bitchinbarzal

[bitchinbarzal]

about once a week I’ll scroll past a photo of a hockey player with a caption like “hottest person ever omfg who even looks like this” and this is the photo in question:

[bitchinbarzal]

Any Justin fics coming soon??? Please I need to be fed 😭😩

It starts small.

Scottie’s been in that mood all afternoon, pushing boundaries, stomping her little feet about everything. Wrong snack, wrong color water bottle, wrong cartoon. And Justin snaps.

“Enough, Scottie. I said no.”

She whirls, cheeks pink, fists tight. “I don’t really like you right now!”

The room goes still.

Justin exhales, jaw working. “Yeah, well… feelings mutual, kid.”

It’s out before he can catch it. And it lands like a stone in water.

Scottie’s chin wobbles. She won’t cry, won’t give him the satisfaction. She squares her little shoulders like he taught her to when she’s scared.

“Okay. Well… hope you have a bad game.”

She storms off, door slamming.

Justin stands frozen, gut sinking. He’s never heard her say that. Never seen her look at him like that.

You sit with Scottie in the stands, her jersey tugged down over her knees. She’s quieter than usual, not bouncing, not yelling. Just watching, arms crossed.

And then it happens. A sack. Justin goes down hard. The stadium gasps. He doesn’t get up right away.

Scottie’s small hand grips yours, trembling.

“Mama,” she whispers, eyes huge, “I didn’t mean it.”

Your heart cracks.

On the field, trainers kneel. Justin rolls slowly, wincing. He’s moving, thank God. But Scottie’s already crumbling, tears streaming.

“I told him to have a bad game,” she sobs, “and now he’s hurt. It’s my fault.”

You crouch down, cupping her wet cheeks. “No, no, baby. That’s not how it works. Daddy got hit playing football. That’s not because of you.”

She shakes her head, inconsolable. “But I was mean. I said I didn’t like him.”

He’s sore, but okay. No major injury. When you bring Scottie down to see him, she clings to your leg, ashamed.

Justin crouches as best he can, helmet tucked under his arm, eyes searching hers.

“Hey, bug.”

She won’t look up. “I’m sorry. I said mean things. Then you got hurt.”

He frowns, pulling her close despite the ache in his ribs. “That wasn’t you, sweetheart. That was football. Nothing you say could ever make that happen.”

She sniffles into his chest. “I told you I hoped you had a bad game.”

He kisses her hair, tight eyes closing. “You’re allowed to be mad at me sometimes. I didn’t like what I said either. But nothing you could ever say would make me stop loving you. Not for a second.”

“You promise?”

He leans back, brushing tears from her cheeks. “Promise. We’re teammates. Sometimes teammates fight. But at the end of the day, you’re still my girl.”

She finally cracks a smile through the tears. “Even if I’m mad?”

“Especially if you’re mad,” he says softly. “That’s when I need your hugs the most.”

She wraps her arms around his neck, squeezing like she can glue him back together.

And that night, when he tucks her into bed, she whispers, “I like you again.”

He laughs quietly, kissing her forehead. “Good. Because I always like you.”

[bitchinbarzal]

Keep the joe stuff coming✋🤌

[bitchinbarzal]

Need more joe🩷

It started over nothing.

Sloane wanted ice cream before dinner, Joe told her no. She huffed, crossed her arms, and declared with all the drama a four-year-old could muster, “I don’t like you too much right now.”

Joe blinked at her, stunned for a second… then his jaw set. “Oh yeah? Well maybe I don’t like you too much right now either.”

You whipped your head around from the kitchen sink so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash. “Joseph Lee Burrow—”

But it was too late.

Sloane’s face crumpled, eyes wide and watery, her little hands clutching her bunny to her chest. “You don’t like me?” Her voice cracked, devastation dripping from every syllable.

Joe immediately froze, his own pettiness collapsing in on itself. “Bug—no, no, I didn’t mean it like that—” He was already crouching in front of her, arms reaching out. “I was just playin’. Daddy loves you so much. You’re my best girl. Always.”

But she turned her face into her bunny, shoulders shaking. “You said it,” she whispered. “You don’t like me.”

Your glare burned into Joe’s back. “You matched a four-year-old’s energy. Really?”

Joe dragged a hand down his face, guilt etched all over him. “I didn’t think she’d take it like that,” he muttered, then bent low until his forehead was almost touching hers. “Sloane, listen to me. Daddy was being silly. I’ll always like you. Always love you. More than anything.”

Finally, her teary eyes peeked up at him. “Pinkie promise?”

He hooked his pinkie with hers instantly. “Pinkie promise, Bug. Daddy was wrong. I’ll never say that again.”

She sniffled, then launched herself into his arms, nearly knocking him over. Joe buried his face in her curls, whispering, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” over and over.

When she finally calmed, you crossed your arms. “You learned your lesson?”

Joe looked at you over Sloane’s shoulder, sheepish as ever. “Yes, ma’am. I’m never being petty with my four-year-old again.”

You raised an eyebrow.

“…At least not when it’s gonna make her cry.”

[bitchinbarzal]

Always Win — J Hughes

part of the isn’t she lovely au!

⸻

Jack came home with a smile he couldn’t hide.

You knew before he even said anything.

The kids picked up on it instantly.

“What’s the grin for?” Stevie asked, squinting at him suspiciously.

Ozzy gasped, hands flying to her mouth.

“Did you get us a puppy?”

Frankie clapped her hands.

“Daddy’s buying me a pony!”

Oakley stomped his little foot.

“NO! He got me a new hockey stick!”

Jack laughed, shaking his head.

“Not a puppy. Not a pony. Not a stick. Better.”

He knelt down so they were all in front of him.

“I got invited to Olympic orientation.”

Four blank faces stared back at him.

“…Like the rings on TV?” Stevie asked slowly.

“With the fire torch thingy?” Ozzy added.

Frankie gasped.

“You mean… you’re gonna skate with the USA flag?”

Oakley’s eyes went wide.

“Are you gonna win the golden medal, Daddy?”

You bit back a smile watching him nod seriously.

“That’s the plan.”

Chaos erupted.

Stevie was already plotting watch parties.

Ozzy wanted to paint her face red, white, and blue.

Frankie demanded a sparkly outfit to match the medal.

Oakley just ran around the room yelling,

“MY DADDY’S GONNA BE ON TV!”

That night when Jack finally tucked them all in, Frankie whispered,

“You better win, Daddy.”

“Why’s that?” he asked softly.

“‘Cause you’re my favourite. And my favourite always wins.”

[bitchinbarzal]

Win Pink — L Hughes

part of milo’s world au!

⸻

Luke stared at the email on his phone for a long time before it really sank in.

USA Hockey – Olympic Orientation Camp Invite.

“Babe?” His voice cracked in the middle, and Mama glanced up from where Rory was coloring at the table and Milo was sprawled across the rug with his cars.

“You okay?” she asked.

He laughed, a little disbelieving. “I, uh… I just got invited to Olympic orientation.”

The silence lasted only a second before Rory gasped dramatically. “Daddy’s going to the O-lympics?!” She dropped her crayon and launched herself at him, curls bouncing as she scrambled into his lap.

Milo wasn’t far behind, his eyes wide. “Like… with the medals? And the flag? And the TV?”

Luke grinned, kissing the top of Rory’s head. “Maybe, buddy. This is just orientation. It means I have a chance.”

Rory cupped his cheeks with her tiny hands. “You have to win gold. Pink gold. For me.”

“There’s only gold, silver, and bronze, peanut.”

“Then win pink anyway,” she insisted.

Mama laughed, standing to wrap her arms around Luke’s shoulders from behind. “She’s got high standards.”

Milo tugged at his sleeve. “If you win, can I take it to show-and-tell?”

Luke looked between his kids, then up at his wife, who was smiling through glassy eyes. “Guess I better make this team, huh?”

[bitchinbarzal]

The girlies are soo proud of him 🥹

i did cringe a little typing out swayla but it’s fine bc HES GOING TO THE OLYMPICS ORIENTATION !!!!!!

ugh the girls are jumping and screaming and just so excited for him 🥹🥹

they’re in mamas party decorations closet scrambling to put something together

-linkedin anon

They had to go to school today and they HATED the dsct they couldn’t spend all day decorating

[bitchinbarzal]

https://www.tumblr.com/bitchinbarzal/792327399931019264/boldy-faber-kells-kniesy-jack-quinn-luke

my shaylaaaaa

(my swayla if i may)

-linkedin anon

SWAYLA 😭😭😭

The girlies are soo proud of him 🥹

[bitchinbarzal]

Boldy, Faber, Kells, Kniesy, Jack, Quinn, Luke & Sway all got invited to Olympic Orientation so expect some fics

[bitchinbarzal]

“Did you get fired?” — Dad! J Herbert

⸻

Scottie’s been sitting beside you in the stands for ten minutes, restless.

Normally, she’s locked in on every snap. But today Her little brow is furrowed.

Finally, she tugs on your sleeve.

“Mama?”

“Yeah, bug?”

“Why isn’t Daddy playing?”

You glance toward the sideline where Justin is standing — ball cap, headset, clipboard in hand, laughing with one of the coaches.

“He’s not playing today, babe. Just helping the team from the sidelines.”

Scottie stares harder. “But… he’s not wearing his football clothes.”

“No, he’s not.”

She leans closer, voice dropping to a whisper. “Did… did he get fired?”

You almost laugh, but the look on her face stops you.

“No, bug. He didn’t get fired.”

She bites her lip. “Are you sure? ‘Cause Coach Thompson at school didn’t wear his gym clothes for a week and then he never came back.”

You smile, brushing her hair back. “Daddy still works here. He’s just not playing this game.”

But she’s not convinced.

Ten minutes later, she’s squirming in her seat again, eyes locked on Justin. And when the quarter ends and he wanders closer to the stands, she’s on her feet, foam finger bouncing.

“DADDY!”

He looks up, grinning when he spots her. “Hey, bug!”

She cups her hands around her mouth. “DID YOU GET FIRED?!”

The sideline erupts in laughter. Justin’s eyes go wide.

He jogs over to the barrier, shaking his head. “No, I didn’t get fired,” he says, still chuckling.

“Then why aren’t you playing?”

“I’m just helping today. Like a coach.”

She narrows her eyes. “So you’re sure you still work here?”

He leans in, touching her foam finger with a finger gun. “Positive. Just taking a day off from throwing.”

Her shoulders drop in relief. “Okay. You scared me.”

[bitchinbarzal]

Ahhh that makes sense💀

dw bby none of our boys could pull her 🫠🫠🫠

[bitchinbarzal]

Madison beer is a wag! What have I missed

Football bby, wrong sport 🩷

[bitchinbarzal]

Hi!!! I have a request for joe burrow x reader, apart of Sloane au! Reader and joe decide to have a dinner date at one of their favs restaurants. Reader can either be pregnant or not. But very cute

It felt almost surreal, slipping into a booth with Joe and realizing there wasn’t a diaper bag hanging off your shoulder, no crayons spilling out of your purse, no Sloane trying to climb under the table. Just the two of you, tucked away in one of your favorite restaurants.

Joe leaned back in the booth, one arm stretched along the backrest behind you, his other hand still wrapped around yours. “Feels weird, huh?”

You smiled, eyes tracing the soft glow of the candles on the table. “Weird, but in a good way. We haven’t had a real dinner out since…”

“Since before Sonny,” he finished for you with a grin. “Sloane’s probably already bossing your mom around.”

Joe looked at you then, that soft, intent way that always made your cheeks warm. Like he was taking a mental picture. “I like this,” he said quietly. “Just us. Reminds me of when it started.”

“Back when you used to show up to dates in basketball shorts?” you teased.

His mouth curved into a sheepish grin. “Hey, I’ve upgraded since then. You got me in real pants tonight.”

The waiter came, drinks were poured, and you both fell into that easy rhythm you always had before kids — talking about little things, laughing about old memories, sneaking bites off each other’s plates.

Joe reached across the table, twining his fingers with yours again. “You know what I was thinking earlier? I don’t tell you enough how proud I am of us.”

You blinked at him. “Us?”

“Yeah,” he said softly. “We’ve been through so much. We’ve got a strong little girl, a baby boy at home, and somehow we’re still… us. Sitting here, stealing fries, teasing each other like we did when we were nineteen.”

Your chest ached in that sweet, warm way. “You’re gonna make me cry in the middle of the restaurant.”

He grinned, squeezing your hand. “Good thing I got napkins.”

When dessert came, he slid his plate across the table before you could even ask. “You’re not leaving here without at least two bites,” he told you.

You rolled your eyes but leaned in, stealing a forkful and humming. “God, I missed this.”

Joe leaned forward too, his voice low just for you. “Me too. But don’t worry. We’ll do it more. Just us. Promise.”

Later, when you walked out into the night air, Joe tucked you under his arm, kissing the top of your head as he murmured, “Still my favorite date I’ve ever had.”

[bitchinbarzal]

Ok but Madison Beer is gonna be a super cute wag so there’s that!

[bitchinbarzal]

I think that may have said fox and I meant fic😭

Those damn foxes

[bitchinbarzal]

Girl that fox just made me cry 😭

Yeah it made me cry too

[bitchinbarzal]

Heart — N Hischier

⸻

There were a hundred little rituals in their house.

Matching socks before leaving the house, even if they didn’t show. Strawberry milk every Sunday morning. Drawing suns in the fog on the bathroom mirror after every shower.

And every single night without fail Willa would curl into her mama’s chest, tuck herself into that sweet, warm place just under her collarbone, and fall asleep to the beat of her heart.

“She won’t fall asleep for me,” Nico used to joke. “Only you.”

“That’s because your heartbeat’s always racing,” she’d tease, tugging him in by the shirt. “She likes mine better.”

“She likes yours best,” Nico would whisper, watching them together like they were his whole world.

Because they were.

Willa was five when her world fell apart.

Too little to understand the permanence of death, but old enough to understand something was missing. Something vital. Something that made the night feel too quiet. Too cold.

Her mama had gone out that morning in the yellow dress Willa picked. She’d done her hair in soft waves. She’d kissed Nico’s cheek, then Willa’s.

“I’ll be back before dinner,” she’d promised.

And she never came home.

The accident was no one’s fault. A wrong turn. A blind corner. Rain-slicked roads.

But it didn’t matter.

It still ripped their world in two.

Willa cried for hours the first night. Cried until her voice broke, until she threw up in Nico’s arms from how hard she sobbed. He’d held her so tight against him, rocking and rocking like maybe he could shush the grief away. But she kept clawing at his shirt, curling her fists into the fabric like she was trying to dig her way back into the place she used to sleep.

“She’s not in there,” she whispered, voice wrecked and shaking.

And Nico didn’t know if she meant her mama, or the heartbeat.

Either way, she was right.

She didn’t sleep the next night. Or the one after.

And when she did, it wasn’t deep. It wasn’t restful. She twitched and kicked and whimpered, waking in a panic and clawing for the place on Nico’s chest where her mother’s heart used to be.

“I can’t hear her,” she’d whisper. “I always heard her, even when she wasn’t talking.”

Nico had no words. He’d just press his lips to her curls and breathe her in, like maybe that would be enough to keep him grounded.

He was doing everything he could.

But it wasn’t enough.

Willa wasn’t just grieving her mother.

She was grieving her lullaby.

When the hospital asked about organ donation, Nico didn’t hesitate.

“She’d want that,” he said numbly, squeezing Willa’s hand in his lap. “She always said… she wanted to help. Even after.”

And she had. Her lungs, her kidneys, her corneas. Her liver. Her heart.

The heart their daughter knew better than any sound in the world.

Two weeks passed.

Nico stopped sleeping. Willa stopped eating. The house felt wrong, like it was holding its breath. Her little pink bedroom was untouched, because Willa refused to sleep in it.

“She won’t hear me,” she said. “And if I don’t hear her, I’ll forget.”

Nico tried everything. Warm milk, lullabies, rocking her like he used to when she was a baby.

But Willa wouldn’t settle.

Wouldn’t rest.

And one night, as she laid curled up on Nico’s chest again, her voice came out small.

“Where did her heartbeat go, Daddy?”

His throat tightened. “What do you mean?”

“Her heart,” she whispered. “If it’s not in you or me.. where is it?”

Nico didn’t call right away.

He sat with it for days. Wrestled with whether it was too much. Too weird. Too painful.

But Willa was breaking.

And he knew his daughter. He knew the way her body needed that rhythm. How it was hard-wired into her from the very beginning.

So he found the letter.

One of the recipients had written back.

A woman. Mid-thirties. A nurse who had been waiting on the transplant list for three years. She had two sisters. A garden. She loved the ocean.

And now she had his wife’s heart.

He stared at the letter for hours before he picked up the phone.

The meeting was planned in a public park. Neutral ground. A place where Willa could feel safe. Where there wouldn’t be pressure or fluorescent lights or awkward small talk.

Nico dressed her in a yellow dress. The same color she’d chosen for her mama. He tucked her little curls into a loose braid, kissed her cheek, and whispered, “You ready?”

Her hand was tight in his. “Will she let me hear it?”

“If she’s comfortable, yeah. I think she’d be happy to.”

“What if it doesn’t sound the same?”

Nico crouched, cupping her cheeks. “I think it will. Because your heart knows hers.”

The woman was already waiting when they arrived.

She stood from the bench as they approached, her hand immediately going to her chest. Nico noticed it right away. It wasn’t performative. It was instinct. Like she knew who was inside her.

“You must be Nico,” she said softly.

He nodded. “This is Willa.”

Willa stayed half-tucked behind her father’s leg.

“I’m Claire,” the woman said. “I just… I want to say thank you. From the bottom of my heart—” She laughed at her own wording, blinking away tears. “From all of me. She gave me my life back.”

Nico tried to answer but couldn’t. His jaw clenched, tears already thick in his eyes. He nodded instead. One hand resting on Willa’s curls.

Claire crouched down, staying gentle and quiet. “Hi Willa. I knew your mama. Not really, but I carry something very important from her.”

Willa peered at her, eyes searching.

“Her heartbeat?” she asked.

Claire smiled through the tears. “Yes.”

“Can I hear it?” Willa asked, so quietly Nico barely caught it.

“You can.”

Claire sat back on the bench, opening her arms slowly.

And Willa moved.

Without hesitation.

Without fear.

She crawled into her lap, head to Claire’s chest.

And she went still.

Nico saw it.

Her breathing shifted. Her fingers stopped twitching. Her entire little body settled.

She let out a long, slow breath.

And then another.

She curled into Claire’s chest, right where her mama’s heart used to be.

And fell asleep.

Nico didn’t know he was crying until Claire looked up and saw him.

He was crouched beside them now, hand over his mouth, other resting on Willa’s back.

“Thank you,” he choked. “Thank you for letting her hear it again. She hasn’t… she hasn’t slept like this in weeks.”

Claire’s own tears fell freely now. Her arms still wrapped protectively around the sleeping girl.

“I hear it every night,” she whispered. “And I thank her every time. But now… now I see her.”

She looked down at Willa, hand brushing through her curls.

“She found her way back,” she said.

Nico pressed his forehead to Willa’s arm. “She did.”

They stayed like that for a while.

A little girl asleep on the chest that carried her mother’s rhythm.

A grieving father letting go, just a little.

And a woman with a heart too big for words, now full of purpose.

Willa stirred eventually, blinking up at Claire like she wasn’t sure where she was.

But then she smiled.

“Hi Mama,” she whispered sleepily.

Nico’s heart cracked open, but Claire didn’t flinch.

She just kissed the top of her head.

“Hi baby.”