#trent alexander arnold x oc

[azulera]

Retwist

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Black Reader

Summary: You give your bf Trent a retwist (and some cuddles).

Notes: Trent's locs are everything 2 me ... but I just know he needs his scalp oiled + a satin bonnet I just know it. I would provide that for him … Anyways thank u for reading and gentle feedback is always welcome!

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“Grab me the mirror, comb, gel, oil, clips, and mousse – they’re all in the bottom cabinet.”

A moment later, Trent was stood in front of you with an armful of the requested items. His face was serious as he concentrated on not dropping anything. 

“Did you get everything I asked?” 

“Yeah, I’ve got it all.”

“Are you sure?”

Trent huffed out another yes, making the various bottles and items bobble. You probably wouldn’t use everything, but it was comforting to have each product in reaching distance. 

“Okay, sit.”

Though you loved his free-form look, retwisting your boyfriend’s hair was an activity you’d come to look forward to, even knowing that the fresh locs were likely to frizz just as soon as he went to training and showered after. Still, the time spent with him close together on the couch, and how handsome he looked in the aftermath, made the sedentary hour and a half worth it.

“Don’t pull too hard this time, alright?”

Trent was sat now on a pillow on the floor, with his head settled between your thighs. He’d wrapped his right palm into its usual position around your calf. 

“Trent, don’t be a baby.” 

“M’not a baby.” 

“Then stop acting like one. I haven’t even started yet.” 

He grumbled, but his brattiness soon melted away as you two got wrapped up in the plot of the movie he put on, and in the comfort of being so near to each other. You started with the locs in the back, gathering product into your hands and grabbing hold of the root of the twist. Then you twisted the hair in a clockwise direction, while holding it tight all the way until you reached the ends. After 45 minutes, you’d made it to the middle, but Trent had gotten antsy. 

“Keep your head still!” You scolded him. 

“I am still!” 

“No, you’re not, you’re fidgeting.”

“How am I fidgeting? I’ve not moved from between your legs, have I?” 

You sighed, not wanting to argue. 

“Let’s take a break.” 

You stood up to head to the kitchen, but Trent clung to your leg.

“Wait, where’re you goin?” 

“Just to the fridge, to get some water.” 

He relaxed back onto the foot of the couch.

“Oh, alright. Hurry back, though.”  

When you sat back down, he was calm again, and you two finished out the rest of the film while you worked. He kept his hand along your calf, and occasionally pressed his lips there absentmindedly, or to the inside of your knee. As the credits began to roll, you finished twisting the last strands in the front, and started to rub the peppermint oil through his scalp, which was his favorite part. 

“Mmm. All done?” 

“Yep, here.” You passed him the handheld mirror and you both looked into it. He turned his head this way and that. 

“You look so good, baby! I can’t let you out the house like this.” You called out, squeezing on to his shoulders. “I really did that, huh?” 

Trent scrubbed a hand over his chin, still tilting his head. His brow was furrowed. 

“Eh, it’s decent.” 

Your mouth dropped open.

“What?”

Trent picked at one of the locs above his eyes and dropped it, struggling to keep his face neutral.

“I mean it looks okay. S’alright.”

You leaned back from him, your face screwed up, and when he caught sight of your shocked eyes in the mirror, he cracked. 

“I’m just joking you, babe. Relax.” 

“Oh my gosh, get up - get away from me, move!” 

You got to your feet, and Trent followed after you. From behind, he wrapped you in a bear hug that you pretended to fight your way out of. That only made him squeeze you tighter, laughing as he pressed kisses to your cheek. 

“Stop it - stop fightin, I’m only playin. It looks great.” He smacked one last loud kiss to your neck, his hair tickling you. “Thank you.” 

You rolled your eyes but squeezed him back. 

“You’re not funny, you know, but you’re welcome. And remember that you gotta keep it wrapped up when you sleep.” 

“Well, that’s right now, innit? I'm knackered.”

“From what?” You looked at him wildly. “All you did was sit there?” 

“Exactly.” 

He walked back to the couch and stretched out, pulling off the quilt resting on the back. He patted the space in front of him. 

“Come here, why don’t ya?” 

You stared him down, hating and loving his big shiny eyes that you’d never been able to say no to. 

He cheesed when you started walking towards him. 

“Put on something new for us to watch, then.” 

You settled in alongside him, breathing in the sweet mixture of his scent with the product you’d put on his scalp. 

“But why? You’re gonna fall asleep in two seconds.” 

“No, m’not, I swear. I’ll stay up a bit.” 

You side-eyed him, but selected a movie anyway. It was a thriller, but you were comforted by his hand resting on your belly and his warm body behind you. Fifteen minutes in, you noticed the rise and fall of his chest against your back had become abnormally regular. 

“I called it! I called it. I swear I did.” You laughed in disbelief as you gently slithered from beneath his arm. When you returned with your scarf from the bathroom, and a bonnet for him, he was already snoring. With an annoyed fondness in your chest, you placed the silk carefully over his head, before tying your own hair up. You pulled his arm back over your chest, and cuddled in closer to him, eventually lulled to sleep by the quiet rhythm of his breathing.

#trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x OC #footballer x you #football imagine #footballer x reader #football fanfic #football fanfiction

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ glimpse of us *.·:·.✦

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x female oc (name: sasha)

summary: in which trent has not turned the page on their history

author's note: inspired by glimpse of us by joji (have been obsessed by it lately)

contains: i guess it's angst

word count: 972

“Why then, if she's so perfect, do I still wish that it was you?”

The guests gradually filled the birthday venue as Trent stood at a corner of the room with his teammates.

“Even on your birthday, you cannot look good” Virgil joked to Joe as the rest of the group laughed.

Joe’s girlfriend had invited Joe’s entourage for his birthday and obviously, everyone showed up to celebrate with him. Trent saw the night as an opportunity to bring his girlfriend Taylor to introduce her to his friends.

“Trent, d’you want something to drink ?” Taylor brought Trent aside, speaking with a smile.

“Just juice for now, please” He send her a smile back, watching her as she headed to get what he asked for.

Taylor was one of the most caring girl he encountered. She always made sure he was okay and did not need anything. Some would say she’s even the perfect girlfriend. 

“Here” A higher pitched voice took Trent out of his thoughts. He grabbed the glass Taylor was handing him, thanking her with a forehead kiss and a low “thank you”. 

Even with all of that, Trent knew deep down who he belonged to. Everything she did for him he wished it was Sasha. Every day he hoped she would come to him.

“Said I'm fine and said I moved on”

He turned back to the group and went back to talking to them. Joe, who stood right next to Trent, leaned down to his ear.

“You know she’s coming right ?”

Joe didn’t even need to say any names, Trent knew who he was talking about. Sasha and him had broken up months back but he had moved on with Taylor, who was amazing with him.

“I know, I don’t care” Trent shrugged, his face as neutral as possible.

Trent’s fake uninterested expression did not fool Joe. Or anybody else to who he told so. Not even himself. Not a day went without thinking about Sasha. As much as he tried to think otherwise, he was still deeply in love with her and craved to be in her presence and flood her with all that love. But he would never admit it and rather pretend to others.

As he engaged back into his teammates’ conversation, his head turned as soon as he heard that one voice.

He admired how she walked with assurance, her natural hip sway enchanting him. She looked better than ever.

She smiled and ran carefully to Joe’s girlfriend, giving her the warmest hug. Trent observed the entire scene, not missing any of her moves. 

After greeting her best friend, Sasha headed to the group of boys. Trent took it as an opportunity to get a front view of her body, which had changed from the last time he saw her. She came in the circle they had formed, hugging each one of them. 

“I don’t think I know you” She said as she stopped in front of Taylor “I’m Sasha, nice to meet you. I’m Joe’s girlfriend’s friend”

“Hey, I’m Taylor, I’m Trent’s girlfriend” Taylor smiled back.

Sasha also had caught that Taylor was oblivious to who she was to Trent and decided to play it off. She shook her hand rapidly, continuing her little round of greetings. She mumbled a quick “Hello” to Trent, coldness laced in her voice. Her stern tone felt like a hit to Trent’s face. There was no more affection or love for him.

“I'm only here passing time in her arms hopin' I'll find a glimpse of us”

The party was in full swing, people dancing everywhere and having a good time. Trent sat at his table, Taylor in his lap. 

Through the whole time, she had not left his side, intimidated by all of the people she did not know, though they were extremely nice with her. Trent was thankful nobody brought up Sasha around Taylor.

“Wanna dance ?” Trent asked as her favorite song played.

She energetically nodded, grabbing his arm and bringing him to the dancefloor. His arms automatically wrapped around her waist as they started swaying to the sound. His eyes met hers as his mind drowned in the brown color of her iris.

Within a blink it looked like he was now alone in the room with his girl, dancing slowly to the music. Trent admired these dark brown eyes he loved since the first day. His eyes wandered around her face, taking in all the features he loved. Her little nose he would randomly peck, her full lips he loved to kiss and taste, her smile he loved to see after giving her all his affection. He observed every bit of that perfect face he loved more than anything.

“Trent, watch your feet” Sasha giggled as she avoided Trent’s messy steps.

“Sorry, I’m not good at this” He apologized, giving her a peck on the cheek.

She met his stare, her innocent look making Trent weak, as always. She grabbed his face in her hands bringing him into a deep kiss. Their tongues soon joined the kiss, moving in sync as their heads leaned to the side to be even closer.

They soon pulled away and Trent opened his eyes, facing Taylor’s happy expression.

Trent zoned out thinking back on what just happened. It was a dream but it felt so true. Her face, her touch, her voice. It was just like it used to be. He spotted her in the room, dancing with her friends, having the most fun. She seemed so carefree like nothing was on her mind while he spent the night tormented by his thoughts and feelings. Their breakup was his greatest mistake and he didn’t know how to fix it. Or if he could even do so. For now, he just wished she would feel the same as him.

like, repost and suggest if you want (hope you enjoyed it)

i feel so happy to be able to write again

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #Spotify #football blurb #football imagine #football x oc #taa #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x oc #trent alexander #trent alexander blurb #trent alexander imagine #trent alexander x oc

[the-offside-rule]

Trent Alexander - Arnold (Liverpool) - Good Cop, Bad Cop

Requested: yes

Prompt: 6) Good-cop, Bad-cop parenting

Warnings: none

As the tunes had been booming throughout the Alexander-Arnold household gym, Trent focused on his workout, the rhythmic thud of weights hitting the floor echoing in the room. "Dad?" Suddenly, the door creaked open, and Mila, his adorable toddler, toddled in, holding a packet of biscuits. Trent dropped the weight, smiling brightly upon seeing his daughter. "Trent, look what I found!" Mila exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. Trent sighed at hearing her say his name instead of 'Dad'. He just struggled to correct her or even tell her to stop. "Oh, what have you got there, Mila?" With an irresistible smile, she extended the packet towards her father. Unable to resist, Trent took a biscuit from the packet and handed it to her, secretly reveling in the joy on her face.

As Trent resumed his workout, Mila waddled away into the kitchen where Y/n was cooking the family dinner and spotted her daughter munching on her biscuit. "Mila? Can I have the biscuits please?" Mila nodded, guilt etched in her face. "Where did you get these?" She asked. "Trent." Mila replied. "Mila, how many times? You should call him Dad." Y/n said. "Now, into the living room, I'll put on some cartoons while you colour."

Trent had moved onto his cool-down and was relaxing on the bike. Y/n walked in, holding the packet of biscuits. Trent looked at her confused, before reaching to grab one. She slapped his hand away gently, making him hiss. "Why did you give her these? She's going to spoil her dinner." Trent grinned, wiping sweat off his forehead. "Well, I couldn't say no to those puppy-dog eyes. Blame it on her irresistible charm, gets it from me." Y/n playfully rolled her eyes. "You're such a softie. Now, let's see if we can burn off those biscuits together."

Trent, catching his breath, looked at Y/n. "You know, these biscuits are like you." Y/n arched a brow. "Sweet, sometimes a bit crumbly, but always worth it." Y/n chuckled, giving him a playful nudge. "Smooth talker, aren't you? Well, you go shower and maybe, I'll treat you to something other than a bourbon biscuit." Y/n winked, before turning to walk away. "Is it sweeter than a bourbon?" He teased. "If you'd rather the bourbon babe, I will leave you with the bourbons."

#football #football imagines #football blurbs #football x you #football x y/n #football x oc #football x reader #trent alexander arnold oneshot #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander x you #trent alexander arnold blurbs #trent alexander arnold x you #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold fic #taa blurb #taa x reader #taa imagine

[hypnotiiize]

𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

   𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: i’m american, so i will be using a lot of american terminology, probably without even realizing fr. just a warning. on that same note, they’re gonna sound like new yorkers. im not talking like AHK LEMME GET A BACON EGG AND CHEESE but you gotta roll w it cause im boutta make it really fun for myself. also she’s Black. 

    There was the sweep of his fingers against the inside of her wrist before there was anything else, and for a moment she was sure that he could feel the nervous thrum of her pulse. 

In the next moment came the panic of what he would assume: that the sporadic beat of her heart was due to his effect on her, despite the less-than-friendly words she tossed at him offhandedly. Though there was something on his face that stopped her worries in their tracks, the parting of his full lips an indication of the words he either could not or would not say. The latter seemed most likely. 

There wasn’t anything he could not say to her, hating the feeling of being confined to social niceties. His words, sharp in nature yet flat in tone, were always said carelessly. She would just smile daringly at him. There would be a second where he wasn’t so confident with his insult (because, um, who smiles when they’re insulted?), and then would come her well-crafted retort. He would roll his eyes, take a moment to recoup, and then insult her once more. So went the cycle that they existed within.  

In the very beginning, when their work together was brand new and therefore fragile, he’d dreaded having to face her. She was excitable and loud, though for someone so ditzy she sure was quick on her feet. He had a sneaking suspicion that ditziness was a ploy used to lure in prey and strike just when they least expected it. There was always something else she would say, always a step she would take further, always a match she would propel into the fire. She never knew went to let an argument go— this being the very complaint he’d heard about himself many times in his life— and she could hold a grudge like she was paid to do it. She made him feel for the people he’d annihilated verbally in his past, as he, too, could feel his resolve breaking with each “Mhm, yeah, okay” she’d slipped in just as he’d tried to get the last word. 

The arguments won were split fifty-fifty between the two. He’d counted. 

Make it fifty-one, forty-nine, in his favor, ever since her little stint had almost gotten them caught. 

The tips of her ears went hot when his win was incontrovertible. She knew he’d been proven right just as they’d heard a gentle voice ask “Did you hear that?” from the window they were crouched underneath. 

He’d known it, too. He would boast later, he decided, just as he felt a cold hand press against his mouth. His brown eyes flashed in shock as they slid to the woman at his side, his hand flying around her wrist as a result of his own panic. 

“Trent.” She hissed his name and gripped the neck of his shirt, her lips curled in a way that reminded him of his grandmother as she spoke through her teeth, “I swear to God if they hear us you’re gonna get it.” 

He rolled his eyes at the threat, well aware of the substance they usually lacked. He could knock on one of her threats and hear an echo from just how hollow they were. For all the admittedly creative hypotheticals she would hurl his way, the most she’d actually done was chuck her shoe at him. 

“You’re not gonna do anything,” he called her bluff, the palm over his mouth making his words come out like whomp whomp whomp whomp whomp. 

“Oh yeah? I’m not gonna do anything?” she asked, deciphering his sentence lightning-fast. 

If she were anyone else, he would have been alarmed. He would’ve felt his stomach twist with the fright of wondering just who had him hemmed up against the side of his best friend’s family home. But she was herself. And she had the weirdest particular set of skills he had seen since the Taken movies. 

He nodded fearlessly. “Yeah.” Whomp.

She smirked something wicked. If she’d had a sister, a dusty old Kansas home would’ve fallen on her at that very moment, leaving her to be robbed for her shoes by some American girl and her dog. He could hear the music in his head– the fast-paced, creepy instrumental that accompanied her hopping onto the nearest broomstick to go torment some other footballer. 

“I will show up to one of your games with your kit on, in your section,” she said, a calculated punishment indeed. His blood ran cold as she leaned in closer, speaking slowly, “And I will tell everyone that I’m your Fiancée. Everyone, Trent. Ev-er-y-one.” 

He could hear it then: her maniacal, witchy laughter. He could even see the green shade of her skin, though when a car passed he’d found it’d just been from shoddy lighting reflecting across the leaves.

Whomp whomp whomp whomp. 

“Oh, they’ll believe me, alright. I mean, look at us.” She whipped her phone from her back pocket and pressed the power button, bringing her screen to life. His fingers tightened a bit around her wrist as his eyes bugged out. finding the two of them set as her lock screen. 

There, set on her phone and visible just underneath the time marker, was a picture of the two of them. He stared at himself through the camera, his arms wrapped comfortably around the woman’s waist as if he held her every day. His fingers were curled into a fist around the fabric of her tight-fitting shirt, gripping her like he could not bear living a life without feeling her skin against his own. His cheek rested against the crown of her head, peaceful and content. He seemed as if he were caught mid-wistful sigh, a relaxed smile on his face. Her own eyes pierced through his soul even through the phone screen as she smiled softly. Her left hand was placed over his heart and there, on her fourth finger, rested the largest diamond he had seen since that one Beyoncé music video. 

He had only ever seen love like that immortalized in old picture albums. He recalled thumbing through pages of his own grandfather wrapped around his grandmother in the same real, enamored way. 

For a second he questioned if he had proposed. 

Whomp whomp whomp whomp?

“Yeah, I photoshopped it. It’s pretty good, right?!” She wiggled her eyebrows at him tauntingly before tilting her phone to and fro. “Look! If I move this phone fast enough, you can’t even see where I cropped your mother out.” 

She was more devious than The Joker. 

He was, admittedly, a little awed. 

The gentle thrum of her pulse against his ring finger served as a reminder of her humanness. He would often forget that she, too, lived. To him, she was merely an entity. To him, she appeared here and then to annoy him for two hours, and then she ceased to exist. But the bone he held in his hands threw a wrench in his theory. Suddenly, she was real. Suddenly, she was breakable. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this. 

The sound of the backdoor sliding open drifted to them through the silent night, and in his panic, he pressed his own hand to her mouth. They huddled closer together (they would never address this, of course), her hand over his heart despite the phone she held. 

He could feel her breath against his hand, could feel the humidity of her exhales in his palm– yet another reminder of her mortality. Under his ring finger, her pulse sped. He tugged her closer to him, holding her tighter, securing her safety. Her anxiety would get them both caught and that simply couldn’t happen. 

“It was out here?” Trent’s best friend asked as he stepped onto his patio. 

At once, Trent pondered what would happen if Mason had happened to find them hidden in his backyard. He struggled, momentarily, to figure out what his excuse would be. The truth seemed so bizarre he was sure Mason would think he was lying, anyway. There was no sane way to say that he and this girl, who was by all accounts a random to him, had teamed up to conquer Mason’s love life. 

“Yes,” replied the girl’s own best friend. Alicia stepped out behind Mason, sounding a little stressed as Mason began to trot further into his backyard, “Aye. Aye, what are you doing? Come here. Stay. Mason, stay.”

Mason turned on his heel, laughing loudly. “What am I, a dog?” He walked further, only stopping when the darkness began to sheath him.

Alicia shook her head at Mason’s supposed bravery, sighing wearily under her breath, “I really needa stop messing with white men.”

The rush of air against the crest of Trent’s hand told him that the girl in his arms had giggled. He widened his eyes at her cautiously. All it would take was one laugh; they might as well have been what Vegemite went on. 

Mason extended his hand to the woman by the sliding doors. “Come here.” He grinned when Alicia rolled her eyes. “Alicia, there’s nothing out here. And if there is, I got you,” he promised her. 

Alicia almost looked shocked by the fact that she had begun walking after him. “Mason, just know I’m running if something jumps out at us,” she told him genuinely.

“I got you,” Mason repeated confidently. He pulled her form to his once their hands met, cupping her waist naturally. “I’ll protect you.”

Alicia turned her head from his, deep brown eyes twisting from the sky to the grass. She laughed breathlessly. “You’re such a flirt.”

Mason held her more firmly, his fingers happening to slip underneath her shirt. He could feel the smoothness of her skin against his palm. He could measure the breaths she sucked in, and those she lost due to his proximity. He smiled when she huffed as he passed a finger along her hip.

“Why do I have to be flirting?” He shook his head with an ill-disguised smirk. “I’m not flirting.” 

(He was flirting.)

Alicia nudged his body away from hers when the feeling of his fingers on her skin became too much to bear, jokingly muttering, “Unhand me.” She wrapped her arms around herself, the absence of Mason leaving her in the chilled night air. She cursed a little under her breath, watching as the wind blew through the leaves of the bushes. “It’s cold as hell, Mason. I’m going back inside. Fight off Michael Myers yourself.” 

“You’re so scary,” he teased.

“Hmm, would I rather be scary or alive?” Alicia raised both hands in the air, her palms toward the sky as she weighed her options. Eventually, her right hand won. “I’m thinking alive.”

“You’ll never get anywhere being scared of everything,” said Mason, though he’d found himself jogging to her side as she walked back to the house.

“Who said I’m scared of everything? I’m just not gonna make it so easy for whoever’s tryna take me out,” she said, sure of herself. She’d ran track in her teen years. She figured, as long as the killer didn’t have a gun or a car or even a really good scooter, she’d be able to make a solid run for it. 

Mason chuckled and shook his head at her. “Alicia, who is trying to take you out?!”

Alicia shrugged and waved her hands wildly, passionate about staying on ten toes at all times. “Tuh! I don’t know! People! Matter of fact– I can, like, feel eyes on me right now!”

“You’re so paranoid,” mused Mason, side-stepping into the warmth of her body. He slid his arm around her for the second time, beaming when she didn’t shove him off and call him a flirt. “And like I said, I got you. You’ll be fine.” 

“I don’t have faith in men,” said Alicia plainly. 

“Well, you gotta have faith in me,” Mason countered, gnawing on his bottom lip and praying she hadn’t heard the cheek in his tone. 

Alicia had heard full well, and she’d parted her lips to tell him to stop flirting for the umpteenth time when her foot slipped on something she had not seen, having been too caught up with staring at the man beside her. 

Alicia shrieked as she slipped backwards. She hurriedly grabbed Mason’s shoulders just as he wrapped his arms around her torso, twisting her mid-air and taking the brunt of the fall. A second later, when the grass pricked into his neck and ears, he was breathless from both the fall and Alicia’s amazed face an inch above his own. 

He laughed and reached up to brush her hair out of her face. He stared at her glossy lips for three full seconds before meeting her eyes with a smug look.

“See? I got you.”

She giggled. “Shut up.”

He flattened his hand along the side of her head, thumb resting where her baby hairs laid as he laughed once more. “My back hurts, but I got you.”

Alicia could not stop her grin. She placed her head on his chest to hide just how smitten she was, opting to listen to the rhythmic beat of his heart as it vibrated throughout her own body.

They laid on the grass under the watchful glare of the moon, under the luminous shine of the stars, and under the anxious gazes of their two best friends who were hiding in the bushes to their right. 

“Let’s get off this grass, Mason,” said Alicia after some time, helping him onto his feet and shepherding him into his home. “And who left that rope out there, anyway? Like, I think I almost lost my life just then…”

The backdoor clicked shut just as the score snapped back to fifty-fifty. 

Trent pressed his eyes together for a long moment. He wouldn’t hear the end of it, he knew, watching with newfound dread as she pried two of his fingers off of her soft lips while somehow managing to keep her phone stable with just her pinky (Trent made sure to add this to her particular set of skills). 

“I. Told. You!” she whispered, giddy from her win. “You didn’t wanna listen to me! You were all, oh, ‘blah blah blah knackered blah Liverpool blah,’ but I knew I was right! See?! Always listen to Black women!”

His eyes rolled again, and he was sure they almost got stuck in the back of his head from how hard he’d done it that time. Because– okay, he may have said that the trap she’d set for Mason and Alicia was knackered, but he definitely hadn’t said anything about his hometown, and he definitely hadn’t sprinkled in blahs like Maggi cubes. 

He was slammed with an epiphany just as he felt the urge to tell her to shut up. Hesitantly, as if he didn’t want the answer to have been so easy, Trent lifted her hand from his face by her wrist, remembering only then that she simply wasn’t as strong as him— despite the trickle of trepidation that her presence brought on. He looked at her newly limp wrist in shock, confused as to how he hadn’t done that a long time ago. 

He would investigate that some other time. He had ten minutes’ worth of jabs to get through.

“You got lucky. Don’t gas it,” he told her cynically, shaking his head. 

“It’s not gassing it if it’s true,” she sassed.

He scoffed. “Is so.”

She scoffed back. “Is so not.”

“Is so.”

“Is so not.”

“Is so.”

“Is so not.” 

“Is so to infinity.” He quirked a challenging brow at her. 

Her response was instantaneous, “Is so not to infinity, plus one.”

“You can’t do that,” he argued, incredulous, widened brown eyes following her every move as she reclaimed her hand from his and made to leave. He trailed after her, crouching past the window just as she did, all so she could hear his gripes. “Um! Hello! You can’t do that! I win! Your response sucked, so I win!”

“You suck,” she threw over her shoulder. 

“Stop taking what I say and saying it back to me, you lazy twat!”

“You’re a lazy twat.”

“Oh my God, I hate you.” 

It hadn’t been his first time telling her he despised her, and he doubted it would be the last. Though, no matter how much vexation he claimed to have against the girl, he refused to leave the job of getting Mason and Alicia together to just her. He wasn’t sure if she could take a break from whatever villainy she got up to in the daytime long enough to make things really happen, and he didn’t want to tempt fate. Not when Mason’s heart was on the line. Besides, and this thought was accompanied by a chill down his spine, it wasn’t as if she was the worst partner in the world. 

(The fact remained that she was carrying him big time.) 

Their goodbye came almost too quickly.

He had been watching the delicate twist of her wrists, unaware that his pulse had sped up the moment they’d found themselves on the corner three blocks from the Mount family residence, where they would eventually part. 

There, he’d felt the urge to brush his fingers against the inside of her wrist once more. He’d felt the urge to prove to himself that she was real, that he hadn’t hallucinated his begrudged partner-in-crime. He stayed quiet, unwilling to sit through minutes of whichever argument she would strike up once he told her his reasoning— because she would absolutely ask for his reasoning, being as she was thorough in her evilness. He could imagine her calling him a misogynist for not believing that women were real. He could imagine himself pointing out that he’d only implied that she wasn’t real. He could, also, imagine himself losing that argument on a technicality. And so, he stayed quiet. For his score’s sake and nothing more. 

She left without words, merely nodding and shooting him a finger gun— casually, as if it were something grown women typically did— before ducking into her Uber. 

He watched the silver Toyota veer off in stunned silence. 

Yeah. Definitely hallucinating.

#trent alexander arnold #mason mount #x reader #x black fem reader #x black reader #mason mount x oc #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold imagines #wingmen #don't hide in backyards

[blueaetherr]

nepenthe

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x fem!oc (yasmine) [she/her]

warning(s): none

summary: the one where she comforts him after a loss

Night falling and cold air moving into the house told Yasmine to close the patio door for the day. But then she didn't, leaning on the door as she let out a sigh. She couldn't upon noticing that Trent was still out there.

There he was. Laying in the outdoor hammock with no remark for anything around him. Having lost a match a few hours earlier, he hadn't been in the mood to speak to anyone. The player never really was in the mood for a discussion after a loss. He wanted to be alone with his grief, to clear his mind and let his thoughts wander—anything to forget about the loss.

And Yasmine respected that, his boundaries. You could give someone space while still being there for them. She knew she wouldn't better the situation by trying to cross them with good intentions. So she waited and waited. And then, now, she didn't.

She cleared her throat, causing Trent to turn away from the sky. Yasmine let her face perk out with a smile, folding her arms to cover herself more with her cardigan. It was that late breeze that always got to her. "Is there still space for me to join?"

Trent thought for a moment, his gaze never leaving Yasmine. Then, of course, he gave in. He opened up his arms. "Always." He let out a small laugh when she got excited about getting in. It took some time, but eventually, Yasmine and Trent got settled. They always did.

Together, cuddled up in the hammock—close in company—the two watched the day fade out before their eyes, the night slowly but surely washing over them. The sound of stray animals soon retired for the day, a moment of silence embracing the young couple for their own comfort.

The hammock, over time, became a safe space. For Trent, for Yasmine; for Trent and Yasmine. It was a space that was silent and hollow and patient for all. When a problem arose in the relationship, when something wasn't going right for Trent in training, whenever Yasmine faced hardship at school, it was the place to go; really, the place you wanted to enter and never leave. Who knew you could find so much comfort in a boundless chair?

And today, it was Trent who needed that comfort.

Trent strung in a breath, burying his nose into her neck. "I really wanted to win that match you know." Yasmine could feel the disappointment in him. There was so much of it, so much for one single person to carry by themself; so much that she felt it for herself. From his tone to his voice, his body caving into her own. The match happened more than a few hours ago yet it still hurt him like it was a few moments ago.

"I know you did," Yasmine ran her fingers through his locs. "It showed. With the way you played, like you always do." Trent knew that he was a good— no, an outstanding player yet a reminder was always nearby. In times of doubt and loss, very much like now, Yasmine found that he was always in need of it.

Trent let out a huff. "But I should I've played better."

"You think so?" She raised a brow. "I mean there's only so much you can do, right?"

"Yeah, I do." Slowly, Trent fell out of his frown. "When we lost, what were you thinking?"

"What was I thinking?" Yasmine let her gaze wander, her eyes soon following the stars. "I thought damn. I was upset. For you, for your teammates, the fans—anyone else who cares. I knew how much it meant to all of you so I was upset." Then she found her sight back on her partner once again. She let out a small chuckle. "But it was all short-lived for me because I had to get back to writing my essays."

"Don't do that." Her neck vibrated as he laughed, exhaling. How could he ever trust his girlfriend to be serious about one thing? It seemed to be a bit too much for her to handle. He lifted his face from her neck, and the two met eyes, sharing soft and kind glances. "I'm still upset you know." He told himself earlier that he wanted to remain in his grief, despite its long process. To sit with it, reflect and move on. Now laying with his girlfriend, who brought so much light and fun to him in the most primal way possible, he simply wanted to move on.

She pressed a kiss to his forehead, moving a stray loc from his face. "I know, and that's completely fine. I'll be upset with you too if that makes you feel better." Yasmine pulled Trent closer into her embrace and he accepted it with ease, a bit of a rock to the hammock. "If you think that one mishap cost you guys from winning then imagine the potential to win another time. Besides, it's not like that was your last dance. I mean there's next year," she opened up her palm, counting with her fingers, "the year after next year, the year after that year, the year after those years—"

"Okay! I think I get it." Eyes widened, Trent laughed as he hung his head back. A laugh—a moment of euphoria—that was neither struggling nor caving in, one that wasn't slowly faltering or on display for the sake of others. But rather flourishing and memorising to Yasmine's ears. The happiness of your partner was something to never get tired of witnessing. "Thank you, Yasmine." He took her hand in his own, interlocking their fingers. "I really needed that."

It wasn't that Yasmine wasn't serious; instead, she was collected and involved. In emotions, in thoughts. For herself, for those around her, especially for Trent. Whether what he felt seemed big or small, she freely let him have them. And if he couldn't stretch himself enough that far, then he didn't have to experience them alone. She didn't deny him or make him feel bad for experiencing what he felt over a loss. She didn't try to make the loss seem any bigger or less than it was (to Trent). It was never I understand but; it was always I understand and,which opened the door for reassurance.

Never did she force him to feel another way, nor make him get out of his upset. Yasmine let Trent feel and experience the grief of losing this important match. And maybe it was a bit dramatic and not realistic enough, but she let him nonetheless. Joining him in the hammock—this safe space of comfort—laying with him under the stars, saying I'll be upset with you, Yasmine let him know that they were united in grief. That they, together, would always be united in grief in everything felt in their shared home.

The two were united in euphoria, united in stress, united in joy. But on this day, and in this very moment, Yasmine and Trent were united in grief.

"It's all good. I just wanted you to know."

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold oneshot #trent alexander arnold oneshots #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold blurbs #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold x fem!oc #trent alexander arnold x fem!reader #football imagines #football imagine #football oneshots #football blurbs #football oneshot #football fic #footballer imagines #footballer imagine #liverpool #lfc #black writers #black!reader #my works #trent alexander arnold x black!reader

[cialovesklopp]

•// *•..° ❝ ⸨ 𝒄𝒊𝒂’𝒔 𝒏𝒂𝒗 ⸩

𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄:

➺ theresa-cia ⊹ she/her ⊹ black ⊹ african ⊹ libra

➺ 1644! nation • mercedes girl • lawyer/fashion freak • football whore

➺ lewis’ lover ⟢ trent’s girlfriend ⟢ jude’s wife ⟢ kylian’s fiancé

.⃗  ₊˚✧ ୭̥*✧ ཻུ۪۪`   ⃟   ❀ ፧  ੈ✩ރ፧  °↳  ׂׂ  ⌧ ×    ⚘݄⿴݃*₊˚ ෆ   ,.⸼۰ ۪۪۫۫ ❬“= ” ヾ،،   ·₊̣̇. ❵ 𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

— 𝑴𝑨𝑺𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ↳ find all my works here

— 𝑹𝑬𝑪𝑶𝑴𝑴𝑬𝑵𝑫𝑨𝑻𝑰𝑶𝑵

— 𝑭𝟏 𝑹𝑬𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬𝑫

— 𝑷𝑰𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑺𝑻

#kylian mbappe x reader #lewis hamilton #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fanfic #f1 #amara imani #mon amour #kylian mbappe fluff #football #formula one x reader #kylian mbappé series #max verstappen #trent alexander-arnold #kylian mbappe x oc

[jane-gunson123]

My master list:

Sam Fender

England NT

Other footballers

Peaky Blinders

Teen wolf

Outer Banks

The vampire Diaries

Sons of anarchy

Send some image requests.

#england national football team #jack grealish x reader #phil foden #trent alexander-arnold imagines #jack grealish #john shelby imagine #sam fender imagines #tommy shelby x reader #declan rice #mason mount imagine #tommy shelby x sister!reader #jax teller #jax teller imagine #jax teller x oc #jax teller x reader #alfie solomons x reader #sons of anarchy #jude bellingham social media au #outer banks #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank imagines #jj maybank x y/n #damon salvatore #derek hale imagine #derek hale

[footballffbarbiex]

players: trent alexander arnold x oc x virgil van dijk words: 749 request and warning: 500 + words - no pref - Smut - Threesome with Trent and Virgil or (if it’s not too much Foursome with Trent, Jude and Mount 🙈)

“Lift,” you hear Virgil say with a well placed pressured slap to your ass. You do so, shifting your weight more onto your knees temporarily while doing your hardest to keep Trent’s cock within your mouth. He gives slow thrusts, careful to never push more than half of his dick inside of you. The last few times you’d had these stolen moments, you’d managed to take almost all but the last inch of him and you’d sworn you’d work on throat training with him.

Virgil makes himself comfortable beneath you before pulling your hips down slowly until finally, your exposed pussy is pressed to his own lips. He gives small kitten licks to part your folds, licking you from slit to clit and back to your wet hole. You’ve often thought about how he would feel between your thighs but this was nothing compared to the reality of it.

You try to compose yourself but you can’t resist moaning around Trent’s shaft as you hollow your cheeks, something which makes him whimper and buck his hips a little harder, pushing a few more inches into your mouth and past your gag reflex. He watches as your eyes widen, feels your throat work as it tries to expel him from there. There’s a brief look on his face as though he’s apologetic, but the way your throat closes around him feels too good for him to be 100% sorry for the invasion.

“Have I ever told you how gorgeous you look with a mouthful of my cock?” Trent asks, though it’s certainly more rhetorical. All you can do is remain between both men, players who you’re supposed to be looking after within the team, and be used however they wish. You’re pretty sure when you took the job and they explained the role requirements, sexually satisfying them wasn’t specified but it was certainly assumed after a few months.

Virgil swirls his tongue around your opening before darting it inside of you in quick succession. It’s enough to caress the sensitive nerves in the entrance of your pussy, enough to make you want more while still wanting to grind yourself upon his face and ride it. The light stubble on his cheeks and jaw scrape against your soft inner thighs and your cunt and as he pushes his tongue inside of you fully.

Spit is drawn from your mouth whenever Trent pulls his cock to the tip before pushing back in again, creating a well lubricated hole for him to fuck. Your hands remain on your thighs as he requested, but you know to put them on his thighs and tap if he goes too hard or fast. What you aren’t expecting is for Virgil’s large hands to cover yours as he pulls you down onto his face further once his mouth covers your clit.

He gives quick licks, swirling his tongue around your bead before giving little sucks which sends your vision into a burst of white noise. The groan that forms from him only vibrates against you, making you rock against his mouth until he applies the pressure you urgently need. Trent’s able to bend ever so slightly so that his fingers can pinch and roll your nipple between his fingers. His new position makes it so only the tip is between your lips but this is all you need to make him groan with frustration and pleasure while giving yourself over to Virgil.

You focus on how Trent’s fingers feel in comparison to Virgil’s mouth, the sharp pinch and soothing roll vs the perfect suckles and well timed flicks with the very tip of his tongue until you pull yourself from Trent’s cock and finally fill the air with your moans and soft calls of Virgil’s name. You remove a hand from your thigh and reach behind you as Trent gets to his knees beside you, finally wrapping his lips around your hard nipple. Your hand fills with Virgil’s aching cock, fingers already met with his pre-cum which drips down the shaft. He lifts you up slightly, enough for him to be able to moan “fuuuuuck” into the air and get his breath, not expecting you to play. “Want to turn around?”

“Are you ok if I play with Virgil for a bit?”

“I’ve only ever had a 69, not watched one. Can’t promise I won’t cum while watching you both.”

“I’ll clean you up after, if you do.”

“Then let me see you suck that cock baby.”

#trent alexander arnold one shot #trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold blurb #trent alexander arnold drabble #virgil van dijk imagine #virgil van dijk one shot #virgil van dijk smut

[cssiop]

SILENT TREATMENT... trent alexander-arnold

trent tries to redeem his girlfriend's voice, nirvana, with some flowers.

trent alexander-arnold x fem!oc word count: 1.7k

IT WAS NOT OFTEN that nirvana was angry with trent. she wasn't especially a grudge-holder or someone who took her boyfriend's mood swings and turned them against him afterwards. however, yesterday things had gone far. further than usual, and far too far for nirvana to forget overnight.

the premier league season had started early yesterday afternoon for the reds and it hadn't gone as well as they'd hoped. a win was what they were aiming for, a draw was what they got. so inevitably, when he had returned from london last night, trent had not been in the best of spirits. unfortunately, instead of talking about it or seeking comfort from his girlfriend, he had shut down and taken out his anger on nirvana — who was only trying to make him feel better.

of course, the player immediately regretted it, it was not in his habit to let his emotions get the better of him. but too late, the girl was already hurt. trent was only allowed her back as a landscape at bedtime, no hugs or kisses were exchanged — much to his dismay. he knew that tomorrow, it would be no easy task to make amends.

so, he got up early that morning —earlier than she did because the defender had a practice anyway— to go and buy her some croissants from her favourite bakery. trent knew it wasn't going to magically make his words from the night before disappear, but he hoped they would at least draw a smile on her face at breakfast.

an hour had passed and still no sign of nirvana in the kitchen. trent huffed and puffed, resigned to the fact that she wouldn't be coming down to join him —she'd been avoiding him since their fight yesterday. unable to wait for her any longer as his football duties called him, he took the time to write her a note to go with the croissants.

"these are for you i love you x"

once the piece of paper was placed next to the bag that came with the pastries, trent grabbed his car keys and bag before heading to the axa training centre, his girlfriend still in mind.

in fact, she did not leave it. no matter what conversation he was having with his teammates, what he was doing in warm-up or practice, she was all he could think about. he blew out a long breath; being in love was surely the best feeling in the world, except when it became painful —although that was his fault.

on the way home, trent stopped at a flower shop to buy nirvana's favourite flowers, it was often this attention that made her break down in an argument, he hoped it would work today too. after much hesitation, his choice fell on the largest bouquet of roses in the shop. when he had trouble carrying it from the seat of his car to his house because it obscured his view, trent thought to himself, it's amazing what you do for someone you love.

"nirvana? i'm home," the defender exclaimed as he walked through the front door, still carrying his bulky bouquet, but he got no response.

in the kitchen, he noticed the crumbs of the croissants and the empty bag, meaning that they had been eaten. but what he noticed most of all was his little note on the floor, as if his girlfriend had wanted to give him a subtle message.

sighing again, he placed the flowers on the work surface before picking up the piece of paper and throwing it in the bin —she had seen it, that was already something.

"nirv'?" called trent again, but he only spoke in a vacuum, especially when he heard the shower turn on and the water begins to flow.

silence enveloped the living room and he sat on the couch, thinking about what he would say to her when she finally came downstairs, occasionally checking the time because the minutes were feeling long without her presence. when the trickle of water finally stopped, trent told himself that it was almost time and he found himself impatient. he wanted to apologize to her but the girl hadn't given him the chance yet today.

and then finally, the stairs began to creak, indicating that she would be there in less than a few seconds. a towel was wrapped around her still-damp hair while she was wearing simple jeans and a t-shirt. a stray lock of hair had escaped from the towel and a few drops that she didn't wipe off well were consequently running down her neck. once in the living room, she didn't look at him or the bouquet she passed by as if it didn't exist.

he was quick to get up and join her in the kitchen, settling down silently on a high chair lying around. she was taking out utensils and ingredients of all kinds, and trent guessed that she was preparing lunch, but only for her. indeed, only one plate was out, and as usual, since yesterday, she had her back to him.

"were the croissants good?" he tried to approach her a little awkwardly, but only got silence in response. that is when he realized that she was really hurt. "i... bought you flowers, the woman in the shop told me you'd like these," he tried again to get a reaction from her but she was like a wall, unperturbed.

she was quietly cracking two eggs on the rim of a bowl, acting as if she was alone, as if there wasn't her boyfriend behind her struggling like an idiot to redeem himself. trent then realised that it was time for an apology.

"i'm really sorry about yesterday, i shouldn't have talked to you like that and pushed you away when you were just trying to make me feel better. it was stupid of me, really, and i'm sorry," he breathed out as she continued her little game, still ignoring him. "nirv'? are you going to talk or?" he was confused.

this was the first time she had ever acted this way. after an argument, usually, she would tell him what she hadn't liked, what had hurt her, and then trent would apologize and everything would be back on track. the silent treatment was brand new, and it confused his brain immensely because he had never learned how to make amends for a situation like this.

once her plate was ready, nirvana took care to lick the dripping sauce off her fingers one by one in front of him, making trent roll his eyes. not only did she not speak to him, but she also played with him —it was definitely not his day. then, she deserted the kitchen to go and slump down on the sofa a few meters away, leaving the defender alone like an idiot who lowered his head in defeat. but since he didn't give up so easily, he joined her on the sofa, ready to make her talk.

"i got to admit that i don't know what to do here. if you don't talk t—" he couldn't finish his sentence because she had already turned on the television and the volume up to the maximum so that she wouldn't hear him. trent grunted in displeasure before reaching over her body to grab the remote control to turn it back off.

like a child, a pout was present on trent's lips as he rested his chin on the shoulder of the woman to his left, "please talk to me, i'm sorry nirvana, you know i didn't mean to upset you last night," the girl waddled a little in an attempt to get the player to move, but he remained steadfast.

it was then that he began to place several wet kisses on his girlfriend's neck, interspersed with "please" and "i love you", hoping that these words would break down her barriers. although her face remained impassive, trent could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end from the shivers that his kisses were causing. a small smile broke over his lips as he rested his chin on her shoulder, his eyes raised to the girl's face.

"please talk to me. i want to settle this fight but if you don't talk to me we won't be able to. i really hate it when you do that," he whined before placing another kiss, this time behind her ear.

this kiss was surely the right one because it managed to do something the others had not; provoke a smirk on his girlfriend's lips, widening his own smile. he was not far from his goal now.

"that's the whole point trent," nirvana replied simply, and the defender felt joy wash over him as the sound of her soft voice finally reached his ears.

she finally looked down at trent, who was also looking at her, a silly little smile on his face. despite herself, nirvana felt her barriers drop and a bigger smirk comes to her lips.

"i love you, and i'm sorry about what i said yesterday. i promise to never do it again," he whispered in the hollow of her ear and she felt her barriers drop completely.

"promise?" the girl offered her pinky finger which trent caught with his, laughing loudly.

"i promise," he reaffirmed so that she would understand that he was serious about what he was saying and nirvana then let her body sink a little more into the sofa before she laid her head on the defender's.

"i love you too trent, but just know that the next time i offer you comfort you have to accept it because i'm your girlfriend and i'm here to support you, okay?" she said quietly with her eyes closed as she enjoyed this moment with the player who responded affirmatively to her words.

after a few seconds, she finally lifted her head and turned it towards the bouquet still sitting on the kitchen counter, "thank you for the flowers, they're beautiful."

trent followed nirvana's gaze before resting it on her again as a tender smile played on his lips, "anytime sweetheart."

#football imagine #football one shot #football fanfic #liverpool fc #liverpool #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold fanfic #football #one shot

[azulera]

Sweet Like Açai

Pairing: TAA x Black Reader

Summary: He’s still raw from a rough break-up, his club is trudging through a mid-season slump, and somehow Trent still develops a fat crush on the server at Merseyside’s newest smoothie place.

Notes: this will be my last story for a while, but it is a longer one, and who doesn't love wingman curtis and flustered shy trentski 😃 here is chapter 1, but all other chaps will be posted on ao3. pls enjoy and do tell me what you think!

—————————————————————————

The new café that Curtis suggests is only a 15-minute drive from AXA, so after their last meetings and quick showers they take off in his Range Rover and make it there in ten. The owner, he says, is a friend of the Jones family, a former footballer who took the constant chiding of his nutritionists to heart and built a second career from it, and Curtis promises Trent that it’s the best combination of chilled fruit, yogurt, granola and whatever other superfood magic that he’s ever tasted.

But it’s not that Trent needs the backstory that his teammate gives or really much convincing at all - after training his stomach feels as big and empty as a house, and, even still, he figures he deserves it. The past months have been less than kind to him, and closer to brutal: the team’s performance has continued to nosedive in what by Liverpool standards was already an aggressively average season, and he’s still deciding if he’s moved on from the mutual but still painful breakup with his long-term girlfriend two months ago. “Self-care” is a foreign thing he’s been trying to practice at the insistence of his mum and Hendo, since they claim it’s okay to let himself have nice things, to not always push harder when the going is already tough.

A quick, sugary pick-me-up can’t possibly do too much more damage.

A little bell chimes as they step in the door and the air that greets them is pleasantly cool, and sweet. Dark purples and greens blend with browns and oranges on the walls in a swirling pattern, and rustic wood tables with high stools are arranged in rows from one side of the space to the other. There’s a couple sat together at a spot near the window, twin purple cups in front of them, and a single, serious-looking man on a laptop near the back, but the line to order and the self-serve kiosks are both empty. Curtis walks up to the counter, as in any room, like he lives there, and has been there a million times.

“The açai one’s gonna blow your mind, lad, I swear to ya. Plus, the place is Black-owned and that, supportin the community.”

Trent laughs once before settling his hands in the pockets of his sweats and looking up to the menu. There are too many options, really, but at the moment his stomach is non-discriminating.

“Yeah, it better. Won’t shut up about it, you. What’s good- the bowl or smoothie?”

“Hold on – Y/N? Is that you?”

Trent’s question goes unanswered, and smothered by the sound of Curtis’ yell. His voice lifts across the space, shouting the unfamiliar name another time, and again Trent is astounded by just how loud his teammate’s voice can be. That level of volume is helpful on the pitch but embarrassing in public, and Trent feels the eyes of at least one of the patrons on them.

“Curtis? Curtis Jones? Oh my days, one second–”

The ceramic counter holding the ingredients curves around into a small kitchen entrance on the left, and from where he’s standing, Trent can’t see what, or whoever it is that Curtis sees. But the mutual excitement in the voices can’t be missed.

“No way! Get over here!”

Curtis shouts, bouncing on his toes. A moment later, a blur of movement in the shape of a girl flies in from the kitchen, and has Curtis pulled into a tight hug. His teammate reciprocates, and Trent can see his shoulder muscles working to tighten the squeeze, even with the width of counter between them.

“Long time no see, Curt. Was starting to think you were something we dreamed up, only ever see you on the telly.”

Trent can soon confirm the voice does belong to a girl, and on the first glance he gets of her face it is slightly squished against Curtis’ shoulder, but painted in a look of open, undisguised surprise and happiness. It’s the kind of strong emotion he would only ever show on the pitch, almost never in a public place like this, and it almost feels like too much to witness such vulnerability from someone he doesn’t yet know, and who’s heartfelt reunion he seems to be third-wheeling on. He would look away, but his eyes betray him and zoom in, already busy taking inventory without consulting him first.

They start at her skin, which is glowy and smooth, and the same color he likes his tea, on the off day where he does drink a cup. He thinks it’s probably poor to compare a woman to a beverage, in fact, he knows it is, but blames it on his grumbling stomach and moves on. His gaze locks next on her lips, because she and Curtis are speaking again, loudly.

“Could say the same to you, can’t I, been ages since I’ve seen ya! And I’m loving the hair.”

“Yeah, wanted to try something different. It’s been a few years since I’m growing them.”

Her hair, Trent notices when he pulls his eyes from her face, is in locs like his, but lighter brown with amber highlights strewn throughout. They swing about her shoulders as she moves, so that she regularly has to push the strands back behind her ears, away from her face. The familiarity of the movement triggers a thing in his brain that yells “Me too!”, and his eyes travel the rest of her, suddenly hungry to find more things he recognizes. The first are her eyes, which are a warm, chocolatey brown, maybe two shades lighter than his own. The close second is that he finds her unpredictably, and undeniably attractive.

That feeling inside him that went dormant two months ago starts to fidget.

“How is everythin, though? Uni? And how’s the fam?” Curtis asks.

The two of them continue catching up with excitement that hasn’t yet worn off, and Trent stands to the side, trying not to intrude and trying not to be awkward. In a way he hopes is sly, he continues scrutinizing her features while intermittently looking at his shoes, up at the artsy menu board where the offerings are, impressively, engraved rather printed, and briefly at his phone.

He should, he supposes, listen politely to their conversation, try and contribute, but in truth he only checks back in after a loud burst of laughter. She's covering her mouth with one hand, and Curtis is straightening up from being almost doubled over.

“Whoo, I had nearly forgotten about that, you know! Your brother used to be absolutely mad. But hey, I was round here last week and didn’t see you. Are you workin here now?”

“Yeah, I am.” She pulls at the cafe emblem on the corner of her mauve t-shirt. “I’ll be working the front end of things while we’re still small. Only been at it a few days now, but Dad’s made sure I’m working hard.”

“I don’t doubt it, but you tell the big man he ought to hire some more staff, ‘cause me, I’ll be telling the whole city about this place. Dragged Trentski here as soon as I could, just to show him. Me first convert.”

The sound of his nickname evaporates whatever was left of his distraction, and he steps forward a little, as if finally being invited into the conversation. He looks up and finds she’s looking back at him.

“Alright?” She asks, smiling. “I’m Y/N.”

She waits for him to introduce himself even though if she’s a friend of Curtis and a footballer’s daughter, she surely knows who he is. Or does she? Either way, he decides he likes her for it.

“I’m Trent. Nice to meet you.”

“Good to meet you, too, Trent. Let me get Curt situated and then I’ll be right with you, yeah?” She smiles again, and it isn’t one of those plastic, forced customer service smiles, but one that lasts, like she means it. The light from it floods her eyes, and makes them even shinier, independent of the artificial lighting buzzing above them. In it’s glow, his chest does that stupid thing where it feels filled up with too much air.

He watches as she moves down the line and makes his teammate’s bowl with laser focus, trying to guess if what he’s sensing is just politeness, if her smile lasts as long every time. When the flash of white does appear behind her lips again, and twice more before she calculates Curtis’ total at the register, he gets too distracted by it to count the seconds.

“What would you like?” Too quickly she’s in front of him again, hands poised around a brown paper bowl.

“Em, yeah,” He clears his throat. “A bowl, please. Not a smoothie. The açai one?”

“Good choice.” She nods, while scooping portions of the purple fruit-yogurt mix into the container. “Any special add-ins for you today? Plant protein, energy, antioxidants?”

The health-food buzzwords set off signals in his head, and he gives the answer that would make his nutritionist proud.

“Need all of it, honestly.”

She laughs again, but it feels different this time, since he’s the one who made it happen, not Curtis.

“Good boy. Bet your nutritionist loves you. Which fruits?”

Trent freezes a second, affected in equal amounts by the “good boy” and the feeling that she’d read his mind. She pushes the right side of her locs back behind her ear in the silence.

“What about banana? It goes really well with the açai.” She offers.

“Yeah, banana’s good.”

She nods again and uses metal tongs to arrange the pale yellow pieces artfully over the yogurt. He goes on, choosing available fruits from the names listed on the clear glass shield, and trying not to stumble, again. The bowl gradually fills up, and it’s a smooth exchange – it’s much easier to do this, to talk and focus, he realizes, when her face is turned down – until they reach the last two options.

“Pineapple?”

“Em, nah, no pineapple, it-” The next bit of information he adds not because it’s particularly important, but because their interaction is almost over, and he doesn’t want it to be. “-makes me tongue feel—”

“All tingly? Yeah, that’s a thing!”

Her eyes light up as she exclaims and to Trent it seems her face sudddenly changes over — there’s more color in her cheeks, and vibration in her voice. But maybe he’s imagining it. She flits the tongs through the air as she continues.

“There’s an enzyme in pineapple, bromelain, that breaks down proteins, and you’ve got a bunch of those on your tongue and cheeks. It’s what makes it so acidic, and makes it burn a little to eat, but it’s interesting, cause, bromelain is also really good for you? Helps treat inflammation, and indigestion-“

“Not now, Y/N, just give the lad his food! If he wanted a lecture he would have gone uni with you.” Curtis teases from near the register, looking up from where he’d been on his phone, waiting. She graces him with a beautiful and dramatic roll of her eyes, but when she turns back to Trent they’re sincerely apologetic.

“I get a little carried away with the nutrition thing, forgive me. It’s nice to have Curt here, though, to keep me humble. Coconut?”

Trent wants to say, “No, it’s okay, I don’t mind it” but all he manages is a kind smile. He could care less now if she adds the shredded bits of white to his order or not, but he wants her to keep looking at him, for the excited glow on her face from when she’d mentioned food science to return.

“Em, yeah. Thank you.”

Minutes later, their bowls are bagged and paid for and they’re heading towards the door, fond words of parting on all their lips.

“You all come back, okay?” Y/N probes, pulling out from another Curtis, cross-counter hug. “And I’ll tell me brother and Dad you came in, Curt, they’ll be buzzin.”

“Oh for sure, I’ll send him a text as well. It’s been so nice seeing ya.”

“Same. And hope to see you again, too, Trent. Not just on the telly.” She waves at him, more a wiggle of her fingers, and it should look silly but somehow it isn’t. He wiggles his own back, and hopes it works for him too.

In the car, they dig in, setting aside the plastic lids unceremoniously on the dash. Curtis is obnoxious about the cleanliness and quality of many things, his clothes, trainers, and phone screen, but strangely his car isn’t one of them.

The bowl Trent ordered turns out to be far better than average. The yogurt is perfectly tart and tangy, the fruit crisp and juicy and the açai deliciously purple. He still hasn’t got the girl from the counter, Y/N, out of his head.

He’s four bites in when he finally asks the question bumping around his brain the past five minutes.

“How’d you know her again?”

“Who? Y/N? Her brother’s me mate. She was a year older, but we all grew up together in Toxteth. Why?”

“No reason.”

“Do you fancy her?”

“No-what lad?” Trent screws his face his up, unsure how indignant he truly is, and though he saw the question coming. Curtis only shrugs.

“I said, do you fancy her? I saw your face while yous was talkin, and you almost never ask after girls. Just pull with your mind games or telepathy or whatever it is you do.”

Trent gets a mouthful of coconut to formulate his answer, and the taste makes his stomach feel funny. He remembers why he doesn’t usually go for it.

“No, I mean, I think she’s good-lookin, yeah, but I don’t fancy her. Don’t even know her.”

“S’not hard to change that- I could put in a word for ya. Know she’s real busy, real serious about school and that, but you’re you, innit. Trent Alexander-Arnold. Be mad not to go for it.”

Trent lets the drama of Curtis’ compliment slide off him with a shake of his head. But the “you’re you” sticks; it’s what he’s been telling himself the two month’s he’s been girlfriend-less and on a season high not-winning streak, sitting middle of the table with indications to fall. He’ll keep on repeating it, or hearing it repeated to him, until it feels true again.

“You don’t feel weird about that? Since she’s your mate and all?”

“Why would I? You’re both sound people, better than sound. And if chattin to her gets rid of that kicked-dog look you’ve been wearin the past month, brother, I’ll plan the weddin.”

“I haven’t been— there won’t be-“ Trent splutters, before resigning to the chaos that is his closest teammate and friend. “I’ll keep the offer in mind, lad. But let me finish me smoothie bowl first, yeah? Let’s start there.”

“Okay, okay. You’ll remember I told you so.”

Trent keeps eating, lets Curtis switch the subject, and it's not until he’s home, scrolling the lists of Liverpool-based Instagram profiles containing the name “Y/N”, that he questions just what would be the subject of his friend’s “I told you so” — Y/N or the smoothie. He decides to treat him to another one tomorrow to find out.

#trent alexander arnold x oc #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold fanfiction #trent alexander arnold x reader #footballer x you #football imagine #footballer x reader #football fanfic

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ baby tears ✦.·:·.*

pairing: trent alexander-arnold x female oc (named her Astrid)

summary: in which having a child can be hard but with the help of someone it may feel better

author's note: @l4vines asked for some fluffy dad Trent so here is my attempt to deliver. also i need to change these headers i despise them now. as usual, not proofread.

warnings: mentions of postpartum anxiety/depression, baby blues (I’ll try to approach the subject as carefully as I can)

word count: 937

The small lamp on the nightstand lightened the wide master bedroom. Light snores resonated from Trent’s mouth as he slept peacefully. At his side sat his longtime girlfriend, Astrid, legs folded with their newborn son, Elijah, lying on them and eating his milk out of his bottle. She looked at his face, beams of light showcasing his lips’ movements. His eyes remained closed as his fingers gesticulated, trying to grip his bottle.

Elijah was born two months ago, after nine long eventful months. Astrid had to be bed-bounded for the last three months of her pregnancy, which left her very frustrated.

After his birth, she felt relieved to be alive and mostly to have a healthy son. Though Astrid tried to give him all the care he needed, it still didn’t feel right. She would feel the urge to cry anytime she interacted with Elijah. Even if she did everything right, she could not stop doubting herself. And now was no different.

Small tears rolled down her cheeks as she watched Elijah eat slowly. The mix of her sniffs and the baby’s whimpers woke Trent up. He slowly moved around on the bed before turning to face his small family. He held a little smile on his face but it soon turned into a frown once he realised his partner crying. Again.

Trent knew this kind of episode happened to her, and they became even more frequent the past week. In a talk with his mom, she taught him about postpartum and how it was not always an easy and happy moment for the woman. After a few researches on his own, Trent feared she would suffer from postpartum depression or something close to it. He didn’t know how to talk to her about it but he could not bear seeing her that way anymore.

“Azzy” He called her by her childhood nickname.

She quickly wiped her cheeks in an attempt to hide her emotions from her boyfriend. He sat up, leaning on the headboard. Since he could not properly hold her, he simply left a kiss on her temple as tears uncontrollably rolled down her face.

“I can’t seem to get over this” Astrid sobbed, her head on his chest and her eyes glued on Elijah’s face. “He deserves so much better and I just don’t know how to give it to him”

“You already do. You handle Elijah with as much care as you can give him, despite doubting yourself. No matter how you feel, you’re always there for him” His words definitely comforted her and soothed an inner wound that desperately needed it. “Elijah trusts you, now you need to trust yourself and know how much of a good mother you are”

“Thank you so much, Trent. Genuinely.” She put the baby bottle away about to place Elijah on her shoulder for him to burp “You don’t know how much it means to me”

“That’s what I’m here for. Get some sleep Az, I got him” He grabbed Elijah out of her hold placing him on his shoulder as Astrid laid back down under the covers, trying to doze off.

A few minutes later, she felt Trent get back into the bed, instantly wrapping his arms around her waist.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 

In the following weeks, Trent made sure to be as supportive as he could of Astrid. He made sure to uplift her every day and compliment her so that she felt better not only about her parenting but also about herself. Slowly but surely, she gained more and more confidence as a woman and also as a mother.

“Give me the wipes,” Astrid asked as she lifted Elijah’s lower body up to change him.

Trent did as asked watching her eyebrows knit from her concentration. He observed her movements, and how soft she was whenever she touched him. He also listened to how she talked him through the process even though the newborn did not understand one bit. She was the best mother ever in his eyes, now it was her turn to see it.

Astrid finished dressing Elijah back up before giving him to Trent while she put the products away. She came back to the living room to a cute interaction between the two men of her life: Trent kissing their son’s face repeatedly, earning a smile and what could be a laugh from the newborn.

She joined them on the couch, sitting on her right leg as she smiled, looking at them.

“You’re good?”

She knew he didn’t mean it as of today but in general.

“Yeah, better since that night we talked. And I would not feel that way if it was not for you. You really helped me a lot”

“That’s what I’m here for” 

And he meant it. The moment he decided to get into a relationship with her three years ago, he accepted having to deal with anything she went through by her side. Even more, now that they had become a family.

“You’re ready for tomorrow?” He turned to face her but she broke eye contact.

“Not really. But it’s a step at getting better.”

They both decided that it could be good for Astrid to see a therapist, just to let her feelings out and receive some guidance. Trent even offered to go with her but she emphasized wanting these sessions to be for her only, where she was free to vent, with nobody she knew around her.

“You’re the strongest woman I’ve ever met, don’t forget it” Trent spoke truthfully, her face blushing from his comment.

“I love you, Azzy”

“I love you too, Trent”

like, repost and suggest (closing on september 1st) (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

#written by bl00dst41ned #black writer #trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold fic #trent alexander arnold fluff #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold x oc #trent alexander fic #trent alexander imagine #trent alexander x oc #football imagine #football fluff #football x oc

[the-offside-rule]

Trent Alexander Arnold (Liverpool) - Not So Expected

Requested: yes, by anon

Prompts: 6) "You never cease to amaze me."

7) "You have such a beautiful soul."

35) "Just hold still."

Warnings: none, just fluff😊

Anniversaries. Oh how stressful they were. In this case, their anniversary wasn't for another week but Trent had planned a getaway trip for them so Y/n needed to get the anniversary gifts before they left. She walked around aimlessly in the shopping centre, not exactly sure of where to start her quest. She had been walking around for a good half hour and her hands were still empty. She was beyond frustrated at this point. "Well, well, well, if it isn't Y/n Alexander Arnold." She grinned as she heard the Scottish voice from behind her. "I'm not Alexander Arnold just yet Robbo. He hasn't put a ring on it yet." She said turning and giving him a hug. "Only a matter of time. He'd be stupid not to."

"What you doing out?" Y/n asked. "The missus sent me out to get stuff. Ended up here. How about you?" She shrugged. "I was meant to try find stuff for Trent because our anniversary is coming up but I haven't a clue where to start."

"I could give you a hand if you need?" Andy offered. It was a good idea to be fair. Andy knew Trent too, so chances are he could give a bit more input or a second opinion. "Yeah, if it isn't a problem." Andy scoffed. "Course it's not a problem. Come on." Andy and Y/n walked into every shop and took at least one thing with them, with the aim to make a hamper styled gift. Just after they left JD sports, she decided to text Trent just so she knew when to leave in order to hide the gifts from him.

Hey babe, when are u home?

Will be a bit

Just hanging out w Robbo

Won't be back till 6ish

Luv ya x

Robbo? As in Andy Robertson? He couldn't have been. She was with him for a good hour now. "Robbo?" Andy turned around, still holding onto his kids. "What's happenin?" He asked. "Trent. He's just gone and said this." She showed Andy her phone. He read through it and pulled a face too. "Well he's clearly not with me. Haven't seen him all day." That didn't help Y/n at all. Where was he and what was he doing? "Maybe he's out with Chambo. He's planning a surprise for Perrie or something. He might not want you to know in case you go blabbering to her about it." Andy said in an attempt to help ease Y/n's mind. "No, no definitely not. He's already told me about the surprise, and I know he isn't with Alex because Perrie told me she was going to the park with Alex and Axel." Y/n said. Andy was just as confused as Y/n was. "Surely there's a reasonable explanation there. He isn't that stupid."

That whole evening, Y/n felt awkward with Trent. When he got home, he was smiling but this time, she was worried about his smile. Was he smiling because of another girl? This continued until they decided to go to sleep. Trent sat reading his book like he normally did before bed, but Y/n sat staring at the wall. She looked away when Trent had closed his book and put it on his bedside table.

"Goodnight Babe." Trent muttered, turning to his bedside table and shutting his light off before tucking himself in. When Y/n didn't do the same, it sparked confusion in the defender, making him turn back to his worried looking girlfriend. "Babe, you alright?" He asked. "Where were you today?" Trent blinked a few times. "I was out. I told you on the phone." Y/n scoffed and folded her arms. "I know you weren't with Robbo, I met him at the shopping centre. He was just as confused when he saw your message." Trent was stuck in the mud, up to his knees at this point. He couldn't dig himself out of this one and make his plans go ahead. "So, do tell, where you were and don't, please don't lie." Trent looked into both of her eyes, both looking oh so broken and he had no choice. He let out a defeated sigh. He reached into his bedside drawer and ruffled about a bit, confusing Y/n even more than she already was. "I was gonna wait to do this until our trip next week but since you caught me out, I have to come clean-" Trent leaned over his pillow and looked up into Y/n's eyes to reveal a small velvet box. Her mouth dropped open.

"Y/n, I've been with you for ages now and if you had given me another few days I would've been able to put this whole speech together but since I'm just here now, I suppose this'll have to do." He opened it, revealing a delicate diamond ring. "I love you, I've known that since the day I met you. You've just got such a beautiful soul, you never, ever cease to amaze me and I was wondering if you would want to spend the rest of your life with me and become my wife?" Y/n felt a few tears trickling down her cheeks and shaping around her smile. "You gonna say yes or do I have to do it again." Y/n began laughing as she shook her head. "No, no you don't have to. You wouldn't have even had to ask!" She jumped into his arms, kissing him over and over again. "Of course I will!" Trent laughed, trying to get her off so he could put the ring on her finger. "Alright, alright, just hold still so I can put this on!" She got off him and left her shakey hand out for him to take. It fit perfectly.

"I can't believe this." She whispered. "I couldn't find the right ring at all today. I'm blessed Hendo was there buying a necklace for his missus." Y/n chuckled. "I was looking for an anniversary present for you. Thank god I found Andy." They laughed. "Looks like we were both stuck for ideas." Trent said, putting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her into his chest. Her hand rested on his chest as the diamond twinkled on her finger, a smile now unable to leave her face. "Are you happy?" She looked up to Trent with a face of confusion. "Well of course, why wouldn't I be?"

"No reason, just asking. I just can't wait to get married."

#trent alexander arnold #liverpool #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold blurbs #trent alexander arnold oneshots #trent alexander arnold oneshot #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x you #taa x reader #taa blurb #taa imagine #taa #football x reader #football x you #football x y/n #football x oc #football one shot #football #football imagines #football blurbs

[hypnotiiize]

𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞, 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐚𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐝

       𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘴 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘧𝘪𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫-𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬:  i LOOOOOVEUH writing for trent it puts me back in my wattpad bag. it’s funny TO ME ☝🏽 plus a little rival moment going on. and SHES BLACK ofc. but ima stop saying that the main character’s Black cause it’s a given w me and also i want ppl to feel shell-shocked like i do when i’m reading and suddenly it’s all “you blushed a deep red” “he ran his fingers through your fine hair” 

+ there’s a lot of marvel references in this one u gotta bear w me 

     Trent had no clue how she’d managed to do it: maneuver around him quietly, sit in plain sight seamlessly, spread the apparent word quickly. 

By the time he’d caught a whiff of the story she’d concocted, it was already too far gone, as it had spread something akin to wildfire. There had only been the four horrid, soul-crushing, gut-wrenching words that solidified what he was sure would count as a loss against him. 

“I met your fiancée.”

His eyebrows had furrowed. He’d tilted his head. He’d even decided, in that split second, that he couldn’t have possibly comprehended those words correctly.

“You met my what?” Trent asked as he fought to understand what the man must’ve said; what he assumed he had missed due to the absurdity of the supposed words.

The middle-aged man repeated his sentence with a wide, congratulatory grin, and Trent could hear nothing but the rush of blood in his ears, trickling down his spine to his feet and weighing him to the ground there. 

The rush, he realized quickly in his desire to stay afloat, sounded like the ocean. If he closed his eyes, he could find the turquoise water waving at him. He could look down and watch the ocean flow around his ankles, beckoning him to its tide, where he would eventually be swept up in its serenity. He could bend at his waist and dip a hand into the foam there; he could swirl his hand around and lift up a piece of salty-smelling seaweed.

But his eyes were wide open. 

And he was well aware that the ocean-sounding rush was, instead, more comparable to hysteria.

And when he looked down, he could only see a well-moisturized hand with a shiny engagement ring propped up on his arm. 

His brown eyes tracked the arm slowly– timidly– to the woman beside him, who had managed to cozy up to him as he was stuck in his reverie. His heart dropped: she was wearing a shirt just as red as the blood he could hear, and he was positive that if he turned her around, he would see his last name sprawled across her back and the large sixty-six just underneath that. 

He fought the urge to fall to the ground and kick his feet in every which way. 

The tranquility of the ocean’s crashing waves came to an abrupt stop. He was yanked back to Earth, his soul breathless as it slammed back into his hollow body. 

As he caught his breath unevenly, the woman– his twisted gender-bent version of Thanos– was saying to the middle-aged man, “Yeah, we’re, like, deep in love.”

“Aw, that’s so lovely,” replied the man, whose hand was pressed against his heart sincerely. “It’s just so nice to see young love.”

The woman nodded, tightening her hand on Trent’s arm affectionately. “Aw, yeah. Isn’t it?” 

There was a flash in which he recalled the comic books from his childhood, and not for the first time in his life, Trent yearned for the ability to teleport. If he could– if had been bitten by a radioactive spider or turned into a super soldier or born on another planet– he would be on the beach, watching the turquoise water wave at him and looking down to see it flow around his ankles. He thought that, perhaps, if he closed his eyes and regulated his breathing enough, the atoms would align perfectly and suddenly– so, so suddenly– he would feel the warmth of the Sun on his skin and the sand between his toes. 

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

When he opened his eyes, he was still on the football field. 

Fuck.

“He gets a little wistful when we talk about being together, y’know?” she was saying to the man, explaining Trent’s attempt to spontaneously combust into thin air. She emphasized her points with her free hand, her fingers pressed against the pad of her thumb as she added, “Since our love is just so real and palpable.”

“Wow. Love is beautiful,” replied the man, and Trent bit into the inside of his cheeks. “Engaged, though, wow. I didn’t even know Trent was with anybody!”

“Yeah. Private, but not secret. Isn’t that what they say, TT?” She squeezed his arm once more, angling her head as if she was going to place it on his shoulder. At the last moment, she left an inch between them as if she, too, did not want to be intimate in that way with him.

Trent exhaled harshly through flared nostrils.

“I respect that,” said the man as he nodded at them. “Wow. How long have you two kids been together?”

Trent could see her turn to him in his peripheral. There was a deafening ring somewhere within his head, bouncing off of the inside of his skull when he realized that something absolutely stupid and mildly comedic to only her was going to happen. 

He prayed for the beach. 

She hummed, feigning as if she was thinking before sighing softly. “Gee, I don’t know. It all just goes so fast when you’re so deep in love. Why, it’s,” her eyes lit up as she giggled and Trent knew something villainous was afoot, “It’s almost like it didn’t even happen. Isn’t it, my love?”

Trent contemplated spitting up on himself as the man before them smiled kindly at their supposed union. Trent supposed that if he was the man, he, too, would have smiled. The man was not at all privy to Trent’s loss of power in the dynamic. For the fact was, and thus it would remain: she had won that round.

Big time. 

Huge time.

He side-eyed the woman clinging to his arm. “It really didn’t happen,” he found his voice.

“I know, that’s so how it feels,” she added swiftly, well aware of the meaning Trent’s words had. She turned back to the gushing man before Trent could burst the carefully articulated bubble she’d blown. “But when you know, you know… You know?” 

The man chortled. “Oh trust me, I know.”

 “You know,” she joked like someone’s middle-aged mother, chuckling in a haughty way that Trent had never heard from her before in their months of being reluctant partners in– and he found this part ironic on account of her devious ways– crime. 

The world around him spun on its axis as he called for the beach once more. 

“Excuse me,” Trent said apologetically to the man as he wrapped his index finger and thumb around her wrist. He drew her closer to his body easily as he backed up. “Really sorry. I have to talk to, uh–”

“Your fiancée, silly,” she finished his sentence in a high-pitched voice, smacking her lips together and gesturing to Trent with her thumb as he tugged her away. “Ugh, this one’s so needy. Love him crazy, though. See you later, sir! And give my best to your wife!”

As Trent planted her back against the concrete wall that shielded them from onlookers, he questioned, briefly, if the superheroes that he fell in love with as a child had to face bad guys as annoying and disagreeable as the woman before him. He highly doubted it; he couldn’t fathom a villain having as much time on her hands as she did. He would have rathered be overtaken by the Green Goblin than some girl wearing a nameplate necklace and biker shorts. 

“How’d you get in here?” he hissed, straining his ears for what he was sure would be a broadcast over the loudspeakers: “Breaking news, four security guards found unconscious at the gates. The suspect, wearing Air Force Ones and gold hoop earrings, is still at large. Be vigilant.”

The suspect before him just wrung her hands together, playing with her fingers as she grit her teeth tight in a grimace. When she spoke, it was cautiously. 

“Trent, and don’t gasp when I say this, but…” she gulped, “I walked.”

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

Trent screwed his eyes shut at her cutting sarcasm and remembered thirty minutes prior, back when he only had the rush of winning on his mind and not the urge to put the woman before him in a straight jacket. Ignorance was truly, truly bliss. And wherever she had managed to bring him to was whatever the opposite of what bliss was. 

“Oh, you walked? You walked? Oh, haha, you walked,” he faked a laugh before throwing his hands in the air, rumbling, “Yeah, no shit, you walked!”

She had the nerve to look at him sideways. “Geez, that’s a lot of hostility. Why’d you ask if it’s obvious, then? I thought you really cared, so this is just hurtful,” she said– no, she lied facetiously through her teeth because she enjoyed being a headache and a half. 

Sunshine, sand, and seaweed.

He inhaled through his nostrils for three long seconds and then pursed his lips as he exhaled through his mouth. She waited patiently for whatever he would say, a peaceful smile on her shiny lips.

“You know,” Trent began conversationally after gathering his composure, “I think you trigger my gag reflex or something. Like, I see you, and I start dry heaving. You’re nauseating.”

She grinned, her hands placed on her hips as if she was posing proudly. “Ah. That’s just what every young lady loves to hear from a man.”

“Shut up,” he retorted quickly. Her smile only widened. “I think you’re bad for my nerves,” he hypothesized, “Actually, I think you’re going to be the reason I take up Xanax.”

“Or, y’know, I could get you one of those vests that dogs have for when they let off fireworks,” she suggested, hugging the air around her so that he could visualize the Thundershirt in question.

“Or, you could leave me alone,” he proposed, his eyebrows raised.

“But… Dog vest?” she tried.

“But… My peace?” he tried harder. 

There was a stretch of silence in which she pressed her lips together and tilted her head at him, an undecipherable look sparkling in her eyes as she scanned his face. Trent’s own eyes drank her in as well, desperately attempting to stay aware of her every social cue as the slightest flick of her eyebrow could mean a sarcastic jab that he would have to respond to. When her gaze fell to his shoes briefly, Trent was struck with the realization that she was— Sunshine, sand, seaweed— attractive. He was usually too caught up fighting for his life to revel in her looks, but in scarce moments like those, when she would fall silent and analyze him (she was always analyzing something, he noticed. That was probably why she was so good at being cunning), he would be reminded of how beautiful she was. If only she didn’t moonlight as Doc Ock. 

Her eyes snapped to his once more. She was smirking something wicked. Trent moved to speak just before she could mess with his day further, choosing to cave to her will. He hoped that, in giving in, she would grow bored and leave. She was smart for catching him right after a game, he’d give her that; he was too busy aching all over and yearning for a nap, he simply didn’t have it in him to go toe-to-toe with her.

“I’ll let you get back at me this one time,” was what he said, shaking his head mournfully at his loss and reminiscing on his last win— the very win that he was sure had brought on this fiancée act.

“Aw, TT,” she began sweetly, pouting as if she found him adorable. A gag wracked his body at the absolutely horrible nickname. She raised her hand and brushed a loc from his vision, breaking the news to him gently, “You didn’t ‘let me’ do anything. I won anyway, silly. But thank you for being so nice.”

“A win is debatable,” he replied with an indignant scoff. (He had already changed the scoreboard in her favor.)  

“Aw.” Her soft fingers fell to his chin and she gently squeezed him there, shaking his head lightly as if she was someone’s grandmother. “You’re so cute when you’re delusional,” was her response. 

He eyed her. “Don’t call me cute.”

Her pout deepened. “Aw, you’re so cute when you say don’t call you cute. Cutie,” she complimented, her tone syrupy as she poked a finger into his torso. As her words washed over him, Trent was smacked with what he assumed a sodium overdose felt like.

Sunshine, sand, seaweed... Maybe even some actual weed thrown in there, too.  

“I just– I really want you to know,” he began, speaking past the rising blood pressure from her salt-seasoned words, “That I just... I really despise you.”

“Ah,” she sighed, smiling prettily as if she had woken up from the sweetest of dreams. “So this is love.” 

“It’s something, alright,” he mumbled bitterly. She fixed a smile in his direction, goodnatured and charming, and he could feel his carefully crafted resolve breaking, swaying toward the frustrating girl before him.

Someone shouted for him somewhere neither of them could see, though perhaps their inability to look away from one another had been what did it. He broke first after a pregnant pause, having drank in her every expression, glancing away to promise his presence to the voice. When he turned back, the girl was using a single finger and tapping her shades down onto her nose. 

“I’ll see you later, TT,” she said, taunting him as she began her leisurely stroll further and further away from him. 

“You’re going?” he asked after her, ignoring the nickname in exchange for optimism despite her shoddy track record.

She spun on the heel of her foot, her grin radiant. “Yes, I’m going–” 

His shoulders fell in relief at her response. “Oh, thank God…”

“–Going to go show everyone our engagement photos! Gotta show ‘em what real love looks like.”

He choked raggedly on the air he’d gasped into his lungs. There was a chill somewhere, and he was sure it had began at the ends of his hair though he could only feel its electricity zipping down his chilled spine. He looked all around for a camera. 

SunshinesandseaweedSunshinesandseaweed.

“You’ve gotta what?” There was real, visceral panic in his shaking voice as he watched the girl begin to skip-to-her-lou in the name of mass destruction.  

“I’ll see you later, dear!” she shouted warmly to him over her shoulder, always leaving him in the dust.

SUNSHINESANDSEAWEED—

“You’ve gotta WHAT?!”

#trent alexander arnold #x reader #x black reader #x oc #x original character #x black fem reader #trent alexander arnold x reader #trent alexander arnold x black reader #football #football imagine #fanfic #fanfiction

[riyayaa]

S P A D E

pairings: trent alexander arnold x female oc

summary: Amelia and Trent get assigned to a very brutal murder case, after twists and turns, heartbreaks and breakthroughs they think they’ve finally caught the murderer, except they haven’t. Who really is the one and only Spade?

genre(s): colleagues to lovers, slow burnish, murder mystery

warnings: swearing, mentions of murder, mentions of gore, nsfw?

notes: I’m sososo sorry it’s short, I’m not that great at introductions 😭

Pt 2

“Where are we?” she asked Adam, he fidgeted for a bit before finally speaking up “Monte-Carlo headquarters”

“Headquarters?? I thought I was here for a meeting?” she questioned “Yes you are in fact here for a meeting” his voice got quiet “a meeting about you landing the Monaco case” Amelia doesn’t think she’s ever been more shocked about hearing news like this ever. The Monaco case?

The Monaco case. This has to be the worst news ever..

Amelia scoffed “I did not come all the way out here just to do THAT case..” Adam narrowed his eyes and sighed “Lia you got chosen for a reason” his voice grew softer “your work is incredible, your the kind of detective we need for this case”

He stepped closer to her and handed her a file “with you on this case we could have a breakthrough after months of terror” his smile faltered “we could finally put a end to these killings lia…” Amelia almost didn’t see his smile fall. Was she really willing to risk her life for this? All the other detectives and policemen that have been on this case have either been killed or threatened to the point they couldn’t even step into the streets without feeling immense fear. No one has ever came close to catching The Spade

The spade was a murderer based in Monaco that went around killing and kidnapping very wealthy people. He was officially named the spade after it was discovered that he would nail a single spade playing card to all of his victims foreheads. It went from 2 murders to 67 all in the span of 3 months.

Adam cleared his voice “I might have forgotten to add a very important piece of information” what could it be now? “You have been assigned a partner for this case, Alexander-Arnold” oh. He smirked “Now don’t be worried I know how you get about this kinda stuff, Trent is the best of his division in the Uk” He took the file out of Amelia’s hand and flipped to a page with a man’s face on it “Trent Alexander-Arnold, he has successfully solved almost every case he has been given” Adam cleared his voice “He is the best of his unit, working with him is a opportunity any detective would kill for” Amelia had definitely known of Trent Alexander Arnold.

He clapped his hands together softly and spoke “Now if you will please follow me into the suit there is someone very special I would like you to meet” Adam quickly turned on his heels and paced into the suit with Amelia following him close behind. As she entered the suit she was met with a man, a man that she’s sure she’s seen before..

“Lia, this is Marcus Siné” He gestured to the man before him “He will be your head of tech on this case, anything you need help finding or any data you need help running, he’s here to do” Marcus smiled softly. His smile was simply breathtaking. She took a second to look at the man properly. He was attractive, really attractive. From his tan skin and chocolate brown eyes to his brown curls. Amelia choked on her words “Hi Marcus I’m Amelia, it’s very nice to meet you” She smiled softy and extended her hand out to him. It was just a friendly gesture though no? Definitely not. Amelia thinks she might’ve short-circuited when he took her hand into his much larger one. He softy laughed “It’s my pleasure to meet such a fine detective like you Amelia.” OH MY GOD. Amelia swallowed her words and just smiled as bright as she could. Did he really think that of her?

“I’ve seen your work before” Marcus says “The Florida case was exceptionally!” The Florida case was the breakthrough for Amelia’s career, she had caught the drug trafficker only a week after she had been assigned the case. “Trent is great too, I’m sure you would get along with him” Trent, Amelia had almost forgotten about the man as soon as she laid eyes on Marcus

“Great, now that the two of you have met each other I’m sure you will both be comfortable with Trent” Adam laughs softly “I promise you he’s a sweetheart” Adam smiled.

The door suddenly opened revealing a man standing there, not just any man. Trent Alexander Arnold.

#trent alexander arnold smut #trent alexander arnold fanfic #murder mystery #trent alexander imagines #trent alexander arnold #liverpool fc #football #Spotify

[photmath]

WELCOME TO MY PAGE! masterlist | fic recs | library

— em, she/her, 21 yo uni student attempting to do life, intj, scorpio!

mexican-american girl who enjoys football, basketball, tennis, and writing

mexico nt, france nt, liverpool¹, real madrid, & occasionally others

em.writes ← tag for my works, fic reblogs, asks related to my works & for any mutuals/followers to filter out to ignore fics-related works  

on a writing hiatus

most recent works:

nye kiss - trent alexander-arnold x reader

secret santa - trent alexander-arnold x reader

goin’ home - dominik szoboszlai x oc

current work:

comme les fleurs - kylian mbappe x physiotherapist!oc

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This is a personal blog, I do not have another account, so you will sometimes see lengthy interactions with my mutuals, football game commentary, and occassionally rants and tag games. I update my masterlist(s) after every new writing post. 

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