the brave at heart” and how Slytherin was full of “evil prats and I'd rather die than be in Slytherin.” You had always admired his pride and how he never let anything upset him too much or for too long. 

That is of course until Lily Evans became more vicious and spiteful in her rejections and jabs. Whenever James was insulted by his “Lilyflower” he let it break down his nonchalant persona and let it cut him deeper than any knife ever could. His Lilyflower. The common factor in all your suffering, you couldn’t blame her of course, it wasn’t her fault that a big oaf like James Potter fell in love with her. But it's not like that fact softened the blow in any way. 

You decided to stop that train of thought before you cried even harder. Instead, you choose to remember when the Trolley Lady came to the door and being breath taken at the assortment of sweet treats. Upon looking in your purse which was just a pouch, you’d realised that you didn’t have enough to get the Bertie Botts Every flavour Beans that you would've liked, with disappointment quickly replacing your awestruck expression, you had declined and took to looking out the window instead of having to see the trolley taunting you with all its colours and designs.  

That’s when you heard him. 

“We’ll take the lot of ‘em” you heard him say and you had insisted that he shouldn’t be wasting his money on you, but he simply drowned out your pleas and focused on the shock of the Trolley Lady. He was always so generous. 

After much reluctance and countless Thank you’s, you'd decided to have a few cauldron cakes and indulge in a chocolate frog when a small timid boy opened the compartment door and asked if anyone had seen his toad, he introduced himself as Peter Pettigrew and he ended up sitting with the both of you for the rest of the journey while you had pulled out a book to read and ended up falling asleep with your head leaning on the compartment wall. 

‘I rarely go down there, the view's just so beautiful from here  And I can see everybody at their worst points  At their worst points’ 

You start to remember the moment you openly started looking at James differently. It was the end of third year, and he had just won the quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin after declaring during dinner in the great hall that Gryffindor was 100% going to win and he would “wipe his arse with the slithering bastards”.  

You also remember his mumbling and moaning about having to go to detention and you remember him being too busy laying his head on your lap when you both were in your dorm and going to sleep while you read a book. 

 But there he was on his broom hovering above the crowd that had formed to celebrate the win with him. The noise of screams, chants and shouts reverberated across the entirety of the school grounds. The thought of it making you shiver. While James was practically the same shade as the snitch by how brightly his smile was beaming, you were perfectly content with watching him from the Gryffindor stands and away from the chaos that was the Quidditch pitch. 

To this day you can still feel the way your heart skipped a beat when he looked up and smiled at you. At least you thought it was at you. You noticed his wet hair, whether it was because of the rain, him sweating or a combination of both, you didn’t care. His curly dark brown hair that normally looked so fluffy and messy that you just wanted to run your hands through it and make it somewhat tidier.  

His arms that made his jersey look to be too tight, it made you picture scenarios with him being able to carry you places when you got too tired, fighting someone who tried to hurt you. You are still quite ashamed to admit the times when you got flustered at the thought of him using them to pin you against a wall and having a heated makeout session in a broom cupboard. 

Thoughts aside, you had decided to retire to your dorm for a quick nap. The cold can be very tiring. You gathered your things and stood up only to see Lily Evans, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew sat together directly behind you. You hadn't even noticed them while you watched James previously. 

Lily and Peter said hello while Remus only managed an awkward tight-lipped smile. You and Remus didn’t become friends until your seventh year when you both bonded over being unrequited lovers. The reason for this being that you always felt like he could see through you. He knew things about people before they even knew it themselves which always made you paranoid that he could see your feelings for James and tell him, and as a result, ruining the best friendship you ever had. At least I don’t need to be paranoid anymore.  

Your mind skipped to fifth year, when you were sitting with the Marauders on a warm sunny day, exams had just ended, and you all were just waiting for the results to be calculated. That’s when you heard the boys get up and walk over to a nearby tree. You looked over and saw a mop of stringy black hair and a pale face with an expression of distaste painted on his face. Snivellous,, the foul git.  

You had chosen to stay far back enough that you could still see what happens clearly but ensured you weren't too close as to avoid McGonagall's wrath if she were to show up at the scene.  

The next thing you knew was that Snivellous was hanging upside down in mid-air. Levicorpus. You remember coming across the charm in the library with Sirius and James while looking for more spells for future pranks. You never got involved in the pranks because you didn’t fancy sitting in a silent room for an hour for detention or, Merlin forbid, whatever task Filch might've issued you with. 

There was always a slight rift between you and Sirius because of your refusal to get involved in pranks, he would never have outwardly said it in front of James or Peter because of their loyalty to you, but he disliked how you would only ever consider helping them if James had asked you. You were the only girl in Hogwarts he couldn’t sway with his charm and good looks. And Merlin did it get him jealous. Not that you had noticed back then at least. 

You ended that tangent before it made you spiral down a rabbit hole of confusion. You thought back the past, Snape was being held high by none other than James Potter. His fluffy green Slytherin socks and the sparse leg hair upon his dry ashen legs, were left on display for everyone to see. You had wondered what provoked James into performing such a spell. But your question was left unanswered as your attention had gone to Snape being dropped back onto the ground and Lily Evans being called a “Filthy Mudblood.” by her old childhood best friend. 

If anger meant seeing red, then James wasn’t seeing anything but of blind rage. “Don’t you dare call her that word you vile, disgusting creature.” There was an array of insults and cussing until Lily had brought him back to his senses. She told Snivellous to piss off and she waited until he was far enough away to round on James and unleash the anger that had been building inside her for years. 

You couldn’t hear what she said due to the fact she had put a silencing charm on the area but based off what James whimpered and whined about while he dreamt in your bed with you for comfort, she had probably said something along the lines of “I would rather kill myself then ever be your girl, Potter.” Hindsight is a funny thing after all. You couldn’t help but feel a pang of your heart at the fact that his soul had latched onto Lily and not you, not even giving you a chance.  

That was the night you realised that you would never get the guy. You will forever be condemned to loving James Potter. Your life will continue to be tormented with the possibilities that could've happened, the dreams that made you weep with despair and the everlasting longing and desire slowly encasing your heart until it breaks and shatters. James Potter was the light of your life, but he also caused the darkness that it left behind. James Potter was the sun, but now everything has gone dark. 

‘I'm not a sadist, I enjoy just being able to be witness of the loneliness and fear  I abhor in case there isn't one  In case there isn't one’ 

After that night, after your tragic discovery had become the only thing running through your head. You had pathetically tried to recover the way you saw James before you fell for him. You tried for 2 long years with no luck. He still had your attention and heart, and yet he didn’t realise he had either. So, when the Marauders split for the night, you decided to ask for help. 

You were suffocating with the grief and the mourning of what could've been. And you needed someone to help you breathe. 

With Peter and Sirius headed to the dorm, James doing his Head-Boy patrols with Lily, it was only you and Remus left in the library, the map and the invisibility cloak set to the side until you both decided to leave. It turns out you didn’t even need to say anything because Remus knew exactly what was going through your head. 

He saw the adoration in your eyes when you looked at your best friend, he saw the longing and upset you tried to hide when you heard him constantly talk about marrying Lily and having “Mini Potters” with her. No matter how well you tried, you couldn’t help but subtly display your inner turmoil. 

And Remus saw it all.  

“You're in love with James, aren't you, I see the way your eyes shine brighter, and your smile gets bigger when he enters the room. But he doesn’t love you back and you know it. I know you know it. And I know you’ve known it for years now. But I know what it's like, it feels like a constant weight on your chest and when they walk in the room, it disappears even if you try to hold it down, but then their presence, their joy, their affection for someone else, drains you, the energy you put in to try make them notice your love just gets brushed away until eventually it leaves you so empty that you become a hollow shell of the person that fell for them all that time ago.” 

“I can't tell you how to get rid of it simply because I don’t know how to, but I can offer you some advice that I should've taken before it was too late. Leave, Leave them alone. Leave their life. It'll suck balls for the first while I'm sure but by staying you're degrading yourself. All your insecurities and the suffering you're facing now will pass. This is doomed love sweetheart. You're slowly breaking down. Leave. Before you can't piece yourself together again.” 

And with that he leaves the library. 

How are you supposed to leave his life? How are you supposed to keep him out of yours? The questions won't stop plaguing your mind, do you take Remus's advice and move on, or do you ignore him and feel your heart pull and crack every time you see him. The choice will be the most difficult one you will ever make and yet it’s the one that needs to be made. 

You walk into potions the next day, you thought that it would help make a choice if you avoided him for a day as a trial. Instead of sitting in your normal seat, you walked over and sat beside a Ravenclaw who you believed was called Pandora.  

The Marauders walked in and sat at their tables; you avoided James’ gaze when you looked over to you in confusion, but Remus diverted his attention elsewhere. You had inwardly thanked Remus for helping you out. 

As the lesson went on everything got worse and your decision became clearer and clearer. 

Since the year started, James had started to think twice about the pranks, he acted more mature in general and overall started becoming a man. All of this was for Lily of course. You couldn’t help but ask yourself if he would do the same thing for you if he chose you in the first place. 

You were taking notice of all the little things that you're usually too delusional to notice. 

How every time he made a joke or laughed; he would glance at Lily. You could feel your heart in your throat. 

How he would wink and smirk at her when he got an answer correct. A tear forms in your eye. 

How he would look over at her to make sure she understood the topic. Another tear forms. 

How he whispers the answer in her ear if she doesn’t know it. Another one 

How he shines with pride when Professor Slughorn appraises her. Another. 

More tears form until you couldn’t stop them anymore. Thankfully the class was dismissed, and you quickly left before the tears fell and left a salty trail down your cheek. A representation of your life back then. Although in thinking that you can't help but notice that it didn’t get any better. Hindsight is a funny thing after all. 

[football-and-fanfics]

The Medic - #1 - Trent Alexander-Arnold

About the series: The Medic will be an anthology-like series about the reader working for the medical team of the club. Each chapter will feature a different setting/scenario and a different player.

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold Prompt: "How long have you been hiding this?" Warnings: none

It was a quiet time for you right now. With Liverpool's injury list blissfully empty, the pressure on your department, the medical department, was a lot less at the moment.

You were reading reports on a few routine check-ups of some players, when the sound of footsteps announced the arrival of someone.

"Hi."

You didn't even need to look up from the report you were reading to know Trent had just appeared in the door opening of your office. The Scouse accent dripped even from that single word.

"Hey, Trent," you greeted him back, "anything I can do for you?" "Uhm..." Trent hesitated slightly. "Would you mind taking a look at something for me?"

Out of professional habit, your eyes immediately scanned over Trent's body in search for obvious injuries, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. "Sure," you answered, "something the matter?" "It's my ankle." Trent still spoke with a slight hesitance to his voice. "It's playing up a little bit." In his entire posture you could see he was ill at ease about this. "Alright, let's have a look."

Trent sat himself down on the treatment table on the other end of your office space. Without you having to ask for it, he took off his shoe and sock, rolled the leg of his trousers up to just below the knee, and stretched his leg out on the table.

His skin felt warm against your hands as you held his foot to examine him. You ran your fingers along his ankle when you pressed and felt and tested the movement of the joint. Trent silently watched you work.

Upon a careful stretch to the right, a shock went through Trent's entire leg and he winced audibly. You frowned at the obvious injury to his ankle. Something about this was not as it should be, and a suspicion started to form in your mind.

"How long have you been hiding this?" You asked out of the blue. "I..." Trent stammered at first. He looked to be searching for a way out of this, but immediately realized you already knew. "About two weeks ago. I twisted it during training."

The frown on your face deepened. You were sure you hadn't seen Trent for it back then, and you couldn't remember seeing any reports from your colleagues regarding such an injury. "I didn't see anyone for it," Trent confessed, accurately interpreting your silence and the frown on your face. "Why not?" The tone of your voice betrayed your opinion on that decision. Trent averted his gaze, avoiding to look at you, and shrugged his shoulders. "I didn't think it was that bad." "And you played how many matches with this? Two?" You asked a little sternly. "Three," Trent mumbled softly, "and I never skipped a training session."

"Okay." You decided not to pass any further judgement on the choice Trent had made, and instead focused on at least treating the injury now. "I don't think you tore anything, but I do think you gave some muscles and ligaments a stretch." "Did I make it worse?" The realization of what could have happened shone in Trent's eyes. "You might have," you answered honestly, "but hopefully you still came to me in time. And since you can still walk quite normally, I think you'll be alright."

"So... what now?" Trent asked quietly. "I'll tape it in for now," you answered, "so it's stable and you don't twist it again, but I want to see you back tomorrow. We'll do a quick scan to make sure there indeed is no serious damage."

Trent nodded calmly. He knew he hadn't made the best choices in this, and that he would now maybe suffer the consequences of it, but he was glad for the way you handled this without passing too much judgement on him.

Trent's eyes followed your every move with interest as you applied the medical tape to his ankle. His leg twitched slightly when you smoothened out the tape underneath his foot. "Painful?" You asked. "No." He shook his head, chuckling. "That tickles." You laughed softly. "Sorry about that. All done already." Trent examined the skillfully applied red tape now supporting his ankle, before putting his sock and shoe back on.

"How did you know?" He asked, "that this wasn't a fresh injury?" There was genuine wonder in his eyes. "It's still slightly swollen, but there isn't much heat anymore," you explained, "with an injury like that you always see a lot of heat forming along with the swelling. You probably had that, but two weeks ago."

Trent nodded somewhat guiltily. "I promise I'll come to you straight away if it ever happens again." "Yeah, you better," you chuckled. "I will," Trent smiled a guilt-ridden smile. "I learnt my lesson."

Tags: @evie-pr, @auawdo, @meteora-fc, @stonesyyyy, @drizzyreese, @hbstre, @liverpoolfanfiction, @sternennebel2001, @mrswinksy, @themoon-shines TAA tags: @footballffbarbiex, @sanchoj7 Liverpool / PL tags: @ella33, @candlelitutopia, @percervall

Add me to the tags list General masterlist | TAA masterlist

[lfc21]

"I'm sleeping on the couch"

TW: Fluff

Prompt list: Tik Tok

Summary: when you wonder around the house in the middle of the night stating your sleeping on the couch the only thing curtis can do is go an adventure for you.

"I'm sleeping on the couch" you explained to Curtis in a whisper as you made your way out of the soft warm sheets and stole the fluffy grey throw from the floor. You had your phone secretly recording in your hand, knowing this would be the best tik tok for you both yet. Curtis's head shot up at your words as he was just about to drift off into a well-deserved slumber.

"What?" He asked wanting the words you spoke to fall through the air once again. He watched you shuffle around the room with your blanket and phone until opening the door revealing the light shining in from the hall. "Y/n where are you going?" He asked again in his scouse accent.

"sleeping downstairs" you shouted back from the stairs as you bit your lips in an act to prevent the laughter from falling out.

"What the hell" you heard Curtis mumble as the sound of his feet now tapping across the bedroom floor caused you to run quickly down the stairs and into the living room. "Y/n" he hollered from the landing as he made his way to descend to you.

"Yeah?" You asked oblivious to his words. You had now placed your phone resting on the mantle piece still recording the very moment.

"I'm sorry but why have you just got up and say your sleeping on the couch? What did I d-" he started before being cut short as he turned the corner. His face went soft at the sight of you tucked up in the grey covers on the large l-shaped couch. You had your eyes planted shut and only your head showing from the blanket.

"Sorry, what babe?" You asked as if you were half asleep and didn't have a perception as to what was going on.

"Nothing" he mumbled with a soft giggle as he climbed over your small body and rested himself over you as his lips plated small kisses on yours. "As long as I can stay?" He asked with a soft smile and delicate words. You simply nodded at his words and opened your arms up for him so he fell softly into your embrace. Even if it was the middle of the night and you were both tottering around to complete a tik tok, it still made the most amazing and worthwhile memories.

Hey guys 👋🏻 This is my first and only Curtis imagine from the tik tok prompt list ❤️ If you have sent in a request which has already been taken I will try and write two of the same with different players and different contexts 📖 Please leave feedback and requests as they are greatly appreciated 🥰 have the best day everyone 😀 masterlist 2022 💌 masterlist 2023 💌

@prettylittletrent @cornertakenquicklyyyy @trentalexanderarnold @robbo38 @robbothegoat @kostasstsimikass @chelseamount @chloereddy @tsimikasfamily @avenirdelight @blueathens @jordanhendersunshine @mrs-henderson @thatonesexycancerian @hendersons1truelover @nyctophilic0vitnir @peekapeaches @tsimikxs @tsimikostas @trentalexarnofan @leddows @moneymasnn @superkittywonderland @virgilvansike @virgilvandickmedown @hopefulromantic1 @robbo-trent-fanfiction26

[mlmxreader]

Don't Leave Me Again | John Price x gn!reader

『••✎••』

↳ ❝ Price

29 “I can’t fall asleep because I wake up, see you’re not there, and suddenly I miss you all over again” ❞

: ̗̀➛ Grief is a funny thing, and it can trick you into thinking that someone's with you even when they're not.

: ̗̀➛ death, depictions of dead bodies

•───────────────★•♛•★──────────────•

Price knew that his time was up when he noticed the leather clad soldier from the corner of his eye; masked and entirely in black, they easily beat him to the ground when he was alone. It was a mistake to excuse himself for a quick bathroom break amongst the snow and the ice.

He always knew that he would never make it out alive, just as he knew that his time would come one day. He just hoped that it would be quick, and that Gaz and Ghost and Farah would make it out just fine.

Far in the distance, he could hear the wails of falling shells and mortars, the soft symphony of gunfire and screams of anguish; a well known melody to Price. At least he would die amongst what he knew.

Blood spilling from his lips as he coughed and spluttered. The snow was melting beneath him, making his back slick and wet as it leaked through his clothes; he closed his eyes, allowing your name to spill from his lips just one final name.

The softest of prayers. The sweetest of reminders.

A single gunshot rang out amongst the dense and thick, snow coated, forest as blood turned to ice.

Two months ago, Gaz called you.

He hated to be the bearer of bad news, but it had to come from someone you trusted; Ghost didn't know you too well, mere acquaintances. Farah knew you better, but she had not spoken a word since that day.

Gaz had to do it, and although he wished he could have done it in person, he wasn't able to make his way over there; the last time that he, or anybody else for that matter, had seen you was during Price's funeral. You were a wreck, nearly threw yourself on top of the coffin.

Wailing and weeping as Gaz and Farah held you tightly.

As far as any of them were aware, you still lived at the house in Liverpool; Gaz missed you, of course he did, you two had been close friends once upon a time… but now you wouldn't even answer your phone.

Grief was a tricky thing, and Gaz knew that you and Price had planned a life together and that you had been together for some time, but he just wished that you would at least tell him that you were alive.

You woke with a start. Drool on your pillow as you grumbled and sniffled, pushing yourself up and clearing your throat; the room was dark, a dim blue light emanating from the television. Teleshopping.

You sighed, rubbing your face for a moment as you looked to the other side of the bed; you put your hand down on the mattress, but upon feeling the cold and untouched sheets, you felt your eyes well up with tears.

A thick stench of sulphur and rotten eggs had settled in the room, and although it had been warm when you fell asleep, it was now cold; the kind of cold that came with thundering rain and howling winds, yet the window was shut and locked closed.

You flopped down against the pillows again, pulling the duvet up to your face and closing your eyes tightly; it still smelled like John. Dense smoke and thicker cologne. He never was one to half-ass anything.

You sniffled, when there was a soft knock at the door, forcing you to look up; you expected to see Gaz stood there, but you could only shudder as your jaw fell slack.

His blue eyes were now pale and white, no colour to them, and no pupils either. His voice was a whispering rasp, a mere parody of himself that didn't sound at all like he used to; the Scouse accent was gone, replaced by a thick gargling.

His pale skin seemed blue in the dull light, as if trapping the colour of the television. He was so cold as he sat on the bed, and it didn't even dip with his weight as he put his hands on his thighs. Desperately looking at you.

He was still wearing his uniform; although the uniform was frayed and splattered with something that you couldn't quite see. Something was spilling from his stomach, something wet and squishy.

“John?”

He tilted his head, nodding slowly as the bones let out loud cracks; breaking as you watched them inch closer and closer to piercing through his skin.

You sniffled loudly, cautiously inching towards him for a moment. By now, you normally would have been sat on his lap, snuggled into him and listening to him breathing.

Not tonight. Never again.

He made a sound, almost like he was trying to tell you to go back to bed; to snuggle down and to sleep. But you couldn't understand, his singsong voice was a parody of human speech, garbled and strangled.

“I can’t fall asleep because I wake up, see you’re not there, and suddenly I miss you all over again,” you whispered softly, shaking your head.

You went to lay your hand on his knee, your bottom lip trembling when your fingers fell right through, meeting the soft mattress beneath.

He groaned, reaching out and holding his hand beside your face; scared that his fingers would sink right through you. Terrified of it. He gulped, hanging his head. A short bone pushed up and through the see through skin with a squelch.

“Please, John,” you murmured. “Don't leave me again. Please.”

He wanted to tell you he was sorry. That he wished he didn't have to leave you at all and that there was nothing more he wanted than to be with you, to feel you in his arms as he cradled you gently.

But he knew he couldn't, just as he knew that he would never feel the warmth of your skin again.

Price needed, wanted you to know that he would always watch over you, that he would always be with you even if you couldn't see him; but tried as he did, he couldn't get his voice back.

He could never tell you.