#Alexander Grasse | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

occamstfs · 3 months

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New Meaning to Hazing

Here's a scent triggered nerd to frat bro TF, usual mandatory group project stuff. Hope you enjoy! -Occam

It was not shaping up to be Henry’s day. His lab partner Alexander invited him over to his place so they may work on their report together. He was beyond shocked to learn that his partner, one of the few people on campus he could really call a friend, seemed to live in a frat house. Walking past the less than manicured lawn, complete with circles of dead grass where kegs sat out too long with litter from a recent party still hiding at the edges, Henry couldn’t help but feel his friend would never deign to live in such grotesque bro-squalor.

He checks the address sent once more before moving to knock on the stark white door to the manor, unaware of the curtains shifting as he is watched by whomever awaits him inside. He raises an arm to rap on the door before it is thrust open by one of the brothers. The large man is shirtless and sweaty, presumably fresh off a work-out which Henry is vainly trying to avoid noticing. Inside the foyer of the house is only just neater than the lawn, the trash at least overflowing front the trash cans rather than scattering the floor.

Henry forces an awkward smile and begins backing away before he is ushered in by the sweaty man, “Hey bro, did ya need sumthin?” Gears turn in the man’s head as he tries to recall why some twerp would be coming to visit the house this morning. Henry sees the man’s mind grind to a halt and thinks about taking the opportunity to flee like the prey he is. He hesitates and the lapse passes, the oaf shouting out into the house. “Anyone expectin’ an, uh, nerd? This mornin’?” Henry hears a cacophony of barely conscious men groaning nos from rooms down the hall, breaking through them though is an almost familiar voice, “oh wait yeah, think I’ve got some project shit with him, can you send him over here?”

The troll of a man that has ushered Henry in beams and throws an arm around him, continuing to lead him through the threshold, “Huhuh! Why didn’t ya just yer here to see Lex lil bro! C’mon, he’s right this way.” Henry has no way to surreptitiously escape now that he’s been pulled inside the wholly unpleasant estate. Passing open rooms Henry could see a few men sleeping away the day and judging by the pervasive odor in the air there are at least a dozen or so more hiding from his view, if not his nose. He struggles not to visibly recoil at the musk lest he provoke his apparent guide through this bro-y hellscape.

Arriving in the living room he finds piles of dirty laundry on top of stained couches almost as expected at this point. More shocking than that is the large man lying in between them watching porn in the middle of this shared living space. His modesty barely covered by a pillow, the man looks up with eyes glazed over and stubble dotting his jaw. Despite the well sculpted body and jungle of pit hair exposed, almost as a challenge to the nerd interrupting him. Henry feels some foggy connection with this man who should fill him with only disgust. Trying not to too closely inspect the man mid-masturbation Henry can’t help but notice that he looks like some juiced up and dulled down version of his lab partner, Alexander.

His eyes widen as the frat bro smirks and scratches at one of his pits, smelling his hand before speaking up, “Hey dweeb, are you gonna just stand there and watch me jack it or can you get my fucking homework over with already.” His right hand returns under the pillow and Henry is taken aback, now recognizing the voice as his friend’s, only an octave deeper and dripping with derision at his once-friend. Henry clears his throat to apologize and shifts his eyes away from the man, wondering if he should enquire about his obviously changed state.

He had never seen his lab partner shirtless before so perhaps he’s been hiding this impressive build the whole time. But, no it’s impossible. He’s at least a foot taller. Henry cannot reconcile how sharp his stubbled jaw is, the lazy lust filling his glazed over eyes, or the dull crawl of his deeper raspier voice. “I’m sorry for um, interrupting Alexan-” His lab partner twitches before Henry finishes the name. Immediately looking away from the porn and to Henry, “It’s fucking Lex dude. And did you not hear me? Get to work or I’ll fuckin’ make you.” Henry sees veins pump larger on his arms as Lex gets worked up. Trying to make himself small and agreeable, Henry backs away.

Lex smirks as he sees the nerd shrink into himself, the pillow bouncing higher as he feels his power, his masculinity, affirmed. Though completely driven by his balls, an idea squirms its way to the front of his mind. This little dork just wandered into his turf. Fucker’s gonna learn to respect his frat real quick. Henry sees darkness infuse Alex’s eyes as a deeper hunger grows within him. Barely masking the hunger filling his voice, Lex speaks up, “you know what bro, I’m sorry about this, just a little pent up. You know how it gets I bet,” he pulls his hand free from his crotch and gestures towards Henry, flicking his pre at the nerd.

Henry scoffs as this is quite the line too far, his face burns with embarrassment, no, with rage as he starts to feel anger far greater than he could muster before at this jerk whose supposed to be his friend! Seeing this brings genuine delight to his partner who laughs out a clearly fake apology, “Huhuh, sorry bro. Why don’t you head up to my room and get started. Here’s a change of clothes if you want it dude”

Lex grabs a shirt from the pile sniffing it and recoiling before shrugging and throwing it anyway. Were he thinking Henry certainly would have noticed his using the same cum covered hand to hurl the shirt. But something about his rising rage has heightened his awareness to the haze of the frat house, musk distracting him in a manner that is distinctly not disgust as he is pelted with the shirt and coated in some mysterious liquid.

Henry scoffs in indignation and departs for the room, leaving the shirt behind as he begins to unbutton his own stained top. “Up the stairs. Third door on your right, Bro.” Driven not by the scholarly initiative that brought him to this horrid place he obeys the man’s instructions rather than simply fleeing outright in what may be his last chance at salvation. Henry wanders up the stairs without a thought spent on anything but trying to understand the peculiar feeling rising within him at the wretched stink.

Arriving at the door Henry enters and slams it behind him, unsure if he wants time to work on this project by himself or for that cum-for-brains oaf to follow him up shortly. He clicks the lock on the door, either way not wanting to be caught unprepared by the monster storming in as he disrobes his stained shirt. Henry jumps as he sees a figure move in the room only to find the wall across from the bed is covered in a massive mirror. Ever a curious mind Henry wanders over to inspect it and discovers hundreds of stains of god knows what. Some sick new instinct suggests he sniff and Henry is immediately lightheaded as his mind is assailed by what seems like years of cum stains.

His eyes glaze over and his mind is overwhelmed. Henry stands in front of the mirror staring straight at himself, unaware as his appearance slowly begins to shift. Glasses that are as solid a facet of his appearance as his nose fall from his face and disappear as his hair darkens and curls messily atop his head. His torso expands and thins as his arms grow gawky and lengthen. His skin tans and smooths as his mind remains boggled by the odors swimming through the air, stretching as the changes itch and burn under his skin. He feels muscle pull on his chest as something that should not be there cramps and breaks his trance. His nipples poke larger, growing hard in the chilly room and Henry blushes as he feels his cock pulse in his briefs. Uncomfortable at the idea of getting off at his own reflection and unable to bring his conscious mind to awareness of his changes.

Each second spent investigating his reflection the oppressive weight of Lex’s odor sinks deeper. Looking into his own eyes and seeing a man who he simply cannot be, Henry feels a headache quickly rise. taking a deep breath he lets his mind clear and he shakes his head, hair flopping as it never has. But he pays no mind. He should just get started on the assignment. Yeah, the quicker he’s done the quicker he’ll be out of here.

His mind strays to thoughts about Lex as he pulls out his laptop, he is in the jerk’s room after all. He sneers looking around at the mess, seeing oddly stained socks and half-drunk cans of beer scattering every surface. His eyes steer clear of his reflection as something deep in his mind refuses to see his reflection. His face burns as he feels his cock start to grow in his pants at the idea of Lex. “God fuck him, this is supposed to be a group assignment.” Henry bites his lip to distract from the mounting pressure in his pants.

Never a man of much will Henry digs deep into some new reserve and stubbornly gets to work. Opening a database to find sources for their report. Typically he wouldn’t even mind doing a report alone but something about that ass getting any credit really sets his mind ablaze. He thought Alex was his friend, but ever since seeing him as Lex something just. Something’s digging in the back of his mind just out of notice. He breathes deep to loose a large sigh, musk rising in his chest as a thought more pervasive than anything grabs his consciousness, Don’t worry about it bro.

Henry stares at his library’s homepage as any forward movement in his mind is halted. He could stand to chill a bit for sure. He scratches at his chest and tries to remember how he was planning to tackle this report. Thoughts moving slower than usual in his mind, waylaid by this command as well as the still advancing scent of Lex’s squalor. Following the professor’s instructions to a tee Henry sets out to start his dull work. Scrawling notes down into a spiral he tilts his head in confusion as his handwriting is far less fluid and graceful than usual. No time at all to think further on the matter as he is again struck with apathy towards anything peculiar. He takes another deep breath and another message blares through his mind, deeper, Welcome to the party bro, just keep breathing deep.

Henry scratches more at his chest as thin hair begins to poke out around his nipples. Nigh invisible blonde peach fuzz scattered around the center of his chest slowly lengthens and grows dark as the hair on his head grows longer and greasier. He rubs a hand through it and almost grimaces, feeling as unwashed as any of the slobs in this horrible compound. Despite the cool room in which he sits he begins to sweat as he sits there, computer in lap. His face rearranges into something a tad less feminine and his head twitches to the side at his criticism of the slobs, his fellow slobs. Like an alarm the thought brings him back to some semblance of himself. He is a neatfreak isn't he? He searches his memory to find any evidence to support the reality he knows.

Henry again scratches at his chest as similar itches arise in his pits and crotch. Two areas he is suddenly armed to ignore lest more similarities spring to mind between him and the slobs of this sick place, or worse Lex himself. His mind drags a memory of Lex’s treasure trail snaking above the pillow as he feels his pubes itch. His hands try to stray as he wrenches them abc to a keyboard to get some research done. His fingers miss keys as they inch slightly larger than they’ve been before, palms expanding wider and demanding adjustment. Henry clenches his jaw and takes another deep breath to stem his irritation.

The musk in the air becomes cloying to him as he suddenly begins to add to it, his sweat slides down his back and down onto his ass as a new itch arises there. He tries to keep his mind focused on his homework but every click and keypress becomes more difficult as his mind demands distraction, release. After clicking on an article filled with more text than he cares to read he thoughtlessly goes to scratch at his package. As soon as he touches it he is overcome with pleasure. Giving in immediately, he rubs through his pants as his sweaty back slides against the wall leaving his own stains in Lex’s room. His hips hump into the air as his cock strains his underwear beyond imagination, the sound of a tear cracks through the air as his pants slide into a wedgie from sliding down on the floor.

Henry tosses his laptop to the side and is stuck with indecision to just rub one out or not. What is he thinking? He’s in someone else’s fucking room, Lex’s room. The thought sends even more passion coursing through him as hormones and hunger rise. He bites his lip and scrolls to see just how long this article is, maybe he can work some kind of deal out with his balls right? He’s in control here. He tries to sit up and feels with every small movement or twitchy adjustment, waves of pleasure launch into his mind. Dulling every instinct besides those most basal and hungry. Attempting to gather any substance from the wall of text on screen is quickly abated as he decides to find some other distraction from whatever sickness is compelling his mind.

His balls pulse as he struggles to stand to his feet, his eyes stay focused ahead, away from his reflection as he sees a video game controller on Lex’s bed, surely his br- his lab partner wouldn’t mind, def not. He awkwardly steps forward feeling his larger balls pull tighter and grow larger as he struggles to fight against their constant impulses. His feet expand as he steps on Lex’s cum-filled socks and any disgust he once felt, should feel, is overridden by an ever-peaking desire for release.

His pants fully rip as his package becomes wholly unmanageable by the size 28 pants he threw on this morning. Henry scrambles under Lex’s blanket to protect his modesty and convulses as he hears something squish underneath him in the bed. His expression squirms between pleasure and judgment at his bro for being such a slob. God! Not his bro, his uh? New ideas breeze across his mind as his mind has begun to slip at a far greater pace. Each musty breath blanching more of himself away, Henry never really stood a chance. But hopping into Lex’s surely unwashed sheets was an err far too great.

Grabbing at the controller and getting started Henry feels his arm prickle as ink starts to seep to the surface. Would’ve sworn he’d never deface his body like that but he clearly has, right? Haha! His jaw grows slack as, for the first time in a while, he is able to focus on something other than his demanding balls. He feels an itch on his chin as stubble just like his bro’s begins to speckle his face as he begins to put on weight. Hair on his chest and pits begins to grow longer as he lays in an altar to Lex’s must. Quickly losing in the game he almost tosses his controller across the room as the unfamiliar rage that started his descent arises once more.

God what’s fucking up with him today. He grunts and pays no mind to the sound that echoes throughout the musty air, deeper than he could ever fathom issuing forth. He scans the room no longer seeing his laptop or discarded clothes. His eyes just manage to avoid looking at his reflection with some remnants of existential terror fighting against the rising instinct that he needs to pay his hot body some attention. Instead he notices Lex’s laptop on the bed beside him, porn already cued up. He bites his lip and smirks as he feels his cock begin to spew pre onto Lex’s sheets. Surely his bro won’t mind.

Back downstairs Lex gets off to himself as he imagines that little nerd trying not to lose himself in his own musky haze. Picturing in his mind the new curves of his body as hair begins to grow like a jungle across his figure. He starts going at it imagining Henry struggling to keep his mind focused on anything other than his growing muscle and rapidly expanding cock. Upstairs Henry himself quickly adds to Lex’s tapestry of stains as he sees his arms burn and grow. Guffawing to himself through his moans of self-pleasure as he suddenly finds his own body far more alluring than whatever shitty smut his bro had left open. Looking down at his cock as it grows beyond his understanding out of a bush of pubes darker and dirtier than he could conceive. He needs to see the whole picture.

His eyes widen and he twitches in pleasure and fear as he struggles to and to not look at his own reflection. Biting his lip to draw blood as he grunts deeper by the second, sweat staining the sheets as the bed creaks underneath his still increasing weight. His hair curls and his jaw widens as he clenches it. The curls on his chest spread wider as the little muscle he had became pecs outright, his heart pounding beneath them as the rise with each labored breath.

Drool begins to pool in his mouth as pre streams down the hands clenching his cock. His vision flickers as he manages to steal a glimpse of himself and is evermore changed. The nervous nerd who didn’t even knock on the door is wiped from Henry’s mind as he absorbs his new majesty, the power he now wields. The scent of Lex’s den is absolutely masked by his own as he languishes in his bros sheets, smirking as he flexes at his own reflection. Arms large enough to absolutely wreck his bros PR’s, a core strong enough to fuck for hours, and thighs large enough to any fucker to submit, to say nothing of his massive cock in between them.

Immediately after taking himself in Henry loses any remaining control over his libido and moans loud enough to wake every still sleeping brother downstairs as his body cements him the king of this chapter. Painting his own stains up and down Lex’s mirror as he hears his fellow titan start to stomp up the stairs. He feels his cock harden even more intensely as another round swiftly churns in the balls hanging beneath it. Would’ve sworn he had something else going on but for the life in him he can’t figure out what. Making his way over to the door before his bro rips it off the hinges Henry decides surely a good fuck is just what he needs to set himself right again.

#male tf #mental change #masculinization #muscle tf #dumber tf #fratification #musk tf #frat bro tf #hair growth

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darkdemeter · 4 months

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BY THEIR LEASH

◤✘WANDA MAXIMOFF COLUMN | Wanda Maximoff x Female Werewolf!Reader

NOTES 🗯️ ↳ Long overdue, finally knocking this one out before it gets retired to permanent draft status ughhhh... *proceeds to fall face first in tired raccoon* WARNINGS❕ ↳ Mafia stuff — mention of death — alcohol consumption (like a lot) — 18+ SMUT, MINORS DNI — Porn with plot? — lesbian sex — threesome — may be some grammar errors and such — slight bondage — little bit of muscle/stomach riding if you squint your eyes, turn your head that way... — I think that's it?

✎ 4.3k

@alexawynters @alyciaddict @simpforlizzie @literaturedog @maladaptive-daydreamz @mathxa @blackbirdv98

↳ WANDA MAXIMOFF TAGLISTS

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An expensive investment. A broad term to use for a werewolf broken in by the system at a young age. But it’s true.

Alexander Pierce, the finance manager and ringleader as a whole, did all he could to break you in, and to say he did is an understatement. He exceeded the limits you once believed you had and once you were ready, he put you out in the field to garner your reputation.

You had no limits. Ruthless in your endeavour to complete whatever task was required of you, prepared to do whatever it took, your peers could only look at you with both fear and admiration.

When all was said and done, you were given your collar, then sold through the underground hub for criminals: the black market.

That’s when you learnt in the span of the few minutes that the auction lasted for, that you were either a trophy to those of the higher class of crime, or a very wanted source of security and war. From black funding operators that had their hand in the military’s pit on the hunt for a war hound, to the gangster overlords who controlled territories in the differing states and countries, requiring some form of high end security, there was a very rapid increase in the price they were each willing to pay.

At a total of twenty-five million, your collar and services were sold to Mr. Tony Stark. From the sleek fit of a light grey, three piece suit and bright pink tie, Stark had a brighter outlook on the window of his underhand activities. He was the type that lounged back in the severity of his criminal dealings.

Unlike his fellow company who each wore darker palette suits of either navy blue or jet black. He stood out for sure as his auburn tinted glasses did little to hide the one question on his mind: Was his money well spent?

Well, to say at the very least, you wouldn’t be here tonight if you weren’t worth every single cent he spent on you three years ago.

Thinking about the memory now, this is a different tone entirely. Dark and neon is how you remember the black market scene, stalls and cube stores with an assortment of supplies anyone in the business would need, whether that be for the amateurs - which were the usual target customers - or the smaller businesses which belonged to small cluster gangs.

The big time runners had designated storehouses to spare where they obtained their supplies, and ran other dealings and hand-offs in and out of private rooms in the clubs.

Here, the scene is warm, lavish and made for those who seek the comfort in living in marble halls and pristine white pillars, short cut grass and elaborate parties such as this one.

“Shit, this party is awfully chipper for someone who died last week,” you huff, eyes scanning the crowd from the smooth, darkly polished bar, which you incidentally found very comfortable to lean back on when told for the hundredth time, “Just sit tight, just a little bit longer.”

You didn’t have the time nor patience to sit around getting older by the damn minute. Thankfully, Tony put his card behind the bar so that meant an endless river of drinks. Because you needed the alcohol. A lot.

Not a moment too late is your glass refilled with your refreshment. And not too soon after is it halfway downed.

“Please, Y/N,” sighs Steve from your right side, arms folded over his chest, navy blue suit straining just a bit too tightly against his body, “have some respect for the Maximoff family. They lost their only male heir to a deal gone wrong. They need our support.”

Your shoulders rise with a particularly deep inhale before falling lax, you swirl the sliver of whiskey left in your glass and with a jerk of your wrist you finish it. Ice rattles in your glass as you shimmy it, indicating you need another refill and pronto.

“People live, people die. You cross someone and you get shot in the back. It happens.”

“He was gunned down in the streets with a fucking machine gun, Y/N. You consider that a mere shot in the back?”

You shrug in response to Sam’s question with a pout of your bottom lip. “Pietro thought he was the shit. That’s what got him killed by Rumlow.”

Sam runs a hand over his face, now distressed by the lack of sincerity you show for the grieving family. “For fuck sake…”

In the three years of your loyal work to the Stark family and those of his brotherhood - his allies - your colours shone through immensely to reveal a shining personality. Excluding the fact you’d become something of a playful rogue with the women.

You simply chalk it up to your animal magnetism. Something that leaves them wanting more whenever in the presence of your company.

In fact, that was how Tony came to own unclaimed establishments and clubs in the boroughs, ones he wasn’t able to get his hands on before, but after he had you as a playable card in his hand, you provided club goers the relief of being harassed and drinks being spiked. Territorial take over schemes from rival gangs were second guessed when they saw you watching over the joint.

The after hour visits for your libido were just the perks. But you left a lot of lustful and broken little hearts in the wake of your work.

For a werewolf, you were always assumed to be a means of security, and that much was true. Didn’t mean it excluded you from taking on other odd jobs for the families from time to time. Debt collection, assassinations, tailing and blackmail ops, the list is endless.

When Steve casts a hardened stare your way, you mockingly raise your hands up in surrender.

“Alright, I’ll offer my condolences to the heiress, but I ain’t weeping at her feet for her brother who got himself into that mess because he thought he was too big for his own shoes.”

“Just behave yourself, alright? The last thing we need is the entirety of Europe at war with us.” You roll your eyes and salute the captain. “Yessir.”

You bring the glass rim to your lips and draw a small gulpful of your renewed liquor, the fiery taste rolls over your tongue, you savour it to keep your sanity intact lest you go insane from the waiting. Where was the heiress?

“Well, well, I thought I wouldn’t see any of you again. Especially you.” Your head, as well as those of your group, direct their gaze to the new voice. The corners of your lips twitch up and you flash her a wolfish grin, chin tilting up slightly in your relaxed position against the bar. You looked like a cat happily laying in the sun.

“Miss Romanoff,” each of the men greeted with a nod of their heads. You, however, pat your thigh as an invitation for her to sit. “I had work to do the next morning.”

“Mm, that’s what you tell the other girls, I’m sure.” You clap a hand to your chest with a wince. “You wound me, sweetheart. If I had the chance, I would have stayed.”

She hums but it’s obvious she doesn’t believe you by the rise in her brow.

Natasha Romamoff is a hard fish to catch. One of the more established families that control practically the entirety of Europe, alongside the Maximoff family, the two were partners and crafting an empire strong enough to stand on their own without any dire need for support.

Yes, her family had prior dealings with the brotherhood. The Starks, Wilsons, Barnes and Rogers and more, whether to collaborate on a bigger criminal project to the smaller portioned deals. Smuggled goods and weapons, blackmail intel deliverance, international bribery to keep the feds off your backs.

But she never committed to joining forces.

You suppose it’s a good power move on her part. She doesn’t have to abide by any of the family creeds, in the end, you’re all loose ends that may potentially be severed if need be. She had the ball in her court and the mysterious Maximoff heiress.

Even your animal magnetism wasn’t enough to charm her into joining forces with Stark and his powerhouse of families, but they were surely enough to charm her into a wild one night stand.

But as you told her. You had work to do. And now she appears to spurn you with her eyes and cruel words, but still entertains your flirtatious advances and indulges the empty space of your thigh.

For a well respected mob boss such as herself, she definitely liked to play it risky; dressing included.

Last you saw her, she was dressed in a more professional manner. But here at this funeral party, whatever the fuck it was, she chose to wear a black, spaghetti strap cocktail dress that’s short enough to be skimming the mid of her thigh. The slit riding the dress up higher is just plain dangerous.

She’s facing you, back arched and arse resting on the cliff of your knee. Your clawed hand supports her at the small of her back. Her perfume is strong and complimenting, a sweet bouquet of lavender which rolls over the exposed tops of her breasts from her even more exposed neck. Her plump, red lips move in a way that’s hypnotic. “So I hear you’re going to be a bargaining chip for Wanda Maximoff.”

“Where’d you hear that?” you scoff with a flick of your chin.

“I have spies who whisper to me,” she answers with a swift quirk of her brow.

Of course she overheard the news. She then chuckles softly, and all eyes watch her with a level of suspicion. “She won’t take any deal you offer her. She’s determined to steer clear of your little gang wars over in the states.”

“Rumlow killed her brother and he has bases around our territories. Wouldn’t she appreciate the extra hands in catching the rat?” Bucky poses the question with a dark brow angled high and clenched jaw, the muscles in his cheeks flex harder when Natasha offers no affirmative response; a mark to hopefully land you in the door and good graces with the heiress.

“You really think she wants a guard dog?”

“Hey,” you growl with a wrinkle of your nose, fangs on the precipice of baring at her. How she used the term in a condescending manner made the fur beneath your skin bristle. Sam claps a hand to your shoulder, somehow able to sense the seething anger within you.

“We just want to help. Offer support for her loss and bring Rumlow down.”

“No. You want a foothold in Europe. And I’m sorry but…” She looks you up and down, drinking in the sight of you and you know she can see you without your clothes on. “You’re not going to cut it, babe.”

She turns her body to make her getaway but you don’t let her slip away just like that. She gasps and looks to you with a furrowed glare when your arm circles her waist and tugs her back until she’s flush against you, the men in your company watch with trepidation of your next course of action.

“I will cut it because whether she wants to admit it or not, she needs us.”

Natasha’s eyes, true to her fashion, darken with a challenge. “You’re wasting your time. She’ll get Rumlow herself.”

“And if Rumlow plans to get her first?” For a moment you see the doubt cross her face. “That’s where she needs me.”

“Tony Stark.” Each of the men turn to the voice behind them and their once cool and collected selves turn rigid, nervous under the power one woman can hold so absolute, her green eyes scan each of their faces before they land on you.

You finally look and meet her stare, still holding Natasha against you even as she tries to push away from you.

“Unhand her,” the woman commands with an accented tongue.

At first, you wanted nothing more than to play this out a little, see what makes this woman tick. But both Tony and Steve look at you, silent in their order, you sigh heavily and release Natasha. Once you do, she wastes no time in joining Wanda’s side with a bow of her head.

“I hear that you wished to have an audience with me.”

Wanda is the sole survivor of this ordeal. Her parents were assassinated two years ago and now her brother was killed. This is the stressed matter at hand, her empire could crumble to the ground, all that hard work put into the grave because she’s being so fucking stubborn with this deal.

“I will not sign my family, nor any of my shares, to Stark Industries. Enough have I done to keep you out of the hands of law enforcement. I will handle Rumlow myself.”

This isn’t how any of you hoped this would go. The grief has made her stronger than before. It wasn’t exactly you were waiting for the chance for her to have a weak spot and try your luck, but you all had thought she might even be at least a little desperate for extra help.

Natasha’s face says it all: I told you so. You can only roll your eyes and resume with what you’re doing. Refilling your empty glass with more liquor. You’ve yet to scratch the surface of being tipsy.

“Miss Maximoff, we only wish to help you. All we ask in return is that you grant us some territory to work with for our trade deals as payment, for support lent to you to catch Rumlow.” Steve is calm in his approach to reason with her, but if anything, her raised hand indicates her refusal, unswayed by the honey of his words. Your tongue rolls the rounds of your mouth, each time measured by your impatience as you slowly circle around the dealings table, unable to find yourself comfortable against the stiffened wood of your seat.

“You do realise that you’re asking for more than your so-called ‘support’ is actually worth.” You blink several times, the blow of it a downright attack on their egos.

“No, I want something more.”

“And I want alcohol to affect me so I can sleep well at night,” you mutter to the glassy rim against your bottom lip. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you, bearing down a sinister glare. “Excuse me?”

“And we were just about to suggest that very thing!” Tony interjects with a grin, eager to utilise his card, his Ace Wolf as he liked to call you. He gestures to where you stand now at the table’s other end.

She directs her eyes to look you up and down slowly, gaze polished with keen observation. She hums thoughtfully before she looks to Natasha.

“E atât de bună?”

The red haired chuckles and sitting back in her chair, chest heaving with a breathy sigh, she nods.

“Exceptional de bun. Cu o limbă ca asta…”

Bucky shifts in his seat, a hollow whistle on his lips over the exchange of heated words, and you flash a grin at both women. The words of foreign tongue, however, pass over the heads of the other men, their eyes looking to either you or Bucky only to be answered with a shrug, but knowing that look in your eyes, they can take a good guess as to what’s being discussed.

With another passing frame of time, both women pull away from their engrossed conversation. “I’ve been made aware that you intend to bargain your wolf to me,” she says, once again letting her sight fall on you.

“And if that is the case, and what I have been told…” She trails off momentarily, finding to correct herself in the midst of something you can smell very clearly on her - or rather between her legs. “Then I’ll accept.”

Each man present in the room is given pause to revel in the stun before them. Wanda Maximoff, the heiress of Europe’s biggest family, accepts their deal. All at the price of you.

“You’ll have your answer by tomorrow, Mr Stark,” Wanda says, standing from her chair, she beckons you to follow with a kink of her fingers. One by one and following in unison, their eyes turn to you as you shuffle back on your heel with shrug your shoulders and fanged grin.

“Animal magnetism, boys.”

Wanda’s heels bound a steady beat as she wanders over to the foot of her bed, making an elegant show of swaying her hips and drawing your attention to her form. From behind, Natasha slips the dark suit jacket from your shoulders. Tosing it aside, her hands play the form of an enchanting guide, ushering you forward while tracing the hidden curves of your muscles.

“As per courtesy, Miss Maximoff wants the first claim.”

You huff in reply, “And you?”

Natasha hums softly and plucks your belt loose from your trousers. “I have you two, I won’t go unsatisfied tonight.”

Tilting your head to view Wanda who stands idle, fingers playing with the lining of her dress above her breasts, you stalk towards her, her back arching under your touch with a breathless whimper, you trail the zip of her gown down slowly. Falling around her ankles as a fabricated halo, she turns suddenly and your lips collide together in hunger.

She sinks down to the bed, laying back until her hair fans around her, spreading her legs apart. That feverish hunger boils within your blood, running it hold and thick, the fur beneath your skin bristled in your excitement as you take care to roll the sleeves of your skirt to your elbows. To your knees, you’re brought to the sight of her soaked underwear, the dark patch evidently giving away just how badly she required you between her quivering thighs. Natasha’s hands rake through the length of your hair and scratches at your scalp, earning a low purr of pleasure to rumble in your chest.

You lean forward and all it takes is a single inhale and you’re let loose of your chain of control, claws shearing the fabric that dares to confine her awaiting cunt any longer. She gasps upon contact, your lips smothering her moistened, slick lips and she gives a deep-noted moan, arching her hips up, your hands wrap around her thighs to drag her to you more.

She tastes like the fine wines of heaven, a forbidden savour on the tongue that which you greedily lap, your eyes close as you succumb to the wolf’s hunger, tongue lapping heavily at her clit.

She whines and cries, breath hot and light in her lungs as her nails rip into the sheets to no damaging avail. Natasha hovers above, watching on in her own longing and desire. She dips a hand beneath the hem of her dress, aside she pushes her own soaked panties and delicately dances her fingers over the sensitive bulb with a keening breath you hear catch in her throat.

Natasha leans down low until the scape of her breasts brushes against your shoulder blade, lips a tantalising thing and moving sinfully to mouth, “I’m touching myself to you.”

“Watching you please her is making me so wet, Wolf.”

“Make us both cum.”

You growl deeply and Wanda’s body visibly shudders in response to the wild vibrations that course through her abdomen, shaking her whole and off centre, her hips begin to jerk as she nears her climax. Both women mingle in their euphoria and your own core comes to life, sparked by the noises they make in unison, an orchestra of pleasure. Suckling and licking at her core, she cries out and the lips of her pussy shrink around absence and she sighs in bliss. In tandem, Natasha moans loudly from behind and you feel her body press against you as her hand works hard as fucking her fingers into her cunt, the sound of slick and skin melding together addicting.

“You weren’t… kidding, Nat,” she says between laboured breaths.

Slowing your advances, you finally pull away with a sigh, her juices glistening on your lips. Wanda looks at you and her cheeks flush at the sight before Natasha’s other hand forces your attention to her. Her lips connect with yours and her tongue darts over the bottom of yours, tasting Wanda with a delicious sound that you swallow.

After she pulls from you, she then shares a look with Wanda and the two of them grin. “Shall we reward her?”

“I think she’s been a good girl.”

Oh, how the wolf loves that. Praise for a job well done you can hardly suppress your proud smirk. Buu before you can do much else, Natasha pushes you and your knees are knocked out from beneath you, Wanda having rolled to the side only to follow Natasha’s lead as they both halfway straddle you, otherwise keeping you pinned to the mattress below.

Together they peel away your dress pants, giggling and muttering to one another in that alluring tongue, your mind in a haze to catch barely a sentence shared between them but you gained awareness of what they intended when they each stroked their tongues over your stimulated pearl.

“‘Sh–shit!” you hiss sharply and your hips buck, the two women giggling at the sight of you writhing.

They give no further warning as they duck down. Their mouths work together against your clit, suckling it to draw pathetic whines from that deep part inside you dare not let anyone see, their voices trespass the air with betraying praises that speak only of teases and their tongues lap at the slick of your pussy that clenches at the attention. Your hands grapple the sheets and tear hard, the damage unnoted and not cared for.

“Girls– fuck!” you groan at the rise in your core, oh so ready to reach that climactic end that you have been denied for the past several weeks. It’s not too long that your first release has you whining, the nois a higher pitched sound that does slowly in broken notes as you cum, the girls moaning and allowing their lips to graze one another as they lapped and sucked you.

Wanda is the first to make eye contact and move towards you, her leg swoops over to fully straddle your stomach, in her hands is your belt. She rips the centre of your shirt apart, buttons flying to discarded corners of the room to be mere pebbles of disregard.

You see the way her eyes drink in the sight of your toned muscles, the pinky tip of her tongue darting over her wet lips.

She adores the way you tilt your head to the side, a curious whine on your lips. “I’ve always wanted something on a leash. May I?”

You don’t particularly care for the way her question hits a mark submerged deeper into your heart, reaching for something you denied was there. Dignity. Usually people just took from you and you came to accept that. Expect it.

You nod up at her and she fixes the belt around the column of your neck, the leather cool against the blazing heat of your skin, but something inside you flutters. Quickly, you push it down.

Natasha moves into the same position behind Wanda, your larger size very much able to accommodate both of them, Natasha trails light kisses along Wanda’s shoulder as she fastens the belt and gives an experimental tug. A soft grunt hitches in your throat in retort and you flash her a grin, the sharpened points of your fangs perched against your bottom lip.

“The wolf never let me tame her, Miss Maximoff.”

“Oh, she just needed some reassurance,” Wanda replies gently with a smile. For a moment, you wanted to believe her words were sincere. Your hands run along Wanda’s thighs until they reach her hips and with a roll forward, she grinds her pussy against your torso, feeling the defined muscles press and tense against her, bringing her to moan under her breath. Natasha drapes a hand over your own to roll and pinch Wanda’s swollen clit, her eyes finding yours.

“Watch her,” she commands breathlessly and you do so, amber glows in fluorescent pulses as Wanda biomes slick with her arousal. The fine artistry of their bodies moving together as they roll and grind against you, you cannot help but reach a hand up, claw catching the thin silk of Wanda’s bra and severing the contraption into two, letting it fall and reveal her plump breasts; her nipples erect.

Wanda circles an arm behind her and behind Natasha’s head, her back arching to the pleasure she becomes lost in, and you purely enjoy the show above, admiring the glow of sweat collecting on their skin, groaning as their slick covers your stomach as they ride you. The hand working Wanda’s clit speeds up and then slows, teasing the heiress, she gives you a sly grin.

“Do that thing with the claws,” she says and Wanda’s eyes open, as if awakening from her bliss and becoming enlightened with wonderment.

“W-what thing?”

“I’ll show you.”

You sit by the bed, elbow propped up on the chair’s arm with a glass in your grasp, imagination lost in the reverie of last night’s events with a smirk carved into your mouth. Both women lay wrapped together, bodies nude and pressed up to each other as they continue to sleep. You surely tired them out.

Thankfully and mostly dressed when Tony came wandering in, the band of his fellow brothers staying just beyond the room’s threshold, though it still didn’t make to hide the snarl creeping up your throat as the sudden intrusion. You take a sip of your drink as Tony scans the room, gaze flickering between the two women and you who bares an illuminated glare at him.

“What the hell happened last night?”

“We got her affirmative answer on the deal,” you answer with a raise of your glass in cheers before downing the last of your drink.

#headlinesxcomics publishing #female reader #mafia au #wanda maximoff x reader #natasha romanoff x reader #werewolf reader #wanda maximoff smut #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff x you #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x reader smut #wanda x werewolf smut #natasha x werewolf smut #wanda maximoff fic #wanda x werewolf! reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff

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f1daydreamers · 14 days

Text

𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬 [𝐓𝐀𝟔𝟔] 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟔

gif credits: @trenty

Pairing: Trent Alexander-Arnold x Fem!Reader

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

A/N: 700 followers is insaneeee and sm more than i acc thought id ever get so thank you so much! f1 and/or football fans, i love u all so much ugh ALSO if ur wondering why this chapter is longer than my lifespan it’s bcos u guys deserve it for being so patient and accept it as my dearest apology xxx

Warnings: a lot of fluff actually, casual banter, a lot of coffee mentions for some fkn reason lmfao, swearing probably

Word Count: 4.9k words (18 mins reading avg)

...

You push open the door to the training pitch, the cool breeze brushing against your face as you step outside, searching for Wataru.

The headache that’s been plaguing you all morning tightens its grip, and the fresh scent of the grass seems almost too intense. You rub your forehead, trying to ease the tension while scanning the field.

Across the pitch, Trent catches your eye, his movements fluid and graceful as he makes a pass. The ball connects with his boot in a way that’s almost poetic, the sound sharp and precise.

What usually feels like music to your ears now drives another spike of pain through your already throbbing head. You wince, pressing your fingers more firmly against your temples.

Finally, you spot Wataru near the edge of the pitch, zipping up his jacket while observing the players. As you approach, he looks up, concern immediately crossing his face as he takes in your weary appearance.

“Morning, Y/N,” he greets, his voice laced with worry. “Rough start?”

You manage a tired smile that feels more like a grimace. “Yeah, not the best morning. Overslept, skipped breakfast, and now this headache won’t quit.”

Wataru nods, his concern deepening. “You shouldn’t push yourself too hard. We can cancel if you need.”

Leaning against the wall beside him, you try to relieve some of the pressure on your aching body. “Thanks, but I’ll be alright. Just.. not exactly firing on all cylinders this morning.”

A quiet settles over you as you both watch the players go through their drills.

Trent sends a perfect cross into the box, and you can’t help but remark, “at least someone’s got their energy today.”

The usual lively atmosphere - the rhythmic thud of the ball, the shouts of encouragement, the bursts of laughter - feels like an assault on your senses. Each kick sends another ripple of pain through your skull, deepening the throbbing.

Wataru notices the way your shoulders tense with each sharp noise and is about to speak when you take a deep breath, pushing off the wall and forcing steadiness into your voice.

“I’ll be upstairs,” you say softly. “When you’re ready to start, just let me know.”

He nods, understanding clear in his eyes. “Take your time, Y/N. No rush.”

You offer a grateful smile before turning to head back inside. Each step is a conscious effort to stay composed. The quiet of the training centre seems more inviting than ever, a much-needed refuge from the relentless pounding in your head.

...

"Long night?" Trent remarked as he spotted Wataru holding two cups of coffee. His brows furrowed in mild surprise, though his tone remained light as he gestured toward the cups.

Wataru chuckled and shook his head. “Not for me. One of these is for Y/N.”

Trent’s expression shifted slightly, his brows relaxing as he nodded. “Oh.”

“She mentioned she skipped breakfast,” Wataru explained, “so I thought coffee might help.”

Trent glanced at the black coffee in Wataru’s hand, steam rising from the cup. His face remained neutral, but there was a subtle twitch at the corner of his lips before he spoke again.

“She doesn’t drink it black,” Trent said matter-of-factly.

Wataru blinked in surprise, glancing down at one of the cups. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah,” Trent replied, trying to sound casual. He looked away, his voice quiet but with a slight edge.

“You might want to add some milk and a bit of sweetener. I’ve never seen her drink it.. like that.”

“Ah, thanks,” Wataru said, giving him a nod as the coffee machine hummed in the background.

Trent responded with a curt nod of his own, the awkwardness of the moment settling over him.

As he waited for the machine to finish, he rubbed the back of his neck, obviously trying to shake off the uneasy feeling that’d crept up on him.

Finally, he poured himself a cup, his movements deliberate but distracted.

He never assumed he knew your coffee preferences, but the fact that he actually did only disturbed him.

Wataru exited the canteen, but Trent remained standing in his place, staring down at his cup. The liquid swirling as he gave it a half-hearted stir, his mind lost in thought.

He’d been trying to keep his distance from you, aiming to stay focused on his own routines. You were just another face at the training centre, someone there to do a job like everyone else.

At least, that’s what he kept telling himself.

So why had he noticed how you took your coffee? Why did it matter to him?

The thought nagged at him, making him feel off balance. He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like that he was starting to notice these little things about you, almost as if he was beginning to care. It made him feel uneasy, like he was losing his grip on the boundaries he’d set for himself.

He shook his head, wiping the bottom of the spoon on the rim of his cup before setting it down on the tray.

The nagging sensation in his chest made him feel vulnerable, and Trent Alexander-Arnold wasn’t supposed to be vulnerable. He was supposed to be focused, dedicated, with his head in the game and his heart firmly off the field.

He took a sip of his coffee, the bitter taste barely registering as he tried to shake off the uncomfortable thought.

The truth was, he’d been noticing you for a while now.

The way you moved, the sound of your laugh, the determination with which you threw yourself into your work - it was hard to ignore.

And he’d been trying to push those thoughts away, shoving them into the back of his mind where they couldn’t distract him.

But every now and then, they crept back in, uninvited and unwelcome.

He let out a deep breath and finally decided to move. He followed the same route Wataru had taken just a few minutes earlier.

As he stepped out of the canteen, he saw his teammate engaged in conversation with one of the backroom staff, overhearing snatches of words like "reschedule" and "now."

His attention drifted as he passed by, noticing Ibou absorbed in what looked like cricket highlights playing on the TV. Yet his mind was still clouded, so much so that he barely noticed when his name was called.

“Trent!” The voice cut through the haze, pulling him back to the present. He turned to see Wataru waving him over, his expression a mix of urgency and apology.

He hesitated for a moment before walking over, his footsteps heavy. “What’s up?” He asked, aiming to sound casual.

Wataru glanced at the staff member, then back at him. “I’ve got to go see Arne,” he said, his voice low. “Can you do me a favour?”

Trent raised an eyebrow, half-expecting to be asked to cover a training session or run an errand. “Depends,” he said slowly.

He saw Wataru’s gaze shift to the coffee cups in his hands, and he felt his stomach sink. A chorus of silent ‘no no no’s’ echoed in his mind, ignored by whatever higher powers may've been listening.

Wataru hesitated for a moment, a conflicted look on his face, before finally holding one of the cups out to him. “Do you mind taking this up to Y/N for me?”

Trent hesitated, frowning. “Can’t someone else do it?”

The faces of the two men standing opposite him twisted into mild confusion, as if that was the last response they expected.

"It won’t take you long."

His eyes flickered over. He clenched his jaw, not wanting to get involved. The last thing he needed was to play delivery boy, especially for you.

He was about to refuse again when he saw the concern in Wataru’s eyes. With a resigned sigh, he took the cup.

“Fine,” he grumbled.

Wataru’s face broke into a grateful but meek smile. He hurried off, leaving Trent to stare down at the cup in his hand, feeling a mix of irritation and something else he couldn’t quite name.

He headed toward the stairs, his steps slow, each one weighed down by the internal debate raging in his head.

He could just throw it out.

The thought crossed his mind almost immediately.

Dump the coffee and be done with it. You’d never know. And then he wouldn’t have to deal with the awkwardness of seeing you.

But then again, Wataru would find out. He’d ask you about the coffee later, and if it never made it to you, Trent would have to come up with some kind of excuse.

Wataru might be easygoing, but he wasn’t dumb. Trent didn’t need anyone questioning him, especially over something as trivial as a cup of coffee.

He gripped the cup tighter, feeling the warmth seep through the paper. It’d be so easy to turn around, head back to the kitchen, and pour it down the sink.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He could almost picture it - the splash of tan liquid spinning down the drain, washing his hands of this whole situation.

But then there was the part of him that knew better, the part that had been growing louder lately. The part that remembered the way you looked this morning, rubbing your temples, the pain etched across your face.

He made his way down the hallway, taking the stairs one at a time until he stood outside your door.

He hesitated, he hated this strange, unfamiliar urge to do something nice for someone here. And for you, of all people.

It was annoying, unsettling.

Realising both hands were full, he resorted to tapping the toe of his trainer against the wooden door, three quick thuds echoing through the corridor.

Silence.

He clicked his tongue in frustration and tried again, tapping harder.

Still nothing.

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” he muttered, irritation lacing his words.

As he stood there, a familiar figure sauntered down the corridor. Harvey noticed Trent’s growing agitation and, with a smirk, made his way over to investigate.

“What are you doing?” Harvey asked, his accented voice dripping with amusement. His eyes shifted from Trent’s face to the coffee cups, then to the trainer tapping rhythmically against the door.

“I’m knocking, genius,” Trent replied, his voice edged with sarcasm. He let out a sigh through his nose, tipping his head back slightly as Harvey's eyes flickered between him and the door.

“Since when do you ever knock?” Harvey questioned, eyebrows raised in mock disbelief.

Trent’s mouth opened to retort, but nothing came out. He hated to admit it, but he was right. He never knocked.

A beat of silence passed before Trent jerked his chin toward the door. “Get the door for me, yeah?”

Harvey grinned, clearly enjoying the moment. “I kinda wanna see how long you’ll keep this up,” he teased, his tone light.

Trent shot him a glare, though the corners of his mouth twitched with reluctant amusement.

“Alright, alright. Keep your hair on.” Harvey chuckled, relenting. He stepped forward, pressing down on the handle and pushing the door open.

Trent manoeuvred through the doorway, using the back of his shoulder to nudge it open the rest of the way, careful not to spill the coffee. He cast a sidelong glance at his friend, who leaned against the door frame with a smirk.

“See? Was that so hard?” Harvey quipped, his tone dripping with amusement.

“Yeah, yeah,” Trent muttered, rolling his eyes.

He stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room. Everything in your office looked untouched, as if you'd entered and gone straight to your desk. You were slumped over, head resting in one hand, elbow propped up on the wooden surface.

Either you’d fallen asleep, or...

“Is she dead?” Harvey asked.

"Here's hoping.” Trent mumbled in response.

He took a step closer, clearing his throat softly, but you remained oblivious.

Trent’s gaze flickered around the room, his usual composure faltering as he took in your dishevelled state. Despite his attempts to remain detached, seeing you like this stirred something deep within him that he couldn’t quite ignore.

With a sigh, he shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of the unease that had settled over him. He carefully placed the coffee on the desk beside you, his movements deliberate.

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers barely grazing your shirt as if testing the waters.

When you remained unresponsive, he mustered the courage to place his full hand on your shoulder and gave you a gentle shake.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer than he intended. “I’ve got your coffee.”

You stirred, lifting your head and blinking groggily. He removed his hand, straightening his back.

“Trent?” You mumbled, still half-asleep. The smell of the coffee faintly registered in your mind. “You didn’t have to..”

He shrugged, attempting to sound casual. “Wataru asked me to bring it up. And, well..” He glanced at you, feeling an unfamiliar tug of something he couldn’t quite name. “I figured you might need it.”

You sat up and rubbed your eyes. “Thanks. I really do.”

As he was about to leave, he noticed the pile of paperwork cluttered next to your computer, the chaos suggesting you’d been battling through it despite your headache.

“I, uh..” His voice faltered slightly. “Need any help with that?“

You were about to reply when Harvey’s voice cut in, disbelief evident in his tone. “You’re offering to help?”

Trent shifted uncomfortably, his back still turned to Harvey as he rolled his eyes. You caught the movement and chuckled softly.

“Not offering. Just—” He turned to see Harvey’s amused expression and added hastily, “—just making sure she's not swamped. Is that a crime?”

Harvey shrugged, crossing his arms. “Not at all. Just didn’t think you had it in you.”

Trent picked up half of the stack, maybe more, his actions earnest but guarded.

You watched him with a mix of gratitude and surprise, taking a sip of the coffee and feeling the soothing warmth begin to ease your headache.

Harvey raised an eyebrow, still leaning against the doorframe with a smirk. “Well, well. Didn’t think I’d see the day Trent Alexander-Arnold played the hero.”

Trent’s lips curled into a slight smile, his cheeks reddening as he held up a stack of papers toward Harvey. “Want to help?”

Harvey raised his hands in mock surrender, pushing himself off the doorframe. “I’ll leave you two to it. Have fun, lovebirds.”

As he departed, your cheeks warmed slightly, but you quickly shifted your focus to your inbox. An email from Arne caught your eye at the top, informing you that your session with Wataru had been rescheduled.

You exhaled, thinking, I slept through it anyway.

Trent, meanwhile, had sunk onto the couch, peeling off the top sheet of the document. He placed the remaining papers neatly on the cabinet beside him and studied the single sheet in his hand with a skeptical frown.

The bold black text at the top seemed to glare back at him: "For Liverpool FC Staff Only."

He paused, his fingers grazing the corner of the page. "I can read these, right?"

You glanced over, a small smile touching your lips as you met his gaze. “Yeah, they're just things I need to acknowledge I've read,” you said with a casual shrug, your voice carrying a hint of nonchalance.

Trent tilted his head, raising an eyebrow as he flipped the document over. “Seems a bit counter-productive, though,” he remarked.

“Not really. I never actually read them,” you explained nonchalantly.

A smirk played at the corners of his mouth. “And here I thought you were all about dedication to your job,” he said, his voice trailing off with a mocking edge.

You rolled your eyes good-naturedly, picking up your coffee cup again after dragging the stack of remaining papers closer.

“I am dedicated,” you replied with a hint of a smile, “but finance just doesn’t interest me. I skim.”

He hummed, his eyes scanning the text.

You paused before starting on your work, glancing over at Trent. “Anything important, just make sure you tell me.”

Trent looked up, his expression blank but his voice dripping with sarcasm. “What if I want to skim read?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you turned your attention back to the papers. “Shut up, Trent.”

His gaze lingered on you, a smirk playing at his lips as he tucked his bottom lip between his teeth. He finally looked away, his smile widening just slightly.

...

The soft shuffle of papers and the occasional scratch of your pen had become a rhythmic background noise in the room.

Your headache had lessened thanks to the coffee and the company, but the stack of paperwork in front of you still felt like an endless mountain.

As you reached the final couple of documents, you heard Trent stand up from the couch.

You looked over just in time to see him stretching his arms above his head, the motion causing his shirt to lift slightly, revealing a sliver of toned skin beneath.

You swallowed, instinctively folding your lips inwards as your eyes lingered for a moment too long.

He was an athlete, after all, so naturally, he was fit, as any athlete would be. But seeing it up close stirred something in you that you quickly tried to dismiss.

He caught your glance, and instead of saying anything, Trent poked his tongue into his cheek, clearly holding back a remark.

His lips pressed together in a restrained smirk, like he was biting back a teasing comment. He didn’t want to overstep, especially in the middle of a setting like this one, and God forbid he came across like he’d noticed too much.

Your face grew warm, and you immediately redirected your attention back to the papers in front of you, pretending to scan over the same paragraph you had just read.

But the words on the page were a blur, the previous focus you had was gone, and all you could feel was your heart beating a little too fast, a bit too aware of his presence nearby.

He placed the now neatly organised stack of papers he had been working on back onto your desk. “These just need your signature now,” he said, his voice casual, but you could sense a hint of satisfaction.

You raised an eyebrow. “You finished all of them?”

He nodded, unfazed. He pulled out a folded A4 paper from his pocket.

“I made a note.. of everything that was important.” His fingers unfolded the paper to reveal messy, scribbled handwriting - a far cry from the neat, printed reports you were used to seeing.

But the gesture behind it was unexpectedly sweet.

You stared at the paper in his hand for a moment, a small smile tugging at your lips.

Trent, ever the enigma, had actually taken the time to make sure you didn’t miss anything crucial. His expression was calm, neutral even, but you knew deep down this was one of those moments he’d never let you thank him for.

“Thanks, Trent. That’s.. really thoughtful of you.” The words felt too light, not enough to fully express your gratitude, but you also knew him well enough to recognise that overpraising him would probably make him uncomfortable.

As expected, he shrugged, trying to play it cool. “Yeah, yeah. Just don’t make a habit of needing me for this stuff.”

You laughed softly, the sound light and refreshing. “I’ll try not to.”

There was a beat of silence before he shoved the note toward you, his eyes finally meeting yours for a brief second. "Make sure you check my notes, though. My handwriting’s a bit shit.”

You took the note from his hand, your fingers brushing against his for the briefest moment.

“I’ll make sure to decipher it,” you teased lightly, glancing down at the paper covered in hurried scrawls.

As Trent turned to leave, he paused at the door, glancing back at you. “Take it easy, Y/N. Can’t have you passing out on us.”

You nodded, cheeks flushed, as you fiddled with the paper between your fingers. The door clicked shut behind him, and you let out a deep breath.

The room suddenly felt quieter, emptier, but your mind wasn’t letting go. You pressed your lips together, trying to focus on the documents in front of you, but your thoughts kept drifting back to him - his quiet gestures, the sarcastic remarks, the infuriating smirks.

It was maddening how easily he got under your skin, how a simple glance could set your pulse racing.

Then, the memory played again in your mind, torturously vivid - the door shutting, the way he'd looked at you before leaving.

But then it hit you. Y/N.

Your mouth parted, breath hitching as the realisation dawned. He’d said your name.

For the first time, it wasn’t “psychologist.” It was your actual name.

Since you’d started here, you hadn't noticed how much that label created a barrier, a distance. Now, the memory of him saying your name replayed on a loop, breaking through that invisible wall.

You hadn’t realised how much you wanted to hear it from him.

Until now.

...

You were making your way down the hallway towards the cafeteria when you saw Wataru walking towards you. You exchanged polite smiles, a small gesture of recognition, as you passed by each other.

But something made you pause, and you turned back, calling after him.

“Wataru!” You said, a grateful grin crossing your face. He turned around, his eyes curious.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you added, your voice light with appreciation.

Wataru's smile widened as he slowed his pace. “Did Trent bring it up?” He asked, shifting his weight where he stood.

“Yeah, he did,” you confirmed.

“How’s the headache?” He asked, a soft concern in his tone.

“Gone,” you replied, your hand instinctively reaching up to run over the skin on your forehead. “Thanks to you.”

Wataru nodded, clearly pleased.

You studied him for a moment, your curiousity getting the best of you. You tilted your head ever so slightly and asked, “how did you know how I liked it? My coffee, I mean?”

He raised an eyebrow, caught off guard for a moment, then shook his head with a quiet laugh. “I didn’t,” he said plainly, his expression easy.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, your lips parting as you waited for him to explain further.

Wataru chuckled again and leaned in slightly, a conspiratorial tone in his voice. “Trent told me. Said you didn’t like it plain.”

Your heart skipped a beat, surprise flickering across your face. “Really?” You asked, your voice mellow with disbelief. “I didn’t know he knew that.”

Wataru smiled, watching the realisation dawn on you. “He’s an attentive boy,” he added with a nod, his tone thoughtful.

You blinked, processing his words. “Yeah,” you breathily replied, your brows lifting in agreement.

“Guess he is.”

...

Trent finished zipping up his thin jacket with a final click, the sound resonating softly as he shut the door to the vacant computer room behind him. He patted his pockets, making sure he had everything.

Across the hallway, you were locking your office door, your focus intent as you fumbled with the key.

Your eyes met at the exact same moment - yours lifting from the office door just as Trent’s eyes drifted from the closed computer room.

“Hey,” you greeted, a small, tired smile curving your lips.

Trent’s gaze flickered to your lips before settling back on your eyes, a subtle shift in his expression. “Hey,” he replied, his tone soft and casual, with an undertone of something more.

The corridor felt oddly intimate, the quiet hum of the lights and distant echoes were all you could hear. You adjusted your bag on your shoulder, gently clearing your throat.

Trent massaged the back of his shoulder, having had to stare at a computer for a number of hours, a gesture that revealed his own weariness.

“Long day?” He asked, genuine curiosity in his voice.

“Yeah.” You nodded, briefly looking down before meeting his eyes again. “Caught up on some stuff with Wataru. And you?”

“Same,” Trent said with a small shrug, his gaze lingering a moment longer than usual. “Online seminar ran late.”

You stood there for a moment as the hallway seemed to close in around you, your small smiles communicating a quiet understanding.

“You heading out now?” Trent asked gently, his voice almost hesitant as if not wanting to break the moment.

“Yeah, just heading home. I'm assuming you're the same.” You replied, shifting your bag once more.

“Yep,” Trent said, his eyes meeting yours.

"Walk with me?" You tilted your head to the end of the hallway where the stairs led downstairs.

He looked over, swallowing as he nodded his head. "Sure."

You both turned, your shoulders grazing ever so slightly as you walked in what felt like a comfortable silence together, descending the stairs.

You walked side by side toward the building’s exit. Brian, stationed by the manually operated door on the same wall as the now-locked automatic ones, gave it a gentle push open.

"See you tomorrow, Brian." You expressed with a genuine smile, giving him a small wave.

"See you, love. Have a good night, son." He replied warmly.

"You too." Trent added.

He stepped aside though as he turned slightly, his body angled to give you clear passage. With a subtle sweep of his hand, he motioned for you to go ahead before him.

You slipped past, your back brushed lightly against his chest, the brief contact making your stomach flip in an instant.

The sensation caught you off guard, sending a jolt of warmth through your body. You felt like a schoolgirl again, every accidental touch with a crush igniting a fire in your limbs.

Crush? You blinked, shaking the thought out of your head quickly. Nope, nope. That’s not it.

You exhaled quietly, trying to steady yourself, looking back as Trent caught up beside you.

A brisk gust of wind whipped around you both. Instinctively, you tucked the loose strands of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear, crossing your arms over your chest to keep warm.

Trent shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his breath visible in the cold air.

“Getting colder,” you commented.

“No shit,” Trent agreed, his voice a bit strained against the chill. “Summer ended quick.”

"You can talk, you weren’t even in the country," you teased, giving him a sidelong glance.

Trent didn’t miss a beat, replying almost instantly, "you didn’t even work here then, how would you know?"

You opened your mouth to respond but hesitated, the words not quite forming in time. Trent noticed and grinned, his smugness unmistakable.

“Someone stalking my Insta?”

You rolled your eyes, fighting the grin threatening to break out. “Please. You think you’re that interesting?”

Trent shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes. “Can’t blame ya. I mean, half the world’s got eyes on me.”

“Half the world, huh?” You shot back, arching a brow. “I didn’t realise your four friends counted as ‘half the world' now.”

He chuckled, tucking his chin deeper into his jacket. “Still more friends than you’ve got.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” you replied smoothly, flashing a grin. “I’ve got friends, too. Just.. a bit more exclusive.”

“Exclusive, eh?” Trent said, his tone mock-serious.

"Mhm," you trailed off, smiling.

As you walked, your mind wandered back to earlier in the day, remembering how he’d said your name. It was brief, almost casual, but it had stuck with you. It had felt different, personal.

And now, it replayed in your head, over and over.

Without fully realising it, you broke the silence. “You said my name.”

Trent’s steps slowed as he processed your words, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. “What?”

You looked down, cheeks flushed from the cold - or maybe something else. “When you left my office earlier, you called me by my name.”

Trent pressed his bottom lip up to his top as he thought back. “Pretty sure I’ve said your name before.”

“Not to me,” you said, glancing up at him with a hopeful look.

He tilted his head. “And why’s that so important?”

“Because.. it is,” you admitted, a hint of vulnerability slipping through. “To me, it is.”

Trent's muscles relaxed as his eyes roved over your features. “The bar's in hell, huh?”

You laughed, the sound warm and genuine, cutting through the chill. You nudged his arm with your hand.

“Whatever,” you mumbled, crossing your arms over your chest to trap the heat.

You finally approached Trent’s car, and he turned to you with a nod before pressing the unlock button on his keys.

You watched as he walked closer to his car door and opened it. The quiet of the evening was interrupted by your voice, again.

“Thanks for the coffee,” you said, raising your voice slightly to cut through the wind.

Trent's lips twitched, biting his bottom one to hold back from taking any credit. “I didn’t make your coffee.”

“Don’t lie, Trent. It doesn’t suit you." You remarked, scrunching your nose and shaking your head.

For a moment, his eyes stayed on you, lingering with a soft intensity. You held his gaze, feeling an unspoken connection. The seconds stretched on as you both seemed to take in the moment, your heart racing slightly in the charged silence.

Trent eventually looked away, fiddling with the keys in his hand.

“Get out of the way before I run you over." He quipped, his voice lighthearted.

“Charming,” you retorted.

Trent shook his head, getting into his car.

You began walking towards the pedestrian gate, hearing the engine of his car start up as you turned to give him one last glance before starting your short walk home.

...

Part 7

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foreverisntenough · 2 months

Text

‘OURS’

Summary: You were his and he was yours but what would it be like adding one more? Thrust into a whirlwind romance you never could’ve imagined that became your forever love. You continue building a new life across the pond with a very beautiful Scouser. A sequel to the ‘You’re Mine’ fic.

INDEX

Warnings: This series is 18+ and will contain fluff, suggestion, SMUT (unprotected sex,) pregnancy, parenting, mental health struggles, eating disorder, self doubt, body image issues, daddy kink, angst, alcohol consumption - not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: Thank you for reading! Please be sure to like, comment, or message me what you think of the series! Try not to nitpick with any real pregnant/ baby logistics it’s better if you just read along happily :)

Chapter 26 - Back at Home | ‘Ours’

word count - 11.2k

“One more set, yeah?” Trent yelled out to you from the other side of the court bouncing a tennis ball again and again onto the ground and back up into his hand waiting for you. You sat on the clay court sweating with your head tucked between your knees, breathing heavily in your tiny white tennis dress, absolutely knackered.

“No, we are done. You’ve had your fun.” You shook your head refusing to make eye contact with him. Trent had beat you in straight sets… twice. It’s not even that you were bad at tennis, he just was very good and very determined to win. You were slightly more indifferent about your game of tennis today. Trent was not going to sacrifice his pride and let you win and you knew that, you should’ve remembered it though when you agreed to the match. Marriage be damned Trent Alexander-Arnold wasn’t loosing a game.

“I think I want to build a court at the house. I want to teach Ted tennis. I think it could be her thing.” He cooed, pulling the net down with his hand and stepping over it coming towards you. You finally picked your head up with a smile. It was both very cute but slightly ridiculous to want to build a tennis court at your home. It slowly but surely started to feel like a sports complex in your back garden. The pool, the turf pitch, there was half of a basketball court as well, and now he wanted to add tennis into the mix. Whatever he wanted though. To be fair, it was quite fun and cool he could just decide that and you were sure in a month's time you’d be going out to sit court side to watch him and Teddy attempt to rally.

“Her thing?” You asked him with a cute tired smile. Trent wanted Teddy to be good at sports and that was abundantly clear but with the general public constantly pushing the narrative that she had to play football, ‘project TAA’ trended when you announced the pregnancy. It wasn’t something he felt all that comfortable with. Of course, he wanted her to, they played a lot together and watched a lot of football together. He hoped she’d like it but he wanted her to make the decision for herself if she ever wanted to do it.

“Yeah, I mean she’s going to be sick at any sport but we could do this one together. Could be nice, no?” He explained plopping himself to sit on the court next to you. One thing was certain to Trent though, Teddy was going to be excellent at everything she ever did. Even in her failures he’d think she was incredible and her efforts always valiant. She’d fumble in the grass trying to run as fast as she could and the look in his eyes was as if she’d won a gold medal. That’s not to knock Teddy either, she was fairly coordinated for her age, his belief in her though was astronomical in size.

“I’m sure she’d love it, T. Not so sure she’d want you to just torment her the way you just did to me for the past few hours but in general I know she’d love more time with daddy.” You cooed shuffling to lay your head on his shoulder. He draped his strong arm closest to you around your shoulder and pulled you tight into him. He kissed your temple with a hum.

“Torment is unfair. You just weren’t dialed in, ya know? I was thinking that when we play next time…” Trent began on a rambling tangent or analysis of sorts about your performance. It could be something you’d find annoying or offensive but when Trent talked about something with so much passion and enthusiasm you just wanted to listen to it for ages. He cared about you and so he had things he wanted to say. It was a loving way of lending his opinion and assistance. “I think when you serve if you tossed the ball a bit higher it’d make such a difference, baby. Honest.” He cooed focused on bouncing the tennis ball again in front of you two. You just hummed in agreement with a smug smile. He was right. He was always right. That was the other thing that made the babbling all the more endearing. He knew what he was talking about.

“I will give it a go next time. Thank you for the advice, pretty boy.” You giggled a little as he stood up first and pulled you up by your hands. You dusted off your ass that had chalky dust from the court all over you but you began to care less and less when you became distracted watching Trent peel his sweaty t-shirt off over his head. There was something incredibly sexy about him when he worked out or was just sweaty. It should be gross and yet there were few things that turned you on quite like it.

“Maybe you can give me private lessons when you build the court at the house.” You spoke softly to him walking over to the side of the fenced in area now. You watched his back muscles move as he put the rackets away and your mouth watered. You move to run your hands up and down his back, over his strong muscles and he purred letting his head drop back towards you with a relaxed expression. You let your hands run lower down him until you reached the waistband of his shorts and then you glided your hands around his waist toying with it. “You know, I heard a lot of people sleep with their tennis instructors, baby.” You informed him. You were being cheeky but there was some truth to your trope. You knew a few marriages from growing up that had fallen victim to country club affairs. This was not that obviously. You were just being playful. He hummed, placing his hands over top of yours on his shiny tanned skin. He looked fucking delicious. You wanted a bite and so you took one. You pressed your lips to his back and worked kisses up his skin but when you reached his shoulder you bit down cheekily. He flicked his gaze to the side to see you with a handsomely conniving grin. “Yeah, but you wouldn’t mind. You could teach me… and then you could play with me…” you whispered to him, dropping your tone. Trent could feel his heart begin to race and slam against his chest. The hot air of the Mediterranean somehow feeling impossibly hotter than before The growing bulge in his shorts, anything but subtle. “And then of course we’d have to stretch after.” You kept talking with blatantly coy innuendos.

“Of course. Would need to stretch you out. Can't have you getting hurt” Trent provided an ad lib that had your pussy throbbing. Everything about this moment was sexy; the way he looked, the way he felt, the way he smelt, the way he sounded, it had you reeling.

“Right, I would definitely need it and then after that cool down I’d have to shower so.” You dragged your hands over his abs and then dipped slightly into the waistband of his shorts. Trent shuttering a little, having to take a deep breath, you then pulling your hands back up the muscles.

“I can help you there as well.” He cooed, grabbing your hands and spinning around in your embrace. He wrapped his arms around your own waist swiftly as you moved to drape yours up over his shoulders. He dragged his hands over the curve of your ass and then to the underside of your thighs before he picked you up with ease.

“Wow. That sounds…mmmph.” You couldn’t even finish your sentence. You smiled at him with a sultry smirk before diving back into your silly roleplay. “What a thorough instructor. How much does all this cost?” You giggled in his arms as he narrowed his gaze into your eyes. Your legs wrapped around his waist and he moved over to the bench off to the side of the court taking a seat, you coming down with him to straddle him now.

“For you pretty girl? Free but I have a few prerequisites.” He answered your question. You raised your eyebrow and bit your lip to hold back a juvenile excited smile forming on your face to hear his response. “Erm well thing is you’ve got to be my wife for the rest of your life and you’ve got to be a good girl f’me the whole time.” He cooed quietly in a way that shivers racing down your spine. You leaned forward and pressed your nose to his.

“I definitely will be both of those things forever.” You whispered before taking his bottom plump lip between your teeth and pulling it.

You boarded the private plane home and felt an odd mix of emotions. Part of you couldn’t wait to get back home to your baby girl and regular life but another part of you would’ve loved to stay on your honeymoon for the rest of your life. Spending time with Trent alone was so refreshing and almost energizing to your relationship. It was nice to be just you. Not parents, not a footballer, whatever it was, it was just so good to be Y/N and Trent together but your heart had a slight ache the whole time thinking about your little girl.

“You’re very pretty.” You whispered, running your hand over Trent’s hair. He was laying on top of you on a couch in the plane’s cabin. His cheek resting on your stomach. He looked like an angel. His features had gone more soft as he laid there resting.

“I’m sleeping.” Trent mumbled out against your warm skin. His plump lips moving flush against you too tired to prop his face up any to speak any more clearly. He had pulled up your shirt to lay directly on your stomach. He didn’t want any barrier between you two. For some reason he was being incredibly clingy for the last day and a half. He said he was fine but you knew it probably had to do with the fact that Liverpool’s preseason tour was so soon and he’d have to be away from you and Teddy.

“And you’re still very pretty.” You scratched at his scalp gently and he hummed nuzzling into you more. You weren’t looking forward to his departure but another season would be exciting. That was your life. That is quite literally what you legally had signed up for the other week, Mrs. Trent Alexander-Arnold would be at football matches guaranteed at least for the foreseeable future until he retired and probably still would be after that.

In swift succession your flight landed, you got in the car, and then you arrived at home. Trent let out a dramatic sigh as you walked into the house. He carried all your luggage and his inside and plopped it all in the foyer beside the door, the way that always drove you nuts. Trent started to laugh as he proceeded further into the house when he noticed a pause in your strides behind him seeing him drop it all there. Your brow furrowed as to why he was giggling away. He turned around cheekily and gave you a wink.

“I’m kidding! I know, I know. I will bring them upstairs, beautiful.” He sang to you bringing his hand to your waist pressing a kiss to your forehead. You muttered ‘so annoying.’ under your breath as you rolled your eyes. “Huh? Got something to say to me, your husband, the man you willingly chose to marry?” He cockily laughed while beginning to pick up all of the bags.

“No, baby.” You giggled, shaking your head, coming to help him pick up a few of the smaller pieces. You carried it all upstairs and you unpacked slowly and methodically while Trent laid in bed after a shower. It was so good to be home. Honestly, it felt like you’d been gone for ages. Frankly, you kind of had been considering you had left for the wedding weeks ago. With the help of both your families you had gotten Teddy from the United States back to the United Kingdom, Tyler flying her home for you but she was at Dianne’s now waiting for you to come get her. You picked her up and naturally it was a reunion full of tears.

Trent had to immediately get into football mode. The next day he was on his way to preseason training at AXA. It was a little insane you were already back at the start of another season but this time as his wife. Like the wind, things returned to normal, you were home and Trent was leaving the house for football yet again.

“You’re so cute.” You cooed watching Trent put on his watch with real focus to fix it’s clasp. You kept your focus on him. He deserved your focus but he held it without even trying. He looked so cute. He stuck his tongue out into the corner of his mouth the same way Teddy replicated often and scrunched his nose up.

“What are you on about?” He asked you with a breathy childish giggle you loved to hear only further proving your point. He flashed a look your way once he clasped it. Your heart faltered a little. It had only been mere weeks of no football and it wasn’t ever all that different but it was cute to see Trent put on his new training gear for each season every year.

“You’re just so cute, T.” You pouted at him. It felt almost like he was getting ready for his first day of school and had gotten a new outfit for it. He threw his head to the side dramatically the same way a school kid would.

“The disrespect. I’m a man, baby.” He shot back with some classic Trent sass and feigned offense.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah but you’re also such a cutttieeee.” You sang, hopping off the edge of your bed and skipping over to him. You wrapped your arms around his waist with a tight squeeze. Trent was sexy and manly, no shadow of a doubt but he also had one of the cutest faces in the world. Those boba eyes and pouty lips just were everything.

“Alright, well, this ‘cutie’ is going to go to his adult job as a professional male athlete so goodbye.” He cooed, wrapping an arm around you. He kissed your hair, breathing you in, relishing in a last moment of your comfort before he left for grueling workouts. He let go of you though more abruptly than you were expecting, walking to grab his phone off the nightstand. You thought he’d hold you a little longer.

“Wait… I don’t get a real kiss? I just called you cute and you’re gonna leave me without a kiss?” You looked at him shocked. He just shook his head at you. Of course, he wasn’t. That wouldn’t be any fun to just give into you. Your face dropped a little unintentionally offended that he just shook his head ‘no’ declining a kiss with you.

“You can’t call Teddy needy for me ever. Honestly. She learns this from you.” He laughed and you gave him a stubborn pout in return, something Teddy probably also learnt from you. “C’mere, you’re a joke but I love you.” He grabbed you and dragged you into him. He held your body in his arms and swayed you back and forth sillily. You smiled big up at him. He fairly harshly grabbed the back of your neck and pulled you into a deep kiss with a hum.

“And you feed into it! You love the attention so who's really to blame here?” You asked him cheekily, pulling away from a particularly good kiss.

“Mama up pleabs.” Teddy whined. Tears filled her lash line this morning as she stood looking up at you with big sleepy puppy dog eyes. She was still in her pajamas, cute as ever but the tears had been flowing since you’d arrived back home from Italy. Teddy was really emotionally attached to you and you weren’t sure how to manage it. Not in a bad way, it was okay, you were too paranoid not to check in with her doctors about it but you were worried about her dependency at first. It just made you want to coddle her, you hated staring into those pooling brown eyes. You never wanted to see her sad.

“My Teddy bear, it’s okay. I got you. Come on cute girl. Let’s make some breakfast for you and we can go sit outside in the sunshine, okay?” You attempted to put her down from your hold but you were met with more tears. Her little hiccups and sniffles from her cries breaking your heart. Teddy had been glued to you. You were trying to do anything to make her happy or distract her from the fact that you’d been apart for some time. You’d hope making her a breakfast she liked and playing outside would make her smile a bit.

“Mama nos. Up pleabs” Teddy pouted pleadingly at you pulling at your arms and waited diligently and fairly stubbornly until you picked her back up. She hadn’t let her own little arms wrapped around your neck loosen one bit since you had come back. She buried her face in your shirt, refusing to budge when you finally caved and picked her back up.

“Okay, okay. You just want mummy to hold you all day, huh?” You giggled brushing your hand over her curls, pressing a few gentle kisses to her cheek. She nodded sadly in response. “I’m not going anywhere, baby. I’ve got you. Aren’t you so happy that you, me and daddy are all back home together and the doggies?” You cooed and she hummed a ‘mmhmm’ sleepily hugging you. “We’ll have a fun day. You still have to tell mummy all the fun things you did at Mom Mom and Pop Pops. Can you tell me about how much fun you had at the beach with them and Win?” You asked her swiping your thumb under her eyes, catching some tears still slowly rolling down her soft skin.

“Missed my mama.” She cooed, rubbing her hands over her eyes awkwardly in the most adorable way in the funny way little kids did. Your bottom lip rolled. Teddy loved you and Trent. She wasn’t attached in a bad way but it was a hard thing to navigate how clingy she could get with you. With Trent so busy with football that was always an emotional departure each time and a confusing thing she hadn’t quite wrapped her head around entirely yet but sometimes you felt like she was all the more concerned when you weren’t around. That she was coming to terms that daddy had to travel for work and you’d see him on TV but where the hell did mummy think she was going? She was affectionate because you were affectionate and it was beautiful but you also wanted her to be strong, independent, and brave. You felt so guilty when you and Trent had said goodbye to her at once and knowing you had been together without her had her fairly upset. So what was her answer to what she did on her trip? She missed you, that's what she did.

“I know you did, Teddy bear but you had a fun time too. You were so brave on your plane ride home with Ty too. I heard you watched movies and had some snacks. Did you save me any goldfish crackers that Mum mum packed you, for me?” You asked her knowing that your mum had packed Teddy some for her flight home. It was a snack you introduced to Teddy when you were in the US and she loved the shape of them and of course the taste. She nodded. Dianne told you they were in her bag when you picked her up. Your mum had tucked some extra bags in with her things. “Oh wow! That's so nice of you. Thank you, sweet girl. My Teddy bear is such a big girl now. Mummy and Daddy are so proud of you for flying. You had lots of fun doing that, huh? Did you like traveling with Ty?” You asked her softly.

“Guess sos mama.” She answered you shyly, a little confused how she was able to feel both sad about missing you and happy about having fun with Tyler. She did really deserve your compliments. You were genuinely proud of her. She had flown home from New York with Tyler. He had some work things to do in Manhattan and some friends to see after the wedding so it had worked for him to get her and bring her back with him. She was chill and well behaved so it wasn’t exactly all that suprising news but it was cute that she was able to be brave like you hoped she’d be to fly home with her uncle, no mummy, no daddy. “And you know what else? I heard Pop Pop took you to get a really yummy treat a few nights that you liked. Do you remember what you had with him?” You asked her placing her back down on her own feet on the carpet crouching yourself down into a squat to get to her level to be eye to eye keeping your hand on her back.

“Chalk ice cweam.” She answered you in her best effort at pronouncing her dessert. You had heard all about ‘chalk ice cweam.’ They had gone out for ice cream one night and then another night and then another night by Teddy’s request. Your dad wanted to take Teddy to the ice cream shop he had always taken you and Winnie to while you two were growing up each summer. It made you melt like her ice cream cone had all over her tiny hand and white shirt in the photo your dad sent you. Teddy’s new obsession had taken on a life of its own from there. She loved it.

“Mmmmm was it so yummy? Mummy used to eat that with Pop Pop every summer time too. I loved it so much. My absolute favorite” You told Teddy and a pit formed in your stomach as the words fell out. Thinking about summers you’d spent indulging in ice cream cones with your dad, something you once loved so much made you sad and a little sick. Teddy was so excited by the treat and yet the idea of eating the dessert was horrifying to you now. You promised yourself you’d do everything you could to make sure Teddy never felt the way you did, what you did about something you used to love. You couldn’t let her develop this type of relationship with food or to be more honest, herself. “Do you know who else loves chocolate ice cream?” You cooed, starting to help her out of her cute printed pajamas trying to move on from your melancholy tornado of thoughts and get on with your morning. She shook her head ‘no.’ “Daddy does. You’re just like daddy, huh?” You smiled at her. That was a massive compliment to Teddy. That’s all she wanted. Trent was everything to her so her sleepy pout slowly curled into a proud smile. She just liked to copy him. She’d follow him around the house just wanting to do what he did. You got her changed and made your way to the kitchen for some pancakes and juice followed by a nice morning in the back garden. You had initially planned some fun activities and games but Teddy just wanted to be stuck to you so instead you compromised letting her snuggle up to you on a couch in the shade of the back patio playing more educational and less exerting games asking her questions about colors, numbers and spelling getting to see her mind develop in real time.

“Me, dada. Kiss Teddy.” Teddy yelled as she pulled at the hem of Trent’s shorts the second he walked into the house coming back from training. She had developed super senses. The ability to know the second when he arrived home. She just knew instantly and would dart to the door.

“Hi baby bear. What did you miss me or something?” Trent laughed at her overzealousness. She stood waiting impatiently and Trent knew it would drive her nuts if he held off any affection she was clearly, and to be fair, usually rightfully so, anticipating. “I am gonna go give mummy a kiss hello, okay?” Her brow furrowed. He wasn’t going to give her a cuddle? He’d been home for 60 seconds and even that was too long to wait for a kiss in her mind. What was this about?

“Dada no. Kiss Teddy first.” She huffed. She was right there and you weren’t even in the room, why was he leaving her? She couldn’t believe she finally had Trent back home with her and he wasn't fawning all over her like he normally did.

“Let me go give mummy a kiss.” He lightly jogged away from her but not leaving the room just around in a small circle in the foyer of your house. This probably wasn’t the time for these jokes considering her upset over you being apart. Teddy, shocked, stood still and her bottom lip began to quiver, her eyes filling quick with tears. “Oh no no no, don’t need to cry, my beautiful girl. I’m just kidding. C’mere. Always have a kiss for my Teddy.” Trent cooed, picking her up, giving her a peck on her little pout, brushing away her tears. “I’m sorry baby. I love you. Missed you all day.” He kissed Teddy again. And then again. And again. He peppered his kisses all over her before he just began blowing raspberries against her skin.

“Dada!” She squealed with giggles. You were just finishing letting the dogs back inside from the back garden but the beautiful cacophony of her giggles reached you. Teddy was with you originally but she took off running when her ‘super senses’ kicked in before your second dog made it in because she needed to greet him immediately upon entry.

“Greedy, greedy girl. Can you share dada with me?” You cooed, coming into the front room. Seeing Teddy finally back giggling made everything better. It put your heart and mind at ease. The two of them perfectly beautiful.

“No, mama. My dada.” Teddy clarified to you making sure you knew that he was hers. You frowned dramatically with a defeated huff before you turned away from them to leave the room. Frankly, you hoped that if you were treating Teddy as cheekily as you normally would her attachment post honeymoon would start to dilute. You’d coddle her but a good tease was welcomed.

“Mama … I’m sowwy. Can give my dada kiss if want, mama.” Teddy looked so sad as Trent placed her down. She grabbed at his hand and dragged him over towards you as if he was some sort of possession or item of hers to give.

“My dada.” You cooed possessively, turning around and draping and hanging your body weight onto Trent dramatically. Teddy had given you an inch and you took a mile in her eyes. She glared at you with a ‘don’t take it too far now’ type of stare which made you laugh.

“C’mere, pretty girl. Mwah!” Trent kissed you with a laugh knowing exactly what you were doing, you both were just provoking your daughter. It was in good humor but that was enough for now. You scooped up Teddy in your arms after and Trent pulled both of you into him. “Mummy is so silly, right baby? You and mama can have all the kisses now I’ve got both my beautiful girls back with me finally. Love you so much, yeah?” Trent kissed Teddy’s cheek and she giggled happy with the current arrangement.

Trent was leaving for Liverpool’s preseason tour tomorrow which wasn’t fun. It was always really hard. You hated being apart. It was definitely hard to explain to Teddy daddy was leaving for a week plus after he just was away. It was a mountain you were not looking forward to climbing. It was a rainy day and you were sat in the living room laid horizontally on the couch under a blanket. Teddy was playing with the dogs close by, messing about on the floor. Trent was upstairs preparing his things to pack for his fast approaching departure.

“Mama, what watching?” Teddy inquisitively asked, coming round the couch. She tilted her head interested. You sat up from your position on the couch and extended your arms towards her.

“I’m watching a tv show. Do you want to come and watch a Teddy and mama show with me instead?” You asked her sweetly and gently, deciding you could pause whatever you had on and jump to something for her. She nodded with an excited giggle running towards you. “Okay, one condition though.” You prefaced

“What mama?” She asked eagerly, climbing up on the couch into your lap pulling on you to get herself up to you.

“You have to snuggle up with mummy. Okays?” You told her and she wiggled in your lap moving to cuddle herself up to you goofily. She laid her head onto your thigh and wrapped her arms around your waist.

“What movie should we watch, Ted?” You cooed. You knew her answer already though. It had become her current fixation. Bless Tyler for enduring an eight hour travel day with her in the midst of this obsession.

“Poooh mama!” She yelped with a giggle. She was lovvving Winnie The Pooh. It kind of took you by surprise mostly because when you imagined having a baby you actually were curious what the latest and greatest movies, shows, and songs were for them now. Your dad had showed her it during the week of your wedding. Naturally she liked it. Before it even started when he had explained the main character, Pooh, was a bear and his name was her favorite (and only) aunt, Winnie, ticking two big* boxes for her. You hummed already navigating on the screen with the remote to start the movie.

“What are we watching?” Trent cooed coming downstairs into the room seeing you and Teddy cuddled up. Teddy incredibly focused on the screen, your gaze fixed on her wrapping her ringlet curls round your fingers.

“Dada, shhhh!” Teddy hissed pushing her finger to her mouth telling Trent essentially to shut up because Winnie the Pooh was on the screen.

“Oh wow, I am so sorry!” He puffed some air out his nose stifling a laugh. He was well aware of the fascination, he should’ve known better. He sat on the couch beside you manhandling you and by proxy Teddy into a cuddle with him. His arms around you, face buried in your neck pressing slow quiet kisses to your skin. Trent didn’t need to watch. You all had seen this movie a lot lately.

“We’re watching our favorite movie.” You answered him with a soft giggle. He hummed, not even needing a further explanation or title name. He knew immediately. The pugey little yellow bear on the screen also gave it away.

“Nah, I know what my favorite movie is and it is definitely not this one, baby.” He whispered, correcting you with his lips coming to ghost over the shell of your ear. You smirked having an inkling what he might be referring to. The cheeky direction of your thoughts was halted by a very agitated Teddy.

“Mama!! dada!!!” Teddy whipped around to glare at you both annoyed. Trent held his hands up in innocence, removing them from your sides and then naturally felt inclined to point at you to push the blame. You rolled your eyes at his childish behavior.

“Do I know this movie?” You craned your neck around, cooing in a significantly quieter voice hoping not to bother Teddy.

“Oh do you ever…” He whispered back and you felt your stomach drop a little in the best way. “You starred as the leading role. Main character, baby. Rave reviews about the performance I’ve heard as well.” He cheekily cooed, moving his lips much much closer to you. The feeling of his breath on your skin made your eyes flutter shut. He slipped his arm across your chest before dragging his big hand down your neck. It was frustratingly sexy but also stupidly innocent. You wanted to groan but you just focused your attention on that same little yellow bear still running about on the screen. Trent loved the feeling of your body sweetly snuggling into his juxtaposed with the incredibly suggestive hand placement that had both of your minds racing.

“Do you remember filming, movie star?” You shook your head disapproving of his teasing words that hit the shell of your ear with his plump juicy lips against your skin as he held you closer to him. You couldn’t stop your body from tensing in his embrace and the memories of not just that film he was referring to, the one that you’d made in the shower the other day with Trent, but all the other wonderful times you’ve had were coming flooding back. You tried to shuffle away but he held you to him moving his hand to press his palm flat against your stomach keeping you firm in place.

“Shhh, it’s rude to talk during our movie. Be quiet daddy” You cooed jokingly back to him needing to immediately pause the directions of your thoughts. You weren’t sure you’d be able to stand any more of him for the lengthy remainder of the movie left and the time until you put Teddy to bed. He reached around you and grabbed your chin to turn your chin back towards him. He kissed your lips gently. His pout feeling divine against your lips. You needed to not let him get in your head so you made the kiss a bit sillier than sexier sealing it with a ‘mwah’ noise. Teddy snapped around again to look at you very vexed, gesturing her hand towards the screen as if to say ‘what do you and daddy not understand about the fact that she was trying to watch Winnie The Pooh!’

‘Don’t forget this! Travel safe baby.’ You texted Trent and cheekily sent him the video you had discussed during the movie the other night, the movie you had filmed in the shower of your ensuite together. When he left for Liverpool’s preseason tour this morning, you wanted to cry but the keepsake of your spicy photos and video hidden on your camera roll would have to do in providing you some comfort and maybe a bit of fun while he was away. Marcel had come over the same morning a little later on just to hang with you, which was fairly common if Trent was home and probably even more so when he had to be away. It provided Trent a lot of comfort that someone could be home with his two girls. Marcel was sitting with Teddy at the kitchen island as you made them breakfast. The two of them babbling on and on about nonsense, taking selfies, and just being besties, frankly.

“Hey Marce, can you text T for me and ask where he put my mac charger? I forgot to ask before he left.” It just had randomly popped into your head that you had let Trent borrow it last night and per usual it was nowhere to be found. You asked Marcel not thinking about much other than preventing the pancakes on the skillet in front of you from burning, avoiding a critique from the two equally picky eaters at your table, despite their 20 year age gap. Marcel picked his head up and gave you a ‘sure’ answer. You just wanted to make sure you had a charger and he and Teddy had your phone. It was fine…

“Oh my god! Oh shit! Nope Ted, give that to me now!” Marcel yelped out as his eyes went wide and he winced in disgust, snatching the phone out of Teddy’s tiny hands. He turned the screen away from himself as well, grossed out by what was happening on it. Teddy was developing her finer motor skills as well as an infatuation with your phone. She loved playing with it and particularly loved taking selfies of herself or just hitting the camera button. You’d end up with thousands of blurred photos of her world but it was cute and you didn’t mind. She had meandered through from the camera somehow into uncharted territory when Marcel turned his attention to you for your question no longer following her movements on your phone. His eyes felt like they were burning when they snapped back seeing the video unfolding on the screen. Teddy wasn’t paying much attention to it she was more so staring at him now but the idea of her seeing a millisecond alone of a certain video freaked him out enough.

“Nah, Y/N. I’m gonna throw up. Like… Oh my god, Y/N.” He stood up frivolously panicked, rushing over to you, shoving your phone at you, holding it out in disgust. Teddy had clicked when she saw a notification from Trent pop up.. A small photo of him and his name appearing. His contact name in your phone since finding out you had gotten pregnant, originally as a joke, was ‘daddy’ leading to this disastrous moment you were unaware had unfolded. Teddy tapped seeing his name, problem being that she tapped on the last message you’d sent before he had taken off on his flight and hit play. Yes, it was that video.

“Oh my god! No!” You shrieked. Marcel motioned like he was going to be sick. You clicked off your phone and slammed it onto the marble countertop. “Literally oh my god!” You screamed.

“Honestly, I can’t look at you right now.” Marcel quipped running his hands over his head as he moved away from you back over to Teddy. He picked her up and she giggled at the sudden chaos that just unfolded in the kitchen. “You need new parents, they are disgusting, Teddy.” He spoke just to her moving into the archway into the next room connected to your kitchen. “Y/N!!! That is… That is foul.” He snapped at you.

“Stop saying my name like that, you're making me feel bad!” You yelled at him with a flush coming over your entire body. Your mind actually had gone almost completely blank. You were so in shock that your body's response was to start laughing. You couldn’t control it. “Oh my god!” You cackled, covering your face mortified.

“You should feel bad! That was criminal. Absolutely cannot believe you just left a video like that for your brother and baby to see.” Marcel quipped with wide eyes still as he shook his head while adjusting his hold of Teddy.

“I am so sorry. Oh my god. I’m sorry.” You profusely apologized in a panic. “Teddy, you didn’t see anything right? Didn’t see mummy on the phone?” You asked, petrified. She was actually at a solid enough age to identify what she saw. Maybe not from the adult perspective Marcel had just experienced but She’d be able to sus something out. You waited anxiously for her response.

“See what’s mama? Want to talk to dada now!!” She yelped blissfully unaware she could just have seen something that would’ve scarred her for life. She just wanted to talk to Trent now after seeing his name, opposite of Marcel. He never wanted to talk to you or Trent for time. You muttered a ‘oh thank god’ with a big deep breath. Marcel looked between you two and backed away by one step. You tried to walk towards him.

“Nope!” Marcel yelped out pushing his hand out towards you. “Stay away from us. Say mama’s gross.” He cooed to Teddy, sticking his tongue out towards you with a blow of air letting out a ‘ppbhhhttttt’ noise. You rolled your eyes at him. Teddy giggled with a jumbled version of what he was asking her to say then mirroring his action. Having Trent teach her nonsense was enough of a battle. She’d pick up random words he was loving using at the moment or he’d spit on the pitch and then she’d try to replicate, it was exhausting, incredibly cute but exhausting. You constantly had to manage the fine line of letting her have fun, learn, goof about, but still learn and know how to be polite and respectful, there was a time and a place for things. Adding two uncles, and two football teams, and all his friends around her it was just nonsense day in and day out. She was perfectly well behaved but she’d do this a lot. She’d be adventurous and silly with them eagerly giddy to do what they were doing.

“Baby… that’s not very nice to say to mummy.” You pouted, picking her up from his arms with a snappy glare.

“Sowwy mama. Not gwoss, tay?” She cooed with a pensive look not sure if she should keep her smile because Marcel was making her laugh or if she should fall more stoic because you had a frown on your face. You accepted her apology and kissed her with a big smile wildly relieved this hadn’t gone in another direction. You could manage Macel, he wouldn’t want to know an ounce more of detail than he gathered in that split second seeing that video. Teddy on the other hand more likely than not would’ve berated you with questions of what’s and why’s.

“No, actually I don’t think I can close my eyes ever again. Oh my days, man, that is fucking seared into my brain, Y/N.” Marcel groaned rubbing his eyes abandoning you and Teddy to plop himself on your living room couch. You placed Teddy back down on the floor and leaned over to whisper into her ear providing her with a set of instructions.

“Celly! Celly! Mama says you baby.” Teddy giggled, coming to jump onto the cushion next to him throwing herself over top of one of his outstretched legs with a goofy smile. “Like me?” She questioned him. He shook his head at her with a smile before he dropped it and scoffed. You loved to tease Marcel about his age. He wasn’t all that much younger but Dianne would always call him the baby and Teddy was intrigued that he was ‘like her.’ He snapped his neck to turn back and give you an unimpressed glare. If he wanted to use Teddy to make fun of your embarrassing faux pas, so could you. Two could play at that game. Trent was happily unaware of your mortifying morning scandal with Marcel. He was asleep on the flight to preseason. You had no doubt this would be used quite a bit though as ammunition to make fun of you both for time. He’d find out soon enough surely. Trent landed safely, falling into training sessions and heavy workouts, facetimes with Teddy and ones with you where you relayed the whole experience. He thought it was funny considering she didn’t see anything. You still felt wildly embarrassed.

“What is the one thing you're loving at the moment or the thing you’ve been obsessing over this summer?” Amidst preseason, a laidback journalist sat across from Trent asked him as he did press in between sessions. Trent smiled but paused to bite his plump bottom lip in thought.

“To be fair, l’ve been loving being married, obsessing over my wife.” Trent smiled tilting his head to the side and catching a glimpse of his phone screen illuminating with a notification. His background photo was of you and Teddy getting ready at The Plaza ahead of the wedding. He said he liked it the most because it was something he usually got to witness everyday. It was you two captured in your most Y/N and Teddy Alexander-Arnold selves. You were hugging her from behind pressing your cheek to hers as she awkwardly wrapped her arms up around your neck. He laughed a little before speaking again. “Erm… actually, I’ll get battered for that one. It’s my honest answer but you’ll have to cut that out.” He laughed. Naturally, the publication kept it in the eventually uploaded Youtube video. “I’ve really been loving Pilates. Get on it if you haven’t. Actually, my wife introduced me and we’ve been doing it a lot. So pilates.” He concluded that was his final answer. The reporter smiled seeing that Trent was seemingly unable to avoid talking about you even if he tried to deviate. He cheekily fixed his gaze directly into the camera lens sending a wink in that direction. It was sweet because yes, it was true Trent actually was enjoying it since his first time doing it in Italy but it was more just a sweet way for him to still say that the thing he’d always be loving at the moment would be you.

“I’m home, baby. I’m so sorry. Our arrival time got pushed back.” Trent whispered, pulling your limp body towards him across your mattress. He nestled you two under the covers back in your big bed after what felt like a very long two weeks apart.

“T…” you whined sleepily. You nuzzled your face against his neck lazily pushing your lips, not really even able to purse them, against his warm skin. You just left them placed there.

“Shhhh baby. Sleep.” He hushed you, wrapping you that much tighter in his embrace kissing your hair, breathing you in. He always did this thing that if you had fallen asleep before he had gotten home and his mind was still racing a mile a minute he’d just quietly whisper a murmur of compliments and mushy things to you interspersed with kisses. You weren’t even sure what he was saying. You knew it was nice, you’d catch bits of it sometimes, but most of the time you were out cold lulled by the comfort of him.

“I know missed you so much but she’s going to absolutely freak out. I don’t know if I’m ready for that squeal.” You were of course talking about your daughter, Teddy. You woke up cuddled with Trent, happy he was finally back home but you knew she was about to be even more thrilled than you, if that was possible. You had thought it’d be a fun surprise to not tell her the exact day daddy would be home and so to her delight she’d be woken up this morning by Trent. “I’m still so tired. Ted’s been putting me through it. I feel like I just chase after her. The energy levels she has and you know what… pace. She’s proper fast now, you know?” You cooed to Trent. Everything she did was amazing but also, she was still so young, she couldn’t have been all the fast but you knew Trent would get excited hearing an athletic update. You’d fill him in about taking Teddy to the nail salon and the big debate she had choosing what color to get later. This one was fun for now. Trent quite literally ran with your first tidbit of information about his time away. You could hear both their footsteps slapping against the floor as they sprinted down the hallway from Teddy’s room back to yours after he woke her up.

“Arghhh I think I just edged ya out, Ted.” Trent dramatically but fairly gracefully outstretching himself onto the carpet of your room reaching out for the ‘finish line’ i.e. the doorway. Of course, this was a race. The challenge set by Trent. Teddy had stumbled through it marginally before him. He looked up towards her with a confident grin knowing she did get through first.

“No dada! Teddy win. See! Dada! I win.” Teddy yelped out in a huff. She believed she won, she had. You could see your future ahead of you, the two of them constantly in conversation about who had won something. She was stood up still looking at him on the ground but then quickly plopped herself to lay on her belly on the carpet outstretched next to him.

“Oh I don’t know, I think I won. See.” Both you and Trent laughed. Her laying down to reach the finish line wasn’t all that effective of a tactic after she’d already ran through the finish line once which was cute. Trent stretched his arm out further reaching past the length of the tips of her fingers.

“Erm…” Teddy hummed thinking for a moment what to do. She wanted to win too but his arm clearly stretched past hers and you all could see that. “Tie dada, tay? We tie, tay?” She smiled at him before scootching herself up a little more on the carpet on her belly with a wiggle for their fingers to come be relatively aligned. Your heart warmed.

“Okay, that's fine with me. Dada and Ted tied. You and me can be on the same team so we both won, alright?” He explained to her rolling over onto his back and pulling her into his arms eliciting a giggly squeal you expected to hear for the next couple hours.

“You’re so nice, baby. Good idea to tie but I think you might’ve won it.” You poked a very sensitive bear and it wasn’t your Teddy. If it was anyone else in the world but Trent’s own daughter, his baby bear, not a shot he’d let that result fly. Settling for a tie? Not a chance. He’d immediately be inisting you do it again or tacking on an entirely new challenge to do. He would be fighting a battle that he created on his own. Yes, even you didn’t have the weight to get him to settle for a tie anymore.

“No, mama! Dada Ted tie, tay?” She corrected you. That was a big thing for her at the moment, finishing most sentences with her version of ‘okay.’ She heard you two say it in a more colloquial way a lot. She was using it to make sure you understood her.

“Okay, okay. Wanted to share the win with daddy, I got it. You’re such a daddy’s girl, aren’t you?” You cooed with a smile before rolling your eyes just at Trent.

“Nah!” He kissed her cheek dramatically. “She’s just my best friend, innit?” He spoke with Teddy nodding in agreement, you shot him a glare. Teddy Alexander-Arnold was without a shadow of a doubt, unequivocally a daddy’s girl. Full stop. Trent laughed knowing what your stare insinuated. “Yeah, yeah, she is. Whatever, I know that and I know that it’s the best thing ever as well. Look at this face, baby. How can you resist this?” Trent cooed to you taking Teddy’s face in his massive hands squishing it, the giggly squeal returning as anticipated.

“Aw Ted, you are daddy’s beautiful girl.” You smiled at them. Their faces nearly identical. “It’s ridiculous how obsessed she is with you but…” You spoke just to Trent again, sitting up more before falling forward to lay on your stomach to face them on the floor.

“I mean pot calling the black, cmon now.” Trent laughed. You’d been obsessed with Trent for years factually. You huffed a little being called out. “You’re my girl though as well and you don’t seem to mind that. Not a bad thing is it?” Trent continued leaning over on the floor to reach up to you. He cupped your cheek and pressed a soft kiss against your lips.

“No, it's not so bad.” You pouted after the kiss craving more but you’d settle for the one if it meant you got to watch more of them, beginning your slow morning before the home opener.

The first game of the season was in fact in a day or sos time so in typical fashion even in free time, you were going to find yourself near a football pitch. You were sitting on the turf grass out on the pitch in your back garden in the evening as the sun began to set. You were in a tiny black alo workout set and a hoodie of Trent’s you had nicked off him because it was getting chilly being a spectator. Trent was far from chilly, he was very hot and he looked very hot as well. In retrospect you think he might’ve been doing this just to show off for you but you’d never complain. He knew how to put on a good show, to perform for you. He pulled his shirt over his head, tugging the material with his strong arm and back muscles flexing. You salivated at the way he dragged it over himself. It was so sexy. You sat on the side of the pitch really doing nothing but admiring him as he took and retook dead balls and free kicks. After a while though unprovoked you just started to give him shit to tease. His performance didn’t warrant any but you did it anyways.

“Alexander-Arnold really miss hit that one. Certainly not the best from the Liverpool right back.” You called out the jab mimicking a commentator’s voice like you’d hear on TV. He ignored the first couple ones just grinning to himself with an occasional eye roll continuing on. “Wayyyy! Come on!” You yelled after another strike as if it was a jeer from the crowd before falling into a giggle you tried to stifle. You threw your hands like you were a disappointed fan at a stadium.

“Enough! You come take one, baby. Go on! C’mere. Take one.” He demanded with teasing fury. He looked at you with a smug smile gesturing to the spot of the turf in front of him. You leaned forward and stood up. You jogged over to him. He laughed, placing the ball in place for you.

“Damn…” you muttered with a pout. You didn’t take too long to take the kick. You were doing this for jokes but you did end up hitting the top crossbar, the ball ricocheting off.

“Y/N Alexander-Arnold really mishit that one…” He mocked your earlier comment. You rolled your eyes and waved your hand at him.

“Give me a minute please. You’ve been doing this for an hour. I just got here and I’m in socks right now.” You hushed him, making him set the next ball. You really struck it well. It was indisputably a good kick. Not of his quality of course, but it was Trent-esq. He didn’t say anything, he just went to grab the next ball. “Oh come on! Give it to me… you know it as well.” You yelped, annoyed he didn’t acknowledge that it was good. You lunged to grab at his waist begging for his approval.

“Absolute scumbag, you. C’mere.” He muttered out with a cheeky smile. You squealed as he tried to grab at you. You attempted to take off away from him, obviously he caught you, dragging you down onto the field with his sweaty body falling over top of yours. The cheeky mood changed in a second. Your heaving chest rising and falling under him. He looked at you like he wanted to eat you and you weren't scared, you were begging for him to with your eyes. He leaned closer to you, his weight was anchored on his hands resting on either side of your head. You raised your hands and cupped his face bringing it down to yours maintaining your gaze on his beautiful brown eyes. Your own features growing more and more malleable under his focused attention. You met him in the middle, lips clashing eagerly. You kissed him with a hum. He fell into you passionately. He placed his hands overtop of yours before moving them off his face and pinning them above your head down to the turf. You let Trent do whatever he wanted with you when it came to moments like this. You were always so pliable as soon as his hands were on you. Thank god, your closest neighbor was acres away because this wasn’t going to stop. The kiss heated up fast. He kept one hand holding yours, the other eagerly roaming your body. You squirmed under his tantalizing touch. He had slotted himself between your legs spread wide. His cock growing hard and strained in his shorts. The bulge of his cock pushing into the warmness of your core between your own thighs. How the fuck did you end up like this? Your back was arched as he nibbled down your neck. He reveled in your moans beginning to grow louder and the feeling of you pushing your hips up into him. His hand slid under the small top you had on dragging it up and let your tits bounce out, exposing your boobs out in the night. He loved how you usually looked, but this was just on another level of beautiful and sexy. You were desperate and illuminated by the sunsetting and the warmth of your houses lights reaching near the pitch. He dropped his mouth down to your collarbone and then to one of your nipples. His hand trailing down at the same slow pace until he reached the waistband of your shorts sliding inside them. His fingers moving gingerly to your aching core and then up and down the slit of your now soaked pussy before he landed to circle over your clit ever so deliciously.

“T… oh my god. We can’t do this.” You whined through a gasp feeling him play with your sensitive clit. He rolled his hips into you more and it became even more clear there was no stopping this train, nothing you could say to stop him or you.

“It’s so good though. C’mon, baby give into this.” He cooed against your neck, his hot breath hitting against your skin slick with the wetness left from his lips. Your hand reached for his wrist, fingers wrapping around his lower arm trying to stop him from getting you to cum from just his fingers on… the turf pitch in your back garden. It was fucking insane how he had you like this. You had no control. He pulled away from your neck and moved his hand to your relief momentarily to prop himself to carefully take his cock out. He was blissfully unaware of how good he looks right now.

“Fuck… it’s so good, baby. Please. I want you.” You begged him leaning up a little. He inched himself closer before lining himself up with your pussy. He slowly pushed his tip through the slick of your opening. He watched himself coating his tip in a soft sheen of you. He hummed in response and agreement with you. You reached down desperately to help guide him inside of your further and faster easing through your walls.

“Be a good girl. Fuck. Baby, you feel so good f’me.” He grunted, beginning to pick up his pace. You clung onto him. Your arms draped around his neck, your legs around his waist dragging your heel down his back grinding into him keep him as close to you as possible. You wanted your bodies intertwined and your souls weaved seamlessly together. He kissed you again, swallowing your moans as he drove into you deeper and deeper. He picked up your thigh draping it over his forearm and moving your knee up towards your chin. The new angle ripped the most blissful whine from you. He smiled in the middle of his kiss, loving your reaction. He trailed his kisses from his lips down your jaw, your neck, your collarbone, and then down to reach your tits. He wrapped his lips around your nipples letting himself lazily flick over them drawing you closer and closer to your high.

“T.. baby. This is…fuck! Oh my god. Fuck!… Ridiculous.” You yelped after a particularly harsh and deep thrust. Minute after minute passed and you could feel the grind of the grassy turf beneath your rub against your back’s exposed skin. His hands rested on the dips of your waist, guiding his cock into you again and again. The roll of your own hips meeting his.

“Doing so well, beautiful. That’s it, Gonna cum f’me?” Trent’s breath began to become shallower as your pussy started to clench tighter around him. He looked down at you with so much love in his eyes it almost covered the lust. You looked so pretty underneath him, his cock still buried deep inside of you. “I’m gonna make you cum, baby. Just take it f’me.” Trent instructed you getting lost in the feeling of drilling in and out of your sopping wet pussy as you whimpered beginning to tremble, completely captivating him.

“T, baby…” you whined between heaving breaths. You sounded so pretty for him. “Please, please don’t stop! I’m gonna cum, baby.” You begged him squeezing your eyes shut tightly as you started to feel an orgasmic high fast approaching. He was so deep inside that you could feel every ridge and vein move inside your velvety walls. His large hands drew down your body in between you two and began rubbing tight circles on your throbbing clit. Your mind turned to complete mush. His thrusts became increasingly sloppier and rougher as he chased his own release with you.

“Cum all over my cock, yeah? I’m gonna fill you up, baby. ” Trent babbled as you nodded. Everythiwent white, you felt a part cumming, your body aching, your eyes squeezing shut again. You were gasping as Trent fucked you through your high.

“T…baby” you moaned, feeling his release beginning to paint your insides. He gripped you so tightly, holding you completely flush against him. He stilled, pumping you full with his cum while pressing his lips to yours the way he usually did.

“That’s my good girl.” he said as he laid on top of you completely spent as you both breathed heavily, whispering I love yous back and forth.

“I genuinely believed I knew what turf felt like until right now.” Trent laughed into your warm skin. Hiding in your neck collapsed still breathing heavily.

“And I genuinely believe that turf should never be in the places it is in right now.” You cooed trying to keep a straight face but couldn’t. You fell into a giggle with him. He rolled off you and to the side pulling you back into his arms. Your eyes fluttered closed momentarily as you leaned further into Trent’s sweaty body while you tried to regain your composure post orgasm. He hummed kissing your hair repeatedly. “I want to cuddle all night.” You whispered to Trent softly running your thumb over his high cheekbone inspecting his perfectly smooth skin once you came back to.

“Out here?” He questioned you with a sly grin, knowing 100% that is not what you meant. His back now on the grass, he became well aware of what you must’ve been feeling for the past 45 minutes and he definitely didn’t want to stay the way he was.

“No, obviously not.” You quipped with an eye roll and light teasing tap to his cheek. “I just meant with you. Cuddle with you, T, baby.” You whispered to him. You nuzzled your nose against his cheek before pressing a kiss to it.

“No one is stopping you, beautiful.” He responded turning his head from his upwards gaze at the falling night to look at you. He fell into a smile and kissed your lips.

“Can you retire early? We can just do this every day.” You giggled giving him a begging pout wrapping your arms around his waist a little tighter.

“A few things, pretty girl. We’re not doing this again, let alone everyday.” He replied and your face dropped into a dramatic pout. He kissed you again to remove it. “Alright, I’d do it again…but it’s not an everyday thing. This is horrible to lay on. The other thing, sorry to disappoint but I actually like my job, beautiful. Don’t really want to stop just yet even though I would love to spend everyday with you.” He cooed sweetly pushing a fallen strand of your hair behind your ear.

“I’m was just joking, T. You know that. I’m so proud of you. I want you to play as long as you can. I get severe anxiety every match but it’s still amazing.” You cooed, kissing his shoulder looking back at him in admiration.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry for the nerves, baby. I love having you there though. Knowing your behind me is the best thing.” He smiled at you and kissed your forehead before looking to grab both your hands and lacing them with his. He sat up dragging you with him to stand up. “Alright. I’ve had enough practice out here with footie and you, we’re moving the session inside.” He cooed, wrapping his arm around your shoulders pulling you into him.

“Bedroom session?” You asked, inquiring for more of him, raising your brow with a smirk. He kissed your hair and hummed in agreement. You walked inside the house and took a deep breath seeing a few toys of Teddy’s on the carpet and Trent’s trainers in the stairs, a glass you had left on the coffee table.

“It’ll be fine you know.” Trent spoke to you moving behind you and massaging your shoulders with his big hand in an effort to relieve the stress that just caused your muscles to tense. He watched your eyes dart around the place compiling a list of all the things you’d want to fix before tomorrow.

“I know. I don’t want to like ‘pretend’ or make it seem like we live any other way. I love our home. I love it being lived in. I’m just nervous about what they’ll think.” You confessed sheepishly. Tomorrow was the big day Bentley Brown from GQ was scheduled to come over to your house for his interview with you. Trent would be at training so you were pretty apprehensive about doing it, being in an interview with a major publication was terrifying. You didn’t know how it really would work. Being home on your own for it made you slightly more nervous. You’d never done an interview like this with Trent and certainly never alone but having him there would’ve been a comfort. You were scared.

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter 🤍

Next part - Chapter 27 xx

#trent alexander arnold #trent alexander arnold imagines #trent alexander arnold x reader #taa x reader #footballer x reader #footballer x y/n #oursfic #trent alexander arnold smut

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wntrs0ldier · 1 year

Text

An Offer · part 01

pairing: mob!bucky x reader words: 3,4k warnings: language, typical mafia themes, men talking, a/n: english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes!

next part> | series masterlist

series summary: When your father dies, the only thing you can do for your family and the empire he built, is to marry a powerful man.

chapter sneak peek: At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

When your father died, you only had time to fit all the stages of grief into one brief episode of momentary shock, then your thoughts revolved solely around the future of the Family. Besides your mother and younger sister, you had to take care of business. And even though you understood the rules of the dark world you grew up in, no one had ever explained to you what decisions you should make to prevent the empire your father had created from crumbling.

The warm rays of the setting sun were breaking through between the gravestones. You had to admit that the sun made everything a little better. Ironically, everything around you seemed to be coming to life; the greening grass, the budding leaves on the trees, the birds singing somewhere in the background. Even the slight rain didn't seem so bothersome when the sun was warming your skin and there was a crisp spring breeze in the air.

You couldn’t focus on the ceremony, your thoughts were occupied by something else entirely. You were unable to ignore the fact that, as the minutes passed, your high heels were being swallowed up more and more by the mud. In all this sense of loss, which you had never experienced before, you felt sorry for a pair of shoes, even though you had hundreds of them. So instead of letting your emotions take over, you began to list some of the funeral attendees you managed to recognise.

You spotted some members of the Rumlow Family. Despite the generally accepted rule of temporary peace and immunity for any funeral, the sight of Rumlow Senior and his son made you a little uncomfortable. You knew that their presence in any other situation would have meant trouble. For as long as you could remember, your Families had lived in discord, and even if there had not yet been a major clash, their company carried the echo of a bomb ticking somewhere nearby.

A few rows away were representatives of the Russian mafia – Melina Vostokova, who stood at the head of the group, and Natasha Romanoff.

You also saw Tony Stark – the biggest manufacturer of weapons, which your father helped distribute mainly on the black market. Tony himself claimed that he was not a gangster, but the truth was that he took the side that benefited him the most. No wonder he was the richest man in the United States. Or at least as far as you were aware.

Even state attorney Alexander Pierce showed up, which struck you as highly risky and simply stupid, but perhaps it was all about some twisted way of paying respect to a worthy rival. On the other hand – no matter how absurd it was – you wouldn't be surprised if it was John Walker, Pierce's nephew, who persuaded his uncle to attend the funeral. Walker had been looking for an opportunity to approach you for a long time; even now he was staring at you with a strange longing and an inappropriate dreaminess spreading across his face. You felt your skin itch as he stared at you like that, so you decided to look away in case John got the idea to take the initiative.

As discreetly as before, you looked a little further away. You weren't surprised by the presence of Timothy Barnes, the head of the Barnes Family, which not only lived in peace with yours; there were times when the paths of your Families would cross, so Timothy and your father occasionally visited each other to discuss the best strategy of action together.

It was the company of his nephew that surprised you. Mainly because the presence of Bucky Barnes was an unusual occurrence – a few years ago he simply disappeared and no one really knew what was going on with him at the time.

With much longer hair and a broader chest, he looked a little different than when you last saw him. And when you watched him from where you were standing you realised that he was staring at some indefinable point, and the hostility beaming from his eyes made you shudder; even if it wasn't directed at you.

You followed his gaze, wanting to know the poor man who had earned Bucky Barnes' cold, piercing stare, and you met Walker's eyes again. As John looked at you, Bucky observed him intently.

You stayed close to your mother, but did not directly accompany her when condolences and respects were paid. Right next to you stood Michael – your father's trusted advisor and confidant.

“Look at that... How desperate they are,” he said quietly, leaning towards you. “Waiting to take over everything your father worked for.”

You blinked a few times, suddenly awakened by the interest in the man's words. You were, after all, supposed to somehow take care of all this, and what Michael had said complicated matters a lot. You didn't know how you could not only control the money, the power in the Family, the influence, the connections and the territories, but also keep it from the mentioned takeover. You were getting more and more confused.

“How would they do it..?” you asked hesitantly.

“By marriage, certainly. Nobody wants a war,” Michael replied. Almost choking, you held your breath, an unpleasant knot, burning with anxiety, was tied in your stomach. “But don't worry about it,” he added calmly. “I'll try to get some suitable offer.”

Nibbling nervously on your lower lip, you glanced at your mother. You wished you had been a little more selfish and a lot more cruel – maybe then you would have focused completely on yourself. “Make sure they'll be safe. Mom and Suzie.”

Michael nodded obediently and walked away, leaving you alone with the impression that he had already begun searching for a candidate. But before that feeling could poison your consciousness completely, your mind picked up someone's presence. So you looked in front of you and, still confused by the subject brought up by Michael, fixed your gaze on Bucky Barnes, as it turned out. You frowned slightly, not quite sure why he was standing before you. In addition, alone; his uncle was talking to your mother.

“I'm sorry about your father,” he spoke, and there was something in his eyes that made you believe his words.

“Thank you,” you replied quietly, but with proper politeness. For some unknown reason, you wanted to move. Perhaps you intended to shake Bucky's hand, or perhaps you just needed to change position. Whatever that was, you shifted, but one of your shoes refused to come off the ground. “Oh, this fucking mud…” you whimpered in helplessness rather than irritation.

Bucky immediately came to the rescue in this unusually absurd situation; he crouched down, and you felt the fingers of his warm hand wrap around your bare ankle. Aware that you wouldn't be able to free yourself from this ridiculous trap – at least not when your companion was throwing himself at your feet – you had to let Bucky handle it. Losing more control of your own legs, you leaned forward and involuntarily rested your hands on Bucky's shoulders. He didn't react; didn't frown, didn't give you an angry or confused look, didn't comment in any way. And you were really grateful to him for that, because you already had enough embarrassment. Though you couldn't complain about it at the moment – the unsolicited warmth spilling inside your stomach drowned out the rest of the emotions.

Bucky tightened his grip around your ankle even harder – although you couldn't call the sensation painful or at least uncomfortable – and pulled it upwards in a firm motion, freeing your heel from the muddy ground.

“You alright?” He asked, and you hurriedly nodded in response.

You were too busy setting your foot in some safer place to remember to move away from Bucky. So once he straightened up, your hands were still on his shoulders. But he didn't do anything about it this time either. In the most literal sense, Bucky Barnes let you find support in him. As soon as you realised this, you immediately took your hands away and nervously smoothed your dress, only to have them occupied by something other than Bucky's shoulders.

Bucky clasped his hands together in front of him, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the wrist of the other. You couldn't look him in the eyes any longer; especially as his stare was somehow overwhelming. He nodded as if he were someone at your service, and you – too embarrassed by the event from a moment ago, stunned by the sudden, unexpected contact with Bucky Barnes and simply dazed by the atmosphere of the funeral – timidly followed him with your gaze until he disappeared into the crowd.

Even though he vanished from your sight, you could still feel his burning touch around your ankle.

It was late. Far too late for any social gatherings, but Michael announced briefly that you were expecting guests. He seemed to be in such a hurry that you didn't want to waste time on getting ready either. You had only had time to comb your hair when a maid sent by Michael peeked into your bedroom. You didn't pay much attention to the fact that you were only wearing a short satin nightgown. All you could think about was Michael's nervousness; you wondered what it could have meant and how bad a situation you were possibly in.

As you left the bedroom, you wrapped yourself tightly in the robe that was part of the set - just as short and satiny as your pyjamas. Before you had completely made it downstairs, you noticed two men not far from the front door. The prevailing coldness indicated that they had only just entered. You hesitantly stepped down from the last stair and headed forward. Recognising Timothy and Bucky Barnes, you immediately stopped. In your first instinct of learned politeness, you tried to give proper attention to the older one, but you couldn't help the way that every molecule in your body, pushed by natural curiosity, was drawn to Timothy's nephew.

Unlike his uncle, Bucky was not wearing a long coat but a leather jacket. Exposed to the pouring rain outside, it glistened in places. You raised your gaze to look at his damp hair, but before you got there, you noticed that he was watching you too. At first he looked directly into your eyes, but soon his stare carefully slid lower. The muscles of his face highlighted as he clenched his jaw, something raw appeared in his eyes. You also glanced down at yourself and stumbled at how your body reacted to the cold and the undeniable electricity hanging in the air. It spread only between you and Bucky.

“Gentlemen,” Michael said. An obvious tension in his voice reminded you that something was wrong. “Please.” He leaned meaningfully towards the dining room. “Miss Y/N should be here in a moment.”

“She already is,” Timothy shared his observation, a sly smile stretching out his mouth. Michael only then noticed your presence.

A silver tray with a couple bottles of alcohol – the only acceptable treat at this hour and on this occasion - was placed on the long dining table, along with glasses.

You adjusted your robe precautiously and took a seat, facing your guests. Michael sat right next to you, completing the impression of the formation of two camps separated by a table.

“I'm beginning to hear rumors that Brock Rumlow has made you an offer,” Timothy spoke, the expression on his face indicated that he wasn't surprised in any way.

“An offer..?” You repeated, holding back the urge to give Michael a disapproving look. He should have told you.

“On your hand in marriage, of course.”

‘Marriage’ combined with ‘Brock Rumlow’ made a mixture so disturbing and explosive that you felt the blast in your gut. As if someone kicked you in the stomach. You should have guessed what the ‘offer’ meant, on the other hand you hoped Michael would mention it as soon as it came up. But you didn't expect Rumlow to make a move so quickly.

“This worry does not concern you, I am afraid,” Michael claimed.

Timothy leaned back in his chair and looked at the man with a slightly dismissive look. “We had a good relationship. Freddie and I. We advised each other on many occasions so that our decisions wouldn't endanger our Families,” he said. “So yes, this worry does concern us. And I'm curious to see what you decide.”

You glanced surreptitiously at Bucky, as if you needed reassurance that he was still sitting there, but you sensed he was around even without that. He held his eyes on you as you watched him with evident confusion, then reached for one of the bottles standing nearby. He took a quick look at the label, then poured some of the rusty-red liquid into a glass and slid it over to you. Did he think you needed alcohol to process what you were about to hear?

“Brock Rumlow isn’t the worst thing that can happen to her,” Michael said calmly. “You know how powerful the Rumlow Family is. And making peace with such a strong enemy would make our business, as well as yours, easier. I suppose I don't have to explain it to you.”

“Do you think this is what Freddie would want for his daughter?” Timothy asked.

“Freddie got himself killed,” Michael snapped, the atmosphere at the table became even thicker. “And as for his daughter, he didn't prepare her properly. He was a fool if he thought it would never happen.”

There was silence. You looked down at the glass wrapped tightly by your fingers, and finally decided to raise it to your lips. It wasn't the nasty, bitter taste of the drink that bothered you, but the thought of your future. You were pretty sure that your fate had already been decided.

“If you make an agreement with Rumlow, sooner or later he will violate, if not break, all its points,” Bucky spoke up, drawing everyone's attention. “He made the offer less than twenty-four hours after the funeral,” he pointed out. “Not to mention he only showed up to steer you towards positive consideration,” he said casually, and you thought that such diplomacy was clashing with his wet leather jacket and stubble.

“James…” Michael sighed.

It seemed, however, that Bucky was not going to let go. “You know what this deal is about,” he continued with a strange, surprising resolve, as if the matter affected him personally. “Do you honestly believe Brock Rumlow will hold up his part of the deal? Did you forget his relationship with women or are you just going to overlook it?” he sneered.

“You know surprisingly much about these agreements.” Michael no longer concealed his irritation.

“I can marry Brock,” you finally spoke up, and this time they all looked at you. Michael was relieved, Timothy concerned in some way, and Bucky appeared to be a little lost since you seemed to ignore everything he just said. “It’s not like I have to live with him. Right..?”

Bucky clenched his jaw and looked angrily at Michael. “You didn’t tell her.”

“I haven't had a chance. You admitted yourself that they were quick to make an offer,” Michael defended himself. Bending under the pressure Bucky was putting on him, Michael looked at you nervously. “Rumlow Senior has the right to claim an heir who will take over both of the Families in the future. In this case… it is possible that you will have to live with Brock after all.”

These words flooded your mind, almost making you dizzy. You grabbed your glass again and poured the rest of the alcohol down your throat to fight the nausea.

“Well…” Lips pursed, you took a deep breath through your nose. “This complicates things… a little.”

“I will arrange a meeting and everything will be clear,” Michael said after a moment of uncomfortable silence. “We are not sure what they think about all this. No matter what is said about Brock,” he glanced at Bucky not accidentally. “we should meet with him.”

“Great,” Bucky snorted. “I’ll be there.”

“Excuse me..?”

“Since our decisions affect our Families…” Bucky recalled his uncle's earlier words. “It’s obvious that Y/N doesn't know enough about arranged marriages, so I’ll be there. As an adviser.” He shrugged. “You are more than happy to team up with the Rumlows, and I will try to cool that enthusiasm.” He tilted his head, smiling insincerely.

“If that's how you see it, it's more a case for your uncle,” Michael protested.

They both looked at Timothy, and his lips stretched slowly in a mysterious grin.

“I believe Buck can handle it,” he said.

The meeting was over. You decided to accompany Michael to see the guests off.

Michael walked beside Timothy, who was walking to his car; they were discussing something that didn't exactly reach your ears, but you didn't feel the need to know. You weren't concerned that they were discussing your future - you doubted they felt like it after the conversation at the table.

“Bucky?” You started in a soft tone. Bucky, who had just left your house with the intention of joining Timothy, stopped and looked at you. You walked down a few steps and stood on the stone path, right in front of him.

He swept his gaze over you again, starting from your bare feet, through your exposed legs, to the delicate material of your nightgown. His stare didn't make you sick as the thought of Brock did.

Bucky took a step towards you, and the scent of fresh laundry, mint and wet forest hit you. You stepped back, so he did it again until you were standing under the canopy that protected you from the rain.

“Do you always have to get some poor girl out of trouble?” You squinted, but couldn't help an amused smile forming on your lips.

“No. Just you.” He shrugged, slipping his hands in the jacket pockets. “I don’t want you to get cold. That’s all.”

“You don’t want me to get cold.” You nodded. “Just like you didn’t want me to drown in the mud. And now you don’t want me to marry Brock,” you pointed out, raising your eyebrows. “Why? Because Michael is right; joining our Families together would be the best option. You don’t want that?”

“The best option?” he repeated. “For everyone except you?”

You smiled softly in response – you didn’t feel like thinking about that again. “So? What’s the reason?”

Bucky looked away for a second, took a deep breath and shook his head. “Maybe my heart is in the right place. Maybe I want to do some good.”

You watched him expectantly, finally raised your eyebrows in theatrical disbelief and both of you laughed briefly. No matter how curious you were about the real reason, you decided not to badger him.

“Hey, what’s the deal with Walker?” Bucky asked playfully, frowning.

“Walker? John Walker..?” You let out a nervous chuckle. “Why?”

“I saw the way he looked at you. You can be sure he’ll make an offer, too.”

You wanted to laugh at his words, but the truth was Bucky could be right. And the thought of that made you more exhausted than you already were. “What about you?” you asked casually. You didn't beg for anything, you didn't offer anything. You were just curious. “You're not part of this?”

For a split second you witnessed him tense up. He clenched his hands, only to relax them immediately afterwards – just like his jaw muscles. You didn't understand the source of this reaction, but you didn't even think about it; it was like a brief flash that you didn't have time to think about properly.

“I may have my heart in the right place, but I'm not a guy you marry,” he said. “Steve is. I can put in a good word for you if you want,” he added jokingly, making you smirk. “Get back inside, Y/N,” Bucky commanded softly as he began to leave, taking a couple steps backwards.

You rolled your eyes, and he turned his back to you, then got in the car, leaving you with that burning feeling again. This time it wasn't just limited to your ankle, but your whole body.

#bucky barnes #mob bucky #bucky barnes x y/n #mob!bucky #mob!bucky x reader #mafia!bucky #bucky barnes x reader #mob!bucky x y/n

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