#TRENT’S GOING THROUGH IT OFF SCREEN

[robottheodorlasso]

Hai this fic was so up my ally I got inspired and drew what was probably happening during Keeley and Trent’s smoke break

[cinnaleaf]

In Your DMs: Left on Read - Ch 1: Never Say Never

summary: you left jude on read once—but after one reckless night, he’s making damn sure you never ignore him again 💫 | MDNI 18+

warnings: angst/tension, push/pull dynamic, alcohol consumption, party setting, language, sexual references, public argument, easter eggs from previous fics wc: ~5.9k (approx. 21 minutes) 💋: it’s only chapter 1… pray for them. song inspo: VeLDÁ x Bad Bunny ft Omar Courtz & Dei V

It had been two weeks since you hooked up with Jude in a drunken rendezvous, and while the dick was surprisingly fantastic, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t starting to get the ick. You gave Jude your number after you left his house that afternoon in post-orgasm delusion and he’d been bombarding your phone with texts, voice messages, unscheduled facetime calls, and random tiktoks that “reminded him of you” ever since. He clearly thought your hookup was something more, which made you regret your decision to give him any attention at all. Although pretty privilege had its perks, a world class footballer being obsessed with you was not a perk you wanted to engage in – especially when it was Jude Bellingham.

You sat in the apartment you shared with Bri and Tasha, watching your other friend, Mateo, scroll through his phone while shaking his head. “Miss girl…” he drawled with an amused grin. “They have all of your tea in 4k. All of it.” Mateo handed his phone to you and you nastily glared at the screen, annoyed that you suddenly became a part of whatever the fuck this was:

SpillTheBeansUK Looks like Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago 👀. The England star was spotted leaving a Madrid club with 21 year old Y/N, an NYU Tisch film & television student from Miami who’s currently studying abroad and very much a regular in both cities’ party scenes. Her dad is none other than THE ‘Dr. Cinch’, the mastermind behind SculptHaus Miami, the go to clinic for IG baddies and A-listers looking for that perfect CINCHED look 💉 Jude’s no stranger to being deep in a girl’s likes, but he’s been extra consistent with Y/N’s lately. What’s really going on here? Because word is, she’s not exactly the type to be impressed.. especially by ballers like him. 🤨

2Fast4VAR wait she’s from miami?? bro lost before he even started. she’s built different. 😂

CertifiedMenace69 if i was jude i’d be in her dms, comments, and her email too she’s bad af

BigBootyJudeyFC he’s about to start liking those inspirational quotes on IG like “if it’s meant to be, it will be.” 💀

MissMiamiDade305 jude better watch out... does anyone remember when she had that miami promoter crying on IG live last year?? she does NOT play with these men 💀💀

gossipgorlzzz not him liking her pics and finally getting the W! stay persistent kings!!

SpillTheBeansES Si Jude cree que puede cambiarla.. le deseo suerte 🤷‍♀️ (If Jude thinks he can change her.. I wish him luck)

JudePorFavor jude’s probably in her DMs like “pls respond angel 😩” LMAO

Baddiebydesign not dr. cinch’s daughter!! she’s set for life. face card AND her dad’s the plug? i bet her friends never have to pay for fillers 😭

AnonymousInsider13 i heard she’s cool with that real madrid baloncesto guy too…santiago something. ngl that man is fine af. if she’s choosing between him and jude i see why she’s taking her sweet time 

RedBlooded1892 maybe her dad can fix jude’s shoulder that’s about to fall off the hinge 😭 cinchdollsnob her dad literally invented half the faces we double tap. a baddie with real face card genetics. life ain’t fair. ChampagnePapiButBroke jude and his big bum liking all her pics is sending me. boy was lurking HARD

ChickenNCoke cinched bellibabe is kind of an iconic alias icl

mamacitasintl lmaooo if jude’s trying to lock her down..good luck. her dad probably has a vetting process more intense than real madrid’s medicals

nosygirlieFC jude defo heard about trent bagging the perfume baddie and thought he could do the same LOL

You were annoyed by the post to an extreme amount. Whoever was the administrator of this god awful account decided to treat you like you were some Z list Love Island reject instead of a girl who got dicked down ONE time in a moment of weakness and dipped.

Bri leaned over to scan the screen and let out a cackle. “ ‘Jude Bellingham had his eye on something other than football two weeks ago!’ ” she mimicked in a dramatized voice. 

“Ew.” You scrunched your nose in disgust. 

Tasha was deep in the comments on her own phone, scrolling at lightning speed. “No but, ‘She’s not exactly the type to be impressed… especially by ballers like him’ is so shady,” she snorted, flicking her eyes to yours. “The streets know you too well.”

Mateo looked at you with a sly grin, clasping his hands together. “Sooo...how does it feel to be a Bellingham Baddie?”

You cut your eyes at him. “Don’t fucking start.”

“It’s too late.” Bri waved her phone in the air, grinning. “Your inauguration is already underway. These people are in the comments eating it up.”

“Let me see” Mateo snatched Bri’s phone from her and started reading out loud. “ ‘She’s bad as hell, I’d be in her likes too.’ ” He smirked, flipping his wrist. “Real recognizes real.”

Tasha leaned over, giggling. “Wait, this one says ‘Jude’s in his romantic era. He’s playing the long game.’ ”

“Oh hell no. Absolutely not.” You reached for the phone but Mateo dodged you with the speed of a messy gay man who lived for drama. 

“Hold on, hold on.” He scrolled further, widening his eyes before he started howling. “Ohhh girl, not this one!” he wheezed, hardly able to get his words out. “ ‘Jude’s big bum came from Dr. Cinch? Noted.’ ”

Bri and Tasha both started laughing with tears streaming down their eyes. “Not Jude having BBL allegations because they found out who your dad is!”

You ran your hands across your face, shaking your head. “I hate this app.”

Mateo was screaming along with the other two, kicking his feet out but you really didn’t find it all that funny. “No, I LOVE this app!”

After their laughter subsided, Tasha shook her head, continuing to scroll through the comments. “The way they dug up your whole life just off one club sighting is actually insane.”

“I know. They need jobs.” You groaned, leaning back against the cushions. 

Mateo tilted his head while eyeing you. “Well, since you’re the new bombshell in the Bellingham Baddie villa, you may as well tell me...how was it?”

Bri and Tasha perked up immediately, turning to face you while giggling, mainly because they already knew. You groaned, rolling your eyes as you picked up your own phone. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” Mateo questioned, not fully believing you because you usually gave him the full rundown in detail, but this time you were holding back. “Just fine?! Don’t tell me he’s a minute man. It’s always the hot ones.”

Bri leaned in. “Mmm, I don’t know about that. Tasha and I called and she couldn’t even talk. That man blew her back out for sure.”

“In her words exactly.. it was ‘one hundred percent worth it’ ” Tasha added. “If the dick was bad she would’ve come home the next day and roasted his ass but she didn’t. She was quiet as a mouse.”

Mateo pointed at you accusingly, narrowing his eyes while analyzing you. “And you keep dodging the conversation which means it had to be amazing.”

You rolled your eyes, fake scrolling through your phone like you always did when you couldn’t look someone in the eye. “Well I don’t know about all of that now...he’s doing too much.”

Mateo snickered. “You gave him the best pussy of his life and dipped. Of course he’s doing too much.”

You groaned again, letting your head fall back against the couch. “Can y’all shut the fuck up?”

“Absolutely not.” Mateo fired back immediately, leaning forward to read you for filth. “I know you. If it was mid, you would’ve been dragging him for filth. You’d be in this living room doing a full dissertation on why that man is a waste of height.”

Tasha nodded, scrolling with purpose. “But instead you’re holding back.”

Bri suddenly gasped, pointing a finger at you. “Ooh, she likes him.”

That was where you drew the line. The suggestion that you, of all people, would be catching feelings for a footballer, let alone Jude Bellingham sent you straight into defense mode. It wasn’t even about him specifically, but merely the principle of the matter. You didn’t date athletes. Not seriously anyway. NEVER seriously. You learned a long time ago they were all the same: entitled, egotistical, and so used to women throwing themselves at their feet just because they could handle a ball and had a few viral highlight reels. They saw women as accessories, something to show off when it suited them and discard when it didn’t. You weren’t about to be anyone’s little off-season toy passed around in a group chat the second they got bored. That was never going to be you.

But ballers weren’t completely useless though, they had their perks. Stamina? Unmatched. Strength? Ideal. But once the adrenaline wore off and post-orgasm clarity set in, the appeal disappeared right along with it. You entertained a few before just for fun, just to see if they were worth the hype, but they all had one thing in common: they started thinking they were special. Like they had you hooked. Like they were pulling the strings.

It was funny, really. Because if anything? They were always the ones falling first. Every time.

Jude was proving to be no different. The way he sauntered up to you in the club as if he knew where the night was headed, versus the way his ego deflated the minute you left his messages on read for weeks was textbook athlete behavior. And now? He was chasing you.

Mateo tapped the edge of his phone against his palm, watching you with an expression that made it very clear he was about to ask something that would grate your nerves.

“So what’s really going on with you and Jude?” He tilted his head, brows raised in intrigue. “Like.. what is he to you?”

You didn’t even look up from your phone and scrolled as you answered, “A pronoun.”

Mateo’s mouth dropped open, delighted by your messy answer. “Be so fucking for real Y/N” he said, crossing one leg over the other. “If he’s just a pronoun to you then why did you give him your number?”

Tasha didn’t even give you a chance to answer before jumping in. “That’s actually a great fucking question. Because you knew giving him your number meant this...” she gestured to the entire situation, the group chat chaos, the SpillTheBeansUK mess, “so why did you do it?”

You sighed dramatically, tilting your head back against the couch from being exhausted by all of this nonsense. “He asked for it, so I gave it.”

Bri blinked at you. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Mateo was unconvinced. “And you just gave it to him? No hesitation? No thoughts?”

“I was in a state of post-nut delusion.” You shrugged, sipping from your water bottle to avoid any further questions.

Tasha sucked her teeth. “Mmm.” 

Bri was already side-eyeing you. “Mmhmm.” 

Mateo tapped his phone again, unimpressed. “Lying just like the mattress he put you through, I see.”

You ignored them. There was a very brief moment where you considered not giving him your number. You could’ve just taken your Uber and dipped, pretended like it never happened, and gone back to your normal, Bellingham-free existence. But Jude gave you a cocky, half lidded smirk that made you fold immediately when he asked. You figured your brain was still stuck somewhere between your legs for wanting to hear from him again, which was exactly why you were so annoyed with yourself. Not only was he blowing up your phone, but now you were on SpillTheBeansUK. You scrolled through the endless posts dissecting your one mistake, making you feel more irritated with every new comment. There were threads analyzing your every move, posts tracking Jude’s IG likes, and an entire debate about whether or not you were “Jude’s type.” 

“How do these people have so much free time? Is the unemployment rate that high?” you muttered, aggressively tapping out of Instagram. “I was in the same club as him one time, and suddenly I’m the internet’s main character of the day? I fucking hate it here.”

Bri snickered, nudging Tasha. “Not her being mad when she willingly chose to leave with him.”

You shot the nastiest glare at both of them.

“Tell me I’m wrong,” Bri challenged, raising her brow.

She wasn’t wrong. You did willingly leave with him. You hated the attention and the way people were dissecting your life, but you weren’t completely mad at the way Jude was acting. Mainly because he wasn’t just moving on like it never happened and letting you fade into the background. He was still chasing you. And even if you never wanted to admit it.. you liked that.

Your phone pinged in your hand to bring you out of your thoughts, making you glance down at your notifications.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 17:43 - Did I do something?? 17:51 - Because I’m struggling to believe I had you screaming my name two weeks ago but now you’re airing me. 18:02 - Hello? 18:27 - Ok I get it. I know you don’t really do this athlete thing. 18:28 - I’m not blocked though 👀 18:42 - Let me take you out?

You rolled your eyes before switching to a different text thread.

SANTI DOMINGUEZ 🏀 🇩🇴 20:42 - Y/Nitaaa que haces esta noche? (what are you doing tonight?) 20:42 - Fiesta en La Finca at mi pana’s house for the night. Big ass infinity pool, drinks, music, todo. Pull up. 20:43 - Bring your friends too. Dime que si. (Tell me yes.)

You smiled, already typing out a response.

20:45 - A party in La Finca? Bet. 20:46 - We’re coming. You better have good drinks!

Santi hearted the message instantly.

20:47 - Siempre, preciosa. Nos vemos. (Always, gorgeous. See you soon.)

You liked Santi. He was one of the few people in Madrid who weren’t constantly on some clout chasing nonsense, which meant you actually enjoyed being around him. And even though he could be a little flirty, it wasn’t serious. 

You were just about to lock your phone when another text rolled in.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:48 - Your dad is a plastic surgeon??

You frowned, watching as a second message came in.

— [SpillTheBeansUK post]

Oh. He really was chronically online. 

“Ew,” you muttered from the ick of it all before typing out your own response.

20:48 - why the fuck are you sending me STB links like you’re a gossip girl admin? touch grass.

There was no immediate response but you knew he probably read it the second the notification popped up on his phone. He was probably typing, stopping, then typing again, trying to figure out how to keep you engaged without pushing too far. It was funny really, the difference between the two of them. Santi would text once, maybe twice most of the time and you would reply immediately with no hesitation. Meanwhile, Jude would send text after text, throw in tiktoks, voice messages and a Facetime call here and there, which made you want to take your sweet time responding.

You could already feel the looks your friends were giving you, but Mateo was the first to speak.

“So you answer Santiago immediately but Jude has to beg for a response?” He smirked, already piecing together what would likely go down tonight at the party. Tasha hummed in agreement and glanced over your shoulder at your phone. “She doesn’t even respond to us that fast but Santi texts and suddenly her fingers work?”

You locked your phone and flipped it over on the table so they wouldn’t see any other message notifications from Jude or Santi. “It’s not that deep.” 

“It is that deep,” the three of them spoke in unison. 

Tasha pointed at your phone and then crossed her arms. “Explain.”

You stretched your arms over your head, already starting to prepare your exit strategy. “I don’t have to explain anything.”

“Oh, but you do,” Bri countered, shifting to face you. “Because you clearly like the attention from both of them.”

You let out a sharp exhale and grabbed your phone, making your way to your bedroom. “I have to get ready for the party and I suggest y’all do the same if you’re coming.”

You dropped your phone onto the bed and stood in front of your wardrobe, biting your lip while you scanned through your options. La Finca pool parties weren’t the same as your club nights. The vibe was more laid back but the guest list was usually stacked with the most beautiful people you’d ever seen, so naturally you had to one up them and show them how a Miami girl stepped out. Just as you were grabbing a cropped halter top from the hanger, your phone vibrated against your comforter and you snatched it up immediately.

JUDE BELLINGHAM ❌ 🙄 20:58 - Touch grass with me. What’s the move tonight?

You debated telling him about the party, but you decided against it and threw your phone back on the bed with a scoff to finish getting ready. Although he was giving you the ick, something about the way he chased you fed a very specific, very vain part of you and you would be lying if you didn’t admit you weren’t the least bit curious in how far Jude was willing to take it. 

Somewhere outside of your room, you could hear Bri and Tasha moving around, digging through wardrobe drawers and arguing over what top to wear. Mateo’s voice floated down the hall, loudly reminding everyone that if they didn’t hurry up, he was leaving without all of you.

An hour later, the four of you piled into a car with the windows down as the city lights of Madrid blurred past. The further you drove into La Finca, the bigger the homes became. When you finally pulled up to the house, you could hear a mix of reggaeton, afrobeats and spanish trap music playing through the air. The garden surrounding the property was already full of people with drinks in hand as they laughed and swayed to the music. 

You made your way to the pool area, smelling the mixed scent of tangy smoke from hookah and rum. You adjusted your top, feeling the backless cut brush your skin in the breezy, but warm night time air as you walked on the stone pathway. Your matching mini skirt hugged your hips just right and dipped low enough to show the string of your bikini bottoms underneath. Your small entourage followed behind you, already plotting the kind of chaos they could get into tonight.

Mateo adjusted the collar of his shirt, scoping out the scene. “I’m manifesting a man with a villa tonight. Just watch.”

“Manifest being the bartender while you’re at it” Tasha muttered, eyeing the outdoor bar where bottles of Ron Barcelo, Brugal, and Larios gin were already in rotation. Someone had cracked open a case of Estrella Galicia beers, and a group near the pool was passing around cups of Kalimotxo, the unofficial drink of every wild night in Spain.

“Vamonos mamis!” Santi yelled from somewhere near the pool. 

His height alone made him impossible to miss. He was a towering 6’5”, had broad shoulders with a trim waist, perfectly white teeth, dimples, deep sun kissed skin, and a freshly trimmed fade that made you tilt your head slightly to take a better look. He had that natural Dominican aura that made it impossible to tell whether he was flirting or just being nice.

“Oh, you’re outside, outside tonight!” he teased, sliding his arm around your waist for a quick hug. He glanced behind you and smiled at Bri, Tasha and Mateo. “Good to see you all. Drinks are in the kitchen. Hookah’s by the pool.”

“And you’re where?” Bri asked, arching a brow while biting the nail of her finger flirtatiously.

“Everywhere.” Santi winked, then tilted his head back toward the pool. “Come find me if you need anything.” He disappeared back into the crowd before any of you had time to respond, leaving the scent of his cologne lingering between all of you.

“Oooh he’s wearing Rêveur.” Tasha nodded in approval, taking a second glance back to get another look at him. “That man has taste.” 

“But why is he so fineee?” Bri muttered under her breath.

Mateo snickered. “Because God had time when he made Dominican men that’s why.”

You hated gassing men up too much, so you gave them a blank stare, eventually walking away to make your way toward the drinks as Bad Bunny’s “VeLDÁ” played through the sound system. They followed behind and Mateo took on his duty as bartender, rummaging through bottles of Havana Club and Brugal Añejo.

“Shots or mixed drinks?” Mateo asked, double fisting bottles in his hands.

“Mixed” you answered immediately.

“Shots” Bri and Tasha dueted.

“Majority rules, sorry Y/N” Mateo mused as he reached for the shot glasses.

On the other side of the yard, Jude leaned back in an outdoor lounge chair, resting his arms lazily while his drink sat half empty on the table in front of him. He wasn’t drunk, but the warmth of Madrid, the drinks, and the atmosphere had him leaning into the mood.

“That’s her?” Cama tilted his head toward the cluster of people near the pool, smiling with curiosity.

Jude didn’t answer at first and stared at the condensation on his glass before moving his eyes back to you. He clocked you as soon as you stepped on the stone pathway, he couldn’t have missed you even if he tried. The backless halter top with the matching mini skirt, coupled with the sheen of your Dior lip oil catching in the light every time you tilted your head back to laugh, had his head spinning. Even from a distance, he could see the faint tan lines peeking from under the straps of your bikini strings underneath your outfit.

“Damn..” Kylian whistled beside him, leaning forward to take a closer look at Bri and Tasha. “Who are the girls next to her though?”

Jude glanced sideways, trying to suppress a smirk. “Focus mate.”

“I am focused,” Kylian replied with a laugh, still scanning the scene.

Cama chuckled and nudged Jude’s arm. “She looks good, bro. You bringing her home tonight or what?”

Jude tilted his head, taking another slow sip of his drink. “We’ll see. She likes to play hard to get.”

“Does she know you’re here?” Kylian asked as if he cared, when he was actually plotting on Bri and Tasha.

“Nah.”

The truth sat heavy on his chest. He hadn’t expected to run into you tonight, but then again, Madrid was a small world when it came to hanging around certain circles. It was bound to happen eventually. But seeing you laughing with your friends did something to him that he wasn’t ready to unpack.

“You should go over there” Cama suggested, nudging Jude’s arm. 

“Not yet.” Jude replied, following the curve of your bare shoulders as you tipped your head back to down a shot with your friends. The twist of your face from the burn of the alcohol, along with the parting of your lips made it too easy to remember the way those same lips felt against him just two weeks ago.

—

The shot you had just taken settled warmly in your stomach while the bass from the music grew heavier. The music was loud, the air filled with scents of alcohol, sweat, and smoke but none of it could shake the buzz in your head from spotting Jude in the party crowd.

Of all the parties in Madrid, he had to be at this one.

You clutched your glass tighter, trying to resist the urge to look back at the lounge chairs near the pool. Bri crossed her arms and smirked, darting her eyes between you and Jude. “So you’re just gonna ignore him all night?”

“Ignore who?” you replied flatly, knowing damn well who she was talking about.

“Oh girl. Pack it up.” Tasha chimed in from your other side while swaying to the beat of the music. “You know exactly who.”

“No. I don’t.” you muttered, wiping off the condensation wetness from your fingertips.

“Then why are you gripping the glass like that?” Bri teased, bumping your hip with hers.

You ignored her and instead scanned the crowd for any sign of Santi. You spotted him leaning against a pillar with a bottle of beer in hand, laughing at something one of his teammates said. His crisp white shirt clung to his torso, making you gawk just a little. When he caught your gaze, he lifted his beer and gave you a blinding smile.

Tasha clocked it immediately and raised her eyebrows. “Well.. looks like you have options tonight. Bellingham or Dominguez?”

You sighed heavily, ignoring her again and headed to the pool to dip your feet in. The infinity pool stretched out in front of you as you swung your legs back and forth in the water. You should’ve felt relaxed, or maybe even carefree and tipsy, but instead you were on edge.

On the other side of things, now that you were closer, Jude watched you from the rim of his glass as he took long, slow sips. Kylian and Cama were talking next to him but their words turned into background noise while he observed the way you leaned back with your hands pressed against the pool deck stone.

“She’s going to notice you staring eventually” Kylian leaned in, sensing Jude still had you on his mind.

Jude tilted his head back to finish his drink. The thought of you being so close yet so far away made the alcohol sit heavier in his stomach. You hadn’t really been giving him much of a thought since you hooked up and that bothered him. It made him want you even more. He internally debated with himself, wondering if he should just leave you alone or speak up now that he had an opening that you absolutely couldn’t leave on read. Just as he was about to stand, Cama clapped him on the shoulder with a wide grin. “Go talk to her bro. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“She could throw her drink in his face..” Kylian added helpfully.

Jude snorted. “Nah. I don’t think she’s like that.”

He really didn’t know you as well as he thought he did, you were definitely ‘like that’ if the need arose. 

Jude stood up with enough adrenaline and liquid courage to walk the short path to the pool’s edge where you sat. You felt his towering presence immediately as he stood with his hands tucked into his pockets, glancing toward you swishing your feet in the water.

“You ignoring my texts now?”

You narrowed your eyes at him, surprised that he had the gall to start the conversation off that way. “You’re not serious.”

A gleam of moonlight caught on his lips when he shifted closer to you with a lazy smirk plastered over his face. “I get it. You’re a busy girl. But you could’ve at least told me you would be here tonight.”

“For what? Why would I tell you?” you countered, looking up at him in annoyance. “I don’t even know you like that.” The nerve of this boy to think he deserved to know any of your moves when he wasn’t your man, or anything remotely close to it.

“You know me well enough to let me fuck..”

Your head snapped up so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Excuse me?”

Jude tilted his head, still with a dumb smirk on his face that made you want to slap it clean off his face. His hands were still tucked in his pockets casually, like he wasn’t standing there stirring the most out of you.

“I’m just saying..” he lazily shrugged, as if that would smooth over the conversation.

“Oh, ‘you’re just saying’ ” you mocked, standing up to meet his eye, though you still ended up having to look up because he was so tall. The edge of your skirt brushed against his thigh and you were close enough to see the sheen of sweat on his thick hairline from the warm night air. Up close, Jude was hard to ignore. He got under your skin in the right way to make you give him your full attention.

Just the way he liked it.

“And this is coming from the same man blowing up my phone like I owe him something.”

Jude chuckled under his breath, his eyes moving briefly to your outfit before locking back onto your eyes. “I wouldn’t have to blow your phone up if you just responded the first time, angel.”

Angel.

That word hit you straight in your core. It was impossible not to hear his voice from that night echoing in your head.

“That’s it, angel. Keep fucking me back.”

You took a deep inhale through your nose, clenching your fists on your sides as heat flared through your chest from frustration and other things you weren’t ready to name.

“Don’t call me that” you snapped, but the hitch in your breath told a different story. A story that said you liked it, and Jude noticed. His eyes lowered to your lips briefly, and the corners of his mouth twitched upward like he knew exactly where your mind went. 

“Ohhh, so you do remember” he mused, clearly enjoying himself.

“Jude, I swear-” You shoved his shoulder but he barely moved in the slightest bit. He stood his ground, leaning into your ear to speak low enough so only you could hear. “Don’t start. Unless you’re trying to start something you know I can finish for you.”

“You’re so fucking full of yourself, you know that?”

The warmth from the alcohol running through your veins made your voice louder than you intended, making you become acutely aware of the heads starting to turn your way. In between your conversation with Jude, Tasha and Bri made their way over to sit with Kylian and Cama near the lounge chairs. Bri was sitting on Kylian’s lap with her arms draped over his neck like they knew each other way longer than what had to have been no longer than 15 minutes. All four of them were watching the scene unfold with varying degrees of amusement.

“Okay, fuck this” you muttered under your breath, feeling the embarrassment creep in. Eyes on you and whispers spreading throughout the crowd was the exact type of thing you wanted to avoid. Your mind flashed to the SpillTheBeans post and the comments dissecting your entire life, snapping you right back to the cruel reality of being a newly added ‘Bellingham Baddie’, as your friends called it.

“This is exactly why I don’t fucking date athletes” you jabbed a finger at Jude’s chest for emphasis.

“Who said anything about dating?”

You laughed in disbelief and threw your hands up. The tipsiness loosened your filter in all the wrong ways. “You know what? I’m so sick of-”

“Todo bien?” (Everything okay?)

The sound of Santi’s voice made you freeze mid sentence. You turned around just enough to see him approaching with an unbothered walk, beer still in hand like he wasn’t about to walk straight into chaos. His eyes moved between you and Jude, reading the situation.

“We’re good.” you answered, holding up your hand toward Santi as if that would somehow deescalate whatever was about to go down.

“Didn’t look like it,” Santi eyed Jude in a way that was more curious than confrontational, but Jude wasn’t having it, being the crashout that he was.

“You her bodyguard or something?” Jude shot, tilting his chin as he stepped fully into Santi’s space. Santi’s smile didn’t budge but his posture shifted subtly enough to raise the tension up a couple notches. “Nah. I’m just looking out for a friend” he replied coolly, not breaking eye contact.

“Yeah? Well, she doesn’t need you to–”

“BOTH OF YOU SHUT THE FUCK UP!” you yelled loud enough to cut through the music and all the other conversations happening around the pool. Heads turned with the rise of your voice and half of the party had their eyes locked on the three of you, but you were too far gone, and too far drunk to care.

“I am so tired of you men acting like I’m some prize you get to win!” You jabbed a finger between both of them in frustration. “I don’t fucking belong to either of you! And you..” You turned to Jude with fire in your eyes. “Stop acting like I owe you something just because I let you fuck me ONE time!”

Jude’s mouth opened, but no sound came out.

“And you..” You whipped back to Santi, who at least had the decency to look slightly guilty. “Don’t walk up here like you’re about to save me! I don’t fucking need saving!”

The silence was deafening after the read you gave them, broken only by the distant sound of water pushing against the pool edge and gossiping chatter from the crowd.

Finally, Jude ran a hand over his curls, exhaling hard through his nose. “You done?”

“Yes, I’m done! I’m never fucking you again so get it out of your thick skulled head!” you snapped and stormed off toward the house without looking back. 

Back at the lounge chairs, Kylian and Cama exchanged looks while Bri and Tasha creased in laughter.

“I don’t know whether to be scared or impressed..” Kylian shook his head in amusement.

“Definitely impressed,” Cama replied with a grin.

You stormed off down the path leading toward the house, weaving through random groups of partiers who definitely caught at least half of the argument. The adrenaline and frustration swirling around in your head had you on ten.

“Who the fuck does he think he is?” you spoke to yourself, enraged. “I fucking hate ballers. Worms for brains ass motherfuckers.”

The nerve and audacity of that man to approach you like he was owed something more than the one night you already gave him pissed you off. Your chest was filled with a fury of emotions you really didn’t want to unpack, especially not in the middle of a party where half of the crowd had probably pulled out their phones to message their group chats about what they just witnessed. As soon as you reached the back door of the house, Mateo appeared beside you out of nowhere, moving swiftly to match your quick pace.

“Girl.. what was all of that?” he asked, eyes wide with equal parts concern and curiosity.

“Nothing.” you muttered with clenched teeth, but Mateo wasn’t having it.

“Nothing? That was prime telenovela content and I need details immediately. Why did-”

“I’m never fucking Jude again,” you snapped, cutting him off before he had a chance to launch his full analysis. It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than anyone else. Mateo knew Jude having you this bothered by his presence meant you’d be rethinking that exact statement in approximately three to five business days. He’d seen it all before, so instead of pushing any further, he took one sip of his drink and gave a knowing look between you, Santiago, and Jude.

“Mmm… never say never.”

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

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

Chapter 13 - 'Locked In’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 11.4k

The night was quiet except for the faint hum of streetlights filtering through your windows, but that peace was shattered by the incessant buzz of your phone vibrating on the bedside table. You were fast asleep, but Layla, curled up next to you on the other side of your bed, was anything but. She groaned, sitting up and glaring at your phone like it had personally offended her. Finally, she snatched it up, squinting at the screen. Trent. The notifications wouldn’t stop.

‘You awake, baby?’ ‘I just landed. Miss you so much xx.’ ‘Can I come over, pretty girl.’ ‘I’m outside if you’re up.’

Layla sighed, her annoyance mixing with protectiveness. She unlocked your phone, her thumb hovering over the keyboard before finally typing back. 

‘She’s asleep. Go home.’ 

But Trent wasn’t one to take no for an answer. Ten minutes later, she heard the sound of the side door creak open, and her heart jumped. Grabbing the closest thing resembling a weapon—a high heel —she tiptoed downstairs.

“Trent,” she hissed, relief and irritation washing over her simultaneously when she saw him standing in the hallway. “What the hell?” It wasn’t uncommon for any of Jack’s friends to just let themselves in but you knew that, Layla didn’t.

“I needed to see her,” Trent said quietly, his tone apologetic but firm. Layla’s frustration boiled over. 

“Honestly…” Layla sighed, frustrated she was awake, frustrated that your relationship wasn’t ironed out yet. The scenes of you upset again and again flashed in her mind even if you had just gushed about how good London had been with Trent last night to her. “T… you need to man up, seriously!” she snapped with a groan, her voice louder than intended. She rubbed her eyes tiredly.  “You’re sneaking into her house like you’re 16, and her parents are upstairs. What are you even doing?!” He flinched at her words, but his brows furrowed in frustration. 

“Layla, what do you want me to do?” he asked, his voice tinged with defensiveness. “Things are good right now. Really good. We’re sorting it. What am I supposed to do here?”

“What do I want you to do?” Layla threw her arms up. “I want you to treat her how she’s meant to be treated!”

“I do!” Trent shot back, his voice rising slightly. But then it softened, guilt creeping in as he added, “When it’s just us…” The reality that he was a grown man sneaking around in his best mate’s house for his sister harrowing. 

“Exactly,” Layla cut him off. Both of them slightly caught off guard by how serious of a conversation they were having as the night approached morning. “When it’s just you two. But Trent, she’s not some girl you can keep in the shadows. She’s not your secret. She’s not that girl to you, and you know it.” Trent’s defenses crumbled. He looked at Layla, the weight of her words sinking in. Layla sighed, her voice trembling as she continued. “She’s been waiting for you. I’ve seen you pine after her for years. Years, Trent. And you’ve played it too cool. It’s like you don’t care.  But now you’ve got her—she’s yours, fully and completely—and you’re still making her feel like she’s not enough. Do you know how much she trusts you? She’s playing by your rules because she wants this so badly. She wants you so badly. So please, Trent…” Her voice cracked, and she took a shaky breath, tears brimming in her eyes. “Please want her back. Want her the way she deserves to be wanted.” Trent’s chest tightened as he stepped closer to Layla cautiously, the sight of her lip trembling catching him off guard. He nodded, swallowing hard. 

“I do, Lay. I swear, I do. I just—” He sighed frustrated by circumstance. 

“Then show her,” Layla interrupted, her voice soft but firm. “Show her before she convinces herself you don’t.” She told Trent heartbroken by your stupid mistake. Your decision to text Josh was solely your fault and Layla agreed but that didn’t mean she felt like Trent couldn’t have made things a little better than they had been. Still, even with her reasoning clear in her mind, she didn’t think it was her place to tell him about the message so Trent nodded again, more resolutely this time, his jaw tightening as determination flickered in his eyes. He was done hiding, done pretending this wasn’t the most important thing in his life. 

“Okay,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I will. You know… I  want her so much, Lays. I can’t even begin to put it into words,” Trent admitted, his voice raw and trembling with emotion. “I’m working on it. I promise. I’m not fucking about.” His confession hung in the air, and for a moment, Layla was stunned. The vulnerability in his voice, the sheer honesty—she couldn’t help but soften. Trent reached for her, pulling her into a hug. She resisted for a split second before melting into the embrace, her sniffle betraying her emotions.

“Okay…” she murmured, stepping back and wiping her eyes quickly, a shy giggle escaping her lips. “Alright, well… you’re here. And I know she’d want you to stay.” Trent’s face softened further, relief washing over him at her words. “Come on, then,” she said gently, grabbing his wrist and tugging him toward the staircase. “I’ll stay in the guest room.” Trent nodded, a quiet ‘Thank you’ escaping his lips. But before he could take another step, Layla turned back and narrowed her eyes at him with mock severity. “But I’ve got my eye on you, yeah?” She snapped. Trent chuckled under his breath, the tension easing slightly. So he turned and climbed the stairs, his heart pounding with every step. Layla trailed behind, her chest rising and falling with deep breaths as she silently prayed he’d get it right this time.

 “Thanks, Lay. Really.” he said, his tone soft and genuine. With that, he slowly pushed open your bedroom door, careful not to make too much noise. The room was dimly lit by the glow of your bedside lamp, and there you were, tangled in your sheets, your features peaceful in sleep. Trent’s heart clenched as he took you in, the familiar ache of longing mixed with the overwhelming warmth of being close to you again. He stepped into the room, closing the door softly behind him. Layla, standing in the hall, gave him one last look of approval before heading toward the spare room, leaving him to figure out what came next. Trent hesitated for a moment, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, his mind racing. But then he crossed the room, pulling off his jumper and trousers before slipping under the covers next to you. You stirred slightly at the shift, your brows furrowing as you felt his lips on your shoulder. You opened your eyes just enough to see him. 

“T?” you whispered, your voice groggy and laced with confusion but deluded bliss of him possibly being here. 

“Yeah, it’s me, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice a low, soothing rumble. “I missed you. I couldn’t wait to get my baby back.” You blinked a few times, the fog of sleep lifting as you registered his words. 

“You’re here?” A small, sleepy smile crept onto your face. 

“I’m here,” he confirmed, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “Go back to sleep f’me. I’m not going anywhere.” And with that, he kissed your forehead, his lips lingering against your skin as you let yourself drift back into dreams of him, in his arms. For the first time in weeks, he felt at peace.

The warmth of the morning sunlight filtered through your bedroom curtains, casting a soft golden glow across the room. The light spilled onto Trent, highlighting the sharp lines of his cheekbones, the gentle curve of his lashes, and the slight pout of his lips as he slept. He looked utterly peaceful, almost angelic, and for a moment, you just stared, letting yourself soak in the sight of him after missing him so deeply. Your chest swelled with affection, the ache of longing you'd carried melting away as you pressed a soft kiss to his bare chest. The hum of your lips against his skin made him shift slightly in his sleep, his arm tightening instinctively around you. Smiling to yourself, you moved closer, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck, the scent of his skin filling your senses. You couldn't resist the temptation to pepper light, feathery kisses along his neck, lingering in the sensitive spot just below his ear. You nibbled gently, and his breathing hitched, his body stirring beneath you as his eyelashes fluttered. You smirked against his skin. Trent could feel the curl of your plump lips against him. He was drowsily confused but comforted by it. Trent stirred slightly at your touch, his muscles tensing beneath your lips. But it all became clear when your kisses started to get a bit heavier as you moved down his neck to his collarbone. Your hands grazed over his body and down his abs until you began to play with the waistband of his boxers. You slid your hand under it and Trent groaned.

"Good morning, baby," he murmured, his voice rough with sleep. His eyes flicked open, and for a moment, he simply gazed at you, his expression filled with adoration. "Did you sleep well?"

"Mmm, better than well," you replied, your voice husky with desire. "I had the best dream about you." Trent's lips curved into a playful smirk, and he pulled you closer, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. 

"Oh yeah? What kind of dream?" He purred.  You giggled, feeling a bit shy but excited to share the cheeky dream you had last night with him. 

"The kind where you couldn't keep your hands off me," you whispered, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. "Where you kissed me all over." Trent's breath hitched as you spoke, and you could feel his desire rising. His hands began to roam over your body, tracing the curves of your hips and waist, making you shiver with anticipation. 

"I can make that dream come true, you know," he said, his voice low and seductive.

"Oh, really?" you teased, looking up at him through your lashes. "And what about my dream where I was moaning your name?" You cooed. Trent's eyes darkened with desire, and he pressed his body against yours, his erection straining against your thigh. 

"I can make that happen too, baby. I love hearing you say my name." His words sent a thrill through your body, and you couldn't resist any longer. "Please, T," you begged, your voice breathless as you began to grind your core on top of his hardening cock. His lips pressed into yours for a suffocating kiss. Your body laid flush against his as you made out, laying completely overtop of him. You sat back up on his lap, straddling his waist and your tits bounced in a mesmerizing way that had Trent immediately following you up, pulling your tank top over your head swiftly.  You were gasping out a moan when his free hand came up to play with your nipples. 

“Oh my god, s-shit, that feels so good, baby.” You whined as his lips came around one of your nipples swiftly, his tongue flicking back and forth over it, surrounding it. Attending to one and then the other, swapping his mouth for his hand and his hand for his mouth. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me." You begged. Trent's eyes smoldered with passion as he positioned himself between your folds. 

"You're so needy for me, baby," he growled, his voice thick with need. "You want me to come right inside? So wet f’me already." He rattled off words but you had a hard time listening after he lined his cock up with your entrance, lifting your ass up and guided you to sink down taking all of him immediately. You were so wet it was seamless but the minimal foreplay made for pleasurable pain from the stretch of him. “You’re such good girl f’me. You okay, baby?”  You nodded and started to ride him after adjusting a little. It felt so good you could feel the knot in your stomach form almost immediately. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure, as he thrusted in a slow, deliberate rhythm upward. His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open as he moved into you again and again. "Fuck, you feel so good," he grunted, his breath hot against your neck.

“So fucking good." You moaned in response, your nails digging into his shoulders as you urged him on.  Before he hooked his arm under your thigh, flipping you over, to be underneath him.

"Harder, T," you pleaded. "Please, fuck me harder." You begged. He obliged, his movements becoming more urgent, his hips slamming into yours as he pounded into your core. The sound of skin slapping against skin and your moans filled the room. Trent's dominant nature took over, and he pinned your wrists above your head, holding you down as he claimed your body.

"You like it rough, don't you, baby?" he panted, his eyes locked with yours. "You love it when I take control."

"Yeah, fuck," you cried out, your body trembling on the edge of release. Trent's thrusts became even more intense, his body a blur of motion as he drove into you with abandon. His free hand reached down, finding your clit, and began to rub it in circles, sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body. You practically yelled as Trent hit your g-spot hard and fast, again and again and again. You could hear just how wet you were as your walls clamped around him tighter. The knot in your stomach was coming undone quicker than you expected this morning. You tried to put your hand over your mouth to muffle your moans knowing Layla was in the house but he wasn’t having that. He held your hands above you with restraint as he continued to fuck you. 

“Wanna hear how good I’m making you feel, baby.” He whispered against your neck before biting your sensitive skin only pulling another, louder, moan from you. 

“T…” you whined. “Please, I’m so close, I’m so… f-fuck!… I’m so close.” You told him squeezing your eyes shut as you started to feel your orgasm approaching. He was so deep inside that you could feel every ridge and vein. 

“Shit, just wait a little bit for me, beautiful. You can do it. Yeah? Just a little more for me. Take it like a good girl.” Trent struggled to get the words out as your pussy started to clench tighter around him. One of his large hands drew back down your body in between you two and began rubbing circles on your throbbing clit again. Your mind turned to mush. His thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier and harsher. 

“You’re such a good girl, f’me. Cum f’me now, baby. Cum all over my cock, yeah? I’m gonna fill you up, baby. Make a fucking mess on my cock while I fill you up.” Trent babbled as you came, your body aching, your eyes squeezing shut tighter again. You were gasping as Trent fucked you into your high.

“T…baby” you moaned, feeling his release painting your insides. Your body tightened, every muscle coiling with tension, and then you exploded, crying out his name as your orgasm ripped through you, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he emptied himself deep within you.

“That’s my good girl…” he said as he pumped you full of his cum extending the pleasure of your high. He laid on top of you completely spent as you both breathed heavily. Every part of Trent was so unfairly pretty you just laid there admiring every inch unable to move not just from his physical weight atop you but the weight he seemed to have on your heart.  For a moment, you both laid there, panting and sweaty, your hearts racing in unison. Trent released your wrists and cuddled into your neck, his weight pressing you into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close, feeling his heart pounding against yours.

"That was so good baby," he whispered, his lips brushing your ear. You smiled, contentment washing over you.  He lifted his head, his brown eyes sparkling with affection. The morning had been nothing short of perfection. You and Trent lay tangled in the soft sheets, basking in the afterglow, your bodies warm and completely at ease. The sunlight spilled over you both, illuminating the intimate serenity of the moment. Trent had his arms draped lazily over you, his face nuzzled into the crook of your neck, planting lazy kisses along your shoulder. You couldn't help but smile, running your fingers over his messy morning curls you relished the quiet intimacy. But peace never lasted long in your world. The sound of your bedroom door creaking open made you tense. Before you could react, Layla strode in, her presence unbothered and entirely too casual considering the situation.

"Okay, time's up," she declared, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed and a smug smile. "I gave you your morning glory. Lovely to hear, by the way. Really enjoyed listening along." Her sarcastic tone was laced with amusement, her smirk widening when you groaned in embarrassment.

"Layla!" you hissed, sitting up quickly and grabbing the blanket to cover yourself. Trent, however, didn't move much-if anything, he tightened his hold on you, pulling you back against his chest as he rested his chin on your shoulder.

"What? I'm just being a good friend," she said, shrugging innocently. "Jack said he'd be back soon, so, you know..." She trailed off, raising her eyebrows pointedly.

"How do you even know that?" you asked, narrowing your eyes at her.

"Oh, I checked your iMessages," she replied breezily, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Lovely," you shot back, your voice dripping with sarcasm. You couldn't help but laugh, though, despite yourself. Layla always had a way of invading your space and somehow making you laugh while doing it.

"Up to you guys," she said with a grin, throwing Trent's T-shirt at him. "Just thought you'd want to know. No pressure." As she turned to leave, Trent finally shifted, his arms still wrapped around you as he sat up straighter. Instead of making any effort to move, though, he pressed his lips to your neck with a low hum. 

"Mmm, just want more of you," he murmured against your skin, his voice still husky from the morning. Layla paused in the doorway, turning back to glance at the two of you. She rolled her eyes dramatically, her expression a mix of exasperation and amusement. 

"You've ruined him, you know that, right?" she said, addressing you directly with a slight giggle. "Trent Alexander-Arnold, reduced to a lovesick puppy. Honestly, it's amazing, and I love you for it." You laughed, shaking your head as Trent grumbled something incoherent into your neck, clearly uninterested in Layla's commentary.

"Alright, I'm out," she announced, holding up her hands in mock surrender. "Just don't say I didn't warn you when Jack comes storming in." And as she left, you looked over at Trent, who finally pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. His smile was lazy, but the way he looked at you was full of warmth.

"She's not wrong, you know," he murmured, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face.

"About Jack storming in?" you teased, arching an eyebrow. He chuckled, shaking his head.

 "No. About me being completely ruined by you." He kissed you then, soft and lingering, as if to prove his point. And as you melted into him, you decided that if this was being ruined, you wouldn't have it any other way.

The morning felt bittersweet as Trent darted out of your house, leaving behind the warm intimacy you’d shared. You sighed, lying back in bed, wishing things were easier. Wishing you could just wake up together, make breakfast, and spend the day entwined without the looming threat of Jack finding out. The secrecy weighed heavy, and as much as you understood why, it didn’t make it any less frustrating. You were still lost in thought when your phone buzzed, breaking you out of your melancholy. Trent’s name lit up the screen, and you answered almost immediately.

“Hi,” you murmured sweetly but not trying not to sound too eager.

“Get ready f’me,” he said, his voice warm and certain. “I’ll be there in half an hour to pick you up, yeah?” Your heart lifted at his words, a wave of relief flooding through your chest. It felt like the distance between you two, however short-lived, was unbearable now. You couldn’t be without him anymore—not even for a morning. Thirty minutes later, you were stepping out the door, butterflies flitting in your stomach as Trent pulled into the driveway. When you climbed into the passenger seat, your eyes widened in surprise—on the center console beside you was a bouquet of flowers, fresh and colorful, wrapped in brown paper.

“For you,” he said with a grin, his dimple showing as he glanced your way. You smiled, your fingers brushing over the soft petals. 

“Thank you, they’re beautiful.” You giggled. 

“You’re beautiful,” he countered smoothly, leaning over to press a quick kiss to your cheek before putting the car in gear. As he pulled out of the driveway, you glanced back toward your house, relieved to have snuck out just before Jack got back. The thrill of sneaking around should have been nerve-wracking, but all you could focus on was the way Trent’s hand drifted over to rest on your thigh, his thumb stroking lazy circles as he drove. And as the car sped down the quiet streets, you felt a flicker of hope—hope that, for a little while at least, you could have exactly what you wanted. Just you and him, no secrets, no interruptions, just the two of you stealing moments that felt like forever.

The soft rustle of the morning breeze and the gentle lapping of water against the docks set the scene for a moment you hadn’t dared to imagine. You felt the brisk wind off the water nip at your skin, but it was Trent’s warmth beside you that anchored you. His hand firmly in yours, fingers interwoven, you leaned against his shoulder, letting your worries melt away for just a little while. The bouquet of flowers lay on the bench beside you, a vibrant contrast to the stillness of the scene. They were beautiful, fragrant, and entirely unexpected—much like him returning this morning and whisking you away. You hadn’t said much since he’d picked you up, but there was no need. The silence wasn’t awkward. It was comforting, filled with the weight of unsaid emotions and the mutual understanding that neither of you wanted to be apart anymore. Trent shifted slightly, turning his body toward you. His large, warm hand cupped your cheek, and his thumb brushed against your skin. You looked up at him, and his brown eyes softened in a way that made your heart skip.

“Gimme a kiss,” he murmured, his voice low and sweet, filled with a tenderness that made your chest ache. You hesitated, your eyes darting around the empty docks, fear flickering in the back of your mind. 

“What if someone sees?” you whispered, voice laced with worry. His thumb stilled, and a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned closer, his eyes never leaving yours as he spoke. 

“Then they see me with my girl,” he said softly, his voice steady and sure, grounding you in a way only he could. And just like that, your doubts vanished. Trent closed the small distance between you, and the world seemed to stop. His lips met yours, and it was everything. It wasn’t rushed or hesitant. It was steady and confident, yet gentle. His lips moved with a purpose, and you felt the depth of his feelings in every second. It wasn’t just a kiss—it was an unspoken promise, a declaration of how much he cared. The warmth of his hand on your cheek, the faint scent of his cologne mingling with the salt in the air, the sunlight catching his skin—it all came together in a moment that felt too perfect to be real. When he finally pulled back, his eyes lingered on you, his hands still cradling your face like you were something fragile, something precious. He looked at you like you were the only thing that mattered. “You’re so beautiful, baby” he whispered, almost to himself, as if he couldn’t believe it. Your cheeks flushed, and you couldn’t help the shy smile that spread across your lips. For the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel the need to hide, to worry, to second-guess what this was. In that moment, it was just you and Trent—no secrets, no complications, just you and the boy who made you feel like the center of the universe. The weight of his words settled heavily in your chest, warming you in a way you hadn’t expected. Trent’s voice was soft but firm, filled with an urgency you rarely heard from him. His hand lingered on your thigh, grounding you as you tried to process everything he was saying.

“I know it’s been shitty,” he started again, his tone apologetic but resolute, his gaze fixed on yours. “And I know this doesn’t fix the hiding or make it all better, but…” He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small blue box that instantly caught your attention. Your breath hitched as he held it out to you. “Before you say I didn’t have to, or that it’s too much, blah blah,” he teased lightly, “I did have to. I needed to, because I want you to know that I’m locked in with you. Alright?” His voice cracked slightly at the end, betraying the emotions he was working so hard to steady. Tears threatened to spill as you tried to steady yourself.  Guilt about texting Josh refusing to leave your mind, but leaving this moment wasn’t an option either.

“I know… we’re just figuring it out,” you mumbled, your voice thick with emotion.

“Yeah, I know, baby. And I’m sorry we are,” he said, leaning closer and brushing his thumb along the back of your hand. “But please, you gotta trust me here. I know what I want. I want you. None of the games. None of the hiding. We’ll get there, yeah? Just stay with me.” His forehead pressed gently against yours as his words sunk in, and the lump in your throat grew heavier. 

“Promise?” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears began to fall.

“I promise,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of conviction. His eyes locked onto yours, and for a moment, it felt like the entire world had stilled. “I’ve got us, yeah?” You nodded, unable to speak, tears slipping down your cheeks as he reached up to brush them away with a soft hum.

“Want to open that for me, please?” he cooed, his voice gentle but encouraging. Your hands shook as you took the box from him, its weight both literal and symbolic. The unmistakable Tiffany blue sent your heart racing, and as you opened the lid, the sunlight caught on the diamonds of a delicate lock bracelet inside. It was breathtaking, sparkling like a thousand tiny stars.

“T…” you began, your voice catching in your throat as you tried to tell him it was too much, that he didn’t have to do this. But Trent was already shaking his head, cutting you off before you could even start. 

“Nah, stop, baby. I told you. I don’t want to hear it.” His tone was gentle but unwavering. “I just need you to know—I’m locked in. I’m in. Completely.” His eyes searched yours, and the intensity of his gaze made your heart feel like it might burst. You wanted to say so much, to tell him everything you felt, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you nodded, a tearful smile breaking through as you slipped the bangle onto your wrist. The cool metal was a perfect fit, a constant reminder of everything he was saying, of everything he promised.

“I love it,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Baby… you know, I…” You sighed and took a deep breath. You wanted to tell him so bad. You looked at him and your heart hurt. You loved him. You really did but the words wouldn’t come out. “I really want this.” you said. You finally got out some words though they weren’t the ones you wanted, the ones he deserved.

“I really want this,” he echoed without hesitation, his voice soft but sure, as if he’d been waiting to say it for so long. Slowly, you reached for him, your hands trembling as you cupped his face. And as Trent leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss filled with all the love and promises you could ever need, you knew this moment would stay with you forever.

Trent shifted in his seat at the kitchen island in your kitchen, drumming his fingers nervously on the surface. The air between you both was tense but charged with unspoken words, the kind that made the small space of the kitchen feel overwhelmingly intimate despite the island separating you. He wanted you closer, but for now, he settled for stealing glances at you, his smirk betraying the cool demeanor he was trying so hard to maintain. Jack, however, was completely oblivious to the undercurrent.

“That’s massive, bro,” he said, grinning about the Premier League Awards invite Trent had just thrown out. “You sure you want me to come? Big moment for you, lad.” He looked at Trent excitedly. 

“I mean… yeah, I’m asking mate. I’d love you to come with,” Trent replied casually, leaning back in his chair with a shrug. “It’s on the 17th…” He cooed and Jack’s brow furrowed. “Oh shit… is that when you’re flying out? What was it again? You’d be in Amsterdam?” The mention of Jack’s work trip to Amsterdam lit a fire in his eyes. His excitement briefly overshadowed his disappointment. 

“Damn, you’re right. I can’t get out of that either.” He tapped the countertop, considering. Trent feigned a disappointed sigh, though inside, he was quietly relieved. Actually, this was all a very carefully thought out plan.

 “Yeah, shame, man. Would’ve been a laugh.” Then, almost as an afterthought—though it was anything but—he looked at you. “Y/N, you wanna come along instead? Could be fun.” He delivered it with a casual smirk, his tone light, but his eyes betrayed him. They were focused, watching you carefully, measuring your reaction. Your heart skipped a beat. The idea of a night out with Trent, no hiding, no excuses, even if it was in a sea of strangers, had your pulse racing. But you knew better than to seem too eager. Shrugging, you leaned casually against the counter. 

“Eh…” You let your words trail off, pretending to consider. Jack scoffed, his expression incredulous. “What is it?” You asked, acting as if you hadn’t been clinging to every word that was said. 

“End of Season Prem Awards, Y/N.  What’s with the hesitation? Trenty’s asking you to an event, don’t be ungrateful about it.” He cooed, pinching between your neck and your shoulders as he moved past you. 

“I don’t know,” you teased, dragging it out just enough to keep Trent on edge. Jack rolled his eyes and threw up his hands. 

“Nah, you’re going. You’re not saying no to this. Go, seriously.” Jack doubled down. Trent had played his best friend and as cynical as it was, he wanted you over anything. You glanced at Trent, whose smirk had widened just enough to tell you he knew you were playing along. 

“Okay, yeah, I’ll go,” you said, a small smile breaking through as you tried to contain the excitement bubbling under your skin. As soon as the words left your mouth, something shifted in the room. Jack looked between the two of you, a flicker of confusion passing across his face. The realization that you and Trent would be attending a formal event together—alone—began to settle uncomfortably in his mind.

“Wait…” Jack started, narrowing his eyes at you. “That’s kind of… weird, innit?” His gaze shifting and then landing on Trent, his brow furrowed.  

“What’s weird?” you asked, your voice light and nonchalant.

“I don’t know. You two going together. Like, I get it—it’s fine. But…” Jack trailed off, his brows staying knitted. Trent leaned forward, his elbows on the counter, expertly diffusing the tension. 

“Mate, she’s a better date than you anyway. Less hassle, more fun. Trust me.” He laughed.  Jack let out a chuckle, shaking his head. 

“Whatever, man. Just don’t let her ruin your night.” He snipped with a teasing smirk to you. 

Trent shifted uncomfortably in his chair, Tyler’s words weighing heavily on him. The invitation to the awards open on the laptop in front of them, but he hadn’t been able to focus on it for the past ten minutes. He leaned back, running a hand over his face. Tyler had asked who Trent was bringing and since then… it had gone tense.  

“Just Jack’s sister,” he muttered bitterly, more to himself than Tyler, though the words hung awkwardly in the air. They tasted wrong. You were so much more than that, and the way he said it made him cringe. Tyler leaned forward, his eyebrows raised.

“Your best mate’s sister… who you’re fucking,” he repeated with pointed emphasis, his tone making it clear there was no skirting around the truth. Trent groaned and shook his head, letting his hands fall to his lap. 

“Nah, bro, you’re making it sound horrible. Like I’m sneaking around or something.” Tyler shot him a skeptical look. 

“But you are sneaking around, aren’t you?” he pressed. “Mate, if Jack finds out from someone else—and you know he will—it’s going to be so much worse. You’re dragging this out, and it’s only going to hurt him more.” Trent stared at the table, chewing on the inside of his cheek. Tyler wasn’t wrong. This whole situation had been gnawing at him for weeks, actualyl months. He thought about how easy it was to get caught up in the moments with you, how right it felt when he was with you, and how much harder it was to deal with the reality of keeping it all hidden.

“I know, bro,” he admitted quietly. His voice carried the weight of his guilt. “I know I need to tell him. I’m just—” 

“Scared?” Tyler offered bluntly. Trent shot him a sharp look, but there was no point denying it. 

“Yeah,” he admitted after a long pause. “I don’t want to lose Jack over this. But I can't lose her either.” Tyler’s expression softened, though his tone stayed firm. 

“You’ve got to stop living in limbo, mate. If she means as much to you as I think she does, it’s time to step up. Jack’s gonna be pissed, yeah, but he’ll get over it. You’re not just some random lad messing about with his sister.” Trent nodded, his fingers tapping against the edge of the table. 

“I’m in, Ty. I’m in so deep. I’m so serious about her. I even told her, I’m locked in.” He cooed sincerely. 

“Then act like it,” Tyler said simply. He glanced back at the screen, highlighting your name on the spreadsheet. “You want me to put ‘+1’ or her name? It’s your call.” Trent exhaled deeply, the weight of the decision sinking in. Finally, he leaned forward, typing your name into the guest list himself.

“She’s not just a +1,” he muttered, more to himself than Tyler. Tyler smiled knowingly. 

“Good. Then go make sure you’ve got a plan for Jack, mate. Because you’re running out of time.” He expectedly looked at Trent as if he needed to move this second. 

It was one of the last games of the season. Manchester United against Liverpool. Or Trent versus Josh essentially. You sat at your house watching with Layla. You could’ve gone, Jack and Noah had, but you gave some lame excuse. You said it was a stomach bug or something, which was a lie, except right now, your stomach did hurt. It hurt at the idea of Trent and Josh interacting, even if it was only on the pitch. Time ticked on and then suddenly the game on TV escalated rapidly, tension boiling over as the camera zoomed in on a confrontation. Trent and Josh were chest-to-chest, a referee stepping in but doing little to separate them. You could see the heated words exchanged between them. You could barely read their lips but that didn’t stop you from trying. Layla’s calm façade faltered as she sat up straighter, pulling her hand from yours to clutch a cushion tightly. 

“Oh, God, this is bad,” she muttered.

“Layla, what if they—” your voice cracked, the words catching in your throat as your pulse quickened.

“It’s fine. It’s fine. They won’t actually fight, its part of the game,” she reassured you, though her tone betrayed her nerves. But then Josh yanked Trent’s shirt, and Trent shoved him back harder than before, both of them glaring daggers at each other. Your stomach dropped. 

“Layla, I can’t—” you began, tears pricking your eyes as you watched the referee blow his whistle.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Layla reached for your hand again, her own trembling now. “They’re just hyped up, you know how football is. Adrenaline and all that, yeah? Nothing’s gonna happen. Right?” She glanced nervously back at the screen. The crowd erupted. The commentators were buzzing about how uncharacteristic the scuffle was for Trent, emphasizing how composed he usually was on the field. “Not today, apparently,” Layla muttered under her breath, her attempt at humor falling flat. When Trent finally walked away, shaking his head, you exhaled sharply, realizing you’d been holding your breath. But your relief was short-lived.  Your heart raced as the match resumed. But your mind was no longer on the game—it was on Trent. You reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you debated whether to text him or wait.

“What are you doing?” Layla asked, her voice low but laced with concern.

“I—I don’t know,” you stammered. “I just need to know he’s okay. What Josh said.” Layla sighed, pulling you into a side hug.

“He’ll be fine, babe. As much as it might be about you, it might not be. It’s part of the game. Let him come to you. You need to breathe, okay? Let’s just get through this match, and then we’ll figure out what to do.” You nodded hesitantly, leaning into her as the match continued. But your focus remained glued to Trent every time the camera panned to him, his expression hard, his jaw clenched. You knew this wasn’t just about football. And you had no idea how much worse things could get.

Down on the field, the tension was palpable. Josh smirked, leaning in just enough for Trent to hear, his voice dripping with venom. 

“What’s it like taking my sloppy seconds, bro?” Josh snipped shoving Trent trying to get him to break. And break he did. Trent’s jaw tightened, his hands balling into fists at his sides. He stared straight through Josh, his voice low and cutting. 

“She dipped because you could find the goal before you found a clit and you haven’t score since 2010.”  Trent snapped. Josh’s grin faltered for a moment, but then he shrugged it off, laughing bitterly. 

“Whatever, mate. You know she hit me up the other week, right? Guess your shit date night didn’t go so well, huh.” He smugly smiled. Trent saw red, shoving Josh hard, sending him stumbling backward. Trent couldn’t believe Josh knew about the date, Trent couldn’t believe you texted him. He was livid.

“Fuck off, bro,” he spat, his voice louder now, drawing the attention of the referee, who immediately ran over to break it up. The ref got between them, issuing warnings, but the fire in Trent’s eyes didn’t extinguish. He was fuming, but he let it go—for now.

The game stayed nil, nil into the half but the tensions were high, if not higher with every passing second making you more nervous. Your chin rested on your knees, your eyes flicking between the screen and the clock, before you gave in and buried your forehead against your legs, too anxious to watch the second half unfold. The commentators’ voices boomed through the speakers, heightening your sense of dread. Layla sat next to you silenced by the tension. The clock was running down, dipping into the 80th minute, and you couldn’t help but feel the nerves crawling through your skin. And then the game shifted. Trent surged down the right wing, perfectly timing his run to meet a cross. With one fluid motion, he sent the ball rocketing into the back of the net. Then suddenly, you heard it—Alexander-Arnold, goal in the 81st minute!  Your head snapped up, eyes wide with disbelief. You blinked, and there he was, Trent, sprinting towards the sideline, arms outstretched, his face lit up with a smile so wide it made your heart soar. The entire stadium erupted around him, but all you could focus on was the way that smile dropped.  He slowed his run as he pointed to the camera gesturing for it to come with a finger. He bent down, grabbed it with both hands, and pressed a deliberate, lingering kiss onto the lens. Trent wasn’t just celebrating the goal he was claiming you. Back at home, the living room erupted.

“OH MY GOD!” Layla screamed, jumping up from the couch.

“Oh my fucking God! What was that! Did he just… Oh my fucking God” you shrieked, clutching her arm as you both lost it. The commentators on TV were stunned. 

“What a moment from Trent Alexander-Arnold! A goal to remember, and a statement, it seems!”

“Fuck off!” She squealed. “Did he just—” Layla turned to you, wide-eyed, her mouth hanging open. 

“He did,” you said breathlessly, heart pounding as you stared at the screen. On the field, Trent jogged back to his team, his smirk undeniable, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. You couldn’t stop smiling, your chest full to bursting. It wasn’t just a goal. It was a message—and it was for you.

After the game, Jack and Noah caught up with Trent. The post-match energy was still buzzing, but both of them were visibly curious about the heated exchange on the field and the subsequent goal.

“Mate… what a goal….” Jack told him with a brotherly grab of his shoulder shaking Trent. 

“Thanks bro.” Trent said, shaking his head as he came down from the high of it all. 

“Wild celly I won’t lie… new girl’s got you thinking about her even during the 90… damn.” Noah laughed, dapping him up. Trent hummed as he stretched with an exhale trying not to think about the comment. “Yo, but also…what was all that about?” Noah asked, his brow furrowed. Trent leaned back against the wall, running a hand over his face. 

“What d’you mean?” he muttered, already knowing exactly what they meant.

“The beef with Josh,” Noah clarified. “I mean, the kid’s a fucking prick, we all know that but why were you going at him like that?” He asked earnestly.  Trent clenched his jaw, shaking his head sharply. 

“Fuck him, bro,” he snapped. “Lad’s got no respect.” Jack, more amused than concerned, chimed in. 

“Did he say something about Y/N?” he asked casually, not thinking much of it. At the mention of your name, Trent’s stomach tightened. He avoided Jack’s eyes, his voice clipped. 

“He just… I don’t know, man. He was talking shit. That’s all.” Noah exchanged a glance with Jack, sensing there was more to it, but they didn’t press further. 

“Well, whatever,” Noah shrugged. “You got the last word with that goal anyway. Loved the kiss, by the way—real humble,” he added with a smirk. Trent forced a chuckle, but his mind was spinning. The memory of Josh’s smug grin and his claim echoed in his head: You know she hit me up the other week? Was he lying? Or worse—was he telling the truth? Had you texted Josh? The thought made Trent’s chest burn with jealousy. He was fuming now, not just at Josh but at the idea of you reaching out to someone who clearly didn’t deserve your attention. He barely heard Jack or Noah’s conversation as they walked off. His fists clenched at his sides. He knew he had to talk to you, but how could he ask without revealing his own insecurities—or worse, giving away what he’d overheard?

The evening had settled into a calm rhythm before everything unraveled. You and Layla had been curled up on the couch, half-watching TV and half-chatting about nothing in particular post game. The dim lighting in the room was soft and comforting, the faint hum of the house settling around you. It had been quiet since your eruption after the goal and even more so that Jack and Noah were out, leaving you with the freedom to breathe, to just exist without the weight of secrets pressing on you. But that peace didn’t last long. The headlights pulling into the driveway were the first signal. You heard the crunch of gravel beneath tires, and you instinctively glanced out the window, expecting Jack and Noah. Sure enough, you saw their figures stepping out of the car, their laughter faintly audible even from inside. You relaxed slightly—until the second set of headlights came into view, illuminating the driveway behind them. Your stomach dropped.Layla noticed the change in your posture instantly. Her eyebrows furrowed as she turned to follow your gaze. When she saw the familiar car pulling in, her expression shifted from curiosity to quiet understanding. She placed a hand on your arm.

“It’s fine,” she said softly, though her voice wavered just enough to betray her own unease. “Jack and Noah are here. It’s not like anything can happen.” You wanted to believe her, but the guilt and fear bubbling inside you were too loud to ignore. Trent’s car came to a stop, and you saw his silhouette as he stepped out, his movements as measured and deliberate as always. The sight of him—a figure so familiar yet so out of place in this setting—sent a wave of emotions crashing over you. The front door opened, and Noah’s voice boomed into the room, full of excitement and energy. 

“You watch the match?!” he called out, his grin wide as he kicked off his shoes. Layla laughed, turning to greet him with her usual warmth. 

“We did. Good win,” she said lightly, glancing at you to see if you would add anything. But you couldn’t bring yourself to speak, your focus entirely on the sound of footsteps approaching behind Noah. Jack entered next, his face slightly flushed from the chill outside, and he immediately zeroed in on you. 

“Feeling any better?” he asked, his tone softer than usual. He wraped an arm around you in a loose hug. You hummed a vague response, trying to keep your expression neutral, though your heart was hammering in your chest. Jack let go of you with a playful shove. “We’re doing a fire out back. Trenty’s behind us if you’re interested in joining,” he said casually, grabbing a few things from the kitchen before heading toward the patio. The mention of Trent’s name made your breath hitch, and Layla squeezed your hand again, offering a reassuring smile. 

“Come on,” she said, trying to pull you toward the back door. But before you could move, the air in the room shifted, turning cold and charged all at once. Trent stepped inside. He scanned the room quickly, his expression carefully composed, but his eyes lingered on you for just a second too long. Layla greeted him first, her voice light but distant. She didn’t approach him, though, and her hesitance only made the tension thicker. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at him directly, instead busying yourself with an offer to help Jack outside. But Trent’s presence was impossible to ignore, no matter how hard you tried. The tension in the room was almost palpable as Trent stepped inside. His tall frame filled the doorway, and though his expression was neutral, you could feel the weight of his gaze land on you. Your heart thudded in your chest as you grabbed a stack of plates, pretending to be entirely preoccupied with Jack’s vague instructions about bringing something for the firepit. Layla gave Trent a polite smile, her hand still loosely wrapped around yours, but she didn’t make a move toward him. She knew better. The room felt like it was holding its breath, and you could sense her hesitance—like one wrong move would make everything unravel.

“What a fucking game though,” Noah said, breaking the silence, his voice loud and boisterous. He clapped Trent on the back with a grin. “Got United rattled, mate.” Trent smirked faintly, nodding. 

“Yeah, good to get the three points,” he replied, his tone calm, though his eyes kept darting back to you. Jack turned to look at him with an amused expression. 

“About time you lot did them in,” he teased, grabbing himself a beer and heading toward the back door. “Come on. Let’s get a fire going.” Layla nudged you gently, her fingers squeezing yours in silent encouragement. 

“You’re good,” she whispered, low enough that only you could hear. But the words felt hollow as Trent lingered by the door, letting everyone else pass him by. He didn’t move. He stayed there, waiting, his presence impossible to ignore. His eyes bore into yours, silently begging for even a sliver of your attention. You glanced at him briefly, feeling the pull, but you couldn’t—not here, not now. The risk was too high. So you stepped out onto the patio, the cool night air hit you like a wave of relief, but it did little to calm the storm raging in your chest. Layla followed close behind, her concerned gaze flitting between you and the door, where Trent still stood just inside. It wasn’t going to be an easy night. You could feel it in your bones.

The lights from the backyard flickered against the walls of the dimly lit living room, casting warm shadows that did nothing to ease the ice-cold tension between you and Trent. You could still hear muffled laughter outside, the crackling fire, the clinking of bottles as Jack and Noah carried on with, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing inside, Layla beside them very aware that after you had tucked inside, Trent followed. But here, in the suffocating space of the house, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. Trent stood before you, shoulders squared, chest heaving as though he had just run the length of the pitch. He had cornered you, not letting your game of avoidance carry on. His face was taut, his usually soft eyes hardened with fury. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen him like this—if you ever had.

“Did you text him?” he asked, his voice low but razor-sharp, cutting through the silence like a knife. You blinked, his words barely registering as you scrambled to think of what to say, how to diffuse the situation. His intensity made your heart race, panic rising in your chest. 

“I…” Your voice came out in a whisper, trembling under his piercing gaze.

“Did you text him?” he demanded again, louder this time, his voice echoing in the room as he stepped closer. His towering frame loomed over you, and for the first time, you felt truly small in his presence.

“Yes,” you admitted, the word falling from your lips like a stone, heavy and cold. You watched as Trent’s jaw tightened, his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he shut his eyes tight trying to compose himself as rage washed over him. 

“Why?” he snapped, his tone laced with disbelief, his voice shaking. “Why the fuck would you do that, Y/N?” He asked you for the third time but this each time hurting more then the last. 

“I—” You tried to find the words, but they caught in your throat, your mind scrambling to explain something you could barely justify to yourself. “I thought you… I thought you were like him,” you finally blurted out, the words spilling out in a rush before you could stop them. Trent froze, his expression shifting from anger to something more devastating. He stepped back as if your words had physically struck him, his head shaking slowly. You weren’t sure why you resorted to texting Josh in the heat of seeing Trent’s instagram. Maybe it was past trauma. You imagined if he was around girls in a club like Jack had said, maybe he’d act how Josh used to, how you felt you would always be treated. 

“You thought I was like him?” he repeated, his voice quieter now but filled with incredulity, his brow furrowing in pain. “Are you mad? I would never be fucking like that prick. I honestly can’t believe you think I’d ever be similar to that fucking lad.” His voice cracked slightly, his breath hitching as he raked a hand over his hair. He was so beyond offended. “I’d never treat you like he did. I never have, I never would. That’s so fucked up Y/N.” You opened your mouth to respond, to explain but no words came out. The weight of his hurt, the betrayal in his voice, rendered you speechless. “You want him?” Trent asked suddenly, his voice rising again, anger flaring back to life. “Go fucking be with him then!” he shouted, his tone sharp enough to make you flinch.

“T,” you sobbed, the tears spilling over now, your chest heaving as you struggled to catch your breath. “It was just a text. I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking—I didn’t mean it like that. Please.” Trent shook his head, stepping back as if to put more space between you. He was pacing now, his hand running over his face as he tried to process what you’d just said. Outside the fire burned, and as Layla, Jack, and Noah watched the wood go up in flames, you watched your relationship do just the same.   

“It’s not just a text to me!” he yelled, his voice cracking slightly.  “Do you know what it’s like to protect you from that piece of shit? Just for you to then go and pull this shit? To risk it all and give you everything I can—everything except for one fucking thing I asked for your patience with – one thing I’m fucking working on — and you go and text him?” You could hear the pain in his voice now, underneath the anger, and it broke you even further. “Why is it only my job to get this to work? How come you’re able to just sit back… you complain when we’re out, you complain when we’re in…” Trent grunted out of frustration. He just couldn’t fucking handle it anymore. 

 “T, I’m sorry,” you cried, your voice shaking as you stepped toward him, desperate to close the distance between you. “I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I didn’t think—”

“That’s the problem,” Trent interrupted harshly, his tone cutting you off. “You didn’t think. You’re so ready to fucking throw this all to the wind. You didn’t think about me, about us. About everything I’ve done to try to make this work, everything you’ve done. I told you at the dock… I told you.” You took a deep breath as his voice trembled. He was fighting back tears. “ I told you I was locked in. Did that not mean anything to you? Do you just not care?” His words hit you like a slap, and your knees felt weak under the weight of his anger. 

“I do.” You sobbed. “If meant everything.” Your tears bordering on hysterics. “I know I fucked up,” you whispered, your voice barely audible in between gasping breaths and tears as you wrapped your arms around yourself, trying to hold yourself together.

“No,” Trent said firmly, his voice low but resolute. “This isn’t how you handle problems. You gotta fucking grow up. I’m here, I said I’m here and I’m doing what I can but it’s starting to feel like that will never be enough for you so what the fuck do you want, Y/N… ” The finality of his words left you breathless, your chest heaving as you tried to fight back the sobs threatening to break free. Trent stared at you for a moment longer, his jaw tense, his eyes flickering with emotions you couldn’t name. Then, without another word, he turned and left the room, the sound of his footsteps echoing through the house back outside.

“You.” You whimpered hating yourself more than you ever had.  The moment the door closed behind him, the dam broke. You sank to the floor, your knees giving out as sobs wracked your body. The cold metal of the bracelet he gave you burned against your skin. Every ounce of tension, fear, and guilt you’d been holding in came flooding out, leaving you a trembling mess on the cold, hard floor. The laughter and chatter from outside felt like a cruel mockery of your pain, the warmth of the bonfire and the camaraderie of friends so far removed from the storm raging inside you. You didn’t know how long you stayed there, your tears soaking into the sleeves of your sweater as you tried to catch your breath. All you knew was that Trent’s words kept echoing in your mind, louder and louder until they drowned out everything else: You gotta grow up. You gotta grow up.

When you finally pulled yourself together you just stayed inside, not wanting to ruin the fun. You sat motionless on the sofa, trying to will yourself into invisibility until eventually the others filtered into the house. The warmth of the fire lingered on their skin, their chatter carrying a carefree energy that contrasted sharply with the heaviness in your chest. Jack and Layla headed to the kitchen, their voices muffled as they rummaged for snacks. Noah sprawled out on the lounger with a dramatic sigh, tossing out demands for Jack to bring him a beer. You didn’t dare glance at Trent, though you could feel his presence like a magnetic pull. It wasn’t until you heard his voice—quiet, almost hesitant—that your heart shattered anew.

“Can I sit here?” He asked. The question hung in the air, carrying with it an undercurrent of tension that made it hard to breathe. You finally looked up at him, your bloodshot eyes meeting his. For a moment, he said nothing, his expression unreadable, though the tight line of his jaw hinted at the turmoil beneath. His gaze softened slightly as he took in your tear-streaked face, the way you seemed so small, so broken. You bit your lip to keep from crying again and nodded, unable to trust your voice. Trent slid into the spot beside you, his knee brushing yours in the cramped space. He didn’t sit at a polite distance; instead, he was so close you could feel the heat radiating off him. As if he couldn’t bear the silence between you, Trent leaned across you, his body covering yours, his arm brushing against yours as he reached for the blanket draped on the armrest. Your breath caught at the closeness, your body frozen in place. He straightened, settling back into his seat as he unfolded the blanket. Without a word, he tucked it around you, his hands lingering for a moment to ensure you were wrapped snugly. No matter what… he’d always take care of you. He promised you that. Even if it didn’t work, he promised. It was such a small, gentle gesture, but it unraveled you completely. You blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in your throat as you struggled to keep your composure. How could he still be so tender with you after everything? 

Jack and Layla returned, their presence pulling you back to reality. Layla shot you a knowing look, her brow furrowed in concern as she took in the palpable tension. Jack, oblivious, grabbed the remote and began flipping through channels, Noah chiming in from the lounger with loud, exaggerated groans at every suggestion. Trent joined in the casual back-and-forth, his voice calm and even as though nothing had happened. You stayed silent, barely able to focus on their conversation. Instead, you stayed close to him, your body inching closer bit by bit until your arm brushed his. When he didn’t pull away, you dared to press your side against his, seeking comfort in his proximity. Your head found its way to his shoulder, resting there tentatively. Trent didn’t move or say a word, but you felt the way his body relaxed ever so slightly beneath your touch, his breath steady and warm. Jack finally settled on something to watch, the TV filling the room with light and sound, but you didn’t care what was on. All that mattered was that Trent hadn’t pushed you away—that he was still here, letting you lean on him despite everything.The fight wasn’t over—you both knew that—but for now, in this fragile moment, it felt like you could start to piece things back together. The room had fallen into a still, quiet rhythm. The flickering light from the TV cast soft shadows on the walls, Layla’s light snores punctuating the low hum of the NBA commentary. Jack and Noah were locked into the game, their occasional murmurs about plays blending seamlessly into the background. The fire outside had gone out, leaving behind only the faint smell of smoke drifting through the back door that was still creaked open because everyone claimed it wasn’t them and now were too lazy to go close it. You couldn’t help but feel it mirrored the state of your relationship—burnt down to embers, uncertain if it could be reignited.

“Gonna share?” Trent’s whisper was low and soft, cutting through your thoughts. You looked up at him, his expression unreadable save for the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He wasn’t meeting your eyes fully, instead keeping his gaze casual and tilted toward the TV, but you knew he was waiting for you. You didn’t say a word, simply moving the blanket to cover the both of you. It felt like a tentative truce, the weight of it heavy with unsaid words and fragile hope.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, barely audible. Your body leaned into his, seeking comfort but still hesitant. His arm shifted, draping over your shoulders with calculated ease, as if to keep appearances for the others in the room. Yet, beneath the guise of nonchalance, his fingers traced slow, deliberate patterns on your shoulder. “I made a mistake because I was scared,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “You know it’s only you. You know it’s always been you. You said it yourself…” Your words felt fragile as they hung between you, but you pressed on, desperate to make him understand. You tilted your head, brushing a featherlight kiss to his shoulder. The subtle gesture wasn’t missed—it made him exhale deeply, his posture softening as though a weight had lifted. His hand slid under the blanket, searching for yours. When his fingers finally found yours, he didn’t hesitate. His grip was firm, steady, and grounding, his thumb tracing slow circles against your knuckles. You didn’t care if they heard at this point, but you kept your words quiet just for him. “I’m sorry I haven’t shown you that,” you continued in a hushed tone, your voice cracking as tears welled in your eyes. “That I haven’t acted like I’ve only ever been yours… because I am, I have been.” A tear slipped down your cheek, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. You felt his hand tighten around yours at the words, a silent acknowledgment that he’d heard you. He kept his gaze on the TV, his expression stoic as his other hand flexed on your shoulder. The world outside seemed to fade, the quiet hum of the game and the steady rhythm of your breathing cocooning you both in a fragile bubble. Trent didn’t speak, but his actions said enough. He wasn’t ready to forgive fully, and you didn’t expect him to. But the way he held you, the way his hand lingered in yours, and the subtle relaxation of his body against you told you one thing: he wasn’t giving up. For now, that would have to be enough as you let your eyes flutter closed, your exhaustion from the day catching up to you.

The room was cloaked in the dim glow of the TV, the late-night commentary muffled beneath the gentle hum of the world outside. Jack stretched, standing up from his spot, his movements quiet but deliberate. Layla had already disappeared to your room, and Noah was sprawled across the couch, fast asleep, his soft snores filling the silence. Jack’s gaze drifted to the two of you, curled up on the loveseat. You and Trent, fast asleep, nestled so comfortably close it looked almost innocent. Your head rested on Trent’s shoulder, his arm draped lazily over you, the blanket drawn up to your chins like you’d been caught mid-conversation and drifted off. Something about the scene tugged at Jack’s instincts, his brows furrowing slightly. He narrowed his eyes, lingering just long enough to feel a flicker of suspicion. But nothing seemed overtly wrong—just two people who’d clearly fallen asleep watching the game. Still, something didn’t sit right. Jack shook his head, chalking it up to exhaustion. He turned away, heading toward his room without another word. What he didn’t see, hidden beneath the blanket, hidden right under his nose, was the way Trent’s hand was wrapped securely around yours, fingers intertwined. Even in sleep, his grip was steadfast, as if silently vowing to hold on no matter what. Jack left it alone for now. But the questions in his mind were far from gone.

And finally the night of the awards came and it couldn’t have come at a more awkward time. Things were tense to say the least between you and Trent after the fight and the Man United game. And in an even more awkward twist Jack no longer had a conflict so he was home.  The living room was loud, buzzing with laughter and friendly chaos. Jack, Noah, and the rest of the group had taken over, sprawled across the sofas and armchairs, trading jabs and jokes. The scent of leftover pizza mingled with the faint cologne of too many boys packed into one space. The TV was on, but no one was really watching it; their attention was squarely on you as you descended the stairs in a Retrofête nude sheer maxi dress. [index ref] It was covered in all over sequins, with an opened back, and a feathered hem. You wanted Trent to like it but you felt shy in front of all of his friends and your brother with your figure on full display  You’d spent longer than you wanted to admit getting ready, smoothing every detail, unsure if you even had the right to look forward to the night. Things with Trent were still unresolved, the fight hanging in the air like a storm cloud. But you wanted tonight to be different. You needed it to be.

“Go on!  Someone’s looking lush for their date with Trentski!” Noah hollered from the couch, clapping loudly as the rest of the boys joined in, whistling and cheering like kids at a school assembly. 

“It’s not a date mate… I was supposed to go,” Jack muttered, shoving Noah on the sofa. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the smile that crept onto your face.

 “Alright, calm down,” you muttered, smoothing your dress and pretending their attention didn’t make you self-conscious. You felt like you were going to a year eight dance under the eyes of the boys. “Jack, T’s gonna be here soon, okay?” you reminded him, ignoring the comment. Your voice was steady, but your stomach churned with anticipation.

“Yeah, he texted. Don’t embarrass yourself tonight, yeah?” he teased with a smirk, dodging your halfhearted swat as you passed by him. The sound of tires crunching in the driveway made your heart skip. You straightened instinctively, glancing towards the door as your palms grew damp. The boys, oblivious to your inner turmoil, kept laughing and joking, but the sound faded as you focused on the moment about to unfold. And then the door opened. Trent stepped in, looking sharp in his tailored suit, his presence commanding without him even trying. The room seemed to still for just a second, the energy shifting. You caught his gaze, and despite everything, the corner of his mouth tugged up in that familiar, cocky smile.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 14 - Noah? xx

[its-time-to-write]

OOOO what about Jamie having a huge crush on the reader so much so it’s effecting how he thinks like how he was in the show where he played against Man City. So Roy and Keeley follow him (like in the show) and see him spying/ watching (he’d never admit it) the reader whos working either as a waitress or a bookshop owner because he’s too nervous to go in. Or maybe even secret girlfriend where they follow him and accidentally meet the reader whos been in a secret relationship with Jamie. Lol I hope you can understand what I was trying to say 😅

Pretty sure I picked up what you put down! Here ya go!

don’t go wasting your emotion

Jamie Tartt is not acting like himself. 

The first person to notice is Roy, because it shows in his training. He seems… distracted. So he mentions it to Keeley, and asks her to keep an eye out. They have some big games coming up, and Richmond cannot afford a distracted Jamie. Keeley promises she’ll check up on him soon, but Jamie just keeps getting weirder.

He jumps and hides his phone when Dani plops down next to him on the locker room bench, passes the ball to the opposing side during practice, and keeps going offside. It isn’t long before the other coaches notice, as well as his teammates. The only one who doesn’t seem particularly worried is Sam. When Isaac asks him if he’s noticed anything off about Jamie, Sam just shrugs and says, “It’s probably nothing. I’m sure he’ll get over it soon.”

AFC Richmond does not have time to wait. They need Jamie to get his head out of the clouds and back firmly on earth. 

Shortly after Isaac’s talk with Sam, Colin catches Sam and Jamie whispering in the weight room. He catches snippets of words like, “can’t know,” “just do it,” and… “bookstore”? Surely he didn’t hear that right. Colin shrugs and heads to go see Trent. He’s an investigative journalist. He’s got to have some insight.

Colin presents this information to Trent, Ted, Beard, and Roy, none of whom have any real ideas. As they try to come up with plausible scenarios, Trent leans agains the door with his mug in quiet thought.

“You’ve been mighty quiet over there, Mr. Independent. What’re your thoughts?” Ted asks. 

“I’m not sure,” Trent replies. “We simply don’t have enough facts to come to a conclusion. What we need is someone to follow Jamie after work and see if that will provide any insights.”

“I’ll do it.”

The room turns to look at Roy. He looks uncomfortable. “Keeley and I have been meaning to talk to him anyway, and if he fucking catches any of you lot following him, he’ll never fucking trust you again. I’m your best choice.”

Beard looks at Ted, and they nod. 

Ted says, “Alright Roylock Holmes. You and Dr. Jones have fun tonight. Let us know what you find out,” and that’s that. 

—

Roy calls Keeley and tells her the situation, and it’s not hard to find a pretense for her to be with the team. It’s movie night, and she’s there more often than not. They have pretty much unanimously decided on Paddington, mostly to heal Dani’s trauma from hearing the Paddington Twitter account gave Richmond no marmalade sandwiches. That’s what they say, at least, but if they are crying within the first fifteen minutes, that’s not for anyone to say. 

Jamie sits in the back and he keeps looking at his phone. Sam pokes him and Richard catches something that sounds like, “Go- can’t expect- if you didn’t ask,” at which Jamie nods, looks around, and then slips out the door.

“Where’s he going?” Isaac asks Sam, who shrugs and says, “I would assume to use the restroom.”

Isaac turns back to the screen, but Roy and Keeley look at each other, nod, and quickly get up to follow Jamie. 

They trail him out the building and down the street, watching as he puts his hood up in an effort not to be noticed. They follow him for half a mile as Jamie makes a very purposeful trek through Richmond, unaware that he’s being followed.

Keeley and Roy turn a corner then stop, because Jamie has stopped. He’s just out of sight of some big glass windows. He checks the time, gives himself a shake, then removes his hood and pulls the door open. Keeley and Roy share a look and rush to the window.

It’s a bookstore. The sign on the door says they close an hour from now, at 9pm. Jamie is inside leaning on the checkout counter, talking and laughing with you, the cashier.

“Started that book you told me about,” he says. “You’re right. I hate it.”

“Right??” you reply. “Isn’t it awful? It makes no sense at all, and reading it makes you feel like you’re on drugs, and it’s supposed to be a classic! Thank god you only got it at the library and didn’t have to waste money on it.”

Jamie laughs. “Got any real recommendations this time? Trying to become more cultured.” 

You laugh too. “You know, you’re a lot more cultured than you think. You’ve understood most of my references, and you have an impressive vocabulary. You have a wonderful grasp on the difference between intellectual and conversational tone.”

Roy and Keeley can’t tell what you’re saying, but they’re thinking the same thing. Is Jamie blushing?

Before they can ponder this, you come out from behind the counter to lead Jamie to a shelf. You both look straight at Roy and Keeley, who duck. You turn to Jamie, humor on your face. “Friends of yours?” you quip.

“Un-fucking-fortunately,” he responds. “Oi!”

Roy and Keeley slowly pop back up and Jamie exasperatedly beckons them inside.

“What the fuck are you doing here?”

Roy, stoic as ever, just grunts. Keeley says, “We were worried about you! You were acting all weird and botching things at practice. We thought you were dying!”

Roy rolls his eyes. You’re doing your best to maintain a straight face. 

You know exactly who these people are. You know Keeley Jones because who doesn’t know about Keeley Jones? You know Roy Kent because he came up as a suggested search after you googled Jamie.

Jamie has been coming into your bookshop for a while now. At first it was to look for some book about forgiveness, but after you helped him pick that out he just… kept coming back. He’d lean against the counter, supported by his elbows, and stay from 8pm until closing. Usually, he was the only customer you’d get that time of night.

It wasn’t lost on you that he was a) gorgeous and b) definitely flirting with you. He wasn’t the first customer to fancy himself in love with you, but he was the first that you actually liked back. And the first who really read what you said you liked.

You just didn’t get why he hadn’t made a move yet, especially after looking him up. It didn’t make sense. You considered making the first move, but that freaked you out too much. Still, despite his inaction on that front, he kept coming back and talking to you. Sometimes he’d bring you coffee. He’d always help you close the store. You once joked that you should put him on the payroll, to which he looked at you, and deadpanned, “You couldn’t afford me.”

You’re pretty sure that’s the moment you actually fell for him. You’re a sucker for a good, stupid sense of humor.

“Why would you think I were dyin?” Jamie asks. 

Keeley shrugs and Roy answers, “Because you’ve been playing like shit.”

Jamie glares at Roy. “I have not, you dusty old twat. You take that back.”

Keeley clears her throat. “Well, actually babes, you kind of have. It’s been this whole thing. Everybody’s worried about you!”

Jamie pinches the bridge of his nose. “Jesus Christ. Why the fuck are you all in my business? Did Sam put you up to this?”

“Why the fuck would Sam put us up to this?” Roy asks.

“Because Sam caught Jamie looking at my Instagram,” you interject.

Three sets of eyes turn to you. “What?” you shrug. “Sam looked up my handle and messaged me about it. We’re friends now.”

Jamie shakes his head in disbelief and Roy says, “So Sam fucking knew about this?”

The tips of Jamie’s ears turn red as he says, “Uh, yeah, so Sam’s been telling me I need to ask her out for like fuckin ages now. Always on me about how it’s dumb to keep checking my phone for her texts, especially because I haven’t even asked for her number or some shit.”

You swear that is the dumbest, cutest thing you’ve ever heard. 

“You want my number?” your voice comes out an octave higher than you’d like it to.

Jamie turns to you. “Uh, yeah, yeah I do. Been meanin’ to ask you, but I dunno, I keep telling myself you’re just being nice to me ‘cause of your job. Didn’t want to be fuckin weird.”

You smile. “Jamie Tartt, for someone so intelligent you really are dumb sometimes.”

He looks pleased with the compliment, then offended, then he realizes what you’re saying. His face goes through those expressions in a moment and then your hand is on the back of his head, pulling him down for a kiss.

Keeley looks on with a smile and Roy stares at the ceiling uncomfortable.

You break apart and Roy says, “Oi, Tartt!”

You and Jamie turn to look at him, arms still around each other.

“This better mean you’re done fucking up practice.”

“Yes coach,” Jamie mock-salutes.

Roy gives him a singular nod, and with that, he and Keeley head out the door. Keeley gives you a little wave and a thumbs up to Jamie.

“Now, where were we?” Jamie asks. “Oh, right…”

[gavisfanta]

DISTANCE - TAA

summary: you cant be in qatar for the world cup because you are busy with photoshoots, but trent is in need for some relaxing...

warnings: smut 18+

"Hey Babe," Your boyfriends face popped up on the screen. His face filled with a smile immeditaly after you picked up.

"Hello, how are you?" You couldnt help but giving him a warm smile too. "I'm awesome, how are you baby? How are the photoshoots going?" He asked back and you simply couldn't hide the smile that was creeping up on your lips.

"They're going good, but honestly, I miss you." Your lips turned down into a smile. However Trent chuckled while showing his teeth.

"Well you're gonna be here for the semi finals... so..." Trent smiled a little bit while removing the camera from infront of his face. He lowered it a little bit so you could now see that he was in his hotel room. He had already sent you a room tour when he arrived. It wasn't the biggest room he had ever stayed in but it looked pretty fancy. Mostly everything was white or beige. He also had the benefit that he received a single bed hotel room. That just meant that he was alone in the room, no one else could sleep there.

"Are you optimistic about making it to the semi finals?" You asked with a wide grin across your face, you know england's history with throphies.

"Ye, I am. To be honest I also think the squad is ready, we all have a goal to aim for, that is holding the World Cup in our hands while flying home. You know what we always say my love, right-?" Trent's lips tugged up into a smile while waiting for your answer.

"Yes, yes I know." You closed your eyes while nodding. "It's coming home." You repeated the same words you were seeing everywhere on social media.

"Exactly." Trent stayed silent after that and looked away from his phone. However, just a few seconds after that his head snapped back towards the camera, your eyes widened while a small smile displayed on your lips.

"Look" He got your attention with that. You moved the phone closer to your face when he turned the camera around, showing him in grey boxershorts. You specifically noticed the outlines of what was sticking out.

"Trent" You laughed, covering your mouth with your left hand.

"What?" He also laughed while turning the camera back towards his face. "I miss you, it's been so long..." Trent looked at his hard dick in his boxers.

"I miss you too, but we can't do anything about the distance between us. You know I have to work." You smiled and he shook his head.

"Oh please, a little bit of distance can't interupt us having fun." He mumbled and put his phone against his covers which were rolled up into a ball between his legs. You had a good look of his crotch and also his whole upper body.

You stayed silent for a few seconds, watching him touch his dick through the fabric. "You're crazy." You exhaled deeply and then also prpped up your phone against a pillow.

"Why am I crazy?" Trent asked, a smirk cover his lips.

"I wasn't talking to you." You answered and pulled down your shorts, revealing your red thong to him. You spread your legs so that he had a perfect view of you sitting up and facing him with wide open legs.

"This is what I'm talking about" Trent let out a satisfied laugh as he pulled down his boxershorts. His dick jumping out of it, you looked at the camera while also pushing the thong to the side.

"Take it off, love." His words had such an effect on you. So after you threw the thong to your shorts to the floor. He immediatly began pumping his hand up and down his dick after he spit on it.

"Use your toys, come on" Trent commanded and you of course listened. While you quickly grabbed below your pillow, you saw him smirking.

After you brought the pink dildo into the frame, he nudged his head towards the camera, signalising you to use it. You traced it along your folds, wetting it a bit. After you finally pushed it inside, you threw your head back.

You began to pull it out a bit and then pushed it back again forcefully. You repeated it a couple of times before Trent spoke up again. "You can take more, go faster." He was still gliding his hand up and down his lenght.

You did as he said, while beginning to move your hand faster back and forth, a few moans escaped your lips. You adjusted the way you sat so that you could his deeper. As you finally found a way you were able to reach so deep, you immediatly felt all your muscles ache.

"Good job, go faster." Trent said, he was close to coming just by watching you fuck yourself with the dildo he bought for you.

You muttered a few swear words under your breath while you also moved down your free hand to rub your clit. As you felt your high approach, your legs were shaking and you moaned loudly.

After you came, you realised that you hadn't even noticed that Trent had came a time ago. His abs were covered in his cum while he just watched you. Your cheeks flushed with a dark red color after you looked at him.

"You're so pretty like this, I keep forgetting." Trent said and watched you while you pulled the dildo out of your pussy and threw it onto the bed further away from you.

"Like what?" You raised your brows while running your fingers along your wet folds.

"So cum drunk. I love the way you looked after you cum. It's so hot." He admitted. "Makes me wish I could fuck your mind out of you. Make your legs tremble like crazy, you clenching around me or your nails leaving marks on my back as you beg me to go deeper, faster." Trent said as he began to massage his balls. You threw your head back as you couldn't help but clench around nothing.

"You'd take me so well, fitting this big cock inside of your tight little cunt isn't always easy Love." Trent looked at the camera, keeping eye contact with you the whole time. "Makes me wish you were here so I can fuck you so hard you wont even remember your own name."

You threw your head back as his words turned you on even more, he was right, it has been pretty long. "I'm leaving right now."

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt 1 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x femreader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2.6k] [part 2] [part 3 ] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lovers, work romance, fluff

notes: I've had this idea on my mind for months but I had no idea how to execute it at all. also instead of using the y/n insert, I gave the character a name even though it is read from your pov. It just made it easier to write lmao

"ms carter?"

your heart dropped at the sound of your name being called by an unfamiliar voice, which was something you were going to have to get used to. nonetheless, you turned around to see an older man approaching you with a warm smile and something in his hand.

when he got close enough he put out his hand and you politely shook it as a greeting, still not sure who you were talking to. before you could speak up however, you were interrupted by something being put in your hand.

"this is your staff id," the older man said and you took a closer look at the lanyard in your hand. the picture you had taken less than a few weeks ago was set neatly inside with your name, and position.

carter, jaime

[public relations manager- social media and marketing department]

public relations manager. those three words were enough to make you feel light headed.

you liked to think that your employment on liverpool fc's marketing team was nothing but pure luck. from the moment you handed in your resume for your university final year internship out of pure whim, then to you getting accepted for whatever reason until you got the email no less than a month after graduation asking you to come in for an interview.

all that lead up to the moment you were currently in. standing in the middle of the empty anfield stadium that you had visited for nearly every home game since you were a child. it was nothing but pure luck.

you were broken out of your daze by the older man chuckling about something, which showed that you hadn't heard a single word he said during the past five minutes. you mustered up a smile regardless to play it off and proceeded to follow him for what you thought was a building tour.

"I just realised that I never properly introduced myself," he laughed dryly and gestured for you to step into the tunnel before him. "I'm billy hogan- chief executive officer and I'm ever so sorry for being in a rush right now but I'd like you to be at the training center within the next 30 minutes."

your eyes widened in shock, your feet absentmindedly picking up its pace while hogan continued to speed through the building tour, leaving no room for questions but you decided to make a mental note to ask someone else when you got the chance.

you were escorted to the black s.u.v along with hogan immediately, running through the hundreds of questions you had at the moment. you know you only had room for one though before he was on another phone call.

"uhm sir-"

"yes ms carter?" the older man addressed without trailing his gaze from his cellphone screen or the pile of documents in front of him.

oh gosh.

you managed to clear your throat. "I'm not too sure why I'll be needed at the training center. shouldn't I be in the office or..."

when he heard you start to trail off, hogan shut the folder in his lap and turned to look at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. there was a moment of awkward silence that passed between the two of you in the backseat of the s.u.v, the driver not paying any mind to the conversation.

"our last marketing manager had to be fired because we found out that he was leaking information out to reporters and news broadcasters along with four other employees."

oh shit.

you shuffled in your seat as you tried to think of a response to the news but whenever you parted your lips to say something hogan would raise his finger as a sign that he wasn't done talking. so you swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth along with any comments and listened intently.

did it sound like he was targeting you and bordelined threatening you? yes, yes it did. but you were sure he meant well and was only trying to bring his point across.

"we're low on staff and that's why you were handed two very crucial roles and are expected to make up for the losses. you'll be working alongside the team as you read in the contract," he began once again with a knowing look which made your stomach drop.

because you didn't read the contract. not fully at least. your older sister was the one who urged you to sign it the second it was sent to your house. hell, it could've stated that you were required to donate an organ and you wouldn't have known all because your were too excited and didn't spare anything a second glance.

"but why didn't you just promote people that were already in the department instead of giving me the position straight away?"

hogan let out a dry chuckle and tended to his phone once again, not looking back at you. "because nobody else wanted the position. it's dangerous up there ms carter. so you may feel important right now, but if you can't handle the workload and expectations it's going to get messy."

well this is news to me.

to sum up hogan's lecture and recital of the contract off by heart, you were in fact set up to be working alongside the team as a higher ranking media representative because there needed to be more field work done. no pun intended.

but the fact that nobody else was up for the position didn't sit right with you.

"just make sure they look good for the camera and keep everyone entertained. you're an influencer yourself, so I'm entrusting you to keep everything in order. you were hired because you are young and are in the game already. so keep yourself level-headed and do your best."

no pressure I guess??

deciding to wear sneakers instead of heels today was by the far the best decision you've made in weeks. the weather in liverpool during september was nothing short of horrid. when you stepped out of the car your face was immediately hit with the harsh and crisp air that reminded you why you spent majority of your time indoors.

"welcome to our axa training center," hogan gestured to the building in front of you, it's ceiling to floor windows having you gawking in awe. "this is where you'll be spending a good amount of your time, but it's not as bad as it seems I promise."

what's so bad about watching a bunch of professional football players train half naked?

unlike your last building tour, hogan actually took his time showing you around this time. from the lobby, breakroom, staff rooms, gym and finally to the field where the team was out practicing-- or at least that's what you thought was happening judging by all the screaming.

the second you stepped foot out onto the field, klopp turned to look at you with a welcoming smile.

did he just sense my presence??

you felt frozen in your spot, the world had practically stopped spinning the second he called you and hogan over. when you made it over he halted his conversation with the person beside him to shake your hand.

"it's lovely to finally meet you ms carter," the team's manager politely greeted and it took every single nerve in your body for you to not do something stupid.

you bashfully laughed and brushed his comment off, "if anything, the pleasure is mine. I am extremely honoured to be working in this position."

after a few moments of getting to know each other and klopp giving you a bit of an idea of what he expected media-wise, you realised that you had work cut out for you, judging by klopp saying, "think of this as your second family. the team needs something different, and you ms carter, are exactly the home improvement that we need."

you felt like the weight of the world had just been put on your shoulders again, and his tone of utter sincerity wasn't making it any less pressurising. of course you wanted to do well and give your all into this role but it was going to take a bit of time getting used to.

I should have read that damn contract.

"would you like to meet the team?" klopp asked with a smile and lightly patted your shoulder.

the gesture alone was enough to render you speechless, and you weren't quite sure if you heard him correctly. "would I like to do what?"

"boys!"

your eyes widened in shock as he called the team over. you didn't know what to do or say, your fight or flight mode had nearly been activated and you swore you were about to sprint out of the training center, all the way back home.

you anxiously fiddled with your fingers, not knowing what to do with your hands as you watched the group of soccer players head your way with little to no care to which klopp gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "don't worry, they won't bite."

you mustered up an awkward laugh, muttering under your breath as you mentally prepared yourself for the moment. you obviously hadn't met any of them before, the closest you had gotten was going to the stadium to watch their matches.

the closest you had gotten to any interaction with any professional soccer player in general however, would be at the beginning of the year when jude bellingham followed you back on Instagram. which was still the best day of your life up to date.

you were awestruck, words unable to form as they all huddled up in front of you. you could see the sweat beading on their foreheads which caused a shiver to travel down your spine.

"boys this is ms jaime carter." klopp gestured to you and you managed a small wave, trying to ignore the sound of your heart beating in your ears. "she'll be working with us from now on, as manager of the pr manager for both the marketing and social media departments."

you were greeted with a choir of 'hello's' and listened to klopp give everyone the run-down and a little enlightenment into the situation regarding the last bundle of staff that had to be cut off so abruptly.

"pfft, snitches."

you head turned to look in the direction of the comment, that was immediately reprimanded.

"curtis," klopp started and the soccer player pursed his lips apologetically.

"sorry boss."

"aren't you a little too young to be the manager of two departments?"

your eyebrows raised at the question from harvey. klopp and hogan had to attend to a last minute call from the clubs directors so you were left with the team to "get to know each other", but most of them got back to training which left you with harvey, curtis and trent.

you shifted your weight to your right leg, your head tilting to the side challengingly as you eyed the boy. "well you're younger than i am and playing professional football. what does me being a pr manager make any difference?"

trent and curtis couldn't help but snicker at your counter, jokingly mocking their younger teammate until he got visibly irritated.

"you can't deny us the right to laugh at you," trent said jokingly and kicked the ball to harvey, who passed it to cutis again.

their banter went on for a few minutes as you watched the ball pass between the three of them until harvey spoke up again.

"you're straight out of university though so--"

his sentence was cut off by someone yelling, "ball!", to which you all instinctively looked up only to realise a little to late that it was headed in your direction.

shit.

you backed away just in time to get the ball before it hit the ground. the second it came into contact with your foot, you sent it back virgil's way to which he gave you a smile.

a familiar feeling stired up in your stomach after, but you pushed it aside and for back to your train of thought. "and you're straight out of high-school. so i rest my case."

a moment of silence took over, trent and curtis both shifting their gazes from you and all the way over to virgil who was over at the goal post.

harvey was taking the moment to recollect your high school comment. it was because he was short wasn't it? that's all people had to throw at him these days.

it was trent's turn to speak up, his eyebrows raised while curtis muttered to himself about the distance or something like that. "have you played before?"

before you could answer, your name was being called by hogan since it was time to get back to the office building. you huffed out a breath and sent the three boys a smile.

"looks like today's 'q and a' was cut short." you took a few steps back, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your puffer jacket. "you might as well stock them up for next time. I'll be more than happy to feed your curious minds."

[jsprnt]

a date at the local spring fair seems to bloom your situationship into a relationship

trent alexander-arnold x reader

A/N: based on this request! Also been dyinggg to go to my local fair, so I immediately came up with this idea!! 🫶🫶 (does this photo of trent not make you weak in the knees?? 😭)

W/C: 1.804

your eyes dart to your phone screen again, reading the last text message your date sent you. he said he’d be there in a minute, so you shove your phone back into your jacket.

the fair isn’t very busy today, most likely due to it being a weekday. the weather had started picking up these past few days. gloomy, rainy winter days replaced with sunny, warm spring days.

you’d missed seeing the blue sky and the pretty, colorful flowers in the park. you had noticed most people were much happier and of course, just like the little lambs being born, symbolizing a new life- your own life seemed to also flicker to another chapter.

you and trent have known each other for a couple of months now. first meeting through a mutual friend at a small, intimate party on a rainy november night. you hadn’t thought much of it at first. of course- he was handsome, and that wasn’t something you could look away from.

you knew who he was, as a football player for one of the world’s best clubs- you’d assumed he would be too busy interacting with other people to notice you.

obviously, you also were too busy speaking to the people you did know. until- one of your mutual friends had introduced him to you.

unbeknownst to you, he’d been eyeing you across the room since he’d caught sight of the pretty smile you’d flash your friend when they said something funny. at first glance, he had almost choked on his unnecessarily expensive tequila, it burning horribly in the back of his throat.

he barely recovered from the shock before one of his best mates had dragged him across the venue, insisting he’d talk to you. only, because he thought ‘you two would be a great couple’.

you were caught off guard at first, but the looks your friends were sending you- had given you enough courage to speak to him without being flustered.

you two only hung out more after that night, accepting frequent invites to his games, and random visits to each other’s place, which only increased when trent got injured.

you look up at the shout of your name, turning around to see trent walk up to you. he’s dressed nicely as usual, comfy enough for all the rides and games you’d planned to play.

“hi!” you beam, greeted by his pearly white smile. his lips turned up when he makes eye contact with you.

“hey, you alright?” he asks, his scouser accent familiar as he gives you a warm hug. you bury your face in the crook of his neck for a moment, smelling his signature cologne.

“I’m fine, how ‘bout you and your knee?” you question, knowing that he didn’t have to wear a brace anymore.

“better, I can walk properly- at least..” he replies, the both of you starting to walk past the various games and food trucks.

it doesn’t take long before you’re both immersed into the money-grabbing games available. from popping balloons with darts to a donut-eating contest. which you won, that left you with powdered sugar all over the corners of your mouth. prompting trent to gently wipe the sugary product off with his thumb and a raised heartbeat he had difficulty controlling.

“let’s try that roller coaster over there..” you suggest, pointing up to the least intimidating one.

“you don’t want to go in the one that goes upside down?” he asks, pressing the bunny plushie you had won into his chest. you hold back a chuckle at the sight, shaking your head.

“nope, don’t trust going upside down on a rollercoaster that’s practically been pulled out of a suitcase..” you state, lining up with him so you can get on the attraction.

he chuckles at your explanation, glancing at your impatient expression. thankfully, it’s your turn after a few minutes. you both strap in safely, making sure the bars are as tight as possible against your chest and stomach.

“aren’t you scared?” he asks, looking at your giddy expression. you shake your head almost immediately, making sure your pockets are zipped so your phone won’t fall out.

soon, the cart you’re in slowly starts rolling up. your breath hitches in excitement, wind starting to blow into your faces. you glance at trent, who’s sporting a less excited expression, so you shout in excitement when the cart drops and goes up multiple times. hoping your happiness will be infectious and cheer him up.

it works! the couple of looks you sneak, tell you he was pretty satisfied, cheering and shouting along with you.

you take a deep breath when the cart stops. the both of you slightly dizzy when you step out.

“you liked that one?” you ask, fixing your jacket as you both start walking away, walking past other attractions.

“i did! i was nervous for a moment, won’t lie..” he replies, scouser accent thick and laced with excitement.

“good, I’m glad you liked it- oh look!” you suddenly exclaim. pointing to the haunted house, fake skeletons, and more ‘scary’ props used to decorate the entrance.

“you want to go inside?” trent asks, raising a brow at you. he wasn’t aware that you were such an adrenaline junkie, or were you?

“yes, let’s go!” you urge, paying the entrance fee, and stepping inside. the bunny plushie now pressed into your side as you both start walking into the dark maze.

“i can’t see anything..” you murmur, eyes slowly adjusting to the darkness. your arm grazes trent’s, which in turn makes your breath hitch. your temperature rises, despite the coldness of the room you’re in.

“me neither..” you hear trent mutter, he glances at you in the dark. your arms touching each other every now and then. the numerous fake spiderwebs and bone-chilling moving skulls making you freeze up often.

entering another room, you’re immediately greeted by a zombie. the special effects props and makeup, too good not to jump and scream.

“shit!” you exclaim, back pressing against trent’s chest when you take a step back.

“what the fuck!” you hear the scouser shout against your ear. it hurts for a moment, but you’re too focused on the zombie trying to get close to you to care about it.

you feel strong hands grab at your jacket. instinctively you know it’s trent, so you keep scuffling forward. trying your best to ignore the groaning and gurgling sounds coming from the too-talented actor.

walking through the empty hall, you look at him, his grip on your jacket loosening.

“you’re such a coward..” you accuse, laughing when remembering how he shouted in fear.

“you’re the one who yelled first..” he retorts, and you can make out a smirk on his face.

“here, take my hand.” he offers, holding his hand out. which you can only see because of the green lights strung along the dusty hallway.

your heart skips a beat or two, stopping you in your tracks. you feel your face heat up, and you’re glad he can’t fully make out your dumbfounded expression in the dark. you quickly shove away that lovesick feeling, trying to compose yourself.

“that’s a really weird way to propose, but okay..” you tease, your fingers intertwining with trent’s. knowing you’d probably made him more dazzled than he made you flustered.

“wait, no- i meant-" he stutters, mind going totally foggy as he forgets how to form a proper sentence in his state. you hold back a smile, knowing his brain was probably running kilometers an hour.

“wait, did you say you’d marry me?” he suddenly questions, face contouring into confusion and a dumbstruck expression.

“uh, no?” you feign your upmost innocence, thumb grazing his knuckles. a sweet, comforting touch, but it only makes the short circuit in his brain worse.

you smirk to yourself, carefully dragging him along. mindful of his injury as your hearts beat in unison, like electric sparks flying off the pads of your fingers.

the hold on each other’s hands only gets tighter, until the last jumpscare. this time, your entire front is pressed against his back, it scaring you a bit too much. you thought the cackling clown was the end of the attraction.

you catch your breath when you finally step outside, trent’s hand on your back. soothing rubs helping you calm down faster.

“why- why would they think using a knife prop was a good idea?” you pant, questioning if the ten-pound entrance fee was worth it.

trent squeezes into your hand, reassuring you with his touch. “you’re good, it’s all fake- remember?” he rationalizes your thoughts, slowly pulling you away to the food trucks.

he sits you down on a small wooden bench and table, eyes roaming on your face to check up on you.

“are you alright?” he asks, face inching closer to yours. his breath hitting your lips.

“I’m fine, really..” you reassure, squeezing into the plushy for comfort.

“let’s have something to eat, then we’ll get on the ferris wheel. is that okay?” he asks, voice patient and sweet. the kindness in his expression and words cheers you up a bit. so, you smile, nodding in agreement.

“i’ve heard that they have really nice tacos. want to try?” he suggests, glancing up at the food truck in question.

“sure, let’s try them.” you answer, he nods walking away to order and collect your food. he comes back fairly quickly, placing the delicious and warm tacos on the table. not to forget, the extra cups of guacamole, lime and sour cream.

“eat up before they get cold..” he says, the both of you digging into your food and drink of choice. a comfortable silence ensues, with soft hums and small comments made in delight.

“i love fair food..” you hum, taking the last few sips of your drink. trent nods in agreement, leaning over to wipe some of the sour cream off your lip.

you pause your movements at the action, eyes darting to his brown ones. his touch is delicate and careful, and he folds the napkin after pulling away.

“there, all clean..” he mutters, cleaning the table off and coming back from the recycling bin.

“do you want to go on the ferris wheel now? it’s getting dark, and the view will be nice..” he asks, unconsciously holding his hand out for you to hold.

you nod excitedly, clutching onto his warm hand as you both make your way to the ferris wheel. your bodies touching as you lean them against each other, waiting in line for the last attraction of the night.

it’s imminent that a sweet first kiss will be shared, right? a flicker to the next chapter of your life. the city lights witnessing a love blooming like a patch of yellow daffodils in spring.

[itsclydebitches]

Thinking today about how much fun a Tedependent fic from Mae's perspective could be:

Verbally cutting, diehard Richmond fan—to the point of kicking others out of her pub; her loyalty outweighs profits and that's sAYING SOMETHING—Mae has been following Trent's writing for years. She approves of his single-minded devotion and take-no-shit style.

He's shown up at the pub once or twice, usually to get a feel for the community after a match so he can do a better write-up. Mae always treats him like a minor celebrity. Trent mentioned her in an article once and you know that's now in a gold frame over the bar.

She's one of the first to notice his demeanor change during the press conferences. The camera rarely ever cuts to the press, but she can hear the difference in how he asks questions now. The soft, awe-like, “Would you care to comment?” is a damn bit different from, “Is this a fucking joke?”

Mae, who is an avid trashy romance reader and has secretly always dreamed of pulling off some epic matchmaking: “HMMM 👀"

By this point she’s incredibly fond of Ted (dragging him for losses is her love language, okay) and it’s definitely a coincidence that Trent is showing up at the pub more each month than he has in the last ten years combined.

The Trio mutters darkly one night about how their cutthroat journo has gone soft and Mae dumps a pitcher of beer over their heads. Then she makes them clean it up. Then she makes them pay for it. Then she explains what they’ve clearly been too blind to see and they are SOLD. Holy shit, Trent Crimm and the American gaffer?? Best hookup of the century, how can they help?

The very next night Ted is moping (from Mae’s perspective) and Trent is awkwardly avoiding a kiss from some stringbean with a mustache. This isn’t just a matter of wanting to be involved now, this disaster duo needs them.

Except soon after Trent publishes his article on Ted’s panic attacks and HO BOY DOES THAT GO OVER WELL /S

He’s banned from the pub. The Trio yells at him on the street like they once yelled at Ted. Ted literally has to beg Mae to forgive him and Trent delivers a homemade strawberry pie, her favorite, to try and smooth things over.

(Everyone knows Ted baked the pie, but Mae’s willingness to go along with the ruse is proof that Trent is back in her good graces.)

It also helps that Trent showed up drunk as a skunk an hour after closing one night, reeling from the fact that he’s a) gay, b) getting a divorce, c) just blew up his twenty year career, d) has incredibly few prospects and a young child to care for, and e) is madly in love with a sunshine golden retriever who’s probably straight. Dressed in her nightgown and spitting fire, Mae forces a pitcher of water down his throat, calls him an Uber, and talks his ear off about how stupid he’s been until it arrives. Trent doesn’t remember anything past the second bar he hit that night, but a small, seemingly subconscious idea sticks with him: why not write a book about Ted Richmond?

So it’s Season Three. Trent is slowly being pulled into the Richmond family orbit. Ted is slowly inching towards Total Football and the culmination of all his work here. They’re dancing around each other, getting closer, but never close, and Mae sees it all unfolding in her pub, on the screen, and through the Richmond grapevine.

She and The Trio decide that It’s Time. Operation Mustache/Hair (Paul had to explain to the others what shipping was) is a go.

Let the shenanigans begin!

[footballerimaginess]

Coffee & Chats

Someone over on wattpad requested Trent, there wasn't an idea so thought I would make one up x Word Count: 473 "Do you want to go out with Daddy today? I am stacked up with so much work and can't get any time off. Wa- Trent" you raised your voice slightly as you heard him walking through. "Yes?" he popped his head round the door. "Would you be able to do something with Zara? I have a ton of work and some stupid scheduled meeting that my boss clearly doesn't understand that some people have a life" you sighed as you were slumped over the laptop.

"Yeah sure that sounds great, hope you are okay. You seem sad" Trent asked as you let out a huff. "I am bored of this now" you laughed as you looked at your screen. "Anyway, never mind. Have a good afternoon" you smiled as you pressed a kiss to Trent's cheek. "Thank you, hope you have a better afternoon" he laughs as he waves as Zara runs out of the door. "So where shall we go for the afternoon?" Trent asked his little girl as they got in the car. "Park or coffee?" he asked as he looked in the mirror as he watched waiting for her reply. "Cofeeeeee" she squealed as loudly as she could causing Trent to wince as the shriek went through him. Trent nodded and started driving to their favourite local coffee shops that the pair had both been to previously for a coffee date. "Here we are, ready for your babychino" Trent smiled as he picked Zara up out of her car seat as they headed to their usual local coffee shop. "here we are" Trent smiled as he gently put Zara down as he watched her run to the chair and sits patiently waiting for Trent to come back with their drinks. "Here princess, we have a small babychino for you and a flat white for me. Shall we cheer and send Mummy a photo to say how much we miss her?" you asked as she nods in agreement as she has her hands up with her small cup in her hands. "yay" Zara whispers as she sips on her drink and looks around the cafe. "This is perfect isn't it, would you like a little biscuit or a cake or something?" Trent asked Zara. "Chocolate" she mumbled as she had foam around her little face. "Course baby" Trent smiled as he got up and looked at the sweet treats and picked a selection for her to choose from. "here we go, we can take these home to give Mummy" Trent suggested as Zara stared straight at the treats in front of her.

"We should do this more, I love having time with you Zara" Trent grinned with Zara now looking very pleased with herself as she had a chocolate in one hand a babychino in the other living her best life.

[cinnaleaf]

「 Holidate | A Very Merry Footballer Ficmas 」

summary: you agree to fake date trent to save his image during the holiday season, but the lines on the contract start to blur | MDNI 18+

warnings: fake dating trope, teasing, fingering, unprotected sex, praise kink, dirty talk, alcohol consumption, language, smau, lighthearted angst, banter, kinda chaotic, **extended fam briefly mentioned are fictional 🎅🏾: sleigh got stuck in traffic so i’m late, forgive me | finale of my ficmas series wc: ~13.8k

You were halfway through your second cup of coffee, scrolling through emails like you usually did in the morning, when a peculiar email popped up.

From: Tyler Alexander-Arnold

Subject: Collaboration Proposal

You squinted at the name, thinking it sounded vaguely familiar but you weren’t sure why until it clicked. Trent Alexander-Arnold’s older brother. The footballer. You groaned, already feeling like there was going to be utter nonsense attached to the message. Athletes in your DMs and emails were nothing new, but they usually wanted shoutouts or some ‘collab’ that was a thinly veiled way of sliding into your messages for a hookup. You weren’t about to entertain a guy who thought sending his club’s match tickets was romantic.

But curiosity got the best of you:

Hi Y/N, I hope this email finds you well. My name is Tyler and I manage my brother, Trent Alexander-Arnold. PLG has followed your work for a while and we’re impressed by your authentic and engaging brand. I wanted to reach out with a unique proposal that I believe could be mutually beneficial. Trent is looking to shift his public image after recent media challenges, and we believe a collaborative effort with someone like you could help him accomplish this. The idea involves a short term arrangement posing as Trent’s girlfriend during the holidays with the possibility of extending the partnership into next year. We understand your time and reputation are valuable and will ensure all aspects of this arrangement align with your standards. Compensation and details are attached for your review. I look forward to hearing from you. Best regards, Tyler Alexander-Arnold

You stared at the screen, mouth slightly open. You had your fair share of wild pitch ideas before, but this was...new. A footballer fake boyfriend? For what? And why you?? You weren’t even the type – at least not for the girlfriend aesthetic they usually went for.

You scrolled down to the attached terms and your jaw dropped at the six figure amount of total compensation, and that wasn’t even including the performance bonus. The number was so pretty you wanted to print it out just to stare at it physically. A six month contract to ‘date’ Trent with a minimum of public appearances and the ability to control your own content. They were basically handing you all the creative freedom you demanded so often in every partnership you were ever a part of. But your pride was screaming at you. You built your brand on being authentic. Your followers trusted you because you weren’t fake. They would be able to sniff out any bullshit from you in milliseconds. You didn’t know if you could play it off that well.

Just as you were in your thoughts, doom scrolling through Instagram, you landed on a post about Trent. 

SpillTheBeansUK: Trent Alexander-Arnold spotted partying at 4 am while Liverpool struggles on the pitch. Distraction much? 

mintleaf: WHERE the FUCK is TYLER

realmrsTAA: he’s just having fun you miserable lot. leave my man alone 😤

YNWA_forever: he’s out clubbing while salah’s carrying the club? embarrassing look as vice cap

oh_shes_nosy: 4 am? with who though?? 👀 don’t let it be another ig baddie omg

ShutUpAndDefend: can’t defend on pitch but can defend a bottle of liquor fuck this guy

Footiebro: bruh just stay home and train. nobody asked for this shit wtf is his problem

DramaLlama12: this man said ‘defense’? never heard of her. shots at 4am? say lesssss

tumblrinagurl: need him to be so serious he’s messing up my fanfic posting schedule, follow the fucking script what the fuck

FPLQueen: this is exactly why i took him out of my fantasy team weeks ago. this is a big L

girl_shutup: not my man getting roasted while he’s just living his life 😭 y’all are haters fr

Shady_LFC: pov: you’re just a local lad from liverpool who wants to vibe

The entirety of the comments section was a battlefield. You sighed and toggled back to the email. It wasn’t your business what kind of PR storm he landed himself in, but if his camp was offering this type of money, he must’ve really fucked up.

Two days later, you found yourself in Manchester, sitting across from Tyler in a pristine meeting room at PLG. The room was sleek with chairs that looked expensive but were so uncomfortable. Tyler was polite but he didn’t look all that professional for someone who was supposed to be managing a high profile footballer.

“Uh, thanks for coming” he started, handing you a glossy folder. “I know it’s unconventional but I really think you’re the right person for this kind of arrangement.”

“Unconventional?” you raised an eyebrow, flipping through the paperwork. “Mate, this is unhinged. I’ve never had a request like this before.”

Tyler smiled sheepishly but just as he was about to respond, the door opened and Trent sauntered in. God forbid he enter the room like a normal person, he just had to be loud and obnoxious about it. He looked taller than you expected him to look, and he wore a tracksuit, totally unfashionable but it worked for him somehow. He nodded at Tyler before looking at you with an expression that was somewhere between bored and mildly annoyed.

“So this is her then, yeah?” Trent asked, as if you weren’t literally in the same room as him.

You leaned back in your chair, unimpressed. “And this is the guy who can’t keep his head on straight?”

Trent’s lips twitched as if he wanted to smile but refused to give you the satisfaction of it. Tyler exhaled, sensing there was likely more chaos to come from this little arrangement.

“Let’s stay focused” Tyler said firmly, pulling up the digital presentation he prepared. “The plan is to recalibrate Trent’s image and make him appear more serious and stable. Y/N’s audience aligns well with that narrative and her credibility can strengthen the likelihood of people believing this.”

“Sounds great” you said while closing the folder. “What’s in it for me though? Besides the headache.”

Trent snorted at your statement which earned him a glare from Tyler. “You’re getting paid aren’t you??”

“Trent.” Tyler replied sharply, then turned back to you. “There’s significant compensation and full creative control over your content. You also have the chance to build a connection with a large audience outside of your typical demographic. PLG will manage all the logistics and you don’t have to lift a finger unless you really want to.”

It was a good pitch, a lot better than you expected, but Trent’s attitude was already grating you. “I have one condition.” You snapped the folder shut dramatically and Tyler gestured for you to continue.

“I need your brother to at least pretend he’s interested in this. If he looks like he hates me in every picture my followers will clock it easily.”

Trent leaned back in his chair, smirking. “Relax. I’ll play nice.”

“You better” you shot back, grabbing your purse. “I’m not here to save your ass mate. I’m only doing it because the money is too good to pass up. And I actually know how to curate an image unlike you.”

Trent scoffed, rolling his eyes at your jab. “Curate an image? By doing what? Posting oat milk lattes and sunsets?”

“Try millions of people who actually care about what I say and what I buy” you fired back, standing up to adjust your bag strap. “But you? You’re lucky if anyone even reads your dry ass captions.”

Tyler pinched the bridge of his nose like he was deeply regretting his life choices. “Okay..enough. Both of you.” He turned to Trent with a warning expression. “Y/N is here to help you and we’re paying her a lot of money to make sure you don’t turn into a liability.”

Trent rubbed his hand over his forehead and crossed his arms, his smirk still in place. “Got it. I’ll be the perfect fake boyfriend.”

“You’re already bad at it” you muttered under your breath.

“Okay stop.” Tyler interrupted before Trent could come back with anything else. He stood up, motioning for you to sit back down. “We’ll need to go over specifics so you don’t mess up anything when this starts.”

“Right. Because I’m the one that’s gonna be a problem.” you answered back dryly, making Trent chuckle quietly. Tyler pulled up another presentation on screen with multiple bullet points and mocked up photos. “This is how this is gonna work. We’re going to start small with discreet hints like stories and maybe some pictures while you’re in Liverpool for the holidays. Make sure it’s subtle. Y/N, if your followers are eagle eyed we need to make sure it’s not too obvious at first.”

You nodded, already mentally calculating how to stage something that was lowkey but believable. “Got it. But what about him?” You jerked your thumb toward Trent, who looked like he would rather be anywhere but in the meeting room.

“He’ll match your posts,” Tyler said. “Simple stuff only though, like sharing ambiguous shots. Nothing too heavy.”

Trent scoffed and cocked his brow. “So what? Like a blurry picture of my trainers and call it a day?”

“Oh my god” you muttered, shaking your head. “You literally have no sauce. None. You’re so boring.”

“Moving on…” Tyler cut in before another argument could break out. “You’ll spend Christmas and Boxing Day with us at our family’s house in Liverpool. So you have to play the part for social media and for our parents, Marcel, and family friends. I’ll be the only one in on this.”

Trent frowned, not liking that idea at all. “Do they really need to be involved?”

“Yes.” Tyler answered matter of factly. “Because if we can’t convince them, then there’s no chance anyone else will believe it either.”

You raised your hand like you were in a classroom. “Mmk, quick question. What’s the backstory? How did we meet...how long have we been fake dating?”

Tyler pulled up a slide titled ‘Backstory’ and you glanced over it quickly, wanting to complain because it literally looked like he stole the idea from a girl blogger on the internet.

“You met at a private influencer event in London–”

Trent interrupted, “What’s an influencer event?”

You blinked at him. “Are you that fucking dumb?? There’s no way…”

“It’s like the stuff you post” Tyler deadpanned. “Clothes, photographers, influencers, models. Anyway...you hit it off, exchanged numbers and started seeing each other about four months ago and kept it lowkey because you wanted privacy.”

“Four months?” Trent questioned while frowning. “Isn’t that a little short?”

“Not when you’re a serial dating Libra…” you shot back. “And honestly the less time we pretend to have been together, the less likely we are to mess up the details.”

Tyler nodded. “Exactly that. But you still need to act like you’ve been dating for months. Know each other’s habits, inside jokes, favorite things.”

You tilted your head at Trent, narrowing your eyes. “Right. What’s your favorite food Trent?”

He looked like you asked him for the code to his house. “Um..protein I guess?”

“What? That’s not—I know you’re fucking lying” You slumped back in your chair, rubbing your temples from the regret. “This is going to be a disaster.”

Tyler ignored the tension and instead moved on. “After the holidays you’ll need to continue with the occasional post for the next month..just enough to keep the story alive online, but you don’t have to be seen with him publicly at all until February. We’ll do a hard launch in February with photos together and maybe a public appearance. After that, just a few photos online here and there.”

“And then we break up just in time for hot girl summer” you added, pretending it was a joke but it really wasn’t. You weren’t trying to let this affect your time on a yacht under the sun in Capri.

Trent smirked. “Hot girl summer??”

You gawked at him. “Meg the– wait are you serious? Are you on the internet at all??”

Tyler cut in with a firm voice. “Can you both shut up for two seconds? This will only work if it’s convincing. That means no fighting in front of people. Especially in public.” You rolled your eyes but stayed quiet, glancing over at Trent who was scrolling through his phone under the table. Probably googling himself knowing him.

After the meeting was over, you left the building with a heavy sigh that felt like it came straight from the soul. You couldn’t believe you accepted the proposal and were now under the contractual obligation to deal with Trent and his extensive attitude for the next six months. The cold air hit your face as you stepped into the car park and you pulled your purse closer as if to shield yourself from whatever chaos Trent was bound to bring in these next couple of months.

The sound of footsteps behind you made you groan internally. Speak of the devil.

“You always this fun or is it all for me?” His voice was smug, his accent rolled the words off in a way that made you have to pause just to think about what he said and that grated your nerves already. When you turned around, his hands were shoved into the pockets of his joggers, leaning against a black car. Of course he followed you out.

“Only for you mate. Consider it your welcome package..or an early Christmas gift” you deadpanned while still fumbling with your purse.

“Lucky me.” Somehow he made it sound like he meant it. Maybe he wasn’t all that clueless..or maybe he was just fucking with you.

“Don’t push it.” You yanked open the door of the hired car waiting for you, already done with his small talk.

“It won’t be so bad” he smirked, like it was some kind of joke to him. Like he wasn’t the one who needed this arrangement to clean up his trainwreck of an image.

“Just act like you’ve been somewhere before” You paused before you slid into the car. “Show up, smile, and don’t say anything stupid. That’s all I need from you. No more, no less.” You swung your legs in and reached for the door, about to close it, but his voice stopped you.

“Wait! What’s your favorite food?”

Your hand froze mid reach and you looked up to give him an unimpressed look. “Why?”

He shrugged, far too pleased with himself for someone whose job it was to not piss you off. “I think I should know. Seeing as I’m pretending to be the love of your life and all.”

The sheer audacity of this man was maddening. “Love of my life?? Please” you snorted. “I’m only mildly okay with you right now. I tolerate you. That’s it.”

“Ok. Fine. So what is it then?” he pressed, enjoying the way you rolled your eyes at nearly everything coming out of his mouth.

“Shrimp fried rice” you snapped, yanking the door shut. Through the tinted window you saw him grin and you shook your head, slumping into your seat as the car pulled off. You weren’t sure if it was the money, the challenge, or the audacity of Trent that made you agree to any of this.

Whatever it was, you knew it was going to be the longest six months of your life.

You made it to Manchester two days early to ‘acclimate’ as Tyler called it, but in all actuality you needed time to figure out how to make this situation feel less like reality TV. Posting subtle hints on Instagram was your first step. Just enough to start the speculation without turning everything into a circus. Your first story was a panoramic view of Manchester from your hotel room, where you left a cute caption about not being in London or Los Angeles for once. The comments rolled in nearly immediately. People wanted to know why you were in Manchester for the holidays, and whether it was for a brand deal, or a new beau. Your next story was a picture of your luggage, strategically unzipped to show a small piece of a Liverpool scarf tucked inside. You didn’t even caption it, you just let everyone draw their own conclusions.

Later that week, you were in the passenger seat of Trent’s car as he drove the both of you to Liverpool. It was silent, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, the silence was just there. You had your airpods in, half tuned into a podcast, while he had one hand on the wheel and the other scrolling through a Spotify playlist, probably looking for some stupid Drake song to play.

“This is your plan then?” he asked suddenly, breaking the silence.

You pulled out one airpod and glanced at him. “What?”

“This instagram stuff.” He gestured toward your phone. “I saw your story. Not bad. Kind of dramatic though..don’t you think?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Says the one having a PR disaster so terrible he had get his brother to hire a fake girlfriend for him.”

Trent smirked, turning his eyes back to the road. “Ah, fair. But a Liverpool scarf is a lot. That’s gonna cause some shit.”

“That’s the entire point. My followers will be on it in minutes and by the time we show up at your parents’, half the internet will have think pieces about how we’re madly in love.”

“Madly in love?” He shook his head, laughing. “That’s overkill.”

You shrugged, looking through your camera roll for your next post. “I know what I’m doing. Trust me.”

The Alexander-Arnold house was exactly what you imagined. It wasn’t obnoxiously huge but it was comfortable and cozy. The home’s exterior was decorated with Christmas lights and a wreath hung on the front door that looked handmade. 

You stood on the doorstep with bated breath. Trent was next to you with his hands shoved in his pockets, as unbothered as ever. If he was nervous about selling this relationship to his family, it didn’t really show.

“Ready?” he asked with a faint smirk.

“Are you?” you cocked your brow. “I’m not the one who waited until two days ago to mention I existed.” Trent winced but didn’t respond and instead pressed the doorbell. You didn’t know why he did that considering he could’ve just walked in. Maybe he was nervous. Either way, him not taking the responsibility over the fact that his mum would probably clock both of you had you annoyed. The door opened shortly after and his mum stood there, all smiles and festive. There was a look in her eye that told you she wasn’t buying any of this nonsense from the start. “Oh! You must be Y/N!” she greeted warmly, stepping forward and pulling you into a hug before you could even say hello. The hug felt genuine enough, but it also had that undertone of ‘lets see whats really going on here’.

You blinked, trying not to overthink things. “Hiii, so nice to meet you Mrs. Alex–”

“Dianne. Just call me Dianne” she interrupted, pulling back but keeping her hands on your arms while looking at you. “No need to be formal. You’re family for the holidays.”

Family. Right. That’s what this was. You were Trent’s ‘girlfriend’. You forced a smile, ignoring the way your stomach was turning as a result of her response. Trent’s dad appeared behind his mum and he gave you a firm handshake, but his expression was less warm and more reserved.

“Welcome. Glad you’re here to join us” he said simply.

“Thanks for having me” you replied, trying to keep your tone polite but still warm.

Marcel was leaning against the staircase in the hall with his arms crossed, displaying a shit eating grin plastered across his face. “So” he began, dragging the word out as he straightened up and walked over with a stroll. “You’re the random girlfriend that’s popped up out of nowhere.”

You felt your pulse spike but you forced yourself to laugh. “Yeah..I guess that’s me.”

“Hmm” he hummed, tilting his head. “Funny you’ve never been mentioned before until two days ago. Not even once.”

Your smile tightened and you glanced at Trent, hoping he would swoop in and save the day with something clever but he just stood there looking like he was vaguely amused by the whole thing.

“Marcel, don’t be rude,” Dianne warned lightly.

“I’m not!” Marcel kissed his teeth. “I’m just saying it’s mad he’s never mentioned her and now she’s here for Christmas. I don’t know this girl..never seen her a day in my life.” He turned back to you with a cheeky grin. “How’d you meet? Paris? Milan? Ibiza??”

You really wanted to knock Trent upside his head at this point but instead you gave a sweet smile. “At a private influencer event actually.”

Dianne laughed, knowing her son wasn’t serious enough to attend a private event like that. She looked at him, trying to figure out if all of this was bullshit. Marcel didn’t even try to hide his disbelief. “Yeah, sure. What was the event called?”

Your stomach dropped and you went wide eyed. You could’ve googled literally anything about Trent’s past couple of months to make this more believable, but you didn’t and clearly neither had he. You paused to think for a little bit, which was just long enough for Marcel to attack.

“Yeah that’s what I thought” he smirked.

“Alright that’s enough” Dianne interrupted, but it was clear she was waiting for that answer as well. “Marcel leave the poor girl alone.”

Michael cleared his throat and stepped in. “Dinner’s in an hour.”

By the time Christmas dinner rolled around, you sat down next to Trent, almost too distracted by the food to notice the tension brewing at the table, but then his mum’s voice cut through your distraction like a blade wrapped in sugar. 

“So Y/N..” She handed you a gravy boat with a fake smile. “How long have you two been together?”

“Four months” you answered with ease, remembering the backstory presentation. You looked at Trent for a brief moment to make sure he was following along.

“Three” Trent said through a mouthful of roasted potatoes while not even looking up.

You scrunched your face, blinking back disbelief. “Four.”

“No it’s three” he insisted, frowning as he reached for some rice. “September, right?”

“August” you corrected him through clenched teeth and kicked him under the table. His fork froze mid air and he finally looked at you. 

“August?”

“Yes” you hissed, trying to keep the forced smile on your face while glancing back at his mum, who was watching like a hawk. “The end of August.”

Trent shrugged, and went back to eating the food from his plate. “That’s basically September.”

“It’s really not.”

Dianne’s eyes darted between both of you with a smile still there, but curiosity very obviously piqued. “Strange..” she started lightly. “I don’t remember hearing about you in August or September. He didn’t mention you until just a few days ago.” Marcel almost choked on his drink from laughing, and even their dad chuckled to himself before taking a sip of his drink.

“I didn’t want to jinx it that’s all” Trent said casually while leaning back in his chair, still popping food into his mouth.

You glared at him. “Jinx it?”

“Yeah” he smirked, looking at you. “Didn’t wanna rush things y’know?”

You bit down on the side of your cheek to keep from snapping at him. He wasn’t following the script at all. He was barely trying, mostly hoping to coast on charm like it would cover all the gaping holes in your ‘love’ story.

“Right…” Dianne slowly spoke while arching her brow just enough to make you feel nervous. “So where did this event happen again?”

“London” you answered fast before Trent found a way to ruin that too, but he answered at the same time as you, with a completely different answer.

“Paris.” 

Marcel snorted into his drink, laughing so hard he started bumping the table and made the cutlery rattle. Across from you, their mum had a smile still on her face but the look on her face drilled right into your badly built backstory. She didn’t say anything, but you knew she had more questions when she eyed Michael with a knowing glance. You turned to Trent, narrowing your eyes at him and gave him another kick under the table that landed on his shin. He jumped forward and dropped his fork on his plate.

“London” you repeated in a tight voice with a smile that was more of a grimace. “We met in London at the influencer event.”

Trent nodded, rubbing his shin but still smirking, not taking any of this seriously. “Yeah London. The city with all the..... influencer stuff.”

Marcel nearly slid out of his chair from failing to keep his laughs at an appropriate volume at the table. Dianne looked at him with a warning but it didn’t bother him in the slightest. He leaned forward and rested his chin on his hand with an entertained look on his face. “Oh yeah?” he said grinning. “Since you’re so in love, what’s her favorite food then?”

You could see the gears in Trent’s head trying their very best to come up with an answer while he chewed his food. “Uhhh....” He drew the word out for so long you wanted to answer for him. “Shrimp fried rice?” You let out a soft exhale, surprised he actually listened in the car park. Marcel wasn’t impressed and tipped his head back to cackle.

“Took you long enough to answer.”

By this point, the entire family was trying to hide their laughs from the absurdity of the situation. Their dad even cracked a smile and shook his head as he passed a plate of roasted veggies to Marcel.

“Trent” Dianne dabbed her mouth with a napkin, still smiling. “You’re absolutely hopeless when it comes to relationships.”

“I’m not hopeless” he contested, glaring at Marcel who was still in stitches over the whole ordeal.

“Oh, love” you said sweetly, leaning in close enough to lower your voice. “You really are.”

He tilted his head, cutting his eyes at you but he had a playful look in his eye at the same time. “Careful. You’re supposed to be in love with me, remember?”

You smirked, raising your glass like you were doing a toast. “I must be a really great actress then.”

The sound of the door opening saved you from whatever dumb thing Trent was about to say. Tyler walked in a casual rush, juggling a reusable tote bag and his phone. “Sorry I’m late.” He slid in the chair next to Michael. His wife wasn’t far behind and had a baby on her hip, smiling to make up for Tyler’s disheveled state.

“Tyler!” Dianne exclaimed, momentarily distracted by her eldest child. “We were just about to have dessert. There’s plenty of food left, let me fix you a plate.”

“No need” Tyler replied while waving her off with a smile. His gaze shifted to you first, and then Trent. “You two alright?”

“Great.” Trent answered, dragging the word out in a very unbothered tone.

“Fantastic” you added, side eyeing Trent.

“Good..” Tyler clapped his hands together. “Because I brought something to make this whole thing even better.” From the tote bag, Tyler pulled out two neatly wrapped presents and handed one to both of you under the table with a wink.

“What’s this?” you asked in a whisper, frowning while trying to discreetly look at the tag.

“Just go with it,” Tyler whispered back. “It strengthens the story. Just act surprised.”

Trent shook the box in his hands like it came from the North Pole, fresh off the sleigh. “What is it?” he asked, too loud for the covert operation Tyler planned.

Marcel’s eyes lit up immediately. “Hey, what’s all that?”

“It’s nothing” you glared at Trent and then Marcel. “Just something we brought for each other.”

Dianne’s attention turned back to you and you felt her sizing up the gifts that had randomly appeared all of a sudden. “How thoughtful…”

You reluctantly tore into the wrapping paper. Inside, there was a Diptyque gift set and a pair of designer sunglasses from Jacques Marie Mage that were so exclusive they had yet to hit most influencer’s feeds. It was perfectly on brand and very believable. Trent unwrapped his gift with the same flair of a child. Inside was a custom bag from Goyard with his initials engraved, and a high tech Hypervolt massage gun that hadn’t been released yet.

“Nice” Trent exclaimed while holding both up like it was a trophy. “You have good taste baby.”

Baby?

The table paused collectively. Dianne’s eyes froze on both of you, Marcel peered at you over the rim of his glass, Michael leaned back with a curious look on his face. Tyler gave you a subtle thumbs up from across the table and you wanted to strangle him.

“Baby?” you repeated in a confused tone. “Where did that come from?”

“Just felt right. Don’t you think?” Trent shrugged with a smirk.

You clenched your teeth, glancing over at the baby that was now side eyeing you too. You gave her a sweet smile and she frowned at you more. “Oh it’s perfect.”

Michael broke the silence with a hearty laugh. “Well..it’s nice to see you two so close.”

“Oh, we’re close” you said quickly, giving Trent a look that could kill.

“Basically inseparable” he added, winking as he set the gifts on the table. Tyler cleared his throat to try and get the conversation back on track. “So, Mum..what’s for dessert?”

Thank god Dianne didn’t press any further after Tyler’s distraction, but you knew this was far from over. When no one was watching, Trent leaned toward you in a low and smug voice. “Relax. You’re doing great.”

You didn’t even bother looking at him because you were so annoyed.

“Stick to the script or I swear I’ll throw one of these Diptyque candles at your head.”

Trent chuckled, leaning back in his chair. “Looking forward to it…..baby.”

By the time dinner was over, you walked upstairs to kick off your heels and Trent had already claimed the bathroom. You could hear the sound of running water and his terrible singing drifting through the door as you sat on the bed, laying out your carefully curated skincare routine: cleansing oil for your makeup removal, glycerin cleanser for moisture, red light therapy, centella toner, hyaluronic acid serum, eye serum, ceramidin moisturizer, a spritzer of atobarrier cream mist, and a sleeping lip mask. You lined them up on the table like little soldiers. When Trent finally came out of the shower, his towel was wrapped around his hips and he paused mid step, staring at your collection of bottles and jars.

“What the hell is all of that?” he asked, pointing with his toothbrush still in hand.

“It’s called flawless, glass skin” you shot back, reaching for the oil cleanser and heading to the bathroom. He leaned against the wall with a smirk. “You look like a chemist.”

“Don’t knock it til you try it” you ignored him as you massaged the oil cleanser into your skin. “This is why I look like this” you gestured to your face, “and you’re just...you know.”

Cute? He was cute. But there was no need to gas him up.

“Just what?”

“Nevermind.” you muttered, grabbing your face towel.

“Nah. Finish it. Go on” he teased, stepping gloser. “Already halfway there anyway.”

You glared at him. “If you don’t get out of my face…” Trent turned to adjust the towel around his hip and it slipped. The towel fell on the floor and his dick was in full display. Not bad honestly – thick with a slight curve that was...kind of aesthetically pleasing. Your mouth dropped before you could realize and you turned around so fast you almost knocked over a serum bottle.

“Oh my god! Trent!”

“What?” he asked, way too casual for someone who just flashed you. “It’s just skin. You’re acting like you’ve never seen one before.”

“Not the point!” you yelled, keeping your eyes firmly on the wall while he laughed. Eventually, he bent down to grab the towel and you could hear the smirk in his voice when he spoke again.

“Chill. Don’t act like you weren’t curious about it anyway. Gonna post my dick report anonymously online now?”

You turned back to glare at him now that he was safely wrapped back in the towel. “Please. I’m sure the girls you were with at 4am have already done that for you. Just..don’t let it happen again or I’m actually going to gouge my eyes out.”

He grinned at you, strolling over to the bed like he didn’t just traumatize you. “You’re dramatic. It’s cute.”

After the dick debacle, you climbed into bed, muttering under your breath about boundaries and respect. Trent flopped down next to you while scrolling through his phone without a care in the world.

“You’re actually so annoying” you said while setting up the perfect soft launch shot.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that one a few times,” he replied without looking up.

You ignored him to focus on the picture. It was supposed to be subtle, yet strategic: your skincare bottles glowed under the warm light from the lamp on the bedside table. In the background, Trent was slightly blurred from the setting, yet identifiable as he laid on the bed, legs crossed with his phone in one hand. The caption you added: ‘never let santa stop this slay, skincare always ��✨’. By the time you posted the story, your phone was already pinging because SpillTheBeansUK had posted it with a quickness.

SpillTheBeansUK: Who’s the mystery man in Y/N’s background? The skincare? Impeccable. The vibes? Cozy. But that ARM…who’s claiming it? 🕵️‍♀️

ynstan99: WAIT. WHO IS THAT IN THE BACKGROUND?

liverpoolbabe01: that’s defo liverpool and that’s trent’s fam’s house i recognize it bc my mum’s cousin’s best friend’s sister’s brother in law lives just across the road omg she bagged a footballer???

nosygirlfc: GIRL WE KNOW THAT’S TRENT WE’RE NOT DUMB

“What are you posting?” Trent asked, glancing over at your screen.

“Work” you replied simply, turning your phone toward him. “You see that? That’s how you soft launch.”

He studied the story for a bit and nodded while smirking. “Not bad. My turn.”

“You’re posting something?”

“Yup” he replied plainly, scrolling through his camera roll. Minutes later he posted a random photo of his feet propped on a coffee table next to the Christmas tree downstairs, with your phone case barely visible at the edge of the frame that he took earlier. His caption was lame and boring: Holiday vibes.

“That’s so pathetic” you shook your head.

“It’s subtle,” he argued, leaning back against the pillows.

“It’s lazy” you argued back, setting your phone off to the side.

“Lazy works.” He turned off the light, smirking. You rolled your eyes but didn’t respond and pulled the blanket up while turning away from him. The room went quiet before he broke the silence with his sarcasm just as you were starting to drift off to sleep. “Night, my love.”

--

You should’ve known Boxing Day wasn’t going to be about lounging around in pajamas and eating leftovers while scrolling through Instagram in peace. Not when Tyler was involved.

The man had sent a fully detailed itinerary to both of you at an ungodly hour that morning, outlining what he dramatically called ‘The Boxing Day Stroll’. The plan was to head to Manchester, walk around casually, and let the pre-arranged paparazzi do their thing. Of course it wouldn’t be all that easy because the man had already messed up damn near everything else in this facade.

“Just act natural” Tyler said while driving you over to the staged area. “And look like you can’t get enough of each other.” As the car pulled to a stop, you glanced over at Trent who was slouched in his seat, lazily scrolling through a dating app on his phone when he was supposed to be fake dating you.

“You do remember what we’re doing, right?” you asked.

“Walking” he said without looking up.

“Walking and looking like we’re deeply, madly, dangerously in love” you corrected him. “So don’t glare, or pout, and don’t say anything idiotic when someone asks what my name is.”

Trent finally looked up and his lips curved into that same infuriating smirk that pissed you off. “You’re very bossy, you know that?”

“And you’re very bad at following directions.” you argued back.

“Relax baby. I’ll be on my best behaviour.”

“Don’t call me baby” you muttered while pulling the car door open before he could irritate you anymore than he already had.

The city was packed with people entering storefronts, couples and families carrying bags from Boxing Day sales, and kids running around screaming from sugar rush. The holiday vibes were still in full force and picturesque enough for you to almost forget the cameras until you heard the sound of a shutter. You tensed and looked over to the source of the sound but Trent was still unbothered by it, shoving his hands deep into his pockets. He must’ve done these before. He annoyingly looked good even though all he did was throw on whatever was closest. Meanwhile, your fit was carefully curated and you wore a cute co-ord jumper over a wool coat, jeans, chocolate brown booties with a ribbed fold over knit fabric, a crossbody bag, and assorted jewelry from PR packages you received.

“Hold my hand” you whispered through clenched teeth with a frozen smile while passing a group of shoppers.

“What?”

“Hold. My. Hand.” you repeated with a forced expression while waving at an eager little boy who looked more interested in Trent than you. He rolled his eyes but reached for your hand. His palms were warm and comforting, annoyingly enough.

“Happy now?”

“Ecstatic,” you replied through your fake smile, tilting your head to pretend you were saying something cute instead of wanting to knock him upside his head. As you walked down the street, you could see the paps positioning themselves and whispering about different angles. You stopped in front of a shop window that had the most gorgeous jewellery and pretended to admire a necklace while pulling Trent closer.

“That one’s nice” you pointed to a random piece on display.

“Eh. Too shiny.” he glanced at it for all of two seconds.

You side eyed him. “Too shiny?? It’s a necklace.”

“Yeah. It looks tacky as fuck” he smirked.

“You think that’s tacky?” you cracked back. “You don’t even know how to dress. You have multiple pairs of the same trainers and tracksuits. That’s tacky.”

“Nah. They’re not all the same. Some of them are for athletic wear and the others are for leisure. There’s a difference.”

You almost laughed but quickly covered it with a cough instead. This man was ridiculous in his own way, and it was kind of endearing. When you turned the corner to a quieter street, the paps pretended to be hidden behind strategically placed stalls, waiting for the perfect shot. “Okay..” you muttered, leaning into Trent just enough to be believable. “Let’s just make this quick. Look at me like I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you.”

“Not too hard to do. You’re easy on the eyes.”

You lost your steps for a little and muttered, “Don’t overdo it,” brushing a nonexistent strand of hair from your face to behind your ear. “Just be calm.”

“I’m calm” he countered, lightly grazing his thumb over your knuckles. “You’re really committed to this shit, huh?”

“Well..your management team is paying me for this so yeah..I am” you tightly smiled. The cameras kept taking photos but you didn’t look toward them this time so that they could get exactly what was needed. The pictures hit the interwebs almost instantly and they were good. There was a candid of you mid laugh as Trent looked at you with a soft expression and melting grin. The second one was a close up of your hands intertwined while you leaned into him. The angle it was taken in made it look like you were sharing a private moment in the middle of a crowded street. The final picture was of Trent breaking off a piece of chocolate and feeding it to you while smiling in a cozy corner of a small shop. That wasn’t planned though, the joy from that was the real deal.

Before you made it back to the car, Tyler was already in the group chat, hyping both of you up. The pictures were reposted by SpillTheBeans too:

SpillTheBeansUK: Trent Alexander-Arnold spotted out with influencer Y/N L/N looking very cozy in Manchester on Boxing Day. Rumour has it, this love story started a few months ago...Any thoughts, Beans? 👀

ynstan99: sobbing, crying, throwing up. LOOK AT THEM

whatRUonabt: PR but i can’t even hate she’s gorg and they look good

reds4vr_: not convinced after that stunt he pulled last week during match. this is obviously fake news to get us off his back

chirpchirp: she’s just like me fr but i can hold his hand better footiebro: she’s leng but i hope bro isn’t serious he’s got too many distractions

giseleeee_: i give it 3 months before they announce a break up this is fake as fuck

plsbereal: imagine him holding her camera silently while she films vlogs and ootd’s i’m screaming 🥺

YNsquad: i can’t wait until she posts her next chaotic story and he’s in the background. confirm it queen!!

You scrolled through all the chaotic comments, shaking your head as Trent leaned in to peek at your screen. “What are they saying?” he asked, more invested than he wanted to let on.

“My fans think you’re obsessed with me” you held back your grin while showing him the comments.

“Nah. Other way around I think” he smirked, cocking his brow.

“Whatever” you rolled your eyes, still scrolling through your phone as the car pulled away. 

By the time midweek rolled around, you were wondering why you agreed to any of this. Sitting in the box at Anfield felt like you were walking into enemy territory. This was...cute, but not really your vibe. The launch strategy was working so Tyler insisted you show up to keep up this festive fairytale. The box was filled with WAGS and family members dressed up. You weren’t entirely out of place, your fit was eating theirs up rightfully so, but you still felt like a fish out of water every time someone looked at you for too long. You tried to make the most out of it and half an hour into the match, you posted a curated story of a video on the field, zoomed in just enough to show everyone on the field in clear view with the caption: not usually my vibe but i’ll allow it ⚽

The second slide was a chaotic close up of your freshly done nails in an almond shape holding a drink. The third was a shaky clip of the crowd cheering just as Trent assisted with a goal. It didn’t take long for you know who to start some mess.

SpillTheBeansUK: Y/N posts from the box after her Boxing Day photoshoot with TAA! Official or not? Let the investigations begin 🕵️‍♀️

loverpoolluvr: she’s just posting random stories. y’all are reading too much into it

overlibramen: how are you lot defending this? man has a new personality every week. let’s bffr

ynbabesfc: nails immaculate and she’s living rent free in your head and trent’s. COPE

sleuthysleuth: the timeline makes sense i’ve got the receipts and it tracks

trentsgfwannabe: i bet she doesn’t even like football and he deserves someone who can actually appreciate the sport

By the time you and Trent made it back to the house that night, you were drained to hell. The day was filled with forced smiles, cameras, and a lot of online chaos that you tried not to look at but ended up scrolling through anyway.

“You okay?” Trent asked in a softer voice than you expected for someone who supposedly didn’t care.

“I’m fine..” you mumbled while grabbing an oversized hoodie you borrowed from him earlier in the week and some pajama shorts. “I just feel like I’m so out of my element right now.” 

Trent had already claimed his spot on the bed and was scrolling through his phone with one hand and eating crisps out of the other. “You’re not that bad at it” he replied, looking up at you as you climbed on your side of the bed.

“Wow thanks” you responded dryly and grabbed one of the snacks he was holding out for you. You were both on your phones, scrolling through various apps while crisp bags crinkled noisily through the silence.

“…Do you ever get nervous or scared?” you asked to break through the silence.

“Nervous or scared about what?” He set his phone down, looking at you with a confused look.

“Of losing yourself with all the fame. It’s like.. I’ve built this whole brand online on my own and I have an audience that trusts me a lot because my whole thing is based on being real with them. But this is....not real. And it feels wrong.” You gestured at him and then you. “I’m scared it’s going to ruin things for me.”

Trent nodded at you and took a deep breath. “Yeah, I get it. Everything I do on or off the pitch always feels like it’s for someone else. I don’t always know what I want. And I change my mind a lot.”

You looked at him in surprise, taken aback by what you assumed was honesty. “Really?”

“Yeah..” he leaned back against the headboard. “Feels like I’m a product and not a person sometimes. Sometimes I rebel every once in a while but I guess I took it too far this time.”

For the first time, you saw him as Trent and not some footballer with a PR disaster on his hands. “Well...at least we have this to bond over. Being fake together.”

He laughed then grinned at you with a wide smile. “Yeah...something like that.”

“It’s kind of weird though. Because for something so fake...it’s starting to feel like it’s...not. Since we’re together all the time and whatnot.”

Trent cocked a brow at your last statement. You opened your mouth to backtrack and say something snarky or petty, but your phone rang against the bedside table. The screen lit up with a facetime call and your stomach dropped when you saw the name.

Romeo Cruz.

Romeo was a rising singer in LA that had all the charm, charisma, and a voice that made every girl want to melt. He slid into your DMs months ago, and while it wasn’t anything super serious, there was definitely flirting going on, and it was FUN. You glanced at Trent who was also looking at your screen.

“Who’s that?”

You reached for your phone with hesitation. “Uhh..just someone I know. No biggie.”

Trent leaned back on the headboard with a clenched jaw. “Yeah? Someone important enough to facetime you at nearly midnight?”

You rolled your eyes and ignored him, answering the call anyway. “Romeo! Hey.” On the screen, Romeo appeared with tousled curly hair, a signature smile with dimples, a sharp jawline, and beautifully glowing, sun kissed skin. “Hey beautiful” he dripped in his velvety, deep and smooth voice. “Just checking in. Haven’t heard from you in a while.”

“Yeah, sorry” your tone was a bit light, a little flirty, but you were nervous because Trent was right there, burning his eyes into the side of your face. “Life has been....busy. A little chaotic but you know me, I love that.”

Romeo noticed the tension inflicted in your voice and cocked his head back from the screen a bit in concern. “You good? Where are you? LA or London?”

You didn’t get a chance to answer because Trent reached over and took the phone from your hands like it was his own phone. “She’s busy right now.” He answered for you in a flat tone, holding up the phone so Romeo could see him and his annoying smirk.

“Uh.. and who are you?”

“Her boyfriend,” Trent replied smoothly. “Thanks for the check in mate but she’s good. We’re in the middle of something.” He paused for the drama of it all and then looked at you.

Romeo had a look of disbelief and irritation showing on his face. “Well tell her to call when she’s–”

Trent didn’t let him finish and took the opportunity to cup your chin with one hand, pulling you into a kiss. For something that was fake it felt way too convincing. You felt butterflies in your stomach as his lips met yours. He didn’t pull away immediately, but when he did you were dazed and out of breath. Too stunned to speak. Romeo saw it all and Trent’s face lit up with the cockiest grin ever.

“Yeah I doubt that mate. She’ll be too tired.” He hit the button to end the call.

“What the fuck was that?” you stared at him, your mouth agape in shock.

“What?”

“What????” you repeated, the volume in your voice increasing. “You just kissed me and basically told him I’m taken..like I’m your actual girlfriend! What the fuck??”

Trent popped a crisp into his mouth, chewing obnoxiously and meeting your death glare with a calm look, then he shrugged. “Just following the script, remember?”

--

By New Years Eve, your public side of the bargain was winding down, but Trent was still annoying you more than ever, even after the kiss. The sound of him chewing in your ear was still echoing days later as you stood in front of the mirror of the hotel, adjusting your ponytail again. Your hair was slicked back with the ends flipped up in soft curls that bounced whenever you moved. You had two loose strands in the front. Your followers knew those strands as your ‘slut strands’ – a term you coined because whenever you had those two strands framing your face, things always ended up a little wild. Between the alcohol flowing at the NYE party, the DJ, and Trent by your side, you knew something was bound to happen. You were always a Chatty Cathy on the juice, and the strands were an unofficial warning label that signified you were about to be everyone’s best friend, or a major problem. You adjusted your dress and gave yourself a final look in the mirror. You were trying to give unbothered girlie with a hint of ruining someone’s life one drink at a time. You grinned at yourself, knowing you looked like you were that girl™.

Just as you were about to spritz your perfume, Tyler texted the group chat:

Start heading to the club. The event is popping off atm. Pap friendly corner is just outside near the bar’s exit so make it count.

You rolled your eyes in annoyance. Of course Tyler felt the need to micromanage the party from a distance while acting like he wasn’t the most hands off manager in the industry. He could barely schedule Trent’s interviews on time but was now suddenly invested in making this fake relationship seem so solid. You just wanted to have a good time and be free of this nonsense publically like your contract originally stated.

“I can’t believe all three of the Alexander-Arnold boys are this annoying” you muttered under your breath while putting your heels on. 

Your contract made it clear that New Year’s Eve was the grand finale for the public part of the facade. After tonight, you wouldn’t have to parade around looking like you were madly in love anymore. The plan was to silently pull back and make the relationship seem more private with the occasional story, casual mentions, and reposts every once in a while until June, where you would announce a breakup and be free of him for good. You grabbed your purse and headed for the door to meet Trent downstairs. If this was going to be the last time you had to fake it, you were going out with a bang..and you were going to have some fun with it too just to celebrate the end of this mess.

When you reached the lobby of the hotel, Trent was waiting for you and scrolling through his phone. He looked good, his trim was crisp, his fit wasn’t terrible, and he smelled amazingly good. He lowered his phone, eyeing you from head to toe with a clenched jaw.

“Damn” he voiced involuntarily.

You tried to avoid smirking and adjusted the strap of your dress but a smirk still appeared anyway. “That’s it? Just damn? I put a lot of effort in for this look…”

He licked over his lips and finally looked you in the eye. “Then you already know how you look.”

“You’re lucky I’m feeling great or else I’d make you say it with more enthusiasm.”

“Trust me” he started, running a hand over his head. “I’m enthusiastic but you don’t need a bigger head than you already have.”

You rolled your eyes and brushed past him to head to the car waiting outside, your heels tapping against the marbled lobby floor. “Shut up and come on. I can’t deal with you while sober tonight. I need a drink.”

By the time you made it to the club, it was already pure chaos. The bass was so heavy you could feel it in your chest as you walked through the VIP area. There were strobe lights flashing around, illuminating random moments of chaos. A group of footballers were trying to outdrink each other in a booth stacked with empty Clase Azul bottles, an influencer in a bright dress was dancing on a table with a sparkler in one hand, and a model was yelling at a bartender because she couldn’t find a tiny baggie of white substance she drunkenly left at the bar who knows how long ago.

When you and Trent walked in, heads turned and whispers cut through the air. His hand brushed against your back to keep up with the facade. The scent in the air was...interesting. It was a blend of liquor, sweat, perfume and the faint tang of weed smoke. You knew tonight was going to leave a mark whether it be on your reputation, your conscience, or both.

“Where’s Tyler’s pap friendly corner again?” you asked, leaning into Trent so you wouldn’t have to yell over the blaring music.

“Near the bar. But let’s grab a drink first.”

You followed him as the hem of your dress brushed against your thigh. The bar was wild. People were pushing against each other like they would run out of alcohol, or maybe they just really wanted the Getty Images watermark with a top face card photo to memorialize the end of the year. The bartender was busy juggling a bottle of Hennessy with one hand, and pouring multiple shots with the other hand, all while someone was yelling for espresso martinis from the corner.

“Champagne? Martini?” Trent asked, turning to you as you perched against the counter with your hips leaning into the wood.

You shook your head. “A round of shots from top shelf and a coconut water.”

“Uh...that’s specific.” He turned to the bartender, ordering for you and himself.

“It’s so I can get fucked up but still stay hydrated from the electrolytes.” Your hands grazed over the two strands of your hair, very diva like. “You wouldn’t understand. It’s my whole thing..it even went viral on tiktok. Don’t knock it til you try it.”

The drinks arrived quicker than you expected and you downed a couple shots immediately in between sipping the coconut water. Trent nursed his vodka soda with lime, scanning the room with his eyes.

“Don’t be boring” you said, gently shoving two shots closer to him.

“I’m not boring” he replied, eyeing the shots and the way your nails grazed against the top surface of the bar.

“Then prove it. Drink the shots and come dance with me.”

He shook his head before reaching for the shots and downing them both. “I don’t dance.”

“Oh my god, shut the fuck up and live a little” you quickly finished the last of your shots and coconut water and then grabbed his hand, leading him to the dancefloor as the curls in your ponytail bounced between the bass reverberating through the club.

The crowd on the dance floor was just as chaotic in a sea of gyrating bodies and heat. You were too tipsy to be sure of what the DJ switched the song to, but it felt seductive and made you sway your hips automatically. The music took control before your brain could even think about it. You turned toward Trent, moving your body to the beat with ease while he watched. He was locked in, staring at you so hard it almost looked like he didn’t realize he was eyeing you like that.

“You’re really not gonna dance?” you teased, tilted your head as you stepped closer with a flirty smirk.

“I told you I don’t–”

“Shut up Trent” you playfully grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the crowd. “Just dance with me.”

As the alcohol coursed through you, you let your hips find the beat, rolling against him with just enough pressure to test him. You felt him tense up behind you, holding his hands just above your waist like he didn’t know whether to grab you or run away.

“Aren’t you Jamaican?” you yelled over your shoulder with a smirk. “Just relax and let the beat find you.”

He let out an exhale and finally rested his hand on your hip. You arched back a little, grinding into him more and his other hand landed on your ass. His body was betraying him and his breath quickened, trying to think of anything else but your ass grinding against his dick so he wouldn’t get hard. His jaw was tight but then his lips parted when his eyes dropped to the way you were rolling your hips against him. He was barely blinking as he stared. Trent’s grip tightened just enough for you to become aware of it.

“You like dancing, don’t you?” you teased again.

“This isn’t dancing.”

“No?” you dared, grinding against him harder. “Then what is it?”

Trent’s fingers dug into your waist and pulled you up against him. His head dipped closer to your neck and he bit his lip like he was fighting the urge to kiss you there. The lines were quickly blurring in the fog of alcohol and you weren’t sure who was pushing harder to cross them. His breath was hot against your neck as you danced up against him. You felt something stiffen against his lower half but you were so tipsy you thought it was his phone. Trent abruptly pulled back, letting go of you as you stood there confused.

“I need a drink.” He turned back toward the crowd, leaving you standing there trying to catch your breath. Your heart was pounding and your body was bouncing with energy that had nowhere to go thanks to the shots and coconut water you had. Before you knew it, a voice yelled your name, but it wasn’t Trent.

It was Levi Colwill.

“Ahh, Y/N! Trent’s better half” Levi slid into Trent’s place, handing you a shot. “Got your favorite.”

You handed it back to him, forcing a smile. “Levi…”

“You look like you could use some better company” he eyed the outline of your body. “Not that Trent’s bad but..you know I’ll dance with you. Just saying.”

You rolled your eyes but still laughed at him...because you were drunk. “Still stirring the pot like always.”

“You know that’s what I do” He downed the shot you refused. “What you been up to? I know you’re exhausted pretending to be with Trent.”

The alcohol made you bolder. “You get me! He’s so annoying sometimes.”

Levi stepped closer, yelling into your ear over the music. “You know where to find me. Send me a DM when it’s all–”

“Levi” Trent slurred in an irritated tone. “Get the fuck out of here.”

Levi shook his head, sipping the drink in hand and then smirked at Trent. “I was just saying hello.”

Trent gripped your wrist firmly but not painful as he pulled you away from Levi and into a quieter corner of the club, which just so happened to be near the bar’s exit where the paps were waiting for the perfect moment to take pictures.

“What the hell was that?” you hissed, yanking your arm free.

“What was what?” Trent snapped back.

“Dragging me away like some jealous boyfriend. That’s not part of the script Trent.”

Trent’s jaw clenched and he stepped closer, leaning into your ear. “You were enjoying that too much. We’re supposed to be together..you can’t flirt with other guys here.”

You laughed, not believing your ears. “Are you dumb?! You walked away like you couldn’t handle it! I’m just trying to have fun tonight.”

“I walked away because you were making me hard.” he shot back in a drunken state, not realizing what he just admitted to.

Your brain short circuited under the fog of alcohol as the music thumped around you. All you could focus on was the thought of Trent standing in front of you, hard, because you danced on him. Then your brain took it a step further and you remembered the night his towel slipped. You had a split glimpse of him on soft and now your tipsy mind was wondering what it looked like on hard. You felt the heat from your cheeks trail down slowly, making your mouth feel dry and knees weak. You were trying to think of literally anything else but the alcohol coursing through your veins wasn't doing you any favors and neither was the way he was looking at you. Trent’s teeth pulled at his bottom lip like he was fighting his thoughts too. You shifted closer to him, playing with a strand of hair framing your face.

“Trent..” you began in a whisper. You didn’t know if you wanted to apologize, flirt, or tell him to just kiss you. His head dipped toward yours as his lips inched toward yours slowly. You were leaning in without even realizing it and his hands hovered over your waist hesitantly. Your eyes dropped to his lips and you saw him lick his lips like he was priming them.

“Y/N!”

A shrill voice broke through whatever was about to happen and you blinked back as someone grabbed your arm. It was another influencer you knew from a brand event but you couldn’t remember her name in your drunken state. She grinned and hugged you like she didn’t just ruin the most dramatic non-kiss of your life.

“Oh my days, girl I haven’t seen you in forever!” she yelled, dragging you toward a VIP booth that was probably just as chaotic as the rest of the club. Trent stood there with an unreadable expression watching as you were pulled away. He turned his gaze to the paparazzi outside who were very pissed they didn’t get their perfect shot.

Just as the countdown to midnight was about to begin, you found your way back to Trent. The club was louder than ever as the final minutes of the year ticked away. Trent was still in the same spot, nursing a fresh drink while the other hand was shoved in his pocket. He noticed you before you could say anything and you saw his eyes lock onto you with a certain look in his eye.

“Perfect timing” you giggled when you reached him, pulling him closer toward the exit where the paps were standing guard. “This is where Tyler wants us so let’s just get it over with.” You positioned yourselves near the glass doors so they would have a better view. The cold air from outside cooled you down a little, but it did nothing to knock any sort of clarity into you. As soon as the crowd started counting down, the air became tented with anticipation.

10...

9...

Your heart was beating fast against your chest and the alcohol made every sensation feel way stronger. You tilted your face up a little to meet his eyes, but he was already staring at you. Trent’s hand reached to cup your chin and tilt your face further upward.

8...

7...

His thumb brushed over the corner of your lip and the sensation made you exhale softly. He looked you in the eyes first, then at your lips, then back up at your eyes again, making you feel dizzy yet excited at the same time.

6...

5...

You parted your lips slightly with heavily lidded eyes. Both of you were supposed to be ‘acting’ but whatever was going on right now was not staged. His other hand found the dip in your waist, pulling you close enough to feel the fire in his eyes.

4...

3...

You leaned in at the same time, moving on instinct from the magnetism as the cameras outside began to flash. The paps were losing their minds and the shutters went off wildly, but all you could think about was how badly you wanted this kiss.

2...

1...

The room erupted into loud yelling, cheers, and champagne bottles popping as fireworks lit up the London sky outside. The second the cloud struck midnight, Trent’s lips lit a flame in you that made your whole body have goosebumps. His hand found your ass, gripping it firm enough to make you gasp and the tiny noise coming out of you motivated him even more. Your body arched into his as you continued kissing him in a way too entirely real make out session. You palmed the fabric over his dick and he groaned into your mouth, making you moan into his mouth in response. The crowd around you celebrated to a very random club remix of Auld Lang Syne but you were too wrapped up in him to care about celebrating the new year.

You finally pulled back breathless while staring at him. His lips were a little swollen but the fire was still in his eyes.

“We need to leave before they get the wrong pics” you blurted out, slurring your words from being tipsy but also flustered.

“Yeah” he said with his hand still on the curve of your back. “Hotel?”

“Hotel.”

When you made it back to the hotel and the lift doors closed, your back hit the mirrored wall as Trent pinned you into the corner. His hand slid over your thighs and the fabric of your dress bunched up.

“Thought I annoyed you” he muttered against your ear as his fingers slipped between your thighs.

“You still do” you replied back sassily, but then you gasped when he found the thin strap of your thong and tugged it against the folds of your pussy. The friction made you whimper and you dug your nails into his arm for stability. “But I can multitalk.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, gripping your thigh to open you up more. His other hand kept working the fabric of the thong, sliding it up and down until you were grinding against his knuckles. “Fuck you're soaked. This for me?”

“Shut up” you hissed while tugging at the button of his jeans with shaky fingers. When the lift dinged on your floor, you barely made it to the room before his hands were pulling, grabbing, and claiming you. He pressed you against a huge window of the hotel room while the fireworks were still popping off in the night sky.

“Take it off” you demanded, yanking at Trent’s shirt.

He pulled it over his head to show off his toned, muscled body that had been haunting you since the towel accident. You didn’t have much time to admire any of it because his hands were already undoing your dress, dropping it to your feet. The cool glass of the window pressed up against your bare skin and you shook a little when his lips latched on your neck, sucking and biting while his hands roamed over you. You moaned his name in a whimpered beg and arched into him when his mouth moved down to your boobs. His tongue ran over your nipple and he wrapped his lips around it, suckling gently and massaging the other with his hand. You gasped, clutching his shoulders and melting your body into his.

“You beg so pretty” he murmured against your skin. “What do you want, pretty girl? Tell me.”

“You” you panted in a trembling voice. “I need you inside me now.”

Trent groaned and ran his fingers between your folds to find your clit. The circles he rubbed against the sensitive nub made you moan loudly. “Not yet,” he rasped. “Need to feel how ready you are.” A broken sob escaped you when his fingers slid inside your pussy. His fingers were long enough to reach a spot that made your knees weak as he worked you open. Your head fell against the window as the squelch of your wetness filled the hotel room.

“Good girl” he coaxed, and your walls clenched around his fingers in response. He laughed and you could feel his smirk against your skin. “You like that, huh? You like being told how good you are?”

“Yesss” you gasped, grinding against his hand. “Fuck yes.”

He pulled his fingers out and you whined but the sound quickly turned into a needy moan when he ran the tip of his dick over your slit. He lined himself up, gripping your thighs to lift you up and push into you.

“DAMN” he groaned loudly, leaning his head back in both pleasure and disbelief from how you were gripping him. “You feel so fucking good gripping me.” You felt the curve when he stroked deeper, each thrust pressing you against the glass while the fireworks mirrored whatever was going on in this hotel room. “You’re so noisy” he teased when he heard you moan his name. He reached between your thighs to play with your clit again. “You want everyone to hear me fucking you, don’t you? You like that shit.”

You nodded, too far gone to care about anything but the feeling. “Oh my god, yes! Please don’t stop. You’re fucking me so good.”

Trent’s mouth latched to your neck again, leaving a mark you were going to have to cover up later. His hands gripped your ass, pulling you closer as he thrust harder..deeper. Your moans were nonstop, echoing against the window while he pounded into you.

“You’re creaming all over me” he groaned, dropping his eyes to his dick thrusting in and out of you with the perfect rhythm. “Look at that. Such a good girl for me.”

His praise and coaxing made you shatter. Your walls clenched around him while your orgasm rained over your thighs and onto him. Moaning cries mixed with his curses and filled the room until he took one last deep stroke into you and pulled out of you. You lowered yourself to take him in your mouth, sucking gently on his tip as ropes of cum filled your mouth. You got back up, very shaky and wobbly, but he wasn’t done yet. Trent carried you to the bed, lifting you up on top of him. Both of you were too far gone to care about the contract by that point and spent the rest of the night partaking in some ultra festive activities to bring in the new year as fireworks continued to pop off in the distance. 

The morning after, the sunlight was streaming through the large window you had just been fucked against the night before. It way too bright for how you were feeling now, even after the coconut water. Your head was pounding and you still felt groggy. Your lashes were barely clinging on and you forgot to do your skincare routine before falling asleep thanks to your activities. You groaned and reached for your phone, fumbling with it in your hands while Trent moved from somewhere else in the room to hand you a cup of coffee. 

“Good morning” he smirked at you, knowing exactly why you were in the state you were in. 

“Morning...and thank you” you muttered in a scratchy voice from a mix of sleep and..other activities. You took a look at yourself with your front camera and you snorted. Your hair was all over the place, your makeup was smudged and one of your lashes was hanging off. You took a glance back over at Trent, who had faint scratches on his back, making you laugh harder. The chaos was oddly on brand for the authentic, slightly unhinged content you were known for, so you decided to capture the moment to post online. 

You opened the camera app and switched to the wide angle just to make it that more authentic. You held your coffee cup in your hand with your messy hair and hanging lash on full display. In the background, Trent was off to the edge of the frame where only part of him could be seen digging through his distinctive Goyard wash bag, oblivious to his surprise cameo. You typed out the caption ‘Happy New Year 🥴✨’ and added it to the photo in white text before posting it on your story. You didn’t have to check the notifications...you knew what you did.

By the time you showered and made yourself look put together, your post had been picked up by SpillTheBeansUK where they did a full deep dive. Their post was a carousel of screenshots. The first was your original story in its chaotic glory, the second was a cropped version zoomed in on Trent’s hand digging into his bag and the faint lining of the side of his head, the third was a side by side of all the previous photos to confirm it was him.

SpillTheBeansUK: Happy New Year from Y/N and Trent Alexander-Arnold! 👀

realmrsTAA: sobbing into my pillow rn I KNOW THAT BAG

ynfansince2019: not her lashes hanging like that. IKTR QUEEN

yn_onlyyn: she’s so me coded i love her

leafygreens05: TRENT BABE TELL ME THIS ISN’T U?!? ARE THOSE SCRATCHES?

ballerbabyy: this feels like i’m on facetime with a friend i love her sm and they’re so cute

notyourfootiebae: Y/N and Trent 🏆 romeocruz: 😒

You laughed as you scrolled through the comments. Trent walked in, ready to head out for breakfast. Although, he was entirely too calm for someone who had just been moaning your name while you were bouncing on him just a few hours ago.

When you sat across from him during breakfast at the hotel restaurant, the realization of everything hit you all at once. You didn’t want this to end. Not the public antics, banter, or things with Trent. He was looking at his phone, scrolling through his apps. Unbeknownst to you, he was deleting his dating apps. All of them.

Meanwhile you were spiralling. Quietly, but definitely still spiralling. 

“What happens when this is over?” you asked quietly, cutting through your eggs benedict. 

He looked up, pausing his thumb over the delete button of the last app. “What do you mean?”

You shrugged, stabbing at the food with a vanished appetite. “The contract. When June comes and we’re supposed to ‘break up’... What happens then?”

Trent deleted the final app and set his phone down to look at you. “I don’t know,” he admitted in a quiet voice.

You laughed, trying to mask your nerves. “Well that’s not reassuring.”

“Why?” He asked, tilting his head. “You worried about something?”

Your fork tapped against the hollandaise sauce on your food while you gathered what you wanted to say. “Um..well..this whole thing started off as a job for your image. But now....” you trailed off and looked at him.

“Now?” he prompted, locked on your eyes.

“Now it feels...different.” you admitted. “It doesn’t feel fake anymore. At least not for me.”

You thought he would smirk and have some comeback ready but he didn’t this time. Instead, he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed loosely. “Doesn’t feel fake to me either.”

“Really?”

“Yeah” Trent leaned forward to rest his arms on the table. “It started off as a contract but I think that changed a little...we both know that.”

You stared at him. “So..what are you saying?”

“I’m saying we don’t have to stop,” he replied, never taking his eyes off you. “We don’t have to make a huge deal about it or anything but I don’t want to stop seeing you. It feels…” He trailed off to search for the right words.

“Like something worth exploring?” you offered, finishing his sentence.

He nodded, giving you his signature smirk, but this time it made you melt a little. “Yeah. Like that.”

--

The day the public stint of the contract was supposed to end came and went like any other day. You and Trent kept seeing each other instead of posting fake launch photos like the contract originally suggested after NYE. Tyler was smug about it the minute he found out, thinking he was the best Cupid ever. The last time you saw him, he handed you a Valentine’s Day PR brief with a grin.

“Guess we’re not cancelling the hard launch then?” he asked in a satisfied tone. You wanted to throw the folder at him, but he was right. You weren’t going anywhere and neither was Trent. Your fans adored the idea of you with him. There were multiple theories flooding your comment section daily, micro analyzing every interaction. Meanwhile, Trent’s fans reluctantly admitted he looked happy in a relationship for once. 

The hard launch came in the form of a Youtube video thanks to the fans: Boyfriend Rates My Outfits

Your followers were begging for this video for weeks. You never announced having a boyfriend but they knew you better than that. You didn’t plan on giving in but Trent was all for it. Your chaos had rubbed off on him, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“Do it” he said one night while laying in bed with you at your place after a date night. “It’ll be funny.”

“Funny for who?” you replied, rolling your eyes.

“For me.”

Eventually you agreed, and the video started with you sitting in front of your neatly organized wardrobe, clasping your hands together. “Okay..you’ve all been asking for it so we’re doing a ‘boyfriend rates my outfits’ video today. My man isn’t really a fashion connoisseur so don’t expect much.”

Trent’s voice came in from behind the camera, already flirty. “Nah, I have taste, don’t set me up like that.”

“Do you?” you countered, laughing as you disappeared to change into the first outfit.

You strutted back in the room wearing high waisted jeans, a blazer and a cropped top paired with trainers. It was chic and cute enough for a brunch or something similar. Trent zoomed the camera in dramatically on your feet. “Shoes are nice. I’ll give it...an 8.”

“An 8?!” you scoffed, doing a little spin for him. “You’re mad. This is a 10.”

“Ah..okay. 9.5 but only because you look good walking away.”

The next look was a silky midi dress with a thigh high slit, paired with strappy heels. You stepped in the room and did a twirl for the cam.

Trent let out a whistle. “11. Easily.”

“You can’t give it an 11!” you protested, hands on your hip.

“Why not?” he grinned. “I’d take you out in that.. maybe in Greece or Spain.”

For the third look, you went full streetwear and wore cargos, a fitted crop top, a leather jacket, and chunky boots. Trent panned the camera up and down with a lot of dramatics. “You look like you’re about to rob somebody.”

“Trent!”

“Hey, I’m into it though! Come rob me baby” he added quickly, smirking. “9 out of 10.”

The final outfit was a red mini dress with an open back that hugged you in all the right places, paired with heels and a statement purse. Trent was quiet as he looked at you, shaking the camera while he adjusted the focus. “Goddamn. That’s a 12.”

“A 12?” you laughed, walking up to the camera and playfully covering the lens while giving him a kiss. “You’re not supposed to go over 10, T.”

“I don’t care. You’re breaking the scale.”

Trent turned the camera to face the both of you as both of you smiled into the lens. “Alright. Like, comment, subscribe, and…” He trailed off, lowering the camera a little and looked at your lips. He whispered, thinking the mic wouldn’t catch anything but it did. “...and turn this off so I can take this dress off you.”

Your jaw dropped and you swatted at his chest playfully, giggling. “You’re going to get me demonetized if you keep talking like that.”

As you edited the video, you decided to leave that part in there because it was funny and also cute. The comments rolled in quickly when word spread around online about it:

ynbabydoll: THE WHISPER AT THE END??? HELLO? I’M FERAL

ynstanclub: trent stuns in Y/N’s youtube video!!

ynplustrent: the way the cam shook when she came out in that dress....i know they get real nasty

spicynsaucy: UNCOVER THE LENS I WANNA SEE IT

footieNfashion: why is this more compelling than any press interview he’s ever done?

LFCStan44: this feels like i shouldn’t be in the room watching them rn but i’m here for it idk. love to see him back to his happy old self

FreeKickFiend: ugh..the way he sounds when he called her baby. that should be me

YNWADefenseNeeded: bro’s focus on this video is what we need on the pitch ALL the time RedKisses98: this man has forgotten we exist. thanks a lot Y/N

You shut your laptop after the premiere of the video and sunk into the couch next to Trent. He was scrolling through the comments on his phone, with that same infuriating, yet extremely attractive smirk on his face.

“You’re really enjoying this huh?” you nudged him with your elbow in a teasing tone.

“Of course,” he replied without looking up. “I’m the star of your channel now.”

You shook your head, laughing. “Very bold of you to assume they’re watching for you.”

Finally, he looked from his phone, cupping your chin and pulling you into a kiss. “Nah...but I’m here for you though. Fully off script. No contract needed.”

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

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

Index:

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

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

Disclaimer: Still the same.

Chapter 23 - 'Flowers and Fixing' | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.3 k

You sat cross-legged on Trent’s bed, your phone resting limply in your hand as you watched your screen light up. Your phone rang with a call from Layla.  Your thumb hovered over her name, hesitant to answer. It continued to vibrate as you built up your courage.  You answered slowly, exhausted from the emotional rollercoaster you’d been on for days before her voice came through, soft and careful.

“Alright, babe?” she asked. Her tone alone made your chest tighten. You hesitated for a second, swallowing the lump in your throat before replying. 

“Yeah… uh, actually a little better. I need to see you to explain.” Your voice was small, weak even, but there was a flicker of resolve in it.

“Okay. Better is good,” Layla said gently, but her concern was palpable. There was a brief pause before she continued, almost sheepishly. “Just wanted to see if you saw that invite come through.” You frowned, confused for a moment before remembering the notification you’d ignored earlier. The invite from Shelby—one of your mutual friends—to a Manchester United end-of-season party. You’d skimmed it, immediately feeling your stomach drop at the thought of Josh possibly being there. “I’ll do what you want,” Layla continued, sensing your hesitation. “I imagine all those lads are going. I don’t want you going, obviously…” She expressed but you cut her off, your voice sharper than intended, you didn’t want to ruin the beginning of her summer.  

“Lay, you go. You and Shelbs will have fun. It’s just a big party. I just… I can’t be near—” You paused, your throat tightening at the thought of him. “Josh,” you finally said, his name burning your tongue. “I don’t know… I’m so scared of him, so please just be careful.” You cautioned her. Layla’s inhale was sharp. You could feel her anger brewing through the phone. 

“God, I’m so sorry, babe. I fucking hate him. But seriously, do you want me to come be with you tonight? I’m worried. I’m here for you.” She offered sincerely. You closed your eyes, her offer tempting, but you knew what you needed. You needed to stay put.  

“No, have fun. I… I…” You stuttered, trying to work up the courage to tell her your plans for the night. “I’m with T. I just need to be with him,” you admitted, your voice cracking as emotions began to resurface.

“Oh…” Layla paused, the shock evident in her tone. “So… you’re with him?” She asked curiously but not judgmentally. 

“Yeah.” You sighed, tears stinging your eyes again. “We’re��� Or I… I just need to talk to him. Lay, Josh threatened him with a video of us. Somehow he got a video of me and him. It’s a total fucking mess. He said he didn’t hook up with Jess. And I’m terrified, but I just feel safer with him. I can’t go anywhere. I wa- I need to be with him.” You whimpered embarrassed by your dependency on Trent. The ebb and flow of your trust in him was expectedly concerning to your best friend. Layla’s response was immediate, her voice laced with fury. 

“Fucking hell. I’ll kill him.” She snapped imaging Josh’s smug look having a video like that in his possession. She paused when she heard your sharp inhale, realizing she needed to rein it in. “I’m sorry. I know. You are safe with Trent, Y/N. Be with him. He loves you.” She cooed. Her words offered some comfort, but you still felt unsteady and she could sense it. “Should I not…” she started, trailing off, you knew she’d not go tonight if you’d prefer that but it wasn’t what you wanted. 

“No, no, no,” you interjected quickly. “Please, go. It’s not like it’s his party or something. He can’t control everyone.” Layla nodded even though you couldn’t see her, your words sinking in. 

“Okay, but Josh can’t control you either, babe. We’ll handle this. Just be with Trent tonight. Someone who just wants to protect you.” Her voice softened as she reassured you.

“I love you,” you whispered, barely audible.

“Love you. You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime,” Layla said firmly, her support unwavering. When the call ended, the silence in Trent’s room felt deafening, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t feel entirely alone. Layla believed in you. Trent wanted to protect you. Maybe you could start believing in yourself again, too. The call ended, and you stared blankly at your phone, Layla’s words echoing in your mind: ‘You’re safe, babe. Call me anytime.’ The reassurance was meant to soothe you, but it only amplified the whirlwind of emotions swirling in your chest. You set the phone down on the edge of your bed, your fingers trembling slightly. You could feel the familiar sting of tears creeping back into your eyes, but you closed them tightly, willing yourself to stay composed. It wasn’t working. You leaned forward, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes to stop the flood, but the effort only made the sob that escaped your throat sharper. Everything felt like too much—Josh’s threats, the fear that he still had control, the relief and heartbreak of being with Trent again. It was all tangling inside of you like a knot you couldn’t undo. You got up and made your way to the en-suite of his room in an effort to try to compose yourself before Trent came up for bed. 

The room felt heavy and silent, save for the faint hum of the air conditioning. It made the en-suite feel cold, sterile, like it was closing in around you. You sat on the edge of the sink, gripping the porcelain until your knuckles turned white. Your reflection stared back at you, pale and tear-streaked, eyes rimmed red. You barely recognized yourself. But then you noticed the earrings. The tiny gold butterfly pinned on your left ear, and the delicate blue one in your right. They shimmered faintly under the bathroom’s light, and your chest tightened. The earrings had been a gift from Trent, a token of the promise you’d made to each other when your relationship had finally begun. He had chosen them because they reminded him of you—fragile yet strong, beautiful, unique. But also your relationship; this evolving thing. Now, though, they felt like a cruel reminder of what you might lose. Your trembling fingers brushed over the butterflies, your heart aching as memories of that morning came flooding back. The way Trent had looked at you when he gave them to you, his voice soft as he told you how much you meant to him. How special you were. You’d been so happy, so sure that he was your safe place in a world that had hurt you too many times. Now, you didn’t know what to believe. You gripped the butterflies tighter, as if they could ground you. For a moment, you thought about taking them out—ripping away the reminder of everything that had fallen apart. But you couldn’t. Something in you refused to let them go. Maybe it was hope. Maybe it was the way Trent had looked at you earlier in the greenhouse, his eyes full of love and regret, like he’d carry the weight of your pain if he could. Or maybe it was the act that you felt like you got a momentary reminder from your mum there that he was good. You let out a shaky breath and placed your hands on the counter, trying to steady yourself. Slowly, you reached for the tap, splashing cold water on your face. The coolness jolted you back to the present, and you let out a deep exhale, watching the water drip down your reflection. The earrings still caught the light. A tiny flicker of beauty in the midst of your heartbreak. You couldn’t let Josh take this from you. You couldn’t let him win. You grabbed a towel and patted your face dry before turning toward the door. Trent would be waiting for you. For the first time in days, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could find your way through this. One fragile step at a time.

That night, as you curled into Trent’s chest, his familiar warmth began to ease the chill that had settled into your bones. His arm was draped securely around you, his fingers tracing idle patterns against your shoulder. The comfort of his touch usually calmed you, but tonight it wasn’t enough. Fear and worry churned in your chest, refusing to let you rest.

“Baby, I’m scared,” you finally whispered, your voice small and trembling. The admission felt heavy, like you were unburdening yourself but also laying bare your vulnerability. Trent’s hand stilled, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he murmured, his voice soft and soothing. “But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. I’m so sorry I hurt you the other night. I never wanted to.” His apology tugged at your heart, but the knot of fear inside you refused to unravel. 

“He’s going to release it, T,” you said, your words barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. “If he finds out about us, he’ll release it.” Trent’s entire body tensed beneath you. His arm around you tightened, his jaw clenched, and you could feel the storm brewing within him. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and brimming with anger.

“I’m gonna fucking kill that lad,” he growled, the words cutting through the quiet room like a blade. “I am fucking fuming. I will fucking kill him. He can’t hurt you. He can’t fucking touch you.” His grip on you grew firmer, not out of aggression but out of his overwhelming need to protect you. Yet, in that moment, the intensity of his voice and the pressure of his hold sent you spiraling. Memories of Josh resurfaced like an unrelenting tide—his hands gripping you too tightly, his voice sharp and cruel, his presence suffocating and inescapable. Your breath hitched, and tears began to spill down your cheeks, hot and relentless. Your chest heaved with silent sobs as your body trembled against Trent’s. “Ah, fuck,” Trent muttered, his voice breaking as he realized what was happening. He immediately loosened his hold, his hands moving to cup your face and pull you back slightly so he could see you. “Fuck, pretty girl. Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with guilt. “I’m sorry for raising my voice. I didn’t mean to scare you. C’mere. I got you. I got you.” He wrapped you back into his arms, but this time his touch was featherlight, as if he were afraid of breaking you further. He pressed kiss after kiss into your hair, murmuring apologies and reassurances as you sobbed against his chest. “It’s okay,” he cooed, his lips brushing against your temple. “You’re safe with me, yeah? I’m here. I’ll always be here.” His words started to sink in, soothing the jagged edges of your fear. The rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear grounded you, steadying your breathing and slowing your tears. “What he’s doing is fucking extortion,” Trent muttered after a moment, his tone calmer but still resolute. “He can’t blackmail us. I’m speaking with Ty first thing. We’ll handle it legally. No one is taking my baby away from me. No one. Not now. Promise.” His words carried a sincerity—a vow that he would protect you at all costs. You sniffled, your face still buried in his chest, and nodded weakly.

“I’m sorry I’m such a mess,” you whispered, your voice hoarse from crying.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” Trent said, pulling back just enough to cup your face. His thumbs brushed away the tear tracks on your cheeks as he looked at you with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You’re my whole world, Y/N. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. I swear it.” You blinked up at him, the sincerity in his eyes anchoring you. His touch, so gentle and steady, reminded you that despite everything, this was the man who loved you unconditionally.

“You promise?” you asked softly, your voice cracking.

“I promise,” Trent said firmly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you, pretty girl. Always.” You exhaled shakily and let yourself melt into his arms again, his embrace wrapping you in a sense of safety you hadn’t felt in days. Despite the chaos that awaited, in this moment, you knew you weren’t alone but you couldn’t fight back the tears. Josh had hurt you too deeply. You were battered and cruises and the cracks in your resilience were starting to show. You were breaking down.

You buried your face deeper into Trent’s chest, your tears soaking through his shirt as you clung to him like he was the only thing tethering you to the earth. His arms wrapped around you firmly, one hand cradling the back of your head while the other traced gentle circles on your back. He didn’t speak much more at first, letting you cry. The weight of everything—Josh, the video, the fear, the shame, and even your own complicated feelings about Trent—poured out of you in waves. Each sob tore at his heart. Trent had never felt so helpless. He wanted to take all of it away: the pain, the fear, the scars left by people who should never have been close to you. But he knew he couldn’t. All he could do was hold you through it.

“I’m so sorry,” you whimpered after a long stretch of silence. Your voice was weak and strained, like the words were dragging out pieces of you as they left your mouth.

“Sorry? For what, baby?” Trent asked softly, his voice thick with emotion. He pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face, his hands cupping your cheeks. His thumbs wiped away the tears as they fell, his eyes searching yours with a tenderness that made your chest ache.

“For… for being like this,” you whispered, ashamed. You couldn’t meet his eyes, staring instead at the fabric of his shirt where your tears had left dark stains. “For being such a mess. For making things so hard.” You kept on trying to rationalize your apology, hoping maybe he'd understand.

“Y/N, stop, serious,” he said gently but firmly, tilting your chin up so you couldn’t avoid his gaze. His eyes were glassy, the tears he’d been holding back threatening to spill. “Don’t you ever apologize for feeling. For hurting. For being human. You’re not a mess, pretty girl. You’re my girl. And I love you, okay? All of you. Every single bit.” The sincerity in his voice broke you all over again, and the tears started fresh. Trent pulled you back into his arms, rocking you slightly as he whispered reassurances. “You’re okay, baby. I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere. Ever.” For a moment, you let yourself believe him. You let yourself trust that someone could hold you through your brokenness, that you didn’t have to hide or pretend. But as the minutes stretched on, the weight of Josh’s threats crept back in, darkening the tiny flicker of hope Trent had sparked in you.

“Baby, no, I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his chest. “What if Josh does something? I’m serious, what if he releases the video? It would ruin you, T. Your career, your reputation… everything. I don’t know if I could handle that. I don’t want you to lose everything because of me.” Trent’s body tensed beneath you again, and for a moment, you felt the anger radiating off him. But when he spoke, his voice was steady, deliberate.

“Listen to me,” he said, pulling back just enough to look you in the eye again. “I told you. I’m gonna speak with Ty, but besides that… I don’t care about a video. I don’t care about my career, or what people think, or any of that. None of it matters if it means losing you. You hear me? You’re all that matters, Y/N. And I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.” His words were like a lifeline, but they also scared you. The intensity of his love felt like a double-edged sword—comforting and terrifying all at once. You continued to cry into Trent’s chest. It felt like the fear of Josh ran deeper than his comforting embrace. But then you kissed his neck out of instinct. It was impulse. It was something you’d almost trained yourself to do. So many times you’d been upset in tear and had to put them aside for sex. You began kissing his neck. Trent’s body betrayed him. He felt all the blood rush down to his cock. You were turning him on but he didn’t want you to. He didn’t want you like this. Trent putting his hands on you felt terrifying. He felt like you were glass. He pulled away from you and your heart broke. It was like rejection all over again. Trent studied your face, his heart breaking as he saw the pain written in every inch of you. 

“Baby,” he whispered, his voice trembling. “I don’t want to hurt you. I need you to understand that.” His words made you freeze. His gaze wasn’t one of anger or frustration—it was pleading, desperate. He wasn’t trying to take anything from you; he was trying to stop you from giving away something you didn’t truly want to share in this moment. Your throat tightened, and a lump of shame built in your chest as the realization hit you. What you were doing wasn’t about love or desire—it was about survival, about falling back into a pattern Josh had ingrained in you. Sex had always been a way to pacify, to distract, to feel needed. Your hands had moved on instinct, exploring Trent as if you could erase the fear in your chest by drawing him closer. “I can’t believe what you’ve been through, baby,” Trent said softly, his voice pulling you out of your spiral. His hands gently caught yours, stopping them in their tracks as he looked into your eyes. “Please. Don’t do this because you think you have to. Not with me.” Trent pleaded, begging you to follow your heart and not your hands exploring him. Your heart shattered. You wanted so badly to bridge the gap between you and him, to feel close to him again. But your mind and your body felt like they were living in two entirely different worlds.

“Please want me,” you whispered, tears brimming in your eyes. Your voice cracked, the vulnerability in those three words raw and exposed. You hated how needy you sounded, but it was the truth. You wanted him to want you, to make you feel something other than the numbness that had taken hold of you. Trent’s jaw tightened, and for a moment, he hesitated. His love for you was at war with his fear of hurting you, but when he saw the tears rolling down your cheeks, he gave in. His lips found yours in a tender kiss, and for a moment, you let yourself believe it was what you needed. But as his hands brushed over your skin, the dense thud in your chest grew heavier. It didn’t feel right. It didn’t feel like him. The love and warmth you always felt when you were with Trent were nowhere to be found. This wasn’t passion; it was a mechanical act, an autopilot response. You were setting him up to take the bait, and he was taking it because he thought it would make you feel better but it felt like he’d lost a game you didn’t want him to even play. Deep down, you both knew this wasn’t what either of you truly wanted. It hurt in a way you couldn’t explain. Trent was nothing like Josh but right now you were acting like he was. 

Without another word, Trent had leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a slow, deliberate kiss. It was gentle at first, like he was testing the waters, but as soon as you responded, something shifted. His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer, like he couldn't bear the space between you. Your fingers tangled in his curls, gripping them as your body arched into his. The kiss deepened, no longer hesitant but filled with an urgency that neither of you could contain. It wasn't just desire-it was need. A desperate, unspoken plea to feel something other than the ache that had settled between you. His hands moved with purpose, slipping under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending shivers down your spine. His fingers traced your skin like he was memorizing every inch, every curve. You gasped softly against his lips, and he took the sound as encouragement, his touch growing firmer, more confident. The tension in the room didn't dissipate-it lingered, heavy and unresolved-but it was joined by a different kind of intensity. The sadness and fear were still there, woven into the fabric of your movements, but they were eclipsed by the desperate need to be closer. To lose yourselves in each other, even if just for a moment. The air grew thick, filled with the sound of your breathing, the rustle of sheets as Trent shifted to press you further into the mattress. His lips left yours, trailing down your jawline, across your neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake. You tilted your head back, giving him more access, a soft moan escaping your lips as his hands explored your body with reverence.

"Tell me you want this," he murmured against your skin, his voice husky and strained. "Tell me it's okay."

"I want this," you whispered, your voice shaky but certain. It was all he needed to hear. His lips were back on yours, hungrier this time, his body pressing into yours as if trying to merge you into one. Your hands roamed over his back, his shoulders, pulling him closer, deeper. The friction between you sent sparks through your veins, igniting something that had been smoldering for far too long. But even as things grew more heated, there was an undercurrent of something else. A sadness that neither of you could escape. This wasn't just about passion-it was about holding on. About finding some semblance of connection in the middle of the chaos. Trent continued kissing you, his lips moving with deliberate care as he shifted to hover over you, his large frame blanketing yours. His eyes searched yours, silently asking for reassurance even as his hand gently cupped your cheek. His touch was tender, as though you might bruise beneath the weight of his hands, and yet his need to be close to you was palpable. You didn't trust your voice, so you let your actions speak. Moving on instinct, you reached for the hem of your top, pulling it over your head in one swift motion. Left bare save for the soft fabric of your panties.  "Please." You whispered. Your voice was shaky but filled with yearning. Leaning up, you kissed along his jawline, your lips traveling to the warm column of his neck, nuzzling into his skin before you began to suck gently. Trent froze for a moment, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He took a deep breath, conflicted. He wanted to give you everything, but he also didn't want to push you or himself into something too fragile. Yet the way you clung to him, the way you pleaded, left him wondering if maybe this was how you both could heal. Slowly, tentatively, Trent removed his own clothes. His shirt came off, revealing the toned expanse of his chest, and soon the rest of your garments joined the pile on the floor. The cool air kissed your skin, but it was his hands, his lips, his touch that truly burned. Your hands roamed his chest, feeling the firm muscles under your fingertips, the rapid thrum of his heart. Reaching up, you wrapped your arms around his neck, tugging gently on the soft curls of his hair. He groaned softly at the sensation, his lips beginning their journey down your neck. He kissed your collarbone, leaving open-mouthed kisses in his wake, before traveling lower. When his lips finally closed around your nipple, you let out a desperate moan, arching your back to meet him. The warmth of his mouth, the gentle scrape of his teeth, sent shivers down your spine. His hand cupped your other boob, his fingers playing, pulling, and pinching with just the right amount of pressure. His eyes flicked up to meet yours, dark and filled with emotion, but he didn't stop. He lavished attention on your sensitive skin, his kisses, touches, and the slight rasp of his stubble making you feel electric. You buried your hands in his hair, holding him to you, desperate to keep the connection alive. His hands slid down your sides, rough yet gentle as they traced every curve, as though memorizing every inch of you. When his lips left your chest to continue their descent, you shivered, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention, the way he worshipped you.

"You okay?" he murmured softly against your skin, his breath warm and ragged. You nodded, biting your lip as tears pricked the corners of your eyes-not from pain but from the sheer vulnerability of it all. 

"Just... don't stop," you whispered, your voice trembling.

"I've got you," Trent promised, his voice husky, filled with an emotion that made your heart clench. "I've got you, baby. Tell me you want this.” Trent mumbled against your skin. You nodded with a whine as he lined his cock up with your entrance. Your arms wrapped around his neck tightly begging for him to come inside. He rubbed the tip of his hard cock leaking precum against your sopping wet folds. You shouldn’t have been turned on. In a way this was exactly the way Josh had trained you. Your heart aching, sadness engulfing you, and yet your body acting completely normal, inviting him in with vigor. You shifted beneath him to pick your hips up allowing him to guide himself inside with more ease. He moved slowly inch by inch letting you adjust to his size but he just wanted to get as deep as possible until he bottomed out. You gripped the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself at the stretch. The feeling was enough to wipe your mind clear of anything other than how he was making you feel.  As wrong as it was, you both craved this. He kissed down your neck as he pulled out slightly before easing back in slower, fully burying himself one more.  “I love you so much.” He whispered. Trent rested his forehead against yours but you couldn’t look at him. You felt like you were going to cry so you kept your eyes shut. Your head tipped back onto the pillow with one hand squeezing your own nipple as Trent kept his strokes steady. You tipped your head back further as his pace became more relentless. Your jaw slack, eyes closed tight. 

“I love you.” You whimpered with a sniffle as a tear rolled down your cheek. Trent swallowed, feeling a lump form in his throat. He cupped your cheek wiping away the tear. 

“I’m here. Right here.” He murmured. He knew you didn't want to stop. You would’ve been more upset if he did. So you continued on. There was no other noise in the room but the sound of heartbreak and your slickness as he fucked his cock slowly and gently into you. Your legs stayed wrapped around him tightly as you let one of your heels drag down his muscular back, making sure he didn’t pull out but your tears continued falling, your body shaking a little. If anyone else did this he would be confused and probably turned off but he understood you, he understood the lustful desire and unfortunately the aching pain in your chest that he was feeling too. He leaned over you, your tear stained cheeks and heaving chest pressed against him as he continued to fucked you gently. Your pussy dripped around him. Trent could feel the veins running along his cock throbbing. He worked his hips faster, harsher. Both of your pleasure building higher and higher. 

“T... I’m… I’m going to cum” You mewled and he felt dizzy from the sound of his name sounding so weak from your softly parted lips. He groaned, feeling himself barreling close to his own release though from the way you were squeezing his cock now. Your body succumbing to pure euphoria and seeing white. He bit down onto your shoulder, his pace growing sloppy. 

“Cum for me baby. Doing so good for me.” he cooed, nipping at your collarbone. You whined and felt your eyes roll back as you reached your high. Your pussy quivered around him.  Every little shift was orgasmic. You couldn’t hold in the soft whiny cry you let out. Your lips parted, biting the skin of his neck. Your pussy was sopping wet now, the slow and intense movements had you gushing all over him. The sex was so tender and sweet yet equally sad. “Gonna cum, yeah? That okay?” He asked you through a strained voice as you held onto him. You could only nod again, tears reappearing, toes curled before everything went white, falling apart. Despite the emotional turmoil, he felt so good and you didn’t want him to pull out. This felt too good. His thrusts began to slow as he buried himself deeper inside you. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. Stilling as his warm cum pumped deep inside of you. His hands rubbed your trembling slightly sweaty body in the softest way. He kissed you everywhere he could. You just stayed tight to him refusing to break away.  “You alright, baby?” Trent whispered, his voice soft and full of concern as he hovered over you. His fingers brushed your cheek gently, his thumb catching a stray tear. His dark eyes searched your face, taking in every detail—the way your cheeks were flushed, your lips trembling, and your eyes squeezed tightly shut, as if holding back a flood. You nodded quickly, unable to trust yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, and you knew that if you tried to answer him, your voice would crack, betraying just how fragile you felt in this moment. The weight of everything—of your past, your pain, and the overwhelming tenderness of the man above you—pressed against your chest. Trent’s brow furrowed, his concern deepening as he leaned closer. “Baby,” he urged gently, his warm breath fanning over your face. Your lips parted slightly, as if you wanted to say something, but no words came out. Instead, you reached up, your fingers curling around his wrist as his hand remained on your cheek. It was your silent plea to stay close, to not pull away. “I’m right here,” he reassured you, his voice cracking slightly with the weight of his own emotions. His thumb continued to stroke your cheek, grounding you. “I’ve got you, yeah? Always.” Your breath hitched, a fresh wave of tears slipping from your closed eyes. You hated feeling this vulnerable, hated that you couldn’t hide the rawness inside you, but Trent’s presence made it bearable. His love wrapped around you like a shield, softening the sharp edges of your fear and sadness. Finally, you opened your eyes, meeting his gaze. His expression was so full of love and patience that it broke something inside you. 

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your voice barely audible but nonetheless broken. Trent stayed on top of you, his weight grounding you even as the guilt began to creep in. His breathing was still heavy, matching yours, and his curls tickled your skin as he rested his face between your boobs, his warm breath fanning over your damp skin. The room was quiet save for the sound of your heartbeats slowing, the intensity of the moment dissipating into an uncomfortable stillness. Neither of you spoke any more after your vacant apology. There were no words for the complicated knot of emotions tightening in your chest. For a while, you simply lay there, your fingers brushing lightly through his hair, but even that small gesture felt hollow. It wasn't comfort. It wasn't resolution. Eventually, Trent stirred, his lips brushing against your collarbone in a fleeting touch. He lifted his head slowly, his eyes dark with something you couldn't quite name-sadness, maybe, or regret. Without a word, he shifted, carefully pulling out of you, his body leaving yours cold in the absence of his warmth. The air completely sucked out of the room. He rolled off of you and onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. The weight of everything hung heavy in the room, pressing down on both of you, suffocating in its intensity. The physical high you'd just shared only amplified the emotional low settling between you. You turned your head to look at him, your eyes scanning his profile-the way his jaw clenched, the way his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. He looked as though he wanted to say something but couldn't bring himself to.

"T," you whispered, your voice soft but strained. He didn't respond right away. His hand came up to rub over his face, and when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse. 

"I'm so sorry." He murmured into the empty silence of the dark room.

"For what?" you asked, your own guilt weighing heavily on you.

"For... this," he said, gesturing vaguely between you but he didn’t turn his head towards you, his gaze stayed fixated on the ceiling. "For not stopping. For letting it happen when I knew... when I knew it wasn't what you needed right now." He sheepishly told you. Your heart ached at his words because they felt true, and yet you couldn't bring yourself to regret it fully. He was not Josh, he didn’t want what just happened. Not like that. It felt wrong. Josh relished in using you for sex to rectify problems, to act like he cared, but all you did was just create a new one with Trent. He was hurting.

"I asked for it, T. I wanted it." You earnestly told him. That was true. You did want it, but why and what for, was a glaringly obvious reg flag. A remnant of Josh’s disgusting conditioning. The only way he could possibly love you was if you fucked hin, and so you did the same with Trent. It was fucked up. You watched him blink a few times, his perfectly curled dark eyelashes batting away what you prayed wasn’t the build up of tears. Even though he wouldn’t turn to look at you, you could still perfectly make out that his eyes were filled with turmoil. 

"But did you need it? Did it help, or did it just... make things worse?" He asked you pleadingly. He knew you wanted to have sex with him. It wasn’t about the consent of the act but rather the consciousness of it. The question hung in the air, and you didn't have an answer. You both laid there with the other, the silence between you louder than any words could be. Neither of you could shake the feeling that you'd both taken a step further away from the connection you were trying so hard to hold onto. The room fell silent for a long while after that. Trent lay motionless, his chest rising and falling unevenly as his mind raced. The dim light cast shadows on the ceiling, but his eyes were unable to focus. He couldn’t wrap his head around the blur between the physical sensations still humming through his body and the weight of the emotional aftermath sinking into his heart. He couldn't reconcile it-how his body could feel one thing, while his heart ached with the opposite. His arms rested limply at his sides, too heavy to move. The thin sheen of sweat cooling on his skin only made him feel exposed, raw. Tears welled in your eyes, and you turned your head away momentarily, unable to look at him anymore. You felt defeated, ashamed, and more alone than ever-even with him right next to you.

"T.." Your voice broke through the thick silence once over, soft but trembling. He hummed in response, his throat dry. But he didn't turn his head to look at you still. He couldn't not yet. Guilt clawed at his chest, despite everything. You asked for this yet it felt cold. You wanted it. He hadn't forced you-but why did it feel like he'd done something wrong? "Did you love her?" you whispered, your voice so small it almost disappeared into the air between you. The question hit him like a blow. He blinked, the ceiling above him suddenly too sharp, too vivid. He exhaled sharply but still didn't meet your gaze. His lips parted, but no words came out at first. Not because he didn't have an answer, but because he was overwhelmed-confused, emotional, and drowning in a wave of guilt and frustration. You couldn't stop yourself. You stared at him, inspecting every detail of his face. The way his bottom lip hung slightly gaped from the top, the tense line of his jaw, the crease in his brow. He laid there feeling hollow despite his best efforts to help. You needed to understand him, to break past the wall he seemed to be building in this silence. The insecurity was clawing at your insides, threatening to consume you. Your past haunted you and right now it was seeping into your present. The way Josh had rewired you to think all men were, had you fearing Jess. She was the ghost in the room you couldn't escape. All you could think about was her-her presence in Trent's life before you, the ways she might have had touched him, been with him, loved him. You hated it. Your thoughts spiraled into a desperate need to prove yourself to him, to make him see why you were different. Why you were better. You'd done everything-fought for him, forgiven him, fucked him, even begged him. You wanted to show him that you would do anything for him. But now, as you lay beside him, all you felt was a hollow emptiness. The act that was supposed to bring you closer had only widened the gap, leaving both of you in the cold. This was new to you because this time, the man next to you in bed truly cared.  Finally, Trent turned his head to look at you. His eyes were red-rimmed, a storm of emotions swirling in them-confusion, sorrow, regret.

“Never.” Trent finally muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the only other sound were the sheets shifting beneath you pillowing his words. He cupped your cheek and made you look at him, really look at him. Trent’s hand stilled on your cheek as your words lingered in the air, cutting through the fragile peace between you. His chest rose sharply with a deep, steadying breath, but the storm brewing behind his soft brown eyes betrayed him. “Not even close,” he repeated, his voice firm but strained, as if clinging desperately to the truth of his feelings. His thumb brushed against your skin, grounding himself in the contact, but you could feel the tension in his hold—the way he was barely keeping it together. “Look at me,” he whispered, tilting your face gently so your eyes met his. The weight of his gaze made it impossible to retreat further, even though every instinct told you to. You wanted to hide, to shield yourself from how raw, how real this moment was becoming. But in a moment of vulnerability… you felt yourself pull away from him. You knew Trent was different. This was different. You couldn’t fix things or gain anything by using sex as a bandaid like you did with Josh, not when real feelings were at play and so the only thing you could do was set it on fire in an effort to protect yourself. 

“Did you ever think that maybe… maybe we shouldn’t be together?” you asked, the words falling from your lips without forethought, sayinging something you didn’t even think about. It wasn’t what you wanted to say. It wasn’t what you felt deep down. But it was easier to let those words fill the space than to confront the fear twisting inside you. Trent flinched as if you’d struck him. His blood going ice cold. He didn’t know how to convince you this was right when in the moment you were making it feel so very wrong. You were hurting but now so was he. Trent really thought when he just turned to look at you things would be better, not worse. It was quiet. The silence of the room was deafening. His hand faltered for a moment before settling back on your cheek, his touch softer now, almost hesitant. 

“Why would you say that?” he asked quietly, his voice barely audible over the heavy stillness in the room. You swallowed hard, your throat burning with unshed tears. His jaw tightened and he shut his eyes and you watched his eyelashes lay on his cheek for a moment longer than comfortable, shielding himself from the hurt; as if he was bracing for impact and so you took the final blow. 

“You said you didn’t want to take advantage…” you whispered, your voice cracking. It wasn’t what you meant, not really, but you knew the weight of those words would land, and you hated yourself for using them. You didn’t mean it but you knew what you were doing. You didn’t know why you were doing it but it was happening nevertheless. You were letting this relationship go up in flames with an ease you loathed. An ease Josh made you have and now you were letting the flames engulf Trent with you. Trent’s eyes snapped open, wide and glassy with disbelief. He searched your face as if trying to find some hint that you didn’t mean it, that this was all a misunderstanding. The weight of the night settled heavily between you. It was unbearable, suffocating, like the air had been vacuumed out of the room. You both laid completely still. You felt like you were tearing down the house you’d built together—stripping it bare, brick by brick, without even meaning to. Ripping the walls out, slashing the pipes and yet only his silence and heartbeat made a sound. There was no shouting, no anger, no big crash. Just the quiet dismantling of something fragile, something that felt too precious to lose but too painful to hold onto in the moment. His silence pierced through you, and yet, it wasn’t cold—it was sorrowful, the kind of quiet that spoke volumes about his own inner turmoil. Trent's hand, which had dropped to rest on your arm, tightened slightly on your arm, his heart aching at the sound of your pain. 

“If you feel like I’m taking advantage of you,” Trent finally whispered, his voice raw and achingly soft, “if you feel like I’m in control of this in a way that you’re not… we can’t do this. I won’t.” His hand on you withdrew slowly. It wasn’t harsh, but it left a hollow ache in its absence, as though he were pulling back to keep from causing more damage. There it was. The white flag you indirectly and subconsciously pushed him to raise. He was defeated. He couldn’t win. He felt powerless. He felt so awkward. Like if he touched you again it would change your perspective but if he didn’t it would do just the same. You had dismantled something so quietly, so swiftly. He exhaled deeply, his breath shaky, like he was trying to keep himself from crumbling entirely. It felt like there were worlds between you to now, when in reality it was mere inches but as the night engulfed the room, Trent moved from facing you onto his back creating a distance that felt like something you may never be able to close. Trent’s words hung in the air like the faint echo of a storm, their quiet weight pressing down on you as he pulled away. The warmth of his hand left your skin, replaced by an emptiness that seemed to seep into the space between you. His quiet resolve settled over the room like a suffocating blanket. You had spent so long trying to survive, to appease, to navigate a world where love meant control and touch often felt like an obligation. And yet, here he was—letting you go, even if it broke him. Trent’s restraint wasn’t rejection; it was love. It was understanding. But it hurt all the same. 

“I’ve only ever been in love once… I’ll only ever be in love once. And that’s with you.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on the ceiling. His voice cracked slightly, and the sound shattered you. Your heart clenched painfully at his confession. The vulnerability in his words was unbearable, and yet you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his eyes. You stared at his profile, the way his lashes rested against his cheek when he blinked, the tension in his jaw as he tried to steady himself. “Just… take your time,” he added, his voice quieter now, almost inaudible. And then, with the finality of someone who had resigned themselves to the pain, he rolled over, his head resting on his pillow. You watched him, the way he clutched the pillow beneath his head as though it was the only thing keeping him grounded. His back was to you now, and it felt like a wall you couldn’t scale, no matter how much you wanted to reach for him. “I just don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered again, so softly you weren’t sure if it was meant for you or for himself. His words hung in the air, heavy and unresolved, as the night overtook the room. Trent wasn’t like Josh. He wasn’t trying to control you or force you into anything. But in that moment, the weight of your past, the weight of your fears, was too much for either of you to carry alone. And as he lay there, quiet and still, you realized just how much you had both been hurt in ways neither of you fully knew how to heal. You watched the way his shoulders rose and fell with each deep breath, steady but strained. It wasn’t just awkwardness you felt—it was guilt, raw and biting, clawing at your chest. You wanted to speak, to reassure him, to take back the words you didn’t even mean, but your throat felt like it had closed up.in an effort to save yourself you had somehow managed to cut off the only thing that was keeping you alive. Trent had let you go, the chasm in the bed now was too much to breach. The silence between you was deafening, punctuated only by the faint sounds of the night filtering in through the window. It was strange how a room could feel so full of unspoken emotions yet so achingly empty at the same time.

The morning light filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room that felt at odds with the tension between you. The quiet was almost suffocating, the kind of silence that held so much unsaid. Despite the turmoil of the night before, your bodies had instinctively found each other, seeking comfort in a way words couldn’t offer. You’d spent hours wrapped around one another, as if letting go would mean accepting what neither of you wanted to face. Trent’s arms had stayed around you, his heartbeat steady beneath your ear, grounding you even as your mind raced. The morning finally had arrived, it felt like an unspoken truce, a shared understanding that this moment, however fleeting, couldn’t last. You stayed in bed longer than usual, the weight of reality pressing down on both of you. Trent’s fingers traced absent patterns on your arm, and neither of you spoke, afraid to shatter the fragile peace. When you finally sat up, the loss of his touch was immediate and jarring.

Getting dressed felt mechanical. Each movement slow and deliberate, as if prolonging the inevitable goodbye. By the time you made your way downstairs, the air between you had shifted. You could feel his eyes on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to meet them. At the door, you hesitated, your hand resting on the handle. Your throat was tight, the words you wanted to say lodged somewhere deep inside. 

“T…” you whispered, your voice trembling. He was leaning against the counter, his arms crossed over his chest, his jaw tight. He didn’t respond immediately, his gaze fixed on a spot just beyond you. It wasn’t that he didn’t hear you—he was trying to hold himself together, to keep from begging you to stay, from saying something that might push you further away. When he finally looked at you, his eyes were heavy with emotion. 

“Yeah?” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. You swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around the strap of your bag. 

“I… I just want to say thank you. For… for last night.” Your voice cracked, and you looked away, your own emotions threatening to overwhelm you. It was all you could say. What had transpired last night couldn’t be encapsulated in a sentence or two. Your feelings for him, the hurt you felt would fill volumes and so you settled for a thank you. Trent shifted, his body tensing as if he was fighting every instinct to close the space between you. 

“You don’t have to thank me,” he said softly, his voice tinged with sadness. “I just… I just want you to be okay.” You nodded, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. 

“I don’t know what okay looks like right now,” you admitted, your voice breaking. He took a cautious step towards you. 

“I know, pretty girl,” he replied, his words careful, measured. The pet name hurt. He sympathetically smiled at you but it was insincere. His heart was in pieces, shattered on the floor right next to yours. “But you know I’m here, right? No matter what… I’m here.” His words broke something in you, and you glanced back at him, finally meeting his eyes. He was being mature and understanding and it hurt. The depth of his care, his pain, and his love was laid bare, and it was almost too much to bear.

“I know,” you whispered, tears welled up in your eyes, ready to spill over. “I’m sorry. I don’t know how to be loved like this. I’m just so sorry I’m hard to love,” you confessed, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions.  “I don’t know how to feel safe and not push you away when I do.” You whimpered as the tears slipped down your cheeks. Trent’s jaw tightened, his heart breaking as he watched you crumble in front of him. He took a deep breath, steadying himself, before pulling you into him. His arms enveloped you, one circling your waist while the other cradled the back of your head. You pressed your face into his chest, your tears dampening his shirt but he didn’t care, not one bit. He kissed the top of your head, his lips lingering there as if trying to transfer every ounce of his love and reassurance. 

“You are the easiest girl to love, pretty girl. And I will love you in whatever way and any way you need me to love you,” he whispered into your hair, his voice steady despite the ache in his chest. His grip tightened slightly, as though he was memorizing the feel of you in his arms, just in case it would be the last time. “Forever, it’s you,” he murmured, his words so soft they were almost lost in the quiet of the room. “Just please know that will never change, no matter what you decide you want.” Your breath hitched and you sobbed into his chest, overwhelmed by his words, by the way he loved you so unconditionally. 

“I love you,” you whimpered, the words breaking as they left your lips. He closed his eyes, his own tears threatening to fall as he held you. 

“I know, baby. I know,” he whispered back, rocking you gently as you cried. “And that’s enough for me.”

The house was alive with chaos—a sea of bodies swaying to deafening music, flashing lights bouncing off the walls in a kaleidoscope of color. Conversations were drowned out by the thrum of bass, laughter spilling over in waves as the party hit its peak. Layla stood in the center of it all, a drink in hand, but her focus was fractured. Her chest felt tight, as if a weight pressed against it, the absence of you palpable. You weren’t here, and while you’d told her to have fun, it didn’t feel right. Still, she pushed through. You needed her to, even if she didn’t fully understand why. Fifteen songs later and five drinks deeper, Layla felt the alcohol warm her insides, dulling some of her guilt but sharpening her resolve. She scanned the room, her sharp eyes skipping over familiar faces until they landed on Devon, standing by the edge of the kitchen, drink in hand, smirking as he caught her gaze. Josh wasn’t here yet—or at least, she hadn’t spotted him—but Devon would have to do. He was Josh’s friend, and as much as Layla disliked him by association, he was her best shot at getting answers. He was handsome, she was hot, they’d met a few times before and maybe there might’ve been some chemistry there but really there was only one reason driving Layla that night. She didn’t trust him, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t use him.

Their banter had started easily enough, a few playful comments traded back and forth. Devon leaned in close, his lips hovering near her ear as if he had to compete with the music, but Layla knew it was more than that. He was testing the waters, his hand brushing hers just lightly enough to be suggestive.

“I think we’re crossing enemy lines here,” he teased, his voice low and full of charm. Layla smirked, meeting his gaze with a confidence she didn’t entirely feel. 

“I’ll cross any line you want,” she whispered, leaning in close, her breath warm against his cheek. “But let me borrow your phone first. I just need to text my friend before we leave.” Devon blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift, but the bait was too tempting to resist. He handed over his phone without hesitation, his smirk deepening. 

“Make it quick, yeah?” he said, his tone dripping with suggestion. Layla turned on her heel, spinning away with a flirtatious glance over her shoulder. Devon’s gaze stayed glued to her as she made her way toward the hallway, phone in hand, pretending to type. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her, but as soon as she rounded the corner, her facade dropped. Her fingers moved swiftly, navigating his phone with practiced ease. She scrolled through messages, DMs, and photos, her heart pounding in her chest as she searched for anything—any hint, any clue that could tie Devon or Josh to what had happened to you. She dug deeper and deeper, her frustration mounting as nothing turned up. She huffed, leaning against the wall. The blue light of the phone screen illuminated her features in the dark hallway, casting shadows under her eyes that betrayed her exhaustion. Layla was starting to second-guess her plan as the party raged around her. The house felt suffocating, the music thundering through her chest as if it was synced to her racing heartbeat. Layla was so invested in her hunt she barely noticed Devon coming to lean lazily against the wall beside her, a smirk tugging at his lips as he watched her hold his phone.

“You find what you’re looking for, or are you just trying to steal my playlist?” he teased, his voice low and laced with amusement. Layla forced a playful laugh, flipping her hair over her shoulder to buy herself a moment. Her fingers worked quickly, scrolling out of his apps and messages, trying to stay one step ahead of Devon’s curiosity.

“I’m just making sure you’re not boring,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a slight edge of distraction. Devon raised an eyebrow, intrigued. 

“Trust me, babe, I’m anything but boring.” He cooed. Layla ignored his cocky response. Devon noticed her change in demeanor, his smirk fading as he pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “You alright?” he asked, his tone shifting slightly to one of genuine concern. Layla forced a smile again and handed his back to him as casually as she could. 

“Just had to make sure my girls know I’m with you. Don’t want them thinking I’ve disappeared.” She cooed, turning into him. Devon grinned, clearly pleased with her response. 

“Disappeared, huh? I’ll make sure you stay right where I can see you.” He leaned into her pinching at her waist. She giggled swatting at his hand with a sloppy smile. Maybe it was the alcohol, but a part of her kind of wanted to actually go home with Devon. She didn’t find anything incriminating, he was sort of sweet and definitely handsome. Her mind was racing though, the threads were unraveling, but the knot at the center was still tied too tightly. She needed to find out more. She was committed for you… and maybe there was a little bit in it for her now. So she played along, laughing at Devon’s jokes and letting him guide her through the crowded house. Her focus drifting from being laser-sharp, every glance, every word a calculated move with intent to something a bit looser.  She’d come here for answers, and she knew Devon had to know something so maybe spending a little more time with him wouldn’t hurt. 

The soft hum of Devon’s snores filled the dimly lit bedroom. Layla sat up slowly, careful not to disturb him, and slipped his phone from the bedside table. Her pulse quickened as she padded to the en-suite bathroom, the door creaking slightly as she shut it behind her. She pressed her back to the wall and sank to the floor with a deep breath. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone. Devon had been easy to charm, he actually wasn’t so bad, nice in fact, but what she held in her hand right now would tell her the harsh reality, what he really knew. 

The room was dark, the blue light burning her eyes as she scrolled in Devon’s phone, sat on the floor. Scrolling through his messages again Layla’s breath became unsteady, uneven. Her pulse quickened as she skimmed through group chats and threads. Still, there was nothing that immediately jumped out as damning. She finally decided to go back to Devon’s messages with Josh, her hands trembling slightly. The messages were cryptic as she delved deeper. It felt like she was missing something, a part of their puzzle, so she continued to scroll. She almost didn’t want to find more context, even the thought made her stomach churn but she had to do this. Her grip tightened on the phone as she scrolled faster, reading more and more messages. Her eyes darted over the screen, piecing together fragments of a conversation. 

“Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, shaking her head. But just as she was about to give up, something caught her eye—an attachment buried deep in their thread of texts. Layla’s vision blurred with anger and panic. She shut her eyes tight. She could feel her heart hammering in her chest. There it was: a screenshot of an Instagram DM from Jess to Josh, and then, her stomach dropped—the video attached. The video of you. You, on your knees for Trent, vulnerable in a way that made Layla’s blood run cold. She felt sick.  Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling the gasp that escaped her lips as tears stung her eyes. The room felt heavier than the silence that followed. Layla sat with her knees pulled to her chest, the dim blue light of the phone casting ghostly shadows on her face. She couldn’t stop trembling. The weight of what she’d seen, and what it meant, pressed down on her like a tidal wave.

“You really are interested in my phone, huh? Find anything good?” Devon’s tired voice shattered the silence, making her jump. Layla turned, looking up at him, fumbling the phone as she tried to recover. 

“Fuck… I was just—” She stumbled out words.  Devon leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed, watching her with an expression that was far too calm for her liking. He had a sleepy smile that was handsome but it couldn’t mask what was on his phone. 

“You find that screenshot of the video Jess sent?” he asked, his tone softer than she expected. He smirked but not smugly. He smirked in a way that was sympathetic. His eyebrows raised as if he himself couldn’t even believe he had seen what she sent. He assumed that's what she was looking for. It was really the only thing that tied him and Layla together. The only reason they knew one another. Layla’s jaw dropped in surprise though that he knew it existed at all and still had the audacity to try to be with her.

“So Jess actually sent that... and you've seen it?” Layla asked again, her voice cracking. She needed him to confirm it—needed him to say it out loud so it felt real. Devon sighed, running a hand over his hair, his expression torn between guilt and discomfort. He shrugged, sliding down the wall to sit beside her. 

“I haven't seen it, no. But. yeah… she sent it to Josh. I don’t know why. Guess she wanted to stir shit up.” He cooed gently looking only at Layla, not his phone that she currently was planning on holding ransom until she got answers. Layla glared at him, her chest heaving with frustration. 

“You’re lying.” Her voice wavered, sharp and accusing. 

“Look, baby, I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m keeping my hands clean. I don’t want any part of it.” Devon tried to explain his arm reaching out towards her knee but Layla winced at the pet name. Her eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling over. 

“Well, you are playing a part, Devon. You know Josh has that video—of Y/N and Trent, two people in a relationship, in love—and he’s using it to blackmail them. That makes you complicit.” She harshly bit back. He paused for a moment. He didn’t know you and Trent were a couple, let alone in love. He saw you at dinner once, but people go on dates all the time. The only things he heard were from Josh’s perspective. And in his opinion you weren’t allowed to be with Trent. In fact, you wanted Josh instead.

“I didn’t know they were properly together,” Devon muttered, his voice quieter now, guilt flashing across his face. 

“They shouldn’t have to be,” Layla snapped, shoving the phone back into his hands. Her tears were threatening to spill over now, her emotions a tangled mess of fury and heartbreak. “And they fucking can’t be if he has this. This is fucked up, Devon. You’re letting him ruin someone’s life, and you just sit back like it’s nothing? I don’t understand how you can be okay with that.” She whimpered.  Devon winced, the weight of her words visibly sinking in. He leaned back against the cold wall, his hands rubbing his face. 

“Fuck… I’m sorry. You’re right,” he whispered finally. Layla sniffled trying to keep herself together. She was aching for you. “I should’ve done something, stopped it. I just… I didn’t want to get involved. It’s Josh, you know? I mean yeah, I see him a lot, were on the same squad but I try not to fuck with him too much.” Devon weakly tried to explain. Layla’s tears started to spill, her voice growing more impassioned. 

“She’s my best friend, Devon! Do you even understand what this is doing to her? He’s blackmailing her. That video—it’s not just some stupid gossip. It could ruin everything for them… For Trent. And you’re just sitting here pretending like you’re not part of it? Like imagine if someone had a video of you and sent it to the fucking media… Because that's what he's doing. People's private relationship being broadcasted publicly and used to hurt them. Imagine what they feel right now that people like you even have fucking screenshots of this.” Layla yelped with a little more force. Devon sat still, the seriousness of her words bearing down on him. 

“I… I didn’t know it was like that. I didn’t think about it that way,” he said softly. Layla’s comment had landed. Devon felt stupid. He didn’t really know nor care for Trent, they played for rival clubs too after all, but the sentiment still stood. He understood this wasn't the little tiff he dubbed it to be before. He realized what Josh was threatening Trent with. “I thought it was just… I don’t know, some drama between exes that didn’t involve me. I didn’t… I didn’t think of how damaging it could be.” Devon spoke earnestly.

“It is,” Layla shot back, wiping her tears angrily. “And if you care at all…” She shook her head and took a deep breath attempting to compose herself. “You know, maybe about me.” She said unexpectedly to even herself. Maybe she had developed more feelings for Devon then she realized or maybe she was using it as leverage- she couldn't decide but she didn’t care, that wasn't the focus right now. You were. “Or just being a fucking good person and do the right thing, you need to help me fix this.” She pleaded. Devon looked at her, his liable gaze meeting her hurt one. For a moment, it was just the two of them illuminated only by the dim phone screen, the air between them thick with tension. “Devon, you know he hurt her right?” she looked at him curiously. Devon’s eyes narrowed. He looked confused and a part of Layla prayed it was honest innocence. She hoped maybe Devon wasn’t bad. That this was an indiscretion and he was nothing like Josh. If he knew, she could never forgive him. In fact, she’d kill him. “He abused her. The way he spoke to her… Fuck! The texts I’d see that he’d send her. She’d have cuts and bruises all the time… Did you know that?” Layla weakly asked him as tears coursed down her cheeks. 

“No.” Devon responded flatly. He swallowed feeling sick. He didn’t know any of that. He shut his eyes for a moment and then cleared his throat. “He can’t do that. I’m so sorry. What do you want me to do? What can I do, Layla?” He asked finally, his voice resigned but sincere. Layla straightened, her jaw tight as she wiped the last of her tears. 

•

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

Next part - Chapter 23 - Flowers and Fixing xx

[crazycoke-addict]

Island of the Slaughtered Game

Genre: Horror

Description:

It's been 10 years since The Massacre that happened in Camp Wawanakwa. 22 teenagers from different backgrounds sign up to be in a reality show called Total Drama Island. Unbeknownst to them, a serial killer is on the loose and picks off the teenagers one by one. Only 7 are recorded to be alive. From the disappearance to the murders, the case remains unsolved to this day. Who was the killer? What was the motive?

Today, I will find out everything.

The game starts with your character in a boat sailing to the island. There is a speech bubble at the bottom of the screen. The protagonist is talking about the unsolved case about what happened in Camp Wawanakwa. They also explained how the seven survivors have gone MIA, and neither of them have spoken out what happened.

During the intro, they hear bump coming from underneath the boat. When they lean over, something jumps out of the water and drags them in the water. In the next scene, you wake up and find yourself in Camp Wawanakwa. You look through your supplies, and you take out your torch. You find your boat that's been wreck. You need to find supplies to fix your boat. While walking, you hear rustle behind you when you turn around. You see nothing, but there is something there in your glaring view.

While walking around, you find a VHS tape lying near a tree. You comment on how it's been so long since you seen VHS tapes. The VHS tape is titled 'Behind the scenes', You hope the VHS tape might give you some answers you're looking for.

You ended up in the cabin section and decided to look through the cabins. However, 3 of the cabins are locked except for one. The cabin room in that's located in the west. You decide to go in, and while looking you around, you notice the belongings of boy's clothes, deodorants, a cowboy hat, a keyboard, etc. You hear rustling under one of the bunk beds. You tried to leave the cabin, but the door has been closed. When you turn around, a human head is placed on the dresser looking at you.

The game won't leave you go anywhere else, but straight to the dresser where the head is. The head starts talking to the player. They explain how it's been so long since anyone has visited the camp. They miss human interaction since they never really got that back while they were living. The head talks about how they don't know how they got to the position their in, but their body parts in places where they shouldn't be. The head asks the player to help them find their body parts.

This section of the game kicks off the first of many mini games that the game is going to give. An instruction will appear on the screen to help you. In the top corner, there will be a 0/5. I'm pretty sure everybody knows that this is Ezekiel. Some of the characters are going to have a mini game.

Ezekiel - find his body parts before time runs out.

Justin - break every mirror that Justin appears in.

Harold- you have to play a video game. After you fix the tv.

Trent - you have to fix and play his guitar. It's like a memory game.

The main menu will have an old cable TV, which you end up getting after fixing the TV in order to do Harold's game. You must collect 17 VHS tapes in order to get the Canon ending. There are going to be 4 endings, which are going to be good ending, the bad ending, the curse ending, and obviously the Canon ending.

Some ghosts like Lindsay, Sadie, and Bridgette will be active, where they will follow the main character. You can weaken them by throwing a flame flare, which you'll end up finding during your mission. I also think it will be interesting that the main character that we are playing is one of the 2nd generation characters. I'm leaning towards Mike.

[formulalfc]

could you please make the request about trent and uni student reader where she’s struggling a long fic x (sorry forgot to specify before lol)

I'm Here Now

Trent Alexander Arnold x Reader

tw- none really, exam stress

The last few weeks of university were really hard for every student, tests, essays, quizzes, you name it. But you were really determined to do well on your upcoming exams having studied so hard over the year.

You spent every day sitting in your boyfriend's office, typing away trying to get all your work done so that you could finally relax after a long year.

But as your final week got closer, your routine went out the window and you were now pulling all-nighters to try and get everything done. You allowed yourself maybe an hour sleep, curled up on the sofa in Trent's office, and then you were up again going through notes.

Trent had been away on international duty for the past few days but was due back today and yet you hadn't even remembered. So engrossed in your work and so out of sorts with what day it is you had no idea your boyfriend was coming home today.

You were currently really struggling with this particular essay you were doing, it was a hard topic and your lack or rest was starting to catch up with you.

The words on the screen started to look jumbled and like they ddint make sense, you screwed your eyes in an attempt to make things clear again but you just couldn't focus.

Tears of frustration started pooling in your eyes, fuelled also by your lack of sleep. You were so close to finishing everything being able to relax and now you just couldn't concentrate.

What started as a few tears were starting to turn into steams of them, sobs racking through your body as you cursed yourself for not looking after yourself better as you were now paying the price.

Due to your uncontrollable tears, you hadn't heard your front door open and close as your boyfriend came in and you hadn't heard him call out your name.

Trent was confused at your lack of response and assumed that you were studying with headphones on or something but when he opened the study door he see you there crying and his heart near enough broke.

As you caught sight of your boyfriend its like you were finally ready to let it all out, now finding it hard to breathe as you cried.

Trent rushed over to you and lifted you from your chair, gently sitting down on the sofa with you cradled in his lap.

You had stuck your head into his neck and were sobbing into him as he cooed down at you telling you, "You're okay baby, you're okay. I'm here now, I'm gonna make it all better okay?"

Your cries eventually died down as you snuggled further into him, finally feeling content in his arms. And soon enough you had fallen asleep in the arms of your boyfriend, who stared down at you in worry.

He could tell from your face that you had worn yourself down, and he felt bad knowing that he wasn't here to stop you from beating yourself up over silly exams.

But he felt better now knowing that you were here, safe in his arms, where you always should be.

Your boyfriend carried you down the hallway to your shared room, slowly managing to peel the covers back before he placed you onto the bed and tucked you in.

He left for a moment to get you a glass of water and some paracetamol for when you woke up, knowing that you would have a headache after all those hours you spent at your computer.

When he got back you seemed to be tossing and turning restlessly without him by your side. And so he quickly dumped the things on the side and stripped down to his boxers, turning off the hallway lights before moving into bed behind you.

You lay still as Trent pulled you close to him and wrapped his arms around you, knowing you could rest now and that you could worry about your essays in the morning.

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt 2 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold × fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2,1k] [part 1] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lovers, work romance, fluff

warnings: swearing

notes: guys I totally forgot that curtis has a girlfriend help💀 so I'm just gonna remove her completely and in here they're not together... it's for the plot I swear

"what the fuck?!"

"jamie!" your sister's voice echoed through the house to your bedroom that early wednesday morning. it was normal for her to scold at you whenever you swore anywhere near her. which was all the time seeing as the two of you shared an apartment.

you didn't bother apologising as usual though and sat up straight in your bed, your blankets dishevelled and a look of confusion plastered on your face. "no way," you gawked at your phone screen and ran your fingers through your hair to try and comprehend what had just happened.

"there's really no reason to be shouting at 7 in the morning." you brushed your sister's comment off, the older girl taking it as a sign to join you on the edge of your bed to see what had gotten you all riled up.

she let out a heavy sigh as she moved you over so that she could sit with you. "speak woman. I don't have all day."

you took a breath and turned to look at her, eager eyes staring you down for any sort of explanation you could give her. "Okay so basically I just woke up and obviously my first instinct is to check my insta and twitter notifications because I got a bunch."

she gave you a look. "which isn't anything new. probably just a few followers or something."

you pointed your index finger in her direction. "exactly. but then--"

you turned your phone in her direction, your twitter feed showing up. "--I saw that I was being tagged like crazy. only to realise that this whole liverpool pr thing is blowing up."

maya gave you another look. as if you to say 'what did you expect?'. she began to get up from the bed but you quickly caught her wrist and pulled her back down again, urging her to stay for the rest of the story.

"jamie," she sighed. "you have an entire fanbase, of course they're going to go crazy over something like this."

you shook you head. "that's what I thought. but then I decided to go check my instagram notifications because apparently..."

you turned your phone screen to maya, displaying your follower list and lo and behold right at the top, your most recents followers queued up.

"what the fuck?!"

you jumped up at your sister's reaction. "that's what I'm saying!"

jude bellingham was one thing. but the entire liverpool squad?? there was no reason for that to happen at all. you were just some random twitch streamer on the p.r team, nothing more.

was it because I kicked the ball on monday?? it was so because I kicked that ball on monday.

you weren't going back to the training center for a while though. there were too many errands to run and meeting to sit through. and today's meeting at 10 was sure to pile even more projects on your table.

the match on saturday against wolves was going to be a premier league match so a lot of preparation had to be done for the interviews. yesterday's meeting already gave you a headache so today was going to be something for sure.

"is jamie not coming in today as well?" curtis asked no one in particular while his eyes roamed the hallways, yet there was no sight of the girl anywhere.

from beside him, trent quirked an eyebrow and nudged his arm. "you're on a first name basis already huh? you work fast."

curtis scoffed at his comment, recalling mpnday afternoon's events all to clearly after jaimie had left. "hey I'm not the one who stalked all her socials the second she left."

"what?" trent raised his hands in defence. "she looked familiar so I had to check."

"who looked familiar?"

the two jumped up at the sudden question, their glares shot at dominik who had pushed in beside trent who only shook his head, not bothering to brush off dominik's arm that was slung over his shoulders.

"the new p.r girl," he answered and put his phone away.

"jamie?"

trent shot him a weird look and then to curtis who was smiling from ear to ear with an 'I told you so' look. "what so you're all just on a first name basis? how did that even happen?"

the conversation carried on until they got to the field and even during their warm-up session. but it still seemed off to trent who grew more an more confused whenever someone chimed in with an "are you talking about jamie?"

it didn't make sense to him. they barely knew her or had any decent conversations. what difference did asking about where she was from or how many siblings she had make? but either way, the team wondered why trent has such a big issue with it.

"did you guys know that jamie's a twitch streamer?"

"what the hell?" trent groaned in obvious frustration when ibou chimed in while they were doing their laps around the field.

"what? are you just going to call her 'ms carter' for the rest of your life?" ibou asked again with a low chuckle which got a small shrug from trent.

"obviously not. it's just that she's a staff member and has a job to do." he turned his head to look at curtis who seemed fed up either the mini lecture that he was getting, but he felt that it needed to be said.

"she's not here to be your friend or--"

"--I fully agree with you trent. I'm glad some of us have common sense," harvey retorted out of nowhere.

seriously. they didn't even know he was there. the smallest of the group was adorning a look of determination as he jogged alongside his teammates. one that screamed, 'I hate jamie carter.'

ibou scoffed from beside him. "oh shut up. you're just mad because she's taller than you."

the group couldn't hold back their laughter as they watched harvey go quiet, a look of defeat on his face as she shook his head to the side. he'd get her back. one day.

but with trent's issue, everyone's argument was that they were just trying to make her feel comfortable. and he could give them the benefit of the doubt there, he knew how fans tended to react to situations like this and their presence in general was probably a lot to her.

but there was no reason to be involved with her personally. okay so what if he was the first one to follow her on Instagram?? when dominik saw that he was stalking her account his first instinct was to take trent's phone and follow her, just to tease him.

but then everyone followed her so that was kind of pointless.

after a bit more back and forth banter curtis let out a sigh. "but either way, she's friends with jude in a way or something." he gave trent a cheeky smile and the right back couldn't help but roll his eyes, knowing very well where he was leading with this.

"and any friend of jude, is a friend of mine," he finished and put his hand on his chest causing ibou to laugh but oh boy he wasn't finished just yet.

curtis took a moment to clear his throat and looked behind their group to see dominik running along with darwin and cody, laughing about what ever.

"if this is like any movie I've watched, then someone is walking out with more than just a premier league trophy."

that earned him a harsh slap on the arm from ibou but he didn't care and instead ran up in front of trent, now taking the liberty to jog backwards to take him head on. "what do you say? are you going to keep that 'ms carter' thing up until she becomes mrs alexander-arnold"?

"boys!"

everyone immediately halted at the sound of virgil's voice booming from the front with robbo and salah. "am I going to have to chase you to make you run any faster?"

you sat in the meeting room that afternoon with your laptop in front of you and your attention drawn to the front where the projector was with the media teams director, marvin colesmen.

he was a a slender man no older than 40, with blonde hair that was styled to the side. he wore a polo shirt underneath his blazer with a very obnoxious pair of socks as well.

"regarding our performance, we're doing fairly well but there's much room for improvement. but let's all thank clara for the last minute camera replacement last week since the last one broke."

everyone at the table immediately turned to look at someone who you remembered to be shaun. all he did was roll his eyes, and judging by the death glares he was receiving he definitely broke that camera.

mental note: don't break anything. ever.

"ms carter?"

your head snapped to the front at the call of your name, a bubble of anxiety filling your stomach now that you were put on the spot.

"do you have any thoughts on anything I've said?"

thoughts?? I don't have any thoughts??

"uhm..." you sat upright in your chair as you trailed off to formulate a response. "I think that more attention should be drawn to the team's more laid back promotional content."

great answer.

marvin tipped his head to the side at the response in intrigue. "care to elaborate?"

not really.

you licked your lips as you thought. "coming from a supporter, the occasional training video and interview don't really attract attention."

you watched as marvin urged you on with a nod. "and I think we should expand our content to something more entertaining. it'll be more rewarding for them team that way as well, I'm sure they're tired of answering the same questions every other week," a small laugh left your lips but you immediately stopped.

the room was dead silent and the atmosphere was a little too hostile for your liking. it was obvious that everyone was waiting for marvin to either shoot you down mercilessly or agree with you. but the experience was nothing short of terrifying.

the director nodded his head and continued to mutter something to himself before sending you a smile. "I'm giving you a week to come up with entertaining alternatives. if you convince me enough, I'll give you what you need since you'll be with the team from next week onwards unless I need you. you'll be joining them on the trip to molineux saturday morning as well. I'm sure the fans wouldn't mind seeing you in the booth either."

what's that supposed to mean?

when the meeting was finally over you didn't waste a second and rushed to pack your things and get in your car. you needed to hurry if you wanted to miss the rush hour traffic but of course you were wrong and sat in the car for an extra 40 minutes. lovely.

by the time you got back home, you felt as if every bit of energy had be drained from your body. you dropped your keys onto the counter in front of the door and kicked off your shoes.

"jamie?"

you let out a groggy "yeah" and dragged yourself to the kitchen where your sister was finishing up supper. you didn't say much and took your usual seat on one of the barstools and rested your head on your arm.

"so," maya poked your head. "how was work?"

as an answer you gave her a mumbled run down of your day, and by the time you were done the only words she heard were "broken camera".

she let out a hum regardless to show that she was paying attention and continued to stir the pasta in the pan. "well a kid fell down the slide today. I know I'm the teacher but I still laughed."

you couldn't help but cough up a laugh at her sudden confession. you looked up at her with a smile and she slumped her shoulders. "I just hope no one saw."

by the time you had gotten out of the shower. finished your night routine and ate dinner you were surged with a sudden burst of energy and needed to get it out. after a bit of scrolling through your socials and interacting with your followers and a much-needed poll on instagram, you decided to start a twitch stream.

and boy did it lead somewhere.

[scaryscarecrows]

How does Trent bridal-carrying each of the Squad members, whether for angst reasons or "boys will be boys" reasons go amongst them all?

"Pumme down." Yeesh. Antoine sounds like hot death mixed with, like, radium or something. "S'an. Order. M'fine."

"Dude, you went down mid-meeting." Trent carefully adjusts his hold. Just because there's no spinal injury doesn't mean Antoine needs to have his head flopping like this. "The boss had to catch you."

"Bullshit."

"Nope. You're going to Medical and Mark might murder you a little bit."

If Antoine has a protest, it's lost in the coughing. Dumbass. Knight should've let him crack his face. Would teach him not to scare people like that.

"C'mon, weirdo, it's past your bedtime."

"Five minutes."

Trent sighs. Eyes the screens, the Thermos, and the Batman ducky. And swoops, plucking Jimmy from his seat and cradling him like the biggest, stupidest ginger baby known to man.

"No!"

"Yep."

Jimmy, at least, know he can't fight this. That doesn't stop him from complaining.

"--grown-ass man, you don't get to bully me like this, swear to God--"

"Time for night-night. Let's go."

***

"Shit--Mark, we gotta move, m'sorry--"

"S'fine." Mark pulls in a shaky breath. "Passing out now. Don't freak out."

The warning doesn't help. Trent freaks out. But he keeps it together well enough to scoop Mark up as carefully as he can, ignoring the bloody snow, and book it.

It occurs to him later that this is the first time since they got here that Mark's not shaking from the cold.

***

"What the hell happened?"

Frank shrugs.

"I took it off, because it's gonna rain, and a monkey fuckin' stole it. The Knight's got Riley's freaky ninja squadron and two Dragon prototypes hunting for it, but, uh. Little stuck."

"Holy shit, you got robbed!" Trent crows, but he picks Frank up easy anyway, because it's only really funny if they catch the bastard. "Where we goin'?"

"Room. Think I need my chair for the next little while."

Yeah, that's fair.

***

Trent kicks the door open, adjusts his arms around his little bundle of joy, and calls over, "Someone left a fucking baby at the doorstep."

"We don't have a doorstep, Ages." The Knight sounds deeply suspicious. "What do you have."

"A baby. That someone left."

"Oh, no--"

Riley, complete with baby bonnet, turns over to reveal his speaker system. A second later, "WHAT DOES THE FOX SAY?!" blares through the room, echoing horribly around the walls. It's been banned for a month. Riley's been determined to get one last hurrah in, largely because his request for a rocket launcher got denied.

"No--"

"Ages, this is your goddamn fault--"

Oh. Oh, shit.

He throws Riley at them and runs for it, ignoring the shriek of rage.

[fishyingrn]

Swap AU Aleheather post!!

I love love LOVED (agh I can't say it enough sorry!!) @swinginspaceagebachelorette 's au of TDWT (≧∇≦) ʃ♡ƪ !! It's specifically a swap au between Alejandro and Sierra, and the way she writes Alejandro is just so endearing to read! He's like a golden retriever that has random knowledge! The fact she lowered the psycho-stalker quality is what helped endear his swap personality especially!! I think I already pestered her in her comment section about his personality and appreciating the heck out of her writing there 😹 I doodled a bunch since I just loved her au sm!!!

But before I start dumping doodles I made from the fic, the link to her fic is here ! Make sure you have an AO3 account before you read of course though!!😸

NOW FOR THE DOODLES MAUHAHAHAHHAHA

This is a scene from the fic ♪(^∇^*)! It's from one of the most recent chapters (chapter 29)

Zoom out of the scene lol

I still find it funny and shocking that Heather is able to support the weight of a man over 6 ft on her head 🙀Her head's gotta be made of STEEL! Super scary just how strong it is! Steel is my only conclusion for her head strength.. (Yes I'm not going to acknowledge the shocked Gwen, her issue of the day! she partook in cheating like a gross person and in great irony considering her s1 ordeal with Heather & Trent (* ￣︿￣))

ANYWAYS ONTO THE HC SECTION!!

These hcs are Aleheather centric like the one above since they're cutie patooties in the fic AND it's an Aleheather fic what do u want from me..(～o￣3￣)～

I think it'd be a nice off screen past time that Alejandro info dumps to Heather and she's at least partially listening! The dynamic kind of reminds me of Phineas and Ferb's parents in a sense where the dad infodumps to the mom and she just listens + enjoys it(❁´◡`❁) I LOVE that dynamic btw! It's such an endearing dynamic that to find it in my fav tdi ship is so sweet (to me at least!)

Onto my next hc!

Since Alejandro is taking the place of Sierra in this au, I thought it'd be sweet that he also adopted her hobby of glitter glue crafts. You know who also has a hobby of glitter glue crafts?! HEATHER💥

I'd think in one of Alejandro's off screen infodumps, he talks about his hobby of glitter glue crafts, the techniques and brands related to the aforementioned to Heather! She'd slip out some of her knowledge and love for it, OR she immediately starts rambling back about glitter glue crafts!!

THAT'S RIGHT BABY ( •̀ ω •́ ) !

Swap!Aleheather bonding over GLITTER GLUE CRAFTS 💥💥Ugh just how much more cute can you get with that headcanon?!

Another hc incoming!!

Since Heather always has her hair up in a ponytail in the main series, I thought a nice way to show her trust is with her hair! In general her hair has always been something special to her, that's why she fought for a wig in season 2. Since an AMAZING amount of value is placed on her hair, her showing her trust to Alejandro through her hair would be a nice way to visually show she trusts him! Alejandro basically the only genuine bond she's shown to make in the series, canon and in the fic, so I think the swap hcs make it just all the more sweet (/▽＼) !! In a way, since to Swap-ejandro Heather is just a celebrity crush, this sort of interaction deepens their relationship and his feelings beyond just a celeb crush (❁´◡`❁)

NOW FOR THE LAST HC!

This one isn't an Aleheather hc, but moreso a hc focused on Swap-ejandro's appearance! I think that as a trade off, he's not as physically built as canon Alejandro but instead taller compared to him (which is scary considering canonically Alejandro is 6 ft..) Since he's in the place of Sierra in this AU, he probably has enough strength to fight off baboons, he probably just has a hidden build! In general, Sierra and Alejandro in this AU had their skills and personalities swapped, so as a result their backstories technically were too with some small tweaks! I think this AU has been fun to make a bunch of hcs in, congrats if u got to the end of me convulsively info dumping about my hcs on the awesome au (lll￢ω￢) !

Full credits to the author man! She's mega talented! Please support @swinginspaceagebachelorette's work and any future works from her! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

Signing off, hope this reaches the right audience!