#but i also get the feeling that 'raising' is not exactly the right word for it

[relaxxattack]

#dave strider and schrodinger's bisexuality #people are mad at this for no fuckin reason lol #dave is probably bisexual technically but he defines his sexuality and gender in the vaguest possible terms #ask him his sexuality and he will talk at you for 20 minutes and ultimately not give you a solid answer #but by that point you're confused and ready for him to stop talking already so you just let it go #dave defining his sexuality in the epilogues: #“a gay homosexual who only consumes homo ass snacks delivered right to my mouth by a big queer butler” #“technically 30% to 70% gay” #he literally says “i know the word bisexual exists btw im just choosing not to use it here” #and after years of being with jade in the candy timeline he says to obama “i think im gay” #i can imagine dave having the same issues with the term bisexual that i do #first of all it sounds way more concrete than it actually is and often gives people a very specific idea of what you are attracted to #there's a huuuge amount of diversity to bisexuality but it's frequently lost bc nobody's gonna explain the details every single time #so you end up with people defaulting to “ok bisexual = 50% women 50% men” #meanwhile a term like gay is “technically” specific but so broadly used that it's easy to insert ambiguity into it #“im so gay” etc is used by people all over the sexuality spectrum #calling yourself gay CAN be specific but can also mean “i am some manner of queer” #which leaves room for you to explain if you want or keep it intentionally vague #not to mention it's usually way more fun and impactful to use the word gay than bisexual #it's such a mood killer to have to clarify that you're bi when you talk/joke about being gay #also tbh i think dave's feelings on sexuality are practically inseparable from the way he was raised #his hangups have to do with being “GAY” so he's gonna call himself GAY gdi! #ok essay over whoops

-- via @the-troll-book-of-mormon

holy shit, it's like you plucked the words straight out of my brain. this is exactly what i was trying to get across. thank you so much

dave strider will walk around calling himself the gayest gay man alive and everyone’s like ohhh but he loves women. and the thing is he does. but he’s gay about it. you understand.

[ittybittyfanblog]

Error 404: (Self-Aware!AU, Sylus Edition)

Summary: A LADS self-aware!AU featuring Sylus (+ maybe the other MLs!) and an oblivious player. That’s it, that’s the plot. Tags: player!reader x sylus, fem!reader x sylus, reader x lads, maybe some suggestive language?? will add more tags as the story progresses A/N: This is gonna be a multi-chapter fic! I’m still not sure whether to do the boys in rotation, or just focus on one ML per series. Don’t take my word for it atp tho – I’m not even sure if I can actually finish a series lol.  Also, I’ve had the creative liberty of changing stuff from the actual gameplay here and there. (Except for the self-awareness. That’s most definitely real.) Hope you enjoy~!

Chapter 1

It’s a quarter past eight and you’re still on your desk working overtime on a Friday night. 

You let out a big sigh, leaning back on your office chair after an unhealthy duration of bad posture from hours of slouching down in front of your computer. There’s nothing ergonomic about the way this job is killing you, and the ache in your lower back can attest to that. 

An irate orange tabby plops himself in front of you, blocking your view of the glaring screen and you figure that it’s time for a break. 

“Me-oow.”

“I know, I know,” You answer tiredly, standing up to dodge a stray paw clawing your way and you hear cracks in three different places that are honestly unbecoming of a woman your age. You haven’t even reached thirty yet, for god’s sake. “I’m a bad mother. But mom also had to skip dinner to make it to the seven PM meeting, so cut me some slack, okay?” 

A high-pitched “meooowr!” is the only response you get; it seems like there’s no excusing late dinner time this time around. 

As much as you’d like to hem and haw and complain, the main reason why you’re still keeping this job is because you can work remotely. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re stuck most days at home working hours past your regular nine to five, having to be on-call around the clock at all times, and that you’ve consumed more sodium than a nitrite victim with the way you live off cup ramen, then, really, it beats working in an office where you’d physically have to clock in and out from exactly nine to five. 

Your right eye twitches. No, I have not fallen in love with the system that exploits me, thank you very much. 

“Here is your Fancy Feast, your highness,” you tell the hungry feline who’s already ignoring the hand that feeds for the bowl full of white fish paté. He eats healthier than you, sure, but you work like this for him to eat like this. The life of a single mom is an uphill battle, but extremely rewarding. 

You raise your hand to pat your son’s head lovingly, aborting the gesture halfway when you hear a warning growl. Alright, tough crowd. 

After nuking a half-eaten takeout box in the microwave and grabbing a cold Bundaberg from the fridge, you hunker down on the “chaise lounge” (see: an old wingback and a rattan ottoman you’ve refurbished as a makeshift seat a few weeks back when you had guests over) for a late meal. 

You barely register the taste of lukewarm rice on your tongue, mouth moving mechanically while your mind runs on autopilot about everything and nothing at the same time. 

Maybe it’s time to check Jobstreet again

Is there like a laundromat near the area that’s open twenty four seven

Eugh, I hate cold peas

What do we feel about Chromakopia? 

I will… die alone

I really need to stock on some fresh produce this weekend–

Ping! 

A notification from your phone pulls you out of your thoughts – and like a well-trained dog pavlov’d into responding, you visibly perk up at the sight of your lock screen lighting up and the familiar banner you’ve already memorized by heart. 

Your Galaxy Explorer rewards are here. Did you put my hotel’s address as the shipping address? 

Ah, just like clockwork. 

You press on it with a quiet, bubbling anticipation, chewing on the plastic spork as you wait impatiently for the silly mobile game that’s been your short respite at intervals – for more than you’d care to admit – to boot up. 

Offhandedly, you wish that the devs would add more variations to the game’s push notifications; more random, personalized stuff like maybe a reminder to drink water, or a fun update about their day. What you’d give – pay – for a: "Less on the overtime, kitten. I miss you,” dialogue from a certain character, but you digress. 

Oh, well. Probably better this way, lest you dig yourself deeper into delusion. 

The game greets you with the usual picturesque view of a silver-haired man sitting cross-legged on a chair, looking all the bit at ease in his signature crimson and white button up. The warm ambience of the Destiny Café at night draws you in, already pulling your attention away from the never-ending stream of thoughts in your brain. 

“Before seeing you, I thought today would be another dull day,“ Sylus comments airily. The way he drawls out the words in that deep timbre of his voice never fails to make your heart flutter – just a teeeensy bit.

“Ever the charmer,” you sigh happily in return, situating yourself more comfortably on the sofa, almost horizontal from how far you’re leaning back on the cushion. “You’re looking awfully normal tonight. What, no pineapple glasses for your favorite girl?” 

Having bypassed the initial cringe of talking to yourself after literal months of gameplay, it almost comes off natural, the banter. You’ve already accepted the fact that you’re crazy about a fictional, pixelated man – what’s pretending to have actual conversations with him gonna do? It’s not as if he actually hears you yap your nonsense; there are worse things in the world than a parasocial attachment to an otome game character. 

Your little jab at the sometimes random addition to his choice of attire earns you a laugh from the man itself– or at least it looks as though it does, making you blink momentarily in surprise. Happy coincidence, I guess.

You shake your head, cracking a smile, then proceed to do the routine of completing the daily agenda and then some. 

It’s tedious business, sure. You’ve dedicated hours upon hours on this game and you’re honestly starting to feel pretty bored with some of the gameplay elements, but you *do* like the ritualistic nature of ticking off the tasks one by one. It’s almost ironic – the way you dutifully do one thing after the other in this game, just to avoid the pile of work that’s waiting for you in real life. 

It’s not as if anything, or anyone’s relying on you to do your daily log-ins, so you suppose it’s due to that lack of pressure as well. 

Pulling yourself away from the five-star Xavier memory card you’ve grinded to level seventy, you stare despondently at the sad little 2 on your remaining energy. The embarrassing amount of materials you lack to ascend the card seem to mock you, even as you exit the Memories window. Another goal for another day, perhaps.

All tasks on the daily agenda are complete, except for one that you’ve always saved for last.

You’re met with a standing Sylus on the game’s home screen, arms crossed and wearing an expression you’d almost describe as impatient, if you didn’t know any better. The sight makes you grin. 

Cheekily, you poke his crotch.

You’re looking forward to getting a playful remark, or if you’re lucky, a blush along with an embarrassed retort about your shamelessness. 

 What you get, however, is a resounding scoff. Your eyes snap back to his face – from, ahem, your prolonged staring at the area below his waist – and you do see the familiar tinge of pink on his cheeks, but what he says in response catches you off-guard.

“You spend that much resource for a card that isn’t mine?” Sylus tsks, both his voice and expression coming across as… affronted? “Kitten, I’m actually hurt.” 

Huh?

You haven’t heard that line from him before. Was there a recent update you weren’t aware of? The man in question then appears to look amused, from the way you’ve been rendered speechless by the unexpected dialogue. 

All at once, you gasp when you realize what the new response means. 

“That’s so smart,” you say giddily. You see Sylus cock his head to the side, synchronously quirking an eyebrow—expectant. “They actually added a feature that lets them know which memory I’ve upgraded last, and make you react to it. Oh, that’s so cool!” 

If you weren’t too busy being excited over what you think is a new update from the game,  you’d see the chagrined look on Sylus’ face. But when you glance back at him, all trace of the emotion is gone before you could notice anything different. 

“Don’t worry, Crow Man. You’re still my favorite,” you assure him, making his mouth tick upwards in a semblance of a smile. He looks pleased all of the sudden, his demeanor shifting into something more relaxed.

Then a pout forms on your face. You crinkle your nose in frustration as you complain, “It’s just really hard to level your cards up at this point. It takes ages and a shit ton of energy just to level you up past seventy five.” Sighing, you add, kind of bitterly, “And I’m too broke to be spending money on growth packs.” 

Checking the time on your phone, you see that you’ve already spent more than an hour on your self-imposed break time and you know that you ought to get back to work soon. With a groan, you pull yourself to sit upright, savoring the last few minutes of free time before you slave off for the rest of the night. 

You’re about to clean up what’s left of dinner when you notice the oddly thoughtful look on Sylus’ face. 

There’s a deep furrow in his brows as he brings a hand up to cover his mouth. He closes his eyes shut for a few seconds. He's never done that gesture before... Ugh, he looks really hot–

Suddenly, you see a flicker— then a weird, sort of graphic distortion happening in the background. Uh, what??

A beat; then a glitch on the screen. “Ah, shit.” 

The game crashes.

You exhale loudly as the game’s interface goes back to the loading screen, tapping your thumb impatiently as the bar slowly loads to 15%... 50%..... 81%....... 

“Maybe make sure to patch up first before releasing an update next time, jeez— Huh?” 

For a quick second, nothing seems to be amiss. But then the first thing you see on the home screen is Sylus’ figure standing before you, wearing an expression one could only describe as a cat that ate the proverbial canary. 

He speaks— and it’s another intro you haven’t heard him say, ever. 

“You should’ve told me sooner, sweetie,” he almost coos the words out, making your eyes bug out in shock. 

“Now, why don’t you go check your–” he pauses, and his mouth moves as if he’s rolling the word out, testing it. “Inventory?” 

Sylus slides his gaze towards the upper left corner of the screen, a coy smirk still ever-present on his face. 

There, you see something you haven’t noticed earlier: two notification badges. One on your mailbox, and another on the Hunter’s Info tab. Bewildered, you press on the mail icon first, despite the insistence for you to start with the latter. 

You see a new message: [For You]

A small gift, to bridge our worlds closer. – S 

Nothing is attached to it. You read it twice, perplexed.  

“You’re quite the contradictorian, aren’t you?” Sylus tuts as soon as you return back to the home screen, his gaze boring into you even when he tilts his head sideways in mock exasperation. “Mmm, I suppose it doesn’t matter. Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” 

Helplessly, you open your inventory next. 

Your jaw drops. 

“What. The fuck,” You whisper to yourself, voice wavering in disbelief at what you’re seeing, and the sheer amount of what you’re seeing. “This– this can’t be real.” 

You see that all the materials you own, from the bottle of wishes to the ascension crystal boxes, have been multiplied a hundred times over.

And on top of that–

Ninety nine thousand red dias????

You cannot believe how this– this recent… update (or is it a bug? Infold sure isn’t this generous) didn't make the news. Even as someone as uninvolved as you are with the community and the game’s latest releases, something like this for sure would’ve made headlines on Twitter (X), at least. But you haven’t heard anything. Nada. 

Holy shit. 

You feel a little light-headed, both from incredulity and excitement. Needing a moment to calm yourself down, you exit the Inventory tab in a daze.

You stare at Sylus. He stares back at you with what looks to be mirth in his eyes. 

Skeptically, you mutter, “did–did I get hacked or something?” 

Anticipating another unexpected dialogue to prompt up, you wait for a full minute without saying anything else. And for a moment, the man in front of you looks indecisive, contemplative. 

There’s something very odd, very… human in the way he’s looking at you. He looks as if– as if he’s—

His face falls back into a neutral expression. Not unlike how his idle animation usually looks. 

..

…

….. It doesn’t seem like he’s going to initiate a conversation any time soon, so you hesitantly poke him on the nose. 

“Even in the worst-case scenario, there’s no need to panic.”

You’ve heard that one before.

So he’s back to normal now. You temper the small disappointment that blooms in your gut. 

Shaking your head slowly, you try to make sense of all the stuff that just happened, but a sharp bite on your ankle pulls you out of your reverie. 

“Ow–!” The sight of your cat flopping near your feet reminds you of the time. More importantly, the backlogs waiting for you at your desk. 

“Wait, shit– I gotta get back to work.” This… unbelievable stroke of good luck (?) is gonna have to take a backseat for now.

You grab the carton box and the half-empty bottle of sparkling peach as you stand up. Making quick work of throwing the container in the trash and gulping down the rest of your drink, you rush into your room and back in front of your PC. 

Cracking your knuckles, you gingerly set your phone against the monitor. Setting the timer to one hour in Quality Time, knowing fully-well that you’re going to have to keep extending it until the wee hours of the morning – or until your battery dies, whichever comes first – you give Sylus one last look, letting out a long exhale before locking in.

“Just keep me company for the night, alright? I’ll figure out what’s going on once my shift’s over.” 

It could just be your overactive imagination, but you swear you hear a quiet chuckle from the man polishing his gun in your peripheral.

[cinnaleaf]

ESSENCE OF US - CH 13: SCOUSER’S RITE*

Please read responsibly. This fic will get hot and heavy as the story progresses, 18+ only MDNI | CH 12 | MASTERLIST | CH 14 [soon]

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

warnings: angst, fluff, mild smut, academy life, tough family dynamics, gossip, mentions of past toxic relationship, language wc: ~9k 💌: buckle up, it’s about to get real after this 🐦‍🔥

You barely had a minute to breathe over the past few weeks since coming back from London. Your brother’s Liverpool trial was scheduled for tomorrow and although he was doing his best to seem unbothered about it, you could feel the mixture of nerves, excitement, and how much tomorrow meant to him. While you were preparing dinner, your focus kept drifting to the other room where Trent was in full mentor mode with Ziggy seated across from him.

“Listen,” Trent started, sounding more like a coach than a current footballer. “Tomorrow they’re not just gonna watch you in your usual position. They’ll move you around..left, right, centre to test how quick you adapt. They want to see what you’re like outside of your comfort zone.”

Ziggy nodded, his gaze transfixed like he was storing every piece of advice in his brain. Trent leaned forward, dropping his voice like he was giving away his best kept secrets.

“You know they’re not just looking for skill, right? They want someone who can lead and keep their cool when thrown off. Body language is everything, mate. If something throws you off, you need to get back in the game and show them you’re ready for anything.”

Ziggy looked excited, but also nervous. “So..even if I get tossed all around the pitch..just be calm about it?”

Trent nodded, almost like he was reminiscing on past times. “Yeah..just look confident even if you’re not. Make it look like you were meant to be there no matter where they put you. You’ve got to prove you belong, it’s not just about playing well.”

“Dinner’s ready for my two favorite athletes,” you called out, stepping into the room and drying your hands on a dish towel. You caught the tail end of their conversation and noticed how your brother’s face lit up at every word Trent said, his wide eyes and dimples reminded you of when he was just five and just learning the ropes of football at the park. Meanwhile, Trent was relaxed and confident, very clearly enjoying taking on his mentor role.

They both looked over at you with grins, Trent’s gaze softened into something a little more domestic when he saw you. “What’s on the menu tonight?” he asked playfully but also curious. “You didn’t have to cook baby. I could’ve picked something up.”

“T..it’s fine. Tomorrow’s a big day. I made pasta bolognese and salad.”

The minute you mentioned pasta, both of them bolted to the table like they hadn’t eaten in forever. Trent made a plate for you first, adding everything before setting it down where you usually sat. “Ladies first,” he said thoughtfully, making you roll your eyes but you secretly appreciated the manners he had. 

“Thank you,” you replied with a grin as they wasted no time piling their own plates high.

Ziggy dug in immediately, taking a heaping forkful of pasta in his mouth and gave you an appreciative grin. “This is way better than Mum’s food” he said in a muffled tone, chewing a mouthful of food. He wasn’t lying about that; your mum’s cooking generally lacked the warmth and attention you put into yours, so it made you smile. Trent grabbed his fork and took a bite of pasta, looking over at you as if he knew exactly how good he looked right now. He took his time chewing, maintaining direct eye contact with you. You were absentmindedly twirling your food around on the fork, your eyes fixed on him until he raised his eyebrow and snapped you out of your daze.

“You alright, Y/N?” he asked, knowing exactly what he was doing to you.

You cleared your throat, trying to play it off as you straightened up in your seat to force yourself to stop staring at the gorgeous man in front of you. “Mhm. All good here,” you replied, shaking off the heat of the moment. You turned to your brother, who was still inhaling his food like it was his last meal on earth. “Sooo...why’d you turn down the trials with Man U and City? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought you were really set on going to –”

Ziggy cut you off, not looking up from his plate. “Didn’t feel right anymore.” he mumbled.

You eyed Trent suspiciously, wondering if he had anything to do with your brother’s change of heart. “And T..did you have anything to do with Z’s sudden allegiance to Liverpool?” Your brother was a born and bred scouser, but he wasn’t a hardcore fan of LFC; he just enjoyed a nice footie match, no matter which club was out there on the pitch. Trent paused before responding, casually taking another bite before giving you a nonchalant shrug. “Liverpool’s the best place if he wants to develop. I just gave him tips about academy life.” He avoided your direct gaze, almost like he wasn’t telling the full truth. “He made the right decision baby. It’s in his blood. It’s like a rite of passage.”

Ziggy nodded, agreeing with Trent immediately. “Yeah, Liverpool is home. Easy choice.”

You folded your arm as you eyed both Trent and Ziggy suspiciously. “So you had this epiphany all by yourself?”

“Yup. Been thinking about it for a while now,” Ziggy replied curtly, scraping his plate for the last bits of pasta sauce like a greedy teenager.

Both of their relaxed expressions gave nothing away, but your brother answered your question the same way he answered your dad’s questions the night your dad asked Ziggy about the scouts, which made you feel a pang of frustration. You couldn’t stand the idea of Trent pulling strings for Ziggy. The internet already thought you were only with Trent to establish your brother’s football dreams; you even scrolled through many comments hinting at it. You tried to not let it show, but it bothered you. The last thing you wanted was to find out Trent pushed Ziggy in Liverpool’s direction purposefully, even if it was out of love. You weren’t really down with the nepotism aspect of it, especially since your brother had real talent that he worked hard for over the last couple of years.

Trent caught the look on your face as if he was sensing your thoughts and gave you a smile. “It’s up to him Y/N. He wouldn’t have gotten the invite if they didn’t think he had it in him. They don’t just invite anybody to be a trialist.”

You let out a deep sigh, feeling some worries ease but the thoughts still were in the back of your mind. You weren’t going to let anyone, not even Trent, compromise your brother’s future, whether it was positive or not. Ziggy had to make this decision on his own.

The next morning, you and Trent took a drive with Ziggy over to Liverpool’s facility. The AXA Training Centre unfolded before you; it was a world class facility with modern architecture and immaculate fields that stretched across to the academy side. The centre was divided into sections with each space dedicated to different club needs: recovery zones, indoor pitches, classrooms, and high tech training rooms with brand new equipment. The academy area was a quick walk away from where the first team trained with Trent, and was separated by a well kept pathway lined with trees and banners that proudly displayed the club logo and the words ‘You’ll Never Walk Alone’ in bold lettering.

You and Trent walked hand in hand across the training centre grounds, taking in the scene around you as young kids dashed around the pitches, each of them in a miniaturized blur of red Liverpool kits, bright boots, and wide eyes. Ziggy walked ahead of you both, his eyes fixed on the green training pitches stretched out before him. You were trying to keep a supportive expression, but the scenes unfolding in front of your eyes chipped away at the confidence you had for your brother with every step.

The youngest group caught your eye first, they couldn’t have been any older than 6 or 7. They darted through a series of cones, trying to keep their balance while dribbling. Their coach, who looked like he could’ve played professionally a few years ago, called out to them in a tone that was both supportive and authoritative. “Nice, nice! Keep those feet moving lads! Eyes up!” he rang out. One of the boys stumbled and the ball slipped from his control as he tried to regain his footing. You watched as he paused, biting his lip as his face crumpled, barely managing to keep his tears at bay. The younger kids were meant to be having fun in this group, but it didn't seem like the little boy was having any of that. He was hard on himself, even such a young age. It reminded you of yourself, and how you were always trying to get your parents attention around that age.

As you walked past, an older kid in a different group fell to his knees after a mistimed tackle, clutching his leg and wincing. The coach looked over at him, figuring he was being a bit dramatic. “You’re alright Adam. Let’s try and walk it off.” The boy limped away, visibly struggling but determined to not show weakness in front of his teammates or the coach; a bad injury could mean getting released, no matter how big his dreams were. The raw resilience in such tiny bodies shook you; they couldn't have been older than tween years, yet they were pushing themselves to the core.

The next training pitch held a group of slightly older boys who were no older than 11 or 12, engaged in a passing drill that looked militaristic. The coach was pacing along the line watching with a hawk eye, barking corrections with no gentleness. “This isn’t a Sunday kickabout!” he shouted. “You want to play for Liverpool one day? Show me you deserve to be here!” You saw one boy go pale when he fumbled his pass, sending the ball skidding away. He looked like he wanted to cry but the coach’s gaze kept him moving. The intensity grew even more as you neared the fields where the younger teenagers were playing. Here, the drills looked like something more professional; the coaches didn’t really bother with the usual pickups and encouragement. One boy missed a shot on a goal and his teammate groaned loudly, throwing his arms in frustration as he yelled at him. The coach quickly intervened with a sharp warning. “Enough! You’re a team. Act like it. Let’s try again.”

You glanced at Trent, feeling the pressure put on these kids in ways you could have never imagined. “Trent...is this normal? I don’t like this. They’re literally babies.”

Trent squeezed your hand, his gaze fixed on the fields as he nodded. “Yeah, it is. They want to see how much they can take and still push through. Tough love is a part of it.” He gave you a reassuring smile and kissed your cheek, but you could tell he understood why you were uneasy. “It seems brutal but..that’s how they weed out who will make it and who won’t.”

When you made your way to the next pitch, a group of teenagers were sprinting in formation, their boots pounding against the training pitch as they went through their drills. The coach observed every movement, barking corrections like it was second nature. You noticed one boy fall behind, his breath labored and face drenched in sweat. He stumbled for a moment, looking like he was ready to stop. 

“C’mon, Kaiden! Keep pushing!” his coach rang out sharply, giving him enough reserve to grit his teeth and push forward to close the gap.

Ziggy turned to glance back at you and Trent, his wide eyes and dimpled cheeks looking for Trent’s approval. Trent gave him a nod as his own way of saying “You got this.”

When you finally arrived at the U18 training pitch, you could sense the tension ramping up around you. A handful of people waved at Trent to say hello, others were staring intently at the pitch, while another select few stood nearby chatting in a hushed tone. You heard a woman a few feet away mutter to her friend in a grating, irritated voice. “How is it fair that his girlfriend’s brother was offered a trial? He’s not a real trialist if Trent had anything to do with it. He’s going to take someone’s spot, no doubt. I bet he’s not even a proper footballer like my son.”

Her words hit you hard as you resisted the urge to confront her. You wanted to tell her she had no idea about the kind of pressure your brother was under, or that he’d been waiting for this moment since he started football. You wanted to tell her he was just a kid living out his dreams and that she was being an absolute bitch who needed to worry about her son’s spot on the team. But instead, you took a steady breath, knowing this wasn’t the right time to engage with a crazed football mum who thought her son was the best to ever grace Liverpool’s picturesque fields. You turned to Ziggy and gave him an encouraging smile. “Just do your best, yeah? Go out there and have fun. Don’t worry about the rest.”

Trent stepped forward, pulling Ziggy in for a quick hug. “Remember what we talked about, mate. Head up, play smart, be confident. Be ready for any position even if it’s the first time.” Ziggy nodded and then they launched into their ridiculous handshake, but this time it made you smile instead of rolling your eyes. The bond they had was uniquely theirs, and absolutely adorable. As Ziggy jogged onto the pitch, you took a deep breath, hoping he could rise to the challenge ahead of him. 

The trial began with Ziggy being tossed straight into action after warm ups. He wasn’t playing in his usual spot. One moment he was on the left, then in midfield, and a few rotations later he was positioned somewhere completely different. Your brother was great at being versatile, but you could tell he was somewhat rattled by all the moving around. You saw him hesitate each time they moved him, nervous as he adjusted to the changes. It didn’t take him long to fall into the rhythm eventually; he was a determined boy, much like how your boyfriend was at 15.

You shifted, feeling nerves settle in your stomach. “It feels like they’re doing everything they can to trip him up. Isn’t that a bit harsh for someone his age?”

Trent leaned in close with an observant voice. “Nah, it’s part of the trial. They’ll do whatever it takes to see if he’s got the talent to handle different roles and how he manages when stretched thin.” He gave a nod of approval as Ziggy smoothly transitioned to the next position. You watched intently, noticing small details of every move he made – his first touches, the way he tracked the ball even in uncomfortable positions, and how quickly he tried to recover when something didn’t go as planned. You kind of felt like your parents in that moment, which gave you the ick. Your brother didn’t have to be perfect under any other terms, but right now it felt like he did.

Trent assessed your brother with a gaze you rarely ever saw. “His first touch is class,” he murmured, almost to himself. “But he’s gotta be quicker on that turn.” It was clear Trent knew this drill setup by heart as he watched with the knowledge of someone who did it thousands of times. Each time Ziggy did something right, Trent would give a small nod of approval to reassure you.

“Baby..he’s doing well,” he said quietly to you, sensing your nerves. “They’re looking at the full picture though. His skill, reaction time, body language. They wanna see how he bounces back.” Trent took a pause, and then laughed to himself. “Lad’s doing way better than me when I first started. I’d mess up, get frustrated, and just boot the ball as far as I could out of pure anger. Thought it would teach ‘em a lesson.” 

You looked up at him with your eyebrows raised in surprise. “Nooo. You?? The cool, calm, and collected Trent Alexander-Arnold?”

Trent laughed, nodding his head. “I’d sulk, kick it across the pitch, only to have to fetch the ball every single time. Sometimes I got so mad I’d cry while walking back to get it. Proper humbling experience.” He grinned at the memory, but you could see the vulnerability in his eyes. “After a while..I just learned to get used to it. Took every bit of feedback, even the harshest stuff..and I figured out how to be better. That’s why it doesn’t matter what people say now. I’ve already heard it all.”

As Trent spoke, the weight of his journey started to sink in. You loved him for who he was outside of football, but seeing this world from his eyes made you love him even more. He pushed through the academy with intensity, constant judgement, and the endless push to be better to make it to where he was today. You leaned against his shoulder, taking in every word as he spoke. He didn’t just have talent, he was resilient in the same way that smoke carries the original spark of a fire. He fought for his spot on the pitch..and it was admirable. Trent felt your head against his shoulder and wrapped an arm around you, giving you a light squeeze as you both continued to watch Ziggy push himself across the pitch.

Beside you, a few parents were huddled together with their eyes darting between their kids and the coaches, talking anxiously. One mother with a heavy scouse accent had her arms crossed tightly, leaning in to one parent while glancing skeptically at Ziggy. “I don’t get it. If he’s from grassroots and is that good..why hasn’t he been scouted before now?” She had a tight smile but there was strain behind it, as if something serious was on the line.

The other parent was a father who had worry etched on his face. “He’s fast, that’s for sure. My son’s been struggling a bit since his injury. He hasn’t been up to his usual..but I didn’t know they were bringing in this kid. Feels a bit unfair to be honest. Especially for the ones putting in work week after week.” The mother nodded, casting another wary look toward Ziggy. “It’s hard enough for them as it is. If someone’s losing their spot, I’d rather it not be my son.”

You felt Trent’s grip tighten around you, sensing the tension in the air. He leaned down, murmuring softly to you. “Ignore it, Y/N. Ziggy’s got every right to be here. He’s earning it just like anyone else on the pitch right now.”

Your attention was quickly drawn back to the field as the trial progressed and Trent’s arm slipped down to intertwine his fingers with yours. The coaches split the players into groups and positioned them for a series of drills that mimicked real match scenarios. Ziggy was placed in a defensive position, right up against another player who looked ready to eat anyone alive who stood in his way. Your brother moved with a focus that was rare for someone his age, darting in and out of multiple defensive positions with his eyes locked on the ball and the opposing players. The coaches observed in silence, arms crossed, only breaking their stone cold stances to jot down notes or give quick unreadable glances to each other. 

You found yourself squeezing Trent’s hand a little harder than necessary, each step your brother took out there made your chest tighten. Trent noticed and gave your hand a gentle squeeze in return, his thumb rubbing soothing circles on your skin. “Baby, you’re squeezing the fuck out of my hand right now,” he uttered with a strained smile, his eyes never leaving the pitch. “Relax.”

“Sorry” you mumbled, loosening your grip but still feeling your anxiety build up with every second.

Ziggy’s speed was impressive and you could see the tremendous amount of effort he was putting in. His passes were clean, his footwork on point. But as the coaches began shifting him into more unfamiliar scenarios, you could see him start to falter. At one point they had him shifted to a right back position. He hesitated just a split second during a tackle, misreading his opponent’s body language, which was just enough time for the forward to slip by him, taking full advantage of Ziggy’s pause to drill the ball past him and into the net.

The parents around you murmured under their breaths, voices barely kept to whispers but somehow loud enough to cut through a crowd. “Not much of a defender is he?” one of them muttered, the judgement heavy in his voice. “Quick, for sure.. but he’s got no defensive instincts. He looks lost out there.”

Another parent scoffed. “Can’t just rely on speed, not at this level. That’s not going to fly if he wants to be in the academy.” 

You clenched your jaw trying to shake off their words, but they had a sting that was hard to ignore. Was that what the coaches were thinking too? Were they just mentally crossing Ziggy off the list every time he messed something up? Every time he showed any trace of vulnerability?

Trent seemed unfazed and kept his gaze on the players. He leaned down to murmur softly into your ear, “Y/N, he’s got this. It’s one mistake. They’re not here looking for perfection; they’re looking for potential. They want to see how he handles setbacks.”

“But what if they’re just looking for reasons to say no?” you whispered back, the nerves evident in your tone. It felt like your brother was being measured and weighed with each passing second with no room for error and you hated that. “Ugh. It just feels...rigged.”

Trent shook his head with a soft chuckle, still watching Ziggy. “Nah, it’s not rigged. They do this to everyone.” He nodded toward the field with an expression full of pride. “He’s a top prospect baby. Practically guaranteed a two year deal here for sure.”

You turned to him, pulling away from his grip as you eyed him suspiciously, squinting your eyes. “And… how do you know that exactly?” The edge in your voice caught Trent slightly off guard and you knew he could sense the accusation in your tone, but you couldn’t help it. You heard the earlier whispers about how Ziggy’s trial had come to fruition from the other parents and it was getting to you more than you wanted to admit. The last thing you wanted was for people to think Ziggy’s chance had been handed to him on a silver platter because of you and Trent – moreso the latter. 

Trent raised an eyebrow, bewildered by the full weight of your question. “Are you asking if I pulled any strings?” he replied in a calm voice. “You really think I’d risk that?”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. “T..people are already talking. I just don’t want him to get caught up in what people are saying.” You glanced back at Ziggy on the pitch, watching as he regained his composure, his body language screaming determination despite his initial setback. “I don’t want people thinking he didn’t earn this. T…if I find out you’re lying to me, I swear I’ll never forgive you.”

Trent’s expression shifted slightly, almost as if he was unsure before he masked it with a casual shrug. “Nah..it’s not like that” he said in a soft voice. “He’s here because he’s had eyes on him already. The academy director has been watching him since last year. This isn’t about me..he’s the kind of player they won’t pass up on.” He paused like he wanted to pull you back into him, but he stopped halfway as his fingers curled back toward his side instead. “They love him on the pitch.”

You weren’t fully convinced, so you pushed more. “So you only gave him advice? You didn’t steer him away from the clubs in Manchester? Or anywhere else?”

Trent glanced away for a split second, thinking about the advice he gave your brother back in St. Moritz. “Uh..I might’ve told him what I thought, but he asked.” he admitted, but he chose his words very carefully. “That’s it though. I didn’t make the decision for him. He made the choice on his own.”

You let out a slow breath, nodding in understanding, but you still felt an uncomfortable twist in your gut. Trent didn’t give you the clear, reassuring answer you were hoping for, but you let it slide for now. “Alright…” you said finally, keeping a steady voice. “But if they bring him on..you can’t make any shortcuts for him.” Your warning was clear, and you knew your boyfriend picked up on it too.

Trent smiled as he took in your no nonsense expression, “I don’t doubt you..you sound scarier than the coaches right now.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “I’m serious, T. I don’t want him to end up on the team just because he’s your little protégé. That’ll follow him around the entire time and he deserves better. No offense..you’re great but that’s my brother. Just let him make his own way okay?” Trent chuckled, finally deciding to pull you into him again. “Noted. Wouldn’t dare mess with your grand plan baby” he teased, pressing a soft kiss on your lips.

A few hours after the trial ended, you were a few paces ahead of Trent and Ziggy as the three of you headed back toward the car. Now that the trial was finally over for the day, you could unclench and relax a little. You weren’t planning on watching any of those trials ever again, it was more stressful than watching Trent at Anfield.

Trent’s voice carried behind you as he draped an arm over your brother’s shoulder, slowing his pace to talk to him. “Mate..you did great! Solid work out there. You kept your head up, stayed calm. That’s half the battle in a trial like that. Just keep at it.” Ziggy smiled, still catching his breath like the adrenaline hadn’t worn off for him just yet. “Thanks man. It’s easier said than done for sure. I nearly lost it when that lad slipped past me.”

Trent’s lips curved into an amused smirk, shaking his head with a low chuckle. “Everyone has a moment like that, trust. It used to eat at me..but it’s all in the recovery. Next time, don’t even blink. Just get back in there like you never missed.”

Ziggy’s grin grew as he nodded with a newfound confidence, taking in Trent’s advice. “Right. Like it’s nothing.” he repeated, absorbing the advice and taking it to heart.

You glanced back, catching the look of admiration in your brother’s eyes. Whatever Trent was telling him was lifting him up, and it was heartwarming to see the natural bond and trust between them..even if Ziggy was infiltrating the time you spent with your man. As you reached the car and entered the passenger’s seat, Trent slowed his pace and lowered his voice as he leaned closer to Ziggy.

“Hey...there’s something I want to show you.” Trent pulled out his phone and swiped to the photo of the ring you sent him from London. “She sent me this in a text a while back. Called the place up and bought it the same day before she was even fully out of the store.”

Ziggy’s eyes widened with his mouth falling open in surprise. “Damn, you’re serious, huh? You’re going to ask her to marry you?”

Trent nodded, glancing over at you casually reapplying your lip gloss, completely unaware of the conversation happening just outside of the car. “Ezzie said Y/N wants to wait at least a year..but yeah. I’ve been thinking about it for a while now. Figured I’d better start planning. What do you think?”

Ziggy hesitated for a minute, his grin fading as he thought about how much he should share. “Uh, I think she’d love the idea eventually. But if you asked right now..she honestly might say no.” he admitted, lowering his voice. “Not that she doesn’t love you or anything..it’s just complicated. Our parents..they..uh.. messed up the idea of marriage for her I think.”

Trent’s brows furrowed. “What do you mean they messed it up? Complicated how?”

Ziggy scratched the back of his neck, struggling to find the words to explain your family dynamic to Trent. “Y/N was born before Mum and Dad were married. They weren’t too thrilled they had her from what I heard. My dad only married my mum to keep things looking proper. They tried for a boy for years but ended up with Ezzie and me.”

Trent’s expression grew more serious as he took in what your brother was sharing. It wasn’t something you mentioned before, but he was starting to understand why.

“Mum always wanted a son and Dad too..I think. I can get away with a lot more than my sisters. They’ve always been harder on Ezzie and Y/N..to make them fit some mold or whatever. That’s why Y/N is so independent I guess..” Ziggy explained, pausing before adding more.

“Mum especially. She’s...I don’t know..she always wanted Y/N to be picture perfect but then criticized her for doing her own thing after finding something she was good at. She opened her perfume store by herself and instead of being proud..Mum kept telling her not to bother with it and to find a guy to take care of her. She kept saying that until money started flowing at Love Notes.”

Trent gritted his teeth, recalling the ex you mentioned before who nearly made you give up on everything. “Her ex...that’s why she got with him?” he muttered, his curious frustration evident.

Ziggy shook his head, his eyes darkening with anger as he remembered your previous relationship. “Nah. She met him at some stupid auction Mum dragged her to.” He paused, kicking a rock on the ground as his anger built. “Aaron – some posh prick with too much time and money on his hands. Thought he could talk down on her cause he had a fat wallet.” Ziggy’s fists clenched as he spoke, the memory being enough to fire him up. “If I wasn’t just 13 at the time I’d have kicked that goofy looking motherfucker’s face in. I’m pissed just thinking about it again.” Ziggy’s voice came out a little rougher this time, edged in protection. “If I ever see him again.. he’ll get what's coming for sure.”

Trent let out a low whistle as Ziggy’s words sunk in. “I’m with you mate” he said quietly, his eyes softening as he looked toward the car where you were waiting – now knowing the strength you were carrying under the calm exterior you tried to keep up daily. “But don’t waste your energy on that asshole. She’s got us now.” Ziggy relaxed, loosening his fists as he nodded in agreement. “Yeah..you’re right. She deserves more than what she’s been dealt. Wouldn’t mind it at all if you married her. Maybe do it at Anfield?”

Trent smiled as the conversation took on a lighter turn. “Bro..she’d throw the ring back at me and tell me to go get my head checked if I tried that with her. She’s not too keen on all the attention.”

Ziggy burst out laughing, nodding in agreement. “Yeah...you’re probably right.”

“It’s gotta be something more special than that.” Trent paused, taking in Ziggy’s final approval. “Glad I got a yes from you. I thought you’d be a little tougher to crack but I appreciate it..I’ll take care of her.” 

When they entered the car, Trent’s hand instinctively met with your thigh and you placed your hand on top of his, lightly rubbing his skin with your thumb. “Everything good? Took both of you forever to get to the car...”

Trent gave your thigh a light squeeze and flashed you an innocent smile. “All good.” he replied, though his answer was shorter than usual and you could tell they were talking about something they didn’t want you to know about.

You squinted your eyes playfully, glancing between your boyfriend and Ziggy – who was in the backseat. “Okay..what were you two yapping about? Having another secret chat?”

Ziggy’s eyes went wide for a split second, nearly blurting out the word ‘marriage’, but he quickly recovered. “Ma – uh..match day rituals! Yeah...we were talking about match day rituals.”

Trent nodded, leaning into the excuse with ease, “Yeah..everyone’s got their own thing they do.”

“Oh really?? Match day rituals?” you asked, skeptical but amused. “Let’s hear it then, yeah? What’s the ritual? I’m curious now..”

Ziggy jumped in first, eager to explain. “Before every match..I gotta drink exactly three long sips of Red Bull. No more, no less. Anything else will throw me off. Don’t ask why..it just works.”

Trent snorted, giving him an amused look. “Three sips of Red Bull? You trying to take my deals mate?”

You side eyed Trent, muttering under your breath. “Maybe if you and your brother took it seriously....” You knew he didn’t catch on to what you said, so you looked at him again, raising your eyebrow. “And what about you, T? What’s your pre-match secret?”

Trent leaned back in the seat, looking dead serious as he launched into the most ridiculous ritual ever. “50 push ups and an odd number of pull ups. Then I down a water and jog up and down the tunnel before I can touch the pitch.”

You burst out laughing at his absurdity, trying to imagine him doing all of this. “You’re so bad at lying Trent. Seriously...what do you do?”

Trent smiled sheepishly, slightly embarrassed of what he was about to admit to in front of Ziggy. “Uh..lately I’ve been checking to see if you’re wearing your necklace before I go. Makes me feel lucky.”

Your laughter faded and you looked at him in surprise. “Wait..really? You think me wearing this actually gives you luck?” You fiddled with the dainty charm resting against your collarbone, still a little in awe. “What did you do before then?”

Trent shrugged, smiling as he avoided Ziggy’s teasing gaze in the back. “If you want to call it luck..then yeah. Maybe it’s superstitious but I just feel better knowing you have it on. Feels like you’re there with me even if you’re not at the match, y’know? I didn’t do much before..just focused with some music.”

Ziggy snickered, muttering something about how you and Trent were very dramatically intense, but there was warmth in his eyes too, as if he was seeing what real love looked like for the first time in his nearly 16 years of life. The way you two acted around each other disgusted your brother at times, but the love radiated off of both of you in ways that couldn’t be ignored. 

Trent took a quick glance at you with warm eyes as he drove. “Thinking about you when I’m out there helps me keep my mind clear.”

“Awww, oh my god. T that’s so sweet! I love y–”

Ziggy groaned, breaking the moment in teenage fashion. “ENOUGH! Take me home..PLEASE!”

You laughed, shaking your head at your brother’s antics. The streets around Les Notes d’Amour came into view and you sat up slightly. “Actually...can we make a quick stop before we take him back home? I just want to drop in for a few minutes.” In reality, you needed to go fetch the watch you were hiding back at the store. You hadn’t given it to Trent yet because you were deciding on whether you wanted to give it to him for one of your anniversaries: the day you met on the train – which was coming up, or the day the two of you became official a few months later. 

A couple of minutes later you, Trent, and Ziggy neared the Les Notes d’Amour storefront as the faint scent of Rêveur enveloped around you. Tara and Ember were near the counter, organizing the last of the Rêveur orders. Their heads were close together with their voices low, but just audible enough for someone nearby to catch snippets of the conversation. “I swear she’s been out the shop more than she’s been in lately” Tara whispered, glancing over her shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot. “Makes you wonder doesn’t it?”

Ember shrugged as she carefully placed a bottle into its packaging. “Could be all the scents making her sick or something. I heard pregnant people have super sensitive noses like bloodhounds…or maybe she’s just really busy?” Tara leaned in, lowering her voice more. “You think they’ll announce it any time soon..or just keep it quiet?” Ember smirked knowingly. “No way they’re announcing it any time soon..she has enough going on as it is. I imagine they won’t announce anything until–”

“Hi ladies!” you called out, stepping forward with a smile and unknowingly cutting off their whispery gossip session. Tara and Ember jumped, caught off guard and quickly fumbled around the counter to make it look like they were busy with work.

“Oh! Hiiiii Y/N!” Tara replied a little too enthusiastically. “Just packing up the last few Rêveur orders!”

You glanced over at the neatly packed boxes, sighing in relief. “Thank god. It’s so nice to be done with it, right?”

Ember hesitated and drummed her fingers against the freshly sealed tape on the box. “Um..actually,” She looked up at you reluctantly but eager to share. “I don’t know if you’ve had a chance to check emails yet..but people are still all for it. They keep asking if you’ll make it a permanent product.”

You groaned inwardly. “Oh great...because nothing is ever simple for me” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “If I don’t make it permanent, I’ll be haunted by requests for the ‘Trent Scent’ forever.” You let out a dramatic sigh, eyeing Trent and Ziggy who were toward the front of the store, playfully jabbing at each other while laughing and dodging like they were in a boxing match. “I thought we were finally free,” you added, shaking your head as Trent threw an exaggerated left hook, making Ziggy duck, nearly knocking a shelf over. 

Tara stifled her laughter, trying to remain professional while you were nearby. “We could always just...embrace the legacy. If you're up for it, that is” She eyed your stomach, which made you look down to check if you had something on your outfit, but you didn’t see anything.

“Maybe I am..” you paused, thinking thoughtfully. “If I teach you how to make some batches.. it might be worth it.”

Ember chimed in, clasping her hands together. “Honestly I think we could handle it! It sounds fun!”

You gave an appreciative nod, but you were cautious with the idea at the same time. “We’ll have to take it really slow” you said, eyeing both of them carefully. “I’ll admit.. it was my mistake for making you two set up the orders for Rêveur on your first day..but we have to be on the same page for something like this.”

Both girls nodded eagerly, too happy with your answer as they returned to finishing up packing the last orders. After breaking Trent away from his fake boxing match with your brother, you headed to the back room with him. Trent’s hands wrapped around your body as the both of you walked to the room. He leaned into your neck, placing a nibbling kiss on the skin just above your collarbone.

“Trent stoppp” you giggled, drawing out the word as you lightly pushed him away. “Patience is a virtue baby.”

He grinned as he closed the door behind you, unbothered. He saw you reach down for a bag on the other side of the room, your ass in his full view. He bit down on his bottom lip as he walked over to you, gripping a handful of your ass which made you jump up, dropping the gift bag that contained the watch as you turned to him. Your hands rested against the table behind you while his lips inched closer to yours, stopping just before reaching your lips. “I didn’t get a good morning kiss when we woke up today…” his lips traced the outline of your jaw against the air, making you feel woozy with want. “Didn’t get a good morning cuddle in either,” he breathed against your skin. “Can’t blame me for being a little impatient.” 

You smirked at him, feeling your pulse quicken as you lightly ran your nails up his bare and muscled arm, reaching the back of his neck to pull him into a kiss so that you could push the gift bag out of view with your foot. “Mmm, I’m sorry..” 

Trent gripped your waist, placing you on top of the table. Your mouth parted slightly. The warmth of his tongue against yours made you arch up against him. Your hands traveled down to his shorts, pulling them down to massage the bulge tenting tightly against his briefs. You pulled away from the kiss, biting your lip as you searched his expression teasingly. “No good morning sex either, huh?” You pulled down his briefs, stroking his hard length slowly and deliberately. “Gonna have to make that up to you..” 

“Y/N…” Trent sucked in his breath, letting out a low groan as you stroked him faster, massaging his balls with your other hand. You could tell it was taking everything in him not to flip you over and fuck you against the table, so you tightened your grip but slowed down a little to tease him. 

“You always fuck me so good baby,” you whispered seductively, grazing your hand over the tip which made him thrust into your hand. 

“Oh shit.. keep talking baby. Keep stroking it like that,” Trent muttered through gritted teeth, sucking in another breath.

You smiled, reaching up to playfully bite his bottom lip, pulling it with your teeth as you increased the pace on his shaft. “I want you to make me cum on your dick when we get home.” Trent tilted his head back, groaning as his cock started to twitch against your hand. “And I wanna ride you while you sit back and watch..”

“I’m about to c–” Trent started, but you immediately stopped stroking him, speaking against his lips in a low, sultry tone. “No, not yet. Save it for me.” 

Trent let out a ragged, frustrated breath as he stared at you with fire in his eyes. You were honestly only trying to distract him from seeing the watch you bought, but the stunt you just pulled was going to have you paying for it later, probably in the form of multiple back to back orgasms in different areas of the house. “You know exactly what you’re doing..” he murmured, biting his lip as he looked you in your eyes, pulling you in for another deep kiss.

Meanwhile back at the front, Ziggy voluntarily started breaking down the boxes scattered across the floor, clearing the area with the box cutter in hand. As he worked, he noticed a phone left unattended on a nearby shelf. The screen lit up with messages from a footie group chat labeled ‘Spill FC’. Being the nosy teenager that your brother was, he glanced over to look at the screen. The phone was still unlocked so he grabbed it, his curiosity getting the better of him as he scrolled through to see the latest messages and chat history.

Ziggy’s muscles tensed and his grip tightened on the phone as he continued to read with a clenched jaw. His blood was boiling and pulsed through him like a drum, each new message cranking up his frustration and spreading it like wildfire through his veins:

-

Nosy Girlie 1: no they’re cute together but getting pregnant in the first year is mad. they’re moving fast as fuck

Nosy Girlie 2: frfr. feels like they’re rushing it. like..good for her but we all know trent isn’t locking it down with anyone yet. you can slow down girl 😭 

Nosy Girlie 3: calling it now he’ll be on to someone new by next season. i bet £10

Tara: umm i don’t think they’ll split that soon. he’ll probably go for the family man PR angle first when they have the baby 

Nosy Girlie 2: ooh yeah you’re right! i bet their baby will be sooo cute though 🥺

Nosy Girlie 3: icl Y/N’s kinda iconic for inventing this new era of him and tying herself to it so she can stay relevant after they break up..smart move tbh

Tara: i’m pretty sure she’s set her fam up too. her sister just signed with miu miu at 15 and her brother had a trial with liverpool today 🙃

Nosy Girlie 2: ohhh wow. perks of dating a footballer i guess 😂

Nosy Girlie 1: he defo set that trial up there’s no way he didn’t. she knows she’s not getting a ring from him so she’s doing a speed run hahaha

Nosy Girlie 2: lmao that’s so fucked up but same girl same

-

Ziggy’s face twisted in anger as he scanned each message. He couldn’t believe the nerve of whoever these people were in the group chat. The gossip was bad enough but seeing his family dragged through the mud for a simple association pissed him off. The assumption about you, Ezzie’s contract, and the implication that he didn’t deserve his own trial irritated him to the max, making him see red. The comment about you doing a ‘speed run’ was his last straw; he couldn’t be bothered to read anymore of it. He marched toward Ember and Tara with his hands gripping the phone like he wanted to crush it. Ziggy stopped right in front of them, holding the phone up high. “Aye! Whose phone is this?” he demanded in a loud voice.

Ember and Tara looked up, shifting their faces from surprised to confused. “Uh..mine” Tara admitted, looking at the phone in his hand. Her eyes widened when she caught sight of the screen opened to some very damning evidence. She tried to reach for it, but Ziggy snatched it back.

“You think this is funny, yeah?” he spat, waving the phone around in front of her. “All this shit you’re saying about my family. You think it’s just a laugh with your friends?” His voice was getting louder but you were too enmeshed in a makeout session with Trent in the backroom to notice the commotion up front. “How bout you keep our names out your fucking mouths? Especially my sisters.”

Ember was standing next to Tara and raised her eyebrows, amused by his outburst but not threatened in the slightest due to his severe case of baby face. “Calm down. It’s just talk..no harm done.”

Ziggy’s eyes narrowed as he turned toward Ember next. “This isn’t just talk. They said I only got a shot at Liverpool because of Trent and I fucking earned that trial. Then they said Y/N’s only with him to ‘tie herself to him’ or whatever rubbish they’re on about.” He jabbed his finger at Tara. “And you’re right there joining in and egging it on. If it’s just talk, why don’t you say it to my sister’s face then? Be bold out loud, yeah?”

Tara’s face flushed with her eyes darting nervously between her phone and Ziggy’s death glare. “I– I didn’t mean anything by it! It’s not what it looks like.” Her voice see-sawed unsteadily and she looked like she was about to cry. “I can’t lose this job, okay? My mum will kill me. Can you just..”

Ziggy scoffed and shook his head. “You’re just saying that because you got caught. Next time don’t leave your phone open for people to see it, dummy.” He threw the phone down on the counter, the chat still in open view. “You’d rather talk and leak stuff behind Y/N’s back thinking it’s funny.”

“Oh for fucks sake.. just calm it.” Ember interjected, rolling her eyes. “You’re making a fuss out of nothing. It’s not that serious. Everybody gossips.”

Ziggy contorted his face in disgust. “They’re betting on them breaking up. That’s my fucking sister they’re chatting that shit about.” He looked directly at Tara, who seemed to shrink more and more. “And you’re the worst one. Maybe if you spent more time working and less time talking shit she’d give you a raise and you wouldn’t have to beg me not to tell.”

Tara sighed, feeling defeated. “It was just...fun I guess. I’m really sorry. I won’t say anything else, I swear. Just..please don’t tell her.” Tara was basically saying anything to save her job at this point. She knew she probably wouldn’t stop gossiping, if anything she’d be more careful about the info she leaked to the chat, but right now she needed to make sure she didn’t lose her source of income. 

“You’re a fucking leech.” Ziggy muttered at Tara as he stormed toward the back room.

Back in the quiet back room, you and Trent were tangled up in each other still. You could taste a hint of mint from the gum he was chewing earlier which was cooly refreshing and slightly sweet. He tilted his head, deepening the kiss as you trailed your hands under his shirt. Trent broke away from the kiss slowly with his lips hovering closely to yours. He trailed his fingers along your waist, thinking thoughtfully. “Season’s wrapping up soon.. think we need to get away for a week or two.”

You hummed in agreement, sneaking in a quick kiss because you already missed the feeling of his lips on yours. In your head you were already imagining the two of you on a beach, far away from the demands of Les Notes d’Amour and the prem – nestled somewhere with turquoise blue water and warm sand beneath your toes. “Mm..yeah. Definitely need that. But where?”

“Uhh.. what about Bali?” Trent suggested, tracing the outline of your lips with his eyes. In his mind he was thinking about how he wanted to get you home..and quickly. This morning was busy with getting Ziggy ready for trial, but all he really wanted to do was spend some quality time with you – alone. 

You wrinkled your nose, trying not to laugh at his Bali suggestion. “Well..Bali is a vibe for sure. But we’d probably spend the entire holiday with a case of Bali Belly..no thanks.” You thought for a second, thinking of various destinations. “What about Miami? I could go for some guinep and sugar cane by the water. Their clubs are nice too! We could go to LIV or E11EVEN..maybe get a yacht and take it to Bimini?”

Trent shook his head, not thrilled by that idea. “Jude goes there all the time. It’s too chaotic. Nothing good ever happens in Florida. Plus the Caribbean has better fruit and less OnlyFans models.”

“And why do you know that Miami has a lot of OnlyFans models?” you pulled back, crossing your arms.

Trent playfully pretended to be annoyed at your indication. “Nah, nah. Don’t even start with that shit. Not my type at all.”

“Mhmm, good answer. So Miami is off the table. Any better ideas?”

Trent laughed and pulled you back into his arms. “Could go a bit closer, y’know? You ever been to SoHo Farmhouse?”

You rolled your eyes, knocking him in the head softly. “Absolutely fucking not. I’m from Liverpool. If I wanted to pretend to be farm chic we could just go pop a tent in Sefton Park near Palm House and call it a day. That’s not even a real holiday! Don’t piss me off Trent.”

Trent tilted his head back, laughing again at your dramatics. “Ah fine..okay. No farms for you. Beach it is then?”

Before you could converse with Trent any further, Ziggy swung the door open, looking at both of you in disgust. You could see by the look on his face that he was irritated by something else other than you and Trent showing off how sickeningly in love you were with each other. “I’m ready to go home,” he muttered with a scowl. “Your assistants are fucking nosy Y/N.”

You and Trent exchanged curious glances, noticing how intense Ziggy was being. “What happened?” you asked in a concerned tone. 

Ziggy shook his head, kissing his teeth. “Nothing. They just keep running their mouths about shit they don’t know about. Can we just go?” He would’ve told you the full truth of what they were really talking about in the group chat, but he was still protecting you in a way.

Trent squeezed your waist and gave you another kiss. “I’ll see what’s going on. Don’t stress about it.”

You nodded, hopping off the table as Trent and Ziggy made their way out of the room and back to the car. You grabbed Trent’s gift from under the table, placing it in your bag as you began to walk toward the front of the store. Ember was helping a customer who had just walked in, while Tara was off to the side, fumbling nervously with a Rêveur order.

Your brother’s words swirled around in your mind as you put two and two together.

“Your assistants are fucking nosy.”

“They just keep running their mouths about shit they don’t know about.”

They couldn’t be the ones running to SpillTheBeans, right? 

But if it wasn’t you, Trent, Camille, or any of your other friends..it had to be them. They were the only other two besides your siblings that would have access to the intimate details of your life.

Oh god.. I should’ve listened to Camille.

She wasn’t wrong. You really should have made them sign an NDA.

It was a little too late for that now, though.

so thankful to each of you stuck with me through this series so far! love you 🫶🏽 thoughts/feedback