runningwithcoffee

[runningwithcoffee]

Aww, this is so cute and I love it. (Although I do wonder how Ben will cope when Elijah turns into a tiny ball of rage and tears, as four-year-olds are wont to do from time to time 😉)

Thank you for tagging me!

Thread of Fate - B.Chilwell ✨ Chapter Five - Ice Cream Runs

Pairing: Ben Chilwell x Reader

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: cute ice cream runs and some awkward questions.

Authors Note: Hi! Here's the fifth chapter! sorry for the wait! 🤭

Feedback is always appreciated, please do leave some 🫶🏻

This series will include angst, fluff, smut and other themes, under 18s dni.

Chapter Four

3 weeks later 

Ben’s POV:

The bell above the coffee shop door jingled, and Elijah didn’t even look up from his colouring page before a wide smile spread across his face.

“Ben!” he shouted, hopping off his stool so fast he nearly knocked over his juice box. This was a common thing now, I’ve been either coming to the shop after school or going with y/n to the school pick up for the last three weeks now. Elijah and I have formed a small bond that I love, it fills my heart with pride. However, me and y/n still haven’t talked about that night…the night of the almost kiss, the night I told her I’d wait. It’s just been stolen glances and casual conversation and it’s killing me. 

Y/N turned from the espresso machine making my heart doing that weird little flutter thing it always did lately as I send her a small smile. 

“Hey, buddy” I said, crouching to Elijah’s level “that a new drawing?”

“It’s a dragon castle” Elijah said, holding it up proudly “this one breathes strawberry fire, that’s the strongest kind.”

I laughed “obviously, strawberry fire melts everything”

The shop was starting to hum with noise, the grinder whirring, the steamer hissing, the shuffle of customers taking their seats and scanning menus. I’d gotten used to the rhythms here, the way y/n handled it all like she was holding the whole place together with nothing but grit and grace.

Elijah was leaning against the counter, holding his drawing on the counter, his small hands folded over the edge. He was trying to be patient, trying not to whine, but I could see it in his face, that tight little expression of disappointment he hadn’t learned to hide yet.

“Mummy?” he asked, his voice soft.

“yeah baby?” she replied, still moving.

“Can we go get ice cream? The machine is broken”

y/n paused, looked at him with tired eyes and a soft smile that already held an apology. “Sweetheart, I promise we will, but not right now, okay? It’s about to get really busy in here”

He nodded, brave as anything, but his shoulders sagged and he turned away, dragging himself back toward the stool in the corner like it took real effort and my chest tightened a little. I didn’t even think about it, not really. I just moved and crossed the space between us and lowered my voice so only she could hear me.

“I’ll take him”

She blinked, eyes narrowing a touch “what?”

“I’ll take him to get ice cream, it's just down the road, right? We’ll be back in an hour, tops”

She hesitated, that same guarded look I used to know so well. The kind that said she wasn’t sure if this was a good idea, even though she wanted to believe it was “I don’t know…”

“y/n,” I said gently “he’s not asking for much, and you’ve got your hands full. Let me do this, for him”

Her eyes shifted to Elijah, who was now gently swinging his legs, pretending not to care and then she nodded, slowly “just an hour and don't come crying to me when you realise the ice cream shop is like a children's playground, they run around everywhere!"

A small smile tugged at my mouth “I wont, we'll be back in an hour”

I walked over to Elijah and crouched beside him “hey, little man” I said “want to go on an ice cream run with me?”

His whole face lit up, that sadness gone in an instant “yes!”

He jumped down and grabbed my hand without hesitation, like he’d always known it belonged there. We turned toward the door, and I glanced back once, y/n stood behind the counter, watching us go, a look in her eyes I couldn’t quite name, but I knew it meant something was shifting and for the first time in a long time, it felt like I was exactly where I was supposed to be.

-------

Elijah’s hand was small but firm in mine, swinging slightly as we walked down the pavement toward the ice cream shop. The sun was just starting to dip, casting that honey-gold light over the tops of buildings, the buzz of the street faded into the background and all I really heard was his voice.

“I think if I was a dinosaur, I’d be a velociraptor” he announced suddenly.

I looked down at him, grinning “a velociraptor? why’s that?”

“Because they’re fast and clever,” he said proudly “and they work in a team, like me and my friends when we play tag”

I laughed under my breath “can’t argue with that, you’d make a pretty good raptor”

He puffed his chest out a bit, clearly pleased “what about you?” he asked, tilting his head to look up at me.

“What kind of dinosaur would I be?” He nodded  “Hmm… I think I’d be a triceratops” I said thoughtfully.

“Why?”

“Strong. Protective. Bit stubborn, maybe” I added with a chuckle “and always watching out for the little ones"

Elijah’s smile widened, and then he paused, frowning like he was trying to remember something “you said there were dinosaurs in London…” he said.

“There are” I nodded “in a big park called Crystal Palace. They’ve got life-size dinosaur statues, ones that look just like the real thing, you’d love it”

His eyes lit up like I’d told him we were going to space “can we go?”

“Absolutely” I said, no hesitation “one day soon, we’ll go together”

He was quiet for a beat, then said quietly “I’ve never been to London”

I looked down at him, feeling the weight of everything he didn’t say in those few words. The smallness of his world, the things he hadn’t had the chance to do, the chances I’d missed being part of until now.

“Well” I said softly “maybe it’s time you had an adventure”

He grinned again, and we kept walking, the shop just up ahead and even though we were only going for ice cream, it felt like the beginning of something so much bigger. The ice cream shop was cool and bright, a sweet contrast to the summer warmth still hanging outside. The smell of sugar and waffle cones filled the air, and behind the glass counter, rows of colourful flavours stretched out like a treasure map. And just like y/n said, children everywhere.

Elijah pressed his hands to the glass, eyes wide “whoa”

I smiled, stepping up beside him “pick anything you want, the sky’s the limit”

He turned to me slowly, whispering like it was a sacred secret “even two scoops?”

I leaned down “two scoops, extra sprinkles, and maybe even one of those tiny chocolate dinosaurs if they’ve got ‘em"

His grin could’ve lit up the entire shop and after a few minutes of careful, serious deliberation, he settled on bubble-gum and mint choc chip, a questionable combo, but I didn’t dare challenge his confidence. We took a seat in a booth by the window, his legs swinging happily beneath the table as he tackled his tower of sugar. I got a plain vanilla and he gave me a look like I was the most boring person on earth, which is fair.

“Did you really play football on TV?” he asked suddenly, licking a drip before it reached his fingers.

“I did” I nodded “still do, kind of, sometimes"

He tilted his head “do you like it?”

I thought for a second “I do, I love it”

“This is the best day ever,” he declared, legs swinging.

“Yeah?” I said, smiling “because of the ice cream?”

He nodded “and because you took me” he added, without even looking up.

That one hit me square in the chest, he was just being honest. He had no idea what those words meant to me, no idea how long I’d wished for this, just something small, something normal.

“You’re way cooler than most of mummy's friends” he said around a mouthful of cone.

I laughed once “that so?”

He nodded vigorously “you’re like… a superhero, but with football boots instead of a cape”

That pulled a real smile out of me “I’ll take it”

And then, out of nowhere, Elijah said “do you think we’ll go for ice cream in London?”

I looked over at him, heart clenching at how much weight he put into that simple question “we’ll go for ice cream” I promised “we’ll see dinosaurs, and we’ll do everything together, if that’s what you want”

He nodded slowly, solemn “I really want to do that”

A silence passed between us again, but it wasn’t empty, it was full of something real, maybe even the start of something whole.

------

The sun was lower now, casting long shadows across the pavement as we made our way back to the shop. Elijah walked beside me, the remnants of his bubblegum-and-mint masterpiece smeared a little on his chin, one hand grasping a bunch of napkins from the shop and the other still holding mine. He was quiet at first, the kind of thoughtful quiet kids get when their minds are working overtime.

Then, softly he asked “do you have a dad?”

I glanced down at him, his gaze was fixed ahead, swinging our joined hands gently between us “I do” I said “he passed away though”

“Oh” he said, and I could hear the careful sadness in his voice, the kind only children offer when they don’t fully understand grief but still feel the shape of it “was he nice?”

“He was” I nodded “he was kind, funny, too. He always knew how to make you feel better, even when things were rough and he always supported me in everything”

Elijah nodded slowly, processing “I don’t know my dad” he said after a moment “mummy says he loves me very much but I’ve never met him”

I stopped walking, Elijah did too, looking up at me with those wide, serious eyes, so open, so trusting, the double of mine and my heart dropped into my stomach and my voice felt thick in my throat “She’s right kid, he does love you, more than anything”

He tilted his head "do you know who he is?”

I crouched down in front of him, holding his gaze “I do” I said quietly "and if he could be here, he would"

He nodded, slowly, like he understood more than he let on. Then, without a word, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my neck. I held him for a long moment, the noise of the street far away, his little heartbeat pressed to mine. We started walking again, his hand finding mine once more, tighter this time and as the shop came back into view, I knew the moment I stepped through that door, everything would change. We entered the shop, Elijah had rainbow sprinkles on his cheek and a satisfied slump to his shoulders, he ran straight over to the table after saying hello to y/n and pulled his drawing equipment out of his backpack. 

y/n wiped down the counter again even though it looked clean already “so" she said as she looked at me “are you just gonna keep showing up like this, or is there a day you’re planning to disappear?”

I blinked, then leaned my elbows on the counter “that’s a fair question”

She waited “I don’t know what I’m doing here, exactly” I said after a beat “I didn’t plan to stay this long but then I kept thinking about the way Elijah lights up when he sees me and the way you don’t run me off with a broom"

“I could get a broom” she offered.

I smiled “I’ll risk it”

A pause stretched between us, not awkward, but not entirely comfortable, either.

I cleared my throat, swallowing the fear “what if I asked you to dinner?”

Her eyebrows shot up “like a date?”

“No,” I said quickly “I mean, not that that would be terrible, but I meant…as friends. Just two adults who may or may not have shared ice cream duties and one very energetic kid"

Y/N looked at me, her expression unreadable. Then she reached for a napkin and started wiping the counter again, even though it still wasn’t dirty “friends” she said slowly “I’ll think about it”

"good enough for me" I smiled at her, catching the small smile on her face when her eyes met mine. 

Elijah bounced toward us from his table, his voice bright “Oh mummy! we got two scoops! and I told Ben all about dinosaurs!”

She smiled at him, brushing a hand through his hair as he ran around the counter to hug her waist “did you now?”

He nodded, then leaned up to whisper something in her ear. I couldn’t hear it, but I saw the way her hand paused briefly on his back, a flash of something uncertain in her eyes as she looked up at me. I needed to tell her, I cleared my throat lightly and stepped closer to the counter “Y/N…do you have a minute? I need to tell you something”

She studied me for a beat, then glanced at the line of customers forming behind her “can you watch the front?” she called to her assistant, who nodded and slid behind the espresso machine. She wiped her hands on a towel and motioned toward the hallway that led to the small office at the back. I followed her through, the soft hush of the hallway a stark contrast to the busy café behind us. She shut the office door quietly.

“What is it?” she asked, folding her arms. Not cold, just wary, like she was bracing herself.

I rubbed the back of my neck “Elijah asked me some questions on the way back, about dads”

Her face changed instantly, softening with worry “what did he say?”

“He asked if I had a dad. I told him mine passed a few years ago, then…” I hesitated, feeling that strange pressure in my chest again “he told me he doesn’t know his and that you’ve told him his dad loves him, but he’s never met him and then, he asked if I knew who his dad is"

Her eyes dropped to the floor, a flicker of guilt flashing over her features. She didn’t say anything at first, just stood there, hands tightening slightly at her sides. 

“I didn’t know what to say” I continued gently. 

She exhaled slowly and looked up, pain swimming just beneath the surface of her expression “he asked me the same thing” she admitted, voice low “when we got home last week. I didn’t think he’d ask again so soon”

“Y/N…” I stepped a little closer “we have to tell him. He deserves to know and not through overheard conversations or guesses”

She nodded slowly, but there was something unresolved in her eyes, like a weight she hadn’t yet decided to put down and the silence stretched between us. Neither of us said it, but we both knew: the moment was coming and when it did, there’d be no going back.

Taglist:

@neverinadream @lovelynikol7 @runningwithcoffee @sunny44 @tyna-19

[runningwithcoffee]

We will all miss him, but he deserves a bit of a rest.

I was in a bar in Turkey a week ago with my Manchester United- supporting cousin (she can't help it, at least she wasn't born in Sunderland), and the conversation went:

ME: Tough season huh?

HER: Can it be over? Good season yeh?

ME: Yep ::leans in:: also we have Eddie Howe.

HER: OHMIGOD HOTTEST MANAGER IN THE LEAGUE!

ME: Those pretty blue eyes!

HER: ::wistful sigh::

😄

Oh god I'm gonna miss him. August 16th 😭 I'll be 35 by then. Jesus Mary and Joseph

[runningwithcoffee]

Loved this, it is perfect. I was sniffling a bit throughout it...

Thread of Fate - B.Chilwell Chapter Three ✨

Pairing: Ben Chilwell x Reader

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: Angst, deep talks, slight reconciliation

Authors Note: Hi! Here's the third chapter…and it’s Ben’s POV! This was longer but I had to cut it in half so the next chapter is half ready! Unless you guys like longer chapters? Let me know in the asks! This does move quick to start with but just be warned, there’s a lot in store for these two!

Feedback is always appreciated, please do leave some 🫶🏻

This series will include angst, fluff, smut and other themes, under 18s dni.

Chapter Two |

Ben's POV:

I don’t remember walking home. I just remember the noise in my head. The kid. His face. Those eyes…my eyes. His voice ringing through the shop like a gunshot. Mummy! The way she responded, calm, warm, familiar, and then he called her that again, right before she said I love you. She didn’t deny it, she didn’t explain but she didn’t have to, the maths did itself the moment he told me his age. Four and a bit, nearly five. My stomach churns and my hands feel like they’re buzzing. As soon as I got home, I came straight up to my room, I need a minute. I sit on the edge of my bed, elbows on my knees, staring at the floor like it might offer answers. Why didn’t she tell me? Wait, maybe she did, that voicemail…the one I never listened to. Shit. I lean back, looking at the ceiling and dragging my hands through my hair as guilt coils in my chest like a fist. I left. I walked away from her.

“Ben, is everything okay?" My mums voice rings from the other side of the door and the click of the door opening indicates she's now in the room.

"I have a son" is all I can say as I stare at the ceiling.

I feel the bed shift slightly and she sighs "I know"

I sit up immediately, what does she mean she knows? “You knew? Mum, you knew he existed and you never told me?”

She looks away, guilt already painting her face. “Yes”

“Why?” my hands run through my hair, my eyes searching for something, closure maybe? “How the hell could you keep something like that from me? He’s my son. You let me go on and live my life for five years, while my child was here.”

She sighs, taking my hand in hers “I was trying to protect you.”

I pull my hand back “Protect me? From what? From being a dad?”

“No,” she snaps, suddenly sharp. “From more pain.” I stare at her dumbfounded “You were shattered when you left her” she continues, her voice shaking now. “You’d just blown up your whole life because you thought you needed something bigger, because your agents and Chelsea wanted you to be single. You left y/n, and she didn’t chase you. And when I saw that little boy in that shop when he was just a few months old, I knew he was yours, I didn’t say anything to her to save her the pain and you'd already made your choice to bow down to their commands, which I am not blaming you for, you needed to do it for yourself and your career at the time” her eyes fill with tears.

“And you didn’t think I deserved to make a different choice?” my voice cracks. “You didn’t think I’d want to come home if I’d known? You didn’t think I’d want to know my son or try fix things with her had I known?”

“I didn’t know what to do, Ben!” she shouts, years of weight in her voice. “She never told me herself so I assumed she wouldn’t want you to know either, yes maybe it was a misjudgement on my part but I was angry with you, I’ll admit it. You hurt her and yourself in the process, and I thought… maybe it was best to let sleeping dogs lie. You’d built this big life, you were playing consistently at Chelsea, you were out having fun and living your life. I didn’t think you’d want to come back just to be told you’d missed everything.”

I can feel my eyes get glassy, my throat works around words I can’t seem to find.

“I was wrong,” she whispers “I know that. I’ve been carrying it around with me every single day”

I sink into the bed, laying back like the weight of everything just hit my chest at once. The pain in my chest is tight, its constricting “I missed five years of my son’s life.”

“You can still be in his life, Ben. If you want to”

“I don’t know how” I admit “I don’t know if she’ll even let me near him”

“Then start small,” she says. “Start with her, you should tell her the truth, about what happened and why you left"

I sit back up, looking at her "I can't mum, she'll hate me even more if I tell her the truth"

She places a calming hand on my arm "She deserves the truth at least Ben, you hurt her that much that she didn’t tell you this big thing, it’s the least you can do" she sends me a reassuring smile before leaving the room.

That night, I don’t sleep. I sit on my chair, phone in hand, typing and deleting message after message. Every version of I’m sorry, I didn’t know, I want to be there sounds like too little, too late.

In the end, I decide I'm going to go to the shop tomorrow to talk to her, we need to clear some stuff up and I want to get to know her again, I also want to get to know my son.

The Next Day

The bell above the coffee shop door rings as I push it open, the familiar chime echoing louder than I remember. It smells like cinnamon and vanilla in here, the same way it always did in our home whenever she was baking…I miss that smell.

Y/N’s behind the counter, wiping down the espresso machine with a cloth in hand. Her shoulders tense the second she looks up and sees me.

“I’m not here to argue” I say, my voice soft. “I just… need to talk”

She hesitates, eyes scanning my face like she’s trying to figure out if I’m going to break her all over again. After a beat, she nods toward the corner booth “Sit”

I do. My palms are clammy. My heart's in my throat. I used to feel like a king walking into a room, but right now, I’m just a man with five years of regret sitting heavy on his chest.

Y/N sits across from me, placing a cup of coffee in front of me and one in front of her, arms crossed, eyes unreadable. There’s a wall between us now, not one of anger, but of protection. She’s holding herself together so tightly, I’m scared she might crack. “What do you want to talk about?” she says flatly.

I take a breath “About what happened when I left five years ago, about you, about Elijah if you'll let me?”

She thinks for a moment, I can see the hesitation in her eyes but she nods for me to continue “Five years ago, I panicked okay? That’s the truth of it. I had the career, the pressure, the spotlight but I also had you. And that scared the hell out of me” Her brows draw together, her jaw tight “I loved you so much, y/n, too much, maybe. And when Chelsea offered me that contract there was one stipulation, I had to be single, they wanted the boy that the girls wanted, the guy that would make more women come to games and they said me having a girlfriend was also a distraction and it was stupid at the time but everyone told me it was once-in-a-lifetime. My agent, my teammates, they all said I’d regret staying for love” I laugh bitterly. “Turns out the only regret I have is leaving you”

She blinks, looking away. “You didn’t just leave me though, Ben, you left us. I was pregnant.”

“I didn’t know,” I say quickly. “I swear to you, if I had—”

“I know.” Her voice is small now. “I believe you, you would have stayed”

I sit back, breathing a little easier. “Then why didn’t you tell me?”

Y/N sighs, and for the first time, she looks vulnerable. She rubs her temple, like the memory is physically painful and it still is till this day, the way I told her I didn’t love her “You made it clear that nothing I said would change your mind that day, you also made it clear that you didn’t want kids yet, we'd only spoke about it a few days prior. You walked away, and I let you because I didn’t want to be the woman who begged a man to stay and I definitely didn’t want to raise my child with someone who only showed up out of guilt, because at the time, it would have been guilt. But you also hurt me massively and as nice as it is to get the truth, it stings just a little more that you chose that life, the lie, over me and that might sound selfish because you deserved that contract, but I never thought you'd give up something you love for it" her voice wavers, but she stays composed. “I left a voicemail, once, but you never called back.”

I wince. “I never listened to it, I couldn’t bring myself to. I still have it in my voicemails”

She gives a dry laugh “Well, that explains why you never called”

There’s a long silence between us. The sun filters through the window, catching in the deep blue of her eyes. She looks exhausted but beautiful and stronger than I remember.

“I missed everything,” I whisper “His first steps, his first words… I missed all of it”

“You did,” she says, voice sharp. “You missed a lot, but that was also on me”

I nod. “I want to be there now, if you'll let me” it felt like I was begging and I guess in a way I was, I was begging for a chance with my son, and maybe a second chance with her but one thing at a time.

She raises a brow. “I don’t know Ben…" she trails off.

"Look y/n, I don’t deserve a place in his life just because I share his blood, I know that but I’m here because I want to be in his life, because I need to be and because the moment I found out about him, everything shifted. My heart wants to know him and I know that it will take time, but its never been more clear to me that I want to be a part of his life because I know that he will be such an important part of it and not just him but you too. You always were an important part of my life and I've never stopped thinking about you" I take a breath, my heart starting to hurt from pounding so hard against my chest. "I know I let you down and I know I hurt you beyond repair, I can’t undo that but if there’s even a sliver of a chance that you will let me be in yours and Elijah's life, I’ll fight for it. I’ll prove to you, every single day, that I can be the man you both deserve. Just… please don’t shut the door on me completely, let me try to be his father, let me show you I’ve changed" I plead, the little voice in my brain telling me I sound pathetic but my heart telling me that it's okay and this is what we need to do.

Y/N doesn’t say anything for a moment, the cogs in her brain turning "so you want to walk in and suddenly be ‘dad’?”

“No,” I say quickly. “I know I don’t get that, not right away or maybe not ever, if that’s what he wants. I just… I want a chance, I want to show up, I want him to know that I’m not going anywhere”

She watches me carefully “If you really mean that, then you’ll follow our lead. Mine and Elijah’s. You don’t get to decide what this looks like okay? You don’t get to waltz back in and rewrite the script”

“I understand,” I say and I mean it. Every single word.

“This is his life,” she continues, voice firmer now “I spent five years protecting him from pain I couldn’t control, I won’t let you come back just to hurt him”

“I won’t,” I promise, leaning forward, elbows on the table “I swear on everything, I won’t. I’ll be whatever he needs me to be even if that’s just some guy that his mum is friends with and who cheers him on from the sidelines for now”

She doesn’t reply at first, just looks at me with a mix of heartbreak and fierce love in her eyes. Then, she nods once, slowly “You can be around, but on our terms. You earn this, Ben, one day at a time”

The weight in my chest shifts slightly. It’s not gone, not by a long shot but there’s space now, space to breathe…to rebuild. “Thank you” I whisper.

She shakes her head “Don’t thank me. Thank Elijah. Before him I would've told you to fuck yourself” a small smile…she hides it quickly but I saw it.

I laugh slightly "I don’t doubt that you would and I would've deserved it" a silence sits comfortably between us “I’m proud of you by the way, for everything you’ve done for him and for yourself” For a second, her guard drops and her eyes shimmer.

"Thank you" she says and stands, starting to walk back to the counter and she’s halfway there when the words slip out of me, soft but too heavy to keep inside.

“Can you tell me about him?”

Y/N pauses mid-step, her back still to me. I see her shoulders rise and fall with a long breath. She doesn’t turn around.

“I just…” I continue, standing now, taking a careful step toward her. “I don’t know anything about him, y/n and I’m not asking to make this about me, but if I’m going to be in his life, I want to know him, not just see him, not just visit but to know what makes him tick, what makes him laugh, what he’s scared of and what he loves.”

She slowly turns, arms crossed, face unreadable “I don’t know where to start” she says

“Anywhere,” I say quietly “Whatever you’re willing to give me”

She studies me for a long time, like she’s trying to decide if she trusts me with this part of her heart because that’s what it is, Elijah is everything to her and anyone can see it in every line on her face, in every protective edge of her voice. Finally, she walks back over, sits across from me again. She leans back in the booth, arms still folded tightly but she does starts talking.

“He hates crusts on sandwiches like you do” she says. “he always has. I tried to sneak them in once, and he acted like I’d betrayed him, had a full meltdown" I smile, the image already forming in my mind and a hint of pride that he's somewhat like me.

“He loves dinosaurs like, obsessively, he can pronounce all their names and will correct you if you say one wrong. He also loves cars and space. He's just recently started to play football at school and he's actually really good” the proud look on her face is beautiful to see but it does hurt to know I missed all this.

“Smart kid,” I say gently.

“Oh the smartest,” she agrees, a soft pride sneaking into her tone “He is usually shy around new people, but once he warms up, he won’t stop talking. He talks in his sleep sometimes, loves to sing in the car. He hates the dark, spiders and bats. He calls my dad ‘Grumps’ because he couldn’t say ‘Granddad' when he was little”

I laugh under my breath. “Grumps? That’s perfect”

She lets out a small laugh too, but it fades quickly as her gaze drifts to the window, distant.

“He does ask about his dad,” she says, voice thinner now “Not all the time but when he sees kids with their dads, or when Father’s Day comes around… he always asks"

A lump forms in my throat. “What do you say?”

“That you’re far away, that sometimes life is complicated and that sometimes mummies and daddies just don’t work out but I make sure to tell him that he is so, so loved.”

“God,” I whisper, my chest tightening. “I’m sorry, y/n, for putting you in that position.”

She shakes her head, biting her lip. “It’s not just your fault Ben, I should've told you but it's not about apologies anymore, it’s about what you do now.”

“I want to earn his trust and yours too, if that’s even possible”

There’s a long pause before she says “It’ll take time.”

I nod, fully understanding “I’ve got time.”

For the first time since I walked in, her expression softens, just barely, but enough to notice. She glances toward the counter. “You want to see a photo?”

“Yes,” I say, too quickly. She pulls out her phone, scrolls for a second, then turns the screen toward me. It’s Elijah, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bowl of cereal and a toy T-Rex clutched in one hand. He’s laughing so hard his eyes are squinted shut and just like that, I feel it. Something deep, something old and new at the same time "That’s him" I whisper "That’s my son"

She doesn’t respond, but when I look up, there’s a flicker in her eyes, something warm, but wary.

“I’d like to learn more” I say, still holding her gaze “When you’re ready”

She gives a small nod and stands "I’ll think about it" That’s all I need. "I need to get back to work but do you want a cinnamon roll? I've baked a batch earlier and I've never had anyone try them and since you always loved them, it might be nice to get your opinion? You were always honest" she offered.

"I’d like that thank you" I smile up at her, feeling a hit in the chest when she sends me a genuine but small smile back.

A few hours later…

I'm wiping my hands on a napkin after finishing the last of the fourth pastry y/n insisted I try when her voice cuts through my thoughts “Would you…wanna come with me to pick him up from school?”

I look up from the empty plate, surprised but trying not to seem too eager “Yeah, I’d love to”

She nods once, casual, but not really. Her fingers are fidgeting with the hem of her sleeve. This isn’t casual for her, It’s a door cracked open and I can feel how much it costs her to do it, so I treat it with the care it deserves. We head out into the early afternoon sun, walking side by side along the pavement. There’s a breeze that tugs at her hair, and for a while, the silence is light and unspoken.

“I always forget how quiet this place is” I say, glancing around at the sleepy town streets. “It feels untouched” I do love the way the town is so small though, it’s easy to get everywhere by foot and no one bothers me here, people aren’t asking for autographs or pictures every two minutes, it’s just me, and the people I grew up around.

“Sometimes that’s a good thing. Sometimes it just feels small” she replies, her tone unreadable.

I don’t know why I say it but my mouth is moving before I can think “Was it hard? Coming back here?”

She pauses, then shrugs “Yeah, for a while. I think I hated it at first, felt like everyone was watching, judging, like they had some secret scoreboard for how many times I went out with the pram, if I looked too tired, if I still wore my old jeans" I glance at her, and for the first time, I hear the exhaustion underneath her calm exterior ad the weight she’s carried on her own.

“I wish I’d been there” I say softly

“You weren’t” she replies but there was no anger, just fact “But my dad and Ethan were and I had Ashley and a few others"

“I’m glad” I murmur “that you had them"

She nods, keeping her eyes ahead. Then she adds, almost too casually “I dated someone for a few months, nothing serious”

It punches through me with jealousy or regret, I’m not sure but I keep it from my face “Yeah?”

“Yeah, he was…kind and he tried but it wasn’t right. It’s mostly just been me and Elijah”

“Is that by choice?”

She finally glances at me, and there’s a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes “At first, no. Then…maybe” We fall into silence again. But this one is different, not uncomfortable, just full of things we’re not saying yet. The school comes into view, a low brick building with a playground fence where a few parents are already waiting. She stops just short of the gate, crossing her arms.

“This is weird” she murmurs “Bringing you here”

“You don’t have to explain anything to him. I’m just…here” She looks at me, her jaw clenched for a beat before she relaxes. “No, I think I do. He’s smart” And before I can say anything else, the bell rings.

The doors open and the flood of children spill out like a tide. A few shout goodbyes, others race to waiting arms. And then I see him, Elijah, backpack bouncing, his hair a mess of wind-blown curls, scanning the crowd for the familiar face he knows. He spots her and comes running, the biggest grin on his face but when his eyes land on me, he stops in his tracks, eyebrows bunching in confusion.

“Why is the footballer here?”

Y/N looks down at him, biting the inside of her cheek for a second before kneeling beside him “He’s…a friend of mine,” she says carefully. There’s a hesitation in her voice that doesn’t go unnoticed, Elijah squints at her, clearly not fully convinced but accepting it for now. “We were going to head to the park” she continues. “If you’re okay with that?”

His face lights up again “Okay!” he spins around, already talking a mile a minute about something that happened at lunch and how someone dropped their jelly and it made a splat that looked like a dinosaur foot, making sure to specify the exact dinosaur. Y/N glances up at me, an unreadable look in her eyes, a silent warning, maybe, or just a moment of panic.

I nod once, quietly promising that I’ll follow her lead.

One step at a time.

Taglist:

@neverinadream @lovelynikol7 @runningwithcoffee @sunny44 @tyna-19

[runningwithcoffee]

Ah, we League fans consider St. James's Park to be a spiritual home!

Also Newcastle must have inspired my boys, since we hammered our local rivals 8-32. As tradition requires, they performed the victory dance 😁 (I'm not saying all rugby players are lunatics, but I'm not not saying it, either.)

Back at St. James's, watching The Proper Game (sorry, round-ball fans 😉)

[runningwithcoffee]

Back at St. James's, watching The Proper Game (sorry, round-ball fans 😉)

[runningwithcoffee]

This was heartbreaking and moving all at once. (Also, the image of a tiny Ben is very cute.) :off to read the next chapter:: loved it.

Thread of Fate - B.Chilwell Chapter Two ✨

Pairing: Ben Chilwell x Reader Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: Seeing an ex again after so much time. Angst. Authors Note: Hi! Here's the second chapter! Sorry it took so much time, I've been busy with work and sickness! I will try to be more consistent from now on!

Let me know what you think in the comments, asks or reblogs! Feedback is much appreciated!

This series will include angst, fluff, smut and other themes, under 18s dni.

Chapter One | Chapter Three

"Mummy!" The familiar little voice slices through the soft hum of espresso machines and quiet chatter in the coffee shop. I glance up just in time to see Elijah burst through the door, a ball of pure sunshine wrapped in a school jumper and wild brown hair. His grin is wide, uncontainable, as he races behind the counter and throws his arms around my legs with all the strength his tiny body can muster.

His blue-green eyes, so bright, so full of life, tilt up to meet mine as I squat down, pulling him into a proper hug. "Hey baby, how was school?" I ask, brushing his hair back gently, giving him all of me in that moment.

"It was fun! Mrs. Carter showed us how to make slime, and I learned the five times table!" he beams, tugging lightly on the strands of hair that fall over my shoulder. His hands are sticky, probably from leftover glue or jelly, but I don’t mind. Oh, to be four again, when learning multiplication and making gooey crafts is the highlight of your week.

"That’s amazing," I say. "Wanna go ask Ashley to make you an ice cream?" He nods with uncontained glee, and before I’ve finished the sentence, he’s darting across the shop toward Ashley behind the pastry counter.

As I rise to my feet, I notice Ethan standing nearby, watching the scene unfold with a warm smile on his face. "Thanks for picking him up again," I say, brushing coffee grounds off my apron.

He shrugs like it’s nothing. "You know I love that kid." I return his smile with one of my own, genuine and full of quiet gratitude. I’d been terrified to tell my family I was pregnant, especially my father. I thought the words “out of wedlock” might tear our family apart. But instead of judgment, I found support. And Ethan? He’s been more than an uncle—he's been a steady, loving presence in Elijah’s life.

"Coffee?" I ask, already grabbing a takeaway cup.

"You know me too well," he says, leaning on the counter with the ease of someone who belongs. As I place the steaming drink in front of him, he lifts it but doesn’t take a sip. “Did Mum tell you?” he asks, eyes suddenly shifting from casual to serious.

I frown. "Tell me what?"

Ethan sighs, running a hand over his short beard. “Ben’s in town. Came home for the summer instead of jetting off somewhere fancy.” For a second, I forget to breathe. My fingers tighten around the edge of the counter. His name always hits like a sucker punch, unexpected, low, and cruel. And when Elijah has his eyes, it stings more than I care to admit.

I paste on my most convincing fake smile. “It’s fine. He’s not going to walk in here. Not likely, anyway.”

Ethan raises a brow. “y/n, his mum gets coffee here every day. You really think she won’t bring him in? Or at least send him for a pick-up?”

I shake my head, refusing to spiral. “Ethan, he hasn’t been home in five years. They’ll be too busy catching up to bother with my little shop.”

He opens his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. “Ethan, enough. He won’t come here, and if I have anything to do with it, he’s not finding out.”

He backs off, hands raised. “Alright. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He turns toward the door, calling over his shoulder, “Eli! Come give your uncle a hug.”

Elijah rushes over, launching into Ethan’s arms. “Bye, Uncle Ethan!” he giggles as Ethan lifts him off the ground.

Ethan plants a kiss on my forehead before heading out. But just as he reaches the door, he pauses. “You might want to hide if you’re set on avoiding him,” he says casually. “Because... he’s heading this way.” And then he leaves.

Great. Thanks for the warning.

But I don’t move. I’m not going to hide. I’m not a coward. This day was always going to come at some point.

“Elijah, go play with Ashley for a bit, sweetheart. We’ll go home soon, okay?”

“Okay, Mummy!” he chirps and skips away, blissfully unaware of the storm outside those glass doors.

And then... there he is. Ben. Framed in the entrance, hands stuffed in his pockets, eyes locked on mine. The same eyes that used to melt me now feel like ice in my chest. My heart thunders like it’s trying to claw its way out. He steps inside, the bell above the door chiming like some cruel punctuation to his arrival.

“Um... hi,” he says, his voice awkward, uncertain. “It’s been a while.”

Five years. Five years since he walked out. Since I stood there, hand planted on my stomach like I was protecting my unborn baby and the voicemail he never returned. I swallow hard. “Yeah. It has. What can I get you?”

He blinks, clearly thrown by my tone. “Just a latte for my mum. And a cappuccino for me, please.”

I turn without another word, working the machine with mechanical precision. As the coffee brews, I glance toward Elijah. He’s laughing, completely carefree, and it punches me in the gut. Ben deserves to know. But he didn’t pick up. He didn’t call back. Why should I give him anything now? The machine hisses. I pour the drinks, tuck them into a cardboard holder, and set them on the counter. “That’ll be £5.”

He looks confused. “Your board says £8.”

“Your mum’s a regular. She gets a discount.”

Still unsure, he places a ten-pound note on the counter. “Keep the change. It was... nice to see you again.”

He turns to leave. And then...“Mummy!” Elijah’s voice. Clear. Loud. Ben stops in his tracks. I shut my eyes for a second before looking down.

“Yes, baby?”

“Can I have a cupcake, please?” he asks, face lit up with innocent excitement.

I smile despite everything. “You can, but not until after dinner. Promise?” I pass him a little box with a cupcake in.

He nods. “Promise! I love you!”

“I love you too.” I glance up. Ben is watching. The wheels are turning in his head.

“Excuse me, sir,” Elijah says, walking up to him. “Why are you just standing there?” he's always been curious.

Ben crouches slightly, caught off guard but smiling. “Sorry, kid. Thought I heard something.”

“You’re that footballer, right? Mummy and I watch your team! But you haven’t played in ages. We miss you!” I feel my face flush. Kids. No filter.

Ben chuckles softly. “Yeah, that’s me. I’ve had some... time off. What’s your name?”

“I’m Elijah! I’m four and a bit, nearly five!”

Ben stills. The maths is obvious. He looks at me, then back at Elijah, scanning his face like he’s seeing a ghost. His own features, staring back at him in a miniature version.

“Happy birthday in advance, buddy,” Ben says, his voice tight. “I’ve gotta go. Maybe I’ll see you around.” He turns to me with a look that breaks me, shock, betrayal, pain, and then he’s gone. I stand frozen for a second, then turn to Ashley. “Keep an eye on him for a moment?” She nods.

I sprint outside. He’s at the crossing. “Ben!”

He turns. “Not right now,” he says, voice low, hand raised like a barrier. “I need to process.”

“Oh, you need to process?” I scoff. “Must be nice to have that luxury.”

His jaw clenches. “You didn’t tell me.”

“No,” I say, “because you made it clear—nothing I said would’ve changed your mind that day.”

Silence.

The world goes still.

He exhales as the crossing beeps. “Maybe this would've. I’ll see you around.”

And then he’s gone.

I watch him go, his shoulders rigid as he disappears into the crowd, swallowed up by the hum of the high street. The breath I’d been holding slips out of me in a shaky exhale. Everything in me wants to collapse. Five years. Five years of silence, of building a life for my son with bricks made from grief, guilt, and quiet resilience. And all it took was a glance, a voice, one question from a curious child, and the truth began to unravel.

I walk back into the shop, the bell above the door ringing softly behind me. The air inside feels warmer, safer, but also unbearably heavy. Ashley meets my eyes from behind the counter. She doesn’t say a word, just gives me a look that says she saw everything. I nod faintly, offering a tight smile before turning to Elijah.

He’s crouched beside a low shelf, lining up toy cars in a perfectly straight row. His tongue is peeking from the corner of his mouth, deep in concentration. My chest aches with love for him. It always does.

“Ready to go home, Eli?” He looks up at me and beams. “Can I take my cupcake?”

“Of course,” I say, kneeling beside him to zip up his coat. “You earned it, clever boy.”

He climbs into his jacket clumsily, handing me his box with the cupcake inside like it’s the crown jewels. As we leave, I glance once more at the door, half-hoping, half-dreading to see Ben standing there again…but he’s not.

The house is quiet that evening, filled only with the muffled sound of cartoons playing in the background and the faint tapping of rain on the windows. I sit at the kitchen table long after Elijah has gone to bed, a mug of lukewarm tea cradled between my palms, untouched. My phone is on the table in front of me. Screen dark, no calls, no messages. Not that I expected any. Ben was always the type to shut down before he exploded. That’s what he did the night he left. No matter how I pleaded, no matter what I said. Once he made his decision, I didn’t beg him. I left one voicemail, but he never called back.

I sip the cold tea and wince. Suddenly, my phone vibrates. I jerk upright, my heart thudding painfully in my chest. But it’s not the person I want it to be, it's just Ethan.

Ethan: I bumped into him, he didn’t say much. Just told me he knew and needed some time. You okay?

I type out a reply but stare at it for a long while before sending.

Me: I don’t know.

Because I really don’t.

The next day, I move through the shop like I’m in a fog, I'm exhausted from no sleep. Customers come and go, smiling, chatting, unaware that my entire world tilted slightly off its axis less than 24 hours ago. I keep glancing toward the door, expecting him again, but he doesn’t show. However, that afternoon, a sleek black car pulls up across the road. The passenger door opens, and a woman steps out in heels and sunglasses. Her presence is unmistakable, Sally, Ben’s mum. She walks into the shop like she owns the ground she walks on. It’s not arrogance, it’s grace. Poise. But today, her smile is tight. Her eyes... searching.

“Y/N,” she says softly. Her voice is the same, warm but edged in something sharper now, maybe regret. Maybe sadness.

“Hi, Sally. Coffee today?”

She nods slowly. “Yes. But can we talk, too?”

I gesture toward the quieter end of the shop. She follows me, accepting her usual latte from Ashley on the way. We sit across from each other at a little table near the window, sunlight spilling in like we’re in the middle of something sacred.

"He told you?" I ask, but she shakes her head no.

“I figured it out the moment I saw him,” she says, looking directly at me. “He has Ben’s eyes. That shade is unmistakable.”

I say nothing.

“I wish you had told me yourself,” she continues, gently. “I understand why you didn’t, but I wish you'd have said something. I would’ve been there, for you, for him. I wanted to be there for you but it wasn’t my place to say anything, I thought if you wanted me to know, you would've said something. I wanted to say something. So many times. But I also knew it had to come from you. And Ben… he wouldn’t have listened before. You know that.”

The sincerity in her voice disarms me. I blink fast, trying not to cry “I didn’t know how. Or if you’d even want to know. I just...I did the best I could.”

“You did,” she says firmly. “He’s clearly loved. But, y/n... this will change things. Ben’s shaken. I’ve never seen him like that. You need to prepare yourself.”

“For what?” I whisper.

“For the possibility that he’ll want to be part of Elijah’s life.”

I look down at my hands, fingers wrapped around the mug like it might anchor me to the earth. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” I admit.

Sally reaches across the table, resting her hand over mine. “None of us were ready. But here we are. He has a right to know him, y/n. And Elijah... Elijah deserves to know his father.”

I nod slowly, the words settling like stones in my chest. Heavy...final...true.

That night, I lie awake in bed, listening to Elijah’s soft breathing through the baby monitor I never stopped using. He shifts occasionally in his sleep, murmuring something about dinosaurs and birthday cake. I stare at the ceiling, eyes burning, heart bruised. I know Ben will be back and when he does, everything will change. Whether I’m ready or not.

Taglist:

@neverinadream @lovelynikol7 @runningwithcoffee @alexisquinnlee-bc @sunny44 @tyna-19

[runningwithcoffee]

I am enjoying this series! This is the perfect set-up for some romantic angst.

Oh Ben, you idiot.

Poor Y/N.

Looking forward to more...

Thread Of Fate - B.Chilwell Chapter One ✨

Pairing: Ben Chilwell x Reader Word Count: 1.5k Warnings: Mention of positive pregnancy tests, doubt, heartbreak, angst, break up. Authors Note: Hi! Here it is, the first chapter, I'm so excited for you all to read this series, sorry for the first chapter being angsty 😬 but it is vital for the back story!

A lot of the inspiration for this came from the film 'Forever my girl' and this is a background chapter so you understand their history!

Let me know what you think in the comments, asks or reblogs! Feedback is much appreciated and the following chapters will be a longer than this one and will be in a first person narrative. So without further ado, here it is...

This series will include angst, fluff, smut and other themes, under 18s dni.

Chapter Two (Coming Soon)

Five years ago…

Two pink lines. A test that said "Pregnant." A little blue plus sign.

Three tests. Three undeniable answers staring back at you like silent judges, their verdict unshakable. Pregnant. Pregnant. Pregnant. Your heart pounded against your ribs, your breath caught somewhere in your throat. This wasn’t the plan. The plan was clear—live your lives, get married, then have kids. Not now. Not like this.

You sat on the bed, your fingers trembling as they covered your mouth, your wide eyes darting between the tests as if looking at them long enough might change the outcome. Maybe it was a cruel joke. Maybe they were all false positives. But what were the chances of that? What do you do now? How do you tell him?

For half an hour, you sat frozen, lost in your own thoughts, the weight of reality pressing down on you like an anchor. Finally, you forced yourself to move. You needed certainty. Proof beyond three plastic sticks. You got dressed, grabbed your coat, and made your way to the doctor’s office, hands shaking the entire drive there. The receptionist squeezed you into a last-minute slot.

A simple blood test. 

A three-hour wait.

Then the call came.

"Hi, is this Y/N Y/L/N?" a gentle voice asked.

You inhaled sharply. "Yes."

"I'm Nurse Heather from the clinic. I have your results. Your blood test confirms you’re pregnant. I'll pass your information along to the midwives, and they will reach out to schedule your first appointment. Congratulations."

The words left you breathless. You knew what she would say before she even said it, but hearing it out loud made it real in a way two pink lines never could.

"Thank you," you whispered, though your voice barely felt like your own. You hung up and started pacing the room. How do you tell Ben?

You thought about everything. Should you do something special? Buy tiny baby shoes, make it cute, make it a moment? But there wasn’t time. He would be home any minute, and you couldn’t keep this to yourself. You had to tell him. Just as you took a steadying breath, the front door swung open.

Ben’s kit bag hit the floor with a heavy thud, his hands running through his hair, his whole body tense. He was pacing, muttering under his breath, the weight of something heavy pressing on his shoulders.

You hesitated, standing two steps up on the staircase, watching him with narrowed eyes. The air in the house was thick—almost suffocating "Ben?" Your voice came out soft, but it carried. Like ink bleeding into still water. It was quiet, but powerful, demanding without force.

His body stiffened at the sound of your voice. When he turned to look at you, your stomach dropped. That look. Guilt. Regret. Apology. Your heart sank. You had seen this before. You knew this scene. You knew how it ended.

Ben took a deep breath, his fingers dragging through his hair again, tugging at the strands. "Can we talk?" he asked, nodding toward the living room.

Your lips pressed together into a small, tight-lipped smile. "Sure."

The two of you sat on opposite ends of the couch, a space that had never felt so vast between you. "You go first," you offered, voice steady but stomach twisting. "I have something to tell you after."

He nodded but avoided your eyes. He couldn’t look at you. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. His fingers flexed against his knees. "I… think we need to break up," he finally said, voice strained, barely above a whisper.

Your heart stopped.

You knew something was off, but hearing the words felt like a blade cutting through your ribs. You had assumed it was stress, his rising career, the pressure of moving clubs. Not this. Never this. Silence stretched between you like a chasm. The room felt too small, too empty, even with both of you sitting there. Your voice wavered when you finally spoke. "Why? What happened?"

Ben sighed, guilt settling into the lines of his face. "I… I just think it's better for us to be apart while the contract negotiations are happening. I need a fresh start at a new club. I'm sorry, Y/N. It’s just better this way."

Better. Better for who?

Laughter bubbled up from your chest, bitter and hollow. "Better? For who exactly, Ben? You? So you can move to London, be single, do whatever you want? So you can leave behind the girl who’s been by your side for five years?" Your voice cracked, but the anger held steady. "There has to be more to this. Tell me the real reason."

Ben exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "Fine. You want the truth? I just don’t love you anymore. Okay? I haven’t for a while."

The final blow.

The words sliced through you, sharp and unforgiving. Your breath hitched, the sting behind your eyes impossible to hold back. "Okay," was all you could manage. Your mind reeled, replaying every "I love you" he had whispered, every night he had held you close. Lies. All of it. You stood abruptly, legs shaky as you made your way toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Ben’s voice cracked, but you didn’t turn back.

"Packing my bags. Going to my mum’s."

You moved quickly, stuffing clothes into suitcases, hands shaking, breath coming in shallow gasps. Downstairs, Ben let out a muffled scream into a pillow, regret already crashing down on him like a tidal wave.

He loved you. He loved you more than anything. But his management agency and Chelsea, they wanted him single. "It’s better for your brand," they had said. "It’s only for a few months," they had promised. He had already signed the contract but he didn't tell you that, you'd tell him it's ridiculous but he already knows that. There was no going back.

By the time you dragged your suitcases downstairs, Ben met you at the bottom step. "Let me help."

"I don’t need your help anymore" you replied, voice void of emotion.

You slipped your trainers on, unclipping the house key from your keyring and pressing it into his palm. His fingers brushed yours, but you barely felt it.

"I’ll send my brother to get the rest of my things next week. Pack them into boxes please"

"Sure" he whispered, guilt clawing at his throat.

As you reached the door, his voice stopped you. "Wait. What did you need to tell me?"

You turned, eyes hollow. "What?"

"Earlier, you said you had something to tell me" his voice timid.

"Would it make a difference?"

He swallowed hard. Shook his head. He knew what you were asking.

"Then it doesn’t matter." One last look. One last breath. "Goodbye, Ben." And then you were gone.

Ben collapsed onto the floor, the weight of his choice crushing him. He wanted to chase after you. To fix it. To choose you. But he already had. And he chose wrong. This is heartbreak, this is what it feels like, like the world is ending around you and you're getting left behind.

On your drive back to your mum's in Milton Keynes, you run through everything in your head and decide that he deserves to know, you ring his number and pray he answers, but he doesn’t, it goes straight to voicemail so you decide to leave a message "Ben, it's y/n. I know I only just left but I think you deserve to know what I was going to tell you, if you decide you want to know, ring me in the next week, if you don’t ring me, I'll leave you alone" you hung up and hope he gets back to you, you don’t want your child growing up not knowing their dad but that’s on him now. 

You reach your mums and knock on the door and as soon as she opens the door, you fall into her, her arms around you feeling like a huge comfort as she guides you into the living room before making you a cup of tea to talk about it. You tell her how he broke up with you and how he said he hadn't loved you for a while. "Well fuck him, you deserve better, you can clean your hands with him and move on" your mum said even though she always loved Ben, he was loved by everyone in your family. 

"There's one little problem with that. Mum, I'm pregnant and he doesn’t know" you told her and she gasped, closing her eyes. 

She opened them again, pulling you into her embrace again "it's okay baby, we'll get through it" she whispered to you as you let all the emotion you had been holding in finally out and it felt like a weight had been lifted off your shoulders.

But Ben...he never called.

And so, he never knew.

Not until it was too late.

Taglist:

@neverinadream @lovelynikol7 @runningwithcoffee @alexisquinnlee-bc

[runningwithcoffee]

Bloody hell, maybe Eddie should take sick leave more often.

[runningwithcoffee]

Tripps and Bruno barely wearing towels.

Dan running around semi-naked with just some strapping and the captain's armband on his upper body.

I don't know why people think fanfic is far-fetched. We're just reporting 😉

Massive gap at the back where Eddie should be 😭

In other news though Tripps and Bruno look a bit worse for wear on the front row, the wear being nothing 😂😂😂

[runningwithcoffee]

Sunsets and San Miguel

"Kieran is thoughtful. Lewis is nosy.

Tino is just very, very confused."

Something of an accompaniment to Ship Song by @new-berry (posted with permission) and also Something Wild In The Room.

Kieran Trippier / Lewis Hall, implied Kieran / Harry Kane, implied... oh hell, they're all at it. Adults only please, or at least only people old enough to be adults.

Kieran leans on the windowsill in the giant hotel room, watching the sun set over Dubai, and lets himself have the thought he hasn’t allowed himself for seven days.

What a weird fucking week.

He knows he’s not supposed to think that. How can you think it, when you’re the hero who ended the 70-year-wait? but Kieran thinks Dan has a point about feeling numb.

Maybe it’s just the extremes of it all; one minute, watching Bruno do that fucking stupid little pirouette in extra time, everyone staring at the screen, most of his brain was frantically running through their strategy for extra time, but a small part was preparing to call the Brazilian every name under the sun, and some that weren’t. Barely twenty minutes later, they were hugging like brothers, and that cup seemed to have been made for them, three handles, him, Bruno, Jamal, winners shirts on their backs, medals around their necks, lifting the cup whilst Wembley exploded, and then…

Kieran rubs his face. He knew it was the right time to give up the England shirt, hand over, focus on finally winning silverware with Newcastle, but it turns out that no amount of knowing something was the right decision, knowing it would hurt, stops it from actually hurting when it happens. He misses it, misses H, turns out winning a Cup final just before the international break is a surreal experience. Yeah, you could do worse than celebrate in Dubai, but it feels strange, with half the team away.

He’s not old, and maybe that’s the thing, maybe he should be thinking of retiring, a nice few years of easy living in the States or Saudi to end his career, but it’s not what he wants. Turns out, winning is addictive, but he doesn’t want to be the guy who hangs on long after it’s obvious to everyone he should have gone…

Fucking hell, Tripps, you sound like an old man. Whinge on some more, why don’t you? At least you got to fucking play, unlike Lew.

It’s strange, having Lewis in Dubai. Kieran had made it a point to call him from Wembley, let him know this was his victory too. It was remarkably shit luck, breaking his foot; there will be other times for Lewis, but Kieran knows it won’t be the same, and for a few minutes he does feel it, flashes back to Wembley, hugging the gaffer, hugging Bruno, finally, finally, lifting that cup, and he wishes for Lewis’ sake he could have been there.

He was surprised to see him on the flight out, but maybe he just wanted to do his rehab somewhere warm and sunny, for which Kieran can’t blame him. Maybe he’s just missing Tino.

A bang on the door makes Kieran jump, but it’s a welcome distraction. He squints through the keyhole, and sees a familiar face.

“Yeah?”

“Can I come in and watch that sunset, then?”

For a strange few seconds Kieran wonders if he somehow summoned Lewis here by thinking about him, then his brain processes what he just heard. Yeah, the sunset thing… load of nonsense, really, just all of them talking shit around the pool after the drink had flowed. Kieran had mentioned something about the view from his room last night, leading to a round of mostly good-natured winding-up about who had the best room. JT had been convinced it was him, Kieran had joked that as the captain by default, with Bruno off with the Seleção, they’d given him the best room, and for some reason this had ended with everyone throwing each other in the pool like a bunch of teenagers let out of school, which maybe wasn’t so far from the truth.

He must have said something about anyone who wanted to see the view being welcome to come up there, that sounded vaguely familiar through the haze of boozy recollection.

“Nowt else happening downstairs, then?” he asks, stepping back so that Lewis can hop through the door. He’s getting about pretty fast, but no-one walks quickly with a boot on their foot.

Lewis shrugs and heads towards the fridge. “Nah… all quiet.”

Kieran stares out as the last rays of sunlight play over Dubai. It’s a weird place, shiny and new, like someone told ChatGPT to draw a desert city and dropped it in the middle of nowhere. Pretty, shiny, and vaguely unreal, but it looks great with the sun setting over it.

Lewis hops over quickly, and Kieran turns and frowns at the sound of him cracking open a San Miguel. Lewis catches his expression, and shrugs again, with an expression hilariously like a teenager caught drinking by his dad.

“Alcohol ban doesn’t start til tomorrow,” he says, half-apologetic, half-defiant.

Kieran means to say that he doesn’t much care; Lewis is old enough to know the rules, and he’s not the Alcohol Police. What comes out is “You could’ve got me one.”

Lewis grins suddenly, an oddly predatory smile, then retrieves another beer from the fridge, knocks the top off against the edge of the table, then hands it over. Kieran drinks, relishing the cold, clean taste, whilst he tries to think of what to do next.

“Why are you here?” is what he says.

Lewis frowns at that, looking pissed. “I can fuck off if you want to be on your own…”

Kieran sighs, like dealing with a bunch of kids sometimes, and replies “Don’t mean that. I mean… why come out here? You could have stayed home, spent time with your family..” yeah, like that would have been his priority when he was barely twenty.

Lewis half-smiles. “Thought about it, but…” his words trail off.

Kieran waits.

“Just…” Lewis takes a swig from the bottle… “ah, it’s just weird.” He looks guilty, but ploughs on. “I’m thrilled, I’m fuckin’ thrilled, but… half of us are here, half of us are away, Tino’s gone off to St. George’s…”

It’s an odd echo of Kieran’s own thoughts from earlier.

“Just wanted to be part of it,” Lewis finishes, and stares moodily out of the window. Before Kieran can say anything, his phone rings with the familiar WhatsApp ringtone, and both of them jump; who even calls anyone, these days?

Turns out it’s Tino, Kieran answers, feeling himself slipping into Captain Mode without thinking about it.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

Tino’s familiar voice comes through; Lewis stares curiously as Kieran props up the phone on the windowsill. “Ah, nothing…”

Well, why did you fucking call, then?

“Just…”

Spit it out, kid…

“Just wondered… I was in the lift with H, and it was strange… I was just asking after Ant, and H was really weird with me.”

“Weird how?”

“He sort of told me to fuck off. I mean, not actually fuck off, just… he told me I wasn’t needed. But it sounded like ‘fuck off’.”

Kieran frowns at that, it’s not like H to be like that with the younger players, unless…

“Yeah, that lift… where were you going?”

“I wanted to see Dan, check in with him about…”

Kieran closes his eyes and sticks his hand over his mouth. Fucking hell, was he this clueless at his first camp? Probably.

“Don’t think you need to worry, Tino,” he gets out, managing to keep his voice level. Off to the side, Lewis is looking puzzled, whether at the conversation or at the way in which the beer seems to have mysteriously mostly vanished out of the bottle he’s holding, who knows, could be either.

“Really? You sure? I don’t…”

Kieran cuts him off. “It’s Dan’s first cap, remember?”

“Huh? Why are you laughing?” Tino’s expression couldn’t be more confused; Lewis, apparently faster on the uptake, is sniggering quietly.

“First cap,” Kieran repeats, wondering if he needs to draw a diagram. Lewis appears to have stuffed the side of his hand in his mouth up to the first knuckle to muffle his laughter.

The message suddenly gets through, and Tino frowns… “Wait… oh shit, yeah!” Kieran can’t totally blame him for being confused; Dan is old for a first cap, although given that Anthony claimed first rights to celebrating it, two days before the cup final, you’d think Tino might remember.  

“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Kieran reassures him.

“Should’ve thought of that,” Tino murmurs, and Kieran would swear he’s actually blushing.

“You’ll be fine, go and enjoy yourself,” Kieran instructs him, figuring Tino can probably find someone to celebrate his second cap with; not really a thing, but eh, a win is a win. The call cuts off, Lewis makes eye contact, and suddenly they’re both laughing, it’s not even that funny, but it’s a release, tension dissipating. They nearly stop, then Lewis catches his eye again, and they’re both howling with laughter, Lewis leaning on him for support.

“Fuck me,” Lewis gets out, and Kieran is suddenly a little more aware of him; warm skin under a thin layer of cotton, pressed against his side for support. “He’s got no fucking clue sometimes…”

“Not that long since he had his,” Kieran agrees, and finds himself wondering, who was Lewis’s?

Maybe Lewis is wondering the same, since that hyena-grin is back in place. “Yeah… you don’t forget.” He makes eye contact, and it’s strange all of a sudden, the mood shifting. “Who was yours?”

Kieran raises an eyebrow at that, but Lewis isn’t deterred, tipping his chin up a little.

“Could ask you the same.”

“Mmm… maybe we should trade. Truth for a truth.”

“Truth for a truth?” Kieran repeats.

Lewis smirks. “You tell me something, I tell you something. Truth for a truth.”

“What if it’s a lie?”

“Then there’s a forfeit.”

“What’s the forfeit?”

“Whatever you like.” Lewis is definitely looking more predatory now, but Kieran hasn’t missed the fast breathing, the white knuckles around the neck of the beer bottle. He feels his own instincts stir suddenly. Yes, he knows when someone’s bluffing, hoping you won’t spot the nerves… Maybe Lewis did have something else he fancied other than the skyline when he came up here.

He drinks again from the bottle, and Kieran sees the tension in his neck, the slight flush to his cheeks… and the way he deliberately runs his tongue around the top of the bottle, licking off the last few drops.

“Sounds like Truth or Dare,” he says, it sounds ridiculous, but fuck it, it’s a weird night and it might as well get weirder. Maybe it will get more fun.

“Maybe a bit. Go on then.”

“Huh?”

“Ask me a question.”

Kieran shrugs, fake-nonchalant. “Alright; where the fuck did you and Tino go just before we played the Mancs?” He actually would like to know this, partly because he nearly caught hell from JT when he couldn’t find them, until they sloped in barely on time, looking stupidly pleased with themselves, partly because… a few images are dancing in his head, he knows if he’s right he should tell Lewis that he and Tino shouldn’t be doing that shit just before a match, but he also knows he won’t.

Lewis grins. “To a hotel room. My turn.”

“That’s not a fucking answer!”

“It’s true,” Lewis gives him a shit-eating grin, and flicks his tongue over the top of the bottle again, this time sucking for a few seconds, cheeks hollowed. It’s cheesy, but it’s having a effect, and Kieran can already feel his loose cotton shorts aren’t hiding it.

“So… you ask me something?”

“Yeah…” Lewis suddenly looks nervous, and swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing; Kieran doesn’t think he’s doing it for effect. “Who was yours?”

“My what?”

“Your first cap,” Lewis’ voice is low, almost a little shy. “Who was it?”

Kieran smirks, glad to have the upper hand. “What, you want a few pictures for the bank?”

Lewis just looks at him, and Kieran wonders if he’s been taking puppy-dog-eyes lessons from Anthony. The memory comes back, and he finds himself smiling.

“Yeah, it was H…”

Good times, he thinks, it doesn’t hurt as much this time, mostly, it’s just a good memory, the two of them not even bothering to get into one of their bedrooms, in the changing rooms, H on his knees with the hot shower water splashing over both of them whilst Stonesy kept an eye out for anyone who might bother them, mouth as hot and wet as the shower, Kieran tugging on Harry’s hair, coming hard, looking down to see H’s smirk as he wiped his mouth, deliberately letting a few drops fall onto Kieran’s trembling thighs. Hadn’t been too long before he’d returned the favour, a rest day, both of them careful to do nothing that would interfere with the match coming up, but that left a lot of options.

“What was he like?”

Kieran points the neck of his own beer bottle as a reprimand. “That’s two questions. My turn; what the fuck were you doing in the hotel room?”

Lewis grins again. “What Antony told us to.” He’s smiling now, and Kieran wonders how long he’ll drag this out. “What was he like?”

Kieran doesn’t answer directly. “You should know; he didn’t offer for you?”

“That’s not an answer,” Lewis mutters, and Kieran would swear he’s blushing. He wonders if he’s hit a sore spot.

“Alright; it was amazing. Now answer the question.”

“Eh…” Lewis seems to realise he’s boxed himself in. “Can I do something else instead?” He tugs at the waist of his t-shirt, pulling it up an inch, revealing pale skin; Kieran’s skin loves the sun, but Lewis has been slapping on the factor-50 since they got here. Kieran wonders if his skin is still warm from the sun, if he’ll smell and taste like suncream.

“You can if you like,” Kieran waves a hand magnanimously, and Lewis sits carefully down on the bed, then puts the beer down and tugs up his shirt, slowly, not too slowly, just enough to make Kieran watch eagerly as his chest, not big but taut, honed through training, is revealed. Kieran grins. “Cold?”

Lewis grins back and shakes his head. “Nah.”

“Good, now answer the question.”

Lewis looks hilariously betrayed. “That’s not…”

“I said, you could if you liked,” Kieran reminds him, and steps forward, noting that Lewis’s mouth is at a very convenient height.

“How about if I just answer another question?” Lewis mutters sullenly. Kieran paces forward, not quite standing in between his legs, but nearly.

“Depends, I’ll see if I like the answer.”

“That hotel room… yeah, it was the four of us.”

“Four?” He already knows, he counted who on the team went missing before Tino, Lewis, Dan and Antony slunk into the dressing room barely on time, but he might as well enjoy himself.

“Me, Tino, Dan and Ant.”

Kieran leans down, putting his bottle next to Lewis’ and placing his hands on either side of the younger man’s hips. “Keep talking.”

Lewis turns his head away a little. “Ant’s idea, he thought Dan deserved a reward for being player of the season."

Or, to put it another way, he fancied a go on Dan’s dick, Kieran thinks, but then Lewis adds, “we flipped for it, Tino won, so…”

“So what?”

The grin is back. “So, I’ve just answered that question, now…”

Kieran doesn’t let him finish that, suddenly leaning in and shoving Lewis back against the bed, hard enough that he breathes out suddenly with an oof, and his eyes go wide as Kieran holds his wrists against the bedsheets, then half-close as Kieran wriggles up, pushing against him, trapping their dicks in between their bodies. Lewis is half-hard already, Kieran’s nearly there, and he pins him down with his thighs either side of Lewis’s, holding him in place so that their dicks are against each other now, he can feel the wetness against his lower stomach and fuck, that feels good.

“So, you need to keep talking… or do something else,” Kieran rasps into Lewis’ ear. Lewis frantically tries to buck his hips up to get a little friction, Kieran lifts himself up easily, press-up style, enjoying the frustrated whimpers from beneath him. This is nearly as much fun as being with Ant, he thinks, smirking, teeth flashing white in the low light; the sun has gone down now, and he didn’t bother to turn on the main lights in the room.

“Like what?” Lewis asks breathily, a little catch in his voice. “Uhh…”

And Kieran, with years of experience, doesn’t miss something, some little tension in the body underneath him, that causes him to relax his grip a little and grunt encouragingly.

“Uhh… there’s some things… I don’t like, at least… not so much at first.” It’s a half-hearted mumble, but Kieran can make out most of it. He lets his voice drop down, soften, reassure.

“It’s alright,” he murmurs, kissing softly up Lewis’ neck to relax him, “lots of ways to have fun. Don't have to do anything you don’t want,” and he draws Lewis’ earlobe into his mouth and sucks it gently, drawing a soft hiss of pleasure. This time he lets their bodies make contact, dick to dick, rutting against each other, controlling the pace so that it’s not too much, little pulses of pleasure that ripple through his belly and cause Lewis to whimper deliciously. He wants more, much more. 

“What do you want?” he asks, but Lewis is frustratingly silent. Kieran lifts himself up to see that Lewis is blushing and looking away. “I’ve heard it all before, fucking believe me…”

Lewis runs his tongue over his lips nervously, Kieran nudges him with his hips as encouragement.

“I like to watch,” comes the answer, very soft and almost inaudible. Kieran has a sudden thought of him and Tino together, maybe with Ant or Dan in the middle of them, Lewis encouraging them on, maybe with his hand on his cock…

“Like to watch, yeah? Like this?” And Kieran shoves his shorts and boxers down, pulling them impatiently off his legs, then rears back, pulling his shirt off so that he’s naked except for the Rolex on his wrist and the ink decorating his arms and chest, and he swears he can see Lewis’ pupils dilate. They go even wider as Kieran reaches down and grabs his own cock, stroking it slowly, letting Lewis see it get bigger, darker, the tip leaking a little, a few drops falling onto Lewis’ bare skin.

“Oh fuck me,” he whimpers.

“We’ll get to that,” although Kieran thinks they maybe won’t, at least not straightaway, he guesses that they might spend a while just playing, and he doesn’t much care if it doesn’t go that far, something tells him that Lewis doesn’t like to do that too soon. “What were you four fucking doing?” He lets go of himself, and Lewis pouts at being deprived of the sight, then tries to reach down to grab his own cock, but Kieran pins his wrists again, almost affectionately.

Lewis pouts at him again, and it’s almost enough to make Kieran relent and let go, but not quite. Then he grins, a lop-sided grin. “Ah… Tino sucked him off on the floor whilst Ant and I watched.”

“On the floor?”

“Yeah… tried it on a chair, but it wasn’t big enough.”

That, Kieran can believe. He wants more. “So, Tino was sucking him off…”

Lewis actually looks embarrassed, Kieran helpfully nudges him with his hips to encourage him. “You were watching…”

Lewis snorts and looks a bit embarrassed. “I was kind of rubbing off on his back."

Kieran has a sudden image of Dan in the middle between Tino and Lewis, Tinos’ dark hair brushing the muscles of Dan’s stomach as his mouth works away, Lewis naked behind him, nipping at his shoulder, hips shoving hard against the broad solid expanse of Dan’s back, Dan’s tattoos moving as those powerful thigh muscles flex and tense, maybe Anthony getting involved, teasing here and there, dominating the three of them… He likes that image a lot.

“Like doing that? Want to do that on me?”

Lewis surprises him. “No…” Kieran raises an eyebrow… “I want your mouth.”

That surprises him in a good way. He slides a hand down Lewis’s flank, slipping a couple of fingers under the waistband of his shorts, running it along the elastic, smirking as he finds Lewis’ cock and wraps his fingers around it, liking the feel in his hand, heavy and warm, and throbbing softly. “Don’t know if you deserve it…”

“Maybe I don’t,” Lewis flashes the hyena-grin, “but you can have mine after.”

“How about at the same time?” Lewis barely has time to take in what Kieran is saying before Kieran roughly shoves his shorts down, takes a swig of what’s left of his beer, then turns and straddles Lewis’ face, but he gets the idea immediately, moaning as Kieran closes his mouth over Lewis’ dick, cold bubbles bursting against the head. He pulls off, beer spilling from his mouth, and licks from base to tip, getting it wet, then letting his jaw relax as he takes it in.

Lewis tries to do the same, they have to shuffle around on the bed to make it work, but suddenly they’re aligned and Lewis’s mouth is hot and wet and his tongue seems to be everywhere as Kieran thrusts, difficult from this angle, it’s sloppy and messy, and perfect and he comes almost embarrassingly fast, but Lewis is right behind him, his moans muffled by Kieran’s dick in his mouth.

For a few seconds, the thrill is all he can think of, but soon he comes back to reality, and they disengage, Kieran turning round and settling himself on his side so he can admire the view, Lewis flushed and sweaty, his eyes half-closed and practically rolled back. Yeah, that’s one for the bank, he smirks to himself, wiping his mouth, then running a thumb over Lewis’ lips to wipe away a few drops.

“Fucking hell,” Lewis groans through puffy lips, “that was…”

“That was fucking good,” Kieran praises, running a finger lightly down Lewis’s heaving side. He can’t resist asking, “am I as good as H?”

Suddenly, Lewis actually laughs, a soft chuckle, and blushes. “Ahh… I don’t actually know.”

Kieran’s curious. “He didn’t offer?” He knows the two of them share the same approach; partly, it’s ‘captain gets right of first refusal’, but it’s also about making sure that whoever offers first cap privileges can hear ‘no’ without taking the huff.

“He did, but…” Lewis actually turns his head and ducks his chin, like a kid, “it was just a bit fucking weird? I mean, he’s…”

He’s Harry Kane, Kieran thinks, and feels the age difference a little, when he first went to camp, they were just starting out; not as young as Lewis, but it was the start of a new England era, people still thought of Rooney as England’s striker.

“I just…”

“Ah, doesn’t matter,” Kieran decides to spare him having to say any more.

Lewis meets his eye, the smirk is back, and Kieran briefly envies the resilience of youth, before reminding himself that the experience and cunning of age is more than a match. “Did I miss out?”

“Yeah, you did,” Kieran grins, “believe me.”

“You and him, then?”

“Yeah, a lot…” Kieran laughs. “He’ll have been enjoying himself.”

Lewis makes a sort of hmm? noise.

“Has a bit of a thing for size. Likes them big.”

“What, really?” Lewis laughs, then laughs harder. “Fuck me, so when he heard about Dan…”

“Yeah!” Kieran laughs, and finds himself slinging an arm over Lewis’ waist, slim but strong, pale skin under Kieran’s strong hand. “Like Christmas came early.” He’s aware that Lewis is eyeing him thoughtfully, but the kid has the sense not to say out loud so, size kink, you and him, how did that work? Maybe he’ll share with Lewis sometime that with H, these things go both ways, maybe he and H will reconnect, and maybe not, but the regrets feel less strong now.

Kieran looks over Lewis’s chest, out the window at the night sky, and for a few hallucinatory minutes, the Dubai skyline melts away, replaced in his mind’s eye with the outline of that strange, fierce and friendly city on the banks of the Tyne, staring out at the cold North Sea. He flashes back to their victory photos, not just the squad, but everyone, all their staff, celebrating their moment of glory, and it’s like he can see that again, but this time it’s the entire city; the landlord of the Strawberry ordering in as much beer as the cellar will hold, the stalls on Northumberland Street loaded with hats and scarves, hastily run up in some dodgy factory somewhere, the suits at the Civic Centre trying to figure out how to block off the roads to get the bus through, Wor Flags planning how the hell they can top their last display, a sudden vision of the streets insanely crowded, an entire city with one focus…

…and it’s all for him.

Kieran feels a deep sense of satisfaction welling up, rising through him, and he nods to himself, barely aware he’s doing it, you took the risk, you gambled, and you fucking won. You started out losing to fucking Cambridge United, and now…

Now, an entire city wants to deck itself out in black and white in his honour.

He knows, it’s not just him. They’ll all be stood there, and he and Bruno and Jamal will recreate the cup lift, and Lewis will be there too, and he hopes Lewis realises, this is the start for him, it won’t be the last time.

It might be the last time for him, but Kieran doesn’t think so, somehow.

He’s aware of Lewis beside him, quietly watching, but it doesn’t feel predatory, and he seems to sense it’s not a time to ask questions, as the sweat dries on their skin.

“Sounds like I missed out then,” Lewis murmurs, looking a bit regretful.

“Won’t be your last chance,” Kieran murmurs, generously.

“Won’t be my first cap,” Lewis says with a smirk, “can’t claim privileges.”

“Nah, but you can probably persuade him.”

And suddenly Lewis smirks again, and, carefully but with surprising strength, throws his good leg over Kieran’s hips, pushing himself up so that he’s half over Kieran, who laughs in surprise and wraps an arm around Lewis’ muscled back.

“If I’m gonna do that…” he murmurs into Kieran’s ear, “I should practise some more.”

Finis.

Author’s Note: for this fic to work, given the time difference, we’ll have to assume that England’s match against Albania took place in the afternoon, not the evening. Frankly, I don’t think this is the biggest liberty I’m taking with the truth.

[runningwithcoffee]

I think we all know who I am posting this for 😉 @howeaythelads

[runningwithcoffee]

Well, lookie where I am...

[runningwithcoffee]

They've only gone and bloody done it!!!

I can't believe it. I was absolutely sobbing. Newcastle United!!!!!!

[runningwithcoffee]

WEMBLEY IS BLACK AND WHITE!

WE'VE DONE IT WE'VE ONLY GONE AND FUCKING DONE IT

[runningwithcoffee]

Interview with Ben!

"I’ve gone into Chelsea the past six months (before moving to Palace) and trained hard every day, waiting for the opportunity. I’ve been doing it for myself – training every day. Some days, I’ve been training by myself in Chelsea." "You just keep the mindset that the day-to-day is going to come. You can’t feel sorry for yourself. You’ve just got to put the work in. You know your chance is going to come, and that the only person that’s going to miss out if you’re not ready is yourself." “I spoke to the manager before I came, and the way that he wants to play football is the way that I want to play football, we’re very aligned. Today you could see I was trying to get in a lot of positive attacking positions, which is what he wants me to do. It suits me perfectly." "My ego – everyone has an ego in football and I’m not going to shy away from it – is that I want to show everyone that I am as good as what I was when I won the Champions League."

Full article here: 'I've got stuff to prove'.

[runningwithcoffee]

This is so hot - amazing! Thanks for writing 😘

Dessert Before The Main

Pairing: Ben Chilwell x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k+

Song Inspo: Late For The Reservation - Arthur Hill

Warnings: 18+, minors dni, nsfw, pre-established relationship, mentions that they are engaged, soft dom!ben, dirty talk, pet names (baby, good girl..), praise, oral (fem receiving), unprotected sex, not edited...

Notes: hi, it's been a bit since i wrote smut for ben, which isn't right because this man deserves all of my dirtiest thoughts. this was mainly inspired by the arthur hill song and from watching him play today. god, i've missed how good it feels to watch him play!!! anyway, feedback is always appreciated

“Dinner. Parents. Late,” you hurried to get out, mumbling against Ben’s mouth in one-worded sentences, his breath hot and heavy on your lips, as he pressed you against the kitchen counter. You pulled at the hem of his shirt, untucking it from the waistband of his trousers, giggling at the state of his hair as he grabbed the back and pulled it over his head. It was clear neither of you really cared about getting to the restaurant on time. “Don't you look handsome,” you teased and he quickly fixed his hair, pushing the thick, dark strands back.

He cupped your face with both hands, sliding them until they both rested on the base of your skull. He wetted his lips and looked at your mouth. “Come here.” He was still breathless from your last exchange.

He crushed his mouth back onto yours, groaning loudly as he licked his tongue into your mouth, and you kissed him back with a feverish hunger to match his own.

“You knew what you were doing when you walked down here in this fuckin’ dress,” he growled, dropping his hands to grip your hips. He pushed himself forward, stepping into your space, and pressed the hard, rigid shape of his cock against you. “Feel that?” He kissed down the column of your neck, his beard tickling you as he touched each inch of your skin. “That's what you do to me.”

“Then I better do something about it,” you said, squeezing your hand between your flushed bodies and unbuttoning his trousers. You tugged at his zipper and slipped your hand beneath the pair of his trousers and boxers, a breathy sigh leaving him as you wrapped your hand around his cock. “So hard, baby,” you cooed. “All mine.” It wasn't a question but a statement. He was yours.

“Fuck-!” He cursed and buried himself into your neck; your hold was firm but your strokes were slow, teasing him. The tip weeped precum and you worked it down him. “I'm finished if you keep that up,” he admitted, collecting the ends of your dress and bunching it around your waist.

“Maybe we won't be late after all,” you joked, grinning as he gave your bum a soft pinch.

He hooked your panties to the side. “These are barely nothing.” Admittedly, you purposely picked out the smallest thing you owned, knowing it would elicit this reaction from him. “But they're definitely my favourite,” he groaned, dropping onto his knees and lifting your leg over his shoulder.

You shivered as he blew cold air against your clit. “Touch me, Ben,” you whimpered and sunk your fingers into his hair. He fitted perfectly between your thighs. “Make me come.”

He replied with a long drag of his tongue up your cunt, both of you moaning in unison. He does it again, quickly followed by another, and you thrust your hips into his mouth.

“That's it. Good girl,” Ben hummed. “Drown me in it.”

You tipped your head back and rocked your hips, filling the quiet kitchen with loud moans. Maybe the neighbours could hear you, maybe they couldn't. You didn't care, either way. The only person you wanted hearing you was the person with his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking so hard you weren't sure if he was trying to suck it off or cement the taste and shape of it to his brain.

He pulled off you with a dazed, drunken expression. “Definitely won't need dessert after that,” he wiped his mouth and sighed as he straightened up onto his feet.

“The duality of man,” you giggled, playfully rolling your eyes.

He mock gasped, biting your neck softly as he leaned in to kiss it. “What's that meant to mean?”

“It means one minute you can be so hot and then the next you can say something so stupid.”

“Oh, but let's not act like you don't love it.” He wiggled his eyebrows up and down, making you laugh more. “That ring on your finger proves it.”

You glance at your engagement ring, biting back a smile. “Oh, is that what you think?”

“Yeah, that's what I think.”

He hooked his fingers under his waistband and pushed his trousers and boxers down. You eyed his cock hungrily as it stood to attention, more pre-cum leaking from the head. He lifted your leg and wrapped it high around his waist, lining the tip up against you. You reached down, grabbing his bum, and pulled him closer, both of you breathing harder to catch your breaths as he slowly pushed inside.

He rested his forehead against your cheek and looked down, watching the sheen of your slick covering his cock as he worked his hips back and forth, in slow thrusts. You were made for him. How could it not be true with the way he fitted perfectly inside you?

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he groaned, gripping your thigh harder as he slammed his hips forward. “Taking it so good for me. Just know how to make me feel good, don't you, baby?”

You grabbed his chin and tipped him up to meet your mouth, sliding your tongue past his lips and tasting yourself. “Just like that,” you murmured, raking your fingers through his tousled hair. You kissed him again and again, pulling him closer until there was no amount of space left between you. “Oh, yes-!” You cried out, your orgasm taking you by surprise, rippling through you with speed. “Oh, shit-! I'm coming!”

“That's it,” Ben cooed, kissing whatever patch of skin he could. “I got you, let it all go for me.” You clenched tight around him and he let out a guttural groan. “God, I fucking love it when you come! The sounds you make? The sounds you make? Fucking heaven, baby. Fucking heaven!”

--

Your phone, moments later, as your both cleaning yourself up and fixing your clothes, rings in your bag, and your face warms hotter than the deepest pit of the hells as your mum’s name flashes on the screen. You shush Ben as he laughed, pushing him away as he comes closer, not wanting to give you both away as you answer.

“Where are you, darling?” Your mum asked, the noise of the restaurant coming through the phone. “The reservation was at seven, it's nearly half-past.”

“Yes, right, I’m so sorry,” you mumbled your apology, pulling your dress down and fixing the straps with one hand. “Uh, Ben’s training ran a bit a later than I thought it would.”

“So sorry about that!” Ben shouted from the kitchen door, but the grin on his face meant a whole different story.

“You're on your way now, right?”

“Yes, mum,” you nodded, grabbing your bag. “Heading out the door right now.”

Football Taglist: @thoseboysinblue @livinginastory @lovelynikol7 @gagaslonina @pulisicsgirl

[runningwithcoffee]

This is indeed an important discussion! Something I think worth bearing in mind is that real-life winged creatures, especially birds, pay great attention to their wings, being both essential for health and survival, but also because a well-groomed, impressive pair of wings helps to intimidate rivals and impress potential mates.

Human physiology would make it near-impossible to groom the wings at their base by oneself.

Thus, wing-grooming and maintenance would surely be an intimate and bonding act, especially given that humans LOVE to bond over this sort of thing already - why else do we hang out in hairdressers and barbershops? Inviting another to help with those places you can't reach would be a gesture of great trust and intimacy, extended only to family, close friends and partners.

PS are we sure Anthony doesn't have seagull wings? 😉

I want wing fic to be a thing in football RPS! I have already declared yes tomJordan ( he is resentful of good wings. He has a fae little face) who else is a definite yes and a definite no? Would Jarrod Bowen have filmy wings or more a highland coo? (I am aware I am mixing my nationa there in a way that should probably send me to jail)

thrilled as ever to be brought in on this WHAT a concept. can't wait for the Berryo3 take

(though ngl to you i was a bit confused and out of the loop getting this til i scanned your recents)

fantasy and beast art is one of my stupid guilty pleasures too so you've brought down the thunder here

first off my Jarrod Bowen Is Actually Welsh prop is notorious and doubtless annoying so i shan't get into the weeds of it now

and anyway bulls (Hereford) can't fly unless it's ancient Assyria which? i'm not averse i could be convinced

for my agenda though he's having ddraig wings like this is Flight Rising

(every Cymru player has dragon wings i reckon. though considering the Mabinogi there is wiggle room for owl or hawk, that's another topic though)

back to Jaz we'll give him white not red as a compromise for England/Wenglish. i like a classic strong but elegant sleek mythic design with pinkish and gold accents (he's very fair with a rosy cheeked face)

his pair might be one of the most powerful physically in the team but Jaz is never a braggart or flash about it. he's quiet and secure and sanguine. he treats them like you or i would having long fingers. just always been there en't 'em. growing up rural as he has there's nothing in nature that phases him or makes him feel like an aberration really

and he's a pragmatist about it. could and would shelter some of the juniors under them when it rains during training like it always fucking does at SGP. he'll just stand in the dugout for shelter himself, calm and unruffled as anything texting Dani, while the babbers huddle together under his wing that extends out. he feels a slight chill and tickle from the drizzle on his scales, and one or two of the new lads keep touching them in awe, but it's alright, he's not that nesh or sensitive, and anyway he's got gloves on and a hot tea Deccers brought him from the canteen

envious!Hendo never gets old to me i'm with you! do think wings like Jarrod's would make him see green bc why aren't his all tough and majestic and big like that (does this turn into a dick measuring contest in general?)

what first came to my mind for Jordan is bat wings for the meme of it all. they're still breeding a colony in the loft of that mini-manse he can't sell it's so fucking funny. i'm also a mega fan of a Heavy Metal werebat if the world wasn't aware by now

did you know bats have to date been the last living thing to develop/evolve/adapt powered flight? (about 60mil years ago, and we don't know why yet bc the fossil record is poor) and also have the most species of any extant mammalian order? they're taking over and they should is what i'm saying

however on second though i prefer the idea of angel wings. perhaps they're tatty or scarred or not pristine white anymore. or they're a bit skewbald/losing some feathers with time. or injured like his gammy tendons. perhaps he's hanging on to them with one finger. perhaps he's not the best person to have them. his Xtian God assigned them to him nonetheless so he's soldiering on w them

he'd have grown up all emo and self-conscious about them too. like that X-Men 3 scene where Warren Worthington tries to cut his off with a saw in the bathroom bc his Dad and his social bracket think mutants are freaks or sth. even in a wingfic world where they're normalised i can see Hendo carrying both shame about having wings at all/wings of his type, and yet conversely about having ones that aren't all beastmode. which might be why he overcompensates shouting and fighting people and trying to be the leader

(Jack thinks they're beautiful and sexy and hunky, he loves sleeping in or on them. he's the only one on Earth who thinks this)

onto Jack...what's the showiest birdlike or winged creature to exist?

(i googled Sexy Anthro Peacock to find this so i hope you're happy)

ymmv and i could be misinterpreting your au entirely (ignore if so) but i think him having a massive resplendent bright feathery tail or a crest is somehow more IC than him having wings. in my Taker voice: nothing but ass

maybe also it's bc of how it's sort of useless practically except for attracting attention or warding it off depending on the day/person--a desirable trait in Jack's view. can so easily picture him strutting around in front of ppl he fancies and unfurling seductively like a Follies chorus girl. or using it as a distraction in a fight or a game situation. plus coordinating garmz with a gorgeous iridiscent tail! he's on magazine covers almost nude but with strategic tail positioning

failing that i think some kind of griffin or firebird wings. destructive and chaotic and combustible and confusing for the logical mind. the gryphon is an important symbol in Gaelic culture, and after all Jack is a descendant of Irish princes & kings by blood, so it's fitting

is he annoying about it all the time? is the Pope catlick?

Madders: delicate faerie wings. he's little just like a Ferngully creecher isn't he. like Tinkerbell or Thumbelina. like a Gelfling (only the females have them though technically lol) i'm envisaging they've got a mothy or bluebottle fly-like quality to them

and they have sparkles too ofc. because Madders is not one to be ignored or overlooked just bc every other cunt's got monster wings

reckon he's a lot zippier and more stealthy on his, which helps both in football and in a life dedicated to trolling. no one hears his gossamer shirring ones coming like they do the boys who've got meaty leathery or rustly ones. world's most annoying airbourne prick

what's cool is that they don't affect his masculinity or laddishness (what he does have) at all, if anything they just make it more shocking during times on the pitch or out clubbing when he does front up to fight some CB with gargoyle wings. James doesn't care, he'll trip you up and whizz around your head then zing you verbally with such devastation you won't get up again. and you'll have to tell your tl that a feerie twink destroyed your ego (Trent witnessed that happen once and had an autistic gay panic episode in the middle of Chiltern Firehouse)

Trent--how could we choose anything else but the Liver bird. talk about eritij

and it's hard on Trenty bc she has to live in a world of uncultured oafs who don't even know what a Liver bird is and just think he's got eagle wings in a sick custom colourway. NO YOU BEAUTS. eventually she gets sick of correcting them and just tries to look as cold and unfriendly as possible to deter and deflect all stupid questions

this gets even worse and ramps up if/when he goes to Madrid. everyone keeps calling him Cuca Fera and El Coco and it's really upsetting. Jude scares them off and shuts them up though bc how dare you compare princess Trent to this abomination

a perk though is how Trent can go and perch anywhere in Liverpool and be either admired or left alone. kind of has the run of the place like a watchful guardian or a beautiful natural wonder. Madders sometimes goes with him to the rooftops or the waterside and just drinks it all in, very romantic and sweet (until one of them says sth rude or incorrect then it devolves in banter battleground)

honorable random mentions:

Jude Bellingham=Pegasus/Unicorn

John Stones=Harpy

Mary Earps=Cockatrice/Wyvern/Wyrm

Millie Bright=Pterosaur

Ella Toone=Quetzalcoatlus

Andy Robertson=Boobrie

Harry Kane=Albatross

Tyrone Mings=Heron (Great Blue Herons come from Barbados)

Wee Joe Allen (if he's not a ddraig)=Swan

Jordan Pickford=Goose

Hannah Hampton=Owl

Lucy Bronze=Buzzard

Leah Williamson=Hawk, Falcon or Kestrel

Anthony Gordon=Magpie

Lotte Wubben Moy=Raven or Crow

Bukayo Saka=Bluejay

Curtis Jones=Robin

Esme Morgan=Hummingbird

Declan Rice=Butterfly

Ivan Toney=Bumblebee