#SAD WHISTLE NOISE

[thephonemenarentreal]

This is an ANGSTY fic with feels, but it is sort of in a set of fics that follow one into the other?

I love you Titan Speakerman, but I imagine he's the Titan that is really going through shit the most...

Also more explanation/Exploration of how Tremolo's condition works and plays out in his behavior :<

Title: Beyond Repair

Rating: PG-13 Warning: Trauma, mental health things, Titan Speakerman tears and sadness, language

Characters: Tremolo, Titan Speakerman, Mr. Biggs Guest Appearance: The chillest speaker chief engineer of all Whistle (belongs to @tabieeee cuz I can't imagine Whistle not comforting poor sad Titan :<)

Summary: Desperation was a loss of control as everything fell apart. It was the need to try and fix everything. It was a need to try and put together a family that was gone. It was a need to try and keep everything together, even as everything was coming apart and breaking.

It was a want to be able to repair what was broken.

But some things are simply beyond repair.

-------

“Papai! Wait! Please!”

The moment those pleading words rang out, there wasn’t a speaker present that couldn’t help the small wince. How could there not be when those three words were filled with so much pain, a plea that would lead to nothing, a desperate thing like a wounded wolf, howling for the pack that was abandoning it.

Because in a way, that is what this was. An abandonment, but one that all parties involved, save for one, had agreed upon.

Tremolo himself had been the first to speak up about leaving when his mind felt clearer. It had been a thought he had grasped upon in the swirl of babbling thoughts he constantly had to sort through. It was like his mind was a radio, rapidly moving through the channels and through the static and noise, words were thrown out that he grasped onto, like he was hunting for the words of ghosts that were once such clear thoughts.

There was so much pain in his head, and not just the migraines that tore at the back of his mind from time to time. There were so many memories. Faces he would never see again. People he loved that were gone like a void that was only growing larger and above all, there was a titan sized ball of static, melded around anger, hate, love, sadness, grief, guilt, and all the spectrum of human emotion that were experienced all at once so strongly in a way his mind couldn’t sort out. There weren’t words yet created to explain it all and his own constantly failed him, lost in the babble of voices that talked in panicked circles.

All Tremolo knew was those three words brought too many emotions to bare and he was doing his best to keep his back to the one who spoke.

If he didn’t turn around and kept walking, hearing those three words, Tremolo could pretend it was coming from his adopted son again. That pipsqueak of a speakerman that tripped over his own two feet and had all the grace of a two legged capybara rolling about in the mud. His son, so full of spirit, never keeping down for long despite the hard training Tremolo put him through.

How he had grown into a confident fighter, loud and boisterous, and willing to do what it took for victory. He walked with confidence, no longer that shy, runt of a speaker. Still that son that at times needed those father-son talks to lift spirits and sort out the world. How many had Tremolo been the one to sort things out and explain the world?

Once he had been able to sort out everything. Now his mind was crackling, broken, and unable to focused, but some clear thought murmured he couldn’t look back.

If he kept walking and didn’t look, it was his son pleading for him to come back. Just his most dear adopted son.

Tremolo could feel the slight tremor under his feet as something heavy landed on the ground close behind him, the thunder of a large form that sent panic right through his mind, ringing in his ears, and the sound of gunfire and explosions and screams started to build up in the static. The screams and noise was growing louder and louder until it was like a force reached inside him, wrenching his head to look. That he had to turn around now, just to make it all stop.

Fear gripped him, along with rage. The cognitive dissonance that had settled in his mind stared at the titan Speakerman who had knelt down, trying to look less intimidating, but all Tremolo saw was red. Red like blood. Red like death.

And this thing, this weapon, this monster spoke with the voice of his son.

“Don’t leave, not like this. Please, I ...I can fix this, I promise. What I did, I can-”

“Tania, Valencio, Bricker, Abi,”

Tremolo spat the names out, feeling that anger and grief burning up in his core and out through his speakers in a vicious snarl.

“Henson, Urie, Avonte, Primerose, Kirina,”

His hands clenched tight as he turned to face the Titan, “Nate, Minimi, Fransceso, Liam!”

Tremolo pointed at the Titan Speakerman, watching the massive speaker flinch back, “How are you going to fix all of them, all the family you killed!? How are you going to fix death, eh arma do diabo!?”

Those words might as well been loaded bullets for how they had the titan sitting back on his heals like a child being yelled at by a parent. The massive titan trembled, head tilted to the ground and a thrum was in the speaker system. A low thrumming sound of distress as he shook his head.

“I..I can’t, but I can do better. I won’t let it happen again. No one else-”

“Just like you were suppose to protect your family! No, murderers do not deserve family! Outcast! Exile! A shame upon everything! I would spit on you, strip you of everything, you Diabol! I will not listen to your words! I know the truth!”

He didn’t know any truths. All the thoughts in his head ran in panicked circles, screaming and shouting about the monstrosity before him. It was not his son. It was a weapon. A monster. Something built that no longer could feel like before. Terrible. The thing could probably read his thoughts and try to sway him. Using words to-

“You’ll kill us all. You’ll lead us right into the jaws of death. Sacrifice all of us! No one listens that you are the harbinger of our doom! Nothing but death! Nothing else! Hands that only destroy now, unable to create! Monster! Someone...someone has to kill the monster! Someone-”

Tremolo jumped as a hand came down on his shoulder and he looked up sharply at Mr. Biggs. The large cameraman just tilted his head before firmly turning Tremolo around to push him gently towards the vehicle, “We need to go now, I think at least,”

Biggs looked back at the titan that knelt there, wordless, trembling, that static in his speakers growing louder, choked out, as if they were breaking. The large speakerman looked as if he would say something, but didn’t. Tremolo hated when he could tell his life partner was not speaking up and even worse that Biggs held his silence for his benefit.

His life partner still could read his moods, even if they had grown more erratic and turbulent inside his own head as the voices of that skipping radio of his thoughts spat out random phrases and words, mixed with a deep-seated terror that dominated everything now.

“Can we at least say goodbye properly?” the question was a weak one, stuttered out and small from the Titan, head listed a bit, “Can we at least do that? Just once more?”

If he didn’t turn around, it was his son speaking to him.

That rapscallion youth who ran headfirst into trouble but always held a smile in his laugh. That damn fool. His most precious son. The son he always wanted and never had the chance to have. How proud of him he was. The moment his son defeated him in a training session and laid him out flat on his back and the stuttered apologies of horror expecting Tremolo to be upset.

How could he be upset to have his student surpass him though? He had laughed.

How could he ever hate his most precious son?

Because he was dead, the voices in his head whispered fearfully. He was dead and this thing mimicked him. Knew all the things to say, didn’t it? Sounded like him, but not him. Its a demon, a weapon, a killer. Given the chance it would kill the rest of his family if he put his back to it-

Tremolo struggled, wanting to turn around but Biggs large hand were firm on his shoulder pushing him along.

“Come on Tremolo. We need to go, “Biggs said quietly.

Yet Tremolo struggled, trying to twist away, wanting to face the thing that his thoughts couldn’t comprehend entirely. Everything didn’t match. Monster or son? Loved one or demon? A person or a weapon? Someone who was just as broken as him or a liar?

“I buried my son long ago! No! I will say nothing of a goodbye to a monster!” Tremolo howled, “I know your tricks, fiend! You shame him, using his voice like that! Shut your mouth, charlatan! My son is dead! With the rest of my family! I saw him die! I saw it!”

Frantic were his thoughts as he struggled, wanting to turn around and curse more at the thing, even when it felt like something in him was dying with every word. That part of him lost in all the static crying out not a word of it was true. None of this was true. His son wasn’t dead. He never saw him die even if his delusions tried to create these new memories and ideas and force him to believe them.

A part of him was screaming, trying to claw its way out while other parts were screaming back until it felt like there was a war in his own mind and he was being torn in every direction.

“I’m not dead! I’m right here! And I’m sorry, even though I know no apology will ever be enough for what happen or any excuse won’t bring everyone back!” The voice was angry, cracking with a grief that was hard to understand, “I’m not-”

Tremolo managed to turn around, wild like a beast himself as he looked at the Titan Speakerman. That monster that spoke with his son’s voice, looked like his son with that baby-faced that even being made into a titan couldn’t seem to cure.

That was his son. It wasn’t his son. His son was alive. His son was dead. A monster was trying to steal his memories. Those memories were all they had left. He loved him. He hated him. He wanted to apologize. He wanted that thing to pay. The thoughts swirled and swirled, the static growing louder and faster, spitting out more strings of words that rambled out of him as he wriggled and roared.

“Murderer! All that blood is on your hands and it won’t wash clean! You can’t fix anything! Broken, all of it! The whole family! Gone! You didn’t hear them scream! You didn’t see them dead, blown apart, in pieces, covering everything everything!”

He felt Biggs’s hands more firmly grasp onto him and drag him along as he howled like some animal, trying to chase off some perceived threat, unable to recognize anything in the swell of his own disillusion. Biggs carried him along crushed to his chest, only pausing at the vehicle to turn to someone at the side.

“Take care, Whistle,” the large speakerman murmured, “Please take care of everyone now. I know it is a lot to ask-”

“It’s fine,” Whistle gave a small wave of her hand, “I figured I would have to take up the reigns of this rodeo now that the head rodeo clown is on his way out,”

Tremolo twitched at that, turning to look at the chief engineer. That had been their joke between the two of them all this time, something said in jest, and meant in jest now, although the words were more hollow. The chief engineer was putting on a smile.

Even though she had her head turned towards the titan and that loud, rumbling, like thunder, that prelude a storm about to come. Only this one would be a terrible grief.

That comment though was grounding at least, helping to calm all those horrible screaming voices to a quiet murmuring whisper at the back of his mind as the radio skipped a little slower.

“… this rodeo clown wants to leave now,” Tremolo murmured, going limp as his thoughts settled some, grasping onto those silly little banters in the past that could quiet it all, “Take me out to the clown farm and let me run free and silly in the pastures of my fore bearers,”

Biggs shared a look with Whistle, the latter blowing out a shrill sigh of air, that had the tell tail soft whisper of a whistle sounding, “...take care both of you, alright? I’ll keep things steady on this end. You two just,” she shook her head, “Just get your heads on straight and maybe come back into the saddle when you’re ready loves,”

“We will, uh…” Biggs sighed, “We will see you later,”

“Whistle,” Tremolo murmured, “That one is Whistle,”

The static was still so loud and chattering in his head. His hands gripped at his head, as if that would be something that could silence it. If he could make it stop, then maybe he could articulate everything he really wanted to say. Maybe he could-

“I won’t let anyone get hurt again,” the cracked voice of his son spoke up again, heartbroken, but still that idiot young speaker that thought if he just tried hard enough, he could defy every rule in the book and forge ahead, “I promise you papai! I’ll fight harder if that is what it takes! I’ll do everything it takes to keep everyone safe from now on! I’ll make you proud again, okay!? Next time we see each other, I’ll be someone you can be proud of again, even if you don’t forgive me!”

Tremolo clutched his head harder, fingers digging along the scars.

How could he say he was proud of him?

How could he say he was guilty?

How could he say-

“There are worms in my head and they are eating their way out,” Tremolo whispered frantically, “Wriggling around. Need to put on some dubstep to crush them all away,”

“We can do that,” Biggs said, gently setting him into the back of the vehicle.

“I promise you, I’ll fix it, even if you say I can’t, I will!”

He couldn’t see anything from where he sat. Tremolo could pretend that was his son yelling out there. He scoffed.

“Idiot filho,” he murmured out like a soft whisper, “You can’t fix this, don’t even try. Just move on and… just move on. Do something with your stupid self, filho,”

Biggs and Whistle were the only one who heard him speak, the former just quietly moving to sit besides him, glancing over as the chief engineer let out a soft sigh, shaking her head, “Take care you two,”

Those were the last words before the door shut with the ringing of something broken, like a speaker that was cracking with a blistering sort of noise. Tremolo let his head fall back, hating how that awful sound, that broken, terrible sound, was mixing with the final farewells of all the other family he had lost so far.

Such a terrible sound.

“Why are all the goodbyes screaming in my head,” Tremolo murmured before sinking down, arms moving up to cross over his head, “Why do they always scream?”

Such a terrible sound his son made, but he couldn’t think straight enough then to register anything at all. Tired. He was just very tired.

In sleep, at least, the static in his mind finally quieted down and he could try and rest. A least for a few blissful moments the world could leave him be.

--------------------------------------

Whistle watched the vehicle leave, but she didn’t linger to watch it cross over the horizon. She was the Chief Engineer and she had her own duties to tend to and she was never one to linger on goodbyes like this.

Especially not with the horrible din the titan was making that promised to break into a full-blown breakdown. Grief was a powerful thing and heart-break from losing family was hard for anyone to take, let alone someone still swimming in guilt from what destruction had been done and lingering effects from having been controlled by a parasite. All of that was a cocktail that promised nothing good if not handled right away. The chief engineer turned, intending on offering some comfort to the titan in her care, only to catch the Titan Speakerman stumbling to his feet, thrusters to take off in a rush. At the very least, it seemed he was going to the hangar to hide away, like a creature crawling into its den to howl.

A sigh whistled out of her as she took off, knowing trouble when she saw it.

The Emergency Medical Cameramen had already told her a dozen times that units that were rescued from parasites often had a host of lingering issues from intense trauma and the overwhelming guilt that could trigger extreme bouts of depression. Any sense of losing control on their situation could trigger intense episodes and there had been serious concerns of how that would play out in a titan as the Titan Speakerman’s symptoms had started to grow worse by the day, especially with all the added trauma of seeing a loved one fall into a terrible mental state.

Added to that, the therapist had stated there were signs of growing paranoia about how other speakers saw him, not quiet to the level of delusions, but a marked concern that his own faction was shunning him. Social problems were creeping up along with a growing sense of needing to “fix” everything that led to irrational decisions that were impulsive.

Adding abandonment of important family figures and seeing someone loved turning into someone they weren’t, well, that was just he cherry on the pile of cow droppings for this whole thing Whistle was doing her best to ride out.

Whistle entered the hangar and was greeted by the sound of bangs and metal screeching against metal. The engineers present were silent and clearly unsure of what to do. Most were trained to help build and maintain a titan, not act therapist to someone who was clearly spiraling and entering a worrisome outburst. The chief engineer felt her core sink just at the sight before her.

The Titan Speakerman was letting out choked sounds, peaking his volume as he banged his head into the wall with some worrisome force, one hand clawing at the side of one speaker with clear intentions of causing some sort of damage. There was a few sparks, a yowl of pain and pause only for the fingers to dig right back like the Titan was set on tearing himself apart and banging his head into the wall. Whistle put her hands on her hips, coming over and letting out a sharp, loud whistle, “Oi! Don’t go undoing all the repairs I just did!”

The words seemed to snap the titan to his senses some, at least to stop the banging of his head, although he just leaned against the wall, looking down at her like some wounded, frightened animal, trembling and still crackling in his grief in those speakers like a constant feedback loop that wouldn’t abate.

“I don’t...I don’t want to do this anymore,” He whispered, “I don’t want to be a titan. I want to go back. I don’t want- I’m- I’m really just a monster now. Murdering, stupid, horrible-!”

And the banging resumed with a loud shriek that was peaking the sound again in the hangar. Whistle sighed, moving to hop up to get on the titan’s back, patting along his shoulders as best as she could.

“Come on big guy, shhh. Head banging isn’t permitted in the hangar unless we are playing some mad heavy metal rock, you know that,” Whistle said, voice raised to be heard, “How about some floor time yeah? Good old floor time, just me and you,”

There was a strangled crackle in the speakers, but the titan relented as he slid slowly down until he was face down on the floor, sprawled out like he truly was dying of a broken core. Whistle sighed, settling down to sit in the titan’s back, continue to pat where she could, just to let the massive speakerman know she was still there, as any chief engineer would be.

“There we go, there we go. Settle right on down like a tired bull in the pastures. Just you, me, and the non-judgmental ground,”

“I killed him didn’t I? I killed my own father. I did this to him. And to Biggs. And- and-!” another choked sound, the sound of metal screeching as fingers curled against the metal of the hanger, no doubt going to leave marks, “I deserve to be scrapped! I’m a shame, a fucking-”

Whistle had to get back to her feet to avoid falling off the Titan as he started to just bang his head on the floor, not with the same force as before, but it was still a worrisome trend that he was developing of being distressed and going right to finding something to bang his head off of. Apparently though that was common among those who were victims of parasites. A reaction to be under the control was to want to try and pry it off, leading to desperate codes to bang the head against surfaces that didn’t manifest until the control relented.

Such violent shows of self-destruction were normal, if horrible to watch and try to prevent.

“How about we wait for the therapist to get here and you can tell them all about how you feel?” Whistle said, hopping down, moving around so she could get in front of the titan’s face, giving a pat along the side of the head.

“None of the other titans have therapist,” the titan speakerman groaned, “Because they aren’t fuck ups like me! I’m the weak one! The stupid, murderous, can’t fight off a damn parasite-!”

“Oi! Who cares about the other titans! They got their own issues and problems and giving people the runaround! Optical says Titan Cameraman is like an unruly damn yearling stallion, jumping the fence to go prance about in the world like an idiot and don’t get me started on the Titan TV-man! Parallax made a real monster stroking his ego like he did,” Whistle said with a huff, hands on her hips, “If you don’t think you are good enough, then guess I’m a hack of an engineer since I put you together, eh?”

The titan let out a low warble of a noise, turning his head towards Whistle then, “No, you’re the best engineer-”

“And if I’m the best engineer, then what does that make you?”

“The best titan…?”

“There we go. Now you are finally starting to talk some sense again,” Whistle moved to start with more pats, using both hands to help sooth the distraught titan, “It is okay to have some thoughts that ain’t the brightest around. Always storms to get through now and then, and things can hurt a lot, but you still got me and the engineer team,”

The Titan Speakerman let out a warble, head thunking to the ground, but he let it rest there now, curling up a bit with a noticeable list of the head to keep the back of his neck away from sight, “...I miss everyone,”

“I do too,”

“And its my fault-”

“No one’s fault about the parasite love,”

“Could have been stronger. Could have-”

“Shhh, let’s not talk about that right now. Save it for when the therapist gets here. They are on their way and then you and them can sit and let all of that out,” Whistle murmured, “Until then, how about you do me a solid favor?”

“Favor?”

Whistle nodded as he leaned up against the titan, “When I get a mite down like this, longing for the greener pastures, reckon those are times when I’m needing some good old music, yeah?”

“I guess,”

“You still got that playlist I shared with you? The one that is only supposed to be played during emergencies?” Whistle asked.

“The one that is made up entirely of stupid meme songs?” the titan speakerman murmured.

Whistle chuckled, “That’s the one. Think you can focus up enough to play that until the therapist gets here, or are you too soggy to peel yourself off the floor?”

The Titan Speakerman let out a huff that could have been a laugh, voice still small as he slowly sat up, “I’m not soggy,”

“You’re looking flatter and wetter than a roadkilled armadillo in a rainstorm,” Whistle said with a small kick to his side, “Sadder than a cowboy who’s horse kicked him square in the nuts and ran off with his wife,”

She hopped up into the titan’s hand when it was offered, letting him lift her up as he rose to his feet, shuffling back into the hangar seat proper. Calmed down some, but Whistle wasn’t so foolish as to think the worse was over. Outbursts like this came in waves, sometimes just the shouting and self-hate, sometimes as violent as this one with the self harm and shrieking. The EMCs had said this would probably go on for a long while.

Therapy was the best medicine for now and just getting the titan talking through everything jumbled up inside from being out of his mind, the significant personal losses, the paranoia, the spats of delusions. In a way, it almost felt like he had taken on a part of Tremolo’s behavior as his own, like a dumb father like son parody gone wrong.

“How about we get some music going now,” Whistle said as the titan lifted her back to her hangar station.

“Which song do I even start on?”

Whistle paused before chuckling as she started to sort the things on her desk, “How about some Rick Ashley. This is the one time I’ll let you rick-roll me and not smack you over the head with the largest wrench I can find, yeah?”

That earned a quiet laugh from the titan as he slumped back, looking for all the world, tired as hell, “All right,”

Whistle gave a hum as the dulcet tones of Rick Ashley’s “Never Gonna Give You Up” came over the speakers, drowning out those crackles and broken sounds of sadness. It was a good distraction for everyone. Things were broken, maybe beyond repair, but that just meant picking up the pieces and trying to see what could be made of what’s left.

At least that was what the engineer in her stubbornly held onto.

If it couldn’t be fixed, then they were just going to have to rebuild it from the grounds up with what they had and there was nothing more to it.

Just they all needed the time to figure out what they were working with and what the blueprints were.

[gotyouanyway]

anyway. deflating slowly like a cartoon character filled with steam

[whalewithay]

grabbing louie by the scruff and swinging him around like a stuffed animal

[psychiclounge]

i look cool rn btw

my axe...

[celaenaeiln]

Bird: *whistling*

Dick: *whistling back*

Bird: *whistling harder*

Dick: *copying it*

Bird: *excitedly hopping around and whistling a tune*

Dick: *grinning and copying back*

Bruce: Nightwing, stop that.

Dick: why? We’re just whistling

Bird: *chirping in agreement*

Bruce: *glaring at the bird* such a behavior is a security risk. You’re needed on fourth. *taking off into the night*

Dick: ..??? What was that all about?

Tim: *over comms* Bruce thinks all birds are government spies

Dick: What? That’s dumb!

Tim: …mhmm

Dick: Tim, don’t tell me you believe it too. That’s ridiculous!

Tim:

Tim: ...it has plausible theory!

Dick: ...oh my god Tim.

Bird: *sad chirping noises*

Later

Dick: You know, there's another reason why I know they aren’t government spies.

Tim: and why’s that?

Dick: *holding back his laughter* Because they’re whistleblowers

Tim: ... :0

Tim: oh my god they're whistleblowers

Dick: okay no.

[saintseeker]

ellie williams x bsf!reader.

you've been friends with ellie for two years; sleepovers and concerts, spending days basking on hot fields and riverbeds. she's a playboy; you're a saint. sometimes, things don't go the way we expect.

set in an undisclosed southern state during august. ellie is in a band. no specific physical descriptors are used for you.

my works are intended to be for any and all wlw/nblw, masc or fem, of any race. bigots dni!!! men dni!!! if this fic idea has been used before, please let me know.

umm so this is my first fic so please tell me if you guys want a pt. 2 or anything. i've always wanted to write for ellie but also for abby, who might be in the next part ;). we'll see. 1.3k words long, 'cause i didn't know if people would like this or not.

credits to @/hyuneskkami for the dividers.

pt. 1.

it's been a long two years and somehow, she still has feelings for you. recently, hanging out with you was a painstaking experience; watching the way your eyes shimmered whenever the sun hit them, watching your bright, wide grin. ellie was so, so whipped.

"it's not rocket science," you reprimand her. ellie's light green eyes meet yours, and she lets out a characteristic huff, fingers struggling to untie her shoe. "you'd think that for someone who plays guitar, you'd be pretty good with your fingers," you tease, sitting on the rock. the creek ripples quietly, and the early morning sun casts a light on top of it. the water glimmers a pale emerald, native wildlife making small sounds. for a moment, she doesn't speak, avoiding your eyes, and so you kneel down in front of her, beginning to unwork the knots in the dirty white laces. her converse are patchy; els always stubbornly wore them on your hikes and expeditions, even though each time they came back a bit more soiled, a bit more worn.

you finish untying them, and she huffs, looking down at you. a grin spreads across your face--she's planning something, and you squeal when she splashes you with some of the water, scooting back. ellie laughs, a high-pitched noise. you stare up at her; in these moments, she looked like an angel. freckled, kissed by the sun, as if she was some kind of saint, a poem within itself, meant to be studied and analyzed by word-hungry readers forever and ever. her skin was more tanned from spending practically each and every day outside with you, hair a bit longer than it should be, left untrimmed since june. you flick the water droplets off of your skin, adjusting your shirt, and it's ellie's turn to study the way your skin is illuminated by the hazy light, the way the water trails down your chest.

"you coming to my show?" she asks. it's more of a statement than a question, really. ellie knows you'll come; you always did. in a way, it made her feel guilty; she'd ask and you'd say yes no matter what, the 'yes' bubbling out of your mouth so quickly it made her smirk. there's a hint of softness behind her bark, a soft, little smile carving a crescent on her face. you swallow, turning away. ellie frowns. this wasn't like your usual, enthusiastic response. for a moment, she's worried; did something happen? did she upset you? or maybe dina said something. or jesse. the thoughts flicker through her mind like fireflies, glowing green, on and off. she almost reaches for you, to grab your shoulder. you're silent for a while before you look up at her, a faint expression of what--sadness, she thinks? no. hesitation, on your face.

she watches you as you clear your throat, sitting up, your back hitting the back of the rock you'd been leaning against. ellie can hear everything; the way the trees whistle in the wind, the way the cars passing by the road through the forest zoom closer, before zooming out. she knows you like the back of your hand; something is wrong. a frown blooms on your face, and she's about to grab your hand for real this time, before you start to speak.

"uh. i have a date tonight." your voice is matter-of-fact, and for a moment, you hate how cold you sound. but then, you're reminded that ellie is nothing but your best friend. even though during your sleepovers, she woke up from nightmares and immediately hid in your arms, bawling into your neck until a sheen of her tears made your skin shine under the moonlight. or the way you came to her whenever something happened, expression stony, but she could read the way your eyes were a bit wetter than usual, or the way you swallowed, the curve of your throat like a swan's. you avoid her eyes, looking down at your hands. a lapse of guilt eats away at you, before you remember the times that els stood your plans up. first, it happened because she forgot about a date. sure, that happens. ellie wasn't the greatest person with memory--but it began to happen again and again. you started to spend more time with her fucking band, for god's sake--sometimes you swore that jesse's face turned into one of pity when you traipsed into his garage, eyes wide and willowy. slowly, ellie began to ebb further and further away from you, even when you reached for her like a drowning woman.

ellie frowns. "a date? what?" you, a date? you were the saintliest person she knew. you didn't go on dates--always preaching that you were too busy, either focusing on refining your skills, or spending time with your friends, who you prioritized. not like her, she realizes with a bitter thought. you weren't like her, sleeping around with girls who's names floated away in the span of a week, getting drunk to push away any feelings until all ellie felt was cold numbness, waking up with no blanket and a bad headache. it was unbelievable--with who? who was this--girl, boy, ellie didn't care. did she know them? a hot, sticky feeling passes over her. this couldn't be. if you were telling her, now...how long had it been going on? her heart beats faster and faster, like her veins are constricting and opening.

"yeah," you say, a quiet mumble. "i...can't come. sorry, els." you give her a weak smile. "i really have to go. i'm really sorry." and in that moment, she hated you, for the way you smiled at her and apologized, even though this wasn't really your fault, she was just a jealous bastard--too good for her, that's what you were. the town druggie and the saint, best friends; this is how all the stories went. girl loses best friend she's secretly in love with because she's too much of a pussy to say anything. girl has been trying to kill these feelings for months with alcohol and other girls, who are nothing more than playthings. girl completely loses it.

"with who?" she demands. "who is it?" ellie was always good at pretending, slipping on masks. right now, she pretended that it was for your good, really. not because she was going to spend the rest of the night analyzing how could you fall for this person--how could you date them. you didn't even say you liked them, hell, loved them, but ellie's mind drifted to the worst case scenarios, fingers kneading into her toned thigh, bronze and tanned. her mouth is dry, tongue running over her lips. god. she really messed up, didn't she? she fixes her hair; all of a sudden, so aware of her physical appearance it hurts. before, ellie didn't really care; she could be in pajamas in front of you and not care, hair messy, but now, her heart beat faster and faster. it was like everything was going in slow motion.

"this girl," you say weakly. "she's...really nice." god, that's the best you could come up with? great job. you meet her eyes, and your heart falls all the way to your stomach. she looks like she's about to cry. was she okay? you're about to ask her when ellie huffs, red blossoming over her cheeks as she stands up, glaring down at you. you'd never seen her look at you like that. like you're anything but someone she'd be gentle with. her green shirt clings to her skin with sweat and riverwater, and she lets out a breath through her nose, eyes shut, before they open again.

"that's all it takes to get you to bend, huh? a really nice girl, yeah right." she snorts. "you're easy." your cheeks burn a sickly heat, eyes glowing. what the hell? ellie never...never spoke to you like that. not in this brutish, cruel way. her nails dig into her hands, creating little crescents in the soft flesh.

"i thought you knew me better than that." your voice cracks. ellie's face pales for a second, and she swallows.

"guess i don't." she bites back. and for the first time ever, you stand up, and you leave.

-----------------------------------------

[venusalexian]

could we possibly have something like reader is having a rough day, some of the girls are going to try pull a prank on her but when it happens she just bursts out crying (not because of the prank more because it’s just one of the many things today that’s gone wrong)incomes protective maternal ale, shooting all the girls glares and taking r home, laying on the sofa with her talking through the day and what’s got her so down?

got a bit carried away, so a bit longer than the others, hope you enjoy it!

too much

hurt/comfort – tw: lots of descriptive anxious thoughts, the comfort takes a while to appear

-> neurodivergent reader is having a horrible day, and a non-malicious prank is the last straw (based on my own anxious adhd experience :))

Everything felt wrong. You had tossed and turned half the night, barely getting a few hours of sleep before your alarm went off. Your performance in the game the day before had tormented you. The team still had won, but you could not get over the feeling of letting everyone down on such an important match as a semifinal was. Your thoughts over and over again ran through everything you had done wrong, and how disappointed your loved ones must be.

When you opened your eyes, the light through your window was too bright. The noise from the road was too loud. Your coffee was too bitter. Your usually comfy training clothes itched all over. Your sports bra felt constricting over your chest.

None of the songs on your car felt right, just adding to the noise around you. Your leg bounced, and your hand tapped on the wheel nonsensically. The day was barely starting, and you already wanted it to end. You didn’t want anyone to worry, though, to have to take care of you when they should be mad at you. To feel bad because you’re younger when you’re grown enough to work things out yourself. So you put a smile on your face before going into the training grounds.

You try to act normal. Try to pay attention to the conversations you’re pulled into, try to answer at the right times, and ignore the way you feel physically off.

But they still notice something is wrong because they know you. Because you don’t come in talking excitedly about your latest obsession, you don’t hum or whistle any songs stuck in your head, you don’t seek physical contact. It all screams that something is wrong to them. They think you’re just a bit sad, though. Just some cheering up will do. So the younger ones, the ones you’re slowly becoming friends with, even being less than a season in, think all you need is some fun.

You don’t see it coming. You’re too in your head to notice their barely concealed smirks, their incriminating looks at each other, their not-so-subtle scheming.

You enter the locker room after training, ready to go home and not interact with the world until the next day. You go through your usual motions, but when you open your locker to get your towel to have a quick shower, a picture with a note falls out. It’s you at the game, after the player you had been defending skipped past you and you slipped to the ground.

You know it’s not malicious, you’re usually the first one to share silly stickers of you and your teammates over text, and to send them funny fan-made jokes. But today your head is not being kind, so instead of seeing any fun in it, it sees confirmation of all your worst thoughts. Of not being enough, of your teammates being disappointed, of your friends not really liking you. So instead of laughing and joking back, as they expect you to, you go silent, curl yourself up into the bench with your legs pulled to your chest, your face tucked into your knees, your hands over your ears.

And then it gets worse, because the noise around you gets louder and the one in your head too. You’re making a scene, making it worse; they will not like having to pity you, take care of you. You should go, leave, but you can’t. Can’t get your head up and face them, can’t confirm the hurtful thoughts in your head. You don’t think your legs would hold you up either way.

“Everybody out. Now.”

Alexia’s voice cuts through the clutter. 

After a couple of seconds, the room is entirely silent. The lack of noise lightly relaxes the tension on your shoulders. Then, you feel her hands on your wrists, gently pulling them down. You let her.

“Hey, carinyo. It’s okay, you’re okay. It’s just you and me now. Can you look at me?”

It takes you a few minutes to move your head, but she doesn’t press you or ask again, letting you take your time. She’s not screaming, not berating you for making a scene, not laughing at your performance on the game, you rationalize. Ultimately, she’s Ale. She’s safe, you know, even in this state. She’s proven it to you, to your teammates, she’s reliable and kind and caring. That gives you enough confidence to do as she asks.

When you look into her eyes, they’re soft, warm.

“Hey, thank you, carinyo.” The affectionate nickname soothes you further.

“Wanna come with me? I’d feel better if I could make sure you’re okay.”

You think about it. You really don’t want to burden her. But you don’t think you could drive yourself home right now. And you’re not gonna lie to yourself, you want the comfort even if you don’t fully feel like you deserve it. You nod.

You let her help you stand up, gather your things, and guide you to her car with an arm over your shoulders—warm and protective. You stay silent in the car, but the music is pleasant and soothing, and her presence is, too. 

She drives you home. You barely have to verbalize anything. You nod to the bathroom, and she understands you’re going to shower. You come out much more relaxed, finally in soft, comfortable clothes. You sit with her on the sofa, where she had settled herself, waiting for you. Once again, you don’t need to speak. She opens her arms and you respond to the hug, tuck yourself close. Finally seeking that physical closeness you’ve needed all day. You try to speak, think she deserves for you to explain yourself, but all that comes out is a whisper of a “sorry”.

She shushes you.

“No, carinyo. No sorry. It’s okay for today. You know they didn’t mean to upset you right?”

You nod.

“And that it’s okay to need help if it’s a bad day, that we all have them.”

You hesitate this time. You do know, but it doesn’t fully feel like it right now. You try to rationalize again, though, that she’s right. That you know she is. But that even if you didn’t, you’d trust that she does. Because even in the short time she’s been your captain, you’ve learnt she usually does. You’ve seen her take care, in one way or another, of most of your teammates and friends. So you nod again. The silence stretches for a while. You finally feel strong enough to articulate something more.

“Thank you.”

“Of course, carinyo, of course. Now, we’ll speak tomorrow, yeah? Let’s give you tonight to feel better.”

“Yes, that sounds perfect.”

“Great. Now, what do you want to watch? Please, no trashy reality like Jana or criminal show like Vicky.”

That makes you smile.

Tomorrow, when you wake up much better, you will talk. You’ll tell her what happened, the thoughts that plagued your mind, even if you blush, stammer, and sigh through it. You’ll say to her that this happens sometimes, not often now, it was worse when you were younger. Now you have mechanisms that allow you to deal with it better. She listens attentively, wants to learn how this works for you, wants to be able to look for the signs. She’ll share about her own struggles after her injuries, about how tough it was for her to ask for help. Then she’ll ask about how you’d prefer to go about it if she notices, if she thinks it’s affecting you over what you should take.

The conversation is far from perfect. You are unable to articulate some stuff and still feel a bit wrong for burdening her. But it helps.

You will also answer your friends' apologetic, worried texts and also share some more with them about what happened. And next time something like this occurs, it never escalates because they can tell now, and they can help.

[rueclfer]

Hello! Congratulations on 6k for ur event i think mechanic dabi who is all oily n stuff when the reader comes in cluelessly asking abt getting their car fixed n dabi is all flirty yk (ik this is rlly cliché but idk i think it cute) also im sorry for rambling i get rlly nervous requesting stuff 🥲😔

dont be sorry your brain is soooooo big and know exactly what i like HEHEHEH I LOVE A GOOD MECHANIC AU LIKE MY LIFE DEPENDS ON IT ‼️‼️ thank u so muchhh

mechanic!touya // job fair

event m.list

you were half tempted to bring your foot out and nudge the legs hanging out from under the car to get the mechanic’s attention knowing that a simple “hey” wouldn’t pierce through the blaring speaker just a few steps away.

just when you were about ready to turn around to get back in your car and head home to properly make an appointment over the phone, he finally slid out from under the car with a sheen layer of sweat over his face and casually whistling to the tune of the song playing.

“oh fuck,” he blurts, quickly reaching over and swatting the speaker off.

“hi, sorry!” you cringe at yourself for the intrusion, “are you touya?i didn’t know if i was supposed to call first or just come in, but i was having some car problems so i just…” you awkwardly trail, “...stopped by?”

“hold on,” he strains out a groan as pushes himself up, “let me sit up and let the blood get out of my head for a sec and make sure i’m not hallucinating.”

“hallucinating?” you cock an eyebrow, the tension melting off your shoulders once you spot the smug smile on his face.

“yeah, cause i swear i just woke up in heaven or some shit.”

you almost choke on your spit as the laugh shakes through you. 

touya looks up at you with a pleased smirk as he wipes the grease from his hands with a stained rag.

“fixing cars isn’t paying the bills? you’re a part time comedian too or something?” you cross your arms across your chest, still wearing a wide grin.

“i mean, depending on how well you play your cards, my rent may go unpaid this month.” 

“and suddenly i think my whole engine and interior needs replacing,” you gleam.

touya playfully rolls his eyes before pushing himself up onto his feet, tossing the greased rag over his shoulder.

“show me what’s up with your car,” he nods his chin towards your beat up vehicle sitting in the sparse parking area.

it was a slow day and he wished you’d interrupt him sooner, but he’ll still savor the opportunity to admire you from the back as you lead the way to your car.

“the light started flashing at me a few days ago, but i’m not sure what it meant. i was going to wait until this weekend to come in, but it started making a noise and it freaked me out.”

you unlock the driver’s seat and lean over the seat to start the ignition. with one arm, touya props himself up on the seat’s headrest and with the other, rests it over the open door, caging you in.

he leans over your shoulder to get a better view of the dash, his cheek just inches away from your own.

“ya know, flashing lights usually means ‘hey, get this shit checked out ASAP.’” 

you send him a side glance before puffing up your cheeks in embarrassment.

“well, i don't know shit about shit. it was still driving, so i didn’t think it was a big deal.”

you follow touya as he moves around to the front of the car, popping the hood open and taking a look at the running engine.

“this grinding noise you hear?” he turns to you with an unreadable expression,“means your shit is about to explode.”

you stare at each other for a moment.

“are you serious?”

“no,” he shrugs, receiving an elbow nudge from you, “but it’s definitely blown, and with an old ass beater like this, you’re probably better off getting a new car.”

the pout immediately forms on your face,“you can’t save her?”

“it'll be better if we don’t.”

your sad expression only grows more pathetic- pleading almost.

touya presses his lips together into a tight light as he looks down at you- a sad look in your eyes for the old run down sedan that’s clearly been loved for many years.

“but i can,” he sighs, “if you really want. it’ll take a while, and it’ll be expensive, but i can do it for you."

"you can do it?"

"no shit," he smirks, "i'm good at my job. there's time and money, but for a pretty face like yours, it's priceless."

[suushiiii]

The final shot: Champion, but at what cost?

Daphne van Domselaar x Chelsea!reader

a/n: Read pt.1, pt.2 and pt.3 first, before you read this one.

Summary: Daphne just won the Champions league, but it doesn't feel like it. But then you show up in front of her hotel room door.

Warnings: Slightly suggestive in the end and panic attack.

Word count: 6.3k

You stood up from your seat when the final whistle was about to blow. The fans in blue and red shirts were chanting ‘Barca’ on repeat, to encourage their team forward. You sat in the VIP area of the Estádio José Alvalade with the family and friends of your best friend, Leah, who was on the field, playing the best she had ever played. You knew it was strange to watch a match, the final of the Champions league especially, where Arsenal, your rival team plays against the team that knocked Chelsea out of the Champions league.

Leah had begged you to come and reluctantly, you had said yes. Leah had texted you a few weeks back that she could buy you a Arsenal jersey with her name on the back. You had texted her back, “over my dead body” and had blocked her for three days. And now here you are, not with an Arsenal or Chelsea jersey on, just in a t-shirt and shorts and then the final whistle blows. Leah her parents next to you, jumped in each other’s arms.

They were screaming that they were so proud of their daughter and the Arsenal. You scanned the field below you. Leah had dropped on the field, her hands covering her face. A smile appeared on your lips. Even though you bled blue through and through, your heart couldn’t help but beat faster at the sight of your best friend so happy. You saw how Leah got jumped by Kim, who hugged Leah tightly, and soon other players joined in on the hug.

Without really thinking, your eyes wandered to the Arsenal goal and your eyes landed on her. She sat crouched on the ground, looking around the stadium. You saw the light shake of her head, full of disbelief. You felt something in your chest tighten at the sight of Daphne. You hated yourself for searching for her on the field, even after everything, your eyes kept looking at her.

You saw the light smile on her lips, her eyes closing for a second, just to take in the noise around her and the celebrations of her teammates around her. You kept looking at her as she stood up and walked out of her box. Daphne got jumped by Manu, with so much force that made Daphne stumble back with Manu in her arms. “We did it!” Manu yelled in Daphne her ear.

The corner of Daphne her lips twitched into a faint smile. She still couldn’t believe that it was real, that this was real. You saw how Daphne embraced her other teammates, not with a sad smile, but not with a bright and proud smile either. Even though the two of you hadn’t talked for months and had broken up, you could tell when Daphne wasn’t happy and you could tell from her smile that didn’t reach her eyes, that she wasn’t happy.

After more minutes of Arsenal players and staff hugging each other, shaking their heads in disbelief and celebrating. They had made a guard of honor for the referee’s and the Barcelona players, so they could get their medal. Your eyes wandered again to Daphne, who stood besides Manu, who was bent forward and her hands in front of her face. Manu stood up straight with happy tears in her eyes and you saw Daphne cup her face, telling Manu something. Your stomach flipped at the sight. You felt something on your cheeks, like Daphne was cupping your face right now.

You turned your attention away from them when the speakers came through. “Please, give a loud applause for the referee’s!” The whole stadium started clapping and so did you. After a while both the referee’s and Barcelona had gotten their medals, and now it was Arsenal’s turn. The speakers came through again and the corner full of Arsenal fans started to cheer loudly, and so did Leah her family next to you.

You saw how all the Arsenal players got their golden medal and then it was Daphne her turn. She smiled politely at all the people that shook her hand and then she stood in front of the person who would hand her the medal. Daphne shook the man’s hand and bowed her head. The medal was now around her neck, but Daphne didn’t touch or kiss it, she just walked towards the podium at the center of the field.

You had to be honest with yourself. Your heart broke a little at the sight, because Daphne should be happy that she was a champion of Europe, but you saw it in her eyes, even from a distance, that she was not happy or stood proudly with the medal around her neck. Your eyes now went to Leah, who laughed with Kim, after she had pointed to someone to the bench. Leah smiled mischievously at the person Kim pointed to, before walking forward and collecting her medal. You saw Leah waiting at the end of the podium for Kim, who got handed the silverware.

Kim reached Leah, who took the other ear of the trophy and the two of them walked to where their teammates were practically jumping in anticipation for the trophy to be lifted. “The champion’s league winners; Arsenal women FC!” The speakers yelled. Kim and Leah stood in front of the champion’s board, the golden confetti already in the air and then, Kim and Leah lifted the trophy into the air. Red and white confetti got popped into the air. You watched from the stands, tears pricking in your eyes. You didn’t know if it was from sadness, because you would never get the chance to lift that trophy or if it were happy tears, because your best friend just won the Champion’s league with her childhood club.

“C’mon, y/n!” Amanda, Leah her mother shouted. She was already on the stairs, but you hesitated, because you are (were) a Chelsea player and it would be weird if you would be on the field and celebrating with Arsenal, the rival. You shook your head, because you weren’t a Chelsea player right now. Right now, you were the friend of a Champions league winner. You moved from your place and followed Leah her family down the stairs.

---------

The Arsenal hotel was buzzing, music blaring out of the boxes, drinks flowed and people danced like it was the best party ever. Daphne stood on the dance floor, where Jess Glynn was singing her popular songs. Daphne had a beer in her hand, the foam of it had disappeared and the beer wasn’t cold anymore. Daphne would usually dance along to the music, but not today. “Daph! C’mon, you had three songs of Jess on your warm-up playlist!” Steph yelled, after she saw that Daphne wasn’t singing along to the song.

Daphne didn’t know what it was. She knew that she should be happy. She had just won the Champion’s league on her first season with Arsenal. She should have been drunk by now, but her beer was untouched. Before Daphne could do anything, Katie took her glass of beer and handed Daphne a new beer. It was cold, the foam almost spilled from the glass. “C’mon, Daph! Let loose, you deserve it!” Katie slurred, already completely drunk.

“Daph, if you don’t chug it right now, you will be the next to sing!” Katie threatened teasingly and Daphne her cheeks burned bright red, but luckily it got covered by the red lights of the room. Daphne moved the glass to her lips and took a sip from the beer. The bitter taste of the liquid fell on Daphne her tongue and she swallowed the cold liquid down. The beer burned a little in her throat, because of the alcohol.

“Daph, you can do better than that!” Katie teased and Daphne rolled her eyes in annoyance and a bit of amusement. “Will you shut up if I chug it?” Daphne teased with a smirk. “You will not hear from me the whole night.” Daphne raised an eyebrow in amusement, because Katie probably wouldn’t back off. “Scouts honor!” Katie said and gave Daphne an absolutely horrible sign with her hand. Daphne shook her head and a small smile tugged at her lips.

“Fine.” Daphne finally gave in and moved the beer once more to her lips. Daphne knew that she wasn’t great at chugging contests, but if it would make Katie back off, Daphne would chug the beer gladly. Katie cheered her on when Daphne started to chug the beer down. Daphne felt streams of bear going down her neck, but then she slammed the empty glass on the table and cleaned her mouth with the champions jersey she was wearing.

“Yes, Daph! That’s what I’m talking about!” Katie howled. Daphne shook her head and cleaned her neck with the collar of her shirt. “You want another one?” Katie teased and Daphne gave Katie a pointed look, because she did what Katie asked. “Alright, never mind then.” Katie laughed and walked away with the trophy still in hand. Daphne swore to herself that Katie wouldn’t let go of that trophy anymore, even if her life depended on it.

The party continued and Daphne started to feel the beer she chugged, taking a toll on her. Daphne knew she would get drunk fast, she didn’t need much, one beer would be enough to make her tipsy. Daphne took a seat at one of the tables and looked around. She looked to her left and saw Katie and Caitlin completely over each other, Lia and Mariona were hand in hand on the dance floor, Beth and Viv shared a kiss on the right side of the room and Daphne saw Leah sitting on Elle her lap, taking pictures.

Elle her hands on Leah her waist and Leah bit on the gold medal in her mouth. Daphne sighed and turned her head back to the stage and there she saw Jess and Alex all over each other as well. Daphne leaned against the chair and tilted her head, and looked now at the ceiling. Daphne was surrounded by couples that celebrated the win and Daphne was alone. She wanted you here, god she wanted to.

She wanted to show off the medal around her neck, whisper sweet nothings in your ear and kiss you on the middle of the dance floor with everyone watching, but that was only a dream that would never come true. Daphne wondered why she was still here, partying, but not really. She was done with seeing all the couples around her, knowing that she would never have that, not anymore, at least not with you.

After a while, Daphne had enough and she stood up from her seat. Without saying anything to anyone, she walked out of the room and headed to her hotel room. “What’s the point?” Daphne muttered under her breath and finally reached her room. Daphne walked through the door and slammed the door hard shut behind her, making the door rattle a little on their hinges. Daphne was done with pretending and took off the medal that she didn’t want, and threw it without looking somewhere in the room.

Daphne pulled off the champions shirt with the number ‘25’ off herself and threw it in her suitcase. Absentmindedly, Daphne took one of your sweaters that she had packed with her to here. Daphne ran her hands through her hair after she put the sweater on and she took a seat on the edge of the bed, her hands still in her hair and her eyes closed. “I wish you were here.” Daphne whispered under her breath and she let herself fall on the bed. The sheets ruffled silently under Daphne her body. Daphne opened her eyes and looked at the ceiling.

The room fell into a silence, the only sound came from people walking in the hall every now and then, the traffic outside or the ruffles of the sheets when Daphne moved. Daphne closed her eyes once more, trying to calm her mind and the emotions she was feeling, if she even felt anything at this point. Daphne her mind wandered back to the party, to how most of her teammates had their girlfriend or boyfriends with them to celebrate this achievement and Daphne didn’t, that hurt more than Daphne cared to admit.

--------

You arrived later at the hotel where Arsenal was staying. In your hotel you were debating if you should come or not, but Leah had begged you to come, so you did. You entered the room. The room was completely lit with red lights. The smell of beer and champagne didn’t go unnoticed. There was red and white confetti on the ground, that was sticky from the spilled beers and you saw the trophy in the air. “y/n!” You heard your name being yelled from a very hoarse voice. You turned around and were met with Beth, who had a half empty beer in her hand.

“Beth!” You yelled and pulled her into a hug. “You are going wild I see.” You teased with a smirk and Beth rolled her eyes, but no annoyance behind it. “Oh, you haven’t seen Katie yet.” Beth retorted and took a sip from her beer, and you just shook your head. “Do I want to see Katie?” It was a rhetorical question, because you absolutely didn’t want to talk to Katie McCabe in her drunk state. “Actually, no. You really don’t want that.” Beth laughed hard, which was influenced by the alcohol in her system.

“I’m going to look for Leah. Enjoy the night and please, be careful.” You warned with a smirk and pulled Beth into another hug. “No promises!” Beth yelled after you, when you had turned on your heel. You moved through the crowded space, trying to get a glimpse of the blonde defender and then you spotted her with her girlfriend.  

“Leah!” You yelled and the blonde turned her head to you. “y/n!” Leah stood up from Elle her lap, where she was seated and met you halfway, when you walked towards her. “You made it!” Leah shrieked into your ear, after she had pulled you into a hug and you chuckled at that. “But I do miss one thing.” Leah stated and you heard the mischief in her voice, so you raised an eyebrow in suspicion. “What are you-” Before you could even finish your question, Leah had thrown a Arsenal jersey at you and when you realized, you threw it on the ground.

“What the hell Williamson?!” You yelled in disbelief and looked at Leah again, who was smirking so widely. “I said I would get you one, didn’t I?” Leah stated with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, because Leah had in fact said that over a text. “And you know what my response was? ‘Over my dead body’ and I blocked you for three days! Ring a bell?” You huffed and Leah was deep in thought, like she was solving a very hard puzzle.

“Mmhh, not at the moment.” Leah hummed with a smirk and you rolled your eyes, but with no real annoyance behind it. “Alright, I can just leave and not be your best friend anymore.” You threatened, but the tease in your voice was unmistakable and Leah gasped dramatically. "I can’t believe that thought even crossed your little Chelsea mind." Leah said dramatically and placed one of her hands on her heart, like you had stabbed her right there.

“Fine, I was just joking,” You said with a smirk and Leah pulled you into a hug again, and you whispered softly in Leah her ear, “partly.” Leah pulled back and gave you a playful shove, and you just smirked back at her. “Alright, drama queen. Why don’t we get something to drink, before I really get infected by your red Gunner blood.” Leah let out another dramatic sigh and walked together with you to the bar.

“In all seriousness,” You started and Leah started to walk slower, and you adjusted to her pace. “I’m really happy that you won it and before you start. I’m saying this as your best friend and not as a Chelsea play-” You stopped and didn’t let the word ��player’ roll off your tongue, because you weren’t a player anymore. Leah her gaze locked onto yours, her eyes softened at the word you couldn’t say. “Hey,” You looked up when you heard Leah her soft voice. “you’re still a player, maybe not out there on a field chasing the ball or scoring goals, but in here.” Leah said her voice still soft, but firm and she tapped with her index finger on your chest, just above your heart.

“in here, you are still the fierce Chelsea player and the most annoying striker I had to defend in my entire career.” You blinked rapidly with your eyes, hoping to blink the tears away. “And for your information, that’s me talking as your best friend and your captain of your national team.” Leah clarified and you couldn’t help the small laugh or sob, you couldn’t tell, escape from your throat.

You wiped the tears from your eyes with the palms of both your hands. “I didn’t think you were the sentimental type.” You murmured with a small smile and looked at Leah, who smiled at you. “Well, to be honest, I’m not. I took that over from Elle.” Leah stated and that earned a full laugh from you, as the two of you reached the bar.

“You know, you haven’t asked about her ever since you walked through the door.” You raised an eyebrow and took the beer Leah handed to you. “I don’t know who ‘her’ is.” You lied and Leah heard it, of course she heard. Leah gave you a look, that meant: “Don’t lie to me”. You sighed and ran your free hand through your hair. “Can we not?” You asked, not pleading, but hoping that Leah would understand that you didn’t want to talk about her. You scanned the room and didn’t see the tall goalkeeper anywhere. “I know you looked at her during the match.” You snapped your head back to meet Leah her gaze, who was casually taking a sip from her beer.

“Leah-” You had barely started your sentences, before Leah cut you off with her hand in the air. “Go. Talk. To. Her. Her room number is 221.” Leah stated, before leaving you dumbfounded at the bar, the beer in your hand forgotten. “Damn it, Leah.” You cursed under your breath, before standing up and leaving the beer on the table, and you headed to the door.

-----

Back in Daphne her room, Daphne hadn’t moved from where she was sitting, on the edge of the bed, her hands curled into fists in the sheets and she stared at the carpet floor of her room. Daphne hated that she felt like this, she hated that she wasn’t happy that she won the champions league, hated that she was jealous of all her teammates with their loved ones and hated it even more that you weren’t sitting next to her right now.

“I just wish you were here.” Daphne whispered and looked up at the ceiling, like she was begging someone from above, that you would knock on her door right now and that she could see your face. Daphne her plea fell in the room and she let herself fall back on the bed with a heavy sigh, and closing her eyes, but then there it was. One knock, then two and then three. Daphne ignored it at first, probably figuring that it was one of her teammates, who finally noticed that she wasn’t at the party, but then the knocks came again.

Louder. Harder. Daphne finally opened her eyes and shook her head against the sheet, before she pushed herself up by her elbows. Daphne reluctantly pushed herself up from the bed and patted to the door. When Daphne reached the door, her hand rested for a beat on the handle, before opening it, not bothering to look who was at the door.

“I don’t want company.” Daphne muttered and was about to close the door, but then the voice of the person filled the empty hallway. “Is that how you treat the person who’s leg you snapped in two?” Your voice wasn’t teasing, wasn’t with humor. It was flat, no emotion behind it. Daphne stopped mid-motion closing the door, her body tensed at your words and her eyes landed to the floor, only seeing the noses of your shoes.

You observed her for a beat. You frowned lightly, there was no golden medal around her neck, no champions jersey and her voice smelling only faintly with alcohol. Without saying a word, Daphne opened the door wider and turned around, giving you a choice: leave or enter the threshold. You waited a second, then another and another, before stepping inside and closing the door softly with a ‘click’. Daphne was already sitting on the edge of the bed, her head hanging low and her hands gripping her thighs hard, hoping to ground herself and trying not to break down in front of you.

Your eyes wandered from Daphne to the room. You scanned it thoroughly. It was a mess and you knew Daphne was always neat, there was never a t-shirt on the floor or a sock and when the two of you would be on vacation, Daphne her suitcase would lay in one of the corners of the room, her clothes folded neatly in it, but now? Now there were clothes discarded on the floor, the bedsheets were not made and then your eyes landed on a particular spot in the room.

You frowned when your eyes landed on the shiny gold medal on the ground with the blue ribbon attached to it, the white letters on the ribbon could be read, because of the light of the nightstand lamp. Next to it laid the red jersey, the same jersey Leah had thrown at you for a joke. Before you could take in more of the mess in the room, Daphne her voice filled the room, “I’m sorry.” It was barely audible, but because of the silence in the room, you heard it.

Her voice cracked, it trembled and it was filled with something you couldn’t quite place. “Sorry?” You echoed softly as well and your gaze landed back on Daphne, who looked really small, sitting like that. “You’re sorry?” Your voice was sharp like a knife and your eyes turned darker. Daphne her body flinched ever so slightly at your words. “For what exactly?” You continued and took a step closer, the wood under the carpet cracked, making Daphne look up. You saw that Daphne her eyes were glassy, but you didn’t stop, you couldn’t.

“Are you sorry for the fact that you ended my career? That you snapped my leg in two, huh?” You hissed and your voice was full of anger now. You stood face to face with the woman you had given your whole heart to and she broke it by ending your career, with that one crucial save. You didn’t wait for Daphne to respond and took another slow step forward. “Or? Are you sorry that you haven’t contacted me ever since we broke up?” You hissed again and this made Daphne rise from the bed, both of you standing inches away from each other.

“That’s not fair!” Daphne bit back, her jaw clenched and her fists trembled at her side. “Oh, now you want to talk about fair?” You snapped back, your own jaw clenched as well, your eyes still full with fury. “What’s not fair is, that you get to play the game you love the most and me? Guess what? I won’t step on a football field, wear my Chelsea jersey ever again or wear that gold medal around my neck, or should I say any other medal?” You said through gritted teeth and Daphne couldn’t respond, her throat got dry and she felt the guilt growing inside her chest.

“Because you know why? Because your pride of having a clean sheet was more important than me!” You yelled and took one final step closer, and shoved Daphne with both your hands, making her stumble back on the edge of the bed. “And the worst part is, I still fucking care about you!” You yelled again and this made Daphne freeze. You took a small step back, your chest rose and fell heavily, your chest tightened and your jaw still clenched.

“I saw how you didn’t take most of the goal kicks and then I knew, you’re still not 100% with that ankle.” You shook your head, because how the hell could you still care about her, after everything. After everything she had caused you. You still cared about her. That was something you hated to admit, but you just did. The woman who ended your career, who ruined your future in football, was sitting in front of you and you still cared about her.

You turned around, your back facing Daphne, who was still wrapping her head around the words you had said. “And the worst part is, I still fucking care about you!” Your words were on a loop in her mind. Daphne her head filled with questions, ‘Was there still a chance?’ ‘Had you never let go of what you felt?’ ‘Could there be a ‘them’ again?’ Daphne rose again from the edge of the bed, her legs were shaking and her hands trembled at her side. You felt her presence behind you, the warmth of her body was only a few inches away from you. Daphne thought, no she hoped, that this was her chance to make things right.

Daphne instinctively took one final step closer, her hands brushed your waist, just lightly, barely even there. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, but you couldn’t turn around, because you knew that you would crumble under her eyes. The eyes that you still remember from the back of your hand, the eyes that always knew what you wanted with one look. Daphne waited a beat, giving you the chance to pull away, to yell at her again, but you didn’t.

You stood frozen to the spot and the warmth of Daphne her palms now rested firm, but tender on your waist. Your breath hitched, when you felt Daphne her breath against your ear and her lips brushed your ear now. You parted your lips, hoping to tell her to stop or that this wasn’t the reason you were here, but nothing, your voice was gone and only a soft sigh left your lips, before you could stop it and that was the only thing Daphne needed.

She spun you around and the two of you stood face to face again. The tension from earlier had disappeared like a puff of smoke and it was only filled with the intimate moment that the two of you had shared on multiple occasions. One of Daphne her hands left your waist, the warmth of her palm got replaced by the cold air of the hotel room. The only warmth of the room hung between your bodies. Daphne her fingers trailed over the fabric of your shirt upward to your cheek.

Daphne pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, her hand lingering longer than necessary, before resting on your cheek and her thumb brushing tenderly over your cheek. Before you could do anything, Daphne leaned in, her lips brushing yours and it sent again a shiver down your spine, that had never changed, even if you tried. Daphne didn’t kiss you yet, she was again waiting and giving you the chance to pull back, but when you didn’t, Daphne pressed her lips on yours. You rested one of your hands on Daphne her arm, grounding yourself in the kiss.

You tried to keep the coldness you had earlier, but even you knew that it had long disappeared when the words, “I still fucking care about you.” Had left your mouth. You finally gave in and leaned into the kiss and the hand that was holding your cheek dropped to your waist. Daphne pulled you closer, deepening the kiss and moved the two of you to the closest wall. Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, even though Daphne her kisses weren’t gentle anymore, she was still gentle with her hands, she always had been.

You rested your head against the wall and Daphne her lips moved from yours, to your jaw and Daphne left a trail of fiery kisses down to your neck. Your lips parted and you moved your head, giving Daphne more access to your neck. Daphne moved her lips back up and connected them with yours once more, her hands fiddled with the hem of your shirt, before both her hands slipped under the fabric, making you gasp softly against Daphne her lips, who took the opportunity and slipped her tongue past your parted lips.

Daphne her fingertips danced on your warm skin, constantly sending small shivers through your body. Your head was a fog, the walls you had built around yourself towards Daphne crumbled and all just from her touch. Daphne continued to explore your body under her fingertips, the body she had memorized a hundred times. The fog in your head disappeared when Daphne her fingers left your skin and was pulling your shirt up, but you pushed her off you. Daphne looked confused at you, wondering if she had misread everything.

“What-” Daphne her voice came, still breathless from the intimate moment, but you cut her off with the cold look. Daphne her voice faltered and tried to take a step forward. “Don’t.” Your voice was cold and distant again and you took a few steps back, your hand raised, making Daphne stop in her step.

“I thought-” Daphne her cracked voice, barely a whisper filled the room, but you cut her off ending her sentence, before it even started. “You thought wrong!” You snapped and Daphne flinched at your words. “This was a mistake. How can you do that? I came here to talk and you what? I say that I still care about you and you think we can fuck and make up?” Daphne looked down at the ground, her hope of getting you back shattering in this moment.

“This isn’t a fucking Disney movie Daphne! Just because I still care, doesn’t mean you can kiss me like that!” You yelled and shook your head, trying to clear your mind. “You kissed me back.” Daphne her voice wasn’t an accusation, it was a fact. “Yeah, that’s on me. But Daphne wake up! There is no hope here left,” you gestured vaguely in the space between you. “you ended my career, you never texted me and never visited me during rehab.” You stated coldly and your jaw clenched. “Don’t you dare! You broke up with me, remember!” Daphne shouted back, her jaw clenched as well.

“Yeah, well, a friend would’ve still visited.” Daphne her stomach twisted at the words, she knew that it was true, but she couldn’t visit you, she just couldn’t. “You’re a coward Daphne! Grow the hell up!” Daphne opened her mouth to respond, but you were already at the door, not giving Daphne a final look and you slammed the door shut behind you, leaving Daphne alone again.

The slam of the door echoed through the hotel room and Daphne stood frozen in the room, she hadn’t moved, hadn’t blinked and hadn’t breathed. And then, Daphne finally blinked and again, hoping that what just happened was a nightmare, but it wasn’t. It did happen, you had yelled at her and left her. Daphne her heart hammered against her ribcage, her breathing was shallow and uneven.

Daphne forced her eyes shut, tears fell from her eyes on her cheeks and she dropped to the ground when her knees buckled beneath her. Daphne caught herself on the bed, her tears falling on the sheet. Her sobs filled the room and her fists slammed on the sheets. Her breathing became erratic and when hand clutched against her sweater, hoping to ground herself. Her breaths became shorter and harder to get in. Daphne started to panic, the crushing feeling on her chest came, just like what happened a few months ago, when she had returned home from the hospital.

“No-ple-” Daphne tried to say through her short breaths. It was happening again, she was having another panic attack and this one was worse than the last one. “I-I can’t-breathe” Daphne whispered through ragged breaths and clutched her hand that was on the sheet, her knuckles turning white. Daphne her vision was blurry because of the tears. Daphne her heart hammered harder and harder against her ribcage, it felt like her heart was ready to leave her as well.

“It hurts.” Daphne finally managed to say, without pausing. Daphne was falling apart, she thought she had you back, but she had misread every word you had said and it pushed you away even further. “Why didn’t you just fucking visit her!” Daphne cursed at herself, hitting her fist on the bed, but it didn’t do anything. “You are a fucking coward, Daph!” Daphne cursed once more.

She knew she should’ve visited you, but she thought that you didn’t want her to, that it would hurt you even more, seeing her at rehab. “I should’ve texted you.” Daphne now whispered, her breathing finally coming back to normal. Daphne knew that she should’ve texted you, even if it hurt like hell. It was the least you deserved, to get something, anything from Daphne, but you got nothing and when Daphne heard you say it. She wished she could turn back time, not even to your rehab.

Daphne would turn back time to the moment in the Chelsea match, to make herself stop from the dive, the dive that had ruined everything that the two of you had built, but Daphne couldn’t turn back time and couldn’t fix what she had broken. Daphne stood up after she had calmed down more and slipped under the bedsheets, tightening the sheets around herself and closed her eyes, tears streaming from her eyes. Daphne didn’t want to cry, it should be one of the best days of her career. She won the Champion’s league, but it didn’t feel like it, not in this moment, not after you had left again.

Downstairs you moved through the final hallways. You stopped at one door, you needed to walk through the party that was still in full swing and you didn’t want to talk to anyone, especially Leah. You let out a deep sigh and opened the door, the music that was first muffled by the door was now blasting in your eardrums. You held your head down, hoping that no one would see you and that you didn’t have to explain why you would be leaving early.

You moved through the crowd, but bumped into someone on your way. You looked up and was met with Leah her eyes, confusion in the blue eyes of the defender. You gave her a small smile that didn’t reach your eyes, before walking past her. Leah being Leah, knew something had happened. She followed you and started to call for you, when the two of you were out of the room. “y/n!” You didn’t turn around and kept walking, your footsteps echoed off the walls, but the footsteps behind you followed.

You reached outside, the cold air biting against your warm skin and you tilted your head up to the sky, and you closed your eyes. A beat passed and then you heard the footsteps stop a few meters away from you. You didn’t need to guess who it was, because you knew who it was. “Leah, go back to the party, I’m fine.” You lied and waited for Leah to turn around, and to hear her footsteps fading, but they didn’t.

“y/n, what happened?” You turned your head to her, meeting Leah her eyes finally. “She messed up.” Was all you needed to say, for Leah to frown in confusion. “Okay, what happened?” You sighed and Leah led you to the bench that stood in front of the hotel. “You want the short version or the long one?” You asked and Leah gave the look that meant, “The long version.” You took a deep breath and started to tell her what happened. What felt like an eternity, you finally had told the full story and Leah was stunned.

“So, you said that you still care about her and she kissed you?” You nodded and saw that Leah was puzzling in her mind. “And then we fought, because Daphne thought that everything was okay, but it isn’t. It will never be okay, Le.” You whispered, your head in your hands. “Can we drop it?” Leah opened her mouth, but you gave her a pleading look. “I don’t want to think about it, at least for tonight.” Leah closed her mouth again and nodded in understanding, and wrapped her hands around you. “Thank you for coming, even if you didn’t want to come.” Leah murmured, her head resting on your shoulder.

“Are you saying that as an Arsenal player, my lionesses captain or as my best friend?” You teased, hoping to lighten the mood. You heard Leah chuckle softly next to you. “You can fill that in yourself, I’m just here.” Leah stated with a smirk and you rested your head against Leah’s. “I’ll take the best friend.” Leah only hummed and whispered, “Then I will be here as your best friend.” The two of you fell into a comforting silence, there were no words needed and you didn’t need any words from Leah, you just needed her next to you in this moment of peace. 

[mostlyghoestly]

Hey, I saw you were asking for ideas for a Motorheads fic. Maybe an enemies to lovers with Ray or something like that would be great. I hope you consider it 🙏

Burnout | Ray Young

Requested by: Anonymous

The garage reeked of gasoline, burnt rubber, and testosterone-soaked ego — in other words, it was exactly the kind of place you hated. Or, more specifically, it was exactly the kind of place Ray haunted like a smug, leather-clad ghost.

“Didn’t think you had the guts to show up after last week,” Ray drawled, leaning against his cherry-red ‘69 Chevelle like he owned the pavement it sat on. His hair was damp from the humid night air, curling against his temple, those grey-green eyes carrying that same infuriating glint they always did when he spotted you.

You scowled, shouldering your helmet bag and refusing to give him the satisfaction of a flinch. “Didn’t realize you were the one handing out permission slips now, Ray.”

The smirk that tugged at his lips made their stomach flip — and not in a way they’d ever admit out loud. Ray always looked like he was seconds away from saying something that would make you wanna slap him or kiss him, and you had spent too long pretending neither option crossed their mind. “You’re gonna eat asphalt tonight,” he promised, tapping the side of his car as he passed by. “Hope you brought something faster than that sad excuse for a Charger.”

Your fingers tightened around the strap of their bag. Ray had been a thorn in their side since they rolled into town six months ago, gunning for a spot in the underground street racing scene. From the first night — when your Charger had smoked him by a hair and he’d followed it up with a half-smile and a comment about beginner’s luck — they’d been locked in a relentless back and forth.

“You talk a big game for someone who’s lost to me twice,” You shot back.

“That was charity.”

“And this is me not giving a damn.” You shouldered past him, catching the faint scent of his cologne — something sharp, woodsy, and unfairly good. It lingered too long, like it always did.

The lineup for the night’s race was scrawled across the whiteboard by the cashier’s booth, and Y/N felt a satisfied jolt when they saw it.

Final heat: Ray vs. Y/N.

Of course. A low whistle sounded behind you. “Guess it’s our lucky night.”

“Your luck’s about to run out,” You muttered.

The first couple heats flew by in a blur of noise and color — a growl of engines, the acrid bite of tire smoke curling into the humid night. The crowd was thick, rowdy, and drunk on adrenaline and cheap beer. You hung back, watching, focusing, cataloging every curve of the asphalt and the shine of oil spots in the lamplight. It wasn’t just about speed out here. It was about knowing when to push, when to hold, and when to gamble everything on one sharp turn.

Ray, of course, treated every race like a game of chicken. The man was reckless in a way you could never decide if you loathed or secretly admired.

By the time their turn came, the crowd was buzzing, wordless tension stretching like a rubber band. Ray met you by the starting line, helmet tucked under one arm. His eyes lingered a little too long, gaze dropping from your face to your racing suit, then back up, like he was trying to memorize the way the dim garage lights hit your face.

“You sure you wanna do this?” he asked, voice low, almost sincere.

You arched a brow. “Getting cold feet, asshole?”

The corner of his mouth twitched, and for a second, the bravado cracked. There was something raw in his expression, something that made your pulse stutter.

“Never,” he murmured.

The starter raised his arm. Engines revved — a throaty chorus of defiance. The world narrowed to the strip ahead, the pulse in your ears, and the buzz in your chest that had nothing to do with the race and everything to do with the man at your side.

Then the flag dropped.

The Charger shot forward, tires shrieking as it gripped the asphalt. Your fingers clenched the wheel, every nerve ending alight. Ray’s Chevelle stayed neck and neck, the two cars weaving dangerously close. The crowd blurred to nothing, the night air a hot, sticky pressure against their skin. You took the first turn hard, drifting close enough to graze a cone. Ray was right there, matching them, reckless bastard, his car hugging the curve like it had a death wish.

“Come on,” You whispered to no one. Straightaway. Half a second ahead. Then the Chevelle surged forward, nosing ahead by a fender. You cursed under your breath, jaw clenched. You gunned it, engine roaring, adrenaline spiking as you caught him again, side by side, metal nearly kissing metal.

For a wild, unhinged moment, your eyes met through your side windows — Ray’s mouth open in a shout, sweat slicking his hair to his forehead, and that goddamn spark in his eyes like this was the only thing in the world worth living for.

Your stomach flipped. You pushed it, sliding into the final curve harder than they should’ve. The Charger fishtailed, barely correcting in time. Ray took the inside, cutting dangerously close — and for a split second, you swore you saw his gaze flick over, not with smugness, but with something sharp and worried.

Then the finish line. A blur of light, color, roaring sound. You didn’t even wait for the flag to drop. You knew. Ray had won. By a fraction. Afterward, the crowd swarmed them, cheering and jeering, someone shoving a drink into Ray’s hand. You stayed back, pulse still racing, trying to swallow the bitter taste of second place.

Ray found them anyway. “Hell of a run,” he said, coming up beside them, damp hair curling at the ends, face flushed with exertion. He nudged your shoulder with his. “Couldn’t let you win again.”

“Yeah, well,” You muttered. “Was feeling generous.”

Ray huffed a laugh. “Right.” A beat of silence stretched between them, weirdly charged.

“You ever gonna stop hating me?” Ray asked, voice lower now, losing some of its cocky edge.

You snorted. “Depends. You ever gonna stop acting like an arrogant dick?” He grinned, but it was softer now, the kind of grin that made Y/N’s stomach knot in frustrating, complicated ways.

“Not a chance,” he said. Then, quieter, “But maybe I’ve been a dick because you drive me a little crazy.” You blinked, thrown off-balance.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” they muttered, but it came out weaker than intended. Ray took a slow step closer. “Too late for that.” There was heat in the air, and not just from the cars. The kind of heat born from too many close calls, too many nights spent circling each other like twin storms. A history of fights that were just excuses to get close, races that felt more like foreplay. You swallowed hard. “Are we still enemies?”

His grin turned wicked. “We can be. If you’re into that.”

You rolled your eyes, but you didn’t move away. In fact, when Ray leaned in, something reckless in you tilted forward to meet him. The kiss was inevitable — messy, heated, teeth grazing, hands grabbing at racing suits and greasy shirts like they’d been dying to tear each other apart for months. The taste of adrenaline and cheap beer on Ray’s tongue, the scrape of his fingers against the back of your neck.

When they finally broke apart, breathless, Ray pressed his forehead to yours. “Next race,” he murmured, “I’m still gonna beat you.”

“Over my dead body,” You shot back.

Ray grinned. “Deal.” And somehow, it felt less like enemies and more like the start of something dangerously good.

[the-winter-spider]

Say Don't Go | Part Nine

Bucky x reader au

Word Count: 4.2k

Warnings: None, boring chapter

A/N: Im not gonna lie, I've been struggling with this story but soooooo many of yall keep asking when I'm gonna update so I just decided to sit down and lay it all out and write the rest of the fic, so here we gooo.

Im not really vibing with this fic anymore, its hard ughhh

Masterpost

--------

The fallout from that night lingered like a storm cloud over Bucky’s head. His bruised knuckles ached every time he clenched his fists, but that pain was nothing compared to the weight in his chest. Nothing compared to the feeling of walking onto campus and not seeing you waiting at your usual spot outside the library, earbuds in, lost in whatever song had caught your attention that day.

You weren’t avoiding him. No, avoiding meant there was still something to salvage. You were done with him. And that realization sat heavy in his bones.

The first day back, Bucky barely made it through practice. His head wasn’t in it, his movements sluggish, off-tempo. Coach chewed him out in front of everyone, demanding to know what the hell was wrong with him, but Bucky barely processed it. He wasn’t the only one who noticed, either.

“Yo, what is up with you?” Sam asked, tossing a towel over his shoulder as they walked out of the locker room after practice.

“Nothing,” Bucky muttered, keeping his gaze ahead, scanning the crowd in the hallway like an idiot. Like he was expecting to see you there.

Sam let out a low whistle. “Man, you’re really gonna sit here and act like I don’t know exactly what this is about? You’re looking for her.”

Bucky stiffened, but didn’t deny it.

“You fucked up,” Sam continued, like he was narrating Bucky’s entire downfall in real time. “You really fucked up and now you’re moody as shit, walking around campus like a ghost. It’s pathetic.”

Bucky finally turned his head, glaring. “Are you gonna help or just talk shit?”

“Hey, I would help,” Sam said with a smirk. “But I don’t think she wants help from me or you.”

That stung more than it should have. Because Sam was right, he usually was and he felt it, really felt it when he finally caught sight of you in the dining hall later that day.

You were sitting at a table in the corner, away from the noise, curled into yourself as you read. You weren’t alone, though. Your roommate, Wanda, was there, sitting across from you, flipping through a textbook. Wanda glanced up shooter daggers at Bucky, and if looks could kill, well he’d be dead.

Bucky’s stomach twisted uncomfortably.

He didn’t even realize he’d been staring until Sam nudged him hard in the ribs. “Don’t be an idiot,” Sam warned. “Don’t go over there and make shit worse.”

Bucky scoffed. “I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

“Whatever,” Bucky muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. He tore his eyes away from you, because seeing you wasn’t something he could deal with right now.

"Look man, everything will work out how its suppose to." Sam clapped him on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s get food before you do something stupid.”

Bucky let Sam pull him away, but even as he stood in line for food, even as his teammates laughed and talked around him, all he could think about was you.

How he’d lost you before he even really had you, and you were the first thing he ever truly wanted.

---

The campus felt different or maybe you felt different.

You used to love walking through the courtyard in the morning, headphones in, drowning out the world with your favorite playlist. Now, every step felt heavier, like you were dragging the weight of last week behind you. The whispers, the stares, they weren’t imagined. You felt them. You could hear them. It felt different then when you lost your sister, you turn out the looks of pity, of sadness, of guilt but this was different, you had never felt anything like this before.

“That’s her.”

“Did you hear what happened?”

“Can’t believe Bucky would stoop that low.”

“Bet he didn’t even enjoy himself.”

You kept your head down, gripping the straps of your backpack until your fingers ached. You weren’t naïve. You knew how things worked here. How gossip spread like wildfire, how people loved to take a tragedy and turn it into entertainment.

You just never thought you’d be the subject of it.

Wanda was waiting for you outside your first lecture hall. She was leaning against the wall, scrolling through her phone, but as soon as she saw you, her face softened with something that looked a lot like pity.

“Don’t,” you muttered before she could even say anything. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Wanda sighed but nodded, falling into step beside you as you entered the lecture hall. “Alright. No talking. But just so you know, if anyone tries to pull some Mean Girls shit, I will make them cry.”

Despite everything, a tiny smirk tugged at your lips. “I believe you.”

The first class dragged, your mind constantly drifting, your knee bouncing beneath the desk. You felt his absence. Bucky wasn’t in this class with you, but for so long, he’d been the thing that pulled you out of your head when you got too lost in your own thoughts. His dumb jokes, his teasing comments, the way he’d pass you stupid doodles on ripped piece sitting of paper.

And now?

Now you had nothing but empty silence and the lingering ache in your chest.

After class, Wanda stuck by your side. Steve was waiting outside the hall, leaning against the railing, watching the crowd. When his eyes landed on you, he straightened immediately, something unreadable flickering across his face.

He looked guilty.

“Hey,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I, uh… I was gonna text you, but I figured I’d just wait here. Thought maybe we could grab something to eat?”

You hesitated. A week ago, that offer wouldn’t have even required thought. But now? After the things he said?

You exhaled sharply through your nose, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

Steve’s jaw tightened. “Look, I know you’re upset.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Upset?” The word tasted wrong on your tongue. Upset didn’t begin to cover it.

Steve sighed, stepping closer. “I just wanna talk, alright? I didn’t mean for things to go the way they did.”

Your stomach twisted at the thought of Steve, your best friend, how he had stood across from you and spewed hurtful words right in your face after defending you, he acted like your pain wasn’t real. Like it didn’t matter.

You tightened your grip on the strap of your backpack. “I don’t wanna talk. I just wanna be left alone.”

Steve huffed, frustrated now. “How am I supposed to apologize if you won’t even listen?”

You flinched, the sharpness in his voice cutting deeper than you expected. “Apologizing isn’t just about saying sorry, Steve.” Your voice wavered, but you held your ground. “It’s about meaning it. And you? You didn’t give a damn about how I felt when it actually mattered.”

Something in his expression faltered.

Wanda shifted beside you, arms crossed, her presence like a shield. She hadn’t spoken, but you knew she would step in if Steve pushed too hard.

Steve let out a long breath, looking away for a second like he was trying to find the right words. When he looked back, his blue eyes were softer. “I was just trying to stick up for you.”

Your throat burned. “Stick up for me?” You let out a humorless laugh. “After everything you said? Yeah, well, I guess that worked out great for you, huh?”

Steve winced. “That’s not fair.”

You swallowed, blinking rapidly. “None of this is fair, Steve. But I’m the one who has to live with it.”

His shoulders dropped slightly, but you didn’t wait for a response. You pushed past him, the weight of the conversation settling deep in your chest.

Wanda fell into step beside you, quiet for a few beats before finally saying, “I’d call that a well-earned fuck you.”

You huffed out a breath, not quite a laugh. “I could’ve said worse.”

“Yeah,” Wanda smirked. “But I think you got the point across. So, the café? I could use a cup of something with an espresso shot.”

“Oh god, not the espresso shot,” you groaned, laughing despite yourself.

Wanda looped her arm through yours, dramatically clutching her chest. “Excuse me, I need caffeine to survive. One shot of espresso is the bare minimum. You, my dear, clearly lack appreciation for the finer things in life.”

You rolled your eyes, her warmth grounding you in a way you didn’t realize you needed. The conversation, the teasing..it almost felt normal. Almost.

Then you felt that sensation of being watched.

It slithered up your spine, settling heavy between your shoulder blades. Your laughter faded as instinct kicked in, your eyes scanning the crowd and then you saw him.

Bucky.

He was near the entrance of the dining hall, surrounded by his teammates, but he wasn’t engaged. Not even close. His body was there, but his attention, his entire focus was on you.

Your stomach twisted painfully.

He looked the same but different somehow. His hair was damp from practice, curling at the ends in a way that once would’ve made you smile. His hoodie was loose, but the tension in his shoulders was unmistakable and his face….his face was unreadable except for the weight behind his eyes.

Regret. Thick, suffocating, undeniable regret.

Your fingers curled into the fabric of your sleeve. Maybe before, that look would’ve unraveled you. Maybe before, you would’ve been tempted to take even the smallest step toward him, to offer him some kind of solace.

But regret wasn’t enough. Not after everything, you couldn't let it be enough.

You forced yourself to tear your gaze away, to keep walking, even as the heaviness of his stare followed you, searing into your back like a brand.

Wanda didn’t say anything at first. She didn’t have to. She just squeezed your arm, her silent way of letting you know she saw it too.

After a few steps, she exhaled, shaking her head. “God, he looks miserable.”

You swallowed hard, keeping your eyes straight ahead. “Good.”

Wanda glanced at you, expression unreadable for a moment before nodding. “Yeah. Good.”

But as you reached the café doors, pushing inside, the lingering burn of Bucky’s stare refused to fade.

---

By the time you made it back to your dorm, the weight of the day had settled deep into your bones.

The moment you shut the door behind you, the silence hit. Not just quiet, silence. The kind that felt alive, pressing in on all sides, wrapping around your throat like a vice.

You dropped your bag onto the floor, toeing off your shoes with little care. Wanda had gone out with some friends, promising she’d be back later, but you hadn’t wanted to go. You told her you were tired, that you just needed to breathe for a second.

You lied.

The truth was, you didn’t want to be around people. You didn’t want to pretend you were okay, or like today hadn’t drained every last ounce of energy out of you, even though today had probably been one of the easier days this week. 

You felt exhausted. Not the kind that sleep could fix, but the kind that settled in your soul and made you wonder if you’d ever really be able to shake it.

You sat down on your bed, staring blankly at the wall.

It was happening again.

That sinking, crushing feeling, like the ground beneath you was cracking, shifting, like soon there would be nothing left to stand on.

It wasn’t just about Bucky. It wasn’t just about Steve.

It was about everything.

You thought you had people. You thought you had friends. You thought, for once in your life, you weren’t completely alone.

And yet… here you were.

Alone in your room.

Alone with your thoughts.

Alone.

Your chest tightened, breath hitching as you curled in on yourself. You dug your fingers into your arms, trying to ground yourself, trying to pull yourself out of it, but it wasn’t working.

And now, on top of all that?  You have lost your best friend. Steve, who had always been in your corner, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to get past the look on his face in the locker room hallway that night, like you had betrayed him. 

Maybe you had. Maybe you should have just pretended like nothing happened because even though he said hurtful things to you, he did defend you to Bucky right? Maybe you were selfish. Maybe you were the problem. Because this wasn’t new, was it?

You’d lost people before.

You lost her.

Your sister.

The thought alone made your stomach churn, shame curling around your ribs like barbed wire. It had been years, and yet, the grief still clung to you like a second skin. You could still hear her voice sometimes, still see the way she used to look at you, like you were someone worth protecting.

But she was gone and you were still here.

Still losing people.

Maybe that was just who you were. Maybe no matter how hard you tried, you weren’t meant to have people.

Maybe you were meant to be alone.

The thought sent a sharp, splintering ache through your chest, and before you could stop it, before you could even think to fight it, you broke.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It was just silent. A few shaky breaths, a few hot tears slipping down your face as you curled into yourself, pressing your forehead against your knees.

No one was here to see it anyway.

No one ever was.

---

The next day was like moving through concrete.

You barely slept, still burdened with the weight of last night that was weighing upon you like an object on your chest. You could not even count how many hours you stayed curled up there on your bed, rehashing every mistaken move, all your failures, each biting critique you'd gotten from you. When morning broke, your body felt leaden, eyes dry but aching from gazing at the ceiling for all those hours of mental thinking within your head.

Wanda was still out. She had most likely spent the night at a friend's, and you were kind of glad. You didn't know you could pretend to be okay, not on a day like this.

You stalled over dressing, not because you cared, but because you didn't. Every action was reflex, getting dressed, combing your hair, slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

Outside, campus was a cacophony. Too much.

The moment you stepped outside, you sensed it all over again. The staring. The muffled whispers of gossip. The not-so-veiled looks thrown in your direction before folks turned back to their friends with a chuckle as if your existence was another fleeting news item.

You sped up.

You weren't naive, you understood what they were talking about. Bucky. Steve. You. The whole bloody mess. It was such a car crash. Folks just couldn't resist stopping, looking, gawking.

By the time you got to your first class, your stomach was twisting up with anxiety. You wished you could just sit down, get caught up in the crowd, be incognito. But as soon as you walked into the lecture hall, your body tensed up.

Bucky was already there and he wasn't alone.

Tiffany.

She was leaning against his desk, twirling a curl of hair around her finger, her mouth pursed up in that fake, sugary smile. You knew that smile. You'd seen it a thousand times. 

And Bucky? He wasn't looking at her, not really, but he wasn't shooing her away, either. It shouldn't have stung. It shouldn't have. But it did.

Something hot and embarrassing twisted in your stomach, a knot rising up into your throat. Not because you wanted more with him than what he had given you. Not because you wished things could ever be so again.

But because it was just one more reminder that even though it had felt like everything was different, the rest of the world continued to go on as if none of that even happened.

As if you didn't even happen. You turned around and departed. You did not have anywhere to go. You simply walked. Through the courtyard, by the library, down the stairs that led nowhere in particular. You simply had to catch your breath.

The universe actually had it out for you today.

You were just trying to make it through the gory day. You'd swallowed the lump in your throat, concealed the lump in your chest, and kept moving, as if you didn't notice Bucky's stare still burning into your flesh. But Tiffany had plans.

She approached you on the library steps, that characteristic smirk twisting on her lips.

"Aww, fleeing again?" she cooed. "You really need to make this less easy."

You clenched your teeth, eyes fixed forward. You were not going to do this. Not today. But she wasn't done.

"Too bad about that photo, don't you think?" she said, mock sympathy dripping from her voice. "You were so pitiful. Practically like you didn't even realize someone was watching."

Your stomach roiled.

You had tried not to look at the picture when it first went around campus. But even if you had, you couldn't shake the sting of it. The naked embarrassment of being so exposed.

Tiffany edged closer, speaking in a lower tone like she was letting you in on some big secret.

"Strange thing is, I told Bucky precisely who took it." She tilted her head. "And you know what's so pathetic? He didn't even have the decency to inform you."

Your breath caught in your throat.

Tiffany's grin widened. "Guess he really doesn't care about you at all, huh? Probably just some fun little game, ‘sleep with Cap’s best friend’”.

Something in your chest split open.

You weren't sure what hurt you worse, that she'd taken the dumb picture to begin with, or that Bucky'd known. That he'd known and never even bothered to think of telling you about it.

Maybe that was the final proof you needed.

You didn't actually have anyone.

"Oh, look at the crybaby," Tiffany pouted mockingly. "Poor girl. Who are you gonna run to now? Stevie? Bucky?" She gave a hard, cruel laugh. "Oh, right, nobody wants you."

Your nails creased your palms. You weren't an angry person. You weren't. But God, you wanted to erase that smug expression from her face. Before you could even imagine what to say, the crack of impact split the air.

Tiffany yelped, retreating onto the ground.

Your eyes widened. In front of you, shaking out her fist, stood Natasha fucking Romanoff.

"Huh," Nat said, wiggling her fingers. "That kinda hurt."

You blinked, frozen. "Did you just—"

"Yeah." She didn't look even remotely sorry. She looked annoyed that Tiffany was still on the ground, blinking up at her in shock. "She talks too much."

Your lips opened, then shut. You were so stunned you couldn't even process it. Natasha turned to face you, eyes scanning your face, her voice softer now. "You okay?"

You hesitated. You weren't okay. Not even remotely.

Nat didn't even hesitate for an answer. She simply hooked her arm through yours and steered you off like she hadn't just punched a girl in the face.

"C'mon," she said. "Let's go."

She didn’t say much at first. Just walked you down the sidewalk, her grip steady and warm on your arm, guiding you away from the pulsing music and drunken noise of the party. It wasn’t until the street was quiet, the only sound of your breathing and the faint click of Natasha’s boots, that she finally spoke.

“I’m not gonna lie,” she muttered, glancing over at you, “been wanting to do that for a while.”

You let out a shaky breath, the adrenaline finally giving way to exhaustion. “I didn’t think you actually would.”

Natasha shrugged. “You looked like you needed it.”

That made your lips twitch. It wasn’t a smile, not really, but it was close. “I think I did.”

You walked in silence for a bit, your thoughts spinning. The cold air nipped at your cheeks, grounding you after everything that had just happened. Finally, you spoke.

“I feel stupid,” you admitted. “Letting it all get to me like that.”

Natasha gave you a look. “You were humiliated, lied to, abandoned. That’s not ‘getting to you,’ that’s being human.”

You blinked, your throat tightening. “I just thought I had people, you know? Bucky, Steve… and then it all just… blew up.”

She stopped walking, gently pulling you to a bench near the sidewalk. You both sat, the dim orange glow of the streetlights painting her face in warm light.

“They hurt you,” she said simply. “And I’m not gonna make excuses for them. What Bucky did, what he didn’t do and what Steve said? That shit sticks.”

You looked down at your hands, rubbing your palms together. “I still don’t know if I can forgive them. Even now.”

“You don’t have to forgive them,” she said quietly. “Not until you’re ready and not for their sake, for yours.”

You swallowed hard. “Steve was like my brother and Bucky… I don’t even know what he was. I thought we had something. Then it was gone before I could even understand what it was.”

Natasha’s expression softened. “What do you want now?”

“I don’t know,” you said honestly. “I want to feel like myself again. Like I can trust someone without waiting for the moment they decide I’m not worth it.”

She nodded, leaning back on the bench, eyes on the stars above. “You’ll get there. I see the way Bucky looks at you. It’s not just guilt. And Steve? He’s… Steve’s dealing with his own shit. Doesn’t mean he was right. Doesn’t mean you have to make space for him again if it still hurts.”

You rested your head on her shoulder, the warmth of her presence seeping into your bones.

“Thanks for punching her.”

Natasha smirked. “Anytime.”

---

Steve’s apartment was dark when Natasha knocked.

Not unusual. Lately, he hadn’t bothered turning on more than one lamp at a time. Just enough light to function. Everything else, the clutter, the half-eaten takeout boxes, the clothes draped over the back of a chair was left untouched. Natasha barely waited before letting herself in.

She found him on the couch, hoodie pulled over his head, knees bent, elbows resting on them like the weight of everything he was carrying might crush him if he didn’t hold himself together.

She tossed her keys onto the counter. “We need to talk.”

Steve didn’t even look up. “Is she okay?”

Natasha nodded. “Yeah she’s okay but...”

His jaw tensed. “What happened?”

Natasha crossed the room and leaned against the wall near the TV. “Tiffany ran her mouth. Again went after her. Said some things she should’ve never said. I handled it.”

Steve blinked slowly. “Handled it?”

Nat shrugged. “Put it this way, Tiffany won’t be smiling for a while.”

Steve gave a humorless huff of breath, something between a laugh and a sigh. “Good.”

A beat passed.

“She didn’t deserve that,” Steve said, voice low. “None of it.”

“No,” Natasha agreed. “She didn’t.”

Silence stretched between them, heavy and honest.

“She’s not talking to me,” Steve finally said, barely above a whisper. “Not really. Not since… the rink. And I don’t blame her.”

Natasha’s expression softened. “Give it time. It’ll work out.”

“I know,” Steve said. “It’s just… hard.”

He leaned back, rubbing his hands over his face.

“We’ve been attached at the hip since we were kids. She’s more than my best friend. She’s my person. The one constant I’ve had through everything. When I lost my mom, when things were shit at school, when I got hurt… she was always there. And I was supposed to be that for her.”

“You still can be,” Natasha said gently. “But she’s hurt, Steve. You said some things—”

“I know,” he cut in, the guilt written all over his face. “I said the exact thing I swore I never would. I used her pain against her. That night, I just, I lost it. I was so angry. At Bucky, at myself… and I took it out on her. That’s on me.”

He scrubbed his hands through his hair, the shame etched into every word. “And she trusted me. She’s been through so much, Nat. With her sister, her dad, the photo… I promised her I’d never leave, never make her feel like she had no one. And that’s exactly what I did.”

Natasha crossed the room and sat down beside him. “You’re allowed to mess up, Steve. You’re human. What matters is what you do now.”

“I miss her,” he admitted, his voice cracking just a little. “I miss just… knowing she was okay. I miss her texts. Her dumb playlists. The way she always knew when something was wrong before I even did.”

Natasha leaned her head against the back of the couch. “You’ll get there. You two? You’ve got history. Real history. She just needs space right now. To heal, to trust again.”

Steve stared at the ceiling for a long moment before finally nodding. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Nat smirked faintly. “I usually am.”

He smiled for the first time in what felt like days. “Thanks for checking in. And for… you know. Handling Tiffany.”

“Anytime,” Natasha said, standing. “You focus on cleaning up your side of the mess. I think Bucky’s actually trying on his end.”

Steve’s smile faltered, but he nodded. “Good. That’s good. I just want her to be okay. Even if it’s not with me in the picture the way it used to be.”

Natasha paused at the door. “I think she wants you there. She’s just not ready yet.”

[leahsgf]

LOSS - mcfoord

mcfoord x child!reader | ireland doesn’t qualify for the euros

little monster masterlist

the energy rippling through the aviva stadium could only be described as electric. the stands, filled almost to the brim by a wave of green, were almost shaking - the sheer noise of the fans bouncing off of every corner.

amongst the chaos and stress of the ireland fans, sat you, perched on caitlin’s lap in the designated ‘mccabe family’ box - a mini ireland scarf clutched in your grasp, and a flag painted on your cheek, now rosy with the sheer bitterness of the dublin air.

katie stood on the pitch metres below, proudly wearing the captain’s armband for her country, and doing what she does best - even if that meant making everyone watch whilst wincing as she teetered on the edge of a second yellow card within minutes.

even at two years old, you understood somewhat how important this game, and this team was to her. it was your entire life in fact - your mother’s bursting passion for her country was engrained in you, having been told one night as she tucked you into your ‘big girl bed’, in the softest voice, how much it meant to her to wear the green jersey, how her team’s hard work was slowly but surely paying off, and, how important it was that you pick ireland over australia, of course.

(the most katie mccabe bed time story imaginable)

and despite how much they both attempted to shield you from the pressure of football, and tonight in particular- you were very much sensing it.

“can you see your mammy down there? she’s doing amazing, like always” caitlin pulled your green (of course) ear defenders away from your head as she whispered in your ear, pointing down to the pitch - whilst rocking you softly, attempting to distract herself from the stress of the game as the minutes dragged on.

the match was only getting more and more intense, every single pass and tackle becoming a battle as ireland fought for a goal, for anything, and wales fought to hold them off. caitlin’s grip on you tightened as full time rapidly approached - leaning forward nervously, as if she could already feel the incoming devastation, as your little eyes darted around, watching every desperate throw in intensely (despite not having a clue what they were doing, you just thought it looked fun)

before long the final whistle blew, and the stadium fell into almost an eerie silence. even your family around you, who had been bellowing and singing the entire time - were completely mute, and that was something you’d never experienced before.

katie practically collapsed down onto her knees on the pitch as the reality sunk in - her face in her hands, sobbing - with many of her fellow players doing the same, their long awaited euros dream well and truly shattered. you simply couldn’t grasp why the cheers had stopped, or why they weren’t kicking the ball around any more.

“why mammy sad?” you turn in the australian’s arms, picking up instantly on her own saddened expression, your tiny voice sounding so loud amongst the quiet - almost piercing the tension with a knife.

caitlin’s heart ached, not only for her partner but also for you, breaking at the idea of explaining this to you when you’d been so excited for weeks about this - adoring absolutely everything that your mammy did, being her little double.

“she’s a bit upset because her team didn’t win.” she spoke gently, “she really wanted this, like she’s been telling you.”

you frowned, clutching your scarf tighter, whimpering slightly at the thought of her being sad without you with her to make it better.

“go there?” you point down to the pitch, shifting to try and climb down, leaning forward to grip the barrier in front of the seat - caitlin almost instantly pulling you back, earning a whine in response.

“let’s wait a little bit pudding, kay? she’s still on the field, we’ll go and find her soon, don’t worry” she stroked your hair softly, suddenly standing up with you balanced on her hip, taking you away from the seats and back inside, away from the chaos for just a moment, bouncing you lightly, knowing all too well that if you can see katie without being able to be with her for a second longer you’ll be quickly on your way to a meltdown.

-

after a short while, and the heartbroken ireland team slowly started to filter out of the locker room, not wanting to spend another minute drowning in the overwhelming sadness - katie remained planted in her seat. the sting of this defeat cut her particularly deep, not solely because of the loss, but also because of everything in her that she’d poured into this campaign, into being captain in general - the sacrifices, the hours of extra training, and the dreams of being the one to lead her country to something bigger, something they deserve - all of it.

sat on the bench with her head in her hands, her chest rose and fell unevenly, and tears continued to stream down her cheeks as every emotion under the sun swirled through her head.

the door swinging open broke her out of her train of thoughts - revealing a very concerned, almost tearful looking caitlin, with you bundled in her arms.

“katie?”

the irish woman’s head snapped up instantly, her red rimmed eyes meeting the piercingly blue ones of her girlfriend, getting lost in them like she always did. the mere sight of the pair of you - her family, of the little, now smeared ireland flag painted on your face, only made her tears flow faster, the remains of her resolve crumbling.

you wriggled in caitlin’s arms as katie stood up, collecting the remains of her stuff - not wanting to hang around anymore either, reaching out for her desperately.

her arms opened in an instant, allowing you to be passed over into them before even a slight whimper could leave your lips, burying her face into your tiny shoulder as she sobbed a little more, muffled by your warmth, holding you almost impossibly close to her chest.

“it’s okay mammy, no cry” you babble, your words accenting your wonderfully weirdly blended accent, patting her cheek softly, causing the woman to let out a shaky laugh through her tears. “you the best” your little brow furrowed as you continued, poking at the tears on her cheek, having not quite learned how to ‘wipe them away’ properly just yet.

“oh my sweet girl, thank you” she nuzzled her nose against your cheek, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the three of you made your way slowly towards the car, wanting nothing more than to just be away from all of this.

caitlin watched silently as katie buckled you into your car seat, tickling you softly and kissing your cheek, lingering for a second longer than usual, as if she was delaying the inevitable hard part, where she’ll have to process this without an innocent, clueless toddler to distract her.

“you’ve done so much, love, you’ve made them all so proud, you’ve made us proud. you’ve made that little girl so proud - all she’s talked about all day is you.” caitlin wrapped her arms around the irish woman almost immediately after she closed your car door, rubbing her back comfortingly.

“thank you baby, i needed that, thank you for being here. i know you’re probably exhausted.” she sniffled, knowing that her girlfriend flew straight from australia to dublin to be here for her - before moving around to the passenger side, an unfamiliar one to her - but she wasn’t in the headspace to be in charge of a vehicle, not right now.

the drive back to the hotel (that was more of a stopover before you all head back to london in the morning then anything) was an unfamiliarly quiet one, the mood that settled sombre in stark comparison to the constant loop of ‘baby shark’, a personal favourite of yours - that boomed out of the speakers in order to keep you content.

-

the evening drew in with a lot of tears and hugs from all three of you at different moments - curled up in the plush of the hotel bed, watching some disney movie you’d all seen a million times over - your parents trying to keep the mood fairly light for you, knowing the walls would come crashing down once you were asleep.

despite this, you could sense that your mammy was still sad. very sad. she usually was constantly playing with you, making you screech with giggles, even when you were meant to be getting ready to go to bed and calming down for the night, but tonight she was just quiet, barely saying a word as caitlin got you ready for bed.

“come on then sweetheart, sleep time for you, say goodnight to mammy” your mumma held you and your bottle in her arms, crouching down so katie can kiss and hug you softly.

“milk?” you ask, words muffled by the dummy between your lips as you hold out your bottle towards her, tilting your head - knowing that that was one thing that always made you feel better, and all you wanted to do was make her happy.

and with that, katie couldn’t help but smile, the loss sitting on her shoulder feeling just a little bit lighter.

“i love you, my beautiful little monster”

[giulliadella]

Guys, I know I said that this blog isn't political, but I have to vent.

Yesterday, Serbia, my country, experienced the largest protest in history. Around one MILLION people (Serbia has a population of 6 million) gathered to protest against the corruption in our government. These protests have been going on since November 2024. when a recently renovated canopy in the city of Novi Sad fell and killed 15 people. Nobody has been prosecuted yet.

The students of all Serbian universities began to protest, urging the institutions to do their job. But the corruption in the country is unbelievable. Record-breaking protests have been taking place all over the country, all of them have been peaceful.

However, the government organized groups of hooligans that were trying to disrupt everything. It has full control of all mainstream media. On the day of the massive protest on March 15., all public transport has been removed from the streets: all trains, busses, even taxis were ordered not to drive. But people, including me, walked for miles to get to the downtown.

The protest was going great, despite the rain and relatively cold weather. People were peaceful and hopeful, they were having fun, playing music, carrying funny signs, making noise with whistles and trumpets. The atmosphere was great, everyone was kind to each-other, me and my friends hung out, shared cookies, talked about silly gay stuff.

But then, during 15 minutes of silence that people held to commemorate the 15 dead, our government used a sound cannon, a sonic weapon, on these calmly standing people, in the middle of silence. It was chilling. I wasn't on that location when it happened, but many people have been hurt. One man had his pacemaker screw up, giving him several heart attacks. A lot of people are reporting tinnitus, pain, they are disoriented. The goal of this was to try an cause a stampede in a crowd of MILLION PEOPLE. However, due to quick intervention of students, such tragedy was avoided.

BTW, the sonic weapon was fired in the close proximity of a maternity hospital.

And now, as if all of this wasn't bad enough, the government froze the medical records of every person that came to our PUBLIC HEALTH hospitals with symptoms from the protest. These people are DENIED MEDICAL CARE after THEIR OWN GOVERNMENT used and ILLEGAL and HIGHLY DANGEROUS WEAPON on them in hospitals that THEY PAID FOR.

I am a very peaceful and non-confrontational person. This is the first time in my life that I wished death upon someone. I genuinely wish death to our president and all of his little criminal friends and his journalists and all those morons in healthcare denying people help. I have never experienced this level of evil. I have always believed that there is good in everyone, but now I think that some people may be an exception.

And the worst of all is that my family is against these protests. They don't support our government, but they are not against them either. "Because someone worse might come." I don't know if it can get worse than this. This is actual terrorism. The next step is killing people. Outright. I am scared, but I love my country and I want it to do better. I will continue to support the protests, no matter what.

I'm genuinely sorry for this rant, but I am under so much stress, I needed to vent. I genuinely pray that no country ever has to experience what Serbia is experiencing now.

[etherealevangeline]

Thinking about handler!simon <3

You’re his demi human pet who bites and pounces everywhere, trying to get a hold of what you can in his living room. He’s cooking up a mean dinner, trying to work on his skills since he’s sick of canned food, frozen food, and anything considered cheap meals. Simon understood he might be trying to fit into this new role of being a caregiver, and all the cozy things associated with it. Having a house smelling good, wealthy with food, abundant with activities.

He can’t blame himself entirely. Ever since he’s got you, his pet, Simon has been living life a little differently. He sees the pure, sweet and innocent look to your eyes, the way you pant excited from playing, or when you’re curled up in your bed and sleeping peacefully on your back. He’ll reach out to give your belly some rubs. On some days, depending on your mood, you’d have a feral wild bite to you.

He loved it all. And now, it seems as though he wants to try. So, he cooks. He makes his steaks juicier, he learns the difference with non stick and stick pans, grabs the best oil there is (avocado cooking oil) buys himself a new knife set, finding it rather ravishing the way it glints ever so dangerously in the light. He buys a bloody chopping board, and no, no apron.

He despises aprons despite trying to fit in.

“Bloody ladies dress,” he’d curse under his breath. He preferred the rough and tumbled look. Unbuttoned shirt, revealing tufts of chest hair, rolled up sleeves, patchy, washed out jeans. Hands covered in flour, oil, all the likes.

So he cooks.

And now he’s got the house smelling all warm, full, wholesome.

Simon, who tosses a towel rag on his broad shoulders, whistles to get your attention. It’s quick, punctual, and his hands make a move, sautéing the onions, garlic, peppers. The pan sizzles.

You were on the couch, pawing at the patchy and old couch, ears perking up at the sound of his whistle. You sniff the air and bounce down from the couch eagerly, clumsy on your legs as you walk to him.

“Didn’ I tell ya you can’t be bitin’ my things?” Simon scolds, gruff. His back faced you.

You make a mock whimper and playfully nudge at his leg, giving him your best puppy eyes. He fawns inwardly at the sight, disheveled at the sight of you being meek and playful.

Simon hides this and sighs through his nose, and in the light you could see the soft glint to his deepset eyes. His mask was off revealing his unguarded self to you, at least physically, trying to earn your trust.

“Alrigh’ alright, I know I avent’ been around. You’re clingy, needy. Enough o’ tha’.” Simon mumbled, though his eyes kept wandering to your sitting form on the carpet, itching to bite and pounce at anything.

Simon knew these days he’d been busy with base meetings, discussing a possible mission deployment. He knew what it meant for you.

And somewhere inside him it caused his gut to clench, the idea of leaving you to fend for yourself in this hippy, happy to go state. You had to be fed on time, given toys, and not just any, but the kinds you liked. You had to be put to bed too, since you were affectionate and needy. Simon got used to sitting on the bed, book in hand, his other hand patting your head absent mindedly as you drifted off.

He didn’t mind the moments now, he was slowly thawing off after all.

You made a small noise for his attention wondering where his mind was at. Simon looked down for a moment before cooking the tuna in, mushing it around with his wooden spatula. “Easy, why don’t ya go play?“

Simon did need to finish the food anyway.

You moved, curious and eager. As you walked passed him into the open space of the living room, your eyes landed on his mask laying on the wooden table. It was decorated with a dingy yellow table cloth, soft and flowy. It was a gift Simon got a long time ago. When he saw how sad and disengaged you were from the lack of decor, he tried putting it up.

Apart of you missed his scent these days, and wanted to be closer. Of course, he’d been missing from the home, so tonight was a welcomed sight to see him cooking.

So, you moved, grabbing the mask with your teeth and pawing at it. The cloth shifts slightly. You sit, unassuming, and pawing and nibbling, going quiet.

After a while, Simon figures you’re not making noises and something isn’t right. He finishes the tuna, mixed with onions, pepper, garlic and such, and adds some rice to it. He sets his plate down, tosses the rag to the counter, and saunters to you. His old work boots creak with effort.

“Pet, is tha’ my—“

It is.

He pauses, not sure whether to grin wolfishly, or sigh at your needy, peckish behavior. You’re scrabbling, almost playing tug of war now with the poor mask. Sniffing, pawing, bumping your head into the table and all like a clumsy thing.

Simon whistles.

You look up, jaw still clenched around the mask, and there it is that same wide eyed, caught red handed look.

“Oh no—“ Simon chides when you try to paw at the mask, continuing with your peckish behavior.

“Up here.” He orders softly, with a sense of firmness however, crouching down. He tugs the mask gently away from your teeth and a pitiful whine leaves you.

The confused, sour look to your face—the furrowed brows, downturned lips, tail thwacking the floor impatiently tells him you’re displeased.

“Do you want or hug or wha?’” Simon gruffly said.

You look slightly surprised, and perk up. Your ears, specifically. You tilt your head at his new approach and slowly move to him, wondering how and why he changed.

“Look, I can’t ave’ you bitin’ my masks remember, lovie? Either its hugs or no biting.” He chides gently as you clamber up in his lap, perching yourself neatly.

You sit, waiting.

He almost has to laugh lowly at the way you sit expectantly now, waiting for some pat or cuddle or praise. He slowly and gently brings his hand to stroke your hair, the delicate curve of your spine.

He admires the way you listened despite having a bratty streak, and he has to commend you for it.

“Good girl, wasn’t so hard was it?” He found himself saying, the words slipping out like sugared honey. He tilts his head, admiring the way your eyes shut, a rumbling low noise of comfort leaving your body at his touch.

“I know you miss me, can’t do much bout’ life gettin’ annoyin’ right?” Simon mutters mostly to himself. He lets you lean in for warmth.

For a while he just holds you, smelling the warm aroma, and letting you find comfort in him. It’s a first that he ever felt this sense of peace. Wholesome, sweet, and loving. Connected with you.

He makes it a point to spend more time with you before he leaves for deployment, and another point to drill down the sitter he’ll be having in place for you. Leaving you in someone’s incompetent hands is not an option for him.

[p0orbaby]

Familia Supra Omnia

summary: a snippet of Alexia’s day

warnings: just fluff, thank god

a/n: an apology for yesterdays sadness

word count: 933

-

It’s an unusually quiet morning on the training pitch, the sound of the net rippling, the low murmur of players' conversations, and the occasional whistle from Alexia the only noises breaking the silence

Surveying the new signings, Alexia notices some of them doing a terrible job of stifling smiles. A flicker of annoyance rises within her; she needs them to be as disciplined as the seasoned players. You don’t win as many trophies as she has by disrespecting your coach.

Just as she is about to start giving the fresh meat some well needed directions, she feels a small hand tug at the leg of her shorts. She glances down, her heart warming at the sight of her daughter, before she catches herself.

Apparently, it’s quite difficult to be taken seriously with a three-year-old following you around like a shadow.

"Mi pequeña estrella," she says, crouching down to meet her daughter's eyes. They are a darker shade than her own, and it still sometimes amazes her when she takes in the features that made up Sofía. "¿Dónde está tu tía?"

"Talking to Miss," Sofía shrugged, pointing over her shoulder to where her mother’s sister and her assistant coach stand, engrossed in something on an IPad. Sofía's sharp little eyes then move over to the players standing still, her little eyebrows furrowing as she contemplates what’s happening. "Mami, are they in trouble?"

Alexia bites back a smile as she scoops her daughter up and settles her on her hip. "No, they are not." Before Sofía can ask more questions, Alexia addresses her team. "Showers!”

As the players disperse, she turns, giving her daughter a kiss on the forehead. Sofía's steady string of chatter fills Alexia's ears as the little girl recounts her morning adventures.

It has been four days since you left for your business trip to Madrid, and you were due home tonight. Alexia misses you, Sofía misses you, and though Alexia cherishes the alone time with her kid, she is more than ready for you to be back by her side.

Reaching the touchlines, Alexia jostles Sofía a bit, making her giggle. "Tuvimos un fugitivo," she says to Alba with a grin.

Alba's brows draw together as she looks at Sofía. "You’re quick, pequeña”

Sofía nods, smiling as she agrees, leaning a little closer to Alexia. Normally an independent child, Sofía has become clingier with you gone.

"Everything is fine. She found me out on the pitch," Alexia explains, looking at Sofía’s wide eyes as she tries to understand. Alexia places a noisy kiss on her cheek to assure her she isn't angry, melting a bit more when Sofía snuggles herself into her shoulder. "I have some paperwork to do, so she can come with me”

"Entonces me voy," Alba says, nodding. "Will you be dropping her off tomorrow morning?"

"Lo más probable. I can't imagine she'll want to take the day off." Alexia sighs at the thought.

"She's a busy woman. Well, we have a date to see some big boats in the harbor tomorrow”. Alba smiles at Sofía before bidding the two of them farewell.

Alexia shifts Sofía on her hip, mentally listing the tasks she needs to complete before heading home. "It's just you and me for a while”

Sofía leans back in her grip, trusting that her mother would never drop her, placing her hand on Alexia's shoulder with a serious expression mirroring one of Alexia’s own. "Vale, Mami”

Once in her office, Alexia sets Sofía on the large desk, providing some crayons and a colouring book. Sofía narrows her eyes as she picks out the colours she wants. She’s an easy child, able to entertain herself in most circumstances. The behaviour of a child used to constant travelling. Assured Sofía would be busy, Alexia pulls out her laptop and a few papers requiring her signature.

She works mostly undisturbed, Sofía within reach, showing her progress at intermittent intervals. Her office wall already has a collection of Sofía’s drawings and projects. Each new addition brings a sparkle to Sofía’s eyes, making Alexia ready to cover another wall with her creations if necessary.

She’s on the phone when she hears the door open, alerted by her daughters excited shriek. The little girl climbs to her feet and stomps in happiness, chanting, "Mama, Mama, Mama!"

Looking up, Alexia catches the flash of your smile, her heart leaping out of her chest. She grabs Sofía by the back of her shirt to prevent her from falling off the desk, wrapping up her call as quickly as she possibly can.

You cross the room swiftly, arms outstretched, and Alexia lets go of Sofía just in time for her to leap into your embrace.

"Hi, my baby," you say as you nestle into your toddler, eyes closing as you take in the smell of her watermelon shampoo.

Alexia disconnects, dropping her phone on the desk, and reaches out to cup the back of your neck, pulling you and Sofía close. The scent of your perfume fills her senses as she tilts your chin up to give you a soft kiss. "We missed you”

"I missed you both too”

"You're home early," Alexia notes after a while, sitting back in her chair and pulling you down with her, settling Sofía between the two of you.

"I wanted to get back earlier, but you know how Philippe can be,” you sigh. "How much work do you have left to do”

"Nothing that can't wait until tomorrow." Alexia closes her eyes at the feel of your hand stroking her neck. "I'd rather take my girls home”

[mapiforpresident]

I’m here DONT FEAR. That’s was so cringy oml but here is a Mapi x Ingrid x reader req. so after the championship Mapi and Ingrid run to the barriers to help reader get over them and they start hugging and kissing (they are public) and it’s just very cute and soft. ‘Maybe some smutty talk with them saying how hot you look in your jean shorts or Jersey👀’

Time to Celebrate

Mapi x reader x Ingrid

warnings: drinking, alcohol

~~~

The stadium was filled with energy, and the crowd was deafening as the final whistle blew. You leaned forward in your seat, disbelief washing over you as Barcelona celebrated their third Champions League title. From the stands, you watched Mapi embrace Alexia while Ingrid hugged Frido, pure joy radiating from both of their faces.

They were both grinning from ear to ear, their jerseys clinging to their bodies, drenched in sweat. They had played the entire match, and the exhaustion showed in their tired smiles, but you’d never seen them happier. The pride swelling within you was overwhelming as you watched them receive their medals, and then taking turns lifting the trophy. It felt surreal, yet utterly deserved.

Your life as a lawyer often kept you tied up with meetings, court dates, and endless paperwork, leaving little room to witness your girlfriends’ games in person. But being here today, watching them celebrate, made every late night in the office worthwhile.

As Mapi and Ingrid made their way toward the barriers after the trophy ceremony, you stood up, waving enthusiastically. They spotted you, and they began sprinting toward the edge of the stands.

“Y/N!” Mapi shouted, her voice cutting through the crowd.

Ingrid climbed over the barrier with ease, her eyes shining with adrenaline. “Did you see Mapi's tackle? It was insane!”

You nodded, leaning in to kiss her. “You were both incredible! I’m so proud of you!”

Ingrid helped you back over the barrier, and the moment you landed, Mapi wrapped her arms around you in a tight hug, nearly knocking the breath out of you. “Thanks for being here! It means so much to us,” she said, her voice muffled against your shoulder.

Ingrid joined in, pulling both of you into an embrace. “I couldn’t imagine celebrating without you,” she added, squeezing you tighter.

“Your jersey we had made for you looks so good,” Mapi whispered, her breath warm against your ear. “I don’t think I will ever get over seeing my name and Ingrid’s number on your back.” Your cheeks heated up at her words, a mix of pride and embarrassment flooding through you.

Before you could respond, Ingrid yelled over the noise of the stadium, “Let’s go take photos with the trophy!” She broke away, you and Mapi following behind her.

You all made your way across the field, weaving through players celebrating with their families. You reached Ona and Lucy, hugging them both and saying congratulations as they handed the trophy over to Ingrid, who held it like it was the most precious treasure in the world.

“Look at this beauty!” Ingrid beamed as Mapi leaned in to kiss it a couple times.

The three of you gathered close for pictures, the trophy proudly displayed in front of you. You felt grateful to be part of this moment, a feeling that only deepened as Mapi slipped her hand into yours, squeezing it gently.

~~~

After the celebrations on the field, you rode with Mapi and Ingrid's families to the after-party at the hotel where the players were staying. You were sad that you had to part with your girls for a while as they went back to the locker room, where you knew they were continuing their celebration with some drinks and then they would take the team bus and meet back up with you at the hotel a little later.

Once inside the hotel you mingled with all the players families for a while before you and Olga, Alexia's girlfriend, found a quiet corner to sit in and wait for your girlfriends.

You and Olga chatted about the game, and how proud you were of your girlfriends. After a while, your anticipation grew, knowing that Mapi and Ingrid would soon join you.

Soon after the players arrived and Mapi and Ingrid came straight over to you. “Did you miss us?” Ingrid teased, her breath warm against your ear.

“Of course! I can’t wait to celebrate with you both,” you replied, pulling back to give her a quick kiss before turning and giving Mapi a kiss before she started pouting.

“Drinks! We need drinks!” Mapi declared, leading you both to the bar. Mapi was started ordering shots, and you couldn’t help but laugh as she tried to get Alexia to take one with her ultimately failing. Pina instead took the shot right out of Mapi's hand downing it before Mapi could snatch it back.

The night continued with drinks flowing freely as the three of you danced together, surrounded by the joyful chaos of teammates celebrating their victory. Mapi was a clingy, affectionate drunk, wrapping her arms around you and Ingrid and showering you both with compliments.

“You two are the best!” she exclaimed, swaying slightly. “I couldn’t have done this without you. Seriously, Y/N, you’re like my lucky charm!”

As the hours passed, players and families started to trickle out. While Mapi continued to drink and dance with Pina and Patri, Ingrid’s eyelids grew heavier. You watched as she leaned against the wall, trying to keep her focus.

“Hey, you okay?” you asked, concern in your voice.

“I’m just... so tired,” she admitted, stifling a yawn. “It’s been a long day.”

“Maybe we should call it a night?” you suggested, glancing at Mapi, who was busy doing another shot with Cata.

Ingrid nodded, but as you moved to grab Mapi, she squealed, throwing her arms around you both. “No, no! We have to keep celebrating!”

“Mapi, it’s 4 AM!” you laughed, gently pushing her away. “We need to get some rest. You’ve earned it.”

She pouted but eventually relented, her eyelids fluttering as she leaned on you for support. You and Ingrid exchanged knowing glances, and with a little coaxing, you managed to get Mapi to follow you both back to the hotel room.

Once inside, you helped Mapi out of her jersey and into a comfortable oversized t-shirt of yours, chuckling at how she kept insisting on “more hugs and kisses” as you did. You turned to Ingrid, who was stifling a yawn, and helped her into her pajamas as well.

“Alright, you two sleepyheads,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair away from Mapi’s face. “Time for bed.”

You settled onto the bed, pulling the covers over all of you. Mapi and Ingrid nestled close as possible, their heads resting on your chest. You kissed each of their foreheads gently, feeling a wave of affection wash over you as they both sighed contentedly, their breathing slowly evening out.

As you drifted into sleep, you couldn’t help but smile at how lucky you felt to share this moment with them.

~~~

Morning light streamed through the hotel window, piercing through your dreams as you began to stir. You blinked against the brightness, glancing down to see both Mapi sprawled out and hair everywhere and Ingrid looking adorable curled into you.

“Morning, sleepyheads,” you said softly, gently shaking them.

Ingrid groaned, rolling over, her face scrunching up as she tried to shield her eyes from the light. “Ugh, what time is it?”

“Time to wake up and face the world,” you teased, but as you took a good look at Mapi, you felt a surge of sympathy. Her hair was tousled, and she looked a bit pale.

“Feeling okay?” you asked, running a hand through her hair.

“Not really,” she admitted, her voice thick with sleep. “What happened last night?”

“You celebrated a Champions League title, that’s what!” you laughed lightly, but then you quickly got up to grab some Advil from your bag and two bottles of water you had set out last night.

“Here,” you said, handing them both the pills. “This should help.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Ingrid murmured, a sleepy smile creeping onto her face. “You’re the best.”

“I know,” you replied with a grin. “Now, get ready. You both have to meet back up with the team soon.”

When they were both ready, looking a little more put together but still a bit groggy, Mapi stepped closer, a smile breaking through. “Before we leave, I need to give you something,” she said, her voice slightly raspy.

Before you could respond, she leaned in, pressing her lips to yours for a soft kiss. You leaned into the kiss and savored it before resting your forehead against hers and kissing her cheek.

“We wish you could come back to Barcelona with us,” Ingrid said with a slight pout.

“Me too but I will wave to you at the celebration and then we have all weekend together,” you replied.

With one last hug, they made their way to the door. You were so proud of them and were so excited to see them in a couple hours, hopefully a little less hungover.

~~~

let me know if there are any mistakes, I didn't proof read it.