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Omg hi idk if you’re still taking requests but could I maybe pretty please request a Dominik fic where the reader’s Klopp’s daughter and when they’re celebrating the Carabao Cup win he accidentally kisses her in front of everybody and outs their relationship and the boys all take the piss out of them, especially Trent and Robbo?? Thank youuuu x

The Stadium Tunnel

The thrum of victory echoed down the tunnel, laughter bouncing off the cold concrete walls as the Liverpool squad spilled in, drinks in hand and spirits high. The Carabao Cup was theirs, the night electric with celebration. You hung back near the wall, trying to stay unnoticed, nursing a bottled water Klopp insisted you carry. Your father was always practical, always watching. You didn’t want to risk even the slightest tell.

Dominik Szoboszlai strode past, sweat still clinging to his hair, jersey untucked, and a grin carved deep into his face. He glanced at you, too long to be casual, and your stomach twisted. It wasn’t the glance of someone trying to keep a secret.

Your dad, thankfully, was off somewhere with his coaching staff, and you were praying he’d stay there. The last thing you needed was for him to see how Dominik’s attention lingered—how your attention lingered.

The players crowded around a table piled with drinks, Trent cracking jokes loud enough to draw a scolding from the physio about “hydration first, you idiot.” Andy Robertson smacked Trent’s shoulder and turned to Dominik.

“Oi, Szobo, lighten up,” Robbo teased, noticing Dominik hadn’t reached for a beer yet. “You’re grinning like a lad who’s just won more than a trophy.”

Dominik chuckled, brushing it off with a shake of his head, but his eyes flickered back to you.

You shifted uncomfortably, picking at the label on your water bottle. Why did his looks feel so obvious now? Why did you suddenly feel seen?

The noise around the table grew louder—someone had started a chant, the kind of drunken nonsense that only got worse with each repeat. Dominik moved away from the chaos, angling toward you.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating?” he said softly, close enough for only you to hear.

“I am,” you murmured, avoiding his eyes. “Just… not like them.”

His laugh was low, private. “You don’t think I noticed? You’ve been hiding all night.”

“I’m not hiding.”

“You are,” he said, his tone sharper now, his gaze daring. “And for what? You think they don’t know? You think I can—”

“Dom, stop.” Your voice cut him off, the weight of his name dragging tension into the air between you.

He sighed, leaning back against the wall next to you, shoulders brushing. You shouldn’t have let it linger. The heat of his presence made your chest tight, made it harder to stick to your resolve.

Then someone shouted his name. Trent.

Dominik straightened quickly, his face snapping into something careful and blank, but Trent was already walking toward you both, Robbo close behind him.

“Mate,” Trent said, pointing a bottle in his direction. “You’re acting weird. What’re you hiding over here for?” His eyes flicked between the two of you, curiosity sharp.

“I’m not hiding anything,” Dominik said too quickly.

Robbo squinted at him, grinning. “Oh, aye? Then why’s your face red?”

“It’s not.”

“It is!” Robbo crowed, delighted now. “Isn’t it, Trent? He’s blushing.”

You folded your arms, trying to stay invisible, but Robbo’s attention shifted like a hawk spotting prey. His eyes narrowed on you, then back to Dominik.

“Oh,” he said, the realization landing like a dropped pint. “Ohhh.”

Dominik bristled. “Robbo—”

But it was too late.

“No way,” Robbo said, incredulous, smirking now. “Trent, look at this. Szoboszlai’s got a thing for the boss’s daughter.”

Your face flamed. “Shut up,” you snapped, but the damage was done.

“Wait, wait,” Trent said, eyes wide. “Are you serious?” He looked between you and Dominik, his grin widening. “Oh, mate. This is too good.”

Dominik groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what is it?” Robbo pressed, grinning wickedly.

“It’s none of your business,” Dominik shot back, jaw tight.

The noise of the room suddenly shifted, louder, closer. You glanced up—and there he was. Your father. Jurgen Klopp stood at the edge of the tunnel, his presence like a thundercloud rolling in.

And then it happened.

You didn’t even see Dominik move. One second he was glaring at Robbo, and the next, his hand was on your arm, pulling you toward him—and he kissed you.

It wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t hidden. It wasn’t safe.

The room went dead silent.

When Dominik finally pulled back, the color drained from his face. His lips parted like he was going to say something, but no words came out.

Your father’s expression was unreadable.

And then the noise exploded—laughter, whistles, shouts of disbelief. Trent doubled over, Robbo clutching his chest like he couldn’t breathe from laughing so hard.

“Mate!” Trent wheezed. “You kissed her! In front of the gaffer!”

“Jesus Christ,” Robbo said, wiping tears from his eyes. “You’ve got balls, Szoboszlai. I’ll give you that.”

Dominik looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole, but you weren’t much better. Your father’s eyes locked on you, then on Dominik, his mouth a thin line of barely-contained emotion.

“Office,” he said finally, his voice clipped. “The second we get back.”

Dominik swallowed hard, glancing at you briefly before nodding.

As he followed Klopp out with his eyes , the lads started up again, the ribbing relentless.

“You’re a dead man, Dom!” Trent called after him, laughing.

And somewhere in the chaos, as your heart pounded and your face burned, you couldn’t decide if you wanted to strangle Dominik—or kiss him again.

hii hope you liked ittt 🩷🩷

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