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hvlcy0n · 5 months ago

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SAY IT (PT. 1) . . . hayato suo x fem!reader

+ you’ve never reciprocated any of suo’s confessions of love, but a chance to eavesdrop on a conversation among you and your friends grants him all the insight he needs.

+ 4.2k words

+ NSFW (MINORS DNI) // UNEDITED // brief mentions of sex // mentions of edging at the end // brief mentions of overstimulation // mentions of past heartbreak/insecurities // established relationship // manipulation // i got all the big stuff but i’m definitely forgetting some minor stuff i’m just tired of looking at this

+ this is my first time writing suo so plEASE cut me some slack, i got tired of seeing it every time i opened google docs. i left any descriptions/names of your friends extremely vague on purpose so you can fill in whoever. the NEXT part of this will be centered around smut, but this one was more just kinda the build-up to his decision to push you out of your comfort zone.

suo has always been able to see right through you.

granted, that was his area of expertise—the ability to pierce through people’s defenses as if they were nothing more than a gossamer film and unearth whatever information he resolved to discover. he was regarded as dangerous by both allies and enemies, capable of sinking his fingertips into peoples’ psyches and peeling back the layers until their self–control began to fracture and ruby welled beneath his touch and trickled down to obscure his opponents’ vision in an all–consuming bloodlust that left them vulnerable and uncoordinated.

he had a critical eye and a terrifying intuition; and while his friends wouldn’t trade him for the world, they were also aware of the uncharted territory of suo’s complex character—not to mention the existence of a small distance between them that had been discreetly established by suo himself. while he genuinely enjoyed the presence of his friends, he valued his privacy and space, and he often kept information about him restricted. he was more enigmatic than anything else.

so, when suo offhandedly mentioned having a girlfriend, they were shocked. although emotionally intelligent, none of his friends pegged him as a romantic, his secrecy and manipulative tactics seemingly too insurmountable an obstacle in a relationship. generally, he was kind and respectful, but his demeanor could flip on a dime in the face of discourteous behavior. he could be mean—unfair. it wasn’t uncommon for him to mask his slick tongue and cruelty behind refined language and his gentlemanly composure as he subjected his targets to public humiliation. sometimes, his emotions could get the better of him, and he could be frightening when they do. a gentleman? maybe. but there’s more nuance to him than that.

unbeknownst to them, suo was remarkably softer with you. warmth and genuine kindness emanated from every content smile and careful dance of his hands over your skin, calloused fingertips bearing an ardent reverence that would cause even aphrodite to flush. the sharp edge to his tongue smoothed, his teasing light-hearted and devoid of the faint, underlying drip of venom that could sometimes be heard punctuating his words if someone listened closely enough. when he observed you, his eyes glowed with innocuous curiosity and rather than distant analysis.

the more time he spent with you, the more he could read you like an open book, deft fingertips tracing over even your most tattered, weathered pages and the most smudged ink to wholly bare the contents of your soul to him. he sought to know you in your entirety—your likes and dislikes, how you like to be touched, how you react to certain things. after all, the more he knows about you, the better he can protect you.

the better he can love you.

love.

that’s a tricky subject for you to navigate, he’s learned.

you were never one to shy away from his affection. in fact, you clearly delighted in the attention he lavished you with. there was never a question as to whether you would hurry to lace your fingers with his if he reached out to you, if you would lean into his caresses, or if you would let him pepper kisses across your cheeks. you were so receptive to his ministrations, so much so that it was almost natural for your body to drift toward his in search of some sort of closeness. whatever he doled out, you returned, and that included the light banter and flirtatious remarks you two often exchanged. you fascinated him, kept him on his toes.

the only area of your relationship that you fell short in was verbal confessions of love. suo knew that you were fiercely protective of your heart, already having subjected it to enough bruises and scrapes throughout your life to make you want to guard it to the best of your abilities. he was fortunate as it was that you had trusted him enough to relinquish it to him.

he knew that you were still learning to navigate the choppy waters of vulnerability—true vulnerability. it was easy enough to bask in suo’s attention and rely on his ability to comprehend the unspoken, but to say the words aloud would be to speak it into being, to charge the universe with the magnetic force that will bind your fate to his, to make it real. you never said anything that you didn’t mean, and suo understood that after all your hard work fortifying your emotions, to openly admit it would require you to let down your guard entirely and let him in.

there’s no doubt in his mind that you love him. he can feel it in the way you pour every ounce of heartfelt emotion into the kisses you press to his lips, your dedication toward memorizing and analyzing all of his microexpressions so that you can understand him on a deeper level, and the adoration that pools in your eyes like molten honey as you observe him when you think he isn’t paying attention. only a fool would mistake the depth of your feelings.

he can read you like a book, that much is true, but it’s much more enjoyable to have it read to him line–by–line than to flip through the pages on his own.

it’s quite endearing, actually, the way your skin would warm and your brain would stall whenever his lips would brush a saccharine “i love you” over the shell of your ear, or the way goosebumps would scatter across your skin and you would clench around him whenever he’d pair the words with a well–timed thrust inside you. he thrives off flustering you and witnessing your demeanor crumble into a delightful shyness that never fails to cause a small smile to tug at the corners of his lips.

even so, he sometimes finds himself yearning for that reassurance that you’re as irrevocably enamored with him as he is with you—that you crave him the way he craves you. he understands that it’s greedy of him and that he should tamp down such self–centered emotions. he knows what your feelings toward him are; it would be inconsiderate of him to pry you out of your shell until you’re ready in order to satisfy his own desires. the concept of love operates differently for different people, and he can accept that.

it always slips his mind how swiftly things can change.

it was a complete coincidence when he’d stumbled upon you in the outdoor seating area of a restaurant, accompanied by a few friends of yours. he recalled you telling him that you were going out for lunch with them, but he had no idea that his outing in search of a new pair of shoes to replace his worn ones would cause your paths to cross. he hadn’t meant to eavesdrop on your conversation, only to simply greet you and then continue about his business, but he paused when he heard his name leave one of your friends’ lips.

“so, are you and suo still together?”

oh? before he can even acknowledge the gravity of contravening your privacy, his body is sparked into motion all on its own. he’s quick to retreat, melting into the slanted shadow proffered by the slim alleyway he had been poised to exit, just beyond the scope of your view.

he’s well aware that this is an infraction of the trust you extended to him, but he forces himself to disregard the prick of guilt aside in favor of potentially learning valuable information about the inner workings of your brain. it may not be ideal, but it’s for the best, he reasons. what if you reveal to your friends ways that he could better serve as your boyfriend? what if you feel more comfortable explaining to your friends your reservations about returning his heartfelt confessions? besides, the conversation is technically also centered around him, so surely it would be rude to bar him from listening in.

“of course,” the thought of you denying your relationship was never a concern for suo. you both trust each other implicitly, but to hear you stake such an immediate, explicit claim over him rouses a ticklish spark of delight in his stomach all the same. you scoff, as if the idea was so improbable it was ridiculous. “i’ll tie that man up in my basement before i let him just leave.” suo chuckles gently to himself. perhaps you truly are as invested as he is, after all.

“the dick must be fucking life–altering, if that’s the case.” she laughs. “come on, tell us. is it?”

“wh—” suo’s lips settle into a small, amused smile as he watches you flounder under her questioning, eyes feverishly flitting to your other friends for help, only for each one of them to leave you to drown with their own wide–eyed, inquisitive stares. “oh, my god, i’m not telling you that!” nervous laughter wracks your chest. suo’s shrewd gaze can practically perceive the memories flickering through your brain as you try to maintain your composure, each one spliced together in a salacious collage that has blood thrumming beneath your skin. suo has always been one to fine–tune his craft, and his perfectionism extended to the bedroom as he used his meticulous attention to detail and acute awareness of your reactions to guide you to your peak over . . . and over . . . and over again until he was satisfied.

and of course, you knew that.

“but seriously,” another girl props her elbow on the table and rests her chin on her palm, observing you closely. “i’ve never seen you like this before. before him, you were all ‘ew, gross, men’—not to say that isn’t still valid, but y’know. maybe suo really is a good match for you.”

“do you love him?” the first girl pipes up ecstatically.

now we’re getting somewhere.

it requires significant concentration for suo not to laugh outright when a jolt of surprise grips your body, your muscles visibly tensing and eyes rounding. your lips part to speak, but the words remain wedged in your throat. “i—uh . . .”

“wait, for real?” the third girl, who had remained quiet this entire time, finally speaks up. “do you not actually love him?”

this time, when you don’t at least make an effort to deny their claims, suo’s smile begins to wilt. from suo’s angle, your expression is sapped of the typical bashfulness he had been anticipating. rather, your features are murky with conflict, brows furrowed pensively and fingertips drumming against the chilled glass of the untouched beverage sitting between your palms. for the first time in a while, he can’t read you, and while he’s always enjoyed a bit of reticence and mystery, he doesn’t want it like this—not when such uncertainty is founded on the future of his relationship. did he misunderstand you somehow? was he wrong? no, there’s no way that you’d have done everything you did if you didn’t harbor some type of love for him. it’s simply not plausible. right?

the silence is unnerving, causing a chasm of apprehension to split his stomach and swallow up the candlelit flicker of warmth that once resided in his chest. he’s never been an anxious individual, typically collected and level–headed under pressure. in fact, he’s always prided himself on his ability to remain composed; but now, as he stands here, body stiff and heart thumping as he waits for you to continue, he figures that love really is one hell of a drug. only the wideness of his eyes betrays his usual poise, but even that would be enough for any of his friends to notice that something is amiss. well, mature as he may be and as far above the fragility of human nature that others believe he is, he’s still only human. and it’s times like this that remind him that he’s still weak.

god, how far has he fallen? how much power did he give you?

“all this time, i thought you guys were in love.” the second girl gasps, hand flitting up to cover her mouth. “so, what’s going on? what’s wrong with him?”

“nothing!” you’re quick to find your voice to defend him, but for some reason, it doesn’t ease the tightness in his chest or the worried spin of his mind. “he’s wonderful, it’s just—”

“is he mean to you?” the second girl presses. “because if he is, i can—”

“he’s obviously not mean to her if she’s still with him.” the first girl retorts, silencing her with a dismissive wave of her hand. before the second girl can argue, she continues. “it could just be that it’s too early for her to know if she does.”

“it’s been months.” the third girl points out. “something has to be up if she doesn’t love him—”

“i do!”

suo’s fingers twitch.

your friends fall silent as the words burst from your chest, unwavering and aflame with conviction. your voice quiets as you fold your arms over your chest and lean back in your chair, eyes still fixated on the cup in front of you. “i do love him, it’s just . . . i’ve never felt like this for anyone, and i don’t know what to do. it feels so real and intense, and it’s scary.”

your words reverberate through suo’s mind as he expels a breath he didn’t notice was wedged in his chest. “i do love him.” his entire body seems to decompress, the tension in his muscles alleviating. “i’ve never felt like this for anyone.” suddenly, your hesitance makes sense. not only were you protective of your heart to begin with, but the magnitude of the importance of this was much larger and therefore more frightening than he realized. suo’s heart swells in his chest at your confession, pride licking up his sternum to grace the apples of his cheeks with a feather–light kiss of ruby. he’s honored to be the first person you’re entrusting with such a privilege—well, even if he’s not supposed to know about it yet.

“what do you mean, you don’t know what to do?” the first girl stares at you as if you’ve sprouted a second head. she flips her hands over with her palms facing toward the sky. “tell him?”

“i can’t just do that!” this time, it’s your turn to look at her like she just told you she ran over a family of five with her chevy tahoe, and suo chuckles.

“and why not?” she flops back in her seat incredulously.

“i just told you, it’s scary!” you insist matter–of–factly. “you remember the last guy i was with? it lasted one month, and in that amount of time, i aged thirty years and had stress levels that would’ve gotten me sent to the emergency room.”

suo hums softly in surprise. you didn’t tell him about that. of course, he had suspected that someone had dragged you through the trenches prior to accepting him as your boyfriend, but he felt as though that was a topic that would be better left to your discretion. you would tell him if you wanted him to know, so he never questioned you.

“yeah, but suo is way better than him.” the third girl reminds you. “at least, i think so. i only met the guy like twice.”

“helpful.” the second girl remarks dryly.

“no, he seriously is so much better.” you insist. “he’s everything i could’ve asked for, but it’s just . . . exposing myself like that would mean he has everything he needs to hurt me, and if i end up flat on my ass again, i don’t know what i’m gonna do. and i know he wouldn’t do anything to hurt me, but . . . ugh, this is impossible.” you let your head loll back.

there’s a brief stretch of silence before the second girl speaks up again, and this time, her voice has flattened into a deadpan. “girl.” she blinks at you. “that’s the issue?”

clearly not anticipating that reaction, you stare blankly at her for a moment, searching for the right words. “i—what?” you bristle defensively. “what’s that supposed to mean? is that suddenly not a good reason to bare my heart and soul to this man?”

“no, it’s actually really not.” the third girl joins the second’s campaign. she scoots forward in her seat and folds her hands delicately on the table. “let’s reflect. this is suo we’re talking about. this is the same man who stayed the night and took care of you religiously when you were sick with food poisoning from your first date, the same man who gave you earrings similar to his for your birthday, and the same man who showed up at your house in the pouring rain with nothing but the clothes on his back to accompany you when that storm knocked your power out—as a ‘friend.’”

“why did you use air quotes around the word ‘friend?’” the first girl narrows her eyes at the third.

“because he was playing the long game, okay? he was plotting. stay with me now.” she answers quickly, placing her hand on the first girl’s knee.

suo chuckles, raising his brows. he has to admit, your friends are impressive.

“so,” the third girl continues. “those are just a couple examples, but it’s crystal clear that suo is devoted. like he’s in this to stay.”

“or he’s some sort of supervillain.” the second girl interjects.

“don’t say that!” the third girl snaps, aghast. “no, yeah, you’re right. the ‘untouchable’ furin graduate who took a bat to the ribs just to keep her safe is definitely here to create lifelong trauma for her. anyway, as i was saying,” she turns back to you, “if that’s not enough, think about it this way. suo is really private, right?”

“right.” you nod.

“well, he was probably in a similar boat as you, then. i mean, you said that you were worried that you’d be giving him what he needs to hurt you, but the inverse is also true, and he already told you he loves you. he trusted you not to hurt him with that information, so you should be able to trust him not to do that to you, either.”

“that’s . . . wait,” the wheels rotate in your brain as you mull over her advice, and your hand drifts up to conceal your mouth in a moment of clarity. “oh, shit. no, wait, yeah, you may have a point. i didn’t think about it like that.”

“that’s what you have us for.” the third girl grins.

“so, does that mean you’re gonna tell him?” the second girl quirks a brow at you. “maybe? probably? hopefully?”

“uh . . . probably not . . .” you wince, only to jump when you’re promptly subjected to an onslaught of groans and complaints from your friends.

“dude, what the fuck?”

“i know, i’m sorry!” you yelp.

“did you get nothing out of the conversation?”

“no, i did, i swear!” your desperate attempts to defend yourself against your friends are fractured by bouts of laughter. “trust me, i did.”

“so, what’s the problem now?” the second girl drags her palm exhaustedly down her cheek.

“the issue is that it’s still embarrassing!” you whine. “you literally said it yourself earlier. i’ve never been like this—ever! just thinking about saying it makes me wanna crawl in a hole. it makes me feel, like, exposed or some shit, i don’t know—quit looking at me like that! i don’t know how else to explain it!”

“don’t piss me off.”

“what?” your lips pop open in indignation. “but—”

suo’s slender fingers settle delicately over his lips as he chuckles to himself and steps completely behind the alley corner. his eyelids flutter low, gaze soft with contentment, as he listens to you scramble to defend yourself against your frustrated friends. it’s alright, they’ve done plenty. he can take it from here.

the conversation bounced around between the four of you has certainly altered the circumstances, providing you with the clarity needed to shed your reservations about setting yourself up for a potential heartbreak and unfurling the remaining layers of your defense to reveal the lingering issue still barring you from being honest about your feelings. at this point, it seems to no longer be about you being ill–equipped and underprepared to handle such a divulgence, which he could certainly accept. now, it appears to be about disentangling yourself from the binds of shame and embarrassment. about you requiring a little push in the right direction—well, less of a small nudge and more of a guiding hand that you would trust to unravel you down to the strings of your heart.

fortunately for you, there is no one more aware of what loose threads of yours to tug on in order to achieve his goal than suo himself.

maybe it’s unfair of him to change his mind and concoct an excuse to denounce the leniency and understanding that had been fueling his patience thus far. maybe it’s unfair of him to take the initiative to strip you of the protective cocoon he had previously been more than prepared to allow you to reside in. maybe it’s unfair of him to press you, to utilize his silver tongue and honeyed words to draw out your rawest and most vulnerable state.

but when the opportunity has practically tripped and fallen into his lap, how could he not? it isn’t as if it would be a detriment to you. he has never led you astray, and he certainly isn’t going to start now.

a venereal plan is already brewing in the back of his mind as he mulls over how to best extract such a confession from you. no matter what type of attitude you may acquire or how sturdy you believe your resistance to be, pleasure has never failed to whittle and melt you down into a pliant puddle that’s all soft edges and hazy, trusting eyes. an even trade—a release only he can provide for the secret you’re trying so hard to keep from him? this evening, perhaps, if he plays his cards right. you don’t have plans tomorrow, which means you certainly can’t be too angry if he keeps you awake into the darkest hours of the night.

he can practically feel the ghost of the warmth of your skin under his fingertips as he keeps you pinned so that you can’t escape his ministrations, taste the salt brimming in your tears of frustration as you war between your pride and surrendering to the pleasure he plans to dangle in front of you, and hear your whines and moans as he keeps you just barely balanced on the precipice of release. he can already predict how you’ll label him as mean—manipulative, even. and maybe he is.

he’s only human, after all.

and what would humans be if not flawed? if not a bit cruel? if not a bit . . . selfish?

#windbreaker x reader #windbreaker x you #suo smut #suo x reader #suo hayato #windbreaker smut #suo hayato x reader #suo hayato smut #suo hayato x you

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wholesomepotato · 6 months ago

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CALLING ALL OCTONAUTS FAN WHO ANIMATE AND DO ART

Since i joined the Octonauts fandom I have been making AUs left and right but the one I love with all my heart cannot be written in a google doc, or published on AO3/Wattpad. No, this AU deserves more.

My CIRCUS AU

is one i normally associate with a specific musical film about a circus (bet you can guess which one it is.) I decided to construct the story similar to the film The Greatest Showman, but also different enough where it isn't a direct copy.

In other words, I what I am hoping in launching this project is to make animations of the Octonauts according to the songs (if we can do all of them that would be great but if not, that's also ok!)

BUT, this comes with a couple requests: The story does have ships that I like. which are:

Barnacles x Dashi

Shellington x Kwazii

I am thinking for more ships to add.

THOUGH I want people to know that you can still work on this without having to do any of the parts that require shipping. Since to fill some gaps I plan on making a comic too, they will not be long they are just to fill the holes between songs.

ALSO, I would love others inputs as well! I'm open to suggestion to the story so don't think that when you join the project you have to do everything I tell you to, you can 100% request changes.

LASTLY, There will be sensitive topics talked about and planned on being added to the animations but you will be informed on which parts so you are able to obt out before production.

Thank you for reading this and I hope you would like to join. :]

Please help spread this around! :D

DM me for the Discord link ^^

#octonauts #captain barnacles #barnacles is a dad #octonauts dashi #tweak #tweak octonauts #kwazii #octonauts shellington #shellington sea otter #kwazii x shellington #barnacle x dashi #peso penguin #octonauts peso #circus au #octonauts circus au

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foreverisntenough · 2 months ago

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‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend. You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy?

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series!

Disclaimer: No one is crazy about him atm, me included, so this is strictly for my readers and my readers only. I don’t condone his behavior at all -Just let me finish out this fic please. Don’t come for me. I’m only a girl with a google doc whose spent hours upon hours and days on end on this fic

Chapter 11 - 'She's Something' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.3k

The early morning light filtered through the blinds in soft streaks, casting a warm glow over the room. The house was silent, the kind of stillness that only exists just before the world begins to wake. You stirred awake, blinking against the gentle light, and for a moment, you simply watched Trent sleep. His features were relaxed, his breathing steady, his arm lazily draped across the bed where you had been moments before. The sight made your chest ache, but in the sweetest way. He was perfect. Slipping out of bed as quietly as you could, you padded to the kitchen, the cool tiles beneath your feet making you shiver slightly. The space was dimly lit, the morning sun not quite reaching it yet. You moved with purpose but also with care, opening drawers and cabinets softly, grabbing what you needed to make breakfast. The sound of eggs cracking broke the silence, followed by the gentle hiss of butter melting in the pan. You whisked the eggs, your movements rhythmic and calming, the act of cooking grounding you in the moment. The scent of fresh coffee brewing mingled with the faint, lingering traces of Trent’s cologne still on your skin, making you smile. You set the table quietly, plates arranged just so, and folded a napkin absentmindedly. As you reached for the coffee pot, pouring it into two mugs, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could turn, warm arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a solid chest.

“Wow,” Trent murmured, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. “I thought I’d get a cuddle this morning, but this…” He rested his chin lightly on your shoulder. “This might be better.” You tilted your head back to look at him, his eyes still half-lidded but shining with warmth.

“I was hungry,” you teased, laughing softly as his hands tightened slightly around your waist. “Last night was genuinely a work out.” You giggled.

“Yeah?” he said, his voice soft but laced with amusement. He leaned in, pressing his lips lightly to your temple, his warmth chasing away the slight chill from the morning air. “You look so good in the morning, you know that?”

“I look the same,” you replied, a small laugh escaping as you turned back to the pan, flipping the eggs.

“Nah,” he countered, his voice dropping lower as his fingers brushed lightly against the curve of your hip. “You don’t. You’re just… soft. Sexy but softer,” he added, his tone earnest and just a little teasing. You rolled your eyes, unable to stop the smile spreading across your face.

“You’re just saying that because I made breakfast and you’re trying to make sure some’s for you,” you said, though your voice lacked any real conviction. He hummed in response, his lips brushing against the nape of your neck.

“No,” he whispered, his breath sending a shiver down your spine. “I mean it.” For a moment, you just stood there, wrapped in his arms, the warmth of the stove in front of you blending with the heat radiating from him. “But some is for me though, right?” He asked cheekily and you hummed in response just the same as he did before you both fell into a comfortable silence. The quiet intimacy of the moment felt like a gift, something that needed no words or grand gestures to make it feel special. As you moved to plate the eggs, Trent turned you gently, guiding you to face him.

“Leave it,” he said softly, taking the spatula from your hand and placing it on the counter. “Breakfast can wait a minute. C’mere, baby.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours in a slow, deliberate kiss that made the room seem even quieter, the world beyond it fading entirely. When he pulled back, his thumb brushed lightly over your cheek as if he couldn’t help but touch you.

“You really think I look good in the morning?” you asked shyly, your voice barely above a whisper. He smiled, his gaze locked on yours, full of something deeper than just affection.

“I think you look perfect,” he said simply, his sincerity wrapping around you like a second set of arms. And as the morning light poured in, soft and golden, you couldn’t help but feel that maybe, just maybe, this was what happiness felt like—quiet, warm, and impossibly sweet.

The morning sunlight continued to spill softly through the windows as Trent sat at the kitchen table, quietly devouring the breakfast you’d made. You stood nearby, fiddling with the hem of your sleeve of his shirt you had on, feeling a little shy as you tried to muster up the courage to ask him something. It felt strange—awkward, even—to invite him into something so meaningless yet so personal to you. But after the night you’d shared and the ease that had returned between you, it felt like the right thing to do.

“Hey baby…” You paused. “Would you maybe… Like…“ You took another deep breath in an attempt to try to sound more sure of yourself. “Do you want to go for a drive with me?” You finally asked, your voice hesitant. Trent paused mid-bite, looking up at you with a slight tilt of his head, encouraging you to keep going. “You’re off, and I usually like to go to Formby.” You stumbled over the words, feeling ridiculous as they tumbled out of your mouth. Trent set his fork down, his warm gaze settling on you.

“Yeah? What do you do there?” he asked, curious and gentle, his mouth quirking up in a half-smile. You felt your cheeks warm as you struggled to explain.

“I don’t know… I just go. It’s grounding. It helps me reset, I guess,” you admitted, unsure if he’d understand. But he didn’t push for more.

“I’ll go regardless, pretty girl,” he said with a playful smirk, “just was curious.” You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face, his easy going nature putting you at ease. Slowly, you stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him from behind, your chin resting on his shoulder. He was warm, solid, and smelled faintly of the cologne he’d sprayed on after his shower. Trent leaned back into your embrace, his hand resting on your arm as he finished chewing. “You’re good,” he murmured reassuring you, his voice soft. “Okay, if I finish breaky first?” You hummed in agreement, the sound of his voice and the comfort of his presence washing over you. Then, to your surprise, Trent turned slightly in his chair, gently tugging at you. Before you knew it, you were perched on his lap, his arms wrapped securely around your waist. “Perfect. Now I can eat and hold you,” he teased, grinning as he grabbed his fork again. You laughed, tucking your head into the crook of his neck

“Multitasking at its finest,” you joked back, though your heart was swelling with how easy and affectionate he was with you. For a moment, you stayed like that—wrapped up in each other, the world outside the house feeling like it didn’t exist. You’d never imagined that someone like Trent, someone so chaotic yet grounding, could fit so seamlessly into your quiet moments like this.

“Alright,” he said after a final bite, placing his fork down with a soft clink. He kissed the side of your head, his lips lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. “Let’s get to Formby, yeah?” You smiled against his shoulder, nodding.

As you stood in Trent’s room, rifling through the bits of clothing he’d left scattered on the bed, you came to a realization—you didn’t have anything to put on. A Yves Saint Laurent mini dress was hardly something that you wanted to sit on a cold north western shoreline in. You sighed, holding up one of Trent’s jumpers, oversized and impossibly soft, the faint scent of him clinging to the fabric.you shook your head trying to get away from your nagging thoughts.

“If I wear this, will I look as cool as you?” you teased, turning to face him with a playful smile. Trent glanced up from his phone, his brow raising as he looked you over.

“Nah… probably not,” he replied with a sly grin, leaning back against the doorframe with his arms crossed. Feigning a look of hurt, you clutched the jumper to your chest.

“Wow,” you said, your voice dripping with mock offense. He chuckled and pushed off the frame, walking over to you.

“I’m kidding. You’re much cooler, baby,” he admitted, his grin softening as he watched you pull the jumper over your head. You tugged it into place, the hem hitting your thighs as the sleeves engulfed your hands.

“I like this though,” you murmured, adjusting the neckline and pulling it close to your skin. It was comfortable, yes, but it was more than that. It felt like him, and you didn’t want to take it off. “Can I wear it…just to the beach?” You asked. Trent hummed as his gaze lingered on you for a moment, his expression shifting into something softer.

“Course. It suits you,” he said quietly. You smiled at his words but couldn’t ignore the thought that gnawed at the back of your mind. You wanted to keep it, to have this piece of him to carry with you. But it wasn’t like with anyone else—this wasn’t some casual boy whose clothes you could wear home without question. If you showed up at your house in Trent’s jumper, Jack would undoubtedly have something to say. Trent must’ve seen the flicker of hesitation in your eyes because he stepped closer, his hand reaching out to gently tug at the oversized sleeve. “I know, pretty girl. We’ll figure it out,” he offered simply. You wanted to ask ‘how?’ so badly, to use this one small thing to help define and clarify your entire relationship. The weight of reality had settled over you like a shadow, the stark reminder of everything complicated about the two of you neatly tucked between moments when it felt like things might finally be working.

“Okay,” you whispered softly, your fingers curling around the hem. You looked up at him, his dark eyes holding yours in a way that made your chest ache. Slowly, you nodded. As you smoothed down the fabric, Trent reached out and tilted your chin up gently with his fingers.

“Okay” he murmured, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, “day by day. Yeah?” He knew that this was more than just some silly jumper. He understood how much this hurt but that’s all you could do, go day by day. To rush it wasn’t smart. It didn’t make sense. You rolled your eyes, your heart lighter despite the weight of everything else.

“Obviously,” you teased, your voice softer than before. And with that, you grabbed your bag, ready to leave pulling the sleeves over your hands feeling like it was something far more significant than just a piece of clothing. Something that tethered you to him, even as the rest of the world threatened to pull you apart.

The beach stretched out in front of you, a vast expanse of cold, pale sand meeting the endless blue-grey of the sea. The wind was brisk but refreshing, carrying the tang of saltwater and the soft cries of distant gulls. You and Trent sat on a low sand dune, the world around you quiet save for the rhythmic crash of waves breaking against the shore. You pulled his jumper over your hands again and dug your barefeet into the sand. Trent shifted beside you, his hands buried in his pockets for warmth. He glanced at you and opened his mouth…

“So, what do—” He began to speak. You stopped him gently.

“T, it’s okay.” your voice was soft but certain. He furrowed his brow, confused for a moment, and you turned to look at him, a small smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “I know you say I yap during movies,” you teased lightly, “but you yap during moments.” You cooed gently. His mouth curved into a sheepish grin, your voice was quieter now, almost carried away by the wind. “It’s okay to just sit here and breathe.” You gestured to the horizon with a tilt of your head. “Be in the air, take in the sights, really listen to the sounds. Just… reset, you know?” Trent didn’t respond right away. He turned his attention back to the waves, the tension in his shoulders easing as he absorbed your words but you felt like you needed to explain yourself. “I just need to sit sometimes,” you added, pulling your knees to your chest and hugging them close. Your gaze swept over the sea, the endless ebb and flow grounding you in a way nothing else could. You’d come to the seaside once a month at least since your mum passed. Your dad used to bring you. You wouldn’t talk much but it just gave you two the space you so desperately needed. But even after he stopped going, you kept coming. It felt like home, a place you needed when your house at the time felt so empty. Trent shifted closer, his knee brushing against yours. He didn’t speak, and for once, neither did you. The silence wasn’t empty; it was full—full of the crash of the waves, the rustling of the grass behind you, and the occasional whistle of the wind. You tilted your head to glance at him, and his profile was soft against the muted light of the overcast sky. His lips parted slightly, as if he were about to say something, but then he stopped himself. Instead, he leaned back on his hands, letting his eyes drift back to the horizon.

“Reset,” he echoed quietly, almost to himself. You smiled to yourself, turning back to face the waves, letting the cold air bite at your cheeks as the two of you simply sat there. The weight of the world felt lighter, here on the sand dunes, just the two of you, sharing a moment without needing to fill it with anything more than what it already was. The quiet enveloped you again, the wind whistling softly through the dunes, but soon Trent’s question broke the stillness. “Baby… what did your mum want you to tell me?” he asked gently, his voice careful but steady, his eyes fixed on you. Your breath caught in your chest, and you felt your heart skip. He felt it last night, you felt it last night, those three words looming. That lingering feeling that stemmed from the book you tried to give him when you attempted to end it all. Of course, he’d ask. It was ominous in a way. Your mum urging you to ‘tell Trent.’ But last night, your first date, you both could feel the words rising in your throats, they were desperate to come out. The love was so obviously there and sleep hadn’t cleared any of those feelings away. Trent had a way of seeing through you, even when you tried to bury things deep. The truth lingered just behind your lips, but now didn’t feel like the moment to release it.

“Erm…” you stalled, looking down at the grains of sand shifting beneath your hands as you thought. “I think she just wanted me to be brave with you,” you finally managed, your voice soft and unsteady. “I don’t think it was anything too specific.” It wasn’t a lie. But it wasn't the truth, and you both knew it. You loved Trent for years and long before this happened even your mum could see that. Trent just couldn’t be the one to cross that line. He couldn’t do it to Jack, he couldn’t put you in that position, he needed you to do it, needed to hear you say it. The look in his eyes told you he could see right through the veil of your words, but he didn’t press. Instead, he hummed softly, acknowledging the lie but choosing to let it rest for now.

“I remember once,” you began, your voice somehow even quieter now, as if sharing a memory you rarely spoke about, “I told my mum about how nice you were to me one afternoon. We were teenagers, and you bought me a hot chocolate while at a christmas market.” You smiled faintly at the memory, as Trent’s thumb brushed over your arm absently. “She asked me if I told you that. How much it meant.” You cooed.

“Did you?” He turned to look at you, curious. You shook your head with a small, rueful laugh.

“No. When I said I hadn’t, she told me, ‘Everyone likes to know they’re… appreciated.’ I still think about that now.” You could hear your mum’s voice as you spoke her words. She didn’t say ‘appreciated’ though, she had said ‘loved’ but you couldn’t get that word out. His lips curved into a soft smile as you glanced at him. “I wish I’d taken her advice then,” you admitted, the weight of your words carrying something more. “I wish I told her more. I wish I told you more.” You sighed. You lowered your eyes, the guilt of unsaid things knotting in your chest.

“Baby…”He exhaled as his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your temple. The warmth of his lips against your skin made your eyes sting with tears. “It’s okay,” he murmured against your hair, his voice barely above a whisper. “I knew… and she definitely knew.” The words settled in your heart, bittersweet but comforting. You leaned into him, your head resting against his shoulder as the waves crashed in the distance. Neither of you spoke again for a while, but his arm stayed firmly around you, a silent promise that in this moment, you weren’t alone.

The drive away from the beach was quiet, but your mind was anything but. The ache in your chest was sharp and persistent, the kind that comes from confusion and longing tangled together. You loved Trent—you knew you loved him. So why couldn’t you just say it? Unfortunately, you knew why. You were terrified he didn’t feel the same. Terrified that once the words were out, the delicate balance you’d built together would crumble.

As the car came to a stop in his driveway, you peeled off the jumper you’d borrowed, the familiar fabric suddenly feeling too heavy on your skin. It hurt—giving it back hurt—like you were handing over a piece of him that you weren’t sure you’d get to keep. Trent wasn’t sure what to say because there was nothing to say to fix this… there were only things he could do to fix it. Trent turned to you, his eyes soft but filled with unspoken things. He didn’t take the jumper from you immediately, instead reaching out to pull you toward him, his hand firm on your hip. The motion was gentle but insistent, and before you could think, his forehead was pressed to yours.

“I’m gonna make us work, okay?” he said, his voice low and steady, a conviction behind his words that sent a shiver down your spine. You nodded, the lump in your throat making it hard to do anything else. A sniffle escaped, and he caught it, brushing a thumb across your cheek before pulling you into him for a brief, grounding hug. Believing him was all you could do because it was all you wanted. You’d dreamed of this for years, and now it was here, fragile and imperfect, but here. When the car service pulled into the driveway, your heart sank further. This wasn’t how you imagined the evening ending. Trent wanted to bring you home, you could see it in the way his eyes flickered with frustration. But you had told him it was fine, and it was. Jack would be at your place, and it just wasn’t the time—not yet. He didn’t argue, though you could feel the tension radiating off him as he walked you to the car. Before you slid inside, he kissed you in the driveway. It wasn’t a quick, casual goodbye; it was all-consuming. The kind of kiss that stole your breath, that made you feel like the ground beneath you didn’t exist. You clung to him for a moment, wishing the car would disappear, wishing you could just stay wrapped in him and let everything else fade away. But eventually, you pulled back, his hands reluctantly dropping to his sides. As you slid into the back seat of the car, the cool leather of the seats pressed against your bare thighs, a harsh reminder of reality. Through the window, you caught one last look at him—standing there, hands in his pockets, watching as the car pulled away. He looked as reluctant to let you go as you felt. The ache in your chest deepened, but somewhere in the back of your mind, his words echoed. And you had to hold onto that because it was the only thing keeping the ache from completely taking over.

You walked into the kitchen after a shower late in the day, the faint hum of voices reaching your ears as you approached. Jack was just ending a phone call, his tone sounded curt.

“Alright, mate. Talk later,” he said and hung up. Across the room, Noah sat at the island, casually picking at a plate of food, his posture relaxed as though he’d been there for a while. Jack turned to Noah with a furrowed brow, a look of mild irritation shadowing his face. “Have you heard anything from Trentski lately?” he asked, leaning against the counter with crossed arms.

“Not too much. Why?” Noah shrugged, chewing slowly, his mouth full mumbling his words together.

“He’s been off with me,” Jack said, his voice edged with frustration. “Even just now on the phone, he sounded so… standoffish. He’s been like this for a while now. I don’t know what his problem is.” You froze mid-step, pretending to fidget with something on the counter as you silently listened. Your pulse quickened, and you avoided meeting their eyes, praying your face wouldn’t betray you. Noah tilted his head thoughtfully.

“Yeah, he has been a bit off,” he said, as if just realizing it himself. “But, you know Trent. The only time he ever really retreats like this is when he’s being pissy about something. He’s not an open book.” Noah smirked looking for a joke. But Jack only sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Right? But, bro, it feels targeted at me… like if I’ve done something lad, just say it. But no, he has to act all cryptic and moody. What’s his deal?” Jack asked openly, getting a bit frustrated with Trent’s growing resistance towards him. Where did his best friend go? Noah hesitated, a small smirk pulling at his lips before he continued.

“Well… I mean, I did hear him talking with someone the other night,” he said casually, leaning back in his chair. Jack perked up.

“What do you mean? Like on the phone?” He asked earnestly.

“Yeah, mate,” Noah replied, shaking his head in disbelief recalling the scene. “It was when we were all over at my place for that movie night. He stepped into the kitchen and I walked in on him on the phone. He was talking to a girl—but it was clearly more than some link to him.” Your stomach dropped, the knot of anxiety in your chest tightening. You wondered if this was the call with you. You assumed it was unless he had called someone after for reprieve. You’d hoped not, so you listened carefully. You kept your movements deliberate and slow, opening a cupboard and pretending to inspect its contents, though you were barely processing what was in front of you.

“A girl?” Jack asked, raising an eyebrow. Noah nodded.

“Bro….” he cautioned him as if to prepare Jack for how Trent was acting on this call. “Yeah, mate. And he sounded different, too—like… nervous. Almost sweet, if you can believe it. I didn’t think much of it, he was being sus, wouldn’t let me in but now? I dunno, I think Trent’s in deep that’s why he’s not around.” He explained.

“In deep?” Jack repeated, laughing. “Come on, mate. It’s Trent. The guy doesn’t do deep.” Noah laughed along with him.

“That’s what I thought so it didn’t track at first. I just couldn’t wrap my head around it - where did he find a bird he’s like this with. But I’m serious. I think he’s caught feelings. Jack… mate, I mean it, from what I witnessed he might even have proper feelings for this girl. He was a mess.” Noah laughed reminiscing on the sheer joy he felt watching ever composed Trent fumble over his words on the phone. But then the two of them burst out laughing, the idea seemingly too absurd for them to fathom.

“Nah, not Trenty. Not a chance.” Jack shook his head, still chuckling. “We would've met the girl,” he added. But their laughter barely registered as your heart sank. Their words lingered, each one hitting you like a stone sinking deeper into the pit of your stomach. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, and your hands trembled slightly as you gripped the counter. You glanced over your shoulder just enough to catch Jack shaking his head again. “He’d tell me if it was serious,” he said, his voice confident. “Wouldn’t he?” Noah shrugged noncommittally, and Jack turned his attention back to whatever was in front of him. You couldn’t shake the weight pressing down on your chest, the mix of emotions swirling inside you—fear, guilt, and a growing sense of hopelessness. The way they dismissed the idea of Trent being in love felt like a slap to the face, a cruel reminder of how precarious everything had been and yet simultaneously how meaningless. Would this ultimately just end up being a secret you’d have to take to the grave, the few months you got with your brother’s best friend. It all made you so angry. You wanted to scream, to storm out of the kitchen, to do something, anything, but instead, you stayed frozen in place, clinging to the façade that nothing was wrong. You reached up to grab a glass from the cabinet, trying to keep your movements calm and steady despite the weight of their conversation. Jack, leaning against the island, folded his arms as he pressed further. “Was it that girl Jess?” he asked, his tone sharp. “You know, Meg’s friend, the last one he was hooking up with? She was around his for a bit, wasn’t she?” The mention of another name—Jess—had your stomach twisting in knots, the glass slipping from your fingers. It shattered against the tile floor, the loud crash jolting all three of you. “Jesus, Y/N!” Jack whipped around, his eyes wide with alarm. “You good?” He asked with genuine concern looking at the shards scattered around your feet. A visual representation of your life at the minute, he could never understand.

“Sorry!” you stammered, kneeling quickly to pick up the pieces, your hands shaking. “I wasn’t paying attention. Sorry, sorry I’ll clean it up.” You babbled nervously as your hands shook. Jack rolled his eyes, muttering something about you being careless, while Noah leaned over slightly, glancing down at you. He tried to move the conversation forward, his voice lighthearted as if to brush past your blunder. Nothing too deep, people drop things.

“Nah, it wasn’t Jess,” Noah said, laughing a little as he kept picking at his food. “This girl has him fucked up, mate. Like, completely different vibe.” He explained.

“What do you mean?” Jack’s interest was piqued.

“I mean,” Noah began, leaning back in his chair, “I heard him that night. He wasn’t just trying to get her to come over. He was begging for her to stay. He sounded desperate, almost scared she wouldn’t. I’m telling you mate. He was a mess.” Noah further explained to Jack. You froze, your breath catching in your throat as the words sank in. The shards of glass in your hand suddenly felt sharper, more dangerous. Noah continued, oblivious to the effect his words were having on you. “Apparently, this is the girl, mate. He told me, like, the one. Dream girl status. He’s in love with her.” Noah emphasized word. The idea of love sent a shockwave through you.

“Fuck.” You whimpered carelessly as your hand slipped against a jagged edge of glass, and you winced as a sharp sting sliced through your skin.

“Shit, Y/N!” Noah exclaimed, leaning forward. “You alright?” You nodded quickly, shaking your head as if to clear the haze in your mind.

“I’m fine,” you said, your voice unsteady. “Just—just a little cut. I’ll clean it up.”

“You’re bleeding everywhere,” Jack said, grabbing a tea towel and tossing it in your direction quickly, nervous you might bleed out by the time he got over to you. “Be careful, for fuck’s sake. You promise you’re okay?” He asked seriously, moving towards you now faster from the other side of the room. Noah still looked concerned, but you waved them both off, standing up and wrapping your finger in the towel.

“It’s nothing,” you mumbled, grabbing the broom with your uninjured hand. “I’ve got it.” You waved Jack off so he gave you the space. But your mind wasn’t on the mess. It was on Noah’s words. Trent was in love? The realization hit you like a punch to the gut, leaving you dizzy and disoriented. Could it really be you he was talking about? Noah knew Trent like the back of his hand… he’d know how Trent really felt about someone. Was this the call with you… or maybe worse, was this a call with someone else—someone like Jess, someone who wasn’t tangled up in a web of secrets and guilt? You stole a glance at Jack, who was already back distracted by his phone, completely unaware of the storm raging inside you. Noah, meanwhile, had gone back to his food, the conversation now drifting into casual banter. But you couldn’t focus. All you could think about was Trent. Was this real? Could he really feel that way about you? And if he did… what did it mean for everything else? For Jack? For you? You swallowed hard, the cut on your finger forgotten as the weight of it all settled on your chest.

The boy Devon, the Manchester United player, Josh’s friend, that you spotted at dinner wasted no time, spinning the scene he’d witnessed like a web of intrigue. Seeing you and Trent at dinner together had been unexpected, even puzzling. On its own, it might’ve been easily dismissed—after all, you and Trent had history, you knew each other through Jack and people could convince themselves it was merely friendly. But there was something about the way Trent looked at you that night, a softness, a protectiveness that the boy hadn’t missed. It planted a seed, one that began to grow in the back of his mind and one he was ready to share with your ex. When saw Josh next, he was ready for his opportunity to stir the pot

“You’ll never guess who I saw the other night,” Devon said, leaning against a locker with a smirk. “Mate… Y/N L/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold. At dinner.” Josh’s head whipped around at the mention of your name.

“What?” he asked sharply, his voice betraying a flicker of interest despite himself.

“At dinner,” Devon repeated, dragging it out for effect. “Looked cozy too. Candlelit table, just the two of them.” Josh frowned, his jaw tightening.

“C’mon. Bro, I know I said shit about her before but they’re friends. She’s Jack’s sister. That’s been her thing for years. He’s never gone for it.” Josh explained having a hard time wrapping his head around it. He knew you wanted Trent, he could even see the way Trent wanted you but it actually happening… and not behind closed doors? Out in public? It seemed so farfetched.

“Maybe,” Devon said with a shrug, though his smirk didn’t waver. “But you know, sometimes even the nice ones… snap. He didn’t look like a ‘just friends’ kind of guy to me. Looked like he finally realized what was right in front of him.” He smugly told Josh. Josh tried to laugh it off, but there was an edge to it, sharp and bitter.

“Whatever, mate. She’s not my problem anymore.” He muttered.

“Sure,” Devon replied smoothly, though he didn’t believe it for a second. He could see the flicker of annoyance in Josh’s eyes, the remnants of a claim Josh still felt over you, no matter how fractured things had been between you. “So you wouldn’t believe a photo of them then?” Devon smirked flashing him the photo he took on his screen. Josh jumped to grab the phone, shocked. He inspected the photo fuming. Devon snatched his phone back out of his hands “Looks pretty fucking friendly to me, mate.” He smugly laughed as he turned to leave the room. But Josh couldn’t leave it there, he had seen it, he needed more information, he needed more… ammunition. As Devon walked away, his words echoed in Josh’s mind. Trent and Y/N? At dinner? It was almost laughable, except it wasn’t. Josh had known you long enough to know how deep your feelings for Trent ran, even when you tried to hide it. And if Trent had finally reciprocated? He hated the thought, he hated the photo, he hated that Trent’s waiting game won out. It made him sick. He pushed you to Trent and then as a lump formed in his throat, his anger towards you shoved it down. He hated you for choosing Trent. Cynicism crept in, laced with exasperation and a thirst for vengeance. He remembered the sting of your split, the way things ended and why, and how easily you seemed to fall into the waiting arms of Trent—at least in his eyes. And now, you two were parading around together? It wasn’t about love or loss anymore. It was about pride, about the idea of someone like Trent waltzing into his old territory without so much as a second thought. Josh began to piece together a plan. If Trent thought he could take you out of Josh’s life and into his unnoticed, he was wrong. And if you thought this could stay secret, you were wrong too. A wicked grin spread across Josh’s face as he envisioned the chaos it might cause when Jack found out. How much it would hurt you, hurt Trent. He didn’t care if he and Devon were wrong, if it was just ‘friendly.’ The perception alone would be enough. Josh grabbed his phone, thumbing through his contacts until he landed on Jack’s name. He didn’t press call—not yet. He needed to get the photo first and timing was everything, and he intended to make sure this landed perfectly. After all, what better way to even the score than to drop a bombshell like this?

The gossip about Trent seeing someone began to brew more and more each day. Evidently, seeping beyond just Jack and Noah but into other friend groups. You were out at the shops just stopping to pick up a few things when you spotted Megan and Jess as you rounded the corner of the produce aisle, their voices reaching you before their faces did. Megan was pleasant, flashing you a smile when she saw you, but Jess’s expression was harder to read. Her eyes lingered on you, sharp and curious, as if she was sizing you up.

“Y/N!” Megan greeted, her tone light and cheerful. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Haven’t seen you in a minute, probably since the other week at the birthday.” You offered a polite smile, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Yeah, course. Hi. I’m just picking up a few things.” You cooed softly. The conversation started innocently enough. Megan talked about Jack, about her plans for the weekend, and you nodded along, trying to keep your responses short. But then, the conversation shifted.

“So,” Megan said casually, “we’ve heard rumblings that Trent’s seeing someone.” Her words hit you like a freight train. A part of you was instinctively annoyed at your brother just imagining him complaining to Megan about Trent and relaying Noah’s information spilled in the kitchen. You didn’t know if that was who told her but you could imagine. Your grip on your bag tightened, but you forced your face to remain neutral.

“Yeah? I wouldn’t know,” you said quickly, hoping the lie sounded believable.

“Hmm,” Jess hummed, a small smirk tugging at her lips. Her skepticism was evident, and you could feel her eyes burning into you. She didn’t believe you for a second. Megan tilted her head, clearly confused by your answer.

“I mean, you two are close though, aren’t you? You’re always with the boys! I feel like you’d hear or I’d think he’d tell you even.” She smiled sincerely. If Megan was being honest she knew you had a crush on Trent, it was glaringly obvious but she wasn’t going to hurt you and call you out on it. Besides, her friend Jess liked him, she was just looking for intel. You hesitated, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I guess… I mean, if he wasn’t, I’m sure he’d reach out or something. I don’t really know what’s going on with him right now.” You babbled awkwardly. You didn’t know what to say really. But what you did say…was a rookie mistake. You realized it the moment the words left your mouth. Jess’s smirk widened, and Megan’s eyebrows shot up.

“So he is seeing someone,” Megan said slowly, her confusion deepening. “Because he definitely hasn’t reached out to Jess.” She glanced at her friend, then back at you, as if trying to piece together a puzzle. Megan knew you liked Trent but from the lens of a little sister liking her older brother’s friend- nothing more. She wasn’t being cynical or mean she was just looking for information. And right now she was with Jess, who hadn’t shut up about Trent falling off the grid for months. Your cheeks burned, and you felt your chest tighten. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, you fumbled with your shopping bags, pretending they were suddenly too heavy to manage.

“Erm, I really don’t know,” you said, your voice shaky. “Sorry, I’ve got to go—running late.” Without waiting for a response, you darted away, your heart pounding as you put as much distance between yourself and them as possible. You could feel their eyes on you as you turned the corner, and you didn’t dare look back. The encounter left you rattled. You gripped your bags tightly, replaying the exchange in your head as you hurried down the street, your heart pounding. Megan’s raised eyebrows, Jess’s sharp, knowing glances—it all felt like a storm you weren’t prepared for. Their words echoed in your mind. ‘So he’s seeing someone.’ They didn’t know it was you, but the realization and possibility that they were piecing it together made your stomach churn. Jess’s skepticism had been palpable, her eyes narrowing like she already suspected the truth but was waiting for you to slip. You sighed as you reached your car, fumbling with the keys. Why had you even tried to lie? It wasn’t like you were good at it, and the awkward babbling only made things worse. But what were you supposed to do? Confirm it? Out yourself? Out Trent? That wasn’t an option either. But why did he want it secret? You guessed it was good Jess hadn’t heard from him. But how long had it been? Was there in overlap? As you sat in the driver’s seat, gripping the steering wheel, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were closing in. The more the gossip spread, the harder it would be to keep your relationship under wraps. The thought of Jack finding out this way—through whispers and rumors—made you feel sick.

You thought about texting Trent, maybe to warn him or just to vent, but even that felt risky. Instead, you took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. This was the price of keeping things a secret, wasn’t it? The constant worry, the careful balancing act, the fear that one slip could send it all crashing down. And yet, despite it all, you knew you couldn’t stay away from him. Trent was worth it. At least, you hoped he was. You hoped he thought the same about you, that he wouldn’t falter under the pressure building around you both. As you pulled out of the parking lot, you tried to shake off the anxiety, telling yourself it would all blow over. But deep down, you knew this was only the beginning. The gossip wasn’t going to stop, and neither, it seemed, was the tension.

It felt surreal, wearing Trent’s jersey to a home game at Anfield. He’d given it to you weeks ago, but when you finally were all going to a match, he officially asked you to wear it tonight, it felt different—more deliberate, more intimate. The weight of it wasn’t just fabric; it was a claim, a silent declaration that you were his. The box was buzzing with energy as you sat with Jack, Noah, Layla, Megan, Trent’s family, and more of their friends, all of them in good spirits after the game started. But the teasing was relentless, especially from Noah.

“Big statement, Y/N,” he quipped, eyeing the bolded double barreled surname and number on your back. Everyone’s eyes flickered towards you as you took off your coat. You rolled your eyes.

“Wait… When did you get the new kit? What the fuck… I wanted one.” Jack snapped annoyed. But then Megan spoke over him. She leaned over squeezing your leg kindly.

“Don’t let the cameras catch that. You’ll start rumors.” Megan laughed as Noah chuckled, shaking his head. You forced a laugh, shrugging off their remarks, but your cheeks burned under their scrutiny. You turned to continue your conversation with Layla praying they’d drop the whole thing. They had no idea what the jersey truly meant, and part of you relished that secrecy, even as you squirmed under their playful jabs.

The game flew by in a blur of cheering, tension, and stolen glances at the man on the pitch. Trent looked up toward the box once or twice, and though his focus remained on the match, you could feel his presence even from afar. It wasn’t just a jersey; it was a tether, a connection that made your chest swell with pride every time his name echoed through the stadium.When the final whistle blew and the crowd erupted but then a bit after that… your phone buzzed quietly in your lap.

'Meet me outside the box. I need to see you properly in that kit, baby.'

Your heart skipped, and you swallowed down a smile. Glancing around, you tried to look nonchalant as you slipped your phone into your pocket and stood.

“I’ll be right back,” you said casually, already heading toward the door. “Bathroom or something.” Jack barely acknowledged you, too wrapped up in conversation with Megan and their friends. Layla smirked as you stepped out of the box and into the quieter halls, your footsteps quickening as you made your way to the exit. The moment you saw him coming down the corridor, your heart skipped. He looked effortlessly striking in his tracksuit, exhaustion etched across his features, but the instant his eyes landed on you, a flash of pure happiness lit up his face. Before you could say a word, he closed the distance, pulling you into his arms in a tight, possessive embrace. His warmth surrounded you, and you buried your face into the curve of his neck, inhaling the familiar, comforting scent of him.

"You played so well," you murmured, your words muffled by his skin as you pressed soft kisses to his neck.

"Yeah?" he asked, his voice low and filled with something deeper. His hands came up to gently cup your face, tilting it so your eyes met.

"Yeah," you confirmed with a shy smile. "Were you trying to impress someone?" you teased, watching as his lips curved into a smirk.

"Maybe," he said, his thumb brushing along your cheek. "Depends. Did I?" He asked. You giggled, nodding as your arms looped around his waist. His hands slid down your sides, firm and deliberate, until they rested on your hips. He tugged you closer, the heat of his body sending a rush of warmth through you. "You look so good tonight," he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. His eyes dropped to the jersey you wore-his jersey—and his fingers toyed with the hem. "Fuck me, I like you in this. But I wish I wasn't absolutely knackered, 'cause all I can think about is taking it off you." A teasing grin tugged at your lips as you slipped your hands around his waist, finding the drawstrings of his joggers.

"I can take care of you tonight, don’t worry, baby," you whispered, your fingers grazing his skin beneath the fabric. "I could even take this off for you." His breath hitched, and he hummed appreciatively, leaning down to press his lips to your neck. His kisses were lazy, languid, and filled with an unspoken promise. He bit down gently, making you gasp, before soothing the spot with his tongue.

"Keep talking like that, and we’re gonna leave right now," he murmured against your skin, his hands slipping under the hem of the jersey to brush against your bare back. You laughed softly, reluctantly pulling back.

"We should go back inside before they come looking for us." you smiled sympathetically at him. He groaned, his forehead resting against yours.

"You're lucky I'm too tired otherwise you’d be halfway to my bed right now" he teased, but his hands lingered on your hips as you pulled away.

“I’ll be in your bed in a bit, okay?” You smirked with a cheeky grin. He hummed in response as you turned, his eyes watching your every move like you were the only thing in the world he needed. As you both made your way back to the suite, you couldn't help but feel the imprint of his touch, every whisper of his affection lingering on your skin.

After the match, the usual buzz of a big win had everyone making loose plans to head out, but Trent’s firm 'nah' shifted the momentum. Slowly, the group began to disband, everyone falling back into their own routines. You lingered in the suite as people trickled out, catching Trent’s eye. When you leaned in to hug him goodbye, you buried your face into his neck, the familiar warmth and scent of him grounding you.

“Still want me to come over, or are you too tired?” You asked softly, whispering into his ear. He hummed against your hair, his voice low and barely audible.

“Mmhmm please.” The moment stretched just a little too long, just a little too close, and when you finally pulled back, it was enough for Noah to pipe up.

“Ermmm… that was fucking weird, bro. Let go of her,” he laughed, his voice breaking the intimate bubble you’d created with Trent. You tried to play it cool, smoothing your expression.

“What? A cuddle?” you said, feigning innocence.

“Yeah,” he laughed with Noah. “Y/N, are you drunk?” Jack asked you jokingly citing the only time you and Trent were that affectionate was at parties after tequila shots and lowered inhibitions. He leaned against Megan with a raised brow. “Why are you throwing yourself at him like that?” He asked a bit more earnestly and the tension sharpened, the air suddenly heavy. You could feel the blood rush to your cheeks, but before you could scramble for a response, Layla swooped in.

“Jesus, just kiss already,” she teased, swatting playfully at Trent with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Her comment hit like a match to dry kindling. The room erupted in laughter, the tension instantly diffused. You shot her a grateful smile as she grinned back knowingly. “Coming to stay with me tonight,” Layla said, still half-laughing but with a subtle edge of sincerity, offering the perfect cover. “We’ll have a girls’ night. Do a face mask or whatever.” Trent smirked but said nothing, letting Layla’s quick wit take the spotlight. The group moved on, their teasing fading as they returned to casual chatter. The room felt lighter again, and you knew you owed Layla for smoothing over what could’ve been a minefield. As everyone packed up and started heading out, Trent caught your eye again, a quiet promise lingering between you both.

The drive home was quiet at first, the soft hum of the radio filling the silence between you and Layla. But you could feel her glances, her curiosity practically brimming over.

“So… what’s going on with you and Trent? Post-date, I mean.” She finally asked. You sighed, resting your head against the window.

“It was meant to be good,” you began, your voice low, “but it feels just like before, especially tonight. Just hidden. I thought we were ready to move forward, you know?” Layla frowned, her tone gentle but probing.

“So what’s stopping you?” You hesitated, the words heavy on your tongue.

“I don’t know,” you admitted. “Lay, what if I don’t want it? Not like this. Sometimes… sometimes I feel like I’m the one pulling him into the shadows, like we’re both doing this to each other. Hiding. Like he’s subtle but I’m… hiding. And now, with Josh’s friend Devon… seeing us at dinner—God, I’m terrified.” Her face softened as she glanced at you, one hand briefly leaving the wheel to give your knee a reassuring squeeze.

“It’ll be okay,” she said gently. “It’s just going to take time, yeah? You and Trent have always had this… thing. You guys have communicated so long with no words, going off glances but now… things have to change. You’ll figure it out.” You nodded, but her words only soothed the surface. The knots in your stomach refused to untangle. By the time you arrived at Trent’s house, the air between you and him felt thick. Not with anger—no, it wasn’t that—but with emotion. Too much, all at once.

The tension wasn’t hostile, but it was heavy. You both cared so deeply for one another, but the weight of it was beginning to show, even behind closed doors where no one else could see. When you crawled into bed with him that night, there was no talk of passion or promises. No desperate moves to bridge the gap between your feelings and your fears. Instead, you simply held each other. His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close as he tucked his chin over your head.

“I’ve got you,” he whispered, his voice a low murmur. You didn’t respond, but you didn’t need to. You nestled into him, letting his warmth soothe the ache in your chest. Everything about that moment should have been perfect. The way his heartbeat steadied your breathing, the way his hands absentmindedly rubbed circles into your back. And yet, nothing was. You fell asleep tangled together, but the ache of what wasn’t said lingered.

Noah was throwing a party. He had tossed you and Layla the usual invites you’d come to expect to receive. The music pulsed through his house, spilling out onto the lawn as you and Layla stepped inside. The scene was much bigger than you anticipated—people were crammed into every corner, the laughter and chatter nearly deafening. Layla raised a skeptical brow as you glanced at each other. You shrugged. Noah’s usual ‘small gathering’ had clearly spiraled into something else.

“Aye, you alright?” Trent’s voice cut through the crowd. He spotted you almost immediately, a grin spreading across his face. You’d been texting all day, but nothing substantial had changed between you. The limbo of your relationship was still palpable, and yet, seeing him now, your heart skipped a beat.

“Yeah, all good,” you replied sweetly with a small smile, though you couldn’t ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Layla folded her arms, glancing around at the sheer number of people.

“Didn’t know the whole squad would be here,” she muttered, clearly unimpressed. Trent gave her a cheeky hug, a quick and friendly gesture, before turning his attention fully to you. His arms wrapped around you in a much tighter, longer embrace, swaying slightly with a hum as he leaned into you. His scent—faint cologne mixed with the sharp tang of alcohol—was intoxicating.

“Missed you, baby,” you whispered in his ear, your teeth pulling on his earlobe, your words soft, just for him. Before you could step back, he tightened his grip, pulling you impossibly closer. His lips brushed against your ear, and he murmured something low, too quiet for anyone else to hear.

“Look so sexy. Gonna let me fuck you in the toilet again, yeah?” He cheekily whispered. It was more of a tease then an actual ask but then again, maybe it wasn’t. Your eyes widened briefly at his words, but you nodded, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile. Layla tugged at the back of your top, signaling for you to let go of him, because you had no plans to, but you barely moved. Trent’s arms lingered around you for just a moment longer before he reluctantly pulled away, a satisfied smirk on his lips as he met your gaze one last time.

“What did he say?” Layla asked under her breath, watching you carefully. You shook your head with a small laugh, brushing it off.

“Nothing,” you lied, though your cheeks betrayed you with a warm flush. Layla gave you a knowing look but didn’t press further, letting the moment settle as the party surged on around you.

Trent stood slightly off to the side of his friends, arms crossed and his focus split. Noah was with him, cracking jokes as always, but the boy beside them—Bailey—was an unfamiliar face, part of a wider circle of acquaintances that Trent didn’t know well. What started as idle conversation quickly shifted the moment Bailey’s attention landed on you across the room.Bailey’s jaw slackened, his eyes fixed on you in a way that made Trent’s stomach churn. His discomfort was immediate, though he kept his face neutral, following Bailey’s gaze. You were talking to Layla, smiling brightly, your hand gesturing animatedly as you spoke.

“She’s certainly not ugly,” Noah noticing, quipped with a laugh, slapping Bailey on the back.

“She’s so fit, mate,” Bailey added, his voice dripping with awe. “Fucks sake, mate. Any of you get with her?” Trent’s jaw tightened at the audacity of the question, but Noah—always quick to stir the pot—grinned and threw in a jab.

“Trenty wishes,” Noah smirked, throwing a few playful punches at Trent’s arm. “But he’s got a new bird now apparently. So what’s going on there with Y/N then? I thought you'd take her up on the offer eventually.”

“Nah, don’t say that. Jack would kill me, you know that,” Trent shot back quickly, his voice steady despite the unease settling in his chest. He knew bringing up Jack was the easiest way to shut the conversation down, but it wasn’t the full truth. Bailey frowned, looking between them in confusion.

“You lot don’t think about her that way?” he asked, incredulous.

“I mean, course,” Trent admitted instinctively fast and drunkenly, the words slipping out before he could stop them. He immediately wanted to hit himself. Noah, catching the crack in Trent’s usual composure, smirked smugly.

“Jack’s not here tonight, lad. It’s your limited window. You’re telling me you don’t notice the way she acts around you? Notice the way she looks?” Noah’s cheek was growing and Tren’t resolve was dwindling. He let out a long sigh, his gaze drifting back to you as you tilted your head back with a laugh at something Layla said. The warm overhead lights danced over your skin, making you look radiant. His chest ached with longing, the lie he lived burning in his throat.

“I mean, yeah. She’s beautiful,” Trent said softly, almost to himself.

“Beautiful?” Bailey barked out a laugh. “She’s fucking fit. Got a body on her.” Trent’s jaw clenched so hard it hurt as he scanned your body over the same way Bailey was, from the tip of your boots to the top of your head, desire on both of their minds.

“Erm, yeah, mate.” Trent’s eyes narrowed. “She’s something,” he said quietly, shaking his head in frustration. Noah, sensing the tension, pressed further, his voice full of teasing delight.

“Trent knows her well,” he told Bailey, grinning. Trent scoffed, trying to brush it off. “You do!” Noah yelped. “Bro, you’re the only one she sits with. The only one she lets touch her. And no one says anything. C’mon, Trenty, stop playing nice. Tell the lad about her.” Noah prodded pushing Trent to tell Bailey how great you were knowing it’d be hard for him.

“Nah, mate. I guess, I don’t know,” Trent muttered, forcing the words out in a desperate attempt to end the conversation. But his chest tightened, the weight of his feelings—so much more than Noah or Bailey could understand—bearing down on him. Just then, their other friend, Aidan, walked over, draping an arm around Trent. The distraction was welcome, but it didn’t erase the pit of frustration and yearning brewing inside him. He couldn’t stand this conversation, couldn’t stand Bailey’s gawking, couldn’t stand the charade. Trent’s eyes flicked back to you, his heart thudding as he watched you smile. You were oblivious to the storm swirling in him, but he couldn’t stop himself from feeling like tonight was another reminder of just how much he hated hiding.

“We talking Jack’s sister? Yeah, I won’t lie boys, she’s leng. Come on, you know she’s good in bed as well,” Aidan added casually, his voice slurring slightly with the weight of too many drinks. Trent winced, the comment hitting him like a sharp jab.

“What? Have you?” he asked, his tone panicked and defensive, betraying the calm facade he’d been trying to maintain.

“No, I wish,” Aidan laughed, oblivious to Trent’s reaction. “I mean, you can just tell though.”

“Yeah, you can tell,” Bailey chimed in with a smirk, his eyes lingering on you from across the room. “But mate, it seems like she’s into you. I saw you hug her when she came in.” Trent’s heart rate picked up, and he struggled to keep his expression neutral.

“Probably the only one she’d let have a cuddle in that fit,” Noah laughed, throwing fuel on the fire watching you adjust the hem of your mini skirt knowing you’d wouldn't let just any boy put their hands on you when you were out.

“I don’t know how you practice this much restraint if you're already in,” Bailey said, shaking his head in disbelief. Trent swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as Aidan cut back in, leaning slightly closer to Trent as if to confide some secret.

“Seriously, I don’t know how you do it, bro. She always struts around us in nothing." He then looked at Noah and Bailey. "I think she likes the attention, but we all know she likes Trenty’s attention the most.” The words twisted in Trent’s gut like a knife. He hated the way they spoke about you, the casual objectification of someone they knew so well yet also barely knew beyond the surface, the way he did.

“Eh, don’t know lads. She’s just chill. I don’t think she thinks about it,” Trent said, forcing his voice to stay steady.

“Come on,” Noah rolled his eyes, annoyed that even in his drunk state, Trent wouldn’t falter. But Trent couldn’t falter, not here, not now. He knew the boys had always talked shit like this at parties, tossing your name into the mix like you were some topic for debate. Normally, he brushed it off, participating but choosing to stay silent when it came to you rather than feed into it. But tonight, it felt different. The way they lingered, the way they openly dissected the dynamics between you and him—it was too real, too close to everything he was trying so hard to protect. The bitterness welled up in his chest, the laughter around him grating on his nerves. He wanted to say something, to shut it down, but any slip of the truth would only add more fuel to their relentless teasing. So instead, he stood there, silent, his fists clenching at his sides, wishing he could pull you out of this party and into a space where none of these people and their drunken commentary could touch you.

You caught Trent’s gaze across the room, and the intensity of his stare made your cheeks flush. His lips quirked into a soft smile, but the cool, effortless demeanor he carried around everyone else seemed to dissolve under your gaze. Layla caught the exchange instantly, smirking as she raised her hand in an exaggerated wave at him. Trent waved back with a charm that felt deliberate, but even Layla could tell he was unraveling.

“God, you’ve got him absolutely gone,” she teased, nudging you with her shoulder. “Whatever you do in bed with him has him a mess. He can’t even pretend anymore, before at least he had a poker face.” She laughed. You rolled your eyes, but the warmth spreading through your chest was undeniable.

“Come on,” you said, grabbing Layla’s hand and weaving through the crowded room toward the boys.

“Hiyaaa!” Layla purred as you reached the group, giving Noah and Aidan hugs and introducing herself to Bailey with her usual flair. But before you could even exchange pleasantries, Trent was there, sliding his arm around your waist in a way that was both subtle and unmistakably possessive, keeping you from getting even in touching distance of the other boys. His fingers dipped into the back of your skirt refusing to let you even try to create space between you. The contact sent a shiver through you, grounding you in his presence. You leaned into him not wanting any space, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear as you whispered something cheeky, just for him. Whatever you said made his grin spread wider, his confidence returning as he pulled you closer.

“Gonna drive you home, hmm?” he murmured aloud, his voice low but loud enough for the others to hear. It was casual, a simple blanket statement, that he’d said a million times to you, but the promise hidden in his tone made your heart race. You glanced up at him, your eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Maybe,” you teased back, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. Layla smirked at the exchange, watching Trent’s usual composure crack further.

“Nah.” He pulled on your skirt’s waist again bringing you tighter into him. “I said… I’m gonna drive you home. Alright?” Trent commandingly told you. The boys watched on in disbelief but you and Trent remained in your bubble, his hand never leaving your waist as the rest of the world faded into background noise. Bailey's jaw dropped as he took in the moment.

"Bro, they have to bang, no?" he blurted out, completely bewildered by the quiet intimacy playing out before him. Layla shrugged nonchalantly but bit her tongue to keep from saying anything.

"If l even put my hand near her, she'd call me bro and swat me away," Noah laughed, gesturing toward you. "But Trent? Nah, he gets to do whatever he wants. Got that pretty boy privilege. We've got a different thing happening here."

"Yeah, mate, he's got the green light. I don't know what he's waiting for," Aiden chimed in, his tone teetering between disbelief and amusement. Bailey blinked, staring intently as Trent's hand casually disappeared under your top, his fingers gliding softly over your stomach. It wasn't showy or bold, but the gesture was undeniably intimate.

"Wait, did he just—" Bailey started, his eyes wide as he turned to the group. "His hand is under her clothes right now. Is this happening? Lads… is this a thing? Have I just been talking about his girl the whole time?" He looked to Aiden and Noah for answers, as if they were the only ones who might hold the key to what was clearly more than just a casual friendship. Layla sighed, debating whether to tell the boys to mind their own business, but before she could speak, Noah interjected, smirking.

"Not his girl officially haha. I think he just likes the game." He smugly said. Layla snapped her head toward Noah, her eyes narrowing in irritation. The comment, whether a joke or not, grated on her. The idea that you could ever be seen as a game to Trent made her blood boil.

"That's not funny, Noah," she said firmly, her tone sharp enough to make him pause. "They’re friends. That’s how T’s always been with her.” She snapped. Noah took a deep breath of understanding. It wasn’t a joke. Even as much stick as everyone gave you and Trent, no one ever meant any mal intent by it. He knew you had a crush on Trent. He would never want Trent to mess with you like that.

“I know, Lay… sorry. It’s only jokes. They’re mates.” Noah responded awkwardly. Not because of Layla but because he would never want to offend you. The group fell into quiet hums of spectators for a moment but none of them could tear their eyes away from the two of you. Trent's attention remained solely on you, his hand moving in a way that felt both protective and adoring, and it was clear to anyone watching-this wasn't a game for him.

“Aye, lads… I’m gonna drive Y/N home,” Trent announced casually, though the way his arm tightened around your waist betrayed his eagerness. You, tipsy and giggling, clung to his side, completely oblivious to the knowing looks bouncing around the group.

“Yeah, sure,” Bailey laughed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Driving her home. Right.” Trent ignored his comment but it wasn't so easy.

“Tonight’s it, lad,” Aiden whispered, gripping Trent’s shoulder with a cheeky grin. His voice was low, but the teasing intent was unmistakable. Trent shook his head, fighting the urge to roll his eyes, but the smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth was impossible to hide. To redirect the attention and save face, Trent turned to Layla.

“Lays you want a ride too?” He offered, His voice was kind, but the question was almost rhetorical. Layla waved him off immediately.

“Nah, I’m good. Noah’s got me,” she replied with a knowing smirk, her eyes darting between the two of you. Noah raised a brow, caught off guard.

“I do?” he asked, but when Layla shot him a pointed look, he shrugged and leaned into the moment. “Yeah, shit, sorry, sure. Yeah, I do. Always happy to help.” His smug grin only grew as he watched you and Trent prepare to leave together. The group watched as Trent guided you toward the door, his hand never leaving the small of your back. As you stepped out into the cool night air and out from prying eyes, Trent leaned down.

“You alright, baby?” He whispered. You nodded, smiling up at him. “You wanted me to drive you home?” He looked at you smugly.

“Mhhmm. To your house please. Just want to be with you,” you murmured, your words laced with affection. And with that, the rest of the party faded into the background, leaving just the two of you, ready to retreat to your own little world.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 12 - Monaco xx

#trent alexander arnold #Trent Alexander Arnold x reader #alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #taa x reader #footballer x y/n #footballer x reader #fie fic #Movie Night Fic

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melancholicmarionette · 15 days ago

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Lmao remember months ago I asked for q&a suggestions for my Sam and Valerie podcast brainrot and then never did anything? It’s bc I only got to like two and then left this in my drafts. I’ve decided it’s fine. merry crisis and happy hanukkah

—

Graveyard Gals Episode 15: Q&A Special Just for You

“Welcome. I’m Sam.”

“I’m Val.”

“We’re not friends.”

“We have exactly one thing in common and that’s that we are always down to record us arguing for an hour.”

“Because you guys like it for some reason?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with you?”

“Anyway,” Sam leaned back in her chair, adjusting her headphones, “if you’re still here after we insulted you, then please congratulate us for making fifteen episodes.”

“She needs constant validation,” Valerie said, smirking at the flash of anger that shot through Sam’s eyes as a result.

“This will also be our last episode, she will be dead after recording.”

“Gotta film that sweet sweet content before I beat your ass in a back alley, I see,” Valerie replied, “anyway—to celebrate our fifteenth and perhaps final episode, we have gathered some of your most burning questions from the comment section—”

“Our friends did, for impartiality,” Sam clarified, “Tucker and Danny picked mine, Star chose for Valerie, and as I say it out loud I think that I, at leas, may have made a mistake.”

“We’ll see,” Val said. She scrolled through her phone, finding the google doc her friend had crafted for her—it was a spreadsheet, really, Star couldn’t resist an opportunity to make a spreadsheet—for her first question. “Okay, first—ugh.”

“Read it. You have to.”

“Jesus—BokChoyJoy23 asks ‘when are you actually going to do local ghost smash or pass?’” Valerie waited for Sam’s cackling to die down before continuing, making direct eye contact with her camera, “You’re actually one of many to ask. One of so many. And I don’t regret to inform you that that is something Manson says to piss me off.”

“When there’s a lull—we can’t have lulls,” Sam interjected, “and can I say? Bold of you to assume I won’t do it.”

“We’re moving on.”

“For now. Put a pin in it—but we have something way more important to address: SailorGoon—fantastic username, no notes—asks ‘do you think the genie ghost would help me with my gender transition?’ Oh. Oh SailorGoon.”

“SailorGoon, look at me,” Valerie said sternly, and stared unblinkingly into her own face cam, “or if you’re listening just pay close attention—do not ask Desiree for anything. Nothing. I don’t care if you just need a pen. No.”

“Please seek out other resources,” Sam retreated to her phone for a moment, “I’m actually gonna—someone I follow actually has a linktree specifically for stuff like that, I’m gonna repost it to our account—by the time you see this it’ll be posted. We’re in the past.”

“You’re in the future, you’re living your best life in like…”

“In your best gender.”

“Yes—and you’re not trusting genies.”

“Or like just…not Desiree.”

“Are you gonna “hashtag NotAllGenies” me here Manson?”

“Would it make you mad?”

“Livid.”

“Then I’m making a graphic, it’s gonna go…” Sam traced her finger across an empty space in front of her, “right along here. Hashtag NotAllGenies.”

#danny phantom #sam manson #valerie gray #podcast girlies #I wanna play with this again #my drafts are so full of half finished ramblings #you’d really be surprised considering the drivel I openly hit ‘post’ on #Desiree

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mythvoiced · 1 year ago

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@ofgentleresolve

The hilt of Ambrosius' sword feels so heavy in his protected palm, he can't tell if it's the blade only, or all that clings to it. His promises, his oaths, his guilt, his ache, perhaps Ballister's arm still hangs attached to it, a phantom where it was supposed to be on Ballister himself, and a phantom clinging onto Ambrosius the way he might have once upon a time clung to Ballister.

But... had he ever clung?

Had he ever held on tight enough?

Standing there and having to watch Ballister talk, move, features contort and express words he'd never even dreamt to hear in his worst nightmares, all through the lens of his reflection on the tip of Ballister's sword, had he ever held on tight enough?

Ambrosius has centuries worth of expectations to live up to, an ancestor who demands perfection even in death, an ancestor to crawl up along his spine and wrap itself like a cloak made of stones over his frame, palms firmly planted into his shoulders, pushing him down, down, down.

Ballister didn't have that.

Because Ballister had nothing.

Ambrosius, he'd realized at one point, perhaps right now, even, or perhaps late at night when some part of him, perhaps the part that had made a heart like Ballister's, the one he used to know at least, find his suitable for love, that Ballister possessed strength like none other because he'd had to fight for it.

He'd always known that, in a way. A fact about the man before him, the man he used to love. A fact, his story, his strength, beating the odds of his poor upbringing, the details of their anxieties sometimes shared in the privacy of what they had, the lines of his determination carved so very differently into his flesh than Ambrosius' had been into his.

He'd admired him, for it. Idolized, sometimes. Romanticized, as often as he could. There he is, diamond, phoenix, incredible Ballister, who had come from nothing, and become...

Become what, exactly?

Everything everyone had ever assumed he'd turn into.

Ambrosius' stomach churns with acid, bile, guilt, promises, oaths, determination.

Determination.

Ambrosius' gaze flickers, briefly, a fraction of a second, chases the flurry of pink movements behind Ballister, how careless, reckless of him to forge a bond with... with that. How misguided.

How much it aches - selfishly - that Ambrosius stands before a man with the last remnants of - selfish - hope he might save him from himself, return the Ballister he'd believed would surpass even him, become greater than great, if only given a fair chance.

This Ballister had squandered that chance for the Ballister he dreams of. For the Ballister of his past and of the future they'll never have.

His features contort when he locks eyes with Ballister again, an expression of - selfish - pain.

"We can both make this easier than it is," Ambrosius' tone is gentle, he tries to make it so. A opening of his palm, small gesture to accompany, encompass their circumstances. His sword is still pointed to the ground, but he's good, he's fast, and his upper arm is tense, ready to fight at a moment's notice.

"Please, Bal," a hushed plea, a mean use of a prior affection.

Three years.

Three years to mourn Ballister.

Three years to figure out how to give up on him.

Three years only to see him now and have to fight the urge to run up to him, drop his weapon, grab him by his shoulders and shake him instead, beg him to return to his sense, come back to the system that had oh so believed in him.

Instead he stands there, ready to spring. Ready to banish the plea out of his voice if Ballister forces his hand.

"Come back. If you come back willingly, we might be able to... you can still change."

@mythvoiced sent in: " all of my wildest dreams, they just end up with you and me " - from Ambrosius >:3 (aLSO YOUR URL how!!!!! YOU'RE!!! SO GOOD AT URLS--!!!!!!!!!!!!) || lyric starters meme

Hasn’t that always been the case?

Ballister is no stranger to living life on the edge. Even before their death, all it took was one accident, one mistake to tank the savings his parents spent months building up. Their community was not much better either. Funds saved up to improve infrastructure, the community center, the mosque could disappear without any warning.

And then one accident, one accident was all it took to take his parents and then his home.

And still, he dreamed, dreamed of standing at the side of the Kingdom as a hero of the realm.

Even when the queen inducted him as a squire, he could never find better footing. He knew; one mistake, that’s all he needed if he wanted to be put back in the streets. And yet that dream, his dream never strayed far. Stayed so close to him every time he reached for it, he could feel it, like silk, between his fingers before it to slipped away.

He thought being with Ambrosius would have been like that too. At first, it was a pipe dream- being friends with the descendent of Gloreth, herself? Impossible. Ambrosius falling in love with him? Gloreth’s descendent wouldn't do that. Dating and building a life with Ambrosius? A life that both Ambrosius and the Kingdom would approve of?

Only a fool would dream to do so.

And yet.

And yet, it had all been in Ballister’s hand, once upon a time. So close, sometimes Ballister’s phantom arm twitches at the thought of it. Silk, golden white like Ambrosius’ hair resting between his fingers. Sometimes Ballister doesn’t dare to move his arm in those moments because what if it still was all possible? Maybe if he’s careful enough, this time, it won’t slip away-

He’s only deluding himself. The world isn’t meant to be draped in sheets of white silk and Ballister doesn’t believe it’s all gray or varying shades of black either. It doesn’t have to be- Nimona taught him that- that splash of PINK on an otherwise pristine canvas.

Why should he have to keep chasing a future, a dream that keeps running away when he catches up?

He won’t do it anymore. He can’t, even if it’s Ambrosius who beckons him to come back. He won't trade a clad of black armor sprinkled with specks of pink for the pristine white and gold banner one he longed to wave once upon a time.

The day Ballister left the Kingdom, three years ago, he set aside that dream. Broke it in two alongside the life he once shared with Ambrosius. No more. No more.

( Even if he cried, staring at the remains of them. What they were. What they would have been. )

Now there’s only them, surrounded by the ruckus. And Nimona, in the back, picking off Ambrosius’ backup with generous strokes of her claws.

“Don’t say that, Ambrosius. You- you of all people don’t get to say that to me,” Ballister says, finally. The sword held by his mechanical arm feels heavy as he points it at his beloved enemy. “Don’t make this any harder than it has to be.”

#ofgentleresolve #misassumed #the hopeful;ambrosius #my sister made an edit of nimona and i... oh it did me in bad so ofc i instantly thought of you and this so hehehehe~#HIS BELOVED ENEMY FERRE I AM EATING MY FIST OKAY CHEWING MY OWN ARM OFF OH GOD #goodness gracious rereading this--- oh i am so not normal about your writing Ferre i have ceased being normal #there is no way to recover braincells after reading this #SO STILL MESSING AROUND WITH AMBROSIUS i hope that by the time the queue gently releases this into the world #i'll have his doc up SO IF YOU EVER WOULD LIKE ME TO TWEAK ANYTHING ABOUT MY PORTRAYAL OF HIM #I'D LOVE ANY AND ALL SUGGESTIOSN FDHJG NO PRESSURE OFC i'll sit here in awe of your Ballister in the meantime >:3 #ALSO I LOVE THE VILLAIN VERSE I AM SO READY FOR VILLAIN VERSE i haven't finished the webcomic yet ngl #i believe... i don't quite remember where i left off BUT THIS TO SAY I WILL BASE MYSELF ON WHAT YOU WRITE~#ALSO I TAGGED OFGENTLERESOLVE IN CASE YOU WILL DECIDE TO MOVE HIM TO YOUR MAIN~#here i went with what we see a bit of in the film how... Ambrosius mourns for Ballister because so indoctrinated by the system--#idk can't explain myself but YAY DFKLHLGFKHL #ngl writing this- Ambrosius talking to Ballister like this HURT LIKE A BINCH #;queue

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sugarcoatedstarkey · 2 years ago

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Drew and Chase's ex part 2. Drew feeling a 'little' pissed that he wasn't included in the flash forward (let's say he filmed something for it) and seeing everyone speculate that he won't be in season 4. And then out of spite that none of the cast have neither confirmed or denied the rumour in interviews he decides to fuck yn in one of their trailers while filming season 4 and that is how they all find out 😂

And since they wanna be chill with Chase I would say either Jonathan's or Austin's because they're good friends.

Leftovers p2

(Gif credit to owner)

Pairings- readerxdrew starkey

Summary- follow in from part 2, read above.

Warnings- unprotected angry kind of public sex, hair pulling, choking, fingering, hand job, language. (18+)

A/n- hey anon, I changed it up a little. Just found it easier to write it prior to season 4 filming. I hope you don’t mind! Let me know what you think 🥰 also this is unedited atm but needed to post as my drafts are being so weird and I can’t open word doc.

Part 1

"Okay, but if I’m in season 4. Why is no one saying yes in the interviews?” Drew argues, he’s pacing the living room floor.

The vein in his arm is protruding from the way his fist is tightly balled up. “Why am I being told not to say anything?”.

You knew if you weren’t over, half his furniture would be turned upside down and his knuckles would be bruised. He didn’t know how to calm himself down when you weren’t around, he usually bottled things up until they tip him over the edge.

“Whatever”.

You watched as he hung up the phone and brought his arm above his head to throw the phone. “Drew” you sing, his eyes meet yours.

All the anger that had been radiating from him vanishes, he drops the phone onto the couch and walks towards you. Taking a seat next to you, he grabs your face and kisses you. “Thanks for being my anchor” he smiles, your heart skips a beat.

“Do you still want to go to this party JD is throwing for end of season 3? We don’t have to, I mean I know how angry you are” you question, you didn’t really want to go.

You both had been seeing each other on the down low since the night you had sex, so exactly 5 months. You had planned on speaking to Chase but with Drew being busy with interviews and you working in the office until late most night, no one’s schedule ever matched.

That was until you got a text from Chase inviting you to the party, neither of you had hard feelings. You had seen photos online of him with other girls and assumed he had moved on, but you just weren’t sure how he would react to the two of you getting together.

“Oh, we are going” he states, he has a look of mischief on his face but he’s standing and exiting the room before you can even question what’s running through his brain.

2 nights go by and you’re stepping out of a taxi, dressed in a black and white checked dress that meets your knees. You had a good amount of cleavage on display and the waist was snatched.

You and Drew had decided to come separately, not wanting to draw attention to the two of you if paparazzi where to find out about the party. Lucky it was on the down low, and you go unnoticed.

“Hey!” JD yells, he wraps his arm around your shoulder and pulls you through the house. He guides you to a bar and grabs you a glass of wine. “So good to see you Y/N! Chase is here somewhere”.

Just as he finishes his sentence you see him walk through the door, he gives you a bright smile and walks over. “Hey!” He greets you, giving you a soft hug and kissing your cheek.

You had only seen each other once since the split, thankfully the second the hug ended, you knew you no longer had feelings for him. You just hoped he felt the same way, you didn’t want to keep you and drew a secret anymore.

“How are you?” You question, taking a sip of the white wine JD had given you. The sweet taste danced over your taste buds.

Conversations begin to flow between the 3 of you and soon the whole cast is gathered in a circle, catching up and chatting about new projects. You said a few things about your own work, but really you just listened.

You still hadn’t seen Drew, you kept checking your phone to make sure he hadn’t bailed. You knew how angry he was, you tried to keep him calm but the second you left his side it just hit him, and he’d search the interviews online.

What seemed like an eternity later; he strode on in. Dressed all in black and frames on his face. He waved at everyone, but you could tell he was anxious. He didn’t like not knowing the future.

“Drew!” Everyone cheered, you waited your turn until you could hug him and say hey. You could feel his lips linger on your cheek and his fingers dig into your hips as a way of saying ‘missed you’.

The rest of the night went by in a blur, you saw Drew occasionally, but he was off talking to everyone. You could see him talking to the show runner and the conversation must have started to get heated as Drew’s fingers kept running over his scalp and his jaw was tense.

You didn’t want to interrupt so made your way to a bathroom, you would do your business and then go back out and see if you could grab his attention without having to go over and interrupt the conversation.

A couple of minutes went by, and you opened the door to leave the bathroom, but Drew stood at the entrance. His hands grip your shoulders and push you softly back inside, closing the door behind him.

He grips your jaw and presses his lips to yours, needy hands touching all over your body. Pushing you up against the cabinets, he helps you onto the countertop. Pushing himself between your parted legs.

You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands caressing your hips. Pulling you close to him as he lets his tongue explore the inside of your mouth.

The music outside is drowned out by your heartbeat rattling in your ears, your skin was on fire from his touch. You could feel his erection against your clothed pussy, you needed him right there and then.

“Can I touch you?” He breathes, you nod your head. Taking a moment to catch your breath, he reaches between the two of you. Pulling your panties to the side, he pushes you back slightly.

Angling you to lay back against the mirror, nodding for you to bring your feet up onto the countertop, when he’s finally happy with the way your sat. He runs his fingertips between your soaking folds.

An almost pornographic moan leaves your lips, he chuckles into your hair. You can’t see his face, but you know he’s smirking at how easy it is for him to get you wet. He pushes two fingers inside of you, your mouth gaping open.

“Dre-w, should we be doing this?” You breathed, your walls fluttering around his fingers. You could feel your self-growing wetter, the movements of his fingers becoming fast and sloppy. You don’t doubt that you have covered his hands with your juices. “Hell, yeah we should baby”.

You don’t argue with him, you’re riding your high in JD’s bathroom. Zoned out to the world, grinding your hips into his hand as he brings you over the edge. Your orgasm washing over you with a sense of release, your moans are hidden by his mouth on yours.

You’re reaching into his pants to grab his cock, pulling it out of its confinements. You use your arousal to pump your hand up and down his shaft as he sucks and bites down your throat.

One of his hands fisting the back of your head and pulling you head to the side to give him better access. “Fuck”.

“Feels so good”

“Yeah?”

“So good, I need to be inside of you”

He’s rushing to undo his zip and doesn’t give you time to move position, he’s pushing inside of you with ease. You let out a yelp when he grips your hips and pushes you down onto him harshly. “Fuck, harder Drew”.

“How hard?”

He was still cautious with how he treated you in the bedroom, not wanting to upset you. You had told him a million times he could carve his name on your skin, and you’d still suck his dick. “Make me scream baby”.

He pulls out of you, repositioning you to lean over the countertop. He gives your ass a slap and pushes inside of you again. Bunching your dress up to your hips so he can get a good view of his cock drenched in your juices.

“Oh shit, please Drew harder” you beg, you grip onto the counter. He grips your hair and pulls you back against him, moving his hips inside of you as he reaches around to kiss you.

His hands caress your body, groping your tits. Reaching down to massage your clit, his other hand grips your throat tightly. His eyes are watching the way your own roll to the back of your head, he’s so close to coming just from the way you looked euphoric right now.

“Your so fucking perfect”

“Your mine”

“We are telling Chase”

“I need everyone to know your fucking mine”

You’re coming hard around him, screaming his name out. He places his hand over your mouth to muffle it out slightly, he holds you firmly against him as you shake around him. Your walls pulsating around his cock, milking him until he’s completely dry.

The anger that had once been raging inside of him had gone, he was satisfied and happy. The feeling of you in his arms had him humming with delight.

“Did you mean that last part?” You questioned; he nodded his head. Looking at you through the mirror. You have him a soft smile and turned your head to give him a kiss.

“No way”

You both jump at the voice behind you as Austin stood at the door, his eyes wide as he takes in the scene in front of him. He steps out without saying another word and closes the door behind him.

“I mean, at least it wasn’t chase?” Drew laughs, he slips out of you and helps you clean up. You’re both trying to work yourselves up to get out of the bathroom and to speaking to Chase, it had to happen now. If Austin knew, it was only right Chase did.

“So why did we just have sex in JD’s bathroom?”

“Just me being pissed off with what’s going on with season 4, kind of wanted to just let some steam off. I mean, I’m pissed no one has just said yeah, he’s in the next season.”

“I’m just being salty”

You nod your head in understanding, you would be pissed to if your cast mates pretended like you weren’t going to be in the next season.

“Guys, Chase is coming” Austin barged through the door and pushed you away from one another. He leans against the counter and nods when Chase came up to the door. “Sup man”.

Chase looked between the 3 of you and quirked his brow, peering over your shoulder at the bathroom counter. “Not doing drugs, right?” He laughed nervously.

You all laughed, it was awkward, and your heart felt like it was in your throat. You were nervous and it made it even worse that Austin was in the room, but as though he could read your mind, he pointed his finger to the door and exited.

“What’s going on guys?” Chase questions, he noticed the both of you being awkward. He could tell someone wanted to say something because you both were still in the bathroom waiting. “Chase, man I need to tell you something”.

Chase nods his head and looks at you, you know he wants to ask if you need to be in the room but when he looks back at Drew, he turns to look at you again.

“So those pictures online?” Chase states, no doubt talking about the pictures that those teenage girls had posted online 5 months ago. “Are you seeing each other?”.

Drew looks over at you, making sure you’re okay with him answering. “Yeah” you whisper, you know you shouldn’t be nervous. Your both adults, these feelings honestly can’t be helped, and Chase would know that.

He had to deal with his old feelings with Maddi when you started dating, he was still getting over her and you were fine with that. You gave him his time and he came around in the end.

“Oh shit” Chase breaths, he runs a hand through his hair. He chuckles to himself; Drew can tell your even more anxious now.

His eyes fall to you as you sway on the spot, picking at the skin around your nails. “I’m sorry man, I’ve been meaning to talk to you”. Drew states, he puts his hand on Chase’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry Chase, we did mean to talk to you” you start, your about to add that you didn’t want him to be upset and that you both weren’t walking around hoping to be photographed together but he stops you.

“Hey, hey. It’s totally fine” he says, there was a slight hesitation when he says fine, but his caramel eyes meet yours. “I promise, I mean sure it’s a shock, but we ended things months ago” Chase finished, he gives you a soft smile.

“I’m happy for you both”

He pulls Drew in for hug and gives him a rough pat on the back, you can feel slight tension from them both. Unsure how to react to each other, Chase was understanding. Yes, he felt a little strange that his ex was now dating Drew who had become a close friend of his since season 1.

But if Y/N could deal with Chase having had feelings for Maddi then the least he could do is deal with the two of them becoming a couple. So, he pulled you into a soft hug and before you could pull away. He brought his lips to your ears.

“He will be good for you”

“Thanks Chase”.

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