#trent's last case

[letterboxd-loggd]

Trent's Last Case (1952) Herbert Wilcox

June 1st 2024

[howardhawkshollywood]

Trent's Last Case (1928) was Howard Hawks' eighth and final silent film. There are no surviving fragments.

[windshield91]

Can someone please explain to me what is The Bachelor about?

[rad-roche]

Picked up a detective short story today called "Trent's Last Case" by E. C. Bentley, I haven't read it yet but I was wondering if you have since you're the resident detective nerd?

resident detective nerd, that's very flattering! though i'd like to stress i'm really just somebody Big Into the genre who googles a bunch, take my opinion with more than a little salt, a whole mine worth. that aside, somehow i actually haven't!! i've always meant to, i should. it's on the big list i keep, but yesterday i stumbled on a pre-owned copy of raymond chandler's killer in the rain (that contain all the short stories he'd rewrite into full books) and as somebody who's read all those books cover to cover i just HAD to dig into it. but thank you for reminding me it exists, i really should read it

[frimleyblogger]

The Rear-View Mirror

If Edmund Bentley is remembered for anything these days, it is probably for the creation of a whimsical, four-line biographical poem with an AABB rhyming scheme which bears his middle name, Clerihew. However, he also wrote Trent’s Last Case (1913), which, in the opinion of Agatha Christie, was “one of the three best detective stories ever written” while for Dorothy L Sayers “it shook the little…

[rebelliousneferut]

long-distance misunderstandings | jude bellingham x verstappen!reader

summary; a compromising photo that poses a threat to your relationship with jude

genre; angst, fluff

face claim; annie schröter

note; english is not my first language.

as soon as i saw the photo i knew i had to write something about it

masterlist!

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

wagsgossips

liked by y/nverstappen, yourbestfriend, footballwags and others

wagsgossips the 21 y/o real madrid star was seen last night in california in the company of his england teammate trent alexander arnold. but it was not that that caught our attention, but his closeness with a girl whose identity we still do not know.

jude bellingham has been in a romantic relationship with y/n verstappen, the younger sister of the triple world champion in formula 1.

are there problems in paradise? follow me so you don't miss any news

view comments

y/njudefans you are creating drama where there is none. it is a simple photo and we don't know the context behind it.

username he is a footballer, that already makes him a cheater

username i agree

vertappenssource was max's warning not clear enough?

username i saw it coming, she deserves better

username poor y/n:( i always thought she looked more in love than him

username for god's sake, stop assuming things and creating meaningless gossip

sunshine streamed through the window of our shared madrid apartment, casting a warm glow on everything it touched. except me. my phone, usually buzzing with life, lay silent on the coffee table. the cheerful chirping of birds outside mocked the turmoil brewing within me. a single picture, a single stolen moment, had shattered my world.

jude was in california for a commercial shoot. missing him terribly, i was holding down the fort back in madrid. social media, my usual source of joy, had become a minefield. a gossip page had exploded with a photo: jude, seemingly handsy with a random girl at a party. the caption screamed betrayal. my phone had become a vessel of concern, overflowing with messages from worried friends and fans.

"he wouldn't do that," i whispered, denial laced with a sliver of doubt. i knew Jude. i knew his loyalty, his unwavering love and i knew how harmful the networks could be. yet, the photo gnawed at me, a seed of suspicion taking root.

i decided to take my phone, just because i knew how worried my brother would be until now and i had to talk to him. and almost as if he read my mind, a video call from him came in

"hello liefje," he muttered, almost as if he was expecting me to explode at any moment. "i know how things may look right now, talk to jude before you do anything rash, you know how the media is."

"I know, it just took me by surprise. and I'm not going to lie, it hurt me a little but i know there is an explanation behind it." i told him, even though it wasn't a compromising photo, seeing him so close to another woman had made me think.

"in any case, let me know and i'll go beat him up." max answered me, pretending to hit his fists which made me genuinely laugh.

after talking to max for a while i felt calmer, but i still knew that i had to talk to jude, who i had not responded to for hours because i knew that my feelings were going to betray me.

days bled into one another. calls from jude went unanswered, my voicemails a silent plea for explanation. the silence stretched, a suffocating weight on my chest. i retreated into myself, a fortress of hurt and confusion.

then, the door creaked open, shattering the suffocating silence. jude, his face etched with worry, rushed in, his arms outstretched for me. i flinched, the photo flashing in my mind.

"where have you been?" he sighed, relief washing over his features. "why haven't you been answering my calls?"

his voice, laced with concern, chipped away at the walls i'd built. tears welled up in my eyes, a torrent threatening to burst. i thrust my phone at him, the photo accusingly displayed on the screen.

jude's brow furrowed in confusion as he looked at the picture. understanding dawned, followed by a wave of frustration.

"baby, i know what this looks like, but she was there for a photo. the media just took everything out of context, i would never be able to lie to you, you know." shame colored my cheeks.

"i should have called you," he admitted, his voice laced with regret.

i reached out, taking his hand in mines. "i should have trusted you," i whispered, the words heavy with unspoken hurt.

the silence that followed wasn't suffocating anymore. it was filled with the promise of a new beginning. we spent the night talking, clearing the air, the misunderstanding dissolving in the warmth of shared apologies and renewed trust.

the next morning, i woke up to the gentle sunlight and the feeling of jude's arm wrapped around me. he pulled me closer, his lips brushing against my ear.

"maybe next time, we travel together," he murmured, his voice a husky whisper.

i smiled, a genuine one this time. "no more long-distance misunderstandings," i agreed, snuggling closer.

the internet storm eventually subsided, replaced by messages of support and well-wishes. our love story, a little richer for having weathered a storm, continued, a testament to the power of communication and trust.

judebellingham uploaded to their story;

[caption; my one and only]

[hacash]

See, I’m less annoyed than a lot of people because to me that last montage felt more like a dream of Ted’s than anything else. And don’t forget, Bill Lawrence has pulled this before: with the finale of Scrubs we don’t talk about Scrubs Interns JD’s final moments involve him imagining what the future looks like for him, and it’s up to the audience to decide how much or how little will come true. It’s left very ambiguous what the canonical future holds for our heroes - which, let’s be honest, is a pretty Ted Lasso move to pull. After all, we never can tell.

But once you consider that, the montage makes a lot more sense if you read it happening in Ted’s mind. It’s all very Ted-coded, showing everything he wants for his England family: the team all hanging out together. Trent’s book as a success but not making Ted front and centre. Keeley pushing for a women’s team. Sam making the Nigerian team. Roy taking his first steps as a proper leader. Nate back on the coaching squad and getting on better with his dad. Jamie reconciling with his dad (that’s very Ted-coded). Beard’s ludicrously filtered wedding to Jane (which Ted doesn’t even appear in, because we never see ourselves in our own dreams).

(And let me tell you, even if nothing else is fantasy that definitely was; having lived near Stonehenge for over ten years I can guarantee you the weather is never like that.)

I suspect that executive meddling has a lot to do with it - it’s pretty clear that a lot of people involved with Ted Lasso don’t know whether that’s it for the Richmond universe or not - but the fact that we end that montage with Ted jerking awake really has me feeling like that was a serious case of Ambiguous Ending. Until anything else in the Richmond universe is confirmed , we’re left able to pick and choose which bits will come true and which won’t. Which, hey, I’m a bit of a sucker for, so I’m satisfied with that.

[foreverisntenough]

‘Movie Night’

Summary: If only life was like the movies. For years, you’d flirted with the idea of something more with Trent, your brother’s best friend.  You'd always danced around the edges of something more with him, sharing flirty moments that felt like scenes straight from the cinema. You had been silently desperate for the main character of your life’s film to finally get the boy but you knew moments like that were saved for Hollywood. The lines were clear; you were always going to be his mate’s little sister. So what happens when you go off script? In a whirlwind of passion, secrets, and stolen moments, you're left wondering: will you and your brother's best friend get the happy ending you've been waiting for, or was it never meant to be more than a fantasy? 

Index:

Warnings: This series is 18+ MDNI [ smut, slight mention of dv, loss of a parent, drinking - 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!

Chapter 2 - Bruises | ‘Movie Night'

word count - 10.6k

Trent slumped down next to Noah, running a hand over his hair, his thoughts all over the place. It had been hard enough leaving you upstairs, seeing you so vulnerable, so close. Noah nudged him, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Mate, seriously—what is the deal with you two?” Noah asked, raising an eyebrow. “She’s putty in your hands, and you’re practically breathing down her neck. Thought you’d snap eventually but you just keep dragging it out.” Trent let out a frustrated sigh, leaning back against the couch. 

“I don’t even know, mate. I can’t keep this up. Every time I’m around her lately, it feels impossible to just… be her friend.” He shook his head. “But Jack would kill me, you know that.” Noah burst into laughter, shaking his head. 

“Trenty, it’s been years of this. You’re acting like this tension is new! This is, hands down, the longest and most intense case of foreplay I’ve ever seen. Even Jack’s gotta know by now.” Noah smirked. Trent rubbed the back of his neck, a guilty grin breaking through. 

“Yeah, but it’s different now. She’s… she’s not just Jack’s sister anymore. It’s like she’s looking at me the same way I look at her.”  He groaned and then he let out a shaky breath, feeling exposed for the first time. “And tonight—I feel like she’s slipping, no? Just hard to leave her room after all that. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing.” Noah leaned in, eyes glinting with amusement. “Mateeee.” Trent groaned once more for good measure. 

“Bro, you gotta sort this. You can’t go on like this forever.” He clapped Trent on the shoulder. Trent chuckled, a little embarrassed but unable to deny how much he wanted you. 

“I know. But I’m just trying to play it smart, you know? I don’t want to hurt her but Jack’s my boy.” Noah raised an eyebrow, laughing harder. 

“Play it smart? Just try not to trip over yourself sneaking back upstairs.” He teased. With one last laugh, Trent let himself sink into his thoughts of you, wondering how much longer he could hold himself back.

Another night of drinking to forget came. You knew it wasn’t the healthiest method, but it was maybe the most fun. The club was packed, pulsing with the beat of the music and the energy of people letting loose on a Saturday night. You had dragged Layla along with you to have a fun night out, a chance to unwind and forget about all the stress from the past week. You were in good spirits, laughing and dancing with Layla, letting the music take over. But everything shifted when you spotted him—your sort of ex, a footballer for Manchester United, Josh. If playing for that club wasn’t enough of a reason for you to hate him, he also was just an awful person.  He was standing by the bar, surrounded by his friends, looking as arrogant as ever. You tried to ignore him, but it was clear he had seen you too. A smirk tugged at his lips as he pushed through the crowd, heading straight for you.

“YN!” he called out over the music, a mocking tone in his voice. “Long time no see.” You forced a polite smile, not wanting to cause a scene but you knew this was being done to be rude.

 “Hey,” you replied shortly, hoping he’d get the hint and move on. But he didn’t.

“What’s the matter? Not happy to see me?” he jeered, leaning in closer than necessary. You could smell the alcohol on his breath, could see the malice in his eyes.

“I’m just here to have a good time with Layla,” you said, trying to keep your tone even. “I’d rather not—” But he cut you off, his voice dripping with sarcasm. 

“Oh, come on, don’t be like that. You were always such a good girl, Y/N. Too good for the likes of me, right? Or maybe you’re just playing hard to get?” He sang in an obnoxious tone. You’d ‘split’ because you didn’t like each other enough. It was sex and that was about it. Josh particularly didn’t like that no matter what, you’d never look at him the way you looked at Trent and so he blamed the split on you. Despite him ending it, it was your wrong doing apparently.  

“She doesn’t want to talk to you, yeah? Fuck off.” Layla stepped in, sensing the tension. He sneered at Layla before turning his attention back to you. 

“What’s the matter, YN? Still pining after Alexander-Arnold? Aye just get it through that pretty little head, he’s never going to want you.” The words stung, sharper than you expected. You rolled your eyes and he didn’t take kindly to that. Even though you didn’t care for him anymore, his cruelness cut deep. Tears welled up in your eyes despite yourself.  Josh had never been the kind to hold back, not even in public. You had seen glimpses of his temper before, but tonight, it felt different—meaner, more deliberate. His words were mocking as his fingers gripped your arm with a force that made your skin sting, and as he leaned in closer, his words grew more venomous.  "What, are you going to cry now?" he spat, tightening his hold on you. His grip was firm, biting into your flesh with enough pressure to bruise. You winced, trying to twist free, but he only tightened his grip, his nails digging into your skin. He was holding you close to him, he was angry in a possessive way. You could feel the bruise forming under his touch, a dark mark that would remind you of this night long after it was over. You hated how he could make you feel so small, how he could strip away every ounce of confidence with just a few words and a harsh grip.

“Please just stop,” you snapped, your voice breaking. You tried to yank your arm away again, but he only pulled you closer, his lips curling into a cruel smile. He pulled you away from everyone so it was just the two of you. You felt a wave of shame, not just for the scene he was causing but for yourself—for letting him do this to you, for putting up with it, for not having the strength to push him away once and for all. Layla didn’t know what to do. So often you had said it was fine with him but right now it felt anything but.  You didn’t know why you even put up with him, why you had let him into your life at all. He had always been like this—aggressive, dominating, possessive,always needing to control every situation, even when you were out in public. It was as if he thrived on belittling you, on reminding you of every perceived flaw, every mistake you’d made.  He leaned in closer, his breath hot against your ear. 

“You’ll be nothing without me, know that?” he hissed, his grip tightening painfully. You flinched, the pain radiating up your arm. “You’ll always be nothing.” The tears blurred your vision, and you hated yourself for letting him see you cry. You hated how he still had this power over you, how he could reduce you to this—a sobbing, broken mess in the middle of a crowded club. You hated how he could strip you of your dignity with just a few cruel words and a tight grip on your arm. Somewhere in the haze of your thoughts, you found the strength to pull away. You jerked your arm back with a sudden burst of energy, managing to break free from his grasp. You stumbled back, cradling your bruised arm against your chest, the sting of the fresh bruise radiating through your skin. You looked up at him, your vision blurry with tears, your chest heaving with a mix of anger, hurt, and frustration.

“I’m done. We’re done” you choked out, the words barely more than a whisper. “I get it. Just let it go, okay?” You whimpered. He just laughed, a dark, hollow sound that sent a chill down your spine. 

“You’ll be back, babe” he called after you as you tried to leave, his voice dripping with arrogance. “You always come back.”  You hated that you had gone back to him before, that you had let yourself get tangled up in his web of anger and possessiveness. The sex had been good—at least, that's what you told yourself. But he had cheated on you more times than you could count, though you were never really sure if it counted as cheating. Your relationship had always been undefined, a messy entanglement of emotions and misunderstandings. He was hypocritical, a storm ready to explode any time he saw you so much as smile at another man. And yet, there you were, always caught in the crossfire of his jealousy and rage. It didn’t matter what he did, his whole goal was to just have complete control over you and Trent threw a wrench in that. He especially hated Trent. It wasn't just because they played for rival clubs, though that was part of it. It was deeper than football. He saw the way your eyes lingered on Trent, the way your face softened when you spoke his name. He knew there was something there, a connection that went beyond friendly banter or casual attraction. Trent was everything he was not—calm, kind, successful in a way that made others admire rather than fear him. And you—God, he could see it—your feelings for Trent were written all over your face, in the way you laughed at his jokes, in the way you always seemed to find yourself at his side. He resented Trent for being everything he wasn’t and for being the object of your affections. You ootd to keep Josh’s behavior hidden from your brother, somehow managing to mask how fucked up it all was. Jack didn't know how deep your ex’s temper ran or how controlling he could be. But if he knew.. If Jack knew or even his friends knew but probably especially Trent knew… all hell would break loose.  So you’d learned how to swallow back the stories, pretending that everything was fine. 

“Can you just leave me alone,” you managed to say, your voice breaking. 

“You’re pathetic, you know that?” He leaned in, his voice a harsh whisper. “Does your brother know you slut yourself out for his best friend? What’s your dad think of that... Being a whore for the boys your brother trusts most… and your mum.. Oh well.. You wouldn’t know what she thinks of her slutty little daughter.” That was the last straw. You hated that you even trusted him enough that he had that bit of information about your life. You felt the tears spill over, and you turned and bolted, pushing your way through the crowd. You needed to get away, to breathe, to clear your head. Your heart was pounding, and your vision blurred with tears. You stumbled trying to get to the back hallway of the club, your breath coming in short, panicked gasps. Layla had seen enough. 

“Fuck you!” Layla screamed rushing over but when she turned to try to follow after you, you were lost in the crowds. Unbeknownst to you, Trent had been at the club too, celebrating with a few of his teammates. He had seen you running, and had noticed the distress on your face. Without a second thought, he followed you, his concern outweighing any questions about why you were there or what had happened. The flashing lights of the club blurred around you, a kaleidoscope of colors that seemed to spin faster with each passing second. The pounding bass reverberated through your chest, matching the erratic beat of your heart. You felt dizzy, your thoughts swirling like the flickering neon signs above. The laughter and shouts of the crowd melted into a distant, muddled hum as your vision began to swim. Tears streaked your cheeks, hot and unchecked, as you stumbled through the throngs of people. The room felt like it was closing in on you, walls shrinking as the faces around you became distorted, like a nightmare you couldn’t escape. Your breath came in shallow, uneven gasps, each one catching in your throat as you fought the rising tide of panic.

You could barely think straight, your mind a haze of confusion and pain. Everything felt wrong—your body, the people around you, the pounding music that seemed to pulse through your veins. You wanted to escape, to find a place where you could breathe again, but everywhere you turned, there were people, faces, eyes. It was too much, all of it pressing down on you, squeezing your chest until you thought you might break. Your legs felt heavy, your steps unsteady as if the ground were shifting beneath your feet. You pushed through the crowd, desperate for air, for space, for anything but this suffocating chaos. Your tears blurred your vision, and you wiped at her eyes, her hand trembling. Then, through the haze, you felt it—strong arms wrapping around you, pulling you close. At first, you panicked, thinking it was someone else, another stranger trying to touch you, but then you caught a familiar scent, a mix of cologne and something uniquely comforting.

Trent.

Your body sagged with relief, your knees nearly buckling beneath you as you collapsed against his chest. His arms were solid and warm, encircling you like a protective barrier against the chaos of the club. You felt his hand on the back of your head, gently cradling you as he whispered soothing words you could barely hear over the music. Then for the first time, Trent saw a bruise forming on your arm. His face was a mask of concern, his eyes darkening with anger as he took in the sight of you, your arm marked with the telltale signs of aggression. 

"Y/N," he whispered, stepping back before reaching out to gently lift your arm, his touch featherlight but steady. He turned it over, revealing the bruises that had already started to bloom in shades of purple and blue. His jaw clenched, and his grip tightened just enough for you to feel his rage simmering beneath the surface. "Who did this to you?" You tried to pull away, tried to hide the evidence of your shame and pain, but Trent wouldn't let go. It was so obvious it came from someone grubbing you too tight, being too rough in a way no one wanted. His hand held yours firmly, his thumb brushing against your skin as if he could erase the marks with a touch. 

"Please," you muttered, your voice breaking, "stop." you weakly begged.

"Y/N…" he insisted, his voice low and steady, but with an edge that made it clear he wasn't going to let this go. "Who…" He snapped demandingly. Your eyes filled with tears as you looked up at him, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Trent's face hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in you attempting to tell him what just happened but he couldn’t focus on anything but how sad you looked, how broken. He pulled you closer, wrapping you in his arms as if to shield you from the world, from the pain, from everything that had ever hurt you. In that moment, you felt safe for the first time in what seemed like forever. His arms were your refuge, his strength your solace. Trent's blood boiled with a fury he rarely felt, his hands shaking with the need to do something—anything—to make Josh, who he knew it had to have been, pay for what he'd done. But then he saw your tear-streaked face, your lips trembling as you tried to hold back sobs, and all that rage took a back seat. His anger didn't matter right now; you mattered. Your body shuddered with each sob, and Trent felt a pang of helplessness in his chest. He wanted to tell you everything would be alright, that he'd take care of everything. He wanted to promise that no one would ever hurt you again. But he knew that words wouldn’t be enough, not now. So, he just held you tighter, letting you cry into his shirt, his thumb brushing away the tears that spilled down your cheeks. “Hey, hey, hey, you're okay. I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a low, steady rumble that cut through the noise, anchoring you to the present. You buried your face against his chest, your hands clutching at his shirt as if he were the only thing keeping you from drowning. The tears kept coming, but they were different now—less frantic, more a release of all the tension you had been holding onto. Trent’s embrace was a lifeline, pulling you back from the edge of the abyss you had been teetering on. The world around you seemed to fade, the thumping bass and flashing lights dimming in comparison to the steady, comforting rhythm of Trent’s heartbeat against your ear. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, calming the storm that raged inside you. In his arms, you felt a safety you hadn’t known she needed—a reassurance that, despite everything, you weren’t alone.

“Just breathe for me,” Trent whispered, his voice soft and close to your ear. “I’m here. You’re safe.” You tried to do as he said, taking a shaky breath that caught in your throat. But with him holding you, the air seemed easier to draw in, the panic slowly ebbing away. The tears continued to fall, but now they were softer, quieter, as if his presence was slowly soothing the hurt you felt. For a moment, there was only you—no noise, no crowd, no chaos. Just the steady beat of his heart and the warmth of his embrace. Trent held you tightly, his grip firm yet gentle, his touch grounding you in a way that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, everything would be alright. You stood in there struggling to catch your breath as Trent's arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. The familiar scent of his cologne mixed with the faint smell of spilled drinks and cigarette smoke, grounding you in a way that felt comforting and electric all at once. He tightened his hold, his chin resting on the top of your head, and his fingers tracing soothing circles along your back. But even as he tried to comfort you, a battle still raged inside him. Part of him wanted to go find Josh right then and there, to make him pay for every single bruise on your skin, every tear he'd caused. The other part of him—the rational part—knew he needed to stay with you, to keep you safe and calm. And then there was the question he couldn't push away: Should he tell Jack?  Jack was his best friend, but Jack was also your brother. He deserved to know that his sister had been hurt, but Trent also knew how fiercely protective Jack was of you. If he told Jack, there’d be no holding him back, and things could spiral out of control. Plus, he wasn't sure if you'd want Jack to know—if you'd want your brother to see you in this vulnerable state.

"I got you," he whispered as his thoughts spiraled, his voice filled with a tenderness you hadn't felt in a long time. "I got you, okay?" You felt something break in that moment-a wall you'd kept up around yourself for so long. And when his lips brushed the top of your head in a soft kiss, something stirred inside you, a longing that had been quietly simmering for years. It felt like an opening. Your heart raced as you pulled back slightly, your gaze finding his, and in the dim light, his eyes softened, a silent understanding passing between you. You hesitated, but then, almost instinctively, you tilted up, pressing your lips to his. It was a tentative kiss at first, a question in every touch of your lips against his. Trent tensed, caught off guard, but he didn't pull away. He wanted this so instead, his hands found your waist, his fingers digging in ever so slightly as he kissed you back, the warmth of his mouth melting away the hurt that had clung to you since your ex's cruel words. The world around you disappeared, leaving just the two of you tangled together, like a fuse that had finally been lit. The kiss grew deeper, hungrier, years of unspoken attraction finally bubbling over. His hands roamed, his grip on you tightening as he leaned into you, pushing you up against the cool brick wall behind you. Every touch, every brush of his lips against yours, felt like it was meant to be, like you'd waited your whole life for this moment. God, he wanted this… but not like this. This was wrong. So then, just as quickly as it started, he pulled back, his breathing heavy as he looked at you with wide eyes, his expression torn between disbelief and something deeper. 

"What...Y/N… what are we doing?" he asked, his voice barely more than a whisper, his fingers still lingering on your skin. The conflict in his eyes was clear, and it sent a pang through your chest. But you didn't care about the doubts racing through his mind. You leaned in again, refusing to let go of this feeling. To remind him how very right this wrong was. The kiss was softer this time, gentler, but just as consuming. You poured everything into it—all the years of longing, the quiet, unspoken feelings, the ache you'd felt every time you saw him with someone else. And for a moment, he gave in, his lips moving against yours like he'd been holding back for years. You could feel him wanting more but then, with a deep sigh, he pulled away once more, his forehead resting against yours as he tried to steady his breathing. "Y/ N... we can't. I can't," he murmured, his voice thick with regret. "I'm sorry. I just..." He muttered. The rejection cut deeper than you expected, the pain raw and immediate. Your eyes burned with fresh tears as you took a shaLay step back, your heart pounding with a mix of heartbreak and anger.  

"Fuck you!" you cried, your voice trembling. It felt like the walls you'd let down were crashing back up, each one harder than before. You turned on your heel, ready to escape before he saw you fall apart completely. But he reached out, his hand grazing your arm, as if he couldn't quite let you go. You recoiled, stepping back, your expression a mix of pain and anger. 

"Wait," he pleaded softly, but you yanked your arm from his grasp, your heart shattering as you disappeared into the crowd, leaving him behind with the lingering taste of regret on his lips. Trent’s heart ached seeing the tears well up in your eyes again.  You turned and ran, pushing your way back through the crowd, your vision blurred with tears. You didn’t care where you were going; you just needed to get away from him, from the humiliation and the heartbreak. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you as you fled, but you didn’t look back. Trent watched you go, his heart sinking into his stomach. He wanted to run after you, to explain, to somehow make it right, but his feet felt like they were glued to the floor. He knew you needed space, needed time to cool off. But as he stood there, the guilt and worry gnawed at him. He had never wanted to hurt you, but in trying to protect you, he feared he had done exactly that. The sounds of the club grew louder around him, but Trent felt miles away, lost in his thoughts. He knew he’d have to find a way to make this right with you, to explain himself, and to make sure you knew how much he cared. But for now, all he could do was watch you disappear into the crowd, your absence leaving a painful ache in his chest. Trent leaned back against the wall, trying to process what had just happened. Some of his teammates who he was out with came over. They were giving him confused looks, clearly curious about the scene they had just witnessed. From their perspective, he had chased after to a a teary-eyed girl, who then kissed him like her life depended on it, and then, just as quickly, pulled away with a broken ‘fuck you.’ They had questions.

“Mate, what was that about?” one of them asked, laughing awkwardly, unsure how to react to the tension still lingering in the air.

“Bro, was that…” Another piled on cautiously, recognizing you. Trent ran his hands over his face, trying to shake off the flood of emotions. He glanced toward the crowd, desperately scanning for you, but you’d disappeared into the sea of people. His chest tightened, and he let out a heavy sigh, feeling the weight of what just happened settle in. He couldn’t explain it, not to them, not in a way that made any sense. 

“Yeah, was Jack’s sister.” He muttered after he took a deep breath, eyes still flicking toward the direction you’d gone. The second those words left his mouth, Trent knew something had shifted inside him. It wasn’t a lie, not really, but it felt bigger than that. It felt like a realization he’d been avoiding for too long. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You were his everything. And the truth of that hit him like a freight train, leaving him standing there, breathless and rattled.

“Fuck, mate. That’s complicated.”  One of his teammates whistled, finally connecting the dots.

“Yeah,” Trent breathed out, his mind racing. It was beyond complicated. Jack was his best friend, and you… you were the girl who had been slowly slipping from childhood crush to something deeper, something dangerous. He shook his head, his thoughts swirling. The way you’d kissed him tonight, the hurt in your eyes, the fire in the way you’d pulled away—it was like everything had boiled over, and Trent had been too slow to catch up. He’d rejected you, not because he didn’t want you, but because he wanted you too much. He couldn’t handle the idea of hurting Jack, of crossing a line that could never be uncrossed. But now, standing there with his teammates still glancing at him for answers, he realized that line had already been blurred for a while. You weren’t just Jack’s sister. You hadn’t been for a long time. And now, Trent wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep pretending otherwise. As the music pulsed around him, Trent felt a shift. He needed to find you, needed to figure out what came next, no matter how messy it got. Because, after tonight, he knew he couldn’t go back to seeing you as just Jack’s little sister. You were more than that. You always had been. 

After leaving Trent behind, you had stumbled back into the chaos of the dance floor, your heart pounding and your emotions a tangled mess. You had felt rejected and humiliated, and in a haze of frustration and alcohol, you made a poor decision. You spotted a man at the bar—a tall, handsome stranger who had been eyeing you all night. Without much thought, you walked up to him and struck up a conversation. His flirty smile and eager compliments were a welcome distraction from the pain you felt. When he suggested you leave together far sooner than appropriate, you didn’t hesitate. You just wanted to forget, to numb the ache in your chest caused by Trent's rejection. You told Layla you felt sick and had needed to leave. She knew it was a farce but she also knew she couldn't stop you. She assumed it was just Josh being an ass she had no idea you had just kissed Trent. She called and called to find you; to leave with you but you just texted saying it was all fine. But as the night unfolded and you found yourself in the stranger's bed, you quickly realized how hollow it all felt. The sex was awkward and unfulfilling, a stark contrast to the passion you had imagined when you thought of Trent. You found yourself comparing the man to Trent in every way—his touch, his movements, the way he spoke to you. Every comparison only made you miss Trent more. You knew deep down that Trent would have been different—gentler or maybe rougher but definitely more attentive, more real. Tears stung your eyes as you lay there, regretting your impulsive decision. This was a low. By the time morning came, you left the stranger's place without a word, feeling emptier than before. You hadn’t heard from Trent since that night. Part of you was relieved, thinking it was better this way—less complicated. But another part of you ached for him, for his presence, for the safety you felt in his arms. 

You’d stumbled in through your front door just after dawn, your steps heavy and uneven, your head pounding with every movement. Jack was already up, a coffee mug in hand, leaning against the kitchen counter with a lazy grin. 

“Rough night?” he joked, his eyes barely glancing up from his phone. “You look like you’ve been through hell.” You tried to muster a response, but all that came out was a soft hum, barely audible over the sound of the coffee machine. Your shoulders slumped as you shuffled over to the fridge, your body moving on autopilot. The sting of tears was still fresh in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall again, not in front of him. Jack finally looked up from his phone, his grin fading when he saw the look on your face. He straightened up, setting his mug down on the counter, his brow furrowing with concern. “Hey, you okay?” he asked, his voice softer now, more serious.  You just hummed again, the sound weak and empty. You didn’t have the energy to explain, didn’t want to get into it with him. Not now. Not after everything that had happened. You could feel his eyes on you, watching you closely, but you kept your gaze fixed on the floor, avoiding his gaze. Jack took a step closer, his concern growing. “You sure?” he pressed gently, sensing something was wrong. “You don’t look so good.” You just shook your head, not trusting yourself to speak. Your throat felt tight, your chest aching with the effort of holding everything in. You needed to get out of there, away from his questions and his worry. You couldn’t deal with it, not now.

“I’m fine,” you finally managed to say, your voice barely more than a whisper. It was a lie, and you knew he could see right through it, but you didn’t care. You needed to be alone, to let yourself fall apart without an audience. Jack watched you, his expression a mix of confusion and concern, but he didn’t push any further. He just nodded, letting you go. He knew you knew he was there if you needed him. 

 “Alright,” he said quietly, stepping back. “But if you need anything...” You nodded, not waiting for him to finish. You turned and headed upstairs, your steps heavy and slow. As soon as you reached your room, you closed the door behind you and sank onto your bed, burying your face in your hands as the tears finally came.  The weight of the night before crashed down on you, and you couldn’t hold back the sobs that tore through your chest. The shame, the regret, the confusion—it was all too much. You’d thought you could handle it, thought you could keep it together, but now, alone in your room, it all felt too heavy to bear. You cried until there were no tears left, your body shaking with the force of your sobs. And when you finally stopped, when the tears finally ran dry, you were left with nothing but the hollow ache in your chest and the haunting memory of Trent’s rejection.

You were absolutely mortified. You had kissed Trent. How could you have done something so reckless? You laid there, staring blankly at the ceiling on Layla’s bed at her place, your mind racing in sheer panic. Every nerve in your body felt on edge, replaying that moment over and over. What was worse was that it never happened before, not even close, but something had come over you—like instinct taking over reason—and now you regretted it. Layla shifted beside you, sensing your turmoil. 

“Come on, it won’t that bad,” she said in an attempt to soften the blow. You groaned, rolling onto your side to face her. 

“No, Lays. I can never, ever see him again.” The words came out in a rush, your voice cracking under the weight of your embarrassment. She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. 

“That’s not true.” She told you. You sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, your breath shaking. 

“It is! I crossed the line. And he… rejected me.” The last part was barely a whisper, like speaking it aloud made the sting of it even worse. You felt your face grow hot, the emotions swelling until they spilled over. The rejection was unbearable, and before you knew it, tears slipped down your cheeks. You tried to laugh it off, wiping at your face. “I’m sorry, I’m just tired,” you said, your voice wavering between a sob and a chuckle. Layla immediately wrapped you in her arms, pulling you close. 

“No, it’s not just tiredness,” she murmured into your hair, holding you tightly. “This sucks. The boy you like just said no. That’s a lot to handle, but we move.” You stayed in her embrace, taking in her warmth, but her words only made your heart ache more.

“I’m not even sure if I just like him,” you admitted, voice small and hollow as you pulled away slightly to look at her. Layla’s face twisted in confusion. 

“What?” she asked, blinking, and then a knowing look crossed her face as she softened. “Oh no. Babe…” You swallowed hard, blinking back more tears. 

“I mean, I do… but it’s more complicated than that. It’s not just like.” The weight of the word hung in the air between you both, unspoken but understood.

“You love him,” Layla said quietly with a frown she couldn’t control, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “But maybe right now, the feeling of love is for your friend.” She paused, her eyes full of sympathy. “You don’t need to hurt yourself imagining anything more, okay? Not right now.” You bit your lip and nodded, the tears still threatening to spill over. You were exhausted, heartbroken, confused.  You knew you loved Trent as Jack's best friend, as a friend of your own but you had never had an intimate relationship to say you loved him any deeper than that. The thought of those feelings right now though were making you sick.

“But what if I can’t face him? What if it’s too awkward?” Layla shook her head and gave you a reassuring squeeze. 

“You’ll bounce back. Trent’s nice. He’s not going to make fun of you for this or make it weird. You two have been friends for too long for that.” But deep down, you couldn’t shake the sting of rejection. Maybe Layla was right—Trent wouldn’t make fun of you, but things weren’t the same anymore. Not after this.

When Jack invited Trent along with all the other boys over for a movie night a few days later, Trent was hesitant. He knew you might be home, and he wasn’t sure how you’d feel seeing him. But Jack was his best friend, and Trent figured maybe it was time to face the music. As Trent walked up to Jack’s front door, his nerves were on edge. He took a deep breath and knocked, his mind racing with what he might say if you were there. The door swung open, and Jack greeted him with a grin, pulling him into a quick hug.

“All good, mate?” Jack said, stepping aside to let Trent in. But Trent only hummed. He managed a smile, following Jack inside. He glanced around the living room, half-expecting to see you curled up on the couch. But the room was empty. “Y/N’s out,” Jack said casually, noticing Trent’s quick survey of the room. “I think she’s been a bit off lately. Haven’t seen much of her.” Trent nodded, trying to hide his relief that you weren’t home but sadness Jack noticed things were off.. 

“Yeah, I haven’t seen her either,” he replied, his voice steady despite the churn in his stomach. Jack grabbed a bottle of water and handed one to Trent.

“She seemed pretty fucked up when she came back from a night out but didn’t tell me much, though.” Trent took a long sip of his water, not sure how to respond.  Jack and Trent were sitting in silence on their phones only best friends could sit in whilst waiting in the kitchen for the other boys to show up. Trent kept glancing toward the hallway, waiting for the moment you would come home. He wanted to see you, to talk to you, to somehow make things right. But as the minutes ticked by and there was no sign of you, a sense of unease settled in his chest. The sound of a key turning in the front door caught Trent’s attention. He tensed, his heart quickening as he heard the door open and close. A few seconds later, you appeared strutting through the house, your face mildly flushed from the summer heat outside. You froze when you saw Trent sitting there, your expression shifting from surprise to something unreadable. 

“Hey,” you said quietly, your voice tight.

“Hey,” Trent replied, his eyes locked on you.  Jack, sensing the tension, cleared his throat. 

“Hey, Y/N. Weird vibe but erm.. Lads are watching Shawshank tonight. Want to join?” He asked, trying to lessen whatever awkwardness just flooded the room. You shook your head, avoiding Trent’s gaze. 

“No, thanks. I’m just going to head to my room.” Jack looked between the two of you, frowning slightly. 

“You sure? You haven’t been out here much lately.” He cooed gently. 

“I’m sure,” you smiled sympathetically at your older brother. You appreciated him caring but this was far from something he could help with. You turned and disappeared down the hallway without another word. Trent watched you go, the weight of your unfinished business hanging heavy in the air. He knew he needed to talk to you, to explain himself, but he wasn’t sure if you’d even listen. For now, all he could do was sit and wait, hoping for a chance to make things right.

You had spent the last few days trying to keep yourself busy, but no matter what you did, you couldn’t get Trent out of your mind. Trent, on the other hand, was torn between worry and respect for your space. He had tried to find you that night at the club, but it was like you had vanished into thin air. He didn’t want to push you, especially after how things had ended between you. Still, the thought of your hurt and alone gnawed at him. Trent thought about that kiss everyday and how much withstraint he was having to practice. He wanted to rip your clothes off, he had to stop his hands' magnetic pull to grab your ass. It was a typical movie night—Jack had all the boys over for another film. They’d yell through the whole thing and gossip in a way they’d claim only girls did. You knew the drill by now, but tonight felt different. You hadn’t seen Trent since that moment, the kiss that had turned everything upside down. You tried to ignore how awkward things were between you and trent but you were dying of thirst and you weren’t sure if dying of embarrassment of dehydration would be worse, You settled on dehydration so you moved quickly through the house, attempting to avoid where all the boys were, but Trent wasn’t going to let it go. He heard you try to sneak into the kitchen.

“Y/N,” he called out quietly, coming into the room behind you and taking a few steps toward you. You froze, your back to him, the tension thick in the air. You could hear Jack in the cinema complaining about something, completely oblivious you’d hoped. You weren’t ready for this, not now, not when your emotions were so raw.

“Please, I don’t want to talk to you,” you said firmly, your voice low, trying to keep the emotion out of it.

“Y/N, come on… just give me a minute,” he persisted, his voice filled with a quiet plea.You whipped around, eyes already welling up. 

“Trent, I really don’t want to talk to you,” you snapped, trying to hold your composure. “Frankly, I’m having a hard time even just seeing you right now, so please,” you begged, your voice cracking under the weight of it all. You could feel your chest tightening, the tears threatening to spill. His face softened, but he didn’t move.

“I just want to talk. Please,” he said, sounding desperate now, like he was grasping at straws. But you couldn’t do this. Not here. Not with Jack just a few rooms away. You shook your head, blinking back tears, but one escaped anyway. 

“I don’t want to talk,” you choked out, your voice shaLay, as the tears began to build along your lash line. Trent stood there, helpless. His hands flexed at his sides like he didn’t know what to do, caught between wanting to comfort you and knowing that he couldn’t—not here, not now. You could see the frustration and guilt etched on his face, but it didn’t matter. You didn’t have the energy to deal with this.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice laced with regret. But you just shook your head again and walked out of the room, leaving him standing there, stuck in the mess that neither of you had any idea how to clean up. And the worst part was, Jack was still there—completely unaware of the storm brewing between you two, his heart left open to wounded arguably as much as yours if you couldn’t sort this.

Trent thought about that drunk, tearful kiss at the club every single day. It replayed in his mind over and over, the taste of it, the way your lips had trembled against his, the way your hands had gripped onto him like he was the only thing anchoring you. He hadn't even expected it—had been caught off guard by how much he wanted it too. But then, the reality had hit him hard. The restraint he had to practice afterward felt like torture. It felt like trying to fight a g force the way his hands moved on your body. He wanted to rip your clothes off that night, to give in to the magnetic pull that constantly drew him to you. But he couldn't. Not like that. Not when you were drunk and emotional. Not when it could ruin everything. Now, the moment haunted him, and he was stuck in the limbo of not knowing what to do next. What if you regretted it? What if that kiss had meant something completely different to you than it did to him? And what scared him the most-what kept him up at night-was the realization that he didn't just want the kiss. He wanted more than that. He wanted you in a way that wasn't just about desire or physical attraction. He wanted to be the one who made you smile, who you leaned on, who you could trust with all the messy bits of life. But what if he'd already blown his chance? What if that kiss had been the beginning of the end rather than the start of something more? 

This tension carried on for days. Neither you or Trent making any further attempts at sorting it. Trent sat at a restaurant with Jack and Noah one night, completely lost in his own thoughts. His fork hovered above his plate, food untouched, as he stared blankly at the table. Jack, noticing how quiet he’d been, shot Noah a look. They’d been trying to get him to open up all night, but nothing was working.

“Mate, seriously, what’s going on?” Jack finally asked, setting down his drink. “You’ve barely said two words.”

“Yeah, you’ve been in your own head all night. Go on.” Noah chimed in. Trent talked nonstop all the time so this was very out of character and it’d been going on for over a week. Trent shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He wasn’t sure if this was something he should even bring up, especially not with Jack sitting right there. But the weight of what happened between him and you had been pressing down on him for days, and he couldn’t keep it to himself anymore. He ran a hand over his hair, debating how to word it without setting off alarm bells.

“Have you ever…” he began slowly, his voice low, “turned down a girl and then immediately regretted it?” He sheepishly asked his eyes, flicking to both boys trying to gauge their responses. 

“Nah, mate. If I turn her down, it’s for a reason.” Noah, always the confident one, scoffed.

“Yeah, once or twice. Why?” But Jack, ever the romantic, leaned back in his chair with a thoughtful nod. Trent’s eyes flickered between them, his stomach churning as he chose his next words carefully. He had to be vague, had to make sure Jack wouldn’t catch on.

“There’s this girl…” he started. He hesitated, feeling the weight of his own words. “She kissed me, but she was drunk, so I pushed her away. Now she’s pissed, and she won’t talk to me.” Trent hesitantly explained. Trent wasn’t normally shy talking about women so this whole thing was very confusing for his friends.

“So why did you turn her down if you’re this worked up about it?” Noah’s brow furrowed.

“Because she was drunk!” Trent said, frustration lacing his voice. He looked down at the table, unable to meet their eyes. “I didn’t want it to be like that.” Jack shrugged, clearly puzzled. 

“That’s more than valid, mate. If she was drunk, you did the right thing. Why wouldn’t she understand that?” Trent groaned inwardly, knowing he couldn’t explain the real reason behind his frustration without giving too much away. The truth was, he didn’t want just a drunken kiss. He wanted more than that—something real, something that wasn’t just swept under the rug as a mistake.

“It’s complicated,” he muttered, his voice trailing off. Noah, always the one to push for action, smirked.

 “Next time you see her, just go for it. Easy.” He looked at Trent like he had solved his issue no problem. Trent couldn’t help but laugh at the simplicity of Noah’s solution. If only it were that easy. He wasn’t just dealing with any girl—this was you, Jack’s sister. It wasn’t something he could just ‘go for’ without thinking about the consequences. Jack, who had been listening quietly, leaned forward with a more serious expression. 

“Mate, just talk to her. Tell her you actually care about her and that you want it to be something she remembers, not something that happened when she was drunk. Simple as.” Trent’s heart sank. Jack had unknowingly hit the nail on the head. That’s exactly what he wanted to say to you, but how could he? How could he tell you that he cared about you—really cared about you—when Jack was right there, completely unaware of the storm brewing between the two of you? He tried to keep his expression neutral as Jack gave advice, but guilt gnawed at him. He was about to take his best mate’s advice and use it to get closer to his little sister. The irony wasn’t lost on him, and it made his stomach twist. But he couldn’t keep running from the situation. He had to talk to you, had to tell you how he felt before it drove him insane. Noah, oblivious to the deeper layers of the situation, laughed and gave Trent a light punch on the arm. 

“Yeah, man. What’s the worst that could happen? You talk, she listens, and you two figure it out, I imagine she’s leng.. Get her in bed. Done.” Noah quipped and Trent’s guilt worsened. He forced a chuckle, but his mind was already elsewhere. What was the worst that could happen? Jack could find out. He could lose his best friend. You could reject him, or worse—tell him that kiss was nothing more than a drunken mistake. The thought made his chest tighten. But Noah’s lightheartedness didn’t calm Trent’s nerves. Jack’s advice, however, echoed in his mind—talk to her, tell her how you feel. Trent knew it was the right move, but the fear of rejection, of ruining everything, loomed over him like a dark cloud. As they finished dinner and paid the bill, Trent’s thoughts were already on what was coming next. He was heading to your house after this. You’d be there. Jack would be there. And somehow, amidst it all, he had to figure out how to have that conversation. As they walked to the cars, Jack patted Trent on the back. 

“You’ll be alright, mate. Just don’t overthink it.” Trent forced a smile, but his mind was racing. He couldn’t shake the anxiety bubbling inside him. Jack’s words rang in his ears, and he knew he had to take the advice, but how? As Trent drove to your house, the weight of everything pressed down on him. He was about to walk into a house where everything could change in a matter of minutes. He wanted more than a kiss, more than just a fleeting moment—but what if you didn’t? What if that kiss had meant nothing to you? You only said you didn’t want to see him… were you just mad. He couldn’t tell.  Pulling into the driveway, he took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come. He had to talk to you. He had to try, even if it scared him to death

Trent awkwardly made his way into the living room, his heart pounding as he spotted you already seated on the couch, a blanket wrapped around you. You looked adorable and it made him sadder. You were curled up in the corner, your eyes glued to the TV, but he could tell from the stiffness in your posture that you were aware of his presence. The soft glow from the screen cast a flickering light over your face, highlighting the tension in your jaw and the way your lips were pressed into a thin line. He hesitated for a moment, unsure if he should sit down. But with a deep breath, he took a seat next to you, careful to leave a respectful gap between you. The silence between you was thick, almost tangible, and he could feel the awkwardness settling over you like a heavy blanket. 

“Hey,” he said softly, glancing at her from the corner of his eye. You barely acknowledged him, giving a short nod without looking away from the TV. 

“Hey,” you replied curtly, your tone clipped. Trent’s heart sank a little at your cold reception. Never in his life had you greeted him like this and it was starting to eat at him but he couldn’t blame you. He knew he’d hurt you that night, and he was ready to face the consequences. He could imagine what he would feel like if you said no to him. Still, the distance between you now felt like a chasm, one he was desperate to cross. He kept his eyes on the screen, pretending to be engrossed in the show, but he was acutely aware of every small movement you made—the way you shifted slightly, the soft sound of your breath, the way your fingers fidgeted with the edge of the blanket. He wanted to say something, anything to bridge the gap, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. Minutes passed in silence, the tension between you unyielding. Trent’s mind raced with what he could say or do to make things right. He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to overstep, but he also didn’t want to let this moment slip away without trying. Finally, gathering his courage, he reached out and gently placed his hand on your leg, just above your knee. It was a tentative touch, his fingers light and hesitant, but it was enough to make you stiffen slightly under his hand. You glanced down at his hand, then up at him, your eyes wide with surprise.

“Y/N,” he began, his voice soft but steady. “I didn’t mean to upset you that night.” He cooed gently. Your gaze remained on his hand for a moment longer before you sighed, your shoulders relaxing a fraction. 

“I’m sorry,” you said quietly, your voice barely above a whisper. “For… trying to kiss you. I was drunk and— Clearly that’s not something you want and I get that…” You earnestly and awkwardly were trying to apologize but Trent couldn’t help but chuckle softly, interrupting you. 

“You honestly think I didn’t want to kiss you back?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his tone. He kept his eyes on the TV, a coy smile tugging at his lips.  “Trust me, Y/N, it took everything in me to stop.” You looked at him, a flicker of confusion mixed with curiosity in your eyes. 

“Then why did you?” you asked, your voice softer now, almost vulnerable. Trent’s smile faded slightly as he turned to meet your gaze. 

“Because you were upset and not in a good place. I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you, especially after what that asshole did to you.” You flinched at the mention of Josh, the hurt from his cruel words still fresh in your mind. You looked away, your eyes downcast. 

“He… he said some awful things. It wasn’t great,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. Trent’s grip on you tightened just a fraction, his touch becoming more reassuring. You sat there, your heart pounding as Trent's words hung in the air. He'd never spoken to you like that-direct, unfiltered, like he'd been holding back for too long. The way he placed his hand on your thigh, his fingers pressing just enough to make you aware of every inch of contact, sent a spark straight through you. Your mind raced to keep up, to make sense of what was happening, but he was already pushing forward, his tone low, serious, like he needed you to understand.

"That kid's a fucking idiot for losing you," he said, his voice tight, almost angry. "Saying whatever he could to make you feel small... he doesn't know shit about you, and you know that. Right?" You nodded slowly, words caught in your throat. It was true-you did know, somewhere deep down. But hearing it from Trent felt different, grounding, and it made the sting of your ex's words fade, bit by bit. Trent's hand stayed warm on your thigh, a quiet promise in the small gesture. You glanced up at him, your eyes searching his face. You could see the sincerity in his expression, the way his brow furrowed slightly with concern. 

“You really think that?” You asked quietly, your voice tinged with disbelief. Trent nodded, a small, earnest smile playing on his lips. 

“I know that. You’re smart, occasionally  funny,” he teased with a glint in his eyes and your lips curled,  “you’re the sweetest girl I know, and—” he hesitated for a moment, his cheeks flushing slightly, “—gorgeous. You’re fucking gorgeous. Anyone who can’t see that is a fucking donut.” He kept his eyes on the TV, trying to play it cool, trying to be nonchalant in case anyone else happened to come into the room but he could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He risked a quick glance at you and saw a soft smile slowly spreading across your face. The sight of it made his own heart lighten, the tension between you beginning to ease.

"Trent.." you started, wanting to say something, anything, but he shook his head slightly, a glimmer of intensity in his eyes.

"You're beautiful," he interrupted, each word sounding heavier than the last. It was like he'd been carrying them around, waiting for the right moment to let them out. You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of nerves and thrill rushing through you as his gaze stayed locked on yours. He leaned closer, lowering his voice so it’d be impossible for anyone else to hear, his hand firm on your thigh. "And just so you know... that's not the way you get bruises. Never again. I'll fucking kill him if he ever comes near you." His eyes were dark, protective in a way that felt both comforting and incredibly dangerous. Then, in the midst of the tension, he smirked, the intensity softening into something else, something teasing. "The only bruises you ever get are from not being bored in the bedroom. Yeah?” Your breath caught, your face flushing as his words registered. You recalled telling when you split with Josh citing boredom in the bedroom as a problem but you were surprised he remembered that. Surprised he just said that to you. Before you could respond, he gave you a wink, that same smirk lingering as he stood up and walked away, leaving you stunned, heart racing, and desperate for him to come back.

You laid in your bed later that night, staring up at the ceiling, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts about Trent. You could hear the low rumble of laughter drifting up from downstairs where Jack, Trent, and their friends were still hanging out. But your thoughts were miles away, lost in memories of Trent and all the moments you’d shared over the years. You closed your eyes and let the images flood your mind. The way he’d smile at you from across a room, a mischievous glint in his eyes, or the way he always seemed to find a reason to touch you—a hand on your shoulder, a playful nudge, his arm brushing against yours when they sat close. You thought about all the times he’d said sweet things to you, little compliments and comments that you’d always brushed off as friendly banter. You tried your entire life not to take the pet name ‘pretty girl’ too seriously, you always thought maybe he said that to every girl but now it felt personal and just for you. Was he talking about bruises in the bedroom in a sexual way, yeah 100% but did he mean that he would give them to you? Leave love bites on you? Your mind was racing.  But, lying there in the dark, you couldn’t help but wonder if there had been more to it. Your heart fluttered as you recalled the feel of his hand on your leg earlier tonight, the warmth of his touch and the firm yet gentle way he’d reassured you. You shivered, a pleasant tingle running through you as you thought of all the times his hands had been on you, even in the most innocent of ways. His touch always left a lingering warmth, a sensation that seemed to seep under your skin and settle deep within you, leaving you longing for more. You bit your lip, a wave of desire washing over you. In your longing haze, you wondered if maybe you’d been missing something all along. Had Trent been flirting with you all these years, in his subtle, teasing way but in all seriousness, did he want something? Was there something real to your relationship that you hadn’t let yourself see? Was it more than teasing? The thought sent a thrill through you, a mixture of excitement and nervous anticipation. Your fingers itched to reach for your phone, and before you could second-guess yourself, you grabbed it from your bedside table. You couldn’t shake what he said to you, Trent had made it clear-it wasn't that he wasn't interested. Now, you were ready to take the risk, fully aware that all the boys were together. It was dangerous, maybe even reckless, but that only made it more exhilarating. They were watching a movie in the cinema room, the lights dimmed, everyone absorbed in whatever action scene was playing on the screen. You were upstairs in bed, restless and buzzing with anticipation. You flipped your phone camera to 0.5 to catch yourself at a high angle, tits prominently displayed in your thin bralette, the flash making your nipples obviously visible. You typed out a message, your fingers moving faster than your brain could catch up.

"Is this the appropriate place to get those bruises you were talking about?"

You pressed send, heart pounding in your chest. The silence afterward was deafening as you waited for a response. It was insane you just did this, but you couldn't back out now. A part of you wished you could retract it but there it was… ‘read.’ Trent opened the message, his heart skipping a beat. He blinked, unsure if he'd seen it right, unsure if you had actually sent it. This was the first time you'd ever texted him directly. Sure, you'd always been in the group chats-always flirty in your usual playful way-but nothing like this. The last personal message you'd sent was your order for a takeaway months ago, and before that, it had been something for your birthday and then passport details for a trip that seemed forever ago. A trip you weren’t sure why you were invited on to begin with but it was one where you'd teetered on the edge of something more with him but never quite tipped over. Now you had pushed things over that fragile edge with a stupid text. There was a reason for the limited texts though, because you knew it’d lead to something just like this. Trent swallowed hard, his eyes fixed on the image, the words beneath it repeating in his head. He couldn't let the boys see this but he also didn’t want to look away. He couldn’t… but he had to.

Quickly, he swiped out of the message, his phone burning hot in his hand. He shoved the phone into his lap, screen down, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the visual of you barely in that bralette. He felt a slow, stupid grin spread across his face despite his best efforts. His heart was racing, and he could feel the tension building inside him. He knew things were spiraling. He'd always told himself this was a line he couldn't cross, but now? Now, it felt inevitable. Trent moved, his thumb hovered over his phone. He dimmed the screen, adjusted his seat in the chair, trying to play it cool making sure the other boys were none the wiser. His mind was racing, wondering if this was you really finally putting your hat in the ring. And god, if it was... there was no way he could say no. Now, all that was left was his response. Trent took his time responding, trying to be as calculated as possible. You stared at the screen, your breath catching in your throat as you waited for his response. The dots appeared then disappeared only to reappear, showing he was typing back, and your heart leaped into your throat. What was he going to say? Had you gone too far? You felt a rush of adrenaline mixed with a hint of fear. But underneath it all was a simmering excitement you couldn’t deny. You could practically feel the tension building in the air around you. Finally, your phone buzzed with a new message, and you hesitated before opening it, your pulse racing…

•

Thank you for reading! Please like, comment, or message what you think of the chapter or of what's to come!

Next part - Chapter 3 - Crossed A Few Lines xx

[devotioncrater]

"no hints were dropped" ok not to be that person but here are the hints that were dropped regarding Colin and Trent being gay:

1. Colin mentioning Grindr in a joke

2. Trent touching the arm of a man in the background

Here is one of the hints that Keeley was bi (even though I do believe she's been canonically bi since season 1, but not everyone sees it this way)

1. Her desktop background was in the colors of the bisexual flag

Here were some of the hints that Ted was bi:

1. Bisexual flag colored triangles above his head in the hallucination sequence

2. Inverted pink triangle next to him in that same sequence (and you can't tell me the creators didn't know, when the Homomonument is based on that symbol)

3. Countless (countless!!!) comments about men's physiques ("huge muscular thighs all caked in mud", whistling at a picture of Pep, "look at that head of hair", "he's strong", "he looks like a Rodin sculpture in cleats", etc.)

4. About a man (Higgins) and a woman (Rebecca), he had to say: "that's a crowd I don't mind being smack-dab in the middle of"

5. Him checking Trent out in the pub in 2x07 (his eyes are up there, Ted!)

6. "It could go either way", "I contain multitudes" and other comments in this vein

7. Bi lighting as he entered the Yankee Doodle Burger Barn

8. Giving similar looks to the female waitress and the male waiters in that restaurant (including a waiter in a cowboy costume that looked like he belonged in a gay club, who tipped his hat at Ted when greeting him)

9. "That's cause you were put into a box", "That box ceases to exist today", the box in the hallucination sequence breaking into triangles (as in the bi triangles and the inverted pink triangke), "we've been playing too rigid", "our guys need freedom", "fast, fluid, free, with full support", the "box that one needs to break out of" being a prominent motif in season 3

10. Wishing Beard called him pet names ("Honey, is that an ingredient or something you just called me?")

11. His crush on Pep

12. The connection between Ted and Colin: "my whole life is two lives, really", both wearing orange in Sunflowers, "I just want to kiss my fella" (Colin doesn't say "fella" , but Ted says it all the time), Ted just needs to get inspired and Colin's play is "inspirational" after he comes out, as per the commentators

And so much other stuff that, had Ted not self-identified as straight (*cough* put himself into a box *cough cough*) , you could make the case that he was canonically bi.

Here are some of hints that there was a romantic connection between Ted and Trent:

1. They hit a lot of romantic beats, and not in the jokey self-aware way in which Roy and Ted hit them in "Rainbow", but in an organic and sincere way

2. They both checked each other out: Trent checked Ted out when Ted was changing in front of him, Ted checked Trent out when Trent came up to him in a pub and hit him with a pick-up line while his date that looked a lot like Ted waited for him outside

3. Did I mention that Trent was on a date with a moustachioed man who dressed in a similar style to Ted? Let's mention it again

4. In that very bar, during a 50 second long conversation, Trent managed to say the word "love" three times. I searched the word "love" in the transcripts of the episodes. There's no other instance in which its frequency is this high

5. "Love our chats" incomplete rule of threes

6. "Sport, it's quite the metaphor" (implied: a metaphor for love; see also "love's a beautiful game" from the song Ed Sheeran wrote for Ted Lasso), "Also makes for a heck of a nickname", "Good night, Ted", "Good night, sport"

7. The soft, romantic, melancholic song playing in the background of this scene, while Ted and Trent are the last ones left in the office, with lyrics such as "When your words begin to crumble like the sidewalks all around this crummy neighborhood / From the chalky cliffs of Dover / I'd come over, I'd start over if I could"

8. Trent wearing sunflower colors in the episode "Sunflowers" and in the finale; sunflowers symbolize Ted's home (it's not subtle). He's the only character dressed like that. I'm still looking for any other explanation other than "Trent is Ted's home"

9. Their constant flirting and the way they look at each other with incredible fondness

10. The entire episode "The Strings That Bind Us". It's structured around Ted and Trent's relationship, and the way Trent changed because of Ted (in season 2, Ted defined a soulmate as someone who changes your life forever). The red string metaphor. Ted points out that soulmates are connected by a string tied to their little fingers. Ted and Trent both extend their little fingers out in similar shots. They are connected by a huge block of red in their last scene of the episode. Ted makes several comments about other men that apply to Trent ("Look at that head of hair", "Frames his face nicely", "My favorite one, he was clean shaven"). Many more details that lead back to Ted and Trent: Nate tells the restaurant owner to tell Jade he said "Hello". Immediately after, Ted and Trent say "Hello" to each other. The map that Nate's father used to ask out his mom has the number 1.3 written on it and an illustration of two people at a table in a restaurant. Ted and Trent went to a restaurant together in season 1, episode 3. The last scene of the episode mimics a "Race for Love" scene from a romcom, with Trent chasing after Ted. Trent also does not say a word to anyone other than Ted in the entire episode. He is completely focused on Ted

11. "Trent, what do you love? Is it writing?" and Trent ends up writing a book about Ted and naming the manuscript after Ted and he only cares about Ted's opinion on it (he leaves the room when Beard starts reading, but stays in the office after hours just to watch Ted read. "I just wanted you to like it.")

11. Trent's crush on Ted, confirmed by Jimmy Lance (and also obvious in the show, if you ask me)

Now, why would I believe that none of these hints were intentional? Maybe some could be explained away, but all of them? The hints we got for Colin, Trent and Keeley were so much smaller than this, and those turned out to be intentional.

anon i wish i could offer you the response you deserve, but i cannot stop rereading this masterpiece & focusing on the portions of evidence you provided that i didn't even pick up on until you laid them out. holy shit

[trentsgirl]

— 🤍 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ (1.5K)

⟡ summary: trent has been your best friend since childhood, always doing everything together. however, he secretly fell for you, and you did as well. when trent finally mustered the courage to confess his feelings, it wasn’t the outcome he’d expected.

⟡ content: angst, fluff, tiny mention of domestic violence, insecurities, reader is insecure and self sabotages, first half is pure angst, he fell first and harder, confessions, kissing, reader rejects trent.

⟡ notes: thank you so much for the request. and part two would be released in a bit, couldn’t leave y’all hanging like my last fanfic. 😭

⟡ streaming: fallingforyou by the 1975.

⟡ masterlist, request, request.

“he’s done it again, hasn’t he?” trent inquired when he discovered you in his doorstep, bawling your eyes out.

throughout the years, he had witnessed countless partners enter and exit your life, inflicting both physical and emotional pain. as your best friend, trent had been there by your side through it all.

he observed you waste your life, pursuing men who didn’t have an once of regard for you.

he loathed it.

he couldn’t comprehend why you never seemed to notice him. he had always been there for you, ready to lend a listening ear and provide support. unlike those men you encountered on random dating apps, he never let you down.

if only you had looked his way, it would have been a straightforward case of unrequited love.

“let it out, sweetheart. cry all want,” trent whispered, his voice barely audible, as the two of you sat on his couch.

you held him so tightly that it became difficult for him to breathe.

nevertheless, he didn’t mind. he cherished the fact that despite the countless men who had caused you harm, you still sought solace in him and placed immense trust in him.

you sobbed, your face buried in trent’s chest. he continued to plant gentle kisses on your hair, providing solace despite the discomfort of remaining in the same position.

after what felt like hours, the tears finally stopped as you couldn’t get anymore out.

trent’s fingers stroked your hair as you calmed down and pulled away from his chest, your eyes red and swollen.

“i’ve ruined your shirt,” you sniffled, glancing at the tear stains on his clothing.

trent shook his head, looking at you affectionately, his shirt being the last thing on his mind. his sole focus was on your well-being.

“don’t worry about it,” he reassured, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear, a gesture that felt intimate more than it should be. “feeling better now? would you like me to make you some tea?”

trent’s voice resonated with a tender and charming tone that never failed to make you feel like the only woman he’s ever had eyes for, even though you doubted it was truly the case.

despite your love for him, you were well aware that he would never reciprocate those feelings as he simply deserved someone better, as you claimed.

“yes, please,” you nodded with a subtle smile, sniffling.

“you still got the cinnamon flavor one?” you asked with a sweet tone, causing trent’s heart to melt at the sound of your voice. and not to mention the look in your eyes, filled with both a plea and a dazzling allure.

trent always made sure to have a variety of tea flavors in his kitchen cabinet because he knew how much you loved tea. whenever you introduced him to a new favorite flavor, he would add it to his collection.

after giving you another kiss on the forehead, trent released his hold on you and got up from the couch. “of course. i’ll be right back,” he said and disappeared into the kitchen.

as trent brewed your tea, he contemplated whether this moment was opportune to finally confess his feelings that he had harbored for you all these years.

however, upon further reflection, he acknowledged that the outcome may not align with his desires. he was aware that you had recently ended a relationship and were in a vulnerable state, making it unfair to burden you with his feelings at this time.

a few minutes later, trent returned and placed a cup of tea on the table in front of you.

“it’s still hot, so give it a few minutes,” he informed, taking you into his arms once again and wrapping one arm around your shoulder. he sought your touch as much as you did his.

“thank you,” you whispered quietly, trying to hold back a sob, but it managed to escape. trent’s caring actions alone brought out all your emotions again.

trent gently stroked your hair, trying to comfort you. “hey, it’s okay. no need to cry anymore. he won’t hurt you again.”

you gently shook your head, your voice trembling as you spoke, “no, it’s not about him.” you were well aware that your ex could no longer inflict any harm upon you, not with trent right by your side.

“i’m just grateful to have you in my life and i don’t think i’ll ever come across someone like you, who truly sees me for who i am.”

trent was deeply moved by your words, to say the least. before he could respond, you continued expressing your thoughts.

“i mean... all guys ever seem to want is sex, and it’s exhausting,” you vented with a hint of frustration in your voice. “it’s just so scary that there’s no guarantee i’ll ever be loved.”

trent, who has loved you since childhood, leaned in closer, his comforting brown eyes meeting yours. “but you are loved,” he reassured, his voice a soothing balm to your fears. “you have your family, your friends...”

although his voice remained calm and soothing, a fire ignited within him for all the men who had caused you pain, who had made you believe that you were not enough.

“but not by the person i want,” your voice cracked, "in the way i want to be loved. fiercely. passionately. a love that makes me feel like the only woman in his universe.”

trent’s hand delicately brushed against yours, a silent gesture that sent a thrill through your body. his usually serene eyes flickered with an indiscernible emotion.

starting to speak, only to hesitate and close his mouth, as if carefully weighing his words to preserve the bond of your friendship.

he understood that confessing his feelings now would be a mistake, jeopardizing the relationship you had.

however, he couldn’t suppress his desire, his need for you to comprehend that there was someone in this world who loved and truly saw you for who you are.

“i…” trent started, his voice trailing off as he glanced down at your intertwined hands.

a weighty silence enveloped the air, pregnant with unexpressed emotions.

finally, he lifted his gaze, his eyes bearing a raw expression. “i love you, y/n.” he confessed.

your breath caught in your throat. the world suddenly felt askew, your heart fluttering like a trapped hummingbird within the confines of your ribcage.

had you heard him correctly? could this just be a cruel trick?

trent’s voice quivered with emotion as he confirmed, “i’ve always loved you,” his words faltered, “with every sunrise, every shared joke, every tear you shed, my love for you grew, silently and steadily. you are the only woman in my entire universe, y/n.”

tears welled up in your eyes. the ache in your chest transformed into a blossoming warmth.

you hadn’t been that oblivious… right?

the signs had been there, woven into the tapestry of your years together - the lingering touches, the inside jokes, the way your laughter harmonized.

however, instead of embracing his love and listening to your head as you should have done, you hesitated and withdrew, a tempest of doubts swirling within you.

no matter how much you loved and desired trent, your insecurities seemed to overpower your emotions. comparing yourself to the beautiful girls that always surrounded him and sought his attention, you never considered yourself one of them.

in your mind, he deserved someone like those models, someone who could effortlessly complement him.

not you, the girl who was always overshadowed whenever a group of guys flirted with your friends.

not you, the girl who constantly looked for validation from other men, only to be met with disrespect.

not you, the girl who remained in abusive relationships because all you wanted was to be loved, even if it meant enduring pain in the process.

“trent,” you whispered, your voice choked, “i’m so sorry, but it’s not a good idea for us to be in a relationship.”

his world splintered, the once-familiar sofa beneath him feeling treacherous. “not a good idea?” he managed to choke out, disbelief etching lines on his forehead.

“we’ve known each other our entire lives. we’ve shared everything, supported one another, and been there through thick and thin. you can’t say you haven’t something for me. you just can't.”

trent struggled to contain his frustration. he longed to yell, to shake some sense into you, and make you realize that he was the perfect man for you.

however, your own insecurities were overshadowing everything else.

you shut your eyes, hot tears streaming down your cheeks like glistening trails. “it’s not that simple, trent,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

a deep divide formed between the two of you, the weight of his shattered hopes lingering in the air. the silence stretched, disrupted only by the rustle of wind coming from outside and the frantic pounding of his heart.

finally, trent, his voice strained with anguish, nodded. “alright, i understand.”

rather than a genuine understanding, it was an acceptance tinged with resignation.

he comprehended your rejection and your need for an invisible boundary between your friendship and the confession he had just made. he understood that pushing further would not dismantle the wall, but rather deepen the divide between you.

you tentatively reached out, your touch questioning and uncertain, seeking connection. however, he couldn’t bring himself to meet your gaze, fearing the reflection of his shattered hopes in your eyes.

trent withdrew his hand cautiously.

despite your intense longing to stay and pour out all the love you have harbored for trent over the years, the words remained trapped within you, unable to escape.

it felt as though a heavy ball had lodged itself in your throat, rendering you unable to speak the truth.

“i’m truly sorry, trent.” you whispered, rising from the couch and leaving his home.

trent patiently waited until he heard the front door open and close before allowing his tears to flow. he couldn’t believe it had come to this.

he had officially lost you.

[castingspellsanddaisies]

Tarot Readings Masterlist

UPCOMING READINGS - click here <3

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[howardhawkshollywood]

Raymond Griffith in a white tie in a publicity still for Trent's Last Case (1929). Ray was born in Boston and had 74 acting credits from seven 1915 shorts to an uncredited bit in All Quiet on the Western Front (1930).

[jenniferjareauwife]

Would you maybe write something in the cowgirl au about something about the guy from the bar coming up again in reader’s life and she tries to hide it from JJ but is so upset and can’t?

Officer Davis

pairing: jennifer jareau x cowgirl fem reader

category: hurt/comfort

warnings: rape

word count: 1088

summary: your rapist comes up in your life again and jj comforts you

I flopped down on the hotel bed, happy to visit Texas. JJ was here for a case and I decided to tag along so I could visit my hometown.

I lifted my head off the pillow as my phone rang. I grabbed it from the nightstand and answered the call. "Hey baby." I heard JJ's sweet voice and my heart fluttered.

"Hi."

"I'm gonna go down to the police station. I've heard you might know a few of the guys." I could hear her smile through the phone.

"Tell me their names and I might be able to give you a few pointers."

"We've got...David Stafford."

"I went to high school with him. He's a cool dude. I didn't know he was a police officer now. He's really into football. He's gay though. So you shouldn't get hit on by him"

"Thank God. Trent Porter?"

"No. Never heard of him."

"Ok last guy...Brady Davis?" My heart stopped as my blood went cold. "Y/n?"

"No I uh...I don't know him."

"Ok." I knew she could tell I was lying but didn't want to press. "I'll be back in a few hours. Text me if you need anything, ok? I love you."

"Love you too." I hung up and pulled my knees to my chest, my brain felt loud but quiet at the same time. It was him. From the bar. The guy who raped me. How did he even become a police officer? Someone like him was supposed to be protecting the citizens? How fucked up was the system here?

I had no idea how much time had passed but I had just sat there in bed, alone with my thoughts until the hotel door opened. "Hey babe. I brought back some Panera." She handed me a bowl of mac n cheese, leaning over to kiss my cheek. "Everything ok?" I just nodded, not saying a word. "Do you still wanna go out and walk around?" She took off her coat.

"I just wanna stay here." My voice was quiet and no matter how much I tried to make it stable it still wavered.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing." I took a big bite of mac n cheese.

"Ok...but you were really excited to walk around since you haven't been here in a few months and now you just want to stay in the hotel room. That isn't like you and I'm concerned." She sat down next to me.

"Well you don't have to be concerned. Can we just go to bed? I'm really tired and I haven't seen you all day and I wanna cuddle and go to sleep."

"Ok. We can do that." She kissed my temple and took my food so she could put it in the fridge. She came back over and laid on her back so I could crawl on top of her. "Good night my love."

"Night night."

I couldn't fall asleep that night, no matter what position I slept in. I had been trying to sleep for 6 hours and it just wasn't working. I thought of him. I thought of him knowing I was here and wanting to talk to me. To torment me. "Baby...why can't you sleep?" JJ yawned and rolled over to face me.

"Hm?"

"You've been tossing and turning all night." She lazily wrapped an arm around me. "Come here. I wanna cuddle." She gently kissed my shoulder before resting her head in the crook of my neck. "Can you tell me what's wrong?"

"It's nothing."

"It's clearly not nothing." She kept her voice gentle, tracing soothing patterns on my belly. Her eyes were still shut as she cuddled up against me. "I always know when you're upset. It's like a sixth sense. But I know it's really bad this time. I wanna help you. Can I please help you?"

"I don't...it's not something you should be worried about."

"You're my girlfriend. I'm always gonna worry about you." She kissed my neck tenderly and I could tell she was fighting off sleep. When I stayed silently she picked her head up from my neck and kissed my lips. "You can tell me anything baby."

"It's Officer Davis." I whispered.

"What about him?"

"He was..." I put my hand over my mouth, covering my face. She grabbed my hand gently and brought it to her lips, kissing it softly before kissing my shoulder.

"He was what, baby?"

"That guy. From the bar." My bottom lip trembled but my body relaxed as she scooped me into a big hug. "I thought I would never have to see him again but now I'm in the same town as him."

"Well you don't have to see him my love." She kissed my temple. "We can go back home if you want."

"But you're on a case."

"It's ok. They'll understand if I need to go home." She stroked my hair, holding eye contact with me with so much love in her eyes. "Just say the word and we can go home."

"But I don't wanna tear you away from work."

"Hey...baby that's not what you would be doing, ok? I would much rather go back to DC and make sure you're ok than stay here where you're not ok. You'd do the same thing for me." She pointed out.

"Ok. But I don't wanna leave. I'll stay."

"Are you sure?"

"Mhm."

"Ok." She kissed my forehead. "But you have the right to change your mind at any time."

"Thank you." I leaned my forehead against her chest, really wanting a hug. She got the message and wrapped her arms around me.

"Of course." She pulled me into her lap, kissing the side of my face a few times. "Just tell me if you need anything, alright?"

"Mhm." I leaned into her as much as I could, wanting to feel her body against mine.

"I love you so much." She gently grazed her fingertips over my back, wanting to make me feel as comfortable as possible.

"I love you too." I rested my chin on her shoulder and shut my eyes, feeling so tired after all the anxiety. "I wanna sleep."

"Ok baby we can-" She started to move me to lay down but I stopped her.

"No. I wanna stay like this."

"You're like a toddler." JJ laughed, stroking my hair gently. "We can sleep like this if you want."

"Thanks." I tucked my face into her neck, feeling myself start to drift off. "Love you."

"Love you too. Good night."

"Night night."

[sgtbradfords]

Hey, when was the last time you were in a swimming pool? I'm in the middle of a case. It's 10 o'clock at night. Stop being Will Trent for five minutes. Sorry. I can't.

BONUS:

[frimleyblogger]

Trent’s Last Case

A review of Trent’s Last Case by E C Bentley – 240822 One of the three best detective stories ever written, according to Agatha Christie, and one to which every detective writer owes something, consciously or subconsciously in Dorothy L Sayers’ opinion, Trent’s Last Case, originally published in 1913 and also known as The Woman in Black, holds an iconic status in the development of the genre.…

[bullet-prooflove]

Pictures of You - Roy Kent x Reader

Tagging: @elizabeththebat @proceduralpassion @crazy4chickennuggets @callsignartemis @kmc1989 @@anyamcdonald @taytaylala12 @daydreamgoddess14 @amieinghigh @littleesilvia @blackleatherjacketz @xphantomphanphanaticx @its-a-show-stoppin-number @st4rgirliesstuff @secretsquirrelinc @meg-ro @xoxabs88xox @midnightmagpiemama

Roy’s in the locker room when Trent approaches him. He’s listening to a conversation between Issac and Colin with his arms crossed over his chest, when he catches the expression on the other man’s face.  He knows that somethings wrong, he can feel it in the pit of his stomach. When Trent tilts his head towards the empty manager’s office, Roy follows without hesitation.

At first, he thinks it’s something to do with one of the lads, a story that’s about to break, a leak about Colin’s private life. A surge of protectiveness rushes through him, if that’s the case, he’s going to hunt down the piece of shit that told the press and strangle them with his bare hands.

It’s only when Trent shows him the image on his phone that Roy understands the magnitude of the situation. His mouth goes dry, he rubs his palm across his stubble as he surveys the headline.

Kent’s Kinky Caster.

The picture that accompanies it is one that he’s never seen before. Your hair is longer, it falls across your shoulders as you bite your lower lip. Your thumb is drawing down the strap of the midnight-blue corset that you’re wearing. It accentuates your curves, pushing up your breasts.

You look fucking fantastic but it’s not you, he knows that you prefer lace and silk. Materials that cling or drape, that don’t dig in or contort your shape. He prefers you comfortable when you’re with him, not trussed up in something that’s going to leave marks across your skin.

“They must have hacked your phone.” Trent summarises as he takes back the device and slips it into his pocket.

“Not mine.” Roy says gruffly as he drops into Beard’s vacant seat. “I’ve never seen that picture before, the shit she sends me…” Roy trails off before he meets Trent’s gaze. “It’s classy, nothing like that.”

Trent bows his head in understanding. The picture that’s been delivered to the papers is one of a woman who’s trying so hard to be something else, for someone else. You’ve come a long way since then. He should know, he’s been your friend and confident for a few of years by now. The two of you had worked together for The Independent once upon a time. You’d been an investigative reporter before moving onto the podcasting world, and a damn good one at that.

The two of you still caught up every couple of weeks for drinks. He was one of the first people to know about your blossoming relationship with Roy Kent. You had no idea who he was initially, and Trent had found that endearing.

He suspects that the photograph has come from your ex-Martin. Trent knows that he will claim that his phone had been hacked but realistically no one hacks the phone of a Booker Prize Winner. Nobody cares who they’re sleeping with.

Trent recalls he’d made a nuisance of himself in the aftermath of the breakup. Turning up at your house all hours of the day and night until you’d sought a restraining order. After that he would bad mouth you to anyone that would listen, which is why Roy had headbutted him last month at a Save the Polar Bears event. Trent had gifted him an expensive bottle of Scotch  with a card that read “Because you did what I’ve wanted to do for a very long time.”

“I’ve put a few messages out to my contacts.” Trent informs Roy, crossing his arms over his chest as he leans against Beard’s desk. “I should hear back from them soon.”

“I did this.” Roy tells the other man as he rubs his hands over his face in exasperation. “It’s because I headbutted him at the fucking Panda thing isn’t it?”

“Polar bears.” Trent corrects before sighing. “I think you give yourself too much credit. Martin’s had a bee in his bonnet because SHE left him.”

“Yea.” Roy snarls, his dark eyes practically glowing with rage. “Because she walked in on him fucking a Page Three model in her bed, if it was me, I would have painted the room with his innards.”

It’s a vivid image, Trent has to give him that.

“He doesn’t like that she’s happier than him, more successful. The fact she’s with someone who actually cares about her, who gives her what he couldn’t.” Trent says taking off his glasses and gesturing with them as he speaks. “Being the type of man that he is, it probably sent him off the deep end.”

“That doesn’t excuse this type of shit.” Roy snaps, sagging back into the chair in frustration. He’s helpless right now, utterly fucking helpless and he hates it. The story is already out there. Every fucking pervert on the internet is probably wanking off to that picture of you and you have no fucking idea because you’re on a flight home from Ireland. He knows this is going to devastate you and he can’t stand the thought of it.

He looks up at Trent, his expression one of anguish.

“This is going to kill her.”

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