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Heyyyy ❤️ can I request if u have time of course an imagine with neymar where the reader is sick and neymar wants to take care of her but she doesn't because she afraid she gonna get him sick . However neymar takes care of her but gets sick too so they're both sick sitting all day at home watching movies cuddling etc.💕💕

Hello love <3 You can read your request here :)

Take care and have a good day <3

Ballgowns and Galas - Neymar Jr x reader

Neymar Jr x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No: i would absolutely love a ney imagine where he and the reader (perhaps an actress or a singer) used to date during his early fame. they truly loved each other, but broke up eventually due to certain issues. as the years go by, they both date other people to get over the horrible breakup (all attempts ended up failing, they're still pining over each other 💀) so flash forward after a few years, ney and reader happen to meet at a gala / party bcs they were both invited. imagine the TENSION between them.. like "oh okay you're there and i'm here and this is all really happening"- that ended up really long </3 ILY AUTHOR your works truly have mesmerized ♡

Warnings: Fluff, some angst, implied smut

Word Count: 4.4K

AN: Sorry I’ve been gone for so long my loves, I’m back with all the fics you could ever want to request <3

—

Neymar was the ex-boyfriend you knew would never leave your mind. The two of you had dated when he quickly rose to fame but things, unfortunately, fell apart. Your career started to take off, you’d been contacted by major film directors and before you knew it you were in a different country every week with a camera in your face. No matter how much either of you tried to move on from one another it was always unsuccessful. Being an actress you were always swarmed by dating rumours, whether it was a co-star or just your assistant and Neymar kept track of every single one of them. 

Since the two of you split you two hadn’t spoken to one another and you hadn’t gone to any of his games. You used to turn up every week, whether he was playing for his country or his club but now the seat you once sat on was cold and it had been for many years. Although that wasn’t to say you didn’t care about him. You would still keep up with his matches, silently cheering for him every single minute. Your heart broke whenever he was injured or when he lost a match that clearly meant the world to him but you hid your feelings, the two of you were on different paths now. 

Little did you know Neymar was the same. He let as many girls as he could fling themselves towards him in an attempt to get over you but he was always unsuccessful. Sure he’d had a few relationships which had been very public but they never lasted, his head always drifted off to you no matter how much he tried to forget. Much like you with his football he always made an effort to watch what you were starring in, whether it was a period drama or a heartfelt rom-com. He would always wake up in the early hours of the morning to watch any award show you were featured on and although it killed him to see you smile without him he also knew he’d rather you be happy without him than you be upset whilst you were beside him. 

You’ve been in the news a lot recently due to your new project. Top Gun: Maverick was taking the world by storm, especially tiktok so it was no wonder why you and your co-stars were invited to attend. You were staring alongside Miles Teller and not to mention Tom Cruise, both men constantly praising your performance which landed you several calls from big Hollywood directors. 

“Excited for tonight?” Your hair stylist, Nat asked as she began her magic on her head. “A few people of interest are going tonight…” She smirked at your reflection in the mirror before her. 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You looked up from your phone, your eyes meeting her curious ones. 

“Well, there are some good-looking guys there… Harry Styles… Micheal B Jordan…. maybe if you get with one of them tonight you’ll finally stop crying over your ex.”

“ I don’t cry over Neymar!” You whipped your head around to give her a glare. “We split apart years ago.”

“And yet you too still make the headlines alongside one another.” She turned your head back to the mirror. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign for what?”

“To get back together.”

“A second ago you were telling me to fuck another man to get over him even though I am over him, it’s been years.” You lied and she knew it. Your heart would always stay with him no matter how many years went by.

She shrugged, the smirk on her lips still planted on her face. “The world works in mysterious ways y/n.” Rolling your eyes at her you went back to your phone, texting your co-stars who were attending the gala with you. 

The charity gala always brought in those who always hit the headlines, whether they were from the world of sports, fashion, music or film, or anyone you could think of. The event consisted of celebrities wearing their most expressive clothes whilst they paraded around a red carpet for all the photographers to see. They’d make their way inside and gaze at all the charity items up for auction before sitting down for a meal. After the food the auction would begin before it eventually ended with most celebrities getting drunk and regretting the money, they’d spent. 

“You look beautiful…” Your stylist smiled as you smoothed down your y/f/c gown. The dress hugged your body like a glove, showing off every curve you had. Smiling at her compliment you kept your eyes on the outfit. 

“You have really outdone yourself with this.” You turned around to face her, your smile beaming brighter. “Thank you…”

“Anything for Hollywood's favourite star.” She mirrored your expression, walking over to you and giving you a few last-minute touch-ups before the car came to take you to the event. 

—

The flashing lights of the paparazzi blinded you the second you stepped out of the car and onto the red carpet, your name being called in every direction filled the air as you flashed a smile towards the cameras. Your head darted to the side to catch a glimpse of the other celebrities who were walking off towards the exhibition. 

After posing for a few more photos you started to make your way down the carpet when a sudden loud noise grabbed your attention. Loud screams grabbed your attention as all the photographers suddenly turned their attention to the person who was leaving the car. The sudden commotion also caught your attention but unlike everyone else, you weren’t screaming for joy at who had left the car. Within seconds, you were making eye contact with your ex-boyfriend for the first time in years.

Of course, Neymar was here.

Your heart was in your throat at the sight of him. 

You hadn’t seen him in person since the day the two of you parted but there he was, standing right before you, his eyes burning into yours. You ripped your attention away from him, knowing that even that small yet longing glance would cause headlines and a surge of attention onto the two of you online. Your eyes searched for an escape and you found one in an interviewer. Her name was Madaline, and she always attended premiers and a few other galas you’d been invited to so a familiar face was all that you needed to put some distance between you both. 

“Madaline, hey!” You called to her whilst she checked her phone, the copper-haired girl looked up at you, a smile bright on her face as she caught your gaze.

“Y/n! Oh my God, you look stunning!” The pair of you embraced as if you were old-school friends. “You up for an interview?” 

“Of course!” Returning the smile your eyes darted over to Neymar who was now posing for photos before looking back at her as she handed you a microphone.

“Ready?” 

“Yes.” You took a deep breath, pushing Neymar to the back of your mind before focusing on the questions at hand. 

“Your dress is absolutely stunning, who designed it?” 

“Everything was made by the genius that is Vivienne Westwood.” You smiled, looking down at y/f/c dress which sparkled in the light. “Even the jewellery.” You gestured to the diamonds hanging from your neck. 

“It’s beautiful. And I see you have a small charm on your bracelet.” She pointed to the band around your wrist which had a small diamond plane hanging from the metal. The charm was a small added touch from Westwood representing one of the biggest films you’d been in this year. 

“Oh yes,” You held it up for her to see. “It was another one of Westwoods touches.”

“Does it come with a mini Tom Cruise inside of it?” She asked, a light laugh escaping her lips. You followed her laughter before letting your hand fall to your side. 

“If only it did.”

“I do have another question…” 

“Ask away.” 

“You and a certain co-star were getting rather close in Top gun… Miles Teller I believe it was.” 

Rumours had been flying all over the place when the two of you were filming despite the fact that he had a wife, a woman you’d met and grown rather close to during the many months of filming and even though you’d been seen with his wife many times in public and behind closed doors, fans still speculated that the pair of you had a fling going on. 

“I can assure you that nothing is happening between the two of us, he has a wife and -”

“Do you have someone?” Her brows arched yet she had a hesitant expression on her face, worrying that you’d snap at her invasive questions. 

“No, I do not.” 

“But are you looking?” She dared to ask more. 

“Love will come to me when it’s ready.” You replied, not wanting to talk too much especially as your ex was closing in on you. “And until then I’ll spend my evenings with a glass of wine and my cat.” 

The pair of you shared one last laugh before she bid you goodbye. This time you didn’t dare look back at him, your heart was pounding after those last questions, thankful she never touched on the subject of Neymar. You entered the large dimly light hall which was lined with numerous items which were to be bid off to you and other celebrities who were in attendance. 

Taking small elongated steps your eyes scanned every single item that was on display until your eyes fell on a large painting. The frame glistened as it kept the painted horse inside, allowing it to dance before your eyes yet never leave. The horse was rearing and with every blink, you could have sworn the animal grew in beauty. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” A smooth voice you knew all too well floated through the air. 

“Ney…” You looked over at him as he stood beside you, his head turning to meet yours. 

“How are you y/n?” 

“You never come to things like this, your father always hated the idea of you spending tons of money at events like this.” You took in his features, his hair was different, last time the two of you shared a glance with one another he looked as if he was joining a boy band. He’d cut it shorter and he’d grown a slight beard, making him look older, more mature than he was back then. “Did you know I’d be here?”

“As welcoming as always y/n.” He gave you a warm smile. 

“Sorry I umm… It’s just been a while.” You looked away, your eyes focusing back on the painting before you. 

“Several years.” Neymar raised his hand, guiding your chin back to face him. “Too long y/n…”

Your heart melted at his words, it was no secret that you hung up on him and had been since you split. No man or anyone for that matter would ever be able to numb the pain of the pair of you falling apart. The tension between you both was building by the second, both of you high on the feeling of the two of you being back in the same room. 

“How’s Jareth?” He referenced the cat he gave you just before the two of you split. Only the week before the gala you posted a photo of you and the black cat when he was a kitten vs now for his birthday. He was getting old but he was one of the few things you still had to remind you of Neymar. Ney had watched you fall in love with the film Labrythn, especially David Bowie’s character, hence your cat's name. He knew you had to have your own little Jareth in the form of a cat. Since then you got Jareth a few siblings, naming all of them after fictional characters and as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Neymar knew all their names.

“You know I never stopped watching your games.” His eyes softened at your words as you paused. His hands still lingered on your chin. “Do you know how hard it was to watch you get that injury in the world cup? Ney you nearly ended up paralysed-”

He smiled at your worry, the pair of you split just a few weeks before the World Cup, at first he just pushed it to the back of his mind to focus on the football but everything changed when he had his injury. When he was in the hospital all he could think of was how you used to take care of him every time he had the slightest graze or a career-threatening injury. He would often look over to the spare chair next to his bed and imagine your tired face making sure he was okay, much like you had done all those years ago. It was that day he realised how much he really did miss you and what you had wasn’t just some childish relationship. 

Neymar let his hand fall as he took a step towards you, his gaze never dropping from yours. “Why did we fall apart y/n?”

You scrunched your brows at him. “You know why, we fell apart, both our careers went in opposite directions and we never came back together, you moved on-”

“So did you.” He jumped in, eyeing you up as he spoke. 

“You could say that.” Shrugging you turned back to the portrait of the horse. You and Neymar both knew deep down that the pair of you never got over one another, in fact, the way the two of you were eyeing one another you wouldn’t be surprised if you just ripped off one another's clothes there and then. “But then so did you.”

His eyes followed yours as he became fixated on the painting before you both. “To an extent… I got used to you not being around, I never got used to the rest.” 

“Like?” 

He smirked as he spoke. He leant down, his lips hovering above your ear. “I never got used to the feeling of another woman around me, I always just wanted you… I never got used to the feeling of another woman's lips on me… you know y/n I got used to your presence not being beside me but I never got used to never feeling you again… do you know how many of your films and shows I’d watch and see you kissing another man and beg God to let me take his place?” 

Chills ran down your spine at his words before you replied. “You know you could have just messaged me, you know I’d let you come back into my life… with time.” 

“Time?” He whispered, a small laugh escaping his lips as he spoke. “I wasted too much time being away from you.”

“You can’t blame me for that -”

“When did I ever blame you, my love?” Neymar leant down, planting a kiss on your cheek from behind stepped away, his eyes glancing over at the painting you were once eyeing before he turned away and headed towards the hall for the event that was due to take place. 

Your heart dropped at the sight of him leaving. His words implied he would come back but with Neymar, you can never really be sure. Your eyes wandered back to the painting you once had your heart set on but not your heart was set back on him. The spark you once thought had died down had been ignited once again. The headlines would be slashing yours and his name as much as they could after your little interaction, but would you really go back to him? 

—

“I didn’t know he was here…” Your assistant who happened to be your best friend asked as she sat down beside you at your designated table. Her eyes glanced over to his table a mere few meters from yours before she spoke again. “Did you?”

“Of course not.” You set your glass down. “I wouldn’t have turned up if I knew.” 

That was a lie and you knew it. 

“Have you spoken to him?” Her gaze remained fixed on you. 

“Briefly -”

“And?”

“It was just small talk.” You lied again, this time taking a sip of the drink in front of you. “We haven’t spoken since we split and that was years ago. Just small talk and nothing more.”

She knew not to press on, after years of questioning you about Neymar she always knew deep down that the pair of you clearly had a small flame of love burning for one another but with the break-up being as public as it was she just kept her mouth shut. 

You could feel his eyes burning into you, wanting nothing more than to meet his soft gaze you flickered over to see if he was still watching but to your avail a booming voice caught everyone’s attention. “Welcome back everybody!” The host of the event announced. “It’s nice to see some familiar faces and some new ones.” His grey eyes wandered around the room. “Now we have some beautiful things up for auction tonight and I’m not getting any younger so let’s start, shall we?” A round of cheers danced through the room as items started to be dragged out onto the stage for the room to bid on.

The night dragged on, you laughed with your friends as you drank and watched everyone bid on their favourite items. You really had no interest in any of them other than the painting of the black horse from earlier. Before Neymar interrupted you your mind was imagining it proudly standing on the wall by your stairs. You’d been needing a piece to make the house feel more put together and that horse would frame everything perfectly. 

Despite the number of glasses before him, Neymar was only getting drunk on the sound of your laughter. He’d give anything to hear you laugh at his jokes one last time. Sure he knew he was pinned up on you when the two of you broke up but he never knew he’d crave you this badly after one short encounter. He wanted to leave, hating the idea of you being so close to him but he simply couldn’t have you, not yet anyway. His eyes shot up to the stage where he saw the large horse painting you were clearly in love with. He sparked up an idea… You’d either hate him for this idea or you’d love him for it but he was willing to take that chance. 

“And now… our final item is this beautiful hand-painted portrait of one of the world’s most stunning creatures. The bid will start at one thousand -” Before the man could even finish his sentence Neymar held his auction number in the air, giving a small nod to the man.

“I have one thousand do I hear two thousand?” 

Narrowing your eyes at your ex-boyfriend you held your own number up. He turned his head slightly, a smirk on his lips as he met the gaze of the man and held his own number up again. 

You knew what game he was playing and you weren’t going to let him win. 

The two of you went back and forth with each other, the pair of you never sharing a single thought about the amount of money you were spending on a simple painting but hey it was for charity so that doesn’t matter, right? 

“Oh come on y/n, you can’t bid that amount of money, it’s too much for that.” y/b/f complained, huffing in her seat at yours and Neymar’s childish antics. 

“He knows what he’s doing, he wants to get one more thing over me before the two of you actually call it quits.”

“So you’re telling me there’s still something there?” 

“y/b/f -” 

“Sold to the gentleman in black!” The announcer spoke, catching your attention. Whilst you and y/b/f had been arguing you’d forgotten to put your number up one last time meaning Neymar won the painting, it was all his. 

“Fucking prick.” You spat under your breath. The sudden lust you’d had now turned into loathing. He knew how much you wanted that painting and yet he still wouldn’t let you win, not even one last time. You finished up your drinks and left, wanting nothing more than to be with your cats, even if Neymar was responsible for buying the first one but unbeknown to you he had a plan, one that meant this wouldn’t be the last time he’d be seeing you. 

— 

A week had passed and there was no Neymar in sight unless you count the ongoing headlines about you both but that was something you refused to engage in. When you found yourself alone in bed you often wondered to his contact in your phone, debating if you should send him an angry text about him stealing the painting which clearly had your name written all over it but that would only feed into his ego. 

Currently, you were laying across your sofa, Jareth slowly falling into sleep on your chest as you read through your new script and let your hand smooth down his black fur. The small echo from the tv was the only noise in your house until the doorbell made poor Jareth jump in his spot. The elder cat let out a cry of a meow at the noise. Setting the script down you scooped the cat up and held him against your chest and crook of your neck, cooing at him as you opened the door. 

“It’s alright old man.” You kissed his head. “Probably just Jannet ordering some packages and isn’t in to collect them.” You referred to your neighbour as you met the eyes of a man you knew all too well. Neymar stood outside, a worried expression on his face which he tried to cover up with confidence. 

“y/n…”

“What do you want? And how do you know where I live?” Your brows furrowed at the sight of him. 

“y/b/f isn’t good at hiding secrets, you really need a better assistant.” 

“She does fine thank you.” Your words were filled with venom as you spoke. 

“You look, good old man.” He now turned his attention to the cat, a smile on his lips as he watched a familiar sight. “He looks good for his age.” 

“Because I take care of him.” Arching your brows at his words you leant against your doorframe. “Why are you here?” 

His smile dropped slightly at your words but his confidence attempted to shine through his demeanour. “I wanted to give you something.” He reached to the side and pulled out a large wrapped item from behind your wall. “I’m sorry -”

“For?”

“Everything. I fucked up. The pressure from this stupid sport should have never led me to losing you.” 

“And you think a wrapped gift is going to fix all of that?”

“No, but I hope it’s a start. I’ll fix this if you’ll work with me. We both know there’s something still there.” Your eyes met his hopeful ones. He had a point and if the two of you took things slowly and built on what you used to have you knew you could fall back into his arms, probably a lot faster than you wanted to admit. 

“Come in.” You held the door open wider for him, allowing him to drag the gift which was bigger than him through into your front room before closing the door. You placed Jareth on the counter before turning to watch Neymar place the gift on the floor, his eyes longing on yours as he rose and made his way over to you. 

“Please just open it.” 

You gave him a silent reply before shifting your body towards the gift. Neymar took his place where you once stood, next to Jareth whilst you kneeled down and slowly pulled the paper back to reveal the gift. All your anger filtered away when you were met with the eyes of the horse painting you once fell in love with at the gala. You started to connect the dots, he’d won that bid just as a way to see you again and make amends. Looking up your heart melted even further when you saw what he was doing.

When Jareth was a kitten Neymar used to cuddle him like he was a baby and rock him around like he was your child. Jareth used to always snuggle his head into Neymar’s side when he carried him like that and just like old times you watched as Jareth cuddled into Neymars side as he cooed him like a baby. 

“Ney…” 

“I’m sorry I made you feel like shit at the gala but I had to win it because I needed to see you again.”

“You know you could have just messaged me and asked to see me.” You stepped over the painting and walked towards him. 

“Not as romantic though, is it?” He smiled. “I know it’s been years but I want to try again. I never stopped loving you y/n, no matter who I was with I just wanted you. I still do. I know it’ll take time but I’m willing to wait a lifetime if it means I can spend even just a night with you.” 

“You always had a way with words Ney.” You leant up and kissed his cheek, your heart swelling at the sight of him and Jareth. “On one condition.”

“Anything.” His eyes were fueled with hope. 

“We get another cat.”

“I’ll buy you a whole island full of cats if it means you’ll give what we had a second chance.”

i would absolutely love a ney imagine where he and the reader (perhaps an actress or a singer) used to date during his early fame. they truly loved each other, but broke up eventually due to certain issues. as the years go by, they both date other people to get over the horrible breakup (all attempts ended up failing, they're still pining over each other 💀) so flash forward after a few years, ney and reader happen to meet at a gala / party bcs they were both invited. imagine the TENSION between them.. like "oh okay you're there and i'm here and this is all really happening"

that ended up really long </3 ILY AUTHOR your works truly have mesmerized ♡

Hello! Thank you so much, ILY2 <3 You can read your request here, enjoy it <3

Hey! I know you write for footballers but would you write for the players in ted lasso? Like Jamie Tartt? I love your work!

I'm obsessed with Ted Lasso so yes I'd write for any of the boys, especially Jamie as that man is the loml <3

Pushover - Joao Felix x reader

Joao Felix x female!reader

Summary: The anger started when Joao overheard you and Mason discussing his relationship. The brunette tells you he hates you with every fibre of his being but a run-in with your ex during a match suggests something else. After another argument, he corners you in the bathrooms at the end-of-season awards to show you his true feelings.

Warnings: Cheating (ish), smut, unprotected (please wrap before you tap it), angst, swearing

Word Count: 5.3K

—

To put it plainly, Joao Felix was a pushover and it wasn’t just you who saw it, the whole Chelsea team did. Everyone had heard the rumours about him and his girlfriend, she’d cheated on him multiple times and yet he still forgave her, again and again… and again. He wasn’t exactly hard to look at either so you really couldn’t work out why he didn’t just dump her, anyone who was cheated on deserved better, especially Joao. 

Working for Chelsea’s media team meant you saw hundreds of women come and go when it came to the lads, some you missed and others you didn’t. But even if you liked the girls or you didn’t, you always supported the boys. After all, they were like family to you, a dysfunctional one sure, but a family.  

“I still can’t see why he’s with her…” Mason flashed Joao girlfriends Instagram your way. The pair of you sat at lunch together, he was busy stalking whereas you were attempting to meet a deadline. Glancing over you caught sight of his phone screen. 

“I would say money but he’s fine in that department.” You replied, not caring about those around you who might pry an ear into your words. “Maybe he’s lonely.” Your eyes never left your laptop as you continued to work. 

“Considering he spends most of his time with us I think he’s fine there.” Mason spared you a glance. 

“Any of you ever spoken to him about it?” You asked, your eyes now looking at his phone. “Maybe that’ll sway his mind.” 

“Maybe you could talk to him.” 

“Why would I do that?” 

“Maybe he needs a new woman to catch his eye.” Your eyes met Mason’s as he sent you a suggestive glance. 

“I’d rather not.” Your eyes darted back to your laptop screen. 

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t date pushovers.” As you finished speaking a sudden slam on the table caught your and his attention. Joao was standing before you his face smoothed with rage as he slumped down into the chair opposite you. His eyes burned holes into your skin as he spoke. 

“What are you working on?” He asked as if he hadn’t heard your entire conversation with Mason. 

“Just a graphic for the game against Liverpool in a few days…” Your eyes were glued to his, you wanted to rip them away from his gaze but you were stuck like a deer in headlights. 

“Hmm… are you planning to meet your ex after the game?” You nearly choked on his words. 

You’d had what those would describe as a summer fling when he was at the England camp and you’d been asked to cover some work due to having minimal at Chelsea because of the summer break. It wasn’t a relationship, you wouldn’t even consider him an ex-boyfriend more just someone you used to sleep with. Only a few of the lads knew about it, Mason and Ben being the main two you’d told after you and Trent decided a relationship wasn’t in the cards for you. 

Your glared at Mason who was now trying to hide himself behind his phone screen. “Did you tell him?” 

“It may have slipped out… but it wasn’t just me! Ben was speaking about it too!”

You pulled your eyes away from Mason to focus back on Joao. “He isn’t my ex and my love life doesn’t concern you-”

“But mine concerns you.” He had a point. Could you really tell him he had no right to question you when you and Mason were spending your lunch discussing his love life? 

“If anything we’re looking out for you.”

“By implying that I’m a pushover?” 

“Her words, not mine!” Mason raised his hands in defence. 

“Well, you do keep going back to someone whose favourite hobby is to publicly cheat on you.” You stepped in. 

“At least someone wants me enough to be in a relationship, Trent clearly didn’t want you around.” 

“Your girlfriend cheats on you if that’s what ‘wanted’ means I’d rather be alone.” 

“She does have a point.” Mason looked between the two of you. “Look mate we just want the best for you -”

“You might be she doesn’t!” Joao looked at Mason as he spoke. “Ever since I joined she’s had it out for me!”

“That isn’t true!” You defended yourself, your tone turning sour. 

“My first game and you couldn’t stop talking shit about me!”

“You got sent off in your first match meaning you couldn’t play for weeks! This season has been shit for Chelsea and the man they thought would be their knight in shining armour embarrassed them all!” 

“We all make mistakes y/n, clearly you made one with Trent. Maybe if he wanted you, you wouldn’t be moping around with an ‘embarrassing team’.” He smirked at his words, something you couldn’t believe he even had the balls to do after looking at the state of his situation. Before you could even reply Joao grabbed the last of his lunch and stormed out of the lunch hall. 

“Well…” Mason watched as Joao left. “That went well.” 

“Why did you tell him about me and Trent?” Your brow arched as you spoke to the brunette. 

“Look I’m sorry y/n, it just came out during training. You know I like to give Trent a hard time when we play after what happened between the two of you, I know you liked him too.” Mason gave you a sympathetic look as you tore your gaze away from him. 

Mason had a point, part of you did wish it had worked out with Trent. Over the summer you’d spent every single day with one another and he treated you like you were his girlfriend. He showed you off to the guys and you’d even met his family but only days after the two of you had left the England summer camp he was pictured with another girl outside a club. Any hope you had of the two of you ever picking things back up was shattered the second you saw that photo. Mason and Ben were the only two who knew your feelings towards him but little did you know the two of them had let your true feelings slip to Joao. 

—

You found yourself nearly missing the team bus to Liverpool. You clambered on just in time only to find that the only free seat was next to Joao. Everyone’s eyes drifted to you as you awkwardly wished a seat would randomly become free but your prayers were left unanswered. 

“Do you want the window seat or the aisle seat?” The brunette spoke up, slicing through the tension. 

“I- I don’t mind-” The last thing you wanted to do was to capture more attention on yourself. 

“You can have the window.” Grabbing his phone and bag he stood up, towering over you as he let you slide in next to him. You didn’t need to meet his eyes to know he was staring as you slotted yourself into the window seat. You cleared your throat as you pulled out your laptop and started to work on something to distract yourself from the situation before you.

“What are you working on?” His question caught you off guard, after what happened a few days ago you never expected him to attempt to start a conversation with you. 

“Just some plain graphics for the game.” You turned your laptop screen to him. Joao moved his head to get a better look at your work. “I leave the background blank as the photographers send us pictures throughout the game that we can put there and the numbers where the score would be are always left blank as we obviously don’t know what the score will be.” You looked over at him, your heart jumping as you realised he was already looking at you. 

“Is that what you mainly do? Graphics?” 

“Partly, I’ve filmed videos for the social media accounts, interviewed, edited, written captions, tweets, and even detailed a few apologies for some of the lads before. It’s basically a bit of everything.” You gave him a light smile. 

“How long have you been working here?”

“Started stewarding when I was eighteen and then when I was twenty I finally got a chance to work full time with the media department so a few years now.” You were beyond confused as to why he was suddenly so curious about you. “Why do you ask?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Just thought if I have to be stuck with you for hours on end that I might as well start a conversation rather than give you the cold shoulder for the journey.” 

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could say the same about you.” He glanced over at you before pulling out his AirPods. “Convinced you wanted me to fail-”

“I wouldn’t say fail… more hated the way you dealt with things.” 

“Well, I hated the way you spoke about me.”

“That’s fair…” You looked up at him to be met with his smirking grin. 

“Want one?” Offering you one of his AirPods with his cocky grin you took one and thanked him. He started playing music as he watched you work. The coach was quiet the most you could hear was the occasional chat from the lads and the typing of a few colleague's laptops. “Do you ever stop?” Joao asked out of the blue?” 

“It’s hard to.” You spared a glance at him. “We don’t just post things we also have to monitor comments, unfortunately, a lot of football fans believe they have the right to abuse players and discriminate against other fans that aren’t like them. Not all fans are like that though, most of them really do care about you guys.”

“You can tell.” He smiled. “I’ve never heard so many chants about different players.”

“If you like it now then imagine what it’ll be like if you guys start winning.” You smirked at him which earnt you a laugh from him. Attempting to hide a yawn you finished your work before putting it back in your bag. 

“Is that why you were late?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Did you oversleep?”

“That amongst other things.”

“Like?” 

You knew he wanted to keep the conversation going so the pair of you didn’t descend into madness during the long journey. “My cat-”

“How can a cat make you late?” He shifted in his seat so he faced you, clearly intrigued by your story. 

“Well the last thing I do before I leave is feed my cat -”

“What’s your cat called?” He asked. 

“Frank.”

“After Lampard?” His face swelled with amusement. 

“When I moved out my best friend got sick of me complaining about how much I missed my cats that lived with my parents so she decided to get me Frank and because I work for Chelsea she named him after Lampard, fitting now he’s taken over as a caretaker manager.” 

“And how did he make you late?” His smile grew. 

“As I said, the last thing I do before leaving is feed him. I was in my uniform and I was putting his food into his bowl when he jumped up and the food went all over me and well… I’m not exactly coming in smelling like tuna.” Joao couldn’t help but laugh at your words, catching the attention of Mason who was attempting to hear what the two of you were discussing. 

“Well,” He shifted in his seat again before patting his shoulder. “My shoulders here if you want it.” 

“You’d shrug me off just as I fall asleep.” You narrowed your gaze at him. 

“I’m a prick but I’m not that bad.” A small smile fell on both your lips. 

“Fine.” You didn’t want to argue, not again. 

You knew you and Mason were in the wrong discussing his relationship but he was also in the wrong when he hit back at you with comments about you and Trent but you didn’t want to dwell on what happened any longer. You let your head fall on his shoulder, you felt Joao warm to your touch as you got comfortable. Mason couldn’t believe his eyes at what he was seeing, he couldn’t help but nudge Ben several times in the ribs to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.   

Before you knew it, Joao was gently nudging you awake and the gates to the Liverpool ground were now behind you. You thanked him one last time before handing his airpod back to him. You left him with the rest of the boys as you followed the rest of your media colleagues towards the dugouts and journalism area. Everything ran smoothly despite your horrific morning, Joao was in the starting eleven which gave you the green light to use him as the main poster boy to announce the team news although you would’ve definitely picked Reece James if he wasn’t so nice to you. 

In the Liverpool line-up was Trent but that didn’t surprise you. When the teams came out of the tunnel for the match Trent looked up to the journalism area. His eyes met yours and sent you a wink and a smirk, an expression that caught the attention of Joao. He knew how you felt towards Trent after the England Camp and he knew his expression was just a way to get to you after the press continued to pit Chelsea and Liverpool against one another after their horrific seasons. 

The first half had ended goalless, Chelsea had a few decent chances, especially Joao but he was yet to get the ball in the back of the net. Within ten minutes of the second half, you watched Joao say something to Trent which had clearly rilled the scouser up. Trent shoved Joao and he quickly retaliated, shoving him back and shouting back at the man in red. The referee quickly ran up to the two of them whilst their teammates pulled them apart. They both received a yellow card and the game resumed.

You watched Joao carefully, wanting to tell him to lay off Trent because knowing his luck he’ll end up getting another yellow which will lead to a red. As if he could read your mind Joao eyed as Trent was given the ball, without thinking Joao threw himself at the lad, studs up causing Trent to fall to the ground in pain. Joao got up and yelled something at him as he clutched his ankle in pain. He stormed off, he knew it would be straight red. Liverpool fans booed and screamed at the Chelsea boy. The travelling Chelsea fans couldn’t believe what they’d seen, two red cards and he hadn’t even played a full season. 

Joao stormed down the tunnel and threw the door of the changing rooms open before slumping down on the bench where his stuff lay. You excused yourself from the media spot before jogging down to the changing rooms after Joao. You opened the door to see him throwing his boots across the floor. His eyes met yours as you walked into the room. 

“Haven’t you got graphics to make? Posts to make about me getting a red -”

“Why did you do that?”

“Do what? Get a red or put that prick in his place?” He huffed before continuing. “I saw the way he looked at you when we came through the tunnel. He was being a prick, Mason told me -” 

“What did Mason tell you?” You snapped, your eyes glaring at the man. 

“He told me you liked him and he treated you like you were his girlfriend then after deciding he didn’t want you he ran off with another girl.” 

“I’ll kill him-”

“It’s not his fault, I asked what had happened. I shouldn’t have pressed him but I did.” 

“Well, maybe Mason should keep his mouth shut.” Your eyes were still fixed on his. “And you should too, what did you say to him?” 

“I didn’t say anything to him.”

“Don’t lie to me Joao, I saw you said something to him when you two got your first yellow cards.”

“It was nothing -”

“What did you say to him?” Your voice grew louder. “Joao-” 

“I told him I was glad he didn’t want you because if he stayed with you then I wouldn’t get to hear you moaning around me every night.” He looked proud yet embarrassed at his words. He knew it would rial Trent up but he also knew a cheap joke at your expense would also piss you off. 

“You’re not fucking serious.” 

“y/n I’m sorry I -”

“Look I know I was a dickhead to you a few days ago but I was still right, you are a pushover, you even let Trent push you around all because he looked at me?” You stepped closer to him. “How did you ever make it professional when someone who looks at me pisses you off?”

“He made you uncomfortable, I wasn’t going to let it slide.”

“If it made you that annoyed you couldn’ve dealt with it off the pitch. The fans don’t deserve this and neither do the rest of the lads, it’s not fair!” You took a deep breath. “Why the sudden need to be a hero? I don’t need you to fight for me and make up something that would never happen between us -”

“You know all I was trying to do was to be nice!” He stood up and walked over to you, his breath on your face and his voice raising in aggression. “Most people would thank me for what I did.” He looked down at you. “You really think that wouldn’t happen between us either?” He now smirked at you, his hand reaching up to tuck some hair behind your ear. “I could have you underneath me in a heartbeat.”

“I’d thank you if you didn’t get sent off or made some shitty cheap joke about me! And if you ever think I’d even go near you like that you are very much mistaken!” 

“Yeah, we’ll see.” He ran his hand through his hair and took a deep breath. “I get it but you aren’t perfect too!”

“I never claimed to be!”

“You sure act it, judging everyone else's relationships but god forbid someone makes a comment about yours!”

“We were never in a relationship!”

“I can see why…” He snapped, turning his back towards you as he threw his shirt over his head and discarded his shirt. You might have wanted to slap him back down to earth but you couldn’t help but spare a glance at him. How his girlfriend cheated on him you’d never know, the man was gorgeous. 

—

Ever since yours and Joao’s dispute you’d hardly spoken to him unless you had to conduct an interview for Chelsea’s social media pages. Tonight was the end of the season awards and just like every single year you were attending. You made sure to match your dress to the exact shade of the Chelsea shirt. Your hair and make-up were done to perfection as you walked through the halls towards one of the lounges which was decorated with a million shades of blue and shades of silver and gold. Every year the hospitality team always outdone themselves and this year was no different. 

Mason greeted you with open arms and so did his family. Most of the boys bought their family or partners along however one player was completely on his own and that was Joao. He was sat on one of the tables opposite you, his eyes were fixed on you but his expression was hard to read. Was he pissed off? Was he apologetic? You weren’t sure but one thing was for certain, he wouldn’t look away. 

The night seemed to drag on, awards after awards were being dished out, some for credible achievements such as top goal scorer and others for more interesting achievements such as most pints downed after a win. You sat alongside Mason and his family when the awards ended. Music filled the lounge as everyone continued to socialise and drink the night away. You excused yourself from the table, getting sick of Joao watching you, you headed to the bathrooms to touch up your make-up but you didn’t realise someone was following you. 

“You look beautiful.” The familiar sound of Joao’s voice made you jump. He was leaning against the wall of the bathrooms, his eyes raking over your body. 

Joao regretted everything he’d said to you that day against Liverpool. The pair of you had spent many hours with one another in the media rooms, creating content for Chelsea and although you didn’t get off brilliantly due to his red card on his debut, he could tell you only wanted the best for everyone at the club, no matter if they were a player or simply cleaning staff. He’d come to his sense on the way to the Liverpool game that you were right about his relationship. Hearing your stories about your work and even your cat named after Frank made him think, perhaps that was the real reason why he went for Trent. 

“You know this is the women’s bathroom.” 

“I’m aware.” He pushed himself off the wall and walked over to you. “But my point still stands.”

“Thank you.” 

“Can we talk?”

“In the women’s bathroom?”

“No time like the present.” He smirked. You were still facing the mirror and Joao was standing behind you, looking at you through the mirror. “I’m sorry for what I did.” 

Huffing at his words you met his eyes briefly if the pair of you didn’t talk now the issue would never be resolved and if Joao wasn’t to sign permanently then you knew you’d never forgive yourself for the way the two of you ended things. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have called you a pushover.”

“But, I’m not sorry for what I said and did to Trent.” His hands snaked around your waist as he spoke. “Or for what I said about you.”

“Which part?” You set your lipgloss down, doing your best to pretend that you couldn’t feel his breath on your neck and his touch on your hips. “The part about me having you.”

“In your dreams.” You tried to step away but that would only push you closer to him. His grip tightened on your hips whilst his lips ghosted your neck. “You have a girlfriend-”

“No, I don’t.” He kissed your neck bore he spun you around to face him. “Why did you think I turned up alone?” 

“Why?”

“Well… you may have been right besides… the ‘pushover’ has had someone else on his mind recently...”  

Joao didn’t hesitate, his lips met yours, one hand cupped your cheek whilst the other went down to your thigh, pushing your dress to the side and allowed his hand to travel along your skin. You hesitated for a second before kissing him back. You couldn’t lie to yourself that Joao was hot, he was beautiful and if this was the way the two of you would make up then well… it was worth getting into a fight with him. 

Your hands went to his hair, tugging on the strands as he allowed his hand to travel higher up your leg. “God you’re perfect.” His lips now travelled down your exposed neck, gently tugging on your skin as his grip on your leg tightened. 

“You ruined my lipgloss.” You pouted as Joao pulled back to smirk at you. 

“You’re lucky we’re in the stadium otherwise I would ruin more than your lipgloss.” His lips met yours once again. He tugged on your bottom lip, making you moan as he pulled the zip of your dress down. Jumping at the sudden gush of cold air against your back he smirked into the kiss before letting his warm hands trail down your back as he peeled the dress from your body. He let the front of it pool around your waist. 

Your hands moved from his hair to his suit jacket, pushing it off his shoulders before grabbing his tie and pulling him back into a kiss. He lightly moaned as your nails raked across his white shirt. Joao’s hands went to your bra, unclasping it within seconds. He pulled away from the kiss as his hands cupped your boobs. “We should’ve argued sooner.” 

Smiling at his words you watched as he took your nipple in his mouth whilst grabbing the other with his free hand. “Fuck…” You moaned, your legs parting so he could get closer to you. Your bliss was cut short when he moved away. His hands hooked themselves around the backs of your thighs. 

“Jump.” He instructed you. Without hesitation, you jumped into his arms and he placed you on the bathroom counter. “Good girl.” His hands went to his own shirt, undoing the buttons so your hands could now trace his skin. Your nails raked his skin as Joao let his hands run up to your underwear.

“You do know someone could walk in right?” You spoke with a heavy breath. 

“And?” He kissed you again. “Keep quiet and they won’t.”

“You don’t know that-”

“y/n… shut up and trust me.”

“Make me.” You teased but he didn’t need to be told twice. Joao moved your dress aside so he could see your underwear. Pushing your underwear aside he let his fingers tease your clit. The light touches sent butterflies through your stomach as Joao started to add pressure. Your head fell back at his movements. “Please…” You moaned as Joao watched you come undone around him. Leaving your clit he moved towards your entrance. Joao slowly pushed two fingers inside of you which earnt a sudden moan from you. 

“I was right…” He breathed out, his hand pulling your face to look at him whilst he quickened his pace. “Your moans are beautiful.” Whilst his fingers fucked you his thumb went to your clit and started to bring you closer to your high. 

“Fuck you.” You breathed out. 

“Think I’m the one doing that love.” 

You could feel his hard-on against your thigh which only made you wetter against his touch. Joao could feel you getting closer, your moans continued to grow louder as he quickened his pace. “You look so gorgeous about to come around me…”

“Please Joao… please…” You whined at his actions, your nails leaving red marks across his skin. 

“Please what?” He taunted. 

“Please let me come.” 

“Yeah?” His lips ghosted yours as he kept adding pressure. “Come for me then.” He pressed his lips back onto yours as you came. You moaned into the kiss, your grip on his skin leaving darker marks which you knew wouldn’t fade for a while. “Such a good girl for me.” He kissed you before moving his fingers to his mouth so he could taste you. He savoured the moment before he quickly unbuckled his belt and allowed his cock to spring out. 

He pumped his cock a few times whilst his free hand went to your face, his thumb traced across your bottom lip before he spoke. “As much as I want your mouth around me right now… I need to fuck you.” 

He let his thumb fall into your mouth as he lined himself up and slowly pushed himself inside of you. Your face scrunched up at his size slowly pushing inside of you. Joao cupped your face whilst his free hand gripped your hip. “Is it too much?” He asked. 

“No… just go slowly.”

Joao kissed you gently. “Of course my love.” Your heart fluttered at his nickname but that feeling soon spread to your stomach when you felt Joao pull out and thrust back inside. “You feel so good.” His head fell against yours, your lips ghosting one another as he repeated his actions. Feeling used to his size you allowed your leg to hook around his waist and pull him deeper into you. 

“Faster…” You moaned in his ear. He didn’t need to be told twice. Pulling out he quickly slammed his hips back into yours and started to move at a quicker pace. “Fuck Joao…”

“My name sounds so pretty falling from your lips…” He moaned in your ear as he continued going faster. The pair of you knew that if it wasn't for the music in the lounge then everyone would have heard you. His fingers go back down to your clit and he quickly started to apply pressure to the bud. Your hands gripped onto the back of his neck, pulling him into a moaning kiss as he continued to fuck you faster. 

Pulling away from the kiss Joao pulled out completely before pulling you off of the counter. With one last kiss on your lips, he spun you around so you were facing the mirror and bent you over. With a harsh smack to your ass, he quickly pulled your dress back up and around your hips before kicking your legs apart. Grabbing a fistful of your hair he forced you to look at yourself in the mirror. 

“He could never fuck you as good as I can… could he?” He was evidently referring to Trent but your mind was too clouded with pleasure to even care. Joao lined himself up again, slowly letting the lip tease you. He couldn’t suppress the moan that fell from his lips at your wetness leaking onto him, he was so close but he wanted you for as long as he could. “Could he?” He repeated again. 

“No…” You moaned out, wanting nothing more than for him to fuck you again. 

“Who fucks you this good?” He quickly slammed himself inside of you again, tugging on your hair so that you were leaning closer to him. 

“You do…” You whispered. 

Joao pulled out before slamming back in. “I can’t hear you…” He taunted you with his slow movements. 

“You do Joao fuck!” You screamed as he started to fuck you again. His pace quickened as he pulled you against his chest, fucking you as faster. His hands reached around to play with your clit which only added to your pleasure. You started to grind back onto his cock as he slammed back inside of you. You could feel him stiffen inside of you which indicated he was close. 

“Joao I’m gonna come…” You let your head fall as you felt your stomach tighten. 

“Yeah? Come then baby… come all over my cock…” 

You couldn’t hold back for much longer, you felt your high wash over you and that was all you needed for Joao to finish inside of you. He pulled you closer to him as he finished, his groans filling your ear as the two of you slowly came down from your high. 

“So good for me.” He kissed your head as he slowly pulled out. He quickly got himself cleaned up before he helped you back into your clothes so you looked presentable to head back out to the party. “Beautiful.” He kissed your lips one last time. “I’ll head back out now, wait for a second and then follow me out. Just in case.” He turned on his heel but you called out to him before he left. 

“Joao?” He turned to meet your gaze. “Who was the other person on your mind?” 

He smiled at your words before replying. “Turn around and you’ll see her.” 

If you turned around you’d be met with a mirror, and you were the only one in the bathroom. 

There's no place like home - Joao Felix x reader

Joao Felix x female!reader

Requested? Yes/No: Anon: lazy s3x w joao

Warnings: Smut, 18+++ (male oral receiving, unprotected sex, wrap it before you tap it!) swearing, fluff

Word Count: 1.5K

—

English summertime wasn’t like the rest of Europe. The rain outside suggested that it was more wintertime rather than the middle of July. Joao was on his break for the summer and considering the two of you couldn’t go out and enjoy London you opted for a lazy afternoon. The pair of you were laying on the sofa watching The Wizard of Oz. When you’d met Joao he’d told you he’d never seen the film. Making a mental note you were adamant you’d get him to watch it one day and what better time to watch a film with an ongoing thunderstorm outside? 

You were laying on his bare chest, your eyes glued to the screen as the brunette ran his hands through your hair, glancing down at your figure, a small smile on his lips as he took in how attentive you were to the film. He glanced over at the screen before speaking. 

“Why didn’t the munchkins just kill the witch if she was such a problem?” 

You turned your head to look back up at him, your large doe eyes making Joao melt in a heartbeat. “Because you can only kill anyone by accident.” Your eyes looked over to the screen before looking back at him. “Dorothy didn’t mean to kill the witch, any death we see in the film is accidental. Glinda rules over Oz and she cast a spell which didn’t allow murder.” 

“Then why didn’t they just plan to kill the witch and make it look like an accident?”

“Because that wouldn’t really be an accident, would it?” You smirked as you spoke, Joao mirrored your expression before he leaned down and planted a kiss on your forehead. 

“You know sometimes I hate watching films with you.”

“Why?”

“Because you always know everything.” “Well, what else am I supposed to do whilst you’re at work?” 

“Hmm… true…” His hands now went to your waist, his grip tightening on your body as you felt his hips buck. “God you’re so pretty.” 

One hand left your waist to cup your jaw, forcing you to look at him he slowly leant down and planted a kiss on your lips. You kissed him back instantly, your mouths slowly moving on one another. Shifting you now straddled his waist, and your hands went to his jaw as you slowly started to grind down on his clothed cock. 

He moaned at your actions, his hips bucking up into yours as he pulled away from the kiss. His hands now went to the hem of your shirt which ironically belonged to him. His cold hands on your stomach made you jump slightly which earnt you a low laugh from your boyfriend. His hands went higher and fell upon your boobs.

“Joao…”

“What baby?” As he spoke he swiftly pulled your shirt over your head. “Such a pretty girl…” 

“You’re such a tease.” Your hands tugged on the waistband of his shorts. 

“You’re one to talk.” He pinched your nipples as he spoke, the sudden sharp feeling making you grind harder into him. “Remember the end of the season awards? When all you did was tease me? Constantly begging for my cock until I bent you over the car and fucked you until you forgot your name…” 

His words caused you to moan, only growing more impatient with him. “Please…” 

“So needy…” He kissed you again before raising his hips up. He effortlessly pulled his shorts and boxers down before pulling your clothed hips onto his bare ones. His hand slowly started to pump himself as he watched your eyes light up. “I need your mouth meu anjo…” 

You didn’t hesitate. Moving down his body you trailed light kisses down his body, the feeling giving him goosebumps. When you reached his cock you glanced up at him before kissing the tip, now it was your time to tease him. Your hand had replaced his, slowly moving up and down his large cock. You planted another kiss this time further down but still not enough for him to feel the slightest release. 

“y/n… please dom’t tease…”

“Who’s the needy one now?” Your tongue slowly darted across the tip, collecting the precum that had spilt from your teasing.

“Good girl…” He moaned as you slowly started to take him into your mouth, your head bobbing around his cock, with every stroke you started to get deeper. Joao did his best not to grab your hair and force you down onto him but it was proving harder by the second. His hands moved through your hair, tugging at the strands with every movement. 

You took the hint and changed your pace, moving faster he began to hit the back of your throat. The sound of you gagging around him was one he’d never grow tired of. His head fell back and his stomach muscles tightened at the pleasure growing inside of him. Your hand moved in sync with your mouth, at first you were gentle but the rough movements of his hips and the hand in your hair caused you to quicken.

You could feel he was getting close but he suddenly pulled your hair hard enough that your mouth left his cock and now you were looking up at him with pleading eyes. Joao's thumb went to your lips and swiped any mess from your lips before planting his thumb in your mouth. “Suck.” He commanded which you happily obliged. “Good girl.” His thumb left your mouth but continued to trace your bottom lip. 

“I need you.” You moaned at his actions. 

“Where do you need me, baby?”

“I need you to fuck me…” 

Joao smacked your ass, a chuckle leaving his lips as you let out a light yelp at his sudden actions. “I want you to ride me.” 

Nodding you shifted on the sofa, quickly slipping off your underwear you straddled him once again. Joao’s hands went to your hips, guiding you onto his cock. No matter how many times the two of fucked you would never get used to his size. Gripping on his skin your nails left marks on his shoulder as he entered you. 

“Move when you want to.” He leaned up and kissed your lips, his thumb caressing your cheek as you slowly rose your hips before grinding back down onto him.

At first, your movements were slow, Joao guiding you gently as you rode him. His hands started to grip tighter on your hips, he was silently begging to fuck you harder. You were bouncing on his cock at a steady pace but his actions made you slowly speed up. 

His hands went up to your boobs, cupping and pinching your nipples as you continued to ride him. Joao started to buck his hips as you started to speed up, his actions hitting you in all the right places. “Fuck Joao…” Your head fell back as you moaned, your hands resting on his stomach to steady yourself as his hips started to move faster. 

“You feel so good princesa…” Joao moved one hand to your neck, pulling you close enough that he could latch his lips against your neck. His teeth bit your skin, each shudder of pain mixed with pleasure as he started to thrust harder. 

Your eyes scrunched at the sudden sharp pain, a gasp which quickly turned to a moan leaving your mouth. Your moans only encouraged Joao more. His mouth left your neck, a smirk on his lips as he admired his artwork on your skin. “So good for me.” His hand once on your hips now made its way to your clit. His thumb added more pleasure to your body and if it wasn’t for Joao holding you up you would’ve collapsed on his chest. “Aren’t you?”

“Yes, Joao…” You started to bounce faster. Joao knew he couldn’t hold himself back for much longer and luckily for him you couldn’t either. “Fuck I’m gonna come…”

“Yeah?” His actions quickened. His thumb sped up, adding more pressure on your clit which caused the familiar pit in your stomach to build. 

“Fuck Joao I’m close…” 

“My name from your mouth sounds like a dream…” He kissed you again, tugging gently on your bottom lip as he pulled back. “You gonna come?”

“Yes, Joao…” Your body started to slow, your hips only being moved by your boyfriend's hands. “Fuck…” You felt yourself grow tighter around him. 

“Come for me y/n.” He moaned in your ear and that was all you needed. 

Your body began to shake as your high washed over you. The tight feeling around him made Joao finish deep inside you. Holding you down on his cock as he finished his forehead leaned against yours as his high finished. 

“Good girl.” He kissed your lips again, the pair of you catching your breaths.

You went to move off from his cock but he held you firmly in place. He slowly pulled you back down to lean on his chest whilst still inside of you, the film still playing in the background. “I know I hate the cold but I wouldn’t mind if the rain never stopped. You both shared a laugh at his words before you kissed his bare shoulder.

There really is no place like home. 

—

Buy me a coffee <3

lazy s3x w joao

Hey angel, you can read your request here. Have a good day <3

North London Forever - Martin Ødegaard x reader

Martin Ødegaard x female!reader

Summary: Being Antonio Conte's daughter had its perks, one being you spent most of your time with footballers many dreamed to see but you couldn’t help but be drawn towards the other side of North London, more specifically a blonde midfielder. Besides, who didn’t enjoy a little bit of rivalry? 

Warnings: Implied smut, fluff, angst, swearing

Word Count: 4K

—

It all started back in 2021 when Arsenal beat Tottenham 3-1 at home after their rough start to the Premier League. You were there to support your Dad but a certain someone caught your attention. That man was Martin Odegaard. You knew you shouldn’t have looked at him the way you did, especially with all the cameras around and not to mention he played for Tottenham's biggest rivals and the team your Dad currently hated the most… Arsenal. You shoved the thought of Martin Odegaard to the back of your mind but it was like fate wanted the two of you to meet. 

That night your friends asked you to join them on a night out and although you wanted nothing more than to spend the evening with your Dad something told you to go out with them. When you reached one of the many clubs they’d planned to take you to that night your eyes fell on a familiar sight. Martin and a few other Arsenal players were sat in a booth, celebrating one of the biggest wins of the season. Your eyes met and he couldn’t help but smirk at your reaction to seeing him. His ego swelled beyond belief knowing he’d caught the eye of his rivals manager's daughter. 

The rest was history. He’d made his move that night, slipping in a small dig towards your father due to the win he was currently celebrating but that only made the two of you grow closer. You spent the night with him and honestly thought that would be the end until he asked to take you on a date. You knew it would be a bad idea, not because Martin wasn’t suited for you but because you knew your father would lose his shit when he found out but you didn’t care. You had been dating the Arsenal midfielder behind your father's back for a year.

The World Cup was finally upon everyone. Despite having some of the world's most talented players Norway didn’t make it to the competition but that meant you would have more time to spend with Martin. It also gave him time to finally take a break from football without the worry of having to rush home for training or a game. Your Dad had also decided to go back to Italy for a break, you’d been invited but you politely declined, your home was only a few streets away and certainly wasn’t from Italy. 

“You sure you’ll be okay on your own?” Your Dad asked, counting his luggage as he made sure he had everything. 

“I’m not a child.” You smiled at him. “I’ll be fine.” 

“I will fly back in a heartbeat if you need me to, all you need to do is call me.”

“I’m sure I will be fine, say hello to the rest of the family for me.” 

“You know they would prefer it if you were coming too.” He gave you a pitiful look as he pushed his bags aside. “You sure you’ll be okay -”

“Dad I will be fine.” You narrowed your gaze at him with a small smile on your face. “If anything happens or I change my mind I will call you or jump on the next flight to Italy.” You know that was a lie but it would put his mind at ease. “And the Christmas tree will be up when you get home.”

“Blue and white remember.” He arched his brows. 

“I remember.” You couldn’t help but smile at the thought of Martin’s reaction when he finds out you’d have to decorate the tree in Spurs colours. 

You’d planned to decorate the tree with Martin, it wasn’t your first Christmas with him and you knew it wouldn’t be the last. Last year Martin invited you to his to decorate his tree which in North London fashion happened to be decorated in red and white. The pair of you made Christmas cookies with one another whilst you danced to Christmas music. Everything with him was perfect, you just wished you could’ve shared the actual day with him. 

“I will be back in two weeks.” He made his way over to you, holding his arms out for a hug. You complied, walking towards him and falling into the hug. “Please don’t burn the house down.” 

Laughing at his words you pulled back. “I won’t, I promise.” 

Conte smiled at you as he gathered his bags, heading out to the car. Whilst he was packing his things into the vehicle you quickly pulled out your phone to text Martin. 

You: He’s leaving now x

Martin: I’ll get my things and leave in 5 x

You: Drive safely please x

Martin: Always love x 

“Who are you texting?” Your Dad’s voice snatched your attention. He arched his brows at you, his face clearly interested in the wide smile you had on your face as you looked at your phone.

“No one.” You lied. “I was just checking the time.”

“And smiling like an idiot at it?” 

“What can I say, I get time away from you I’ll always be happy at that.” You gave him a smirk which broke into a small laugh. He followed suit, knowing you never meant that but he also knew you were lying about your reasons but he knew better than to press on. 

“I will text you when I’m at the airport and when I’ve landed.”

“Be safe.”

“I will.” He blew a kiss to you as he got into the car, sending you a small wave as he left the house and headed back to Italy.

You’d always been close to your Dad, the love of football you both shared kept the bond alive. You’d travelled the world with him, watching him manage teams in different leagues and now you were back in London with him, the only change was you didn’t live in West London but North London. You’d still spoken to some of the old Chelsea lads your Dad managed but they didn’t exactly end on a good note so much like Martin, that was kept rather quiet.

Being so close to one another only added to your pain in keeping your relationship with Martin quiet. The pair of you never hid anything from one another and even if you tried it would always come to light a few days but not this secret. It was arguably the most challenging thing you’d ever done, having to lie to him for a year straight. One day he’d find out, you just needed to find a good time to tell him.

You never had to wait long for Martin to drive to yours after all, he was only a few streets away. That was an added benefit of dating him although you always had to keep an eye out for any Spurs players, god forbid one of them spotted you two together. Opening the door you were met with a wide grin and stunning blue eyes which always made you melt. You looked down at his hand and noticed he was holding a bunch of red roses. 

“Cliché I know but red is better than white unless it’s on an Arsenal kit.” He winked before planting a kiss on your forehead. Taking the flowers from him you moved aside, letting him into your home. It was rare Martin ever got to be around for more than a few hours as your Dad would always be home or if the house was free Martin would be playing a match somewhere in Europe. 

“You’re going to hate the colour my Dad wants the tree this year then.” Martin rolled his eyes at your words. 

“You can decorate the tree then.” He gave you a grin. “I’ll be watching replays of our greatest wins against Tottenham.” You lightly shoved the boy as you shut the door, following his expression and grinning up at him. 

“Shut up you’re helping.” You headed towards the kitchen to find a vase to put your flowers in with Martin trailing behind you. He wrapped his arms around your waist pulling your back into his chest. He started to pepper you with light kisses on your neck, tightening his grip on your waist as you melted into his touch. 

“When are you going to tell him?” He suddenly asked, turning you around to face him. 

“I need to tell him soon it’s been a year.” Your voice dropped at your own words. “Christmas?”

“You think that’s a good idea?”

“Happiest day of the year for most people, maybe it’ll be ours too.”

“You think he’ll let you come to the Emirates on boxing day to watch me play West Ham?”

“Don’t get too hopeful Ødegaard.” The pair of you shared another smile. “I’ll tell him when he gets home from Italy, that way he’d got time to process the whole thing and the two of you won’t go up against one another in a match anytime soon.” 

“I don’t care if he doesn’t like me, as long as you’ll still be mine.” 

“Of course I will, I’m not going to throw what we have away all because my Dad can’t set aside some stupid rivalry.”

“It’s not a stupid rivalry -”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.” 

“It’s a very serious one Arsenal continues to win.” He smirked. “Think I might need to remind Conte that when I see him next -”

“If he doesn’t hunt you down first. He thinks you’re an incredible player Martin but that only makes him hate you even more.”

“You know I don’t care what he thinks about me, right?”

“You have mentioned it.”

“We’ll tell him after Christmas… or maybe just before.”

“We?” “You don’t think I’m going to let you tell him on your own do you?”

Your smile grew as you leaned up to plant a kiss on his lips, Martin ducked his head down to deepen the kiss, his hands trailing down your body as he did so. The kiss grew hotter as your hands started to tug on the ends of his blonde hair. The pair of you eventually pulled away, your eyes gazing deep into one another's. 

“Who knows maybe you can spend Christmas here.” You spoke, a playful smile tugging on your lips. Martin let out a light laugh, his head falling as he did so. 

“I’m not spending it at this Tottenham house.” 

“Fair point.” You laughed along with him before the two of you got to work on the tree. 

You’d spent the entire time convincing Martin you couldn’t just switch out the colours to red and white but the gunner was adamant that he could make your Dad see reason. Eventually, the tree was decorated in navy blue and white, much to Martin’s disgust. The two of you decided to order a takeaway and watch Christmas films to pass the time. In the evening you’d both bake something Christmassy and then enjoy a joint shower to wash off all the mess you’d made but the sudden noise of your front door unlocking would ruin those evening plans. 

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen The Muppets Christmas Carol.” You were laying into his side, empty takeaway boxes in front of you both as you watched the film. 

“It’s the same as all the other Christmas Carol films-”

“No, it’s got the muppets in this version therefore it’s better than any other version.”

“What do they add to the original story that makes it better?”

“Comedic value and musical numbers.” You looked over at him with a smile on your lips. “What more could you want?” 

He shrugged before leaning in. “I could think of a few things.” As your lips went to touch his the sound of a key opening your front door made the pair of you jump apart. 

“y/n? My flight was cancelled so you’re stuck with me-” Your Dad went to finish but when his eyes fell on Martin and his daughter beside one another on his sofa his words got lost in his mouth.

“Dad I-” 

“Why is there an Arsenal player in my house?”

“Dad please can we talk about this?” You rose from your spot, Martin copied your actions, his eyes glued to Conte.

“We are talking.” His voice was stern as his bags fell to the floor. His eyes darted to Martin’s and if looks could kill you were convinced your boyfriend would be dead. “Get out, we’ll talk about this when he’s gone.”

“Dad please-”

“It’s not her fault.” Martin cut you off. “Please can we talk to you about this?” Conte said nothing. His eyes just stayed glued to Martin. Your boyfriend took the silent hint to continue. “I love her, a lot. This isn’t just a fling or some shitty hookup, we’ve been together for over a year now and every day I find myself falling for her even more than I was the day before. I know you won’t like me because I play for Arsenal but I hope you can see past that for her. I just want her to be happy, just as you do.” 

“Get out.” Your Dad stood by his words. 

“Dad-”

Martin let his head fall in defeat before speaking. “It’s fine y/n.” Martin cut you off. He leant down and planted a kiss on your head. Martin grabbed his things before heading out the door, his heart racing at what had just happened. Part of him wanted to stay and have it out with your Dad but he knew better than to press on. 

When Martin was gone, Antonio looked over at you and started to speak. “You two have been together over a year?”

“Yes. I wanted to tell you, we planned on doing it soon but we could never find the right time and I knew you’d be annoyed because he plays for Arsenal but-”

“Can’t you see he’s using you?”

You were taken back by his words, your face scrunching at what you’d just heard. “You can’t be serious?”

“Think about it y/n, he plays for Arsenal and he’s the manager's golden boy and now he magically ends up with the rivals manager's daughter? Come on y/n.”

“For once can you just separate football from this, please? I  know it’s your life, it’s mine too but not everything is about football.” You looked away before meeting his gaze again. “If you really think that why wouldn’t he just introduce himself to you so he can get as much knowledge as he possibly can straight away?”

“Probably because he gets it all from you!”

“You think that’s what we talk about? Believe it or not, we have actual conversations that don’t involve a group of men running around in a rectangle kicking a ball around for 90 minutes.”

He let out a deep breath, his hands raking through his hair before he spoke again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because I knew you’d act like this.”

“Do you not trust me y/n?” “Of course, I trust you, Dad.”

“Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? I thought we could tell one another everything?”

“Because you act like this. You act like he’s using me to get to you but he’s not. You try and put ideas in my head all because you want me to end up with Son or one of your other golden Spurs boys.” Tears formed in your eyes as you spoke. “I can’t help who I fall in love with and-”

“You love him?”

“Of course I do and because I love him I want you to accept him as my boyfriend just as you would do if I was dating any of the Tottenham players. Just because he plays for Arsenal doesn’t mean there’s any ill intent-”

“y/n please listen to me… no Arsenal player would willingly hang around with you-”

“With me?”

“No that’s not what I meant, y/n just listen-”

You didn’t want to hear the rest, why would you? Your Dad wasn’t going to change his mind. He hated the idea of you dating a footballer anyway but if you were he’d always made it clear he’d prefer someone like Son but even then that was a bit of a stretch.  

You didn’t utter a word to your Dad as thoughts of Martin crossed your mind. When anything went wrong Martin was always there and you needed him now. Turning on your heel you headed to your room, packing some essentials before you grabbed your keys. “I need some time to think.” You uttered before opening the front door and clambering into your car. 

Your Dad followed you, his figure standing in the doorway to your house as he watched you wipe your tears with the backs of your hand. You didn’t dare glance over to him as you pulled out of the driveway and headed to Martin’s. Although he normally came to yours there was the odd occasion where you’d stay at his. He had a drawer under his bed full of spare clothes for you and any products you used in your everyday life. If only your Dad bothered to learn about this side of Martin. 

When the blonde opened the door his heart sank at the sight of you. Without uttering a word Martin pulled you inside, his arms wrapping around you immediately. For a while, you sobbed into his chest whilst he planted light kisses on your head and smoothed your hair down. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He finally spoke. 

“I’ve fucked up.”

“No, you haven’t.” Martin pulled away, his hands cupping your face as he wiped your tears away. “Look, I shouldn’t have left like that. I should’ve stood up for you and at least spoken to him before I left you alone.”

“This isn’t your fault Martin.” 

“It is partly. I was the one who continued to hide it away from your Dad when you wanted to tell him.”

“No, it’s not.” You planted a light kiss on his lips. “I just need time apart from him.”

“Well…” A smile spread across his lips. “I do need to decorate the tree in Arsenal colours.”

“Only if we get to finish The Muppets Christmas Carol.”

“Deal.”

— 

For the past two weeks, you’d spent most of your waking hours with Martin, pushing what happened with your Dad to the back of your mind. You would attend Martin’s games which lead to a lot of talk with the press when fans caught you wearing an Arsenal shirt in his box. Conte did his best to avoid any talk of you, his anger still boiling up inside him at the idea of his daughter dating Arteta’s golden boy. Although his anger continued to shine, especially with Tottenham’s poor results he couldn’t help but feel an emptiness in the house. Without you, he was on his own and that feeling only got worse as Christmas approached. 

It was Christmas Eve and Martin had just gotten home from training. The two of you were under a blanket as snow started to fall from the sky. The pair of you had your eyes glued to the TV which was currently playing The Grinch, your hands intertwined with his. 

“Are you planning to spend Christmas with me?” Martin muttered into your hair before kissing your forehead. 

“Of course I am.” You turned your head to face him. “Not exactly going to get up and run away now am I?” Martin leaned down and pecked your lips, his smile growing at your words. 

“Perfect although I’d prefer if you were on good terms with your Dad. Have you spoken to him?”

“Nope.” 

“Do you plan on it?”

“After Christmas.”

“Is it…?”

“The first Christmas without him? Yep.” A wave of sadness washed over you as you spoke. “No matter what team he was managing or wherever he was in the world we’d always be together for Christmas.”

“y/n this is all -”

Before Martin could finish his sentence his front door sounded. The pair of you glanced at one another before looking over to the door. Martin lifted you gently off his chest before making his way to his door.

“Were you expecting anyone?” You asked. 

“No? Maybe Mikel needs something…” As he swung the door open he was met with the sympathetic eyes of your father. “Sorry, how do you know where I live?” 

“Merry Christmas to you too Martin… I asked Arteta. I told him what happened and well, he was happy to help.”

“Brilliant.”

“Is she inside?”

“She is.” Martin leaned against the door frame as he spoke. “Do you really think she wants to see you? She told me everything… you really thought I was using her?”

“Can I please come in and talk it through with both of you?” A pitch of silence fell through the air. “Please?” 

Martin knew you wanted it to be sorted. He could see how much it hurt you to be away from your Dad, especially at Christmas but he also knew this could all go horribly wrong and ruin the first proper Christmas the pair of you were spending together. Reluctantly he stepped aside and let your Dad in. He sent you a sympathetic look as you watched the familiar face walk through the door. 

“y/n…”

“Hello, Dad.” 

“I need to speak to both of you.” Martin walked back over to where you were sitting on the sofa, his eyes stern as he looked at your Dad. “I’m sorry for what I said to you both. I always let football take over my life, y/n knows that.” He gave a light smile your way before he continued. “I shouldn’t have let the rivalry between the two clubs get in the way of my daughter's happiness. As much as I hate Arsenal and especially Arteta’s golden boy it still wasn’t fair. I should never have doubted how you felt about my daughter Martin.” He let out a small laugh, “I can tell by the fans speak about you both that you treat her well.”

“Of course I do.” Martin sighed at his words. “Look, I get it. My Dad is the same with rivalries and so was I but the truth is football controls most of our lives but it shouldn’t control every aspect of our lives, especially the ones we love.”

“I’m so sorry.” Your Dad repeated. 

“Me too.” You finally spoke. “We should’ve told you a long time ago-”

“I don’t blame you for not telling me. I understand why, look at what happened when you did.”

“You should not have found out that way.” You rose from your seat. Heading towards him with open arms. “I’m sorry Dad.” The pair of you wrapped your arms around one another. Martin stayed on the sofa, his smile growing knowing he’d finally been accepted by your Dad and now the two of you were finally back on track. 

Both you and Conte pulled back. “How can I make it up to you both?” He asked. 

“I have an idea,” Martin spoke up, a smirk growing on his lips. “Spend Christmas here with us, in the Arsenal-themed house.”

Conte looked between you both. No amount of grafting would get him out of Martin’s proposal. “Fine, as long as you two aren’t all over each other.”

“Can’t promise that sir.” Martin made his way over to you both, his hand extending for Conte to shake. “She does look good in my Arsenal shirt.”

“Watch it, Ødegaard.” 

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐔

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re a tease, asking for things you supposedly already have. Trent catches on... eventually.

A/N: This is my first social media AU so bear with me if it absolutely sucks, also my first time writing for Trent so a bunch of firsts going on today. Enjoy!

Warnings: not much, just a lot of fluff and shite captions lol

...

yourusername | 📍Venice, Italy

tagged venice.explore and calvinklein

liked by yourbsf, calvinklein, and 17,786 others

yourusername can I call you later?

view all 2671 comments

user1 pretty ladyyyyyyy

calvinklein summer collection has never looked better 😍

— yourusername have never loved a black dress more

yourbsf photo creds and the second glass are all me.. right?

— yourusername ofc 😇

user2 omg i need to go to venice asap

user3 i thought you were in la this week for a photoshoot with hudabeauty??

— yourusername next week!! super excited omg 🩷

…

trentarnold66

liked by liverpoolfc, andyrobertson94, and 946,716 others

trentarnold66 Recharging 🔋

view all 76,936 comments

andyrobertson94 Right, there’s no need to flex the arms 😒

— trentarnold66 I was just bending them? 🙃

liverpoolfc Back at camp soon ❤️

— trentarnold66 💪

user6 BYE TRENT FINALLY POSTED HOLIDAY PICS SO I CAN SLEEP NOW

user7 can you choke me with those arms thanks bae

— user8 so real 🤣

judebellingham No invite lad? I see how it is 🫤

— liked by trentarnold66

…

yourusername

tagged hudabeauty, hudabeautyshop, and kayali

liked by hudabeauty, trentarnold66, and 30,651 others

yourusername Coming to you… July 👀

view all 9862 comments

yourbsf A DREAM IM SO PROUD OF YOU BABE

— yourusername i love you 🥹

user4 aaahhhhhhh this has been such a long time coming!!! remember ur youtube videos when u used to review their products?

— liked by trentarnold66

hudabeauty A literal real-life doll 😘

— yourusername says the literal makeup magician ❤️

user5 TRENT LIKED????

— user9 who’s that?

— user5 ONLY THE BEST RB IN THE WORLD WHAT

…

trentarnold66

liked by liverpoolfc, yourusername, and 976,816 others

trentarnold66 Singapore 🇸🇬 Feels real good to be back.

view all 126,625 comments

liverpoolfc What’s up, Vice Captain? 💪

— trentarnold66 🫡

user10 liverpool’s very own ❤️

yourusername damn.

— liked by trentarnold66

virgilvandijk Let’s get it!

user5 OMGGG THEYRE DEFO DATINGGG WAIT

user12 don’t know who yourusername is but she’s verified and trent liked her most recent post now she’s commented on his???? i smell a new couple 👀

…

yourusername | 📍 Liverpool

tagged liverpoolfc

liked by trentarnold66, harvelliott, and 29,872 others

yourusername bleeding red today, bleeding red everyday

view all 11,463 comments

user12 she does know trent’s mural is literally opposite hendo’s right? 🧐

— liked by yourusername

— user12 OMG SHE LIKED MY COMMENTTTT

harvelliott love it 🌹

— user5 DUDE WHO IS THIS GIRL DATING OMFHDJSJSE

trentarnold66 Hmm

— harvelliott 😂

yourbsf fit went hard.

— yourusername not everyone’s agreeing w u 😒

— yourbsf you mean….

— yourusername shh

…

…

trentarnold66

liked by judebellingham, liverpoolfc, and 817,625 others

trentarnold66 Skipper today but winning in front of you is the best part ❤️🏟️

view all 262,527 comments

user5 IS HE TALKING ABOUT YOURUSERNAME

— user13 bro you lot reach sm wtff he’s obviously talking about the fans lmao they played at home today

judebellingham serious player

— liked by trentarnold66

yourusername should I say congrats?

— trentarnold66 Only if you’ve changed shirts

— yourusername so take off yours then

— liked by trentarnold66

…

…

yourusername

liked by yourbsf, trentarnold66, and 96,726 others

yourusername my mom approves

view all 70,637 comments

user5 I CALLED IT FROM THE START YESSSSHDHDHSHSHHS YALL ARE SO CUTE

yourbsf ok trying to convince ppl that i’m the other one in ur pics is getting harder and harder to do

— yourusername 😂😂

trentarnold66 Shirt’s all yours

— yourusername took you long enough

— trentarnold66 I got there in the end 🙂

yoursister does that mean I get to keep Harvey's shirt now?

— yourusername i bet you've already taken it anyway

— yoursister if I speak I’m in big trouble

…

trentarnold66

tagged yourusername

liked by yourusername, andyrobertson94, and 1.2 million others

trentarnold66 Dear Darling ❤️

andyrobertson94 Congrats Brother 🫂

— liked by trentarnold66

yourusername should’ve posted the pic where you were preeing my old yt vids

— trentarnold66 I don’t recall that 🤨

— yourusername little liar

— trentarnold66 Little? Who’s the liar now?

— user12 YALL ARE SOOOOOOOO

user5 I WANT MY FINDERS FEE 👩‍⚖️

harvelliott Beautiful 🤩

…

Masterlist

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟏

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: This is me writing in hopes to distract myself from that abysmal final! Just to preface that Lee Richardson is the performance psychology consultant at LFC :) Also, I feel like Trent’s quite shy so I don’t think he’d be as rude as he is in this fanfic but for this to be a kinda enemies to lovers, I upped his rude boi energy by like 100% lol

There's no age gap btw! In the UK, it's doable to become a licensed sports psychologist in 6-10 years. If it took Reader 7/8, that would place her around 25 or 26 years of age. So, both Trent and Reader are of similar ages!

Warnings: psychology but nothing too in-depth, Trent’s rude in this :D, angst, very tense energy

Word Count: 1.9k words (6 mins reading time avg)

…

You checked your watch once, twice, then three times within a mere five minutes.

The sterile office, with its minimalist decor and muted lighting, seemed to magnify your impatience. Your eyes wandered to the vacant chair opposite you, and you sighed deeply.

Trent Alexander-Arnold was now fifteen minutes late for his first appointment.

“Not the best start,” you muttered under your breath.

Jotting a quick note on a pink Post-it to purchase a digital clock for your desk, you flipped the pen and clicked it shut, placing it down with a resigned finality. The email that landed in your inbox felt almost comically timed. It was from Lee, wishing you luck on your first official day.

You’d been in and out of the training center for the past week, organising your office, which had previously served as a spare room, often only used for the odd meetings.

Boxy and unfamiliar, it was a space you intended to transform into something warmer and more inviting with time. But any attempt to distract yourself proved futile; even the mental image of your office becoming a cozy haven couldn’t quell the unrest you felt inside.

Trent’s absence was more than a minor inconvenience; it felt like a deliberate message. After what Lee had disclosed about his rather aloof attitude, you couldn’t say you were entirely surprised.

Locking your office behind you, you ventured into the heart of the training facility. As you passed by groups of players and staff, your shoulders tensed imperceptibly. You adjusted your pace, trying to find a balance between caution and confidence.

Every corner turned, every nod exchanged with passing colleagues, felt like a small test of acceptance. Your mind raced with thoughts of proving yourself here. While a flicker of self-doubt danced across your features, you masked it beneath a veneer of professional composure.

You eventually found Trent tucked away in the far corner of a sparsely populated gym. A few exchanged ‘good mornings’ and ‘hellos’ momentarily eased your stress, but your tension returned as your gaze settled again on the man who had been purposefully late.

With a deep breath, you started heading towards him, weaving your way through the labyrinth of gym equipment.

You skirted around the treadmills, their rhythmic thudding echoing your own anxious heartbeat. Passing by the clanking weights, you dodged a few stray dumbbells left on the floor. The aroma of rubber mats and iron filled the air.

Finally, you rounded the weightlifting machines and found Trent on a mat, engrossed in his exercises. His headphones were still firmly in place, and his expression remained inscrutably focused, as though he was blocking out the world around him.

When you finally reached him, you hesitated, wanting to wait until he finished his set so as not to disturb his workout.

However, Trent spotted your reflection in the mirror in front of him as he came up. He stopped mid-crunch, the beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. He looked down, knowing exactly what this would be in regard of. He’d seen you around the training grounds enough to be familiar.

His elbows rested on his knees as his arms folded inward. He exhaled deeply, trying to regulate his breathing.

He wiped the tip of his nose with the pad of his thumb, then pulled his headphones off and let them rest around his neck.

“What?” He looked at you with mild irritation, craning his neck to see you standing just a few steps behind him.

Your lips pressed together in a courteous and tight-lipped smile.

“Hi, Trent. I’m Y/N, the new psychologist. We had an appointment scheduled for twenty minutes ago.”

Turning back to face the mirror, he stretched his arms out in front of him before reaching for a hand towel to wipe the sweat from his brow and neck.

Then he shrugged, his indifference palpable.

“Yeah, I know.” Your eyebrows furrowed at his response as you studied his expression in the mirror. His face shifted subtly, but the changes were too fleeting to decipher.

“Then why didn’t you show up?” you asked, your tone calm but firm.

"I don't see the point," he responded flatly.

In one fluid motion, he planted one palm firmly on the ground before twisting his torso and hoisting himself up with a push, turning to face you as he rose gracefully to his feet.

Your eyes locked inevitably, the proximity of his body left you no choice but to gaze up at his face, your chin tilting ever so slightly upward.

Beads of sweat glistened from his forehead, and his mouth was slightly parted as he scrutinised you from head to toe. A scoff escaped him before he turned away, sliding off some weight plates and placing them methodically beside his mat.

"I don’t need some shrink telling me how to play football," he asserted dismissively, the hints of his accent colouring his defiant tone.

You took a moment to consider your response, your gaze tracing the broad shape of his shoulders. Despite the urge to react defensively, you couldn’t shake the awareness that someone might be listening in from behind you.

You cautiously approached him, aware of the tension hanging in the air, his eyes flicking to your reflection in the mirror.

"I'm not here to tell you how to play football," you began calmly, letting the weight of your words settle between you. "I'm here to help you navigate everything off the pitch that might impact your performance on it."

"Well, thanks, but no thanks," Trent said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I've managed fine so far."

“Have you?” you questioned, quickly scanning the room for any prying ears, relieved to find everyone engrossed in their own routines.

Trent rose up, clutching a 15-pound weight plate between his hands.

"Because from where I stand, the club thinks you could use some support. And honestly, there's no shame in that." That was a saying your professors had instilled in you from day one.

Trent's jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might ignore you. Instead, he pivoted to face you once more, his presence suddenly palpable.

"Look, I get that you're just doing your job, yeah? But don't expect me to pour my heart out to some stranger. Especially on someone else's schedule." He emphasised.

You blinked, but maintained eye contact, refusing to back down. "Fair enough. But I'm not going anywhere, Trent. Whether you like it or not, I'll keep trying to reach you."

He studied you for a moment, then shook his head slightly, leaning in just a bit closer.

"Good luck with that, psychologist."

…

"I think that's our time wrapped up, thank you so much, Conor." You hoisted yourself up with the armrests of your chair and gave a warm smile to the man opposite you.

"Yeah, no worries. I'll see you around." Conor said as he turned, rounding the chair he was just sitting on, giving you a final nod and smile before leaving and closing the door behind him.

You waited until it clicked shut before you sinked into your chair again. Your work was deeply important to you, one of few things in life you were immensely passionate about, but man, it took its toll on longer days.

You rubbed your temples in a poor attempt to alleviate the dull ache that had formed from hours of conversation. As you tried to gather your thoughts, the interruption in the form of a new email snapped you back to reality.

It was from Lee, asking you to come and see him when you were free.

Your head rolled back for a brief moment of respite. Trent had been on your mind ever since your confrontation earlier, lingering in the back of your thoughts throughout the day, despite the overall improvement as the hours ticked by.

Resigning yourself to more work, you pushed yourself up with a temporary surge of motivation. Straightening your blouse and combing your hair with your fingers, you headed towards Lee's office across the hall.

The door stood ajar, a silver name plaque bearing his name neatly affixed. Lee's office exuded an air of scholarly authority, with shelves lined with books, framed certificates adorning the walls, and strategically placed pieces of Liverpool memorabilia.

He glanced up from his desk as you knocked on the doorframe.

"You asked to see me?" you inquired, your head tilting slightly as he closed the folder he was reading, sliding it into the filing cabinet behind him.

"Yes, come in," Lee replied, gesturing toward the chair positioned across from him.

You smoothed down your skirt as you settled into the chair, intertwining your hands on your lap.

His demeanor exuded encouragement, warmth evident in the gentle lines of his smile. As he gathered his thoughts, your eyes fell upon a framed picture on his desk. Lee stood on the far left, flanked by several players including Trent and Curtis, their bright smiles frozen in time.

Your own smile deepened at the sight, noting how much younger they all appeared in the photograph. But as today's events replayed in your mind, your gaze momentarily lowered before returning to meet Lee's.

"A few years ago, that one," he pointed briskly at the photo, though he didn't give you time to respond before changing the topic - a relief, in your opinion.

"So," Lee clasped his hands together, "first official day? How'd it go?"

Pushing back thoughts of Trent deliberately, today had gone rather well.

"Good, honestly. Wataru and Conor were a little shy at first, but I think I was able to break through by the end of our sessions. Curtis was quite bubbly and a joy to talk to. We had some positive discussions too." You truthfully answered, giving a polite smile to round off your answer.

He nodded, impressed. Without a word, he turned to squint at his computer screen, his glasses perched atop his head. "And Trent?"

You cleared your throat, your tongue swiping over your bottom lip nervously. After a moment's hesitation, you shook your head once before answering.

"Trent didn't show up." You admitted with a wry smile. "I found him in the gym and brought it up but I wouldn't say that was a positive discussion."

Lee chuckled softly, his voice carrying a gentleness that belied his words. "Trent’s a tough nut. He’s got a lot on his shoulders and doesn't easily trust new people. But that's why you're here."

You nodded resolutely. "Absolutely. I don't intend on letting up."

"If you want me to step in-" He began but you shook your head again, halting him in the middle of his sentence.

"I respectfully don't think that's going to help. He's not exactly trusting of me right now, and I'm worried about the impression you stepping in might leave. I'm fortunate he's at least talking to me and sharing his feelings." You said with a measured tone, your words careful and tinged with a hint of apprehension.

"Well, you're the pro," you smiled at his joke, exhaling a sigh.

"I'm relying on your guidance, Lee. I can only hope he'll start working with me."

Lee nodded thoughtfully. "Trent respects effort and authenticity. He's introverted, sure, but once he's comfortable, he's a lovely lad."

"I'm sure," you blinked, fiddling nervously with your fingers.

Once he's comfortable.

That shouldn't take too long, you lied to yourself.

...

Part 2

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Here's Part 1 if you haven't read it already!

Warnings: mentions of divorced parents, sister lives w/ Reader, awkwardness, cliff-hanger but not that big of a deal tbh so soz anyways

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

"Kaia! You're going to be late!" You yelled from the kitchen, your voice echoing through the hallway.

You hurriedly placed sandwiches into a fresh sandwich bag and then slipped it into her college bag.

"Okay, okay. Can you chill?" Kaia's voice, slightly muffled, floated down from the end of the corridor. You rolled your eyes, placing her water bottle next to her bag with a practiced sigh.

"No, I can't. You can't be late again, they've already sent two letters home about your attendance." Your tone was firm but laced with a hint of concern.

"For being 10 minutes late? Bit extra," she retorted as she finally appeared, her hair still slightly tousled from sleep.

"No, for always missing your first class even though I always wake you up on time," you countered, a frown creasing your forehead.

"So?" Your sister shrugged, nonchalant as ever.

"So, if you get kicked out, you have to live with Mom or Dad. You know the deal." Your voice softened a bit, hoping the reminder would make her see reason.

"Fine, fine. I'm going." She sighed heavily, zipping up her jacket with a dramatic flair and slinging her bag over her shoulder.

You stopped her at the door, walking over to the far counter. She turned back to you with a very loud, exasperated sigh, rolling her eyes.

"Water bottle." You tossed it to her, which she caught mid-air, before she turned to leave.

"And make sure you go to-" Slam. You winced at the sound of the door shutting so harshly, the finality of it echoing through the flat. Your shoulders slumped.

"Class," you finished lamely, the word hanging in the air.

"Why am I a mom before I'm a mom?" You mumbled to yourself, rubbing your forehead in frustration.

You slid your phone off the counter, texting your dad a quick update that your sister just left. You'd let it slip about her attendance letters the last time you spoke, and now it was a regular point of concern.

A quick 'good' and thumbs up emoji followed seconds later.

Your eyes flickered over to the clock hung on the wall, noting there was a measly half-hour left until you were due at work.

Luckily, the office was barely a ten-minute walk from your flat. You packed your bag at a steady pace, making sure you had everything you needed. As you descended the stairs to the ground level of your complex, you waved to a few of your neighbors, all of them scurrying off with their children to avoid being late for school.

Some things never change.

...

You juggled a stack of papers that Lee had handed you right at the front entrance.

You eventually approached your office but with your keys clutched awkwardly in your other hand, and your bag precariously draped on your shoulder but now threatening to slip off, you fumbled to fit the correct one into the lock.

The papers teetered on the brink of tumbling from your grasp, prompting a flash of irritation to cross your face.

Just as you were about to lose your grip on them entirely, Curtis appeared at your side. "Need a hand with that?" he asked, his accented voice made him sound friendly and slightly amused.

You looked up, relief washing over you. "Yes, please."

He took the stack of papers from you, his easy smile making the moment feel less chaotic. With your hands free, you managed to unlock the door with ease.

"Thanks, Curtis. You're a lifesaver."

"No problem at all," he replied, plopping the papers onto your desk with a subtle thud.

"So, who'd you piss off?" he asked, pointing his chin at the stack of papers.

You chuckled, dropping your bag by your desk and draping your cardigan over your chair. "I haven't a clue, probably God."

He laughed, turning his shoulder to the door. "Are you coming down to the canteen for breakfast?"

You paused, considering the invitation. "What's on the menu?" You pushed your hair behind your shoulders, powering on your computer.

Curtis grinned. "Just about everything. You name it, they’ve got it."

You smiled, the tension from moments ago melting away. "Sounds tempting. I'll be down in a bit."

Curtis nodded and exited swiftly, leaving you with a sense of belonging. You'd been most worried about fitting in, about getting along with the players beyond mere professional courtesy. If you were going to be working with them for the next few years, building friendships was essential to you.

And maybe skipping breakfast wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

You made your way down the stairs for the second time today, smiling to a few familiar faces as you walked to the canteen.

There was a black board right out front, with the times for breakfast and lunch clearly displayed on it.

Your phone buzzed just before you entered. It was a message with a photo attachment from your sister.

You quickly opened the notification, letting the picture download. A ghost of a smile touched your lips as you rolled your eyes; it was a picture of her iPad showing a class presentation, with her classmates surrounding her.

You typed a brisk response before locking your phone and shoving it back into your pocket.

Inside, there weren’t as many people as you’d expected. An equal mix of staff and players, some recognisable and some not.

Those you did recognise were engrossed in their conversations, laughing, smiling, some serious - a mixture of emotions painted on everyone’s faces.

It was refreshing to see something other than an email inbox for the first part of your day.

But there was one person’s emotions you couldn’t quite understand.

His back was facing you, but after staring at it during most of your confrontation a few days ago, it was clear as day as to who was standing at the front of the canteen.

You wrestled with your thoughts, weighing the pros and cons of approaching him. Mostly cons, if not all, but you couldn’t build true relationships with the players if you shied away all the time.

Crossing the floor, you grabbed a plate from the stack at the beginning of the serving line. You couldn’t help but steal a few glances at his body language; you were a psychologist, after all.

His tense shoulders and slightly furrowed brow told you he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, but you pressed on.

Maybe it was just his resting face?

“Morning, Trent,” you greeted him with a smile, trying to keep your tone friendly.

He glanced at you briefly, unsurprised by your presence, likely having noticed you long before you approached.

“Psychologist,” he muttered, not making eye contact as he focused on the food in front of him.

“I must say, I admire your professionalism,” you quipped, attempting to lighten the mood, though the ensuing awkward silence made you regret your attempt.

“Any plans today?” You ventured.

“Training,” came his curt reply.

“Routine must be comforting,” You remarked, trying to maintain a conversational tone.

“Why are you talking to me?” he abruptly stopped in his tracks, his tone sharp.

You were fortunate to notice his halt in movement, otherwise you could’ve bumped into him if you hadn’t.

But judging by his build, you doubted even a nudge would’ve stirred him. His cold stare bore into yours, and you fought to maintain composure.

"Because I think you're a great conversationalist," you said with a smile. He paused briefly, rolled his eyes, then slid his plate off the tray rail and walked away.

A faint chuckle escaped you as you watched Trent walk away, his expression guarded. Sighing inwardly, you turned back to the serving line, reaching for a piece of toast with a mix of amusement and resignation.

One of the canteen ladies, her silver hair neatly pinned back and wearing a crisp white apron over her uniform, approached you with a knowing smirk.

Her eyes twinkled with a hint of mischief as she leaned closer. “Wow, haven’t heard a conversation that awkward since my first double date in ’97.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, grateful for her light-hearted approach. “Yeah, it was pretty rough, wasn’t it?”

You let a brief moment of silence pass before you continued.

“I don’t think we’ve met yet. I’m Y/N,” you said, extending your hand.

Carol, as she introduced herself, took your hand with a firm shake. Her affable demeanour was a stark contrast to Trent’s disinterested reception, one you welcomed.

“Ah, the young psychologist. Lee’s mentioned you a wee bit. I’m Carol. Been working here since the beginning of time, or so it feels.”

“You look as young as me,” you complimented with a smile, noticing the genuine kindness in her eyes.

“Oh, stop it,” Carol chuckled softly, waving off your compliment. “How are you finding it here?”

You shrugged in response, glancing around the canteen before meeting her gaze again. “You really want to ask me that after what you’ve just overheard?”

Carol nudged your shoulder playfully. “I’ve heard worse back in my day. What’s happened between yous two?”

“Nothing,” you reassured her quickly. “He’s still getting used to me being around.”

“Well, if he’s anything like the Trent I know, he’ll come around at one point, just keep pissing him off,” Carol joked cordially, her voice carrying a touch of wisdom.

You nodded with a bright smile, tilting your head. “Yes, ma’am.”

…

As you sat in your small office, you locked your phone after messaging your sister to warm up dinner for herself, knowing you’d be home late.

Your mind wandered again - to your family, to your work, to him.

The glow of your laptop screen illuminated the dimly lit room. You had been poring over articles for what felt like hours, hoping to uncover more about him than he had revealed to you personally.

You had always found the internet to be your greatest ally when working with clients, especially world-famous athletes.

You wanted to delve deeper into understanding the anomaly that was Trent Alexander-Arnold, to move beyond your brief and often contentious interactions.

With a few clicks, you eventually navigated to interviews featuring him.

The first video showed him discussing mental health in football, a topic he approached with surprising openness. His words were measured yet sincere, revealing a vulnerability that contrasted sharply with what you had witnessed so far.

“I guess I’m not as trusting as some of the other guys on the team,” Trent admitted on screen, his gaze sincere as he spoke directly to the interviewer’s camera. “I’ve never been comfortable sharing my personal issues, outside of my family. There’s always a fear of judgment.”

You watched intently, feeling a pang of empathy as Trent’s words resonated with you. It was as if he was sitting right in front of you, confiding in you directly.

In another interview, Trent discussed the pressures of fame and the struggle to balance his private life with the demands of professional football.

His shoulders relaxed slightly as he spoke, revealing glimpses of a man grappling with expectations far beyond his years.

As you paused the video to let his words sink in, Trent’s earlier rebuke echoed in your mind.

“Don’t expect me to pour my heart out to some stranger. Especially on someone else’s schedule.”

Then suddenly, a light bulb went off in your mind as you rattled through all the different strategies you were taught at university.

You realised that perhaps your approach with Trent had been too clinical, too focused on schedules and protocols.

Without hesitation, you opened your email and addressed a message to both Arne and Lee.

Your fingers tapped out a request, concise yet loaded with implications that only you understood fully.

For now.

…

Part 3

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟑

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: Check out the masterlist for the first two parts if you haven’t read them already! Also, thank you so much for the kind comments on my posts, they mean more to me than you’ll ever know!

Warnings: this one’s a bit more fluffy, still a very reserved Trent tho

Word Count: 1.9k words (7 mins reading avg)

…

The first match to kickstart the club’s season was undeniably close.

The pressure had been mounting palpably in the last few weeks, evident in the increasingly focused, sharper, and heavier training sessions.

You didn’t have a personal experience with them, more so the ones that Conor had been complaining about.

But despite being unable to travel to the US, you’d personally assumed that preseason had been a success.

You’d caught highlights when they dropped and heard murmurs of staff satisfaction with certain performances circulating around the centre.

You hadn’t been able to get many sessions in though, only a touch few with Conor, as he was your top priority given his age.

He’d done remarkably well the previous season under Jurgen when top performances were needed, but working on his mental stability was always a key factor and one of extreme importance.

"Congrats," you smiled warmly as the Irishman approached, his own smile mirroring yours. You acknowledged his successful time in America.

“You must be feeling great,” you remarked, smiling gently.

His dimples were evident as he nodded, a sense of fulfilment telling in his stance. “Yeah, yeah. It was good, enjoyed it proper.”

You let him continue on, giving brief welcomes and some hugs to the players as they piled in one by one within the hour before their training began.

You felt a pang of frustration as Trent walked directly past you, refusing to even meet your eyes as he acknowledged only a few of the staff who were standing off to the side.

Dismissing it, you turned your attention to Wataru as he approached next.

You needed to focus on the players who were working with you. It was crucial, especially as the season was fast-approaching.

Or so you kept telling yourself.

“Y/N,” you glanced back, a smile forming as you spotted Arne trying to catch your attention.

“How are you doing?” He asked as you fell into step with him, continuing to walk down the corridor towards the gym where he was headed.

“Good, yeah. You?” You kept it short and sweet, fully aware that he was a busy man.

“Doing okay. About your request you sent before preseason,” Arne continued, prompting both of you to stop and face each other, a hopeful anticipation in the air.

“It’s fine with me and Lee doesn’t have any issues with it. But, if there is no improvement, then the sessions will need to resume as planned. Okay?” He nodded affirmatively.

“Yes, of course. I-I understand. Thank you.” You replied gratefully, your appreciation evident as he patted your shoulder before leaving you.

…

The city was buzzing with activity as match day quickly approached. Red flares blazing around the city, shirts and scarves already adorned the day before.

The players were being put through their paces in the final training session before the big game. Having an hour free in the mornings after your request was approved meant you could utilise it in a different way.

You observed the session from the sidelines, making mental notes of the players' demeanours and interactions. Trent was, as usual, intensely focused. Every movement, every touch of the ball deliberate.

After the session had concluded for the day, you made your way to the changing rooms. Some were discussing tactics, sharing jokes, and some were lost in their thoughts, mentally preparing.

You approached Conor, who was pulling his boots off his feet, and sat beside him.

"Ready for tomorrow?"

He looked up, his shoulders slumping. "Yeah, I think so. Just need to stay focused."

"Remember what we talked about," you reminded him gently. "Always be ready, visualise your game, see yourself succeeding."

Conor nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He raised his fist, and you met it with a bump. "Thanks, Y/N. It helps, you know."

A wave of relief washed over you. Reminding yourself that you were doing a good job was one thing, but hearing it from someone you always tried to help was another.

"I'm glad," you said, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

Upon hearing Arne clasp his hands together, forcing everyone to quiet down and hear the gaffer out, you silently gave Curtis and Wataru a nod before slipping out of the room.

As you turned, you nearly collided with Trent. He tutted, sidestepping in order to slide past you and into the changing rooms. You'd hoped that once he was informed of your approved request, he'd be slightly less frowny.

But seemingly, the opposite was happening.

…

You had just finished Curtis' report when a knock on your door interrupted your thoughts. Mustering a tired smile, you called out, "come in."

Lee popped his head through the door, and you rose from your chair. "Hey, everything okay?"

He entered the office, closing the door behind him but not completely. With his hands raised in mock surrender, he said, "yeah, yeah, all good. I just uh wanted to ask if you caught Trent." "I thought you approved my request?" you asked, eyebrows furrowing in confusion. "I did," he confirmed, stepping forward. "But I saw Trent hanging around your office just after training." "What? Why?" you asked, bewildered. You tried to think back to earlier, but all you remembered was that you were definitely not in your office. "He didn't say. Didn't seem happy, though." Lee shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight on to either feet. "Not much difference there, then." You sighed, placing your hands on your hips. "I'm confused. If he knew about the request, why would he show up?" You asked, and the senior consultant shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. You both thought about it for a moment until Lee spoke again, "are you sure Arne let him know?" Your head tilted, mouth slightly parting as realisation dawned on you.

Oh.

"I'm pretty sure Arne didn't because you were meant to," you said, trying to keep your tone casual despite the frustration creeping in.

The first session Trent had supposedly shown up for, you weren't even there. Suddenly, his avoidance of you after you'd exited the changing rooms made a lot more sense. He must’ve just come down from your office. "I was?" Lee asked, clearly taken aback. You let your head fall back in exhaustion but slowly nodded moments later. Shuffling through the papers on your desk, you found the one you needed and handed it to Lee. He scanned over the text, before he looked up again.

“Y/N, I feel terrible. I can go find him." Remorse painted itself across his features.

"It's okay," you replied. "It's better if he hears it from me." You aimed to justify poorly.

Because you had a very successful track record of not pissing Trent off, obviously.

...

Later in the day, you found yourself back in the canteen, grabbing a quick coffee.

It was well past noon, but with the mountain of reports you needed to write about the players' psychological states before tomorrow, caffeine was your only ally.

Trent walked in, looking for a snack. Being on the bottom of his 'I don't want to talk to you' list every day meant the outcome of your conversations with him were quite forseeable.

Deciding to address the elephant in the room, you walked up and pushed all doubts to the back of your mind. You reached out and touched his arm to get his attention, and he reacted immediately.

He turned to face you, and you lowered your hand slowly.

“Can we talk for a second?” you asked, trying to sound as casual as possible.

His jaw hardened. “I'm busy.”

"I promise it won't take long." You countered.

"Considering I don't care about your promises, that don’t mean shit to me." He's on a roll with the irony, you thought to yourself.

You glanced at a sympathetic Carol who was standing on the other side of the serving station.

"Please?" You blinked slowly, praying to the powers that be to instill some patience in the man.

He picked up a bag of trail mix, before watching your face for a few seconds. You were half-expecting him to tell you to eat shit, but you were wrong.

An unusually pleasant surprise.

You nodded to a quieter corner and led the way, with him following behind before you whisked around.

"I'm so sorry." You fiddled with the cup of coffee in your hand.

Past his hardened anger, you'd felt bad for him. The courage to have shown up only to be let down isn't a feeling that would've altered his perception of you.

"I don't care." His gaze bore into yours, unyielding.

You frowned slightly. "I do. I told you I'd keep trying to reach you and-"

"What's your point?"

His eyes travelled down to your fidgeting fingers before dragging back up to your face. He sighed, clearly bored.

"Lee was meant to tell you," you paused, gathering your words. His eyes narrowed.

A flush of guilt coloured your cheeks. "I put in a request before preseason to cancel our sessions together."

You looked up, trying to gauge his reaction. The crease between his brows was prominent. "It was approved, and Lee was supposed to tell you, but he must've forgotten."

It hurt to let someone down. As a chronic people-pleaser, this likely frustrated you way more than it did Trent.

He leaned against the wall behind him, bringing one knee up. He crossed his arms but his eyes lightened. "So, you're telling me that..."

He paused to pop an almond into his mouth. "You admitted defeat?"

Either he was smirking, or you were being incredibly delusional.

You shook your head. "No, I never gave up on you. I thought maybe you needed a different approach." Explaining your previous actions felt pathetically awkward.

His lips pressed together. "Or maybe you just couldn’t handle it."

You rolled your eyes, your features still guilt-ridden. "Does that make you happy or something?"

His eyes roved over your features, and for a moment, his expression softened.

"Oh, you have no idea, psychologist."

You swallowed, feeling a flutter of surprise. Your eyes widened slightly, the gentleness in his features unexpected.

Just then, Curtis walked by and caught the tail end of your conversation. “Are you two flirting or fighting?” He teased, winking at his Scouse counterpart.

Your expression didn't change, but Trent looked over, staring at him. “Can’t you tell the difference, mate? Your missus must have a hard time putting up with you.” He remarked a little too quickly.

Curtis' mouth fell open as some of the players snickered at the exchange. To your surprise, Trent let out a genuine laugh - an unfamiliar sound that retained your attention.

He pushed off the wall and ambled over, casually draping an arm over his friend's shoulder.

On another day, maybe you would've joined into the jokes that were being thrown around but you were oddly rendered silent.

His almost playful disposition was a complete contrast to the tension that had clouded your interactions since the day you'd met.

It was almost as if he genuinely believed he was rid of you, and this moment of levity was his way of signalling relief.

You took a deep breath.

The casual banter, although lighthearted, felt jarring. Without another word, you walked out of the canteen, the enigma of his sudden change nagging at you.

As you exited, Trent’s gaze followed you, his eyes tracing your retreating figure. He seemed poised to follow you, a sign of a subtle, perhaps unconscious shift in his stance.

His eyes lingered on your departing form, as if grappling with an unspoken urge to either see where you were going or say something to you, though he wasn't quite sure what.

Yet only as he started to move, Curtis' voice cut through the moment. "Oi, where you off to?" Trent shook his head, a half-smile still playing on his lips as he rejoined the group.

Oddly, his attention remained fixed on the door for just a bit longer, as if expecting you to turn back around, before he fully immersed himself back into the conversation.

…

Part 4

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟒

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: I have so many ideas for this series but I can't get too carried away otherwise its gonna end up longer than a book lmaooo, also super random but this idea came to me from rewatching Trent and Robbo’s wingmen episodes and in one of them he goes, “team bonding!” verryyy heavily in his Scouse accent lol

Warnings: fluff, mentions of being overworked but nothing too harsh, general stress, this is a cute one ok ur welcome

Word Count: 2.7k words (10 mins reading avg)

...

“Why you so sour for?”

You glanced up to see your sister plopping on to the sofa, grabbing the TV remote off of the glass table situated in front of you. Her expression was curious, eyebrows raised in an exaggerated arc. You’d forgotten you’d even put a movie on.

Closing your laptop, you ran your palm over the cool steel surface.

“No reason. It’s nearly time to go to bed, what are you doing?” You watched as she navigated the TV menu, opening the ITV app and clicking on Love Island.

You rolled your eyes. “Don’t tell me you like that stuff.”

She smirked, not taking her eyes off the screen as the latest episode began to play. “No one likes it, it’s just funny as fuck.”

“Hey, why do we need to swear?”

“For expression,” she replied with a shrug, as if that was a valid reason.

“Express yourself in other ways.”

“Like what?” She challenged, finally looking at you.

You paused, a little stumped. “The world is your oyster, go and find some.”

She snorted, clearly unimpressed with your wisdom. You hoisted yourself off of the couch, tucking your laptop back into your work bag and zipping it up.

Kaia paused the show, turning so her knees were on the sofa, looking over the backrest to see you better. “Fine, but that doesn’t answer why you’re in such a mood.”

“It’s just work,” you admitted, leaning against the counter. Your eyes traced the outlines of your sister’s old drawings hung on the wall. “A lot more pressure than I’m used to.”

Her eyes lit up with youthful curiosity. “How’s the job going? Met any really fit guys yet?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Is that all you care about?”

“It’s important! C’mon, spill,” she insisted, leaning forward.

You sighed, but a small smile tugged at your lips. “The job is good. Stressful, but good. As for fit guys.. there's.. I don’t know, a few? I’m there to work, not flirt.”

“Sure, sure,” she teased.

You chuckled, tossing a freshly washed blanket you’d just pulled out of the dryer at her. “Oo, thanks,” she said, catching it with a grin.

You rolled your eyes as she sprawled out on the couch, the music of the show coming to life once again.

You pulled the rest of the sheets from the dryer, shoving them into the laundry basket to fold in the morning. As you wiped down the counters and finished the dishes in the sink, your mind wandered again.

Arne, Lee, and the club had all been incredibly supportive since your arrival, but the internal pressure you’d carried from university - to be the best, to never fail - was fading. Wataru, Conor, and Curtis were all doing great.

From your reports, you were instructed to make Trent the priority, at least to gather enough information for a new evaluation.

But how could you do that with a player who seemingly wanted nothing to do with you?

“Y/N?” Your sister’s soft voice calling your name pulled you out of your trance.

“Yeah?” You replied, turning to face the back of the couch.

The show paused again. A beat of silence hung in the air.

“No one’s giving you a hard time, are they?” She asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Your eyebrows furrowed as you frowned, “of course not. Why would you think that?”

“We’re pretty notorious for being hated.” Sadness poked through the tone in her voice.

“Nobody hates us, Kaia. And no one is giving me a hard time at work, I promise.” You tried to sound reassuring. She was a kid and she meant well, of course she did, but she didn’t need to know the full truth. She was your sister, not a therapist.

“Okay. Cause you do know I’ll fuck ‘em up, right?”

You scoffed, shaking your head in amusement. She picked her head up to let you sit then rested it in your lap. You pulled her hairs away from her face, combing them back with your fingers.

“With your swears?” You teased.

“I got a mean punch."

“Which I hope isn’t being put to use, thank you very much.”

“I’m an angel, really.” Which she tried to pull off in an innocent way that really didn’t suit her.

“Mhm,” you hummed, sceptical but smiling.

She chuckled, turning her head to face the TV again.

“Come on, let’s watch this shit show.” You said playfully.

“I thought you said no swearing.” She retorted matter-of-factly.

“That rule doesn't apply to 25 and above people.”

“Let me guess, when you turn 26, that rule’s gonna be extended by a year?” Kaia asked, her lips curling upwards.

“Precisely.” You smiled down at her as she rolled her eyes, playing the show.

Your smile faltered almost immediately. You subconsciously continued smoothing over Kaia’s hair, but your mind was plagued with thoughts about work, and as much as you didn’t want to admit it, about him.

...

The first two matches of Liverpool’s season had come and gone in a flash. But, despite in how much of a blur it passed, the level of work every day only surmounted the work of the days before.

But you could take it. If you couldn’t handle psychology, you’d probably be useless at everything else.

The new week began, and the first thing you spotted in the mountain of emails was an update. Your cabinet for the office had arrived, courtesy of the club, who were happy to cover the costs once you'd submitted your request.

You swivelled your chair to face the desk phone, dialling reception downstairs. The phone rang twice before Annika's cheerful voice answered.

"Hello," she said brightly.

"Hey, it's Y/N from upstairs. I got an email saying my cabinet had arrived. Am I okay to collect it now?" You asked, glancing around your office and imagining where the new cabinet would go.

"Oh, don't worry," Annika replied with a smile in her voice. "We'll send someone up to drop it off for you."

"Really? It's honestly no bother," you said, feeling a bit guilty about causing extra work.

"No, I insist. They’ll be up shortly," she reassured you.

"Thank you, I appreciate that," you said, a note of relief in your voice.

"No worries!" Annika chirped.

You hung up the phone, feeling a bit lighter. Come to think of it, you really didn’t fancy carrying a ton of weight up the stairs and potentially embarrassing yourself to any bystanders.

Once you’d gone through your emails, creating your to-do list for the day, you patiently waited for your cabinet to come.

But it didn’t.

You tried to put it to the back of your mind, focusing on ticking off the first two items on your list before your first session. Yet, even as you checked them off, you found yourself glancing at the door, expecting the cabinet to arrive at any moment.

An hour passed, then another, and still no sign of the delivery. The anticipation was starting to wear on you.

You glanced at the clock situated on your desk, wondering if you’d be able to make it back in time for your session with Conor.

But just as you were ready to leave, there was a knock on your door. You walked over to open it, expecting only the Irishman. There he was, but also holding a large brown box with an outline of your cabinet on the front.

“Uh-” You couldn’t register what was happening.

“Mind if we come in? Don't fancy holding this all day.”

We.

You realised you hadn’t responded as Trent lifted his head to stare at you.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry.” You opened the door, standing off to the side. You allowed them to come in and they placed the box upright against the wall.

"Annika mentioned she'd send someone up, I didn't think she meant the players." Conor chuckled, motioning to his trusted helper.

"Yeah, well, Brian was going to bring it up but he got busy so reception asked if we could help. We were coming up anyways," he explained.

“Oh. Thank you, I really appreciate it,” you said, your voice carrying a hint of genuine gratitude. You glanced at Trent, and a heavy silence ensued.

“Yeah, whatever,” Trent muttered, his tone dripping with indifference, leaving almost immediately. You let out a quiet sigh, your shoulders slumping ever so slightly.

Conor, who had been observing the exchange with a wry smile, exhaled through his nose in mild amusement.

“He’s warming up to you,” he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. You rolled your eyes, trying to hide a smirk.

“Aw, you really think so?”

“Sure,” he replied with a grin.

“Sit down,” you said, gesturing to the chairs. You both laughed softly as you walked over to shut the door.

Yet, an unsettling frustration gnawed at you from within. Trent had always been distant, but after weeks of being here, he still showed no signs of letting his guard down. You were no stranger to the challenges of being a psychologist, it's not like this was your first job.

But in the past few days, self-doubt had crept in. You wondered if you were even fit for it; maybe the pressures of working for one of the most prestigious football clubs in the country were finally catching up to you and kicking you in the ass.

You shook your head, feigning a smile as you returned to your desk, starting your session.

...

“Is this upside down?” You muttered to yourself, flipping the instructions around again.

What use were instructions if they had no text under them?

You debated calling your dad, but the lecture you’d receive about the hours of manual labour he used to put you through every time a new piece of furniture arrived at the house was not worth it.

“Okay. Wood, screws, knob, cabinet. Perfect.” It was only a small one, so you weren’t worried about the height of it per se, just worried about everything else.

You slumped onto the floor, surrounded by longer and shorter pieces of wood with a bag of screws and one handy screwdriver that you were currently twirling between your fingers.

Just as you were about to try again, a voice broke through your concentration.

“What are you doing?”

You gasped, your hand instinctively going to your chest as the paper floated to the ground.

“Oh my God,” you exclaimed, breathless and startled. “Can you knock next time?”

“I did knock,” Trent replied, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Did you?” Your eyebrows furrowed as you tried to recall when you heard a knock reverberate through your office.

“No.” He admitted.

You huffed, feeling a mix of annoyance and embarrassment at falling for his joke.

“Funny.” You mumbled, shaking your head.

To your surprise, he plopped onto the sofa situated by the side of the wall, near the door. Your eyebrows raised slightly.

Trent, sitting on your sofa, in your office, willingly? This was new. Only today, you were doubting yourself if you’d ever be able to get through to him and yet here he was.

You didn’t want to overanalyse the situation but it was hard to ignore the significance of it. Maybe he was finally starting to let his guard down, even if just a little.

There was a strange combination of nervousness and relief running riot inside of you.

Rather than drawing attention to it, you chose to stay focused on the task at hand, wary of saying anything that might reinforce his emotional walls.

“I’m trying to build a cabinet, if you must know.” You didn’t want to sound as annoyed as you were - not necessarily by the man you were conversing with, but more so by the wooden contraption that was puzzling you to your core.

He peered over the armrest, then slowly returned to his original position. “Making a lot of progress, it seems.”

“How nice of you to state the obvious,” you replied calmly, but your mind was racing.

“It’s late, how come you’re still here?” You asked, trying to make conversation. He just shrugged, pulling out his phone from his trouser pocket.

You gave a half-smile. Even if he wasn’t in the mood for conversation, he was still here, and that’s what mattered to you.

Ten, fifteen, twenty minutes passed by, and you were officially ready to give up. Resting your head against your desk, still seated on the floor, you were on the verge of admitting defeat and calling your dad.

Your attention was diverted by a soft creak from the sofa frame. Trent stood up, and you looked up at him, squinting as the ceiling light shone brightly.

“You heading out?” You asked, your voice tinged with resignation.

He took a small step to the right, blocking the light from hitting your eyes. He glanced around, as if debating something.

His mouth parted slightly.

“Move over.”

What?

“Huh?” you said, bewildered.

He tucked his bottom lip between his teeth, motioning to the pile of wood still stacked in various directions. “Move.”

“Why?”

“Why do you think?” He replied blandly, yet still entertaining your conversation. A few weeks ago, he would’ve murdered you.

You glanced down at your cabinet, which was rather resembling modern art, then back up at him.

“Are you suggesting women can’t build things?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

He tilted his head downward, shoving his phone back into his pocket. “Women can. It’s just you that can’t. Wanna disagree?”

Your pressed your bottom lip up to your top, as if you were actually considering the idea. “I’d love to argue, but you’re lucky I’m too tired right now. Maybe come back tomorrow and we can pick up where we left off.”

“Move over or I’m leaving,” he said, a touch more firmly.

“Okay, okay. Sorry.” You chuckled.

You scooted over, making room for Trent to sit beside you. He settled on the floor, crossing his legs. There was a fair amount of distance between you.

You found yourself stealing glances at him as he took a look at the instructions a few times, feeling a mix of relief and gratitude for his unexpected help.

His presence was a welcome distraction.

You couldn’t deny you were entirely useless as he separated the pieces, lining them up to get a full look at everything, ensuring nothing was absent.

“Screwdriver?” He asked for quietly and you cast a quick look around, spotting it underneath a plank of wood.

“Here.” His fingers brushed yours as he took it from you, a touch that you were acutely aware of but one he didn’t seem to think twice about.

Whenever your knees brushed while adjusting the cabinet or while holding it in place, you could feel the warmth of his proximity, which only heightened your perception of him.

After some time, the cabinet stood completed. You couldn’t help but smile proudly at the result.

Trent glanced at your beaming face and quickly looked away, as if unsure how to react. The fleeting moments of physical contact had created a soft tension in the air.

You tilted your head, deciding to tease him while you still had the chance. “Does it look a bit bent or is it just me?”

He barely looked at the cabinet, already ready to fire a response back. “It’s just you.”

You scoffed, your eyes meeting as he extended the screwdriver back toward you. You swallowed as you took it, another brush of hands.

It was brief and unexpected but he too registered it this time. He briefly tensed but stood up quickly after.

You just about scrambled to your feet after him, placing your screwdriver on your desk.

Before he could leave, you called out, “thank you.”

He turned to give you a simple nod, brushing off your gratitude.

“I mean it. Not just for building this,” you gestured toward the cabinet, “but for being here. I’m always happy to see you.”

A silence befell you both, but it didn’t feel awkward or uncomfortable as it had before.

“If you don’t mind my asking, how come you came here?”

He thought about his answer for a second, wanting to correctly word it.

“Saw you struggling through the door. Thought you were finally having a heart attack or something.”

You paused for a second, slowly nodding your head. “Couldn’t miss it, huh?”

At that, Trent’s lips curved into a genuine smile as he looked away from your eyes, the first smile you’d seen from him that was actually for you.

It was a subtle, upward curl, softening his usually serious expression.

You mirrored his smile, it was hard not to. Perhaps you’d leaned forward, or your shoulders had finally relaxed, but you weren’t focused on the specifics.

“See you round, psychologist.”

You hummed, afraid that even if you opened your mouth, nothing would come out.

You watched him walk away, your eyes falling to the cabinet against the wall.

Seeing him smile, just smile at you, was a moment you wouldn’t forget so soon. It was as if a dam had burst, releasing a flood of relief and hope you’d nearly given up on.

But before you could think about it further, your phone buzzed. It was Kaia, asking when you’d be home.

You hadn’t even realised what time it was.

“Shit.”

…

Part 5

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e @xxxstormyninixxx @lolawwww22 @myloveisforbellingham @purpleniight @bffrwme

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: guyssss!!!! ur support means the world, the sun, the moon, the solar system to me like everything!!! some of the comments u leave got me feeling like Y/N fr, big mwahs for u all! I made this part a little longer as an apology for making you wait for so long!

Warnings: more fluff, Trent slowly starting to open up methinks, angst, pressure, high-stress environment, very slow burn

Word Count: 3.1k words (11 mins reading avg)

…

You were seated at your desk, carefully closing the backs of the picture frame. You smiled as you secured the last clip, the image now safely enclosed behind the glass. It was a small comfort, one you could look at during the demanding days.

Before you had the chance to prop it up on your new cabinet, Lee entered with a folder in hand. You left your frame face-down as you stood up, and rounded your desk to greet him.

"Saw your email. Everything okay?"

Lee gave you a quick, apologetic smile as he handed you the folder. "Yeah. Won't be able to make the Man United game this weekend."

He handed you a folder emblazoned with the Man United logo, stuffed with the players' reports.

You raised an eyebrow, more concerned than curious. "That's unlike you. What's come up?"

He leaned against the edge of your desk, folding his arms. "Got to attend a family thing, non-negotiable. But that's not the only reason I'm here."

His tone shifted, more serious now. "I need you to step in and travel with the squad as the on-hand psychologist."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Me? But... I mean, I usually handle things from here. Are you sure?"

Lee nodded, his expression firm. "I wouldn't ask if I wasn't. You've been great with some of the boys so far, and they trust you. This game is going to be intense, and they'll need your support. Plus, it's good for them to have some consistency, especially with me out."

It all made sense, but the reality of it hit hard. You’d only been here for two months, barely building trust through a handful of sessions a week. Now, being thrown into the deep end at Old Trafford for an away game just felt like career suicide.

You bit your lip, the weight of the responsibility starting to settle in. The thought of traveling with the team, being there in the thick of it, was both exciting and daunting.

"I don't know, Lee. What if-" Your voice wavered, playing with the corners of the folder in your hand.

"You'll be fine," he interrupted, his tone reassuring. "You're more than capable. And look, I'll only be a phone call away if you need anything."

You hesitated for a moment, the nerves swirling in your stomach. But deep down, you knew this was a chance you couldn't pass up. Lee believed in you and it was inevitable at one point.

"Okay," you finally said, taking a deep breath. "Sure."

Lee's face broke into a wide grin. "Good. I'll let the gaffer know and I'll make sure everything's arranged for you."

You nodded, watching as he left. The thrill of the weekend was tempered by the gnawing anxiety that you weren't ready, that you were diving headfirst into something you couldn't fully control. Sure, some of the boys had warmed up to you but others were still keeping you at arm's length.

You scoffed to yourself, more like just the one. You were walking a fine line with him and the last thing you wanted was to make things worse. In the heat of the moment, a sentence, an expression, a word could tick someone off.

You couldn't continue your train of thoughts, the folder staring up at you, waiting to be opened. With a steadying breath, you took a seat at your desk again and finally opened it, beginning to read through the reports.

...

The squad and staff gathered at the training ground, the usual pre-match energy heightened by the knowledge that today’s destination was Old Trafford.

You stood off to the side, watching the players mill around as they waited for the coaches to arrive, the hum of conversation and laughter blending with the distant noise of fans outside the gates.

You were trying to keep your own nerves in check, running through mental notes on the players, when Curtis sauntered over, a relaxed smile on his face.

“Bit of a madhouse out there." He said, nodding toward the entrance where the sound of chanting fans was growing louder.

“Just a bit,” you replied with a smile, honestly grateful for the distraction.

He chuckled, giving you a once-over. “You look a little tense. First time heading into enemy territory got you rattled?”

You gave him a mock glare, though the truth behind his teasing made you sigh. “Maybe a little. It’s just.. a lot. Big game, and I’m still getting used to being around everyone, let alone on a match day.”

Curtis leaned against the wall beside you, his expression softening. “I get it. But you’ve been solid with us. We’re glad you’re here, even if some of us” - he raised an eyebrow - “aren’t great at showing it.”

You smirked, knowing exactly who he was referring to.

“Trent?”

He grinned. “Nah, Wataru." You nudged his shoulder with your hand, and Curtis pushed himself off of the wall. His attention was directed back to the team as Arne brought everyone together.

"You're gonna smash it, see you in Manny." He flashed you a smile before jogging back over.

You adjusted your backpack currently slung over your shoulder, glancing up but accidentally catching Trent's eye across the large entryway.

He was standing a little apart from the others, his posture relaxed but with an air of deliberate composure. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, and his usual stoic expression was softened by a hint of curiosity.

His gaze lingered on you longer than usual, more intent and thoughtful.

You offered him a shy smile, unsure of what to expect in return. Almost immediately, his eyes darted away, his expression tightening as he turned his attention back to the team.

A tinge of disappointment settled in your chest, but you didn’t have time to linger on it as the coach pulled into the parking space out front.

“You’ve got this. You’ve got this,” you whispered to yourself, as if it were a mantra, following the backroom staff out of the training ground.

…

The first half had been tightly contested, with neither team managing to score, leaving the game deadlocked at 0-0.

The only real highlight was Trent’s free kick from just outside the box - a powerful shot that flew high, curling away from the goal before soaring over the bar. The away fans held their breath in anticipation, only to exhale in disappointment as the ball missed its mark.

From the sidelines, you watched as Trent’s frustration grew more evident, his usual composure giving way to visible agitation.

Each missed opportunity seemed to fuel his irritation, and it was clear his emotions were beginning to take over.

You sighed as the referee jogged over after a hard tackle. The yellow card was raised high, and Trent’s reaction was a sharp scoff as he walked away, shooting a disdainful side-eye at the player he had just fouled.

The rival fans seized the moment, erupting in cheers and taunts that grew louder and more fervent.

Old Trafford lit up as the referees became hyper-aware of Trent, ready to penalise any further outbursts. Arne’s nervousness was palpable, and the backroom staff were on their feet, counting down to the halfway mark.

Trent was no longer just reacting to the game; he was actively seeking confrontations with the Man United players. His tackles were sharper, his verbal exchanges more heated.

The tension was building to a breaking point, but the halftime whistle blew just in time, bringing a collective sigh of relief from every member of Liverpool’s staff, whether at the training ground or in the stadium.

As you left your seat to head down the tunnel, Trent’s shoulder brushed against yours, his head lowered and skin glistening with sweat.

You noticed Arne watching him closely, his face a mask of concentration and concern, fully aware of how vital Trent was to the team’s strategy - and how disastrous a second yellow card could be.

...

As the halftime break drew to a near close, the tension in the dressing room was palpable. The players sat on the benches, catching their breath and nursing the aches of the first half.

Arne stood at the front, his arms crossed as he delivered his instructions, his tone firm but calm. You could see the focus in their eyes, the determination to turn the game around in the second half.

Just as he'd finished his tactical breakdown, he turned to you, walking over.

"I want you to say a few words," he said, his voice low.

"About?" You asked quietly, unaware of the boys' wandering eyes glancing between the two of you.

"Keeping their heads in the game. Any insights that might help them stay focused and.. you know, ease off the aggression."

You swallowed, nodding. "Yeah, okay."

The players' attention turned to you as you moved to the centre of the room, a mix of curiosity and expectation in their gazes. It was almost comical - this was the first time many of them were hearing you speak in a professional setting.

You cleared your throat, giving a quick glance to the clock hung on the wall.

You took a deep breath and began. “I know we don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief. We need to ease off on the aggressiveness." Trent, who had been staring at the floor, lifted his head slightly, his eyes now locked on you.

"We’re here to play our best football, to get the result we want and then move on. Allowing anger is only gonna distract you and hurt our performance. When you feel it bubbling up, just walk away and refocus yourself." You made an effort to connect with each player as you spoke, though deep down, you hoped your words would resonate with one in particular.

"Focus on what you can control - your passing, your tackles, your game.” A smirk tugged at Trent's lips before his head dipped again.

You scanned the room, noticing nods of understanding. “If you see a teammate getting heated, help them out."

Another breath, "push them away from the fight, back off, and concentrate on our tactics, not on the referee’s decisions or the United players. Don’t sulk on what went wrong. Learn from it and move on, yeah?"

Arne gave you a nod of appreciation as you wrapped up your little speech. "Alright, let’s make this second half count," you finished, your voice carrying a tinge of determination.

Virgil clapped twice, rallying the team as they stood and prepared to exit the dressing room. “Let’s go!” As they began filing out, you moved to the side to let them pass.

Trent was among the last to leave.

"Write me up next time," he muttered as he walked by, leaning in just enough for you to hear.

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his lips before darting back up to meet his gaze. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly composed yourself and responded.

"It was meant for everyone." You lied through your teeth.

He hummed in response, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure," he said, not even glancing back as he walked out, leaving you with the undeniable sense that he knew exactly who your speech had been aimed at.

...

In the second half, Trent seemed lighter on his feet, more focused on the tactical aspects of the game and less caught up in the aggression that had marked his earlier play.

Liverpool had eventually secured a hard-fought 0-1 victory, with Salah scoring the winner from a beautifully timed assist by Trent. The away crowds erupted as the ball hit the back of the net, and the energy from that moment carried through until the final whistle.

As you watched him on the pitch, his frustration giving way to calm determination, you couldn’t help but wonder if your halftime words had played a part in that change.

Even a small part, that was more than enough to make you feel like you were on the right track.

The journey back to the training ground was a short one, the adrenaline from the win still buzzing among the team.

But by the time you arrived, the place had already started to empty out, with most of the team and staff having headed home to celebrate or rest.

The win had been sweet, but the quietness that greeted you at the training ground felt like a peaceful end to a very intense day.

You hadn’t intended to stay at the training ground as late as you did after returning, but with Kaia staying over at a friend’s house and the stack of unwritten reports waiting for your attention, you found yourself at your desk again.

The evening had unfolded into an unexpected work spell as you prepared for the upcoming sessions and tackled the never-ending paperwork.

The soft glow from your new office lamp created a cozy pool of light, the only sounds in the quiet room being the occasional rustle of papers and the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

Starting to nurse a headache, you rubbed your eyes carefully as to not smudge your makeup.

The words of practising what you preached echoed in your mind, working for hours on end without a break was hardly the advice you’d give to anybody.

So, you eventually pushed away from your desk and decided to step outside your office for a walk.

The halls were quiet and mostly vacant as you strolled, letting your mind drift and find a moment of peace.

You made your way to the large glass windows that stretched across both the first and second floors, providing a panoramic view of the training grounds below.

The evening sky was transitioning into deep blues, with the last hints of daylight fading.

Yet your gaze was drawn to a solitary figure on the pitch, illuminated by the few remaining lights.

It was him.

Even from this distance, his form was unmistakable as he set up a line of balls and readied himself for another round of free kicks. Instantly, you were reminded of earlier - his powerful shot that had soared over the bar.

Seeing him out there, still working hard, your shoulders slumped in realisation.

The scene was almost surreal, marked by the quiet dedication of a player refusing to call it a day.

You stood there in complete silence, taking in the sight as if it were a scene from a film - each deliberate movement and focused effort holding your rapt attention.

It was a side of him you hadn’t seen before. Alone and immersed in his own world, completely absorbed in his craft without a care for the outside distractions.

Deciding to join him, you headed out of the building and towards the pitch. The evening air was crisp, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees.

You crossed your arms over your chest, maintaining a respectful distance as you approached. You hoped your presence would neither startle him nor prompt him to leave.

"Mind if I watch?" You asked, keeping your tone light and casual.

Trent glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the pitch. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but no trace of annoyance.

"Suit yourself, psychologist," he replied, his voice steady. You nodded - guess that was good enough for you.

You watched as he rolled the first ball to his feet, his focus razor-sharp as he stopped it and took a few steps back.

The ball sailed through the air, curving beautifully into the top corner of the net. You couldn’t help but be impressed.

"That was perfect," you said, genuinely admiring his skill.

Trent shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just another shot."

"Give yourself more credit than that. It’s not easy," you countered. "I admire the dedication."

He glanced back at you. “Guess you’d know.”

“Sorry?” You asked, slightly confused.

Another shot.

“The picture in your office. You played once,” he remarked, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You found yourself wondering when he had been in your office to notice the picture, then it clicked. He'd helped you assemble the cabinet where you later placed it.

He must've spotted it in one of the boxes.

You watched as he set up another ball, and somehow, in a way that only Trent could manage, that shot was even better than the last.

You scoffed lightly, dismissing the comparison. “Nowhere near your level, obviously. But you’re right, I guess I can imagine the passion. The pressure.”

You hoped your words were reaching him, echoing the sentiments he'd talked about in so many of his interviews.

He breathed out slowly. "So why psychology?" He asked, bending over to position the next ball.

"Because mental strength is just as important as physical ability," you explained. "I've seen talented players crumble under pressure, and others rise above it. The difference often comes down to how well they manage their minds."

Trent didn’t respond immediately. He set up another shot, this time, it hit the post with a loud thud.

Frustrated, he sighed.

You picked up the ball as it bounced near you, letting it roll between your hands before walking over to him. Once there, you dropped it to the ground, letting it settle by the side of your foot.

When he looked at you, his gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it.

You felt a flutter in your chest, the kind that made your stomach dip slightly. Your fingers curled into your palms, a subconscious effort to ground yourself as the moment stretched on.

“I know I’m just a stranger,” you began gently, your tone careful and steady.

“But I’m not here to push you and you don’t have to share anything with me. I just want you to know that if you ever feel like talking, we can - no titles, just two people who might understand each other.”

You added with a slight smile. “You’ll never know unless you give it a shot.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider something. You would’ve traded anything in to know what was going through his mind at that moment.

But he shook his head, glancing out over the pitch. “I’m good for now.”

“Okay,” you replied, giving the ball a gentle nudge, just enough to pass it to him. With a nod, you stepped back and turned towards the building, heading inside.

Before entering, you turned around, surprised to find him already watching you. “Thanks for hearing me out, yeah?”

You offered him a final smile before disappearing inside.

Trent’s gaze lingered on your retreating figure for a moment longer before he returned to his practice, a slight shift in his expression as he continued his routine.

...

Part 6

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e @xxxstormyninixxx @lolawwww22 @myloveisforbellingham @purpleniight @bffrwme @mss-nthng @miniemonie2001 @severebelearthquake @fireofsoul5 @greasywall @livelovepasta @bigdikzaddy

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

Summary: Arne, in hopes to focus on his team’s mental health as much as their physical, recruits a younger but just as educated psychologist to work one-to-one with the more reserved players. Trent is one of them.

A/N: 700 followers is insaneeee and sm more than i acc thought id ever get so thank you so much! f1 and/or football fans, i love u all so much ugh ALSO if ur wondering why this chapter is longer than my lifespan it’s bcos u guys deserve it for being so patient and accept it as my dearest apology xxx

Warnings: a lot of fluff actually, casual banter, a lot of coffee mentions for some fkn reason lmfao, swearing probably

Word Count: 4.9k words (18 mins reading avg)

...

You push open the door to the training pitch, the cool breeze brushing against your face as you step outside, searching for Wataru.

The headache that’s been plaguing you all morning tightens its grip, and the fresh scent of the grass seems almost too intense. You rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension while scanning the field.

Across the pitch, Trent catches your eye, his movements fluid and graceful as he makes a pass. The ball connects with his boot in a way that’s almost poetic, the sound sharp and precise.

What usually feels like music to your ears now drives another spike of pain through your already throbbing head. You wince, pressing your fingers more firmly against your temples.

Finally, you spot Wataru near the edge of the pitch, zipping up his jacket while observing the players. As you approach, he looks up, concern immediately crossing his face as he takes in your weary appearance.

“Morning, Y/N,” he greets, his voice laced with worry. “Rough start?”

You manage a tired smile that feels more like a grimace. “Yeah, not the best morning. Overslept, skipped breakfast, and now this headache won’t quit.”

Wataru nods, his concern deepening. “You shouldn’t push yourself too hard. We can cancel if you need.”

Leaning against the wall beside him, you try to relieve some of the pressure on your aching body. “Thanks, but I’ll be alright. Just.. not exactly firing on all cylinders this morning.”

A quiet settles over you as you both watch the players go through their drills.

Trent sends a perfect cross into the box, and you can’t help but remark, “at least someone’s got their energy today.”

The usual lively atmosphere - the rhythmic thud of the ball, the shouts of encouragement, the bursts of laughter - feels like an assault on your senses. Each kick sends another ripple of pain through your skull, deepening the throbbing.

Wataru notices the way your shoulders tense with each sharp noise and is about to speak when you take a deep breath, pushing off the wall and forcing steadiness into your voice.

“I’ll be upstairs,” you say softly. “When you’re ready to start, just let me know.”

He nods, understanding clear in his eyes. “Take your time, Y/N. No rush.”

You offer a grateful smile before turning to head back inside. Each step is a conscious effort to stay composed. The quiet of the training centre seems more inviting than ever, a much-needed refuge from the relentless pounding in your head.

...

"Long night?" Trent remarked as he spotted Wataru holding two cups of coffee. His brows furrowed in mild surprise, though his tone remained light as he gestured toward the cups.

Wataru chuckled and shook his head. “Not for me. One of these is for Y/N.”

Trent’s expression shifted slightly, his brows relaxing as he nodded. “Oh.”

“She mentioned she skipped breakfast,” Wataru explained, “so I thought coffee might help.”

Trent glanced at the black coffee in Wataru’s hand, steam rising from the cup. His face remained neutral, but there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips before he spoke again.

“She doesn’t drink it black,” Trent said matter-of-factly.

Wataru blinked in surprise, glancing down at one of the cups. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Trent replied, trying to sound casual. He looked away, his voice quiet but with a slight edge.

“You might want to add some milk and a bit of sweetener. I’ve never seen her drink it.. like that.”

“Ah, thanks,” Wataru said, giving him a nod as the coffee machine hummed in the background.

Trent responded with a curt nod of his own, the awkwardness of the moment settling over him.

As he waited for the machine to finish, he rubbed the back of his neck, obviously trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that’d crept up on him.

Finally, he poured himself a cup, his movements deliberate but distracted.

He never assumed he knew your coffee preferences, but the fact that he actually did only disturbed him.

Wataru exited the canteen, but Trent remained standing in his place, staring down at his cup. The liquid swirling as he gave it a half-hearted stir, his mind lost in thought.

He’d been trying to keep his distance from you, aiming to stay focused on his own routines. You were just another face at the training centre, someone there to do a job like everyone else.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

So why had he noticed how you took your coffee? Why did it matter to him?

The thought nagged at him, making him feel off balance. He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like that he was starting to notice these little things about you, almost as if he was beginning to care. It made him feel uneasy, like he was losing his grip on the boundaries he’d set for himself.

He shook his head, wiping the bottom of the spoon on the rim of his cup before setting it down on the tray.

The nagging sensation in his chest made him feel vulnerable, and Trent Alexander-Arnold wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable. He was supposed to be focused, dedicated, with his head in the game and his heart firmly off the field.

He took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste barely registering as he tried to shake off the uncomfortable thought.

The truth was, he’d been noticing you for a while now.

The way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the determination with which you threw yourself into your work - it was hard to ignore.

And he’d been trying to push those thoughts away, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t distract him.

But every now and then, they crept back in, uninvited and unwelcome.

He let out a deep breath and finally decided to move. He followed the same route Wataru had taken just a few minutes earlier.

As he stepped out of the canteen, he saw his teammate engaged in conversation with one of the backroom staff, overhearing snatches of words like "reschedule" and "now."

His attention drifted as he passed by, noticing Ibou absorbed in what looked like cricket highlights playing on the TV. Yet his mind was still clouded, so much so that he barely noticed when his name was called.

“Trent!” The voice cut through the haze, pulling him back to the present. He turned to see Wataru waving him over, his expression a mix of urgency and apology.

He hesitated for a moment before walking over, his footsteps heavy. “What’s up?” He asked, aiming to sound casual.

Wataru glanced at the staff member, then back at him. “I’ve got to go see Arne,” he said, his voice low. “Can you do me a favour?”

Trent raised an eyebrow, half-expecting to be asked to cover a training session or run an errand. “Depends,” he said slowly.

He saw Wataru’s gaze shift to the coffee cups in his hands, and he felt his stomach sink. A chorus of silent ‘no no no’s’ echoed in his mind, ignored by whatever higher powers may've been listening.

Wataru hesitated for a moment, a conflicted look on his face, before finally holding one of the cups out to him. “Do you mind taking this up to Y/N for me?”

Trent hesitated, frowning. “Can’t someone else do it?”

The faces of the two men standing opposite him twisted into mild confusion, as if that was the last response they expected.

"It won’t take you long."

His eyes flickered over. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to get involved. The last thing he needed was to play delivery boy, especially for you.

He was about to refuse again when he saw the concern in Wataru’s eyes. With a resigned sigh, he took the cup.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Wataru’s face broke into a grateful but meek smile. He hurried off, leaving Trent to stare down at the cup in his hand, feeling a mix of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite name.

He headed toward the stairs, his steps slow, each one weighed down by the internal debate raging in his head.

He could just throw it out.

The thought crossed his mind almost immediately.

Dump the coffee and be done with it. You’d never know. And then he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of seeing you.

But then again, Wataru would find out. He’d ask you about the coffee later, and if it never made it to you, Trent would have to come up with some kind of excuse.

Wataru might be easygoing, but he wasn’t dumb. Trent didn’t need anyone questioning him, especially over something as trivial as a cup of coffee.

He gripped the cup tighter, feeling the warmth seep through the paper. It’d be so easy to turn around, head back to the kitchen, and pour it down the sink.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He could almost picture it - the splash of tan liquid spinning down the drain, washing his hands of this whole situation.

But then there was the part of him that knew better, the part that had been growing louder lately. The part that remembered the way you looked this morning, rubbing your temples, the pain etched across your face.

He made his way down the hallway, taking the stairs one at a time until he stood outside your door.

He hesitated, he hated this strange, unfamiliar urge to do something nice for someone here. And for you, of all people.

It was annoying, unsettling.

Realising both hands were full, he resorted to tapping the toe of his trainer against the wooden door, three quick thuds echoing through the corridor.

Silence.

He clicked his tongue in frustration and tried again, tapping harder.

Still nothing.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he muttered, irritation lacing his words.

As he stood there, a familiar figure sauntered down the corridor. Harvey noticed Trent’s growing agitation and, with a smirk, made his way over to investigate.

“What are you doing?” Harvey asked, his accented voice dripping with amusement. His eyes shifted from Trent’s face to the coffee cups, then to the trainer tapping rhythmically against the door.

“I’m knocking, genius,” Trent replied, his voice edged with sarcasm. He let out a sigh through his nose, tipping his head back slightly as Harvey's eyes flickered between him and the door.

“Since when do you ever knock?” Harvey questioned, eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

Trent’s mouth opened to retort, but nothing came out. He hated to admit it, but he was right. He never knocked.

A beat of silence passed before Trent jerked his chin toward the door. “Get the door for me, yeah?”

Harvey grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. “I kinda wanna see how long you’ll keep this up,” he teased, his tone light.

Trent shot him a glare, though the corners of his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.

“Alright, alright. Keep your hair on.” Harvey chuckled, relenting. He stepped forward, pressing down on the handle and pushing the door open.

Trent manoeuvred through the doorway, using the back of his shoulder to nudge it open the rest of the way, careful not to spill the coffee. He cast a sidelong glance at his friend, who leaned against the door frame with a smirk.

“See? Was that so hard?” Harvey quipped, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Trent muttered, rolling his eyes.

He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. Everything in your office looked untouched, as if you'd entered and gone straight to your desk. You were slumped over, head resting in one hand, elbow propped up on the wooden surface.

Either you’d fallen asleep, or...

“Is she dead?” Harvey asked.

"Here's hoping.” Trent mumbled in response.

He took a step closer, clearing his throat softly, but you remained oblivious.

Trent’s gaze flickered around the room, his usual composure faltering as he took in your dishevelled state. Despite his attempts to remain detached, seeing you like this stirred something deep within him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

With a sigh, he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the unease that had settled over him. He carefully placed the coffee on the desk beside you, his movements deliberate.

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers barely grazing your shirt as if testing the waters.

When you remained unresponsive, he mustered the courage to place his full hand on your shoulder and gave you a gentle shake.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “I’ve got your coffee.”

You stirred, lifting your head and blinking groggily. He removed his hand, straightening his back.

“Trent?” You mumbled, still half-asleep. The smell of the coffee faintly registered in your mind. “You didn’t have to..”

He shrugged, attempting to sound casual. “Wataru asked me to bring it up. And, well..” He glanced at you, feeling an unfamiliar tug of something he couldn’t quite name. “I figured you might need it.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes. “Thanks. I really do.”

As he was about to leave, he noticed the pile of paperwork cluttered next to your computer, the chaos suggesting you’d been battling through it despite your headache.

“I, uh..” His voice faltered slightly. “Need any help with that?“

You were about to reply when Harvey’s voice cut in, disbelief evident in his tone. “You’re offering to help?”

Trent shifted uncomfortably, his back still turned to Harvey as he rolled his eyes. You caught the movement and chuckled softly.

“Not offering. Just—” He turned to see Harvey’s amused expression and added hastily, “—just making sure she's not swamped. Is that a crime?”

Harvey shrugged, crossing his arms. “Not at all. Just didn’t think you had it in you.”

Trent picked up half of the stack, maybe more, his actions earnest but guarded.

You watched him with a mix of gratitude and surprise, taking a sip of the coffee and feeling the soothing warmth begin to ease your headache.

Harvey raised an eyebrow, still leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d see the day Trent Alexander-Arnold played the hero.”

Trent’s lips curled into a slight smile, his cheeks reddening as he held up a stack of papers toward Harvey. “Want to help?”

Harvey raised his hands in mock surrender, pushing himself off the doorframe. “I’ll leave you two to it. Have fun, lovebirds.”

As he departed, your cheeks warmed slightly, but you quickly shifted your focus to your inbox. An email from Arne caught your eye at the top, informing you that your session with Wataru had been rescheduled.

You exhaled, thinking, I slept through it anyway.

Trent, meanwhile, had sunk onto the couch, peeling off the top sheet of the document. He placed the remaining papers neatly on the cabinet beside him and studied the single sheet in his hand with a skeptical frown.

The bold black text at the top seemed to glare back at him: "For Liverpool FC Staff Only."

He paused, his fingers grazing the corner of the page. "I can read these, right?"

You glanced over, a small smile touching your lips as you met his gaze. “Yeah, they're just things I need to acknowledge I've read,” you said with a casual shrug, your voice carrying a hint of nonchalance.

Trent tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he flipped the document over. “Seems a bit counter-productive, though,” he remarked.

“Not really. I never actually read them,” you explained nonchalantly.

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “And here I thought you were all about dedication to your job,” he said, his voice trailing off with a mocking edge.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, picking up your coffee cup again after dragging the stack of remaining papers closer.

“I am dedicated,” you replied with a hint of a smile, “but finance just doesn’t interest me. I skim.”

He hummed, his eyes scanning the text.

You paused before starting on your work, glancing over at Trent. “Anything important, just make sure you tell me.”

Trent looked up, his expression blank but his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What if I want to skim read?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to the papers. “Shut up, Trent.”

His gaze lingered on you, a smirk playing at his lips as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally looked away, his smile widening just slightly.

...

The soft shuffle of papers and the occasional scratch of your pen had become a rhythmic background noise in the room.

Your headache had lessened thanks to the coffee and the company, but the stack of paperwork in front of you still felt like an endless mountain.

As you reached the final couple of documents, you heard Trent stand up from the couch.

You looked over just in time to see him stretching his arms above his head, the motion causing his shirt to lift slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin beneath.

You swallowed, instinctively folding your lips inwards as your eyes lingered for a moment too long.

He was an athlete, after all, so naturally, he was fit, as any athlete would be. But seeing it up close stirred something in you that you quickly tried to dismiss.

He caught your glance, and instead of saying anything, Trent poked his tongue into his cheek, clearly holding back a remark.

His lips pressed together in a restrained smirk, like he was biting back a teasing comment. He didn’t want to overstep, especially in the middle of a setting like this one, and God forbid he came across like he’d noticed too much.

Your face grew warm, and you immediately redirected your attention back to the papers in front of you, pretending to scan over the same paragraph you had just read.

But the words on the page were a blur, the previous focus you had was gone, and all you could feel was your heart beating a little too fast, a bit too aware of his presence nearby.

He placed the now neatly organised stack of papers he had been working on back onto your desk. “These just need your signature now,” he said, his voice casual, but you could sense a hint of satisfaction.

You raised an eyebrow. “You finished all of them?”

He nodded, unfazed. He pulled out a folded A4 paper from his pocket.

“I made a note.. of everything that was important.” His fingers unfolded the paper to reveal messy, scribbled handwriting - a far cry from the neat, printed reports you were used to seeing.

But the gesture behind it was unexpectedly sweet.

You stared at the paper in his hand for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Trent, ever the enigma, had actually taken the time to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial. His expression was calm, neutral even, but you knew deep down this was one of those moments he’d never let you thank him for.

“Thanks, Trent. That’s.. really thoughtful of you.” The words felt too light, not enough to fully express your gratitude, but you also knew him well enough to recognise that overpraising him would probably make him uncomfortable.

As expected, he shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit of needing me for this stuff.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and refreshing. “I’ll try not to.”

There was a beat of silence before he shoved the note toward you, his eyes finally meeting yours for a brief second. "Make sure you check my notes, though. My handwriting’s a bit shit.”

You took the note from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment.

“I’ll make sure to decipher it,” you teased lightly, glancing down at the paper covered in hurried scrawls.

As Trent turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you. “Take it easy, Y/N. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, as you fiddled with the paper between your fingers. The door clicked shut behind him, and you let out a deep breath.

The room suddenly felt quieter, emptier, but your mind wasn’t letting go. You pressed your lips together, trying to focus on the documents in front of you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him - his quiet gestures, the sarcastic remarks, the infuriating smirks.

It was maddening how easily he got under your skin, how a simple glance could set your pulse racing.

Then, the memory played again in your mind, torturously vivid - the door shutting, the way he'd looked at you before leaving.

But then it hit you. Y/N.

Your mouth parted, breath hitching as the realisation dawned. He’d said your name.

For the first time, it wasn’t “psychologist.” It was your actual name.

Since you’d started here, you hadn't noticed how much that label created a barrier, a distance. Now, the memory of him saying your name replayed on a loop, breaking through that invisible wall.

You hadn’t realised how much you wanted to hear it from him.

Until now.

...

You were making your way down the hallway towards the cafeteria when you saw Wataru walking towards you. You exchanged polite smiles, a small gesture of recognition, as you passed by each other.

But something made you pause, and you turned back, calling after him.

“Wataru!” You said, a grateful grin crossing your face. He turned around, his eyes curious.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you added, your voice light with appreciation.

Wataru's smile widened as he slowed his pace. “Did Trent bring it up?” He asked, shifting his weight where he stood.

“Yeah, he did,” you confirmed.

“How’s the headache?” He asked, a soft concern in his tone.

“Gone,” you replied, your hand instinctively reaching up to run over the skin on your forehead. “Thanks to you.”

Wataru nodded, clearly pleased.

You studied him for a moment, your curiousity getting the best of you. You tilted your head ever so slightly and asked, “how did you know how I liked it? My coffee, I mean?”

He raised an eyebrow, caught off guard for a moment, then shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I didn’t,” he said plainly, his expression easy.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your lips parting as you waited for him to explain further.

Wataru chuckled again and leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial tone in his voice. “Trent told me. Said you didn’t like it plain.”

Your heart skipped a beat, surprise flickering across your face. “Really?” You asked, your voice mellow with disbelief. “I didn’t know he knew that.”

Wataru smiled, watching the realisation dawn on you. “He’s an attentive boy,” he added with a nod, his tone thoughtful.

You blinked, processing his words. “Yeah,” you breathily replied, your brows lifting in agreement.

“Guess he is.”

...

Trent finished zipping up his thin jacket with a final click, the sound resonating softly as he shut the door to the vacant computer room behind him. He patted his pockets, making sure he had everything.

Across the hallway, you were locking your office door, your focus intent as you fumbled with the key.

Your eyes met at the exact same moment - yours lifting from the office door just as Trent’s eyes drifted from the closed computer room.

“Hey,” you greeted, a small, tired smile curving your lips.

Trent’s gaze flickered to your lips before settling back on your eyes, a subtle shift in his expression. “Hey,” he replied, his tone soft and casual, with an undertone of something more.

The corridor felt oddly intimate, the quiet hum of the lights and distant echoes were all you could hear. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, gently clearing your throat.

Trent massaged the back of his shoulder, having had to stare at a computer for a number of hours, a gesture that revealed his own weariness.

“Long day?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah.” You nodded, briefly looking down before meeting his eyes again. “Caught up on some stuff with Wataru. And you?”

“Same,” Trent said with a small shrug, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. “Online seminar ran late.”

You stood there for a moment as the hallway seemed to close in around you, your small smiles communicating a quiet understanding.

“You heading out now?” Trent asked gently, his voice almost hesitant as if not wanting to break the moment.

“Yeah, just heading home. I'm assuming you're the same.” You replied, shifting your bag once more.

“Yep,” Trent said, his eyes meeting yours.

"Walk with me?" You tilted your head to the end of the hallway where the stairs led downstairs.

He looked over, swallowing as he nodded his head. "Sure."

You both turned, your shoulders grazing ever so slightly as you walked in what felt like a comfortable silence together, descending the stairs.

You walked side by side toward the building’s exit. Brian, stationed by the manually operated door on the same wall as the now-locked automatic ones, gave it a gentle push open.

"See you tomorrow, Brian." You expressed with a genuine smile, giving him a small wave.

"See you, love. Have a good night, son." He replied warmly.

"You too." Trent added.

He stepped aside though as he turned slightly, his body angled to give you clear passage. With a subtle sweep of his hand, he motioned for you to go ahead before him.

You slipped past, your back brushed lightly against his chest, the brief contact making your stomach flip in an instant.

The sensation caught you off guard, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. You felt like a schoolgirl again, every accidental touch with a crush igniting a fire in your limbs.

Crush? You blinked, shaking the thought out of your head quickly. Nope, nope. That’s not it.

You exhaled quietly, trying to steady yourself, looking back as Trent caught up beside you.

A brisk gust of wind whipped around you both. Instinctively, you tucked the loose strands of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear, crossing your arms over your chest to keep warm.

Trent shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.

“Getting colder,” you commented.

“No shit,” Trent agreed, his voice a bit strained against the chill. “Summer ended quick.”

"You can talk, you weren’t even in the country," you teased, giving him a sidelong glance.

Trent didn’t miss a beat, replying almost instantly, "you didn’t even work here then, how would you know?"

You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated, the words not quite forming in time. Trent noticed and grinned, his smugness unmistakable.

“Someone stalking my Insta?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break out. “Please. You think you’re that interesting?”

Trent shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Can’t blame ya. I mean, half the world’s got eyes on me.”

“Half the world, huh?” You shot back, arching a brow. “I didn’t realise your four friends counted as ‘half the world' now.”

He chuckled, tucking his chin deeper into his jacket. “Still more friends than you’ve got.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you replied smoothly, flashing a grin. “I’ve got friends, too. Just.. a bit more exclusive.”

“Exclusive, eh?” Trent said, his tone mock-serious.

"Mhm," you trailed off, smiling.

As you walked, your mind wandered back to earlier in the day, remembering how he’d said your name. It was brief, almost casual, but it had stuck with you. It had felt different, personal.

And now, it replayed in your head, over and over.

Without fully realising it, you broke the silence. “You said my name.”

Trent’s steps slowed as he processed your words, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “What?”

You looked down, cheeks flushed from the cold - or maybe something else. “When you left my office earlier, you called me by my name.”

Trent pressed his bottom lip up to his top as he thought back. “Pretty sure I’ve said your name before.”

“Not to me,” you said, glancing up at him with a hopeful look.

He tilted his head. “And why’s that so important?”

“Because.. it is,” you admitted, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “To me, it is.”

Trent's muscles relaxed as his eyes roved over your features. “The bar's in hell, huh?”

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine, cutting through the chill. You nudged his arm with your hand.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest to trap the heat.

You finally approached Trent’s car, and he turned to you with a nod before pressing the unlock button on his keys.

You watched as he walked closer to his car door and opened it. The quiet of the evening was interrupted by your voice, again.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you said, raising your voice slightly to cut through the wind.

Trent's lips twitched, biting his bottom one to hold back from taking any credit. “I didn’t make your coffee.”

“Don’t lie, Trent. It doesn’t suit you." You remarked, scrunching your nose and shaking your head.

For a moment, his eyes stayed on you, lingering with a soft intensity. You held his gaze, feeling an unspoken connection. The seconds stretched on as you both seemed to take in the moment, your heart racing slightly in the charged silence.

Trent eventually looked away, fiddling with the keys in his hand.

“Get out of the way before I run you over." He quipped, his voice lighthearted.

“Charming,” you retorted.

Trent shook his head, getting into his car.

You began walking towards the pedestrian gate, hearing the engine of his car start up as you turned to give him one last glance before starting your short walk home.

...

Part 7

Masterlist

Comment below if you want to be part of the taglist! Once you are part of it, you'll be reminded for every part of the series until its completion!

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e @xxxstormyninixxx @lolawwww22 @myloveisforbellingham @purpleniight @bffrwme @mss-nthng @miniemonie2001 @severebelearthquake @fireofsoul5 @greasywall @livelovepasta @bigdikzaddy @witchhkitty222 @mountsgirlsblog

Family's Growing

Kylian Mbappe x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kylian has baby fever, dirty thoughts, baby talk, breeding, oral (f!receiving), fingering, penetrative sex (p in v), breeding/pregnancy kink goes burrrr, daddy used in a sexual context, begging, creampies, finger fucking and sucking lol, cum play.

Word Count: 1,615

Author's Note: okay I'm finally back on track with these - yes I know Tuesday is over but please look past that lol.

merry smutmas series

--

Kylian finds himself swooning over how good you are with his niece and nephew, the thought of having a family with you spins around his head. 

Christmas was a time for family and that seemed to be the only thing on your boyfriend's mind.

The two of you had gone over to his parents' place for Christmas dinner, all of his cousins were there as well as their kids. Kylian was not the favourite uncle for no reason, all of them knew they were getting good gifts in bountiful amounts too.

The tree in the living room that was once full with presents were now opened, the floor covered in wrapping paper. It was only two kids, his cousin's son and daughter, and Ethan if you counted him as well; and yet, it seemed like Kylian had bought the entirety of Paris for them.

Kylian watches as you lay on the floor with his niece and nephew, the three of you putting together a tower made of legos, whispering and giggling as you built the tower.

He smiles to himself as he watches the scene unfold in front of him. A part of him isn't sure what he did to be so lucky, to have a career as great as his and to have a girlfriend who's so loving and kind and supportive. You loved his family like your own, right now was a prime example.

Seeing you with kids always did something for him, you had a maternal nature about you, anyone who met you could see that.

The thought crossed his mind many times, how nice it would be to start a family with you. You two had spoken about it ages ago, when you began dating. You both decided that you'd revisit the idea when you were more stable in life and that you were now. Both you and Kylian were stable in careers, you two lived together, you had been together for a while and you had the means to raise a child.

He couldn't see where it would be a no.

As much as he wanted a kid with you, the idea of making a kid was much more appealing.

Clothes on the floor, hands all over each other, watching as you begged him to cu- "You okay?" Ethan asks his older brother, breaking his thought.

Kylian clears his throat. "Yeah," he nods, a smile on his face as you glance over your shoulder at him.

"They love her," Ethan nods towards you with the kids, "y/n's always been good with them."

"She was good with you too," Kylian teased his brother. You two had begun dating just before his World Cup win, the two of you barely 18 years old and Ethan was 12 - still a child in his brother's eyes and he always will be.

Ethan rolls his eyes at his brother's comment.

After some time, the kids started to get tired which was their parents' signal to head out. You and Kylian left not too shortly after that as well.

Your boyfriend finds you in the kitchen after he changes for bed, his arms wrapped around you from behind whilst your elbows propped on the counter as you waited for the kettle to boil.

"Something on your mind, baby?" You asked him, twirling the string attached to your tea bag.

"Just thinking."

"About?"

Kylian hums. "Kids."

His answer catches you off guard, you turn to face the man with a confused look on your face. "Kids?"

He shrugs, smiling. "Seeing you with the little ones today, I don't know - it got me thinking. It'd be nice to have our own, don't you think?" His hand rests on your hip, thumb disappearing under the hem of your shirt.

A glance at your boyfriend's hand, your eyebrows raised. "Do you really mean having kids or making kids?"

You can't help the laugh, kissing your boyfriend. The man wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against him. Kylian picks you up, holding you tightly as he kisses you and carries you over to the couch.

Kylian puts you down, sitting on the couch for a moment as he looks at you. You take that as your sign to undress.

The silk shorts sliding down your smooth legs, pooling by your ankles before you step out of them, you pull off the tank top and that leaves you in the blue set he loves. You reach behind to unhook your bra but Kylian stops you, “leave it on.” 

He pulls you by your waist back to him, his hand slipping down to rest on your ass before giving it a smack. You’re quiet, looking down at your boyfriend on the couch. 

He puts you to lay on the couch, he’s sat between your legs with one on either side of him. You’ve propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him and Kylian drags his fingers up your thigh, moving to your clothed pussy. 

“I like this,” he tells you, fingers rubbing over the blue lace. 

You smile, “I know.” 

He pulls the panties to the side, his eyes fixed on your pussy. He gives you no warning, pushing his fingers into you. The sound leaving your mouth was like heaven on earth to him. 

Kylian's fingers curl upwards, your back arching at the feeling. 

“Keeks, please.” your hand reaches down to wrap on his wrist but he swats your hand away, managing to pull both to rest on your stomach and his free hand over your hands, pinning them to your stomach. 

You try to wiggle your hands away from him, trying to grab on something. “Behave.” He tells you, adding another finger. 

Your face twists, pleasure all across it and our hands stop wiggling, he smiles, satisfied. 

Kylian can feel it; he knows you’re close, you’re squeezing on his fingers, your thighs trying to close, trying to squirm away from the pleasure. 

He can feel your eyes on him, he reaches for the blue lace you’re wrapped up in and tugs it down your legs, letting it fall to the floor with the rest of your clothes. He shifts to lay on his stomach between your legs, leaving a trail of kisses as he works his way up to your cunt. 

Your eyes meet his, he knows you’re looking. He wants you to look at him. 

Your hips buck when you feel his tongue against your clit, your hand gripping on his hair. 

Kylian knew you like the back of his hand, gripping your thighs to keep them in place as his tongue lapped your clit. Your hips buck, your way of saying you want more, he gives in. 

"Please," you whimpered.

"What, mon ange ? Tell me."

You look at the man between your legs. "Fuck me."

There was no hidden meaning behind it; no scolding, no need to hurry him up - you wanted him and that was it. 

“Gonna let me fill you up princess? Hm?” He asks, shifting to line himself up with your cunt. You nodded eagerly, your leg hitching on his hip.

At this point, you can’t do much except lay there and take it; not that you don’t want to because you do, you really do. 

The tip of his cock brushing over your clit before moving to push into you. Your back arches, hips jutting forward to meet his.

Hard and rough, not enough to hurt you but enough to tell you that he's in charge.

Kylian wanted to hear you.

His hand now on your chin. “C’mon amour, let me hear all those pretty sounds you make.” He says, the angle you were at puts him deeper than before.

The slightest movements and you can feel it in your stomach. It’s like he can hear your thoughts because his hand moves from your chin to your stomach. His big hand spread over your stomach, “you’d look so pretty with a baby in you, hm?”

Kylian lets you fall back onto the couch, both of his hands on your hips. “Maybe I should fuck one into you.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, he could listen to you say it over and over again. You were close enough that you could taste it.

“So good for me, you take it so well.” He whispers to you, kissing under your ear.

“Uh huh,” you breathe, leaning back against him, your legs felt like jello under you. Your head drops back onto the couch, begging him to let you cum.

He lets you drop back, back arched for him once again. He feels you cum around him, the wetness covering his cock. It’s not long after, followed by a few sloppy thrusts, that Kylian cums too.

The tip of his cock brushing between your folds, spreading his cum all over your pussy.

He pulls away, smiling at the whimper he gets from you. His fingers replacing his cock, covered in his cum when you roll over, he sticks his fingers in your mouth and he doesn’t have to tell you what to do.

“Good girl,” he hums, watching as your tongue laps over his fingers. Kylian pulls his fingers away, leaning down to kiss you. A mess of the two of you, not sure where one of you starts and the other ends.

You lay there for a while, Kylian on top of you, your leg tossed on his hip as his head rests on your sternum. Your fingers drag over his shoulders, the man humming quietly.

"We should do that again," he whispers.

You laughed, "keep it up and we'll end up with a baby by next Christmas."

Kylian nods, kissing you. "Let's try again then."

--

taglist: @nosugarallspice  @evieepepi08 @mimithepooh @koufaxx @dannyramirezwife-simpaccount @topguncultleader @molliemoo3 @aisharmi @mamako23 @ac3may @lewislcver @miahgonzalez16  @books-and-netflix-pls  @wibi96 @bwddermilch @pedrisgatorade  @clarasenchant @sainzluvrr // @trentsfav @trentsmyfave @noturbabe22

one of those things ────── aurélien isn't ready to let you go.

♡ ────── pairing : aurélien tchouaméni x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified, but they are described to be smaller than aurel. no smut but aurel is very touchy here... viewer's discretion is advised. kiiiiinda toxic idk they're exes and also drunk. aurel is sorta an asshole but idc he's so hot omfgggg sorry he is JEALOUS. important to mention that he's a bit forceful here but reader (& me) lowkey likes it... NOT proofread!!! it's a bit messy sorry ♡ ────── wordcount : 1,431 ♡ ────── notes : i am blushing as i write this. there is no plot to this, it's literally just banters. the stranger can be whoever you want but i am imagining trent from lfc omggg hes so fine. i GOTTA stop talking so much on the tags. not based on cowboy like my by taylor swift, but i was listening to it the whole time i was writing this ♡ masterlist.

“Stop looking at him.”

Aurélien has his lips hovering against the side of your neck, glowering at the general direction of the bar, like he was a wolf trying to protect his slaughtered prey.

“I’ll look at whoever I want,” you roll your eyes, hands gripping his arms—much bigger, much stronger—that are wrapped around your waist, trying to pry him off you. He has refused to let go of you ever since his drunken gaze spied you on the bar, biting your lips as you tug on the sleeve of a stranger of a man you’ve met only tonight.

You were flirting with him, because obviously you were.

It’s a club. It’s 1 A.M. And you are single.

Why wouldn’t you flirt with the next piece of hot ass you see?

“Come on,” Aurélien whispers, focusing all his hazy attention on you. “Should I go over and talk to him? S’that what you want? What do you think, baby?”

The fun banters were cut short when you felt an all too familiar farm wrapped around your waist, whisking you away.

And before you know it, you are settled on your ex’s lap, thirty feet away from the stranger on the bar, somewhere between his footballer friends, too busy with themselves and too accustomed with Aurélien’s antics to pay you any spare attention.

“I think,” you keep your eye contact with the man in the bar, fingers trying to slip between Aurélien’s hand, “you’re drunk. And stupid.”

“Drunk?” he chuckles, fully burying his face into your neck, an enticing feeling that you haven’t felt in a while, as he breathes in your scent. “Maybe.”

You shift on his lap, knees aching to get up, but he holds you down.

“But I’m not stupid, baby—”

“Don’t call me ‘baby’.”

“—don’t call me stupid.”

“Don’t call me ‘baby’,” you repeat, leaning away from his head, trying to push his face away from the tender skin of your neck. Ex-lovers definitely shouldn’t be all over each other like this. “We’re over, Aurélien. Remember?”

“Remember?” He chuckles, still keeping his chin on your shoulder despite your eagerness to get away. “Ouch.”

“Get used to it.”

You glance back at the bar as Aurélien’s fingers find their way to the hem of your shirt, ungodly intention laced in every stretch of his muscles before your shaky hand stops him, somewhat affected by the couple of shots the stranger had bought you too.

“Fine,” he murmurs, pouting, as though you will melt for that age-old trick. “I’ll apologise for calling you ‘baby’, and then we’ll go home and have some fun.”

You scrunch your nose at his offer, turn to glare at him, only to meet his lazy grin.

“I’m not—”

You breathe in a deep sigh, and you can feel his jaw clench.

“—If I’m going home with anyone tonight, it won’t be you.”

“Why not?” He whines, pulling you in even closer, if possible, and you bite your lips as your ass rubs against his crotch, the friction causing you to shut your eyes as the blood rushes away from your brain.

The night just gets more hazy.

And seeing you distracted, Aurélien steals the moment to continue his way under your shirt, his fingers digging deep into the side of your torso.

“Aurélien,” your murmur, your voice drawing out to a drawl. You almost forgot about the stranger in the bar—when you look back at him for a short second, he is holding a glass of shots against his lips, a smirk etched on his lips like he’s enjoying the show Aurélien is putting on for him.

Aurélien grits his teeth, grazing them against your neck when he notices that your attention is centred on the guy more than on him. “Answer me.”

You huff, gripping his wrist over your shirt. “Because we’re over. We broke up.”

An irritated sigh escapes his lips, somehow returning his lips on your neck, nipping softly on the skin. “You’re being stubborn.”

“I’m being stubborn?”

“Come on,” he pretends that he isn’t in denial. “I’ll take you home and I’ll fix whatever was wrong with us, yeah?”

His hand continues to knead on your flesh, lips moving up your neck, to your jaw, to nip on your earlobes. 

“That’s not,” your grip on his wrist tightened, “how it works.”

“Of course it is,” he whispers, pulling you back. “That’s exactly how it works. We’ll talk, just you and me, back at my place.”

You shake your head, one hand on the velvet couch beneath you two, to find leverage as your feet find the floor—a sad attempt of getting up. “I want nothing to do with you.”

“You sure about that?” His hand leaves your shirt, and finds itself gripping your thigh to pull you back down. He sounds inviting, and you almost fell for the alluring tone of his words. “Don’t make me prove you wrong.”

You slant your eyes. “Don’t be a dick.”

Aurélien laughs, seeming to enjoy riling you up, like he wants to see you break.

“Or what?” He cups the side of your hips, rocking you, his fingers drawing aimless patterns against the fabric of your jeans. “You gonna do something about it? Gonna punish me, baby?”

You grit your teeth, drawing in a sharp breath, a hot sensation stirring in your chest—a mixture of exhilaration, and annoyance, and interest, and anger.

You can backtrack. You can forget about your break up, and go home with him, and let the alcohol take over the night. But your ego is higher than whatever pedestal Aurélien has decided to put you on.

And you? Well, you are just not the type of person to get back together after a break up.

It’s pathetic. It’s embarrassing.

Aurélien tilts his head at the way your bottom lip juts and pouts as you rake your brain for some sort of response. He can’t help pushing you over the edge—that feeling of dominance over your feeble resolve, having you on his lap, small and bothered; he loves it.

And he loves you. He is pretty sure that he does. And he’s pretty sure that you would come running back to him if he just pushes the right button.

“Cat got your tongue, huh?” He kisses your cheek, and you don’t miss the way his eyes dart towards the bar for a second. “I’m tryna talk to you, baby. I can’t have you go home with ‘nother man, now can I?”

“Fuck,” you jolt when you feel him dig even further into your hip, “I’m fuckin’ sick of you, Aurélien.”

He chuckles. “Say it again.”

You scoff, throwing your gaze away, trying to distract yourself with the arbitrary coloured lights on the dancefloor. “You got a sick kink?”

“I do,” Aurélien laughs, fond of the way you are feisty, of the way you hold back out of pride. “Only for you, though.”

It’s what he likes about you, he guesses, you keep it interesting for him. 

“Say you want me back,” he coaxes, his breath hot against your neck, lips just inches away from the one spot he had been lapping on all night. He would love to see you tomorrow morning—he just knows that his bite marks will develop into pretty bruises tomorrow, and the thought latches his teeth on the skin above your collarbone. “I know you want me, baby.”

“You’re dreaming,” you sneer, though it leaves your mouth more like a whine. He raises an eyebrow. “M’gonna say this—last time I’ll ever say it. We broke up.”

Aurélien groans, shutting his eyes, annoyed. “You’re so difficult.”

His large palm rubs against you, returning once more to the warm skin under your shirt, nails lightly scratching on it.

“You’re not protesting against me, though,” he points out. “You still love me, dontcha?”

You bite your lips, and it takes two seconds too long to answer him. “No.”

The way you whine, the way you shift—deliberately or not—on his lap. Aurélien murmurs, “You’re a shitty liar.”

“Fuck off.”

“Ohh, that’s not the language that a pretty baby should use,” his drunken slurs scold. You feel annoyed—and helpless—just listening to him. “Shouldn’t you mind your manners, considering you’re sitting on my lap?”

“Well,” you swallow, turning to look back at him. “Maybe you should consider letting me go.”

“And let you go back to him?” Aurélien shoots another murderous look at the bar. “No. Besides, I’m not done with you.”

You sigh, biting your lips, and a small smirk sprouts on his lips. You’re in for a long, long night.

-> skin | aurelién tchouameni |

genre: smut + no plot | minors dni 18+ only

warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, possessive tendencies, choking

baby strip down for me, go on take 'em off, don’t worry baby, i’mma meet you half way, cause I know you wanna see me

You were only two steps inside his foyer before his hand found the back of your neck as his lips met yours. Without a doubt, you loved coming home to Aurelien. You fell to pieces under his touch. You were always left wanting more of him and his recent time away from home was the longest week of your life. You had never been so obsessed with a man, let alone a man was equally obsessed with you.

Aurelien walked you backwards and your back hit the closed front door with a soft thud, his mouth trailing down your neck to your cleavage. You arched your back, opening yourself up to his touch - a silent indicator that you wanted him to explore you more.

“Aurelien,” You breathed out as he began sucking the top of your breast.

“Yes, bebe?” He muttered against your skin before continuing his exploration of your chest with his tongue. [baby]

“God I’ve been waiting all night for this - ugh, these heels.” You moaned and complained simultaneously.

Aurelien pulled away from your body and crouched down to pull the strappy designer heels off each foot, tossing them to the side while you reveled in the relief of being barefoot. His back muscles were illuminated under the warm light of the foyer. You could hear his TV in the background and you wondered if he had been waiting for you despite how tired he must have been from traveling. It was easily nearing midnight and though that wasn’t late for many people, it was late for Aurelien. He pulled you away from the door, picking you up and over his shoulder as if you were light as a feather. His hand gripped your thigh, his fingertips mere inches from to your core. You didn’t protest as he carried you into the living and set you down on the couch.

“This dress is too small.” Aurelien said as he hovered over you, thumbing the hem of the dress. It was very slutty and that meant you spent most of your night holding it in place. You had a feeling that he would love the dress and you knew it was driving him crazy because he wasn’t able to be attached to you all night. Usually, Aurelien would have loved to be there with you and have his hands on you, showing you off, but his travel schedule messed up your plans.

Instead of being there, he had to watch your social media stories to get glimpses of you. You texted him all night about nothing at all - just tipsy commentary about your evening until you hit the wall of drunkenness. You were practically begging him to fuck you in any way that he wanted. Aurelien loved it.

“By who’s standards ?” You asked with a tilt of your head, knowing that you chose the dress that he would end up taking it off of you. Rarely did Aurelien see you dressed up and you were glad you chose a skimpier option because his eyes were devouring every bit of your exposed skin.

“Mine,” He teased and focused his attention back on your cleavage, placing the most delicate kisses on your skin, “It’s been too long.” He said about the time you spent apart.

Aurelien loved the idea of you being approached by another man because he knew no one was ever going to measure up to him. He loved knowing that his touch was the only one you craved and he especially loved that you wore such a tiny dress, accentuating your ass in the most mouth watering way just for him. Aurelien loved that you thought of him just as much as a he thought about you and he especially loved being able to fuck you or make love to you to prove it.

“Patience is a virtue.” You joked as he bit your skin. You moved to pull off your thong, tossing it to the side to make yourself readily available. If someone would have told you that a blind date would lead to you being with a footballer who worshiped the ground you walked on you would have laughed. The kind of man didn’t exist - until you met Aurelien.

“You know I’d wait forever for you.” He asked as he began to push your dress up to your abdomen.

“I don’t want to wait, I need you inside of me.”You whispered as he slid his finger inside of you. It was as if the one piece of you that only Aurelien could touch suddenly burst into flames, taking over your every nerve. You could hear the wetness of yourself as he pulled his finger and in and out of you, his mouth capturing your own. You moaned into him and he sped up the pace, his strength making your whole body move against his hand.

The first night you hooked up with Aurelien was in the driver's seat of his luxury SUV because you simply couldn’t wait to get home. When you desperately crawled onto his lap in some random, empty, parking lot you were met with the same energy from Aurelien. He held your panties to the side with one hand to keep it out of his way while he pumped multiple fingers in and out of you. You were too stunned to even kiss him, unable to fathom that this was what your blind date had come to. You weren’t sure if you felt embarrassed or empowered - but with time, you recognized that it was sexual freedom from being treated as a princess.. Your gasps were so strong and his mouth was so close to yours while strings of French rolled off his tongue. It was only after you came all over his jeans that you decided he was going to come home with you. If it was for just a night, you would be satisfied. But you were lucky and completely enamored by the fact he wasn’t settling for just a hookup. He wanted you all to himself, all the time.

When he pulled his hands out of you, you got off the couch. Aurelien took your dress off before he started working on sliding off his own clothes. The second his clothes hit the floor you pushed him onto the couch and straddled him. He pulled you close with one arm, groaning as he reached for his dick to rub the tip across your drenched entrance. Once you slowly moved downward on his dick it was game over. You were a mess. Your moans were in cadence with his thrusts and you couldn’t help but tell him how big he felt. You were dizzy with desire and drunk from all the shots you took but you were certain that this was the best sex of your life.

Aurelien grabbed your hips as he thrusted deeply into you, hitting your g-spot with the curve of his dick in the process. You placed your hands on the back of the couch a, gripping it tightly to keep control of yourself. It hurt in the best way. Aurelien’s hand broke free and wrapped around your throat forcing you to tilt your head backwards and arch your back. His hands were large, warm, and sickeningly tight around your throat. Aurelien slowed down and took a breath, admiring how your wetness was all over his dick and thighs. You took the opportunity to grind on him, taking him even deeper inside yourself. He was touching your cervix and you were loving every minute of it.

“Putain.” Aurelien dropped his hand and collapsed into the cushions, his eyes focused on your body as you took control and continued to ride him. You placed your hands on his abdomen to steady yourself and keep your pace, moaning out his praises. [fucking hell]

“You’re so pretty riding me, bebe.” He commented with a lustful gaze. You bit your lip at his expression then tossed your hair to the side and began kissing his neck. You rhythm never faltered and you trailed the sloppiest kisses against his neck - sucking, nibbling, and using your tongue to hit those sweet spots. [baby]

“I missed you, I missed your dick.” You mumbled into his neck and he gripped your ass in response. His grip made you switch from a slow whine on his dick to slowly bouncing on him. .

“Trust me, it missed you too…couldn’t stop thinking of you on the road.” He admitted. You loved how shameless he was about you.

“God, call me next time so I can see how much you miss me.” The idea of him jacking off to you and your voice was mouth watering. The urge to taste him overwhelmed your senses and washed away any coherent sentence you were going to form so you leaned in to kiss him again and Aurelien’s lips were full, soft, and perfect against your own.

“Won’t need to call because you’ll be with me.” He said casually and moved to sit upright. Aurelien stood up,moved from the couch and tugged you to the middle of the floor. He laid you on the plush carpet in his living room, using his tongue to lick from your navel and up to your ear.

“What do you mean?” You asked him and his eyes snapped up to yours mischievously.

“The next match.” Aurelien slid himself inside you again and you gasped at the sudden fullness you felt. His face hovered a few inches above yours and you bit your lip to keep from screaming out. “I got you tickets.” He managed to say as he fucked you.

“Really?” You gasped as the pressure of him inside of you created a prickly feeling throughout your body. You could feel your orgasm building in your chest and you begged him to not stop - to keep going and never, ever stop.

“Fuck, Aurelien.” You inhaled and prepared for the delicious delirium coursing through your body. You grabbed ahold of his biceps as he fucked you in a desperate pace. Your body was falling apart under him and he was trying to hold himself together.

“Fuuuuck.” Aurelien groaned as his climax started. You could feel yourself nearing your own climax and you urged him to be more vocal. “You look so pretty taking all of me.” He praised you and heat flushed your cheeks. He watched himself moving in and out of you, admiring how you were dripping wet around him.

“Give me more Aurelien, don’t stop.” You urged. Aurelien propped himself on his elbows on either side of your head. You wrapped your legs around his abdomen and your arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I’m going to cum,” He said huskily by your ear. You could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to control himself - to keep himself from coming. You were so enthralled by him that you spoke without thinking.

“Don’t pull out.” You begged, your voice gradually turned from a moan into a whimper of pure bliss. Your words activated a deep sense of possessiveness in Aurelien and in his need to please you, all of his rational thoughts disappeared. He buried himself as deep as he possibly could and released himself into you, feeling the twitch of his dick inside you. You moved your arms down from his shoulders to around his rib cage, wanting him to stay inside of you while your own climax hit you.

“Merde.” Aurelien exclaimed as your back arched off the floor as you began to ride the wave of your orgasm. Your eyes squeezed close as your legs shook from the pleasure. [shit]

“Aurel, baby,” You exclaimed, trying to keep your voice low.

“Let it out,” He directed, “Scream for me.”

Your scream drowned out the television and your vision became blinded by the light of pleasure that flooded your body. You panted and let go of Aurelien, relaxing onthe carpet. You tried to calm your breathing but it was nearly impossible to do after such an insane orgasm. You could reason with yourself that it was because of the alcohol in your system but you and Aurelien knew it was because of him. Your closed your eyes and took a deep breath as you fell victim to the drop of adrenaline.

As Aurelien pulled out of you and examined himself, he was shocked to see how much you came all over him. Pride swelled in his chest as he looked at you, sprawled on the floor in front of him, attempting to catch your breath. You gazed at him with hazy eyes and a small smile stretched across your face.

Aurelien leaned back down into you, sliding his tongue into your mouth for a passionate kiss. Every kiss with him felt like he was soaking you in for the last time. His hands trailed down your sides and it sent goosebumps across your skin. He pulled away and stood before reaching out his hand to help you up. You were unsteady on your feet but you made it to the couch and sat down. Aurelien left and came back with a wet towel for you to clean up and an old t-shirt of his for you to put on.

“You got me tickets?” You said and stood to slide the shirt over your head and tugged it down to cover yourself.

“Mhm.” He said huskily as he pulled up his sweats. The sweats sat low on his hips and you were tempted to go for another round with the way his dick was accentuated by the fabric. You stood up on your toes to kiss him and he gladly welcomed you.

“Where will I stay?” You asked.

“With me.” Aurelien answered.

“What am I supposed to do with the rest of my time?”

“You can do what you want, you can shop.” He shrugged.

“Mmm, I’m a saver not a spender.” You admitted.

“Who said you would be spending your own money?” Aurelien asked and your mouth dropped open slightly. You weren’t sure what to say.

“You’re spoiling me.” You teased and you were met with a head shake.

“You haven’t seen spoiled yet,” He grinned, “Just wait.”

as time gets close - jude bellingham x reader.

quick sum: almost close to your due date, what is wrong with a late-night grocery trip with your very excited and anxiously waiting fiance?

wc: 1.8k | masterlist | jude's masterlist

psa 🗣️: a little dad! jude blurb bc we haven’t seen much of this on the timeline!! like always hope you enjoy 🤍

"why are you bending down? you know that is bad for you," you rolled your eyes at your fiance's scolding, grabbing the keys from the floor. "i dropped the keys by accident," you say as you pick the correct key that belonged to the lock. jude rubbed your belly, ensuring you were okay before helping you out to the car, the reusable bags tucked underneath his arm.

"did you bring the list?" you ask him seeing as he nods and pulls it out from the pockets of his hoodie. "i did. i also brought you some snacks because you didn't eat much after getting some nausea," you pouted your lips leaning up to peck his cheek thanking him. "what would i do without you?" you tease, a playful scoff falling from his lips.

"what makes you think you'd be without me? i'm attached to you for life remember?" he grabs your left hand kissing over your ring finger as he gives you a knowing look. you feel as he brings your intertwined hands to your belly, "and you're carrying my baby in there."

"really i couldn't tell," you say sarcastically.

"let's make it quick because my feet already hurt and i want to sleep," you advised letting out a tired yawn. despite being close to your due date, you still had some work to do before maternity leave. making calls to set meetings, attending them over zoom, filing paperwork, in charge of making sure the firm doesn't backfire, and planning some stuff out for your wedding.

jude had told you multiple times to take it easy, but placing that aside, he always helped you unconditionally. in the shower, when cooking, taking care of chores, before bed, and attending all your doctor's appointments. he was your personal midwife and wanted to take care of you the most he could.

you remembered to look on his face when you told him you were expecting, the tears on his face as he spoke to your barely bump all night and traced his hands on your belly. singing and humming lullabies and stories about his day. since then he wanted to protect you the best he could.

going to the grocery store at this time was nothing new, in fact, it became so prevalent now that you were pregnant because you craved everything. making jude do a late run to pick up your cravings or groceries for the upcoming weeks. the same store, at the same time.

you placed your purse on the cart, snuggling into your jacket as the cold air inside the store blew you away. you followed jude who picked out veggies and greens for his meal prepping, helping him tie the bags and weigh them on the digital scale that produced labels. you watched in awe as your boyfriend picked out three pairs of different flowers. "what are these for?" you asked, smelling the flowery scent.

"for the house. we need to replace the old ones that dried out," jude says with a shy grin. "you were the one who said plants and flowers bring a sense of home into our house, " jude recalled your words, kissing your temple, pushing the cart since it became a bit heavier. "i did say that didn't i? well i wasn't wrong," you shrug, wrapping a hand around his bicep as he trailed along isles to pick up the different items on the list.

he did all the heavy lifting as you reached and picked stuff up from your level, like spices and eggs. you turn your back for a few seconds to retrieve some milk and coffee beans for the morning, to see the cart filled with pop tarts and other salty snacks. "no no no," you shake your head, as jude whines out protests. "y/n we need them! they're even on sale!"

“jude, i don’t care! we just got some three days ago!,” you say laughing, putting back the box of pop tarts. “y/n i’m telling you right now, in a couple of hours or days you’re gonna have me running back here for them,” jude states following behind you.

“am not!” you quickly defend, bringing a hand to your aching back. “are too! last night you had me running out for cheetos. what’s it going to be today? kettled popcorn? or wingstop?” jude teased making you rolls your eyes and focusing back on to what needed to get done. “don’t forget we need to pick some of that acid reflex stuff for you, to get rid of the heartburn,” jude reminds you, taking the cart and walking out of the pop tarts isle, sneaking a box in for you.

“what’s left on the list?” you ask him, taking out a small snack you had in your purse and offering some to jude. “we need bananas, strawberries, orange juice, and meats for upcoming dinners…” jude reads the list one by one, using his index finger as he goes along.

you pass by an isle grabbing some cereal and granola for your yogurts and bowls. jude insisting he grabs his favorite too since you refuse to share from your part. as you wait by the deli section jude come behind you, grabbing your belly and relieving some of the pressure.

you immediately lay your head back on his shoulder sighing in relief, hearing jude chuckle and place a kiss on your head. “almost there darling,” he whispered running one of his hands along your tummy. “i know what you’re doing jude… and if this baby starts kicking right now i’ll leave you here,” you warn.

“i’m just trying to help you love. doesn’t it feel good?” he reprimanded as you nodded. “yes but not when she starts kicking, i swear she does it on purpose and it’s your fault. like she knows it you,” you said feeling your lower back less tense and heavy. "i kid you not, last night she almost made me pee from this hard kick!"

"sounds to me like we have a mini footballer coming into our lives," said jude continuing to hold your belly since you were tired and your baby was heavy. he had read the method online with other tips and tricks. jude got more into reading when he found out you were pregnant, wanting to know every effect and secret to ensure a healthy and safe pregnancy.

"let's hope not, i don't think i could handle cleaning up broken stuff around the house every day," you sigh, releasing yourself from his hold because you began to get hot. you didn’t understand how your body was so quick to adjust and then de-adjust from hot and cold, but it was so easy and it drove you mad sometimes.

“you okay?” jude softened his eyes as you let out a breath of despair, holding your hand and feeling a sit squeezed tightly against his. “yeah just got a mini cramp,” you held your back and practiced breathing methods you learned, “i’m good, i promise,” you kiss his hand before retrieving the meats from the butcher. "we'll get home soon, and i promise you a warm tea and massage okay?"

"did you want chocolate or strawberry milk?" jude held up the pint containers, "strawberry, we still have chocolate milk at home," you said, jude nodding as he quickly picked the orange juice and your favorite yogurts. "i was never a fan of sweet or flavored milk but these are soooo good," you exaggerated, jude smiling hard down at you.

"never a fan? these were my childhood as a kid! my mum used to buy these or the powder to make it ourselves," jude says recalling a old memory thinking of his babygirl. "you reckon she'll like them too?" jude spoke softly as he saw you give him a fast nod. if there was one thing loved it was discussing his babygirl. he was so anxious and wanted to meet her. the itch in his teeth getting bigger as every day passes.

to hold her while she slept, hug her to keep her warm, coddle her to sleep, feed her. he was ready for it all. he loved to shop and spoil her already. her carrier, crib, different books, toys, and stuffed animals like he had as a kid. she didn't know it yet, but she would be jude's second best friend. firstly you. always you.

they saw if one ever finds love at first sight, and jude definitely did with you. a smile so bright, eyes gleaming with happiness, a stranger who he fell madly with almost immediately after hearing her say hello. through ups and downs, you found your way to each other and since then, it's a love story for the movies. jude had his career blowing, a beautiful fiancee, and now a baby on the way. what more could he want?

as jude helped bag the groceries into the recycled bags you had, you paid and thanked the cashier whom you got close with on nights like these. asking how her day was, about her kids, anything special, always something to distract her. "you two have a safe night!" she yelled as you turned and thanked, wishing her a good night as well.

after you insisted on helping, you carried four light bags as jude carried most bags since he hated double trips. you guys quickly unpacked everything, longing and wishing to get into bed. you ensure the stove and other appliances are off, grabbing your tea and heading upstairs with jude.

"lay here for me," jude instructed, grabbing some cream and begging to smooth and massage out the muscles on your legs and shoulders. "after we have her, i promise i'll return every single thing you did for me while i was pregnant," you say struggled and full pleasure as the tension went away at jude's fingertips. "oh i'm fully expecting the injured boyfriend method again," jude teased as he finished up.

he grabbed a new book, laying on your side as you brushed and played with a few curls on his head, twirling them around your finger as he breathed softly. he looked so gentle and full of excitement like this, reading to your babygirl, who sensed her daddy's voice as she kicked. she knew, she always knew.

he applied your belly oil to prevent any stretch marks and kissed the small ones that formed along the way. jude cherished your body for carrying his baby in there, for being able to give and bring a new life into his and yours. you laid on your side, jude's chest connecting and fitting the crevasse on your back, holding your tummy as in a way to keep it safe.

you placed and locked hands with his, as jude wishing you a goodnight, peering kissed on your shoulders then finally lips, moaning in delight, a tiny groan leaving his lips. "i love you so much darling," he whispered, kissing your temple and snuggling into you more. "iloveyoutoojude," you said fast, with a playful smile on your lips as you felt a familiar sensation of a certain craving. "okay now i do want some pop tarts..."

"are you serious right now?"

A trusting matter

Summary: A confession makes Kylian think you have no trust in him. Making him feel shamed and almost breaking your relationship.

Warnings: cursing, sex talk, slut shaming, sex shaming.

"What is this?"

You turn your head to where he is, finding him walking out of the bathroom. He has something in his hands, reading the back of the box.

"I don't know, what is it?" you ask him.

He tries to read what the box means, but he can't understand any of it.

"Comprimé pelliculé." he reads out loud for you. "What does that even means?"

You frown, stretching your hand to him. "Let me see."

He hands you the box, you want to laugh at him.

It was your birth control pills. He was trying to understand what the box says but the box only reference that the box contains certain amount of pills.

"It's my contraceptive pills." you smile at him, leaving the box on the nightstand next to your side of the bed. "Want to see a movie?"

He's quiet, what is a contraceptive pill? why are you taking them?

"Are you sick?" he asks, worried about it.

You shake your head, smiling at him.

"Healthy as always."

"Then why are you taking these pills?"

You chuckle, finding him adorable. "It's contraceptive, Ky."

"What's that?"

You then get why he was so worried, he doesn't understands what the pills are for.

"They are birth control." You smile.

"Birth control as in anti baby?" He asks, still confused.

You can't help but laugh at him. Thing that makes him pout. Why were you laughing at him?

"I'm not sure if >anti baby< is the right thing to say, but yes."

His mind is still confused, why were you drinking them if he's using protection every time you had sex.

"But I'm using protection." he says, not fully getting the purpose of the pills.

"Yeah, you are."

"Then why are you taking these for?"

You sigh, wondering what's inside of his head for him to be that confused.

"Condoms can break." you say. "And it also helps me with my period, it helps me with my cramps. Not only for the anti baby part." you explain to him.

You left him sitting in bed, grabbing your water bottle and walking to the kitchen. He follows you like a kid who's ready to botter their mother with questions.

"But if the condom breaks, you can take the plan b pill, don't you?"

You roll your eyes, "Yes, that's correct. But I don't want to get to that." You say, low and monotone tone. "Birth control is safer and the fail rate is less than others."

He nods, not asking more questions. He was one not to ask much about health or things like that because you were someone healthy.

"Hey, do you want some cake?" you ask him. Opening the fridge. "I have the one you like." you take the box out of your fridge, placing it on the counter.

He nods happy, accepting a piece of it. You were seated at the top of the counter, he was between your legs as you feed him the cake while jokingly pretending to do the airplane move on him.

"You got some right here." you grab a napkin, wiping the tip of his nose.

He loves spending times like these with you. Only the two of you, things you could only do from time to time due to his agenda. Especially now that he is in Madrid.

You were telling him about this series that you were watching. He was washing the dirty dishes from dinner since you made dinner. He then gets this thought.

"Hey." He says, getting your attention.

You humm, placing the leftover food back on the fridge. You were too focused to notice his mischievous grin. He walks over to you, waiting for you to close the fridge door and turn, hitting his chest in the process.

You left out a laugh when he carries you and places you back on top of the counter. Kissing your lips while his hands grip your hips.

"I was thinking." He began. "Since you are on birth control, I can stop with the condoms."

You stop smiling, looking at him with a frown.

"And it's going to be better, because it's going to be a life saver. All those times we had to stop because I didn't have any left."

He was smiling like crazy, thinking of how much your sex life was going to change with you taking birth control. It was easier, it was faster and he didn't needed to stop when he runs out of condoms.

"Kylian," you sigh, not wanting to have this conversation. "I don't want to stop using condoms."

He frowns, not understanding you.

"Wha-Why?"

You don't want to say the real reason. "I just don't." You push him a little, getting down of the counter and walking back to the room. "It's more safe if we both are protected."

"But isn't birth control enough?" He whines. "Don't you want to feel me completely?" He asks, getting closer.

He hugs you from behind, his lips on your neck, making you shiver at the sensation. He pulls you to him, making you let out a small whine.

"Stop it." You whisper.

You take his hands away from you, walking over to the bathroom to wash your teeth. You can't help but feel a little bit bad about denying him what he wants.

But you can't.

He looks at you from the door. Not understanding why you are so questionable about the topic. He tries to understand that maybe it's because you are fearing that something fails and you get pregnant.

Even if that was the case, he would be by your side with any decision you take. But since it was not the case and he doesn't really know the real reason.

"I get that you are scared, but this can be something good for us." he says, trying to open your mind to the possibilities. "And if pregnancy its what scare-"

"Kylian, please." you say, tired of the talk. "Drop it."

"I'm just saying that you don't have to worry."

"Listen, I don't want to stop using condoms, end of story."

You walk outside of the bathroom, grabbing the clothes from your bed and walking into the closet to hang them.

"I just don't understand why you are so closed to the option."

You stayed quiet, you want to drop the conversation. If only you would have known that leaving your pills there was going to cause so much commotion.

"Y/n?"

You turn your face to him, noticing how his eyes are full of doubt. You just sigh, shaking your head and continue ordering the clothes.

"So you are just going to ignore me?" he asks, mad at your attitude.

You finish, turning to see him. "Kylian, you have been with a lot of people, I haven't. Forgive me for wanting to take care for myself." you explote.

He's taken aback, what are you even meaning?

"Take care of yourself?" he asks mad. "So I'm not safe enough for you to have sex without me wearing a condom?"

"Remember when I told you that maybe doing a test to see if you were fully healthy trigger you?" you ask. "You told me that you had that when you get the medical exams at the club. I asked you that because I don't want whatever you groupies have." you scuff.

You walk out of the room, tired of him insisting on talking about it. You take a few breaths, finally getting what you just said to him. You turn, finding him walking towards his things.

"Kylian." you call.

He just lift his hand, making you shut your mouth. You just observe him pick his things. He doesn't want to say anything back, afraid of telling something wrong.

"You were insisting, I asked you to drop it." you try.

"Yeah, I should have." he says, the way his voice is so low that scares you. "But lucky me I didn't, cause I found out my girlfriend thinks I'm fucking around and that I'm going to catch something and giving it to her."

"Kylian, don't go." you say, blocking the exit. "Let's just calm down and have a conversation."

"Oh! you want to talk now?" he laughs. "Well, now I don't want to."

You watch him go out of your house. Hearing the sound of his car getting away from your property. You feel bad about what the way this conversation goes.

"But why did you even say that?" your best friend says.

You look at her like a kid whose parent is scolding.

"I asked him to stop with the conversation, and when he didn't I lashed out."

You feel the guilt of the words you say to him. You know that what you say hurted him, you know that maybe this isn't something he would forget.

"I tried everything, calling, texting, even went to his place, but he was back in Madrid." you sigh, not sure of what else to do.

Your friend tries to think about what you can do to tried to make your situation right. It's a difficult position, because you lashed out when he kept insisting on doing something you weren't comfortable about.

The thing is, you would have been comfortable, but when you asked him something you asked your last partner, he refused.

Your mother taught you that you needed to be careful when it comes to sex. She works in health care and constantly sees how girl get things because the boys they are with are also with half the city.

Hearing stories about girls being sick and having to go out of their ways to fix something their boyfriends or sex partners got them was your daily stories.

So when you asked Kylian in a not direct way, he told you that he didn't needed that, he got those test every season and every six months thanks to the club.

> "I was thinking" you say, sitting next to him on the couch. "In this biology class I'm taking, they are encouraging us to get these test to now we are healthy."

"Really? what kind?" he asks.

"Oh you know, some blood ones, some normal check out to discard any std, any sickness. And my friends and I are a little bit scared of doing it." You show him the pamphlet.

"Scared?" he asks, a little concerned about you. "Is it that invasive?" he read what the test are.

"Not sure, just you know needles. They are taking their boyfriends and I want to ask if you want to join me, maybe?"

He reads the whole thing, looking at you with a smile. "I've done these tests. They are not that bad." he says. "Don't worry, take it from me."

"Oh, you have?" you ask, smiling. "When was the last time?"

He thinks for a moment. "I think before the year started."

"That's almost eight months ago." you say. "Don't you think that it's better if you get another one?" you say, batting your eyelashes.

"No, thank you." he says. "I'll get one when I get to the medical testing in Madrid. No need for more."

"But, you will do your girlfriend a favor."

"Let me think." he says, pressing his fingers on his temples. He pretends to think about it for a moment. "No, let's go to eat." he says, kissing your temple and walking to the kitchen. <

You met Kylian only six months ago. You didn't sleep with him right away, you wanted to meet him before even think about that. You liked him too much and didn't wanted to rush things.

You know that he was someone who got girls that wanted to spend a night with him. You read news about him "hooking up" with different models or influencers.

That he was flying them to Paris, when he was in PSG. Then when he announced the moving the news were that he was moving this model from Paris with him to Madrid.

You never cared about those things, you trusted him. He was someone who was very family orientated. He prefers to spend the night with him at home than to go out.

When he asked if you wanted to become official, you were thrilled. You love spending time with him, and not to lie but the trips, the gifts and the games passes were an amazing extra thing.

"I'm going to Madrid." You say to your friend.

"You are crazy?" she asks. "What about your job?

"I mean, a signed Real Madrid jersey will do for our boss." you say, writing the email. "Also, I booked him and his mistress some tickets for Hawaii, so he better give me the time or his wife would get the email with the information." you smile at her.

When your boss asked for not one but two signed jerseys, you booked your ticket. You knew where Kylian was living, you even have a copy of his keys for emergencies.

You grab a small bag, packing only a few things. You hoped that he wanted to see you. Your friend drove you to the airport, it was not a long flight. Only two hours and a few minutes. You will survive.

To you luck, you notice how the Real Madrid instagram is posting about the players training, so you have time to think about what you will say and how you would say it.

You have a copy of the pass for the gate, so you with no problem got inside. You tried to think about the situation, mentally hitting yourself for being that mean and dumb.

You know that the two of you were wrong, he on one side for forcing the conversation on you, even when you asked him to drop it in a nice way.

And you, for basically telling him that you didn't want his rabies that he probably got from his one night stands.

You sat down in the couch, tired of overthinking the situation. You don't want to lose him, not over something like that. Even when you basically accused him of cheating.

You were so into your mind that you don't pick the sound of the door opening and closing. You just hear the voices and tense.

He wasn't alone.

"Oh hi!" a dark hair boy says, smiling. "Kylian, you didn't told us you got company, we need more drinks."

You wave at him, a little shy to say something.

"Company?" Kylian asks confused. That's when he sees you, red cheeks and awkward smile. "Hey." he says, walking towards you.

"Hey." you say. "Hi, by the way." you finally say.

"This is Vini." Kylian says, pointing at him. "Vini, this is my girlfriend. I talked to you guys about her."

You smile at him. He still refers about you like his girlfriend.

"Nice to meet you." he smiles. "I'll call Rodry, he will bring more drinks."

You look at Kylian, trying to get an explanation so you don't look too lost. "We are watching a game." he says.

You nod, feeling a little dumb because there's people there and you can't really talk with him like you wanted to.

"No need to call Rodry." you say, standing up. "I'll be upstairs, so you can have more privacy."

You give him a small smile and walk a little fast to the stairs, feeling a little embarrassed about how your plan is going. You feel a hand on your arm, making you turn.

It was Kylian, he then moves his hand from your arm to you own hand. He grabs it, walking upstairs. He leads the way, you can't keep your eyes away from him.

He can feel you sight, he feels the need to turn around. When you two are inside his room he turn around, looking at you with this neutral expression.

You wait for him to say something, but he didn't. He wanted you to start. "Hi." you say, smiling a little. You really don't know what to say.

He want to laugh, but he remembers that he's mad. So he won't do it. You feel defeated, wanting for him to smile at your awkwardness.

"How long are your friends staying?" you ask.

You don't want to talk with him when his friends are downstairs. You want to be able to have a conversation with him and two be able to express how you feel without caring. You can't do that if there's people waiting on him.

"A little bit after the game, we have training in the afternoon, so we can stay a little bit later than normal. But I can ask them to leave right after the game."

You shake your head. "No, it's okay. I can wait."

"Vini did asked Rodry for more drinks, so you kind of have to get down at some point or they will come get you." he jokes.

"Maybe after the break." you smile back. "I'll take a shower first."

He nods, smiling at you. He walks downstairs, wanting to call the night off and hear you out. He wasn't mad anymore, just a little ego hurt. But he can't be mad at you that long. Not you.

"Rodry and Jude are almost here." Vini smiles. "Is your girlfriend joining? or did I scared her when I mentioned drinks?" he asks, joking.

"She's taking a shower, she will join us in a few."

You can hear the way they are screaming and cursing at whatever is going on at the game. You laugh when you hear one of his friends saying something in a very bad french.

The laugh Kylian left out is music to your ears. You sat on the stairs, not feeling like going down. You missed him, his humor and his laugh.

"No way these motherfuckers are only giving two extra minutes." Jude yells. "That's bullshit."

"Innit" Vini laughs, making fun of Jude's accent.

The other three boys laugh, making Jude curse Vini. The game came to an end, you know because the guys criticize the way the referee did and how the coaches did.

You got up, slowly walking upstairs.

"Okay, ladies." Kylian says. "Time to go home."

"We still have drinks." Rodry says.

"My girlfriend just flew in from Paris, pardon me that I want to spend time with her and not with your asses."

You stop on your tracks, wanting to hear more. You feel your heart warming up.

He wanted to spend time with you.

"Got it, let's go, boys."

"You own us one."

"I want to be with my girlfriend now."

You walk back into his room, smiling.

You regret not talking thing with him. You know that everything was avoidable if you would've been honest from the beginning.

You sat on the bed, watching the door carefully. You can't wait any more. The ninety something minutes you spend waiting for the game to be over were killing you.

The door opens quickly. You tried to act as if you weren't waiting for it to open. Earning a chuckle from you boyfriend. You feel the heat in your face, embarrassed of him discovering you.

He closes the door, walking to the bathroom. The door is left open, you can see how he's stripping his clothes. You fall back into the bed, not taking your eyes away from him.

He knows what he is doing.

You can hear the shower. You take a deep breath, mentally hitting yourself. You have to control yourself. You close your eyes, words repeating on and on and on. You know what you want to say and you will say it.

You are to into your thoughts, practicing how you will deliver the words, how you are giving him the message that you trust him and never doubt his loyalty.

You feel a cold hand grabbing you ankle. Making you open your eyes, you saw Kylian with towel around his waist, his eyes glued to yours.

You smile at him. "Hi." you whisper.

He smiles, shaking his head no. He wants to tease you, make you feel desperate. He takes his times changing. Picking carefully the boxers he would use.

You can tell what his plan is, and it's working.

He walks over to you. Sitting on the chair that's on the corner of his bedroom. "Mon cher, Y/n." he smiles mischievously. "What brings you here tonight?"

Your eyes are glued to his, you won't look down at his body.

You have to be strong.

"Don't you have a tshirt?" you ask, making him smile.

"I have tons." he points with his head towards the closet. "But the one I normally use to sleep is the one that you are wearing."

You blush, looking down at the shirt you took from him. "Oh" you say.

You look back at him, noticing how his grin is bigger. "You were saying?"

You sigh, knowing he's not going to give in. You sat back on the bed.

"I want to apologize, what I said was very out of line." you began. "I didn't meant to ever made you feel like I was shaming you for your previous sex life. Neither meant to doubt your loyalty to me."

He looks at you in the eyes. He can tell that you are being honest.

"What trigger your reaction?" he asks. "Was it something that I said in the past? Anything you read online about me?"

"No." you shake your head. "You know how my mom works at this clinic?" you ask him, making him nod. "Well, since I was a kid she told me about how girls that came there had all these problems. They came thinking it was a normal cold and ended up being something else, because their partners were sleeping around. And that made me feel like I needed to be extra careful with all."

"Even with me." he says low. He was saying that more to himself.

"You are the second person I've been with." you say, crawling to the edge of the bed, near the chair. "I felt so much pressure, my mom kept telling me about how I needed to be careful, that football players were always around. And not that I don't trust you, I do. But-"

"But you wanted to be sure you were safe." he finishes your sentence.

You nod, "I trust you, Ky. I do."

He stands up, opening his arms to you. He wraps his arms around your figure, embracing you into a much needed hug.

You inhale his scent, feeling better now that you explained everything to him. Not caring that load of always being alert.

"I'm sorry I was pushy about the subject. It wasn't nice of me."

"No, it's ok-"

"It's not." He interrupts you. "You asked me to drop it, and I kept talking.

He separates from the hug, walking over to his nightstand. He opens the drawer, taking an envelope.

He hands you the envelope. You take it with curiosity. Checking it to know what is it.

He did the test for you.

He wanted you to trust him. Even if that took a small medical check and blood test.

"I know now that it's not because you don't trust me, but because you are protecting yourself." He says, going back into the embrace.

"You didn't have to." You smile at him. "Thank you."

"If that's what it takes to make my girl know that I'm only hers, then I'll do anything."

You grab his cheeks, kissing him.

You missed the taste of him. The way his lips felt against yours. How his warm temperature mix with yours.

"I'm willing to try if you are." You smile, pecking him.

He smiles at you. The way his eyes got a little dark. You separate from him. Putting your arms in the air for him to take your shirt off.

"Je t'aime." He says, kissing your lips before taking the fabric off of you.

You kiss him to shut him up, pushing him down the mattress with you. "Show me how much."