#trent's smile is so 🥰🥰

[swaggypsyduck]

Me @ trent

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8o4dtNN/

HFJSJDKWJDKS LMAOOOOOOOO

the duality of ur feelings for trent is so funny. strangling the cutout and then hugging it. ur just like robbo fr🤭🤭

[reidsdimples]

Can i request something? But if you can't , its okay. Reid x reader, enemies to lover, undercover as married couple, Get gift from the other, play game, open the box, need to use whatever in the box. one of it's "vibrator underwear" then up to you...

Not So Faux Lovers

18+ ❤️‍🔥MDNI‼️

my take on this request, hope you love it! 🥰🫶🏻

"Oh honey! You shouldn't have!" You gush at your faux-husband Spencer.

"You have to open it!" Cara, the unsubs wife, beams.

They were deep undercover as a married couple. The team was trying to figure our who in this underground kinky sex group was trying to involve minors. You guys had been at this for weeks, this being the third party you attended.

You were just grateful Spencer got you guys out of the group orgy that took place the night before. You were dedicated to your job but not dedicated enough for groups sex to keep cover.

Besides, you and Spencer had started to get on each other's nerves. Both of you wound tight from stress and short tempered with one another. The two of you had been fighting before the party but played as if you were the happiest married couple.

This party in particular involved the exchange and mandatory use of sex related gifts. You hoped Spencer figured out something that didn't involve one of the party members shoving something inside of you.

He nudges you to open it.

You tear the box open, less than eagerly. It takes you a moment to deduce what exactly the odd looking item was. You tilt your head and pick what appears to be a wireless remote.

"That's for me," Spencer snatches it from you.

You hold up what you realize to be underwear with something in the crotch. It was a pink lace thong with a fucking vibrator in a small pocket in the front. You blush and swallow hard.

You had opted to get him flavored condoms in which you would feign sex on the other side of a closed door as you were forced to do once before. This was...

"Oh hell yeah!" Trent, one of the party members claps Spencer on the back.

"Go put them on," another girl smiles at you. "Let's see if you can control yourself when he uses it against you."

You fight the urge to glare at your 'husband'. He was eating this up, putting you in an awkward position and watching you get all flustered after such an argument earlier.

"Honey, would you assist me please," you hiss and tug Spencer out of his chair.

"What the hell is this?" You whisper shout at him when you both get into the bathroom.

"Thought it might be fun," he smiles mischievously.

"Are you serious?" You smack his arm. "How am I supposed to focus with you and that damned remote... You are such an asshole."

"Like I said, it might be fun," he exits the bathroom with a cocky wink.

You didn't know where this sudden shift in him came from. Perhaps the fact that the two of you have been playing these rolls for five weeks and were pent up after constantly being tossed into sexual scenarios and fighting all the time. He just changed the game.

You hesitantly pull on the thong and adjust the vibrator against your clit where it's meant to sit. This is insane. Yet you find yourself coiled tight with excitement at Spencer controlling your pleasure... that was new.

You pull up your skirt and exit the bathroom with your head held high. If he wants to play, let's play. You toss your original underwear at his chest and sit in his lap. You hear his breathing hitch in shock but he plays it off as natural.

"How do we know she's actually wearing them?" John, the unsub, purrs.

Spencer holds up the small oval shaped pink remote and presses the center button with nimble fingers. You jolt in his lap as the vibrator hums to life against your sensitive core. You grip the back up his neck and squeeze your legs together.

"Okay!" You bite out.

He switches it off with a sinister sort of chuckle.

You feel wetness gather between your folds as you adjust yourself on his lap and turn to the others who were exchanging gifts.

“I bet you’re wet already,” he turns it on the lowest setting and nips at your ear. “I’m sure it’s not because of me though. It’s just your body reacting,” he purrs condescendingly.

You elbow his abdomen and shift in his lap which prompts him to turn it off.

-

"This was great, thanks for coming!" Cara hugs you as you and Spencer exit her house.

Luckily he had only pressed the button one more time when John seemed to be inspecting you for signs of him using it. That was until you dropped into the passenger seat of his car.

He flicks the vibrator on seemingly a low setting and stares at you as he backs out of the driveway. You don't give him the satisfaction of responding but have to sit up straighter.

He moves his thumb up to the next, more intense setting and you can't hide your response. You squeeze your legs together and bite down on your lip.

"You are infuriating," you spit at him. You dig your nails into his forearm and tilt your head back. God it felt so good, you hadn't had an orgasm in so long.

"Spencer," you draw out the warning. A moan escapes you though.

"So pretty when you moan," he breathes. He focuses on the road, the streetlight flashing over him as he drives. You don't miss his fingers gripping the steering wheel. "So much better than when you argue with me," he smiles at himself.

You drag his free arm over to you and force him to press the vibrator harder against you.

He obliges and flattens his palm between your spread legs, the sight of his strong arm there is intoxicating. You try to remember why you guys were arguing but come up with nothing.

"Spencer," you whimper and find yourself grinding yourself against the vibrator and his hand. "Please," you cry out as your legs start to shake.

Your orgasm fires through every nerve in your body, leaving chills all over. You let out a series of whimpers as you cum, the orgasm leaving you feeling deflated against the seat when he turns off the vibrator.

You glance over at him where he is trying desperately to keep his eyes on the road. But you eye his cock straining against his pants.

"Pull into this parking garage," you point ahead.

He glances at you in confusion with furrowed eyebrows but obliges.

"Get out of the car," you order when he parks on the empty top floor. He hurries out of the black SUV and you don't hesitate to grab the collar of his shirt.

You crash your lips into his hungrily until he's leaning back against the driver's side door. His tongue greedily invades your mouth and he tastes better than anyone else you've ever kissed. His large hands explore your waist and run up your back as he moans into the kiss.

Your hand finds the back door handle and you swing it open, shoving him in with a giggle. Both of you scoot in until you're straddling him, you can feel his erection against you.

"Are you sure?" He asks as you rip his shirt open.

"Shut up, Spence," you pant and kiss him hard with your hands in his hair. He flips the vibrator on, causing you to jump. "Damn it, Spencer," you groan and take the remote from him. You turn it off and throw it in the trunk.

He smiles and lets out an amused huff when you shuffle out of the thong. You lean back and undo his pants, pulling his impressive cock free.

"Oh," you gasp.

"You can do it," he praises as he slips his fingers into your cunt. You soak his fingers instantly, earning a satisfied moan from him.

You grip his hair near the back of his neck and angle yourself above it. Your pussy clenches with need as you ease down.

"Fucking hell," he throws his head back. "You're so tight."

"You started this, you better fuck me properly before you cum," you growl in his ear.

"Still talking shit?" He challenges you and bucks his hips upward.

You cry out as his entire cock is shoved inside of you, forcing you to stretch to his girth.

"You..." you start but then he grips your ass and thrusts upward again. You claw at his shoulders.

"I what?" He glances at you, his mouth agape as he watches you take his cock with each thrust he gives you.

His hand curls around your throat and he picks up speed as you hover slightly over him so he can fuck you deep. He trails his hand up and grips your jaw while he shoves his pointer and middle finger into your mouth.

"This smart mouth..." he muses. "Sounds so pretty crying out for me."

He snaps his hips hard upward, his cock slamming into your cervix until you scream. While one hand grips your jaw, the other moves to your clit. He massages it harshly, quickly as he fucks you.

You suck on his fingers as tears stream down your face from raw pleasure. He felt unbelievable and you were getting close. You were going to soak him like this. You were a squirter when penetration and clitoral stimulation mixed. You worried he would be disgusted but as you wound tighter you couldn't stop him.

"Fuck," comes your muffled cry.

"Cum for me baby, show me how much you hate me," he teases.

His filthy mouth is the last straw. Your body goes taut and your head rolls back. He takes the opportunity to grip your throat as your walls tighten around his cock, drawing a moan from him. You explode around him, you feel the liquid pouring out of you and down onto him.

"Holy shit," he pants in awe.

"Ah!" You keep cumming as he thrusts into you enthusiastically. He smiles, satisfied as his cock starts to pulse.

His cum fills you deliciously as you roll your hips onto him, greedily taking everything he has. The flesh between the two of you is drenched, its filthy, its so fucking hot.

Your phone rings. Hotch, fuck. You glance at Spencer who is still inside of you and shush him.

"Hotch," you answer the phone. "No nothing of note tonight. He didn't mention the minors."

Spencer tenses his cock inside of you, causing you to bite your lip when you feel his cum dripping out of you.

"Yeah I can send you the photos from his attic, Spencer got some good ones," you start teasing him back by grinding your hips.

You clamp your hand over his mouth as you tease his oversensitive cock by tightening your pussy.

"Yes sir, got it," you tell Hotch and hang up.

"You're impossible," you slap his chest and lift yourself off of him.

"I've never seen that before," Spencer blushes. Actually blushes despite what just happened.

"Seen what?" You ask as you pull your skirt down.

"So much... um so much..." he stumbles over his words.

"You've never been with a squirter?" You ask.

"No," he laughs nervously.

"Cherish it, it's the last time," you smirk and hop out of the car. You watch him adjust himself and fix his clothes through the window.

"We'll see about that," he winks and gets back into the drivers seat. Ugh.

[stormoflina]

Hello, we desperately need to talk about these 2 seconds!!

- Kostas cuddling Dominik and resting his head in the crook of his neck... I might need to be resurrected, it's so cute I might also die. 🥺

- It's not a want, it's a NEED to see Trent's facial expression at that. He keeps nodding at whatever Klopp is saying, but I just KNOW he wanted to join them. Those are his boyfriends your honor!! 😭

- Klopp moving like the dad who is trying to embarrass his child in front of his boyfriend. Dare to tell me that it's not the vibe he's giving off!! The little ☝🏼🤌🏼 as well!! 😭

- Domi's smile! 🥺🥰

[ilyasorokinn]

i know your requests are closed for now, but i thought i would send one in for when you get back because i think the idea is so cute and i dont want to forget it lollll

i was thinking freddy (trent frederic) being soft with his gf? like he seems so goofy and i feel like he doesn’t let his walls down in public, but would totally be a soft when it came to being a boyfriend and being in the presence of his s/o 🥰

anywaysss i hope you find your way back soon! we miss you! enjoy your break tho, take all the time you need 🫶

GOLDEN RETRIEVER BOYFRIEND

this was sent in during one of my earlier breaks... i'm just finally getting to all the old stuff in my inbox because i suck, but trust i will be getting to everything or at least mostly everything. n e ways, this is inspired by all those tiktoks of like golden retriever bfs in public looking around for their gfs and when they find them, they're all smiley :)

if there was something you learned about trent early on, it was that he got lost a lot. he would always get distracted by something in a store and would lose you. it happened more times than when he actually followed you around.

it especially happened a lot when you would drag him into a store he didn't want to be in. he loved following you around and helping you find new things, but sometimes he just wasn't in a shopping mood, so you couldn't blame him when he did get lost.

you were looking for some silverware for a friend who was moving and you wanted to alleviate some of the stress for her. the second you stepped into the store, you knew trent would wander off and find something more interesting to look at, and you were right. it took him all of 2 minutes to wander off and lose you.

you finally managed to find everything you were looking for and couldn't help but roll your eyes when you looked around your surroundings and couldn't find trent.

"trent?" you called out, but all you got were looks from the people around you, "geez, not again." you sighed.

trent, on the other hand, was standing in front of the kid's cutlery section, looking at all the little forks and spoons. he took pictures of a few different utensils, excited to show you later.

after spending a few minutes looking at all the cartoon plates and odds and ins, he started to get bored again. he decided you had spent enough time looking for whatever you were looking for, so he would try and find you and bother you until you got annoyed with him and decided you were done.

he wandered around the store, a few things catching his eye but he ignored it because he was on a mission: find y/n.

he started to get worried, but the look on his face made him look calm and collected. he didn't want to show anyone he was silently panicking. of course he had wandered away from you before, but this time felt different.

you weren't in a tiny little store, you were in a ain't department store with at least 4 floors and 30 different departments.

things weren't much better on your end. you had spent the last 20 minutes looking around the entire store for him. luckily, you turned the corner and spotted him.

his back was to you, but when he turned around, you got a better look at his face. he might have looked not panicked but you could see the crease in his forehead and the worried look behind his eyes.

you pulled out your phone and started recording him, wanting to get his reaction for when he finally did find you. there was a small group in front of you and his eyes quickly flicked between the entire group before they finally landed on you.

when he spotted you in the crowd, he couldn't help but let out a giant sigh. his shoulders dropped in relief and his eyes showed he was more than happy.

he quickly made his way over to you and you set your phone down, "i thought i'd never find you. i thought i'd have to live here." he joked.

"you have a phone, silly. you could've called." you reminded him, a smile on your face.

"i know, but i hadn't thought of it, for some reason." he scratched the back of his head.

you chuckled, "i have an idea, trent. how about, next time we go to a giant department store, don't leave my side."

"i like the sound of that."

"i'm gonna get you one of those backpack leashes. you wander off too much." you joked, grabbing his hand and leading him towards the cashier.

"okay, how about i just hold your hand." he rolled his eyes.

[bl00dst41ned]

*.·:·.✦ my little secret (jude bellingham 'series' pt.2) ✦.·:·.*

pairing: jude bellingham x female oc (Mariah)

summary: in which jude finds out what he's missing

author's note: part 2 is out, part 1 is here. taglist: @everlyjay, @barcagirly (don't know if you wanted to be tagged but didn't know what you meant with your repost) you can still ask to be tagged.

series masterlist

word count: 696

It was another day at St Georges’ Park. The English team was back for the international break. Jude sat at lunch, Trent at his left and Marcus and Bukayo in front of them, in the middle of a conversation.

“Aye, Jude, you remember Mariah ?” Marcus started as he kept his eyes on his phone.

Jude’s head rose, confusion written on his face.

“The girl you disrespectfully dumped after cheating on her” Trent described with no facial expression.

Even though Jude was his friend, he never forgot to remind him how wrong he was in this situation.

“Oh, umm yeah why?”

Marcus turned his phone around showing them an Instagram post.

mariahsworld Self care day to celebrate Tamara’s five months of living. Thank you for choosing me as your mom, I love you 💕

Within a second, Jude had gone on her account via his spam since she had him blocked on the main page and viewed the post. He then went to click on her story seeing even more pictures and videos of her and her baby.

Jude kept his eyes on the screen as if he was hypnotized.

"Waow, I didn- just waow" He mumbled, lost of words. "She definitely turned a new page"

He kept scrolling as Mason and Declan sat at their table. The two instantly noticed Jude’s concentration since he didn't even noticed them.

"Jude what's wrong?" Declan asked as the young man finally noticed them.

"Nun- his ex he threw away for a one night stand now has a baby" Bukayo cut him off with a teasing smile on his face, ruining Jude's attempt to change the subject.

"Mariah?!" Surprise was laced in Declan's voice at the mention of the girl. "This cannot be real"

Declan went on Mariah's page, seeing all the posts with the little girl on it.

"Five months...."

"Tamara is a such cute name" Mason intervened.

Declan had noticed a detail about the little girl's date of birth that rose his attention.

"When did you guys break up already ?"

"A little over a year ago, maybe a year and a month"

Declan's eyes widened as it all came together in his head. If little Tamara was five months, then Mariah had to get pregnant a year and two months prior. And if they broke up a year and a month ago...

"Mate," Jude nodded his head indicating he was listening "Is that your daughter?"

"Wh- No, i-it can't be, she didn't tell me anything"

As unbelievable as it sounded to him, Declan's theory had intrigued Jude. He stared at the picture of the baby while thinking. Not able to get his mind right, Jude needed external advice.

Jude

*sent an attachment*

bro look at this

Jobe

Mar had a baby ?!

waow didn't expect that

Jude

jobe, this might be my child

Jobe

……

Hahahaha

stop playing I almost believed you

Jude

I'm being serious

Jobe

How serious?

Jude

As serious as serious can be

Jobe

ooh tell me all about it

Jude

stop joking pls I'm in deep shit

so Dec did the maths

the baby is 5 months

plus the nine months so we have 14 months right ?

Jobe

Good you can do basic maths

Jude

anyways

we broke up around 13 months ago

therefore ?

Jobe

mum's gonna burn you into ashes

and throw them in the bin

you're dead asf

Jude

no shit 🙄

but it's not what's important rn

I need confirmation

Jobe

for what exactly ??

you're the cheater from what I know

Jude

who knows ?

Jobe

bro you're nuts

she would not have done that

but looks like I'm an uncle 😝😝

Jude

jobe please be serious

you sound like liyah rn

she's getting into your head

Jobe

what did you just say about my girlfriend?

Jude

you can't fight me

Jobe

for my girl ?

I'll beat you tf up 😍🥰🔪

your potential daughter looks so cute tho

Jude

JOBE

we are digressing

what should I do ?

Jobe

bro….

text her

Jude

she blocked me

Jobe

okay ??

if you actually care, you'll find a way

Jude

why is everybody so rude with me ?

Jobe

Jude

STOP WITH THE MEMES

you're becoming just like your girl

Jobe

as I should

Jude

….

bye

Jude exited his conversation with Jobe going to DM Mariah on his spam.

yo it's Jude

i think we need to talk

like and repost for support (hope you enjoyed it)

masterlist for more

[mountttmase]

Could you do one where another player tries to wind mason up and anger him by saying things about you and they get into a fight x

Worth A Shot

Note - thank you for the request lovely 🥰 I changed it up a tiny bit I guess but I hope you enjoy it still. Feedback is always appreciated 💕

Pairing - Mason Mount x Reader

Word count - 3.2k

Warnings - angst & fluff

Mason could hear the giggles from behind him as he got dressed, a few of the boys in a huddle as they crowded round Ramsdale’s phone. He knew they were looking at pictures of some girl they all clearly fancied and he’d caught onto some of the conversation but he didn’t want too get involved.

He quickly unlocked his own phone, seeing a text from you asking how his day was and he smiled as he quickly replied, letting you know he missed you too and he couldn’t wait to see you in a couple of days.

‘Mase! You got a sec?’ Aaron called from behind him and Mason turned to see him sat with Saka and Trent. All of them laughing like school kids and he really didn’t want to have this conversation with them but to them, he was still single so they didn’t see the harm.

‘I’ve got treatment in a minute, I don’t wanna keep Dec waiting’ he told them, nodding towards the door but Aaron wasn’t having any of it.

‘I’ll be quick I promise, I’ve just got one question’ he told him, waving him over to the trio and Mason thought it might be easier to just play along for now, walking over to them so Aaron could explain what was happening. ‘I need you to tell me if I’ve got a shot with this girl. They’re both saying no but I’ve got a bit of history with her and I think I can pull it off’

Mason rolled his eyes but laughed with him as he shook his head. ‘Fine, let’s see’ he told him but he wasn’t ready for the picture Aaron was about you show him.

It was you.

He knew it was you cause you’d sent him the picture last night and he’d then seen it again on your instagram story which he’d replied to, telling you how beautiful you looked and all the things he wanted to do to you when he got home. Masons blood ran cold as soon as he caught sight of you but he had to play it cool. No one knew about yours and Masons relationship as it was fairly new and the both of you wanted to keep it on the down low.

He didn’t know what to do, but thankfully Saka was jumping in to save him with his loud laugh.

‘See, I told you. There’s no way man’

‘But I’ve spoken to her before, and I know she’s into me’ Aaron laughed, finally pulling his phone away. ‘The only reason it didn’t work out before was that I lived so far way. Now I’m in London, I think I’ve got this’

‘You’ve been in London for ages’

‘Yeah but I wanted to get settled first’

‘Mason, tell him she’s out of his league’ Trent laughed but Mason couldn’t think or move, let alone speak.

‘She is proper fit’ Aaron laughed and Mason had to bite the inside of his cheek so he didn’t explode. ‘Like look at the body on it, she’s unreal. It’s gotta be at least worth a shot if anything’’

Mason was thankfully saved by the bell, Dec calling him to probably ask where he was so Mason told them he had to dash. Happy to get out of the conversation but his mind was all over the place. It was only after him and Dec we’re heading back for dinner after their haircuts that he spilled the beans. Dec had known something was up from the second he saw him and also knew about your relationship so Mason wasn’t against telling him what had happened back in the dressing room.

‘So she’s never mentioned him before?’ Dec asked and Mason shook his head.

‘Not once. And I know she wouldn’t hide anything like that from me but I don’t wanna accuse him of lying. It’s the way he spoke about her as well like she’s some piece of meat it made my blood boil’

‘I know it’s hard but we’ll be home in a few days and you can ask her about it. Just try and ignore him yeah? You know what he’s like’

So that’s what Mason did. Kept to himself and whenever Aaron wanted to bring the subject of you up, Mason always made sure he had somewhere else to be. Thankfully he survived until the end of the week, making his way home to where you were patiently waiting for him. He let you know where the spare key was and you knew he’d be home around 2pm so you distracted yourself with a couple of films before you heard his front door open. You were up in a flash, running towards him as you jumped into his arms with you legs around his waist. You felt him laugh as he spun you around a few times before placing you on the floor so he could give you a kiss.

‘I missed you so much, Mase’ you breathed as he pulled away, resting his forehead on yours whilst he got his breathing back under control.

‘Missed you too’ he whispered before kissing you again. It felt weird though, he was saying and doing all the right things but you could feel something was off straight away. You could see he was tired though and you didn’t want to push it, so you led him through to the living room where you both flopped down onto the sofa. He told you about his time away, becoming more animated and happier as he spoke to you and seemed to be fine for the rest of the night until you went to get yourselves ready for bed.

You walked into the bathroom to find him sat against the counter, his eyes flashing up to meet yours and you could see the uncertainty in them from a mile off. You didn’t say a word, just planted yourself in between his legs as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders as he held you at your waist, his head finding it’s place in your neck and when he hid his face as you knew you had to say something.

‘Hey, Mase? Is everything okay?’ You whispered, scratching over the back of his head how you know he loved. You felt him take a deep breath before pulling back to look at you, his eyes more sad than you’d ever seen them before and it broke your heart a little bit to see him this way. ‘Mase? What is it? You know you can tell me’

‘I know’ he told you quietly before kissing your cheek. ‘And I’m not mad or anything, I just need to ask you something’ he told you but you were unsure what he meant. What had you done for him to be mad about? ‘Do you um, do you know Aaron Ramsdale?’

‘The name rings a bell. He’s on your team right?’ You told him, unsure as to why Mason was bringing him up and what he had to do with Masons mood.

‘Well he seems to know you’ he told you gently and you gave Mason a confused look. ‘A few of the of the others were teasing Aaron about this girl he’s spoken to in the past and he thinks he’s got a shot with her now. He showed me a picture and it was you’

‘What?’ You breathed with a laugh, unsure of where he was going with this but he didn’t look angry or like he was accusing you of anything, he just looked really sad.

‘So he was lying? You’ve not spoken to him before?’

‘I don’t think so’ you mused, gently removing yourself from him so you could run and get your phone, returning to him and leaning up against him. Your back against his chest so he could look over your shoulder at your phone as you typed in Aaron’s name into your Dm’s. A memory suddenly smacked you in the face and you put two and two together when a handful of massages popped up. You wanted to reassure him that you were 100% truthful and he had nothing to worry about as you laughed as the memory of who he was clicked into place. ‘Oh Mase, he messaged me about a year and a half ago but it was basically nothing so I must of forgotten about it. See look’ you told him, holding up your phone so he could look at the screen.

‘What, that’s it?’

‘Yes, never heard from him again thankfully’ you laughed and you felt his whole body relax as he clung to you.

‘He was making out like you were long lost lovers about to be reunited. Said you had a past and all sorts I’ve been worried sick’

‘Oh baby, please don’t be worried. I would never of gone there anyway he’s really not my type’

‘Well I’m still pissed about the way he spoke about you’

‘What do you mean?’ You asked, turning your body so you could look at him a bit better before turning fully so you could wrap your arms around him again.

‘He had your story up from the other night and was showing a few of the boys. Telling them how fit you were and stuff and talking about your body’

‘Oh baby’ you smiled, kissing his grumpy face a few times ‘it’s okay’

‘No, he doesn’t get to talk about you like that. You’re mine’ he moaned as he pulled you in tighter.

‘How is he supposed to know that?’ You laughed before he reached for your phone and passed it to you. His idea was to take a few sneaky pictures and upload them at the same time. Once you’d taken them he left you with his phone so he could take a shower whilst you sorted it out on his bed before you posted them.

He came back into his room just as you were done, flopping down next to you as you passed him his phone. ‘All done. You feel better now?’ You laughed as he kissed you forehead.

‘Hmm, a little’

‘Come on, let’s have a cuddle’ you told him, manoeuvring him so that you were both under the covers with his head on your chest. ‘Please don’t stay mad for too long’

‘I’m not mad, just annoyed at him that he thinks he can talk about you like that’

‘Look Mase, he didn’t know who I was and I don’t want you two to ruin your friendship over it’ you told him gently but you could tell he was still a little sad.

‘You’re mine’ he mumbled, sounding like a stroppy child as he clung to you even tighter.

‘Oh yeah?’ You chuckled and you felt him smile before lifting his head to look at you. You could tell from the cheeky smirk on his face what was coming next.

‘Yeah. You gonna let me show you?’ He whispered seductively before placing a kiss to your neck that made you shiver.

‘I mean I’ve only been waiting all day’ you laughed and you felt him chuckle as he bit your neck lightly.

‘All you had to do was ask’ he whispered before reaching up and kissing you gently ‘lay back baby, let me take care of you’ he told you seductively and you let him have his way with you.

You completely forgot about anything Aaron related for a few days until you were on the way to the bridge the following weekend, only remembering Chelsea were playing Arsenal and you watched from your seat as Aaron made his way over to Mason before their warm up to say hello.

They spoke for a while, and you could see Mason getting more tense as the conversation carried on until Aaron was backing away to join his team whilst looking up at you in the stands. You watched him give you a wave but there was no way you were waving back, watching Arron laugh as your eyes snapped over to Mason. He was pissed, you could tell he’d gotten under his skin so you sent him a quick text to hopefully calm him down, even though you were doubtful he would read it before the game started.

Mason was in the mood to win, you could tell from off, celebrating extra hard when Chelsea eventually went a goal up only made sweeter by the fact he’d assisted and you returned his wave as he made it back to the dressing room at half time. You were feeling a bit cheeky, texting him to meet you at the entrance of the tunnel so you you could give him a good luck kiss for the second half but you regretted it as soon as you made your way down as Aaron caught your eye on the way out and started walking straight over.

‘Y/n? Nice to finally meet you’ he laughed and you nodded back with an awkward smile, hoping he’d go so Mason wouldn’t see however he seemed to be in the mood for a chat. ‘I would say Mason talks about you all the time but I don’t think he ever has’

‘That’s because I asked to keep things private’

‘Ah she speaks’ he winked and just as you were about to respond you noticed Mason walking towards the pair of you, his lips pursed uncomfortably and his eyes flickered in between you. ‘Here he is, just catching up with your missus’ Aaron teased but you knew Mason was in no mood to joke as he stepped further towards you and you quickly placed a hand on his shoulder. ‘I better get back out there, y/n it’s been a pleasure’ he winked and you felt Mason stiffen under your fingertips. ‘Mase, let’s see if you have what it takes to get the ball passed me this half’ he laughed before jogging away.

‘Mase please ignore him’ you sighed, turning him to face you but you could see the uncertainty in his eyes immediately. ‘There was no catching up I barely said a sentence to him’

‘It’s fine, baby. I’m not mad or anything’ he reassured you, planting his hands on your waist. ‘I know he’s just trying to get under my skin but it’s working’ he laughed before capturing your lips in a gentle kiss.

‘Good luck, baby’ you whispered and he winked at you before jogging back into the pitch. You returned to your seat just as the whistle blew and it was an aggressive second half with Arsenal equalising about ten minutes in to your dismay. The score remained the same and the game was a few minutes into extra time when Kai was brought down in the box, the whole of the bridge cheering when the ref pointed to the spot yet you were confused as to why Mason was holding the ball, eventually walking over to place it down and stand over it.

Your heart was in your mouth, clearly he was doing this to prove a point to everyone even though there was no need as it was a private thing and all you could do was watch on as Aaron walked over to Mason and talk to him, clearly trying to put him off but Mason looked too focused, like his words were going in one ear and out the other as he stared back at him with a smile but before long Aaron was stepping back behind his line.

No one screamed louder than you when the ball hit the back of the net, Aaron diving the wrong way so Mason could place it perfectly in the top corner and you watched as he ran over to him, laughing as he circled him before the rest of the Chelsea team surrounded Mason. He’d proved his point and won the game for his team, tears pooling in your eyes at the smile on his face as he looked up at you and pointed.

When the final whistle blew you let out a sigh of relief, watching him embrace his team before talking to the arsenal players. He went over to Aaron last, the pair of them embracing straight away and they stayed in each others arms as they spoke for a while, eventually patting each others backs as they made their way off the pitch with their arms over each others shoulders and hands over their mouths so no one could see what they were saying, but they were both smiling and that made you smile too, knowing their friendship was still intact after all of this.

You met Mason after the game when he came up to the box, and he greeted you with a big kiss and a cheeky smile. You hadn’t seen him look this happy in so long, and you felt your heart this as he rested his face into your hand.

‘Good game, Mase. Congratulations’

‘Thank you, beautiful’ he whispered before kissing you again gently. You knew you shouldn’t be kissing like this in front of everyone but you couldn’t help it, letting out a quiet moan as his tongue brushed against yours.

‘Get a room’ you heard Kai murmur as he walked passed and you pulled apart with a smile.

‘Are you and Aaron okay? What did he say to you?’ You asked and he nodded lightly before taking your hand so the pair of you could leave.

‘Before the pen he was telling me how embarrassing it’s gonna be when I see you after the game when he saves my shot and just a load of crap to get in my head but we’re fine. He apologised after for it and about all the other stuff in camp, but like you said he didn’t know so I can’t blame him too much. If anything it’s a compliment that I’ve managed to pull the girl all the others want’ he winked and you rolled your eyes as he bought you into his side.

‘Very funny. I’m just glad you two are friends again’ you smiled up at him and he kissed you on the head gently.

‘Yeah, me too. Now I hope you have something special up your sleeve for your match winning boyfriend’ he chuckled as you approached his car.

‘I’ll think of something on the way home’ you chuckled, placing a kiss on his cheek as you sat in your seat and watched him pass in front of the car with a huge smile on his face before sliding in besides you. ‘I’m really proud of you, Mase’

‘Why?’ He laughed, looking at you curiously but you shrugged your shoulders and looked out the front window.

‘I think you handled today really well, you didn’t let the pressure or anything he said get to you. You didn’t run around feeling everyone to fuck themselves either, like you were really mature’

‘Thank you, baby’ he laughed, reaching for your hand and kissing it lightly ‘I’m trying for you. Although I did tell Aaron to fuck himself but I did it quietly’ he winked.

‘Well it’s a start’ you reasoned, and with a final kiss he was driving you home back to your perfect little bubble.

[lfc21]

Parent's evening at school

Player: Trent Alexander Arnold

TW: school, children, Fluff

Promptlist: Children

"Mr and Mrs Alexander Arnold" You heard being called out from the room you were waiting outside off. You felt as if you were right back at school, sat staring at the walls constantly wondering when the bell would ring.

"Hi nice to meet you" You politely said with a smile as you both sat down in front of the wooden desk. Trent couldn't help but take his old school in, he remembered being stuck in the very same four walls. Nostalgia was the only thing he could feel.

"So I am Mrs Smith, I am Tyrone's teacher" She started with a smile as she admired the notes written on her screen. You hoped your son was as well-behaved as he made you believe but you weren't one hundred per cent sure. "He so far has 100% attendance and is reaching his targets in every subject which is incredible." She added bursting with pride.

"Even maths?" You quickly asked with a laugh as you couldn't quite believe her words.

"Yes, miss even his maths" She quickly replied with a laugh. You couldn't have been prouder. Maths was not your strong point, and every time Tyrone came to you for help you were doing more learning than teaching.

"Oh wow, I only ask as I am shocked at maths and can never help him" You explained as Trent sniggered next to you, you quickly nudged his arm with a laugh due to his childish actions.

"I would be proud of Tyrone and he admires you sir," The teacher said looking at Trent with a smile at how similar they both were.

"He is obsessed" Trent replied "I am surprised he hasn't been playing football in here" He added with a laugh knowing how naughty and playful he can be at home. You all laughed in unison. You quickly thanked the teacher for her time and wandered out of the classroom.

"I used to play football over there," Trent said to you as he pointed over to a large green field as his hand slipped into yours. You loved hearing about Trent's past stories it always sent a smile to your face. "And that was where my mum used to drop me off and pick me up" He quickly added with a large smile as he started to feel the excitement run through his body.

"You are so cute baby" You explained with a giggle as you snaked your arm around his waist with a smile. You both made your way to the car with huge beaming smiles and a son to be extremely proud of.

Hey guys 👋🏻 I hope you enjoyed this imagine 😀 there are still a few prompts left if anyone is interested 😊 I am currently taking requests 🥰 feedback is greatly appreciated ❤️ have a good day 🙏 masterlist 2022 💌 masterlist 2023 💌

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[football-and-fanfics]

Vice-captain - Trent Alexander-Arnold

Who: Trent Alexander-Arnold Request: can you pls write about TAA getting the vice captaincy from Jürgen? i think that would be wonderful in you writing🥰🥰 Requested by: anonymous Warnings: none

"Trent!"

"Oh, now I've done it," Trent grumbled in response to Klopp calling him over from the other side of the pitch. It was the third day of Liverpool's training camp in Singapore, and so far today's training session wasn't exactly going Trent's way. He was being sloppy and anything but faultless, and he was sure he would get a telling off from Klopp for it now.

Trent sighed heavily and suddenly his shoes felt lead-filled as he strode towards Klopp. Andy clasped him on the back as he passed. "Head up, mate. You'll be alright." "Yeah," Trent mumbled, but he wasn't convinced about it.

Trent couldn't help but notice how Klopp had chosen a position on the other side of their training pitch, away from the rest of the team. This surely didn't promise much good.

"Boss, I know, and I'm sorry." Trent started his apologies as soon as he was within earshot of Klopp. He was well aware he hadn't been on par during the last training sessions and he was sure he was going to be told that now.

To Trent's surprise, Klopp gave him a big smile and slung a fatherly arm around him. "I'm naming you vice-captain." Trent stopped dead in his tracks, giving Klopp a look of utter bewilderment. "You're what?!" He heard what Klopp said, but he couldn't quite believe his ears. This was so opposite of what he had expected to hear, that Trent needed a moment to comprehend what he'd been told.

Klopp chuckled at all the different kinds of emotion crossing over Trent's face in only a matter of seconds, until he finally saw the spark of a tear glistening in Trent's eye, and he knew his words had landed.

"But only if you want to be vice-captain of course," Klopp added with a wink. "Are you serious?" Trent found his voice again. "It's been my childhood dream to one day be captain for this club. It's just... I wasn't expecting it to happen just yet."

Klopp tightened his arm around Trent's shoulders. "I think you're ready." "Really?" There was a nervous undertone to Trent's voice, yet a smile now broadened on his face. "Yes." Klopp sounded 100% convinced. "I've watched you grow over the years, on every level imaginable, into the wonderful man you are today. I know the team respects you, young players see you as an example for themselves, you set the bar high for everyone. What more could I ask for?"

Trent was speechless for half a minute as he processed what he'd just been told. "Thank you," he finally spoke again, "for having this kind of faith in me."

Trent felt the pride swell in his chest, now fully realizing what this meant. A smile was plastered on his face, and would probably not go away for days to come. Klopp tightened his arm around Trent's shoulders once more. "Never doubted you for a second."

Tags: @stonesyyyy, @footballffbarbiex, @football1921, @laurasstufff1, @ella33

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[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

North To The Future [Chapter 5: Sabotage]

The year is 1999. You are just beginning your veterinary practice in Juneau, Alaska. Aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. You kind of hate him. You are also kind of obsessed with him. Falling for him might legitimately ruin your life…but can you help it? Oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the Ice Fisher.

A/N: With the completion of Chapter 5, we are officially 1/3 of the way done with this fic series! In my opinion, things start to get really interesting in Chapter 6 so I am sooooo excited to have reached this little milestone. Thank you so so so much for reading and for your enthusiasm, questions, rants, analyses, theories, memes, and general emotional investment in NTTF. I go back to re-read your comments/tags ALL the time and they help keep me motivated to get new chapters out asap. 🥰💜

Chapter warnings: Language, alcoholism, addiction, murder, veterinary medicine, discussions of sex, questionable decisions, Kimmie-related chaos, Trent flexing his athletic skills.

Word count: 5.6k.

Link to chapter list (and all my writing): HERE.

Taglist: @elsolario​ @meadowofsinfulthoughts​ @ladylannisterxo​ @doingfondue​ @tclegane​ @quartzs-posts​ @liathelioness​ @aemcndtargaryen​ @thelittleswanao3​ @burningcoffeetimetravel​ @b1gb3anz​ @hinata7346​ @poohxlove​ @borikenlove​ @myspotofcraziness​ @travelingmypassion​ @graykageyama​ @skythighs​ @lauraneedstochill​ @darlingimafangirl​ @charenlie​ @thewew​ @eddies-bat-tattoos​ @minttea07​​​

Please let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist! 💜

It’s November 29th, the Monday after Thanksgiving. It’s also your lunch hour.

You yank open the glass front door of Caribou Crossings, the souvenir shop where Heather works. It’s mostly abandoned now that tourist season has ended, and the unloved relics stare at you with cold, oddly sentient eyes: the owls carved out of cedar wood, bears carved out of jade, Russian dolls, miniature totem poles, plushie salmons. You climb over the counter and sit on the floor behind the cash register, your back pressed to the wall and your arms linked around your knees. Heather is breaking open rolls of coins to restock the register, probably unnecessarily; you are the only two people in the store.

She asks, wrestling to get quarters out of a particularly stubborn wrapper: “How’s it going?”

“Not great.”

“Have you fucked British Kurt Cobain yet?”

“We’re not speaking.”

She puts down the roll of quarters and looks at you. “What happened?”

You shrug, trying to act casual, trying to not let your voice crack. You don’t think there’s any threat of tears; you’ve cried so much in the past four days that you seem to be out of them. Your eyes are perpetually pinkish, puffy, exhausted. Despite your herculean efforts to remain hydrated, you have a constant low-grade tension headache that throbs like a bruise, misery trapped beneath the skin like blue-violet blood. “It’s a long story. He came over for Thanksgiving dinner.”

“Okay.” Heather is perplexed. “And then he, what, drunkenly dropped the turkey on the floor? Tried to hook up with your mom? Offered to show you his collection of murder supplies?”

You smile wearily. “No. I told him that he had to get sober. And he freaked out, he was yelling, he was saying I don’t have any right to try to control him because he’s not mine and never will be. He said I was trying to use him to bail myself out of my spineless, unfulfilling life.”

She scoffs. “Well that’s not true.” Then she observes your face. “Is it…?”

You shrug again, feeling like you’re back in high school, petulant and powerless. “There are a lot of things I want to experience, a lot of places I want to go. But I haven’t done anything yet. Because I can’t tell my parents that I don’t want to stay in Juneau forever and run the vet clinic.”

This must shock Heather, but she doesn’t show it. “I can’t imagine that they would want you to stay if it made you unhappy.”

“No, they wouldn’t try to stop me. But it would break their hearts.”

There is a long, uneasy silence. At last, Heather says: “I think you should come to Ursa Minor tonight.”

“I don’t want to see Aegon.”

“I mean, Dale would probably kick him out if we asked.”

“No!” you shout, too quickly. If he doesn’t have his preferred place to drink his demons away, he might leave Juneau long before the six month deadline.

Heather raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to see him or do you not want to see him?”

You glower at the wall strewn with large, framed photographs of the Northern Lights. “I want him to apologize.”

“I have many talents, but I can’t make that happen for you,” she says. “Look, is it possible that Aegon will be at Ursa Minor? Yeah, totally. But other people are going to be there too. Me, and Joyce, and Kimmie, and Trent and all his dimwitted muscley friends…there are going to be people who care about you. There are going to be people who can help you through this. We can comfort you. We can distract you. We can curb stomp that Greek boy in the parking lot if he doesn’t behave himself. There are a lot of options.”

Lyrics from The Distance, unexpected and unwelcome, spin around in your mind like a vinyl record: She’s hoping in time that her memories will fade. “I’ll think about it.”

“Can I interest you in a complementary Juneau-themed trinket? Glacial mud mask? Moose nuggets? Birch syrup? A slightly sinister-looking stuffed salmon?”

“No. I’m good.”

Heather asks with a straight face: “Do you want me to kill him?”

You laugh, your first real laugh since Thanksgiving. “No, thank you very much, but no.”

“Seriously. I could make it look like the Ice Fisher did it. No one would ever know.”

You gaze up at her from where you sit on the floor. “I love you.”

“I know, bitch.” Heather grins. “Wear something slutty this time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

You’ve spent a lot of time in your bedroom since Thanksgiving; you don’t want your parents to see you upset. They know something, of course, but they don’t interrogate you. They don’t intrude. They probably assume that you’ve broken up with Aegon—not that we were ever dating to begin with, you think sullenly—and, furthermore, that this is a painful yet indisputably wise course of action. It is a productive sort of pain, a necessary pain; it is like the deep maroon ache of a healing bone. It hurts less now than it would if you had stayed with him, married him, had children with him, attempted to build a life with him like a sandcastle razed again and again at high tide. It hurts less than if you had let yourself fall in love with him.

Oh, but didn’t I?

Alaska was purchased from Russia in 1867, just two years after the American Civil War ended, and was soon widely regarded by the still-recovering nation as a hopelessly remote and burdensome error. This impression was reversed only by the discovery of gold and the subsequent mass migration of miners to the territory beginning in the 1890s. After the booming gold industry came fishing and logging and oil and military bases, but gold was Alaska’s first saving grace. This is what you are thinking as you pencil on your black eyeliner, dust your eyelids with sheer gold glitter, paint your lips a vivid, glossy crimson. You stare at your reflection in the bedroom mirror, surrounded by photographs of your family and your friends, high school and college and vet school. There’s one image that doesn’t quite belong. It’s a cutout from one of those infinite travel magazines, a Ford Mustang convertible soaring down the Pacific Coast Highway in Southern California. The man behind the wheel—tan, beaming, carefree—is wearing sunglasses and a neon green tank top. The convertible is bright red; it is nearly the same shade as your lips.

You slip into a dress you haven’t worn in years: black, short, off-the-shoulder sleeves. Ever-practical, you opt for black boots instead of heels. When you arrive at Ursa Minor, Heather is wearing a sequined hot pink tube top and white leather pants. Joyce is wearing—to Heather’s abject horror—overalls, a rainbow striped T-shirt, and a massive mustard yellow scarf that nearly swallows her into oblivion. By a pure and unfortunate coincidence, you and Aegon match. He is sitting at the bar in all black: black turtleneck sweater, black jeans, black combat boots, black sleepless shadows under both of his eyes, a black mood that sweats out of his pores like a fever. Randomly, you remember the gold chain necklace he was wearing on Thanksgiving. It didn’t look fake, and it didn’t look cheap. To your knowledge, it is the only thing of significant value that he owns. It is a peculiar luxury for him to possess.

So what? Maybe he stole it. Maybe he traded drugs for it. Maybe he got it off a corpse that he strangled and then sank into cold, silent darkness beneath an ice-covered lake.

But no, you don’t believe that. You never did, and you still don’t.

Heather slurps down her Sex On The Beach. “Is this your revenge dress? Are you invoking the spirit of Princess Diana in this fine establishment tonight?”

You gaze miserably at Aegon. He is peering down into the caramel-colored bubbles of his rum and Coke. The stereo is playing Shania Twain’s Whose Bed Have Your Boots Been Under? “He told me he’s an awful person. That’s the worst part. Like he told me over and over again exactly what to expect and I didn’t believe him, because I was just…just…I don’t know.” Infatuated. In love. Blind. Naïve. Hopeful. “Stupid, I guess.”

“I hate men.” Heather glances to the bar. “Except Dale, he’s okay.”

“The fictional ones aren’t all bad,” Joyce says, flipping a page in her newest fantasy novel. This one has a pirate on the front, his billowing white shirt mostly unbuttoned and his long hair flowing in the wind like a hero’s cape.

“I’ve had a horrendous fucking day,” you moan. “There’s the Aegon thing, there’s the I’m never going to get out of Alaska thing, there’s the I’m going to die alone thing, and then on top of all that, I had to euthanize Ms. Ruland’s cat right before we closed.”

“Sylvester Stallone?!” Heather cries. “Sylvester died? That black and white homicidal little maniac? With the super long whiskers? Jesus, that’s tragic. I’m sorry.”

“In all fairness, he was like a gazillion years old. He probably remembered when dinosaurs roamed America. But it was still awful. Ms. Ruland was a mess. I felt totally unprepared, totally useless. I’d practiced in vet school, of course, but I’d never euthanized an animal I knew before. It was horrible trying to comfort Ms. Ruland. It was horrible seeing someone walk into the clinic with someone they loved and then walk out alone.”

Heather and Joyce nod with sad, sympathetic eyes, wanting to help but not knowing what else to say. You gulp down your pineapple-flavored Bacardi Breezer. Aegon must have complained about the Shania Twain music; Dale switches out the CD and the opening notes of Sabotage by the Beastie Boys rockets out of the stereo.

Kimmie throws open the front door and blusters into Ursa Minor, shaking the snowflakes out of her hair and wearing a sleek, skin-tight, metallic silver dress and matching platform heels. She looks like a disco ball; she looks like a mirror. She canters to the bar like a racehorse and orders herself a Miller Lite. She says something to Aegon. He mumbles back, still peering into his rum and Coke. She tries again. He shrugs and downs the rest of his drink. He glances at you—almost glaring, almost sad—and then orders another rum and Coke.

“Oh no,” Heather mutters. “Oh no, oh no, Kimmie, no.”

The front door opens again, and Trent and his friends spill inside in a loud, riotous swarm. They order beers at the bar—Trent fist-bumping Aegon, several of the other guys descending upon Kimmie to make bungling attempts at seduction—and then they migrate over to the pool table like a honking, brainless flock of geese. Trent breaks off to make a pit stop at your booth.

“Hi,” he says, smiling as he sips his Heineken.

“Hi,” you reply. Heather and Joyce’s eyes dart between you and Trent.

He points to the spot beside you, which is presently vacant. “Do you mind if I hang out for a while?”

“I think you’ll regret it. I am currently extremely depressed and boring.”

To your surprise, Trent doesn’t act like a dumbass. His voice goes gentle. His face collapses into soft, attentive pity. “What’s there to be depressed about?”

Well, you see, I accidentally fell in love with your maybe-murderer alcoholic homeless friend and in a completely unforeseeable turn of events he ruined my life. “I had to euthanize a cat today.”

“Oh, that sucks,” Trent says. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s my job. I should get over it.”

“No, seriously, I’m sorry.” Trent tosses his hair off his forehead in his patented horse-like maneuver, and then his gaze comes back to you. “Your job is to help animals, so I get that not being able to fix one would be really tough. But I know you’re still great at your job. I know you did everything you could.”

You stare up at Trent. Heather stares up at Trent. Joyce, having completely forgotten about her fantasy novel (a rare occurrence), stares up at Trent. Trent swallows a mouthful of Heineken; stray beads of it drip down his full lips and stubbled chin.

I couldn’t fix the cat. I couldn’t fix Aegon. I can’t fix myself.

“You can hang out if you want to,” you tell Trent, scooting over to give him space. He grins and slides into the booth, tall and broad-shouldered and tossing his hair around again, looking like goddamn Seabiscuit. You steal a glimpse of the bar. Aegon’s jaw has fallen open; he’s gaping at you with scandalized disbelief, with something like horror. You move a little closer to Trent. And Aegon, at last, turns his attention to the dramatic, irritating, captivating Kimberly Barbieri.

“So, Trent,” Heather begins slowly, apprehensively, then picks up steam. Beside her, Joyce picks up her book. “How is the salmon genocide business going?”

As you half-listen to Trent talk about fishing, which somehow—as all topics seem to do with him—leads back to football and his high school glory days, you drink your Bacardi Breezer and watch Aegon with sharp, narrowed eyes. He has relocated to the barstool next to Kimmie. He appears to be asking her questions—tentative, stilted questions—and she replies with animated laughter and calculated little touches: her fingertips grazing his wrist, her palm briefly pressed to his shoulder. You hate the way Aegon talks with his hands, those gestures which had been becoming so familiar to you. They put an ache in your chest like a nest of barbed wire.

“Bro!” one of Trent’s friends is calling from the pool table. Others are waving encouragingly. “Bro, come play! Come play! Broooooo!”

“Looks like you’re being summoned,” Heather says.

“Oh, wow, I guess so.” Trent turns to you, nervous. “Do you…uh…would you…maybe…like to join me?”

“What, playing pool?”

“Yeah.”

You try to consider this in earnest; your mind is so tangled up in Kimmie and Aegon and everything that’s transpired over the past week that the words barely sound like English. Playing. Pool. With Trent. “I don’t think I know how.”

“I’ll teach you,” he offers, quite willingly.

“Okay, maybe. Give me a few minutes, I need another drink first.”

“Want me to grab a Bacardi Breezer for you?”

“Thanks, but I’ll do it. I haven’t decided which flavor I want next yet.”

“Cool,” Trent says. He slips out of the booth and gives you one final, mock-stern, smiling warning. “Remember, I’m going to teach you how to play. Meet me at the pool table. Don’t forget. Don’t disappear.”

“I’ll be there,” you promise. He departs. You say to Heather: “I probably won’t be there.”

“Why not?” Heather asks. “You’re hot. You’ll be even hotter when you’re bent over a pool table lining up your shots. The Greek boy is already sad, but I want to see him devastated.”

“I don’t think I have that power.”

Heather smirks and wiggles her slender eyebrows. “I disagree.”

Across Ursa Minor, Kimmie leaps off her barstool and leaves Aegon to guzzle his rum and Coke in peace. She approaches your booth sheepishly, like a dog that knows he’s chewed a considerable hole in his owner’s favorite La-Z-Boy recliner. “So,” Kimmie says to you, nervously kneading her glass bottle of Miller Lite. She’s so fucking cool, you think mournfully. Cool girls drink beer, cool girls are lighthearted and fun, cool girls don’t take guys too seriously, cool girls never ask about the future. “You and Aegon.”

You drink the last of your Bacardi Breezer moodily. “What about us?”

“You aren’t…like…together, are you?”

“No. No way. I’d rather date O.J. Simpson.”

“Well…” Heather begins, and you kick her under the table. Bitch! she mouths, rubbing her shin.

“Okay,” Kimmie sighs in relief, a smile breaking across her face. The Christmas lights reflect off her silver dress; she glows, she radiates. “Good. I was hoping he wasn’t off-limits, but I wanted to check with you first. You know, in accordance with Girl Code.”

“How courteous,” you note.

Kimmie marvels dreamily: “He looked so freaking good strumming that guitar.”

“Um, Kimmie…” Heather begins again. You glare at her ferociously. Heather pivots. “He’s probably the Ice Fisher, so you should keep your distance.”

Kimmie laughs. “Aegon? The Ice Fisher?! I don’t think so. You have to be sober to meticulously kidnap and murder people. Besides, from what I’ve heard he’s slept his way through like half the souvenir shop cashiers, and none of them ended up dead.”

You stare down at the table despondently. Heather, floundering, puts her fist through the figurative In Case Of Emergency Break Glass box. “He has syphilis.”

Kimmie gasps. “Really?!”

Heather deflates. “No. Well, actually, I don’t know. Maybe. It’s certainly possible. We should assume the worst.”

Kimmie, for once fully in on the joke, winks. “I’ll let you know once I’ve investigated.” She strolls back to the bar in her short mirrorball dress, shimmering and lithe like a snake’s skin.

“To be clear,” Heather tells you. “I was not in the half of the souvenir shop cashiers that Aegon boned.”

“Great. Thanks.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?! Why didn’t you tell her that…that…?!”

“That what?” you snap. “She asked if we’re together. We’re not. We never were. He made that crystal clear. And if he’s not going to get sober, I’m not going to get involved with someone like that.” Someone like Jesse. Someone like the man my mom still carries scars and bruises from, not in the flesh but in the soul.

“But…but…” Heather frowns at you with pained, condoling eyes. “You…you love him. Don’t you? You look like you love him. You look…and I mean this in the most compassionate way possible…you look fucking terrible. You look like someone died, and I’m not talking about Sylvester Stallone the geriatric cat. Joyce?”

Joyce gives you an evaluative glance. “Yeah, you look terrible.”

At the bar, Kimmie is leaning all over Aegon and giggling about a story he’s telling. His hands move in dramatic, expressive gestures. He is, for the first time tonight, smiling. There’s a jolt like knuckles jabbed beneath your ribs. There’s a profound, inky despair. Kimmie grabs Aegon’s hand—he has callouses on his fingertips, you think randomly—and leads him over to the pool table. As soon as they have vacated the area, Heather drags you to the bar.

“Dale?” she says. “My good bitch needs a Bacardi Breezer. Maybe two Bacardi Breezers. Maybe three. I think I’ll be driving her home tonight.” She turns to you. “What flavors do you want?”

“Apple,” you reply morosely.

“Okay, one apple, what about the rest?”

“All apple.”

“Goddamn, you really are fucked up about this. Dale, three apple Bacardi Breezers, please.”

He lines them up on the counter. Heather sits with you as you drink them one after the other, gradually feeling warm again, feeling a little lighter. When you peek back at the booth, Rob has appeared there and is discussing—politely this time—the plot of Joyce’s fantasy novel with her. She looks almost vaguely interested in his existence.

“Hey Dale,” Heather prompts. “What’s the secret to everlasting love?”

Dale chuckles huskily and runs a hand over his thick, wiry beard. “You’re asking the wrong person. My wife ran off with a cruise ship singer, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Heather says apologetically. That was around six months ago, at the start of tourist season; the guy was an Elvis impersonator. “My bad.”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m better off, I think. Now I don’t have to pretend to like her soap operas anymore. Or her tuna casserole.” He guffaws and ambles away to serve a pair of middle-aged locals seated at the other end of the bar.

When you’ve finished your last Bacardi Breezer, Heather slaps your shoulder encouragingly. “Alright, you ready?”

“Yup,” you say, swaying a little as you hop off the barstool. You stumble and bump into Heather, laughing. She steadies you with a massive grin. She’s delighted; she’s relieved.

“Good. Now get your ass over to the pool table and do your best impression of Demi Moore in Striptease.”

You have no intention of doing that. But you do—with Heather’s stabilizing grip on your waist—make your way to the pool table. There is a crowd pulsing around it: Trent, Trent’s assorted jock friends, Aegon, Kimmie. Aegon is standing in the background and nursing his—fourth? fifth? tenth?—rum and Coke. His face is vague and his eyes groggy. Still, he is beautiful. He’s so beautiful you almost blurt it out before stopping yourself. Kimmie is lining up a shot to break the balls out of their triangular configuration. Her silver hoop earrings glint under the Christmas lights. She is covered in male gazes like the sheen of ice on a lake. The white cue ball collides with the pyramid-shaped conglomeration; the balls go flying in every direction. The solid green ball—number 6—disappears into a pocket.

“Booyah!” Kimmie cheers. There are claps and whistles. Aegon just stares blankly, gnawing on his lower lip, that chronically disobedient lock of hair resting on his cheek.

“You’re majorly talented,” Trent’s friend Gary swoons. Kimmie bats her eyelashes at him and then checks to see if Aegon noticed. He didn’t. Kimmie, flustered but trying to hide it, takes another turn but doesn’t manage to sink a single ball.

“Hey!” Trent welcomes you warmly. He slings an arm across your shoulders, which ordinarily you would shy away from. Now, you lean into him, your body melding with his, your muscles loose and sinuous. Aegon does notice this. His eyes are a dark, dangerous blue: riptides, maelstroms, trenches miles deep. Good, you think. Maybe I can get him jealous enough to reconsider. Maybe I can make him want to change. “Want to shoot for me? I’ll show you how.”

You smile up at Trent. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”

He passes you a cue stick with large, rugged hands. “So you’ll need one of these…and then you have to chalk it…” He presses a tiny blue cube into your palm. You rub chalk onto the tip of the cue stick, feeling ridiculous.

“And what’s the purpose of this part? Superstition? To give me false confidence?”

Trent chuckles. “To help the stick get better contact with the cue ball.”

“So you’re an expert, huh?”

“I am athletically gifted.”

“Does pool count as a sport? I’m skeptical.”

“Pay attention,” he teases, flipping his hair out of his face. Seabiscuit strikes again. “Now Kimmie sunk a solid ball, so the solids are all hers. Ours are the striped ones. If we can sink all the striped ones before Kimmie sinks all the solid ones, we win. And you don’t want to sink the black 8 ball until all our balls are already gone. That’s the very last step.”

“Sink striped balls. Don’t sink solid balls or the 8 ball. Okay. Got it.” You take aim, your sights set on the striped blue ball, number 10. This is somewhat difficult; thanks to your plentiful Bacardi Breezers, the pool table feels like it’s listing like a ship. The tapered shaft of the stick is balanced awkwardly on the back of your hand. “Am I doing this right…?”

“Here,” Trent says, and then he gets to work repositioning you. He touches you without asking, which you don’t object to under the circumstances; Aegon’s face is flushing a gory, wrathful red. Trent spreads your fingers farther apart, adjusts the angle of your elbow, pushes you between the shoulder blades to lean a bit lower over the pool table. The hem of your black dress creeps up your bare thighs, fluttering like a whisper. Aegon aggressively chugs the rest of his rum and Coke, the ice cubes clanging in the glass.

You take your shot, and the white cue ball whizzes across the pool table. It ploughs into the number 10 ball and sends it down into the abyss-like pocket closest to where Aegon stands.

“Yes!” Trent roars. He swoops in, picks you up with startling ease, whirls you around once before setting your unsteady feet back down on the floor and accepting thunderous back-slapping from his hoard of friends.

“Wow,” Heather murmurs, mostly to herself.

“Ugh, you whore!” Kimmie jeers, but she’s clapping and giggling too. She’s still the main character tonight, and she always will be, and she knows this like she knows the lines in her own palms. She’s just that kind of girl.

“Another round, another round!” Trent’s friends are chanting, and then they stampede together off to the bar to procure more beer. Kimmie, tottering in her silvery platform heels, moves to join them.

Abruptly, Aegon catches Kimmie’s forearm and pulls her to him. He whispers in her ear; her eyes go wide, her breath hitches, her glossy lips split into an exhilarated smile. And then they dash out of Ursa Minor together, stopping just long enough to grab their parkas off the coatrack by the door. They’re gone. They’re both gone.

You sputter to Heather: “What…? How…? No, they can’t! They can’t—!”

“What do you want me to do?!” she hisses back. “Tackle them before they can make it off the premises? Tie Kimmie to a chair? Force her to take a vow of celibacy? You didn’t tell her that he was off-limits when you had the chance. This is the consequence that we all have to live with.”

“Oh my god.” The room is spiraling around you. You feel nauseous; you feel ice cold. He wasn’t supposed to leave with her. He wasn’t supposed to…

“Uh, are you okay?” Heather asks.

“No,” you choke out. Aegon and Kimmie! Aegon and Kimmie!!! “I have to get out of here.”

“Well you can’t drive home like this—”

“I know. I’ll be back.” You push by her, snatch your parka off the coatrack, dive out into the starless, frigid night.

There’s no one in the parking lot, no one on the street. You make a hard left and walk with no particular plan down towards the harbor, your shaking hands jammed into your parka pockets, tears streaming down your face. The wind whips at you, howling and old, older than the creaking wooden planks of the dock beneath your boots, older than all of humanity. You pass bobbing sailboats and fishing vessels until you come to the end of the pier, sit there cross-legged and sobbing, gaze out through blurred vision over the Gastineau Channel. It separates mainland Juneau from Douglas Island, which began—like so much of Alaska did—as a gold mining settlement. You remember the sparkling gold eyeshadow that you applied in your bedroom just a few hours ago. You don’t feel very valuable at the moment. You feel unworthy. You feel alone.

It is silent except for the waves and the wind. It is very dark; the sky is clouded, and the illuminations of Ursa Minor and the streetlights are faraway. When you hear the footsteps behind you on the pier, your stomach drops; they’re too heavy to be Heather’s or Joyce’s. But when you twist around, it is Trent that you see in the dim, shadowy light.

“Hi,” he says, raising a hand. “Heather told me that you ran away.”

“Hi. I guess I did.”

He hesitates, flips his hair, drops down beside you at the edge of the pier. “You okay?”

You sigh heavily and swipe the tears from your cheeks. “Yeah. I’m just having a really bad day.” Like an absurdly, phenomenally, exponentially bad day.

“I know what that’s like.”

I doubt it, Trent. I really do.

You sit there together in the quiet, watching the sparce light flick off the crests of waves, staring at the bright dots of houses and shops across the channel on Douglas Island. Trent puts his arm around you. You let him, and—partially for the warmth, partially for the healing sensation of being desired, being cared for—lean your head against his chest.

After a very long time, you ask dully: “What do you like about working on a salmon boat?” It’s almost enough to make you wince. It’s the kind of pedestrian, unimaginative question that Aegon would make fun of. But Trent seems to consider it carefully.

“I like being outside,” he says. “I like the fresh air, I like the scenery. And I like how working with my hands helps me get all my frustrations out. I’m a better person when I stay busy. Commercial fishing can be intense sometimes, don’t get me wrong, that’s why I’m trying to get into the Forest Service. But I like it enough.”

“What do you like about me?”

You can hear the awe in his voice. “You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. There was a time when I didn’t care so much about things like that. But now that I’m older and I’ve started to think about settling down…I feel like you’re the right kind of girl to do that with.”

You look up at him. He beams down at you like a full moon. And then he kisses you. He’s warm and strong and handsome in that obvious sort of way, but he’s something else, too: a little forceful, a little rough. Rough isn’t always a bad thing. But it’s like you can glimpse the silhouette of someone else beneath the surface, stars veiled by clouds, the shadows of fish under ice. He doesn’t feel anything like Aegon. He doesn’t patch the wound that Aegon left in you at all.

I wonder where Aegon is right now. I wonder what he’s doing to Kimmie.

When Trent breaks the kiss, you tell him that you have to go. He walks you back to Ursa Minor, his mighty palm on the small of your back.

~~~~~~~~~~

Heather drives you home, shellshocked. She asks, in reference to your confession about the kiss on the pier: “So…uh…do you want to talk about it, or…?”

“No. Definitely not.”

“Are you and Trent…like…a thing…?!”

“I don’t know. He seems to think we are.”

“Oh god, oh god, oh my god.” She rubs her forehead with one hand, her astonished eyes on the indigo-black horizon.

When you get home, your dad is already asleep. Your mom is straightening up the kitchen, wiping off countertops and scrubbing dishes in the bubble-filled sink. When you ask if she needs any help, she bursts out laughing.

“You’re the one who looks like she needs help,” she says. “What happened at the bar?”

You grimace down at the floor. “A lot of things. A lot of things.”

“Nothing you feel the desire to share?”

“No. Not quite yet. Can you drive me back to pick up my Jeep tomorrow?”

“Sure. Why don’t you take a nice bubble bath and then go to bed?” she suggests. “You’ll feel better in the morning. Do you need a snack? I could make pancakes. Or a grilled cheese.”

“That’s really kind of you, but no thanks, Mom.” I’ve completely lost my appetite.

You sulk in a bubble bath for a while, drag yourself out, brush your teeth and hair, try to rub the night off every part of you like smoothing rough edges off a gemstone. When you wander out into the hallway, your eyes catch on the door to the attic, a rectangular outline in the white ceiling. You are mostly sober by now, and yet still the idea that strikes you seems ludicrous at first. It’s a muddled, disjointed thought. It might be a dangerous one.

If I can learn more about Jesse, maybe I can understand Aegon too.

The box of journals is up there, you know, dusty and untouched and waiting. The rope hangs invitingly. You pull the door open and unfold the ladder. You climb up into the attic, turn on the single naked lightbulb, and push aside bins of holiday decorations and family heirlooms until you find a small, unlabeled cardboard box that’s sealed shut with duct table. You peel back the tape and peek inside the flaps. The box is filled with thin leather journals in a variety of colors: olive green, navy blue, rust red, earthen brown. You gather the cardboard box into your arms and carry it down to your bedroom, slipping it discretely beneath your bed to live beside childhood stuffed animals and mounds of old yearbooks. You close up the attic and then venture downstairs to get yourself some water to stave off a blossoming hangover.

Your mom is at the kitchen sink, washing a plate with a green Scotch-Brite sponge. “Did I hear you up in the attic, ladybug? Do you need help finding something?”

“No, I got it.”

“Okay.” But she studies you, puzzled. She’s going to worry unless you explain.

“I don’t want to make you talk about it,” you say. “And I don’t want to upset you. I’ll never mention it again. But just so you know, I want to read the journals. For my own reasons. That’s why I was up in the attic. I was bringing the box down to my bedroom.”

“Oh.” She freezes, stares out the window over the sink, goes vacant. “That makes sense. That’s fine.”

“Mom, are you alright?”

“Of course, ladybug.” There is nothing outside but night. You can see her reflection in the glass like a mirror. Long, slow seconds tick by. “It seemed like he was getting better,” your mom says, her voice faint and weightless, an untethered balloon, a feather on waves. “That’s the strange part. At the very end, it seemed like he was getting better.”

Then she lets the plate sink beneath the pearlescent bubbles, wipes her hands dry on a dishtowel, and goes to bed without another word.

[moon0fairy]

I have to comment on more stuff so a whole post about my thoughts on Ted Lasso 3x02:

• as previously said: TRENT CRIMM !!!!!

•Isaac being smart and Jamie trying to comfort Roy omg

• the whole locker room scene ??? A whole mess I love them so much

• Everyone be nice to Trent Crimm 😠 (he‘s your Coach‘s boyfriend)

• Roy and Trent sharing a room sound like a start for a great comedy setup (and beautiful friendship hehe)

• Damn Barbara is really rude even with backstory and all

• Rupert *pronounced the same way as Dinkleberd*

• Ted telling Roy his opinion and protecting his Trent awww

• „They‘re good with sound off“😭😭

•Trent being all anxious he feels totally out of his comfort zone

• Aww Roy and Trent making up🥰🥰

• The bathroom scene🤭🤭 Go Rebecca🤭

• Everyone say thank you Dani‘s face

• Roy opening up, Ted doing his Ted thing and Trent smiling at him I can‘t it‘s too much

[hippolotamus]

Fuck it Fraturday

Besties, it has been a day. I was tagged by the lovely @alyxmastershipper @spotsandsocks @ajunerose @elvensorceress and @shortsighted-owl 🥰 And, hey, it is still Friday... somewhere. As I went rummaging for this week's post I learned something about myself. Apparently I have a thing for starting mid-season spec fics, not finishing them, and naming them for Taylor Swift lyrics. So there's that useless trivia for you. Anyway, I cleaned up (to the best of my sleepy ability) my S5 offering I'm reaching for you, terrified

bon appetit, my loves 😘

I’m leaving the 118.

Buck has had his oxygen tank run out, he’s been caught in more natural disasters than he’d prefer, and trapped under a ladder truck. Among other things. Those agonizing memories pale in comparison to what he feels now, hearing Eddie’s announcement. He's a mix of breathless and numb and tingling pinpricks dancing over his skin. Of too much and not enough and loss. 

Eddie is… casual? Neutral? As if he’s told them he’s only leaving town for a few days, but he’ll be right back. Except – will he? Buck doesn’t know. 

For the span of a single heartbeat Buck hates Eddie with everything he can muster. If someone were to ask – in this infinitesimal moment in time – he would swear that he undeniably, viscerally hates him. It would only be true for that moment, of course. But also not true at all. Buck only believes it because he’s feeling trapped. Caught between containing his feelings in a twisted sense of maintaining decorum, and wanting to scream. A buildup of pressure that quickly manifests as shuddering breaths, wide eyes and trembling fists clenched at his side. 

Irrational as it may be, this is worse, he decides, than clawing at unforgiving mud. Worse than feeling Eddie’s still warm blood spatter on his skin. Worse than hearing Mitchell Trent’s gun fire without knowing who was on the receiving end. Those were all times Buck thought he could lose his best friend, but they were external forces. The result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time while doing their jobs. This, though… this is coming directly from Eddie. Eddie, who just moments ago, was hugging Bobby by the grill. 

A selfish stream of thoughts comes to his mind unbidden. Did Bobby know? Before now? He’s their captain, but why should he be the first to find out? Why does he get the news semi-privately and Buck learns alongside Hen? Maybe because you’ve been too busy playing the loving boyfriend to the first person to say ‘I love you’.

“E-Eddie?” Buck’s voice sounds far away, even to himself. It reminds him of how he would quietly seek out Maddie to patch up his latest injury before their parents could catch on.

“What-” A thousand questions, that he can’t seem to articulate with actual words, catch in his throat. Buck has to force himself to look at Eddie and hope his pleading gaze can ask for him. That’s when he finally sees it. The now obvious pain emanating from behind the mask of feigned indifference.

Then the words ‘for Christopher’ register. And Buck can’t believe he’s been so self-centered by not considering Chris before now. He’s overwhelmed with thoughts of inside jokes, endless optimism, baking experiments, movie nights, trips to the zoo and a smile that radiates pure fucking sunshine. 

Does Chris even know yet? Has Eddie considered that their dynamic might change? That schedules won’t align as perfectly, or interactions could become awkward if Eddie shuts himself off. 

Bobby and Athena, the enormous Christmas tree, Karen, Denny, Christopher… it all swirls into one blended image that has him swaying. He thinks someone shouts his name, sees Eddie reach out. His field of vision narrows, rapidly fading to black. The cool grass presses against his skin, until he’s not sensing anything at all.

*****

Buck blinks once, twice. He squints at the thin ray of sun that’s made its way through the crowd gathered around him. Hen, Bobby and Eddie hover overhead, poking, prodding, and performing a sternal rub.

“Ow!” 

“Oh, good. You’re awake,” Hen says dryly, easing him back down when he tries to sit. “Stay still.”

“‘M fine.” He tries again, but a different hand – with a touch he would know if he were blind – firmly holds him in place.

“Buck?” Christopher sidles up next to Eddie, carefully lowering himself to the ground. “It’ll be okay. I can hold your hand if you want.” The words are so innocent, given so freely, Buck wants to cry. Instead, he sniffs and swallows down the emotions, taking Christopher’s small hand in his own. 

“Thanks, buddy. I’d like that.” Buck actively avoids looking at Eddie. It’s too much like staring at the sun on a cloudy day, muted but still overwhelming.

Christopher grasps Buck’s hand while Hen takes his vitals and verifies he’s okay. As okay as he’s going to be, anyway. 

“Alright, Buckaroo. Sit here for a few minutes. If you’re feeling stable then we’ll help you stand up.”

“Hen-” he starts to protest.

“I said what I said, Buckley. Don’t push it. I can just as easily turn this into IVs and recommend continuous monitoring.” 

“Aye aye, Dr. Wilson.” Buck lets out an exasperated sigh and lets Hen and Bobby help him sit. He’s still avoiding looking at Eddie even though he can feel the gaze boring into him. The crowd starts to dissipate, apparently satisfied that everything is fine. Christopher throws his arms around Buck, burying his face into his neck. 

“See, Buck? I told you it would be okay.”

“Never doubted you for a second, buddy.” He rubs his thumb back and forth, lets his fingers thread through Christopher’s curls, breathes in the warm comfort that never fails to slow his pulse and calm his nerves. 

“Hey, mijo? Let’s give Buck some air. I think he and I have some things to talk about.” 

“Okay, Dad.” Christopher reluctantly loosens his grip, but not before Buck presses a kiss into his hair and squeezes him tight before sending him on his way. 

Eddie reaches out, extending a hand for Buck to grab onto, like an anchor. When he stands, Buck simultaneously wants to run away and throw himself into Eddie like Christopher had done to him. He wants to storm off and be held while he falls apart against Eddie’s chest. Instead he wordlessly follows to the relative quiet of the street, sheltered behind Eddie’s truck. 

“Buck,” Eddie starts to say. Except Buck interrupts, too impatient and on edge to wait his turn.

“Why didn’t you tell me, Eds?”

Eddie stuffs his hands in his pockets and looks at the ground, scuffing his shoe against the street. He eventually meets Buck’s gaze and there’s no pretense there, no mask. Just Eddie. 

“Today was my first chance to talk to Cap about it. And I wanted to tell him first. Because I knew if I went to you first, you would talk me out of it. But,” – Eddie puts a hand on Buck’s shoulder and he’s not sure if it’s more for his own reassurance or Eddie’s – “you have to know this is for Christopher. I need him to know that he doesn’t have to worry about coming home one day to find out I’m not there. So he can stop having nightmares, and worrying that some lunatic is gonna take me out because they can’t handle their own shit.”

Bile creeps up Buck’s throat and Eddie’s hand feels less like a comfort and more like a crushing weight. Because he’s watched Eddie nearly die, wide-eyed and gasping for breath, and it could still happen somewhere else. Somewhere Buck can’t be to keep an eye on him, leap into action, make sure he’s safe. “Does Christopher know?”

“Not yet. I was going to tell him tonight.”

Buck nods slowly, grateful he isn’t the last person to find out. “And what about us?”

“What about-“ Eddie looks at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“What I mean,” Buck says, more defensive than he intends, “is you had this whole thing about the family you’re born into, and the family you choose. Made a big deal about promising we wouldn’t drift apart if we didn’t work together anymore. Can you still say that?” 

Eddie had friends in the Army, in Texas, that he never talks about. Who’s to say Buck, and the rest of the 118, won’t be replaced by whoever comes next? Eddie and Christopher have become a force in Buck’s life at least as strong as Bobby and Maddie. They’re part of a core group of people who look after him, care how he’s doing, and make sure he doesn’t fuck up too badly. They’re his family. Buck can’t lose them. He can’t.

“I did promise. And I meant it- I mean it. I’ll even—” Eddie pauses, huffing out a humorless laugh. “I’ll even pinkie promise if you want.”

Buck’s eyes widen as he gasps and lifts a hand to his chest like a scandalized maiden. “Pinkie promises are sacred, Eds.”

“I know. And you know I think they’re ridiculous. I am only doing this for you.” Eddie’s hand slides off Buck’s shoulder and he extends his little finger out as an offering.

Buck tentatively holds his own out, intertwining it with Eddie’s. They curl together and Buck can’t stop staring, committing the sight to memory. He wants the image branded into his mind until his heart beats for the last time, until he takes his final breath. Wants to remember this moment when Eddie swore he wouldn’t abandon him. 

Eddie pulls him into a hug, wrapping one hand around Buck’s waist, unwilling to let their pinkies separate. The gesture means more than Buck could ever put into words.

“What are we hugging about?!” Christopher barrels towards them as fast as his legs can carry him. Buck isn’t even sorry about the interruption. He welcomes it, knowing that having all three of them together can only make the moment more complete. Buck and Eddie part just enough to wrap him into the fold. 

Christopher throws one arm around each of them and Buck doesn’t think he’s ever felt this loved by anyone besides Maddie. His heart feels so full he thinks he might burst. He loves Christopher. He loves Eddie, has loved Eddie. In a way he’s always acknowledged as platonic, familial. He’s never allowed himself to think beyond that. There’s always been a reason to shut it down and not get his hopes up. Ali, Shannon, Ana, Taylor. 

Buck can’t even pinpoint when the lines began to blur between friend, family and more. Loving Eddie was a slow, creeping thing that wrapped around him, gradually entwining them together. Buck only realized once he was too attached to even entertain separating himself. Like ivy that climbs up a building, bonding to it so there’s a mark if it’s ever ripped away. 

He tells Taylor he loves her, but it’s not the same. Not like this. He remembers freezing the first time she said the words, unsure if it sounded wrong because it was coming from her, or because it was coming from anyone at all. Buck always imagined saying ‘I love you, too’ would be easy when someone finally admitted to loving him. And it is - easy. But at the same time it still feels foreign rolling off his tongue. Too practiced and eager.

“Hey,” Eddie murmurs. “Do you want to be there tonight? When I tell him?”

Tears sting the corners of Buck’s eyes, already threatening to spill over. Of course he wants to be there. He always wants to be a part of anything with Chris and Eddie. His Diaz boys. But, this- this seems like a moment that should be between father and son. Too intimate for Buck to be involved. 

“Are you sure? I don’t think-“

“You don’t think what?” Eddie interjects. “That he won’t be texting or calling you the second we’re done talking? That he won’t ask what you think about all this? Don’t think. Just come. Please.” 

Eddie wrinkles his nose and furrows his brow – barely visible, like he didn’t want Buck to notice – and bites his bottom lip. “Unless you have… other plans. I should’ve asked first. Maybe you have something with...” He trails off, waving his hand dismissively.

“No,” Buck shakes his head adamantly, saving Eddie the trouble. “She can wait. I want to be there. For Christopher.”

“For Christopher,” Eddie repeats, nodding thoughtfully. 

“What’s for me?” The younger Diaz finally pipes up, eyes shining behind the glare of his glasses. 

“Uh, I’m coming over after the party to hang with you,” Buck says. “Obviously.”

Christopher whoops and pumps his fist in the air. “Are you staying to make pancakes in the morning?”

“If it’s okay with your dad.” Buck looks to Eddie, seeking permission he’s already 87% certain he’ll get.

Eddie studies him for a moment, as if he doesn’t understand why it would ever be an issue. Then he smiles, the stupidly fond private one he saves just for Buck and Chris. “Obviously,” he finally answers. 

Their embrace becomes more snug as Eddie exhales a content sigh and rests his forehead against Buck’s. It feels like home and safety. Like a place he could stay. Like a thing he could keep.

[grayson-baller]

trent beretta with (4, 54, and 58)

if you write this, thanks a bunch 🥰

Trent Beretta -- Headcanon

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warnings: smut--18+

word count: 646

pairing: fem!reader & trent beretta

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masterlist: ++

tags: @shelickedthebeater @legit9thlunaticwarrior @stxrrlightwrites13

requests are open. want on my tag list? send me a message

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prompts:

nsfw list:

4 -- "No panties, baby?"

54 -- “Good girl.”

58-- "Show me how a good girl begs."

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“Come here,” Trent spoke, circling around the island in your shared kitchen. He reached for you, pulling you into his warm embrace. One hand naturally rested on your hip, and the other gently cupped your face.

You stared at your handsome boyfriend, remembering just how lucky you were. His features softened as a wide smile spread across his face, thumb gently stroking your cheek. He was the one that often showered you with pretty words, reminders of how much you meant to him.

“My girl is spoiling me tonight.” Warmth lit up his eyes, memorizing you. Like they had since the day you met him. “Cooked me a hell of a dinner and dressed like a sweet little treat for me.”

The hand on your hip played with the soft fabric of your dress. “So damn beautiful, baby.” He praised, pressing his lips softly against yours.

You grinned against his mouth, own hand coming up to his face. “Glad you liked it.” You spoke, pulling back. Trent leaned in, chasing after you slightly before pressing a soft kiss against your nose.

You wrinkled your nose, giggling. You loved this softer, playful side of him. The ways he loved you was sweet, gentle, and still all-consuming.

“Just wait until you see what I was planning for dessert.” You teased, reaching down to pull your dress up slightly, flashing him a glimpse of your bare thighs.

He groaned. His hand on your hip wrapped around your waist as he lifted you with ease, setting you down on the countertop.

“What a little tease you are, baby.” His hand gently gripped your hair, pulling your head back slightly. “Still so fucking perfect, aren’t you, pretty girl?” He kissed the exposed skin of your neck, hand moving down to your thigh.

“No panties, baby?” He questioned, hand sliding in between your thighs. He chuckled when you just shook your head. “They would have been near useless, anyway. Would have been soaked by now with how much of a wet mess you are for me.”

You whimpered, rocking your hip upwards against his hand. This man knew your body inside and out. He knew the way his words affected you, and how much he turned you on.

“Spread your legs for me, baby.” He whispered, kissing your lips softly. You obliged, spreading open your thighs. “Atta girl.” He praised. “Look at you, baby. Making a mess on our counter.”

His fingers parted your lips, fingers teasing you. He used his middle finger to circle your entrance a few times, loving the sound of your whimpers.

You were leaned back on your arms, head falling backwards. Each time he teased you, you whimpered and bucked your hips up some. He was barely touching you, and you were already going out of your mind with want.

You knew if the day came where Trent really dedicated his efforts into teasing you, you’d melt into a puddle. You weren’t sure if you’d ever survive that.

“So beautiful.” He whispered, letting the tip of his finger slide inside of you before quickly removing it. He silenced your mewls of protest as his thumb circled your clit. “What a good girl my baby is.”

“Fuck,” you groaned, raising your head to look at him. “Please, babe.”

He stared at you for a moment, finger circling your entrance once again. “I love the sound of you begging for me, pretty girl. Go on, then. Show me how a good girl begs.”

You let out a moan, head falling backwards again. “Please, Trent.” You mumbled, rocking your hips upward against his teasing fingers. “Baby, please. Please. Touch me. More. Please. I need you!” You pleaded.

With a growl, Trent’s mouth crashed against yours. His finger slid inside of you, pumping in and out. His thumb found your clit again, circling it as he swallowed down your moans.

“Good girl.”

[foreverisntenough]

BRO I LOVE YOUR TRENT STORY SO SO MUCH MADE ME SURVIVE MY FINALS AND NOW MY SUMMR BREAK YOU'RE SO SO TALENTED 😭💗💗

AWwwwWWwThank you SM!! This made me smile! 🥰 I'm so glad to hear you enjoy it! Let me know if you like a certain chapter more than others. I'm so interested to see what resonates the most with different people!

Thank you SM for reading and messaging I really appreciate it ❤️

[the-ill-omen-of-hope]

Ted Lasso S3e6: Sunflowers

Alright, y’all can have a go at me for being a skeptic but I walked into season 3 every time thinking “Where the hell is this going?” Cause Love and Thunder let me down after Ragnarok and Loki Phase 4 was a let down, and GoT, HIMYM, I could go on but it breaks my heart. But fuck me head man! I should trust these folks with my life! The magic of S1 and S2 was something but I’m still sitting here smiling like an idiot, singing 🎶don’t worry, it will be alright🎶. Anyway, sorry for the rant :) Just some stuff I thought about while watching S3e6 (spoilers?) 

I was thinking I'm going to need more than one episode to convince me of Rebecca and boat man. Kinda glad it was only for one ep. Did anybody spot the GREEN BOX?

There was one bed in Ted and Beard's room...

I love Coach Beard!

Placebo High Ted was fun. Weird, but like the Christmas episode where Ted's moustache fell off kind of weird.

I love Coach Beard!!

There is so much potential for Ao3 people out there, don't let me down. TedBeard, TrentxColin, RoyxJamie, TedBecca, JackxKeeley, even a glimpse of hope out there for fellows RoyKeeley, etcccccc.

I love Coach Beard!!!

I want what Trent Crimm is wearing.

Anybody saw that loving look Beard gave Ted at the end of the episode? Or am I just being too much of a stan?

I just love the wholesome team bonding moment so much 🥰

Total football

[devotioncrater]

for the soft prompt meme: tedependent and 11, 17 and/or 21 😊🥰

the clouds and sea are smiling (Rated M. 1,635 words)

“Anyone ever tell you,” Ted begins, “that your hair looks like one of those cumulus clouds?” Trent blinks at him slowly. Six-thirty in the morning and already he’s talkative. It has to be a talent. “No, I don’t believe so.” “Mm, that’s a shame.” “Think my hair may be a touch too dark for cumulus. Probably Nimbostratus.” Ted squeezes his hand and hums. “Cumulonimbus.” “Are you implying my hair reminds you of thunderstorms?” Trent asks, raising an eyebrow as he leans a bit closer. His hair falls forward as he does, and he sees the way Ted breaks eye contact for a brief second to watch the movement.

11) Toothpaste kisses 17) Fixing the other persons clothes absentmindedly or like tucking their hair behind their ear 21) this is a very long hug now sort of hug

@trentycrimms i didn't get to include 21 because i couldn't figure out where to put it, but i hope this is okay too!!

[lfc21]

Snoring Trent

Player: Trent Alexander Arnold

Tw: snoring

Summary: Trent was never able to stay quiet for too long, even in his sleep. Sometimes you had to make it stop before you ran away from his irritating snores.

You listened to the deafening noises beside you. Like thunder and lightning on an October night or a cupboard of pans falling on the floor. It was hell. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling hoping and praying for even a minute of silence. You wanted to cry, scream and shout all at once. You tossed again for what seemed like the 100th time that night. You took one deep breath and sat up again on the familiar headboard.

"Trent" You mumbled with your head resting on the headboard with your eyes sealed shut in anger. No answer. You looked down at your sleeping boyfriend noticing how peaceful one could be even when their other half was wide awake questioning how long it would take to run away. "Trent" You repeated slightly louder this time and still received no answer. This man could fall asleep on a washing line. You rolled your eyes and groaned as the frustration was starting to wear on every part of your body. You were simply being answered by snores. "Trent!!" You shouted even louder than ever before.

"hm...y-yeah?" He quickly mumbled as his body jumped up slightly at your shout. His dark hair was all over the place and his hands rubbed his eyes ever so gently.

"You're going to shake the house with your snoring" You quickly explained as he stupidly looked around the room as if he had woken up in the year 3000.

"Oh sorry, I didn't know" He mumbled back with a yawn not taking much care as to what you were saying.

"Is that it?" You asked in a fine mood as he clambered out of your shared bed and made a beeline for your ensuite toilet.

"What do you want me to do? Not breathe?" Trent questioned back standing in the doorway with a laugh before wandering to the bathroom. You rolled your eyes knowing it wasn't worth causing an argument purely because of the fact you had no sleep. You shuffled back down your bed as you wanted to take full advantage of no snores. Trent stood at the side of the bed with a laugh as he watched you tucked up in your large duvet with a pouty expression. "In a mood babe?" He asked with a smug smirk knowing exactly what the answer was.

"You try having no sleep" You shot back with a glare as you looked up and your eyes locked with his. He simply shucks his head with a tight lip smile before laying himself down next to you. As soon as you felt the bed stopped moving and the sound of Trent finally getting comfy you rested your head on his large chest. His eyes rested on you as his fingers danced around your back and he listened to the sweet song of your small breaths. He loved the sound, it gave him such comfort. His eyes were wide awake, and his mind stayed so active. He knew how much you treasured your sleep and he also knew how much he hated hearing his loud and deadly snores.

Hey guys 👋🏻 This was a cute short trent imagine that I feel we all need 6️⃣6️⃣ please leave feedback and requests as they are greatly appreciated 🥰 masterlist 2022 💌 masterlist 2023 💌

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