#lfc gifs | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

f1daydreamers · 4 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟓

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

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

…

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

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

"Saw your email. Everything okay?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You bit your lip, the weight of the responsibility starting to settle in. The thought of traveling with the team, being there in the thick of it, was both exciting and daunting.

"I don't know, Lee. What if-" Your voice wavered, playing with the corners of the folder in your hand.

"You'll be fine," he interrupted, his tone reassuring. "You're more than capable. And look, I'll only be a phone call away if you need anything."

You hesitated for a moment, the nerves swirling in your stomach. But deep down, you knew this was a chance you couldn't pass up. Lee believed in you and it was inevitable at one point.

"Okay," you finally said, taking a deep breath. "Sure."

Lee's face broke into a wide grin. "Good. I'll let the gaffer know and I'll make sure everything's arranged for you."

You nodded, watching as he left. The thrill of the weekend was tempered by the gnawing anxiety that you weren't ready, that you were diving headfirst into something you couldn't fully control. Sure, some of the boys had warmed up to you but others were still keeping you at arm's length.

You scoffed to yourself, more like just the one. You were walking a fine line with him and the last thing you wanted was to make things worse. In the heat of the moment, a sentence, an expression, a word could tick someone off.

You couldn't continue your train of thoughts, the folder staring up at you, waiting to be opened. With a steadying breath, you took a seat at your desk again and finally opened it, beginning to read through the reports.

...

The squad and staff gathered at the training ground, the usual pre-match energy heightened by the knowledge that today’s destination was Old Trafford.

You stood off to the side, watching the players mill around as they waited for the coaches to arrive, the hum of conversation and laughter blending with the distant noise of fans outside the gates.

You were trying to keep your own nerves in check, running through mental notes on the players, when Curtis sauntered over, a relaxed smile on his face.

“Bit of a madhouse out there." He said, nodding toward the entrance where the sound of chanting fans was growing louder.

“Just a bit,” you replied with a smile, honestly grateful for the distraction.

He chuckled, giving you a once-over. “You look a little tense. First time heading into enemy territory got you rattled?”

You gave him a mock glare, though the truth behind his teasing made you sigh. “Maybe a little. It’s just.. a lot. Big game, and I’m still getting used to being around everyone, let alone on a match day.”

Curtis leaned against the wall beside you, his expression softening. “I get it. But you’ve been solid with us. We’re glad you’re here, even if some of us” - he raised an eyebrow - “aren’t great at showing it.”

You smirked, knowing exactly who he was referring to.

“Trent?”

He grinned. “Nah, Wataru." You nudged his shoulder with your hand, and Curtis pushed himself off of the wall. His attention was directed back to the team as Arne brought everyone together.

"You're gonna smash it, see you in Manny." He flashed you a smile before jogging back over.

You adjusted your backpack currently slung over your shoulder, glancing up but accidentally catching Trent's eye across the large entryway.

He was standing a little apart from the others, his posture relaxed but with an air of deliberate composure. His hands were casually tucked into his pockets, and his usual stoic expression was softened by a hint of curiosity.

His gaze lingered on you longer than usual, more intent and thoughtful.

You offered him a shy smile, unsure of what to expect in return. Almost immediately, his eyes darted away, his expression tightening as he turned his attention back to the team.

A tinge of disappointment settled in your chest, but you didn’t have time to linger on it as the coach pulled into the parking space out front.

“You’ve got this. You’ve got this,” you whispered to yourself, as if it were a mantra, following the backroom staff out of the training ground.

…

The first half had been tightly contested, with neither team managing to score, leaving the game deadlocked at 0-0.

The only real highlight was Trent’s free kick from just outside the box - a powerful shot that flew high, curling away from the goal before soaring over the bar. The away fans held their breath in anticipation, only to exhale in disappointment as the ball missed its mark.

From the sidelines, you watched as Trent’s frustration grew more evident, his usual composure giving way to visible agitation.

Each missed opportunity seemed to fuel his irritation, and it was clear his emotions were beginning to take over.

You sighed as the referee jogged over after a hard tackle. The yellow card was raised high, and Trent’s reaction was a sharp scoff as he walked away, shooting a disdainful side-eye at the player he had just fouled.

The rival fans seized the moment, erupting in cheers and taunts that grew louder and more fervent.

Old Trafford lit up as the referees became hyper-aware of Trent, ready to penalise any further outbursts. Arne’s nervousness was palpable, and the backroom staff were on their feet, counting down to the halfway mark.

Trent was no longer just reacting to the game; he was actively seeking confrontations with the Man United players. His tackles were sharper, his verbal exchanges more heated.

The tension was building to a breaking point, but the halftime whistle blew just in time, bringing a collective sigh of relief from every member of Liverpool’s staff, whether at the training ground or in the stadium.

As you left your seat to head down the tunnel, Trent’s shoulder brushed against yours, his head lowered and skin glistening with sweat.

You noticed Arne watching him closely, his face a mask of concentration and concern, fully aware of how vital Trent was to the team’s strategy - and how disastrous a second yellow card could be.

...

As the halftime break drew to a near close, the tension in the dressing room was palpable. The players sat on the benches, catching their breath and nursing the aches of the first half.

Arne stood at the front, his arms crossed as he delivered his instructions, his tone firm but calm. You could see the focus in their eyes, the determination to turn the game around in the second half.

Just as he'd finished his tactical breakdown, he turned to you, walking over.

"I want you to say a few words," he said, his voice low.

"About?" You asked quietly, unaware of the boys' wandering eyes glancing between the two of you.

"Keeping their heads in the game. Any insights that might help them stay focused and.. you know, ease off the aggression."

You swallowed, nodding. "Yeah, okay."

The players' attention turned to you as you moved to the centre of the room, a mix of curiosity and expectation in their gazes. It was almost comical - this was the first time many of them were hearing you speak in a professional setting.

You cleared your throat, giving a quick glance to the clock hung on the wall.

You took a deep breath and began. “I know we don’t have much time, so I’ll be brief. We need to ease off on the aggressiveness." Trent, who had been staring at the floor, lifted his head slightly, his eyes now locked on you.

"We’re here to play our best football, to get the result we want and then move on. Allowing anger is only gonna distract you and hurt our performance. When you feel it bubbling up, just walk away and refocus yourself." You made an effort to connect with each player as you spoke, though deep down, you hoped your words would resonate with one in particular.

"Focus on what you can control - your passing, your tackles, your game.” A smirk tugged at Trent's lips before his head dipped again.

You scanned the room, noticing nods of understanding. “If you see a teammate getting heated, help them out."

Another breath, "push them away from the fight, back off, and concentrate on our tactics, not on the referee’s decisions or the United players. Don’t sulk on what went wrong. Learn from it and move on, yeah?"

Arne gave you a nod of appreciation as you wrapped up your little speech. "Alright, let’s make this second half count," you finished, your voice carrying a tinge of determination.

Virgil clapped twice, rallying the team as they stood and prepared to exit the dressing room. “Let’s go!” As they began filing out, you moved to the side to let them pass.

Trent was among the last to leave.

"Write me up next time," he muttered as he walked by, leaning in just enough for you to hear.

Your eyes involuntarily dropped to his lips before darting back up to meet his gaze. Your heart skipped a beat, but you quickly composed yourself and responded.

"It was meant for everyone." You lied through your teeth.

He hummed in response, a subtle hint of amusement in his voice. "Sure," he said, not even glancing back as he walked out, leaving you with the undeniable sense that he knew exactly who your speech had been aimed at.

...

In the second half, Trent seemed lighter on his feet, more focused on the tactical aspects of the game and less caught up in the aggression that had marked his earlier play.

Liverpool had eventually secured a hard-fought 0-1 victory, with Salah scoring the winner from a beautifully timed assist by Trent. The away crowds erupted as the ball hit the back of the net, and the energy from that moment carried through until the final whistle.

As you watched him on the pitch, his frustration giving way to calm determination, you couldn’t help but wonder if your halftime words had played a part in that change.

Even a small part, that was more than enough to make you feel like you were on the right track.

The journey back to the training ground was a short one, the adrenaline from the win still buzzing among the team.

But by the time you arrived, the place had already started to empty out, with most of the team and staff having headed home to celebrate or rest.

The win had been sweet, but the quietness that greeted you at the training ground felt like a peaceful end to a very intense day.

You hadn’t intended to stay at the training ground as late as you did after returning, but with Kaia staying over at a friend’s house and the stack of unwritten reports waiting for your attention, you found yourself at your desk again.

The evening had unfolded into an unexpected work spell as you prepared for the upcoming sessions and tackled the never-ending paperwork.

The soft glow from your new office lamp created a cozy pool of light, the only sounds in the quiet room being the occasional rustle of papers and the gentle hum of the air conditioning.

Starting to nurse a headache, you rubbed your eyes carefully as to not smudge your makeup.

The words of practising what you preached echoed in your mind, working for hours on end without a break was hardly the advice you’d give to anybody.

So, you eventually pushed away from your desk and decided to step outside your office for a walk.

The halls were quiet and mostly vacant as you strolled, letting your mind drift and find a moment of peace.

You made your way to the large glass windows that stretched across both the first and second floors, providing a panoramic view of the training grounds below.

The evening sky was transitioning into deep blues, with the last hints of daylight fading.

Yet your gaze was drawn to a solitary figure on the pitch, illuminated by the few remaining lights.

It was him.

Even from this distance, his form was unmistakable as he set up a line of balls and readied himself for another round of free kicks. Instantly, you were reminded of earlier - his powerful shot that had soared over the bar.

Seeing him out there, still working hard, your shoulders slumped in realisation.

The scene was almost surreal, marked by the quiet dedication of a player refusing to call it a day.

You stood there in complete silence, taking in the sight as if it were a scene from a film - each deliberate movement and focused effort holding your rapt attention.

It was a side of him you hadn’t seen before. Alone and immersed in his own world, completely absorbed in his craft without a care for the outside distractions.

Deciding to join him, you headed out of the building and towards the pitch. The evening air was crisp, with a gentle breeze rustling the leaves of nearby trees.

You crossed your arms over your chest, maintaining a respectful distance as you approached. You hoped your presence would neither startle him nor prompt him to leave.

"Mind if I watch?" You asked, keeping your tone light and casual.

Trent glanced at you, his gaze lingering for a moment before he turned back to the pitch. There was a flicker of surprise in his eyes, but no trace of annoyance.

"Suit yourself, psychologist," he replied, his voice steady. You nodded - guess that was good enough for you.

You watched as he rolled the first ball to his feet, his focus razor-sharp as he stopped it and took a few steps back.

The ball sailed through the air, curving beautifully into the top corner of the net. You couldn’t help but be impressed.

"That was perfect," you said, genuinely admiring his skill.

Trent shrugged, wiping sweat from his brow. "Just another shot."

"Give yourself more credit than that. It’s not easy," you countered. "I admire the dedication."

He glanced back at you. “Guess you’d know.”

“Sorry?” You asked, slightly confused.

Another shot.

“The picture in your office. You played once,” he remarked, a hint of a challenge in his tone.

You found yourself wondering when he had been in your office to notice the picture, then it clicked. He'd helped you assemble the cabinet where you later placed it.

He must've spotted it in one of the boxes.

You watched as he set up another ball, and somehow, in a way that only Trent could manage, that shot was even better than the last.

You scoffed lightly, dismissing the comparison. “Nowhere near your level, obviously. But you’re right, I guess I can imagine the passion. The pressure.”

You hoped your words were reaching him, echoing the sentiments he'd talked about in so many of his interviews.

He breathed out slowly. "So why psychology?" He asked, bending over to position the next ball.

"Because mental strength is just as important as physical ability," you explained. "I've seen talented players crumble under pressure, and others rise above it. The difference often comes down to how well they manage their minds."

Trent didn’t respond immediately. He set up another shot, this time, it hit the post with a loud thud.

Frustrated, he sighed.

You picked up the ball as it bounced near you, letting it roll between your hands before walking over to him. Once there, you dropped it to the ground, letting it settle by the side of your foot.

When he looked at you, his gaze was softer than you’d ever seen it.

You felt a flutter in your chest, the kind that made your stomach dip slightly. Your fingers curled into your palms, a subconscious effort to ground yourself as the moment stretched on.

“I know I’m just a stranger,” you began gently, your tone careful and steady.

“But I’m not here to push you and you don’t have to share anything with me. I just want you to know that if you ever feel like talking, we can - no titles, just two people who might understand each other.”

You added with a slight smile. “You’ll never know unless you give it a shot.”

For a moment, he seemed to consider something. You would’ve traded anything in to know what was going through his mind at that moment.

But he shook his head, glancing out over the pitch. “I’m good for now.”

“Okay,” you replied, giving the ball a gentle nudge, just enough to pass it to him. With a nod, you stepped back and turned towards the building, heading inside.

Before entering, you turned around, surprised to find him already watching you. “Thanks for hearing me out, yeah?”

You offered him a final smile before disappearing inside.

Trent’s gaze lingered on your retreating figure for a moment longer before he returned to his practice, a slight shift in his expression as he continued his routine.

...

Part 6

Masterlist

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

Taglist: @trentwife @bluebreadenthusiast @julovesurmom @blubsberries @remmysthings @heyjudeb @keepitabuckxx @vivi-grace @hoddystark @hiireadstuff @trentione @missusstark @iamasimpingh0e @xxxstormyninixxx @lolawwww22 @myloveisforbellingham @purpleniight @bffrwme @mss-nthng @miniemonie2001 @severebelearthquake @fireofsoul5 @greasywall @livelovepasta @bigdikzaddy

200 notes · View notes

furybymoonlight · 4 months ago

Text

Master of Assists

gifs by @trenty

Trent was a master of assists, both on the field and between the sheets.

Genre/Warning: NSFW!, smut, comfort, fluff, make-up sex (kind of)

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x OC/reader

***

“Trent, no, this is crazy.”

The man kissed and nibbled on her lips, palms glided up along her thighs enticingly before slipping beneath her dress to finally squeezed her arse. Every fine hair on her body stood up, her pain dimmed at the spark of erotic sensation that he was giving her.

“You’re in pain babe…just…let me assist you. I am good at that…..haven’t you heard?”

***

AN: Unbeta’d. Sorry in advance for any errors as I’m not a native. I just write for fun (and sanity). This was supposed to be a drabble but all the words just kept pouring out. OTL

Another wave of pain punched her in the gut, but she tried her best to keep the smile on her face, nodding here and there to look like she was following the conversation with her aunts and cousins. God, the days leading up to her monthly period were the worst. All she wanted was to curl up in the bed with her boyfriend, with a cup of tea on the bedside and a heat pad on her belly. This was not possible at the moment because one, she was currently celebrating her mother’s birthday party with families and friends and two, she was currently at odds with her man.

She stole a look at her boyfriend from the corner of her eyes, who was currently talking with his father and hers, as well as some of her uncles. Wearing a dark lime dress shirt, sleeves rolled to the elbows and khaki-colored trousers, he looked so handsome. Then again, Trent had always looked amazing in everything…and nothing. Now…if only they were on speaking terms...

Her stomach suddenly twisted again, painful enough that she wished she had a seat at that moment, but it wasn’t her day. Being such a social butterfly, her mom had reserved a small courtyard in a restaurant for a standing garden party. There were a few seats, but they were all taken by the elders. The muscles in her belly contracted again and this time she winced, almost stumbled to the side. She really needed to sit down. Excusing herself from the conversation, she made her way towards the restaurant building.

Trent saw her smiling from the side and had to hold himself back not to go straight to her. She looked so beautiful, he was itching to trace the smile on her face with his fingertips…then his lips, but the memory of their fight last night held him back.

They didn’t fight often as a couple. Being long-time best friends turned lovers, their understanding of each other was on the next level of intimate. Since she was currently studying abroad, they physically had little time together. It was not easy, but they made it work, and whenever they could be together, they usually made the most of it.

Their fight the night before was a rare occurrence. Now that they’re entering the second year of their relationship, Trent felt like it was time to go public. Sure, their families and close friends had known about them for a long time, but he wanted to make it official to the world. He was tired of being careful with her in public, didn’t like treating her as if she was just a family friend. He was also fed up with their hidden dates as well. She on the other hand, didn’t think it was the right time. Having entered her last term in Uni, she was focusing on her final project and finding a job. The last thing she needed was to have public eyes scrutinizing her every move. Neither of them wanted to back down, and they both said some words to each other that they instantly regretted. However, pride prevented them to instantly rectify the matters, which led to the still unresolved tension between them.

He replied to a question from his father before taking another glance at her. It was then that he realized something was not right. Her smile seemed forced, while her eyes lacked their usual luster. He felt a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach when the next second, she swayed a bit to the side. She recovered quickly that it wasn’t obvious for the people in her circle of conversation, but he was just so in tune with her, that for him, it was as clear as day. He was beginning to walk towards her when she made her exit from the courtyard in a haste.

Dropping down to the first available chair that she saw, a sigh of relief left her mouth. The courtyard and the building were connected by a hallway with a few chairs and tables along the strip, as well as restrooms. As it was past lunchtime, the area was currently empty, of which she was grateful. She closed her eyes, leaning against the back rest. It was almost summer, so the weather was warm, but the softly blowing wind gave her a bit of comfort. The calling of her name, accompanied by a familiar scent, her favorite, made her open her eyes.

“Babe…are you okay? Should we go to a doctor?”

She found Trent kneeling in front of her, worry apparent in his dark coffee eyes. She gave him a small reassuring smile.

“Not really…but I’ll live, just my PMS kicking in.”

She winced again as her stomach coiled.

“You’re in pain. Do you want to go home?”

He said softly, cupping her face in one palm, thumb pad softly brushed her cheeks to soothe her. She was his princess, he didn’t like seeing her in even a bit of discomfort.

‘’Can’t. Have to stay at least until the cake cutting.’’

She muttered, closing her eyes again while leaning her face against his large palm, seeking comfort in his warmth.

“How can I help?”

“Cuddling with me in bed…giving me a heatpad, or hot tea, or better, orgasm…lots of things really, none for now though, pity.”

She said without even thinking, her eyes still shut.

“Orgasm huh?”

Her eyes snapped open, and she found her boyfriend looking at her, dark autumn eyes glinted with desire and mischief.

“Well yes, but we can’t-”

She squealed before covering her mouth with one hand as he swept her in his arms. Ten seconds later they were in an empty restroom, where he easily put her on the counter between the dual sinks. Her dress bunched up her thighs as he parted her legs so he could stand between her lower limbs.

“Trent, no, this is crazy.”

“You’re in pain babe…just…let me assist you. I am good at that…..haven’t you heard?”

He said against her lips, before trailing kisses along her jawline, then further along the column of her neck. She instinctively tilted her head to accommodate him. Her mind already shutting down, she didn’t realize that he had sneakily unbuttoned the front of her dress.

“Well…you’re kind of a master at that…or so they said – babe!”

She squealed as he countered her cheeky response with a bite on the swell of her breast.

“Or so they said? I guess I need to prove my ability to you then.”

His hand already slipped around her back to unclip her bra but she stilled his movement, though half-heartedly.

“Baby…somebody may walk in.”

He could see the warring conflict in her pretty orbs and in the way her tongue swiped her bottom lip due to her anxiousness. She didn’t mean to tempt him, but he instantly felt himself hardened even more at that simple act. As if he ever needed any more incentive to ravish her. They once had a random debate on what’s the best pressure level for his car summer tire where she stared at him for a second too long, lips adorably jutted in disagreement and suddenly, there was a literal pressure against his jeans. He was so whipped for her, it was almost laughable.

“I’ve locked the door…now stop thinking…just let me take care of you love, all right?”

His palm gently unknotted the tense muscles on her back and she sighed in bliss, her body relaxing under his touch. He bared her breasts then, taking one hard peak into his mouth, fingers slipping into her slick entrance. He groaned into her creamy flesh, she was already soaked, a bit faster than he had predicted. Looked like her PMS came with a silver lining.

She tugged his head back, hissing as he bit on the hardened tip, reluctant to let the pebbled bud go. She tugged harder and he reluctantly let go.

‘’Need you in me, now.’’

She said in almost a plea. There was a sense of yearning in her tone that called to his primal side. Anything she wished for, he’d provide.

His trousers and pants down in record time, he pushed her panties to the side and plunged into her in one smooth move. He grunted silently. God, she felt so perfect around him, being in her was his literal definition of heaven. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him, urging him to move with a sway of her hip. He moved then, thrusting into her again and again, wordlessly leading her in their carnal dance.

Pleasure scorched her insides, pulsating stronger with every slam from him that it threatened to burn her to ashes. A drop of sweat trickled down Trent’s temple, along his defined jawline and she couldn’t resist a lick. His eyes flared at her sensuous act, the rhythm of his thrusts growing erratic.

A loud mewl just left her mouth when the conversing sound of people nearby reached them. Their eyes widened, bodies froze for a few seconds, but then she saw his smirk and her inner muscle clenched in response. Oh, she just instinctively knew he was going to do something that she loved and hated at the same time. Pulling himself out, he made her stand before turning her around so they both faced the mirror. Her legs trembled and she put her hands on the counter to stabilize herself. He spread her legs before burrowing into her again from behind, grazing her sweet spot immediately, eliciting a cry of pleasure from her which was thankfully muffled by his left palm. Meanwhile, his right hand fondled her breasts, alternating between squeezing and pinching the twin mounds. His eyes locked on hers through the mirror, his low whisper on her ear sent a bone-deep pleasure straight to her core.

“You’re so responsive today….I love it…but you have to be careful baby, can’t let anyone other than me hear your pretty moans all right.”

She nodded and he released her mouth, left hand skimmed over her abdomen before settled over her flooded center, twisting and flicking the swollen bundle of nerves right above it. The sound of people grew louder, but he kept rocking against her, even dared to up his pace. Her climax came then, her body shook, her vision blurred, she felt like seeing stars for a moment. A taste of copper burst into her mouth as she bit her lip so harshly to prevent a lewd scream from coming out.

Trent’s jaw tautened, muscles strained as her inner walls squeezed him so wonderfully, sending white hot pleasure all over him. His movement faltered for a few seconds, just in time for the footsteps outside the restroom to fade away. He resumed then in a high gear, which proved difficult since she still gripped him so strongly. Keeping his gaze on the mirror, he saw her eyes fluttered open to look straight at him. Her eyes still glazed with ecstasy, yet unexpectedly her reddened lips curled into a temptress smile. She pressed herself backward into him so that he sank deeper. She spoke then, a mere whisper, but its effect on him was enormous.

“Fill me up babe.”

Her words were his order, and he combusted then and there, spraying ropes of white inside of her. Closing his eyes, he nestled his face on her shoulder, hugging her from the back, still thrusting into her in a slow, uneven pace as he rode his high.

“I am sorry baby…”

Trent broke the comfortable silence between them when they had finished putting on their clothes. She looked at him questioningly.

‘’About last night…I am sorry, really. Your study is important…and I of all people should realize the most how savage the media can be. You can take all the time you need.”

She hugged him then, kissing the corner of his jaw before giving him a heartfelt smile. Her heart suddenly felt light.

‘’I am sorry too babe. We should have talked it out better last night…and thank you.”

She cupped his face, delicate fingers tracing the line of his plump lips.

“I won’t ask you to wait for long, you know. Just a few months. God knows how much it pains me to see you linked with random models and actresses on those trashy gossip columns.”

Hugging her back, he nibbled on the tips of her fingers.

“You’re the only one for me.”

There was nothing but pure honesty in his voice.

“I know, those things still vex me though.”

She pouted a bit but smiled again as she then realized that her pain had gone. She tiptoed to kiss him on the lips, her hands entwined behind his neck.

‘’My cramp has magically vanished. Thank you baby, I love you.’’

Trent shook his head. Dark caramel eyes shone brightly at her, full of endearment.

‘’I love you more. You know it’s always my pleasure to assist you, princess, so thank you.’’

He said before sweeping her up in loving, toe curling kiss, engulfing her with his warmth.

Master of assists, indeed.

End Note Going through period cramps and this popped up in my head, and writing feels like a good form of coping with all these transfer chaos, contract uncertainties, and Trent poutiness last night :A:, This could be read as a standalone, but in my head this is in the same universe as my See Me (Now) three-part stories. So, check this out if you’re interested for more! Thanks for reading! Lemme know what u think <3