#Trent x madders

[hendolish]

Trent bday love ❤️🎉

[avenirdelight]

England NT — Carrot In A Box | Channel 4 Sport

[sickofcaffeinesworld]

[corriganatheart]

Deepest Secret 🔞 Pt. I/Jude Bellingham x reader x Trent A. Arnold

Synopsis: Jude is your boyfriend's best friend and your biggest nemesis, but sometimes he shows his hate in ways that have you questioning his intentions.

Pairing: Jude Bellingham x fem! Reader x Trent A. Arnold

Genre: Enemies to lover x Forbidden romance

Warnings ⚠️: Cursing, mention of sexual contents🔞

Jude stared at you across the room, champagne in his hands and a couple of blondes and brunettes around him. Although they were talking to him, pushing their boobs up, and exposing their legs to him, he couldn’t help but stare your way. He wasn’t sure if it was because you smiled at every little thing or because you had his best friend wrapped around his fingers, but there was something about you that he hated.

Trent was wiped, and Jude was sure his best bud would get screwed once you get the fame that he is sure you are desperately chasing. Jude has repeatedly warned his best friend about you, but the man wouldn’t listen and instead fell in love with you. He remembers the first time Trent brought you to one of their games and introduced you to everyone, and immediately, the whole team took a liking to you. You were always smiling, cheerful, and optimistic, which somehow transferred to Trent. Jude had never seen his best friend this happy, he even thought once that Trent was incapable of happiness, but here he was smiling and bowing down to you like you’re the queen of England.

Jude’s jaws tighten as he watches Trent’s hands trailing down your back and landing on your ass. You giggle at something Trent says and slightly push his chest. Trent then squeezes your ass and plants a kiss on your neck, which causes you to laugh more. Jude rolls his eyes and chugs the rest of his champagne before slamming the glass on the counter. There was something about you that he despised. Maybe it was the way your eyes glimmer when you smile, maybe it was the way that your cheeks would turn pink when Trent compliments you, or maybe the way your body held the perfect amount of curves and portions. Either way, he hated everything about you.

After the bartender gave him another glass of whiskey, Jude glances your way again, and this time he was admiring the way that tight black dress fits your body. It looked good on you, too good, and he wasn't the only one that noticed it. The other guys were also checking you out, some very obvious and some secretly. But the only person that has had your attention for the last couple of hours was Trent, and Jude shouldn't be bothered by that, but he was. You are his best friend's girlfriend, and by the way, things looked, you are probably going to be around for a very long time, and that only made him madder.

Jude deliberately slammed the cup on the table again, causing one of the girls beside him to yelp, and he glared down at her. She was pretty, and she actually looked familiar. Jude scans her from head to toe; and realizes that the girl is wearing something similar to you. But unlike the shy and innocent girl look, this girl was far from innocent. She was staring up at him like she wanted to eat him whole, which caused him to smirk and look back at you and Trent, publicly making out. He then turns back to the girl and grabs her wrist. “You’re coming with me,” he growls.

The girl was touching him everywhere as he licked and sucked her neck. She tasted like cheap perfume, probably ones that were sent to her for sponsorship. He doesn’t know her name or who the fuck she is, but this is a party for celebrities and influencers, so she has to have an NDA signed before entering the building. But either way, she was only going to be a fuck, not even a short-term.

“This dress,” Jude groans while staring down at the girl. She looked up at him with lust, and her lipstick was smeared. Her eyes were filled with so many sexual things, and Jude suddenly remembered your eyes. The way you looked at Trent while he grabbed you sexually; wasn’t just about lust; it was love. Jude tensely closed his eyes, annoyed that he was still comparing his situation to Trent's, and his hard-on was now gone. He sighs and looks down at the confused girl before stepping away. “Sorry, that should’ve never happened,” he apologizes. The girl angrily glares at him, and he is ready to get yelled at before the door to the bathroom opens.

You walked in expecting someone lying on the floor or throwing up, but you didn’t expect Jude and a girl to stare at you. The girl you recognized as a TikTok influencer looked like she just got screwed. Her lipstick and hair are messy, and Jude’s dress shirt is unbuttoned, so you awkwardly point to the door. “Ahum, the door was unlocked, so I walked in. I’m sorry, I’ll leave,” you apologized, but before you could walk out, the girl pushed you out of the way, causing you to stumble back, and she slammed the bathroom door in your face.

You cursed under your breath and slowly turned to Jude. He was now leaning on the wall with his arms crossed, eyes staring at you. “My bad,” you said. Jude didn’t say anything and continued to eye you with no emotions written on his face. He looks at the black dress that hugs your body tightly and the necklace that he remembers Trent picking out for your anniversary, lying on your half-exposed boobs. He gulps as his eyes trail down your exposed legs, which look shinier and longer than usual. He quickly averts his eyes and calms his breathing before glaring back at you. “At least some of us have the modesty to do things privately,” he spats.

You frown and close your eyes to calm yourself down because, once again, Jude has insulted you. “I didn’t think the player himself would get upset over a simple make-out,” you said rudely. Jude shrugs, “well, it’s normal at a party, but I know you secretly hoped someone recorded you acting like a whore so that you could sell it to TMZ." You glared at Jude; one minute with you, and he was already critiquing; this is precisely why you have avoided him since you arrived at the party.

You and Jude have never seen eye to eye, and you don’t know why. When Trent introduced you to his friends, everyone was welcoming and friendly, except for Jude. He was always giving you nasty looks, rude comments, and accusing you of chasing fame. At first, Trent explained to you that Jude was just being paranoid, but after the constant criticism, you stopped trying to be friends and put him in his place. Everyone knew you guys don’t get along, but they never understood the reasoning, and quite frankly, you don’t know, either.

“I have been with Trent for two years now, and if I wanted to chase fame, I would’ve called paparazzi every time we are out, and I would’ve posted him every day or been a millionaire by now,” you said. “No one knew we were together until our eight-month anniversary, so whatever false information you have of me is wrong.”

Jude chuckles and shakes his head. “And all the great things you get from being his girlfriend? Isn’t that also chasing fame? I don’t think you bought that necklace on your neck, nor did you buy the Chanel dress you’re wearing.” You wanted to strangle him and the smirk on his face. He was so infuriating, and if he weren’t Trent’s best friend, you’re sure to be anywhere but his presence. “Trent got me the necklace for our anniversary, and I bought these clothes myself because I have a job!” You spat and reached for the doorknob, but Jude grabbed your wrist and pinned you against the wall. You gasp, seeing his body tower over yours and the smell of his cologne filling your nose. “He doesn’t see it, but I see right through you. You’re a gold digger chasing his money in exchange for being his whore. But I’ll let you play this little game a little longer, and after he is done, maybe I’ll let you suck my cock, too, for a ticket to our game.” Jude smirks down at you and lets go of your wrist. You were too stunned to speak as he carefully shoved you out of the way and exited the bathroom.

You were quiet on the way back to Trent’s house. He was driving and rubbing your thighs while discussing his upcoming game. Trent would go crazy if he knew your secret exchanges with Jude. This wasn’t the first time you’ve accidentally been alone with Jude and exchanged nasty remarks about one another. You’ve never told Trent because you didn’t want him to cause a scene with Jude and make headlines about transfers or tension in the team. Jude had never brought any of the exchanges up to Trent either, so you assume he also values his friendship. Today though, drew the limit, Jude said things that hurt you so much, and you don’t think you can handle them anymore. He was constantly misjudging you, questioning your intention without even trying to know you.

“Did you hear what I said, babe?” Trent asked. You turn to look at him, and he is smiling down at you before turning back to the road. “Sorry baby, what did you say?” You asked. Trent chuckles and intertwines his fingers with yours. “I think Jude might be in a good mood tomorrow; he took a girl home with him,” Trent winked at you. You’re aware that in a couple of days, there is a friendly game between England and Spain, meaning you have to see Jude again. You would never escape that man as long as you’re dating Trent. “Ahum yeah, I hope he is,” you said with a fake smile. You honestly were in such a rush to leave that you didn’t even notice that Jude went home with a girl. Was it the same girl you saw in the bathroom? She was honestly so upset, so you must’ve disrupted them. “He hasn’t been bothering you lately, has he?” Trent asked while caressing his thumb across your fingers. “No, he hasn’t.” You lied.

Female fans were screaming and shouting Jude’s and Trent’s names as they ran to their position. Trent smiled and waved at you before focusing his attention on the field. You catch Jude‘s eyes before looking away. “Is that Trent’s girlfriend?” You heard someone shout behind you. “Yeah, I heard she’s only using him for fame, though,” another responded. You frustratedly groan and shake off the anger. Instead of letting people's words get to you, you focused on your boyfriend instead. Trent looked incredibly hot during the game, and you are very aware that he has many female fans, but Trent was such an honest and reassuring boyfriend that you don't even question anything.

Unlike his teammates, Trent has always been mysterious and quiet, but when he is in the game, he gets very competitive and aggressive. It was adorable how different he was around you, though, and only you know how much of a big baby he was. You smile, remembering the first time you met him. It was a rainy day, and you were finishing homework at a cafe. At the time, you didn’t know who he was because you were too busy to watch soccer, and you always thought it was weird that girls would go up to him and flirt with him. After that day, you kept seeing him at the cafe, and sometimes you would catch him glancing at you. It took him nearly four weeks before he approached you and asked for your number. You always thought Trent was too good for you because of his status, but he made you feel safe and loved, so you said yes when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

The scream around you made you come out of your thoughts; the England players jumped and circled Jude. You smiled and clapped while watching Trent lift Jude from the ground. Jude was the only person other than you that could make Trent happy. They’ve known each other for so long and have been stuck to one another before you came. You could not get in between them and ruin their friendship. You would never make Trent choose between you and Jude. But you are also selfish and want Trent despite the constant hate from Jude. It was clear that your differences with Jude will not go away, but for Trent, you are willing to hold your ground.

After the game, Trent held a celebration party at his place, and it was nearly midnight when people started leaving his house. You sat on a lounge chair by the pool, watching Trent talk to his friends inside the house. The big glass window gives you the perfect view of your boyfriend’s smiling face. You smile at how bright he looks, and your eyes slowly drift to the sofa behind Trent and see Jude sitting with a girl. She is beautiful; Kendall Jenner lookalike. Your smile slowly fades away because you realize that Jude finds you disgusting because he is always surrounded by girls that look like models. And no wonder he thinks his best friend deserves better.

You take a sip of your tequila as you watch Jude tuck a hair behind the girl's ears and whisper something to her. She giggles and slightly pushes his chest, causing him to smirk. You roll your eyes and advert your attention back to your boyfriend. He looks like he is finishing the conversation and walking them to the door. You gulp the rest of the tequila, and your eyes land on Jude’s. He was now making out with the girl, but his eyes were open, staring at you. He has his hands on the back of her neck, guiding her through the kiss while her hands slide up his thighs. Your lips stay stern while staring at Jude, refusing to look away because that would mean you lost. You aren't sure what game he is playing, but you are not going to look away from him. You see his eyes smile, noticing that you are challenging him. He continues to suck the girl's face, his hands squeezing her neck and also going down on the side of her neck without breaking eye contact with you. You feel the tequila taste on your lips, and you slowly lick it, and immediately this causes Jude’s eyes to darken, and you can tell he moaned from that. And you smirk, realizing that you won his game.

“Babe,” the smell of whiskey hits your nose, and you turn to your right to see Trent sitting beside you. He smiles at you and reaches for your hand. “Are you ok, baby?” You felt like the world stopped spinning as you looked into his gorgeous eyes. Gosh, Trent was a piece of art. “I am now,” you said, and Trent smiled before pulling you onto his lap. “You’re so beautiful,” his hot breath hits your throat, and his cologne mixed with the alcoholic beverage causes you to see stars. You smiled and pecked his forehead, causing him to smile even more. Trent slips his hand under your t-shirt and plays with your swimsuit underneath. “Wanna jump into the pool?” He asked. You giggled and stood up. Trent smirks as he watches you slowly remove your t-shirt and slip your shorts down. His eyes darken as you turn around and then jump into the pool. “You just love teasing me, don’t you?” He asked while standing up and taking his t-shirt off. “Because I know what happens next,” you teased. Trent groans and starts taking off his belt when Jude walks out of the house, staring at you and then at Trent. You don’t miss the small hickey on his neck. “Saka is drunk as fuck. Harry asked if you could follow him with Saka’s car.” Trent rolls his head back and groans, then look at you with desperation in his eyes. “I’ll still be here,” you smiled. Trent sighs and puts his shirt back on. “I’ll be quick,” he says and then nods to Jude before leaving you alone with his devilish friend. You glare at Jude, who is just watching you curiously. “Not a good idea to chug a whole bottle of tequila and then jump into a pool. You might drown,” he said. You roll your eyes and start floating in the pool.

“Oh please, you would’ve loved that,” you mumbled. Jude laughs and scans your body from head to toe. He then bites his lower lips, and when his eyes land on your center, which is covered with a bikini, he feels his dick swell. “Did you enjoy the show?” He asked while pointing at his hickey. You shivered, remembering the lust in his eyes when he made out with that girl. It was like he was trying to tell you something, and for some reason, you found it very attractive. “What was there to look at? It was child’s play,” you said. Your eyes drift to the glass door, and you realize that everyone is gone; you and Jude are the only ones left. “Oh yeah? Then what’s an adult’s play like?” Jude asked, and then a splash caused you to jump back. You gasped when you saw Jude in the pool with you, his shirt was off, and he jumped in with his jeans.

“Show me,” he mumbled as he walked closer to you. You step back but hit the pool wall, and Jude is fast enough to trap you between his arms. He looks down at you, the smell of alcohol coming out of his mouth and his breathing getting heavier. “Show me what it would be like to make out with you,” he says boldly. You bite your lower lips and turn your head, eyes on Trent’s living room. Your boyfriend could be walking in anytime soon, and you’ll be caught in an inappropriate position with his best friend. “I don’t know what game you’re playing, but I won’t fall for it, Bellingham,” you said and slightly pushed Jude’s chest, but he didn’t move. His eyes look down at you dangerously, and you blame it on the alcohol in your system because you were considering kissing him.

“There are no games right now. I want you to show me what Trent sees in you,” Jude whispers as he lowers his lips. “I just need a taste.” You stare at his chest, which is moving faster than usual. But you can’t give in; this man thinks you’re a gold digger and a fame chaser, and you won’t entertain him. “Trent is your best friend, and I am his girlfriend. It would help if you weren’t suggesting anything,” you mumbled. Jude didn’t respond to that; he lifted your chin so you were looking into his eyes. “He doesn’t need to know. This is our little secret.” As soon as you look up at him, Jude’s mouth is on yours. He hungrily kisses you like he is starving. His hands roam your body like he has wanted for months, and his tongue finds its way into your mouth. “You’ve no fucking idea what these lips do to me,” he growls while squeezing your ass. You whimper and bite his lower lips causing him to groan even more.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” you murmured. “I hate you, and you hate me.” Jude doesn’t say anything; he devours your mouth while his hands roam your body. The pent-up attraction towards you was too much for him, and he wanted you to fix it. He hates you for being with his best friend, but he hates you even more for being so damn hot. You’re his best friend’s girlfriend, and he shouldn’t want you, but this was getting too much for him, and he needed to see what his friend sees in you. “I shouldn’t do this. I should be loyal to Trent, but I can’t do shit when you’re around. I need to feel you everywhere, Y/N,” he says with pleading eyes. For a second, you almost give in and let him take you to bed. But you remembered who he was and who your boyfriend was. Trent would never betray you, and the thought of you having sex with his best friend disgust you. With no hesitation, you guiltily look at Jude and push him away from you. “I-I love Trent, and he trusts you. That shouldn’t have happened,” you mumbled, and without looking into his eyes, you got out of the pool and went into the house.

You woke up to Trent getting ready for his morning practice. He whistled as he put on his jacket and prepared his duffel bag. As you stare at your boyfriend, memories from last night flash. After leaving the pool, you took a shower and went to bed. Jude probably left after Trent returned, and you remember your boyfriend whispering I love you before he fell asleep next to you. You shuffle out of bed, and Trent is about to turn towards you, but you wrap your arms around his waist before he can. “I miss you,” you whisper while laying your head on his back. “Baby, I’m going to be gone only for a couple of hours,” he chuckles while putting his hands on yours. You stay silent and inhale his cologne; even after a year and a half, Trent still wears your favorite cologne. “Wanna go to practice with me?” He asked as he took your hands off his waist and turned around. You shake your head, and he hugs you while caressing your hair. “Move in with me, baby,” he says and plants a kiss on your head. “I think it’s time we take it to the next level.” You stay silent; as much as you want to say yes, after what happened yesterday, you need to separate yourself from him a bit. Your feelings are messing with your heart, and Trent was bound to discover what happened. Jude was already sure you were using his friend, and after letting him kiss you yesterday, you’re sure he thinks the worst of you now. “I love you so much,” you whispered.

Everyone was hungover, and most didn’t even last ten minutes into practice before they were sent home. Marcus, Harry, and Trent are the only ones not as hungover, whereas Jude seems to need ten hours of sleep. “Jude is a bit off today,” Marcus says as the trio stretches in a circle. Trent looked over at his friend, lying on the ground with his hood on like a weirdo. “Look at his neck; he probably went at it all night,” Harry says, causing Marcus to laugh. Trent frowns, wondering which girl Jude slept with last night. He knew Jude made out with the model, but he sent her away after a few minutes. Hopefully, it wasn’t a random girl from his DMS that would only ruin his reputation. “I don’t remember Jude ever being interested in anyone. He just fucks around,” Harry says while glaring at the youngster on the ground. “He’s young; just let him be. I’m sure he’ll grow out of that phase.”

“Here,” Trent says while shoving a Gatorade into Jude’s hands. Jude sits up and takes the drink, avoiding as much eye contact as possible. Trent glares at his friend, noticing that something is wrong. He then sits down next to Jude, staring at the bottle in his hand. “Rough night yesterday?” Trent asked, noticing the sudden change in Jude’s eyes at the mention of yesterday night. Jude stared at the random hole in the grass and wondered what to tell Trent. After the kiss, he realizes that his feelings for you are past the sexual attraction and that he might like you. He agrees that it was a mistake to kiss you because now he can’t even look into his best friend's eyes. But at the same time, he wouldn’t be able to control himself if you were left with him again. If you didn’t stop him, he would’ve fucked you in the pool without caring about Trent.

“Who was it?” Trent asked while pointing at the hickeys on his neck. Jude shakes his head and sighs, “no one important,” he mumbles. Trent hums and checks the time on his phone, and Jude sees your smile on the Lock Screen. “I asked Y/N to move in with me,” Trent says, causing Jude to look at him immediately. “She said she’ll think about it.” Jude nods and lays back down on the grass. “You love her, don’t you?” Jude asked. This was an obvious question that he knew the answer to, but he wanted to hear it from Trent to remind himself that you were off-limits. “She’s the woman I see myself spending the rest of my life with.” The guilt only increases after he hears the words come out of his friend’s mouth. He was such a lousy friend, and he did not deserve Trent. “I’m sure she’ll come around,” Jude mumbles. Trent stares down at his friend; he is surprised Jude isn’t trashing you because he knows how much you hated one another. This was a good thing but a dramatic change in just one day. With a confused mind, Trent stands up, “I got to go,” he excuses himself.

You stare at the miss calls and messages from Trent. It has been a week since you last saw your boyfriend, and despite his busy schedule, he makes time for you, but you keep making excuses that you’re busy. You sighed as you looked at the different dresses on your bed. Today is Marcus’s birthday, and you can’t miss it. You know that Jude will be there, which complicates things because you’re trying to avoid him as much as possible. You keep telling yourself that both of you were drunk and it was a mistake, but you wouldn’t remember this much detail if it was a drunken mistake. You’ve always hated Jude simply because you assumed he hated you too. But after what happened, you don’t know how to feel anymore.

Trent stares at you in awe as you approach him at the bar. He suggested picking you up, but you said you’d be late, so he went ahead. “Baby, you look amazing,” Trent says as he twirls you around to check you out. You embarrassedly laugh as his friend whistles and cheers for the two of you. Trent smiled and pulled you into a tight embrace as he nuzzled his face into your shoulder. “I miss you so much,” he whispers. You giggled and wrap your arms around his waist. “I’m sorry I have been ignoring you. I have just been busy; I missed you too, babe.” Like the lover he is, Trent, forgive you, and you guys ended up drinking and dancing to the loud music.

It was twenty minutes later that you saw Jude walking into the club with a couple of girls behind him. You glanced at him, and he immediately looked at your ass on Trent’s crotch. Like everybody else in the club, you’re grinding on your boyfriend. You glare at the girls behind him; they are all models. And despite hating him, you couldn’t help but get angry at the thought of him touching other girls. You rolled your eyes at him and continued to grind and be free with your boyfriend. “Huh, I’m surprised to see Jude here,” Trent says as he guides you toward the bar. “Why is that?” You asked curiously. “He hasn’t been himself for a while, and he didn’t go to the club with Foden the last time.” You nod at the new information and glance over Jude’s way. He was now sitting on a couch with each girl on his side. They were touching his thighs and whispering in his ear, but Jude’s eyes scanned around the club, looking extremely bored. “Dude, this is lit as fuck!” Saka screamed as he swung his arms around you and Trent. “And you two looked hot as fuck dancing!”

Both you and Trent laugh at Saka, who is close to blacking out. The three of you continue to entertain one another until Saka starts whistling. “Damn, I didn’t know Jude was into that stuff.” You look over at the couch and to see one of the girls grinding on Jude's lap as the other kisses his neck, sucking and tucking. Jude looked turned on as he leaned his head back on the couch, and you didn’t miss his eyes catching yours before he closed it and smirked. You fist the cup and chug the rest of your alcohol. You then place it on the table and stand up. He was doing too much to get to you, and it shouldn’t get to you because he’s just your boyfriend’s best friend. “I’m going to the bathroom,” you told Trent, who was already staring at you. Anger and confusion were written all over his face as he watched you leave his side.

You were so glad Marcus booked a club that had private rooms because you cannot be around everyone while your emotions are all over the place. You love Trent, and he is the sweetest guy, but for some reason seeing Jude with another girl triggered you. If it were any other day, you wouldn’t care, but after having an intimate moment with him, you can’t help but feel disgusted that he was throwing it at your face. Feeling yourself sobering up, you take in the room that you’re in. There is a karaoke station and a bar, but what catches your attention is the large window in front of you with the city view. The room was dark, but the city lights gave you a good idea of the area.

You walk to the bar station and open the fridge to see varieties of alcohol. You went with a vodka and poured it into a cup. While you were busy making your drink, the door to the private room opened, and just by the silhouette, you immediately knew it was Jude. “Trying to make a living by becoming a bartender?” He asked as he walked towards the bar station. You grab another cup for him and also pour some vodka in. “Maybe that’ll make you realize I’m more than Trent’s girlfriend.” Jude hums, and you hand him his cup before you take yours and go around the counter to stand next to him. “Saka is passed out, and Trent’s trying to help him. He asked me to take care of you until he comes back.”

You nod, realizing that Jude came here upon Trent’s request, not because he wanted to. You haven’t spoken to him since the incident, and you aren’t looking forward to discussing that with him. “It seems like Trent trusts you a lot,” you muttered. Jude stays silent and takes sips of his drinks then and then. “He has faith in the both of us,” Jude shrugged, and you sighed, guilt rushing into your bloodstream again. Trent does not deserve to be hidden in the dark, but you’re so nervous and scared of the possible consequences of the situation. “Look, I love Trent and respect him a lot. I don’t want him to choose between his best friend and girlfriend. It would be nice if we could coexist,” you said. Jude doesn’t say anything; he chugs his alcohol while staring at your form. You took this time to look at him. He was hot, drop dead gorgeous, with perfect height and body. The white half-unbuttoned dress shirt he is wearing compliments his looks even more, along with the black pants. Feeling your face burning up, you look away and chug down your vodka. Being alone with him was a bad idea; you liked it better when you were criticizing one another.

“I respect the homie, I really do,” Jude says as he places his cup on the counter. “But I want to destroy his girlfriend, which beats the whole purpose.” You looked at him in shock as he slowly moved closer to you and placed both hands on the side of you, trapping you between the counter and him. “I want to fuck his girlfriend,” he bluntly declares with no emotions. You narrow your eyes and glance at the hickeys on his neck; they are fresh, probably from those model-like girls. “Why don’t you go fuck those girls? It seemed like you already were,” you said, a hint of jealousy in your eyes. Jude smirks and chuckles deeply, and you can smell the vodka on his lips. “I always imagine you when I need some relief. Just like I pictured you when I’m in bed or shower,” he confesses. You glared at him and pushed his chest, but he didn’t move; he wanted you to know how disrespectful he could be. “That night after I left Trent’s house, I took a girl home. She was hot and had a banging body. She kissed me like she meant it and sucked my dick like it was her last meal. Do you know who I imagined?” He asked, his mouth coming down closer to yours. “I pictured my best friend’s girlfriend in that sexy bikini of hers sucking my cock. And I got off from that girl thinking of you. But then I realize that must be how every guy sees you, a good lay. Maybe you’re just Trent’s girlfriend until he finds a wifey material. Maybe he’ll share you if I ask nicely.”

Jude didn’t need to say another word because you smacked him so hard his face tilted with a red mark. He chuckles slightly and touches the side of his cheek that you slapped. He had no remorse for what he just said because, in his mind, that is how he sees you, nothing else. "You are a fucking asshole. I love Trent, and he loves me. I have been dealing with your shit for two years now, and if I wanted to do anything other than chase his money, I would've done that long ago, you jerk! Stay the fuck away from me! I am fucking done." As soon as you said what you had to, you started walking away, but he grabbed you by the arms and did not hesitate to smash his lips on yours. "You are only done with me when I tell you," he growls. Instead of letting him have his way, you push him as hard as you can, and he does stop. His eyes were filled with anger but shifted as soon as he saw the tears in your eyes. "Y/N...I'm sorry-" you didn't let him finish; you just ran to the door and left the room. Jude hated you so much that he thought so low of you. But he was also confusing you with all this sexual tension and saying one thing and doing another. You wanted nothing to do with him and hoped never to see him again.

Back in the room, Jude grabs the full bottle of whiskey and starts chugging it straight from it. He hated you, yes, that was very fucking clear, but he also wanted you. Every time you were in his presence, he wanted nothing more than to kiss you, taste you and lock you up. But you were not his to keep; you were his best friend's girlfriend. He knows why he says shit that would hurt you badly; it was his way of denying his growing feelings for you, and he couldn't accept it. Jude knew he would hurt you with those words, and he immediately regretted it after seeing your tearing eyes, but how could he be around you, if he kept lusting after you? "Fuck!" he yells and throws the glass bottle across the room.

How do we feel about this one?

Pt. II: https://www.tumblr.com/corriganatheart/713552108767559680/deepest-secret-pt-ii-jude-bellingham-x-reader

[trentlife]

You Liverpool fans are honestly disgusting. Every day on X, you’re dragging Trent for no reason. Since last season, you’ve been using Bradley to try and take shots at him. There are three players who haven’t renewed their contracts, but somehow Trent’s the only one getting all the hate. You expect him to come out and say he wants to stay, like he’s not allowed to stay quiet and use his contract as leverage.

Now the owners won’t pay him what he’s worth, and Liverpool fans are hating on him non-stop. But you still expect him to love the club unconditionally? Be serious. He wished Madders a happy birthday because they’re mates. Meanwhile, when it was Trent’s birthday, not a single Liverpool player wished him publicly, but Madders did.

ye girl I'm not that type of liverpool fan comparing him to bradley so if u wanna start all that at least go through my blog, tar hun x

[wildwren]

The Last Kingdom // AU Canon Divergence // Erik x Aethelflaed // Rated E

Chapter Eleven: For The Sake of a Ship, read on AO3

featuring: Erik, Christian and Pagan ship blessings, Norse spirituality   

CWs for the chapter: animal sacrifice

Erik and Aethelflaed prepare for war in the North, but first there are two ships that need to be blessed in very different ways....

They stood on the bank of the river, a disorganized crowd of warriors and servants, townsfolk and children who craned and jostled to see the ships bobbing on the water. The sun came weakly through the thin screen of cloud, but it still glinted in sharp points upon rings of shining mail, and on the cuffs of helms that had been polished to a bronze luster.

The Mercians were stiff-backed and somber with the pomp of the morning, their blue cloaks thrown over their shoulders like folded bird’s wings. They would lose their layers with desperate speed once the rowing began, Erik knew. But for now they looked fine and fearsome in their metal.

Smoke drifted across the gray water from the decks of the ships, where silent monks swung great silver pendants of flaming herbs. Oswey’s voice followed behind the sweet, acrid smell.

“Lord in Heaven, our guide and savior, I pray that you bless these ships, that they might be protected, that they may be held in the safety of your Holy love!”

He spoke with more passion than Erik was used to seeing in the man.

“May they be free from evil and corruption! May they be free from danger and disaster! May all foul demons and devils flee before them! May the men…and…the women…on these ships hold your righteous work within their hearts, may they be free from corruption, may they….”

And so it went on. The rhythm of the words became lost in the hum of Erik’s mind.

He watched Aethelflaed, where she sat astride a roan stallion, its dun-white coat brushed to a gleaming shine. She was dressed in her own peculiar way - half a Lady, half a warrior. She wore a madder-red gown which draped down to her knees, but below its hem Erik could her hart-skin trousers, and her high leather shoes fixed around her ankles with bands of hammered metal. Atop her head lay a a green-gray hood, held to her temple with a circlet of pure gold. And over her body, like the scales of her dragon, her mail shirt rippled and clung to her form. It was hooded, and it capped her shoulders before giving way to the long, tapered sleeves of her overgown. Around her waist was cinched a wide belt of braided leather and tablet weavings, a tiny tapestry rendered in green and drawn-gold thread, winding in the shapes of beasts and angels. Bjarta-Blotha swung from the front, hung even with her waist from two leather loops, its sheath embellished with silver filigree, its pommel of polished horn bright like a bone against her mail.

That had been Erik’s seax - Bright-Blood - his ancestral blade, given to her in a ritual to seal their bond all those years ago. He had not taken it back, even when she had offered. The mail coat had been a gift of his as well, and he was glad to see it still fit, for it had been fashioned especially for her shape, and now she looked as fierce and as proud and as beautiful as she had on the field of Alnecester five years before. He only hoped it did not weigh too heavy on her.

Oswey’s prayer was coming to a close. “In the name of the Lord, and in the name of his son Jesus Christ, our blessed savior, may this be done. Amen.” There was echoing rumble, as all the villagers spoke their own word in return, and Erik found his lips turning around the word as well. It was hard not to, when it seemed to live in the air. But his had been a different kind of prayer.

Amen.

The quay was suddenly churning with activity, as men shouted commands, as warriors, and horses, and the final loads of cargo were directed into place. Erik’s let his eyes leave Aethelflaed as he turned to his own work.

“Horses to the stern!” He bellowed. “Men to the benches! No sail yet! NO SAIL YET, Eadger, you fool!” The overeager youth dropped the rigging and scurried off towards his seat.

“There’s no room for your horse, Daga, we spoke of this!”

The older man tried to protest.

“I know you think it’s a slight, but we’ll have more horses once Lord Aldhelm meets us in the North. Send it back to the stables! Before I offer it as blood-tithe to the Gods!”

The man paled at that and disappeared.

“You’re not coming on my ship. You’re for Lady Aethelflaed’s crew.”

The woodswoman Clufweart looked up at him with wide brown eyes, her dirty braid swinging across her shoulder. “No,” she said with calm confidence. “She says I’m to go with you.”

Erik sighed. “She has sent you to punish me then?”

“Perhaps she has sent me to protect you, Lord.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not your Lord.”

“You’re my Lord now, aren’t you?”

For fuck’s sake. This would be trouble.

“Make yourself useful, and bring me the goat that’s in the workshop there. Give the boy a penny.”

“My own penny, Lord?”

He glared at her, but he tossed her a coin and was slightly surprised when she caught it with ease. But he supposed she did have a strong arm and a quick eye with a bow. Perhaps she would not be a total waste of space.

Lady Aethelflaed’s crew was nearly settled. He could see across the water to where she sat, beneath a stretched canvas tarp. He knew his ship was meant to go first, and he panicked a bit at the slowness of his own crew. He had left her the best men, it was true. But there was nothing to be done for it now.

“You!” He commanded a cluster of oarsmen. “Stand there, along the bow.”

They did not question him, but they looked at him with wary, curious eyes as they blocked the vantage from Aethelflaed’s ship. Clufweart had returned, and the goat trotted behind her on stiff, nervous legs.

“Bring it here,” Erik said, as quietly as he could make the command.

“Why a goat, Lord? Or is there nothing better to use to wet your —-”

“Enough.”

Clufweart silenced herself, but there was a smirk remaining on her wide, round face.

“Christian men, turn away if you wish!” Erik said to the crew. “I promise I shall not despoil your priest’s blessing.” Some of the men’s eyes had started to widen, their faces turning pale or coloring with red at the realization of what he was going to do. “But I am to captain this ship,” he continued. “And I must sanctify it in my own way.”

One man coughed, spluttered, found his voice. “The Lady Aethelflaed—”

“The Lady Aethelflaed knows what I am,” was all he said in return.

He had spoken truth to Aelfwynn. It had been a long time since he had made a real offering. It is was hard sometimes, to make space for the Old Ways, when his life lay so long in Christendom. He knew his luck had gone thin, his hamingja half-starved for lack of feeding, and perhaps that was why his hugr had been so grim of late. But this ship, this ship would bring him back to life.

And so he had to make an offering.

The goat was tense, wide-eyed. It smelled its own fate like a horse smells the rain. It was a buck - a young one, Erik realized - and that was good. He held a gentle hand out to it. It flinched, but then calmed as he stroked it slowly and softly.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, close to its face. He did not look at the men, he did not know if they watched him, or turned from him, or judged him in scorn. But Clufweart still stood close, and he could feel her eyes on him as he drew the blade slowly from his belt.

“It’s alright,” he said again. “You are going to the God now.”

The breath huffed in short bursts from the goat’s nostrils, heavy and raw, but he did not bolt. Erik stared into the inky blackness of his eye, and the strange square pupil that sat within it.

“Freyr,” he said, and he did not know if spoke in his own voice or in the voice behind his voice, within his mind. The words came in the tongue of his father, in the Norse which he spoke so rarely now.

“Freyr, son of Njord, take this offering. Be fed on it, be fat on it, be full with its blood. Look with favor on this ship, look with favor on these men, look with favor on this voyage — that we may win glory, yes —- but that we may win safety, too…that these men might know peace. I offer to you, Freyr, God of my kin, for it is you who sows the growing field and sings the winnowed grain. I offer that these men may be fat on your peace, as you will be fat on the blood of the goat. I offer to you, Freyr, God of my kin, for Skíðblaðnir sails always on a sweet wind. I offer that your breath may billow our sails and protect us from harm. I offer to you, Freyr, that you may be fat on the blood, that you may bless us, I offer, Freyr, to you, to you, to you I offer, this blood, Freyr — !”

And he drew the knife across the goat’s throat. It choked, it sighed, its eyes rolled wildly, and then it buckled on its knees and the blood flowed like a red wave across the deck. Several men crossed themselves at the sight of it, but Erik paid them no mind. His was watching the eye, and the light that receded from it, carried by Freyr across the worlds.

There was a horn blast from Aethelflaed’s ship - a short, sharp sound. It was time to go. Erik stood, wiping his blade on his tunic.

“Save the body,” he said to a nearby deckhand. “We will cook him, when we reach the Trent.”

The men were all stuck in a queer silence, as if captives of the moment. Clufweart was looking at him with an unfathomable expression on her face. One man stirred awkwardly at his bench, as if to reach for his oar.

“RAISE ANCHOR!” Erik bellowed, undeterred by their strangeness. “WE ROW NORTH!”

And he felt the wind sing in response.

[macybeckham7]

Madders one maybe where you broke up after a few years of dating but then he sees you on Trent’s story... just hanging out... and gets jealous because he still loves you, you can end it however x

James found himself just scrolling through IG and looking at all his friends, and teammates IG stories to see what they were doing or saying. He laughed at a few and messaged a few back. He got to Trent to see him out partying the Mykonos still. He skipped a few and let some play, he feeling alittle fomo even though he had not long got back from there himself.

Trent showed a few of his mates who were all doing shots and then he spotted you. The two of you dated for a few years and he defiantly called you the rock and even gushed over you when you were dating that he wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for you. The two of you were young and stupid and things just didn't work out between you both, which hurt like nothing else before.

He watches as Trent wraps his arms around you as you both sing loudly and out of tune before the scouse is kisses the corner of your mouth making you pull away and laugh. He carried on watching and seeing little glimpses of you and a few videos of you not taking yourself too seriously, which he has always loved about you. He felt somewhat jealous that Trent was able to spend time with you, as he realised that his feelings for you was still very much there and present. 

[godlymvmi]

Who do you ship your mutuals with and why? And be honest! Don’t just say their favourite players! 🤭

@sweetsilversongofthelark - virg ir joey g

i cant decide between either cos i think they both could have heaps of laughs with her and they’d be constantly having fun but they’d also be really good at making her feel loved and safe and grounding her, so one of those two, she’d be an amazing support system for either and they would for her as well, i lean virg cod i think he’d be amazing at supporting her through law school 🥰

@balenciagastones - eric dier

i saw the eric dier x hannah ting AGES BEFORE any of this happened so i win, i am a psychic but they’d live a nice quiet life on a farm with dogs and goats and children, he’s deffo like her other half, homebody, he cooks, it’s perfect for her

@lionspridetingz - i’ve been saying reece ALL DA TIME AND I MWAN IT

he’s very calm and introverted which is what adri needs from someone, very stable and very grounded and she’d crack his shell a teeny bit, take him to parties and help him become more extroverted and it would just WORK:,))

@latenightinparis00 - trent duh

not just cos she loves him but because i think trent needs a girlie like our rhi, someone who’s genuine and hardheaded, will stand up for him no matter what and doesn’t take any shit from anyone regardless, could imagine them tucked up with their ben and jerrys during a harry potter marathon

@benssbitchh - shes bens bitch baby

they literally would suit so well, he’s very charming and funny and so is our cass, theyd have so much fun together and i think his family would really love cass as well, could see cass modelling her new shopping haul for him and ben would just love it, he’d not be too soft or too harsh on her which is perfect

@daddydcl - DOM

like not only would she hurt me if i didn’t say dom but they’d have the cutest little babies and they’d have so much fun together as well, completely dedicated to one another, think they’d have a really good dynamic that you can’t find in many couples these days, just a perfect little duo

@cinnnabaee - deffo marcus

they’d have SO MUCH fun but not too much, enjoy quiet days in and days out alike, go on some super lavish holidays to bask in the sun and i think they’d end up settled down quite fast cos it feels so right y’know y’know

@emwritesfootball - winksy

10000% will not listen to anything else, i do not want to hear it AT ALL if you disagree cos you’re wrong, she’d absolutely bring harry out of his shell cos he’s deffo a bit shy and careful at times, they’d be teasing each other constantly and just so carefree and happy

@edenhazarxd - kepa bebee

i honestly couldn’t see fri with anyone else?? she’d love travelling to spain and embracing his culture, meeting his family and teaching herself the language and cooking his favourite meals, theyd deffo butt heads but they’d always be finished by the end of the day, cuddled up in bed

@macybeckham7 - ruben

hear me out, i think ruben and mace would be really good together, would really compliment one another and i feel mace would be an amazing partner through injuries and that, they both are super fun but responsible and always ready to defend anyone they love, both quite stubborn but it would work so well

@luc-57x - rhian ofc (also madders tbf)

deffo rhian like, the way she would support and encourage him despite him being a rival teams player would really just lift him up, she’d be his biggest supporter on and off the pitch and they’d have great banter about her beinf a united fan :,)

sorry if i missed anyone but this became way too long 😭😭

[hendolish]

madders collecting boyfs as usual🫶🏻😚

[avenirdelight]

qualified✅

[sickofcaffeinesworld]

[bbychilly]

Out if these players say which accounts you associate with them? Chilly, Madders, Mason, Dele, Trent, Jadon and Marcus? Xx

oh that’s interesting! x

Chilly - @macybeckham7

Madders - @footballdaydream & @englandntposts

Mason - @gardenofcfc

Dele - @vxrgilvandijk

Trent - @travellvogue, @footballdaydream & @trentaafc

Jadon - @sanchos-dream

Marcus - @cinnnabaee

[travellvogue]

I literally have been rotating my wallpapers between fuckin Jadon and Trent and I got zilch LMAOO😂😂. Also the blue eyes on Madders does not hurt either 👀👀

dear madders anon

create imaginary scenarios with them ;) not saying i do it whilst i lay in bed at bloody midnight, buttt😅 x

[chilly-me-softly]

Added blurbs till august, new playes like Jadon and Reiss but also more and more Winksy, Chilly, Madders, John, Dele, Trent, Son x

[thepanicoffice]

The Life & Exhaustive Works of Richard O. Jones

[...]

As promised/threatened, in order to mark THIRTY (30) vainglorious years of the life of Richard Owen Jones, I am providing a preview of the biography that I have written in my own blood (figuratively) and bile (literally). It is due to be published shortly with the University of Tungsten Press, and with Limpet, Fecund & Sproles in North America as part of their ‘Lives of the Utterly Vacuous’ series. As this whole week is dedicated to his manifest failings and sparse achievements, this represents only the first of two installments. Consider that your first and final warning.

The Exhaustive Life And Works of  Richard Owen Jones: A Compilation of Calumny A Testament of Tyranny A Litany of Larceny A Chronicle of Crimes Most Odious

____________________________

Author’s note:

I am unfortunate enough to have, at various times in my beleaguered life, held the acquaintance of Rich Jones, noted raconteur, wit, and five-time winner of the WBBO welterweight boxing championship. His acquaintance has also held me. Forcefully.

As a consequence, much of the material contained in this biography is culled from personal reminiscences, decaying memories, and the vivid fantasies that dance among them in my syphilis-riddled mind. Syphilis, I would hasten to add, that Jones himself gave me ‘as a joke’ for my 22nd birthday. He said that for my 23rd he would cure me. We laughed. He still has not made good that promise.

As such, the more lucid passages in this book may be interspersed with fevered ramblings and paranoid delusions. But I’ve never been one for self-editing (it seems like writing twice what you’ve only been paid to do once) so I’ve not bothered to look back through it to weed out the madder stuff.

References to Jones’ numerous works, his poems, plays, articles, photographs, and correspondence, have all been harvested from the Richard Jones Archive, held at the University of Tungsten.[1]

This scholarly work is intended, above all, to serve as a warning to posterity that to turn a blind eye to a tyrant is to leave your back exposed. And then the knife plunges in.

Take heed, O complacent world!

R.M. May 2019 ---------

[1] The contents of the archive were donated by myself, made up of the scraps I had managed to steal on previous visits to Jones’ house. The archive collection also contains a fine selection of nose rings, nail clippings and one used pair of boxers. Rumour has it that this latter item will soon be auctioned and the proceeds used to pay for a new Geography faculty building.

_________________________________________________

Introduction

Where, I ask, can one begin to describe a life such as that of Richard Owen Jones? How do we delineate something as prosaic and limited as the ‘beginning’ and ‘end’ of a life?

How does one describe the life cycle of a star? Does it begin with the collection of carbon that gathers around a mote of dust as it waxes across the face of the infinite void? Or does it begin with its collapse, its supernova, as it scatters the hot, bright matter with which it succours a universe yet to come?

The answer is obvious: we’ll start with his birth. The star talk was a rhetorical red herring. Let us begin.

_________________________________________________

Chapter I: The Birth of a Titan

The weather report contained in the Evening Standard for X May 1989 noted with mild horror that the River Thames had turned to a tide of roiling blood, surging as through a dilated artery, and that its banks were choked with the bodies of the dead. An inauspicious, if not entirely coincidental, sign that the man who would come to be known – by me, at least[1] – as the Black Messiah had arrived to Earth.

Richard Owen Jones was delivered of a jackal, on a comfortable private healthcare plan, at an hour in which God had averted his gaze: three thirty-seven AM. This much can be certainly ascertained by the fact that the clocks in the hospital (West Festering DGH, near Bermondsey) had stopped, presumably in their unwillingness to acknowledge any subsequent seconds in which the Beast still breathed.

His father, Tony Jones, declared in a letter to an associate that he remembered being “wholly unnerved” by the appearance of his singular progeny but acknowledged that he soon overcame his “overwhelming desire to dispatch the creature with a rock hammer”. Their relationship went from strength to strength, with Tony choosing to secrete the infant in his beard, like a sort of coarse, bristly papoose. This, in many ways, is likely to have been the crucial psychosexual event that caused Jones’ lifelong adoration and erotic longing for facial hair. If there is a moment of space-time around which all future achievements (including the Brighton ‘Beard of the Year’ award 2011) were pinioned, it would be this one.

I have done some cursory research to provide some colour and context for the first year of Jones’ life. Geopolitically, the world was a crucible of change. Khomeini had declared fatwah upon Salman Rushdie; tanks struggled to find the reverse gear in Tiananmen Square; the Berlin Wall was fitted with several viewing holes; the Notre Dame Fightin’ Irish beat the West Virginia Mountaineers for the college football championship. These were dark days. An appropriately stark and eerily lit stage on which our anti-hero could take his first tentative steps, and deliver unto the world his first squalling monologue.

_________________________________________________ Chapter II: The Blighted Childhood

This is, first and foremost, intended as an artistic biography; one which seeks to analyse (and, where possible, brutally criticise) Jones’ creative output. So here were must review his ‘juvenilia’, such as it is. After haunting the corridors of his former primary school (not like a paedophile – more like a ghost) and forcing the door of a barely locked store cupboard, I have located some of his archival papers. These we might describe as his earliest ‘works’.

To begin with, we find a story written in year 3, which, with hindsight, provides a chilling commentary on his mental state and a grim foreboding of his life yet to come. The story is entitled “Ode to Summers Green” and is written in a childish scrawl, like the death-flailings of a drunken spider, on scraps of yellow sugar paper. Despite its pastoral title, the work is remarkably dark, seeming at times to be an inversion of the classic tale of Faust. In it, the principle character, Benwort Kleinson (clearly a feebly veiled figuration of the author himself), seeks to trick various classmates out of their possessions, culminating in a set-piece in which he tricks the naïve James Garner to part with his immortal soul. The piece is fairly rudimentary and simplistic, with casual allusions to only one or two key pieces of Continental philosophy. It is therefore unsurprising that his teacher, Miss Fallopia, gave the piece a ‘Well done!’ and smiley-face sticker, rather than the 2:1 he would have hoped for as a bare minimum.

But what of the boy beyond these infantile scribblings? Reports from those who knew him, including the parents of his school chums, described him as “possessing a penetrating gaze, that appeared to touch upon the very tissues of the soul” and “a bit weird”. It can scarcely be a shock, then, to discover that he transferred schools a total of seventeen times in his young life, leaving behind him a trail of mysterious disappearances and swelling psychiatric reports. _________________________________________________

Chapter III: Adolescence

Puberty hit Jones with much the same force that a cannonball might hit, say, a hummingbird (i.e. with devastating force). One moment he was minding his own business, constructing a thesis on the Greek scholar Rectilineus, the next he became a seething mass of lustful membranes, engorging and subsiding at random intervals. One can scarcely imagine the terror that this struck into the ill-educated, superstitious, and slightly backward inhabitants of Stoke-on-Trent.

It was at this time that he began his love-affair with the theatre. He called her Gertrude. He was banned from visiting after he was found behind the stage curtain making love to a rostra block. Despite the injunction placed upon him by the courts, he knew that his place was on the stage. He joined a group of travelling players, putting on performances of Shakespeare, Marlowe, Jonson and some of Jones’ self-penned pieces. The annotated playscript of one such work – ‘The Passage of Love’, a grotesque and innuendo-laden piece, designed purely to infuriate censors – still survives. From the jottings which adorn the margins like some aggressive yeast infection, it becomes clear that Jones gradually fired all the other actors, one by one, until the play became a single-hander. Given that that the script calls for twenty-three separate speaking roles, we can only imagine that the performance was a unique spectacle. The Pembrokeshire Gazette has a two-star review, describing it as “exhausting and frenetic” and “a herculean feat that was as unrewarding as it was mentally taxing” before kindly requesting that Jones “never darken the boards again”. Jones took this review to heart and burned down the office of the Pembrokeshire Gazette. Then he gave up acting. Then he burned down the home of the Editor, Deputy Editor, Arts Editor, and Theatre Correspondent of the Pembrokeshire Gazette. The Pembrokeshire Herald dubbed it ‘The Night of the Thousand Fires’.

_________________________________________________ Chapter IV: The University Years

After turning his back on the theatre for the next ten years, Jones turned his hand to poetry; a skill he would come to hone in the brutal killing fields of the University of Sussex Poetical Society. The members of this surprisingly esoteric society would meet in a circle drawn in purified salt and, in the form of a duel, recite each other into submission. Jones’ fighting record concluded in 2013 at 37 wins, 2 draws and no losses, highlighted by one evening when, propelled by a stimulating decoction of cocaine and soy sauce[2], he took on any and all comers in a remorseless poetry maelstrom. By the end of the evening, seven men lay dead.

It was at these events that I first met Jones, watching in breathless wonderment as he dispatched his rival, the upstart Argentine poet Cedric Espadrille, with an audacious piece which would come to be recognised as one of his early poetical masterpieces, Chorus of the Bowels.

O garrulous gastrointestinal tract Bespeak your bizarre Faustian pact With my humble meal of cheese and bread You confabulate and leave nought unsaid O moaning, grizzled, groaning bowels Through which long-winded warning prowls. My meals dictate its daily speech An egg, hard-boiled, extends its reach To friends, Romans and countrymen Visceral rhetoric much the better when A spicy plate’s for me prepared It utters truths no others dared. Without this fuel its words are failure - Wet suck of human penetralia - But with stew and sausage laced with sage Turns guts to greatest speaker of this age When a shard of fart is lodged in me And culminates in flatulent oratory.

Indeed, as would become a theme with his more mature works, this poem takes the form of an ode or exhortation to his increasingly unruly bowels. This remarkable poem, delivered with his trademark aggression and an unusual poise for a man so thoroughly stupefied by the Chairman’s Indulgence, caused Espadrille to take early retirement, at the age of 19, and move to a tree-worshipping commune in Dundee. Jones passed out, and awoke as a legend in the world of poetry.

During his time at the University of Sussex he also turned his hand to the study a sociology. Here he was hopelessly influenced by a sordid cabal of cultural Marxists, allowing their mild, tweedy dissidence to stir his blood with filthy socialist ideals. This political reorientation was, thankfully, short-lived and he soon returned to his usual habits of subjecting the University’s poorer students to blackmail, extortion and bullying them into indentured servitude.

-------

[1] And indeed at most.

[2] A mixture he developed himself, called ‘The Chairman’s Indulgence’ in honour of Mao’s revolution. [END OF PART ONE]

[balenciagastones]

If you thought someone finding trent and Jadon fit was bad I’ve just seen someone say they fancy madders... no thanks x

that’s disgraceful x