Trent Alexander Arnold X Reader - Tumblr Posts

Interruption

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Trent interrrupts your skincare routine and makes up for it.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Trent Alexander-Arnold x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.6k

Warnings! NSFW! SMUT (18+), unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), dom!Trent, sub!reader.

The soft hum of the bathroom lights casts a gentle glow around the room as you stand at the sink, surrounded by an array of skincare products.

The soothing scent of coconut-infused moisturizer fills the air as you massage it onto your skin, the day's stress melting away with each circular motion.

The bathroom door creaks open, and a familiar figure enters. The scent of Trent's cologne wafts in, and you turn to see him leaning against the doorframe, a lazy smile playing on his lips. His eyes trace the curves of your figure, eyes blazing with desire as he watches you.

"Come to bed," he says, his voice a low murmur that sends a shiver down your spine.

"In a minute, babe. I'm almost done." You reply, your hands gliding over your face, ensuring every inch is covered in moisturizer.

"I don't know why you have so many steps. Your skin is already perfect," he teases, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror. You playfully roll your eyes, but the genuine affection in his eyes warms your heart.

As you reach for the night cream on the vanity, a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind, and you feel Trent's warmth against your back. A soft gasp escapes your lips as his lips press a gentle kiss against the nape of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

"I want you," he murmurs, his breath caressing your skin. His voice carries a subtle huskiness, causing a pool of heat to gather between your legs. His hands trace lazy circles on your waist as he continues trailing kisses down your neck.

You can feel his erection pressing against your ass, and a flutter of excitement flutters through your stomach. "Trent..." you whisper, turning around to meet his gaze. His eyes are dark with desire, and you can't help but be drawn into their depths.

His lips crash against yours, his tongue slipping past your parted lips, exploring your mouth with a hungry passion. You moan softly, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.

He deepens the kiss, his hands sliding up your back, gripping your ass, and squeezing gently. You groan into the kiss, your body responding to his touch, your breasts pressed against his chest, your nipples hardening under his touch.

His fingers trail back up your spine, sending tingles down your back. 

You break the kiss, your breathing heavy, your cheeks flushed with desire. He looks at you, his eyes filled with hunger, his lips parted in anticipation. Even after all these years, the fire between you has never dimmed, it still burns brightly.

You reach for him, your hands running over his chest, feeling the muscles beneath your fingers. 

He groans as you run your hands down his body, tracing the contours of his abs, and then move lower to cup him through the fabric of his pants.

"I want you." He repeated as he grinded against your palm.

"You have me." You whispered against his lips.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth as you felt his hands run up your legs. His fingers traced the line of your panties, making your heart skip a beat as they teased the edge.

"I want to feel you inside me." You moaned as you shifted your hips, trying to get him to touch you where you needed it most.

"And I'm going to give it to you." He groaned into your neck as his hand slipped under your panties.

He ran his fingers along your wet folds, making you arch your back and gasp. "Oh, god." You panted as he slid one finger into your core. "That feels so good." You whimpered as he added another.

"So tight." He growled as he began to thrust his fingers in and out of you. "You're so wet." He added a third finger, and you felt your body tense up.

"Trent!" You cried out as his finger curled, hitting your sweet spot just right.

"You're so fucking sexy." He growled as he removed his fingers from you and brought them to his mouth, sucking on them. "I want to taste you." 

You smiled and leaned back, spreading your legs for him. With a quick, sudden movement, he lifted you up onto the bathroom counter and slowly got down to his knees.

His eyes never left yours as he kissed your inner thighs and then placed open-mouthed kisses all around your pussy, purposefully missing your clit. "Stop teasing," you whined, eager for the life-altering pussy-eating you were about to be subjected to.

"I'm not teasing," he stated as he finally licked your clit. "I'm just getting started." He flicked his tongue over your clit a few times before sucking it into his mouth and nibbling on it. You threw your head back and moaned loudly, grabbing onto the counter to steady yourself.

"You taste so fucking good." He moaned, burying his face in your pussy, sucking on it while flicking his tongue against your clit.

Your legs shook, and you could feel an orgasm building inside of you. "Oh god, don't stop!" You cried out as he sucked harder on your clit, sending shivers throughout your body. Just as you thought you couldn't take any more, he stopped.

"No! Please!" You begged. "I need to cum!"

He looked up at you with a devilish grin on his face. "Not yet," he said. "I want you to cum on my cock."

You groaned, but knew that there was no way you could resist him. He stood up and pulled you off the counter, leading you back to the bed. You laid down and spread your legs, watching as he took off his boxers and positioned himself between your legs.

He rubbed the head of his cock against your pussy, making you moan. "Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes," you whispered. "Fuck me, please." He pushed into you slowly, causing your eyes to roll into the back of your head, stretching your pussy to its limits.

He groaned as he felt your pussy grip his cock, pulling him in deeper. "Fuck," he said. "You're so tight." He started to move his hips, thrusting into you slowly at first, then picking up speed.

He leaned down and kissed you, his tongue dancing with yours. You wrapped your legs around him, pulling him in deeper. "Harder." You whined against his lips. He obliged, thrusting harder and faster into you. You could feel yourself getting close to cumming again, so you reached down and started rubbing your clit.

He saw what you were doing and smirked. "You gonna come for me, baby." You could only nod, brain too fucked out to formulate words, adding to the smugness he was feeling.

"Yeah. Good girl." He said, his voice deep and husky. He leaned down and kissed you again, then bit your bottom lip. You moaned as he continued to fuck you hard and fast. "Fuck," he said again, his voice hoarse with desire. "That's it," he groaned, voice drowned out by the sound of your loud moans.

"Oh god," you whimpered. "I'm going to cum." He kept thrusting into you, his pace never wavering. You could feel your orgasm building, causing your nails to sink into his back. He gave you a few more hard, deep thrusts, nudging your g-spot everytime before you finally exploded, crying out as you came all over his cock.

He kept thrusting into you, grunting as he felt your pussy contract around his cock. "Fuck, yeah," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Give me one more. C'mon, be my good girl."He said, his voice deep and husky.

You whimpered as he continued to fuck you, his cock hitting your g-spot with every thrust. "I-I can't," You cried out, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm. But he didn't stop, continuing to fuck you hard and fast until you could feel another orgasm building. "No, please, I can't!" You begged, tears streaming down your cheeks.

"Yes, you can," he grunted, reaching down and rubbing your clit at lightning speed.

"Oh god!" You shrieked, your voice echoing through the room as the intensity of pleasure consumed you. Every nerve in your body was on fire, overwhelmed by the sensations he was evoking.

"Yeah, you like that." He whispered in your ear, his breath hot against your skin. The sound of his words sent shivers down your spine, intensifying the pleasure coursing through you. With each thrust, he pushed you closer to the edge, pushing you beyond your limits.

The room filled with the sounds of your moans and his grunts, ecstasy laced in each breath. The juxtaposition of the loving, gentle kisses he dropped on your warm skin and the relentless pounding sent you spiraling as you completely surrendered to the overwhelming sensations.

"Trent! I'm gonna cum!" you screamed as the second orgasm crashed over you. The intensity of the pleasure mixed with the pain, your body bucking and shaking as you came harder than ever before. 'That's it," he said. "Cum for me." He growled the words into your ear before burying his head into your neck to lay gentle kisses as your pussy gripped his cock tighter than ever.

He kept thrusting into you, grunting as he came, filling you with his cum. When he finished, he collapsed on top of you, panting heavily. The room was filled with a euphoric silence as you both caught your breath, basking in the afterglow of what was once again a passionate night.

"Fuck, that was amazing." He whispered, breaking the silence that had settled, kissing your neck. "I'm so glad I married you."

You smiled, running your fingers through his hair. "Me too." You said, snuggling closer to him. "I love you." He said, lifting his head from your neck to kiss you gently on the lips. "I love you too." You replied, wrapping your arms around him, feeling like the luckiest woman alive.

-Bianca🌻

Trent Alexander-Arnold

Fluff 💕 Angst ☠️ Smut (18+) 💦

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Interruption 💦

Second Chances💕☠️

FOOTBALLER MASTERLIST

Warning!  Fluff, Angst, Smut (18+).

Note: I decided to make a list for all my writings. Hope you like it. I might add more people as I go.

Yours Truly, Bianca🌻

Concepts & Blurbs

Kylian Mbappé

Trent Alexander-Arnold

Virgil Van Dijk

Jude Bellingham

Erling Haaland

Series:

Forever my heart (K.M)

Are you ever still on tumblr?

Hey everyone!

I hope you’re all doing great. I’ve missed you guys so much and missed writing for you. As you’ve probably noticed, I took a long break from writing fanfics, and I owe you an explanation for my sudden and extended absence.

Over the past few months, I’ve been dealing with some intense burnout from nursing school. The program was super demanding, and despite my best efforts, I found myself struggling to keep up. The constant pressure and stress took a toll on my mental and physical health, and I realized I needed to step back and address these issues.

I decided to seek professional help and started working with a therapist, who has been amazing. We’ve been figuring out ways to manage my stress and find a better balance between my studies and personal well-being. This journey has been both eye-opening and healing, but it required all my focus, so I had to step back from Tumblr for a while.

I’m finally starting to feel like myself again and I’ve missed writing so much. I’m excited to get back to it because writing is one of my first loves and I don’t want to give it up.

Thank you all for your patience and understanding. I’m so grateful to each one of you who kept reading and liking my work even while I was away. And welcome to all my new followers! I can’t wait to get to know you. Don’t be afraid to message me or send requests. My inbox is always open and I’ll do my best to get to as many as I can without overdoing it. I’m really looking forward to reconnecting and being more active again.

With love,

Bianca 🌻

trent imagine! footballer x footballer!reader where the reader plays for liverpool women’s team (add whatever you want too but would LOVE THIS)

Second Chances

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — You and Trent are partnered for the Liverpool's drill day activities.

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Trent Alexander Arnold x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 1.9k

Warnings! ANGST, Fluff, swearing, asshole trent, feelings, confused trent, hurt/comfort

Life is not real.

It can't be. Surely the universe wouldn't be cruel enough to pair you up with the only guy on the whole team who you desperately trying to avoid. Surely.

Of all the people that you could've been paired up with, it had to be him.

Trent Alexander-Arnold.

Yep, that's right. After everything that happened at the New Year's party couple weeks ago, all you wanted to do was forget. You wanted to put the whole thing behind you and forget. But apparently, nothing ever wants to go right for you.

Which is why you're awkwardly standing in the middle of a football field, watching everyone else laugh and have fun with their partners while you desperately try to avoid his gaze.

Fuck, today was going to be long.

"So," he hesitantly begins, trying to break the uncomfortable silence between you. But before he can say anything else, you cut in. "Let's go join the others." And walk towards the group without waiting for his response, leaving him momentarily stunned.

"Okay..." You hear him mutter under his breath as you walk away. You feel bad; your stomach is practically twisting at how you're treating him. But the thought of facing him after what happened that night was too much. You knew he wanted to talk about it; you could tell by how he looked at you.

But you were angry.

You were angry and hurt, and the emotions were still raw. What happened that night was still fresh on your mind, leaving wounds that hadn't yet healed.

You remember it so well, even if it's been a few weeks.

Trent had invited you to come with him to a New Year's party. It was his way of trying to make peace with you. Ever since your kiss, things have been tense between you two. Especially after you heard about him seeing someone else. It hurt too much. You were avoiding him.

At first, you refused because you didn't want to face him again after the humiliating rejection. But he insisted, promising that he just wanted to talk and clear the air. It would just be a casual night out with friends. Just like old times. Reluctantly, you agreed and went to the party with him.

You were standing in the middle of the bustling party, the bass thumping in your chest as you scanned the room. You spotted Trent across the crowded space, his eyes locked onto yours. A surge of excitement coursed through you as you made your way through the lively crowd.

You met him five years ago. It was your first day at Liverpool, and you were nervous as hell. It would be your first time debuting for the women's team. He found you having a panic attack, calmed you down, and gave you his water bottle. From then on, you guys became friends.

It was never your plan to fall in love with him, but the guy was just too charming to resist. The way he looked at you with those piercing chocolate brown eyes, the way he always made you laugh with his witty jokes, it was impossible not to develop feelings for him. Not to mention, he was hot as fuck.

Trent grinned as you approached, offering you a plastic cup filled with a strawberry margarita. Your heart fluttered as you realized he remembered you like fruity alcohol. "Hey, glad you made it," he says, his voice drowned out by the pulsating music.

"Yeah, I almost didn't," you reply, taking a sip of the drink. The sweetness masked the bite of the alcohol, making it easy to swallow. "Thanks for inviting me," you added, trying to sound casual.

Trent's smile widened, and for a moment, the tension between you seemed to dissipate. "I meant what I said," he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "I just want to clear the air. I hate how things have been between us."

You nodded, taking another sip to steady yourself. "Me too," you admitted. "But it’s not that easy, Trent."

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "But I want to try. Can we talk somewhere quieter?"

Reluctantly, you followed him outside to a quieter part of the yard. The cold air was a stark contrast to the warmth inside, and you shivered slightly as Trent draped his jacket over your shoulders. "Thanks," you murmured, clutching it around you.

He took a deep breath, looking at you with an intensity that made your heart race. "I never meant to hurt you," he began. "That kiss...it meant something to me. But I was confused, and I handled it all wrong."

You could feel the tears welling up, but you blinked them back. "Seeing you with someone else hurt, Trent. It made me feel like I was just a game to you."

He shook his head vehemently. "You’re not a game to me. You never were. I was stupid, and I’m sorry. I want to make things right."

Before you could respond, a woman stormed toward you, her eyes ablaze with anger. It took a moment to recognize her as the girl you saw him with.

"What's going on here?" She demanded, her voice sharp and accusing. She glared at you before turning her ire on Trent. "I thought you were busy!"

Trent's face paled, and he stepped back, caught off guard. "Y/N, it's not what you think," he stammered, glancing at you with an apologetic look.

You felt a surge of anger and embarrassment. "I knew it," you spat, stepping away from both of them. "This was a mistake."

"Wait, please," Trent pleaded, reaching out to you. But you were done. You turned and walked away, leaving the chaotic scene behind you. You didn't look back, not wanting to see the hurt in his eyes, or the smugness in Maya's.

The days that followed were a blur. You tried to focus on your training, but the incident at the party played on a loop in your mind. Trent tried to call and text, but you ignored him, too hurt to respond. The memory of that night lingered, a constant reminder of your feelings and the messy reality of your relationship.

Now, standing on the football field with him again, all those emotions came rushing back. You wanted to move on, to forget, but it seemed fate had other plans.

As you join the group, you feel a pang of relief. At least with more people around, you wouldn't have to confront him directly.

The coach starts explaining the drills for the day, and you try to focus, but your mind keeps drifting back to that night.

"Alright, everyone pair up and start with passing drills," the coach commands, his voice booming across the field.

You groan inwardly. Of course, you still have to pair up with Trent. You glance at him, and he gives you a tentative smile. You roll your eyes. You take your positions and start passing the ball back and forth.

"Can we talk?" Trent asks quietly, keeping his eyes on the ball.

"About what?" you reply, your voice sharper than you intended.

"About what happened," he says, his tone pleading. "I know I messed up, but I want to make it right."

You pause for a moment, then kick the ball a little harder than necessary. "There's nothing to talk about. It happened, it's over."

"But it's not over for me," he insists, catching the ball with ease. "I can't stop thinking about it. About you."

You sigh, frustration bubbling up inside you. "Trent, I can't do this right now. Let's just focus on practice, okay." you huff with tears in your eyes, pleading for him to drop the subject. He looks like he wants to say more, but he nods, understanding. You continue the drill in silence, the unspoken words hanging heavily between you.

As the practice progresses, you find yourself getting lost in the rhythm of the game. For a while, you manage to push the memories and the emotions aside. You run, you pass, you play, and for those brief moments, it's just about the sport you love.

But then, during a break, you see Trent talking to one of his friends, his expression serious. You can't help but wonder what they're discussing. Is he talking about you? About that night? The curiosity and anxiety gnaw at you, but you force yourself to stay focused.

Then practice finally ends, and as everyone starts to leave, Trent approaches you again. "Please, can we just talk for a few minutes?"

You hesitate, but then you nod. "Fine. Five minutes."

You both find a quieter spot near the edge of the field. He takes a deep breath before speaking.

"Look, I know I hurt you," Trent begins, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable. "And I know I can’t change what happened. But I need you to understand that I never meant to lead you on or make you feel like you weren’t important to me."

You cross your arms, trying to maintain some semblance of distance. "Then why did you act like that? Why did you kiss me and then go out with someone else?"

He sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "I was scared, Y/N. Scared of ruining our friendship, scared of my own feelings. I thought... I thought I could keep things simple by dating someone else, but it only made everything more complicated."

You bite your lip, the anger simmering just beneath the surface. "Complicated? You broke my heart, Trent. It’s not just complicated. It's... devastating."

"I know," he whispers, looking down. "And I hate myself for it. But I care about you, more than I’ve ever cared about anyone. I was an idiot for not seeing it sooner."

The sincerity in his eyes makes your resolve waver. "You really hurt me," you say, your voice cracking.

"I know," he says again, taking a tentative step closer. "But I want to make it up to you. If you give me a chance, I'll do whatever it takes to earn your trust back."

You take a deep breath, trying to steady the whirlwind of emotions inside you. "I don’t know if I can just forget what happened. It’s not that easy."

"I’m not asking you to forget," he replies earnestly. "I’m asking for a chance to prove that I’m worth your time. That I can be better. That we can be better."

You look into his eyes, searching for any sign of deceit, but all you see is regret and hope. Part of you wants to give in, to believe that things can be different, but another part is still wary, still hurting.

"Okay," you say finally, your voice barely above a whisper. "But it’s going to take time. And you have to be patient with me."

His face lights up with relief. "I will be. I promise." And then, before you can react, he pulls you into a hug. "Thank you," he whispers against your hair. "Thank you for giving me a second chance."

You feel your heart flutter, but you also feel a wave of trepidation. Was it really a second chance? Or was it just another game?

Only time will tell. But for now, you're willing to take a chance. You're willing to give him another shot at earning your heart. And hopefully, this time around, he'll prove that he's worth it.

-Bianca🌻

Send requests

I'm running out of requests to write so feel free to send them in. I try to get to them as soon as I can and I try to upload as much as I can. If you don't have anything to send in, you can still message me. My inbox is always open. I'm here for whatever, even if you guys just want to talk😊.

Thank you to my followers and everyone who supports me and my writing. I love you guys 💛

-Bianca🌻

Hi!

I just wanted to take a moment to thank everyone for 200 followers. I'm so grateful to everyone for taking the time to read my writing. It means a lot to me. I love you guys💛

I know I haven't been posting much these past couple of days, I was on vacation. But I'm back now and ready to post as much as I can. You guys left a lot of requests so it might take some time to get through them all.

Please be patient with me🥺🙏

My method is to tackle the ones that are easiest to write first since they take less time and get to the longer, heavier ones when I have more time. Don't worry if I haven't replied to your ask yet. I promise I'm working on it 😉

Last thing...The Kylian fanfic that I started ages ago will be uploaded soon. I'm not sure when, but soon. If you have any ideas for that, you can also send me requests for it too.

Okay, that's all.

Once again thank you so much for 200 followers, and I hope everyone has a good night/day😊

-Bianca🌻

Hello everyone,

I hope this message finds you well. I wanted to take a moment to update you all on something important regarding my request schedule. Due to the overwhelming response I've received, I am temporarily pausing the acceptance of new requests for the next couple of weeks, and potentially even longer. The reason for this is that I currently have a staggering 51 requests waiting. While I am incredibly grateful for the enthusiastic engagement, it has become clear that managing and responding to everyone is quite challenging.

As many of you are aware, I am a nursing student, and as such, my time is significantly constrained. Although I’ve had a bit more flexibility this past month thanks to a break, the reality is that school is about to start in a month, and my academic responsibilities will demand more of my attention. Consequently, I anticipate that once the school year begins, my ability to upload content will be limited, likely to once a week or as my schedule permits.

I truly wish I could dedicate myself to writing full-time and engage with all of your requests more regularly. Unfortunately, the demands of my studies make this impossible for now. I hope you can understand. 🥺

Thank you for your continued support, and I look forward to being able to engage with your requests in the near future.

With that being said I will try to post as much as I can before school starts. I will also be giving 24 hours to submit any last-minute requests😉

Have a good day/night😊

Love, Bianca🌻

Hi everyone!

I’ve recently taken a big step in my creative journey by launching a Patreon account, and I’m beyond excited to share what this means for my writing. While I’ll still be active on Tumblr, continuing to post the stories and content you’ve come to know and love, Patreon is where I’ll be exploring new territories. It’s a place where I can dive deeper into the ideas swirling in my mind, stories that don’t quite fit into the Tumblr landscape but are just as close to my heart.

This platform is more than just a creative outlet for me; it’s an opportunity to bring you into my world in a way I haven’t been able to before. On Patreon, I’ll be sharing the raw, unfiltered thoughts that drive my passion for storytelling, giving you a glimpse into the process behind the stories. It’s also a way for me to sustain myself as I continue my studies, balancing the demands of school with my love for writing.

Your support on Patreon means the world to me, and I can’t wait to see where this journey takes us!

hello everyone, just wanted to write to say I just made my first patreon post. I hope you guys will check it out. And to also tell you to keep an eye out for a post tonight 😉

low tolerance, you say

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Being drunk with fruitful intentions.

One thing Trent realized while dating you was to literally not put alcohol and you at the same place, at the same time. But, not many people know that aspect since you and Trent do not go out often, staying home in each other's presence.

Many people not knowing your low alcohol tolerance is absolute shit is what made Trent's job hard tonight. After picking up your call, he became more alert noticing it was not your angelic voice; rather greeted with a huskier male tone but was relaxed immediately as the person from the other line claimed, "She had way too many drinks to handle, but if the address is right. We are outside your house. Please take her away from me."

Every fiber in Trent's bone eased up. Rushing down wearing his flip-flops, frantically opens the door to see your male friend followed by three other girlfriends move you out of the car. His eyes darted on your fragile limping drunk legs almost giving out, Trent could not help but chuckle at your friends trying to keep you well.

"My boyfriend is here." You screamed loud, your eyes squeezed your eyes to scan your boyfriend coming out from his front yard to pick you away from the world for the night. Trent walked toward you, but you ran behind your friend's car.

You sat down on the road, hiding your face on your lap. Trent glanced at your friends in question since some of your drunk actions are still concerning and confusing. He is not surprised, just picking up pieces real quick.

With no words exchanged, Trent walked behind your friend's car where you were crotched down hiding your face. He bent down on his knees to meet your eye level. "What's wrong, baby?" He whispered in the shell of your ears, his fingers slowly cupping your face to glance up at him.

"You are not angry at me?" You tilted your head, clenching his hand which was settled on your face. Trent stared at your eyes slowly shutting themselves before you shook yourself up. His nose wrinkled to force himself from laughing at your drunk gesture.

He shook his head, "Never, princess. Come, let's go home." Trent gently lifted you from the ground. With his single action, you enveloped your body securing your arm around his neck. Trent silently thanked your friends for dropping you off. You shifted your head safely on the arc of his neck, eyeing your friends. "I love you guys, thank you for tonight." You waved your hand.

Trent laid you down on the sofa. For you, the whole world was spinning. It was even worse than the roller coasters you enjoyed back in some of those expensive amusement park. This cycle was endless, even if your body knows you are home, your eyes and mind are not helping at all.

"Trent, are we sure we are back home?" You asked with your eyebrows furrowed. Your hand waved around but was beaten around by the air, not being able to hold Trent. With no answers returned, you took matters on your own hand.

Standing on your own feet to only fall back on the sofa. Your legs had given out all the energy. In the spinning world, you had resulted that Trent was just a hallucination. With that, you wailed loudly, eyes shut as tears sprinkled down your cheek.

You covered your eyes with your forearm, thinking you are alone in this whole world and the person you love, is not even real. It was just a fragment of your imagination. In between your thoughts and your sobs, you paused. Wait, you thought, Was I not drunk? You removed your forearm away from your eyes, soaking in the cozy and humbling living room in front of you.

Before you could process everything, the face of the man, you swore you dreamt of popped in front of you. "You are real?" You whispered, your fingertips reaching out to draw out his face.

Sun-kissed skin, doe-eyes, and the perfect plumped lips you wish you could ju-

"Please stop eye-fucking me."

He also speaks. "Yes, I speak." He spoke, shaking his head, pulling you forward to sit on the sofa. Trent sat in front of you carrying your makeup remover, a few clothes to change, and a blanket.

"So you are my boyfriend?" You hesitated to ask, not sure how you bagged a hot scrumptious-looking boyfriend. Trent leaned on his knee, using his elbow as leverage to stare at your drunk swollen eyes and pink lips that has been abused too many times by you with the continous biting.

Trent nodded, "We have done way too many times, princess. For now, please do as I say." You raised your eyebrows, and a line formed between your eyebrows in question. You gave him a lopsided smile, "So how do you want me?"

"On your back."

You froze. Being drunk does not mean you did not understand the intention of his words. Trent snorted cockily, "Are you serious? Let me remove your makeup." He asked, waving his hand and gesturing you to lay down on the sofa so he could remove your makeup.

So lying down on the sofa, you did. Trent sat on the edge of the sofa near your arm as he leaned forward to press the wet wipes onto your face, forcefully closing your eyes after every aggressive wipe.

In silence, Trent removed your makeup. Giving you enough time to admire his face closer once again. Up close, he . . seemed so familiar. All the small freckles that are not spoken about, the light wrinkle settled on his forehead, and the vein that pops out on his temple. With it all, Trent was simply so beautiful.

"We should definitely have babies." You said breaking the silence. Trent paused his action with his third use of makeup remover wet wipes. He lazily smiled, grinning ear-to-ear. You glanced upward to the ceiling as the tension was peaking its roof.

Trent clicked his tongue, "I don't know. Don't you think we should get married first?" He proposed, his eyes twinkling with the hint of mischievousness but your mind was too hazy to process through what he was saying.

"Then why are we not married yet?" You curiously asked, your arm finding its way to his neck pulling him closer to your face. "Or we can just do everything the opposite. I heard there are many people who do that." You justified your reason on wanting kids, slurping on your own words.

Trent giggled hiding his face on the nape of your neck at your utter misery and cuteness. He had the urge to pull his phone and record the amount of random crap was coming out; it is the same routine when you are drunk.

"I am serious though." You softly laid down your guards. With mind intoxicated and eyes about to give out to the lights. But this, you know, Trent was the man you want your kids grow up calling father; it is not a dream so hard to not want considering how dearly Trent is to you.

He removed his face away from your neck, coming face-to-face. "Baby, you are drunk and we have spoke about wanting kids and getting married like hundreds of times when you are drunk." He confessed trying to retrieve back to his original position to finish off your leftover makeup.

You pulled him forward caging him in your arm. "Then ask me tomorrow morning when I am completely sober if I still want to have your kids, Trent. I will say yes." You dared, eyes not fazing away from Trent.

Your eyes glanced down at his lips, "And I swear if you stop me from doing this, I will say no." You threatened before pressing your lips against his. You moaned loudly in his lips pulling him closer. Trent moved to straddle his legs as his hand shifted under your shirt.

Your hand itself tangled to pull his sweater off his body. He tsked away, continously shaking his head. "Let's do this tomorrow, baby. Let's go back to bed." He insisted only for you to shake your head whining, already missing his lips on you.

"We can only stop this operation if i accidentally vomit."

"What operation?"

You shrugged your shoulder, "To have your kids."

reporting live

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff. Trent who was rather interested in the reporter than the actual report he had to give.

Time was ticking on a thin thread for you as your supervisor might call you within five minutes if you do not interview, at least, one player of liverpool. You have been in the reporting field for at least seven months and you now also have juniors yet for you to move like an amateur was hurting your pride.

You are social issues reporter, going around different cities, and write an interesting jaw-dropping report then, call it a day. Sport reporting was not your forte, it is almost like . . fork found in your backpack. Simply out of place. The million dollar question ringing in your head was why were you here in Anfield Stadium at the first place but you face-palmed yourself on accepting to cover for your senior who was in her maternity leave. You had always hated whenever you had to cover for a reporter doing sports. No particular reasoning, just childhood trauma.

You saw all the liverpool footballer players walking out from the dressing room after a hot win. You crossed path with the tall, charismatic dutch leader of liverpool to the small growing liverpool superstar Endo but you had your goal set on the biggest prize, the player with a fresh trim, and his headphone on as every reporter tried catching his attention.

Trent Alexander Arnold, the star of Anfield and liverpool. Your supervisor might as well, move you to the Sports section if you got to interview Trent; you were not looking forward to that but a lady has bills to pay. You sighed as you had to save your job before it slipped away from your grip.

Just one interview, anyway. What is the harm? You held the sleeve of his tracker suit lightly, you needed this, you needed a bang.

"Great win in Anfield, innit? Please let us know about how are you feeling about the win?" You asked reaching your microphone out to the man. His gaze froze, so did his feet in front of you. It could be the audacity to block his way toward the team bus or the glitch of mischievousness in his eyes that flickered on your red hue cheeks.

Trent chuckled as he moved slightly forward removing his headphone, your eyes set on the man completely compelled from the bridge of his nose, deep doe eyes to his captivating smile. Everything about the man was setting you up for a failure, realizing how much of a bad idea this was.

"Yeah, yeah it is great team win but to become the last scorer for the win is a different achievement, so I am proud and happy." Trent answered, his eyes never leaving yours for a minute. His heavy scouser accent oozed out every word as Trent kept his smile intact.

His eyes glanced at you, noting the rose hue on your cheeks, one hand slightly shaking to hold onto the microphone and the other holding onto the notebook. "Come here, love. Let me hold that for you." He mumbled gripping on the microphone as your fingers brushed on his and you were secretly praying to every god that was staring upon you to not show your slight jump after the touch.

"Okay so-" You paused, clearly out of the atmosphere as you were in no place to check out players nor drool out your delusional ideas when you have a very angry supervisor waiting on the clock and an impatient cameraman behind you. "Yeah, I cannot lie, you . . you were great in the field." You complimented him quickly but you were not lying about it. With the long passes, and all the chances Trent created for the team; anyone can tell he was born to become a football player who succeeds with legacy.

"You were watching?" Trent asked raising his eyebrows in question. Utterly confused, you paused to flip your notebook to look at the man in front of you. With the silent eye contact, your neck burnt hot. You nodded sternly, a thin smile on your face. "Of course, I was watching, I mean, I am a reporter, can't be missing out on the main point of the whole show."

Trent kissed his teeth, he smirked, "So, tell me more. How was I on the field? Did you like what you see?" He winked at your direction. Your mind went blank, in what position does he have to be to flirt openly with a camera panning on his face? The burning hot sensation on your back came straight up and your heart beating fast was not helping to form words, "Like . . like I said, you were great. You are the star of liverpool after all." You sweetly smiled.

Trent had the cheeky smile on his face, his eyes lingering on your lips before glancing upward to your eyes. He knew what he was doing to you moving closer to the barrier between the reporters and the players.

You cleared your throat. "You are also the player of the match." You trailed off; Trent leaned closer. Call it the stadium being loud for him to not hear you clearly or he simply wanted to be close to you, to mesmerize the small moles on your face, to engulf himself on your warm scent.

"Are you excited for your next big game against Manchester City?" You inquired. All the back and forth staring and silence with Trent will not colour your supervisor impressed at all. You need to interview someone else that will not . . leave you speechless in minutes.

"Well it depends, to be very honest with you. Will you be in the next game?" Trent further pestered.

You furrowed your eyebrows in slight annoyance at the player for making everything about you while the whole fanbase would want to know more about him.

The cameraman behind you almost dropped his equipment taken back by the question. You did not know . . how to respond to the player who was attacking you with his doe eyes. Nervously, you laughed, "I cannot be certain about that. Are you and your team ready? It is one of the anticipated game of the season." You diverted his topic back to what you needed at the first place.

Trent stared at you without responding to your question, you quickly started shaking your leg anxiously as your eyes lingered at almost all the players leaving to go back to the training ground from the stadium. Your chances were blowing every second Trent silent in front of you.

During this period, you started considering finding other jobs, as you started making mental notes. With thoughts looming around your head, you did not come to realize Trent walked a few steps toward you, nibbling on his bottom teeth. He removed the microphone away from his lips, coming forward for a conversation that is sealed between you and the liverpool player.

You flinched at his hot breathe hitting your skin, as he gently held onto your forearm to keep you in position knowing you will move away from his contact.

You coughed away from his grip. "Have a great day then. We cannot wait till what magic liverpool can bring to Anfield once again."

"And you too, have a great day but i did not quite catch your name." He inquired with his wicked smirk playing on his face. He wants me gone, jobless. Clearly, with zero intention to support my penniless lifestyle.

You smiled, "If you do goal against Manchester City, I will let you know."

"Should we seal the deal with a kiss then, perhaps?"

kiss and make-up.

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. slightly suggestive, fluff. makeup and just a very horny trent.

Trent had a room that could have possibly fit fifteen people or more, but he had decided to put his bed at the edge of the corner. While the other furniture a room needed was rather scattered around the room. He went for the vibes, instead of being structural about his room.

But that was good for you. As his bed is at the edge of his room, proving that you can simply cage him between the wall and your hand pressed against it. Not letting him escape from the mission you were on, today.

"You do know that I can push you off and you will go flying?" He nonchalantly asked with his arms crossed on his chest, showing off his muscular arms. You nodded, not fazed by him and his words. Trent sighed, your heart almost jumped at the victory that was about to walk your way.

Trent sighed loudly, shaking his head. "Why are you even doing this? We can do way more interesting things together." He argued, placing his hand on the side of your hips to distract you from your actual plan.

He glanced at you through his long eyelashes. Oh, he was on a mission. You shut your eyes refusing to be lured by his doe eyes that almost had you cooing, "Your mind is more disgusting and disturbing than mine." You stated, shaking your head with a disapproved sound.

He chuckled, raising his eyebrows. "If you are thinking what I am thinking. Then, baby, we are the same." He leaned forward, pressing his lips on yours continuously. Your steady cage was loosening up, and your hand gripped his neck for more friction to feel him on you.

His hands immediately grabbed your thighs to move you on his lap. His kiss was too addicting, it was almost everything you craved for. The way his lips moved on yours, the soft moan that slipped from his lips, and how his gaze had settled on you. His hand roamed around your body freely but he had every inch of your body memorized.

You moaned against his lips with your hips rolling back and forth. Wanting more of him, but as irresistible as he is, you were on a mission. "Trent, I am planning on making you look extremely pretty right now." You mumbled onto his lips, pulling away from him, only for him to groan and shake his head.

"It will not even take half an hour, and it will be more fun." You said, getting off from his bed. You walked toward the vanity table to get your things. "Seriously who gave you this stupid idea?" He screamed into his pillow, not wanting to do it.

This is a fun activity, you assured yourself. With full random products in your bag, you pulled Trent upward, he gently tapped on his lap. You sighed, straddled on his lap. You comfortably sat since it was a daily occurrence. He softly smiled, resting his forehead on your chest.

"How can I apply this eyeliner if your face is on my tits?" You asked, raising your eyebrows in the most genuine voice possible. He removed himself from your chest to face upward at you, Then, it felt like the beginning of your relationship all over again. Vividly remembering his long focused gaze that kept you nervous not being about to look into his eyes, only for him to fuck the small bits of nervousness out of you.

("Baby, hey—" He gently tapped your cheek, "Look at me, hey." He pleaded again. You are a weak human and he has ruined you in unexplainable ways. Yet you were not able to look into his eyes before folding all over for a man, your leg would almost give out when Trent kept his eyes on you for too long as your mind wondered questionable things.

With his soft voice, you opened your eyes to glance at the softest lust-filled eyes with almost bruised lips that was all you doing to him. "Good girl." He pecked your lips, picking up his pace on thrusting into you harder.

The room was filled with nothing but the sound of skin slamming onto each other, and the sound of your wetness between your thighs being clear at every thrust. Trent had spent time exploring your fucked out face, while you tried to hold in every whimper and keeping your eyes on the man who has you completely in his palm.

"Don't hold back, baby. Want you to touch me, want you to look at me. Want you to make me yours." He whispered, peppering kisses all over your face.

You were fucked.)

But you were not going to lie, Trent still made your stomach twirl, your eyes roll and your heart pace in ways that were not verbal enough to explain. He just had an affect on your body and soul.

You inhaled, "Close your eyes, baby." You guided and he obeyed. With shaking hands, you applied the eyeliner to his eyes gently winging at the side of his eyes.

Trent had his hand circling your waist and it was your time to silently admire without any gaze around you. His small unintentional pout that is formed and the confused furrowed eyebrows were not hard to miss since Trent is more nosy than any boys out there.

"Funny enough, you look prettier than me." You laughed, kissing his cheeks. He shook his head, not accepting what was happening to him. Trent had been sitting patiently, this is the most patient you have seen him.

He blinked his eyes, you groaned grabbing your hair frustrated. Innocently he blinked again, acting all sinless on not knowing what he did wrong. But you knew, he knew what he did wrong. The eyeliner was yet to dry and Trent ruined the perfect wing.

"You are ruining this for me." You scolded him. Leaning toward your makeup bag to find wet wipes to clean the mess he created on his skin. Trent had other plans as he playfully left kisses on your neck trailing down your chest.

He felt your shoulder move, he realized you were not pulling away nor complaining. So, he lightly pushed his hand under your shirt; trying to take it off from your skin.

"You are a menace, you know?" You asked, wiping off the messed-up eyeliner on his face. Trent silently sat through all that as his eyes scanned your flushed red cheek, eyes too focused on his eyebrows that shifted to his lips and your teeth nibbling your bottom lip.

He smirked, smashing his lips in yours. Slowly setting you down on the bed as he caged you with his body. "Lift your arms." He asked.

You lifted your arms high as he peeled off your shirt trashing on the ground. His eyes gazing at the hickeys he had left on you slowly faded into yellowish and some still were angry-red.

"You really listen to me when you want something from me." He rested his head on the nape of your neck, his hand fondling onto the zipper of your skirt. You hissed at the sudden contact of wetness on your neck immediately latching onto his shoulder to feel him.

Trent breathed heavily as he sucked your soft skin again and again to leave marks to show what he can do to your skin, only him. He briefly glanced at you and your eyes were shut feeling the pleasure building between the hips and the pain on your neck.

He pulled, cupping both of your cheek with his thumb and index finger. "Look at me, baby. Look at me while I am all over your body."

whispers of love.

trent alexander arnold x fem!reader. fluff trent who is yours, yours and yours.

Trent looked more astonishing under the sunlight that gleamed through the curtain that did not fully shade your room. He was sleeping on his stomach as his arm was wrapped around you; with the same sleeping position, you only slept a few inches away but you fully felt the warmth that oozed out from his presence.

In his strong arm, you settled perfectly like a puzzle that found its piece, like you were meant to be in his arm. You leaned his head slightly forward to glance at your man who had been sleeping peacefully. Not helping yourself, you gawked at your lover. Your heart ached at the way he had a small pout formed, his thick lips looking more kissable. You had a small smile gracing your face; letting your eyes linger around the long eyelashes that touched his skin.

It only longed you for his doe dark brown eyes to look at you.

You cooed softly, eyes softening at the man who is an extravagant footballer in the eyes of the public, but as the curtain closed, he was just a man who you are immensely in love with, who is your man.

Before you could shake Trent awake, he rubbed his eyes as he slowly stretched his arms briefly to hold you tighter; you laughed as you could almost lay your whole body on top of Trent. Without looking, you knew his face hung with a lazy smile that reached his eyes.

"Slept good?" You asked gently. Slipping away from his grip, you grabbed a random jersey of Trent that was on the floor. He groaned loudly as he used your pillow as leverage to stare at you having him completely whipped.

Trent eyed you moving to his side to sit at the edge of the bed, next to him. "What do you want for dinner?" He asked reaching his arms wide open for you to cuddle him. You considered thinking of a few meals that are worth making or, you could just force Trent to go back to sleep with you.

But you have already gotten out of bed after being lazy for the whole day. In the utter silence, Trent observed you with his soft eyes glancing at every part that he has kissed, adored, and loved earnestly.

You had settled at the edge of the bed next to him, with no words exchanged. You danced your fingertips on his face, your eyes twinkling in adoration for the love of your life; while Trent lay in silence letting you do whatever you want.

He snaked his arm around your waist to move you forward. "You know what you are?" He asked hoarsely after waking up, his hot breath hitting your skin. You giggled, Trent never failed to amuse you with his thick scouser accent that you have grown to understand being around him and his family.

Your hand tightens its grip on his shoulder, raising your eyebrows. "The best thing that has ever happened to you." You lightly tapped the tip of his nose, jokingly. Trent laughed loudly throwing his whole body on the bed. Annoyingly you smacked his chest, "But I am." You persistent, obviously.

He nodded. Trent calmed himself down, "You are, baby. You are."

With that, the room fell into silence again. Your apartment was still new as you just moved in, so the soft curtains were not helping that was shining bright where Trent kept squinting his eyes.

You straddled on his hip, "Is the sunlight bothering you, sir?" You dramatically shielded his eyes away from the sunlight. Trent chuckled, his thick hand running under your (his) jersey. He smoothly ran his fingertips on your naked back as you gasped at his touch.

"Why? Are you going to protect me from it?" He challenged, raising his eyebrows in question. Your whole heart swam in love as you found yourself loving his face once again. Trent did look the most beautiful waking up just next to you, completely fazed out. You threw your head back, "You know I will be protecting you from anything in this world, baby." You confessed, your tone barely hiding the vulnerability of how honest each word was that traveled through your lips.

"You are my girl," Trent established, "right?"

"I am," You pecked his left cheek. "I am," You pecked his right cheek. "I am your girl." You peppered gently kisses all over his face.

"I love you too, now please cook some food for me." He groaned as his stomach rumbled. You laughed, detaching yourself away from him. You made your way toward the kitchen, knowing it would be him cooking, and you would be sitting on the counter watching him cook.

But really, you do not mind living like this for a lifetime.

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

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