#trent Alexander arnold x reader

[insidekatmind]

"Under the Parisian Sky"- Trent Alexander Arnold

The sun was gently setting behind the majestic silhouette of the Eiffel Tower, painting the sky with shades of pink, orange, and purple. Paris, with its timeless beauty, seemed to have stepped out of a love fairy tale. The streets were crowded with tourists and Parisians, but at that moment, everything seemed to fade into the background, leaving only the two of you.

"Do you like it, my love?" asked Trent Alexander-Arnold, his English accent making you melt every time. His brown eyes, as deep as molten chocolate, shone with a special light as he gazed at you with infinite tenderness. His warm hand wrapped around yours with such gentleness, as if the entire world was held within that simple gesture.

"It's perfect, Trent," you replied, letting your gaze get lost in the wonder of the view. "I couldn't have imagined a better place to be with you."

"I knew you'd like it," he said with a sweet, knowing smile. "But it's not over yet, my love."

You tilted your head to the side, curious. "Oh yeah? What else do you have in mind, Mr. Alexander-Arnold?" you asked with a mischievous, playful smile.

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "You'll find out soon, my princess. For now, just trust me."

You continued walking along the cobblestone streets, hand in hand. Every so often, Trent would stop in front of a flower stall or a street artist, his sincere curiosity for the little things in the city on full display. That was just like him — always attentive to details, just like on the football pitch. And it was this very way of being that made you fall in love with him more each day.

"Shall we go there?" he suggested, pointing to a small pier overlooking the Seine. It was a secluded spot, away from the bustle, with a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower, which now glowed with thousands of golden lights like a jewel in the heart of Paris's night.

"It's beautiful," you said, stopping beside him. The cool air caressed your skin, and the scent of the Seine's water mixed with that of wildflowers. It was as if nature itself wanted to bless this moment.

"Yeah, it is," he replied, but his gaze wasn't on the Eiffel Tower. It was on you.

You turned toward him, your heart beginning to beat faster. There was something different in his eyes, a light you had never seen before. His smile was tender, but also serious.

"What's wrong?" you asked, suddenly aware of the silence between you.

"I want to tell you something," he said, taking a deep breath. His fingers fidgeted nervously with the edge of his jacket. "Actually, I want to ask you something."

You frowned, your heart now racing wildly in your chest. "Trent, are you okay?" you asked, a hint of concern in your voice.

He laughed, but there was a note of sweet nervousness in his voice. "Yeah, I'm okay. I’m just… I’m just a little emotional." Then he took a step back and slid a hand into his pocket. When his hand reemerged, he was holding a small blue velvet box. Your breath caught in your throat.

"No…" you whispered, bringing a hand to your mouth. "Trent, I don't believe it…"

He got down on one knee, pressing his knee against the cold surface of the pier. Around you, the world seemed to freeze. Every sound of the city softened, and the only thing you could hear was the frantic pounding of your heart.

"My love," he began, lifting his eyes to meet yours. His eyes glowed with emotion. "Since you came into my life, everything changed. You made every day brighter, every moment more special. I can't imagine my future without you by my side."

Your vision blurred from the tears welling up in your eyes. You couldn’t speak, your throat tight with emotion.

"I want to be there for you — in every joyful moment and every challenge. I want to be the man who makes you smile, who supports you, who loves you more and more every day." He opened the box, revealing a ring with a diamond that sparkled like the stars above you. "Will you marry me?"

A tear slid down your cheek, followed by another, and another still. A wave of overwhelming emotion swept over you. Your voice came out trembling but firm.

"Yes, Trent. Yes, I want to marry you!" you exclaimed, letting the tears stream freely down your face.

He laughed with joy, getting to his feet and pulling you into a tight embrace, spinning you around. His arms wrapped around you with such strength, and your hands clung to his shoulders as if to make sure you’d never let him go.

"I love you," he whispered against your ear, his voice full of emotion.

"I love you too, Trent. I love you more than words can explain," you replied, burying your face in his neck, the scent of his skin bringing you comfort and peace.

Paris, the city of love, had now become the symbol of your promise. And under the golden lights of the Eiffel Tower, you both vowed to love each other forever.

[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 19 - 'Dad’ | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.3 k

It was just past 6 a.m. when Jack heard the soft creak of the side door opening. He sighed, his shoulders slumping as he rubbed the back of his neck. He had been up for a while now, nursing his coffee in the kitchen and mentally preparing for the day. The text Trent had sent somehow even earlier had left him rolling his eyes, and now here he was, sneaking in like some lovesick teenager. Jack set his mug down with a dull thud and turned as Trent stepped inside, looking more awake than he had any right to at that hour. A tired but knowing grin stretched across Trent’s face as he quietly shut the door behind him. A bag was slung over his shoulder, which caught Jack’s attention for a moment before he decided to brush it off.

“Bro, it’s just unnecessary for you to be here this early,” Jack muttered, crossing his arms and giving Trent a look that bordered on disapproval.

“Jacky lad, come on, don’t be like that,” Trent replied, punching Jack’s arm lightly as he passed. The playful gesture did little to mask the nervous energy buzzing under his skin.

“Nah, serious,” Jack pressed, shaking his head. “It’s mad early, and you’re creeping around my house like a burglar. Bit much, isn’t it?” Trent raised his hands in mock surrender, the grin never leaving his face. 

“Alright, alright, I’ll be quick. Thanks for letting me come over, yeah? I just… I gotta talk to her real quick. Won’t take long.” Jack stared at him for a beat, trying to figure out whether he was annoyed or just resigned. 

“Yeah, alright, mate,” he said, finally giving Trent a shove in the shoulder. “Do what you’ve gotta do.” As Trent moved toward the stairs, Jack stayed rooted in the kitchen, leaning against the counter with his arms folded. He watched Trent ascend the staircase, his steps careful and deliberate, and shook his head with a rueful chuckle. This was his new normal, wasn’t it? Trent sneaking into his house not to see him, his best mate, but to see you, his younger sister. It was a bitter pill to swallow, but Jack was trying. For you. For Trent. He was glad Trent was putting in effort and glad he was coming to talk to you. Upstairs, Trent moved with purpose, his feet soft against the carpet as he made his way to your room. The house was quiet, the only sounds the faint ticking of a clock and the distant hum of the world outside. The early morning light filtered through the windows, casting warm streaks of gold on the walls. He reached your door and paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. A nervous breath escaped his lips, and he ran a hand over his hair, hesitating for just a moment. He hated how much he’d missed you, even though it had only been a couple of days. Finally, he twisted the knob and pushed the door open slowly, the faint creak of the hinges breaking the silence.

The room was dim, the curtains drawn but not fully closed, letting in just enough light to bathe the space in a soft glow. You were curled up in the center of the bed, buried under a blanket, your hair fanned out against the pillow. Trent’s lips tugged into a smile at the sight of you. He stepped inside, shutting the door quietly behind him and setting the bag down on the floor. For a moment, he just stood there, soaking you in—the peaceful rise and fall of your chest, the way your lashes rested against your cheeks.

“Morning, pretty girl,” he whispered, his voice low and soft as he approached the bed. You stirred at the sound, your face scrunching up briefly before your eyes fluttered half open with a squint.

“T? Baby?” you murmured, your voice soft and laced with sleep as you felt the bed dip slightly. It took you a second to register the figure standing at your bedside, but when you saw Trent, a sleepy smile broke across your face.

“Mmmm, course it’s me, baby,” Trent whispered back, his voice warm and comforting as his lips brushed against the bare skin of your shoulder. His scent wrapped around you, a mix of his cologne and the faintest trace of fresh air from outside.

“What are you doing here?” you asked groggily, your brows furrowing as you tried to fully wake up. “Thought you were leaving. I was planning to already be missing you.” Your voice held a pout as you blinked up at him, your eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room.

“C’mere, pretty girl,” Trent murmured, his hands gently pulling you into him, wrapping you in his warmth. You didn’t resist, letting your body mold against his as he held you close.

“Hi…” you giggled softly, nuzzling into his chest, feeling his heartbeat beneath your cheek.

“Look so good like this,” he said with a smirk, his fingers playing with the thin strap of your pajama top. His eyes traced over you with a softness that made your cheeks warm.

“I look… tired probably,” you laughed, a little embarrassed as you nestled your face into the crook of his neck to hide.

“Not to me,” he whispered, his voice low and sincere, making your heart skip. You pulled back slightly, your curiosity piqued. 

“No, seriously, baby. What are you doing here?” you asked, your arms instinctively wrapping around his waist to hold him closer. Trent let out a quiet sigh, his hand coming up to cup your cheek, his thumb brushing over your skin in slow, soothing strokes. 

“I couldn’t go… not yet,” he murmured. Your brows knit together as you searched his face, trying to piece together what he wasn’t saying. 

“Why? You okay, baby?” you asked, your voice soft and filled with wonder. He hesitated for a moment, his dark eyes flickering with something vulnerable, something real. His hand slipped to the back of your neck, holding you gently as he gathered his thoughts. 

“When I go, baby, I want to leave knowing you’re mine. I want to leave with you as my girlfriend.” Your breath hitched at his words, your heart racing in your chest as you stared up at him. “You’ve been my dream girl my entire life, you know that? And… if you’d let me, I’d want you to be my girl for the rest of it. So…” He trailed off, his voice soft and filled with nerves as he studied your reaction. Your eyes filled with tears, the weight of his words settling over you like a warm blanket. 

“Okay,” you sniffled, your voice trembling as you gave him a small nod.

“Yeah?” he asked, his lips curving into a hopeful smile, though you could see the tension in his shoulders as he waited for more.

“Are you sure?” you whispered, a shy smile breaking through the tears streaming down your cheeks.

“Gonna be my girlfriend now, yeah?” he murmured, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “For every season. Gonna take care of you forever, pretty girl.”

“T…” you whimpered, unable to find the words as emotion choked you. Your hands clung to him tightly, your face burying in his chest as you nodded against him. He chuckled softly, the sound rumbling through his chest as he pressed a kiss to your hair. 

“None of that, baby. Don’t cry.” He smiled sympathetically.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your voice muffled as your tears soaked into his shirt. “I didn’t think… I didn’t think anyone would ever love me like this.” You let out a sentiment far heavier than anything you were expecting this morning. His hands on you felt gentle something you never knew you didn't have.

“Shhh, baby,” he murmured, his arms wrapping securely around you, holding you as if he could shield you from all the pain you’d ever felt. “I’ll never let anything hurt you again. I promise.” You pulled back just enough to look at him, your tear-streaked face glowing as a smile spread across your lips. 

“I love you,” you whispered, the words tumbling out naturally, as if they’d always been there, waiting for this moment. Trent’s eyes softened, his gaze locking with yours as he leaned in, brushing his lips against yours in a kiss so tender it made your heart ache. 

“I love you too,” he whispered against your lips, his voice steady and sure. The two of you stayed there, wrapped in each other, the world outside fading away as the weight of his words and the promise in his eyes made you feel more whole than you’d ever thought possible. “I’m gonna ask and properly take you out, swear,” Trent whispered, his thumb grazing over your cheek in the soft glow of morning. His voice was gentle, but there was an earnestness behind it that made your heart skip a beat. “I just didn’t want to take to the pitch ever again without you being my girlfriend, that alright, pretty girl?” His lips pressed to yours in a kiss so soft, so unhurried, that it felt like time stood still. You melted into him, your sleepy haze mixing with the overwhelming feeling of love that settled deep in your chest. Everything about this moment felt surreal, like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“You didn’t have to do all this, baby,” you whimpered, your voice trembling with emotion as tears threatened to spill over again. “Just you here…. this is perfect.” You confessed.

“Nah, Y/N… baby,” he murmured with a smirk that sent a flutter through your stomach. It was mischievous, cheeky and ever endearing. “You think I’m waking you up like this just with words?” His dimples deepened as his playful grin grew. You giggled, brushing your hand across his chest as he shifted beside you. Your brows furrowed when he leaned off the bed, reaching for something on the floor. When he straightened up, your eyes widened. In his hands was the most beautiful bouquet of fresh peonies, their soft pink and white petals still glistening with dew.

“For the most gorgeous girl in the whole world,” he said softly, holding them out to you. Your heart clenched as you took the bouquet from him, the delicate fragrance filling the air around you.

“Baby…” you whimpered, your voice shaky as you buried your nose into the flowers.

“You like ‘em?” he asked, his voice low, almost shy, as he watched you with a boyish smile.

“I love them,” you whispered, your voice breaking as tears welled in your eyes. "I love you." You pouted, emotion getting the best of you. You were having a hard time shaking your tiredness because this entire thing felt like a dream. Longtime crush, brother's best friend just asked you to be his girlfriend, waking you up with peonies in your bedroom? In what world? Evidently, your world.

“Not done yet,” he teased, leaning over the side of the bed again. You tilted your head, blinking through your tears as you watched him grab two boxes—one large and one small. He placed them carefully in your lap, his smile softening as he looked at you.

“T…” you started, your voice trembling as you stared down at the boxes, overwhelmed. Trent’s phone buzzed with a message. The notification irrelevant, but the time illuminated, not so much. He caught the time and sighed. 

“I gotta run, pretty girl,” he said, his tone tinged with regret. “But you open these, yeah?” Your fingers brushed over the ribbons on the boxes as he leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your forehead. His lips stayed there for a moment, warm and reassuring, before he pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. “And you’ll call your boyfriend tonight, yeah?” he asked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. A smile broke across your face as you nodded. 

“Yeah,” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you clutched the boxes close.

“Alright,” he murmured, leaning down to kiss you again, slower this time, as if he couldn’t bear to leave. “Good girl. Love you so much, baby.”

“Love you, T,” you whispered, your arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in for one last kiss. “Can’t wait to watch my boyfriend tomorrow.” He chuckled, his laugh rumbling softly against your chest. 

“Let me know how he does.” he said cheekily, brushing his nose against yours before finally pulling away. As the door clicked shut behind him, you let out a shaky breath, the weight of the moment settling over you. You looked down at the boxes in your lap, your hands trembling as you untied the ribbon on the larger one. Inside was a gorgeous Chanel bag in the gorgeous turquoise tweed, the bag so perfect you wanted to scream but you were too tired, almost delirious at your unexpected morning.  You needed to call Layla now but you still had one more box to open. And then amid your eagerness to gush to your best friend, your breath hitched opening the smaller box, revealing a delicate pair of earrings, just like the necklace you wore only slightly different. Nestled there were two butterflies, one gold, the other turquoise. It was perfect. It was you. It was you and Trent, finally evolving. Tears streamed down your face as you clutched the box to your chest. You didn’t even realize you were smiling until your cheeks started to ache, your heart swelling with a love so overwhelming it left you breathless.

“What are you doing before the final game?” Jack, out of the blue, asked. Games had come and went and now it was the end of Trent’s season. You paused, caught off guard by the question. 

“Why? What’s going on?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. Jack hesitated, his jaw tightening slightly as if he was debating whether to tell you.

“Dad’s coming,” he said carefully. You froze, feeling your heart drop into your stomach. It felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. You hadn’t seen your dad in about a year, and though you’d always had a good relationship with him, it had become more distant as time went on. He didn’t really know you as an adult—didn’t know about the life you’d built for yourself, and definitely nothing about Trent. And now, the thought of that relationship, so new so fresh coming to light, made your chest tighten.

“Dad’s… coming?” you repeated, almost as if you didn’t believe him.

“Yeah,” Jack replied, scratching the back of his neck. “He, uh, wanted to come to the match and catch up, I guess.” He muttered. You nodded slowly, but your mind was racing. 

“Okay, so… what’s the plan?” you asked hesitantly, not wanting to sound as anxious as you felt. Jack took a breath, his eyes flicking to yours. 

“We’re supposed to grab lunch at that pub he likes… then, you know, I guess head to the match with him.” Jack explained cautiously and hesitantly. He knew you didn’t want these plans but nevertheless, they were your plans.

“Oh,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. The weight of it all started to sink in. The pub he liked—the place you hadn’t been to in years. Your dad showing up, expecting to see the same version of you he’d always known. And Trent—how would he feel about all of this? How would your dad react, to realizing the relationship between you two? Jack watched you carefully, sensing your nerves. 

“You alright?” he asked, his voice softer now. You forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. 

“Yeah. Just… a lot to process, I guess.” You told him not wanting to even start because you knew it was all fairly fresh for Jack. An adjustment for everyone, including yourself.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Jack reassured you. “Dad’s not that scary, you know.” You laughed weakly, shaking your head. 

“It’s not that. It’s just… he doesn’t really know me anymore, Jack. I don’t even know if he’s going to like me.” You explained poorly. Jack frowned, stepping closer. 

“Hey, what are you on about. Of course, he’s going to like you. He loves you. You’re his daughter. He knows you.” He smiled sympathetically.

“Yeah, but Trent’s my—” You paused. You didn’t know if Jack knew, if Trent had told him. You didn’t want to hurt him anyone. 

“Yeah, your boyfriend. My best friend, I know,” Jack interrupted firmly. “T’s a good guy, and Dad’s not stupid. He knows that.” You swallowed hard, nodding as you tried to convince yourself Jack was right. But deep down, you couldn’t shake the knot of anxiety forming in your stomach. This wasn’t just about your dad knowing Trent was your boyfriend—it was about him seeing the person you’d become and hoping he’d still be proud of you.

Seeing your dad was harder than you’d anticipated. There was a heaviness in the air, a kind of tension that came from too much time apart and too many things left unsaid. You sat awkwardly on the edge of your chair, your hands clasped in your lap as Jack and your dad caught up. Their voices filled the room, casual and animated as they sipped on beers, talking about work, sports, and everything else except the topics that mattered. You knew it was only a matter of time before Trent came up—his name felt like it was hovering in the air, unspoken but impossible to ignore. The clock was ticking; you’d have to get to the stadium soon, and once you left, there’d be no escaping the inevitable conversation. Jack leaned back in his seat, laughing at something your dad said. They were so at ease with each other, the kind of natural connection that came from years of shared history. You sat silently, feeling like a child again, a bystander in their world. You hadn’t expected to feel this small, this invisible, but here you were, the same as always.

It hit you, sitting there, how little had changed. Even now, as an adult, you were still on the outside looking in, waiting for a chance to be part of their conversation. But when you finally did speak, your words felt hollow, like they didn’t quite fit in their world. Maybe this was why you sought attention elsewhere, why you craved the kind of validation that left you breathless and seen. It wasn’t just about romance or excitement—it was about feeling like you mattered, like you were more than just someone to be looked over or around. Your dad didn’t mean it, you told yourself. He didn’t notice the way his conversations with Jack seemed to box you out, like you were still twelve and incapable of understanding the weight of their conversations. But that didn’t make it sting any less. They avoided mentioning your mum, which wasn’t a surprise. Her absence was like a shadow in the room, unspoken but lingering in every quiet moment. You glanced at your dad, wondering if he even noticed how uncomfortable you were, how small you felt sitting there. The stadium was calling, and part of you was glad. At least there, you’d see Trent, someone who made you feel like you belonged, like your voice mattered. But that didn’t erase the ache of sitting in at the pub, waiting for the conversation to shift, for someone to notice you were there.

“Jack we need to get going… “ You said. The atmosphere in the room was thick with an uneasy silence, a weight that neither of you could shake off. “I told Di I’d meet her outside  before so…” you awkwardly interjected. 

“How is Di? Can’t wait to see her and Mike at the match.” Your dad sat at the table, his hand still wrapped around his half-finished beer, the glass catching the dim light as it rested on the surface. He was relaxed, too relaxed, as though everything was fine. His words, casual and unbothered, contrasted sharply with the tension in your chest. His assumption that things were as they always had been — that you could talk about Dianne and Mike like nothing had changed — stung in ways you couldn’t put into words. Your father’s gaze drifted from you to Jack, lingering for a moment before it returned to you with that familiar, unspoken question. Why wasn’t Jack the one making decisions? His eyes didn’t need to ask it, but the look was unmistakable. You could feel the knot tighten in your stomach. You didn’t want to answer him, didn’t want to acknowledge that the dynamics between you all had shifted. That he had shifted.

“Just Di is going,” you muttered, your voice sharp as you tried to hold it together. The words fell like ice into the room. Jack noticed the change in your tone immediately. He could see it, the way you were pulling away, the way your nerves frayed at the edges. You stood up abruptly, the motion too fast, too sharp, betraying the calm exterior you tried to maintain. The chair scraped against the floor, the sound jarring in the silence that followed. “I told her I’d meet her…” you trailed off, your words faltering for just a second, but the pressure to leave was too strong. "I have to go, you can meet me there if you want to stay here longer, but I promised." You snapped. Your dad’s gaze flicked from you to Jack, waiting for a response, expecting one. But there was no response. Jack could sense the brewing storm, the way your jaw tightened and your eyes clouded. The air between you all was electric, like the calm before a storm, but Jack was the first to break the silence, his voice low and calm, a stark contrast to the storm inside you.

“Y/N, Y/N, jesus, hold on,” he said, his hand reaching out to gently grab your arm, but you flinched as if the touch burned. Jack immediately regretted it. It all came crashing back to hm. His fingers loosened, and he let his hand fall to his side, his voice softening as he realized what he had done. He could see it now — what Trent had told him, what you’d been through. Everything, the secrets, the pain. The moment hung there, suspended between the three of you. Jack straightened up, his gaze not meeting your dad’s but aimed directly at you. “I’m with ya,” he said gently, his words grounded, offering you the support that was starting to feel like a lifeline. He nodded, as if trying to anchor you in this moment. “It’s fine. Let’s go, yeah?” Your dad’s eyes flicked back to Jack, but Jack didn’t move. He was standing firm, waiting for you. There was a subtle shift in the air, as though Jack had pulled the rug out from under your father’s expectations, leaving the tension behind you like dust settling after a storm. “You never want to keep Dianne waiting,” Jack said, his voice a little more light-hearted, as if trying to smooth over the heaviness. But his words couldn’t erase what had passed between you all in that moment. And you didn’t want them to. You were already halfway out the door, trying to escape the weight of it all, but you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that things would never be the same.

The atmosphere in the stands felt charged, the sound of the game filling the air, but it was easy for you to tune it out as you focused solely on the field, your mind a whirl of thoughts. Jack had fallen into easy conversation with Noah and Trent’s brothers, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of being apart from everything. Maybe it was the weight of your father’s distant gaze, or the unspoken tension between you and him, but there was a disconnect you couldn’t ignore.

Dianne’s voice cut through the murmur of the crowd, and your dad turned as she approached, her expression warm and teasing. But as her gaze landed on you, wearing Trent’s jacket—something you had nicked without thinking—he saw the softness in her eyes, the way she always looked at you as if you were her own daughter.  You instinctively tried to listen in, and for a moment, you almost wished she didn’t see the truth so clearly.

“Finally, hmm?” Dianne cooed with a smile, nodding to you in Trent’s clothes, the way you were leaning forward, lost in the game. Her voice was light, but you could tell there was an undercurrent of something more, a knowingness that settled between you. Your father’s voice came almost too quickly, a hint of forced joviality in his words.

“Ah, she’ll always hold a torch for him. I’m sure he has more lasses than he can handle though. Him and Jacky boy.” He chuckled, clearly trying to mask something—maybe his own discomfort or the way the whole situation made him uneasy. But you heard the words, and they stung a little more than they should have. You looked down, feeling that familiar ache in your chest. He’s fine because Jack is fine. Jack’s fine because Trent is fine. And everything will be fine because they all just fit together in this neat little package. But you? You were the complication, the one who didn’t fit. And yet, your father was never looking too closely at the things that didn’t add up, wasn’t he?

“Well… we’ve known he’s only wanted one, and Trenty’s got her now,” Dianne added softly, a playful tone in her voice but something deeper behind it. There was no judgment, only an understanding, and a subtle acknowledgment of everything that had been left unsaid. But the words landed like a heavy weight in your chest. Your father, though he was trying to make light of things, didn’t see it—didn’t see you. He couldn’t see past the loss of your mother, the way you reminded him so much of her, both in looks and in the way you held onto things, quietly, intensely. It had always been easier for him to connect with Jack, the son who didn’t wear his mother’s ghost in every glance, in every gesture. Jack, who had managed to fill the space she’d left in a way that you hadn’t. But your father couldn’t escape the grief that came with you. And it hurt. You felt it in the way his words came too quickly, like he was trying to convince himself, to ease his own pain without even realizing he was pushing you away. You wanted to reach for something, anything, to make it easier, but instead, you just sat there, a quiet reminder of everything lost. Dianne’s gaze softened, and she didn’t need to say anything more. She saw it. She always did. She didn’t need to push. All she did was offer a quiet reassurance, a recognition that the divide was there. You were both standing in it, but only one of you seemed to have the strength to acknowledge it.

Your dad watched, almost frozen, as Dianne moved behind you, her hand finding your arm with that familiar warmth, a comfort he hadn’t felt in a long time. It stung a little to watch—how easily she could reach out to you, how easily she could offer you something he didn’t know how to give anymore. You turned towards her, smiling up at her with an expression that was softer, more open, than the one you had given him in ages. Dianne cupped your cheek gently, the kind of tender touch that felt like home, like someone who understood you without words. She tilted your head just slightly, guiding your face back toward your dad, as if to make sure he saw you—really saw you.

“So, so, so gorgeous, huh?” Her voice was light, teasing even, but with a layer of affection that felt bittersweet. She wanted him to see you the way she saw you, but it was all so much more complicated than that. Your dad’s eyes followed you, but there was an unreadable expression on his face. He was lost in it, in everything unsaid between you, between the past, the present, and the future.

“She’s beautiful, always has been,” your dad muttered, his voice tight. The words were there, but they didn’t reach you in the way they used to. The sadness in his smile only made the gap between you feel wider, more unbridgeable. He had always been so proud of you, but now there was something missing, something he couldn’t find his way back to. Dianne, as if sensing the weight in the air, pressed a kiss to your hair, her lips warm against your skin, and pulled back just enough to let you turn back toward the game. 

“And finally Trenty’s got his head on straight, hmm?” she asked with a knowing smile, the kind of smile that said she wasn’t oblivious to the tension you had been carrying. She wasn’t stupid. She knew. You felt a flutter of discomfort at her words, a sharp reminder of how much you had been hiding. A part of you felt like you’d never tell your dad about Trent. And then you realized that wasn't really an option. But you didn’t think you could ever tell him about Trent, not like that. You weren’t sure if he could handle it, and you weren’t ready to deal with his disappointment or confusion. So, you let her words slide by, nodding as you turned back to the game, trying to lose yourself in the sound of the crowd, in the rhythm of the match. Your dad remained still, his mind racing, trying to piece together what Dianne was getting at. The look on his face betrayed a quiet frustration, as if he had just missed something important, something he wasn’t privy to. He felt like he was in the dark, and it hurt more than he’d like to admit. What was Dianne talking about? What was happening between you and Trent? The questions hung there, unanswered. He looked at you one more time, but you were lost in the game, your eyes focused, your body language closed off. And in that moment, your dad knew that things were changing, and he couldn’t stop it. The weight of the unknown pressed down on him, and he wasn’t sure how to navigate this new space between you, between all of you. Dianne, sensing the shift, took a seat next to Tyler, her presence no longer a bridge but a reminder of the complexities of what had been left unsaid. The game continued, the noise of the crowd growing louder, but for you, the world felt smaller, and the distance between you and your dad felt wider than ever.

You stepped inside, the cool air of the box a stark contrast to the heat of the stadium outside. Your gaze immediately landed on your dad, standing alone, watching the game through the glass with his usual intense focus. But there was something different about the way he stood, a slight distance between him and the rest of the crowd, like he wasn’t really part of it all.

“Keeping warm?” you asked, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes. It was a weak attempt, but it was all you could manage. He hummed, squinting at the field, trying to follow the play. His focus was still on the game, but you could tell he wasn’t fully present. It was as if part of him was always somewhere else. “You know… you can see a lot better out there,” you suggested, motioning toward the seats where the rest of the group was. The words were casual, but there was a plea in them that you couldn’t hide. A hope that he might want to come closer, to bridge the gap that had grown between you both. He glanced at you, his excuse falling flat. 

“Yeah, don’t want to crowd the space and all.” It wasn’t a good reason, but you knew it wasn’t really about the space. It was about something else, something neither of you were talking about. A sigh escaped you as you stood there, unsure of how to push forward. It felt like you were both stuck, circling each other but not quite connecting.

“Do… do you want to come sit with me?” The words came out hesitantly, like you were testing the waters, unsure if he would say yes or if you would even know how to handle it if he did. For a moment, there was silence between you, and then your dad finally turned, his eyes meeting yours. It was like a weight lifted in that brief second, his gaze softening, as if he had been waiting for you to ask. He reached up, his hand gently cupping your face, and for the first time in what felt like ages, you saw a genuine smile spread across his face.

“I’ll come sit with you, sweetheart,” he said, his voice warm, sincere in a way that it hadn’t been for so long. The affection in his tone caught you off guard, and you felt a lump form in your throat. You tried to smile, to match his warmth, but it was hard to push back the tears that threatened to spill. “Gorgeous you are, huh?” he added, his smile growing. There was a hint of that old fondness in his voice, something familiar, something you hadn’t heard in a long time. You grinned, a shaky laugh escaping you as you fought to keep the tears at bay. In that moment, everything felt a little bit easier, a little bit lighter, even if just for a second. It was a small step, but it was a step forward. The game’s final minutes ticked down, but they felt like hours as you sat there with your dad, the tension between you both growing thicker with every passing second. The crowd’s roar seemed distant now, just background noise to the awkward silence you were both trapped in. To your surprise, your dad, who had always been so engrossed in the game, turned to you, his expression more serious than you were used to.

“Sweetheart, Dianne said something earlier… Does she know something Jack and I don’t?” he asked, his voice low but carrying a weight that made your stomach churn. The question felt wrong in so many ways—almost like an accusation. The assumption that he and Jack were always on the same page, always in sync, and you were the one left to navigate things alone. You couldn’t stop the frustration rising within you. You fought back the urge to snap, to let him feel your annoyance, and instead gave him a steady answer. 

“Jack knows…” You didn’t want to get into it, but it felt like he was trying to pry, trying to put you on the defensive as if there was something to hide. And for a brief moment, it felt like he was accusing you of betraying Jack, not simply sharing your own truth.

“And… should I know?” His voice was soft, but there was an underlying expectation in it, as though you owed him an explanation. It hit you harder than you expected, making your patience slip. You turned your gaze back to the game, unwilling to meet his eyes, unable to mask the irritation building inside. 

“I don’t know. Should you?” Your tone was sharp, your words colder than you intended, but you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The unfairness of it all—the way Jack and your dad always seemed to understand each other, always seemed to be in sync, leaving you as the outsider. It stung.

“Y/N…” Your dad’s voice softened, but the use of your full name was a reminder of a time when you hadn’t been this distant, when his voice was filled with care and not frustration. That small shift in his tone made something inside you crack, but it only made your anger burn brighter.

“What? Do you care enough to want to know?” You shot back before you could stop yourself, the words tumbling out sharper than you meant. You could feel your dad bristle, his frustration mounting, but so was yours. This wasn’t just a conversation—it was an accusation, a judgment.

“Hey.” His tone snapped, and the energy in the air shifted. You could feel Jack’s gaze on you from across the box, but you couldn’t stop now. This had been building for too long. Jack stood up and walked over, his presence like a wall between you and your dad, as if once again it was two against one. That old dynamic—the one that always left you feeling like you were fighting to be seen, fighting to be heard, while Jack and your dad stood side by side, united.

“Okay, yeah. Trent’s my boyfriend. Happy?” The words shot out like daggers, sharp and bitter. “There’s my life update. You can go back to wherever you are in Spain at the minute and act like you know anything that goes on here.” Your voice wavered for a split second, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t keep pretending like everything was fine when it felt like you were invisible to them. Without waiting for a response, you stood up and stormed past Jack, your heart racing with anger and hurt. He called your name, but you didn’t stop. You couldn’t. There was no going back now, not with this tension hanging between you all. You had to break free, even if it meant isolating yourself again. Once again, it was you against them, and you were done trying to fit into the space they had carved out for themselves. Jack’s eyes softened as he looked at his father, knowing the weight of the situation, knowing the rift between you and their understanding of what you were going through. He had seen it for years, the unspoken divide between you and your dad, the way he treated you so differently than him. But now, it was worse. Now, your dad had crossed a line, and Jack felt the tension, the hurt that you’d carried for so long.

“Dad…” Jack sighed, his voice heavy with frustration and compassion. He could feel the hurt building inside him, too, knowing that his father was looking at the situation with an incomplete understanding. Jack wasn’t blind to the way his dad had always looked at you, how he seemed to hold back from truly seeing you, as if seeing you fully would mean confronting the loss of your mother all over again. But that wasn’t your fault. And this wasn’t easy for you.

“She… she’s dating Trent, and I have my own way to deal with it, but…” Jack’s voice trailed off, the words hard to form. He knew the history, knew the tension between you and your dad, and how impossible it was for your father to see things from your perspective. “You can’t just show up and ask for this huge piece of information about her…” He took a deep breath, the weight of what he was saying settling heavily in the space between them. “So much has gone on, I can’t even begin to describe it.” Jack’s eyes searched his father’s, trying to get through to him, but the words felt like they weren’t enough, like they could never be enough. “She’s had a really hard time, dad. This isn’t some spur-of-the-moment, rash decision… It’s been a lot, and it’s been really heavy for her, so please… Please talk to her.” His voice cracked slightly, a mix of frustration and helplessness. Jack didn’t know how to make his father see the pain you’d been hiding, the burden you’d been carrying in silence. He wasn’t sure if he could even explain it himself, but he tried anyway, hoping something would break through. Your dad looked at him, his face filled with a shock that Jack hadn’t expected. Maybe it was the mention of your struggles, maybe it was the revelation of just how much you had been dealing with, but something in him seemed to shift, even if just slightly. He didn’t know what surprised him more—your relationship with Trent or the fact that you had been struggling this much. But instead of addressing it, instead of asking questions or trying to understand, he simply turned away.

“I’ll give her a minute,” your dad muttered, his voice distant. He didn’t even look back at Jack as he focused once again on the game, his back turned to his son. Jack’s heart sank. He had hoped for more, had wanted his father to reach out, to show that he cared. But it was like he was retreating again, locking himself in the same place he had always been—unable to break free of the grief, of the distance between him and his children. Jack stood there, watching his father’s back, feeling a wave of helplessness and sorrow wash over him. The conversation had gone nowhere, and the gap between them was only wider now. He had hoped his father would understand, that this moment would spark something in him to reach out to you, but it didn’t happen. All Jack could do now was wait, just like you.

As the game ended and the crowd filtered out, you couldn’t shake the heaviness that lingered in the air. Your eyes were red and puffy from the tears you’d tried to hide, and your lips were pressed into a thin pout, an attempt to mask the hurt and frustration you felt. You didn’t even have to look up to know when Trent walked into the box. His presence was like a breath of fresh air, a sense of comfort in the storm you were fighting.

“Come here, pretty girl,” Trent’s voice was soft, concerned. His hands gently pulled you into him, and the warmth of his embrace felt like a balm to your soul. “What’s that face for, beautiful, hmm?” His words were a sweet coo, the kind that only he could make sound so tender. He kissed your forehead, repeatedly, his lips brushing your skin like a quiet reassurance. He tilted your chin up to meet his eyes, his gaze full of care. “Look at me… What’s going on, baby?” He asked earnestly.  But just as you opened your mouth to respond, your dad’s voice cut through the moment, loud and blunt.

“Trenty.” Trent froze, his eyes widening for a moment as he turned to face your dad. The tension in the air shifted immediately. At the moment, his hands had been dangerously close to your ass, a comforting gesture that felt natural, but now it was like they were caught in the act. Trent cleared his throat, his smile faltering, and he quickly retracted his hand from a more intimate position.

“Ah, alright, sir?” Trent stumbled over his words, extending a hand for a handshake. It was awkward, but you could see him trying to play it off as casual, even though the situation was anything but.

“Course, had to at least catch one game this season,” your dad replied, his tone unnervingly normal, like nothing had shifted, like he hadn’t just witnessed a small piece of your private world that he wasn’t meant to see. His words, however, didn’t seem to match the discomfort in the room. It was like he was pretending to be fine, pretending that everything was the same as it had been before. Trent, though, immediately pieced it all together. The tears in your eyes, the tension in the air, the way your dad had come over so bluntly—it all clicked for him. His arm instinctively wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him protectively. You didn’t fight it. Instead, you leaned into him, your arms winding around his bicep, letting the comfort of his embrace ground you. Trent looked down at you, his expression softening.

 “Okay?”He asked.  He could feel the weight of everything you were carrying, and he just wanted to make sure you were alright. You nodded, leaning your face into his shoulder, finding solace in the warmth of him. 

“Yeah,” you murmured, the simple act of being close to him helping to ease the pressure in your chest. Trent, still standing with you wrapped around his arm, continued talking to your dad, but now his attention was solely on you. He couldn’t help the smile that spread across his face as he felt the familiar presence of your perfume wrap around him after the long match. There was something deeply intimate about the way you held onto him, and he relished it. “Stayed warm, huh?” Trent asked, pinching your side lightly, a playful spark in his eyes as he adjusted the jacket you’d borrowed from him. Your dad, however, was no longer paying attention to the conversation. His eyes had locked onto you, watching the way you interacted with Trent. It was clear he was taking it all in—more than just the casual handshake, more than the friendly chat. The dynamic between you and Trent had shifted in the air, and your dad, whether he acknowledged it or not, could sense the change. Trent, on the other hand, was completely absorbed in you. The conversation with your dad was just noise in the background. He wasn’t concerned with anything other than making sure you felt safe, loved, and cared for in this moment.  

“So, Y/N finally wore you down,” your dad said, and it sounded like a statement wrapped in a half-joking, half-disapproving tone. Maybe it was the way he said it, but it didn’t sit well with you. You could feel the sting of it, the assumption that you’d been some sort of challenge for Trent. But then again, maybe he didn’t mean it that way. You weren’t sure anymore. Your dad’s words hung in the air, but there was something about the way he said them that felt off—like he was trying, but still not really understanding. You stiffened slightly, catching the slight edge in his tone, but you couldn’t be sure if it was truly patronizing or just his attempt to mask his discomfort. Trent, however, didn’t hesitate. He always seemed to have this way of handling awkward moments with confidence, and right now, he used it like a shield. 

“Nah, I finally got my dream girl,” Trent said with a grin, flashing that million-dollar smile your dad had always found disarming. “Everyone’s on board with it now, even Jack the lad, so… What you saying?” Trent prompted. You couldn’t help but feel a flicker of warmth for him in that moment. He’d just taken the lead, not hesitating, not letting your dad’s old-world ways hold him back. It was like he was saying, This is happening. You have to deal with it, and you have to accept it. It was exactly what you needed to hear. You looked at Trent, grateful. He was doing all the hard work that you couldn’t bring yourself to do, and doing it with such ease, making your dad see that this wasn’t some fleeting phase or secret rebellion. This was real. And with his words, it felt like Trent was subtly reminding your dad that he couldn’t just sit on the sidelines of your life. Your dad, for all his avoidance and silence up until now, finally softened. 

“Just want her happy,” he said, his voice sincere, and for a moment, you could see that he meant it. The weight of the words, even though they were simple, felt like he was finally trying to step into your world, into a space where he hadn’t been before. He reached out then, almost tenderly, lifting your chin with his finger, his gaze softening as he looked at you. “Just want you happy, sweetheart.” There was an effort there, something raw and unspoken behind his eyes. It wasn’t perfect, and it wasn’t the resolution you’d hoped for, but it was something. For the first time in a long while, it felt like your dad was trying—really trying—to meet you halfway. And for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something different between you both.

“Aye bro, we going out tonight?” Jack’s voice carried over as he approached Trent with Noah trailing close behind, his energy already at full throttle.

“Yeah, mate, I’m down,” Trent replied with an easy smile, turning his head slightly toward you. “Gotta stop home first, but yeah, down.” Jack clapped his hands together, clearly excited. 

“Let’s goooo. Trenty’s actually coming out with us. Been missing for a while. Wonder where he’s been,” Noah teased, his tone full of mischief. His eyes darted over to you, the wink he shot you making your cheeks heat up. Trent shook his head, a small chuckle escaping him. 

“Don’t mate,” he muttered, though his tone was amused. Then he leaned down toward you, his voice dropping to a soft whisper in your ear. 

“You wanna come back with me first, pretty girl?” The warmth of his voice made you giggle as you nodded, already feeling your heart flutter. You barely had a moment to revel in the intimacy before Jack groaned dramatically.

“Ew… fuck right off,” Jack grumbled, pulling a face as if he’d just walked into something awful. The embarrassment hit you like a wave, and you hid your face in Trent’s neck, trying to disappear. But he wasn’t about to let you hide for long. His arm wrapped securely around your waist, and you could feel his skin shift as he smiled. He leaned down again, his lips close to your temple. 

“Want to get going? Hmm?” he cooed, his voice sweet and reassuring. You pulled back, giving him a small nod as you went to grab your bag. Trent watched you with that soft, fond look he always seemed to have when it came to you, and even with Jack and Noah’s teasing, you couldn’t help but feel completely safe with him.

As you grabbed your purse, you felt your dad step closer, his presence lingering behind you like he was unsure if he should speak. You turned slightly, catching the hesitation in his face. His hands were tucked awkwardly in his jacket pockets, and the tight line of his lips showed he was working up to something.

“Sweetheart… you’ve gotta talk to me,” he finally said, his voice soft but insistent, the same tone he’d used when you were little and in trouble. You stilled for a moment, gripping your purse tighter. Then, you turned to face him, already on the defensive. 

“I don’t… I’ll talk to you next time you call Jack,” you snapped, your words sharper than intended, but you didn’t take them back. Your dad’s shoulders tensed as if the bite in your voice stung.

 “Y/N…” he began, his tone gentler now, trying to tread carefully. “I’m happy you’re with him. But…” That one word—but—sliced through the air like a warning. Your heart clenched painfully, and the tightness in your chest spread. 

“But what?” you demanded, your voice rising slightly. The tears you’d held back all evening were dangerously close now, teetering on the edge of your composure. He took a deep breath, gesturing vaguely around the room and toward the buzzing energy outside. 

“Have you thought about this… what it’s like to be with someone with this life?” His hand swept toward the box windows, where the stadium lights and crowds shone brightly, as if Trent’s world was a foreign, insurmountable thing. You blinked at him, dumbfounded and suddenly furious.

“So Jack can be friends with someone with this life, but I can’t date someone with it?” you shot back, your voice tight with frustration. “What is it, Dad? Do you think I’m not strong enough? Or is it just easier for you to trust Jack with all this than it is for me?”

“Sweetheart,” he sighed, his tone dipping into something softer, almost pleading. “I just… I can’t see you hurt or upset. Please.” You took a step back, shaking your head in disbelief. His words felt hollow, like they carried a concern that wasn’t rooted in knowing you, but rather in trying to protect an outdated idea of you. A part of him never could trust Trent. It didn’t matter who he was, it didn’t change the fact that you were the only girl he had left, and Trent’s life was far too risky for his girl. 

“Dad, you’re upsetting me right now,” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady. He closed his eyes briefly, as if trying to compose himself. 

“Alright,” he murmured after a moment, his voice heavy with resignation. Slowly, he stepped forward and pulled you into a hug. His arms felt heavy around you, like he was holding onto more than just you in that moment—grief, regret, guilt. “I’m sorry, hun. Just… can ya give me a ring sometime? Let me know how you’re doing?” You let out a shaky breath, your defenses crumbling as his embrace tightened. 

“Okay,” you murmured weakly, unable to push him away when he was like this. You didn’t hate him or anything. It was just a strained relationship. One that was badly bruised but not broken. He pulled back, his hands moving to gently hold your face. His eyes, tired and watery, scanned yours with an unfamiliar tenderness. 

“Always here for you, alright?” he said, his voice softer now, more vulnerable. “Di’s right… beautiful…” His words caught you off guard, and before you could react, he leaned down and kissed your hair. There was something in his actions that felt like a glimpse of the dad you used to know—the one who saw you, really saw you, before the loss of your mum built an unspoken wall between you. But then he continued, and the weight of his words hit you like a wave. “Just like mummy was. Beautiful. So don’t lose that smile. I only have yours, sweetheart.” The compliment hung in the air, bittersweet and sharp. For a moment, the world seemed to pause as you absorbed what he’d just said. He was telling you you were beautiful, comparing you to your mum, but there was something beneath the words that made your chest ache. It wasn’t just a compliment—it was a plea. A reminder that your smile, your light, was all that was left for him now. You nodded silently, swallowing back the lump in your throat as tears blurred your vision. His hands lingered on your face for a moment longer before he stepped back, giving you space. But his words stayed, weighing heavy on your heart. He meant well, you knew that. But his love, wrapped in grief and unspoken expectations, felt like a burden you weren’t sure how to carry anymore.

The game had been intense, the energy of the stadium still ringing in your ears as you walked through the door. The weight of everything-the adrenaline from the game, the quiet tension in the air after the final whistle, and the lingering thoughts about the night-settled into your bones. You pushed the door closed behind you with a soft click, taking in the familiar scent of Trent's place, which should have felt comforting, but tonight it was a little too quiet. A little too still.  You couldn't hide the exhaustion in your eyes, the way your mind was still racing with everything that had happened that evening. You didn't want to talk, didn't want to think about the crowd, the noise, the emotions. You just needed to forget, to be lost in something else for a while.  He noticed immediately. 

"Sweet girl, you okay?" His voice was gentle, soft with concern, but there was also a warmth in it. He could see past the cloudiness in your eyes, he could see you were carrying something heavier than just the weight of the game. You tried to smile, though it was weak, and shook your head slightly. 

"Yeah, baby... I'm okay." You appreciated his presence, his effort to make you feel better. It meant more than you could express.He stepped closer, his hands sliding around you, pulling you into his embrace. He kissed the back of your neck, his breath warm against your skin.

"Hmm my baby..." He hummed with his lips staying pressed to your skin. "Thank you for coming," he whispered, his lips brushing against your skin again, sending a shiver down your spine. His arms tightened around you, the security of his touch grounding you. "You looked so good tonight," he murmured, his words affectionate and full of admiration. You leaned back into him, feeling the heat of his body against yours. His lips found your ear, nipping gently at it, and you closed your eyes, giving yourself to the sensation. "Need to shower before we go out, you know," he cooed, his voice low and teasing.

"Mmmm... do you need company?" you smirked, your playful side slipping through the cracks of your exhaustion.

"Absolutely," he whispered, his hands moving to peel your jumper over your head, the cool air in the house sending another shiver through you. Without a word, Trent picked you up, effortlessly carrying you upstairs to the bathroom. You giggled at the suddenness, his strength a comforting presence. As he set you down in the ensuite, you eagerly stripped off the rest of your clothes, your movements frantic as you tried to rid yourself of the tension from the night. Trent followed suit, shedding his own clothes, his back pressed against the cold bathroom wall. "C'mere," he whispered, his voice deep, almost commanding. He moved towards you, his hands sliding down the back of your thighs, coming under your ass as he picked you up effortlessly. You wrapped your legs around him, kissing him messily, desperately. It was a kiss that spoke of more than just desire-it was about forgetting, about feeling alive in the midst of everything that had happened. He pulled away, loosening his grip slightly, his fingers fumbling as he turned on the shower. The sound of the water rushing from the showerhead filled the space, the hot water soon warming the air around you, enveloping you in steam. Trent stepped in first, pulling you closer to him. It wasn't long before you were pressed against the wall, your back to the cold tile as Trent moved inside you with a rough intensity. His lips were on yours between every thrust, soft words of affection-’I love you,’ whispered breathlessly as the water cascaded over your bodies, mingling with the heat of the moment. You were shaking, your body overwhelmed by the intensity, but Trent held you tightly, grounding you. As the minutes passed, your breaths grew shorter, the euphoric high mixing with the crash of emotions, the pressure of everything finally coming to a head. When it was over, Trent gently set you on your feet, his hands still supporting you as you clung to him, the warm water cascading down around you, and for a moment, everything outside of this moment seemed distant. It was just the two of you, wrapped in the heat of the shower, bodies pressed together, hearts still racing from what had just happened. Trent's arms around you felt like the only thing keeping you tethered to reality. He ran his fingers through your damp hair, his touch gentle now, almost reverent as if he was trying to savor the moment. "I love you," he murmured again, his voice soft but steady, as if he needed to remind both of you that, despite everything that had happened, this was real. You looked up at him, your chest still heaving from the intensity of it all, your lips tingling from his kisses. 

"I love you too," you whispered, your voice breaking slightly. Your emotions were all tangled, a mix of desire, love, and the lingering pain from the night. But in this moment, in his arms, it all seemed to fade away. Trent cupped your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. 

"Don't let tonight get to you," he said quietly, his forehead resting against yours. "Let me take care of you." You nodded, closing your eyes and leaning into him, the warmth of the water and his embrace comforting you in a way nothing else could. It wasn't just the physical pleasure that had brought you together, but the connection, the way he made you feel safe, despite the storm of emotions swirling in your mind. He kissed you again, slower this time, more tender, letting the water continue to wash over you both as the world outside seemed to vanish. There were no distractions here, no chaos, just the two of you. For the first time that night, you allowed yourself to let go fully, to forget about everything that had happened-just for a little while. As the water began to cool, Trent gently helped you step out of the shower, wrapping you in a towel and pulling you close.  "We'll figure everything out," he promised softly. "Just... trust me, yeah?" You didn't answer right away, but his presence was enough. You didn't have all the answers yet, and there was still so much uncertainty, but in this quiet moment, in his arms, you felt like maybe, just maybe, things could still be okay. In the aftermath, the world outside seemed a distant memory, the quiet between you two an unspoken promise that for a little while, at least until you headed out for the night, you could forget everything else.

•

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

Next part - Chapter 20 xx

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER ONE

"baby, i'm talkin' crazy, i need you right in my space"

pairing — trentxblack!r&b artist

tropes — fake dating, enemies-to-lovers

warnings — sexual tension, toxic relationships, mature themes (minors dni)

word count — 10k

summary — y/n, a rising r&b star, is stuck in toxic situationships, with tabloids constantly overshadowing her music. to fix her image, her team pushes her into a fake relationship with liverpool’s trent alexander-arnold. both reluctant, they soon realize keeping things strictly business isn't so simple. will pretending to be in love stay a game, or turn into something real?

an —if you're expecting trent from my other works, turn away.

masterlist

trent sat in his living room, staring out the window, his mind still replaying the scene at the café. he had seen his fair share of fiery women, but something about y/n’s reaction had struck him in a way he didn’t expect. the way she stood up, her voice dripping with disdain as she called him "just another guy"—it hit deeper than he wanted to admit. he wasn’t sure who he thought he was when he brushed her off earlier, but she was no pushover. there was a power in her, an undeniable confidence that he wasn’t used to. the women around him usually gave in, smiling or flirting back, charmed by who he was and what came with his name. but y/n? she had no interest in any of that. she didn’t even seem to care that he was trent alexander-arnold.

the memory of her walking out, leaving him sitting there speechless, gnawed at him. maybe it was that she had the guts to talk down to him. maybe it was that she hadn’t flinched when he poked at her about sancho. or maybe it was that, deep down, what she said about him being "just another guy" got under his skin. for the first time in a long time, someone didn’t care about his football career or his fame. to her, he was just another obstacle in her way. it bothered him more than he’d like to admit.

he sighed heavily, leaning back into the couch as his older brother, tyler, walked in with his phone in hand. "you ready?" tyler asked, a raised brow signaling that it was time for their meeting at y/n’s record label. 

trent didn’t respond at first, still caught up in his thoughts about her. what exactly had convinced him to say yes to this arrangement after how the café meeting went? maybe it was her fire, or maybe it was because, despite his stubbornness, he realized she wasn’t the type of woman he could push around. whatever it was, he found himself agreeing to it.

“yeah, let’s get this over with,” trent finally muttered, standing up. tyler gave him a knowing look but didn’t say anything. he knew trent well enough to know something was off, but now wasn’t the time to push for answers.

they walked into the label’s sleek, modern office building, and the tension was thick in the air. as soon as they stepped into the room, trent saw y/n. she was already seated at the table, an iced americano in front of her, her expression a mix of boredom and frustration. she didn’t even bother to look up when they entered, her focus entirely on her phone as she absentmindedly stirred her drink. she exuded a kind of power that wasn’t loud, but it demanded attention. it was in her posture, the way she held herself like she didn’t have time for anyone’s nonsense.

trent couldn’t help but admire that about her, even though he’d been on the receiving end of her sharp tongue. she wasn’t here to play games, and that was clear from the second they sat down. across from them were their respective lawyers, along with tyler and ayesha, y/n’s manager, who greeted them with a polite, business-like nod.

"shall we get started?" ayesha said, her voice calm but firm. "we’re here to finalize the terms of your arrangement. the contract outlines a public relationship for the next six months, though that timeline is subject to change depending on y/n’s upcoming album cycle."

trent’s gaze flickered to y/n, who hadn’t said a word since they arrived. she was still scrolling on her phone, acting completely indifferent to the entire situation. the tension between them was palpable, but he wasn’t sure if it was just from their earlier encounter or something else entirely. either way, she was clearly pissed about being here.

he leaned back in his chair, watching her, waiting for some kind of reaction as ayesha and tyler discussed the details of their agreement. "when will that be?" trent finally asked, breaking his silence and hoping to get some kind of rise out of her.

y/n’s eyes snapped up from her phone, and for a split second, her fiery gaze locked with his. “when it’s done,” she shot back flatly, before immediately turning her attention back to her phone, completely dismissing him.

trent clenched his jaw, trying to keep his frustration in check. she really wasn’t going to make this easy, and he could already tell. tyler and ayesha exchanged awkward glances, clearly sensing the tension, and the lawyers shuffled through their papers, ignoring the exchange altogether.

“right,” tyler said, clearing his throat. “so, as outlined, there will be public outings—dinners, events, and a few social media posts to solidify the relationship in the public eye. everything will be staged, nothing too intimate, just enough to get the media talking.”

ayesha nodded in agreement, then turned to y/n, who was still ignoring trent’s presence entirely. “you can continue to see other people, as long as it doesn’t get out. discretion is key here.”

trent's eyes darted back to y/n, watching closely for her reaction. he knew her and sancho were still a thing, whether they admitted it or not. he half-expected her to flinch or at least react, but she didn’t. she remained composed, her expression unreadable, though her fingers gripped her iced americano a bit tighter. 

ayesha let out a small laugh. “and now, officially, you two will be the new power couple. i’m sure the media’s going to eat this up.”

“lucky us,” y/n muttered, her tone dripping with sarcasm as she stood, abruptly signaling that the meeting was over for her. she grabbed her bag and glanced at ayesha. “i’m leaving. call me if anything else needs signing. thank you,” the last sentiment towards the lawyers and teh older alexander-arnold. 

trent opened his mouth to say something—he wasn’t sure what, maybe to call her out on her attitude or just to get a final word in—but before he could, she was already out the door, leaving behind the faint scent of her perfume and a palpable wave of irritation. 

tyler sighed, shaking his head. "well, that went well."

trent stayed silent, watching the door y/n had just stormed through. something about her made him uneasy, but it wasn’t just anger. it was something else entirely. he wasn’t sure if this arrangement was going to work, but one thing was clear—he was in for a hell of a ride.

y/n lay tangled in the sheets, jadon’s arm draped over her waist as her mind raced. the heat from their earlier encounter lingered, her skin still buzzing from the familiar feel of his lips, his touch. it was a routine, one they’d fallen into easily. whenever the world seemed to press too hard on her—first with trent, then the label's relentless pressure to churn out more love songs—jadon was the one she went to. it didn’t make sense, not when she knew he wasn’t good for her. but something about him had always been hard to resist.

y/n lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the sheets tangled around her bare legs. jadon was still beside her, his arm lazily draped across her waist, breathing softly against her neck. it was natural now—this. their routine. they’d done it what felt like a thousand times before. same bed, same space, same empty words exchanged afterward. she wasn’t proud of it, and every time she swore it would be the last, something about him pulled her back.

her mum’s voice echoed in her mind, words of wisdom passed down in her mother tongue, reminding her that no one was perfect. but y/n knew her imperfection had a name—jadon sancho. no matter how much she tried to distance herself, there was something about him that kept her tethered. maybe it was the charm, the way he always knew exactly what to say, or maybe it was the way he’d smile at her like she was the only one in the room. she wasn’t sure anymore.

slipping out of bed, she began to pull on her clothes, moving with the kind of casual ease that came with familiarity. jadon watched her from where he lay, his arm tucked under his head, eyes half-lidded as he smirked at her.

reaching for her clothes, jadon shifted behind her, his voice low and heavy with sleep. “you leaving already?”

y/n didn’t turn around, pulling her sweats up as she spoke. “yeah, i have to go.”

he sat up slightly, watching her with that knowing smirk that always made her weak. “since when do you rush off after?” his gaze was playful, but there was a question underneath. 

normally, she would’ve stayed. they’d order food, maybe watch a movie or talk about nothing for hours. dates, in secret, where they’d avoid the paparazzi and pretend their situation wasn’t what it was—complicated, undefined, and utterly toxic. but this time, something felt different.

“it’s not like that,” she mumbled, slipping her shirt on and finally turning to face him. jadon’s dark eyes were studying her, the air between them thick with an unspoken tension. 

he chuckled softly, but there was a slight edge to it, one she noticed immediately. “not like that? or is it ‘cause of your new ‘boyfriend’?” he leaned back, propping himself up on his elbows, clearly amused. “you really do have a type, huh?”

y/n froze for a second, the mention of trent hitting a nerve she didn’t expect. “trent isn’t my boyfriend,” she said through gritted teeth, grabbing her bag off the floor.

jadon tilted his head, still smirking. “right. just like i’m not your boyfriend either, huh?”

her heart skipped a beat at his words. he wasn’t wrong, and that was part of the problem. the truth was, no matter how many times she told herself she could stop, she always ended up back here—back with him. and despite the casual nature of their relationship, there were feelings they both danced around, never acknowledging, never pushing past the surface.

“you don’t get to ask about trent,” y/n said sharply, more to shut him up than anything else.

“oh, but i do,” jadon shot back, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and standing. he crossed the room, his shirt hanging loosely off his shoulders as he moved closer, the playful spark in his eyes now clouded with something else—something heavier. “he and i played together, you know. on the national team. didn’t know you’d end up with another footballer. thought i was your only one.”

y/n rolled her eyes, annoyed at his cockiness. “don’t make this about you.”

“it’s always about me,” he countered, stepping into her space, his voice low as his hand ghosted over her arm. “you’re here, aren’t you?”

she felt a shiver run down her spine, his touch lighting a fire in her that she hated she couldn’t control. “i came here because i needed to clear my head,” she replied, keeping her voice steady. “but we’re not anything, jadon. we never were.”

his eyes darkened, the smug grin on his lips faltering for the briefest moment. “right, of course,” he said quietly. “because you’ll keep telling yourself that until you believe it, yeah?”

y/n exhaled sharply, trying to focus on anything but the way his presence still affected her. “you’re impossible.”

“you always say that, but you keep coming back, y/n,” he murmured, his voice softening as he brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. “you don’t think i see it? the way you’re always fighting this. fighting us. i know you feel it too.”

she bit her lip, swallowing the lump in her throat. it was true—there was something between them, something raw and unspoken. but it was also messy, confusing, and more often than not, it hurt.

“i don’t know why i keep coming back,” she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. “but i can’t do it anymore. i have to stop.”

jadon’s jaw clenched, the words hitting him harder than he wanted to show. “and what, you think trent’s gonna be different? you think you won’t be back here again, with me?”

her heart raced, the pull between them stronger than she wanted to admit. “i can’t, jadon. not this time.”

“so that’s it?” he asked, stepping back slightly, his voice quieter now. “you’re really gonna walk away, just like that?”

y/n closed her eyes for a moment, gathering herself before she opened the door. “yeah. i have to.”

“you’ll be back,” he said, but there was a hint of doubt in his voice this time.

she hesitated for a moment, glancing over her shoulder. “not this time,” she whispered, and with that, she walked out, leaving him standing there, his expression unreadable.

as she left his apartment, the reality of her words sank in. she wasn’t sure if she was making the right decision, but what she did know was that things couldn’t stay the same. and as much as she hated to admit it, trent had already complicated things in ways she hadn’t expected.

y/n sped down the road, her fingers gripping the steering wheel as her mind replayed the same tired loop of thoughts. she had never been good at keeping her emotions in check—every feeling she had, whether frustration, joy, or heartbreak, found its way into the songs she wrote. the singing came later, a natural extension of the emotions she couldn’t keep inside. despite the confident persona she carried now, y/n had always been shy, even timid as a child. she still remembered being in the choir at her all-girls school, hiding in the back until her teacher forced her to take a solo. if it hadn’t been for that push, she would’ve never discovered the voice that would eventually take her all over the world. 

but now, that voice only seemed to echo with the messy frustrations of her life, and one name lingered in every song—jadon. 

her latest album was a catalog of every high and low she’d been through with him, even if she’d never admit it out loud. the media had no clue, of course, but jadon? he knew. it was all in the lyrics—the tragedy of their situationship strung together verse by verse. they were raw, exposing parts of herself she was still too prideful to confess directly. the way he always knew she’d come back, the way he got under her skin… it was all there, hidden in plain sight.

she groaned, slamming the car door as she parked outside zaia’s house. she couldn’t keep doing this. couldn’t keep falling into the same pattern. the moment she stepped into her best friend's cozy, suburban home, the warmth and stability hit her hard. everything about zaia’s life was so… put together. the complete opposite of the chaotic mess y/n had going on. while zaia was happily engaged to her childhood sweetheart, planning a wedding and living in domestic bliss, y/n was the media’s favorite "mess," the girl who couldn’t seem to keep a man, at least according to every tabloid headline.

she stormed inside without knocking, not bothering with pleasantries. "where’s the wine?" y/n called out, tossing her bag onto the couch before collapsing into it, her face buried in the cushions.

zaia appeared from the kitchen, a bemused look on her face as she poured a glass of wine and handed it over. "bad day, huh?"

"bad week," y/n grumbled, sitting up to take the glass. "i swear, if one more thing goes wrong, i’m going to lose it."

zaia raised an eyebrow, settling into the armchair across from her. "let me guess—jadon?"

y/n rolled her eyes but didn’t deny it. she never had to with zaia. "he just… he makes me so mad. and i don’t know why i keep going back. it’s like he knows exactly how to push my buttons, and i fall for it every time."

zaia sighed, leaning forward slightly. "you’re too prideful, y/n. you know you’re in too deep with him, but instead of cutting him off, you write songs about him. we both know ‘girls need love’ was about him.”

y/n scoffed, though she knew zaia was right. "i write about what i feel. it’s not always about him."

"you’ve gotta leave him alone, y/n," zaia sighed, shaking her head. "he's a dead end, and your songs say it all. i mean, come on, you basically spilled everything in ‘playing games.’ you wrote ‘you say you want me, but you act like you don’t’—who else could that be about?"

y/n groaned, sinking deeper into the couch. "that could be about anyone."

"oh, please." zaia rolled her eyes. "and then there’s ‘girls need love.’.’ if that’s not about jadon stringing you along, then i don’t know what is. you’ve practically handed him a whole mixtape of your mess together."

"it’s not that deep," y/n muttered, though she knew zaia had a point. the songs weren’t just vague reflections of her life—they were practically confessions. every line felt like a piece of the complicated puzzle that was her and jadon. 

"girl, it is that deep," zaia shot back. "you’ve got a whole album about this man, and he’s still playing the same games. you need to cut him off."

y/n slumped further into the couch, the truth of zaia’s words sinking in more than she wanted to admit. "it’s not that simple. you don’t get it."

"i do get it. you’re addicted to him. it’s like you love the chaos," zaia said, her voice soft but firm. "but it’s not healthy. you’re wasting your time, your energy, on someone who’s never going to change."

y/n stared down at her wine glass, swirling the dark liquid inside. zaia was right. she always was. but something in her—whether it was pride or stubbornness or something else entirely—kept pulling her back to jadon, even when she knew it was a losing game. "he’s not that bad," she muttered, more to herself than to zaia.

zaia scoffed. "he’s worse, y/n. every time you get close to something good, he reels you back in just to keep you from moving on."

y/n bit her lip, the frustration bubbling inside her again. she hated that zaia could see her so clearly, even when she tried to hide behind the excuses. "it’s just… i don’t know. i don’t know why i can’t stop."

"because you don’t want to," zaia said plainly. "but you need to."

silence hung in the air for a moment before zaia, ever the pragmatic one, switched topics. "so, what’s the deal with trent?"

y/n groaned again, burying her face in her hands. "don’t even get me started on him. i hate him."

"you sure about that?" zaia teased, raising an eyebrow.

"yes," y/n shot back. "he’s arrogant and—ugh. just no. the whole thing with him is a disaster waiting to happen."

zaia leaned back in her chair, a sly smile playing on her lips. "maybe he’s exactly what you need. a distraction. someone to finally get your mind off jadon."

y/n narrowed her eyes. "a distraction? you think this PR relationship is going to help me forget sancho?"

"why not? he’s easy on the eyes, you know, and he’s not jadon. that’s already a win."

"it’s not that simple, zai. we signed contracts, there are rules… and i don’t need another distraction. i need to focus on my music, not some fake relationship."

zaia gave her a pointed look. "maybe you need a break from the music. all it’s been doing lately is giving you more reasons to run back to jadon. maybe trent’s exactly what you need to finally cut the cord."

y/n stared at her friend, unsure of how to respond. she didn’t want to admit it, but maybe zaia had a point. maybe pretending to be with trent, even if it was just for the cameras, was the clean break she needed.

later that week, trent found himself pacing around his living room, phone in hand. it had been days since the meeting at the label, and he hadn't heard a word from y/n. it wasn’t like he expected her to reach out—she’d made it pretty clear how much she didn’t want anything to do with him. but the silence, the radio silence, was starting to get under his skin. she was being petty, and for some reason, that irritated him even more.

he glanced down at the number he'd gotten from ayesha, sighing. "guess i'm the one who has to be the adult here," he muttered, dialing the number.

the phone rang for what felt like an eternity before a soft, unfamiliar voice finally answered.

"hello?" y/n’s voice came through, cautious and unsure, as if she didn’t know who it was.

trent smirked to himself. of course, she didn’t save my number.

"y/n. it’s trent."

there was a brief pause on the other end. he could almost imagine her blinking in surprise, her posture stiffening at the unexpected call.

"trent," she repeated slowly, as if testing the name on her tongue. "how did you get my number?"

"ayesha," he said simply, leaning back against the kitchen counter. "i figured we needed to talk, seeing as you’ve been avoiding me since last week."

"i haven’t been avoiding you." her tone was sharp, defensive. "i’ve just been... busy."

trent rolled his eyes. "right. well, we can’t exactly keep this up. we need to figure this out sooner rather than later."

"figure what out?" her voice was laced with irritation, like she didn’t even want to entertain the conversation.

"the arrangement. the contract," trent said, trying to keep his voice steady, though her attitude was starting to get under his skin again. "we have to be on the same page if this is gonna work."

there was another pause, and he could hear her exhale on the other end. "fine. when and where?"

he raised an eyebrow at her sudden change of heart. "you’re agreeing to meet?"

"didn’t you just say we need to?" she shot back, sounding exasperated. "let’s just get it over with. when?"

"tonight. my place," he said quickly, not giving her a chance to back out. "i’ll text you the address."

there was a brief hesitation before she agreed. "fine. i’ll be there."

trent hung up, a sense of relief washing over him—but also a lingering annoyance. this wasn’t going to be easy, but at least she was willing to meet. 

now all he had to do was figure out how to navigate whatever was about to come next. because if their phone call was anything to go by, this arrangement was already off to a rocky start.

trent tossed his phone onto the counter, the clatter echoing through the quiet room. he ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off the strange feeling creeping up on him. it was just business, just a deal they were both locked into for the next six months. but something about the way y/n had been so indifferent, so cold on the phone, kept replaying in his mind.

he leaned back against the counter, staring out the window. his thoughts drifted, uninvited, to jadon sancho. were they still seeing each other? were they still tangled up in whatever mess they had going on? the idea of y/n being laid up with jadon, while pretending to be in a relationship with him, didn’t sit right. it wasn't just about the contract or the public image—it was something else, something more personal. 

he hated the thought of her, in the middle of the night, pressed against jadon’s chest, laughing at something stupid he said. he knew sancho; they’d been teammates. he’d seen the way women flocked to him, the easy smile, the charm he laid on so thick. but y/n —she was something else. she wasn’t just another girl. he’d seen the way she carried herself, the way she didn’t let people, especially men, walk all over her. that fiery tongue, the way she wasn’t impressed by who he was. it had struck a nerve, one that was still stinging.

what did she even see in sancho?

trent couldn't help but scoff at the thought. he’s your type, sancho would joke—like types meant anything when you were faking love for the cameras. but still, the idea of her being involved with him while they carried on this charade made trent’s stomach twist. it wasn’t jealousy, he told himself. no, it was just the optics of it, the idea that they couldn’t have their cover blown because y/n couldn't stay away from someone else.

trent crossed his arms, his irritation simmering as he recalled those nights at the club. he could still picture it: jadon, with that arrogant grin plastered on his face, always clinging to y/n like she was the only thing that mattered in the crowded room. it grated on trent's nerves to see how sancho paraded around her, as if he had it all figured out, as if she was just another trophy to display. 

but the truth was, it was clear to anyone who bothered to look closely: y/n had the upper hand. 

she played her cards with effortless grace, keeping sancho in the palm of her delicate hand. there was a fire in her eyes, a spark that made her untouchable, and yet, there she was, tangled up in a relationship that was anything but simple. while sancho flexed his charm and dominance, y/n stood confidently, unbothered, perfectly aware of the control she wielded. 

trent hated that he was even thinking about this. it was just another reason to keep his distance, to remind himself that they were supposed to be faking it, not getting caught up in whatever drama her past with jadon might bring. but the more he replayed those moments in his mind, the more he questioned whether she had really moved on from sancho or if she was just playing a deeper game, one that trent didn’t fully understand. 

did she only agree to use him to get back at jadon?

he couldn't help but wonder how she would fit into this new chapter of his life, this ridiculous arrangement they were about to start. 

he pushed himself off the counter, trying to shake the thoughts away. he needed to focus on the contract, the arrangement, and how to make it work. but no matter how hard he tried, the idea of y/n and jadon—together, intimately—kept gnawing at the back of his mind.

what kind of game was she playing?

trent couldn’t deny the tension building within him as he stood outside y/n’s condo, waiting for her to join him for the charity event. this was their second public outing together, another step in their carefully curated façade. the night was supposed to be simple: smiles for the cameras, casual conversation with his teammates, and just enough chemistry to keep the tabloids buzzing.

but nothing about y/n was simple, and he felt the weight of that as he stared at her building, checking his phone for the fifth time.

when the door finally opened, he looked up, and his breath hitched in his throat. y/n stood framed by the soft glow of her entryway, draped in a black gown that demanded attention. the corset top sculpted her figure flawlessly, emphasizing her curves and leaving just enough to the imagination. a black fur coat hung over her shoulders, but it couldn’t mask how stunning she looked.

“you’re staring,” she teased as she approached, her heels clicking against the polished floor.

trent blinked, realizing he hadn’t said a word. “just… making sure you’re ready,” he muttered, clearing his throat and shoving his hands into his pockets.

“oh, i’m ready,” she said, her lips curving into a knowing smirk as she brushed past him toward his car.

in the confines of the car, the tension was palpable. the scent of her perfume filled the space, soft yet intoxicating, and every shift of her body drew his attention. the slit in her gown revealed a flash of her leg when she crossed them, and trent gripped the steering wheel a little tighter.

“you alright there?” she asked, her voice laced with amusement as she caught him glancing at her out of the corner of his eye.

“yeah. fine,” he replied curtly, focusing on the road.

when they arrived at the venue, the coat check left him momentarily speechless. as y/n slipped off her coat, her gown came into full view, shimmering under the light and accentuating every inch of her. the neckline dipped just enough to make his throat dry, and the fitted corset made her look like a vision of elegance and allure combined.

he didn’t say anything, but his jaw tightened as he noticed the appreciative glances she was drawing from others in the room.

“you good?” she asked, raising an eyebrow as she handed her coat to the attendant.

“fine,” he said, his tone clipped.

but he wasn’t fine. not when he spent the first hour of the event watching as his teammates approached her, drawn in by her charm. he had deliberately kept his distance, convinced that avoiding her was the best way to keep his own emotions in check. but when he saw ryan gravenberch leaning a little too close as she laughed at something he said, trent felt his patience snap.

as he approached them, he caught the tail end of their conversation. y/n was smiling, her posture relaxed, and ryan looked equally at ease.

“everything okay here?” trent asked, his voice deceptively casual as he joined them.

y/n glanced at him, her smile fading slightly as she registered his tone. “yeah, everything’s fine. ryan was just telling me about—”

“i bet he was,” trent interrupted, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at his teammate. “you’ve got a girlfriend, don’t you, ryan?”

ryan frowned, straightening up. “uh, yeah. i do.”

“right,” trent said, his gaze shifting to y/n. “you’ve got a type, don’t you? footballers.”

y/n’s smile faltered, the slight stiffening of her shoulders the only indication she’d heard him. but trent could tell. he saw the flash of hurt in her eyes, the way she blinked rapidly as if trying to push it away.

“excuse me,” she said suddenly, standing up and walking away from the table, her posture rigid as she stormed off toward the coat check.

trent cursed under his breath, realizing his mistake. they’d been getting along—she’d even seemed to be enjoying herself—and he’d ruined it. again.

he rushed after her, weaving through the crowd until he finally caught up to her at the coat check. “y/n, wait,” he called, reaching for her arm, but she pulled away, her expression icy.

“don’t,” she snapped, turning to face him, her eyes blazing with anger. “if you’re just going to play into their hand and paint me out to be some sort of slut, we might as well rip up that contract right now.”

trent blinked, taken aback by her words. “that’s not what i—”

“no, trent, don’t even try,” she interrupted, her voice shaking slightly. “you don’t get to slut shame me. you don’t get to make comments like that just because i’ve been involved with someone you know.”

“you really think that little of me, don’t you? that i’d flirt with someone who has a girlfriend? that i’d stoop that low?” she said, her voice trembling slightly with restrained fury.

“i didn’t say—”

“you didn’t have to,” she cut him off, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. “you just implied it. because that’s what you think of me, isn’t it? just some girl who’s here for a good time, here to play the part you need me to play.”

trent opened his mouth to respond, but she wasn’t done.

“you don’t know a damn thing about me,” she said, her voice rising slightly. “and you clearly don’t care to. all you see is what you want to see, and that’s on you, not me.”

she turned on her heel, heading for the coat check, but he followed her, grabbing her arm gently.

“y/n, wait,” he said, his voice softer now.

“don’t,” she snapped, pulling her arm free. “if you’re just going to insult me and humiliate me in front of your teammates, don’t bother pretending to care now.”

“that’s not what I meant—”

“then what did you mean?” she demanded, her voice cracking slightly. “because it sure as hell sounded like you were slut-shaming me for talking to someone who was just being nice. god, even jadon—”

her voice broke off, and she shook her head, blinking back tears.

“what?” trent asked, his own frustration bubbling up. “even jadon what?”

“even jadon never made me feel this small,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “and that’s saying something.”

her words hit him like a punch to the gut, leaving him standing there, speechless, as she grabbed her coat and walked away.

-

the next day, guilt clung to trent like a second skin, heavy and suffocating. he was at training, but his head wasn’t in it. every missed pass, every half-hearted sprint, earned him sidelong glances from his teammates and sharp words from his coach. but nothing could pull him out of the haze he was in, the words y/n had thrown at him replaying in his mind like a broken record.

"even jadon never made me feel this small.”

he swallowed hard, his throat dry as the memory resurfaced again. the crack in her voice, the way she blinked back tears she refused to shed in front of him. the way she’d walked out, her coat clutched tightly around her like armor, leaving him standing there, too stunned to follow.

trent scrubbed a hand over his face, dragging himself back to the present as the whistle blew to end the session. he barely registered the chatter around him as he trudged off the pitch, his phone burning a hole in his pocket. he'd already called her twice this morning, only for it to go straight to voicemail. no response to his texts either.

she was airing him, and honestly, he couldn’t blame her.

meanwhile, y/n was at a café with zai, trying to push the events of the night before out of her mind. the warm, buzzing atmosphere should’ve been enough to distract her, but her thoughts kept drifting back to trent, to his sharp words and the guilt that had flashed in his eyes when she’d finally snapped.

“you’re quiet,” zai noted, taking a sip of her iced coffee. “and don’t tell me it’s nothing. i know that look.”

y/n sighed, stirring her tea absently. “it’s just... men.”

zai raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “is this about trent? or jadon?”

the mention of his name made her flinch, and she hated how easily it still got under her skin. “it’s not about jadon,” she said, a little too quickly. “but it doesn’t matter. it’s just... the same story, different guy. i don’t know why i’m surprised anymore.”

zai frowned, concern flickering across her face. “what happened?”

y/n hesitated, debating whether she even wanted to get into it. but the weight on her chest was too much to carry alone. “he accused me of flirting with someone. like, out of nowhere. and when i tried to explain, he doubled down. it was like...” her voice trailed off, and she took a shaky breath. “it was like i was back there again, with jadon, having to defend myself for existing. except this time, it’s not even real. it’s fake, and it still hurts.”

zai reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “y/n, you don’t have to put up with this. fake or not.”

“i know,” she whispered, but even as she said it, her resolve wavered.

because the truth was, she did have to put up with it. the contract was clear, and the charity event was coming up fast. she had to face him again by the end of the week, had to plaster on a smile and pretend everything was fine for the cameras.

but in the quiet corners of her mind, the cracks were already forming. she thought about all the times she’d been here before, swallowing her pride, her hurt, just to keep the peace. with jadon, with other men before him, and now with trent.

it was always the same pattern. they’d charm her at first, make her believe she was special, different. and then, slowly, the cracks would show. the accusations, the jealousy, the little digs at her character that piled up until she didn’t even recognize herself anymore.

trent’s words from the night before rang in her ears again, sharp and cutting. she’d thought, maybe naively, that because this was fake, it wouldn’t hurt. that she could separate herself from it. but now, she wasn’t so sure.

“i’ll get through it,” she said finally, forcing a smile for zai’s sake. “it’s just one night. i’ve handled worse.”

but even as the words left her lips, she knew they were a lie. because no matter how much she tried to convince herself that this was just another performance, the truth was far messier.

she didn’t want to admit how deeply his words had cut, how much they reminded her of jadon and the way he used to chip away at her confidence until there was nothing left.

but at least with trent, it wasn’t real.

that thought was supposed to bring her comfort, but instead, it left a hollow ache in her chest. because if even something fake could hurt this much, what did that say about her?

that night, trent sat on the edge of his bed that night, phone in hand, staring at her contact. he’d tried calling her again after training, but still nothing. the silence was deafening, and he hated it. hated knowing he’d hurt her, hated the thought of her comparing him to jadon and coming up short.

he typed out another message, his thumb hovering over the send button.

"y/n, i’m sorry."

it wasn’t enough, he knew that. but he didn’t know what else to say. didn’t know how to fix the mess he’d made.

he hit send anyway, tossing his phone onto the nightstand. the apology sat there, unread, like a weight in the pit of his stomach.

the soft glow of string lights hanging over the patio of the upscale restaurant did little to mask the tension simmering between y/n and trent. their first public outing as a "couple" was supposed to be for show, a chance to create a picture-perfect moment for the cameras. but the peaceful evening was long gone, replaced by an undercurrent of bickering that neither of them could quite rein in.

trent sat across from her, arms crossed, clearly irritated as he watched y/n type away on her phone, her attention fully absorbed by whatever message she was sending. he knew exactly who it was. sancho. the very mention of his name was enough to ignite a spark of frustration in trent, and the fact that she was texting him right in front of him? it was pushing him to his limit.

“really?” trent muttered, his voice laced with annoyance. “you’re gonna sit there texting him all night?”

y/n didn’t even bother looking up, her thumb casually swiping across the screen as she typed. “jealous already? we’ve only been ‘dating’ for what—an hour?” she shot him a sideways glance, a smirk playing at her lips, knowing she was getting under his skin.

trent’s jaw tightened as he leaned forward slightly. “it’s not jealousy. it’s just pathetic that you’re still hung up on a guy who clearly doesn’t care about you.”

y/n’s eyebrows shot up, finally looking up from her phone to meet his gaze. “oh, so you’re keeping tabs on me now? since when do you care who i talk to?”

“i don’t,” he shot back, his voice sharper than he intended. “but if we’re supposed to be playing this fake relationship game, maybe you should stop texting the guy who’s making a fool out of you.”

y/n let out a low, amused laugh, clearly unfazed by his comment. “oh, please. jadon knows exactly what he’s doing, and so do i. you wouldn’t get it.”

trent scoffed, shaking his head. “yeah? and what’s that supposed to mean? you think he’s treating you right just because he sends a few sweet texts?”

y/n leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms with a smug smile. “he knows how to keep things interesting. maybe that’s something you could learn from him.”

trent’s eyes darkened, the muscle in his jaw twitching as he clenched his teeth. “yeah, well, from where i’m sitting, it looks like you’re the one doing all the chasing. does he even text you back as fast as you’re glued to your phone?”

y/n narrowed her eyes at him, her playful smirk slipping as his words hit a little too close to home. “funny. but you don’t know shit about what’s going on between me and jadon.”

“i know enough,” trent shot back, his voice low and laced with irritation. “i know he’s got you running in circles, thinking you’ve got him where you want him when really, he’s just stringing you along.”

y/n’s eyes flashed with defiance as she leaned forward, elbows resting on the table as she closed the distance between them. “you think you’ve got it all figured out, don’t you? jadon knows exactly what he’s doing, and so do i. i have him wrapped around my finger, not the other way around.”

trent leaned in closer, his eyes locked on hers, the tension between them thick enough to cut. “is that what you really think? because from where i’m sitting, you look like you’re trying way too hard to convince yourself of that.”

y/n didn’t flinch, her smirk returning as she dropped her voice to a teasing whisper. “why? you jealous, trent? does it bother you that i can have him, and you’re just playing pretend?”

before trent could respond, y/n leaned forward even further, deliberately letting the neckline of her top dip just enough to catch his attention. trent’s gaze flickered down for the briefest second—a moment so quick he hoped she wouldn’t notice. but she did. and y/n, ever the opportunist, wasn’t about to let it slide.

“oh?” she teased, her voice dripping with amusement. “you can’t even look me in the eye now, can you? maybe you’re not as unaffected as you pretend to be.”

trent’s face tightened, his expression darkening as he forced himself to meet her gaze again, refusing to let her win. “you really think everyone wants you, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice edged with frustration.

y/n leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, clearly enjoying the game she was playing. “not everyone,” she said with a smirk, her eyes dancing with mischief. “but you do.”

trent scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. “you’re unbelievable.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, her smile never faltering. “unbelievable or right?”

trent exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair as he tried to keep his cool. “this is exactly what i mean. you’re so caught up in the attention, in thinking everyone’s after you, that you can’t see how messy this is.”

“messy?” y/n echoed, feigning innocence. “i don’t think it’s messy at all. i think you’re the one who’s flustered. i mean, it’s cute—your little attempt at being unaffected—but i know when a guy wants me.”

trent leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms as he glared at her. “you think i’m flustered? please. you’re just pissed because i’m not falling for your bullshit like sancho does.”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “nah, you’re pissed because deep down, you’re just as interested as he is. you’re just better at hiding it.”

trent’s eyes flashed with irritation. “if you think i’m interested, then you really don’t know me at all.”

“oh, i know you,” she shot back, her tone teasing but with a sharper edge now. “i know that little glance wasn’t just out of curiosity. you can act all high and mighty, but i can see right through you, trent.”

trent clenched his jaw, the muscle ticking as he forced himself to stay calm. “you’re so full of yourself, you know that?”

“maybe,” she shrugged, her smirk only growing wider. “but you’re still sitting here, aren’t you?”

trent let out a frustrated breath, leaning back in his chair, his arms crossed over his chest. “yeah, well, someone’s gotta keep you in check.”

“oh, is that what you’re doing?” y/n teased, her voice light and mocking. “keeping me in check? because it seems like you’re the one who can’t handle the heat.”

trent’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “you can play your games with sancho all you want, but don’t drag me into it.”

y/n’s smile widened as she leaned forward again, her voice dropping to a playful whisper. “who says i’m playing games? maybe i just like getting under your skin.”

trent’s gaze flickered to hers, his frustration clear in his expression. “trust me, you’re not getting under my skin. i just think it’s sad you’re still hung up on a guy who doesn’t care about you.”

y/n’s smirk faltered for a split second before she recovered, her tone sharp as she responded. “and i think it’s sad you’re unbothered when you clearly are.”

trent stared at her, the tension between them crackling like static in the air. they were supposed to be putting on a show, a fake relationship for the cameras, but the lines between reality and pretense were starting to blur. and as much as he hated to admit it, y/n was getting to him.

but he wasn’t about to let her know that. not yet, anyway.

they left the café with tension so thick it was suffocating, y/n’s heels clicking sharply against the pavement as she trailed slightly behind trent. he strode ahead, his hands shoved deep into his pockets, barely sparing her a glance. the entire date had been a disaster—if you could even call it a date. trent hadn’t looked at her, let alone spoken to her, during the meal. he barely acknowledged her presence, his eyes fixed anywhere but on her.

y/n bit her lip, her frustration bubbling to the surface. she was tired of his dismissive attitude. “you know, for someone who’s supposed to be my date,” she called out, sarcasm dripping from her tone, “you’re really bad at it.”

trent didn’t slow down. his long strides made her struggle to keep up, but he didn’t care. “i’m not here to hold your hand,” he said flatly, still refusing to turn around.

y/n quickened her pace, falling into step beside him. “clearly. you’re more interested in ignoring me than pretending this is a real date.”

his jaw tightened, but his expression remained cold. “maybe i just don’t feel like playing into your games.”

“games?” she scoffed, crossing her arms. “what games, trent? this whole fake-dating thing was your idea, remember?”

he finally stopped walking, turning to face her with an irritated glare. “yeah, fake,” he muttered, his voice sharp. “but you’re treating it like it’s just another excuse to text him.”

y/n blinked, caught off guard. “what are you even talking about?”

trent’s lips curled into a bitter smirk. “you’ve been glued to your phone all night. let me guess—sancho?”

her stomach twisted at the mention of jadon. “oh my god, you’re unbelievable,” she muttered, shaking her head. “i wasn’t texting him.”

“sure,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “because it’s not obvious or anything. you’re always distracted, smiling at his messages. it’s pathetic.”

her chest tightened, his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit. “you don’t know what you’re talking about,” she snapped, her voice rising. “and even if i was texting him, it’s none of your business.”

trent’s expression darkened as he stepped closer, his tone low but biting. “it is my business. we’re supposed to be selling this ‘happy couple’ act, but you can’t even pretend to be here with me.”

she took a step back, her frustration boiling over. “you ignored me the entire night, trent! you barely even looked at me, and now you’re trying to make me the problem?”

he scoffed, his voice cold. “why bother looking at someone who’s clearly not interested in being here?”

“are you serious right now?” y/n’s voice cracked, the weight of his accusations suffocating her. “you don’t know anything about me.”

“don’t i?” he shot back. “every time we’re together, it’s like you’re somewhere else. you’re not here, y/n. you’re always thinking about someone else.”

her throat tightened as tears pricked at the corners of her eyes. she refused to let them fall. “you’re wrong,” she said softly, her voice trembling. “this isn’t about jadon. it’s about you.”

trent’s brows furrowed, his confusion momentarily breaking through his anger. “me?”

“yes, you,” she said, her voice steadier now. “you’re so focused on who you think i’m texting, you can’t see what’s right in front of you. you’ve been cold and distant all night, and i’m the one who’s pathetic?”

his mouth opened as if to respond, but no words came out. for the first time, he looked at her—really looked at her—and the guilt in his eyes was unmistakable.

“i want to leave,” y/n said finally, her voice firm. she turned away before he could say anything else, her heels clicking briskly as she walked away.

“y/n—” he started, his voice softer now, but she didn’t stop.

“don’t, trent,” she said, her voice breaking. “i’m done for tonight.”

he stood there, watching her disappear into the crowd, the weight of her words settling heavily in his chest. but his pride kept him silent, rooted in place as she walked out of sight.

the second date was arranged like the first—some picturesque café on a quiet street, perfect for photographs and social media buzz. but this time, y/n wasn’t going to be the one trying. she was done with his cold shoulder, his sharp words, and the way he acted like her presence was some sort of inconvenience. if trent wanted to treat this arrangement like a game, then fine. she’d play it better.

she arrived on time, wearing a sleek black midi dress and a pair of delicate heels that gave her an air of effortless elegance. she hadn’t bothered to look for him when she walked up to the café. instead, she let the hostess guide her to their reserved table on the patio. trent was already seated, casually scrolling through his phone, his jawline sharp as ever, and a faint furrow in his brow.

"y/n," he greeted, glancing up briefly before looking back down at his screen.

she didn’t respond, her lips pressing into a polite smile as she pulled out her chair and sat down. the silence stretched, taut and uncomfortable, but she kept her composure, smoothing her dress over her knees and ignoring the way his gaze flickered toward her once, twice.

he cleared his throat, finally slipping his phone into his pocket. “you’re quiet today,” he said, leaning back in his chair.

she picked up the menu, her eyes scanning the items as if she hadn’t heard him.

trent’s brows knit together. “everything alright?”

still, she said nothing, her attention fixed on the menu. she wasn’t being overtly rude, but her indifference was deliberate, precise.

“y/n,” he said again, more firmly this time. “i asked you a question.”

her lips twitched, a hint of amusement threatening to show, but she kept her expression neutral. finally, she lowered the menu, setting it down carefully on the table. she met his gaze for a fleeting moment before looking away again, pretending to admire the flowers in the centerpiece.

trent let out a frustrated exhale, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. “are you seriously not going to talk to me?”

she tilted her head slightly, her eyes still fixed on the flowers as if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. her silence was driving him mad, and she knew it.

“alright,” he said, his tone sharp with irritation. “what’s this about? the other night?”

she finally looked at him then, her expression blank, save for the faintest arch of her brow. his frustration deepened, the tension in his shoulders more visible now.

“look,” he started, running a hand through his curls, “if you’re mad about what i said, i—”

her phone buzzed on the table, and without a word, she picked it up, unlocking it with a casual swipe and scrolling through her notifications.

trent’s jaw clenched. “are you serious?”

she ignored him, tapping out a quick reply to a text before setting her phone back down. she leaned back in her chair, her hands folded neatly in her lap, and gave him a look that said are you done?

trent leaned closer, his voice low and biting. “you’re acting like a child.”

that earned him a reaction—her lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. “oh, now you care about how i’m acting?” she said sweetly, her voice light but cutting. “interesting.”

he blinked, caught off guard by her sudden words. “what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” she said with a shrug, her tone dripping with mock innocence. “just an observation.”

he sat back, crossing his arms over his chest as he stared at her. “so this is payback, huh? silent treatment? acting like i’m not here?”

her smile widened, but she didn’t respond. instead, she reached for her water glass, taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his.

“y/n,” he said, his voice firm now, “stop playing around.”

“why?” she asked, setting the glass down and leaning forward slightly. “don’t like it when someone treats you the way you treat them?”

trent’s mouth opened, then closed, as if he wasn’t sure how to respond. she had him cornered, and they both knew it.

“you’ve been impossible,” he said finally, his tone softer but still laced with frustration. “i’m trying here, alright?”

her brow shot up. “trying? really? because ignoring me, snapping at me, and barely looking at me the other night didn’t exactly scream effort.”

his jaw tightened, guilt flickering across his face for just a moment. “i was—” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “i wasn’t in the best mood.”

“clearly,” she said dryly, leaning back in her chair. “but you still managed to make it my problem.”

“i didn’t mean to,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. “look, i know i’ve been... difficult. but this whole thing—” he gestured between them—“it’s not exactly easy, alright? pretending like this is real when it’s not.”

“not easy for you?” she repeated, her tone incredulous. “you think it’s a walk in the park for me? dealing with your attitude, your assumptions, your—” she cut herself off, shaking her head. “forget it.”

“no, go on,” he pressed, leaning closer. “say it.”

she met his gaze, her eyes flashing with irritation. “your ego,” she said bluntly. “you act like you’re the only one who has to deal with the pressure, like this whole thing revolves around you.”

his brows furrowed, her words clearly hitting a nerve. “that’s not what i think.”

“isn’t it?” she challenged. “because that’s exactly how it feels.”

trent sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly. for a moment, he looked like he was going to argue, but then he just nodded. “maybe you’re right.”

her eyes widened slightly, surprised by his admission. “what?”

“you’re right,” he repeated, his voice more measured now. “i’ve been... selfish about this. i didn’t think about how it’s been for you.”

she studied him, trying to gauge whether he was being sincere. “and?”

“what do you want from me, y/n?” he asked, his voice sharp but tinged with desperation.

she stopped, too, slowly turning back to face him. for a moment, she just stood there, her phone in her hand, her expression unreadable. then, with deliberate slowness, she set her phone down on the small café table beside her and leaned back against the chair with her arms crossed.

that look.

it wasn’t just her posture, though that alone was commanding—poised and unapologetically confident. it was the way her light brown, bone-straight locks framed her face like a halo, each strand catching the golden light of the setting sun. her dark, glossy lips curved slightly, like she was on the verge of laughing at him. but it was her eyes that made his breath hitch, piercing and unyielding, filled with a quiet power that made him feel like she could see every corner of his soul.

trent felt pinned under her gaze, completely enthralled. for a moment, he forgot to breathe. in his mind, she was a force he could never hope to control, and for the first time in forever, he realized he didn’t want to.

“i want an apology,” she said finally, her voice calm but firm, as though the entire world bent to her will.

he didn’t even hesitate. “i’m sorry,” he said quickly, the words tumbling out before he could stop himself.

her brows lifted in amusement, and a surprised laugh slipped past her lips, soft and melodic. “wow,” she said, leaning forward slightly, a teasing glint in her eye. “that was... fast.”

“because i mean it,” he said, his voice steady now, though his heart raced. “you were right, y/n. about all of it. i’ve been selfish and short with you when you didn’t deserve it. this whole thing’s been frustrating, but that’s no excuse for how i’ve treated you.”

her lips parted slightly in surprise, and he noticed how her expression softened, just a fraction. “go on,” she said, though her teasing tone couldn’t quite hide the genuine curiosity beneath it.

trent took a step closer, his hands slipping into his pockets as if grounding himself. “i’ve been taking my frustration out on you because it’s easier than admitting this arrangement has gotten to me. but you don’t deserve that. if anything, you deserve better than... whatever this is.”

for a moment, she didn’t respond, just studied him with that same piercing gaze. then, slowly, she uncrossed her arms and leaned back, her expression unreadable.

“you’re lucky i’m giving you another chance,” she said, though her tone was lighter now, teasing.

“i’ll take it,” he said, a small smile tugging at his lips. “and i’ll do better. i promise.”

she tilted her head, a flicker of something warmer passing over her face. “you’re serious, huh?”

“dead serious,” he said without missing a beat. “whatever it takes to fix this.”

she gave him a long look before finally nodding, a smile playing on her lips. “alright then,” she said, standing up and brushing imaginary dust from her dress. “you can start by buying me a coffee.”

trent chuckled, his frustration melting into something softer, something lighter. “deal.”

“you’re lucky you’re pretty,” she muttered, when he returned with her coffee a small smile tugging at her lips.

trent let out a low laugh, the sound breaking the lingering tension. “that’s all i’ve got going for me, huh?”

“pretty much,” she teased, her tone lighter now. “but don’t push it. i’m still mad.”

he smirked, leaning back in his chair. “noted.”

it wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was enough for now. as they sat there, the silence between them was no longer cold or uncomfortable—it was something softer, a tentative truce.

as they walked back toward the café’s entrance, side by side, he noticed the way she didn’t pull away when his shoulder brushed hers. it wasn’t perfect—not yet—but it was a start. and for the first time, trent felt like they might actually figure this thing out together.

© PDRIESTA 2024

[hamiltonells]

ALWAYS ~ JUDE BELLINGHAM

[sort of based of this request! so thank you for request. please let me know what you think! always welcome to criticism, also let me know if you would like a series based or this little family! 🍓]

[SUMMARY: being soon to be parents is hard especially being so young as well, but Jude and y/n takes everything in their stride]

[WARNINGS: fluff, smut, morning sickness? not edited, swearing spelling mistakes? ]

You’re feet shuffled across the cold kitchen flooring as you soothed your bump with one hand and held a tub of Ben and Jerry's ice cream in the other, Your seven -month bump slightly peaking out of Jude’s shirt.

“Are you still okay for tomorrow, beautiful?” Jude’s voice reaches out over the FaceTime call, as you sitback down on the sofa and put the blanket over your bump.

With Jude being in Madrid, it was decided that you would have dinner at his parents' house in England. Due to your frequent travels between England and Madrid, you rarely have the opportunity to spend time with his family, especially with his mother being in the middle.

you placed the laptop on your lap during the ongoing FaceTime call with Jude, “Yeah all good jude, what time is your flight back” your voice grew tired with every sentence you speak.

“flight is about four in the morning will get back home at seven”Jude's voice making you grow even more tired and relaxed.

You knew it was difficult for Jude to balance being at the top of the football world and being a father at just twenty years of age, but he never complained about it once

It was unexpected for you to become pregnant, and it came as a surprise since you are only nineteen and Jude is twenty years old, but you both took it as your little blessing.

"Is my little one okay? It seems like she's wearing Mommy out" Jude's voice echoes through the FaceTime call, "we're okay, just tired and the usual sickness," your voice tiredly drawls out.

Since discovering you were pregnant, you have been experiencing severe nausea, even if it was morning or night It felt like a constant battle to keep any food down, and the smell of certain foods would instantly trigger your gag reflex.

"Plus, we miss daddy a lot," you said "fuck,don't do that voice, it turns me on" he added with a rough accent, you tutted “better hurry up home then”

"I'll be back home shortly, my Love," he said in his gentle Birmingham accent.

you was sound asleep when you heard the keys jingle in the door, the door open and Jude's footsteps slowly and carefully plodding up the stairs.

You hear Jude carefully open the door to the bedroom where you both share. As you shuffle yourself up to sit against the headboard, you reach for the switch to switch on the lamp, and you switch it on.

"What are you doing awake?" Jude's tired voice broke the silence of the room. You turned to see him rubbing his eyes, looking disheveled and exhausted.

"I missed you, heard you trying to be quiet" you admitted "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to disturb you" he replied, a sheepish smile on his face.

"You could never disturb me. I always want to hear your voice." you said softly, Moving to swing your legs out of bed holding your pregnant belly as you trying to ignore the persistent pressure on your bladder.

You sigh, knowing you have to get out of bed to relieve yourself.

“oi what you doing, let me help” Jude’s voice fills your ears, as he rushes to be by your side, you feel a pair of strong arms wrap around you, supporting your weight.

As he presses a soft kiss to your head, Your loving Jude gently helps you out of bed and guides you to the bathroom, making sure you don't trip over your own feet.

Once you’ve emptied your bladder, you get back into bed with a kiss on the cheek from Jude.

You snuggle into the bed sheets, Jude’s bare back now facing you as he’s rambling on about something with his toothbrush in his mouth, you don’t realise your eyes have started to close until you feel the bed dip beside you.

“Sorry baby, didn't mean to wake you again” Jude whispered as he pulled the duvet over the pair of you, with your back facing Jude he slides his arms around you and on to your bump.

"I love you and we both missed you," you murmur softly in response to him, you feel him snuggle into your neck as he presses a soft kiss there.

“hey Jobe”you slightly laugh out his name as he opens the door only to be thrown into a headlock by his own brother, the pair of them shuffling into the living room as they play fight with each other.

You shut the front door and clean your feet on the doormat before untying your shoelaces and removing your shoes.

You enter the living room and see the two brothers sitting on the sofa with a sour expression and Denise giving them a look.

"Y/n, lovely seeing you again” Denise greets you warmly as she glances up and sees you standing in the doorway “you look amazing, not long left now” she hugs you as you smile and look down, “thank you Denise” you gushed as you sat in between Jude and Jobe.

“only a couple more months left, did Jude show you the scan pictures” you continued.

"Yeah, he did," she replied with a smile. "They're amazing, aren't they? I can't believe how much the baby has grown already."

"I know, it's incredible," you said, excitement evident in your voice. "I can't wait to meet him or her."

"As long as they don't look like Jude, they will be alright" Jobe joked “You’re literally like a mini Jude, Jobe” You laughed as you put your hand onto Jude’s thigh.

“It's nice to know that I can actually grow a beard at the moment" Jude mumbles to himself, but loud enough so that Jobe can hear, "you call that a beard" Jobe laughs as he’s dodging Jude's kick.

As Denise calls all of you over for dinner, Jude gets up first to assist you up, putting one hand on your back as he guides you over to the dinner table, he sits next to you his hand on your thigh.

Mark, Jude’s dad is sat across from you, making slight conversation as you start eating your food.

As you took another bite of your food, your stomach churned you felt a wave of nausea wash over you, you reach out to take a sip of your water to hopefully wash it down.

But as the night went on, the feeling only got worse, your hand went straight over your mouth mumbling your apologies as you rush through the house to get to the bathroom.

He trails behind you, apologizing to his family before heading to the bathroom to assist you, gently rubbing circles on your back as you lean over the toilet, feeling him gather your hair up in his hands.

“you okay baby?” His voice soothing you, you lean back into him breathless as the embarrassment washes over you.

”Jude, I am deeply embarrassed. Your mother and your entire family are under the impression that I became sick because of the meal she cooked.“You convey your concern by covering your face with your hands.

“she doesn’t think that, don’t be stupid they know your struggling with your pregnancy” Jude tries to calm your down by wrapping his arms around your shoulders as you both sit in the bathroom floor.

“You okay y/n?” Denise’s worried voice makes you look up, as you see her standing in the doorway “she’s okay mum, bit tired though I think” Jude answers for you as he puts a strand of hair behind your ear.

"I'll set up Jude's room for you both, and maybe it'll be best if you stay overnight, I'll bring some lemonade up to help it helped my morning sickness with Jobe" Denise smiles at you .

In a pair of shorts and an old shirt, you lay on the bed of Jude's old bedroom, covered in the familiar smell of his old clothes.

Jude is right next to you, scrolling through his phone on his lap with his hand on your inner thigh as he softly squeezes it, as he as he speaks with Jobe who is laying across the end of the bed, who is also scrolling on his phone.

"How much longer do you have left?" Jobe asks quietly as you open your eyes to his voice. "Just a little over a month, why are you excited, Uncle Jobe?" you playfully respond.

he just hums to your question, focusing back on whatever was on his phone.

The next thing you notice is Jude placing his phone on his bedside table, and then shuffles over and settles his head on your chest while his hands go straight to shirt to lift it up, his hands go to your bump to soothe it.

In your hands, you are gentle touching the ends of his hair gently twisting it and reaching to his scruffy beard gently scratching it as he hums softly to.

When he presses a soft kiss against your bump, your unborn baby gives him a small kick as they responds to his kisses

“Did you feel that?” Jude’s face snaps around to face you as he realizes what has happened “yeah, going to be like there daddy” you smile as you stroke his cheek.

“what? let me feel, move Jude” Jobe says as he rushes to your side and he places his own hand on your bump he pushes Jude's hands away as he presses his own against the bump.

“Jobe, fucking hell it's my kid.” Jude leans down for a for a kiss before getting up and making his way to the bathroom. You giggle as you see Jude's scrunched up face as he gets up and goes to the bathroom.

you’ve just gotten into bed when Jude come in with a glass of water and places it on your bedside table, “mum says goodnight” you hum to answer him while tugging him down to yourself.

"Careful," he laughs as he catches himself on his hands as he's above you, your hands go around his neck as you press a kiss to his lips.

His laughter fades into a soft sigh as he leans in for another kiss, his lips meeting yours once more before he puts his face into your neck and presses a few light kisses.

“You have a good day, baby?” He mumbles into the crook of your neck “the best thank j” you the nickname you call him slides off your tongue easily.

Jude hums“I love you so bloody much”

“I love you more” you giggle even more when be nips your neck.

He seals your lips together once more, using his knees to spread your thighs a bit further apart for him as he spreads them apart.

In the midst of your kiss, he lets out a breathy moan, courtesy of the fingers which are holding his face, interrupting your kiss with a breathy moan.

Jude utilizes the chance to break away and snag a pillow from his side of the bed, urging your hips up by tapping the fluffy thing against your side.

your lift your back up, and he settles it under your lower back and bum to prop you up. Fortunately for him, he has had extensive experience navigating the challenges of your pregnant belly.

he grips your shorts and carefully pulls them off, taking your knickers off and softly pressing a kiss to your thigh in the progress.

Settling between your thighs, Jude giggles when you wraps your legs around his hips and tugs him closer.

Jude’s body hovers over yours , love-sick smiles a breath away from meeting each other, and he drags his fingers through your folds, groaning at how slick you’ve become.

“Oh fuck” you whisper into Jude’s ear, biting back a grin as Jude grips his cock with the fingers that had previously been fondling you.

Jude smiles as their chests are pressed together, enjoying the feeling of their stomachs touching while he guides himself into your slit.

Jude hums appreciatively, eyes fluttering shut as he basks in how warm and gooey you are for him. He'd almost forgotten how it felt to have you this desperate for him and his touch.

“Need to be quiet, Jobe next door” he whispered as a moan ripped though your body.

"Oh it's so good darling," he mumbles to you, dropping his head into the crook of your neck. He made a gentle backward slip, pulling the hips back gently as he slipped forward again, his breath stuttering as he dutifully slipped forward once again.

Guiding him, you softly release a moan, lowering one hand to the lower part of his back. With a whisper that tickles his ear, you affirm, "Jude, So so good." Tickled by the sensation, he squirms slightly and responds with a small laugh.

Jude soft with his movements, cautious of the baby between yourself, "made for being wrapped me huh?" And jude thinks nothing ever been truer.

Your arms were made to hold him, youe hands were made for pulling him closer and closer, and your heart was made to completely consume his.

you reached your high before him, rolling your hips up to try and bring him to the edge, grinding down into your heat as his cock twitches and buries deep in your walls.

Jude knows you’re watching his eyes scrunch shut and his gaping mouth curl into a breathy laugh as he comes “sorry baby, too tired for another one” he breathes into your neck.

As you nod and brush the sweaty spots from his forehead to soothe him and just like that, he is already able to feel lighter. He never has to sorry with you, you’ll always be here for him.

[v6quewrlds]

❝ guilt trip, t. alexander-arnold. ❞  ‎ ‎ ┉  

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: every year, trent and his mates bet on no nut november. and every year trent fails to hold out. it's really not your fault you can't hold off.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: so sorry this is up so late <3 day ten of my no nut november series.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established relationship, brief fingering, begging.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: trent alexander-arnold x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 2.7k.

"I can't believe it's November already," you said, your eyes fixed on the calendar. The page, a warm palette complementary to the warm autumnal hues of the season, glared back at you with a single, scribbled note: "No Nut November begins today". You sighed, knowing what this meant for you and Trent's love life for the next thirty days.

Trent sailed into the room, his broad frame casting a shadow over your thoughts. "I think this is my year, babe," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "I swear I'm gonna win that bet."

You could only roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the bet. "You've never made it past the first week," you reminded him, your voice laden with skepticism.

Every November 1st, you had come to expect the same conversation with Trent. You knew the drill: he'd announce the start of the "No Nut November" challenge with the excitement of a kid on Christmas Eve, and you would play along, feigning shock and annoyance. But this year, you felt a twinge of genuine annoyance. You had been dating for almost two years now, and you had hoped that by this point, the juvenile betting pool with his football mates would've grown old. But here you were, staring down the barrel of another month-long abstinence challenge.

Trent, ever the competitor, was undeterred by your eye roll. "This year's different," he assured you, crossing the room to give your arm a playful squeeze. "Me and the boys have upped the stakes. The winner gets bragging rights and a sweet little prize."

You raised an eyebrow. "And what's the prize this time?" you asked, already bracing yourself for the inevitable.

Trent's eyes lit up. "It's a weekend getaway to a posh spa resort. Imagine it, babe," he said, his voice full with enthusiasm. "Just you and me, no interruptions, no training, no matches."

You couldn't help but feel a spark of interest. A weekend at a spa was something you hadn't indulged in for quite some time. "And who's doing the challenge this year?" you inquired, knowing full well that you would be the one keeping Trent honest.

"Just me, Dom, Ryan, and Harvey," Trent listed off his competitors with a grin. "But it's mainly between Dom and me, to be honest."

You sighed, knowing that Dominik was going to be the toughest competition for Trent. "Alright, you know the rules," you said, trying to hide your amusement. "No funny business for the next thirty days."

Trent nodded solemnly. "I know, I know," he said, planting a quick kiss on your cheek. "But just think of the prize, love. A whole weekend of pampering and no distractions. We can finally relax."

You couldn't argue with that. "Fine, I'll hold you to it," you said with a smirk. "But if you even think about cheating..."

"Would I ever?" Trent protested, his eyes wide and innocent. You just raised an eyebrow at him, and he chuckled, admitting defeat. "Okay, okay, I'll behave."

The first week was surprisingly easy, with Trent's focus on the bet keeping him in check. The two of you spent your evenings watching movies and playing board games, your hands brushing against each other in innocent gestures that somehow seemed more intimate than your usual passionate encounters.

But as November marched on, the tension grew. You could feel it in the way Trent's eyes lingered on you, the way his touch slightly lingered. The air in the apartment thickened with unspoken desire, and you had to bite your tongue to keep from teasing him too much. You knew how much this ridiculous challenge meant to him, and you didn't want to be the one to make him stumble.

One evening, with about four days left to go, Trent came home from training with a new haircut, the fresh scent of aftershave wafting through the door before he did. You were in the kitchen, chopping vegetables for your dinner, but you stopped dead in your tracks when you saw him. His hair was buzzed closer to his scalp than it had been that morning, highlighting his sharp cheekbones and the intensity in his brown eyes. Though you would deny it, you nearly dropped the knife at the sight of him.

"What do you think?" Trent asked, a hopeful lilt in his voice as he spun around to show you the full picture.

You couldn't help but stare. The clean-shaven edges of his head and the short, textured hair on top were always a favorite look of yours, but the excitement in his eyes was purely childlike. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back a smile. "Looks good," you said, your voice a little too flat. "Very clean, babe."

Trent stepped closer, leaning against the kitchen counter, his gaze trained on your reaction. "Thanks," he said, his voice a little too casual. "Thought I'd go for a change."

You could see the challenge in his eyes, the silent dare to push the boundaries of the bet. You scoffed, trying to play it cool. "Don't get too cocky," you warned him. "You've still got a few days to go."

Trent chuckled, his eyes never leaving yours. "Cocky?" he repeated, his smirk growing wider at the double entendre. "Now why would you say that?"

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your expression neutral as you continued to prep dinner. "Because you know it's going to be hard to resist," you said, your voice low. "Especially looking like that."

Trent pushed himself off the counter and sauntered over to you, his movements slow and deliberate. "Is that so?" he murmured, his breath warm on your neck as he peered over your shoulder. His fingers danced across your waist, making your heart flutter despite your resolve to keep things PG for the next few days.

"Trent, don't," you chided, swatting his hand away, but not before you felt the electricity of his touch zipping through your body. You turned to face him, your desire shimmering in your eyes despite your stern expression. "You're making this impossible."

"Impossible?" he said with a cheeky smile, his thumb brushing the side of your face. "You know you want to." His voice was a low murmured tease that sent shivers down your spine.

You tried to maintain your composure, but the smell of his fresh shower gel and the sight of his toned arms flexing as he leaned against the counter was making it increasingly difficult. "I've been helping you remember?" you said, trying to keep the tremor out of your voice.

"Ah, but what's the fun in that?" Trent whispered, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Besides, it can stay our secret?"

You knew you should be the voice of reason, but his touch was making your knees weak, and the way he looked at you with that cocky grin had your mind racing. You stepped back, trying to create some distance, but the kitchen was small, and he followed you, his hand sliding around your waist to pull you closer.

"Trent," you protested, even as she felt yourself melting into his embrace. His fingers traced the curve of your hip, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, your body craving his warmth.

He kissed your neck, his lips lingering on your sensitive skin. "Come on, love," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "One little slip won't hurt."

Your resolve was wavering. The smell of him, the heat of his body, and the promise in his eyes were too tempting. "Trent," you breathed, your voice barely above a whisper. "We can't. You'll lose the bet."

Trent leaned in closer, his mouth finding yours in a gentle but urgent kiss. "It's okay. I don't care anymore," he murmured against your lips. "I just need you."

You felt the last of your resolve crumbling. You pushed away the guilt that tried to surface. After all, it was just one time. And you had missed him, more than you would like to admit. "Fine," you whispered, a hint of a smile playing on your lips. "But you better make it worth it."

With a growl of victory, Trent swept you up into his arms and carried you to the bedroom, leaving the chopped vegetables forgotten on the kitchen counter. He laid you gently on the bed, his hands tracing the curves of your body with a hunger that had been building for weeks. You couldn't help but feel a thrill at the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

Your kisses grew more urgent, your hands more explorative. Trent peeled off your sweater, revealing your bare chest, a silent invitation that hadn't gone unnoticed. His eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, his breath hitching in his throat. Your pulse quickened, the anticipation of his touch making your skin prickle with excitement. He kissed you deeply, his tongue dancing with yours as he untied your sweats and slid them off your legs.

Trent's strong hands roamed your body, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples, eliciting a gasp from you. You reached for his shirt, tugging it over his head with an eagerness that surprised you. His skin was warm and smooth, the muscles of his chest tightening under your palms.

You rolled over the bed, a tangle of limbs and passion, the intensity of your kisses matching the urgency in your movements. You felt the heat of his erection pressing against your center, and you moaned softly, your arousal growing. Trent kissed a trail down your body, his teeth grazing your skin, sending jolts of pleasure through you.

Your hands found his hair, tugging him closer as he nibbled at your skin, teasing and suckling until you were squirming beneath him. His hand slid down your stomach, his fingers finding your wetness, and you arched your back, your breath hitching in response. He chuckled darkly against your skin, knowing just how much it drove you crazy.

Trent took his time, savoring every inch of your body as if it were his first time. His touch was both gentle and demanding, leaving you gasping for more. You couldn't help the moan that escaped your lips when he slipped a finger inside you, stroking you in a rhythm that had your hips moving in sync. Your legs fell open wider, giving him full access as he kissed and licked his way down your body.

The room was filled with the sound of your heavy breathing, the rustle of fabric, and the occasional sound of skin against skin. Your thoughts swirled in a haze of desire, your body responding to Trent's every touch with an urgency that had been building for weeks. You could feel the tension coiling within you, tightening with every stroke and kiss.

Trent paused, his eyes locking with yours as he reached for his shorts. Your chest heaved with anticipation, your heart racing at the thought of what was to come. He hovered over you, his gaze filled with a mix of need and love.

Without a word, he positioned himself between your legs, the tip of his erection nudging at your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as he pushed in, the sensation of being filled by him almost too much to bear. He groaned, his muscles tensing as he buried himself deep inside you. The two of you moved together, your rhythm a dance you had perfected over the years you had been together. Each thrust brought a wave of pleasure that crashed over you, making your toes curl and your nails dig into the bed sheets.

Trent moaned into your ear, his voice a mix of passion and affection that sent shivers down your spine. "You feel so good," he murmured, his breath hot and ragged. You responded with moans of pleasure, your body arching to meet his as the tension grew tauter. The room was a cocoon of passion, the rest of the world outside your window forgotten in the heat of the moment.

"Baby," you whispered, your voice a soft plea as the tension coiled tighter within you. Trent's rhythm grew more urgent, his breaths shallow and ragged against your skin. The heady scent of your combined arousal filled the room, a silent testament to your shared need.

"Yeah? Tell me what you need, pretty girl," Trent's voice was strained as he moved above you, the muscles in his arms flexing with the effort to hold himself up.

Your nails raked down his back as he brought your legs up around his waist, changing the angle and driving even deeper. The sensation was overwhelming, and you felt the orgasm building, the heat pooling in your core. "Please," you begged, your voice barely audible.

Trent kissed you again, his movements growing more frantic as he felt you tighten around him. He knew you were close, and the knowledge spurred him on. "Come on, baby," he murmured, his voice low and urgent. "What do you need, love?"

"Harder," you gasped, your eyes wide with desire. "Please, T. Harder."

Trent complied, his strokes becoming more forceful, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the room. Your breathing grew ragged, and your eyes squeezed shut as the wave of pleasure built, threatening to consume you. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge, and you knew that with one more push, you would be over.

"Now, baby," Trent whispered, his voice a mix of command and desperation. And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered, your orgasm ripping through your body like a storm. You cried out, your nails digging into his back as you clenched around him. The intensity of your climax took you by surprise, leaving you trembling and gasping for breath.

Trent followed closely behind, his own release crashing over him like a wave. He buried his face in your neck, his breaths coming in heavy pants against your skin. You felt him pulse inside you, the sensation sending aftershocks of pleasure through your core. Your hand gently fluttered over the trimmed hair at the nape of his neck, your touch soothing his panting breaths.

The room was quiet except for the sound of your breathing and the distant murmur of the city below. You couldn't help but feel a twinge of guilt, knowing that Trent had just failed to win the bet. But as Trent rolled off you, pulling you close, you pushed the thought aside. For now, you would revel in the warmth of his embrace, the feel of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

Trent leaned in and kissed your forehead gently. "Worth it?" he whispered, a smug smile playing on his lips.

Your head shook but you couldn't help but laugh. "You're such a tease," you huffed, your voice still shaky from the aftermath of your orgasm.

"Couldn't resist," Trent said with a grin, his chest still heaving. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you closer. "Besides, it's not a big deal anyway. Dom gave up this morning."

Your eyes widened in shock. "What?" you exclaimed, pushing yourself up to look at him. "You mean you could've..."

Trent nodded, his cheeky grin growing wider. "Could've," he confirmed, "but I had to make it good. For the prize, obviously."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up from your chest. "Trent," you said, shoving weakly at his chest. "I felt so guilty."

Trent chuckled, kissing your forehead again. "It's alright, love," he assured you. "I think we've been good for long enough."

You sighed, a mix of relief and annoyance crossing your face. "I guess. But you could've told me sooner," you pouted, snuggling closer to his warmth.

Trent shrugged. "Where's the fun in that?" He leaned in, kissing your cheek. "Besides, we both know I was going to win anyway." His voice was full of good-natured arrogance, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, even as you felt a warmth spread through your chest at his confidence.

The tension of the past few weeks dissipated into the comfortable silence that had become a familiar blanket between you. Your mind raced with what you could say to scold him, but the feeling of his strong arms around you, his heart beating steady and strong against your chest, was too comforting to let go.

[heyjudeb]

You're Perfect - Trent Alexander Arnold

Summary: After getting drunk on a one night out with Trent, the drunk pillow talk reveals Y/N's inner thoughts Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: drunken state, mostly fluff

Trent reached over to fasten Y/N's seatbelt after struggling to get her into the car due to her laughing, drunken state. She rarely drank, but Trent's big win yesterday led to most of the team members and their girlfriends celebrating at the club.

Before leaving for the club, Trent had promised to only have one drink, and Y/N saw this as the perfect opportunity to have some fun, assigning him as the designated driver.

"Baby, try not to throw up until we get home, please," he said, giving her hand a quick kiss before driving off.

"Throw up?!" she looked at him, clearly drunk. "Oh, please. I can go for another round right now!"

He laughed out loud, placing his hand on her thigh. He made sure to drive at a normal speed, even though he usually drove faster. He didn't want to startle Y/N, who often told him to slow down when he did.

Y/N leaned her head back and closed her eyes, a smile on her face. "You know," she began, her words slightly slurred, "I think I could totally be a singer."

Trent glanced at her, amused. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

"Because," she said, opening her eyes and grinning at him, "I always nail karaoke nights. Remember last time? I was basically Beyoncé."

Trent chuckled. "I do remember. You were... something else."

"Hey!" she protested, hitting his arm lightly. "I was amazing and you know it. You were just too busy being all serious to appreciate my talent."

He shook his head, laughing. "I'm sorry, love. Next time, I'll make sure to be your number one fan."

"You better," she said, her tone mock-serious. "Because one day, I'll be famous, and you'll be just Trent, the footballer who used to drive me home.'"

He laughed even harder at that, the sound filling the car and making Y/N giggle along with him. "Alright, future superstar, let's get you home and in bed before you start planning your world tour." Trent pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine. He glanced over at Y/N, who was leaning against the window, her eyes half-closed.

"Alright, we're home, baby" he said softly, unbuckling his seatbelt and getting out of the car. He walked around to her side and opened the door. When she stumbled slightly, giggling as he caught her, he decided it was best to just carry her inside.

With a firm grip, Trent scooped her up into his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder, asigh escaping her lips. "My hero," she murmured, her voice slurred.

He chuckled. "Always, love."

He carried her to the front door, managing to unlock it without too much trouble despite her squirming slightly in his arms. Once inside, he headed straight for the bedroom. As soon as they reached the bed, Y/N tried to wriggle out of his arms, clearly aiming to lay down onto the mattress.

"Hold on, love," he said, lowering her gently onto the edge of the bed. "You need to wash your face and change your clothes first."

"Mmm... don't wanna," she mumbled, her words slurred. "Wanna sleep."

Trent shook his head, smiling as he knelt in front of her. "You’ll thank me in the morning. Come on, it’ll only take a minute." She pouted, looking at him with pouty eyes. "But Trent... you're so comfy. And handsome. And perfect."

He chuckled, his heart swelling at her sweet words. "Thank you, honey. But that’s not going to get you out of washing up."

She groaned, attempting to sit up but failing miserably. "You do it then. I'm too tired." He couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, babygirl. Let's get you sorted out." He loved this side of hers, always too honest and loving. She always speaks what's on her mind when she's drunk.

With gentle care, Trent helped her to the bathroom. She leaned heavily against him, still giggling and murmuring affectionate things. "I love you, Trent. You're the best boyfriend ever."

"I love you too, Y/N" he replied, his voice warm. "Now, let's get this makeup off."

He dampened a washcloth and began to gently clean her face, her eyes fluttering closed as he did. "You're so good at this. Maybe you should be a makeup artist."

He laughed softly. "I'll stick to football, thanks."

Once her face was clean, he helped her change into more comfortable clothes. It was a bit of a struggle, with Y/N being more of a burden than a help, but he managed. Finally, he guided her back to bed, tucking her in and kissing her forehead. Then, he headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed himself. After he finished, he returned to the bedroom and called out softly, "You still awake, love?"

She mumbled in response, letting him know she was still awake. "Mmm... yeah. Just... thinking."

He lay down facing her, brushing her hair out of her face. "What are you thinking about?"

"Everything," she slurred, her eyes half-open. "You. Us. Life. And... do you think aliens are real?"

Trent blinked, surprised by the topics she was overthinking. "Aliens? That's a big question."

"Yeah," she giggled softly. "I mean, think about it. What if they're out there, watching us right now?"

He laughed, hanging his head back. "You're getting deep on me, aren't you?"

She smiled, her eyes growing more serious. "Trent, can I ask you something? Will you be honest with me?"

"Of course," he said, still amused but curious.

"Are you sure you're real?" she asked, her voice filled with drunken sincerity.

He chuckled, confused. "What do you mean, love?"

She reached out, her fingers tracing his face. "You're so soft, perfect, cute... it’s like you're too good to be true."

He took her hand in his, kissing her palm. "I’m real, I promise." Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with a mix of drunken sincerity and vulnerability. "I have a hard time believing someone like you could love someone like me," she said, makingdrunken gestures as she spoke. Trent felt a sense of sadness by her words. He cupped her cheek gently. "Why would you think that, love? You’re everything to me." She shook her head slightly. "It's not just me who thinks that. It's also the people." Pointing her finger in the air, proud she's making a point.

He kissed her hand again, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. "What people, love?"

She ignored his question, continuing with her thoughts. "You can literally have any skinny, pretty model you want, and even then you'd still be the perfect one. Yet you're with me." He paused, his brow furrowing slightly, still asking the same thing. "What people, love?" She sighed, trying to explain through her drunken state. "The people that comment on my photos, or yours, or the people that write in magazines."

Trent's expression grew serious, concern evident inhis features as he listened to her. "What do they say?" Her gaze shifting away from him. "They say I'm not good enough for you. That I'm not pretty enough or skinny enough. I mean, you've seen me naked, right?." He nodded." I DEFINITELY, don't have their stomach!" she slurred out her words. Trent gently tilted her chin up, making her look into his eyes, feeling a bit guilty considering he's the reason she's exposed to such comments. "You are more than enough, love. Those comments come from people who don’t matter. What matters is what we have, the love we share. I wouldn’t trade you for anyone or anything."

She took a shaky breath, tears glistening in her eyes. "I just want to be good enough for you." "Baby, you are!!!" he said firmly, feeling the urge to sit up and make her also sit up to face him, taking her face in his hands. "You already are, darling."

"Please, don't say stuff like this, ever again." He kissed her forehead, her lips, her cheeks, her nose. "You're literally so perfect, it hurts."

"You kissing me is making me feel... warm," Y/N said in the middle of crying, causing Trent to laugh and kiss her one more time. Trent gently guided Y/N to lie down again, hovering over her as he supported himself on his elbow. He looked down at her with a tender expression, his eyes filled with adoration.

"You're perfect, you know that?" he murmured, brushing a strand of hair away from her face.

Y/N smiled softly, her earlier tears now replaced with a warm glow from his affectionate words. "Only you would say that."

Trent leaned in to kiss her collarbone, trailing soft kisses along her skin. He could feel her shiver slightly under his touch, a smile playing on his lips.

Feeling playful, he reached down and lifted her shirt gently, planting gentle kisses on her stomach. Y/N giggled, the sensation tickling her. "Trent, stop!" she exclaimed between giggles, squirming slightly.

He looked up at her, a smirknt in his eyes. "But you're so adorable when you laugh." She laughed even harder, her hands reaching up to playfully push his shoulder. "You're such a tease," she said, her voice tinged with affection.

Trent chuckled, kissing her stomach one last time before lying down beside her, pulling her close. "I can't help it. You bring out the playful side of me."

Y/N snuggled against him, placing a hand on his chest."I love you, Trent. Even if you’re not real.”

He laughed, kissing her head, pulling her even closer to him.”I love you too, baby. More than words can say!”

[f1daydreamers]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐖𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐋𝐢𝐞𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐔

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander Arnold x Fem!Reader

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

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

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

...

yourusername | 📍Venice, Italy

tagged venice.explore and calvinklein

liked by yourbsf, calvinklein, and 17,786 others

yourusername can I call you later?

view all 2671 comments

user1 pretty ladyyyyyyy

calvinklein summer collection has never looked better 😍

— yourusername have never loved a black dress more

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

— yourusername ofc 😇

user2 omg i need to go to venice asap

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

— yourusername next week!! super excited omg 🩷

…

trentarnold66

liked by liverpoolfc, andyrobertson94, and 946,716 others

trentarnold66 Recharging 🔋

view all 76,936 comments

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

— trentarnold66 I was just bending them? 🙃

liverpoolfc Back at camp soon ❤️

— trentarnold66 💪

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

user7 can you choke me with those arms thanks bae

— user8 so real 🤣

judebellingham No invite lad? I see how it is 🫤

— liked by trentarnold66

…

yourusername

tagged hudabeauty, hudabeautyshop, and kayali

liked by hudabeauty, trentarnold66, and 30,651 others

yourusername Coming to you… July 👀

view all 9862 comments

yourbsf A DREAM IM SO PROUD OF YOU BABE

— yourusername i love you 🥹

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

— liked by trentarnold66

hudabeauty A literal real-life doll 😘

— yourusername says the literal makeup magician ❤️

user5 TRENT LIKED????

— user9 who’s that?

— user5 ONLY THE BEST RB IN THE WORLD WHAT

…

trentarnold66

liked by liverpoolfc, yourusername, and 976,816 others

trentarnold66 Singapore 🇸🇬 Feels real good to be back.

view all 126,625 comments

liverpoolfc What’s up, Vice Captain? 💪

— trentarnold66 🫡

user10 liverpool’s very own ❤️

yourusername damn.

— liked by trentarnold66

virgilvandijk Let’s get it!

user5 OMGGG THEYRE DEFO DATINGGG WAIT

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

…

yourusername | 📍 Liverpool

tagged liverpoolfc

liked by trentarnold66, harvelliott, and 29,872 others

yourusername bleeding red today, bleeding red everyday

view all 11,463 comments

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

— liked by yourusername

— user12 OMG SHE LIKED MY COMMENTTTT

harvelliott love it 🌹

— user5 DUDE WHO IS THIS GIRL DATING OMFHDJSJSE

trentarnold66 Hmm

— harvelliott 😂

yourbsf fit went hard.

— yourusername not everyone’s agreeing w u 😒

— yourbsf you mean….

— yourusername shh

…

…

trentarnold66

liked by judebellingham, liverpoolfc, and 817,625 others

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

view all 262,527 comments

user5 IS HE TALKING ABOUT YOURUSERNAME

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

judebellingham serious player

— liked by trentarnold66

yourusername should I say congrats?

— trentarnold66 Only if you’ve changed shirts

— yourusername so take off yours then

— liked by trentarnold66

…

…

yourusername

liked by yourbsf, trentarnold66, and 96,726 others

yourusername my mom approves

view all 70,637 comments

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

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

— yourusername 😂😂

trentarnold66 Shirt’s all yours

— yourusername took you long enough

— trentarnold66 I got there in the end 🙂

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

— yourusername i bet you've already taken it anyway

— yoursister if I speak I’m in big trouble

…

trentarnold66

tagged yourusername

liked by yourusername, andyrobertson94, and 1.2 million others

trentarnold66 Dear Darling ❤️

andyrobertson94 Congrats Brother 🫂

— liked by trentarnold66

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

— trentarnold66 I don’t recall that 🤨

— yourusername little liar

— trentarnold66 Little? Who’s the liar now?

— user12 YALL ARE SOOOOOOOO

user5 I WANT MY FINDERS FEE 👩‍⚖️

harvelliott Beautiful 🤩

…

Masterlist

[sportswriters]

how they'd react to you not saying "i love you" back

lots of fluff with the players: rúben dias, jude bellingham, joão félix, pablo gavi, trent alexander-arnold, pedri gonzález, heungmin son, mason mount

a/n: hope everybody have fun reading these! we surely did after a few drinks in <33333

rúben dias

"amor? i'm heading out. i love you."

you quickly appear in the hallway, wearing a sweater that belonged to him.

“ok, have a nice day, darling,” you reply, waving goodbye.

the smile that had begun to appear on rúben's lips immediately fades, his hand resting against the doorknob he had opened earlier. when he hears your reply, he frowns, suspicious.

you get confused by his attitude and lick your lips, coming closer.

“what are you doing? i thought you had training.”

he doesn't answer right away, he just walks over to the sofa and sits down, unpretentiously. your lack of an answer made him a little suspicious, so he wasn't going to leave without something.

“yes, i do. but not until you answer me.”

you try to hold in your laughter, understanding the whole thing, but you still don't want to give in. his reaction wasn't what you'd expected. like, you didn't really expect him to just give up on going out just because you didn't answer his “i love you” like you always did.

you understood that it was really important to him.

“i don't get it, honey. did i answer you in a way that you didn't like?” you hold up your own joke, walking over to the sofa and sitting down right next to him.

as if he couldn't bear to never touch you when you were always close, his hand automatically moves to your thigh, where he squeezes it affectionately, almost unconsciously, because it's something he always does.

his expression closes with pure suspicion. he simply doesn't understand what had happened for you not to answer that you loved him back. until that point, for him, everything was fine. wasn't it?

“you tell me, y/n.”

his expression is so serious that you can't help yourself and start laughing. you quickly jump into his lap, turning him from suspicious to confused by your reaction. you hold his face with both hands.

“do you want me to tell you that I love you?” you ask, this time with a touched smile on your face.

he's so beautiful. so dangerously beautiful for his own good and sometimes you don't really believe he's yours.

he squeezes your thigh a little harder this time, as a warning.

“every day,” he adds, seriously.

you kiss his lips, laughing.

“i love you. i love you, i love you, i love you,” you start repeating several times against his lips. “i was only joking before. i wouldn't let you go without that.”

his smile returns to his lips. it was so easy to make him happy like that, you think, caressing his cheek.

“well,” he complains. “you almost did. now i'm going to be late for training because you're going to try and convince me that it was all a joke.”

you laugh and cling to him.

“wow, i fucking love you.”

jude bellingham

with things finally sorted, jude opens the door and you get out of bed just to follow him and take the opportunity to get a glass of water, since it's your day off and you're going back to your room.

“i'm leaving, baby. i love you, see you later?”

“yes, of course. good practice,” you say and walk into the kitchen.

jude blinks, confused. his eyebrows arch up, frowning as he tries to search for something in his memory that he can't recall. your answer was different from usual.

with that in mind, he opens the door and leaves, but still doesn't move to the elevator. instead, he reaches into his pocket for his phone, unlocks the screen and opens the group immediately.

“guys, did anything weird happen last night?” he sends the text and waits.

last night there was a small party at valverde's house, which you two joined and drank a bit. maybe jude did something he doesn't remember that upset you.

the answer comes almost immediately and he reads it.

“strange, like...?” camavinga asks.

“i don't know,” he types. “something that pissed y/n off?”

“what the fuck are you talking about, bellingham?” he reads the text from vinícius.

“i just said goodbye to y/n and she didn't say she loved me back”

on the other side of the door, you pick up your phone in your room, looking at the notifications. as you read everything, you laugh heartily.

“jude, you know I'm in the group too, right?” you send.

jude opens the door again after reading your message and goes straight to your room. he finds you sitting on the bed, still laughing, and you look up when you notice his presence, staring at him amused.

“so...?” he asks you, expecting an answer to the same question as before.

you laugh again and put your phone away. you get up and walk over to him, placing a kiss on the tip of his nose.

“nothing weird happened last night,” you reply, with a playful smile. “i was only joking, darling. of course i love you”

you nearly laugh again at the relieved sigh he lets out and the way he holds you so tightly, kissing your lips.

joão félix

hanging his bag over his shoulder, joão kisses you on the temple in farewell, while you're still finishing your coffee to start getting ready for work, since you don't have to arrive until later today.

“i'm on my way. i love you,” he says, moving from the kitchen worktop to cross the hall to the living room.

“alright, i'll see you later!” you reply, pouring a little more milk into your coffee, without looking at him, appearing a little distracted by your task.

you don't notice that he didn't cross the hall. he just stands there, as if waiting for something, which doesn't come. that's not how you normally say goodbye, so he's instantly alert.

turning around, joão appears at your side again, hugging you from behind, his hands around your waist in a very tight way, giving you the chance to smell his perfume even more closely. you chuckle, not expecting this attitude from him and turn your face to him, frowning.

“is everything all right?” he asks, a little hesitant, and kisses your shoulder affectionately.

the whole time his eyes are on you, as if he's studying your reaction, looking for something he didn't notice before or missed.

“yes... why wouldn't it be?”

you know why he's asking, but you don't say anything. you just carry on. just a little longer. even though you're sorry to see him with that expression of someone who thinks he's done something wrong, but hasn't yet found out what.

“like, there hasn't been any more shit gossip that you've been tagged in, right? anything like that?”

you lick your lips, staring into his eyes. ever since you started your public relationship, some people have been cruel enough to say things about you cheating on him, like his ex, that you wouldn't know how to take care of his heart and other shit. at first, this affected you and also worried joão, but then you dropped all those negative comments, focusing only on the good things with him.

“no, darling, there hasn’t” you reassure him, kissing his lips quickly, turning to face him, his hands never leaving you. “why now?”

he squeezes your waist.

“ah, you didn't say you love me back” he replies. “and you always do, right?”

you finally let out a laugh. he's confused, so you wrap your hands around his neck.

“i was joking, love,” you say, smiling. “i got you used to it, didn't i?”

relief washes over him instantly and he smiles.

“wouldn't that be a bad thing?” he tries to correct.

you widen your smile and shake your head.

“no, i've got you used to it very well,” you reinforce. “because that's the least you deserve: to hear every day that i love you. i love you.”

so he just kisses you, his heart warmer than ever, even though it's cold in chelsea.

pablo gavi

“did you get everything? aren't you forgetting anything?”

gavi checks his bag once more, making sure he hadn't forgotten anything after your question. when he seems sure, he quickly denies it with his head. 

“no, all set. shall we?”

you nod and pick up your own bag. you walk out together and enter the elevator hand in hand. you didn't live together, but sometimes you spent the night and went to work in the morning from his place, since some of your things were there and it made your life easier. it had been his idea and, even though you hesitated a little, you ended up accepting.

the elevator leaves you both in the parking lot, where your car is.

“see you later?” he asks and you nod, remembering that you were getting used to sleeping there more than once. “i love you.”

he kisses your lips and you return it, pulling away soon after.

“see you later, sweetheart.”

you say goodbye once more and walk to your car, ready to be on your way.

gavi stands still for a moment, trying to take in what has just happened. he watches as you get into your own car and drive past him, blowing a kiss into the air, but he can't even smile.

he stands there for a moment, feeling confused and odd, the situation was odd. you said goodbye to him in a strange way. 

now he was going to barcelona training with his head a little distracted. he couldn't keep up with the banter with the boys or do his best in practice. he seriously thought something was wrong with you, but no matter how much he thought about it, he couldn't figure out what. 

his teammates asked him if he was all right or what was going on that had him so distracted, unable to concentrate one hundred percent on training. he would give a vague answer and carry on, even though his mind was wandering towards an answer that wasn't coming.

he thought a lot. about everything. about anything. he thought about texting you, but gave up. you always received a message from him every time he arrived at the training center, but this time he didn't. gavi simply didn't even think about it, his mind wandering back to the moment you said goodbye, trying to find out what had gone so wrong.

he tried to remember if he had missed anything, but he couldn't find it.

hours passed and it was time to go home again. you arrived first, a little tired, but you tried to prepare some homemade dinner to welcome him. gavi always arrived at the same time every day, on time, but on this one, he was ten minutes late.

you waited, sitting on the couch, watching some reality show that you didn't follow much, but that was what was passing your time. ten minutes later, you heard the door click.

when you turn to look at him, gavi goes off first, without even expecting anything beforehand.

“i just can't do it,” he begins, dropping his bag with his training stuff. “i've been thinking about it all day and i still can't reach a conclusion.”

you suppress a smile, but you're still a little confused.

“gavi?”

he looks at you, his shoulders slumped, his puss in boots expression.

“did i do something? are you upset about something? did something happen?” he fired off without taking a breath.

you pause the show and turn completely towards him, still sitting on the couch. you knew exactly what that meant, but you thought it would be fun to take it further.

“what do you mean ‘something?’ what are you talking about?” you play the fool.

gavi takes a deep breath. that had been torturing him all day. not even the smell of home-cooked food calms his nerves.

he approaches the couch.

“you didn't say you loved me back this morning,” he explains.

you try, but you can't suppress your laughter. you put your hand to your mouth, trying to control yourself, and gavi's expression changes.

“what's so funny?”

“baby, i was joking,” you confess.” i love you, gavi.”

you get up, trying to approach him while standing on the couch.

his mood changes. his eyes narrow towards you, trying to take in what you've just said.

“wait a minute, what?”

you laugh again.

“i was only joking. i didn't say i loved you this morning on purpose.”

you try to kiss him, but he pulls away, his expression tight.

“you…” he shakes his head, disbelieving that you had done it on purpose. he can't believe that he was stuck on it all day, while you knew it was a joke.

of course you let him think about it all day.

“that was ridiculous,” he says, still shaking his head and walking away, without giving you a chance to get closer and kiss him. “ridiculous, y/n.”

he walks down the corridor towards his room, totally shocked that it was all a joke, although part of him was relieved that everything was still fine and that he hadn't done anything wrong.

“come back here, it was a joke, baby!”

trent alexander-arnold

after checking his watch and realizing that he'd have to hurry if he wanted to be on time for practice, trent slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his keys from the bedside table. you were in the kitchen cleaning and rearranging some glasses to make room for the new wine ones you got as gifts. you'd almost forgotten about the prank you'd planned, but you only had to feel trent's kiss on your neck for a mischievous smile to appear on your face.

“i have to go, i love you. don't forget to check our reservation later.”

“ok, i'll let you know when i've confirmed it,” you replied, giving him a kiss.

trent smiled and made his way to the living room, then stopped. his head tilted slightly as if he were experiencing a sudden lightening.

“aren't you going to tell me you love me?!” he asked, still standing in the same spot.

“what? sorry, i'm distracted.”

“last chance!”

the sink tap was turned on, followed by other utensil noises. trent squinted his eyes and came back into the room to look at you – you really looked busy, too busy.

“hi, love. do you need anything else?”

trent arched an eyebrow.

“no, i'm on my way. love you.”

“ok, text me when you get there.”

silence.

“yeah, i'm going to spend a few days at dom's, good luck without me.”

he then dashed to the door, slamming it hard.

“what? trent!”

when you got there, you couldn't move the handle. it clearly wasn't locked, so you laughed in frustration when you realized what was going on.

“trent, i love you! it was a joke!”

you knew your boyfriend was considerably stronger, but you still tried to force the door once more. to no avail.

“oh yeah? now you do? didn't convince me.”

“you're going to be late!”

“this is more important, it's a life lesson.”

“fine! now let me see you and apologize properly,” you asked, resting your forehead on the door.

you stepped back when you felt the doorknob move slowly. there he was with the most unbearable expression of all and with his arms crossed, you soon knew that you would have a lot of work to do to make up for this great and terrible mistake.

you moved closer, uncrossed his arms and put them around your body.

“i love you very much, i just wanted to tease you with a little prank,” you said as you spread kisses along the length of his neck. “but you already knew that, right? you know i wouldn't let it slide.”

trent pouted, pretending to think about it, which shocked you. when you tried to pull away, he brought you back, smiling again – a genuinely cheeky smile.

“i know something would be very wrong if you'd forgotten, it's just that you're a pretty bad liar, so it was easy to figure out your little game.”

trent pressed a lingering kiss to your lips.

“just don't do it again, or i'll have to come up with my own pranks too.”

pedri gonzález

“damn, i'm really late,” you say, picking up the car keys and throwing them to pedri, who always seems to forget them when he goes out.

he picks up his bag and phone, quickly answering a message and looks up to see you putting on your heels, ready to leave together.

“i can drop you off at work,” he offers.

you wave your hand in denial.

“that means you'd be late, since it's the opposite direction. and we both know how coach flick feels about being late.”

he can't disagree and he knows you're right, but even so, his expression drops and you notice.

“it's okay, love. i've already called an uber,” you reassure him and pick up your own bag. “shall we?”

the two of you leave together and he locks the door to the apartment. since you always arrive first, he gives you back the key, because he always forgets to make his own copy, and you take the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

“did gavi confirm dinner?” you ask.

“yes, we're coming together,” pedri replies.

you nod and when you finally reach the parking lot for pedri to take his car, you check on your phone that your uber will arrive in front of the building in two minutes. you tell him so.

“i'll see you later, then.” he leans in to give you a kiss and you reciprocate. “i love you.”

“good training, love,” you say and say goodbye, turning to leave.

you hide a smile, proud that you managed to remember to play a little prank on him before you left. pedri is confused, the gears of his brain turning slowly as he processes the fact that you didn't say you loved him back.

then you feel a hand grab your arm and turn you around – it's him.

“pedri?”

“should i apologize to you for something?” he asks, his voice a little uncertain.

“do you think you need to?”

the panic takes over his face and you can see that he's trying to remember what he did wrong. it was more likely that he wouldn't find out and would send a text to the boys, asking how he could best apologize, even if he didn't know what the mistake was.

“did i leave the wet towel on the bed again?” he asks, first try. “jesus, fer gave out my number again and some girl called and you got it all wrong?”

“fer hasn't done that since the last time i scolded him.”

you try not to laugh when you see how desperate he is.

“pedri, i have to go. the uber's coming.”

“no!” he holds your arm tighter. “you can't leave without telling me what i need to apologize for. you didn't say you loved me back.”

you laugh, giving up. the plan was really to leave without telling him, but his genuine distress made you realize that you couldn't let him torture himself the whole way wondering what he'd done wrong and what he needed to apologize for. you'd rather he concentrated one hundred percent and entirely on training.

“i was only joking, okay? there's nothing for you to apologize for, love.” you approach him, caressing his cheek affectionately. “not even for the towel, which, by the way, yes, you forgot it wet this morning.”

pedri rolls his eyes and pinches your waist lightly.

“no funny business, y/n.” he snorts.

but his unhappy frown doesn't last long when you kiss his lips gently, this time being the one to apologize. 

“i couldn't resist,” you say. “i really have to go now. i'll see you later.”

“and...?” he encourages, still not letting go.

you chuckle and hear the uber notification.

“and i love you.”

it's only when he finally seems satisfied that he lets you go, but still makes you delay a minute longer with a kiss on the lips.

heungmin son

you brought the jacket that heungmin had forgotten on the couch, so he could finally close his suitcase. he was preparing for the season with the Korean national team, so you took the opportunity to spend your days off together. this time you couldn't join heungmin on the trip because your work schedule didn't allow it.

the drive to the airport was smooth, while you hummed along to the songs on the radio, heungmin took the chance to doze off in the passenger seat - his hand resting on your thigh the whole ride. 

you parked at the entrance to the airline gate, as you had to say goodbye to him there.

“send me a picture of the snacks in first class on this plane,” you asked excitedly, even though it wasn't the first time.

heungmin laughed.

“i love you, take care on the way back and let me know when you arrive.”

you pressed his cheeks with your hands and kissed him several times.

“have a good trip.”

heungmin pulled away and stared at you with a broad smile. then he got out of the car and you opened the trunk so he could get his things. in the rearview mirror, you noticed when he closed the door and stared into the distance with a question mark on his face. it took you a great deal of effort to hold back your laughter when he tapped twice on the window right next to you.

“i'm going now, i love you.”

“all right, take care,” you said, and gave him another tender kiss.

however, heungmin didn't move, leaning his elbows on the door.

“honey, i'm going to get fined if i stay here another minute.”

“i'm not worried about that. is everything alright?”

“everything's fine, did we forget something? do you want me to go back and get it?”

“i think i might have missed something, because you haven't said you love me.”

you pressed your lips together, unable to contain yourself in front of his worried expression. although you knew that heungmin would be fully capable of paying any fine, you didn't want to spend money on this kind of nonsense.

“it was a prank, my love. i love you, ok? now get going, because i don't want you to be late, and i don't want to spend money on an airport ticket.”

he stayed there, watching you, analyzing any sign of a lie. analyzing you like someone who has made a mistake and doesn't want to repeat it.

“heungmin!”

“fine, but you're not geting off that easy,” he warned, then walked away.

“come here, give me one more kiss.”

“no, rethink your actions. i'll see you when Ii get back.”

“heungmin, no! i love you!”

you could see his satisfied smile as he walked towards the airport entrance. a honk made you take notice of your surroundings again, but that wasn't what worried you. you honked back.

“i'm leaving, damn it!”

a few hours later, you saw the notification with a text from heungmin.

baby: [photo] i've already written down the names of the things that were served to us on the plane. i'll buy them for us when i think you deserve them again.

y/n: cruel

baby: only fair

mason mount

"have a nice day, sweetheart. i'm heading out. love you."

you were still curled up in bed. the day off came at a good time, because you felt completely exhausted and all you wanted to do was rot in that bed. it was unfair that mason had to leave, but you accepted it, not having much to do, but you thought you'd play with him a bit, before he left.

"have a good game this weekend. text me when you get home, yeah?" you mumbled.

mason nodded and was about to close the bedroom door and let you go back to sleep, when he realized what had just happened. you didn't say it back. you always did, it was something that came out automatically and genuinely from both of you, but not this time.

he put his hand on the doorknob and went back to looking at you in bed, your eyes alight with a mischievous gleam that he didn't notice.

"is everything alright?" he asked, worried.

mason wasn't usually insecure with you, he simply had no reason to be. so when something like this happened, he got worried that something was wrong and he didn't notice.

"yes," you answered, falsely confused by his question, when you knew where it's coming from.

mason shook his head slowly, processing. he dropped his bag on the floor and stepped closer to the bed, stopping right next to you.

"are you sure?" he continued, looking for something in your expression.

"what is it, mase?"

he let out a frustrated sigh. you could tell he was struggling to understand what was going on.

"you know you can tell me anything, right?" he reinforces.

"mase. love."

you got up, pushing the sheets away from your body, sitting up in bed.

"you didn't say you loved me back. is something wrong?"

"love, i don't..."

your heart squeezed when you saw his expression.

"because i say i love you every day in the most sincere way i can. come on, tell me, what happened? i can cancel my flight right now and we'll sort it out."

"mase, what? no!"

he couldn't be serious about canceling his flight and not being at the game this weekend, for goodness sake! it was an important game and he was still earning his place in the team, you would never let him do that, even if there was something wrong.

"baby, i was joking. of course i love you back." you giggled, leaning your forehead against his.

"what?" he let go and you laughed even harder. 

"that's not funny, y/n! you scared me."

"sorry, sorry!" you rushed to say, kissing his lips."it was just a prank. no canceling flights, okay?"

he shook his head, his lips almost forming a pout.

"i'm not convinced it was a prank. are you sure there's nothing wrong?"

him doubting you made you realize that the prank didn't go as planned. however, you also learned that it was important to him, in a way you hadn't imagined.

"there's nothing wrong, i promise."

he arched his eyebrow.

"really?"

this time you rolled your eyes.

"mason. you don't believe me?" you fire back.

"i just...” he tried to say, but you interrupted him.

"i love you. yesterday, today, tomorrow. the rest of my life. i love you."

he finally seemed convinced and held your face with both hands, foreheads still pressed together.

"even if things go wrong?"

"especially if things go wrong."

he smiled. so openly that you found yourself melting for his beauty again - secretly.

"i'll never get tired of hearing that."

[judebelle]

trent being a clingy needy bf? xx

menace - t.a.a. x reader

a/n : i’m so fucked w finals season but it’s almost break for me 😇 just gotta make it thru this week 😞 also i made this a drabble SORRYYYY but i think this is better short and sweet!

cw : swearing, clingy trent obv, reader getting increasingly more annoyed throughout the course of the fic, sexual insinuation, fluff

pairing : trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

wc : 704

---

it started off as bearable, but god, as the day progressed, you couldn’t deal with him anymore.

the him being sir trent alexander arnold.

it had just so happened that you and trent had aligned a few days off at the same time. this was a rare occurrence since your busy schedules kept you swamped 25/8.

this was the first of many days off. you just needed to get some things done around the house, but trent had other plans.

you almost took up his many offers to just lay in bed all day, but you knew you would feel better if you got things done first.

of course, trent wasn’t making this easy on you.

“c’mere, beautiful,”

“please stay here, just for a few minutes.”

“so sleepy, just nap with me for an hour, please!”

you had to resist the urge to physically roll your eyes at his constant pestering. you had to put your foot down and stop him before you ended up giving in.

“no, trent! i have to finish some things up, i’ll be done soon.”

he was still cuddled up in the bed when you finally left the bedroom to head to the kitchen. you began putting away clean dishes and cleaning the counter tops. as you wiped it down, you felt two strong arms wrap around your waist.

“y/n come back to beddd~” trent whined while propping his head on your shoulder to get a better look at what you were doing that was so important. you could feel him kiss his teeth when he saw you cleaning.

“i said, wait. if you keep annoying. me, it’s just gonna take longer!” you groaned when he didn’t let go of your body. “trent, let go. i need to go get-“

“you look so sexy in these shorts, just come back to bed.” you felt his hands slide down to cup your ass.

you rolled your eyes, a smile forming on your cheeks. “you can’t seduce me into going back into bed!” you sing songed as you turned to face him. his arms had you trapped in between him and the counter. he still his droopy eyes and his hair was a little frizzy.

you swiftly ducked out of his grip from under his arm and headed to your office, turning on your computer to print a few things. you heard the soft shuffling of socks on the floor, and low and behold-

“can you just come back, pleaseee!”

“stop it! how old are you? just give me a few minutes.” you had started to whine like a two year old, his complaints giving you a headache.

you placed the papers down and pushed past him to go to the living room, cleaning up blankets and books laying around. you grabbed the watering can and started tending to your wilting plants. all of a sudden-

“ah- get off me! trent! let go, now!”

your feet were hovering over the floor thanks to your boyfriend who had had enough of waiting. he threw your body over his shoulder easily and walked towards the bedroom.

you kicked your legs around, trying to wriggle out of his grip. you slumped against him when your efforts to escape from his death trap went in vain.

“this isn’t funny, y’know?”

he chucked despite your comment. “i can’t wait any longer, sorry.”

a stubborn smile broke across your face before he threw you onto the bed. you bounced onto the fluffy mattress with a gasp. “trent!”

he giggled softly before throwing himself down on top of you. “oww, trent you’re not light!” you found yourself laughing as he kissed your neck.

“shhh, just wanna cuddle.” he reached over and pulled the duvet over the both of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. he eventually let you breathe by rolling onto his side a little bit. you finally gave into his touch with a sigh, throwing your leg over his hips.

you reached your arms around his neck and nuzzled your head into his chest, his scent all over his wrinkled shirt.

“god, you’re a menace, you know that?” you laughed into his embrace and he responded by hugging you tighter.

“you love it.”

[deartrent]

mum's emotions — taa

summary: pent-up emotions and frustrations as a first-time mom finally surface when you find yourself in the familiar arms of trent

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!reader

notes: my first ever post on here. didn't really come out the way i intended, idrk if i like it, but let me know what you guys think!!

what you felt was wrong. you knew it was wrong on so many levels. you couldn't help but feel the way you did though. seeing trent take care of your baby so naturally, as if he'd experienced being a father before, sparked something inside of you that you didn't know you were capable of feeling. you couldn't tell if it was anger, disappointment or jealousy. all you could think of was how come i carried that baby for 9 months, just to be the worst mother of all time?

trent noticed your frustrations. he could tell when he'd come home from training and you'd greet him coldly or shoot daggers when he'd steal the baby from you, the cries stopping as soon as he held her in his arms, so gently. you were never the type to verbalise your feelings and trent knew not to push you to that point either, but he also knew you were slowly reaching your limit. he wished he could stay home more often to help you out, to take some of the workload off of you, but his schedule didn't allow him to.

"look she smiled," trent turned your daughter to face you, unaware that you had been observing them for the past two minutes. their smiles resembled so much, something you had prayed for way before getting pregnant.

it took everything in you to fake a smile, masking the emptiness you felt inside. trent could sense your mind was racing, your silence speaking louder than words. his heart ached seeing you in this state, reminiscing on the bubbly version of you prior to giving birth.

"she can sense your emotions you know," trent spoke after getting no reaction from you, walking over to where you stood, with your daughter against his chest, "when mum's stressed, she will be too, i read it somewhere." you felt vulnerable as trent towered over you, trying his best to read your facial expressions. you hadn't been too verbal lately, with trent having to rely on body language. he had no clue the reason you hadn't been verbal was the inability to hold in tears whenever trent would try and have a conversation about anything baby related. instead of confiding in him, you chose to distance yourself.

you didn't know how much longer you could hold everything in though, and without a single warning, you felt your eyes well up, a burning sensation confirming that your tear-filled eyes had turned bloodshot red by now. trent was caught off guard, not knowing what to do next. this was the first time you'd shown a different emotion than anger and annoyance since the baby had arrived.

trent's first instinct was to put the baby down on the playmat, before engulfing you into an embrace you didn't realise you needed until your face sunk into trent's chest, the all too familiar scent and sense of warmth, comfort and security washing over you. you sobbed into his shirt, his large hands caressing your back as he tried soothing you.

"please talk to me babe, tell me what's on your mind," trent begged and for the first time since bringing your daughter home, you thought of trent, instead of yourself. you thought about how he must've felt, being a first time parent himself and having to deal with taking care of the baby on one hand, but on the other hand having to deal with an angry, irritated girlfriend, not knowing what exactly is going on because you simply did not communicate with him. you could only imagine how scary and lonely it must have been for him.

"i just need a break," you sobbed, barely audible but you knew if anyone would understand you, it would be trent. "i don't know what i'm doing, i don't know if i'm feeding her correctly, i don't know if i'm dressing her warm enough, all she does is cry and i have no idea what she wants. i'm just a shit mother, i wasn't made for this." you took the opportunity to dump all of your frustrations.

"stop, don't say that," trent pried you off of him to create a little distance as he held your face with both hands, wiping away your tears with his thumbs, "you're doing great, i promise. she's alive, she's healthy, that means you're doing a good job." trent tried reassuring you, your breath shaky from all the sobbing. "she's crying, because she senses your emotions," you melted into trent's hands, the eyes you were so in love with fixated on yours, making your surroundings disappear, "she just wants you to be happy, we both do." guilt was the next thing you felt.

you felt guilty because you'd left trent in the dark, taking your frustrations out on him, while all he wanted to do was help, "i'm so exhausted trent, i can't remember last time i slept a full night," you continued your rant, "i miss just cuddling with you and not be interrupted," you could see the corner of trent's lips turn upwards, igniting the same warm, fuzzy feeling you'd been feeling ever since the first day you'd met; the one thing that hadn't changed since the birth of your baby. trent placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, before placing your head on his chest once more, "you know, i have a day off tomorrow, i can ask my mum to babysit and we could just stay in bed all day," trent suggested, earning a chuckle from you.

you could feel trent's heart beat against your temple and as you further sunk into his arms, you realised just how blessed you really were. you couldn't imagine having a baby with anyone other than trent, the idea of building a family with him easing your mind. he was everything you wanted and from the moment you told him you were pregnant, you knew that you and your baby were in safe hands. and that was all that mattered.

"i would love that," you looked up, pressing your lips to his luscious ones in a kiss you didn't know you craved.

[insidekatmind]

Cinema~ Levi Colwill

Wearning: +18,smut

A cool December evening, the air smelled of freshly fallen rain as you walked beside Levi Colwill, your boyfriend. His steps were relaxed, but you noticed the furtive glance he cast at your face every few moments. You knew he wasn’t entirely thrilled with the evening you had planned: going to see Moana 2.

"Are you sure you don’t prefer to watch a movie... I don’t know... something a bit more thrilling?" he asked with a smile while holding your hand in his.

"Thrilling? Levi, Moana is pure magic, adventure, incredible songs! It’s everything we need after a stressful week!" you replied, a spark in your eyes.

Levi raised an eyebrow, the amused smile curving his lips. "I’m not sure it’s as stressful as scoring an own goal in practice, but sure, tonight the choice is yours."

Once inside the cinema, the atmosphere was warm and inviting, with the smell of popcorn filling the air. Levi let you choose the seats, and of course, you opted for the central ones, "the best view in the whole theater," as you proudly declared.

Levi sat next to you, resting his elbow on the shared armrest. "You know, I haven’t watched an animated movie since I was a kid. I was more of a superhero kind of guy."

"You’ll like it, trust me!" you insisted, grabbing a big handful of popcorn from the bucket you bought.

The movie started, and you were immediately swept away by the gripping soundtrack and vivid colors. Levi, on the other hand, couldn’t take his eyes off you. Every now and then, he smiled, watching you softly hum along to the songs or lean forward during the more intense moments of the story.

"Do you like it?" you asked halfway through the film, noticing his fixed gaze on you.

"A lot..." he replied in a low tone, but his eyes betrayed the true object of his interest.

You raised an eyebrow. "You’re not watching the movie, are you?"

"I’m watching something much more beautiful," he said with a half-smile.

Your cheeks reddened, but you tried to keep the tone light. "Levi, focus! This is the moment when Moana finds the second talisman, it’s really important!"

"Not as much as you," he whispered, leaning in to whisper in your ear.

You tried to ignore him, returning to the movie, but you could feel the warmth of his presence beside you.

Levi laid a hand on your uncovered thigh as you were wearing your skirt and began to stroke it.

Look at Levi for a moment and notice a hint of innocence on his face as he pretends not to notice what he is doing to you. As soon as he is sure you are looking away, keep moving his hand higher on your leg, now his hand is on your thigh, his fingers slowly come closer under your skirt and slightly moves your underwear to make a flat finger enter and you groan.

"Love" you whispers and Levi puts a hand in front of your mouth.

"Shh baby keep watching the movie" he says and you nod.

Levi keeps moving his finger in and out of your pussy and grunts quietly. " So wet and tight for me" he whispers near your ear and you groan and lift his hand back to your mouth.

"Shh" he whispered playfully into his ear, placing a small kiss on your neck, trying to make you shut up. He was enjoying every little noise you were making and knew that he wanted to hear more.

Levi puts another finger in your pussy and touches your g-spot and you whine scratching his arm.

He can’t hold back a small smile while you cry. He knows you’re trying to be silent, but it’s obvious that you’re struggling and he was enjoying every moment.

His smile widens when he feels you move against his hand, your body responding to every touch. The sound of your silent whimpers excites him and he knows he wants to hear more.

Holding your hand over your mouth to dampen the sounds, move your other hand towards the inside of your thigh, stroking your skin as it whispers in your ear "Be quiet, princess. We don’t want to be caught, do we?" He smiled as he hit your g-spot harder, making you moan, his touch became more sharp and intense.

You groan and kiss him fiercely as you groan in his kiss. You kept moving your hips towards his fingers as your hands went over his hair pulling.

The kiss between you two has become more and more intense, your bodies clenching each other. Levi gives a small growl as you pull his hair. He couldn’t believe how well you felt, and the way you pulled his hair sent even more heat through his body. His hands continued to give you pleasure and you got closer to him as he deepened the kiss.

"Levi" groans. He was completely under your spell as he listened to you pronounce his name.

The way you spoke his name in a breathless whisper made him want more.

His fingers hit your pussy harder, giving you more and more pleasure. He whispers to your ear again "Come for me baby" and you groan feeling coming on his fingers.

He ticked you a little more your g-spot and your legs started to tremble and you came on his fingers and kiss him with passion.

Levi hears you tremble against him as you kiss him with an intensity he will never get enough of. He holds his mouth against yours, trying to hold that feeling as he finally comes out to catch his breath.

"You will kill me," he says in a low voice as he looks at you, his breath heavy and his eyes darkened by desire.

Take your fingers out of your underwear and lick your juices. The sight of Levi licking fluids from your fingers was breathtaking. You couldn’t help but give a little whimper as you looked at him, his eyes never left yours. The look that was looking at you filled your stomach with butterflies and you were struggling to find words to express how it made you feel.

You whine softly and kiss him. The kiss was soft, a complete contrast to the kiss you had shared just a few moments ago. You rest your head on his shoulder and watch the rest of the movie. Levi puts his arm around you, holding you close against him. He lets his fingers gently play with your hair, enjoying the feeling of having you so close to him.

You feel a warm fuzzy feeling spread through your chest as Levi whispers, 'you're absolutely beautiful' to you. You couldn't hide the smile on your face as you leaned further into him, feeling completely content and safe in his arms. The movie continued to play in the background, but you were more focused on the boy next to you than the movie itself.

You look down at your hands, interlocked together. You can't help but smile at the way his fingers are threaded between yours, his grip warm and familiar. Seeing the way he was holding your hand made your heart flutter, the gesture made you feel a strange mix of being safe but also wanted

At the end of the film, when the lights came on again, you turned to him.

"So? Did you like it?" You asked with a smug smile.

Levi paused, as if he was seriously thinking about the answer. "The movie? Cute. But my favorite scene was watching you sing all the songs with so much passion but it was nice when you came on my fingers too."

He laughed when you tried to hit him with an imaginary pillow. "Alright, alright! It was nice, really. But next time, let’s pick a horror movie."

You smiled, taking his hand as you walked out of the theater. "We’ll see."

And as you walked through the cold December night, you felt that, even though Levi hadn’t fallen in love with Moana 2, he was still deeply in love with you.

[jude5bellingham]

imsg ౨ৎ trent alexander-arnold

[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 [eventually smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking ]

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

Chapter 1 - Trent. | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 12.5k

The first time Trent bought you a gift, it was for your birthday—years ago, when everything between you was still in that gray space. You couldn’t name it if you tried but it wasn’t friendship but it certainly wasn’t something else. It was subtle at first, the way things were changing. He wasn’t even supposed to come to your party. He had a match but he made the effort to drop by for a little while. He didn’t make a scene or grab attention; it wasn’t like him to do that. But there was something about the way he navigated through the crowd, like he was looking for someone in particular. You. When he found you, standing near the edge of the party, he smiled, the kind that didn’t quite reach his eyes, because there was something he was holding back, something he didn’t know how to say.

“Hey, happy birthday, pretty girl,” he said. The nickname he’d called you for ages made your heart ache every time. He leaned in to hug you. It should've been quick, casual, nothing out of the ordinary. But the moment his arms were around you, you felt a warmth spread through your chest that only he made you feel.

“I didn’t think you were coming?” You smiled back at him.

“Yeah,” he nodded, glancing around at the crowd before dropping his gaze to you again. “I can’t stay long, but I, uh… I wanted to give you a little something on your actual birthday.” He smiled as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small, neatly wrapped box.

“Oh…Thanks… that’s really sweet, T. What is this?” You stared at it for a second, a little surprised. It wasn’t awkward as much as it was charged. 

“Just something I saw and thought of you,” he said simply, though the weight of those words hung in the air. You blinked, taken aback.

“You think about me?” You asked. He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he smiled, almost shyly, and ran a hand over his hair. 

“Uh yeah,” he admitted earnestly, but almost embarrassed. He thought about you a lot and he could never tell you just how much, so his voice was soft. It made your heart skip in a way you hadn’t expected. There was a pause, the kind that felt heavy with everything unsaid between the two of you. Your fingers trembled a little as you opened the box. Inside was a necklace—delicate and beautiful, not over-the-top in looks but you knew the price tag was almost stupid. It was Van Clef, it was a gold little diamond butterfly and it just felt… right. It felt very you and Trent. Like something if you knew, it was extravagant but on the surface it looked like something so simple. It sparkled in the light, and you could immediately tell how much thought he had put into picking it.

“T… this is gorgeous,” you breathed out, lifting it out of the box to admire it closer.

“I’m glad you like it.” He watched you, his eyes softening. Without thinking, you stepped forward, wrapping your arms around him in a hug again. But this time, it was different—charged in a way that had never been there before. His arms circled around you, and you could feel the way he pulled you in tighter, almost as if he didn’t want to let go. You rested your head against his chest, the soft sound of his heartbeat steady in your ear, and the warmth of his body seeped into yours. It was the kind of hug that made the world fall away. You were vaguely aware of the party continuing on around you, the laughter, the music, the clinking of glasses, but all of that seemed distant. All you could focus on was the way his hands rested on your lower back, the way his body fit perfectly against yours, and how easy it would be to stay like this. The hug lingered, far longer than what anyone could consider appropriate for two friends. You both knew it, but neither of you pulled away. It felt like you were both standing on the edge of something, something that was just waiting for one of you to acknowledge. But neither of you did. Instead, you stayed wrapped up in him, in that quiet moment that felt suspended in time. When you finally, reluctantly, pulled back, your eyes met his, and for a brief second, the space between you felt charged with all the words neither of you had the courage to say.

“Thank you, T,” you whispered, your voice soft but thick with something unspoken.  He smiled, but there was a flicker of something else in his expression—something deeper.

“You’re welcome, pretty girl, happy birthday.” Your fingers brushed against the necklace, still cradled in the box. You hadn’t even put it on yet, but already, it felt like it meant more than just a birthday gift. It felt like a secret, something that was just between the two of you. After he left that night, you went up to your room and immediately clasped the necklace around your neck. The weight of it was delicate but constant, a reminder of him. You wore it every day after that, like a piece of him was always with you, even if no one else knew what it meant. And in the days that followed, you caught yourself touching the necklace absentmindedly, like a reflex. Whenever someone asked about it, you’d smile and brush off the question, but inside, it felt like the necklace was tethered to a part of your heart that Trent had unknowingly claimed. You hadn’t yet figured out what it all meant, but every time you saw him after that, it was there—hanging between the two of you, unspoken but undeniable. It wasn’t just a necklace. It was a shift, a turning point, a moment where you could feel something deeper taking root. You wore it like a secret, but deep down, you knew the truth. You weren’t the only one thinking about him. Trent was thinking about you, too. More than he could ever say.  The necklace tethered you to him in ways you hadn’t yet fully realized. You wore it every day, and though no one else knew it was from him, he knew. It was like a private, silent confession, a symbol of something growing between you two, something neither of you had the courage to speak aloud. Even when you were with other guys—laughing with them, holding their hand, even kissing them—Trent would notice the necklace hanging against your skin. It was a quiet, painful reminder that no matter how close anyone else got, you were still wearing something of his. His. Trent winced every time he saw it. The sight of you with someone else, another guy’s arm draped around you, it hurt more than he liked to admit. But it was the necklace, his necklace, that held his attention, keeping him tethered to you despite the distance he tried to keep. It killed him to see you with them, laughing, kissing, as if they had some claim over you. And yet, there was that small, irrational part of him that found solace in the fact that, even in those moments, you still wore something he had given you. 

That night, the night of your birthday, the hug—the way your body had pressed against his—was terrifying to Trent. The way your soft scent of cedarwood and violets lingered on his clothes long after you let go, the way your hands had touched him with that familiar warmth, all of it burned into his memory. He had hugged you countless times before, but this time was different. This time, it felt like you fit perfectly into him, like his body had been waiting for yours all along. And your laugh…  god, the way it sent him over the edge. That night, it was like his walls were crumbling, every instinct in him screaming that this was more than friendship, more than some passing crush. It was deeper, more consuming than he could have ever imagined. Suddenly, the idea of you and him wasn’t just some distant dream. It was real. He was completely attached to you now, and that terrified him more than anything. But what was he supposed to do? Jack was his best friend. Jack… your older brother. Jack… his best friend since primary school. Trent couldn’t betray him like that. He couldn’t act on these feelings, no matter how much he wanted to. He shouldn’t have been so drawn to you, but every time you were near, it was impossible to ignore the pull between you. So he kept his distance as best he could, leaving you tied solely by a sentimental gift.  He continued to see other girls, hoping it would distract him, help him forget. But nothing worked. Every time he kissed another girl, held another girl’s hand, there was a hollowness in his chest because none of them were you. They didn’t laugh like you, didn’t look at him the way you did, and they certainly didn’t smell like the Byredo al d'Afrique. Even as he pretended to move on, the memory of that hug—the way your body had fit so perfectly against his—haunted him. It was no longer just a harmless crush. He was in deep. And he didn’t know how to stop it. And the necklace, the first of many gifts that followed it, sitting atop your decalogue every day was just rubbing salt in the wound because no matter how much he tried to convince himself otherwise, Trent knew the truth. He wanted you. He was completely, undeniably attached. And that terrified him more than anything else. 

This year, It had been one of those birthdays you didn’t want to celebrate. The boy you’d been seeing had ended things, and you were still licking your wounds from the whole ordeal. Despite your reluctance, your best friend Layla and your brother, Jack had insisted on throwing you a party at the house. The decorations were beautiful, and your friends had shown up, making it as lively as it could be. But no matter how much you smiled, how many ‘thank yous’ you muttered, there was a hole in your chest that only one person could fill.

Trent. 

Your brother’s best friend—who, at this point, was just that. A best friend of your brother. Nothing more to you. Or at least that’s what you tried to tell yourself. Trent had been away for a match, he always was around your birthday so you hadn’t expected to see him at all tonight, but still, a part of you couldn’t help but pout as you realized he hadn’t even texted. He always texted. If he was away. He always made an effort. No matter where he was. It stung more than you wanted to admit. The night dragged on, drinks were poured, and laughter filled the air, but your mind was stuck on the absence of that one text message. You were lost in thought when you suddenly heard Layla’s voice, sharp and breathless, cut through the chatter.

"Oh my fucking God," she muttered, her eyes wide, fixed on something outside. Her hand gripped your arm tightly. You frowned at her, confused, but followed her gaze to the window. That’s when you saw him. 

Trent.

He was stepping out of a sleek Mercedes G-Wagon, a bow—an actual bow—wrapped around the top of the car like something out of a commercial. Your heart stopped, your breath caught in your throat. For a moment, you didn’t register the car, didn’t understand what it meant. All you could see was him.  He looked impossibly good, dressed in all black, his usual confidence radiating off him as he made his way up the driveway toward the house. Your mouth fell open, and you barely noticed the laughter that erupted around you. Jack and Trent’s friend Noah let out a booming laugh, shaking his head in disbelief.

"Trent, you’re tapped," Noah chuckled, clearly amused. Jack stood frozen for a second, staring out the window with his arms crossed. 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me." He shook his head slowly, mumbling under his breath, Your heart was in your throat, pounding loudly in your ears. You felt like the whole world had slowed down as you watched Trent approach. Your eyes hadn’t left him, too stunned to even react properly. The car, the bow, all of it started to sink in, but none of that mattered as much as the sight of him standing at the front door, about to walk in. He had messaged you. Not with words on your phone, but with something far more impossible to ignore. Layla squealed with excitement, grabbing you in a tight hug, her energy infectious as she bounced on her toes. You were still in disbelief at the sheer grandiosity of the gift, staring out at the car parked outside with its oversized bow. But despite your shock, it seemed like everyone around you had expected something like this—teasing aside, they weren’t that surprised. Layla leaned in close, her voice dropping into a sing-song whisper.

“He loves you,” she teased, drawing out the word with a knowing smirk. You shook your head quickly, a small laugh escaping you.

“No, he does not,” you said, trying to brush off the idea. You wished he did, but in your mind, that was far from reality. You were just Jack’s little sister, nothing more. 

“He’s just being nice.” Out loud, you were casual. Your tone was a little firmer, as if trying to convince yourself as much as her.  Layla grinned, nudging you with her elbow.

 “I wish boys were ‘nice’ like that to me.” She giggled. Meanwhile, Jack was dapping up Trent, shaking his head in disbelief but with a smile.

"You’re fucking insane, bro," Jack said, his voice carrying a mix of awe and amusement. "But… nice of you. She hadn’t been happy all night ‘til you showed up." Trent flicked his eyes to you, catching the beaming smile that had spread across your face. He smiled softly, a hint of pride tugging at the corner of his lips. He knew it wasn’t the car that had lifted your spirits. It was the fact that he’d made the effort to be here, to make sure your birthday wasn’t just another forgettable night. You walked over to him again, the warmth in your chest now overwhelming. You hugged him tightly, your arms lingering around his neck longer than they should have, his hands slipping lower than they should have. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, pulling back just enough to look up at him. “But I can’t keep something like this, T.” You cooed. He brushed off your words with a casual wave of his hand. 

“Nah,” he said, shaking his head. “It’s yours, pretty girl. It’s in your name as well so...”  He spoke softly and so you nodded, still overwhelmed by the gesture.

“Thank you,” you repeated, your voice softer this time. Then, in a moment of quiet vulnerability, you leaned in closer. “The car’s amazing, T, but I’m just happy you’re here. I’m so happy to see you.” You whispered. Trent’s smile softened as he pulled back to look at you, his eyes warm and full of something you couldn’t quite place.

“That’s all I wanted,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “You happy.” In that moment, standing so close to him, everything else—the party, the noise, the teasing—faded away. All that mattered was him and the way he looked at you, like you were the only person in the room. As the night stretched on, the earlier excitement of Trent’s arrival slowly blurred into the haze of laughter, drinks, and celebration with everyone. But naturally, as you always seemed to, you found yourself tucked into a cozy corner with him, your head buzzing with the warmth of alcohol and his presence. The two of you were caught in that space where the party seemed distant, as though the music, chatter, and clinking glasses belonged to another world. Here, in this little bubble, it was just you and Trent, giggling over some joke neither of you could remember anymore.  His hand rested on your waist, the touch light but electric, sending little shocks of awareness through you. You didn’t want him to move, didn’t want the moment to end. Each time you laughed, you leaned into him a little more, the casual way his fingers stayed on your side feeling like the most natural thing in the world. You both pretended like you didn’t know what you were doing—that the long looks, the lingering touches, and the proximity weren’t flirting. But they were, and you both knew it, even if neither of you was brave enough to say it out loud. You were swaying slightly, both of you tipsy, your heads fuzzy from the night’s drinks. The smell of his cologne wrapped around you, mingling with the scent of the air that breezed in from the nearby window. Your stomach fluttered with every laugh, your cheeks hurting from smiling so much, and all the while, his hand stayed at your waist, like an anchor keeping you steady. Then, someone from the party stumbled past, bumping into you and sending you careening into Trent’s chest. For a moment, everything slowed. His arms instinctively wrapped around you to steady you, pulling you closer until your bodies were pressed together. You looked up at him, your face mere centimeters from his, and time seemed to freeze.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly, his voice low and gentle, as though the world outside this corner didn’t exist. You nodded, biting your lip.

 “Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered, your words barely audible over the pounding in your chest. But neither of you moved. Your lips were so close, dangerously close. You could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, the heat between you simmering just beneath the surface.

“Okay?” he asked again, his gaze flickering down to your mouth for the briefest second.

“Okay.” You nodded again, your voice catching in your throat. 

“Okay.” He echoed. You two couldn’t get another word to even enter your brains. You were so fixed on these new feelings of closeness. 

 “Okay.” You smiled, breathless, and repeated. The word was like a lifeline, something to cling to as the air around you grew thick with tension. The more you said it, the closer you felt to losing control, but also, it was grounding. Keeping you both on the side of restraint. You both must have said it back and forth a dozen times, each ‘okay’ becoming quieter, softer, more charged. The weight of what wasn’t being said hung between you, heavy and undeniable. His eyes were dark, full of something that matched the way your heart was racing. The world felt like it was spinning, but not from the alcohol. It was him—his nearness, his hands on you, the way he was looking at you like he was holding himself back with every ounce of self-control he had. Despite the fog of drunkenness, there was a clarity in the moment. You both knew exactly what you wanted. It would have been so easy to kiss him. To close the gap and let the world slip away. You could feel his restraint in the way his fingers curled slightly into your side, in the way his breath hitched. You wanted it too. You wanted to close your eyes and let it happen, but something inside both of you whispered not like this. 

For Trent, it was about not wanting your first kiss, your first real moment together, to happen in a blur of alcohol, where the next morning was uncertain. He wanted it to mean something. To remember every second. His mind was a haze of swirling thoughts, but one thing was crystal clear—he couldn’t do this, not like this. He wanted more than just a fleeting, drunken kiss. His body was betraying him, his thoughts as slurred as his worlds but he knew… not like this. For you, the reasons were the same, but more. Not drunk. Not in public. Not after he gave you a gift like that. You couldn’t risk the night becoming about the car or about a moment you wouldn’t remember with perfect clarity. You didn’t want the first kiss to be lost to hazy memories. You wanted to be able to hold onto it forever. So both of you stayed frozen, neither willing to pull away, but neither ready to cross the line. The air between you hummed with unspoken desire, but you both clung to restraint like a lifeline, knowing that whatever this was, it deserved better than tonight. Slowly, Trent’s hand slid from your waist, leaving a ghost of warmth behind, and he took a small step back bumping into the wall behind him, breaking the tension but not the connection. His eyes met yours, soft but full of promise, like he was telling you without words that there would be a right time. Just not tonight. You let out a shaky breath, smiling at him, and he smiled back. The moment passed, but it wasn’t gone. Just waiting.

Trent and your feelings needed to be locked away and one of the largest reasons was Jack especially. Growing up without your mum left a gap in your life that never fully healed. Her absence was something you felt deeply, especially in those quiet moments when you needed her comfort the most. Your dad did everything he could to support you and Jack, but eventually, the weight of memories became too much for him. Once you and Jack were old enough, he moved away, explaining that staying was too hard, but he’d held on for you as long as he could. Even with your dad far away, he stayed close in his own way. Yet, you still felt a sense of isolation that seemed impossible to shake. Your only true constant was Jack. He was more than just a brother; he was family in every sense, and when he succeeded in his career, he’d insisted you live with him. It was his house, but your home. Jack’s success had brought him plenty of friends, but none as close as Trent. You remembered the first time you saw them together as kids, the two inseparable on a football pitch, laughing and shouting like they were the only ones who mattered. Your crush on Trent had grown from those early days, blossoming from something innocent into something you couldn’t ignore. Your mum used to always tease you about it and  you’d deny it but in retrospect she was right.  Watching Trent grow into himself over the years only made things worse—or better, depending on how you looked at it. Through your teenage years, you’d felt every moment of jealousy, angst, and longing when he showed up with a new girlfriend. Your crush wavered in intensity but never fully disappeared, flickering in the background as life moved forward. Now, though, it felt different. More possible. Jack was still oblivious, still the overprotective brother who’d sooner scare Trent away than entertain the idea of his friend being with you. But the way Trent had looked at you recently—the almost possessive glances, the magnetic pull between you—had left you wondering if the years of pining might finally be leading somewhere.

From the very first moment Trent walked through your front door, it was impossible not to feel the pull. And now…He was everything a girl could dream of: a sexy, successful Premier League footballer with confidence that was borderline delusional and a smile that made your heart race. Every time he visited, you felt that familiar rush of adrenaline. You’d sneak a glance in the mirror, adjusting your hair, making sure you looked your best, hoping he’d notice you more than just as his best friend’s little sister. And Trent did notice. His eyes had a way of finding you across a room, holding your gaze a moment too long, his lips curling into that lazy smile that sent a shiver down your spine. Whenever he spoke directly to you, his voice was lower, softer, meant just for your ears. You savored every second he paid you any special attention. His touches—casual brushes against your arm, a hand lingering on your back as he squeezed past you in the kitchen—felt like electricity on your skin. You lived for those moments, those fleeting touches, and the way he seemed to light up when he was around you. You dated other guys, tried to create distance, but no one could ever quite compare to Trent. Each new boyfriend felt like a distraction, a poor substitute for what you really wanted. And it was never easy. Whenever your dating life came up in conversation, especially in front of Trent, you hated it. You could feel his eyes on you, a heavy gaze filled with something unreadable, something that made your heart clench. He didn’t like it either—you could tell. He’d get quiet, tense, like he was holding something back, and you’d wonder what he was thinking. But you were off-limits. Trent had made that clear without saying a word. He flirted with you in ways that made your heart pound, yet he always knew just when to pull back, to keep things on the safe side of friendship. He was careful, disciplined, as if he knew that if he ever let himself fully give in to what was simmering beneath the surface, he wouldn’t be able to stop. And so, he kept you at arm’s length, even though you could see the desire flickering in his eyes, could feel it in every lingering touch, every stolen glance.

Jack was a nerd… and his friends were nerds… Trent was a nerd and you knew this because you knew them all too well. To the outside world, to girls that knew them; they were a friend group of objectively good looking successful men but you knew better than that. You had been tagging along for years. Every week, whenever their friend group would convene at Jack's house predominantly to watch films. It began unintentionally but now… you made sure you were home that day.  Your brother’s friend group had a tradition of movie nights—an excuse for a bunch of twenty-somethings to kick back in your brother’s house, or rather your house, enjoying each other's company and the latest blockbuster or old film they likely weren’t alive for when it came out but it was a ‘classic you have to have seen’ they’d tell you. They were a year or so older, all of them already finding their paths in life, with successful careers to boast about. It was one of the reasons you decided to live with your brother after graduating uni; that, and the lure of the sprawling, comfortable home he offered you. But, if you were being honest, the only success story you cared about was Trent's. Every time your brother mentioned one of these movie nights, you found yourself at home ‘by coincidence,’ always ready with a casual excuse about why you weren’t out with your own friends. Deep down, you knew why you stayed. You liked hearing Trent talk about his matches and his training, his voice animated with the passion he felt for the game. His presence in the room was magnetic, drawing your attention even when you tried to play it cool. Trent had a love for films that rivaled his love for football though. He cherished these nights, getting to be ‘normal’ hanging out with his friends and unwinding after a long week. But more than the movies, more than the camaraderie, what Trent loved most were those fleeting, stolen moments with you. When the group would start to drift towards the cinema room, you and Trent would linger in the kitchen, finding little excuses to extend those precious seconds together. Maybe it was grabbing a snack or pouring another drink, but it always ended up with just the two of you, your eyes meeting across the counter, a secret smile shared between you.

He’d take his time getting to the cinema room, always managing to sit next to you on the plush sectional. He loved the way you’d turn to him, your eyes bright as you asked about his latest match or teased him about something trivial. You didn’t even know it, but he lived for those moments—when your hand would casually brush his, or when you’d lean in just a bit closer, letting your arm press against his. The air would thicken with a tension neither of you acknowledged, but both of you felt deeply. There were times when you got a little more daring, your playful nudges becoming something more, your laughter a bit louder, your touch lingering. Trent would feel his breath catch in his throat, his heart pounding as he willed himself to stay composed. You had no idea how much those moments meant to him, how he silently prayed for them every time he walked through your brother’s door. He savored every second you paid him attention, every word you spoke to him, every shared laugh and every fleeting touch. Those nights were his guilty pleasure, a few hours where he could pretend, just for a little while, that the feelings he had for you weren’t forbidden, that there wasn’t an unspoken line he wasn’t allowed to cross. And every time you got a little braver, a little more handsy, you made it harder for him to keep pretending. 

For you, at those movie nights, it was like there was a magnetic force drawing you together. No matter how crowded the room was, you’d always end up next to each other on the couch, under the same blanket, your bodies instinctively leaning closer. Not too close but his arm would casually rest along the back of the couch behind you, his fingers sometimes brushing your shoulder, sending sparks through your skin. The air between you crackled with tension, a tension that both thrilled and terrified you. You’d tell yourself it was innocent, that it was just because you were comfortable with each other. But in those dark, quiet moments, you could almost hear the unspoken words that hung heavy between you. It was a game you both played—pretending that being this close, sharing these stolen moments, was enough. But deep down, you both knew better. There was something between you, something powerful and undeniable, just waiting for the right moment to break free. And until then, you’d keep circling each other, caught in a dance of longing. 

It was one of those balmy summer nights when your brother set up the projector in the back garden for a movie night by the pool. It was the first movie night of the summer, and the energy was already thick with a heady mix of warmth, laughter, and unspoken tension. The boys were sprawled out across the patio, beers in hand, enjoying the evening sun dipping below the horizon. And then you spotted him. 

Trent.

"I didn't know you were back," you grinned, moving to stand next to Trent out on the patio, all of the other boys wrapped up in conversation of their own. This conversation alone though had been what he was waiting for since he got to the house. 

"Yeah? Miss me?" he asked, his voice playful but with a hint of something deeper.

"Of course," you teased back, stepping into his embrace. The way Trent hugged you made your insides flutter… frankly it made you want to scream. He smelled like something familiar yet intoxicating, and the way your bodies fit together just felt right. His hands, as always, hovered just above the curve of your waist, teasingly close to somewhere more dangerous, igniting that tension you'd both danced around for so long. He meant that cuddle and you could feel it. Cuddles between you two know were like some sort of edging. It would get you off but never enough… not even close.

"Who am I supposed to sit with if you weren't here?" you teased, your voice laced with the familiarity of years of flirty banter. Ever since these movie nights started, you always ended up next to him-it was magnetic, almost like a tradition neither of you wanted to break.

"Well you're not sitting with anyone else," he said casually, but there was weight behind his words. Indirectly, Trent wasn't just talking about the movie. He meant it in a way that felt more like a promise, like he was staking a claim that went beyond who sat where on a garden chair. He was protective over you, in ways even your brother or anyone could never know. 

"No?" You shook your head, smiling.

"No," he replied, his eyes steady on yours.

"Besides, who else is supposed to listen to you yap during the films?" He smirked and it was deadly. His smile was devastatingly handsome and it made your stomach flip. 

"I don't talk that much," you quipped back, feigning offense. "You're so dramatic." you swatted at him, your fingers catching his chest just ever so slightly. 

"I'm not," he retorted, the corner of his mouth lifting. "You just don't shut up." His fingers found your waist, pinching playfully, but his hand lingered a little longer than it needed to, sending a shiver through you.

"Sorry, I won't make a peep this time." You bit the tip of your pointer finger holding it between your teeth in feigned bashfulness  unknowingly teasing him. He smirked, his eyes flicking over you with something between amusement and desire.

"Nah, don't do that. Your voice has become part of my favorite film scores now. Just meant to be in my ear." His words, low and teasing, held more meaning than you wanted to admit. You felt the heat between you, the invisible line you kept pretending didn't exist becoming thinner and thinner.

As more of their friends arrived you minded your own business trying to play nonchalant.  But you hung around. You were nearby, casually bent over in your bikini, picking up something you’d dropped near the pool. The moment seemed innocent enough, but you were oblivious to the eyes trailing every move you made. One of Jack’s friends, reclining in his chair, couldn’t help but groan as he watched.

“Mate, not gonna lie, she looks better every summer.” His voice was low enough that Jack, who was inside grabbing more drinks, wouldn’t hear. It was a fine line but one that existed where this friend group was close enough to tease you, treat you like the younger sibling you were but also just close enough to simultaneously be attracted to you. You were less than a year younger than some of them, you were grown, and they knew that. And in the summer, when Jack set up the movies by the pool… you were a more than welcomed addition to movie nights. 

“Yeah, no kidding,” Noah, chuckled in agreement, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer than they should. Trent was quiet at first, his jaw tight as he tried to keep his gaze elsewhere. But when he glanced up, seeing the way the sunlight caught your hair and how the curve of your body seemed effortlessly graceful, he slipped. 

"She’s fucking beautiful," he murmured, his voice softer than he intended.  “I mean.. She’s leng, you know?” He attempted to not wound so smitten but that was all the ammunition Noah needed. He shot Trent a look, grinning ear to ear, and shoved his shoulder with a teasing nudge. 

“Bro, sod off and just admit you want to sleep with her. How long are you going to drag this out?” The banter took off from there, the boys piling on with their relentless teasing. 

“Yeah, honest mate, stop pretending like you’re not into her,” another one quipped, the laughter bubbling up as they watched Trent squirm in his seat, struggling to deflect. Trent opened his mouth to defend himself, his words tripping over each other in the attempt to stay cool.

 “It’s not like that,” he tried, but the boys weren’t buying it. They roared with laughter, enjoying his discomfort far too much. Noah, never one to let an opportunity slip by, leaned forward, eyes gleaming with mischief.

 “Bro, we all know she wouldn’t think twice about letting you fuck her. Both of you are not fooling anyone.” He joked. Trent’s smile faltered for a second, but then it returned, a little weaker than before. His eyes betrayed him as they drifted back to you, drawn like a magnet, just as you stood up and turned around, meeting his gaze head-on. For a brief moment, everything slowed—the noise of the teasing boys faded, the laughter dulled, and it was just you and Trent, eyes locked in a moment heavy with something unspoken. You smiled at him, a casual, carefree grin, completely unaware of the conversation happening just feet away. The boys fell silent, their eyes darting between you and Trent, waiting for someone to make the first move, their teasing now hanging in the air like a challenge. Noah couldn’t resist breaking the tension. “Oi, Trentski, come on—tell me you two haven’t already hooked up?” The question hit Trent like a bucket of ice water. He straightened up, shaking his head a little too quickly, his voice firm and almost defensive.

 “Nah, nah! Jack would kill me if he thought anything was going on. I’m not stupid. Nothing happened.” He said it with conviction, but the boys saw through it. He wasn’t lying, nothing happened physically, but something was going on. Their teasing resumed, but Trent was barely listening anymore. His mind was racing, the banter and laughter just background noise to the thoughts swirling in his head. Not stupid, sure… But in that moment, watching you, the line between caution and temptation felt dangerously thin. Maybe not stupid, but a bit horny for you, he thought, the words playing on repeat in his mind as he shifted uncomfortably in his seat, hoping no one would notice. You walked over, oblivious to the weight of the conversation you’d just missed.

“What’s got you lot creasing?” you asked, looking around at the group, your eyes finally landing on Trent.

 “Nah, nothing. Just giving Trenty a hard time, as usual.” Before anyone else could, Noah blurted out an answer.  He winked at you, and you furrowed your brow, confused but not pressing the issue.  Trent smiled weakly at you, hoping to shake off the intensity of the moment, but as you stood close, your skin warm from the sun, he felt his pulse quicken. Every inch of him wanted to pull you closer, but he knew better. Jack would be back any second, and the boys were already wound up from teasing him. As you looked at Trent, you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes lingered on you, just a little longer than they should have. And when he smiled back, there was something different in it—something soft, almost vulnerable. It sent a warmth through you, one you tried to ignore, but couldn’t. The boys resumed their chatter, their attention drifting back to harmless jokes, but Trent couldn’t shake the feeling. Every summer, he’d watched you grow into yourself, more confident, more radiant, and every summer, it became harder to pretend he didn’t want something more. The line between you had always been there—unspoken but understood—and he’d never been foolish enough to cross it. Until now.

The sun had finally sunk below the horizon, casting a golden glow over everything but you stayed in your tiny bikini, relishing in the warm weather. You laid stretched out in a tiny fuchsia crochet set letting the evening heat soak into your skin as Jack got the film sorted. 

"Hey," Trent said as he came over, casually lying down next to you.

"Hi," you greeted back, glancing up with a soft smile. The way you were laying made your bikini push your tits together in a way you knew was hard not to notice. You couldn't help but tease, "I'm so glad it's finally summer." you cooed. 

"Me too," Trent replied, though his focus wasn't entirely on the season.

"Yeah, you should be," you giggled, your eyes flicking over his bronzed skin. "You look better tanned." You teased him.

"Damn, alright." He feigned offense, but the smirk tugging at his lips made it clear he wasn't too bothered by the comment. In fact, he liked that you were paying attention.

"Take it as a friendly suggestion," you teased, eyes sparkling. "Got any big holiday plans? You asked. 

"Eh, some," he shrugged, but his attention wasn't on the holidays. It was on you-how the setting sun hit your skin, the way you casually lay there, completely at ease but still making his thoughts stray. You muttered a quiet ‘cool’ though; feeling slightly awkward. You knew Trent had a life outside of this, outside of you, filled with other girls, holidays, a footballer’s luxury lifestyle but he'd never flaunted it in front of you. Still, the thought of him away from here, away from you, left a weird pang in your chest. "Is it?" he asked, a glint of mischief in his eye. He knew where your thoughts went and he wanted to drag you back into lightheartedness. 

"I don't know, you didn't tell me any details." You raised an eyebrow, biting on your finger with a flustered giggle. Unintentionally, Trent’s eyes were drawn to your lips.

"Maybe I don't want you keeping tabs on me," Trent teased, his gaze never leaving yours.

"I don't... I have zero interest in your whereabouts," you stuttered, caught off guard by the teasing tone in his voice and the way he was looking at you. You were lying and he knew that. Neither of you would say that though. 

"That color looks good on you. Take it as a friendly suggestion." He leaned in slightly, his voice lower as he said. You watched, heart racing, as his tanned hand reached over, squeezing just above your knee. His fingers slid up your leg, hooking slightly under the band of your bikini.

"Serious though, it looks good," he repeated, his touch lingering. You almost blacked out. 

"I got it," you smirked, swatting at his hand half-heartedly, pretending you didn't want him touching you when, in truth, it sent a thrill through you. "Thank you for your input. It's noted." You snapped.

"Good," Trent replied with a wink, his gaze lingering on yours a little longer than usual, leaving you breathless and wanting more. Noah watched the whole interaction between you and Trent with growing amusement, shaking his head before turning to Jack. 

"Mate, you just let him go on like that?" he asked, motioning toward Trent, who was snapping the band of your bikini playfully against your skin.

"They're mates," Jack brushed it off, trying to seem unfazed. "It's not like anything happens." Jack's tone was casual, but the truth was he tried not to think too much about the way Trent interacted with you and you with him. You were the most important people in his life and he couldn’t imagine it past that. He couldn’t risk imagining there being anything more because he couldn’t risk losing either of you. He knew you had a crush on Trent, and Trent entertained it, but Jack couldn't believe Trent would actually act on anything. He laughed, trying to brush the situation off. "As long as it's not you, geez. At least I know Trenty doesn't have an STD." Jack smirked. Noah scoffed. 

"Aye, Y/N, whatever happened to that Manny lad you were seeing?" Another boy, grinning, piped up. You blinked, brought out of the blissful haze of being near Trent, who was now lying beside you but his hand retreating after the other boys attention shifted to you. 

"Oh... just stopped talking, I guess," you answered, your tone casual but clearly uninterested. That wasn’t really what happened but it was an easy answer.

"So he pied you, huh?" Jack teased, clearly enjoying getting a rise out of you.

"No, I got bored," you snapped back, shooting Jack a glare. The relationship ended because the guy you were seeing was nicely put.. Insane. Also, neither of you were that interested in the other but Jack and his friends didn’t need to know the semantics. The details would probably enrage Jack so you let them think otherwise. 

"Yeah, sure," Noah sarcastically added with a laugh, fueling the banter. You rolled over onto your stomach, attempting to ignore them, but you could feel Trent's eyes locked on the curve of your ass as your bikini shifted with the movement. The reverb of your ass had him locked in.

"So... bored, huh?" His gaze was hot, unmistakable, and he leaned in, his voice quieter now, meant just for you. You hummed in response, feeling the weight of his stare. Trent knew you had been seeing people here and there, and it always bothered him, though he tried to suppress the feeling. He tried to ignore this one, he really did. But this one specifically? The fact the guy you’d been seeing had played for a rival football club? It stung in a way Trent wasn't ready to admit. The idea that it was over, though, thrilled him more than it should have. Trent lowered his voice even further, leaning closer. "In what department? Besides the club he plays for?" He smirked.

"All of them," you replied with a knowing smile, your eyes gleaming as you added, "Bedroom specifically." You confirmed the answer he was skirting around. Trent smirked, his gaze darkening as he processed your words. 

"Interesting, interesting. Y/N, you're always interesting," he muttered, he tapped fingers near your knee, the tension between you two palpable. His gaze flicked back up to your eyes, and for a moment, the rest of the world-the jokes, the boys, the movie night-faded into the background. There was something simmering between you two, unspoken, but undeniable.

You were sprawled out on the couch, wallowing in the aftermath of said breakup days later. It wasn’t that you still had feelings for the guy, you knew your heart lied somewhere you couldn’t entertain but the sting of rejection lingered, clinging to you in a way you hated. Frankly, he treated you like shit, you should’ve been relieved you were out and you’d tried to brush the whole thing off, but the hurt of being left behind always cut deep. He blamed you for whatever and ended things and you hated being ‘broken up’ with. Your solution, as it had often been, was to go out—to drown the pain in loud music, drinks, and distraction. It was irresponsible but you found solace in losing yourself. 

“What’re you up to this weekend?” Jack asked, dropping his bag by the door. He came home and saw you lounging on the couch, barely moving. You didn’t even look up.

“Going out Thursday, Friday, Saturday, and brunch on Sunday.” You told him in a monotone voice. Jack shook his head, clearly disapproving. 

“I don’t like it, Y/N. You gotta chill. That kid was a prick anyway. You don’t need to do this” He told you. Jack was right, he was a prick but that barely scratched the surface describing how messed up he was but you’d never let your brother know. But what Jack did know was your habits. He knew you had a way of not necessarily acting out but finding comfort in strangers when things got scary, probably not in the healthiest way. You just hated being alone. You knew he knew all this so you bit your lip, not in the mood for another lecture, but your stomach twisted with his words. 

“Whatever,” you muttered, shifting on the couch. Jack had his own way of coping with the way losing your mum affected you both. You went out looking for detachment whereas Jack was looking for meaning in relationships. In your opinion, it always seemed to be with people who were playing games with him. And lately, it involved spending more time with Megan, a girl he’d been seeing.

“I’m going out tonight with Megan,” he announced, and you immediately kissed your teeth, rolling your eyes.

“What?” he asked, frowning now.

“Nothing,” you replied, but the tension was unmistakable. He wasn’t going to let it drop.

“Y/N, what?” he repeated, a little more forcefully this time. “Go on… tell me.” He quipped. You sighed. 

“I just don’t think Mum would like her.” The room went quiet for a moment. You didn’t know why you said it, but it slipped out before you could stop it. Jack stared at you for a beat, his expression softening. He felt bad so he let out a long sigh, shaking his head but smiling faintly. 

“Y/N… I don’t think Mum would like what you’re doing either.” His words hit harder than you wanted to admit. You knew he was right. You’d been using going out as an escape, not a solution. Still, you weren’t ready to deal with any of it just yet, so you kept quiet. Jack stood up, getting ready to head upstairs. 

“Noah and Trent are coming over later, they’ll probably stick around till I’m back, yeah?” As he left the room, he called back casually. Your heart immediately skipped a beat at the mention of Trent. Jack’s best friend, your longtime crush, the boy who had been increasingly hard to ignore lately. You sat up on the couch, feeling the familiar mix of anticipation and nervousness churn in your chest. Trent was coming over, and suddenly, your evening was looking a lot more complicated.

You and Layla were standing in the kitchen, both sipping on iced coffee and talking about the party you had planned to go to later. The energy was light, and you were trying to distract yourself from your recent split by laughing about it. Trent was walking nearby, just out of sight, but within earshot as you rambled on walking back from the toilet.

"I just want a man who knows how to properly fuck me. I’d like him to actually know where my clit is this time," you blurted out, clearly letting your frustrations slip. "I mean, like, after all the crap with him, I deserve someone who knows what the fuck they're doing in bed, you know?" You laughed and Layla agreed wholeheartedly. Trent, who had been casually walking back to Jack and Noah in the other room from the toilet, froze the moment those words left your mouth. His mind short-circuited. Every fiber of him wanted to walk into that room and say something, but instead, he felt a surge of heat build up inside him. He couldn't think straight. This is what you were thinking about? He could show you. He could be the one to do that for you. He knew what he was doing in the bedroom. He could feel himself getting hard just hearing you talk like that. He needed to leave. He couldn't be around you right now, he couldn’t hear you right now, not with those thoughts filling his head. As Trent made his quick exit, trying to steady his breathing, Layla leaned in closer to you, smirking. 

"So, what's your dream man then? Tell me more about this man who apparently knows where the clit is," she teased, eyeing you as you thought for a moment. Without missing a beat, you started listing off traits, unaware of how specific it was getting. You went through physical traits first. 

“Like deep brown eyes, that can flick from sexy to cute really fast.” You told her as you continued to rattle on. "And athletic, someone who can actually keep up with me. He has to have a sense of humor, be a little protective but not in a weird way, you know? And, like, I just want him to look at me like I'm all that matters.” You cooed. Layla let out a playful laugh, nudging you.

"So….Trent?” She teased you. You waved her off. “Y/N, you just described him to a T!" Your eyes widened as it clicked, and you burst out laughing, slightly embarrassed but also secretly acknowledging the truth in her words. Meanwhile, Trent, oblivious to this part of the conversation, was already long gone, desperate to get himself under control and not think about what you had just said. You and Layla headed upstairs to get ready and after the lengthy process you came downstairs looking dressed to kill in a dark red leather set. Trent’s jaw slacked whereas Jack lips pulled tight in annoyance. 

"Y/N, that skirt is too short," Jack said, his voice stern as you walked into the living room.

His eyes narrowed in disapproval, making you roll yours. Layla, standing beside you, took your hand with a mischievous grin and spun you around for effect. 

"Give us a spin!" Noah teased, his laughter making the room feel light. You playfully obliged, your matching set on full display for your audience as you spun holding Layla’s hand. 

"Jack, I’m not changing, it's a set!" you whined, tugging on the skirt a bit. It was a good outfit, after all.

"Y/N, go change," Jack said again, his tone serious. Before you could respond, Trent, who had been leaning against the wall, stood up and casually walked by you, his presence sending a wave of tension through the room. As he passed, he leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear. 

"Can see your ass," he whispered, his voice low and teasing. You froze, trembling slightly at his words, your mind racing.

“And..?” The whispered question slipped out before you could stop yourself, turning to face him, your heart pounding. Trent smirked, taking a step back, eyes lazily traveling down your body. 

"That was all I had to say. Just wanted you to know." He cooed the words with a wink, leaving you on edge, a mix of frustration and desire coursing through you. Fuck, You just wanted to to ask him to just grab you right there. The desire to tell him to take this stupid outfit off you was nearly overwhelming. Your breath hitched as a thousand unspoken words passed between you. Jack, completely oblivious to the charged moment, snapped you back to reality. 

"Y/N, don't bring anyone home tonight." He told you. You blinked, refocusing on your brother. 

"I won't," you cooed innocently, giving him a smile as if everything was perfectly fine.

Trent smirked, stretching his arms above his head, looking every bit like a man who had just won some sort of conquest. There was a quiet confidence in his stance, as if he knew he had gotten under your skin but also that you wouldn’t get with anyone else tonight.  He didn't even need to say more-he knew where you both stood, and it felt like the beginning of a game you were both playing but refusing to name.

Late that night, you stumbled into the house, laughing with Layla as you both attempted to be quiet but failed miserably. 

"Laylaaaaa," you slurred, giggling as you tugged at the hem of your too-short skirt, "all he did was wink at me! And honestly, that did more for me all night than any man with his hands on me did!" You waved your hands dramatically, completely oblivious to the fact that Noah and Trent were still at the house, forgetting what Jack had told you. You really should call them roommates and not Jack’s friends for how often they overstayed. Layla snorted, steadying you as you wobbled on your heels. 

"You are such a mess," she teased, trying to help you get your shoes off as you stumbled through the entryway.

"I just want his lips all over meee," you whined, pouting dramatically, and unaware of the fact that your voice was now carried into the living room where Trent was sitting. Noah glanced over at Trent, his brows shooting up in amusement as he heard you. You didn't even realize you'd been overheard, lost in your drunken haze. You didn’t need to say a name. They knew. Trent sat up a little straighter on the couch, eyes glued to you as you staggered into the house. His face was neutral, but his jaw tightened as your words lingered in the air. Noah shot him a look and smirked, clearly entertained by the situation.

"So, how was your night?" Noah called out loud enough for you two to hear, the teasing tone in his voice unmistakable. Layla shot him a playful glare. 

"Don't make things worse, Noah," she said, though her lips were twitching with amusement. Trent, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke up. 

"Y/N," he said, his voice smooth but commanding, "c’mere." Your heart skipped a beat, the sound of his voice sending a shiver down your spine. His tone wasn't playful or teasing like Noah's-it was firm, and it cut through your drunken fog in an instant. You turned to face him, your eyes wide, and despite the alcohol in your system, the weight of his gaze made you feel giddy. Without even thinking, you moved toward him, your steps a little unsteady but your focus completely on Trent. You dropped down onto the arm of the couch beside him, still smiling, but your stomach was in knots. Why was he looking at you like that? You couldn't quite read him, and it made your heart race. "I'm glad you had fun tonight," Trent said, his eyes not leaving yours. His voice was calm, but there was something in it that made you hold your breath. "I'm glad you made it back home... with Layla." Trent's voice was teasing now, but there was an underlying intensity in the way he was looking at you that made your skin tingle. His hand brushed against your knee, and even though it was a light touch, it sent sparks through you. His hands moved to hold your thigh to steady you from falling. But the way his massive hand looked, squeezing your thigh and the way he emphasized ‘with Layla’ implying he was glad you didn’t come home with a man sent a thrill through you. You bit your lip, trying to play it cool despite the fact that your heart was beating so fast you were sure he could hear it.

"Yeah?" you cooed, leaning slightly closer, drawn to him without even realizing it. You giggled at absolutely nothing. 

"Yeah," he nodded, his voice soft, his eyes locked on yours with a heat that made you squirm. There was a cheeLay glint in his eyes. He couldn’t not be mildly amused by you. You were grinning, your heart pounding in your chest as you stared at him, and for a moment, everything else fell away. The sounds of the house, the fact that Noah and Layla were still there—it all melted into the background. All you could focus on was the way Trent was looking at you, his expression unreadable in your state, but his gaze unwavering. It felt like there was a magnetic pull between the two of you, and for a moment, you almost leaned in closer, your lips parting slightly as your body reacted instinctively. Noah, still watching from the other side of the room, exchanged a glance with Layla, but neither of them said anything. The tension between you and Trent was palpable, and it seemed like everyone in the room could feel it. You swallowed hard, trying to keep your cool. You couldn't remember the last time you'd been this close to him, or felt this aware of every single movement he made. And as much as you tried to play it off, your body was betraying you. The butterflies in your stomach, the way your pulse quickened with every glance-it was undeniable. Finally Layla pulled on the back of your top dragging you off the arm of the couch. You stumbled to stand. You swayed on your feet, eyes barely focusing as you leaned heavily into Layla’s grip. 

“Layllllaaaa,” you whined, drawing out her name in a drunken slur, but she hushed you quickly.

“I know, I know, just shhh,” Layla whispered, firmly grabbing your shoulders and trying to steer you away from the living room where Noah and Trent were still watching, both amused and concerned. You weren’t having it though. You tried to lean toward her, but your balance betrayed you. 

“I think he’s so pretttyyy,” you whispered—or at least, you thought it was a whisper. In reality, it was loud enough for everyone in the room to hear. Your eyes landed on Trent again, and your sloppy grin only grew wider. Layla let out an exasperated laugh, her grip on you tightening. 

“You’re gonna die tomorrow,” she muttered under her breath, trying not to laugh too much. Noah snickered, leaning back on the couch. 

“Y/N, no.” He laughed. “Embarrassing this,” he teased, shaking his head. “Layla, get her to stop.” You waved off Noah’s comment, your eyes still focused on Trent, who was watching you with a mixture of amusement and worry. His brows furrowed as he stood up, clearly ready to help. 

“Alright, need to get you to bed, drunk girl” he said, his concern more for your well-being than your drunken confession.

“No! No, you… stay right there, thanks, T, ” Layla said quickly, her eyes wide as she turned to face Trent, trying to keep him from getting closer. She knew that the moment Trent moved toward you, you’d start spilling even more of your feelings, and that was not something either of you could handle right now. Trent hesitated, watching you carefully as you stumbled a little in Layla’s grasp. He knew Layla was right, but his instinct to make sure you were okay was hard to ignore. He caught your eyes again, and for a second, you stared back at him, your drunken haze making you bolder than you’d ever be sober. “She was talking about a guy from tonight by the way,” Layla told them, trying to cover for you but it was a poor attempt. Her own words slurred slightly with a laugh. Trent’s lips twitched, and Noah chuckled. Layla was quick to save the moment, dragging you toward the stairs. “Okay, seriously,  time for bed,” she announced, shooting Trent a look as if to say please don’t do anything else. As Layla guided you to the stairs, you couldn’t help but glance back at Trent one more time, your heart still fluttering despite the alcohol in your system. His eyes followed you, and for a moment, you swore he almost smiled, but he caught himself, shaking his head slightly. You were a mess, but something about the way he looked at you made your heart race, even in your drunken state. You slumped down on the stairs, too tired to get up them and drunk to carry yourself any further. “Okayyy, come on, we’re going upstairs,” Layla coaxed, looking down at you with a sigh. Turning to the boys, she teased, “You guys have a good night wasting away your 20s.” She shot Noah and Trent a look, knowing they could be out having fun, but had opted for a quiet movie night instead.

“At least we’re not wasted!” he retorted, grinning at Layla. Noah laughed, raising his drink in mock cheers. But Trent wasn’t amused by the joke. He stood up, his face serious, and moved over to where you were sitting on the stairs. 

“Layla, seriously,” he quipped, giving her a knowing look. He understood the caution before but this was just dragging on. You needed to get to bed. So then he turned his attention to you, his voice softening. “C’mere you,” he said gently, and before you knew it, he had effortlessly scooped you up into his arms.

“Hiii,” you whispered softly, your voice slurring as you looked up at him. Your faces were close, so close that you could see the small cluster of freckles just under his eye, something you’d almost forgotten was there.

“Hi,” he replied, a gentle smile tugging at his lips as he glanced down at you.

“You’re nice to me,” you earnestly confessed with a giggle, your words filled with drunken sincerity.

“I am,” he confirmed with a quiet chuckle, agreeing with you as he adjusted you in his arms, holding you securely. You gazed up at him, your drunken haze giving you a boldness you wouldn’t have had otherwise. 

“Do you think I’m pretty?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. He hummed thoughtfully, his eyes briefly scanning your face. 

“I do,” he admitted, but then added with a teasing smile, “And you’re also drunk, so get to sleep for me, yeah?” You gave a small, tired nod as he carried you into your room. Layla followed closely behind, making sure you didn’t stir up any more drunken confessions. As Trent laid you down gently on the bed, your head spun, but his presence was oddly comforting and igniting wild ideas in your head.

“You’re pretty too,” you mumbled drunkenly as your eyes fluttered open and shut, too tired to see his reaction. Trent smiled to himself, brushing a strand of hair away from your face before stepping back. Layla watched him with a knowing look but didn’t say anything, giving him space to exit quietly but he didn’t. "Laylaaa, the skims," you whined again, your voice slurring as you fumbled with the hem of your top. You were too drunk to manage even that simple task, your arms flailing in frustration. All you wanted was to get out of your clothes and into your favorite pajamas. Layla, herself a bit unsteady but far more sober than you, stumbled toward your dresser, trying to locate the pajamas you always begged for after a night out. 

"Okay, okay, I'm getting them," she muttered, half-laughing as she rifled through the drawer, her own movements slowed by the alcohol. Meanwhile, Trent stood frozen by the door, his eyes catching on the scene before him. You, in your half-dressed, vulnerable state, were peeling your top off over your head, exposing more than you probably realized. His heart raced, and he suddenly found it very hard to look away. This wasn't the first time he'd seen you drunk, not by a long shot. But something about tonight felt different. The way your words had tumbled out earlier, drunk but still sincere— it was all seared into his mind. It wasn't the usual teasing banter he'd come to expect from you. It was raw, unfiltered, and it came directly from you this time, not overheard in the midst of a party not passed along by "T... you can go now," Layla interrupted sharply, snapping him out of his daze. Her voice cut through the fog in his head, reminding him of where he was and that he was dangerously close to crossing a line. She glanced at him with wide eyes and a cheeky grin clearly noticing the tension in the room.

"Uh, yeah, right. Shit, sorry," Trent mumbled, shaking his head like he was trying to clear the thoughts clouding his mind. He turned on his heel, moving toward the door as quickly as he could without looking like he was fleeing. But even as he walked away, the image of you

-tipsy, carefree, peeling off your clothes in front of him-stayed with him. Your tanned smooth skin, the ridge of your spin, the lace of your bra… it was all too much. His mind replayed the way you looked up at him earlier in the night, your gaze soft and inviting, and your words played on a loop in his head. He could still smell the faint hint of your perfume, still feel the crackling tension that had built between you. He shut the door behind him, leaning against it for a moment, breathing heavily. His heart pounded in his chest. He had to get himself together, or at least pretend to. Back in your room, Layla was still rummaging through the drawers, finally pulling out the set you wanted and tossing it onto the bed.

"Here, now get changed, you lush," she teased, her tone light but her eyes flickering with concern as she glanced at the door Trent had just exited from. You struggled into the pajamas, not noticing the shift in Layla's demeanor, or the way she seemed more aware of the strange charge that had filled the room. She hadn't missed the way Trent's eyes lingered a little too long on you, the way he hesitated as if he were fighting something within himself. "You're a mess, you know that?" Layla laughed, trying to bring the mood back to something light as she flopped down on the bed beside you. You giggled, too drunk to realize what had just happened. 

"But I'm your mess," you teased, hugging a pillow as you settled into the bed. "Mmmm, I want a cuddle," you whined, shifting around in bed, trying to get comfortable grabbing a pillow. You buried your face in the pillow, but it wasn't the comfort you were after. Layla, sitting next to you on the bed, smirked.

"You can cuddle with me," she teased, pulling the blanket over you both and nudging you playfully.

"Nooo, I want a pretty boy," you pouted, your mind already drifting to Trent. You imagined what it would've been like if he hadn't left the room earlier-if he'd stayed, laid down next to you, and pulled you close. Layla raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous smile. 

"Oh, you mean the pretty boy who carried you upstairs and stared at you while you took your top off?" she teased, wrapping an arm around you and squeezing you tight in a playful hug. You could feel the laughter bubbling up between the two of you. "His nonchalance is such a fucking  gimmick," she continued, shaking her head with amusement. "I've seen the way he looks at you when he thinks no one's watching." You giggled, burying your face in your hands as a warm blush spread over your cheeks. 

"Did he... like my tits?" you asked through a fit of laughter, your voice slurring slightly. A bluntness that was carried by alcohol. Layla chuckled, rolling her eyes. 

"I think so," she said, playfully shaking her head. "Pretty sure that was the highlight of his night."

You both burst into laughter, the room filling with the sound of your drunken giggles as you clung to each other. Even in your tipsy haze, your thoughts kept drifting back to Trent. "Okay, sleep please," Layla begged, her voice tinged with both amusement and exhaustion. "You can suck his dick later," she added with a teasing laugh, trying to reel you back from your wild thoughts. You grinned mischievously, your eyes glinting under the dim light of your room. 

"Mmm, I know it's big," you replied, almost dreamily, your head still spinning from the drinks and the charged energy between you and Trent. Layla groaned, shaking her head with a laugh.

"Y/N! I was kidding.” She laughed. “You're losing your mind! You can't do this to him," she scolded gently, though the smile on her face betrayed her own amusement at the situation. You huffed, trying to justify the tension that had been crackling between you and Trent all night. 

"Maybe he wants it toooo," you insisted, drawing out the last word as if it made the case stronger. You could still feel the weight of his gaze from earlier, the way his hands felt when he carried you upstairs-it was all too real. Layla rolled her eyes, though her expression softened as she looked at you. 

"Doesn't mean it should happen," she cautioned, her tone more serious now. "Jack's your brother, and Trent's his best friend. You're both walking a tightrope, and you might be taking it a little too far." Drunk or not, you knew she was right. Layla knew how much you liked Trent but she also knew how important Jack was to you. The alcohol made it easy to blur the lines, to give in to temptation, but Layla's words lingered in the air, a reminder that there was more at stake than just a one-night fling. As you drifted off to sleep, the night's events began to fade into the haze of alcohol. But for Trent, the feeling lingered. He knew you weren't just Jack's little sister anymore, and tonight had made that painfully clear. He wondered what would happen if you both ever acknowledged what was brewing between you, a tension that seemed to be growing stronger with each passing day.

•

Thank you for reading! I hope you like the beginning of this new series! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what you think is to come!

Next part - Chapter 2 - Bruises xx

[srngrque]

kiss and make-up.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You were fucked.)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[starlitmelanin]

ᡣ𐭩ྀི birthday blues; t.alexander-arnold

pairing - trent x varsity!fem!reader

word count - 2.9k

warnings - none

summary - you’re stressed out about trent’s birthday, because what on earth do you get a man who already has everything?

it's not like you can just roll up with a box of chocolates and call it a day. this man's used to the best of the best, and while he's never made you feel like you weren't enough or didn't fit into his world, the reality is you're still a varsity student, still trying to stretch your monthly budget to cover textbooks, takeout, and the occasional night out with your girls.

and trent? well, trent can have anything he wants, whenever he wants. you've watched him casually browse designer websites like he's scrolling through twitter, picking out shoes that cost more than your rent with a kind of nonchalance that makes your head spin.

so, no, a simple birthday card from the campus bookstore isn't going to cut it. this is your first birthday together as a couple — you've got to make it special.

but how?

like, you've been lying in bed for hours now, phone in hand, scrolling aimlessly through shopping websites, pinterest, and even resorting to typing "what to get your rich boyfriend for his birthday" into google. nothing is helping. in fact, everything's making it worse. because even though you've got a list of ideas in your notes app, none of them seem to match up to the weight of what you feel this gift should be.

"babe, you don't have to go all out," trent had said during a conversation you had with him earlier in the week, flashing you that pretty smile that somehow makes everything feel like it'll be fine. "whatever you get me, i'm gonna love it. i'm just happy to spend the day with you."

but that's the thing, though. you want to go all out. he deserves it. even if he's not asking for it, you know he would never say anything if you just showed up with something basic—but it would eat away at you. you'd remember it every year.

so, yeah, no pressure or anything. just your sanity slowly slipping away as the days inch closer to his birthday and you still have no clue what to do.

your friends have been no help either. a bunch of suggestions that are either way too expensive or feel way too impersonal. "just get him something sentimental," one of them had said, but you're not even sure what counts as sentimental when you've only been dating for a few months.

like, are you supposed to pull some dramatic pinterest diy project out of nowhere? is that your lane now? because you're not crafty. you're not about to break out the arts and crafts just to end up frustrated and glue-stained.

you're definitely overthinking this, and you know it, but you can't stop. you keep picturing the day itself. like, what if you get him something and he likes it but doesn't love it? what if he's too polite to say it but deep down, he's thinking, "wow, she really couldn't put more effort into this?"

it doesn't help that every time you bring up his birthday, trent just brushes it off like it's no big deal. "it's just another day," he says, shrugging, but you know it's more than that. his birthday is a big deal to you because he's a big deal to you.

you can't let this flop.

days are passing by faster than you'd like, and you still haven't made any progress. now it's the weekend before his birthday, and you're sitting on the floor of your apartment, surrounded by discarded ideas. you've gone from designer cologne (too basic) to a surprise trip (too expensive) to planning a cute dinner night in (too... ordinary?).

it's gotten to the point where you're spiralling. full-on stress mode. you're overthinking everything, imagining how disappointed he might be, how awkward the whole thing could feel, and for what? he hasn't said anything that makes you think he's expecting something grand, but it's like your brain is running on a loop, replaying worst-case scenarios.

you're deep in your thoughts when your phone buzzes. it's trent. a simple text.

trent: wanna come over?

you sigh, conflicted. on one hand, you'd love to see him and spend the day wrapped up in each other like you usually do, but on the other hand, you feel like you should be using every spare second to figure this gift thing out. but it's trent, and maybe seeing him will take your mind off the stress for a bit. so, you grab your keys and head out.

when you get to his place, trent's already waiting for you at the door, looking casual as ever in sweats and a hoodie. he greets you with a grin that immediately makes some of the tension in your shoulders ease up. you can't help but smile back, even though the stress is still simmering in the back of your mind.

he pulls you into a hug, kissing the top of your head as he mumbles, "missed you."

"you saw me yesterday," you laugh softly, burying your face in his chest, inhaling the scent of his cologne. it's the same cologne you thought about getting him for his birthday, but now that you're here with him, it feels too safe, too... expected.

"still missed you," he murmurs, pulling back slightly to look at you. "you okay?"

God, how does he always know?

"yeah," you lie, but it's not convincing. trent raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying it, but he doesn't press. instead, he just leads you inside, hand slipping into yours like it always does.

you spend the afternoon curled up on the couch, watching some random show neither of you are really paying attention to. trent's arm is draped over your shoulders, his fingers occasionally brushing against your arm, but your mind keeps drifting. keeps thinking about the damn gift.

it's not until he asks, "you sure you're alright?" that you realise you've been quiet for too long.

you glance up at him, debating whether or not to just tell him. you don't want to admit how stressed you've been about something that probably seems insignificant to him. but trent's looking at you with that soft, patient expression, and before you know it, the words are tumbling out.

"it's just... your birthday," you mumble, picking at the hem of your shirt, avoiding his gaze. "i wanna get you something special, but i don't know what to get you. you have everything already."

there's a pause, and for a moment, you worry you've said too much. but then you hear him laugh. not in a mean way, but in that gentle, amused way he does when you've overcomplicated something in your head.

"babe," he says softly, cupping your chin and turning your face so you're looking at him. "you don't have to stress over that. i don't need anything fancy or expensive. i just wanna spend time with you."

you feel your chest tighten a little because, logically, you know he's right. but still... it's his first birthday with you. it feels like it should be more.

"i know," you mumble, eyes flicking away from his. "but i just want it to be perfect."

"it will be," he promises, leaning down to steal a kiss. "because you'll be there."

and maybe that's all that matters, but still...

—

the next couple of days are a blur.

classes, assignments, and late-night scrolling sessions trying to figure out the perfect present. you've moved past the point of practicality. now, you're grasping at straws. googling things like "unique gifts for the man who has everything" and getting absolutely nowhere. your notes app is full of crossed-out ideas, your stress level rising with each passing day.

by the time thursday rolls around, you're a full-on wreck. trent's birthday is next monday, and the thought of showing up with something underwhelming—or worse, empty-handed—has you on edge. you've always been the type to put pressure on yourself, to want everything to be just right, especially when it comes to people you care about. and trent? well, trent's at the top of that list now, no question.

it randomly hits you at 2:19 in the morning, that spark of inspiration you were so desperate for, the puzzle pieces of your chaotic brain finally starting to click into place. and as you brush your teeth before class a few hours later, you replay the idea in your mind.

you obviously still need to work out the details, but at least you have direction now. no more over-the-top ideas. nothing that screams, "i tried too hard." instead, you're going for something more personal, something that shows trent how much you've been paying attention to the small things.

because, really, that's what this relationship has been about for you—finding beauty in the details. sure, trent's life is loud and flashy, but what you've learned in the past few months is that it's the quiet moments, the ones where it's just the two of you, that really matter.

like the nights where you read him your biochem thesis because you want a second opinion (and, bless him, he never understands a thing). or the mornings where you wake up tangled in his sheets, 15 minutes late for whatever morning class you have. or the late-night talks where he opens up in ways you know he doesn't do with most people.

that's what you want to capture. that's what his birthday should reflect.

the rest of the week passes in a blur, a whirlwind of classes, your part-time job, and late-night planning sessions. every free moment you get, you're jotting down notes, sketching ideas, making phone calls, and somehow managing to keep all of this hidden from trent. it's not easy—he's nosy as hell, always asking what you're up to, but you've gotten good at playing it off, keeping him in the dark just enough to maintain the element of surprise.

you've already set everything in motion. well, mostly. there are still a few loose ends to tie up, but it's all coming together in a way that feels right.

on the morning of his birthday, you both settle on a time that works—right after your last class and after he's done with training. by the time he gets to your place that evening, you're all giddy, eyes beaming as you open the door for him.

and he's instantly on you, arms smoothly slipping around your waist, pulling you to him just as you close the door. he leans down, pressing his lips to your exposed shoulder — gentle, lingering kisses, his breath warm against your skin. "hi, baby."

"trent..." you murmur, trying to sound disapproving because you can almost guess where this is going, but failing miserably. it comes out softer than you intended, more like an invitation than a scolding.

he hums against your skin, his lips brushing the curve of your neck now, his hands tightening just a bit on your waist, pressing your back to his front. "hmm?"

his lips move to your jawline next, and you reach back with one hand, tangling your fingers in the soft curls at the nape of his neck, pulling him closer. he takes the hint, pressing more kisses along the side of your face now, trailing up to your temple, your cheek, the corner of your mouth.

"so pretty," trent turns you around slowly, his hands still on your waist, guiding you until you're facing him. his eyes are dark, a little playful, but there's something else there too—something softer, deeper.

you barely have time to register that look before his lips are on yours, soft and sweet. it's not hurried or frantic, but there's an urgency to it, and you kiss him back just as passionately, your hands clutching his shirt, your body leaning into his. it's instinctual now, the way your whole being responds to him.

when you finally pull back, both of you breathing a little heavier, trent rests his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. there's a lazy smile on his lips, the kind that makes your heart do a little flip in your chest.

"wait, you're distracting me," you laugh quietly, your fingers tracing the outline of his jaw. "i have a surprise for you."

he smiles, his lips brushing against your forehead now. "yeah?"

you nod, grinning as you lead him over to the living room, where you've set everything up. on the coffee table, there's a small collection of items: a few handwritten letters, a disposable camera, and a small, leather-bound journal.

trent raises an eyebrow, glancing between you and the table, clearly intrigued but not sure what to expect.

"so, i know you don't need anything," you start, your voice suddenly a little shaky as you sit down beside him. "and i didn't wanna get you something you could just buy yourself. so... i thought about what would mean the most to you. and, well... this is what i came up with."

you hand him the journal first, feeling a knot of nerves tighten in your stomach as he unties the string and carefully opens it.

the pages are filled with handwritten notes, photos, and little mementos from your time together so far. it's not just a scrapbook or a diary; it's a love letter. every page is a piece of your relationship — the silly inside jokes, the photos of the two of you at your favourite café, the pressed flowers from the first bouquet he ever gave you, the ticket stubs from the movie you saw on your second date. it's a collection of memories, a reminder of how far you've come in such a short time.

it's quiet for a while, the only sound being the soft rustle of paper as he turns the pages. you watch him carefully, trying to gauge his reaction, but his face is unreadable.

finally, he reaches the last page—a note you wrote, a few simple words; happy birthday, trent. thank you for being you. thank you for seeing me. i love you.

he's quiet for a moment, his eyes scanning the words, thumb tracing over the ink. when he finally looks up, there's this... softness in his eyes, a depth of emotion you don't always see from him.

"this is perfect," he sets the journal aside and pulls you into his arms, pressing a kiss to your temple. "thank you, baby."

you feel a wave of relief wash over you, but you're not done yet. next, you hand him the disposable camera.

"i know you're used to having a million pictures taken of you all the time, but... i thought it might be nice to have something just for us. we can take pictures whenever, wherever. and at the end of the roll, we'll get them developed and see what moments we've captured."

trent turns the camera over in his hands, a warm, appreciative smile gracing his lips. "this is... yeah, this is really thoughtful. i didn't expect this."

and finally, you hand him the letters. "these are from the people closest to you. i asked them to write you something personal, something that shows how much you mean to them."

he looks up at you, his eyes soft, a mix of gratitude and something deeper reflecting in them. "you really went all out for this, didn't you?"

you shrug, feeling a little shy now that everything's out in the open. "i just wanted you to feel appreciated. i didn't want to get you something that didn't mean anything."

trent's quiet for a moment, just looking at you, and then he sets everything aside and pulls you into his arms, holding you close.

"you're amazing," he says, his voice all soft and thick with emotion. "seriously. this is the best gift i've ever had."

you feel the tension drain from your body as you bury your face in his chest, a smile spreading across your lips because, yeah. all the stress, all the overthinking, it was worth it.

"i love you," trent pulls back slightly, his hand cupping your cheek as he looks down at you. "more than i even know how to say."

your heart stutters at that. you've both danced around the words for a while now, neither of you wanting to rush into saying them, but hearing him say it now, in this moment, feels right.

"i love you too," you whisper, your fingers tangling in the fabric of his shirt as you pull him closer, your lips meeting in a soft, lingering kiss.

when you finally pull away, he rests his forehead against yours again, his hand sliding down to rest on your hip. "best birthday i've had," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your cheek, and you laugh softly, your heart full.

"i'm glad," you say, smiling as you snuggle closer to him, his arms wrapping around you like a safety net. "but it's not over yet."

he raises an eyebrow, intrigued. "oh? what else do you have planned?"

you grin, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze. "i figured we'd spend the rest of the night doing... whatever you want."

trent chuckles, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "whatever i want, huh?"

"yep," you nod, biting your lip to keep from smiling too wide. "you're the birthday boy, after all."

"careful," he leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "i might hold you to that."

and he does hold you to it.

all night long.

[lomltrentarnold]

i think you’re pretty — trent alexander-arnold ₊˚ෆ

🍓 hana’s notes: in ma feels again (shocker) haven’t written anything in a while so please be nice <3

disclaimers: lil drabble, cliffhanger (you have been warned!) reader is a little insecure, but reader can pull girls and guys, childhood bestfriends my beloved trope 🫶 || main masterlist

“Wait, actually? You don’t think people think you’re pretty?”

You don’t even know how the conversation ended up on this topic. Sitting at the balcony catching up with Trent after you moved away. Now, he’s a big shot footballer and you’re working to get your degree.

Fifteen year old you guys would be proud.

You shook your head, it's not a new thought for you, “Nah, but that’s okay though. I think I’m pretty, but I don’t know if I am someone’s hallway crush or people just look at me and think — Wow, pretty.”

This is the type of stuff that you only spill on your diary, but it’s Trent, and he knows more about you than you do yourself.

It’s not something new you have come to terms with, after seeing most of your friends' getting crushes, getting hit on, going on dates and having relationships except you, you have made peace with it.

Trent’s forehead creases, as if the statement offended him more than you, “That’s crazy, tha’” Trent could not believe what you just said. You? Not pretty? Are you insane?

Turning your head to face him, you warmly smiled, “Don’t pretend, T.” and when you look at Trent, taking in his features, now this is pretty. “You’re pretty. People think you’re pretty.”

You didn’t know why you decided to say that. Maybe because the moonlight illuminates his skin and eyes, making him shine a little bit brighter. Butterflies swarm your belly, as your hand sweats.

Trent’s cheeks went warm, he thinks he’s the luckiest person ever to get compliment from you. His heart aches for you, but he decided to focus on the task at hand first.

"That's stupid." he spat out, making your eyebrows shoot up.

You lightly chuckled, "Excuse you? I just gave you a compliment."

"Not that." he sighed, turning his body around so that it would be face to face with yours. You noticed the disturbed look in his eyes, as you straightened your back before meeting his gaze.

"It's not that serious T, I'm fine." you assured him, an awkward laugh bubbling out. This took a serious turn, and you have no idea why.

"Do you remember James? In 8th grade?"

You furrowed your eyebrows, "The one that gave me chocolate? Yeah, what about him?"

He took a deep breath, "He said, and I quote, that when you laugh, he can honestly melt because you look so pretty.”

"We were kids, sometimes kids just say stuff-"

"And I agreed with him, and I said that making you laugh is probably one of the most rewarding things I can do because I love seeing you smile so much. You look so pretty when you laugh like nobody's around."

Your heart stuttered, but before you said anything else he continued, "And remember the girl that you worked with at the cafe down the road? The one with curly hair?"

You nodded your head.

"When I was waiting for you to finish your shift, she noticed how much I was looking at you, and she said that she gets it, and that it's sometimes hard to focus on making the drinks because you would look so pretty smiling while taking people's orders."

You cleared your throat, “That’s- That’s very nice of her.” avoiding the words that makes you question you and Trent’s friendship.

His tongue pokes out to lick his lips, making your eyes focus on it, “Sometimes I look at you and I go blank because of how pretty you are.”

What the fuck? What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck.

Your eyes searched for his, but he pointedly avoided it, choosing to stare down on his hands.

After finishing the story, Trent bellowed out a laugh, "You know how many people ask me for your number because they think that you're pretty?" he paused, "But they backed away because they 'know' that you're already someone's because of how I look at you."

Your mouth gaped open and close like a fish, slowly processing everything that he's telling you. "What?"

"They said that I look at you like I was smitten. Like I was in love." you were sure your pulse stopped for a second, hearing the guy that you had a crush on for years saying stuff you hear in songs.

Trent’s mouth was faster than his brain, he really should have stopped talking, but he couldn't. All of his words were all vomiting out of his mouth. He could feel his heart beating out of his chest.

"And then I said that if I was going to fall in love with anyone that I'd want it to be you."

hehe love yall <3