#andy robbo

[swaggypsyduck]

my favourite Liverpool duo robbo and trent

[incorrect-lfc]

Mo : I can't believe there's a cat somewhere in my house. Amazing feeling. Love cats. And he's here, in my house! Somewhere! And I may encounter him! What a treat.

[formulalfc]

Andy Robertson is so the type of man to do anything for his wife

yes fr, he is so acts of service coded like he just loves taking care of you and is so willing to do anything you need. he knows that the kids can be hard work for you while he's at work or while he's away and so when he's home he doesn't let you lift a finger. he makes sure you're super comfy where you're sat on the sofa and makes dinner for you and the kids while they clean their rooms. hands you a glass of your favourite wine and even offers you a foot massage while the pasta bakes in the oven, just absolutely adores doing things for you.

inbox is open send me some ramble requests <3

[macallisters]

6 YEARS OF OUR FAVE SCOTSMAN ROBBO 🫡

[mrsgravity]

Robbo learning french from Ibrahim is just 😭🥹♥️♥️♥️

[turialaw]

Robbo: Darwin 😍

[escapism-writer]

Hooked - Andy Robertson x Reader

Request: Can you write a imagine on Andy Robertson where he falls inlove with klopps niece?🫶🏼 ( submitted by @egyptiankingg )

A/n: I’ll write for anyone, pretty much from any league/team, but seeing a request for someone from my team! Gotta love that!

Summary: Klopp's niece successfully lands a job as a sports photographer, but in the end, she takes too many photos of the same man.

Warnings: love at first sight, not proof read.

You sat in a waiting room, your leg bouncing from nerves as you thought about everything that could go wrong. Your stressful thoughts got cut out by the sight of your Uncle and a women walking in. The women handed you a piece of paper before breaking the silence.

"Congratulations, your qualifications were exactly what we were looking for."

You started down at the paper, it was filled with details about the up and coming event that you would be needed for, the first one being tomorrow. As you finished reading the paper you stood up to shake the women's hand and hugged your uncle.

"Thank you so much."

————————————————————���—————

You thanked the other photographer, for helping you set up the camera in the perfect position. You were offered to take some photos of some Liverpool players training sessions. You took it, knowing it would be better to start practicing with the equipment while they were training, instead of an actual match. After half an hour of taking photos of the empty training grounds, your eyes were met with players exiting the changing rooms. You felt your eyes fall upon a few players you had met through your uncle.

As the players started their usual training, you watched them though the camera lens. Changing the angles, noting down the ones with the perfect lighting and views. You lifted your head up, feeling someone starting at you, your eyes were instantly met with a players brown ones. He quickly moved his head going back to his activity. Acting as if nothing happened he started a conversation with his friend, who you had met before.

“Mate, Trent!”

Andy repeated himself multiple times, begging for the attention of his friend. After giving up, he dropped his equipment and tapped Trent on his shoulder. As Trent turned to face him, Andy spoke up once again, but this time much quieter.

“Who is the photographer? I’ve never seen her before”

Trent looks over to you, and then back at Andy. He bursts out laughing, trying to talk as he did.

“What? Do you like her?”

Andy’s eyebrows furrowed at his friends reaction, before looking back over to you. You were now writing something down in your notepad.

“I dont know, I’m just curious I guess.”

Andy shrugged as Trent built his posture back up.

“Thats Y/N. She’s Klopps niece.”

He now knew why Trent was laughing at him, he was checking out his managers niece.

Though out the day, you couldn’t help but find yourself moving the camera towards the player who you had instantly grew a connection to. You knew him as Robertson, only because of TV or when he came up in conversation with your Uncle. You took a lot of photos, the majority of them being Andy. As you lifted the camera up for one last photo of the team during a team talk, your eyes widened as Andy lifted his hand slightly waving towards you.

You lowered the camera, face red from embarrassment. You lifted your hand slightly too, returning the wave. As the talk ended, all the players went back to the changing rooms. Trent followed Andy’s line of sight, tracing it to you.

“Wow. One day and your hooked to her. I wonder what Klopp would think.”

Trent patted Andy’s shoulder, guiding him to the changing rooms. As he did the eye contact between the both of you was broken. Andy laughed slightly at himself.

“If love at first sight exists, I think I just experienced it.”

[nosugarallspice]

People List

Just a quick rundown of the people/characters I will be writing for on here.

People

Hayden Christensen

Star Wars

Anakin Skywalker

Darth Vader

Kylo Ren

Football

Erling Haaland

Ruben Dias

Jude Bellingham

Kylian Mbappe

Darwin Nuñez

Jack Grealish

Virgil Van Dijk

Trent Alexander Arnold

Neymar Jr

Andy Robertson

Giovanni Reyna

Christian Pulisic

John Stones

Zlatan Ibrahimović

Lucas Paqueta

Hector Bellerin

Diego Lainez

Alejandro Balde

Ricardo Pepi

Josko Gvardiol

Formula One

Daniel Ricciardo

[trentsmyfave]

[andyrobbo26]

[incorrect-lfc]

Liverpool Text posts :)

I really hope you guys like this.

[formulalfc]

PLEASE do Andy Robertson and physical touch

i feel like he has a more playful physical touch, like he doesn't take me as the kinda guy to be possessive with it. like he loves holding your hand and swinging your joint hands between you, placing a kiss on your hand every now and then. when you're out he gives me the arm-over-the-shoulder vibe, he likes having you tucked under his arm while you hold the hand that's thrown over you. i feel like he's not big on cuddling but when he's in the mood he likes having you laid in between his legs with your head on his chest as he plays with your hair, twirling it around his fingers and braiding it when he gets bored.

inbox is open send me some ramble requests <3

[macallisters]

ROBBO IS PROBABLY OUT FOR 10 WEEKS IF HE HAS AN OPERATION AND DECEMBER IF HE DOESNT IS THE LATEST????? Gutted tbh

[live-laugh-loverpool]

Happy New Year

Is this late? Yes. Do I care? No.

Tags: @millythegoat, @moomin279, @alissonbecksfan234, @rubybecker-rb2

Robertson laid upside down on the bed, staring at his alarm clock. He had set it to go off just before midnight, but if his plan worked out he wouldn’t need it.

His plan was to stay up until midnight to ring in the New Year. Considering his age it shouldn’t have been a problem. But “early to bed and early to rise” was his saying, and the Scot often found it hard to stay awake past eleven P.M. He’d fall asleep after the matches finished, and if he knew a match may extend past eleven, he’d sleep two hours more than usual. He guessed that was why Milner loved matches with extra time.

But 2022 had brought Robertson two trophies, the Scottish assists record, and MBE. And he fully intended to celebrate—past midnight.

It was three o’clock now, and the Liverpool New Year’s Eve party would start in a few hours. Robertson had skipped his FIFA session with Alexander-Arnold to try and catch some sleep, but nothing he tried could get him to take a nap. He’d stayed up late the night before worrying about if he’d stay up late tonight, and his sleep schedule was very thrown off.

 “I will stay awake,” he promised himself, pinching his cheek. “I will stay awake.”

Maybe Baccara will help me stay awake. Robertson connected his phone to the wireless speakers and clicked on his Spotify playlist. Disco music filled the room, and Robertson couldn’t help but dance in his seat.

A familiar face peered around the corner, wearing a distinctive scowl. It was James Milner, one of the most sarcastic and grumpiest members of the whole squad. He was also polar opposites with Robertson. He hated oatmeal cookies, he hated Scottish flags, he hated kilts…

To make a long story short, if Robertson liked something there was a good chance Milner hated it. In fact, there were very few things Milner actually liked. One of them was grouching the heck out of Robertson.

And this particular trait, the Scot thought, just may get me over the line.

“Milly, mate!” Robertson leapt off the bed, pouncing on Milner. “How are you? Like the music?”

He knew that Milner hated the music. But it wouldn’t hurt to get under his skin some more.

“Baccara? I hate that music,” Milner huffed. “What are you doing, lad? Everybody else is getting ready for the New Year’s party.”

“Trying to get some sleep,” Robertson confessed. “I want to stay up past midnight but we all know my problem with that.”

Milner snorted, turning off the speakers. “What if you turned off that god-awful music and then I show you how to really stay awake?”

Robertson shrugged, slipping his phone in his pocket and following Milner. “Okay.”

*

Milner didn’t like New Year’s at all. Why, nobody knew. Perhaps it was because the New Year was just as much of a dumpster fire as the old one.

Whatever the reason, Milner found this as the perfect opportunity to get Robertson to behave. If Robertson was busy working his butt off, he couldn’t get into mischief, which meant the Yorkshireman could finally get some much-craved peace and quiet.

So Milner dumped Robertson into the kitchen, where giant trays of mini-wieners and pre packaged pastry lay on the counters. They would soon become just one of the appetizers for the New Year’s party.

“I could use your help in the kitchen,” Nemmer said once Milner was gone. “I need to roll all these crescent wieners before three-thirty so I can get started on the crudités platters. I love parties, but it’s the food preparation that kills my feet.”

Robertson didn’t need to hear any more. He grabbed the giant pot of boiled chickpeas and the food processor, setting up one counter. “I’ll make the mummies. No, I meant lummus. No no no, I meant…”

“I get it.” Nemmer was already busy rolling the sixth crescent wiener. “Now get to it! We still have to mix the drinks.”

*

By the time Robertson finally left the kitchen, it was a quarter to five. The party would start at six-thirty, and everything seemed ready. The auditorium was decorated with gold, black and silver decorations, Tsimikas was in charge of the music—Milner had specifically made a “no original or rap songs” rule—and he had his outfit ready. He was going to twin with Alexander-Arnold, wearing matching black tuxedos and gold bowties.

He disappeared into the shower and came out feeling refreshed. He slipped into his tuxedo and shoes and started to strut out of the shower—until he realized he hadn’t shaved yet.

He reached for the set of razors that was supposed to be on the counter. His hand found nothing, and with a start he realized that the razors were gone.

Who could’ve stolen his razors? As far as Robertson knew everybody had their own. And they didn’t borrow each other’s razors either.

A small piece of paper caught his eye. Robertson pulled it out of the cabinet and found his razor, along with a note:

Remember to shave. Any facial hair kept past October is unlucky if you’re from the UK. Hope you fall asleep at 11:59. Milner.

Robertson shook his head in amusement, pocketing the note. Milner could really be a spoilsport sometimes.

*

“Isn't this exciting, Milly?” Robertson whisper-shouted into Milner’s ear. He and Milner lay on a blanket in the training pitch along with the rest of the team, watching the fireworks go off in the sky. “In my old team we’d never do this fun stuff.”

Milner rolled his eyes, elbowing him. Robertson took it as a sign of affection. “I must admit, this isn’t too bad.”

“Ready for the big ones?” Kornmayer asked, setting up the cannons. Everyone had received a welcome surprise when the assistant manager revealed that he had a license to work with pyrotechnics. “Let’s hear it for the New Year!”

Robertson could feel himself dozing off before they’d reached fifty seconds on the countdown. Just before he fell asleep, he felt a handful of snow getting shoved down his back.

The fireworks exploded, bursting in red and gold and silver. Among the cheers, one quiet, heavily accented voice stood out from all the rest.

“Happy New Year, Andy.”

[mrsgravity]

My loves 🥺♥️