#so that would keep him in liverpool | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

v6quewrlds · 6 months ago

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❝ darling, j. bellingham. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: your boyfriend jude has been nothing but sweet the entire time you've been together. who knew a number 10 jersey with his name on the back would affect him so much?

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: first lil fic for jude <3. partially inspired by the 3-0 win over greece, but if it happened at wembley instead. really tried with the brit slang, someone pls confirm if it's shirt instead of jersey lol. day seven of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, trent being trent, oral fixation (kinda), oral sex (69), american writing english people.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: jude bellingham x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.2k.

"You look stunning babes!" Tolami practically shrieked as your approached the cluster of WAGs, her eyes sparkling with excitement. The group of stylish women, all dressed to the nines in various shades of red and white to support the team, were huddled together, greeting each other after several months away at their partners' respective clubs. You had gone all out for today's match, your nails painted in the team's colors and your hair styled in perfectly poised waves that highlighted your cheekbones and the delicate gold hoops that danced against your neck.

"Thanks, love," you replied with a warm smile, giving your friend a quick hug. "I couldn't be caught looking anything less than leng next to you."

You glanced around the exclusive VIP area, your eyes scanning the pitch where the players were beginning their warm-ups. The electric atmosphere of the stadium was palpable, the throb of excitement pulsing through the air. The scent of freshly cut grass and the distant murmur of the crowd grew louder as you and Tolami took their seats.

During the match, your eyes never left Jude. His agility and precision on the pitch were mesmerizing, and you couldn't help but feel a swell of pride watching him command the midfield. Each time he looked up at your section, his gaze searching for yours, you felt a flutter in your stomach. When he scored the game's second goal with a powerful strike from just outside the box, the women erupted in cheers, and you were on your feet, your hands covering your mouth in shock and delight.

After the final whistle, the team huddled together, their faces a mix of exhaustion and exhilaration. The crowd's roar was deafening as the players began to make their way towards the tunnel, and your heart raced in anticipation. He raised his hand up, gesturing for you to wait, and you nodded, your cheeks heating up under the ooh's of the other girls.

Once the team had disappeared into the depths of the stadium, you made your way down to the VIP lounge. The thrill of victory still hung in the air, mingling with the faint scent of sweat and the tang of energy drinks. You chatted idly with Tolami and Megan as you waited for the players to emerge from the locker room, your laughter echoing off the walls. When Jude finally appeared, Trent Alexander-Arnold by his side, your shoulder relaxed in relief.

"Y/N," the Liverpool man called out to you, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "How's Jude holding up with that No Nut November bet? You keeping him honest, yeah?"

You rolled your eyes, unable to suppress a sigh at the juvenile banter that was a staple of the footballers' friendship. "Unfortunately, he's been a saint."

"It's only a matter of time before Trent gives up," Jude said, his own grin spreading as he approached the group of you. "Don't jinx it."

You playfully swiped at him, your eyes lighting up. "You know I believe in you."

Jude leaned down to kiss your cheek. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he murmured, his voice low and teasing.

As the two of you walked out of the stadium, the cool evening air a welcome contrast to the heat of the game, Jude's hand found yours, his grip firm and possessive. The short drive to your flat seemed to take forever, the silence between you charged with unspoken thoughts. The streets of London were alive with fans, their cheers and chants a distant backdrop to your own private world.

Once inside, you slipped out of your shoes with a sigh of relief, and Jude's eyes followed your every move. He couldn't take his gaze off the England crest and his name emblazoned on the back of your shirt.

"You know, it's weird," he began, his voice a little rough. "Seeing you with my name on your back... it's like you're mine. Like, really mine."

You turned to face him, a smirk playing on your lips. "Is that all it takes to make me yours?"

Jude took a step closer, his eyes darkening. "You know it's more than that, babe." He reached out, his fingers tracing the letters of his surname on the fabric of your shirt. "But seeing you wear this, supporting me with my name on your back, it just makes me want to show you off."

You felt a thrill run through you at his words. You stepped closer, looking up at him with a mischievous glint in your eyes. "What's stopping you, Bellingham?"

Jude didn't need any further encouragement. He pulled you into his arms, kissing you with a hunger that surprised you. His hands roamed over your body, his fingers playing with the hem of your shirt. You could feel his heart racing against your chest, the warmth of his skin melting through the cool material of the shirt. You stumbled into the bedroom, your kisses growing more urgent as you went.

You broke away, your breathing heavy, and looked at him with a glint of challenge in your eyes. "You know, if you want to keep that bet with Trent..."

Jude's smoldering gaze stuck to your face as he peeled the shirt over your head, revealing the lacy lingerie you had chosen just in case. "We don't have to tell him," he murmured against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin lightly as his voice rumbled deliciously down your spine.

With a laugh that was half moan, you stepped away from him, slipping out of your jeans. "You're so full of it," you said, your voice breathless with excitement. "You can't just cheat your way out of a bet. What's the point?"

Jude's eyes never left yours as he shed his own clothes, his eyes dark with desire. "Who said anything about cheating?" he murmured, advancing on you with a predatory grace. "I'm just saying, a man's got needs, and you're looking too good. Who am I to resist what's mine?"

You felt a shiver of excitement run down your spine as Jude reached out, his fingertips tracing the edge of your bra. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, the air between the two of you crackling with sexual tension. "You're insatiable," you whispered, your voice a little shaky.

"Just for you," Jude said, his voice a gruff promise. He cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over your cheekbones as he kissed you again, deep and demanding. His touch was possessive, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word. Your own hands roamed over his muscular chest, nails scraping lightly against his skin.

With a growl, he picked you up, carrying you to the bed as if you weighed nothing at all. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your body fitting against his like they were two pieces of a puzzle. The bedroom was a blur of movement as you tumbled onto the bed, the soft sheets contrasting with the hardness of his body. Jude's kisses grew more insistent, his tongue exploring the depths of your mouth as his hands moved to the clasp of your bra.

The sound of the fabric giving way was lost in your muffled moans. His thumbs grazed your nipples, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. You arched into his touch, your skin flushing with desire. "Jude," you gasped, your voice a whimper of need. He broke the kiss, his eyes raking over your exposed chest with a look that seemed to blister your skin.

Without wasting a moment, Jude's mouth found your breasts, his teeth grazing the sensitive peaks before his tongue swirled around them. Your breath hitched, your fingernails digging into his back as the sensation washed over you. "Jude, more, please," you begged, your voice a throaty whisper. Jude's mouth continued its movements as he complied, his teeth tugging gently before his mouth closed around your nipple, suckling with a fervor that had your back arching off the bed.

Jude's hands roamed your body, his thumbs dipping into your waistband to tease the sensitive flesh just above your hips. Your hands weren't idle either, exploring the planes of his back, your nails scraping against the firm muscles as you pulled him closer.

With a sudden jolt of energy, you rolled the two of you over so you were on top, straddling him. "My turn," you whispered, your eyes sparkling with arousal. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw before you leaned down to kiss him, your teeth grazing his bottom lip before your tongue darted out to taste him. His hands moved to your hips, his grip tightening as you began to rock against him, feeling his length grow beneath you.

Jude's breath hitched as you kissed along his neck, your teeth scraping the sensitive skin just enough to make him shiver. He could feel the heat building between you two, the need growing more intense with every passing moment. "Serena," he groaned, his voice thick with want.

With a wicked smile, you slid off him, your eyes studying his face as you reached for his boxers. You took your time, enjoying the way his body reacted to your every touch. Finally, you pulled them down, revealing his hard length. You took him in your hand, stroking him gently, watching his reaction with a sense of power that thrilled you to the core.

Jude's eyes rolled back, his hips bucking upward as you touched him. "Fuck," he muttered, his hand coming up to cover yours, guiding your movements. "You're killing me, babe."

Your smile grew wider as you leaned into him, your breath hot against his skin. "Good things come to those who wait," you sang under your breath, your teeth grazing his earlobe. You kissed a trail down his chest, your tongue tracing the lines of his abs before finally reaching his cock. You took him into your mouth, the velvet heat of your lips wrapping around him, your tongue swirling in a way that made him groan.

His hands tangled in your hair as you took him deeper, your movements deliberate and teasing. He could feel the tension in his body winding tighter and tighter, the urge to push you down and fuck you senseless growing stronger with every passing second. "Babe, hold on," he ground out, his voice tight with restraint. "Sit on my face, 69. Wanna taste you."

With a light giggle, you complied, straddling his head. The scent of your arousal filled the room, making his mouth water as his tongue found your clit. You gasped, your movements faltering as you focused on the delicious sensation of his mouth on you. Your hand stroked him in time with his tongue, the sound of your moans mixing with the wetness of your desire.

Your body began to tense, your movements growing more frantic as you felt the orgasm building within you. Jude's hands gripped your thighs, holding you in place as he continued to devour you, his tongue flicking and swirling in a pattern that had you seeing stars. "Oh god," you whispered, your voice a hoarse plea.

Jude felt your thighs tighten around his head, your body shaking with the beginnings of climax. With a triumphant groan, he pushed his tongue deeper, feeling your muscles spasm as you came. Your hips rocked against his face, your tongue still working his cock. The sensation was overwhelming, and with a final, desperate stroke, he too reached the edge, his body tensing as he released into your mouth.

You sat up, swiping your tongue across your lips, a smug smile playing on your face as you turned to face your boyfriend. Jude all but whimpered as your mouth fell open to reveal you had swallowed him completely. With a giggle, you watched as Jude lay there, his chest heaving, his eyes closed in bliss.

"All this over a shirt?" you teased, your voice filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement.

"It's not just the shirt," he murmured, his eyes finally opening to meet yours. "It's knowing that you're mine, that you're supporting me in every way possible." He reached up, his fingers tracing the outline of your cheek, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip. "That I'm the one who gets to take you home after games like this."

The words sent a thrill through you, and you leaned down to kiss him deeply, tasting yourself on his lips. Jude's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer, his hands roaming over your body in a silent show of strength and possession.

Your bodies were slick with sweat, your hearts pounding in unison as you broke away, panting for air. Jude rolled you over again, his muscles flexing as he positioned himself above you, his cock still hard and demanding. "Round two?" he asked, his voice a seductive purr.

Your eyes widened, your chest heaving with the aftershocks of pleasure. "You're unbelievable," you whispered, but you didn't protest as he nudged your thighs apart. Jude's gaze was intense, his eyes dark with lust as he settled between your legs, his cock pressing against your entrance. You felt the heat of him, the promise of more pleasure, and you wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him closer.

#&. cassie writes.#&. nnn masterlist.#jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x black reader #jude bellingham fanfic #jude bellingham x you #black!fem!reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #black!oc #x black reader

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the-sweet-hibiscus · 3 months ago

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Prequel thought of this bc I need more complex Gaz in my life. Because he was always taught that sharing the pieces of himself was bad. Not in an overt way – he will be the first to tell you that his childhood was fine, thank you very much – but in subtle ways that left him convinced the only way to keep people interested was to take the best traits of those around him and make them his. He was the best of everyone around him, and he always would be.

It starts when he's a child, despite what he says. The first time a teacher tells him that he's asking too many questions about the Roman Empire, and the girl behind him snickered at the admonishment. If you'd asked him at the time he'd say he'd felt hot, molten in his chest like he'd swallowed a spoiled reheated meal. And he learned to take his questions home with him to look up another day.

The first time he says he likes Manchester, while watching the telly with his father, he learns that "in Liverpool, we cheer for Liverpool" and it was not up for debate. So now he owned a hoodie and jogger set that he only wore when he returned to his father's house, and a Manchester hoodie he could wear with his team. (Because Ghost liked Manchester, and if Ghost likes it then Soap will fall in line. And if Ghost and Soap are in line, Captain will give a nod of approval, and no one will know what he's against and what he's for.)

The first time he asks a girl on a date, he awkwardly shuffles toward her, cologne too strong and his stutter stronger – and she laughs at him. He spends the entire year observing, almost falling for tragic advice of negging and peacocking, just to realize what he needed was charm. What he needed was smooth confidence. And he could fake that. He could fake anything. And with enough practice, it wasn't faking, it was real. Confidence was his weapon, and he had enough of it in spades.

He's an adult before he learns to change his approach to each woman he meets, however. Until one night he gets rejected - the hot flame of shame beginning to settle in his chest - before Soap claps him on the shoulder, a tad too jolly, joking about how "a lass like that needs more than you're pretty smile".

That's when he realizes the team has more to them than he realized.

He'd watch as Price clocks girls who prefer a quiet night in to whatever bar they happen to be at. How he'll go outside for a few minutes to let the cigar smoke mute itself on his clothes before coming inside to "happen" to need a drink from the bar at the same time as the girl. Instead of flashing a smile he makes conversation about wishing he was home with the book he's reading - it was always the same book - but it was enough to get the girl to smile at him.

And Gaz would take note. Shift just enough in his routine to draw an eye. A cigarette instead of a cigar. A subtle cologne that gave him an outdoorsy vibe. A dog instead of a book, perfect for pictures and a way to get her phone out.

He'd watch Soap, as brash as the bloak was, he'd often go after girls who seemed like they radiated "do not fuck with me vibes". But he'd find a way to break the ice. First he'd try a compliment. If that didn't work, he'd be honest. "I just wanted you to know I thought you were gorgeous, and if you tell me to fuck off i'll fuck off. But i'd just like to chat." And he'd be in.

Gaz only tried this a few times. Less interested in the work of trying to be interesting and more interested in the conquest. The fuck off girls, rightfully, seemed to only want a real connection - and that was something he could only fake for so long.

Simon was the hardest to pin down. He rarely actively went after a bird, as he called them. They normally came to him. In fact, it took several months of Gaz eyeing the man to realize what was up. Something, or someone, would catch his eye, and he'd sit up a little straighter. Suddenly he was the biggest thing in the room, eyes only occassionally meeting his target as he seemingly scanned around looking for something to interest him.

It was a form of negging, Gaz would realize. Simon would make it seem like their appearance hadn't interested him, and they'd be drawn to it like moths to flame. They'd want to know what could make him interested.

This was the hardest to replicate. The nonchalance, the appearing to not want the chase. There was a certain balancing act to adapting it to his playbook. Only acknowledge once, a curt nod or a raised drink would suffice, pretend to only glance their way when they're glancing at you. But when he got it? He was able to swoop in on every target, until they started partnering off.

First it was John. It only took one canceled outing to know that the Captain would be missing in action for the foreseeable future. And he was. It took five months for the Captain to invite them 'round for a drink at home, a pretty little thing sat on his lap.

Ghost was shockingly next, despite Gaz' assumptions that it'd be Soap. It was on a rare leave, John and Johnny both gone to their respective homes. Gaz's one thought to cure the boredom was his Leftenant. Only to be shocked by a bird, thick as cream and sweet as pie, opening Simon's door in one of the man's training t-shirts. Something the man never acknowledged while they watched the Manchester match.

Soap was leashed by the time that leave was up. Claimed he'd found a "right bonny lass" at a neighborhood potluck. (And seemingly never left her side until it was time to come back to base.) He was almost eager to show a polaroid photo ("she's into photography, that one. But some of these are private, ya know), both smiling ear to ear with matching scarfs. Johnny claiming he'd have her fully moved in at the end of his next leave.

So, in all honesty, Gaz should've seen you coming.

He planned for it, initially. Supposed if the rest of his team was paired off, he needed to be too.

He should've seen the writing on the wall when he was on a rare night out with other soldiers. A popular military bar next to base, crowded and full of people he typically found not worth in imitating. But it was a night to celebrate a successful mission to capture a terrorist in the North Sea. A man who's name he didn't remember, but he'd kiss on the mouth if it meant he'd meet you again.

You were a bartender. Clearly in your element as the room ebbed and flowed in crowd size. Still, he waited til the bar started to get sparce to try anything. First, he attempted Ghost's method. A raised glass as you're scanning the room for anything. You send a waitress over, and it dashes that plan.

He finishes his (new) drink, tossing more than he needed to on the table for the waitress, before relocating to the bar.

It's Johnny's tactic next. A flash smile and a nod to your skills, the compliment rolls off his tongue like honey. You're not impressed. A leveled glare and a shrug as you mosey about cleaning the barback. That's when he decides to remix. A mixture of Soap and Bravado.

"Listen," he says, "I know you're probably tired of all of us soldiers hitting on you – I can't say I blame them. But I'm genuinely impressed. And I just think you deserve to be pampered, is all." It wasn't his smoothest delivery - the drinks and late hour clearly wearing on his charm - but it still was enough for you to pause. Enough that he has you home that night. And he thinks he'll have you every night, if you'd let him.

#call of duty #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #john price #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader

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ltwilliammowett · 1 month ago

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Women at sea

Paul Daniels

'Paul' had the bad luck to be spotted by an eagle-eyed sergeant when he was exercising some soldiers on board a transport ship at Portsmouth in 1761.

He thought young Paul Daniels ‘had a more prominent chest than ordinary'. He sent for him to come to his cabin after the drill, and told him his suspicions. Daniels, to avoid a physical search, ‘confessed her sex’.

Arthur Douglas

Only five feet tall and aged about 19, 'Arthur' worked as a landsman on board the privateer ship the Resolution. Working his passage from London to Liverpool, he went aloft to furl the sails, ‘was frequently mustered among the Marines at the time they exercised’ the small firearms, and generally seemed to be of ‘very modest character, and by his behaviour to have had a genteel education'.

It wasn’t until the ship docked at Liverpool that the truth came out that Arthur was actually a teenage girl. One of the messmates on board discovered her sex and tried to sleep with her. She agreed ‘to prevent a discovery of her sex to the whole ship', but when they landed refused to keep her word, so the Captain was told.

Jane Meace

Jane tried to enlist as a Marine in 1762. In Uttoxeter, a young man ‘came to a recruiting party of Marines’ being held at an alehouse called The Plume and Feathers.

He enlisted as John Meace and asked for all his bounty money, but only got one shilling, as they thought he needed ‘cloathing and other necessaries'. However, the following morning her sex was discovered by ‘one of the men laying hold of her coat over the breast to see how it fitted'.

Hannah Witney

Hannah Witney's story dates from 20 October 1761. A young man who had been impressed (press-ganged) at Plymouth was sent to one Captain Toby. On arrival he was put in prison, but not liking it disclosed that he was in fact a young woman.

The naval report says that she was 'Born in Ireland, had been a Marine on board different ships for upwards five years’, and that she would not have ‘disclosed herself’ if she had been ‘allowed her liberty'. This was duly granted. A naval report included details of a young Lady ‘on board the Fleet in Man’s Apparel, who showed all the signs of most undaunted Valour'.

Several other women, the report continued, ‘are still living and some of them in this Town who have served whole campaigns and fought stroke by stroke by the most manly soldiers'.

They, like so many other valiant women who rallied to the patriotic call to defend their country, will remain unknown. But those now listed will have a place in the military and social history books.

Source

Also in: Cross-dressed to Kill - women who went to war disguised as men, by Vivien Morgan

#naval history #women at sea #18th century #books #age of sail

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simonbrain · 2 months ago

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I mean I hate to be wholesome on your good smut blog but honestly in regards to your Soap is too close to Ghost and doesn’t see the problem with it (by my personal definition of cheating anyway) it isn’t cheating and I do think nothing is wrong with it. If we’re in a monogamous relationship and him and Ghost really aren’t doing anything physical then yeah I don’t think that a single romantic relationship should be the end all be all for interpersonal fulfillment. Hell these guys have been in multiple life or death situations together and clearly are attached at the hip in work environments. I’d be so happy to see that someone cares so deeply about him. Flattering though it might be I wouldn’t want him to be lonely and miserable just because I can’t be around 24/7. Probably start including Ghost in events I’m planning with mine and Soaps civy friend group. Or if he’s not into that I’d back off and let them have their one on one time. Now to be less wholesome; why would I be jealous when I know he’ll choose coming back to our home and our bed to get his back blown out by me no matter how close he is with anyone else? He’s my good boy after all. ;)

“I hate to be wholesome on your good smut blog” is killing me 😭 but anyway, thank you for sharing your thoughts with me! i totally see where you're coming from, and i would also be thrilled to know that he has someone else he can lean on, especially in his line of work.

although i was leaning more towards soap wanting to start something with ghost (and not actually because they have their reasons), your take on it has inspired me to think about the more wholesome idea of johnny holding simon and reader in his hands like dolls and trying to make them kiss.

like johnny takes you to meet his lieutenant, and something in you dies a little when you realise just how bright johnny shines when he's with his moon. it's to be expected; they experience life together in a way you'll never have to face, and the bond they've built is so strong you couldn't untangle one man from the other even if you spent meticulous effort to undo the knots. it makes you wonder why johnny's even with you in the first place and not with the man who's practically looking at him with hearts in his eyes. despite how much he tries to mask it, you recognise the look he wears perfectly; it's the same one you sport around your boyfriend.

simon, on the other hand, is immediately enamoured with you. how did this bastard find someone so lovely? you don't seem to be bothered by his whole getup or lack of social skills in the slightest, choosing to keep the conversation light with random topics you think might interest him (he'll let the fact that you favour liverpool slide simply because he likes the way your eyes sparkle when you talk about your team). you're so sweet and funny, and simon has a painful realisation that while johnny won't ever truly be his, he wouldn't want anyone else but this charming little bird in his place.

meanwhile, johnny's about to melt in his seat because his two favourite people are finally together, actually interacting and looking at each other, and it's like his biggest wet dream ever. now, he just has to figure out a way to get you two more acquainted...

#yk regarding the og post i don't think i would be too bothered if i were in reader's place #especially if they haven't done anything physically #but also it's ghoap and i can't ever imagine them being normal about anything #and that includes forming a more deeper and personal bond that exceeds any romantic partner #so you might as well Take The L because ghost can only be patient for so long #ghoap #ghoap x reader #ghostsoap x reader #ghost #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #soap #john soap mctavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #rainwrites 𐙚 #rainbles 𐙚 #inbox 𐙚

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crepesuzette2023 · 2 months ago

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Only asking if you wanna and have time to do it. No worries if you don't but asking anyway because it would be so helpful. I find it a bit difficult because I'm new. Maybe you've done this before and can add linkto that. Please.

My ask is if you could make a list of McLennon fics on AO3.

A list of favorites. (fan favourites or popular fic writers in the fandom)

A list of finished fics with lots of smut.

A list of fics that is very realistic in the Beatle lore/quite possible/likely to have happend.

A list of uncanon/not likely/ John's still alive, reunion of the Beatles etc.

A list of your own and or own favorites.

Thank you!

Thanks for the ask, Anon!

I recommended some fics in the past, it’s true, but it’s been a while. This is a chance to mention some stories I read & loved since then. (I’ll also link to the older recs, so you can check them out as well.)

(This is long, so I'm editing this to insert a break)

But first there's this:

A list of favorites. (fan favourites or popular fic writers in the fandom)

I can’t speak for the fandom as a whole, because everyone’s taste is different. What I can do is name some stories I personally love, and that are also beloved by many others.

These fics have probably been recced many times, including by me—and for a reason: they’re excellent.

Also: all of these writers have many great fics. The stories below are just entry points to their work.

• On the Way to Work by @roundthatcorner. (Paul gets a job after Hamburg.)

• Lifting Latches/Sending Postcards by ThinkPink20. (Early Days. Paul and John swap clothes.)

• Now and then (there’s a fool such as I) by @stonedlennon. (The trip to Caversham.)

• Six hours in August by @stonedlennon. (John and Paul meet in NYC in 1976.)

• Bird Passing Through by @savageandwise. (John is tripping and visiting Paul after his moped accident.)

• I was a younger man then (now) (post hoc) by @fingersfallingupwards. (McLennon as The Time Traveller’s Wife.)

• baby, it’s all relative by @pauls1967moustache. (Early John and Paul and daddy issues.)

• but still they lead me back by @revollver. Paul remembers the moment when John asked him, do you like me?

• Double Fantasy by @javelinbk. John and Paul’s (modern) Flower Shop AU.

• The Same as it Ever Was by RedheadAmongWolves. John and Paul through the eyes of the newsagent.

• The First Year by candle_beck. Still feeling the reverberations of this one in my bones years after reading.

• Portrait of the Artist by @scurator. (John and Paul take sexy pictures…to sell them for money. For no other reason.)

• Kissing the Blarney by @zilabee. Paul is the Beatles’ talisman. (This is magical realism at its best.)

• Smutlets by @unchaineddaisychain. (Don’t let the flippant name deceive you: this is a massive collection of shorter and longer fics across many genres, eras, and themes. There’s something in there for everyone!)

• The Cat by @merseydreams. Post Beatles break-up. Paul thinks John has a new boyfriend. He has thoughts about this.

And, of course, my personal favorite of all time, my desert island, gold-disc-for-space, “printed it all to make sure I won’t lose it when The Internet™ is gone”: I Need You Darlin’ (So Come Go With Me) by @beatlessideblog. Omegaverse version of John and Paul’s love story (do not scroll away!), with Paul being the alpha. I keep saying this, but it’s fantastic how the writer combines omegaverse ideas with late 50’s/ early 60’s Liverpool. Novel length plus 9 extras, what can I say. We are all blessed.

A list of finished fics with lots of smut.

Here are some recent smutty favorites. (Below are links to older smutty recs!)

• Loops by @dailyhowl. Sgt. Pepper’s era. John and Paul create tape loops of themselves during sex.

• just to make me misbehave by @dykebeatles. 1967. Paul and John have sex before, during, and after the Sgt. Pepper’s launch party.

• Lonely Hearts Column by @unchaineddaisychain. Modern AU, middle-aged composer Paul and younger artist John, and a lovely night followed by the sweetest breakfast.

• Ask the Glass by @unchaineddaisychain: Young John and Paul, and two séances.

• Put A Spell on You by @eveepe. Help! Era. The size difference between Smaul and John works very well for both of them.

• monkey’s paw by @ameliepoulain. Repressed tension and catharsis during the Japan leg of the ’66 tour.

• lift up your heart and sing you a song by @wronglennon. Sex during the making Magical Mystery Tour. Paul wears the white suit.

• it’s good to touch by @pondpossum. Smutty mclennon art!

• The Look of You by @ohjohnnysblog. Paul is fisting John.

• the chronicles of trying to keep quiet and almost getting caught by lazydaisychain. On tour, John and Paul are trying to make space for their love.

• Piston Engines (Shift to Overdrive) by SwishyNibblyNibbly. John and Paul join the Mile High club on the way to their first US visit. Also:

• NSFW favorites (Feb. 2024)

• What’s the most raunchiest, dirty, and just explicit Mclennon fic you’ve ever read? (March 28, 2024)

• Hi, I would love recs for mclennon fics dripping in sexual tension, like six hours in August by stonedlennon. It doesn't need to have explicit sexual content. Thank you! (March 6, 2024)

A list of fics that is very realistic in the Beatle lore/quite possible/likely to have happened.

I think that’s an interesting ask, to be honest. I’ll take this to mean stories that feel “in character” and are compliant with canon events as we know them—not stories presenting a plausible explanation/only possible version of events. (Subtle difference.)

Here are some fics I could think of that fit this description (more links at the end of this post, if interested) : Krankenstand by @savageandwise. John takes care of a sick Paul in Hamburg. Two Truths, and Two Lies by J_Deandra_j. John and Paul from 1965-67, based on four quotes.

the best of times, the worst of times by @crumblingcookies. John and Paul during the Beatles' 1964 visit to the British Embassy in Washington.

Someone Else Can Worry About Me... by @idontwanttospoiltheparty. Paul comforting, and being comforted, through the years.

in france, they kiss on main street by @orphanbeat. Paul is spiraling about John during their 1966 visit to Paris.

The Dream by monkberrymoon. Screenplay-format story centered on the Did you dream about me last night? scene in Get Back.

Transatlantic by @therealsaintscully. Don't let the incomplete chapter count distract you; the first two chapters each stand on their own. John and Paul are talking on the phone after the break-up.

and when i touch you by @forthlin. Early days. John and Paul notice the different size of their hands.

Huddersfield, 1963 by @dovetailjoints. The story behind the adorable 'boyfriends' photo.

The Sober Cannibal and the Drunken Christian (Anonymous). John and Paul wake up together in Paris.

(help me) get my feet back on the ground (ladeedahblue). The toboggan sandwich!

Unsaid in Studio Two by the Beatlefix. John and Paul yearn for each other as they work on Strawberry Fields Forever.

knows not where he's going to by @dovand. Liverpool days. Brian finds John in his office one morning.

See Us in the Real Life by RedHeadAmongWolves. Two EMI canteen workers observe the Beatles, and especially John and Paul, in the early days of their career.

Shooting Star by @pie-of-flames. Early days. John and Paul see a shooting star together.

Giving me the excitations by @backbenttulips. After the Pet Sounds listening party, Paul writes a song—while having sex with John.

Field-Boxing by @the-paper-apricot. Paul considers going back on tour.

all by design by @thegirlwiththeaxe. Early days. A smitten and determined Paul is plotting to sweep John off his feet at the fete.

A list of uncanon/not likely/ John's still alive, reunion of the Beatles etc.

Music save your mortal soul by @backbenttulips. (This writer is a specialist at middle-aged/old mclennon fix its! In this one, John persuades Paul, who he accuses of being a sell out, to go on a tour though the pubs...as The Nerk Twins.)

Leads Me To Your Door/The Four of Wands by @bluewater9. Gorgeous, real and warm two-parter about John and Paul in '89/'90: together, and on the brink of coming out...but not quite there yet.

And the fics listed here:

• Fics in which John is old and happy (Dec 8, 2024) ( this probably should have said middle-aged or old)

• mclennon fanfiction in which one or both of them is/are old (June 24, 2024)

• Old mclennon recommendations (2/2/2025)

A list of your own and/or own favorites.

Here are some Beatles fics I loved recently, with some space for non-mclennon.

John/Paul/Brian. Series (1963, 1967) by @scurator. Goes well with: Billet doux (Brian/Paul).

Paris, 1961 by whiteisthewarmestcolor. "A young Parisian woman meets two British musicians staying at the Montmartre hotel run by her family." I love this unusual outsider POV on John and Paul, and Beatles when they're famous...

cool about it by ohhamlet. After Hamburg. George and Jürgen, George and Paul.

a lesson in not caring by @javelinbk. John's thoughts and feelings during Paul's arrest in Japan. With a beautiful final chapter...

visionen christi by @dykebeatles. Hamburg. John has visions...Paul and George take care of him. The emergence of a tender trinity.

Lay, Lady, Lay by @aquarianshift. Paul and Jane, noble lady & stable hand role play.

love is a finder, always by @wronglennon. Instant all-time favorite. Hamburg: Paul and John and their demons are in love without knowing...until they do.

All Flesh is Weak by @thegirlwiththeaxe. 1967. Paul is a priest, John is a writer. They meet in grief, and make each other come alive. I love how warm and kind John is...!

She's not a girl who misses much by Anonymous. Yoko studies John and Paul.

half of what i say is meaningless, but i say it just to reach you by @pauls1967moustache. "CIA agent Tom Dawkins tries to decode Lennon/McCartney" — and finds himself. An awakening!

Oh Dear What Can I Do by @louiselux. 1966. John and Paul kiss on stage...and what happens after.

Your Song Will Fill the Air by Sminking: Strange days after Brian's death. India. And a happy ending? Unfinished, but hopefully finished soon. Dark and interesting.

i walked with you once upon a dream by @menlove. A Christmas Carol during he making of Magical Mystery Tour.

With a Little Help by @notgrungybitchin. 1967. John and Paul are such a couple during the Sgt. Pepper's photoshoot...

this boy would always feel the same by @adriennefrombrooklyn. 1975. Paul is divorced, and traveling to NYC with Robert Fraser. John, back with Yoko after the lost weekend, is jealous....

And finally:

• Here is a big blog post I made in December 2023 with my overall favorites in various categories at that point...

• Here are all my fic recs (many different asks) under the #fic recs tag on my blog

• Here are all my bookmarks on AO3

• And (since you asked) my own fics are here

Thanks again for asking, Anon, and I hope you find something in this huge mess of a post that you enjoy!

#asks #fic recs #mclennon #mclennon fic recs #march 2025 fic recs

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insidekatmind · 3 months ago

Text

A Secret Between Us-Virgil Van Dijk

Request:yes!

The first time you saw Virgil van Dijk was in an upscale bar in Los Angeles. It wasn’t a random encounter, but it wasn’t something you had planned either. He was there with some teammates, you were out with your friends, and for some reason, your eyes met several times. In the end, he was the one who approached you, with that confident yet kind smile.

"Are you planning to keep looking at me all night, or would you like to join me?" he said, his Dutch accent lacing his words with a certain charm.

He made you smile, and before you even realized it, the conversation between you two flowed naturally. There was something about him that made you feel safe, even though you knew perfectly well who he was.

One week. That was how long he had before Liverpool left the city. And yet, in those seven days, you lived something that felt too much like a dream.

It wasn’t just physical attraction. It was the way he searched for you in a crowded room, the way he laughed at your jokes, the way he truly listened when you spoke. Every night of his stay in the city, you spent together—dinners in small restaurants far from the paparazzi, late-night walks on the beach, moments of pure intimacy that made you believe that maybe…

But then, the end came.

Virgil showed up at your door, his face serious, his lips pressed together as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

“I have to sign an NDA,” he finally said. “It means we can’t talk anymore, or see each other.”

Your heart stopped. “What? Why?”

“It’s about privacy, image. It’s not my choice.” His voice was firm, but his eyes were filled with regret. “If I break the agreement, I risk serious consequences with the club.”

You felt yourself breaking. You had never asked Virgil for anything, never even considered asking him to stay, but hearing that you couldn’t even keep in touch was too much.

“Are you just going to forget about me?” you whispered, trying to keep the pain out of your voice.

“No,” he answered, with a certainty that shook you. “I never could.”

But in the end, he did. Or at least, that’s what you thought.

---

Six months passed...

Nausea had become a constant companion. You ignored the first signs, blaming stress, fatigue, anything but the most obvious possibility. But when you saw the pregnancy test with two clear, undeniable lines, reality hit you like a speeding train.

You were pregnant with Virgil van Dijk’s child.

And he didn’t know. You had no way to tell him. The number he had used to text you was deactivated. His social media was impossible to reach. And then there was the damn NDA. Even if you managed to contact him, what could you do? Risk his career just to tell him he had a child?

In the end, you decided to go through it alone. It wasn’t easy, but as the months passed, you learned to accept your new reality.

Then, one day, fate decided to change everything.

You were in a park somewhere in Europe, far from the California coast where it all began. Your son, a little boy with dark curls and curious eyes, was playing on a small swing while you watched him with a tender smile.

You didn’t notice the presence behind you—not until you heard a deep, familiar voice call your name.

You turned around so fast your heart almost stopped. And there, just a few steps away, was Virgil.

It was as if time had frozen. His eyes scanned you with disbelief, confusion turning into something deeper as his gaze dropped to the child.

He looked at him. Then he looked at you. Then back at the boy.And you knew that he knew.

“Oh my god…” he murmured, stepping forward slowly. “Is he…?”

You couldn’t speak. You wanted to say something, to explain, to justify, but nothing came out.

He didn’t need an answer. The little boy turned, and in that moment, Virgil saw everything—himself in that small face.

His breath caught in his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Finally, you found your voice, though it was weak. “How? Your number didn’t exist anymore. Your contract prevented me from reaching out. What was I supposed to do?”

Virgil ran a hand over his face, still overwhelmed. Then, painfully slow, he knelt down in front of the child. He didn’t know what to say, how to act. He was a big, strong man, but right now, he seemed fragile, completely unarmed.

The boy looked at him curiously, then did something that left both of you speechless. He reached out his small hand toward him and smiled.

Virgil, his eyes glistening, took it with the utmost care.

And in that moment, the entire world seemed to shrink down to just the three of you.

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m1ssunderstanding · 5 months ago

Text

My thoughts on Beatles 64

Am I a terrible person or something because I’m genuinely having such a hard time wrapping my head around these people’s reactions to their president getting shot. Like I can count on one hand the people I’d give a fuck about in DC and I’m not crying if that happens. I’m angry. I’m scared. But I’m not sad.

Who is this covering all my loving? It’s pretty.

I will forever love Paul and George’s big and little brother dynamic. Deep, cloudy scouse: they’re in perfect synchronization. Bright, squeaky scouse: Are they? Like, where is George’s little chimney sweep costume?!

And Paul’s sharp tone calling John’s name. I don’t know, I could obsess over any little scrap of footage of them. I just love picking apart details that reveal dynamics.

George’s insecure, curious, “Are you filming now?” Compared to his over-it, sardonic, “Are you recording our conversation?” He aged about twenty years between 64 and 69.

John’s reaction to his own voice in his ears is always a straight shot of joy.

I like that they’re showing all the boys. You know, because if only girls like them, then they’re just a silly pop group, but if boys like them too, well. That’s something else, isn’t it?

One of my favorite moments. No wonder Paul took so well to shepherding. His blood pressure spiking if John gets out of arm's reach. And John is of course so happy to be pulled back in.

Their hair really was so fluffy!

John spreads his legs when he’s playing because he’s an anxious attachment. Paul keeps his legs closed because he’s avoidant. In this essay I will.

This mix of She Loves You is really highlighting Ringo’s drumming for me. He’s so talented and attractive.

This is why Paul’s my favorite, genuinely. Because he goes from the most polite, people-pleasing, tender-heart to an absolute mean girl cunty bitch in the span of less than a second.

Ringo is the quickest wit, I’m telling you, and if anyone says otherwise, I’m cancelling you for classism.

Why is it always Paul these middle aged creeps feel the need to touch? I mean, I know why. But it makes me sick. That kind of thing is reserved for the mutuals. Definitely not cops.

It’s literally sooooo funny for me seeing this guy choke up about She Loves You. Like I’m genuinely happy for him, but I was literally just over at my husband’s grandparents double-wide and they Still go on about how stupid the Beatles haircuts were and how they remember the days before the Beatles when there was ‘real’ rock and roll on the radio.

So, Paul’s been telling the story of Jim critiquing She Loves You for literally sixty years now, and originally it was with mix-ins from John and George and without a lot of artificial sweeteners. Here’s the sixty-year-old version:

Back home in Liverpool, we used to sing over some of our songs to relatives—I did to my Dad and my aunties,” he recalled. “My Dad would look at me looking disappointed. ‘I don’t know young Paul,’ he’d say. ‘I try to get you to speak properly, and you drop your aitches. Why sing ‘Yeah, Yeah’ when you mean ‘Yes, Yes?’ I tried to explain this was the whole point of the song,” Paul continued. John broke in: “Anyone ever heard someone from Liverpool singing ‘Yes’? It’s YEAH.” Paul continued: “Well, we just laughed. My Dad gave us some of the worst advice ever. He said this music thing will never last. It’s all right on the side, he’d say, BUT PAUL IT WILL NEVER LAST!” “Remember,” said George, “he always wanted us to sing ‘Stairway to Paradise’?” – Ray Coleman article 1964

What a cutie. Shouldn't be allowed.

“That wasn’t really the case.” (that America was the land of the free). He always almost gets to his political views. You know? Microdosing? Left-bating? Maybe both. Whatever.

I LOVE their funny little accents with all my heart. John does posh scarily well.

Ringoooooooo!

“Go on! Defy convention!” Quotes that define the speaker. He should sell t-shirts with that slogan.

This girl’s Brooklyn accent and her confidence are so beautiful!

Why did they buy John an ID I’m actually dying! Oh! They don’t mean, they mean like Paul’s and Ringo’s bracelets. Got it. Okay. I was like ‘are you trying to help him ten years in advance with his immigration struggle?’

The juilliard girl is phenomenal.

I want the nylons and I want the shoes.

“Would you do me a tremendous favor?” “I’m not gonna kiss you like Elisabeth Taylor.” See? Ringo is the funny one. Ringo is so fucking sharp and nobody gives him the credit he’s due.

Ronnie Spector you deserved better, Queen! I love her. She’s so gorgeous, she’s so cool, she’s so young and energetic!

Two excellent Lennonisms right in a row. “Have you been watching the newsies?” and “I don’t care,” I say as I care caringly. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, he has the most sunshiny smile in the Beatles.

Ringoooooo!

Not the picture of JohnandPaul singing together as “with lovers and friends” plays.

Love Paul offering Ringo a candy. In yet another accent. People need to make them talk in goofy accents more in fic because it’s incessant. But I just love them offering each other food. It’ll always get me.

See, this is what I love about John. “People have been tryna stamp out rock and roll since it started.” “Why do you think that is? What are they afraid of?” “I always thought it was cause it came from black music.” He’s not ‘honest to a fault’ or whatever the boomer men love to say. But he’s very, very blunt, and he’s not going to try and skirt anything. You know?

Literally the most embarrassing thing a person can ever be is white.

“I thought it was very weak. You know what I think, I call a spade a spade. I thought it was weaker than weak.” Cook him! And then the mimicking! I love him so much! Holy shit, that would’ve been so enraging.

And then the quiet sass of the guy being interviewed right after. “Well, the versatility, the originality. I like anything that’s original.” I love some clever tumblr web-weaving in my documentaries.

In my husband’s grandparent’s defense, the “real rock and roll” they loved before the Beatles was literally only black artists.

I love this picture for ever. Look at how tight he’s holding on to John with one hand and the other hand raised in joyous triumph, engagement bracelet visible. This is Paul in heaven.

“The whole assumption of male vs female is not prominent. They’re sort of in-between.” Yes. Love. Keep going.

Ringo’s got all the quips, again. “Ringo, look over here!” Puts his hands up. “Don’t shoot!”

I didn’t know Smokey Robinson and the Miracles went to the Cavern, that’s cool! And here I was thinking I wouldn’t learn anything new from this doc. His whole interview is very lovely and generous.

I always think “You’ve Really Got a Hold on Me” probably spoke to John in terms of his relationship with Paul, but I go there so easily. Anyway, Smokey Robinson had every right to be pissed that they released a cover of his song without even asking. Like that would be illegal nowadays, right? And yet he’s so kind about it.

We talk about how scary Beatlemania was and we should because it was, but it really puts it in perspective for me personally hearing Smokey say he was shot at for trying to use the bathroom.

Oh I love that we have footage of Paul taking Ringo’s picture! Makes me think of “eye of the storm” obviously, but also the way he’s mocking the photographer's jargon of the time as he’s doing it. The fact that he ended up marrying a photographer who made a point to depict him as not just “some doe eyed sex object” in her pictures, and also of his song “pretty boys” and his quotes about the sexualization of “male models”. Definitely not about anything he himself experienced. Anyway, thoughts. Strings. Pins. Etc.

Also Ringo turning to the camera still filming him, “what do you think I am, a monkey?” Remember that part in this footage where Ringo says something like, “are we ever going to have a break from all these cameras?” And he’s exhausted. It really seems like, from the footage selected by this doc at least, that Paul and Ringo were doing the bulk of the lifting at this time just with cooperating with the show biz stuff. And isn’t that (interesting? Sad? Poetic? Good?) that they’re the ones still cooperating sixty years later.

How dare they cut out “but we ain’t written no poetry!”

As John’s panicking, “how are we gonna – have you seen the kids? How are we gonna get in, then?” Paul’s just calmly going, “Hi girls!” With a patient smile and a cute little wave. “I’ll just go in and speak to the people first, okay?” I love Paul “calming-down-other-people’s-hysteria-is-my-calling-in-life” McCartney.

Cute, George introducing a song he’ll do a viral backflip to in twenty years.

I wonder what that letter is. John’s being very tender with it.

“You’re fired!” “It’s Love Me Do, whacker!” With the sweetest most innocent smile. I love when John is John, you know?

“To me they’re all obviously low or middle class, highly illiterate, unintelligent wild kids seeking a little fun and pleasure . . . I think there’s something very strange about it at the same time, something very sick. . . . I’m sure that sexual reasons have something to do with it. They find the Beatles sexually attractive and they’ve made some kind of psychological tie with them. I think the whole thing’s a little bit frightening and quite sick.” Where’s that old meme with Trump describing the democrats in the most hateful terms he can think of and people being like “yep that’s me”?

Paul stopping to say goodbye by name to each of the people who've been in their hotel room one by one. It’s giving *Opra voice* “and you please don’t hate us and you please dont hate us and you please don’t hate us”

Ringo coming back because he went the wrong way is the most me-core thing.

Paul will come in with the random shouts and yelling in the middle of a song he’s singing lead on all the way from the very beginning and all the way to the very very end, huh.

I just get filled with so much rage at this image of the Bernstein family, especially after the footage of the Gonzalezes. Like, I know I need therapy. I know. But it costs money. Anyway, all rich people can go straight to hell. “I was allowed to wheel the TV set down from the library, down the corridor and into the dining room.” Oh, were you! Well, you must be very special, then.

I wonder if Paul’s title of his exhibition has anything to do with this quote from John about “It was like being in the eye of a hurricane.”

The girl hanging on Ringo like a jungle-gym is me. I love the way he flirts, it’s so smooth, physical, casual.

Classic John moment and he doesn’t even open his mouth.

My dearest wish is that these two are happily married now, holding hands in the theater watching this.

The voice of the woman asking Paul “what do you think of the American TV” sounded extremely like Linda’s. I sort of panicked for a second. Linda’s voice is lower, but the accent and cadence and the sort of wealthy slouch is the same.

I love them picking up on the dystopian beginnings of America’s version of late-stage capitalism and broadcasting the ridiculousness of it all to a public that didn’t know any different. “The situation in China is very bad. Have you ever wondered, when you’re eating at home?”

The guys setting up wearing Beatles wigs? Ew. Why?

Ringo’s so funny! “Watch any band. If anything goes wrong, they go – Blame the drummer.” And he’s so endearing and sweet. “I just always wanted to be IN the band, not like ‘oh, I’m over here.’” Reminds me of his quote about being lonely as an only child and ending up with three brothers. What a tenderheart.

Huh. Always thought some idiots just set up his rostrum backwards. The rest of the stage spinning around it makes much more sense.

That little smile between the two of them.

George in tears! Poor baby! I really do think, with the way this affected him on another level than it affected the others, and with the way he talked about his experiences at the Inny compared to Paul (not that you can trust Paul to say anything actually gets to him) that George maybe was more sensitive to classism than the others.

I hope Paul said something to that affect to George after. “They’re working at an embassy. We’re on the road, rocking. I don’t give a flying fuck.” You know? I could see it.

Another thing I love about John. You need that guy on your team, whatever it is you’re trying to accomplish. That when people are being bitchy, you tell them to fuck off and you leave. I bet Paul, George, and Ringo were so relieved that John did that for them.

After Ringo talked about not wanting to be back behind and separate from the band, I’ve noticed all three of them stepping back sometimes to stand more in line with him when they’re not singing. I don’t know if it was conscious or natural, but either way, I love that they did that and I’m sure Ringo did too.

The looks and smiles

I usually maintain that Paul is only sexy from 60-61 and from 68-98 and from 18-now. But. This is just objectively hot, I don’t care who you are.

It’s so sweet to see George being such a ham, getting John to do silly bits with him, putting on a waiter’s uniform and passing out drinks, climbing up in the luggage compartment. I wish they could’ve somehow kept it at a pace that was manageable for him so he could’ve kept on being so happy with his life, you know? I mean it’s not like it just disappears completely. There’s some of it in Get Back and even in Anthology, but it’s just not the same.

This is what happens when you’re a slut, Paul. You get paternity suits that ruin your mood. Shame, shame.

Interesting that Paul points out Brian’s “defying convention” by having them play their scandalous rock and roll shows in all these “hallowed halls”. I’d never thought about it as Brian’s conscious decision but obviously it must’ve been, and that’s very clever and snarky of him.

“That man, who is strong enough to be gentle, that is a new man.” Betty Friedan is pro-beatle. We love to see it!

Watching Paul try to behave like a human being on stage with all of his early twenties energy is honestly painful. It’s like Kurt Vonnegut’s Harrison Bergeron, you know? Like I can just see him aching to let himself free, but there are weights put in place for a reason. I know Brian was right to calm them down, and this documentary is proof that if he hadn’t done his taming, either they never would’ve made it or there would’ve been all-out class warfare or something, but it breaks my heart, it really does.

Ronald Isley, again, just like Smokey Robinson, being so so charitable here, and managing to do so without playing down the fact that things were absolutely rigged against him and his group at the time. “We should be on the Ed Sullivan show doing . . .” Yes. Yes.

I looked it up, and this quote is genuine. “If it wasn’t for the isley brothers, we would still be in Liverpool.” – Paul McCartney. That’s one thing I love about him. He’s always giving – very much due – credit to his black contemporaries. People ask him about Elvis and he always says, “yes, and Little Richard.” People say he was the most innovative bass player of his time and he says, “yes, and Fred Thomas.”

Ringo literally gets me every time. George: I don’t remember Wales. Ringo: It was before you joined the group.

The way Paul talks about George living “the good life” is very much in the tone of an older brother who’s helped his little brother do well for himself, you know? It’s adorable.

Of course Paul’s out feeding seagulls.

Not even going to comment on the “i love you” thing. Nope.

Okay I do have to say, the end of this guy’s story about going to liverpool and getting deported is incredibly sweet. I was kind of ignoring him, and then when he said he met John during Imagine, I sort of braced myself. But it turned out absolutely adorable. I love John’s little antenna miming and that he promoted this guy just for having made the front page of the Liverpool Echo. It’s all very John, very endearing.

I hope Paul and this weepy old guy had a talk about healing yourself from abuse through music. There’s like a 1/100 chance, but I still hope they did.

John loves a good boat analogy, doesn’t he? “There was a ship going to discover the new world. And the beatles were in the crows nest on the same ship [as everyone else] and we just said ‘land ho!’

Love the use of “Roll Over Beethoven” as the final song.

#paul mccartney #the beatles #john lennon #mclennon #george harrison #ringo starr #brian epstein #beatles 64

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joostsblog · 11 months ago

Note

I love love loveee your writing for Joost!!

Could you do a longer one shot, where Joost is playing the reader his album (preferably Fryslân) with Florida 2009, a she comforts him? Would be amazing <3

Leyla, write one fic as it was requested challenge, level impossible 😅 so I altered your request to be about Liverpool bc I didn't think I could do it justice with florida 2009 being such a personal song, I hope you understand ❣️

Liverpool ~ Joost Klein oneshot

My masterlist here ✨💌

Pairing: Joost Klein x female!reader

Description: Your boyfriend Joost shows you his new album and the end of Liverpool holds a little surprise for you which will change your relationship forever.

Word Count: 0.8k

A/N: Here I am still writing something while I said I wouldn't do so on vacation lol ☀️ if you liked it, you can show your support by leaving a reblog 🫶

Warnings: not proofread

"I think I'm ready," Joost stood in the doorway of your shared apartment.

You looked up from your phone and your face lit up as you knew what this meant. Joost was a perfectionist and avoided showing you rough mixes of his songs because he wanted you to experience them as they were intended - perfectly finished. He had only shown you two finished songs from the album he was working on and now he was finally ready to play the album front to back for you.

"Are you sure?" you asked as you got up from the sofa and walked towards him. He nodded and you could tell that he was nervous. "I'm sure it's gonna be amazing," you said and gave a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Don't sing your praises too early," he laughed.

You sat down in his makeshift home studio and he handed you a pair of headphones, putting some on as well. You put your hand on his knee as he was looking up the files on his computer. Just as he was about to press play, he looked at you again.

"I'm not sure I should even look at you," he laughed nervously. You gave his thigh a reassuring squeeze.

"Do whatever feels comfortable to you," you said with a smile. "I'm gonna love it."

Joost nodded took your hand into his and pressed play. Before you closed your eyes to focus on the music you gave a quick peck to Joost's cheek.

As you were listening through the album, you bopped your head along, smiled and noticed all the shy glances Joost was giving you to check for your reaction. You were right, you did love it. As the last song Liverpool slowly came to its end, you could tell that Joost was watching your face very intently now. The song ended with a series of shout-outs to Joost's friends and collaborators, which warmed your heart.

Shouts-out to Tantu Beats

Shout-out to Joost Klein

Shout-out to Dylan meine brudi

Shouts-out Stuntje shouts-out Wim Hof

Shout-out to Jack Parow out in South Africa

Shouts-out to Apson

Shouts-out Nathan Vandergunst

Damn, shouts-out Enzo Knol

Shout-out to (Y/N)

Shout-out you for listening to my album

I fucking love you man

Your heart skipped a beat as you heard your name appear in the song and your eyes immediately began to water.

You and Joost had both agreed pretty early on in your relationship to keep it private. No one knew that Joost was in a committed relationship and especially no one (except for your friends and family) knew that the person he loved was you. It was the right decision at the time because it allowed you to love and live in private without any unwanted attention. But the longer you had been with Joost, the more the both of you had talked about wanting to actually express your love for each other publicly as well. You just didn't expect that Joost was ready for a step like this - putting your name in one of his songs.

As the song finished you both put your headphones down. Your eyes were still welling with tears and your smile was wide.

"I can take it out if you want to," Joost offered hesitantly and you shook your head no immediately.

"No, please keep it," you said and cupped his face with your hands. "I love it," you said before kissing his soft lips which curved into a grin.

It didn't take long for fans to pick up on your name in Liverpool after the album dropped. Fans took to Twitter, TikTok and Tumblr to voice their opinions of the album and also their confusion about that unknown name.

"Who tf is (Y/N)?"

"IKR? I swear I've never heard that name before"

"Maybe she's his manager???"

"I doubt it, why would he thank her last after all of his friends?"

"Wait, let me check something, I think I've seen her Instagram account before!!"

To your surprise, it also didn't take long before fans found your Instagram account with just a few hundred followers just because you appeared on Joost's follow list and he commented on your posts frequently. There were no pictures of the two together on your account but through puzzling together locations and outfits, some fans quickly found out that you spend a lot of time together.

The follows, likes and comments slowly came flooding in and you realised that your relationship wasn't so private anymore. But even the few nasty comments didn't make you regret your decision.

So when a few days passed and the comments persisted ("is she Joost's gf?") you decided to upload a picture to your story.

the cat's out the bag, you captioned a picture of you happily cuddling with a cat in your arms, another hand also visible stroking the cat. A hand with a 1983 tattoo.

#mine #joostsblog #my fics #joost #joost klein #joost x reader #joost klein x reader #joost imagine #joost klein imagine #joost x you #joist klein x you #joost fanfic #joost fanfiction #joost klein fanfic #joost klein fanfiction

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libraryofloveletters · 1 year ago

Text

Portugal Pretenders

Virgil Van Dijk x Fem!Reader

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

Word Count: 7.9k

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

---

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Celebrating the marriage of Andy Robertson and Rachel Roberts.

Rehearsal Dinner: July 2nd, 2022 at 7pm

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

Join us in Faro, Portugal!

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

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

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

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

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

"Keeping tabs on me?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What are you counting?"

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

He nods. "Yeah."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Virgil smiles, "I will."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Why would you lie to them?"

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

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

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

"Do you have sugar?"

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

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

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

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

"What?"

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

"You're not serious."

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

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

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

"How would that work?"

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

"Wait, the wedding isn't here?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Technicalities, Virgil."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Obviously," you chuckled.

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What story ?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"What?" He asked, glancing at you.

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

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

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

"Are you sure?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

He smiles, "thanks."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Beautiful," he smiles, "truly."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Those are cute, send them to me."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Can you zip me up?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Only then did it click what he meant.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Okay, let's go dance!"

"I don't dance, Virg."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#virgil van dijk #virgil van dijk x reader #virgil van dijk x you #virgil van dijk x y/n #virgil van dijk imagine #virgil van dijk fanfic #virgil van dijk fic #virgil van dijk oneshot #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football imagine #football fanfic #football fluff #football one shot #football fic #football rpf

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foreverisntenough · 8 months ago

Text

‘Act II’

Summary: Attraction is like a gravitational pull that is undefinable and unavoidable. Unbeknownst to you, Jude had been keeping an eye on you since he caught a glimpse on his best friend’s girlfriend’s Instagram but he’s been loving his single life. You always were independent and know how to swim on your own but maybe you have been just treading water. Could the tides change on a holiday in Greece when you finally meet? It might get a little rocky but maybe you could be his paradise.

Index

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! ‘Act II’ is interconnected to the 'You’re Mine' and 'Ours' Series but can read it independently.

Chapter 1 - Round Two | ‘Act II’

word count - 10 k

“Erm... yeah, that’s a bit of me. Big follow.” You giggled, plucking the phone out of your friend Whitney’s hand admiring an abnormally pretty boy she was showing you on the screen.

“Right?” She laughed with you spreading her two fingers on the screen to zoom in on the boy’s perfect physique. Whitney’s dad spent every day he could watching football. It was on in their house twenty four hours a day. He was an awesome dad to two girls you called your best friends but you always sensed that it pained him he couldn’t have had a son to give it a go in an international football league. He could care less about the American MLS teams but that’s a story for another time. Previously, you really hadn’t cared about your best friend’s fathers interest in the sport. Your own family was into footie, your brother, your dad, but again, you didn’t really buy in. That said, if someone asked you on the street who you supported, you’d have an answer, you knew the high level things going on in the world of football.

“Like okkkay besties! I’m into this.” You cheekily cooed. Your disinterest suddenly became a big interest when Whitney showed you a photo of two boys that played for the England international team. One was cute... pretty, in fact. You’d say he gave off a sort of a more demure vibe in comparison. Whitney was hooked; her dad was an avid Liverpool supporter and by turn Whitney was. Apparently her dad pointed Trent Alexander-Arnold out to her during a regular season match earlier. The other boy in said photo, well, that was a bit of you.

“They’re so pretty.” Whitney sighed, taking a longer look at Trent’s face. “Hello. Earth to Y/N.” She called for you after your eyes began to glaze over wishing your thumb hovering over his happy trail was able to actually feel the muscular abs you’d been actually drooling over beneath it.

“Sorry but he’s so hot.” You laughed with a shake of the head trying to snap out of your lustful haze. Whitney hadn’t even said their names but frankly, you didn’t care. You just might support England in this tournament. Your brother and dad would kill you but you’d do it for a man that looked like this. You were French, that would arguably be seen as treason in your household but he was so good looking they’d have to understand. Your dad would tell you you were French the same way Whitney’s dad would tell her she was British. You both were not born in your respective native lands but your dads were from, you had dual citizenships but no accents. That said, you did speak the language. Your family had actually lived in Paris for a few years before you went to university and met Whitney.

“I know I figured I’d share.” Whitney smiled at you with a bob of the head happy with her recent Instagram follow as she grabbed her phone back from you.

“Thank you Mr. Smith. Who knew he had such good taste in men.” You teased taking her phone back once more to actually look at the instagram handle above the photo that had you in such a trance. ‘Jude Bellingham’ you read the name in your head in a silly British accent that probably wasn’t all that accurate. You didn’t know a thing about him. You hadn’t heard either of the boys even speak but he just gave off such British vibes and it made you laugh a little.

“Man of many talents, l suppose.” Whitney snatched her phone back and went back to Trent’s Instagram, scrolling through photos she’d seen at least a hundred times by now but she wanted to see them one hundred more.

Flash forward a couple years, a lot of drinks, a blossomed relationship for Whitney, and unfortunately a few more tears than you would’ve hoped later and you found yourself in a Greecian club on a holiday with the two English footballers and their friends. How? You wondered the same thing but Whitney seemed to have fate on her side. Although, she didn’t seem to want to share any because a night ago you could have used some when you fucked her now boyfriend, Trent’s brother, so it didn’t really come as welcomed news when you found out the lustful torch you carried for your instagram crush, Jude, was in front of you in real life now burning. It had been a long couple of hours navigating the waters of two men in a confined space.

“I like this…” Jude cooed, slipping his fingers under the strap of your red dress. “Would look better on my floor though.” He whispered a line you’d heard too many times in your ear despite the loud thump of the bass in the club. It should’ve put you off. It should’ve been an eye roll moment except it wasn’t. There was something about the way he spoke to you, the way he looked at you, the way he touched you. All night he had you in a trance. It made you feel attended to in the least cheesy and cliche way. You’d flirted earlier in the evening when you’d been introduced after dinner but you were proper close now and the game had begun. You were not an easy lay… well it depended on the day and how bad you wanted to have sex. Regardless, you liked the game with boys. It was fun. You knew you were attractive and you knew that came with many perks like lines of men interested in you and the only way to make it slightly more entertaining and fun and maybe sift out the trash, although some always managed to seep through, you’d test them. Play games, flirt mercilessly and then leave high and dry, you’d make them buy your drinks while you played with their hearts and their hands dragging them up and down your figure.

“You can’t put a dress like this on the floor, Jude.” You quipped back, placing your hand over his and guiding it down your body and the sheer beaded fishnet fabric. It was a gorgeous Roberta Einer mini dress that you’d been itching to wear somewhere but the way the lights were reflecting off it now and your newly tanned skin barely hidden under it, you knew tonight was the perfect debut for it.

“Alright, I’ll hang it up just for you.” He gently whispered into your ear. He wasn’t offering to do you some sort of grand favor but the way he said it made it sound like you were meant to be grateful and you didn’t like that he had made such a subtle move to take the upper hand. So you cut the line.

“Okay, thank you.” You brushed him off with a short smile as if he had handed you a coffee over a counter.

“No problem. As long as it’s still coming off.” Jude was persistent though. He was sweet and smooth. His scent was encircling you and keeping you hostage. His woody musk built walls around you, caging you in. His big soft hands on your exposed skin acting as shackles. You were trapped.

“We shouldn’t.” You muttered haphazardly as he ducked his face to be in front of yours. He gently guided you to step back against a wall in a corridor of the club. You thought you’d get some air and free yourself from the thick tension being near Jude but he followed you. You two were like magnets. There was something there and you weren’t sure why it felt a little more dangerous than just lust. He placed his massive hand on your waist, squeezing you just a little before letting his hand drop down to your hip.

“But we could.” He cooed with the cheekiest smile you might have ever seen in your life and arguably the prettiest too. You couldn’t stop the giggle from escaping your lips. You hated that he had you like this. He moved closer and dragged his lips down your neck, kiss after kiss, running his tongue along your warm skin. It was like he was a live wire jump starting your whole system. The tension was palpable and you wanted more of it but not that easily, of course. You knew who Jude was. You were shown his instagram obviously by Whitney and if the millions of Instagram followers weren’t enough of an indicator it was his insistent presence in the media. A ad campaign, a dramatized story in the Daily Mail, a shirtless instagram post, you would’ve loved to say you did notice it all but you were very aware and embarrassingly you welcomed his ever presence on your phone when you were miles apart. Right now though you weren’t sure there was even a centimeter separating you. Despite knowing what you knew, you were not going to be complacent to the great Jude Bellingham. Tonight was meant to be a level playing field.

“Your first night out?” You questioned him. Honestly, the only reason you were asking this is because Whitney had made a point before you’d even left for this holiday that you not ruin it all making a rash hook up night one… except you already had. You slept with her boyfriend’s brother which in both his and your defense was good sex. It was fun, rough, drunk, orgasmic and unattached just the way you liked it. He wasn’t exactly off the table though in your mind. He was cute, you had control of the situation and his room was next to yours at the villa you were staying in. Like you said, it was good sex. Although you weren’t going to say no if Jude pushed and you hoped he did but you weren’t exactly closing off other options either. You were on holiday. No one would get hurt, they were twenty some year old men in Greece, you couldn’t imagine commitment was on anyone’s minds. You didn’t kiss Jude in the corridor even though it was the only thought populating in your mind. Jude hated that your game of teasing drew him in more. He liked to be in charge. He liked to run the show and he knew he was losing ground when you moved past him to get back to the ropped off private area in the club with everyone else. Jude was slick as you made your way back and moved quickly in front of you to sit down first. He pulled you down to sit on his lap and you faked an eye roll as if Jude’s persistence was unwelcomed but it was anything but. As the night rolled on you got drunker and his touches got more courageous. In the dim light of the nightclub, the bass thrummed like a heartbeat in the air, creating a pulsing rhythm that matched the intoxicating sway of the crowd. The atmosphere was thick with a heady mix of laughter, music, and the sweet scent of bottles and bottles of Don Julio 1942. You stayed settled on his lap, warmth enveloped you, igniting a spark that sent shivers down your spine. His strong hands rested gently on your hips, grounding you while the world around you blurred into a swirling tapestry of colors. With each sip of your drink, the world grew more vivid, the laughter more melodic, and the closeness between you more electric. Your heart raced, not just from the alcohol but from the magnetic pull of his gaze.

“Just want to pull this right up and…” He leaned in closer, his breath a tantalizing whisper against your ear, sending tiny jolts of excitement through you. The rich timbre of his voice wrapped around you like velvet, drawing you deeper into this intoxicating moment, letting his hand on your thigh go higher and higher pulling the hem of your dress with it. His pinky finger able to ghost over your panty clad pussy.

“Stop…” You giggled, meaning exactly the opposite, grabbing his hand to halt any further movement. This was a dangerous game. You were both on the verge of blacking out. As the night wore on, the music wrapped you both in its seductive embrace, and every glance he stole felt like a secret promise. You found yourself laughing freely, each sound mingling with the pulsating rhythm, feeling utterly alive under the spell of his charm. The lights danced across Jude’s features, enhancing the sharp lines of his jaw and the smirk that hinted at playful mischief. The more you drank, the more you adored him—the way he held you, the way he listened with rapt attention, as if you were the only person in the room. You could feel the warmth of connection building like the crescendo of a song, enveloping you in a cocoon of desire and vulnerability. The laughter faded into a soft hum, and in that moment, you knew you were falling—not just into drunken bliss but into something deeper, something intoxicatingly real. Time slipped away, lost in the rhythm of the night, and as you rested your head against his shoulder, a tender smile graced your lips. Similarly a boyish, lopsided grin plastered to his face. A darkness flooded your mind. You. blacked. out. You thought you had a pretty okay tolerance but maybe your stature didn’t exactly match the 6’2 man you were trying to keep up with shot for shot. 42 was starting to taste like water and you were pretty sure no one had an accent anymore.

You had a blurry memory of his lips brushing against yours, gentle yet urgent, igniting a fire that danced within you. As the vibrant strobe lights cast fleeting shadows across his face, you felt a magnetic pull, drawing you closer into a world that existed solely for the two of you. Each brush of his lips sent shivers racing through your body, igniting every nerve ending in a delicious wave of ecstasy. The heat of his body pressed against you, a tantalizing reminder of the summer night outside, while his hands tangled in your hair and traced the curve of your back, urging you deeper into his embrace. The music swelled around you, a backdrop of heavy bass that mirrored the pounding of your heart, creating a bubble of exhilaration and desire. Time seemed to dissolve as the world outside faded, leaving only the taste of his kiss—sweet and intoxicating, mingling with the warm summer air that danced around you. Your bodies moved in sync, a rhythm as intoxicating as the melody that surrounded you. With each kiss, the world blurred into soft hues of color, a vivid painting of passion and spontaneity. The tender urgency of your connection deepened, exploring uncharted territories as hands explored, pulling each other closer, savoring the moment as if time itself stood still. It was a wild, breathless escape, filled with promises whispered between breaths, where the pulse of the music became the heartbeat of your desires, leaving you both breathless, alive, and utterly entwined.

The morning light peeked through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the disheveled bed. You stirred, feeling the weight of a night filled with laughter and passion settle heavily on your limbs. A dull throb pulsed in your temples, each beat a reminder of the revelry that had unfolded the night before. As your eyes fluttered open, they fell upon the figure beside you… Jude. His chiseled silhouette half-hidden beneath rumpled sheets, radiating an effortless charm even in the quiet aftermath of the night. The scent of his skin lingered in the air, a rich, intoxicating mix of cologne and the faint hint of warmth from your shared adventures. As you attempted to piece together the fragments of last night, the tableau before you sent a rush of sensations coursing through you. There he was, tangled in the sheets, sunkissed skin glistening slightly in the morning light, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips. You could have sworn he looked like a work of art, perfectly imperfect in a way that made your heart flutter unexpectedly.

“I have to get to my room.” You whispered to Jude with a pounding headache, not entirely sure what happened but you were sore and naked so you had a good idea. Your heart was racing praying to see some remnant or clue that protection was used. The world around you felt hazy, your thoughts muddled from too much tequila and laughter, yet the sight of him brought warmth and a flicker of exhilaration to your chest. You shifted slightly, the crisp sheets whispering against your skin, and he stirred, his eyes fluttering open to meet yours—a lazy, sultry gaze that ignited memories of stolen kisses and whispered secrets shared in low-lit corners of the nightclub.

“Good morning to you to." He laughed tiredly. "What’d you say?” His voice was low and smooth, like velvet draping over your senses, both teasing and inviting. A smile crept across his lips, illuminating his features and crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made your heart race. You couldn’t help but mirror his expression, feeling the pull of a connection that thrummed between you, more potent than the remnants of your hangover.

“I said, I have to get to my room.” You smiled as you tentatively lifted your hand to brush a loose strand of hair from your face, the soft rustle of sheets surrounded you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that felt deliciously intoxicating. There was an unspoken understanding in the air, an acknowledgment of last night's escapades, layered with the thrill of unexpected mornings. In that moment, the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped in warmth and longing, a beautiful aftermath that felt fleeting yet infinitely precious.

“Why…” Jude groaned, letting his eyes close again. With every heartbeat, it became clear: the night had woven your lives together, if only for an ephemeral moment. And though uncertainty lingered like a sweet aftertaste, the promise of the unknown shimmered in the air.

“Everyone can’t know I slept in here.” You whispered again with some urgency. Image was important to you. Sleep with whoever you want, absolutely. Let people know that? Absolutely not.

“Whyyy…” Jude kept on his childish theatrics with another groan. He outstretched his arm and draped it around your waist as insurance you wouldn’t leave. This was not a rare indulgence for you but it would cling to you like the sheets twisted around your body currently were, all day if you didn’t get out of there. The lavish villa room was stunning and an opulent blend of modern luxury and understated, but it did little to distract from Jude. His hair messy in a way he’d hate yet it formed a careless halo on the pillow beneath him.

“I’ll see you later.” You giggled pulling down the sheet and slapping his ass trying to make light of you not being able to remember anything and remind him you were waking up naked in case he didn’t either. You moved in a way that was calculated after that, you’d done this before. You have a good night, a great night in fact, great sex, although usually you prefer to remember a semblance of it… god damnit where is a condom wrapper… literally anything! But you’d done this before and you knew you had to move quickly as if your very presence in Jude’s room might unravel the meticulously crafted image you’d built. The mesh of your mini dress, now crumpled on the foot of the bed, tells the story of a night you could barely recall. You did recall Jude saying he’d hang the dress up but that went out the window and evidently so did your morality when it came to safe sex. It was a night you both dreaded and longed to remember.

“Ow fuck, Y/N.” Jude complained reaching lazily to pull the covers back up to cover himself. You laughed a little at his poor morning attitude but got distracted when you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. It reflected a woman who was both powerful and vulnerable, your usual poise slightly fractured. You couldn’t even attempt to restore any dignity to your appearance. This was simply the job for a real shower.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” You mocked him a little, coming and kissing near Jude’s ear softly with a hum.

“Yeah, fuck.” He complained, burying his face in a pillow.

“Aw, I’ll remember that when I’m laying concealer over your bite marks before breakfast.” You teased running your hand over a bruise you could clearly make out on your collarbone. There was no use trying to restore your usual pristine facade. There’s no hiding the telltale signs: the smudged mascara around your eyes, the bruised lips, the scent of him lingering on your skin. “It was good though.” You sympathetically smiled at him. You felt bad. Why did you suddenly feel a tinge of guilt and softness towards him? No idea. You weren’t sure. You snapped your eyes off him to hopefully help break the emotions you were starting to feel.

“Yeah? What you had wanted?” Jude opened his eyes again and smiled sleepily at you. You glanced back at his chiseled features softened in the haze of his tiredness. A part of you felt so drawn to him. So you took a seat on the side of the bed running your hands over his warm skin.

“Erm… don’t know, I might need one more go just to make sure it was as good as I remember.” You lied. Why did you lie? You weren’t sure. What had this boy done to you? You were having a hell of a hangover and you were starting to wonder if the tequila from last night somehow disregulated or fucked with the limbic system in your brain.

“Mmmm C’mere.” Jude pulled you down into a kiss and you let him. It was warm, soft, slow, and sleepy and yet it had you trying not to moan into his mouth it was turning you on so much.

“I have to go.” You sympathetically pulled away with an apologetic smile.

“Yeah but you’ve got me hard now.” Jude flashed you a conniving grin hoping that his pretty face could convince you to stay. It almost worked. Unfortunately his face didn’t outweigh your fear of being caught out. Two men in three or so days wasn’t a fact you’d be broadcasting but you weren’t exactly complaining either.

“That sounds like a you problem.” You gave him an annoyingly cheeky grin. Jude was upset that he still managed to find it cute despite him being painfully hard now. He sighed and grabbed your arm before you could get far. You looked at him innocently not sure what he needed because you weren’t going to stay. He kissed your knuckles and then rolled over in the bed. That was it. You weren’t sure what to make of it so you just smiled with a hum stepping away, leaving behind a world of temptation and chaos as you quietly gathered the remnants of your dignity and fragments of your outfit from last night. You grabbed Jude’s shirt of the floor and pulled it over you. You weren’t about to put back on your dress from last night. You were missing an earring as well but you’d find it later. It wasn’t a proud moment as you slipped out the door cautiously and tiptoed to your bedroom, heels in hand, your bare feet peeling off the marble floors of the villa, wincing at the noise with every step, terrified someone might see you. You went to the en suite of your room and took off his shirt. You looked at it and smiled until you caught yourself in the mirror smiling like an idiot at it. There was a slight smudge of your lipstick color on the collar. It smelt like him and you just wanted to put it back on and go to bed but instead you turned on the shower. In a state of delusion and a hangover haze you held the shirt in your hand and cheekily took a nude in the mirror sending it to Jude.

‘To help with your problem. xx’

Jude threw his head back on his pillow with another groan as he opened the message. He sorted himself out after that thanks to your photos assistance and memories of last night before he went back to sleep. You smiled when you saw he responded after your shower… until you read it.

‘You’re unreal, angel. Liked it better when I was cumming inside you though and not just to the thought of you. Maybe later? xx.’

“Oh my god!” You gasped out loud dropping your phone. It fell on your toe and you thought you were going to cry. It hurt so bad. You grabbed your phone and wrapped your towel around you a bit tighter and ran to your bed and fell face first. “I’m so stupid. I’m so stupid.” You repeated over and over again. You were haunted by the memory of last night you couldn’t remember, and the man down the hall, clinging to you like a whisper you couldn’t quite shake, a reminder that even the most perfect facades have cracks.

“I need to talk to you immediately.” You hushly but harshly whispered to Whitney in the kitchen later that morning gripping her arm so tight she might have a bruise later. She was sitting on Trent’s lap who gave you a curious yet concerned face. You just smiled and yanked Whitney off him pulling her all the way down the hall to your room. “Look at me…” You snapped peeling your shirt off to reveal the remnants of your night with Jude. Her eyes went wide and a cheeky grin began to pull on her face.

“Can you give me a little more context because I need to know if I should be applauding someone’s handiwork or if something happened because you look like someone attacked you.” Whitney kept her smile knowing it wasn’t the later.

“Whit… I don’t even remember it and I think he does. I lied and said I did and then I was a fucking idiot and sent him a nude this morning because I apparently willingly opt for chaos and he jerked off to it and said he…” You picked your arms up to air quote. “‘Liked it better when he was cumming inside me’ so that’s fucking insane.” Whitney’s jaw dropped at your confessional.

“Okay.. erm it’s fine. Sit down, sit down, sit down.” She beckoned you over and you sat next to her on your bed letting your body fall limp into her lap. “It’s fine. Honestly, we’ll sort it. A few questions for you. Erm… one, who are we talking about?” She asked you gently, running her hand over your head. That question alone made you feel dumb. To Whitney’s credit, it was a fair question.

“Jude… I woke up with Jude this morning.” You whined covering your face with your hands embarrassed to admit it.

“Y/N, its okay. Second question, you wanted to right? Like you’re not upset because he… you know. Like this was consensual?” She sheepishly asked you. You softly smiled at her with a shake of the head. Whitney was always so mindful and gentle. She did this with everything. She needed to make sure everything was okay so she could properly help. She wanted to make sure you were okay and she was probably the only person in your life that when she asked that, you knew she meant it and honestly wanted to listen. She really was the sweetest and had good intentions but consent wasn’t an issue here. “Okay, as long as you’re fine in that regard. Well, you should ask Jude like if he actually did finish inside and we’ll go from there. I mean… we’ve handled this before.” She giggled a little recalling many of antics between the pair of you from university to date. “The nude is whatever. Don’t worry. He’s seen you naked. It's not exactly like you have a body anyone would be ashamed of either. The photo won’t go anywhere and if you liked him or the sex, I mean it’s not a bad person to add to your body count.” She cheekily smiled at you. You couldn’t help but smile back. Her smile was infectious and it made you feel better just seeing it. “Jude is nicer than you’d think so just talk to him. You two can just have a pretty person conversation.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him. Do you want to get your joke in now or will you give me the morning?” You laughed, running your hands over your face again. Your relationship with Whitney was like any good friendship it was filled with love and support, a lot of laughter and amazing memories, but humor was a pillar for you two. When things got hard if you didn’t laugh about it you’d cry.

“Eh… When you least expect it. Today though.” She laughed. “To be fair, you looked really good last night. I didn’t think you’d be going to sleep alone.” Whitney cooed as you sat up. You picked up your phone and opened your messages with Jude and deleted them for your own sanity. You couldn’t have your mistakes just sitting there. “You’re supposed to say ‘yeah, Whit you looked good last night too, did you go home with anyone?” She teased bumping her shoulder against yours drawing you out of your moment of embarrassment rereading Jude’s message.

“Yes, yes, Whitney. You’re gorgeous and Trent loves you. You guys probably fucked four times yesterday so forgive me if I didn’t add to Trent’s chorus of chants of how beautiful you are.” You teased her dropping your cheek to rest on her shoulder. Whitney deserved Trent’s high praise. She was stunning, you just were a little caught out over your mistakes.

“It’ll be fine. I promise. Honest. Just talk to him, okay?” Whitney snapped back to a moment of seriousness and reassurance wrapping her arms around you tight. You don’t know what you’d do without her. She’d had this conversation with you more times than you cared to admit.

“Hey… Can I talk to you?” You embarrassingly asked Jude, coming up sheepishly beside him.

“Yeah, course but only if you help me with suncream.” He cheekily answered you, handing you the bottle. His tanned muscular physique in front of you had you momentarily forget what you even were coming to ask him. You hated that it all made your heart falter but in all seriousness, you needed to find out what happened so you took the bottle from him and squeezed it into the palm of your hand.

“Erm… so this is embarrassing, like I’m actually so embarrassed to say this but I don’t exactly remember the latter half of our night so can you just.. Ugh.. like… did you actually cum inside me?” You muttered out the words letting your face fall against his bicep. The sunscreen just waiting in your palms. You pressed your forehead against his arm muscle mortified unable to do anything else. You couldn’t look at him. Your words were quiet and mumbled.

“You were that drunk, Y/N!? That’s so bad. Fuck…” Jude was shocked. He pulled you off and held you by your shoulders in front of him looking directly into your eyes. “Okay, erm, first off I did.” He confirmed and your face dropped when he told you the fact you were hoping he was going to say wasn’t true. “Y/N… Y/N… hold on. I mean.” Jude started to laugh and your eyes widened in confusion and terror. “I mean, you don’t have to worry. I… or it was in your ass so you can’t get pregnant from that if that’s what your worried about, yeah?” Jude flashed you a devastatingly handsome and equally cheeky smile.

“Oh… my god. Are you serious right now?” If you weren’t embarrassed before you certainly were now. You wanted to just disappear.

“Yeah but I’m not really concerned about that. Are you serious you don’t remember? I feel awful that I was having fun last night with you now.” Jude admitted to you with no an unintentionally cute pout. His mind was racing panicking that he had somehow done something wrong but you didn’t think that at all. You were in your own head about how self-conscious you currently felt but also a little bit by how sweet he was.

“You had fun last night?” You asked him more reserved than you would’ve wanted to. You wanted to be confident in front of this person who felt almost larger than life but you couldn’t help but feel a little smitten by him, a shyness washing over you you didn’t often feel. You tried to move last night's antics into the back of your mind. Both he and your ‘cool’ facades were crumbling. You both clearly cared.

“Y/N, you're fit. Of course, I had fun. It was amazing. I just feel horrible you don’t remember because visuals aside it was just a fun night in general. Honest, it was great. If you’re interested, I can give you a refresh?” Jude cooed, running his hands up and down the sides of your arms in a way that somehow managed to be both comforting and sensual. His cheeky smile returning. You did as he asked and helped him with the suncream and both of you were plagued with memories of last night. “Am I wrong for thinking we have to pack condoms for the boat?” Jude whispered to you as you applied the lotion on so that no one else could hear. You wanted to laugh but you bit your lip and rolled your eyes instead.

“Yes, yes you are.” You spoke at a normal volume as you turned around to look directly at him. Funny he was asking to use condoms now considering you couldn't find any in the bedroom this morning.

“Oh, okay so you want to do round two, just do what we did last night, yeah?” Jude gave you a smug smile and slyly squeezed at your waist. Your jaw slacked at his cheek. No, you definitely weren't planning on anymore anal sex on this trip. That was a drunk indiscretion you typically preferred to save for a serious boyfriend, if that.

"No! We’re just not fucking on the boat. Full stop.” You smiled at him really having a hard time trying not to laugh but you managed spinning on your heel away from him and jetting off to find Whitney and your sexiest bikini just to really rub it in his face you weren’t fucking him on this boat. Although a part of you kind of wanted to but you'd hold your ground.

For the rest of the day though, suncream became your secret way to touch each other all day. The sun was already climbing high in the sky, casting a warm glow over the shimmering waters of Greece. The yacht bobbed gently in the marina, waiting for its passengers to board. You stood on the deck, holding a bottle of sunscreen, watching the sunlight dance on the sea’s surface. You could feel the excitement of the day ahead—a day spent out on the open water with Jude, a day of freedom and escape. Jude emerged from below deck, a grin on his face, wearing a pair of dark Prada sunglasses and Bottega swim trunks. His skin was already kissed by the sun from the days you’d spent together here, but there was something about the way the light hit him now, that made your heart skip a beat.

“Hey, you got that suncream?” Jude called out as he approached you. He took the bottle from your hand, your fingers brushing just slightly, sending a small jolt through you.

“Course” you replied with a playful smile. “Don’t want you getting any sun damage out here. You know, we wouldn’t want to ruin that pretty face of yours.” You teased.

“I don’t know, I think it could be a good look for me. Adds a little rugged charm.” Jude chuckled, shaking his head. He squeezed some sunscreen into his hand, rubbing it over his chest and arms in quick, careless strokes. You raised an eyebrow.

“I think you missed a few spots,” you teased, stepping closer to him. Your hand lightly grazed his back as you took the bottle from him. “Let me help.” Jude smirked, enjoying the attention.

“Only if it means getting your hands on me,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, adding a teasing tone.

“Oh, stop,” you said with a laugh, trying to sound casual as your hands spread sunscreen across his back. Your fingers moved slowly, deliberately, feeling the muscles tense slightly under your touch. “You’re lucky I’m nice enough to do this for you.”

“Lucky doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Jude replied, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of your hands on his skin. “I’ve got the best view and the best company. And now, a free suncream application. What more could a guy ask for?”

“Don’t get too comfortable,” You warned softly with a giggle, your hands moving to his shoulders, your touch more lingering now. “I still have to get my own back, you know.”

“I’d be more than happy to return the favor,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “In fact, I insist.” Jude turned his head slightly, peering over his shoulder at you. You felt a flutter in your chest but kept your expression playful. Jude took the suncream and poured some into his hands, stepping behind you. His hands were warm as they gently spread the lotion across your shoulders, his touch firm yet tender. You closed your eyes, feeling a shiver run down your spine despite the warmth of the sun. “Are you sure you trust me?” Jude murmured close to your ear, his breath hot against her skin.

“I don’t know,” you replied, your voice slightly breathless. “But I guess I’ll have to find out.” Jude’s hands moved down your back, his fingers grazing your skin in a way that made your knees feel weak. You could feel his breath on your neck, the closeness of him making your head spin.

“I’d never do anything to hurt you,” Jude whispered, his hands still working the sunscreen into your skin but moving slower, more deliberately. “You know that, right?”You nodded, your eyes still closed, leaning back slightly into his touch.

“I know,” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. Jude’s hands finally reached the small of your back, lingering there for a moment before he let out a deep breath and stepped away, breaking the spell. “Alright, I think you’re all set,” he said, trying to sound casual but unable to hide the warmth in his voice. You turned to face him, your cheeks slightly flushed but smiling.

As the yacht continued to glide smoothly over the azure waters of the Mediterranean, everyone gathered around a large table for lunch. The sun was high, warming the deck, and the soft sound of waves provided a calming background melody. Plates of fresh seafood, salads, and cold drinks were spread out, and the air was filled with the scent of the sea. You were seated directly across from Jude, your little yellow Louis Vuitton bikini doing little to cover your sun-kissed skin. Every time you moved, the sunlight would catch on you, making you glow in a way that Jude found impossibly distracting. He tried to focus on his plate, spearing a piece of grilled octopus, but his eyes kept drifting back to you. You caught him looking more than once, your lips curving into a coy smile every time your eyes met.

“So, Jude,” you said suddenly, drawing his attention fully to you. You were leaning back in your chair, stretching in a way that made your body arch just slightly. “You enjoying yourself?” Your tone was light, but there was a playful glint in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed. Jude swallowed hard, feeling the heat creep up the back of his neck.

“Yeah, I’m having a great time,” he replied, trying to sound casual. But his voice betrayed him with a slight huskiness. “How about you?” Your smile widened at his question, your fingers toyed with the rim of your wine glass.

“Oh, I’m having a wonderful time,” you said, your voice soft and teasing. “The company’s great… and the view’s not bad either.” Trent and Whitney exchanged a knowing glance but continued eating, choosing not to interrupt the obvious tension building between Jude and you. Whitney smirked, clearly amused by the situation though. Jude shifted in his seat, trying to keep his cool.

“Glad you’re enjoying the view,” he said with a smirk, though his eyes betrayed the way his pulse quickened every time you moved. You lifted a piece of fruit to your lips, biting into it slowly. You licked a drop of juice from your lower lip, watching Jude intently.

“I could say the same to you,” you murmured, your voice low and flirtatious. Jude’s grip tightened around his fork. It was becoming harder to focus on anything but you but he was annoyed by your cheek. Annoyed that he felt like he was loosing this conversation.

“Yeah, well,” he began, attempting to match your lighthearted tone, “it’s hard not to when you keep… putting on a show.” Jude quipped trying to regain ground. You feigned innocence, your eyes going wide.

“A show?” You repeated, your tone laced with playful mockery. “I’m just eating my lunch, Jude. What show?” You asked. Whitney lightly elbowed Trent, a small laugh escaping her.

“Maybe Jude’s just not used to being distracted during a meal,” she added, winking at you. You laughed softly, a mischievous glint in your eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry, Jude. Am I distracting you?” You purred, leaning forward slightly so your bikini dipped a little lower, tits out. Jude’s throat felt dry, and he took a sip of his drink to steady himself all he could think about was you in his bed last night and getting that stupid bikini off you now.

“Just a little,” he muttered, his voice strained with the effort of maintaining his composure. “But I’m managing.” You raised an eyebrow, your smile teasing.

“Well, I wouldn’t want you to suffer,” you said, drawing out the last word. “Maybe I should… cover up?” You smirked. All the boys sans Trent at the table shifted in their seats. Not keen about your suggestion. Jude quickly shook his head, a bit too fast, doing what they all wanted to.

“Nah, nah, nah, you’re fine,” he blurted out, then cursed inwardly at how desperate he sounded. He cleared his throat and tried again, “I mean, it’s a boat. You’re supposed to be comfortable.” He rectified. Your laugh was soft and melodic as you leaned back, clearly pleased with yourself.

“Good,” You said simply, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “Because I’m perfectly comfortable.” Jude could only nod, his eyes locked on hers. He felt a mixture of frustration and amusement at how effortlessly you could make him lose his cool. He knew you were doing it on purpose, and yet, he found he didn’t really mind. There was something thrilling about this game you played, a tension that made every glance, every word feel charged with electricity. As they continued eating, the conversation flowed around them, but Jude and you remained locked in your private dance of flirtation and teasing, each word, each look a step closer to something inevitable.

The villa was silent, the only sound being the soft hum of the waves outside. It was late, and everyone had already gone to bed after another lively night out at a Grecian club. The moonlight spilled into the hallway, casting gentle shadows on the whitewashed walls as you quietly padded towards Jude's room. Your heart raced, not just from the couple too many of drinks you had earlier, but from the anticipation of seeing Jude again. The whole day had been a tease-sly glances, lingering touches, and stolen moments of whispered words that had you on edge. You reached his door and paused, biting your lip, starting to second guess yourself. You could feel the fluttering in your stomach, a mixture of nerves and excitement. Gently, you turned the knob and slipped inside. The room was dimly lit by the moon, enough to make out Jude's form lying in bed, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. You tiptoed over to his bed, your bare feet barely making a sound on the cool floor.

“Jude…” you whispered as you slipped under the covers, pressing your body against his. Jude stirred slightly, his eyes fluttering open in the darkness. He turned his head to see you, a lazy smile tugging at his lips even in his half-awake state

“Y/N." He mumbled, his voice husky from sleep. "You alright?” He smiled and you felt relief weigh over you. It was unsaid but Jude was welcome in your room and you were welcome in his. Although tonight you had gone your separate ways both trying to make it seem like you weren’t dying to sleep with the other. You were the first to cave.

"I'm cold.” You lied, shivering dramatically. You knew it was a poor excuse, especially considering the warm summer night, but you didn't care, you knew he wouldn’t care. All you wanted was to be close to him.

“Cold, huh?” Jude teased with a soft chuckle, his arm reaching out to pull you closer to him. His voice was still thick with sleep but laced with amusement. "You're always cold." You pouted, though the darkness hid your playful expression.

“I am," you insisted, snuggling closer, pressing your body into his. You could feel the heat of his skin and it sent a shiver down your spine-this one was real. Jude's arms wrapped around you, his touch gentle but firm. He pulled you even closer, your bodies now pressed tightly together under the covers.

"Better?" he whispered, his lips brushing against your forehead.

"Much," you breathed, letting your hands rest on his chest. You could feel his heart beating steadily beneath your palm, and it made you feel safe, like this was exactly where you were supposed to be. For a few moments, you laid there in comfortable silence, the only sound the faint rustle of the sheets as you shifted slightly against each other. Your fingers traced light patterns on Jude's chest, your touch soft and exploratory. You could feel his muscles tense slightly under your touch, a silent acknowledgment of the effect you were having on him.

"Y/N," Jude murmured, his voice a little tighter now. "What are you doing?" He smirked at you.

"Nothing," you whispered back, your fingers continuing their slow journey over his skin. "Just…feeling you." Jude let out a low breath, a mix between a sigh and a groan.

"You're not making it easy to try to go back to sleep , you know.” Jude’s tone dropped. You’re breath began to increase.

"Who said anything about going back to sleep?" You shot back playfully, your voice hushed but teasing. You tilted your head up to look at him, your eyes catching the moonlight just enough for him to see the mischievous glint in them. Jude chuckled again, but there was a strain in his voice now, a tension that was unmistakable.

"You're trouble," he muttered, his hand sliding down your back, resting just above your waist. "You know that?" His eyes lit up as they looked at you. You smiled, your lips brushing against his jawline as you leaned in closer.

"Only for you," you whispered, your breath warm against his skin. Jude's grip on you tightened instinctively, his body reacting before his mind could catch up. He rolled slightly onto his back, pulling you with him so you were half-draped over his chest. Your faces were close, the heat between you palpable. His hand slipped under your shirt, fingertips grazing your spine, causing you to shiver again-but this time, not from the cold.

"Still cold?" Jude asked, his voice low, almost a growl. His eyes were dark with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you pressed your lips to his, a soft, tentative kiss that quickly deepened as Jude responded. His hand moved up your back, pulling you even closer, while the other hand found its way into your hair, tangling in it. Your kiss grew hungrier, more insistent, as if all the teasing and flirting throughout the day had led to this inevitable moment. Your fingers slid up Jude's chest to his neck, holding him close, not wanting to let go. You could feel the heat of his body beneath you, the way his muscles moved under your touch, and it made your head spin. He broke the kiss, breathing heavily as he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours. “I want you to remember this time.” His voice thick with emotion. You nodded, your hands moving to the back of his neck, pulling yourself down towards him.

"I've never been more sure," you whispered, your voice barely audible but filled with certainty. Jude leaned foreward, capturing your lips again, and this time, there was no hesitation. The tension that had been building between you all day finally snapped, and you gave in to the desire that had been simmering just below the surface. His hands roamed over your body, memorizing every curve and line, while your hands explored his, feeling the strength and warmth of him against you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you tangled together under the moonlight, loosing clothing items by the second, lost in each other, and in the heat of the moment. His tongue slipped past your lips, causing you to moan. Judes hand slowly drifted down towards your core. The sounds you were making in desperation were driving him crazy. The soft moans like music. You could feel your pussy aching and dripping begging for him to move faster. You wiggled your body closer into his. He gripped your thigh squeezing you as he moved closer. You were so fixated on his hands so painfully close to your pussy you hadn’t noticed one of his hand coming to grip your chin. He moved your head to look directly at him. His deep brown eyes stared back into yours. His thumb grazed over your lips as he smirked at you. He slid his finger over your plump lips a few times before pressing it into your mouth. You took it desperately, swirling your tongue around his thumb.

“So impatient, angel. What? You want me to touch you?” He asked you with such smugness you wanted to tell him to shut up but you couldn't. The only thing on your mind was his massive hard dick beneath you. He began to kiss down your jawline to your neck and you whimpered. You didn’t get to feel this last time or at least you hadn’t remembered it but god you wish you did. You tilted your head back to give him more space. He let his lips graze your warm soft skin before you started to leave little bites and nips, marking you again. You bit your lip in an attempt to muffle your moans. Jude knew exactly what he was doing and he was playing you. He now had you distracted by his lips on your neck you failed to remember his other hand, wet with your spit sliding through your folds, quick to place his thumb onto your clit and tease your entrance with his finger. He pushed one finger inside of you. He hit your sweet spot out the gate. Jude smirked in a devilishly handsome way. You couldn’t help but clench around the singular digit. He began to speed up whilst pushing in another finger. A loud, squelching sound filled the room as he played with you. “Good girl.” Jude praised you as your eyes began to roll back and the pace of his fingers sped up. His thumb keeping up its motions on your clit. Involuntarily, your hips grind on his hand as you quickly grow addicted to the feeling of him. Your back arched as he kept at it for ages until you were cumming all over his finger. You covered them in your slick as he brought you to your first high of the night.

“Jude. Please, I want more.” You begged him with a whimper as he slowly removed his fingers from your pussy. You were practically shaking and the only thing you wanted was more of him. He brought his slick covered fingers up to his mouth, sucking them clean with a groan. While he attempted to tease you, you had had enough. You made quick work and wrapped your hand around his massive length beginning to pump his cock in your hand as you let some of your spit drip onto it. Jude let his head drop back into the pillow behind him not anticipating your eagerness. You loved the way he reacted to you. You moved your other hand to take his balls into it, eliciting more groans from him. You wish you remembered the first time better because his cock looked so fucking good it had your mouth watering as it began to leak precum. The prevalent vein running along the underside had you swallowing to keep yourself from drooling. Jude grabbed your hips and moved you. He pinned you beneath him now, pushing your legs further apart, settling himself in between them. He took his cock in his hand and slapped the tip softly against your wet pussy.

“I’ll give you more, baby. Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you?” Jude roughly asked you dragging his cock through your folds. You nodded desperately reaching for him and pulling him into you. You gripped his muscular arms, digging your nails into his skin as he lined himself up with your entrance. He slowly stretched you out as he pushed inside, your walls already clenching around him, squeezing his cock. “Tell me, Y/N. Tell me you want me.”

“Please. Please. I need you to fuck me. I want your cock so bad.” You whined. You couldn’t believe this man had you begging like that. You bite into his lip, causing him to laugh. When he leans back, your eyes are almost closed. You moan, arching your back, and he pushes completely into you. He begins to thrust his hips and the discomfort from his massive size slips into pure pleasure. He moves in a hypnotic rhythmic pace, loving the feeling of your tight pussy squeeze him in the dead of the night.

“Fuck. This pussy’s so good, angel. Just for me, yeah?” Jude mumbled leaning down to press his lips to yours. You nodded and absentmindedly smiled at his words but were unable to get any words out as his thrusts began to get harder and faster. You moan and your eyes shut tight when he repeatedly hits your g spot. Jude’s cock is throbbing. He can barely focus. He was probably too drunk the first to really relish in how fucking good this felt. The coil in your stomach was tightening with every stroke of his cock. Your orgasm was imminent but when he slipped his hand in between your bodies to play with your clit your whined digging your nails into him further. Your mouth dropped open as you could feel your slick drip down your thighs and all over him. “Good girl—just like that– fuck. Cum f’me.” Jude groaned, moving his hips with skill. His cock glistening with your arousal. Your body is on fire, and neither of you does anything to dampen the flame, only adding gasoline to it.

“Jude.. Jude.. wait.” You whined as another climax began to blended into the one you were struggling to come down from.

“Cum f’me angel. Cum with me this time. Gimme one more. Be a good girl f’me.” Jude whispered into your ear nibbling on it and simultaneously you spasmed around his length once more clenching tightly around him. “Fuck!” He growled, nudging his face in the nape of your neck as his warmth began to fill you up. He pushes his cum deep into your pussy, fucking you through your orgasm. His thrusts began to slow and then still. Jude held himself up with one hand while his dominant one came to caress your cheek. He softly swiped some stray stands of hair out of your face, tucking them behind your ear. He kissed you softly with a hum. “That was the best reason I’ve ever been woken up in the middle of the night.” He smiled at you as he flopped over dramatically to your side.

“Yeah?” You questioned him with a breathy giggle now exhausted. He pulled you tight into his side.

“Hmm. You should’ve just stayed with me to begin with. This could’ve been round two.” He whispered pressing kisses to your temple.

“You want round two?” You cheekily asked running your hands over his bare chest, his skin warm and slick with a sheen of sweat. He was impossibly sexy.

“Yeah, gimme a bit more of you.” He cooed and dragged your body on top of his. You obliged happily and in the end didn’t get much sleep till the morning. And as that morning’s sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a soft, golden light across the room, the rest of the house was still asleep. The quiet hush of dawn wrapping everything in a gentle cocoon. The early light painted Jude’s features in a warm glow, making him look almost ethereal, like a dream made flesh. There was something intoxicating about seeing him like this—unguarded, vulnerable, bathed in the morning light. Jude stirred slightly, his arm tightened around you, pulling you closer as he murmured something soft and unintelligible in his sleep. You smiled against his skin, your fingers tracing light patterns across his back, a silent promise of affection and comfort. For a moment, you simply lay there, wrapped in the stillness of the morning, your breaths syncing in a quiet, intimate dance. The world outside the room felt distant, irrelevant, as if nothing else mattered but the feel of his body against your, the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. As the minutes passed, Jude began to wake, his body slowly coming alive under your touch. He shifted, his hand finding its way into your hair as he pressed a sleepy kiss to the top of your head. You looked up at him, meeting his half-lidded gaze, and the sleepy smile he gave you was like the sun breaking through the clouds.

“Morning,” he whispered, his voice rough with sleep, and you couldn’t help but smile back, your heart swelling with a quiet joy that only these secret, stolen moments could bring.

“Morning,” you whispered back, your voice just as soft. You shifted slightly, pressing a kiss to his jaw, your lips brushing against the stubble that shadowed his skin. Jude sighed, contentment settling over him like a warm blanket as he pulled you even closer, your bodies fitting together perfectly. You stayed like that, entwined in the early morning light, the world outside forgotten as you indulged in the simple pleasure of being together, of holding each other close. In that quiet, tender moment, nothing else mattered. Last night was sex you would always remember and you were starting to realize it may be hard to forget it and even harder to forget Jude.

•

🪩🫶❤️‍🔥🍹🌞🍒 Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🍒🌞🍹❤️‍🔥🫶🪩

Next part - Chapter 2 - Wine & Tequila xx

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x you #jude bellingham smut

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ethereal555 · 3 days ago

Text

CHEETAH PT. 3

Virgil Van Dijk x black!reader

-----

January 24th 2025

7:54pm

The commotion Ameena and her best friend, Tamara Gomez were enduring to get into this Mayfair club was absurd. Tamara had been elbowed twice both times by men twice her size persisting to be let into the club before the plethora of women stood in heels shivering against the chill in the air.

Men.

The pair were starting to think this wasn’t worth it, slight scowls of discomfort on their faces. Ameena - adamant on not facing the bodily harm her friend was - held herself, both arms wrapped around her stomach. She too had faced the wrath of these desperate men, her toes specifically, being trampled on as if they were a basketball court. She couldn’t keep count of the amount of times she rolled her eyes in irritation within the 20 minute span of them waiting in the queue. Tamara’s fiance was in the club (and was an immediate gateway out of the queue of hell for them) but the poor connection outside the club meant she wasn’t able to maintain constant communication with him–and so they were stuck. She needed him to come outside, handpick the girls and run it by the bouncers who’d allow them through the VIP entrance.

The occasion was to celebrate Liverpool’s 2025 Premier League victory, but it was already 8pm. The girl’s feared that the longer they waited in the queue the less time they would to celebrate with the champions - there was chatter within the ballers about a second destination tonight. Which had yet to be confirmed. Ameena acknowledged the thoughts of guilt in her mind, as they stood in their skimpy dresses withstanding the biting cold. The only reason Tamara was here in this position was because Ameena had insisted on them having a girl’s night - where she planned to give Tammy a long overdue and detailed life update which was fun while it lasted. They regretted it now, being stuck in the cold, goosebumps tainting the look of their effortlessly even skin. Tamara on the other hand, had insisted they had their sleepover at her mansion to make the trip here easier (by travelling here with Joe). It was clear that Tamara always knew best.

Tamara frequently looked back towards Ameena's direction to see if she was holding up ok. She knew the emotional stakes of the night, being here to celebrate the victory of the man responsible for the seed in her belly, her trauma and her sleepless nights whilst being on bad terms with him. It was strange.

Everytime their eyes met Ameena would utter a small apology, followed by a wince to which Tamara would roll her eyes, reprimanding her viciously for thinking something was wrong, or that she was blaming her best friend inwardly for the situation at hand. She’d never regret spending time with her best friend, hell, yesterday Ameena told her the best news of her life–it had her frolicing around Ameena's house with joy. She was still buzzing from the news; although the cold blowing from the darkness in the winter’s sky was threatening this buzz.

Soon enough, as time passed, and the queue shortened just slightly the looks of concern from Tamara became distant to Ameena, other-wordly, as her idle mind is proposed with a warmer experience to fawn over, an experience better than the one presently.

The chatter in the air dissipates surely as she zones into the images circulating in her mind and the voice she has an undeniable craving for. She hated to admit it but Virgil consumed her entire being even more so now that a part of him was growing inside her. Every fibre of her being was Virigl’s, in every breath she took she could hear his name, in every scent she discovered she’d find his somehow, in every touch her skin felt there was a yearning for his touch. Yearning to feel the fiery sensations he caused her powerful enough invade her sensory organs and then set her ablaze- the splendor omnipotent. On every page she’d scroll on she’d see him. She was trapped, undoubtedly, and deep down subconsciously she didn’t want to be saved.

Her shivering stopped and mind transported her to the day that changed everything, hours before the reckoning.

“Get upstairs. Now…”

She remembers how she did so hastily, advancing up the stairs shamelessly flinging off every garment, every piece of clothing that clung onto her body. Discarding everything but her lace, black thong that dug into her most intimate of areas. Her heart raced– she could feel his gaze hot on her ass as she swayed her hips effortlessly. Ameena knew she had a slick mouth downstairs and he wasn’t going to spare her.

Exciting

His progressing up the stairs was slower and more calculated, envisioning all the ways in which he’d fold her, flip her and watch her squirm under pressure. His presence is powerful nonetheless. She was burning with lust, she embodied sex as she laid down on her king sized bed, her elbows propping her naked torso up. Waiting and shaking with anticipating and salivating. Her toned legs propped up. She was like a present on the bed, waiting to be opened and for every last bit of her to be unravelled.

As Virgil entered the dim room she swore there was fire in his eyes burning violently, once he looked at her. He stood at the foot of her bed, staring down at her small body watching intently her perky breasts rose and fell in tandem with her chest. Her nipples stood hard at attention, she was ready.

“You haven’t learned to listen to me? Not yet?” She shook her head teasingly, sucking on her bottom lip suggestively.

“Remove your panties, Ameena. I won’t ask you again baby” He ordered, her eyes flickering down at his print that had grown prominently and was threatening to burst out of his slacks.

She shakes her head again, this time raising her feet up and swaying her knees from side to side, she was intending for him to see her growing slick from her pussy and how it was starting to seep from her hole and collect between her ass cheeks.

“No…You.” she dares. A daring twitch in her brows, she shimmies further down the bed using her elbows and dominates by hooking her legs around his groin. Ameena enjoys watching him crumble under her spell–she’s giddy although she hides it. She was no longer the meek 19 year old toy he could break and rebuild, after 3 years of intimacy she could put up a fight and he couldn't be mad she’d learned from the best.

Virgil hooks his warm hands under the hem of her panties, feeling the lace beneath his rough fingertips. He slowly peels the thin material down the thighs, watching as the now and damp sticky material left shiny streaks alongside her inner thighs. His nose simultaneously being engulfed by the signature scent of her arousal. She unhooked her legs from around him, flinging them off with her feet. No care in the world for when they landed, what she cared about was poking accusingly at her a few inches beneath his belly button.

She grips his zipper between her toes, urging him to remove his jeans and to fuck her. She huffs agitated, her body becoming flustered at his lack of cooperation; he watched her struggle to maintain her lust. She couldn't help it, her pussy was growing a heartbeat. Wow, he was really trying her, testing her. Her toes press firmer against his piece, a smirk tugs at his lip in retaliation.

Emotion.. Close… she thinks.

He was proud of her efforts.

“Do something,” she purrs as tears leak from her eyes, desperately clawing at her hair with her quivering fingers. She'd befriended desperation and it seeped into her words now, she made them hard hitting with an underlying agenda. “Really Virgil? You can’t keep up? Tired already, grandpa–”

He sucked the air out of her lungs when he ,with one swift motion, turned her around onto all fours. Pressing her head into the mattress by the back of her neck, his teeth sunken into his lips.

He chuckles dryly.

“Arch it. Just like taught you, yes…yes” he encourages manipulating her body into position– the position that would have her regretting her words. He unbuttoned his jeans, single handedly, eager and tempted by how her spread sex glistened.

Ameena moans out of exposure, impatience manifesting in the silhouette as she twitches frequently, the sound of his bottoms hitting the floor was music to her ears. The man’s oozing wet tip began to dance between her folds glazing over the area she needed it the most.

“Come onnn V” she whines rocking backwards and forwards trying to use her momentum to fuck him herself. Her whines are music to his ears, the beat to his drum that prompts him to ram into her. Sucking in huge breath, she tries to relax her pussy; she needed to feel every inch and every vein that textured his missile.

Her eyes squeeze shut, her body propelling forwards from his blunt force,

“mmmmmahhhh fuckkk”

Her body jolted forwards in an ungodly pace, the sound of sweaty skin slapping echoed against each of the four corners of the room. The stretch on her vagina painfully exhilarating. Any sentence she’d try to string together lost between the thrusts, falling from her mouth as a result of the blows. Virgil’s deep relentless strokes were pure ecstasy. Clouds of tears formed in her vision.

“Veee—I—I–”

She chews her duvet embracing his mean thrust swallowing the screams threatening to rip out of her throat. The man brutally fucking her is amused,

“What— you’re quiet now? You can't take it? Where is all the– shit –you were talking Meme?”, even his breaths are jagged. It was taking everything in him to not succumb around her tightness.

Her restless fingers tried to find support from the silk comforter beneath them to grab, pull, rip and squeeze needing an outlet for this intensity but the perspiration from every pore in her body made that hard, causing her fingers to glide off of the slippery silk duvets. Instead her fingers find her engorged pulsing clit applying pressure in circular motion chasing her climax. She was getting there, beads of sweat accumulating on her forehead.

Her whimpers are an inadequate answer for him so he slaps her ass. Hard.

“Fuck me back, you’re a big girl now, come on” He lets go of her hips and for a split second her hips stay indented with the shape of his hands. He found pleasure in watching her ass jolt backwards, her swollen, outstretched pussy swallowing all of his girth and length. He spat, watching his salvia string down and disappear between her folds.

“Shit.”, he groans at the visuals, tilting his head to the side, his loose curls hanging over his face in the process, watching intently as she struggles to take this dick, the struggle growing every second. Her breaths audibly start to quicken, her left buttcheek clenched as a knot in her stomach was starting to form and take over her sensations.. Her limbs shook violently and he eyes squeezed shut.

“Gosh Vee!!”, she pushed away from him.

“Uh, uh.” he follows her, she’d squabbled over to the headboard, his dick falling out with a distinct popping sound, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“V—it's too much, i-i-t hurts too good.”, she pants waving her arms in finality, he doesn’t care and wasn’t the type to falter over puppy eyes. She’d been bold lately and deserved a good fucking he believed.

He climbs onto the bed, following her his piece still standing at full attention. She was naive to think he’d stop without a nut. Neither of them had finished yet.

“What did you say to me downstairs, Meme?”, his voice soft, his hands found his dick pumping it.

“ That—you could do me however you want…” her voice is small as she admits this, distracted by his hand motions. It was such a vicious cycle with her. The talking shit just to get him angry and then not being able to live up to her words in the bedroom…

“Right, so lay down. Flat, and let me do you how I want, ok?”

Her eyes leave his dick and shift up to his low eyes, there was no room for argument in them. A soft exhale leaves her swollen lips.Her breasts press flat against the sheets, her chin embedded into her pillows. She spreads her ass cheeks for him, just as he liked, raising her hips up only slightly to give him an easier access. His slim build body resumed a plank stance above her, his fists planted on either side of her face holding himself up. He enters her swiftly. He places tender kisses all over her cheeks, forehead and shoulders. She knows to relish the small acts of affection before she resumes his powerful thrusts.

He hitched his left up allowing himself to dig infinitely deeper. Nothing less of pornographic shrill rips from Ameena. Saliva drools from her mouth when she feels it happen again, the familiar knot making itself known deep in her core. She flicks and grinds against her engorged clit, rolling her eyes dangerously far allowingn the sensation wash over her entirely.

“Aaaaaaughhh”, she gasps incredulously, amidst the cacophony that was Virgil’s increasingly loud grunts, he was close too.

The big wave of euphoria crashes suddenly and overwhelms her body. She can't speak or string together any dialogue. Once her juices started to squirt out of her she tries to pry him out of her but the man is insistent and proceeds to fuck her through her orgasms. He found great joy in watching Ameena’s body shake uncontrollably beneath him and he overstimulates her. The sound of her screams were drowned out by the wet frequent splashing sounds Virigl’s balls were making against her clit. That alone could make him finish.

“Yeah, be a good girl and take it all for daddy. You wanna make daddy cum? You wanna have my babies, remember?”

“Huh, Ameena?”

“Ameena!”

She jolts awake from her daydream of the night that changed everything for her. Tammy, tugging at her arms, pulled Ameena through the line of impatient bodies, finding Joe who was at the entrance to the club stood by the bouncer pointing the pair out. Finally. They ignored the stale-faced individuals in the lines muttering amongst themselves complaints about ‘pushing in’ and pointed looks from craggy faced women.

“You were in your own world weren’t you?’ Tamara observes, care underlying in her tone.

Ameena nods, dazzled “It was so vivid.”

“It happens to a lot of women, really vivid dreams or nightmares. Was it about him again”

She chuckles sheepishly, the look in her eyes signalling for Tamara to not pry any further.

Tamara and Ameena stroll hand in hand into Tape London. The club had an infectious high vibe that the ladies were able to embrace. The smell of expensive colognes hung low in the air, alongside a twang of sweat. The vibe skyrockets as the DJ yells for more energy in an attempt to rile up the impressionable tipsy bodies. The friends cling closer to each other as they move further into the club, following Joe who led them to their sections through the dense, unruly crowd. The music vibrated through everybody in this club, it was loud and hypnotic, just right for Ameena who was desperately trying to find a form of escapism. She could feel the 808z reverberating against her skin as they progressed, the sounds flirting with her eardrums. The initial adrenaline spike once in the club was sustaining itself. She was grateful for this as there were no recreational drugs or chemicals she could use.

The trio allow the blue and red L.E.D lights, reflecting off of foreign faces to guide them, until they finally arrive at the most popular section.

It was a full circle moment, and that realisation had brought her back down to earth amidst all the chaos. The last time Ameena and Tamara had been to this club it was 3 years ago when she’d first met Virgil, the genesis of their whirlwind of a connection. It felt like an out of body experience to be here, but without him, under very similar circumstances that they came for before. Little had changed around this venue.

But, Ameena for the first time felt a comforting sense of security being around her people. She was grateful for Tamara, her most thoughtful friend, for bringing out of her slump.

The pair went to the same secondary school, but were in different year groups (Tamara was older by two years). They constantly joked about being soulmates because of this…it was unusual that different year groups in school would talk let alone develop close friendship. But they did, they bonded at a dance club where they practiced street and hip hop styles of dance– and later went on to do pole dancing together in 2022. This friendship eventually flourished outside of extra curricular activities and they’d find that going out together, partying, dressing up was their favourite pastime. Then Tamara would invite Ameena alongside her to watch Joe (who Tamara met when she was 15). This connection inevitably led Ameena towards the Liverpool team’s social circle where she eventually mingled and started constant communication with Virgil.

We’re not thinking about that nigga, behave!

She smiled at the men scattered all over their section and engaged in a tight loving embrace with Joe. He knew of her situation and the warmth he emitted acknowledged that. He pulled away from her, looking her up and down feigning shock, which caused Tamara to laugh as Ameena shrugged sheepishly. He kissed her forehead, reassuring her that whatever she needed they’d be there to support. She appreciated his brotherly affection.

Ameena, was always one to go full out, it was what drew the calibre of men she usually fucked with towards her. She wore a Forest Green crochet one piece dress from Fashion Nova, which had a flattering cut just below her boob and at the start of her stomach. It accentuated the start of her small bump which was growing slowly but surely. Although she could see the progress her stomach made weekly, she was still complimented on how tiny her waist is. Exactly! Just because she was a mother didn’t mean she had to start wearing modest clothing or refraining from having fun. She was convinced she’d be a sexy ass mum. Continuing on the green theme Ameena chose to style the outfit with a Green leather Chanel bag Virgil had gotten her on her 20th birthday. She finished her outfit with a pair of green heels. Her neckline, ankles and wrists were adorned with Van Cleef & Arpels Malachite and Diamond motif bracelets, which this time weren’t presents from him but rather a courtesy of the 50k month allowance that she was still on, despite their “break-up”.

Prior to this outing, Tamara had asked Joe to confirm Virgil's appearance. He wasn’t coming, it was something to do with family Joe had said. This put Ameena's mind at ease. She wanted nothing to do with him after that phone call last month; to smell his scent, to hear his voice, to be in his presence alone would trigger Ameena or tempt her into doing something she wasn’t proud of (seriously, this is just a testament to how he made her feel that day..they hadn’t seen each other since and today wasn’t the day for Ameena). He’d really destroyed her mentally these past few months. First, his borderline assault on her throat that left her shaken and then catching him in the act of promiscuity with women who looked and sounded nothing like her.

She was done with him, oh yes. And ready to have her own fun, irregardless of the child growing in her stomach. Ameena promised herself that no matter what circumstance she’d find herself in, she would live her life to the fullest, a baby wasn’t going to stop that. Intrusive thoughts would often make it known to Ameena that it was Virgil’s plan to trap her with a baby to stop all the reckless fun she was allowed to have at her young Agee, he wanted her tied down just for him; well poor him because he had the wrong one. She had no excuse but to have the time of her life , and if that’s going to the club high on life, spending the money Virgil had been direct debiting to her account for 3 years now –a whopping 50k– then she’d do it.

In their section bottles were popping, shisha vapour of all flavours flowed through the air. The bodies in their section were close knit, Tamara and Ameena were hip to hip swaying their bodies to Charm By Rema. In girly fashion, the besties hand’s found each other as they whined lower and lower singing wholeheartedly to the lyrics. Their bodies buzzed with confidence and the sweetness of girlhood.

Ameena, in a world far from reality, continued to move her body sensually to the song, watching as Joe and Tamara danced as a couple. She held her hand to her stomach, her eyes closed as she felt the lyrics sedate her whole being. There was something about being in a club that made the intensity of music so much greater. She was buzzing. It was crazy what Virgil had done to her. She was at the club, looking as gorgeous as ever surrounded by millionaires she knew she could take advantage of and yet her mind dwelled with him. Ameena was Nigerian and so afrobeats was a staple in her upbringing, her culture and although Virgil wasn’t African he was a huge fan of afrobeats. They bonded over this. So hearing this song, at this club, at this time of her life made her feel..…empty. Her heart clenched at their memories; they’d listen to this song in the car on their way back from a low-profile restaurant in Oxford, Rema’s passionate lyrics entangled with Ameena’s laboured breaths as he’d finger ruthlessly her all the way home. Or when she’d make them both breakfast after a long night, with this song blasting through her Beats Pill in her kitchen. Or when they’d loved to make this song in her bathtub.

She was yearning for an escape, or rather she needed Virgil’s presence in her mind to. Shit, she was in trouble, if she didn't get out of this hump it would ruin her night. Opting for alcohol or weed however would’ve been great if she was without a child. They were her go-tos to confront unwanted thoughts. Maybe she needed another adrenaline spike to help distract her.

The best drug...

3rd of July 2022.

Their second meeting.

In the backseat of Virgil’s Mercedes he had Ameena where he wanted her. Ameena laid down in his presence as naked as the day she was born, her legs spread in the butterfly position, he sat at the end of her spread legs, admiring her vagina intensely. He wanted to know it like the back of his hand.

The scratchy radio in the background on low, not very fitting for the ambience.

Capital FM to be specific.

The older man was intoxicated by the scent drifting to his nostrils from her fragrant sex. He’d smelt light and brief wafts all day as she’d crossed and uncrossed her leg several times in the humid car, the scent travelling right up his nostrils. At the lowkey restaurant they’d just come back from in Camden where she sat on his lap, purposefully hiking her skirt up so he could feel and smell her heat on his bare thighs.

He could no longer take it. Her scent was his kryptonite. She was his kryptonite.

“No panties again princess. I fucking knew it. Are you trying to be the death of me?”he growls in her ear, nibbling at them.

She looks him up and down absent-mindedly not quite grasping what he said,

(The manly hair peppered around his chest happy trail made her pussy thump and that was where her attention was at. She was with a real man now, she gloated, she knew her plan would work she’d teased him all day).

She giggled innocently, in awe of his body, her mind racing already with all the possible unorthodox actions he’d perform on her.

“Do that again, please daddy”, he leans down to her ears again this time tugging them rougher, licking a stripe trailing from her earlobe to he neck. He wanted to ruin her body, just for himself, so that no other man could make her feel anything remotely close to pleasure.

Break her, a voice whispered over and over.

He gripped her wrists in place above her head with his left hand looking down at her in a way in which a predator would with its prey. Her eyes are large with hunger, lust. She squealed as his right extremities inch towards her warm, pulsating hole. Ameena’s legs were spread and numb now just waiting for him. She mewled as his warm mouth engulfed her perky breasts, swerling, tugging and biting at her nipple. Her stomach flipped instantly gripping onto this hair scratching at his scalp.

He groans when her tits make a popping sound as he removes her breasts from his mouth, his saliva stringing from her breasts. She bucks her hips desperately, her pussy aching to be explored. She was sure her mind and muscle connection had turned her pussy from a tight one to a slight agape one with all the neediness.

“Virgil, I need—your fingers daddy, fuck.”

“Give me!!” she cries, in brat spirit.

Their eyes meet, his still ones with her uneasy ones. She squirmed underneath his gaze. His right fingers trace inside her folds, coating themselves in her honey, teasingly and half heartedly dipping themselves into her greedy, moist hole.

“Tell me you need me, and I’ll fuck you with my fingers, just like you want.”

She tries not to crumble beneath him, as her hips start bucking desperately into his long, thick fingers. The quiet sounds of moisture rilling her to continue to fuck herself with his fingers, it wasn’t fufilling though not without his efforts. He was trying to drive her crazy and she was sure of it, he was being selfish with his fingers. As second past, with Ameena bucking towards his stationary fingers she becomes flustered.

“Virgil baby, why are you treating me like thi—---ughhh I hate you sometimes” her vagina contracting viciously, she was so desperate. Had he taken her this far sexually just to leave her high and dry…well not dry, but wet..as fuck.

“Tell. Me. You. Need. Me.” She’s silent, mourning her impending orgasm. She wasn’t saying that ,not yet, it was like selling her soul, he was already crazy enough telling him something of such depth would turn him psycho.

He nods, tucking a braid behind her ear “You leave me with no choice but to give you a reason to be quiet meijn liefje.”

His soggy fingers travel up her body, treading against her groin, up her belly, past her collarbone and breaking through the barrier of her mouth. Her tongue and his fingers danced ferociously, competitively. The familiar taste of herself in her mouth mixed with his natural taste elicited something dangerous in Ameena.

His left hand moves from restraining her wrists to stroke her cheeks damp cheeks. Her gag reflex causes tears to pool in her eyes. He lovingly removes the stray eyelashes from her face, enjoying the vulnerable look in her eyes. From her furrowed eyebrows to her pinched nose the expression written of her face was of terror and yet excitment at the same damn time.

He, a rich footballer, was going to use her as his own. Finally. None of the boy’s back at school thought she was worthy enough to be taught, to be stretched, slapped, choked. But Virgil did.

More, fast falling tears well in her eyes as she swallows back gags and attempts to take his fingers as far back in her throat.

“Taste my fingers, Meme, don’t you think of stopping anytime soon. Suck them dry baby, that’s it. Like that, just like that” She moans pronographically to his words.

She was going to make him proud.

Oh yeah, Ameena needed to find a distraction. Immediately/ She peered around her vicinity, praying internally to find the right non alcoholic release.

A man.

With feline spirit, her ears perk up and her brown eyes fixate on an option. A light skinned man, a built physique poking outline on his shirt with long hair. Just her type. She sniggers at this. She tried to make out his face to its full extent in the poorly lit space, but it was futile. She moved towards him, gaining better sight.The red and blue L.E.D lights casted from the DJ booth, did a good job with enhancing the sharpness of facial features in this club because in this light everyone looked good, including the mysterious man she was preying on. She kindly pushed her way through the tall bodies in her section who were tainting her vision of this mysterious man. Ameena progressed forward sensually ignoring the stares directed her way, she didn't want them. To her advantage, he was idle, engrossed in his phone, the lights from his phone illuminating his face.

Oooo. He’s cute. Yes, yes!!! Ok now I just need to do my thing.

She mustered up her audaciousness, the spirit was still in her but was put at bay since she’d not versed with the male species in some time. And rightfully so, they were a lot. She sat right next to him, her body language inviting, tempting. She pressed her twins together, leaning forwards to lure his attention. She left no space between herself and the man, her knees knocking into his spread ones. His left knee (the one she was knocking a little) bounced up and down. He chewed at his wet lips, captivated by whatever was on his phone (by the sounds of it, it was footage from a football game with lots of yelling), revealing his really white teeth. Veneers? Ok he’s got money. The man wore a basic white Air Force Ones, and a sleeveless white tank top that hung loosely around his torso. His bottoms, although she couldn’t tell because of the lighting, looked either white or dark grey. The outfit wasn’t extravagant or anything, but he still pulled it off well.

+10 points

Boldly, she picked at one of his dreads, twisting them between her red stiletto nails. Dreads were sexy to her. The dreadhead picks his head up slowly from his phone, her overpowering floral and musky scent hypnotic. Expensive. He turns to face her with a panty-dropping smirk on his handsome face. She instinctively arched her back towards him with a weak smile unable to gauge whether he knew of her or not. She wasn’t sure which of his teammates knew of her and Virgil. So far, only Joe. Great.

Ameena definitely recognized this man sitting in front of her looking as tantalizing as ever, but couldn’t put a name on him.

“I like your hair”, she whispers softly against his ears, not wanting any of her flirtatious advances to be overpowered by the loud music.

He chuckles.

The fervour of tension between them had been ignited with their arousing gazes. Ameena’s tempting eyes flicker to his wet plump lips, and his eyes avert to her thick, spread thighs that he could feel clenching occasionally. Spread, like nutella, awaiting his tongue’s invasion. His large, coarse hands move to caress her warm thighs, a manifestation of his undivided attention. The man’s tongue darts out of his mouth, and wet the inner corner of his lips as his low yet beady eyes drop to her cleavage. She was elated, pregnancy had done her body good accentuating her breasts’ plumpness; they sat perky, even without a bra.

“You like them?” she purrs, her voice dripping with sex, peering down to stare at them.

“Mmhmm, and I like you.”

His demeanor was enticing but that scouse accent was something else. The juxtaposition of his mean, initially quite stand-offish demeanor and the softness in his voice was powerful enough to send electrical currents to her clitoris, she was thumping uncontrollable.

Why did men have this power over her?

“What’s your name, beautiful?”

“Ameena” “Trent.” They shook hands, Ameena placed her dainty ones in his large ones. She squeezed his palm before asking..

“Can I ask you something Trent?” The tip of her tongue flirted with his name as she fluttered her lashes.

He nodded, tucking her silky body wave bundles behind her ears, his eyes boring into her attentively.

“I really like this song Trent and I wanna dance... please.”

“You want to dance for me sweet girl?” he scratches his goatee, a suggestive glint in his eye.

“On you.” she corrects shyly

“Why me, Ameena?’ he questions playfully as he tilts his head.

“Because you deserve it.”

“And you’re sexy”. She tilts her head in the same direction. As if the heat between them wasn’t already scolding she leans over, cradling his face with her soft palms. With her tongue she licks a bold wet stripe on his lower lip. It was pure impulse, no thought behind it. She followed the act by tugging at his lips with her teeth, giving him only a taste of what it’d be like to kiss her.

He reciprocates bu pulling her closer to him with a territorial grip on her curvaceous hips allowing her to teasingly assault his lips. His mouth watered at the sight of her green dress riding up as they conversed, tempting him more than thoughts could imagine.

“Up. Let’s dance Trent.”

She gets up before him out of breath, shimming the hem of her dress down extravagantly watching as her twins shaking caught the sparkle of his eye. Trent, mesmerized at the sight, discreetly adjusts his joggers plenty of explicit thoughts formulating in his mind. Her lips twitch excitedly. He was the only thing on her mind, the intensity of her lust quickening the pace of her heart. It was almost in time with the 808z blasting through the club. She missed this thrill and was all for it.

He sits there, manspreading, his head hanging low with defeat.

“Do you know what you’ve done to me?”

“Yeah. But I’ll make it up to you after you let me whine on you. I promise.” And with that promise, he jumps up. And they bump their way back into the heart of the club, Ameena’s back glued to his torso. The look on Tamara’s face was priceless, shocked at Trent’s embrace round her neck, and waist. The DJ, upon the arrival of new people, had decided to reload their favourite song. Courtesy of the Afrobeat mash up night.

See body o (see body, see body o)

Egba mi o (egba mi, egba mi o)

As the chorus comes along and the club sings the lyrics as passionately as ever, her body follows suit. Rhythmically pushing her hips back into his crotch as she bends forward. Her hands caress her breasts, looking back to see her rhythmic gyration run him wild. She is pleased whe they're eyes meet and his bottom lip hidden in his mouth.

Oh careful with that look, I might fuck you tonight, she thought.

His warm hands caress her waist, his mind in awe at how one could move so sensually and yet hold so much grace while doing so. He turns her around, so that they’re face to face drinking each other in her body still swaying to the music. Her hands guide him to her breasts for him to squeeze, he sucks in a deep breath. She was driving him crazy, so much so his head was pounding as was his junior.

“Squeeze harder..” she whispers against his lips.

E dey burst my bololo ( E dey burst my bololo)

Please, help me o

Come here, wetin dey worry you?

He’d never had a girl be this bold before, most of the girls he’d meet at clubs were the sneaky type. The type to let him defile them in secluded scenery, never this public. This was new and it exhilarated him.

“You– don’t wanna do this somewhere else..”

She froze, just for a second before answering..

“No.. I want everyone to see how you play with my body. Can you do that for me?”

He complies, doing as she had instructed. Relishing the soft tissue beneath his fingers. At the feeling of her tits in his palms his head darts down to the crook of her neck and he groans.

“What, handsome?”she drags her red nails slowly down his back, a feeling of victory washing over her still swaying side to side.

“This is going to be all over the inter—fuck it.”

He unapologetically starts to attack her neck with kisses and bites. A guttural groan is evoked from her, a testament to how long it had been since she’d experience a form of physical affection for. It felt heavenly. To be embraced publicly for the first time ever. He devours her, licking, biting, kissing and spitting on her tender areas slowly invading new territory, her collar bones. She shook and he noted she was... sensitive. He could only imagine her reaction if he were to kiss on another area. She squeals so more as he attacks faster,pressing the back on his neck deeper into her crook.

“Mmmmm, Trent.” He loved how his name rolled off of her tongue.

His rough hands moved down to squeeze her ass and slap it, not a care in the world for whoever could be looking, but he was sure there were many looking. Maybe it was the hormones that were making every sensation light years more pleasurable than she’d remembered but she didn’t question it. She embraced the thrill. Her mouth gaped open. She. Was. Over. The. Moon. It was the thrill of doing something or someone she wasn’t supposed to that always got her into trouble. It was just addicting.

Bring body make I rock yeah yeah

I know you senior me,

I get money pass your baba

Wetin you want wey I no fit do for you.

“You taste like......God…Ameena…” He drools, pecking at her lips. She bites her lip to keep her from cheesing more than she needed too.

You ain’t even tasted her yet.

“Can I taste you in the toilets?” she pleaded with her eyes. Her tone was strained with all the energy she was using to compose herself infront of all these eyes.

He furrowed his eyebrows as a response, maybe he couldn’t hear so she spoke louder and clearer.

“I wanna suck you off in the toilets, and swallow your kids if you'll let me?”

Her pussy thumped as her vulgar words and intentions flashed behind her eyes. She felt herself become wet at the way his body hugged her possessively after the words she uttered in his ear. There was a twinkle in his eyes that she was entranced by, one that made her feel he’d make her work for it. His dick. Her nut. And she was willing. She had nothing to lose. The way his teeth would habitually sink into his lip and leave a glossy cast left no room for imagination as to how his mouth would do her in the worst way.

She closed any space between them and rested her chin on his chest, her eyes angled up at him, and proceeded to hook her fingers onto the hem of his joggers slipping inside his warm territory effortlessly. She heard this nasal breathing become louder and louder as she fondled further and further down. Trent's grip on her ass tightened simultaneously. She bites on his shirt as she is stimulated by the feeling of his semi hard dick.

Oh, wow he’s ready.

“C’mon”, she traces her lips with the warm fingers she'd just palmed his with seductively before strutting through the crowd of bodies and towards the green and white exit markings, trusting he’d follow behind. She had him hypnotised.

She walks past Tamara with a little wink. Tamara knew exactly what that meant, it was commendable. Ameena was still able to pull top tier men at the end of the night whilst battling morning sickness in the same 24 hrs.

Damn, she is one of a kind.

She checks to see if Trent was hot on her trail and to no suprise he was, his hands tucked into his pants tunnel visioned on her ass. They make a sharp left at the exit, elated to see the toilets down the hall. Once he’d finally caught up to her, they rushed to disabled toilet giggling all the way. They attempt to bust in, too full of lust to waste anytime but to their luck it was occupied, a red occupied sign at the bottom of the door’s knob.

Trent, impatient, backs her into the door, hoisting her up against his disabled door from her armpits, his veiny arms separating her thighs and moving her dress up to pull her panties down, already restarting the assault on her neck. She murmurs a weak no. She didn’t want to say no, but this was risky. The door they were leant against could open anytime, and plus she had class anyone could potentially walk up this corridor and see.. this.

He’d felt on her damp opening, even more excited when he discovered she wasn’t wearing panties. Ameena moaned weakly, her hands circling his wrist reluctantly.

“We need somewhere—” Ameena started before being cut off by a familiar voice that yelled

“Mena, Ameena. Where are you!!”

Ameena recognised the voice bellowing but was too distracted to follow, Trent’s rough forefingers still lingered in her most sensitive area compelling her to submit sinful things.

“Ameena!!! Fucking–where are you?” the voice echoes through the corridor louder this time. The progressive aggression in the familiar voice’s tone broke her out of the lust’s ruse.

It was her friend she’d soon realise when broken from the spell. In social settings they’d promised to stick together and comply with eacother’s demands for safety reasons. She weakly pulls Trent’s fingers from her drooling area, thanking God quietly no one had witnessed their nastiness.

“I’m here—just— turn left” she fixed her dress and slapped Trent’s chest as he did the unthinkable– smelling his fingers trying to be discreet.

“smells good—”

The footsteps sounded multiplied. She was still and encouraged Trent to be also as she tried to figure out what was going on using on her sense of sound.

“What?—Tamara you’re scaring the fuck out of me.”

Ameena turned around and was met with a flustered Tamara, who was mouthing something to her frantically. Ameena leant forward squinting attempting to understand what was being communicated.

“Toilets!” Tamra hissed after many failed attempts of communicating to her and Ameena followed suit. She couldn’t logically locate what was wrong, but she sensed her friend’s panic and turned around instantly wandering into the female toilets. She pursed her lips with a shrug at Trent before entering, who also looked as confused as ever.

Tamara tightly smiled, playing it cool, as Virgil and Joe finally caught up with her.

“You’re a fast walker baby....you okay?” She nods, catching her breath. Joe’s arm attempts to slither around Tamara’s body but she slaps his hand away. She was pissed that Joe had been an incompetent messenger, swearing up and down Virgil wasn’t going to make an appearance only for him to do so.

“We need to leave in 5, and the taxi’s been waiting. How long will she be?” Virgil pries an illegible look on his face and he looks towards the toilets. His jaw tensed as he saw Trent stood nearest to the toilets looking disheveled. Tamara internally rolls her eyes at the overly possessive giant. She skips past the Liverpool teammates and bursts into the toilets.

"Let me check if she's even in there, you could be mistaken." she lies.

Bursting into the toilets she sinks, visibly when she’s face to face with her best friend.

Tamara’s eyes are bombarded with the dark purple marks decorated all over Ameena’s neck trailing down to her exposed collar bone. She tried moving pieces of Ameena curls to cover them, but there was no use if the scars were too prominent. Ameena returns a look of confusion. What is happening right now?

“Look at your fucking neck!! You actually fucked him?”

Ameena stares dumbly at Tamara for a split second. My neck?

She runs to stand in front of the landscape mirrors furnished at the rear end of the bathroom and is stunned; she gasps, that vampire.

She hadn't though of that.

“Oh my days!—y-you know what it’s okay. I’m single. This isn’t that deep at all actually.I’ll be at home the next few days anyway so—”

“You fucked him?!” Tamara’s shrills desperately, following Ameena to the mirrors.. The situation wasn’t funny at all. But Ameena was finding humour in how flustered her friend was, and how unintentionally loud she was being less than 5 metres from where they left Trent. Tamara wiped some of Ameena's smudged lipsticks from her mouth.

“No!! He just-–tried to finger me. I didn’t let him. We kissed..kinda, sucked on each other, humped a bit.”

Tamara retreats in disbelief, her arms clasped on her head. She starts to speak then stops and then starts again. Her breath fell short.

“But… You’re pregnant–”

“Oh please Tamara... So? I’m not with the father. And! Do you not remember that slut ass shit he was just doing. So don’t give me that. I can do whoever and whatever the fuck I want.”

Ameena felt like vomiting just thinking back to that memory. What a prick, she berated in her hed. The availability of the pregnant woman’s breath shortened as she recalled the event, her limbs shake

Last Month

December 20th 2024

21:40 pm

Ameena and Amaya, her younger sister, had just had a heart to heart sitting at the kitchen island in her home. The majority of lights throughout her house are off, the only light sources coming from several lit candles in the kitchen and from some that led up to the stairs. A prominent source of light came from Ameena’s Tv just across the kitchen, as it played lowly ‘Like a Tattoo’ by Sade.

The ambience was fitting for the Christmas.

Every year, since their parents had died, the sister’s spent 3 weeks together either at Ameena’s or Amaya’s place. Ameena had been looking forward to being embraced by her sister’s love and also having some support during her first trimester of pregnancy. It was so hard dealing with the morning sickness alone, not having a connection with the baby yet, trying to forgive herself for the circumstances under which the baby was conceived, overthinking about what the world would think if this was to ever come out (it’s inevitable), thinking about 18 years later when her child would find out their dad had lived a double life- would her kid judge her? Being in this predicament alone without the father’s physical support, she felt dumb and angry about not being able to access him the way she needed to but what did she expect? He was married with four young kids. It was so draining for Ameena debating on whether to kill her ego by telling Virgil how much in this state of hers she needed him or to stand strong, not letting the man who had been the cause of many restless tear filled nights in again.

She often thought of what her parents would think and the advice they’d give but it was often hard to think about that. She really hoped she wasn’t making the worst decision of her life by keeping this kid –she didn’t want it to be neglected or made a second option by it's father. The onus would be on her. Simple.

“Ugh…” She released a rattled breath. Her mind was so frazzled if not for her sister she’d have gone crazy by now.

“I’m glad you have all these questions, and that you’re thinking about them all with such depth. Now—hear me out, you just need to tell him all this..” Amaya sat back on her chest, after dropping her bomb on wisdom.

“That's the thing Amaya, I have plenty of times but he turns a deaf ear to it or snaps at me.” Ameena drops her head in the palm of her hands, just agitated.

Amaya chews her lip tentatively before replying, “Man, what the fuck have you gotten yourself into, where do you find these men Meena?”

Ameena snorts sadly, shaking her head. “Honestly, Maya, the problem is the pregnancy. I shouldn’t have been so reckless and let him knock me up again.The first time, obviously, I aborted because we weren’t on good terms and that should’ve been the same logic for this one but this time– it feels so wrong to kill a child again because of the reckless decision I’ve made. I truly feel God’s teaching me a lesson.”

Amaya nods, sympathizing with her older sister. “I am grateful that I can financially support the child and myself for the rest of our lives but once it’s born I don't want it to emotionally, you know, suffer because of me. I love kids and I want to give the — my child the best life ever you know—.”

“Do you feel forced to have this one?.. Be honest.”

Ameena sinks in her seat, really grasping at an honest answer in her head whilst chewing on her lips “......Yes and no. I’ve told you about him threatening me right…That is something I think about a lot, him ruining my life if I go through with an abortion again because he has the power too. But that fear doesn't overpower all the love I want to share with my kid. I would’ve kept it the first time if me and him were stable. It's just—how do I put it? It’s just the unstable household trope I can’t bear to think about. Like us, it was hard not seeing dad a lot, especially at Parent’s Evenings at school, Sports day, Father’s day when all the other kids were treated like princesses by their fathers– it made us feel so unworthy.”

Amaya picks up on her sister’s vulnerability and hums in understanding, “I can see you feel passionately about this. You need to express this issue with him, text him, call him.. Whatever, just don't feel afraid to bring up our past because it’s your truth and an extremely valid point ok? I’m going to leave you to do what you need to do with this, I’ll be on the balcony.”

The sisters hug, Ameena engulfs her sister into a tight embrace, a symptom of her desperation for support and warmth in such a cold time in her life.

Pathetic fallacy was real.

The wind blew harshly against her glass windows around her dim kitchen and that’s when she realised she was left alone with her worries and mental exhaustion. She’d been feeling this wave of anxiety for so long and it matched the bleak weather outside lately. It had finally overwhelmed all of her being, leaving her with nothing else to identify with but her fears. These fears had collectively backed her up into a corner, and now she was making a phone call to Virgil.

He wouldn’t be expecting it, she thought. They hadn’t spoken since the day he’d left her. Ameena shivers to the core at the memory of that night, she’d vowed to never speak to him again but here she was.

The phone rang 6 times, by the seventh she became nervous. Usually, the phone would ring six times before he’d answer especially during late week nights like these. He’d always say it was the time it took for him to run off to a secluded area to answer her call when he was with his family. She placed the phone down on the counter and on speaker, walking back and forth to practice what she’d eventually say to him. She hated the process of waiting and it made her stomach flip.

“Hey. Virgil. So—I’m pregnant.” No.

“We need to meet to be on the same page about everything– I’m preg.” No.

“Virgil, I just want to let you know I’m pregnant like you.. probably already guessed but I don’t want you around until we have a proper sit down convers—”

“Ameena…” a soothing voice called, causing her train of thought to crash.

Her heart leapt as she glided over to her phone to see if her ears were betraying her, they were not.

“Ameena, can you hear me?” the voice breathed.

One, two, three...GO

“I wanted to talk to you about something. Preferably at The Ritz, or at a hotel no less than 5 stars. Can you tell me the dates you are free to do so as soon as possible?”

Her phone vibrates as the man bearing the deep voice chuckles.

“I’ve missed how spoilt you are mijn liefje…and that pretty voice, fuck.” She’s silent, she doesn’t want to say anything remotely heartfelt. He didn't deserve it.. He hurt her, and she needed him to know life wasn’t going to be sweet until he made it up to her. Money and sweet nothing wasn’t going to resolve this issue.

She merely hummed, and Virgil who had gauged her silence, understood it and followed up saying

“I know you’re very angry ; you haven’t replied to any of my texts or responded to any of my calls.”

“Virgil, I didn’t call to converse about old bullshi–”

“Babygirl….”, the long pause after the nickname tickles her.

“I know you’re angry. I understand. But you still need to watch your mouth with me. I still pay all your bills, you understand?” he reprimanded slowly and softly.

“Virgil—”

“But yes, of course. Let's check my schedule, give me one second.”

The line goes silent for a bit, she assumes he is going to check on his work phone and so she stands at the island, her elbows planted on it and start chewing her nails fiercely. After a few minutes of silence, she is pulled out of her deep thoughts when hearing some ruckus from the otherside of the line. Trying to decipher what was going on she picked the phone up bringing the speaker to her ears. Multiple voices engaged in excited conversation;she initially thought it was his kids squealing. Until she started to hear dialogue –

“Where are you going V, we’re not finished!!” one high pitched voice squealed.

“Virgieee, come back to bed baby. Round 3! Round 3 daddy!!” Ameena’s eyes threatened to bulge out of her head as she listened closely, gripping to her phone for dear life.

“She’s using her rose in the tub Virgie, come see her squirt.”, another annoying voice mewled.

“Listen! I’m on a phone call…”

Ameena’s mouth dropped as she clinged onto every word she could hear through the speakers. This nasty ass …Was this what he was up to? All while spamming her phone with messages talking about how much he missed her, how he couldn’t be without her, calling her on different numbers, sending gifts to her door— just begging for them to reunite. This was the man?

In a fit of rage she decided to cut the phone, instinctively screaming for her sister to come downstairs. She rapidly types a myriad of messages to Virgil before turning her phone off, anticipating the string of messages and calls that would follow her verbal abuse.

You dumb fuck.

Hate you btw

good for nothing piece of shit, you weren’t on mute you ugly cunt

Have fun fucking on those hoes, bc best believe u will never see me again!!!

Don’t cry when u see me doing the same.

The young woman falls to the ground, in agony.

....

There is silence in the bathroom as Tamara trips over her words, Ameena could tell she was nervous by the way Tamara’s eyes darted from her’s every time they made eye contact. Ameena, to put her friend at ease, consciously fixes her hair pulling her curly bundles to bedeck the side of her neck covered in bruises.

“I know, that's fair, it was crazy and you have every right to be fuming of course it just—-”

“What Tammy?” she soothed, “You’re scaring me..”

“He’s here Ameena—Virgil is here.”

….

Ameena giggles after taking approximately 30 seconds to absorb that information. It’s a nervous one, suddenly Tamara’s theatrics are understood. Her neck.. Trent…

“Ameena, he can’t see you with Arnold. After what he did last time, I don’t want your safety or well being jeopardized. I’m also thinking of the poor baby.”

Ameena gathers her thoughts, her friend had a point. She didn’t know how he would react especially whilst unaware about her pregnancy. She couldn’t leave with Trent, she was bummed because she wanted to get laid but she didn’t want to risk a possibly drunk Virgil overreacting publically and consequently exposing their 3 year old affair. She had to think of her mental health, and the turmoil that would follow.

Her thoughts are cut off when her phone pings, grabbing the frazzled girls’ attention.

You have no fucking business being with all these grown men alone, especially my teammates?

What tricks do you have underneath your sleeve Ameema?

I'm giving you till 00:20 if you’re not out by then I’ll find you myself.

“Tam—” she drags slowly, her eyes glued to the array of messages on her homescreen.

How did he know she was here?

“It’s him”, she shoves her phone in Tamara’s direction whilst she paces, thinking of a solution. The best possible solution.

Block him. No too risky, that would piss him off even more.

Tell him he’s delusional and that you're home. Gaslighting, hmm. Let’s give him a taste of his own medicine. But the specificity of his messages haunts her mind. He’s clearly got some evidence of her being here; the messages are too oddly specific. If she lies, and he finds her here, she’d be in big shit.

Or Ameena, just leave. It’s not worth the stress for you, for the baby for poor Tamara too.

Her body stills, trying to find confirmation in her gut that this was the last and final choice. The pursuit of vengeance was still within her, she still wanted to make him bleed, cry, and sweat for her after hurting her in the way he did. But for this problem to unravel in public? No, she wasn’t ready for that. Ameena saw all the green eyed snakes disguised as women outside,and all the paparazzi outside waiting at the chance to slither their hands around Trent, or as a matter of fact, any of the team members in their section so if anything transpired between herself and the married Team Captain they’d be on a one stop train to ‘The Sun’ articles and Ameena knew better.

“Ok, so Tammy you need to get Trent, no, all of them OUT–”

“Ameena, they're not going to leave without you. You’ve got Trent freaking pussy whipped and not to mention Joe wouldn’t leave you here knowing you’re pregnant. And girl, the look on your baby daddy’s face is telling me he’s not leaving until he’s with you”

She’s exasperated at her current situation. An incessant question ringing in her ears. How did he know she was here, for God’s sake?

“Tell them there’s another door in here that leads outside—”

An earsplitting sounds travels through the ceramic interior of the bathroom, that left both girls (the only ones who were occupying it) at a loss for words. Ameena held on to her stomach instinctively and within a blink of an eye she was being dragged out. Both girls screamed, maintaining a shared look of horror until Ameena was dragged out of the toilets.

To be continued. PART 4 coming soon.

#virgil van dijk #football x reader #virgil van dijk x black reader #football #virgil van dijk x reader #liverpool fc #trent alexander x reader #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold #trending #viral trends #jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham fanfic #joe gomez #premier league

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thewalrusespublicist · 11 days ago

Text

SO as mentioned I went for a gander about Paul's political leanings and found this fantastic interview with Paul and an old friend.

It's full of good info but I'll put some of the greatest hits here:

The interviewer (Jonathan Power) met Paul when they were at school together at the Liverpool institute and became distant friends when Paul made him feel welcome as a new starter. He apparently never forgot Paul's kindness

Didn't realise just how academic the Liverpool institute was (according to this, one alumni has won the nobel prize).

Jim McCartney was partially deaf which made him unfit for WW2 service

Aforementioned Paul attacking a ram for butting one of his children due to his 'animal instinct', but nominally he's a pacifist

Was in New York at 9/11 and was on a plane that morning but was grounded due to the towers being on fire

His version of promoting political views at school was reaching people through music. He tells this adorable anecdote of Paul standing on the desk in history class singing Long Tall Sally and George bringing his guitar :). (Jonathan remembers the day Paul did that!)

Power shutting down Paul's normal-bloke-didnt-know-what-I-was doing routine to say that Paul was one of the brightest boys in the class

Anti-colonial baby Paul arguing with the coloniser guest speaker in class you love to see

The interviewer is kinda like 'why didnt you solve all of Britians problems?!?' and like ... I love the Beatles and they were super important but they also were just four guys

The Beatles not advocating for gay rights as it 'didn't come up'. Sure.

Paul wrote to the Dalai Lama to tell him off for eating meat and the Dalai Lama said it was okay because you shouldn't get too attached to anything lmaoo

At the time of this (2009) Paul was definetely pro Palestine and was touring to try to work for better unity between the Palestinians and the Israelis

He's very secretive about what he donates but he assures the interviewer its more than people accuse him of

He kept in touch with his old English teacher Alan Durband and credits Eleanor Rigby on him teaching him structure.

Near the end he gives this really nice anecdote about hearing people play his music in America

Let me tell you a little story to finish with. I was on a holiday recently in Long Island where I have a little sailboat and this nice lady lets me keep it on her beach. I just sail out very quietly on my own in the boat—me, the wind and the sail; it is a great balance to my high visibility life. As I was setting the boat up there was a group of guys just down the beach and I heard them singing. It was a quiet beach; there was nobody on it except me and them. I was just there staying with my girlfriend. I listened and it sounded so tuneful that I approached, and as I got closer I realised it was my song "Eleanor Rigby" they were singing. I just stood there until they finished and it was great, it was a beautiful arrangement—they turned out to be the Princeton Glee club. And when they finished I applauded them and said, "Can you imagine me as a kid in Liverpool, someone telling me that there would be an a cappella group of young men singing one of my songs on a beach in Long Island in America? It's uncanny.

Paul talking to Jonathan Power, 2009

#Let Paul be interviewed by loved ones more!!!#theyre the only ones that can get anything out of him #theres that other wonderful one that I need to post done by a friend #thats so beautiful and loving towards Linda #and their family life #Paul #still not forgiven for the teachers strikes but this was nice

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sunflowervoltwentyeight · 1 month ago

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Happy 28th! Here is my March 2025 fic rec, organized by word count, from longest to shortest. You can view my other fic recs here. Enjoy!

Cupid's Defence by orphan_account (116k)

In which Harry is Cupid, Louis and Liam own a law firm, and they're all getting sued.

Blue Eyes Look My Way (Make Today My Lucky Day) by magpielivingforglitter / @builtyouahousefromabrokenhome (98k)

November 1968. Harry has to quit the Liverpool College of Art and go back home to Sheffield to work in the steel mill, after his step-dad died and left his family with debts and too many mouths to feed. But that also means Harry gets to catch his local ice hockey team’s games again. And the Sheffield Steelers have two new players who could turn the season around - maybe even Harry’s whole life …

I Can Feel It Take A Hold by louislittletomlintum / @louislittletomlintum (30k)

“Do you always swim in the nude?” Louis broke the silence, his smile growing when Harry felt his blush deepen.

“Sometimes,” Harry answered wearily, pushing his hair back in the hopes that it would maybe not look quite as dishevelled as it felt.

“Mm,” Louis hummed, cocking his head to the side like he didn’t quite believe him. Harry felt properly studied under his gaze. “And what was your plan?”

“My plan?” Harry countered. The water licked at Louis’ legs, darkening his hair and wetting the back of his shorts where he was sitting.

“Well. You were obviously wanting to get my attention,” Louis mused, Harry blushing further. “So what are you going to do with it now that you’ve got it?”

or the one where it’s call me by your name but with; developed frontal lobes, oranges instead of peaches, golden by harry styles, and a happy ending

Switch! by xunorthodox / @ @ltwritten (25k)

Focus, stop being ridiculous.

He didn't want to hurt Liam, especially when he was such a nice guy, but—but—his best friend, Louis, is so close yet so far. And Harry didn't know what to do with himself.

Harry happily agrees to go on a double date with Liam, but Liam’s best friend looks suspiciously like the man of his dreams.

If I Didn't Love You, It Would Be Fine by emmli28 / @emmli28 (18k)

When Louis was sober he could say no, even if his body, heart and mind craved Harry. After one glass of wine, on the other hand, he just didn’t want to say no, even if it left him in a complete state of misery for a week after.

Louis was in love with Harry, and had been since the first night they slept together three years ago. That was not how their story had started, though.

They had met when Harry had just finished his first year at uni, taking a course in photography, and he got a summer job at the magazine where Louis worked as a music journalist.

Or the one where Louis is miserably in love with Harry, and can never resist him, until he can.

Somersault by everysingleday / @sun-lt (4k)

“Got you something,” Louis whispers eventually. Something in Harry’s stomach fizzes; the idea of presents—especially surprise ones—has never failed to evoke somersault excitement in his belly. And though he never has any expectations, it’s certainly not uncommon for Louis to spoil him like this when he knows Harry’s had a rubbish sort of day. — Louis gets Harry presents. Harry’s contemplating getting Louis a ring

Louis' New Home by chaotic_bells / @chaotic-bells (2k)

There is a man in his back garden staring into his home. What the fuck...? -- Louis moves to a new house, and Harry keeps showing up on his back garden.

To Suffer by honey_beeing (1k)

Louis helps Harry undress after the wedding.

#28th appreciation #march fic rec #monthly fic rec #larry fic rec #fic rec #hlcreators #read

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photmath · 1 year ago

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NYE Kiss | Trent Alexander-Arnold

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Female Reader

Summary: At Trent's New Year's Eve party, he confesses to the reader, his childhood bestfriend, that he's lonely.

Word Count: 4.8k

Warnings: mention of alcohol, angst, miscommuncation, childhood friends, kiss

Note: Happy New Year!

With twenty minutes left until the clock struck midnight, Trent’s brothers, Tyler and Marcel were already setting off fireworks. A couple of Trent’s teammates were also in attendance, and some of the friends you and he shared, but there were still a few valuable ones missing.

Despite Liverpool playing a match the next day, Trent still wanted to do something for New Year's Eve, even if it was a bit risky. But he promised Virgil he would kick everyone out by one in the morning so that they had time to be well-rested for the match, luckily it wasn’t a noon match. Even though he had his brothers, parents, and best mates surrounding him, the night still felt—empty. A bitter taste was left in his mouth as he took a swig of his drink, searching for a solution to his ache.

Trent makes his way over to you, a brown bottle pinched between his fingertips. It’s too dark for you to notice if he’s looking at you, but the pause in his step once his eyes land on you gives you everything you need to know. He stops at the pillar of the canopy, face lighting up with the blast of a firework, “Did the fireworks get too much for you already?”

You purse your lips, shaking your head, “No. I just keep having the recurring thought of one of the ashes falling on my hair and it going up in flames.”

The corner of his lip barely tugged up, “That’s quite an image.”

“It’s very rational,” you defend, tugging the sleeve of your knitted sweater over your hands. Trent was dressed way more casual than you, a black pair of sweatpants and a dark gray hoodie. Had you known him and his brothers would dress like that, then maybe you wouldn’t have nearly lost a finger trying to put yourself into your tight jeans tonight.

A beat of silence washes between the two of you as he decides to stay quiet. He wasn’t usually this quiet when the two of you were with his family, but when he was, he was thinking. So in his head that everything else was irrelevant. It could be a battle trying to ground him back to the present sometimes.

“So, how are you?” you break the silence, sparing a weary glance at him.

“Lonely,” he mumbles. He stays facing the alleyway of Tyler’s home where they light another firework and then scramble away from it.

“Lonely at the top,” you sing, referencing his team’s position at the top of the table. Trent gives you a hard look immediately and you quiet down, averting your eyes from his. “Sorry.” There’s a heavy plate of tension that fills the air between the two of you and despite you both being outside, it feels suffocating. “What’s wrong?”

He shrugs, “Everyone is moving.”

“What do you mean?”

“Everyone moved, I feel like I’m the only one who stayed,” he says. His voice is soft but aloof, still not giving you a glance. “I just thought you would stay. Was a slap in the face to see that your house was for sale.”

It was your parent’s house, the one you grew up in. You lived on the same street where Trent grew up, only three houses separating your families. After riding your bike down the street and dramatically tripping over the rock that you saw at the last minute, Trent came running out of his house and helped you up. Him and his brothers were playing football in the street, the three of them had just gone inside, but he noticed your sparkling pink bike and got distracted looking back at you. Once he realized a kiss to your scarred knee wasn’t going to make the bleeding stop, he called out for his mom and the three of you walked you and your bike back to that house after she cleaned your knee. Trent had stayed by your side the entire time, assuring you that your knee would be okay in the next couple of days.

The sound of a firework exploding shutters you out of the past, forcing yourself to look at a sullen Trent. His bottom lip is tucked through his teeth as his eyes follow the firework’s path.

“Trent, can you look at me?” Trent slowly looks in your direction and his eyes seem more hurt than he lets on. Much different than the bright eyes that welcomed you two hours ago. You swallow, “Did you think we would live here forever? I mean Jude, Alana, Kai….” You list off the friends and neighbors you both shared who had since then moved away.

He shakes his head, “Obviously not, but you could’ve told me you were moving.”

“I know, we’ve just both been so busy. We barely put up the house for sale a couple of days ago.”

Trent blinks his eyes a couple of times and doesn’t speak immediately.

“I am lonely though,” he confesses and it stabs you right in the heart. “The season has felt really long, haven’t seen you or the lads that much. I know you go to some of my games, but we don’t speak afterward, and I miss you. I miss having people around that aren’t my family.”

“Trent,” you sigh. “I’m sorry for not being there.”

“It’s okay,” he shrugs. “I mean, it’s not like I’ve tried to be there for you either.”

“Trent—”

He cuts you off, “I haven’t had much time either but I dunno…the time I do have at home, it’s so quiet. I’ve been staying at my parents house actually, for the past couple of days because I’ve been sick of the silence. Sure, I could’ve walked to your house but I never did…”

He swallows another swig of his drink, the bitter taste in his mouth had yet to leave. And after chewing on the inside of his cheek for so long, he also tasted copper. He couldn’t blame you for being busy. He knew you had just landed the job you had been working so hard for, at a company that treated you well and respected your work, and with the way Liverpool’s hectic season has been going, he didn’t have much time off either.

You're left with your thoughts screaming at you to say something, but what could you say that would heal his loneliness? That you two could schedule a meet up soon? But it wasn’t concrete, ‘soon’ could be tomorrow, could be a week or before the month ended.

“We should hang out sometime,” you decide. “I’ve missed you too. My schedule is clear for whenever, just let me know.”

He downs the rest of his drink, before tossing it in the bin that Tyler usually has next to the side of the canopy but it’s not there. The bottle goes crashing to the ground but doesn’t break, it rolls off some steps away from him and he ignores it.

“Are you drunk?” you ask, eyebrows raised. You knew he shouldn’t have been drinking the day before his game, even if it was New Year’s Eve.

Trent looks back at you, a tsk leaves his lips, “I’ve only had one.”

“One case?”

“Funny,” he grits, any humor in his tone is gone. “I’m being honest.”

You cross your arms, not realizing you pointing out him drinking would upset him. Yeah, maybe you wouldn’t want to be caught doing something you shouldn't be doing, but Trent had been acting out of character the moment he admitted his loneliness. He was never one to talk about his feelings, always shoving it somewhere down deep that you had given up trying to pry out of him a long time ago because it always upset him more than helped.

“Tell me what’s really wrong,” you demand.

He looks away but you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he glances down to the pavement. The door to the house suddenly bursts open behind you, his mother weaving through you both as if you aren’t standing there.

“Fifteen minutes until midnight!” She announces, and then marches back inside but stops once she notices the two of you, “Oh, you two look so cute. Please, you both can stay in the upstairs bedroom if you get too tired to drive home. I’m sure Tyler won’t mind.”

Her presence seems to break off the tension because Trent lets out a low chuckle, “You know, she always thought it’d be us.”

“Us…what?” You bite the annoyance of him switching the topic away.

“It’d be us,” he shrugs nonchalantly. “That we’d be married and have a kid by now.”

Your eyes bulge at his words. He had to be drunk.

His voice rumbles as he kicks an imaginary rock, “What? Does the idea of starting a family with me repulse you that much?”

“No,” you shake your head frantically, hoping you didn't make him feel more bad than what he was already feeling. If Trent was going to be vulnerable for the last fifteen minutes of the year, then fine, you weren’t going to be petty and let your own feelings get in the way of him being open. You choose your words carefully, “I just—” Screw sparing his feelings. “You’re drunk.”

He rolls his eyes, words spitting out of his mouth in irritation, “It was one drink. One drink does nothing to me other than make me honest. Even then, it wasn’t a high percentage of alcohol.”

Your eyes dance between his dark brown ones. They seem more watery than before, the glow of the light from the inside of the house and fireworks glaring off of them. You look away briefly, “Honest? Like I can ask you any question and you’ll tell the truth?”

“Well,” he shrugs, “I don’t need a drink in me to be honest. I’m always honest to you.”

“That’s a lie,” you remark. “You lied to me when you said I could take your car for a drive.”

He rolls his eyes, “That’s because I value my life.”

You huff, “You didn’t have to be in the car with me, but fine, whatever.” You needed to control any impulsive comment you had. Trent was opening up, this was unchartered territory, and maybe he needed a clean conscience for the New Year more than you did. “I wasn’t repulsed by the idea of starting a family with you, I was just shocked to hear you say that.”

Nothing could’ve prepared you to hear him utter those words. Sure, the two of you shared your first kiss together and took each other’s virginities on the night of your twentieth birthday, but the two of you were never anything more. Never went on a date, never received flowers from him—minus the single daisy he plucked out of the grass one day as an apology for leaving the rock in the middle of the sidewalk—but nothing the two of you did was glaringly romantic. He held your hand for a total of two minutes and fifteen seconds one day underneath the table at a shared family dinner, but nothing came of it either.

He was off focusing on the academy, while you were busy studying in school. Once he did make his first team debut, you were in the stands cheering him on. He felt like the happiest man—boy—that day, having both of your families witness his debut. But still, the bone-crushing hug he pulled you into after you all met in the car park, it meant—nothing.

Even the night you lost your virginity, him as well, it was haste. He was in your bedroom, flipping through the birthday cards you received when you confessed to him that it was comical being a virgin at twenty, feeling the weight of society’s judgment on your shoulders for whatever reason, while he didn’t laugh at all. The liquor you both were sipping on gave you both the courage as you went on, sneakily closing your bedroom door and turning a page. After the both of you came down from your high, he cuddled you for an hour before slipping out of your bedroom window and going home.

Nothing was ever really mentioned after that, the both of you deciding it was best to scrape it under the rug so that it wasn’t awkward at combined family dinners, but there was a feeling. A tingling feeling that made your voice hitch whenever he looked at you or texted you. Any visit you made from uni, your heart did flips when he pulled you into a hug and welcomed you home for that weekend.

He snorts, making your eyes dart to him, “We’re being honest, yeah?”

“I’m telling you the truth,” you say.

He nods, “Okay, I believe you.”

Another moment of silence passes between the two of you and he sighs, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Can I ask you another question?” you mumble and he nods. “Why did your mom think that?”

Trent shrugs for the hundredth time that night, leaning against the pillar as his head rests against it, “Because I told her that I liked you. She said to go for it, I told her I would, but I never did.”

Oh.

“When was this?” you muster up the courage and power to ask, feeling breathless.

He blows a raspberry, “Maybe ten years ago?”

You're glad that Marcel misfires a firework that goes flying towards a tree to the left of the house, earning a commotion from Trent’s family and teammates, so that you have time to wipe off the shock before Trent looks at you.

Trent looks at the tree and holds his breath, hoping it erupts into flames. Perhaps he needed a break in the conversation as well. He felt exposed, too vulnerable at the expense of your curiosity and even though he said he would be honest, he wasn’t sure how much more truth he could give out when you weren’t exchanging much back.

“Why are you leaving?” he blurts out.

“You know I don’t live there right?” your eyebrow rises. Surely you told him you moved. “I moved out when I was twenty-two. I live almost ten minutes away, but my parents are moving because they need the money. After I left, they started spending on stuff that they shouldn’t have, putting us into a lot more debt than we should be. So, I say ‘we’ decided to sell because the only reason they were keeping the house was for me. For what it represented.”

Your childhood. A part of you was heartbroken for what it meant, but the other part of you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew it would serve you and your family well.

Trent eyebrows furrow, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you would’ve wanted to help.”

Trent averts his gaze, “I can. I can buy it.”

“Trent,” you gawk. “Seriously, I’m going to accuse you of being drunk again—”

“It’s your childhood home.”

“Yeah, and I made a choice. It was my choice to make.”

His shoulders deflate, “So you did want to leave?”

You nod, “It was time for a change. They lived there for the past twenty years. A home isn’t a single house anyway.”

“Do they have a place for after it sells?”

The quick glance at the floor reveals the almost lie you would’ve told him, but the two of you agreed to be honest, so you shake your head, “No. They haven’t left the house entirely. They still live there and whatever they make from the sale, they’ll use it to purchase their next.”

“I can buy it,” he states again and you shake your head.

“Trent, you aren’t going to buy my childhood home, drop it,” you spit, voice unwavering as he looks back at you. His jaw is clenched.

“Fine,” he agrees. “But if you have any doubts, I can buy it. I’ll give them whatever double the asking price is—”

“Trent.” You knew he wasn’t going to drop it, he’d most likely ask your parents first thing tomorrow and you didn’t even want to think about what their response would be.

He sighs, “Okay.”

Instead of letting the conversation simmer into silence, you take a deep breath and ask him another question. Here goes nothing: “Why didn’t you ever pursue your feelings?”

Trent rotates his body towards yours, leaning against the column with his shoulder. His hands are still stuffed into the pockets of his sweats. “I was fifteen, I was scared.”

At fifteen, the two of you would’ve already shared your first kiss and held hands underneath the table. You were so giddy, but you weren’t sure if you were giddy at the idea of getting caught or because you had a crush on Trent. The two of you spent so much time growing up together, playing footy, exploring the neighborhood, everything. Tyler would often tag along, and then Marcel as well once he got older, but still you knew you were closer to Trent more.

“And they’ve just gone away?” you ask without a second thought. Your heart lurches as he looks away. What a stupid thing to say!

He coughs, clearing out his throat and your cheeks burn. He looks down at the hem of your sweater, “Would my mother still be trying to play matchmaker if not?”

A squeezing feeling encompasses your chest that you wince. The shock was gone, you were upset now. It had been ten years, you could excuse the first five years because they were hectic with you at uni and him training, but the both of you had sex knowing the feelings were there.

Because no matter how much you tried to convince yourself you didn’t have feelings for Trent, they were always still going to be there. He was the first boy you were really exposed to. The boy you followed throughout the neighborhood despite not knowing anything about him. You wanted to be brave and follow him into the woods. Doing all sorts of things you would’ve never done had he not been by your side. The sweet boy who kissed your knee in hopes of getting you to stop crying held your heart the moment he ran to you.

He watches the way your eyes dart from the fireworks to his family members cheering as they drink a champagne flute. The crease in your eyebrow and nose, he knew you were in deep thought. On a night of too many truths, he was exhausted.

“Just say it,” he whispers. “We’re being honest.”

“You watched me,” you start, voice trembling but teeth grinding, “you watched me get my heartbroken not once, but twice. Gave me all this advice on boys, broke my heart in the process because I thought you didn’t like me back, and then I went on to have two relationships where they were both shit. And you just watched? Knowing you felt something?”

Trent can’t stand to hear the shake in your voice, it itching his ear in a way that makes him tilt his head away from you.

You continue, “I liked you too, a lot. So much that I would sometimes scare myself because I would see my exes as you, even though sometimes it would be months since we last talked. You were always on my mind, and had you said something earlier, all of it,” you wave your arms around to symbolize the time and heartache lapsed. “All of it could’ve been avoided.”

Trent glances down, “I was a coward.”

“No shit,” you yell. Trent abruptly looks at the crowd of people and hopes you don’t catch their attention.

“I wasn’t ready,” he says, truthfully. “I wasn’t ready to give you my all if we had gotten together. I was still finding my footing on the team, all of my focus was on that and wouldn’t have been on you if we were together. Okay,” he relents, “maybe I could’ve spared your heartache had you known, but it just—it wasn’t worth all the drama—”

“Drama?”

He shuts his eyes closed. Think! “It wouldn’t have been worth you getting hurt because I had training. Or I had a game and had to miss something important of yours. I would’ve been physically there but not emotionally present—”

“Do you think I would’ve cared, Trent?” you gape.

He shakes his head, “You wouldn’t, and that’s the problem. You wouldn’t have deserved that. You wouldn’t have deserved me not being present, it would’ve driven us both away. The only times I saw my family were because they came to my game and I met them at their suite. That would’ve been the only time you and I interacted, do you seriously think you would’ve been okay with that?”

No. But you would’ve been content knowing he felt the same. The small moments you saw him would’ve made up for any multi-hour-long day spent with him.

“Like you needed to find yourself at uni and focus on what you were passionate about, I did too,” he says. His voice is much softer and less urgent, knowing that you were understanding and on the same page as him. “But I’m ready now. I’m not saying you have to be ready right now—or maybe you won’t ever be because you don’t have the same feelings you once had—but, I’m here now. I’m as present as I’ll ever be. The season started off fast and will continue to be difficult, but I’ve learned how to be present at home. How to not focus on football and be with my family and pets during my spare time.”

On cue, the rest of Trent’s family—and yours—burst through the back door. There are only a couple of minutes until midnight, those fifteen minutes blew right past the both of you. Tyler and Marcel had stopped popping fireworks as they compiled a bunch together to be ignited exactly at twelve.

Trent looks at you, pulling your hand so that you’re closer to him near the pillar as your family members stampede outside, settling in lawn chairs and anywhere on the floor. Trent hasn’t dropped your hand yet. He caresses the backside of your hand with his thumb as his fingers squeeze tighter around yours.

“I know I was a coward, I know I could’ve said it anytime you were around, but it was never the right time,” he whispers in your ear. “We were busy, our lives never aligned perfectly, and maybe they don’t align right now either, but I’m willing to take the risk.”

A breathy sigh escapes you as you soak in his words. You close your eyes as you lean the side of your head against his chest. You needed to be grounded as you thought, and he was always someone stable. His hands don’t wrap you into a hug because he knows exactly what you’re doing.

“I still like you,” you acknowledge. “I’m a little upset you kept this a secret.” He snorts. “But, if I’m being honest, I’m not sure when I would’ve bursted and confessed the same thing. I wanted to tell you that we were moving, especially whenever we were thinking about it when it was first brought up, but I stopped myself. I was scared, because I knew my first instinct to reach out to you meant that it was something more, that I saw you as someone more than just my friend. That I always have. Every failed relationship was a reminder of it.”

Trent chuckles, finally being able to breathe. The tightening feeling in his chest had dissipated, replaced with jittery nerves as he restrained himself from pulling you into a hug.

You drop Trent’s hand and face him. If he was confused, he hid it well.

“I’m willing to take the risk too,” you state, the heavy weight on your shoulders dissolving. “I’m trusting you, just like I trusted you the day I followed you into the woods.”

“We ended up getting lost,” he recalls. He isn’t sure how much longer he can keep his hands off of you.

“I know,” you smile. “But I trusted you still, despite being so scared. I knew you would keep your promise and get us out of there before the moon rose. I’m willing to get lost with you, wherever you are, I want to be there.”

“You trust me?” he cheeses, his lips breaking out further into a grin. A chorus of a ten-second countdown breaks out in the background.

“Of course, stupid,” you smack his bicep and the brief contact makes the both of you hold a breath.

Trent knew he couldn’t get the smile off of his face no matter how hard he tried. He didn’t expect to have this conversation with you tonight, but after seeing you underneath the canopy, your clothes and figure lighting up from the colorful lights of the fireworks, he knew he couldn’t let you walk away from him again. You didn’t even hold his heart in the palm of your hands, you held it in your gaze. One look at him from you and he was floored, a weak and desperate man on his knees begging for your attention.

“…three, two, one, Happy New Year!”

Your blissful eyes combined with his gleeful ones don’t look away as you both lean closer. Your hands stay tucked by your side, his suddenly not wanting to move either as he leans down. The moment your nose grazes his, you close your eyes and let him kiss you. You press your lips further into his as the sound of fireworks go off behind you.

The kiss feels like the first one you shared together, tentative but passionate. It feels like a new promise, one full of commitment for the year to come. A promise from him that he’ll be there for every second of the day, and you a promise to be present as well. To not make him feel like he needs to bottle up his emotions and wait until the last minute to confess them.

His hands find your cheeks at the same time you wrap your arms around his waist. He pulls away and sighs against your lips, resting his forehead against yours. “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”

“Happy New Year,” you smile, pecking his lips one more time before burying your head into his chest. He pulls you in for a bone-crushing hug, squeezing your shoulders tightly against him and then resting his head on top of yours.

Instead of letting you close your eyes to soak in the feelings of him being this close in your arms, he shuffles the both of you and points up, “Look up.”

His careful gaze looks down at you as he double checks that you’re actually looking up at the fireworks, but he bursts into a nervous laugh when he sees you looking back at him. You can feel his heart quicken its pace as he stutters, “No, not me. The sky!”

“You’re so happy,” you whisper. Earlier his eyes were on the verge of breaking down, but now, they seem so full of light and hope.

“Yeah,” he slips his hand back around your waist. “I got the girl of my dreams in my arms, my girl.” He enunciates the last two words like they’re a testimony.

Your cheeks rush with heat that you’re glad he can’t feel them. He leaves a chaste kiss on your temple before looking back up at the fireworks. And then he glances down suddenly, “Do you remember when we made that fort in my living room?”

You burst into a laugh, pulling away from his chest, “What?”

“The fort,” he repeats, “it ended up crumbling because Marcel rolled too far and pulled the blankets down—you remember?”

You nod, bewildered by his sudden excitement.

“Well, the spare bedroom of Tyler’s only has a mattress on the floor, but there are some chairs and sofas we can combine to you know,” he lets his voice fade away.

“You have a game tomorrow, maybe you shouldn’t be sleeping on the floor.”

“It’s a new mattress! That’s why it has nothing else,” he laughs. His laugh is intoxicating that all your logic and usual bickering dies out. He could build the fort, you’d be right there helping him either way.

Your heart swells as his eyes go wide, his face glowing red. He taps your waist, “Look, look look.”

The red firework that just popped erupts into the shape of a heart. You smile, standing on your tippy toes to give him a kiss. To think you’ve been missing this for the past twenty years that you’ve known him. What a fool the both of you were.

That night, Trent holds his promise as you help him build the fort around the mattress. You steal a lantern from Tyler’s shed outside while Trent found blankets to use and old moving boxes. It isn’t an exact replica like the two of you first shared, but it’s quite close, only this time you two are wrapped in each other’s arms.

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold fanfic #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagine #em.writes

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