#England Test captain

[creativemedianews]

England's Ben Stokes ruled out for the remainder of the summer

England's Ben Stokes ruled out for the remainder of the summer #BenStokesinjury #Englandcricketnews

[nfllivescores]

Root & Brook hit centuries as England near 500

Root & Brook In a spectacular display of batting prowess, Joe Root and Harry Brook both scored centuries to propel England towards a near 500 total on Day 2 of the ongoing Test match against [opponent] at [venue]. Their partnership, which showcased skill, resilience, and an unrelenting approach to batting, helped the English team build a formidable total as they look to take control of the…

[studiomd]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Studio MD (@studio_md_design)

Happy Retirement Chef!

[lvnleah]

lay all your love on me | leah williamson.

I ain’t joking this may be my favourite fic yet

Leah had always loved watching you perform. There was something amazing about seeing you on stage, completely in your element, captivating an entire audience with your voice and presence. 

But tonight? Tonight was testing her patience.

She’d settled into her seat with excitement, proud as ever to watch you shine as Sophie in Mamma Mia! She knew the show inside and out by now, having seen it more times than she cared to admit. But somehow, she’d never really processed just how… intimate Lay All Your Love on Me was.

The moment Louis, the actor playing Sky, pulled you into his arms, Leah stiffened. And when you playfully resisted, only to melt into his touch as the song built, her jaw clenched. The way you were all over him made her stomach twist even though she’d watched it many times before. 

It was ridiculous. She knew it was just acting. You’d told her a hundred times that stage chemistry was all part of the job. But knowing it and seeing it were two very different things.

By the time the curtain fell, Leah had barely moved, arms crossed tightly as she watched the crowd shuffle out.

She met you at the stage door, grumpy with her hands shoved deep in her pockets. A few fans had gathered, asking for photos, and Leah waited in silence as you signed programs and took pictures. 

Normally, she’d be smiling, laughing at how effortlessly you charmed everyone. But tonight, she barely spoke, nodding and giving a quick smile when people recognized her and asked for a photo. 

When you finally broke away, slipping your hand into hers, she squeezed it a little too tightly, leading you straight to the car without a word.

You slid into the passenger seat, shutting the door behind you before turning to her. “Alright spill, why are you so grumpy..”

Leah gripped the steering wheel but didn’t start the engine. “I’m not grumpy.”

You snorted. “Leah.”

Silence.

Then, with a sigh, she muttered, “Just didn’t love watching you draped all over that bloke, that’s all.”

Your lips curled into a smirk. “Oh my god! You’re jealous, you’re jealous of Louis!”

Her head snapped toward you. “Am not.”

“You are.” You leaned in, nudging her shoulder playfully. “Didn’t realize I was dating someone who gets grumpy over stage kisses.”

Leah groaned, finally starting the car. “I’m not grumpy.”

You laughed, reaching for her free hand and intertwining your fingers. “Babe, you do know I only have eyes for you, right? Are you also forgetting that I’m very gay and not into men?”

She exhaled, finally meeting your gaze, the frustration melting into something softer. “Yeah. I know.”

You placed a lingering kiss on her cheek before whispering in her ear, “Good. Because I was thinking of laying all my love on you when we get home.”

Leah rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched. “You’re ridiculous.”

“And you love it.”

She sighed, squeezing your hand back. “Unfortunately.”

Leah shook her head, but the slight upward twitch of her lips gave her away. You squeezed her hand again, rubbing your thumb over her knuckles, trying to coax her the rest of the way out of her sulk.

“Oh come on,” you teased. “I didn’t think Leah Williamson, captain of England, would get jealous over a little choreography.”

She shot you a look, but there was no real heat behind it. “He had his hands all over you!”

You bit back a laugh. “Oh, please. If you think that was bad, remind me to never take a role in Romeo and Juliet.”

Leah groaned, tilting her head back against the seat. “You’re actually trying to kill me.”

You leaned over, pressing a kiss to her jaw. “Not trying to, but if it makes you feel better, I’ll make it up to you when we get home.”

That got her attention. She glanced at you, eyes narrowing slightly. “Yeah?”

You hummed, letting your lips brush over her skin again. “Mhm. Maybe a little private performance just for you.”

Leah finally cracked the tension in her shoulders easing as she let out a chuckle. “You’re such a tease.”

You grinned. “And yet, you’re still here.”

She exhaled, shaking her head. “Yeah, yeah. I’m still here.” Then, she turned fully in her seat, cupping your chin and pulling you into a slow, lingering kiss. 

After that, you thought things were fine, but they weren’t. Leah was still grumpy. 

The drive home was quiet, except for the soft hum of the radio. Leah still had that grumpy look on her face, hands gripping the wheel a little too tightly, jaw set in a way that told you she was almost over it but not quite.

You let her stew, biting back your amusement. The jealousy was cute. She was always so confident, but moments like this? When she got all pouty and grumpy over something as harmless as a stage performance? You lived for it.

As soon as you stepped inside your flat, Leah kicked off her shoes and flopped onto the couch, arms crossed like she had personally been wronged.

You followed, standing in front of her with your hands on your hips. “Are you seriously still sulking?”

“I’m not sulking.”

You arched a brow. “You’re literally sulking.”

She exhaled through her nose, gaze flicking to the TV like she was trying to ignore you. Challenge accepted.

You moved to stand between her legs before climbing onto her lap, straddling her thighs. That got her attention. She tensed for a split second, hands hovering near your waist like she didn’t want to give in just yet.

“Poor baby,” you murmured, tilting your head playfully. “Still mad at me?”

Leah’s lips parted slightly, but she stayed stubbornly silent.

You grinned, leaning into pepper kisses all over her face, her cheeks, her forehead, her nose, even the corner of her mouth. Soft and slow, teasing.

Her hands finally found your waist, gripping it instinctively as she let out a low sigh. “You’re so annoying.”

You kissed her jaw. “Mhm.”

She tried to hold on to her grumpiness, but you felt the way her body melted under your touch, the way her fingers tightened against your hips.

You pulled back just enough to look at her properly. “Still jealous?”

Leah exhaled, rolling her eyes. “No.”

You kissed the tip of her nose. “Liar.”

That finally did it. Her arms wrapped fully around you, pulling you in as she let out a reluctant laugh. “Fine. Maybe a little.”

You smirked, brushing your lips over hers without fully kissing her. “You know, you’re kinda hot when you’re jealous.”

Leah groaned, letting her head fall back against the couch. “You are impossible.”

You grinned, finally closing the distance and kissing her properly, slow and sweet. “And yet,” you murmured against her lips, “you’re still here.”

[wlwsoccerfics]

My Little Girl(LeahWilliamsonXToddlerDaughter)

You were asleep on your momma's chest when she arrived at Camp. She managed to hold you close while also dragging her Suitecase behind her. You were 14 months old and the light of Leahs life. She had adopted you on the day of your birth.

When Keira saw your Mom struggle quickly grabbed her Suitecase as well.

"hey Leah. How are the two of you?" She asked. Your Mom thanked Keira and sighed a little.

"i am great but the little one here has a small cold. Hope that passes soon! Got her tested for the flu and stuff. Thankfully it isn't anything like that!" She answered.

"still, poor Baby. I hate to see her like that!" Keira said softly. You started breathing a bit more heavy which had your mom look down, running a hand up and down your back gently.

"i feel like that as well. That's my little Girl." Your Mommy replied and sighed sadly.

Keira and your Mommy were roommates so she helped your Mommy to bring everything up to your shared room. She put you down on the bed and you continued to sleep. Up until you you heard the knock on the door. So you slowly sat up.

"mamam! 'oor!" You pointed to the door.

"i heard it Sweetheart!" Leah answered and opened the door. You started coughing so Keira gently patted your back and handed you your sippy cup. Which you gladly took. Climbing into Keiras lap.

Leah let Mary, Tooney & Alessia into the room.

"Hey little one!" Tooney said and waved at you. You waved at her and the other two. Your eyes light up at the sight of Lessi. Cause she also happened to be your favorite at Arsenal.

" 'wess!" You spoke up, holding your Arms Out for Alessia to pick you up.

"hey little Love!" She said and took you into her arms. You snuggled up to her, sniffling a bit. Putting your pacifier back into your mouth.

"we heard that she is sick. Anything we can do?" Mary offered.

"thank you, but it is okay. Altough i think Alessia might not be able to leave now because y/n is clearly comfortable right now!" Your momma said.

"i can watch her If you want to greet everyone else, captain!" Alessia offered. Because your momma always made a round to greet people, she was Englands Captain after all.

"i will stay as well." Tooney told your momma.

"thanks guys. I will be back as soon as possible!" Your momma replied and kissed your head, before leaving the room with Mary & Keira to greet the others.

You didn't notice any of that though cause you were fast asleep in Alessias Arms. Snoring away.

It wasn't until you woke up an hour later and your Momma was still not back yet that you have gotten a bit restless.

"mamam!" You told Alessia and Tooney. Sniffling softly.

"let's go find her!" Tooney said softly and Alessia carried you around the Hotel to go and find your momma. Leah was in the Hotel Lobby with Millie Bright, Grace & Lucy.

"mamam?!" You sobbed out. She gently took you in her arms as soon as she saw you.

"my little Girl, did you miss momma?" She asked you and you nodded your head softly.

"ea'!" You made the sign for 'food' with your tiny hands to let her know you were hungry.

"let's grab some food for you, little one!" Leah said.

"i could also go for food!" Lucy answered.

"me too!" Millie admitted.

"let's all grab a snack then!" Grace suggested. Everyone got their food. Your momma got you a Banana yogurt. Your favorite. You sat in her lap while Alessia was feeding you. After you had your yogurt & had some tea from your sippy Cup you fell back to sleep again. Your momma holding you close.

"sleep well, my little love." Your momma whispered out, kissing your head.

[enwoso]

PLAYING FOR MORE | alessia russo

(grumpy universe)

grumpy masterlist

alessia sat on the edge of her bed, her hands trembling as she stared at the pregnancy test. two lines, they stared back at her. her heart felt as though it was lodged in her throat, her pulse louder than any cheering crowd she had ever played in front of.

she had worked hard to get were she was — unc scholarship, a starting spot on the team, become captain, achieve her first call up to the senior england squad. she was a rising star.

and now, well right now she was a twenty year old college student staring down a future she hadn't planned for.

her phone buzzed on the desk, a message from her boyfriend: harrison.

—

alessia's usual type wasn't football players, they were too loud, too cocky, too much trouble.

but yet here she was, tying her boots on the sidelines of the practice field sneaking glances across the turf at harrison reed - the wide receiver who had too much charm and a smile that made her stomach flip.

it started during her freshman year, her soccer practice had run late and alessia sweaty and exhausted from the scorching sun of north carolina had cut across the football fields to get back to her dorm quicker.

she hadn't expected anyone to be there, let alone him.

"well if it isn't the soccer team's star girl herself!" harrison's voice rang out as she passed. she's rolled her eyes — of course he'd call her that.

"hey footbal guy." she shot back, not stopping. the only thing in her mind was the cold shower she was going to have when she got back to her dorm.

he jogged over, helmet in his hand as he fell into step beside her, "you always this friendly or did i get lucky today?"

alessia just snorted, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face, "depends, are you always this annoying or am i just lucky?"

that should've been it, a quick exchange, a bit of teasing but harrison wasn't the kind of guy to leave things alone, he liked to push boundaries and push people's buttons — be annoying in simple terms.

so over the next few weeks, the end of the school year looming and they kept bumping into each other. in the corridor as alessia carried her books in her arms.

at the athletic center when harrison was nursing a sore shoulder. in the library when neither of them were studying but both of them pretended they were.

it was easy with him. too easy and that's what scared her.

they became friends at first - sort of. harrison would show up at her matches, yelling loud enough for half the  crowd to hear as alessia claimed she only went to his games for the nachos but really her heart raced every time he made a big play.

one of the last games before the big final, alessia's team lost. alessia missing a crucial goal which ultimately probably cost them the game.

harrison was the one that found her sitting alone on the bleachers showered as her wet hair sat on her jumper.

"rough game," he winced as he sat next to her as he put a arm around her pulling her into a comforting hug which he knew she needed.

alessia sighed, as she leaned into him more, "yep, i missed an open goal."

"eh, you'll get the next one" his voice was softer than usual, not the usual cocky confidence he wore like it was amour.

for a moment they just sat there, the lights from the field buzzing faintly. alessia tilting her head to loot at him, "why do you even care?"

harrison hesitated, a small smile tugging at his lips, "maybe i like you"

the words just hung in the air, heavy and warm as alessia just blinked. "maybe?" she teased, but her pulse hammered in her throat.

"okay.. definitely" he admitted after a moment of silence, a grin creeping onto his face, "so what do you say soccer star? let me take you out sometime?"

"football. it's football."

"soccer. your in the states now less"

as she shook her head leaving the debate for another time and against her better judgement or maybe because of it — alessia smiled, "your impossible, you know that?"

"and yet your still haven't walked away."

that was the start, they started hanging out more after that. coffee dates between classes even though they'd both get a smoothie. late night calls when the pressure of school and sports became too much.

sneaking out to the quad when they should've been asleep, laughing about everything and nothing and supporting each other at the others games.

but it wasn't always easy. there were arguments, about missed plans, about the attention harrison got from other girls, about how alessia always seemed to put soccer first. the two being too stubborn for their own good.

in the end that was what made it work, the moments which weren't perfect, the times they argued they then made up and were stronger than ever. the late night cuddles and morning practices.

the way harrison would bring her a smoothie after every game, whether they won or lost.

so by the time their final year rolled around, everyone knew they were the package deal. alessia and harrison. the soccer star girl and football hero. two athletes who would do anything to win, but hopeless when it came to each other.

—

haz | 'can't wait to see you tonight, gonna get us a takeout from that taco place you love!'

her chest tightened as she looked at the message, harrison was everything she wanted in a boyfriend, charming supportive and ambitious.

but they'd never talked about kids or families or anything remotely close to this. from their late night chats they talked about their dreams of travelling the world and becoming the best at what they did.

children? that's was a word which never even entered the conversation. and she knew - she just knew this was going to be something he wasn't going to be ready for.

so she did the only thing she could think of. text her best friends: emily and lotte.

—

emily and lotte arrived within minutes, their concern palpable the moment they stepped into alessia's dorm room.

"less? what's wrong?" emily asked frantically dropping her gym bag by the door. lotte following close behind.

lotte, the over observant, noticed alessia's tear stealer face and the white stick lying on the desk. "oh less.." she said softly sitting beside her.

alessia took a shaky breath. "i'm pregnant." she said the words tasting foreign and heavy leaving her lips.

emily's jaw dropped, her expression quickly morphing into one of concern and determination. "okay, deep breath. we've got you, whatever you need. we're here for you, less."

"i don't know what to do," alessia admitted her voice quiet and shaky, "harrison's not ready for this. and my parents? there gonna be so disappointed."

lotte placed a comforting hand on alessia's knee. "first things first, you're not alone in this. no matter what you decide, we're with you. but you need to talk to harrison. you can't carry this on your own."

alessia knew they were right, no matter how strong she thought she was. she couldn't carry the weight of that on her own.

—

later that evening, harrison arrived at alessia's dorm his usual easy smile in place. he set out the takeout bags on her desk, leaning in to kiss her cheek. "what's up baby? you look like you've had a rough day."

alessia's stomach churned, rough day was certainly one way to put it. she motioned for him to sit on the bed, her hands twisting the hem of her hoodie. "haz, i need to tell you something and it's.. big."

his playful unserious demeanour faded, as his face paled, "you're scaring me less, what is it?"

she took a deep breath, looking at him with such fear as she bit her lips, "i'm pregnant."

for a moment, harrison froze, his expression unreadable. then he ran a hand though his hair, letting out a shaky laugh, "wait, are you serious?"

alessia nodded, her eyes welling up.

"wow," he muttered, standing up and pacing the small room, "this.. this wasn't supposed to happen. alessia we aren't ready for this. we barely managing school and soccer as it is."

"i know," she said quietly, "but it's happening, haz. we have to figure out what to do."

he turned to face her, his expression filled with frustration and fear, "look, i'm sorry but i can't do this. a kid? now? we are only twenty for god sake. i just started getting noticed in football. this would ruin everything - for both of us."

his words hit her like a punch to the gut, "ruin everything?" she repeated, her voice cracking.

"i'm not saying it's your fault," he said quickly, "but think about it less, we have our whole lives ahead of us. you've got the england squad, you're one of the best young players at the minute. a baby is gonna change everything, it's not the right time."

alessia just stared at him, her chest tightening with every word, she couldn't believe his words. "so what are you saying? you don't want to keep the baby?"

harrison hesitated, her silence speaking volumes. "i'm saying... i don't think we should."

alessia felt like the air had been sucked out of the room, she had known the conversation would be difficult. she had braced herself for his shock, his panic. but hearing him say it out loud 'i don't think we should' felt like a knife to the heart.

her fingers curled tighter into the fabric of her hoodie as she swallowed back the lump forming in her throat. "haz, this is our baby. my baby. i can't just pretend this isn't happening."

harrison exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. "less, come on be realistic. a baby means we'd have to give everything up. football, school, our future - everything we've worked for. we aren't ready for this." his voice was desperate, like he was trying to make her see reason, but all alessia could hear was rejection.

"you think i don't know that?" she shot back, her voice trembling. "you think i haven't spent every second since i found out thinking about how this changes everything? but it's happening haz, whether we're ready or not."

harrison let out a frustrated sigh and turned away from her pacing again. his usual confidence, his easy charm - gone. now he just looked scared. "there are.. options," he said hesitantly. "we could-"

"no." her voice was quick and firm and when he looked at her, she shook her head. "i can't. i won't."

he stared at her for a long moment, his jaw tightening, "you're sure?"

tears burned at the corner of her eyes, but she refused to let them fall, "i've never been more sure of anything."

harrison exhaled sharply, hands on his hips as he looked away. the silence between them stretched, heavy and suffocating. when he finally turned back, his expression, again unreadable but his next words shattered her completely. in more ways that one.

"then i don't know if i can do this, less."

"what?"

her stomach dropped. he ran a hand through his hair again, exhaling shakily. "i'm not ready to be a dad. i can't be a dad." his voice cracked, but he pressed on. "and if you're keeping it... i don't know how to be part of that."

alessia felt like the floor had disappeared beneath her, her entire body felt cold, numb. "so, what? you're just going to leave?"

harrison's face twisted in anguish, but he didn't answer. that answer was enough.

alessia let out a shaky breath, nodding slowly. "okay," she whispered. "if that's how you feel.. then go."

"less..”

"no," she cut him off, wrapping her arms around herself. "you made your choice. i'll figure this out on my own."

harrison hesitated for a second, like he might say something else. alessia's silently hoping he would say something else. but instead, he grabbed his hoodie and moved towards the door.

he paused for a fraction of a second, then walked out, closing it softly behind him.

the moment he was gone, the first sob broke free from alessia's chest. she curled up on the bed, clutching her stomach, her heart shattering.

she had never felt so alone.

—

alessia lay on her bed, she felt numb. sitting on the bed as his words replayed in her mind.

not ready.

not the right time.

ruin everything.

alessia had managed to find the energy to message emily and lotte. so when they arrived alessia was still sitting there with tears streaming down her face.

"he doesn't want to keep it," she whispered as emily wrapped her in a tight comforting hug.

"of course he doesn't," emily said, her voice tinged with anger but also comfort, the type alessia was craving. "he's a twenty yet old boy who is scared out of his mind. but this isn't just his decision."

lotte crouched in front of alessia, her voice calm and steady. "less, what do you want? not harrison, not anyone else - you. this is your life, your body, your future."

"i don't know," alessia admitted, her voice breaking. "i feel like everything i’ve worked for is slipping away. but.. i also can't imagine just walking away for this. it's a part of me."

emily squeezed her should. "then that’s all that matters. you'll figure it out, and we'll be here every step of the way. harrison doesn't get to decide your future — you do."

alessia's breath shuddered as she leaned into emily's embrace, gripping the fabric of her friend's hoodie like it was the only thing tethering her to reality. the weight of the moment was crushing, pressing down on her chest until it felt like she could barely breathe.

she had spent years building herself into the player she was today - grueling training sessions, sacrifices, endless hours on the pitch. football had been her whole life for as long as she could remember.

and now.. everything felt uncertain.

"i don't know what to do," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "i don't even know how to begin figuring it out."

lotte, still crouched in front of her, took her hands in hers giving them a reassuring squeeze. "you don't have to figure it all out tonight, less. you just have to take it one step at a time."

"but what if i can't do it?" alessia's voice cracked, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks. "what if i ruin everything - for myself, for my career, for this baby."

emily pulled back slightly, her expression fierce. "listen to me. your alessia russo. destined to be one of the best footballers in the world, the hardest working, most determined person i know. if there is anyone can handle this, it's you."

"but what if he's right?" alessia asked, her voice raw, "what if this really does ruin everything?"

lotte shook her head, "it won't. it'll change things - yes. but that doesn't mean your dreams are over. your not alone in this less, we'll figure this out together."

alessia sniffled, looking between her two best friends. the unwavering support in their eyes made something shift inside of her - like a tiny sliver of hope breaking through the overwhelming fear."

she exhaled shakily. "i just.. i thought he'd be here for me. that we'd figure it out together."

emily's jaw tightened. "if he can't handle being here when things get hard, then he doesn't deserve to be here at all."

lotte nodded. "you don't have to do this alone, even if he's gone. you have us. and whatever you decide, we're with you - every step of the way."

for the first time since harrison had walked out, alessia felt the smallest bit of steadiness return to her. she was still terrified, still completely unsure of what the future held.

but at least she wasn't alone.

[russo-woso]

Mini Williamson | leah Williamson x reader

Warning mentions of pregnancy, morning sickness and just a whole lot of fluff

Summary You take yours and Leah newborn baby girl to the euros final

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You and Leah had kept your whole relationship away from the public, up until recently.

It was announced that Leah had been chosen to captain her country to the euros and therefore, had been more in the public spotlight.

Leah soon became a face of England, the one who was going to bring it home.

You loved it, but hated it at the same time.

Your wife was getting the recognition she deserved, but it also meant she was at home less and less.

You couldn’t blame Leah, how could you? You knew this would be the case when you got with her.

Luckily, one of the best thing about your relationship was that you were both open with your emotions.

So when it got too much, you sat Leah down and explained your feelings and within minutes, she had cancelled all her shoots and interviews for the next few weeks.

That way, she could spend time with you, and your baby, who was due anytime that week.

It had been a rollercoaster and a half the past nine months.

During the autumn of 2021, you and Leah decided to go on the journey of IVF, desperately wanting to expand your family.

It was quickly chosen that you’d carry, due to Leah being an athlete, and you began the process.

When you awoke in the early morning four weeks after the final transfer, feeling the urge to throw up, you knew that maybe you and Leah were going to be parents.

You remember the moment you found out.

Leah had been rubbing your back as you threw your head into the toilet.

You looked back and nodded at her.

Without needing any words, Leah knew what you were saying and reached to open the box of tests.

You set a timer and once the alarm echoed the silent room, you urged Leah to turn it, your hands too shaky for you do it.

“Positive. Love, we’re having a baby.”

You sobbed into Leah’s shoulder, happiness taking over your body.

That was just the start of the rollercoaster.

With the baby following in their mummy’s footsteps and wanting to become a footballer, the kicking you got was non stop.

It was safe to say it was Leah’s baby.

When you got to the later months of your pregnancy, the uncomfortableness started to kick in.

Whatever position you were in, you were uncomfortable.

Even laying in Leah’s arms, you were uncomfortable.

You became moody due to the tiredness, constantly snapping at Leah, even if she was trying to help, which always resulted in a sorry and kiss to her cheek.

So when the time finally came for your baby to come, you were ecstatic.

Ecstatic to not be pregnant anymore, but even more ecstatic to meet your little one.

In the early morning of June 6th, your perfect baby girl was born.

The moment she was passed into your hands, you decided that life couldn’t get any better.

Even though Leah was set on calling her Wembley, you both settled on the name Amelia.

Amelia Amanda Williamson.

You and Leah couldn’t have been happier.

You were in your own little bubble with your newborn baby girl and your close family and friends knowing about her.

Due to Leah going to England camp for the euros three weeks after Amelia was born, you made the most of her being home.

After a few cozy weeks being stuck inside, you decided to take Ami on her first walk.

You cried when you put her in her stroller for the first time.

The realisation that she was really yours settling in.

Although you thought it was just you, Leah and Amelia on that walk, fans had taken pictures of the three of you, posting them all over social media.

The whole of England blew up after finding out that the England captain had not only a wife, but also a baby.

Leah officially came out with a statement, introducing you and Amelia to the public, along with a picture of you and Leah when you were pregnant.

Although it wasn’t ideal, you and Leah were both happy that you didn’t have to hide from the public anymore.

The dreaded moment came when Leah left for camp.

After a very emotional goodbye, Leah placed a final kiss to your lips and a kiss to Amelia’s head, and was on her way to the euros.

With Amelia still being so young, you and Leah made the decision that you wouldn’t attend any matches.

Although it killed you not being at the stadiums watching her play, Leah assured you that it was okay, that you were being her biggest supporter by looking after your baby girl.

But when the lionesses made it to the final, you had to be there.

You wanted to witness it, but you also wanted Ami to witness her mummy and all her aunties at a sold out Wembley.

You hadn’t told Leah you were at the final, getting the tickets from Kiera instead.

Kiera got you the best tickets too, in the family and friends section, just behind the subs bench, right by the barricade.

It was nerve racking taking Amelia. You couldn’t help but think she was still too young to be there.

But her paediatrician assured you that she’d be fine as long as she had noise cancelling headwear on.

Ami looked adorable in her car seat.

It was a moist summers day when the final took place so she was in a baby grow, an England shirt over the top, with a thin blanket on top of her.

You got to your seats, Amelia fast asleep in a milk coma.

Everyone’s family and friends came and congratulated you on the birth of Ami, everyone staring in awe at the sleeping Amelia.

Eventually it was time for the game to begin.

Leah led her team out of the tunnel, which brought tears to your eyes.

Whilst singing the national anthem, Leah had a small smile on her face.

You knew how excited she was, but also how worried she was.

Your eyes locked with Leah’s and her whole face changed from serious to shocked.

You blew a kiss to her and she returned two back.

At the action, Alessia looked back from her seat on the bench and her eyes widened.

“Oh my god, Y/N!” She exclaimed, immediately standing up to hug you.

Alessia was like a little sister to you.

You both had met when Leah introduced you to the England girls but it was Alessia who you got on best with.

“Hi, lessi.” You hugged back and less broke the hug, realising that the newest member of your family was with you.

“Is this…” Alessia asked, stopping her sentence as she zoned out, looking at Amelia.

Amelia frowned in her sleep and less giggled at her.

“She’s already got that Williamson frown mastered. Hi, mini Williamson. Tooney, look at Amelia, doesn’t she look like Leah?” Alessia nudged Ella beside her and Ella turned around and awed at the sight.

“That’s Leah but in baby form.”

You all laughed at her statement but stopped once a small cry was heard from the car seat.

“Oh, baby girl, did we wake you up? I’m sorry.” You cooed as you picked her up, resting her on your chest, her head snuggling into your neck.

“She’s the cutest. Even her cry is cute.” Alessia said quietly, scared that she’ll wake Amelia up again.

“It is, but not at 2 o’clock in the morning when you want to sleep.”

Your conversation with Alessia was soon cut short when Sarina suggested she goes and warms up.

With a final hug from her, less jumped up and went and warmed up.

The atmosphere was incredible when Ella scored the first goal.

The whole of Wembley roaring as the ball hit the back of the net.

The atmosphere seemed to calm as Germany scored an equaliser.

Of course, with the three super subs on, Ella, Alessia, and Chloe, the score was bound to change.

And that’s exactly what it did.

Just 10 minutes from the extra time full whistle, Chloe scored the winning goal.

You saw your wife fall to the floor in tears as the final whistle blew.

Tears ran down your face too, you were so proud of Leah.

Your Leah was now a European champion. She was the one that lead her country to becoming European champions.

Whilst everyone was celebrating with one another, Leah headed straight for you.

You enveloped her in a hug, very restricted due to the barricade in your way.

“I’m so proud of you, Le.” You told her, your voice cracking as you held her tighter.

Once you pulled apart, she picked up Amelia from her car seat, pressing kisses all around her face.

Leah helped you jump the barrier, immediately pressing her lips against yours, Amelia still in her arms.

She then walked you over to all the England girls that celebrated as they saw you.

All of the girls loved you just as much as they loved Leah, but instead of the attention going straight to you, it was all on Amelia.

Leah took her over to them, showing her off like a trophy, and all of the lionesses gathered round in a circle, completely forgetting about the other trophy they’d won.

That summer, Leah won two trophies.

A trophy for winning the euros.

But the best one of all, was her baby girl. Her mini Williamson.

[outsideratheart]

Time Has No Concept (Ingrid Engen x reader)

It may not have officially been winter but that didn’t stop the -5 degrees feel any warmer. You always said you liked the cold weather or at least you weren’t bothered by it. Today was a true test of that. 

Walking out for the pitch inspection you only have one thing on your mind or more specifically one person. 

“It hasn’t even been a week” Keira tries to tease you but fails because you don’t bite. 

“I don’t care. I spend every day with her in Barcelona so when we’re apart a day is like a week.” 

It was true. It didn’t take much for you to miss Ingrid. You moved to Barcelona after the euros and quickly became friends with Ingrid. It stayed like that way until you won the Champions league. It was a night to be remember for more reason than one. 

Lucy and Keira agreed to go with you to Ingrid as she was with Caro and Ada. 

“Tell me why you, a Norwegian native, are wearing more layers than me?” 

“Because I’m not a human heater” Ingrid opens your arms and makes herself comfy. 

“Hello my love” you look down at her, fully disregarding the company around you. 

“Are you nervous?” Ingrid asks as she sees a crack in your confident persona. 

On game days you were serious, locked in and there was little anybody could do to steer you from this mindset. Ingrid however had the unexplainable ability to see through it and as she stands on the pitch in your arms she sees her girlfriend, not the England captain.

“About the game, of course not” you wink playfully “about what comes after, a little bit. I just want to make a good impression”

“Pull back your shots and maybe you will”

Ingrid knew you would never do as she asked so isn’t surprised when she gets a scoff as her reply. The two of you stay together in each others arms for a few more minutes as you involve yourselves in the conversation between Lucy and Ada. 

It was very well known that you hated wearing base layers but it was advised to put one on gor the game given that it might snow was forecast. That didn’t stop you from removing the thermal layer within the first ten minutes when you saw their goalkeeper go down. At half time most of them put a second base layer on and an extra pair of gloves whereas you opted for a cup of tea instead.

The post match team huddle was one of the quickest in team history and the lap around the pitch that followed matched it. Only one or two England players remained on the pitch to thank the fans, you were one of them. Once the last photo was taken your attention shifted to a different kind of fan.

There she stood talking animatedly with two people who you recognised from the time Ingrid FaceTimed home whilst staying at your apartment.

“Y/N!” The younger boy, Ingrid’s nephew you think, shouts.

“Look at you” Ingrid cannot believe you are standing next to her in the now -8 degrees, maybe even colder, in only shorts and a shirt. No base layers, no gloves, no coat “You’re going to get a cold”

“You forget that I don’t get sick, it’s my superpower. Besides, I’ll have you to keep me warm” you are millimetres away from kissing her when you are interrupted.

“Y/N, please can I have your shirt?” 

“No”

“Yes”

Much to Ingrid’s dismay you give her nephew your shirt. He takes his coat off and quickly puts your shirt on over Ingrid’s. The smile on his face rivals the Cheshire cat’s and you whisper in your girlfriend’s ear that the look on his face makes it worth it. 

Ingrid holds her jacket open and pulls you close as you chat away to her brother about the game, happy with the fact that the two of you get along well and that you will have a familiar face when you meet everybody else a little bit later. It is only when she feels you shivering against her does she politely end the conversation so that you can go inside the stadium.

“Shower, please. No ice baths. We can go on a recovery walk tomorrow” your girlfriend knew your post match routine well at this point but prayed that tonight you would stray without any arguments. 

“Yes ma’am” you salute her before doing as your told. 

Almost two hours later you were pulling up to Ingrid’s parents house. Ingrid seemed confident that her family would like you. The way she grabbed your hand and led you into her childhood home did ease the nerves building inside you. 

Luckily for you, Ingrid’s nephew is the first to see you and pulls you over to show you his Legos. You can’t believe that you are using a child as a shield against her family. 

The protection doesn’t last long because your girlfriend soon calls you over to her parents. You had practiced this speech plenty of times in the mirror. 

Mr and Mrs Engen, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’m Y/N Y/L/N. 

Yet when you get within a meters distance of them you freeze. These are two of the most important people in your girlfriend’s life and making a good impression on them is a must. 

They stare at you for what feels like an eternity and you can also feel Ingrid’s eyes on you too. Another thing you notice in the corner of your eye is the smirk that is tugging at her lips. 

“You were right. In person she isn’t anything like she is on the pitch” her father says. 

Still you are frozen. Do you slip the player switch on and play the confidence card? No, that might be too much and they’d know it’s an act. 

“Hyggelig å møte deg” you hold your hand out for both her father and her mother. 

Their eyes widen and you don’t know if it’s in shock or horror. Your girlfriend’s silence didn’t help either. 

“I said nice to meet you, right?” 

Ingrid leans in and kisses your check. 

“Elskling, it was perfect” Ingrid compliments you. 

“She is right. The pronunciation was very good” 

“Ingrid didn’t say you knew Norwegian” her father adds. 

“Our team mate Caroline has been teaching me after training” 

Ingrid knew you had been having lessons with Caro, you had told her that much. She just assumed it was Spanish because of how quickly you picked up the native language of your new club. Never in a million years did she think you’d be learning her language. 

The four of you talk for a little while. You get to know Ingrid’s parents and they ask all sorts of questions. They are mainly football and life in Barcelona related. You don’t get the hurt my daughter and I’ll kill you speech but you suspect they are waiting until you’re alone for that. 

After the introductions you retake your place on the floor with Ingrid’s nephew. His company you found a lot less intimidating. Her parent’s are sat on the sofa behind you watching the tv with some of Ingrid’s other relatives but you aren’t bothered by their presence. 

“Y/N” Ingrid shouts from the kitchen where she is helping her brother with the food. 

“Yes, my love” you reply. 

Ingrid’s parents share a look that you don’t see. Was the nickname you had given their daughter part of your English charm or were you really in love with her. 

“So you love our daughter?” Ingrid’s father asks rather boldly. 

“Pappa!” Ingrid comes to your rescue just in time. 

The three important words had not been said but the feeling was there. 

“I do” when you stand to your feet you feel betrayed by your body and mouth. 

“You do?” Ingrid face is the picture of shocked. 

“I do” you whisper softly “I think I’ve know for a while. Everything was made clear in the summer. I was heartbroken but you took me in your arms and held me until I was whole again” 

There it was. The admission that you, for some unknown reason, had been scared to make. 

Ingrid didn’t care that her family was surrounding her. She kissed you with the same passion as the kisses you share at home. It may not be an intense kiss but it is enough to convey her feelings. 

“I love you, I really do” 

What comes over you, you have no idea but you lean back in for another kiss, a peck. The public display of affection does earn a fake gagging sound by her brother before he announces dinner is ready and served. You do have to hold back a laugh when he goes the extra lengths to let everyone know he did it without his sister’s help. 

Later that night you get another hot shower to warm you up. Maybe your girlfriend was right about you getting sick. 

The two of you lay in Ingrid’s teenage room. 

“Did you really mean what you said earlier?” Your girlfriend asks you. 

“What did I say earlier?” 

Hearing this Ingrid sits up and slaps you on the chest. The impact send you into a coughing fit. 

“Don’t play with me. Also, you’re getting sick. Take these” 

You are handed two tablets which you take happily despite your stubbornness. 

“I meant it but I thought it was too soon and I didn’t want to scare you away. How was I suppose to tell you I love you after only being dating for a month, in fact we weren’t even dating, not officially” 

“You knew after a month?” 

“You think it’s too much. You see, this is why I didn’t want to tell you”

Your brain went into overdrive as you began overthinking your decision. 

“It’s not too much Y/N. I met you a year ago yet I feel like I’ve known you a lot longer. I would shock myself at how easy I would open up to you. When it comes to you it’s like time has no concept”

Nobody has ever spoken about you in that way. You were never anyone’s person until you met Ingrid.

“Jeg elsker deg” Ingrid pecks you on the lips “Jeg elsker deg” 

When you fall asleep that night you do so with a huge smile on your face and a sense of calmness that you very rarely feel. 

The next morning Ingrid wakes up to the sound of you coughing, or more accurately barking, in the bathroom. 

“I’m sick” you admit when you see Ingrid standing behind you in the mirror. 

“Come on I’ll make you some broth that will have you feeling good as new in no time” 

“You don’t have to. I’ve taken some more medicine, I’m ok” 

“I know I don’t have to. I want to and it’s what I do for the people I love”

[piratesfromspace]

Just Like Old Times (Price x Reader + poly141)

Pairing: Reader x Price (& Reader x 141) Rated: Mature Word count: 2.9k Summary: A cottage in the snow. A Captain you knew in another life. His rugged and attractive men. Will you let them into your life? Note: This is a fic I wrote for @literatecowboy for the Secret Santa event organized by @bunnyreaper! I tried to make something soft and sweet and it's taking place during the winter, it's not smutty but if you like it, I can make a part 2 with some action 👀

EDIT: we have a PART 2!!

Content: ex-military!fem!reader, mention of food & alcohol, a little bit of angst but it’s mainly fluff, smoking, flirting, praise kink, sharing body heat

MASTERLIST // PART 2

It had been Laswell’s idea. 

The team needs to be ready for snow conditions, do whatever you think is best. You have 3 weeks. And I’m talking extreme weather, Price, not a little trip to your local ski resort.

Those had been the instructions Kate had delivered to an unphased Price.

He knew it was only a matter of time before this kind of mission would be required from them. Of course, the men of the 141 have already trained in the cold of England, have seen and tested the winter gear. But Laswell is about to send them somewhere at the very East of Europe, and there is a small difference between surviving winter in London and surviving winter in places where the cold could kill you in minutes if you didn't have the proper equipment or knowledge. Over there, more than usual, tiny mistakes could have big consequences. And Price would rather not have his team freeze to death because of a lack of training. 

It’s December and the month is cold already. But it’s nothing compared to the cold Soap feels when he steps out of the helicopter. It’s like Price has picked the coldest place he knows in America. He’s pretty sure they are somewhere in Wyoming or Montana, the only thing he can see are mountains all around them. Spruce and fir trees sprawl in dark patches contrasting with the stark white of the snow covering everything. He crosses the large glade to reach the tree line, as the helicopter takes off, sending the fresh snow flying in every direction. The sky is a light gray, and while the whole scene is stunning - makes his head spin with equal awe and wonder thinking about nature’s force and brutal beauty - it means there is no sun to warm his face. 

“Come on soldiers, let’s move, we still have a two-hour hike to reach our B&B!”

“You mean someone will be there to make us breakfast Captain?” Soap chimes, unbridled joy coming through his voice at the prospect of warm home-made meals instead of MREs.

Price has a hard time hiding a smile as he starts walking on the thin winding path, only recognisable for those who know it’s there. ”There will be someone, but I’m not sure they will cook for you, Sergeant.”

Ghost lets out a dry chuckle and follows the steps of their Captain, leaving Soap and Gaz a bit puzzled.

❄️

The sun is already setting when you hear loud voices outside, and soon after a series of knocks on your door. You’re a little stressed when you rise from the floor in front of your fireplace to go open the door. You have agreed to shelter those 4 soldiers for 3 entire weeks only as a favor to Price. An old acquaintance who saved your life, a decade earlier, before you left the field to heal your wounds - body and mind. The large wood cabin had been your home for a few years already. You keep it open for women like you, in need of time away from the world, although it’s pretty rare they come during winter time when the road is blocked by snow. It’s an old building, but well-kept and you made it as cozy as possible, all warm natural tones, plush carpets on dark wood floors, dark gray stones in the bathrooms. 

You welcome them with a soft smile, delighting in their surprise - seems like John had not told them he planned on using your cottage as a back-up base for this training expedition. John’s team members are not really what you expected: there is one Scott with a mohawk that seems simultaneously annoyed and happy to be there (he has terrific blue eyes), a young and calm brown-haired Brit (he’s really cute, like movie-star cute), and a behemoth with a literal skull mask (his size alone has your head spinning). You can’t complain about them though, as they are polite and friendly, praising your home - and for sure taking in the comfort and warmth one last time before heading off for days of rudimental camping in the icy woods. You don’t envy them, remembering that one mission you did in Siberia when you were still in active duty, that wasn’t really fun. They settle in their rooms easily and you all share a quick dinner you had cooked - except for the masked giant. The banter goes fast between them, especially after you offer them beers. You like being alone, but you have to admit they are fun to be around.

❄️

The living room is silent and dark, the only light coming from the fireplace across your couch. After dinner, you had trouble finding sleep in your room, so you went to read a bit in front of the fire. But you must have dozed off, because you wake up suddenly, gasping, arms flailing, sitting up immediately. Your frantic eyes, wide open, scan the room for the reason of your awakening, survival instinct going overdrive. Someone is standing in your living room, frozen in place on their way to the front door. It’s the behemoth with the skull mask - the scariest of them all, of course.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” he apologizes. In the darkness of the room, it looks like his jaw is not even moving beneath the dark fabric covering the lower half of his face, like the sound just pours out of him or like he’s speaking directly inside your head. He might actually, you’re not entirely convinced the giant is not some sort of supernatural being John brought back from a cursed battlefield. It’s unnerving to say the least. 

“I’m sorry, it- it happens sometimes, I can’t help it, my instinct thought you were a threat…” you blurt out before realizing you may have offended him in some way by implying he’s not worthy of your trust. But instead of scoffing, he lets out a thoughtful hum, lowering his head to look at his boots, almost sheepish. 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” His voice is low, calm, and at the same time you can feel something else, sadness, maybe disappointment, in what or who, you’re not sure.

“Care for a smoke?” he offers after a beat of silence, nodding to the front door. You don’t smoke anymore, cut the nasty habit years ago. That’s why you don’t know what compels you to accept, but you’re not gonna be able to sleep now, so you follow him outside, grabbing your coat on the way. 

You half expect him to smoke through the mask, but he pushes the fabric up enough to reveal a strong jaw covered in light stubble, and plush lips. So he’s human after all. The slick and heavy storm lighter looks ridiculously small in his giant hand when he lights his cigarette. He takes a deep puff before handing it to you.

“Sorry, last one.”

Your fingers graze his, and you bring it to your lips to drag a small puff that immediately makes you cough.

“You ok?” he rasps, humor tilting the corner of his mouth upwards.

“Yeah, it’s been a while, that’s all” you provide. He hums in approval at your explanation. 

When you hand him the cigarette, you take a moment to look at his mouth, the way his throat works when he inhales, the way the silver smoke dances between his open lips and fades into the night sky. Something warms your gut when you realize his lips are set just where yours had been a few seconds ago. 

You don’t know what’s more attractive, this or the fact he doesn’t try to make conversation for the sake of it. He doesn’t bother to explain why he couldn’t sleep and felt the need to smoke at 3 in the morning. He knows you understand. You are just glad to bask in the soft noises of nature at night - wind in the threes, the hooting of an owl. Fuck, you’ve been alone up there for too long to thirst on John’s colleagues just like this, just a few hours after their arrival. You shake your head, driving out the thought, and take the cigarette again from his fingers.

❄️

The next morning, you wake up pretty early after a short night, only to find one of them - the pretty one, Gaz - is already fixing coffee in your kitchen like he belongs there. You honestly could get used to this. The thin long sleeves of his shirt are doing nothing to conceal the muscles underneath, rolling as he’s going about this mundane task of preparing breakfast. His kind eyes and soft voice when he asks for your choice of eggs makes your heart flutter with a yearning for this kind of intimate domesticity you had never really allowed yourself up until then. It’s kinda concerning, at this rate you’re gonna ask one - all? - of them to stay with you in your cottage instead of going back to whatever missions at the other end of the world. 

The rest of the day is not making you change your mind. Price had asked if anything needed their help around the house, and you gave them the tedious task of moving the gigantic pile of wood logs stocked at the other end of your garden closer to the house. It would have taken you days to do it by yourself. But by lunch time, the pile had dwindled to a fifth of what it was thanks to the hard work of the four men. The two younger ones were down to their long-sleeve compression shirts despite the cold, sleeves rolled up their elbows, showing off strong forearms, various scars slashing across the discreet swirls of black ink from old tattoos. Some disappear under the black gloves they are all sporting. Sweat plasters the fabric of their shirts to their shoulders and chests. You can’t deny they look fucking good. 

You had accepted Price’s demand without much after-thought, but now you couldn’t be more happy about it, ogling those four rugged men laboring away for you. Despite being older than his men, Price is far from looking bad. He’s built like a brick house, a healthy layer of fat covering muscles he’s been honing for two decades. Dark hair peaks from the open collar of his jacket, your eyes follow the line of the thin garment which is hugging his tapered waist, down to his thick thighs. Fuck. You remember what it was like to be close to him - literally and figuratively. He was your colleague, an equal, a couple years older than you but you shared the same rank. He was a mentor, a friend, a lover - only briefly, after that fateful mission where he saved your life on the field. You parted ways in good spirit after you announced that you wanted to retire, needed to get your head straight before committing to anything. Today, you ask yourself if maybe you could take this back from where you left it.

❄️

You want to train with us today, love? Just like old times.

Price had asked you the question the next morning and you had not been hard to convince. It was more about being able to look at them than to train your body, but they didn’t need to know that. Even if you keep a pretty healthy lifestyle, you can’t compete with elite soldiers, and by the fourth set of push-ups, your arms are giving out. You’re about to stop and reach for your water bottle, when Price notices. 

“Come on, you can do five more, I’m sure!”

You groan in response, but you go back in position.

“Breathe, love. Back a little more straight. Elbows in. That’s it… Good.” 

Price’s deep voice is calm as he’s encouraging you, gently correcting your posture.

“Don’t look down, chin up. Perfect, you’re doing good.” he goes on, and you cheeks warm under his praise, enough to make you forget the stinging cold. Your whole body is clenched with the effort, you’re letting out little cries with each push-up, your muscles are hurting, but you want nothing more than to make the captain proud.

“Just one more. Done! You did great darling, I’m impressed.” 

He helps you get up on shaking legs and when you almost stumble, he secures you upright against his chest, keeps you there for two seconds more than he should for it to not look intentional. When you raise your head, you’re suddenly so close to his face, blue eyes staring down at you with a glint in them you can’t ignore. You reluctantly part before reaching for your water bottle again, playing coy.

The three others are not oblivious to the little game between you and Price. You notice how they exchange knowing looks and little smiles whenever you both interact. Worst, they also seem to pick up on your love for being praised and soon enough they take every excuse to whisper how good your aim still is during target training, or how smart you are for knowing everything about the local fauna during your afternoon hike. It never sounds like they’re mocking you though, never feels like it’s not genuine. It’s not fair, really. At this rate, you don’t know how you’re gonna survive living under the same roof with four attractive men for three entire weeks. 

The answer to this torture of yours is revealed quickly. After a few days of acclimatization at your cottage, Price and his men are ready for a long expedition higher in the mountains, with just tents and even a short surviving-in-extreme-cold workshop. They will be gone for at least ten days. You watch them pack their gear and leave your place with a pinch in your heart you couldn’t expect when you first opened your door to them.

❄️

Days go by, pretty uneventful, until your heating system breaks down. It’s not the first time since you’re leaving up there, it’s not that scary but you’ll have to wait a few days for the repair team to come by. In the meantime, you resort to live and sleep in your living room, where the fireplace provides enough heat to keep you warm in the heart of the winter.

They come back the day after that, and when you see their silhouettes emerging from the treeline, just before the sun sets down, you can’t prevent your lips to form a smile so big it hurts your cheeks after a couple minutes standing in the biting cold. 

The fondness in Price’s eyes is not dulled by the news your heater is out of order, nor is the relief on Soap’s and Gaz’s faces at the promise of a solid roof and comfy beds after days of rudimentary accommodations.

You all work to prepare some food, and to bring a couple mattresses with all the duvets you can find in front of the fireplace - the only sane solution for you all to sleep without suffering too much from the freezing temperatures. It reminds you of your years of service, when you sometimes had to share a single room with your whole squad - you’re not missing the stress and the harsh living conditions, but you’re definitely missing the camaraderie, the jokes and fits of laughter, the bodies of trusted people around you. 

They leave you the couch - gentlemen that they are - the objectively most comfortable option, but once again you can’t find sleep. The piece of furniture is the farthest away from the fire, and you’re on your own, no one next to you to share body heat with you. 

It’s only because I’m cold. That’s the poor excuse you give yourself - and the one you whisper to Price - when you step down from your couch to seek a place under the cover next to John. He’s sleeping next to Gaz; Soap and Ghost are sharing the other mattress. You slide yourself against him, immediately melting into his chest, the man radiating heat like it’s his only purpose in life. He doesn’t even have to ask you if it’s okay to hold you against him because you plaster yourself to him and nuzzle against his chest, old habits taking over your sleepy brain. A sense of safety and comfort envelopes you at the same time his warmth does. You forgot how good it felt to be in his embrace, to be tucked against his broad chest, surrounded by his smell - manly, ambery wood, and the rich spice of his cigars. 

He chuckles silently as you settle at his side and let out a little content sigh. He missed that too, he won’t say it out loud, but having you like this, soft and pliant in his arms, it makes him wonder how he could be such a fool for not seeking you sooner. He suddenly wants to kiss you, to make you feel good, here and now, no matter the fact his men are sleeping just a few inches from you. Should he care? He’s not blind to the fact you spend a good amount of time leering at them since they’re here, and to the fact they are watching you back. He can not ignore the shameless flirting going on between all of you five actually. John has never really been in a situation like this, doesn’t know where this will lead him - where this could lead them. But he’s ready to follow you. He takes a deep breath before he talks. 

“Just like old times?” He asks, voice low, chest vibrating with it under your palm. 

Just like old times… The words echo in your head, echo in your heart. He gives you the opportunity to lead him - to lead them - wherever you wish.

“Just like old times.” You repeat back to him, before you capture his lips in a gentle kiss.

PART 2

[apoloadonisandnarcissus]

Conjuring Nosferatu: Robert Eggers shares the eight films that inspired his remake of “Nosferatu” (2024)

“It’s a world of Gothic Romance, fairy tales, and folklore, made by filmmakers with a passion to transport the audience to another time, another place, and another way of thinking and believing.” Robert Eggers reveals the list of other films (besides 1922 “Nosferatu”) that influenced his version of “Nosferatu” at Lincoln Center

Archie Mayo | Svengali | 1931 (USA)

A dark and seductive tale of obsession and manipulation. A talented young singer falls under the spell of the sinister musician Svengali. As Svengali's influence over the singer grows, he begins to control every aspect of her life, leading to a dramatic and terrifying climax.

Jean Cocteau | La Belle et la Bête (Beauty and the Beast) | 1946 (France)

Belle’s father is sentenced to death for picking a rose from Beast’s garden. Belle offers to go back to the Beast in her father’s place. Beast falls in love with her and tests her by letting her return home but telling her that if she doesn’t return to him within a week, he will die of grief.

David Lean | Great Expectations | 1946 (UK)

Orphan Pip discovers through lawyer Mr. Jaggers that a mysterious benefactor wishes to ensure that he becomes a gentleman. Reunited with his childhood patron, Miss Havisham, and his first love, the beautiful but emotionally cold Estella, he discovers that the elderly spinster has gone mad from having been left at the altar as a young woman, and has made her charge into a warped, unfeeling heartbreaker.

Thorold Dickinson | The Queen of Spades | 1949 (UK)

Countess Ranevskaya, an elderly woman sold her soul to the Devil in order to always win at cards. Captain Herman Suvorin, an embittered Russian soldier, becomes obsessed with discovering her secret and also finds himself smitten by her beautiful young companion, Lizaveta Ivanova. As Suvorin gets closer to the truth, his quest takes an unforgettably eerie turn.

Yakov Bazelyan and Sergei Parajanov | Andriesh | 1954 (Soviet Union)

The evil sorcerer Black Whirlwind kidnaps the flock of a young shepherd boy, Andriesh, along with his beloved talking sheep, Miora, and his loyal dog, Lupar. Heartbroken, Andriesh embarks on a journey to rescue them. He receives a magical flute as a gift from the warrior Vainovan, which is meant to guide him to the castle of Black Whirlwind, who despises all living things.

Jack Clayton | The Innocents | 1961 (USA; UK)

In Victorian England, the uncle of orphaned niece Flora and nephew Miles hires Miss Giddens as governess to raise the children at his estate with total independence and authority. Soon after her arrival, Miss Giddens comes to believe that the spirits of the former governess Miss Jessel and valet Peter Quint are possessing the children. Miss Giddens decides to help the children to face and exorcise the spirits.

Yuri Ilyenko | Vechir na Ivana Kupala (The Eve of Ivan Kupalo) | 1968 (Soviet Union)

Petro is a modest farmhand living in an impoverished village in some unspecified long-ago era. He wants to marry the lovely Pidorka, but her stern father won’t hear of it. The mischievous demon Basavriuk, offers a deal, enticing Petro into crime for the sake of fortune. Based on Nikolai Gogol’s short story “The Eve of Ivan Kupala” (“St John’s Eve”) and Ukrainian folk tales.

Djordje Kadijevic | Leptirica (The She-Butterfly) | 1973 (Yugoslavia)

Based on a revered classic of Serbian nineteenth-century literature, the short story “After Ninety Years” by Milovan Glisic. Its hero is Strahinya, a poor lad in rural Serbia who falls in love with the local landowner's daughter: in order to prove himself worthy of her love, he has to spend a night in an accursed mill. It is said that a vampire is sucking the blood of unfortunate mill men, thereby bringing the village to the verge of famine

[p0orbaby]

A blurb of drunk Leah and drunk reader, and a drunk cig together.

-

You’re both hammered, swaying on the pavement outside some bar you can’t remember walking into, and somehow you’ve found a cigarette in your hand. You don’t even smoke. You tell everyone that, at parties, in the pub, at your cousin’s wedding when someone offers you one like it’s a perfectly normal thing to do. “Nah, I don’t smoke,” you’d say. Yet here you are, staring at this slightly bent Benson & Hedges, wondering if it’s a bad idea, while Leah—actual Leah Williamson, captain of England and the woman who once made a PowerPoint presentation about the benefits of stretching—leans in like she’s fully considering having a drag.

You’re stunned. This is Leah, for god’s sake. The woman who orders sparkling water at the pub and checks the ingredients on snack packets like she’s reading her own death certificate. The same Leah who doesn’t even let you fry bacon in the flat because it “stinks up the whole place.” But now she’s watching you hold this cigarette with more interest than she’s ever had in your poor attempts at cooking.

“Are you really gonna light that?” she asks, eyes narrowing, like it’s some kind of test you’re failing, but her voice is too slurred to be convincing. You shrug, suddenly very aware of how dumb this all is. “Dunno,” you say, realising that the lighter you’re looking for doesn’t exist because, of course, neither of you brought one. You're both standing there, staring at this cigarette like it’s an alien object that neither of you has ever seen before.

Leah smirks, pulling one out from behind her ear, where it’s been tucked this whole time like some absurd accessory, and you’re left wondering how someone so organised, so put together could be this drunk and carrying a cigarette like she’s a rebellious teenager in the back of a schoolyard.

“What the hell are we doing?” you ask, fully aware this is a ridiculous scene: two women standing outside a random bar at 1 a.m., both far too old and far too responsible to be doing this. Leah just shrugs, then laughs, her head tilting back in that exaggerated, almost theatrical way that only happens when she’s properly pissed. “Being idiots,” she says.

You’ve never seen her like this, loose and unwound. She’s always so serious about her health, so intensely focused, like the weight of the team is permanently stitched into her skin. And now here she is, all casual, asking you for a light for a cigarette she’ll probably never actually smoke.

You eventually find a lighter from some bloke passing by, who gives you a look like he’s just witnessed a crime. Leah doesn’t hesitate. She takes the lighter, cups her hand around the cig like she’s done this before, though you know for a fact she hasn’t. When she finally takes a drag, she coughs—immediately. You nearly drop your cig from laughing so hard.

“I’m a bloody athlete,” she croaks, waving the cigarette in the air like it’s the thing’s fault.

[lokisgoodgirl]

Welcome to the Masterlist for The Lakes. A series (yes, series) which I hope will be a staple of your autumnal days alongside steaming tea, cosy candles and thick, fluffy blankets.

This series is complete.

A Link to my regular Masterlist is HERE

The Lakes: Captain Rogers in his infinite wisdom has decided that a select team of Avengers require a crash course in basic outdoor survival skills. Location? The Lake District, England.

In the crisp chill of autumn, based out of a tiny and remote cottage, your reluctant role as the resident 'expert' is put to the test. But nothing the wilds of Cumbria can throw is more testing than the ever-present irritations and temptations of your recent ex, Loki.

Warnings: More domestic humour, thirst, mild angst and fluff than smut. Although there is some smut obviously, because I have a problem.

Characters: Agent Reader (no YN), Loki, Thor, Steve

Each chapter will have a suggested vibe setting track from Taylor Swift's Folklore which is appropriate but entirely optional.

Chapter-Cottage🏕️ 1. Changing Seasons (w/c 3.8k) 2. Sticks and Stones : (w/c 4.8k) 3. A Long Way Down (w/c 4.6k) 4. Home Truths (w/c 4.5k) 5. A Cunning Plan - (w/c 4.7k) 6. Darkest Night, Brightest Day (w/c 6.2k) 7. Harvest -(w/c 6.2k)

Christmas Specials 8. Secretive Santa (w/c 7.3k) 9. Comfort & Joy (w/c 7.8k)

[peachetteprice]

Driving Habits | TF141

Disclaimer: Some of these are UK specific, including the style of car, manoeuvres, terminology, and gearbox. That's what happens when the boys live and work mostly in England! Also, I am almost taking my practical test in September, and I need to rant about certain habits. Sorry in advance to Soap and Ghost. Love you both, boys.

Credit to @soaps-mohawk for giving me the inspiration to explore this headcanon! It began with an exploration into what cars TF141 might drive! You can see the original post that inspired this here.

+ Including interactions when driving with an S/O!

Notorious one-handed driver. The other hand is either on the gearstick - just resting, contemplating - or mediating between the gearstick and your thigh. He loves a good reverse bay park. (He's an absolute beast at it, too. No need for minor adjustments. He just... knows the space. And he will make fun of you when you can't park as perfectly as him). Helps to get the shopping in better, because at least you can get to the boot! Has been known to swerve a little bit for birds in the road, but that's because he's an avid watcher, and the poor things get enough grief as it is - he wants to still be able to watch Robins and Thrushes in the trees on the weekend!

Captain John Price:

He does, however, neglect rabbits, foxes, badgers, squirrels, and rats. And the... occasional deer in Scotland? Not out of malice - not at all - but they're not worth swerving over and potentially causing a collision for. He might, only if you're with him - because you'll squeal if he doesn't and positively become harrowed by its body popping beneath the rear tyre - but it's much safer for a driver to simply ram it into the gravel than to mess around with the safety of himself, other drivers, and - of course - you.

Takes extra care around vehicles with stickers that denote that the occupants of said vehicle - bar the driver or secondary passengers - are animals or children. He will be extra sure to check his mirrors, touch on the brakes if need be, and will actively scan for dangerous drivers that he can shield the car from. His duty is to protect, after all, in whatever capacity.

That being said, in his youth, he was known to drive... a little faster than required. Only on country lanes does he still retain some of his more... reckless habits. He may go a touch too fast around corners, and ignore the chevrons that indicate the severity of a turn (one arrow, two, three), and if the road opens up to a sprawling range, whereby speed control for tight corners and blind junctions is not an issue, he will... perhaps... occasionally - only rarely if you're in the car with him - let her rip.

Begrudgingly drives your shuddering little Fiat 500 or itty bitty Hyundai i20 (hey, what do you mean, tiny, it's perfect for the city, John! Pay no mind if your boys giggle and point when you turn up at the base in it...), though much prefers the Triumph Spitfire, 1979, mint-condition, that he bought in 2008 for three grand and fixed up over a ten-year period (when he wasn't deployed, that was) which is now worth £18,000. That is his profit! But he won't let another soul touch it, drive it, or so much as look at it - unless it's you, on a good day - until the day he dies. It's in stunning condition, but God help you if you reverse into the driveway without him watching like a hawk, wiggling his hand as if it were the paddle of an aeroplane conductor, telling you to move closer to the wall and risk scratching your car just to protect his darling baby. It... oh no... it might be the only thing he loves more than you...

But those roads are his home, that's all!

Always, always, always over-revs the engine to get out of a junction. He can't help it! He's used to manoeuvring through rough terrain with a car the size of a military tank - he's bound to forget to treat a normal car with a normal amount of strength. He comes flying into and out of roundabouts for that exact reason! He has to get on and off them quickly enough - don't you know, they're deathtraps, they are!

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

He's also prone to checking his side mirrors and rear view mirror an inordinate amount of times for a twenty-minute pop to the shop. He is convinced that the Kia Sportage behind him is right up his tail - he's sure it's stalking you in the passenger seat, especially with your bumper stickers on the rear, the nasty perverts - no matter how many times you explain to him that the mirrors are convex! They will make everything seem closer than they truly are! Now, however, he does not and will not ever brake-check a car, but he will sure as hell give them the dirtiest stare if they decide to overtake him... or until they back off a few more feet behind you.

The poor man gets impatient at lights. He does. And crossings, too. Train, tram, pedestrian, any and all of them. Despises them all. He'd rather a set of traffic lights for people to cross at, than have those silly zebra, pelican or toucan markings along the road that he has to pray Grandma Doris won't divert her walking cane in its bilateral direction. Oh, and he bounces his leg like there's no tomorrow. Again, he can't help it! He isn't used to waiting in cars. He's used to tumbling down roads in Middle Eastern deserts as the crow flies. None of those silly turns and re-routes into estates because he took the wrong turn at a junction. He wouldn't have messed up had he had time to think! Had there been no traffic! And, oh, Christ, the traffic. Simon does not like traffic. He does illegal U-turns as soon as he sniffs there being a road closure - that's how much he dislikes waiting!

You'll never forget the day that he wrenched the handbrake up way too high, and you had to get your father to re-tighten it. You're sure there aren't any more notches he can lift it to. You're rarely ever on a hill that warrants it. He'll crank it up six times just to stop at the traffic light before the Tesco. It's bloody Tesco! It's not Mount Kilimanjaro!

Never gets the bite point consistently. Never gets the damn bite point. Always too low or too high. He doesn't over-rev it like Ghost does, but the amount of times he stalls the bloody car, thinking he's in another one of those tank-sized vehicles that has a brand-spanking new bite point - or dare he say, an automatic gearbox that doesn't even require a clutch - is incalculable. You'd think the man has only just learnt to drive!

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Notoriously speeds through built-up areas. Often commits to doing 45mph in a 30mph zone. Only when there isn't anyone around, like at nighttime! He consistently zooms past speed cameras in his BMW. His poor 3L engine is just too powerful for those dinky little roads. And, promise, he doesn't do it on purpose! He just routinely forgets to glance at his speedometer (and his mirrors, but that's another issue), and he drives for himself and himself only. In fact, he often hums to himself and forgets you're even there, beside him, clutching onto the internal handle on the roof in case he veers too suddenly to either side. His object permanence doesn't prevail unless he has one hand on your inner thigh, and if he doesn't, well, you can kiss safe driving habits goodbye.

(Oh, and he always sits on the brake. And bite + gas. The handbrake is too cumbersome, and his feet are strong enough, Goddamnit!)

Alright, that isn't to say he's an... unsafe driver. He's only slightly inconsiderate. He brakes too harshly, too late, too suddenly, he coasts on the clutch around corners, he never feeds the steering wheel, and he sometimes forgets to check his mirrors before turning into a junction (but he's never T-boned a cyclist... yet... you can give him a tick for that one). But he hums and whistles a nice tune to himself - he prefers it to the radio, and that's not to say he prefers quiet so he can hear the sound of the engine, no, no... never... not at all - and he always makes an overt point to note every field of cows, sheep (especially horses!) as well as every cat he sees lurking along the pavements. Never dogs. Doesn't like the bastards. Got bit once. That was enough to turn him right off.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Beautiful driver. Test-accurate. He could re-take it today and pass with flying colours. What a brilliant driver. The only bad habit he's picked up is driving with one hand (he tends to bite his fingernails on the other when he drives - helps with the stress of commuting in London), and never feeding the steering wheel through his hands. He does the wipe-on, wipe-off manouvre, mostly because he looks hot when doing it, though he tries not to. Mama Garrick always swats his hand whenever he does it because that's how drivers get into accidents, baby!

Car-shares with his mother, whether it's in her duck-egg blue Kia Picanto or his lime green Ford Fiesta - it has failed its MOT three bloody times, and he's revived that girl from death's vice grip more times than he can count, it has the mileage of a postal worker in the 1700s, nearing 200k - but this gentleman always remembers to bring the seat forward and upright after he's finished using it, so that her feet can touch the pedals, and to, naturally, reduce her back pain. He does the same with the headrest, too, because if there's anything he cares about more than his job, it's the safety of his family and friends!

Tends to drive on the cautious side. The only minor fault he'd get in a test would be hesitance because he simply doesn't trust any other driver but himself. His mother drilled that into him. She said that there's nothing worse than watching a car flash its headlights and signal you to go, with caution, as always, because the flash is not universal for 'go', only to pull in front of you and trigger you to emergency brake. Or, God-forbid, a pedestrian puts their hand up at you before they've even crossed the bloody road, and he has to slam on the brakes like he's Speedy Gonzalez at a traffic light. Lordy Lord.

Never mind the fact that he waits too long at pedestrian crossings because there could be somebody shrouded by that tree on the corner there. Do you see it? Over there! No, behind the sign, love! There could be someone - oh, whatever. He has to wait to make sure it's clear - otherwise, Grandma Doris is getting bumped in the legs and thrown fifty feet along the road! And he cares about the elderly!

Always nervously bites the insides of his cheek at roundabouts. Which is the most bewildering part of all, because he's so good at them! He always signals onto the roundabout. Never cuts lanes. Always follows directions perfectly, and if he doesn't, well, I guess you're taking a different route until you can turn around in a safe place. He always signals off the roundabout, too - even at mini-roundabouts - but he'll scrunch his face up every time, huff, and mutter:

"Yeah... botched that one."

...Regardless of how many times you tell him that he's a gorgeous driver! It's sexy, too, how he abides by the Highway code and gives way to more cars than he really should - no, except he really should stop doing that, actually, they're starting to take advantage of his kindness and he doesn't realise it - and how he's so... so... so fucking smooth with gear transitions. Going from stationary to a comfortable 20mph? He'll pop that sucker so fluidly into third (or second, if it's his mum's car) with such prowess that you barely notice the engine take the gas he's giving it. There's no jolt between first and second. He plays those gears like he's bowing a violin. How delicate his fingers are. How gentle his touch. It's mesmerising to watch.

And, you're about ready to give him your hand in marriage when you notice that every time he comes to a stop - on a hill, at a traffic light, in crawl traffic, waiting to turn into a junction, he puts the handbrake on, then takes his foot off the foot brake, then knocks the gearstick into neutral, then takes his foot off the clutch, and waits patiently like the darling man he is. Unlike someone else, he never sits on the brake...

Gaz even brakes in ample time, and you thought he couldn't be more perfect! That's what really gets you going - he gives the car behind him just the right amount of time to slow down that it's almost a waltz, and he's the conductor of traffic. Though... maybe don't let him get trapped at a stalemate on a mini-roundabout where all cars are turning left and are subsequently blocked by the need to give way to the right... his poor brain will short-circuit! If he does, give him a pat on the thigh and let him wait for someone else to make the first move - he hates decision-making when he's off-duty.

Bonus Round - Road Rage!

Captain John Price:

Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley:

Road Rage? You mean, showing a healthy amount of anger and vigour towards a bloody idiot driver? You mean... baring his teeth and swatting a hand at them, occasionally honking the horn past eleven-thirty, even if people are sleeping, or pulling out one of his anger-insurance cigars? That's what road rage is? Well... Christ, he must be terrible for it. Don't tell his boys that... they think he's the most level-headed man on base.

He's slightly oblivious to the technique of cars around him. He drives like he's the only driver in the world, because usually he is - except for those fuckers behind you who won't back off - but if something does happen, and if it isn't too much of an issue, he'll grunt, clench his teeth, grip the steering wheel and let out a muttered 'bastard'. If, however, something really irritates him - especially if another car puts you in danger - he'll honk the horn and flail his hand at the windscreen in the hopes that the driver sees his frustration (even if you're the one driving, he'll reach over and honk the pad for you, even though you've told him not to!)

Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish:

Well... he certainly knows a lot of Gaelic, doesn't he, your boy? You've hardly a monkey's bottom of what he's saying, but the vitriol in which he says it - he's not known for bottling his anger very well - makes it clear to you that he needs a hug and de-tox before bedtime. If the accused does anything on the defensive or antagonistic, he has been known to pull up beside them on a two-lanes-go-straight-on road marking, even if it isn't the right way to your destination, just to glare at them and give them the... stern finger. Maybe... maybe a word or two about precious cargo.

Sergeant Kyle "Gaz" Garrick:

Gaz is a simple guy when he's off-duty. He will sigh, tut, shake his head, and mumble 'nutter', or a very hushed 'oh, you absolute...' (bonus: he never finishes his sentence!) It's what his mum does! If another car puts you in danger, he may groan and roll his eyes - but he always asks if you're okay as soon as, and apologises for the sudden violence of his attitude! What a sweet man.

| Masterlist |

[12woso12]

No Control - Part 5

Written without the use of social media! Enjoy, I'll be back with more parts involving the use of social media soon!

Part 4

You were nervous. Disgustingly nervous. As much as Laia had tried to reassure you, you couldn't seem to shake the apprehension of meeting with Renee. You knew the meeting wouldn't guarantee you anything, and maybe that was the terrifying part. Since Barcelona had let you go to Arsenal your future had seemed secure and final, you would sign for Arsenal and work your way back into the England squad.

You would show the world you were more than the drugs.

You would finally get your act together.

You would live up to the world's expectations of you.

But now, as the future was suddenly upon you, uncertainty rattled your goals. What if Renee decided you weren't a good fit? What if you spent the entire season on the bench? What if they asked you about the drugs? What would you say?

When the pictures had been released by the press, you were taken by surprise with the lack of confrontation by your teammates. Even Alexia, who was incredibly protective, had shown you nothing but love and understanding. She hadn't raided your apartment in an attempt to confiscate any drugs you were hiding, she hadn't shouted or screamed or sent you to rehab.

The first thing she did was give you a hug.

The kind of hug mothers might give their child.

The kind of hug you want to live inside forever.

Alexia had sat with you at your apartment for the evening and cooked you dinner. She didn't once ask you about the drugs. Part of you thought she already knew everything she needed to anyway, Alexia wasn't a stranger to the horrifying stories about your childhood that you let slip when drunk or feeling particularly vulnerable.

You were a bit of a mess and Alexia took that in her stride. Admittedly, you had tested her limits by going to Ibiza amid the news that Barcelona weren't prepared to keep you on. But what's a girl going to do except party her feelings away?

Although you'd been expecting it, the England news hit you the hardest. What killed you the most was how you didn't hear from any of your lioness teammates - Leah had only gotten in touch because of her captain duties. You had expected a text from Grace or Aggie at least but nothing had come to fruition. Keira had taken you out for coffee a few days after the news broke but when the FA advised her to keep a distance until media attention died down it became clear that you were being isolated.

It sucked. But you understood. The trajectory of woman's football was precarious and disjointed, your use of drugs wasn't exactly doing the Lionesses' image any good.

So now you were sharing a house with Laia in a boring English town waiting for the most important meeting of your life. It was about now that you could really use a hit of a certain something.

'You ready Kiddo?' the older spaniard brought you back from panicked thoughts and into her living room. 'Vamos!' She ruffled your hair and led you outside into the cold cruelty of British weather.

'Is the drive long?'

Laia shrugged '20 minutes. Now come on and get in the car, I promised Ale I'd get you to the meeting on time'

Laia was right. The drive was easy and before you could even comprehend it, you were parked at the Arsenal training ground and following Laia like a sheep inside. Colney was something quite spectacular, the history of the club clung to its walls like a moth to a flame. The faces of legends took up the main hallway accompanied by trophies and stories of the invincibles that made your jaw drop in awe.

'I had the same reaction' Laia grinned at you 'Arsenal is worth the cold weather, trust me' She pointed to a door at the end of the corridor and gently shoved you forward. 'That's the meeting room, good luck!'

Palms sweaty and mouth dry, you slowly approach the door and feebly knock. It only takes a second for the door to swing open and the welcoming face of Renee Sledgers to appear, she paused for a second and you squirmed under her intense gaze before she reached for your hand.

'It's good to officially meet you, Y/N'

'Yeah you too. Thanks for inviting me' You let her pull you inside the room and direct you to a seat across a round table. Once Renee is settled opposite you, she smiles at you reassuringly.

'So, we've got a lot to talk about. I've been given permission by our development manager to start some early contract discussions with you. It's clear that you're a fantastic player, Y/N. I'm not sure if i've ever seen a player with as much natural talent as you'

'Thanks'

'And that's why you're here today. Because if i'm being honest, your life style outside of football isn't something that we particularly want to bring to the club and its taken a lot of convincing to even set up this meeting today'

You were shocked at the woman's bluntness but appreciated it all the same. You were lucky to have a fantastic left foot. 'I know, i really appreciate being here'

'If you were to sign with us, there would be specific rules and guidelines you'd be required to stick to. Is that something you would be able to do?'

'Depends'

Renee sighed. 'That isn't the enthusiastic answer that i was hoping for Y/N'

You pinched yourself at your unwillingness to show even an ounce of committal. What the hell were you doing? Just say yes.

'Sorry, I didn't mean it like that. Just... what type of guidelines would you be referring to?'

'Well, we don't have anything ironed out just yet but you would need to provide a monthly negative drug test. The rules will only be in place to benefit you, you're hoping to get recalled to England no?'

'Yeah of course' You said

'Then these rules will help you get there.'

For a second, you heard the cries of Wembley infiltrate the room. You could practically feel the way the crisp pitch would slide beneath your boots in front of a sold out crowd. You could smell the sweat, blood and tears of your teammates as they gave it their all on the pitch. Nothing in the world compared to that feeling. Nothing.

And to get it all back? Well that would mean everything.

'I want to get back to England' you whispered

Renee nodded sadly 'I know. So let us help you and in return, you help us. Bring your talents to Arsenal, we want you but only if you're willing to do the work.'

'I am' You confirmed. 'What happens now?'

'Well i'll recommend to the board that we go ahead with the transfer then our team will send you a mock-up contract. It'll contain all the normal legal jargon alongside those rules we talked about. Then, once all the specifics are ironed out, we'll get you in for an official signing. How does that sound?'

Daunting, you thought. It sounds fucking scary. 'Good to me'

Renee broke out into a smile. 'I'll be in touch tomorrow and until then, enjoy a few days rest'

'I will, thanks Renee' As you got up to leave the Arsenal manager caught your attention a final time.

'Y/N? Don't do anything to put yourself in jeopardy, ok?'

[queenhunter102]

Part 10 (Part 9) (Part 11)Lore Page

“The Basements?” Johnny asked, his eyes flicking between You and Gaz before they flicked to John and Simon, Gaz opened his eyes and shook his head, “Best not talk about them, Johnny” Gaz said. Johnny looked between you and Gaz confused, “Why it sounds like a club or something” Johnny said, Simon sighed as he spoke “Johnny…It’s not...It’s not-” He was cut off by you. “Before the ORAPA law existed or before OHEADA came into effect when an Omega became, the Government would test different types of medication on Omegas,” You say, taking a deep breath before you continue, “it often resulting in deforming the Omega or making them barren, during the testing they were, forced into aiding an Alpha’s rut” Johnny looked at you confused, his brows knitted together “How did that create The Basements” he asked, you figured he was never taught, it wasn’t like Scotland was never cruel to their Omegas but they were never cruel to the extent of England. “It meant that there was no chance of a pregnancy the Omega would still go into heat, but no pregnancy, So no responsibility, and no baby to test on, So I guess there was some good that came out of it” You say, feeling something wet coming from your hand, you look down to your patch and see that you had scratched at the glue and you were bleed, your nose crinkles at the scent. “Shit, Gaz go get me plaster,” Simon said, as he grabbed your arm, pressing his hand to the scratches Gaz returns with a plaster handing it off to Simon, Simon fixes you with the plaster, “There’s a reason we don’t talk about The Basements,” Simon says. Johnny rubbed his face, “I thought it was some underground club or something, not some sick plan” He says, “Johnny, you’re too young to remember, what life was like before the laws, I remember what it was like” John says, patting Johnny on the shoulder. “Yeah I was little too young, But I remember bits and pieces” Simon says, Alejandro nods his head in agreement, “I only know because my grandparents told me about it, The good old ‘A fair alpha, is a good Alpha’” Gaz says, as he walks back to his place next to Alejandro. “So what I’m hearing is that The Government is evil and all Alpha’s are bad?” Johnny says like he is trying to make sense, and you laugh at him “Historically yeah” John makes a face of understanding, “Ok, I get the fear now”. When Simon was finished with your arm, he pulled away leaning his hip on the metal footboard “So Ven, How did the NBOC allow you to Join MI5, let alone allow MI5 to loan you out to us” Simon said, changing the subject. Your shoulders tense, before you roll them to ease the tension “Why? It’s nothing of major importance” You say, as you fidget with the plaster on your arm, “Venom, You gotta tell us something tell us something, we have to trust you with our lives out here” Gaz says. You sigh, rubbing your face not wanting to discuss why you were placed with MI5 and why you were passed to the 141, your head snapped in the direction of a growl your eyes meeting John. “Fuckin hell, You were given an order” He growled, you roll your eyes growling back “And we just talked about how Omegas were treated, so forgive me for not being forthcoming” You growled back, you really didn’t like John, he was one of those Alphas who were used to Omegas obey him. Alejandro stepped in between you and John, “Alright Captain, They asked why, and we responded” He said, turning his head to you, you huffed, as you climbed back onto your bed you crossed your arms over your chest, your eyes resting on the plaster, as you sucked your teeth. How could you tell them without, getting abandoned, or getting your ass chewed out by the NBOC, you make a clicking sound from your mouth when you came to a decision. “Ok, Fine, I was sent to the MI5 as punishment”

[iinsertblognamee]

masterlist <3

•°. *࿐ sam kerr

series;

» friends or lovers (sam kerr x childhood friends, matildas!reader) on-going sam and y/n started out as neighbours and became friends but what if they wanted more?

one-shots;

» big sister's (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader) what happens when your overprotective big sister finds out you’re dating and not just that, you’re dating the team captain. well shit.

» bluey and phonecalls (sam kerr x foord!reader) your son misses sam

» body slam (sam kerr x matildas!reader) a guy runs on the field mid-game and does the one thing that set's sam off. he touches you.

» bump (sam kerr x reader) sam talks to your bump

» buzzfeed; the ten times sam kerr and Y/N arnold made us belivee in love (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader)

» chelsea matches and jerks (sam kerr x reader) you go to support your girlfriend at the FA Women's cup. some guy sitting next to you doesn't get the hint to back off. Sam takes things into her own hands.

» cure to a scary flight (sam kerr x chelsea!reader) sam doesn't like flying, you get seated next to her

» did you see that? (sam kerr x matildas!reader) you show england exactly what you're here for

» don't go to bed angry (sam kerr x reader) sam and y/n have a fight

» hi sam (sam kerr x reader) sam and y/n throughout the years

» i love you (sam kerr x reader) you try out a tiktok trend you watched last night. sam isn’t impressed.

» jumpers, apologies and proposals (sam kerr x reader) the aftermath of losing to england

» kerr and hayes (sam kerr x hayes!reader) y/n hayes catches the eye of her mother's star player, sam kerr.

» mama's little diva (sam kerr x reader) it's finally time to play against Iran in Perth, but a certain someone has other plans

» matildas; the world at our feet ft Y/N (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader) clips from the docuseries

» motherhood? (sam kerr x reader) sam and you have a fight, this wasn't how this was meant to go.

» my big protector (sam kerr x matildas!reader) you take a fall on the field, Sam teaches the girl not to mess with you again

» my girlfriend (sam kerr x reader) sam is ready for the world to know about her girlfriend

» ring in the pocket (sam kerr x reader) mamma mia and a proposal

» sam kerr and Y/N arnold take a friendship test to see who's the better friend (sam kerr x matildas arnold!reader)

» sam kerr and yn foord (sam kerr x chelsea/matildas foord!reader)

» sam's sick (sam kerr x reader) you go and pick up your sick girlfriend from training

» social media au (sam kerr x singer!reader)

» star player (sam kerr x childhood friend!reader) flowers, star players and soccer

» surprise (sam kerr x reader) you come over to australia to surprise sam

» winning goal (sam kerr x matildas!reader) it all comes down to this. penalty shootouts.

» you have a what? (sam kerr x reader) the matildas find out who the mysterious girl in the lobby is here for

•°. *࿐ alexia putellas

one-shots;

» the streets of barcelona (alexia putellas x footballer foord!reader) yn foord and alexia putellas meet.

» kiss me, please? (alexia putellas x footballer!reader) alexia doesn't really do PDA, but she might make an exception for you.

» a baby? for me? (alexia putellas x single mum!reader) you break the news to your daughter that you and alexia are having a baby

•°. *࿐ caitlin foord

one-shots;

» yn & caitlin foord reveal their world cup kit bag essentials (caitlin foord x sister foord!reader)