earpskeeper

arsenal x england requests are open mazzas wifey

[earpskeeper]

chaos kid

you're spiralin again

one shots

WIP

[earpskeeper]

Are u dead 😵 We u miss when wrote fics amazing stuff like that 👍 Beyoncé come home 🏠

beyoncé 😭 i’m more a rihanna girl personally but i appreciate the compliment

i’ve been a busy bee recently with sport and uni (uni particularly with oh so many lab reports 💔)

i am aiming to have a fic out in the next few weeks but obviously this could change

out of interest what would people like to read?

[a-pute11as]

Arsenal christmas present haul??

got blessed with a new calendar, third shirt (no name because i couldn’t choose 💔) and the arsenal stanley!

little pic because i already sent a haul to a friend x

[earpskeeper]

awwww matchy calendars 🤭

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

[moonlight-alexia]

so soft so cutesy omg 🥺🤍

[earpskeeper]

yes yes yes

she is such a loveable mushroom i don’t know how to explain it

[a-pute11as]

Woso writer friends you’ve met or want to meet at some point?

i’ve met @earpskeeper a few times, she loves spending time with me so i put myself through the torture of it to make her happy 💔

on a real note, there’s a good chunk of my mutuals that i’d be happy to meet!

[earpskeeper]

you love spending time with me don’t lie

i remember your whole maccies order so that’s basically love right there 💔

[earpskeeper]

Ohh what if r is on anti-depressants and has been since their teens and the team find out and r is just really positive about it, like “yeah I went through a really rough time… etc)” and how they regularly check in with a psychiatrist and sports psychologist.

And like the older players are stood in shock at how such a young person has recognised and put in place the relevant things in place to help whenever things start getting bad again.

Can be for Arsenal or England - or could be an older r who steps in for a young player who they recognise as having a rough time and no one realises what they went through/are going through

hi anon!

you can find this request here

so sorry this took so long but hopefully you enjoy it!!!

[earpskeeper]

arsenal reader word count - 5.6k trigger warnings - depression - anxiety - suicidal ideation??? - minor head injury - minor mention of blood

It had been surreal, your first day in the first team at Colney. You walked into the training room in the morning, heart hammering and your hands in your pockets. Your fingers moved through the grounding exercise your therapist taught you - thumb to one finger, then the next, and the next. 

It helped… sort of. 

More like a plaster on a bullet wound if anything, but it was something and you would take whatever you could get as you pushed the door open. 

You hovered in the doorway of the training room for longer than you cared to admit, not wanting to walk in but knowing you couldn’t stand there forever. Players scattered around, laughing and chatting with ease. Pulling on boots, tying back hair and shoving each other in the harmless loving way. It was like looking in through a window. A window of people who belong.

You didn’t feel like you belonged however.

Not yet.

“Hello!” 

The soft Scottish lilt snaps your attention.

Kim Little stands a few feet away, tugging lightly at her shin pad sleeve. Her expression warm but still assessing you in that quiet captainy way. 

“You’re Y/N right?” she asks.

You nod quickly before realising you need to respond with actual words. “Uh y…yeah. Thats me.”

She smiles before standing up. “Good. Cmon in, we wont bite.”

You'd barely made it to the lockers before another voice called out across the room, the northern accent cutting through the chatter.

“Still, best steer clear of Kyra eh?!”

Kyra’s head whipped around so fast you thought she might strain something. 

“What?!!” She yelped, eyes wide as saucers. “Why are you bringing me into it? I’ve literally been standing here doing nothing!”

Someone snorted behind her. 

“Yeah, that’s the worrying part!”

Kyra’s jaw dropped. “Unbelievable. Slander. Pure slander!”

She pointed dramatically at you.

“Don’t listen to them greenie! I’m the nicest person here!”

“Debatable” Caitlin muttered under her breath. 

Kyra spun around again. 

“You too? I can’t win!”

A ripple of laughter moved through the room. Even Kim cracked a smile. Then someone cut through the noise with a curious shout. 

“Wait Ky, what did you mean by greenie?”

Kyra blinked, looking genuinely confused for a second before gesturing down at your feet.

“Well, she’s got bright green trainers on, doesn’t she?” she said with a shrug. “Seemed fitting since I dunno her name yet.”

The room shifted and dozens of eyes now turned your way. Your stomach dropped, you hadnt quite braced for speaking in front of everyone. 

“O…oh. It’s Y/N” you manage quietly. Then after a beat “But, greenie is good too.”

You tried to play it off casually but there was a faint smile tugging at your lips as you ducked your head, hoping nobody noticed.

But someone did.

A few lockers down, Leah Williamson was sat. arms crossed and expression unreadable. But as she glanced over, something in her face shifted. Her eyes softened ever so slightly. She didn’t say anything though. She didn’t dare draw attention to it, but she had seen the brief smile. The tiny moment where your guard slipped and that was enough for her. 

A few months later and you had found your rhythm at Colney. Training felt familiar now and your progress was good enough that the coaches nodded approvingly more often than not.

But bonding with the team.

That part hadn’t quite happened. 

Not because they weren't friendly

Not because they didn’t try

But because you sat on the edge of conversation more often than not, offered small smiles instead of words and nodded instead of joining in. You were polite, helpful and easy to be around but distant. 

It wasn’t what you wanted, you didn’t think. But you didn’t know how else to be, so you became known as the quiet kid, the teenager with the soul of a thirty year old because you barely spoke.

And you accepted that.

Then one training session, everything changed, 

You were matched up in 1v1s against Katie McCabe, something that would terrify even the most seasoned player. She was unshakable both on and off the pitch. A true force of nature in boots.

You held your own remarkably well (refusing to be bullied that easily off the ball) but one split second with a wet patch of grass and the force of a tackle and you felt the world snap. 

Your body hit the ground first and your head second. 

A hot wet sensation pooled somewhere behind your ear and your vision swam. All you could make out were shapes. Blurred faces leaning over you and muffled voices like you were underwater. 

“Hey hey! Cmon stay with me”

“Greenie cmon hey greenie”

“Physio she's dying!!”

“Kyra shut up she isn’t”

The noise pulsed in and out, slipping away from you. You tried to blink, tried to focus but it was no use when everything went black. 

The next thing you know is the artificial glow of the hospital lights and the dull throb pulsing at the back of your head. You lift a hand to check but instead, your hands brush against a soft cotton wrap of a bandage. 

You jump slightly then sit up when you hear a knock on the door, your body tensing instinctively before your mind has a chance to catch up. 

“Hey” comes a familiar voice “You alright greenie?”

Leah slips inside the room, arsenal tracksuit halfzipped and hair wet from a post training shower. You exhale, shoulders loosening. 

“Y…yeah” you mumble. “They just said I need to stay for a while. For observation I guess.”

Leah hooks her thumb over your bag slung over her shoulder. 

“Well, I brought you your stuff and I'll keep you company. I know how crap hospital tv can be.”

“You really don’t have to…”

“Already here.” she shrugs out like it's nothing and plops down in the chair by your bed. Despite the ache in your head you give a small smile but then a thought hits you and your eyes widen. 

“Is Katie ok?” you ask quickly.

Leah blinks and then bursts into laughter. 

“Oh my god, you’re the one in hospital and you’re asking about her?”

“You shrug weakly. “Well… we collided pretty hard.”

“Please” Leah snorts. “It’ll take more than that to hurt her. Irish blood and a thick head and all that!”

Leah continues chatting about training. About kyra seeing the blood and being convinced you were dead. About Katie insisting she was ‘grand’ and only storming off when the physios refused to let her drive herself home. The normality settles your nerves. 

Then Leah's tone shifts, into something more careful. 

“Hey, so” she says, rubbing the back of her neck. “When I picked up your bag, the strap kinda snapped and uh… everything fell out.”

Your stomach tightens.

“Oh.”

“Yeah” Leah hesitates. “I uh… saw the pills.”

Silence thickens between you two, a heavy crushing silence. 

“I recognised the name” Leah says quickly but quietly. “My friend takes the same ones.”

You meet her eyes, barely, before your gaze drops down back to your lap and a quiet pause settles between you. Fragile as if one wrong word would shatter everything. Leah shifts in the chair, exhaling slowly. 

“Can I ask you something greenie” she says, her voice soft and careful. “Why did you never say anything?”

You swallow, fingers curling in the hospital blanket before answering, quietly but honestly. 

“You never asked.”

The next morning begins with the sound of a door being opened. The doctor steps inside holding a chart and offering a polite smile.

“Good morning” he says, checking the notes at the end of your bed. “Your scans look good and with your neuro checks improving overnight, I see no reason why we can’t let you get out of here.”

Relief flickers through you, but the doctor doesn’t quite leave it there. 

Instead he pauses, pen tapping lightly against your chart.

“Before I sign the discharge form” he begins carefully, “I need to confirm something. You won’t be allowed to go home alone. Do you have someone who can stay with you for the next 72 hours?”

You freeze.

Your mind blanks.

Your flat is empty, theres no family nearby. No roommate. Nobody who…

“She does.”

The voice comes from the doorway, steady and unwavering.

You turn to see Leah standing there, leaning on the frame like she has been waiting for that exact question. 

“She’s coming home with me.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. 

“Leah…”

The doctor hums approvingly. 

“Yes, that would be ideal. She will need someone to monitor her for complications like dizziness and nausea.”

“I can do that,” Leah says without hesitation. 

The words fluster you more than they should. 

“Leah” you start again,”you really don’t have to…”

But she cuts you off, still speaking to the doctor.

“I’ve already cleared it with our physios. I’ll be with her the whole time.”

Your head snaps toward her. 

“You what?

She finally meets your eyes - calm but firm and annoyingly gentle. 

“I talked to them first thing this morning” she states “before you woke up.”

The doctor hands you the discharge papers. 

“Perfect then i’ll leave you guys to get sorted.” he says, before adding. “You are in good hands, miss Y/L/N.” 

With that he leaves, the door closing firmly behind him, leaving the room far too quiet and you just stare at Leah.

“You planned this?”

“Yes” she says simply. “You aren't going back home alone with a serious concussion.”

“I…I could’ve managed…”

“No you couldn’t. And you don’t have to.”

She picks up your bag that she had packed so quietly during the conversation you hadn’t even noticed before slinging the strap over her shoulder like it’s nothing. 

“Cmon greenie, let's get you out of here.”

The drive is quiet, your head throbs dully but the pain isn’t the problem anymore. Not really. Its the fog settling behind your eyes, like someone draped a blanket over your thoughts. Leah glances over at you a couple of times as she drives, but she doesn’t ask you to talk, doesn’t push. She just keeps her hands loosely resting on the wheel, her posture relaxed in that oddly grounding way she has. 

By the time she pulls into her driveway, it takes you a few minutes to recognise this isn’t your apartment.

You blink at the unfamiliar shapes outside, then blink again. 

It takes a few minutes for your fogged brain to register that this isn’t your front door. This isn’t your building. Not even your street. 

Your brow furrows and confusion settles in your chest as you turn to face Leah. voice small and disorientated. 

“Where… where are we?”

Leah instantly goes still, concern washes over her face like a wave. 

“At my house, greenie” she says gently. “Remember? The doctor and us, we had a conversation. You are staying with me for the next few days.”

You stare at her, trying to sift through the muddled haze in your head for the memory. It’s like trying to reach through cotton, but you remember, faintly, the doctor's voice and then Leah's. 

“Oh” you whisper, leaning back against the seat. Exhausted by the effort of remembering. “Right, I… I forgot.”

“That’s ok” Leah says quietly as she reaches to open her door. “That’s just the concussion talking.” 

She gets out of the car and walks around to your side. You watch the slightly blurry outline of her figure through the window before your door clicks open and she leans in, offering a steady hand. 

“Cmon” she murmurs “slowly now.”

You stare at her hand before ultimately taking it and allow yourself to be guided into her house. Every step feels slightly delayed, like your body is moving half a beat after your brain tells it to. 

“You’re doing fine” Leah says quietly, unlocking the door with her free hand. “Nearly there.”

The moment you step inside you feel it. You don’t need a fully intact brain to. You feel the warm lighting. Soft cozy furnishings and the smell of something lavender like, that you cannot quite place. 

It's a stark contrast to yours. Your’s is a stark contrast. It isn’t messy. Just cold, empty and efficiently tidy. 

You blink at the entryway, steadying yourself on the wall as the fog pulses. 

Leah notices of course. 

“Here” she utters, touching your elbow and shoulder lightly. “Lets get you sitting eh?”

You nod, even though you don’t fully understand her words to a logical sense. She guides you to the sofa with gentle movements. Once you are sat, she crouches to unlace your trainers.

“You ok?” She asks without looking up.

You swallow, nodding even though the motion makes your temples throb. Leah stands and drapes a warm blanket over your legs before going to put the kettle on. 

“You don’t have to…” you start before your voice starts to waver.

“I know” she says simply, getting two mugs out. “But I don’t mind greenie, I care.”

Something loosens in your chest at that and you sink deeper into the sofa, curling into the blanket and before you know it, Leah returns with two steaming mugs. 

“Careful, yeah?” she says as she hands it over and settles in the space next to you. Not too close, giving you space whilst still being near enough to reassure you. “Small sips.”

You follow her instructions, partly because thinking for yourself feels far too heavy, and let the warmth seep into your hands and chest. It grounds you in a way you didn’t know you needed. 

Leah watches you, not intensely or hovering. Just keeping a gentle eye on you. 

Your head feels heavy and your eyes burn, everything mixes together until fighting sleep becomes quite impossible. You try to sit up straighter, blink the heaviness away. But the fog wins and your head tips sideways and lands gently on Leah’s shoulder. You jolt, instinctively, about to pull back but Leah’s hand comes up immediately. Resting her hand against the side of your head, light as a feather. 

“It’s ok” she murmurs “just rest.”

Her voice is so certain and steady that the tension just drains from your muscles before you can even help it. Your breathing evens out and your body softens and within minutes you’re completely asleep. 

Once Leah realises you are properly out cold she doesn’t move, not an inch. Your head is warm against her shoulder and for a moment she just stares ahead at the tv screen. It isn’t on, just the blank screen. But it's all she can focus on. Her eyes slowly drift down to you. 

You look younger like this, not the stiff guarded signing who barely speaks. Constantly scanning rooms as if you may do something wrong by just being there. 

Leah had clocked it within the first week. The way you carried tension like a backpack, jaw tight as if bracing for impact. 

Leah exhales slowly as she adjusts the blanket around you before standing up. 

The next time you stir, Leah isn’t beside you. Your head feels heavy but the fog has thinned just a little enough for you to register the faint clatter of someone in a kitchen. 

You blink yourself awake and sit up slowly trying to ignore the slight tilt of the world. A muted ache blooms behind your eyes as you glance toward the doorway leading to the kitchen. Leah’s silhouette moves around as if she's trying not to disturb you as she reaches for something on the counter before glancing over her shoulder. The moment her eyes land on you sitting upright her whole posture changes, expression softening. 

“Oh hey, you’re up” she says gently, disappearing for a moment before stepping through the threshold into the living room carrying a plate of slightly unevenly buttered toast. She sets the plate down on the coffee table in front of you with a sheepish huff. 

“Right” she begins, rubbing the back of her neck. “So… I’m pretty useless in the kitchen, this is the best I can do without setting something on fire.”

You can’t help but smile, a small but noticeable one. 

“It looks good, thank you” you whisper quietly. 

Leah glances at you and something warm flickers across her expression before she sits back down beside you.

“Eat a bit, yeah? Head’ll feel better with something in you.”

You pick up a piece of toast obediently, even though you are not entirely hungry. The butter has melted in patches but it tastes fine. Like someone has tried, like they care. 

“You feeling any better?”

You nod softly. 

“Just… fuzzy.”

She nods whilst you eat another bite of toast, as if she is waiting for the right moment to speak again. Like she is deciding whether to mention something before she clears her throat. 

“So, one thing” Leah begins “Kim is gonna stop by later.”

Something in your stomach dropped. 

Kim

Coming here

To Leah’s house

Because of you

Your shoulders pull in automatically, shrinking without meaning to. The toast suddenly tastes like cardboard in your mouth and you set it down before she notices your hands starting to shake. 

“Oh” you whisper. “If that’s… if me being here is a problem, I can go. I can go home, I don’t want to…”

Leah’s brow creases instantly. “What? No! Why would it be a problem?”

You look down at your lap, picking at the hem of your blanket. “I just… I didn’t mean to take up your time. Or your space. And now Kim’s coming and I just…”

You swallow. “I just don’t want to be a bother.”

For a split second, Leah looks utterly floored (like the idea hadn’t even occurred to her). Then she exhales, soft and frustrated but not at you.

“Greenie…” she shifts closer “you’re not taking up anything. I asked you to stay, remember?”

You nod weakly, still not fully believing it. 

“And Kim’s coming because she wants to check on you” Leah adds. “Not because I complained. Not because you’re trouble. Because you scared the shit out of everyone yesterday and we care about you.”

Your throat tightens. “You’re… you’re sure?”

Leah nudges your knee with hers. “If I didn’t want you here” she says quietly “I wouldn’t have brought you home. I wouldn’t be making you toast that looks slightly like a toddler made it and I definitely wouldn’t be inviting Kim round whilst you are half asleep in my jumper.”

You glance down at yourself, only now realising that the hoodie you have on isn’t actually yours, and your face heats. 

Leah smiles at your expression fondly. 

“You’re not intruding, ok?”

You inhale shakily, nodding once and settle into the calm that Leah’s living room brings. It’s safe here, unexpectedly safe and you let it soothe you. You stay like this for a little while, wrapped up in a blanket. Its as if the world has finally stopped spinning, just long enough for you to breathe. 

Then the doorbell rings. 

Your whole body goes rigid but Leah notices instantly. Her hand brushes lightly against the back of the sofa. Close enough to reassure but not close enough to startle. 

“That’ll be Kim” she murmurs, “just breathe, yeah? She’s only coming to check on you.”

You nod, though your fingers tighten around the blanket. 

Leah walks to the door, exchanges a few quiet words and then Kim Little steps into the living room.

“Hiya sweetheart” Kim says gently, “how are you doing?”

You pull the blanket a little closer, your stomach twisting in a knot.

“H…Hi Kim… sorry, I didn’t wanna be…”

“No apologising” Kim cuts in firmly, sinking into the armchair across from you. “You and Katie clashed heads hard, worrying is normal. Besides, Katie’s got a brick of a skull, it’s practically reinforced steel!”

Your breath slips out in a small, shaky laugh before Kim studies you a little more carefully. 

“You feeling a bit more steady now?”

“A little” you admit. “Still fuzzy tho.”

“Expected” Kim nods. “So, Leah been looking after you?”

Leah leans against the wall, arms crossed. “Toast, I made toast.”

Kim raises an eyebrow without looking at her. “I’m shocked the kitchen survived.”

Leah flips her off behind Kim’s back. Kim doesn’t see but you do. It pulls another tiny smile out of you. 

“Well” Kim says “Looks to me like Leah’s looking after you pretty well.” 

You feel your face heat again but Leah just huffs out a quiet laugh. “We’re muddling about just fine” Leah replies, tone soft but sure. 

Kim shakes her head immediately - her voice firm and gentle. 

“Sweetheart, you’re not a bother. Not to any of us.”

Leah catches your eye giving you that quiet, reassuring smile again. 

“See.”

Kim settles back, folding her hands calmly. “Now… why don’t you tell me what actually happened yesterday. Katie’s version was about 50 percent swearing and well… Katie being Katie.”

Leah snorts. “So she didn’t mention that she nearly knocked you into next week?!”

“She said” Kim corrects dryly “I barely clipped the kid” followed by a string of… very colourful concerns that definitely aren’t legal in any civilised place.”

You blink, genuinely taken aback.

“She was concerned about me?”

Kim and Leah both snort at the same time. Kim amused and Leah shaking her head fondly. 

“Of course she was” Leah says.

“You took a chunk of her skull with you greenie. She’s a hard headed but loveable idiot.”

“...oh.”

Leah hides a smile. 

“Yeah. Oh.”

A few weeks later:

The morning air at colney is crisp enough to sting your lungs, but in a way that feels good. Your heart beats a little too fast as you step out of Leah’s car, kit bag slung over your shoulder. 

You swallow.

It feels like your first day all over again. Except this time, you’re not walking in alone. 

“Ready?” Leah asks, locking the car behind her and falling into step beside you.

“Um… Yeah” you say, though it sounds more like a question. 

Leah gives you a look but doesn’t push. Instead, just nudges your arm gently. 

“You’re not doing this on your own today, alright?”

You nod.

She leads the way toward the canteen. Your stomach flips at the thought of everyone being in one room, all at once. Leah pushes the canteen doors open and instantly, the noise dies. 

Laughter, chairs scraping, the clatter of cutlery… Everything fades when you step inside. You freeze in place, feeling everyone gaze on you. 

Leah senses your discomfort and steps slightly closer, steady and solid beside you.

Then… 

A chair screeches back loudly and Katie McCabe stands up so fast she nearly knocks her plate over. 

“SEE!” she shouts triumphantly “I TOLD YOU I DIDN’T FLATTEN THE KID THAT MUCH!”

A ripple of laughter breaks the tension as Katie grins, marching toward you. Leah doesn’t move away, if anything she straightens protectively. But Katie stops a respectful distance in front of you. 

“Seriously though… How you feeling?” She asks. 

You blink, overwhelmed by how many eyes are on you. By how many people actually seem to care. 

“I’m… I’m better” you manage. 

Katie exhales like she's been holding her breath for weeks and your response has just lifted a weight off her shoulders. 

“Good” she says firmly relieved. “Didn’t like seeing you go down like that. Gave me the fright of my life.”

You blink again.

“Really?”

Before Katie can respond, Leah cuts in flatly. 

“Yes. Really.”

Katie shoots Leah a look before turning back to you. 

“Well, I’m glad you are ok, training wasn’t the same without you Kid.” she mutters whilst rubbing the back of her neck.

Leah raises a brow.

“You mean it wasn’t as chaotic because you didn’t have someone to body slam?”

“Oh shut up Williamson.”

A soft laughter rises around the room, but not at you, around you and Leah leans in slightly. 

“See, told you they’d be happy you’re here.”

A few weeks later and you had returned to training full time. The routines had slotted back into place and people are treating you normally again.

Almost.

You had moved back into your own flat when you felt steady enough (or Leah felt you were). She drove you back, carried your bags inside and told you to call if anything felt off. It wasn’t until later that you realised something was wrong. 

Your meds weren't in your bathroom cupboard. Nor were they in your training bag or your bedside drawer. You had checked everywhere as your heart slowly made its way into your throat. 

Then you remembered and your stomach dropped. 

You had left them at Leah’s.

For a moment, you held your phone, thumb hovering over Leah’s contact ready to call her or send a message. Just one ‘hey i forgot something’. But you hesitated and froze. 

You’d already stayed at her house - overstayed your welcome if anything.

Already taken her time.

Already been a problem.

Asking for the meds that you had left behind felt like too much. After all she would be busy. She has done more than enough for you and you were just a burden. So you put your phone down. 

That might've been the moment everything started slipping. 

You checked your prescription app - next refill in 26 days. Basically a month and you had never missed more than a dose or two since you were 16. 

You told yourself it would be fine since you were back at training (even if it wasn’t full training). You were doing better and with the concussion fog still lingering a little nobody would notice if you were a little off. 

So you just stopped taking them. 

You didn’t feel any change, not in the next few days. But then, mornings got harder. Your motivation dipped and your emotions dulled but sharpened in unpredictable ways. And that wasn’t you at all. 

You snapped at Kyra once, quietly but she still noticed if her confused hurt face was anything to go by. 

On the pitch, it wasn’t any better. Your touches were heavier and your mind sluggish. You forgot calls you normally heard and lost focus in drills that normally calmed you. 

Everyone chalked it up to your concussion. 

“Still foggy eh?” Renee asked you one afternoon. 

You nodded, but Kim’s eyes lingered on you longer than usual. Beth offered a friendly face and Katie even toned herself down a little in training, not that she would admit it though. 

Leah, now Leah watched you the closest. 

She would call your name twice sometimes before you reacted or step closer to you when you didn’t react at all. Her brows would knit in that quiet way she got when she got worried but didn’t want to crowd you. 

“Greenie?” She’d ask softly, after sessions. “You alright?”

But everytime you would force a small smile and say:

“Yeah, just tired.”

But then you stop showing up. It starts with the odd late session here and there. Then a missed one. Then two. By three Leah is asking questions and by the fourth she is acting on her suspicions. 

She shows up at your flat door with Kim behind her and Katie hovering a step back wiping her hands on her pants (trying not to show her panic).

Leah knocks first. 

“Greenie? It’s me.”

Silence

She tries again, gritting her teeth hard. 

“Open the door. Please.” 

Nothing

Kim steps forward and knocks gently, her voice soft. 

“Sweetheart, we are just checking in. You haven't been in training. We want to know you are doing ok.”

Still nothing

Katie, who had been pacing groans in frustration and pushes past them. 

“Oh for fucks sake… Move!” she mutters, testing the handle. 

It turns:

Unlocked. 

Leah’s whole body tenses as they enter slowly. 

Your flat is dark and quiet, way too quiet and then they spot you. Curled on one end of the sofa, jumper swallowing you but not in the comforting way like before. This time it swallowed you, eyes distant like you were barely there at all and Leah's breath leaves her chest. 

“Greenie…”

Your head moves slowly but startled, like you didn’t expect anyone to ever find you. To ever care enough to find you. 

“What… Why are you here?” Your voice croaks. 

Leah moves first, kneeling in front of you in a way that tries to be calm. But it isn’t, not really. 

“You stopped showing up” she says quietly. “No texts or calls. Nothing. Of course I came.”

Kim sits beside you, gentle hand on your shoulder. 

“Is it your head sweetheart? Do you need to go to the hospital?” She asks calmly. 

You stare at her before shaking your head, not trusting your voice anymore and Kim stares at you. As if she is trying to make her own mind up about your state before nodding and agreeing.

Katie steps closer to the sofa in a controlled manner. 

“You scared us” she says bluntly, “I mean… really scared us.”

You swallow hard, pulling your sleeves over your hands. 

Your chest tightens painfully as you realise there's no hiding now. 

Leah’s eyes search yours desperately. 

“Tell us what’s going on. Please.” 

You stare at the floor trying to find words that won't come. The silence is deafening as they wait. The waiting makes it worse. 

“I… There's something you don’t know” you start, barely above a whisper before looking up at leah as you say. “Well only Leah knows.” But you drop your gaze back to your knees because looking at them feels impossible. “I didn’t… I didn’t want anyone to know.”

Kim shifts a little closer, just letting you know she is there. 

“We’re listening” she says softly. 

You take a breath and it shakes on the way out. 

“I’m on medication” you say finally though the words feel heavy, like they are dragging out of your chest. “Antidepressants. I’ve been on them for a while.”

A quiet settles over the room. A quiet full of surprise but not judgment but you rush to fill it anyway. 

“I didn’t want you to think something was wrong with me” voice trembling “didn’t want to be treated differently or… looked at like I can’t handle things. After the concussion, everyone was checking on me and I… I didn’t want to be the fragile kid on top of that. The one that everyone worries about. I just wanted to be me.”

Kim’s brows pull together and Katie’s mouth parts slightly like she is trying to process everything at once. But Leah, she looks like someone has reached into her chest and squeezed. 

Still you keep going because if you stop now, you may never get the courage again. 

“I need them” you continue quietly. “Not in a dramatic way or because I’m broken just because they help. They make things manageable. Like I can actually get through the day.”

You swallow hard. 

“And when I don’t take them, things get bad. It’s like I’m stuck under water all the time and everyone else is breathing fine.”

There’s a small sound - Katie sharply inhaling but she doesn’t dare interrupt. Your fingers twist in the hem of your sleeve as you continue. 

“And I know I should’ve said something” you whisper. “But I didn’t want you to see me differently. I didn’t want to ruin training or make things seem complicated.”

You force yourself to meet their eyes this time. Not knowing where your bravery was coming from all of a sudden. 

I… I just wanted to be me. Not the kid you feel sorry for or who ruins everything.”

Leah finally moves as she shifts forward on the sofa until she is right in front of you, elbows on her knees and eyes locked on yours. 

“Greenie” she says softly “nobody here thinks you are a burden.”

You tense instinctively shaking your head. 

“But I…”

“No” Leah cuts in gently. “Listen to me. None of us think less of you for this. None of us.”

Kim nods firmly. 

“If anything, it makes me admire you more not less.”

You blink hard. 

Katie clears her throat awkwardly standing with her hands shoved in her pockets as though she doesn’t know what to do with her arms. 

“Yeah… uh same” she mutters. “Being on meds doesn’t make you weak. Hiding it cause you didn’t wanna bother anyone? That’s the part that…” she stops and stares at the floor before swallowing hard. “That kinda breaks my heart to be honest.”

Your eyes widen slightly at that as Katie shrugs, looking away like the floor suddenly became very interesting. 

“I mean it.”

Then Leah's voice breaks the silence. Painfully careful in her next words. 

“How long?” She asks quietly. “How long have you been off them?”

You take a deep breath before admitting it. 

“A few weeks, since I left yours. I didn’t want to… bother you. Didn’t wanna seem irresponsible or make you think I couldn’t look after myself. So I just… didn’t say anything.”

Leah’s eyes close for a brief moment, as if she is physically restraining guilt and when she opens them again they are glassy and fierce all at once. 

“Greenie” she whispers “you could’ve told me. You should have told me. I would've brought them over the same day. I would've done anything you needed.”

You shake your head quickly. 

“I didn’t want to be a burden.”

Leah’s expression softens and breaks all in once. 

“You’re not” she says firmly, “you have never been.”

Kim reaches over, placing a steady hand over yours.

“We’ll sort this” she tells you “together.”

Katie nods, placing a hand over your shoulder and for the first time in weeks something in your chest eases (just a little). 

Just enough to breathe. 

[lvnleah]

blanket girl | katie mccabe.

a little fic for @earpskeeper 🫶🏻

Away trips were your worst idea, especially when you were travelling to a different country. There was just so much hassle that went with it compared to when you were playing at home. 

Airports instead of a coach, hotels instead of your own bed and your whole game day routine being flipped around. And with all that change came the one thing that always made you feel safe. 

Your blanket.

It wasn’t even nice but it meant the world to you. You were always a pretty cold person no matter how many layers you had on. You could have ten layers on and still be freezing like you were in Antarctica. 

Your blanket was a big white fluffy one that was double the size of you. It was perfect for everything. If you were cold, you could just wrap it around your whole body. If you were tired, it could be a pillow. If you just needed something to cuddle, you could bunch it up and cuddle it. 

Everyone knew about your blanket. It was no secret how much you loved it and took it everywhere with you. It even came to training with you. 

“Oh, look, Little Miss Blanket is here!” Leah teased as you walked into the gym. “Cold again?”

“Freezing.” You muttered, giving her a stare, “I just can’t stay warm.”

Leah snorted. “You’re like a pensioner, honestly. We should start bringing you a flask and a little shawl.”

“Leah, you literally eat toast for lunch.” You deadpanned as you made your way over to the mats to stretch. “Toast, Leah.”

“Yeah well, some people like toast for lunch.” She said, rolling her eyes. 

You got yourself sorted on your mat, your blanket draped over your back as you began to stretch. But before you could even start to stretch, an arm suddenly slung over your shoulder, pulling your blanket completely off you. 

Katie.

“Well, well, well,” she drawled loud enough for the entire gym to hear, “if it isn’t Arsenal’s emotional support blanket owner.”

You groaned. “Please don’t start, I’m freezing.”

“Has this thing been washed since 2004?” She asked, holding it up to look at its torn and messy state. 

“Yes!” you snapped, tugging it away protectively and putting it back over you. “Yesterday.”

“Liar,” she grinned, “It’s not even white anymore!”

“Oi,” Leah called out, “to be fair, that blanket has seen every breakdown she’s ever had.”

“Exactly!” Katie clapped loudly. “It’s traumatised. We need to retire it before it develops PTSD.”

You rolled your eyes as she walked off, clutching your blanket close to you like a child. Everyone teased you but everyone also got it. The blanket was your thing. It always had been and always would be. 

Even Katie knew that.

The trip to Munich to play Bayern Munich away was chaotic from the start.

Delayed flight. Rushed boarding. Turbulence. Kyra spilling coffee on her socks. Steph was trying to not lose Kyra. Beth taking the mick out of your blanket being draped over you. 

In all the chaos, you clung to your blanket, spread over your legs. It was your little piece of home.

Except after landing, after baggage claim, after the bus to the hotel, your stomach plummeted. Your blanket was not in your carry-on. You could have sworn you folded it up and placed it in your carry-on, not wanting it to get dirty in the rain. 

As everyone got checked into the hotel, you silently began to panic. You searched through every single bag you had with you. You searched your carry-on multiple times. 

Nothing. Your blanket wasn’t there. 

“I’ve got your key, you're in–” Katie said, stopping the moment she saw you panicking. “Woahhh, what’s wrong?”

“I’ve left my fucking blanket on the plane!” You basically shouted, grabbing the attention of everyone around you. “It’s on the plane, it’s not in my bag. It’s gone!”

“It can’t be gone,” Beth said as she wandered over to you, “Let me check your bag.”

“Yeah let Beth have a look,” Katie nodded, pulling you into a hug, “I’m sure it’s around here or on the coach somewhere.”

“Katie, it isn’t,” you whispered, voice wobbling as you forced yourself not to fall apart in the middle of the hotel lobby. “It’s gone. I–I swear I put it in my bag, I swear I did, I don’t know how—”

“Hey, hey,” Katie murmured, arms tightening around you. Her teasing was gone, replaced by something that made your stomach flip. “Don’t panic yet. We’ll figure it out, alright?”

Beth rifled through your bag like her life depended on it. When she couldn’t find the big blanket, she turned to you slowly. Her lips pressed together as she shook her head. 

“Mate,” she sighed, “it’s definitely not in here.”

You swallowed hard, eyes burning. “I’m so stupid. How do I just…forget it? It goes everywhere with me. It’s a massive white blanket!”

Katie cupped the back of your neck gently, guiding your forehead to her shoulder so you didn’t have to look at the other girls watching. “You were tired, sweetheart. And stressed. And Kyra was annoying on the flight. It happens.”

Kyra, a few metres away, shouted, “I said ONE thing!”

Katie ignored her completely. “Do you want me to get someone to call the airline? They’re probably cleaning the plane now. They might find it.”

You nearly laughed. “Yeah… a grown woman asking an airline to look for her lost comfort blanket. That’ll go well.”

Katie pulled back so you’d look at her. “Hey. Don’t talk about it like that.” 

Her eyes flicked down to your lips for half a second. You pretended not to notice but your heart absolutely did.

It turned out the airline couldn’t find it. Or maybe they didn’t try very hard. Either way, your blanket was gone, and you spent the rest of the night curled up under the stiff hotel sheets, shaking from how cold the room was. 

Katie knocked on your door twice, checking on you. The second time, she slipped inside quietly and sat on the edge of your bed. “D’you want me to stay until you fall asleep?”

You shook your head, “I’m okay, you go to sleep. It’s midnight, we have a match tomorrow.”

Katie sighed, “Okay, I’ll come back in the morning. Call me if you need anything, yeah?”

You nodded, turning over and pulling the sheet up over you to try and comfort you the best you could. Katie didn’t head back to her hotel room, instead, she headed to the nearest TK Maxx and searched for the closest thing to your blanket.

An hour later, a soft knock sounded at your door. You opened it and froze.

Katie stood there, hair in a messy bun, cheeks flushed from running, holding something big and white and fluffy in her arms.

A blanket.

A new one. Huge, soft, thick. The exact same colour as your old one.

Her voice was quiet, almost shy. “I know it’s not your one,” she said, eyes flicking to the floor, “and it’s not perfect. But I… I thought maybe it’d help you feel safe.”

Your chest cracked open. “You… did this for me?”

She shrugged awkwardly. “Ran straight from here to three different shops. The cashier thought I was having a crisis.”

You laughed, “Katie, that’s so sweet. You really didn’t have to.”

She swallowed, looking at you properly for the first time. “I hate seeing you sad,” she whispered. “And I know that blanket meant a lot. So… yeah. This is my best shot.”

You stepped forward and wrapped your arms around her tightly, your face pressed into her hoodie.

Katie stiffened in surprise, then held you just as tightly. When you finally pulled back, the new blanket was already draped around your shoulders, warm and comforting and yours.

“Come in?” you asked softly.

Katie smiled, “Yeah,” she said. “Yeah, I’ll stay.”

Three days later, you practically burst through the entrance of London Colney with the kind of energy nobody ever had on a freezing Tuesday morning.

“Someone’s excited,” Leah commented without even looking up, tightening her boots. “Did you finally find coffee strong enough to keep you alive?”

“No,” you grinned so wide your cheeks hurt. “Better.”

That got her attention. She turned just as you yanked something big and white from behind your back with the enthusiasm of a child showing off a newfound treasure.

Your blanket.

Your original, battered, slightly off-white comfort blanket. Immediately, half the team stared like you’d just walked in with a ghost.

“No way!” Kyra shrieked first, sprinting over and grabbing a corner. “It’s back?!”

“I–I thought the airline said?” Beth blinked, walking over with total disbelief.

“They did!” you beamed, hugging the blanket to your chest. “But after we landed home, someone from customer services called. They found it wedged between the seat and the wall. They shipped it back to me overnight!”

Leah raised her eyebrows. “So the blanket returns.”

“Yep!” You bounced on your toes. Actually bounced. “It’s home. It’s safe. And clean-ish.”

But as everyone laughed, your eyes drifted to Katie. She was smiling as she massaged her calf. You walked over to her, your old blanket hanging over your arm.

“You okay?” you asked quietly.

Katie nodded. “Course. Just glad you got it back.”

You stepped closer, nudging her arm with your elbow. “You know,” You said softly, “I still slept with the new one last night.”

Katie’s eyes flicked to yours. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “Both of them, actually. They’re different. But they both make me feel safe.”

Katie swallowed, and for a second, her mouth opened like she was about to say something important. Something big.

Then Steph yelled from across the gym, “Oi! Bring your magic blanket over here, my hamstrings are freezing!”

You rolled your eyes and yelled back, “It’s a blanket, not a medical device!”

But before you walked off, you leaned in, voice loud enough so just Katie could hear. “Thank you again. For the new one.”

Katie’s smile softened into something almost shy. “Anytime, sweetheart.”

Your cheeks burned. Sweetheart.

You walked away before you blushed so hard you passed out, dragging your old blanket with you and feeling Katie’s gaze follow you the whole way across the gym.

Everyone then joked that you had two emotional support blankets now.

[earpskeeper]

she’s such a loveable potato i can’t 🥰🥰🥰

thank you rat

[femini-nomenon]

The Silence Between Cheers

Alexia Putellas x Reader

6.5k WC | Heavy Angst | GIF not mine

Summary: As Captain, Alexia notices a change in Y/N… can she help before it’s too late

TW: Bad mental health, Mention of Suicide Ideation, Depression. Read at your own discretion.

The locker room of FC Barcelona Femeni was never truly quiet. Even on the most serious days, there was always laughter, always voices echoing against the white tiles. It was part of what made the team feel like home, like family.

And for Y/N, it had always been her safe space.

She was the loud one. The one who sang at the top of her lungs when someone’s playlist blasted through the speakers, the one who made up ridiculous chants during warm-ups, the one who pulled faces during photo shoots just to get Mapi to snort in the background.

“Y/N, you’re unbearable,” Patri would laugh, even though she was grinning, always grinning, because Y/N’s energy was infectious.

That was her role: the spark. The noise. The sunshine.

But lately, the spark had begun to flicker. It started subtly.

During rondos, when everyone shouted and teased, Y/N’s laughter was a beat too late, or missing altogether. When Mapi draped an arm around her shoulders, joking about her terrible passing, Y/N smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

At first, no one noticed. Teams were busy. Schedules were tight. Everyone was focused on the upcoming Champions League clash. The pressure mounted like it always did before big games, and nerves made people quieter than usual.

But Alexia noticed.

Alexia noticed everything about Y/N.

From the way she used to bounce into the training ground with her headphones around her neck, narrating her morning like it was a stand-up routine, to the way she had started slipping in unnoticed, hoodie drawn up, earbuds firmly in place.

From the way her voice used to carry across the pitch, calling encouragements, cracking jokes… to the way she now played in silence.

She wasn’t the same.

“Y/N,” Alexia said one morning after training, catching her as they left the pitch. “Walk with me.”

Y/N forced a grin, pushing her water bottle into her bag. “What’s up, Capitana? Want me to teach you some new dance moves?”

Normally, Alexia would roll her eyes and smile at the joke. Today, she only studied her face, her voice careful. “Just… wanted to check in. You’ve been quiet.”

Y/N shrugged, tightening her ponytail even though it didn’t need fixing. “Guess I’m finally learning from you. Silent assassin vibes.”

“Mm.” Alexia’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t push, though. She never did, not yet. “Alright. Just… remember we’re here, sí?”

“Always.” Y/N flashed her a smile so bright it almost looked real.

But Alexia walked away with a knot in her stomach.

Over the next week, the team tried, in their own ways. Aitana slid into the seat beside her in the cafeteria, nudging her with a grin. “You’re too quiet, Y/N. That means you’re plotting something. Should I be scared?”

Y/N chuckled, soft and tired. “Maybe.”

Claudia Pina sent her memes late at night, the kind they usually laughed at for hours, but Y/N only replied with a single emoji.

Mapi cornered her after training, looping an arm around her neck. “Vale, you’re officially boring me. Talk. What’s going on?”

Y/N wriggled free, her smile brittle. “Just tired, Mapi. Chill.”

And when even Mapi gave her a lingering look of worry, Alexia knew it wasn’t just nerves.

The match build-up intensified. Reporters hounded them, fans crowded training, and the pressure was suffocating.

Y/N didn’t joke anymore. Didn’t sing.

She sat with her headphones in, scrolling aimlessly on her phone.

Alexia sat across the room, pretending to lace her boots slower than usual, just so she could watch. And every time Y/N’s gaze drifted, distant and unfocused, Alexia’s chest tightened.

Two days before the match, it came to a head.

Training was intense. Passes sharp, voices raised. But Y/N was… absent.

Not physically; she was there, sprinting, pressing, following drills. But her movements lacked fire. She was slower to react, slower to smile.

And then, during a small-sided game, she missed a wide-open chance. Nobody minded. It happened. But Y/N froze, staring at the ground like the miss had cracked something inside her.

When Alexia jogged over, clapping her on the back, Y/N pulled away.

“I’m fine,” she said, too quickly.

But she wasn’t fine.

That night, Alexia lay awake, staring at her ceiling. She’d been captain long enough to know when a teammate was struggling. She’d seen injuries break people, pressure crush them. But this… this felt heavier.

It wasn’t about football anymore.

Y/N’s laughter had been the team’s soundtrack. And now, the silence she left behind felt unbearable.

Alexia grabbed her phone, thumb hovering over Y/N’s name. What could she even say?

Are you okay? Talk to me. I’m worried about you.

She typed and deleted each message, her chest aching with frustration. Finally, she wrote the simplest truth:

I miss you.

She stared at the screen, waiting.

One checkmark. Two.

No reply.

The next morning, Y/N showed up with a smile plastered on her face, louder than she’d been in weeks.

“Who’s ready to destroy Wolfsburg, huh?” she shouted, clapping her hands, voice booming.

Teammates laughed, relieved. But Alexia’s eyes narrowed, because she knew.

The smile was too bright.

The voice was too loud.

The performance too perfect.

And beneath it all, the silence was still there, waiting.

Game day rituals were sacred.

For Y/N, they had always been the loudest part of her personality. She’d blast reggaeton in the locker room, drag Mariona into impromptu dance-offs, and lead the team through absurd warm-up chants that had nothing to do with football.

Today, the room buzzed with nervous energy, boots squeaking against tile, but Y/N was quiet.

Alexia noticed first. She always did.

Y/N sat on the bench, headphones around her neck, staring at her untied laces. Her smile looked glued on, like she was trying to convince everyone, including herself, that she was fine.

“Vale, quién está lista?!” Mapi yelled, pumping her fist. The team answered with shouts, claps, energy bouncing off the walls.

All except Y/N.

On the pitch, Y/N was competent, professional, but gone was the swagger that usually defined her game. She moved like she was playing underwater. Every sprint looked heavy, every decision just a step too late.

The crowd didn’t see it. Fans cheered when she won a tackle, when she laid off a neat pass. But Alexia, sharp-eyed as ever, saw the slump in her shoulders when she thought no one was watching.

By halftime, Barça were level. The team huddled around Jonatan, nodding to his instructions. Y/N hung back, wiping sweat from her brow, gaze unfocused.

“Y/N,” Alexia said softly when the coach stepped away.

“Yeah?”

“You okay?”

Y/N grinned, too wide. “Never better, Capitana.”

But Alexia heard the crack in her voice.

Barça won, but the dressing room celebration felt incomplete. Normally, Y/N would’ve been the loudest; starting chants, spraying water bottles, teasing teammates until they cried with laughter.

Instead, she slipped into the background.

“Y/N!” Mapi threw an arm around her, tugging her toward the group photo. “Don’t you dare hide. You’re part of this.”

Y/N smiled, leaned into the shot, even threw up a goofy peace sign. And yet, when Alexia looked at the picture later on Instagram, she could see it: the shadow behind her eyes.

The following days were worse.

Training became mechanical for Y/N, no spark, no jokes, just drills and sprints.

“Oi,” Aitana said one morning, nudging her shoulder. “Where’s my annoying partner-in-crime? Don’t tell me you’ve abandoned me for Patri.”

Y/N chuckled, small and forced. “Just conserving my energy.”

Aitana frowned, unconvinced.

Later, Patri caught Alexia’s eye across the pitch, nodding subtly toward Y/N. It was confirmation of what Alexia already knew: they were all starting to notice.

That evening, the squad gathered at Mariona’s place for a team dinner. Laughter and music filled the apartment, plates of tapas spread across the table.

But Y/N sat on the couch, aimlessly scrolling on her phone.

“Vale, no,” Ingrid Engen said, plopping down beside her. “Phones away. You’re missing Mariona’s terrible playlist.”

Y/N smirked faintly, slipping her phone into her pocket. “You’re just jealous she’s got better taste than you.”

“Impossible,” Ingrid shot back.

It was banter. Familiar. Safe. But Alexia, sitting across the room, saw the way Y/N’s hand lingered in her pocket, fingers brushing her phone like it was a lifeline.

She also saw the way Y/N’s eyes darted toward the balcony door more than once, like her thoughts were somewhere far away.

After dinner, when most of the team spilled into the kitchen for dessert, Alexia found her chance.

She approached quietly, leaning against the wall beside Y/N.

“You’re not fooling me, you know.”

Y/N blinked. “What?”

“This act. The smiles, the jokes when you remember to put them on. It’s not you.”

Y/N’s throat worked as she swallowed. “Alexia…”

“You don’t have to tell me everything,” Alexia continued gently. “But don’t shut us out. Don’t shut me out.”

Y/N forced a laugh, standing too quickly. “I’m fine, Capitana. Really.”

She slipped into the kitchen before Alexia could say more. But the knot in Alexia’s chest only tightened.

Later that night, Alexia lay in bed scrolling through her phone. She opened Instagram and tapped Y/N’s profile.

The most recent post was from months ago, Y/N, grinning with her arm slung around Aitana, captioned with a joke.

Nothing since.

On her story, though, there was something. A black background. A song lyric - sad, haunting.

It was gone by the time Alexia refreshed. Deleted.

But she’d seen it.

And she couldn’t shake the feeling that time was running out.

The season rolled on. Victories stacked up, goals were celebrated, but the glow that used to radiate from Y/N never returned.

She was there, of course, present at training, in the lineup, on the bench when rotated. But it was like watching a ghost wear her jersey.

One morning in the gym, Y/N went through the motions. Deadlifts, squats, shoulder presses; heavy, precise, silent. Normally she’d make a show of it, flexing dramatically for the others, teasing Lucy about her form, or challenging Ona to a plank-off.

Not today.

When Lucy called out, “Oi, Y/N, you’re suspiciously quiet… saving energy to beat me later?” Y/N only forced a small smile. “You’d win anyway.”

Lucy frowned, exchanging a glance with Keira.

In the locker room, the team’s chatter swirled around her. Mariona joked with Patri about who made the worst coffee, Mapi complained about her Spotify being hacked again, and Cata Coll burst into laughter so loud it echoed down the hallway.

Y/N sat on the bench, tying and retying her boots long after they were tight enough.

“Vale, Y/N, you’re going to strangle your foot,” Mapi said, crouching down beside her.

“I like it snug.” Y/N smiled without looking up.

Mapi studied her for a long second. “You used to like it loud.”

Y/N’s fingers stilled, but she didn’t answer.

The distance seeped into matches too.

During a crucial league game, Y/N pressed and tracked back, did everything right tactically, but where she once sparked joy in her teammates, now she played with flat efficiency.

When Pina scored, Y/N jogged over to hug her, clapping dutifully, smile plastered on. But as the others piled in, she slipped away toward the halfway line, standing alone while the cameras followed the celebration.

From the bench, Alexia’s chest ached.

After the match, the squad piled onto the bus, energy buzzing. Aitana threw herself into the seat beside Y/N, leaning against her shoulder.

“You’re too quiet, Y/N. You know what that means?”

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “That I’m growing up?”

“No,” Aitana said firmly. “That you’re lying.”

Y/N chuckled softly, brushing her off. “Go annoy Patri instead.”

But Aitana lingered, gaze sharp with worry.

Later that week, Jonatan pulled Alexia aside after training.

“Keep an eye on Y/N, eh?” His voice was low, careful. “Something’s off. She’s working hard, but…”

“I know,” Alexia admitted. “I see it.”

“She won’t talk to me,” Jonatan sighed. “Maybe she’ll talk to you.”

Alexia nodded, but inside she felt helpless. She’d already tried, and Y/N kept slipping away like smoke through her fingers.

That night, the team went out for dinner after a sponsor event. The restaurant buzzed with laughter, waiters weaving between tables carrying trays of tapas.

Y/N sat between Ingrid and Mariona, smiling, nodding at the conversation. But her fork only pushed food around her plate.

“You’re not hungry?” Ingrid asked.

“Just tired,” Y/N murmured.

Across the table, Alexia noticed everything: how Y/N flinched at sudden laughter, how her eyes dimmed when she thought no one was watching, how she kept glancing at the exit like she wanted to run.

Alexia wanted to reach across, to take her hand, to say something that would break the wall. But surrounded by teammates, Y/N’s mask was impenetrable.

When the night ended, Y/N slipped away before anyone could stop her. No goodbye hugs, no promises of “see you tomorrow.” Just gone.

Back in her apartment, Alexia scrolled Instagram instinctively. Y/N’s story popped up: a blurry photo of the city skyline, captioned with a single word.

Empty.

The story vanished moments later. Deleted.

But Alexia had seen it. And it left her staring at the ceiling long into the night, a weight pressing down on her chest.

The next morning, Y/N arrived to training later than usual. Hoodie pulled low, earbuds in, eyes shadowed.

When she walked past, Alexia called softly, “Buenos días.”

Y/N glanced up, forced a smile, nodded. But she didn’t stop. Alexia watched her walk away, her stomach twisting with dread.

Because the girl who once lit up every room now carried a storm cloud no one could break through.

And Alexia couldn’t shake the terrifying thought…

What if one day, she doesn’t come back at all?

The first time Y/N skipped training, it was small enough to excuse. She texted the group chat in the morning: Not feeling great. See you tomorrow.

Teammates replied with quick emojis, hearts, flexed arms, a few jokes about faking sick to avoid gym day. No one thought much of it.

But when Alexia saw her the next day, pale and distant, she knew it hadn’t been a stomach bug.

The second time, there was no message.

Jonatan had barely finished warm-ups before he asked, “Anyone heard from Y/N?”

Blank looks all around.

Alexia’s chest tightened. She slipped her phone from her pocket, typing quickly.

Where are you? You okay? Talk to me, please.

No response.

Training dragged on, drills sharp and demanding, but Alexia’s focus kept breaking. She scanned the empty spot on the bench, the water bottle Y/N usually carried, the silence where her laugh should’ve been.

When training ended, Alexia ducked out early. She walked to her car with her phone clutched tight, refreshing her messages like something might magically appear.

It didn’t.

By evening, Y/N finally texted: Sorry. Overslept. Won’t happen again.

A simple explanation. Too simple.

Alexia typed out a dozen replies; everything from liar to I’m coming over. In the end, she only sent:

I’m worried about you.

Read. No answer.

The cracks widened at dinner with the squad.

The restaurant buzzed, waiters darting between tables, laughter loud enough to spill onto the street. Everyone ordered big, shared plates, clinked glasses.

Y/N barely touched her food again.

“Come on, try this,” Mariona said, dropping a croqueta onto her plate. “Best thing here.”

Y/N smiled faintly. “I’m good.”

When Mariona nudged again, Y/N picked it up, took a small bite, then set it down. Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. Across the table, Alexia watched with quiet dread.

Later that week, after a draining training session, Alexia lingered in the locker room until most of the others had left.

Y/N sat on the far bench, still in her kit, staring at her phone.

“You didn’t eat again,” Alexia said softly.

Y/N looked up, blinking. “I wasn’t hungry.”

“You’re never hungry anymore.”

Y/N sighed, forcing a grin. “Careful, Capitana. You’re starting to sound like my mom.”

Alexia crossed the room, sitting down beside her. “I don’t care what I sound like. You’re not okay.”

For a split second, Y/N’s mask faltered. Her eyes glistened, her lip trembled.

But then she blinked, plastered on another smile, and stood. “I’m fine, Ale. Don’t worry so much.”

She grabbed her bag and left.

Alexia sat there in the empty room, her chest aching with the weight of all the words she hadn’t been able to say.

The scariest crack came days later.

Training had been brutal; sharp sprints, tactical drills, finishing practice. The team collapsed onto the grass at the end, laughing, groaning, swearing in half a dozen languages.

Y/N lay flat on her back, chest heaving.

When Aitana jogged over and dropped onto the grass beside her, Y/N muttered without thinking, “Wouldn’t it be easier if I just didn’t wake up tomorrow?”

The words slipped out like air, quiet, almost playful.

Aitana froze.

“What did you say?”

Y/N blinked, realisation flashing across her face. Then she chuckled, waving it off. “Nothing. Just tired. You know me…being dramatic.”

But Aitana didn’t laugh. Her heart hammered.

That night, she texted Alexia.

Ale… I think something’s really wrong with Y/N.

Alexia didn’t sleep.

She lay in the dark, staring at the ceiling, replaying every smile, every silence, every too-casual dismissal.

She thought of Y/N’s story: Empty. She thought of the missed trainings. She thought of the words Aitana had heard.

And for the first time, fear rooted itself in her chest.

Because it was no longer just about a teammate being quiet.

It was about losing her.

And Alexia wasn’t sure how much time they had left.

The team noticed now.

It wasn’t just Alexia, or Aitana, or Mapi… it was everyone.

The absences, the missed meals, the forced smiles. The way Y/N’s laughter, once the heartbeat of every room, now sounded hollow when it appeared at all.

And so, quietly, without saying it out loud, they began to act.

It started with little things.

Mariona insisted on driving Y/N home after training. “Gas is cheaper if we share,” she claimed, even though they both knew she lived in the opposite direction.

Patri began bringing extra food containers, sliding them across the table. “My mom made too much,” she’d say with a shrug, pretending not to notice when Y/N only picked at it.

Mapi teased her relentlessly during warm-ups, but with an edge of desperation, like if she could just get Y/N to roll her eyes or laugh, things might go back to normal.

Even Cata Coll, usually quiet, started checking in. “Need a lift? A coffee? Anything?”

But Y/N deflected every time, slipping through their concern with practiced ease.

“I’m fine.”

“Just tired.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

The words came so easily they almost sounded true. Almost.

One night after training, Alexia gathered the team leaders: Mapi, Patri, Aitana, Mariona,at the far end of the locker room.

“She’s not okay,” Alexia said firmly.

“No shit,” Mapi muttered.

“We’ve all tried,” Patri added softly. “She shuts down.”

Aitana crossed her arms, restless. “She told me she… she said something scary last week. And then she laughed it off.”

Silence fell. Heavy.

Mariona finally broke it. “So what do we do?”

Alexia looked around at them, at the worry etched on every face. “We don’t stop trying.”

The next day, the team made their attempt.

It was supposed to be simple, just a casual bonding night. Movies at Mariona’s, blankets and popcorn, the kind of tradition that usually brought Y/N alive with commentary and jokes.

When she walked in, the room lit up with chatter.

“Finally!” Mapi threw an arm around her neck, dragging her to the couch. “We were going to start without you.”

“Rude,” Y/N muttered with a faint smile.

They piled snacks into her lap, argued over films, poked fun at each other. At first, Y/N sat stiffly, clutching the blanket like a shield.

Eventually, she relaxed enough to smile. She even laughed once, quietly, when Aitana nearly spilled soda on herself.

But halfway through the movie, she slipped away.

The others barely noticed until Alexia got up to grab more water and found her standing alone on the balcony, arms folded tight, staring out at the city lights.

“Cold out here,” Alexia said, stepping beside her.

Y/N glanced over, startled, then shrugged. “I needed air.”

Alexia studied her profile, the sharp line of her jaw, the tension in her shoulders. “We’re worried about you.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “I know.”

“Then let us help.”

For a long moment, Y/N was silent. Her fingers gripped the balcony railing so hard her knuckles whitened. Finally, she whispered, “You can’t.”

The words landed like stones.

Before Alexia could answer, Y/N slipped back inside, past the laughter, past the warmth, into her own silence.

Later that night, as the movie ended and teammates yawned their goodbyes, Alexia lingered again.

She found Y/N in the hallway, pulling on her shoes.

“Wait.” Alexia reached out, lightly catching her arm.

Y/N stilled, but didn’t look at her.

Alexia’s voice softened. “I miss you.”

Y/N swallowed hard. “I’m right here.”

“No, you’re not,” Alexia whispered.

For a second, just a second, Y/N’s eyes flickered with pain so raw Alexia almost stepped closer, almost reached out.

But then the mask slid back into place. Y/N tugged her arm free, forcing a smile.

“Goodnight, Ale.”

And she was gone.

Leaving Alexia standing alone in the quiet, her chest aching with the terrifying thought that maybe Y/N truly didn’t want to be saved.

The silence had become normal.

Not just the absence of Y/N’s jokes, or her voice cutting through drills, or her singing off-key in the showers. It was heavier than that, like a fog that clung to her, following her into every space, dimming the light around her.

The team felt it. Every single one of them.

But no one knew how to fix it. At training, she did everything asked. Sharp passes, timed runs, focused marking. On paper, she was fine.

But there was no spark. No fire.

“She’s like a robot,” Mapi muttered one afternoon as they jogged off the pitch.

“She’s surviving,” Patri corrected quietly.

Neither of them liked the truth in those words.

In the cafeteria, Y/N sat alone with her tray. She picked at her food while the others crowded around tables, laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Hey,” Mariona said brightly, sliding into the seat across from her. “You ditched me yesterday. I had to drink coffee alone.”

Y/N smirked faintly. “Tragic.”

Mariona leaned forward. “You’re coming tomorrow, though, right?”

Y/N shrugged. “Maybe.”

When Mariona turned her head to laugh at something Patri called across the room, Y/N slipped away, tray barely touched.

In the locker room, Alexia watched her more than she watched anyone.

Y/N moved like she didn’t want to take up space. Always on the edge of group conversations, always slipping out first, always careful to look fine when someone looked too closely.

Alexia’s chest ached with it.

The team tried again, this time under the guise of celebration: Claudia’s birthday. Balloons, cake, music blasting.

Everyone laughed, danced, shouted over each other.

Everyone except Y/N.

She showed up, gave Claudia a gift, hugged her tight. She even managed a small toast. But when the music turned up and the others crowded the dance floor, she sat at the edge of the room, nursing a soda.

Ona flopped down beside her. “What, too cool to dance?”

“Exactly,” Y/N said, lips twitching in something almost like a smile.

“Liar,” Ona grinned, nudging her shoulder. “You love this stuff.”

Y/N shrugged. “Not tonight.”

Ona studied her for a moment, then sighed, letting it go.

When Alexia came looking minutes later, Y/N was gone.

The next morning, Alexia found her on the training ground early. Alone. Passing a ball against the wall, over and over, as though repetition could drown out whatever storm raged inside her.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Alexia asked softly, approaching.

Y/N caught the ball, turned. “Something like that.”

“Y/N…” Alexia hesitated, then forced the words out. “We’re not blind. We know something’s wrong.”

Y/N’s jaw tightened. “I told you. I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” Alexia’s voice was firm but gentle. “And pretending doesn’t make it true.”

For a heartbeat, Y/N froze. Her eyes shimmered, vulnerable, raw.

But then the mask slammed back into place. She tossed the ball lightly from hand to hand.

“Stop worrying about me, Ale. Worry about the game.”

And just like that, she jogged off toward the drills, leaving Alexia standing in the early morning light with her heart heavy in her chest.

By evening, the silence was worse than ever.

The group chat buzzed with memes and plans for the weekend. Y/N sent nothing.

Alexia stared at her phone long into the night, refreshing, waiting, dreading.

Because the quiet had gone from unusual… to unbearable… to dangerous.

And she couldn’t shake the thought:

How much longer before silence swallows her completely?

It happened on a rainy night.

Training had been brutal, everyone soaked, the ball skidding unpredictably across the slick turf. By the time the session ended, the squad was laughing at the chaos; mud on faces, water dripping into eyes.

Everyone except Y/N.

She had left without a word, hoodie up, vanishing into the downpour before anyone could stop her.

Alexia couldn’t shake the image all evening.

It was nearly midnight when her phone buzzed; an Instagram story from Y/N. Just a blurry photo of the sea, waves black under storm clouds, captioned with nothing but a broken heart emoji.

Alexia’s blood went cold.

She was in her car before she even thought about it, rain hammering the windshield as she drove toward the coast.

She found Y/N standing on the rocks by the water, rain plastering her hair to her face, arms wrapped around herself.

“Y/N!” Alexia’s voice cracked as she stumbled across the slick ground. “What the hell are you doing out here?”

Y/N turned slowly, eyes red, face hollow. “Just needed air.”

“Air?” Alexia’s chest heaved, panic twisting her stomach. “You’re standing on a cliff in the middle of a storm. You scared the shit out of me.”

Y/N’s lips curved into the faintest, saddest smile. “Didn’t mean to.”

The words made Alexia’s heart splinter. She stepped closer, reaching out like one wrong move might send Y/N tumbling. “Talk to me. Please.”

For a moment, Y/N’s mask slipped. Her voice cracked. “I’m so tired, Ale.”

Alexia swallowed hard. “Then let us carry some of it. Let me carry some of it.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, but then she blinked, turned away, shut the door again. “I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.” Alexia’s voice trembled, fierce with desperation. “I can see it. Everyone can see it. Don’t do this alone.”

Y/N shook her head. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me.”

But Y/N only pulled her hood up, retreating into silence.

Minutes later, she mumbled, “I should go,” and brushed past her, walking back toward the road.

Alexia stood frozen on the rocks, rain soaking her through, her heart hammering with terror.

Because for one split second, she had seen it… the darkness, the exhaustion, the edge Y/N was standing on.

And she knew if she stayed quiet, she might lose her.

The next morning, Alexia called a meeting.

The locker room was empty except for the players she trusted most: Mapi, Patri, Mariona, Aitana, Ingrid, Lucy, Keira. One by one, they gathered, worry etched across every face.

“What’s going on?” Mapi asked, arms crossed.

Alexia took a shaky breath. “Last night, I found Y/N at the cliffs. In the rain. She-” Her voice cracked. She forced herself to continue. “She scared me. Really scared me.”

Silence fell, heavy and suffocating.

“Oh, joder,” Mariona whispered.

“She told me she’s tired,” Alexia said, eyes burning. “She won’t let me in. She won’t let any of us in. But if we don’t do something, if we keep letting her brush us off- I don’t think…” Her throat closed. She shook her head. “I don’t think she’ll be okay.”

For once, Mapi had no joke, no deflection. Just raw fear in her eyes. “So we don’t give her the choice. We make her see us.”

Patri nodded. “Together.”

Aitana’s jaw tightened. “We’re not losing her.”

Alexia looked around at them, this family, this team. Determined. United.

“Then we intervene,” she whispered.

And in that moment, they all silently swore: they would not let Y/N fade away.

They chose the training ground.

Not in the middle of drills, not where staff could interrupt, but afterward, in the quiet of the locker room when boots were off and sweat still clung to their skin.

Y/N was tying her laces to leave when Alexia’s voice cut through the air.

“Stay.”

Y/N looked up, confused. Around her, teammates hadn’t left, they lingered, forming a circle without making it obvious, all eyes on her.

A prickle of unease ran down her spine. “What’s going on?”

Mapi leaned against the lockers, arms crossed. “We’re done pretending nothing’s wrong.”

Y/N stiffened. “Mapi-”

“No.” It was Patri this time, her voice soft but firm. “We’ve watched you pull away for weeks. Smiles that don’t reach your eyes. Meals you don’t eat. Training you skip.”

“And last night,” Alexia added quietly, stepping forward. “The cliffs.”

Y/N froze, blood running cold. She flicked her gaze to Alexia, betrayal flashing in her eyes. “You told them?”

“Yes.” Alexia’s voice trembled, but her stare was steady. “Because I’m terrified, Y/N. Because I thought I might lose you.”

The silence was heavy. The circle closed tighter, not physically, but with presence. With love that left no escape.

“I’m fine,” Y/N said finally, voice sharp, defensive. “You’re all overreacting.”

“No.” Aitana shook her head. Her usual spark was gone, replaced with raw fear. “I heard you, Y/N. You said you didn’t want to wake up. That wasn’t a joke.”

Y/N’s throat tightened. “I was tired. I didn’t mean…”

“You did,” Lucy interrupted gently, her accent softening the blow. “Even if you don’t want to admit it. We can all see it.”

Y/N’s chest heaved. She looked around at them, searching for an escape, but everywhere she turned there were familiar faces, concern etched deep, refusing to let her run.

“You don’t get it,” she whispered. “You can’t fix me.”

“We’re not trying to fix you,” Mariona said quickly. She moved closer, voice shaking. “We’re trying to keep you here. With us. We love you. That’s it. That’s all this is.”

Y/N’s lip trembled. “I don’t deserve it.”

“Bullshit,” Mapi said, her voice cracking. “You’re family. You’re ours. You don’t get to decide you’re not worth it.”

Patri’s hand brushed Y/N’s arm, tentative but grounding. “You don’t have to carry this alone.”

Tears stung Y/N’s eyes. She blinked rapidly, trying to shove them back, trying to rebuild the mask.

But Alexia stepped forward, closer than anyone else, her voice breaking as she whispered:

“I can’t lose you.”

The words splintered something deep inside Y/N. For one fragile second, the mask shattered. Her shoulders shook, tears spilling freely as the weight of everything pressed down.

The circle closed tighter, teammates reaching, hands on her back, her arms, her shoulders, holding her without crushing her.

But then, as quickly as it broke, Y/N scrambled to rebuild.

She pulled back, wiping her face harshly. “Stop. I don’t want…” Her voice cracked. She swallowed. “I don’t need this.”

Alexia’s heart twisted, but she didn’t move, didn’t let the distance grow.

“You don’t have to want it,” she said firmly. “You just have to let us stay.”

Y/N shook her head, desperate, broken. “You’ll get tired of me.”

“Never,” Aitana said instantly.

“Not a chance,” Mapi added.

“One day at a time,” Patri murmured.

“Together,” Alexia finished, eyes locked on hers.

Y/N’s chest rose and fell, the silence around her deafening. The mask was still there, but it was cracked now, fragile in a way that scared her almost as much as it relieved her.

She turned away, muttering, “I can’t do this,” and grabbed her bag.

But before she could leave, Alexia’s hand caught hers; firm, steady, unshakable.

“You don’t have to do this alone.”

For the first time, Y/N didn’t pull away.

It didn’t happen all at once.

It never does.

The intervention had left Y/N rattled, walls cracked, the silence around her no longer safe. She avoided eye contact for days afterward, showing up to training, going through drills, answering questions with clipped words.

But everyone stayed close.

Too close to ignore.

The breakdown came quietly.

It was late after training, most of the squad already gone. Alexia lingered, boots still half-tied, when she heard it: a muffled sob echoing from the showers.

Her heart lurched.

“Y/N?”

No answer.

She found her sitting on the floor against the tiled wall, knees pulled tight to her chest, head buried in her arms. Shoulders shaking.

For a moment, Alexia froze, scared she might break her further just by being there. Then she knelt slowly, voice soft.

“Hey. I’m here.”

Y/N lifted her head, and the sight knocked the breath out of Alexia, eyes swollen, face blotched, all the weight she’d carried alone spilling out at last.

“I can’t…” Y/N gasped, words broken by sobs. “I can’t do this anymore, Ale. I’m so tired.”

Alexia’s chest clenched, but she reached forward, steady hands on trembling shoulders. “Then don’t. Not alone. Let me, let us, carry some of it.”

Tears streamed down Y/N’s face, raw and unstoppable. “You don’t get it. It never stops. I wake up and it’s there. I play football and it’s there. I laugh and it’s still there. I can’t make it go away.”

Alexia swallowed the lump in her throat, pulling her into a tight embrace. “I don’t need you to make it go away. I just need you to stay. Please stay.”

Y/N clung to her then, sobbing into her chest, the dam finally broken. And Alexia held her through it; through every shuddering breath, every cracked word, every wave of pain that had been buried too long.

It wasn’t magic.

The next morning, Y/N showed up quieter than ever, red-rimmed eyes hidden under her hoodie.

But she was there.

And when Patri slid her a coffee, when Mapi wrapped her in a headlock, when Mariona shoved half her sandwich onto her plate, she didn’t push them away. Not fully.

Progress came in small moments.

She laughed, really laughed, for the first time in weeks when Claudia tripped over a cone during warm-up. It was brief, but it was real, and the others clung to it like sunlight breaking through clouds.

She ate half a meal instead of none.

She replied in the group chat once, a short joke that made Aitana spam twenty heart emojis.

Tiny steps. Fragile, fleeting.

But then came the relapses.

She missed another training, no message this time. Alexia drove to her apartment, knocking until Y/N finally opened the door, face pale, insisting she’d just “overslept.”

During a match, she froze on the ball, mind gone blank. The crowd groaned, and she shrank into herself, shoulders hunching like the noise was knives against her skin.

Afterward, she brushed off comfort with brittle words. “Don’t waste time on me. Focus on the team.”

Alexia wanted to shake her. Instead, she stayed close, silent but steady.

One night, Y/N sat on the balcony of her apartment, hoodie pulled tight, staring at the street below.

Her phone buzzed. A message from Alexia:

You don’t have to talk. Just tell me you’re safe.

Y/N stared at it for a long time, thumb hovering. Finally, she typed one word.

Here.

It wasn’t much.

But for Alexia, it was enough to keep holding on.

Because recovery wasn’t a straight line. It was jagged, messy, filled with stumbles.

But now, at least, Y/N wasn’t stumbling alone

Training looked different now.

Not because of the drills, those stayed the same, but because of the way the team moved around Y/N.

Little things.

Patri looping an arm through hers when they jogged to warm up.

Mariona passing her the ball a split-second earlier to give her more confidence.

Mapi deliberately picking her for rondos, chirping “you’re on my team, genius, don’t screw it up” with a grin that softened the sting.

It was subtle, unspoken, but constant. Like the others had made a silent pact: she will never feel alone here again.

Meals became their quiet battleground.

At first, Y/N still picked at her plate. Pushed food around with her fork. Claimed she wasn’t hungry.

Until Lucy and Keira sat on either side of her one afternoon and started swapping bites off their plates, shoving food onto hers with mock-serious commentary.

“You’re not leaving until you try Keira’s mashed potatoes. They’re elite,” Lucy declared.

“They’re literally from the cafeteria,” Keira groaned.

“Elite!” Lucy repeated, shoving a forkful onto Y/N’s plate.

Y/N rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. She ate a few bites that day. Enough to make Patri send a grateful look across the table when Y/N wasn’t watching.

There were harder days too.

Like when the crowd’s roar during a home match sent Y/N spiralling inward, her breathing fast and shallow. She barely made it to halftime.

She muttered, “I can’t do this,” head in her hands.

And Ingrid, quiet and steady as ever, simply placed a hand on her back and said, “Then just breathe. With me.”

One breath at a time. In. Out.

Until Y/N’s heartbeat slowed enough for her to step back onto the pitch.

Even laughter began to return, shy at first.

During gym sessions, Mariona and Mapi tried to out-bench each other, grunting dramatically. When Y/N snorted at their theatrics, Mapi pounced.

“Was that a laugh? Did you just laugh at me, cabrona?”

Y/N smirked. “More at Mari than you. You’re pathetic.”

The whole room erupted, and though her cheeks flushed, Y/N didn’t retreat. She let herself stay in the noise.

But progress wasn’t linear.

Some nights, she still sat awake until dawn, staring at her phone without answering messages.

Some mornings, she dragged herself through training on fumes.

Some days, the smile felt faker than ever.

The difference was, she no longer bore it in silence.

She didn’t always talk, but she let them sit with her.

Patri watching movies on her couch.

Ona dragging her to get ice cream even in the rain.

Claudia teaching her TikTok dances badly enough to make them both collapse laughing.

Anchor points. Little ropes keeping her tethered when the current threatened to pull her under.

One evening, after another long day, she found herself sitting in the locker room long after everyone else had left.

Except Alexia.

Y/N sighed. “You don’t have to babysit me, Ale.”

Alexia’s voice was quiet but unwavering. “I’m not babysitting. I’m staying.”

And somehow, in that simple sentence, Y/N felt less like a burden and more like someone worth waiting for.

It wasn’t perfect.

It wasn’t easy.

But for the first time in weeks, Y/N began to believe, just maybe, that she wasn’t fighting this alone anymore.

AN: If you’re having a difficult time lately, please don’t struggle in silence.

Suicide/Crisis Helplines

* New Zealand:

LifeLine (Helpline): 0800 543 354 (0800 LIFELINE) or free text service, text Help to 4357

* Australia:

Lifeline (Crisis and suicide support): 13 11 14

* United Kingdom (UK):

Samaritans (Free helpline): 116 123

YoungMinds Crisis Messenger: Text YM to 85258

* United States of America (USA):

National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255

Crisis Text Line: 741 741

* Worldwide:

http://suicide.org/international-suicide-hotlines.html

[earpskeeper]

this was amazingly written

[earpskeeper]

You’re a Manc??? I thought you was French or some other nationality 🦇

oh anon i’m absolutely not french

i do know oui oui and baguette however

[earpskeeper]

could you do lenna gunning williams x arsenal readerrrd xxxx

yesss i could defo have a go

do you have a specific idea?

[earpskeeper]

No I am being so serious girl…

Please don’t meet up with them if you don’t feel comfortable…I have done it before and let’s just say it ended in a physical fight at 7 hours in A&E…

honestly i know i joke a lot but i promise it’s a genuine friendship

if i had any worries about anything then they would’ve happened by now so as much as they are both weirdos they are actually nice people

so don’t be worrying about me it’s all good

i’d worry about them more

[a-pute11as]

you know you really shouldn’t bully other people girl…

it’s not nice at all to others and @earpskeeper has done nothing to you…

idk man its pretty entertaining.

on a serious note, it is all love, i could provide 100s of screenshots of both of them bullying me because thats just our friendship ✨✨

[earpskeeper]

time to be serious now 😌

she does love me really and i even bought her a maccies breakfast last time we saw eachother

[earpskeeper]

wouldn’t wanna meet up with a toe sniffer anyways

excuse you

you called me your best friend

[lvnleah]

you are but you also have a toe sniffing problem too x

[earpskeeper]

NO I DONT

FAKE NEWS

[lvnleah]

listen it’s okay to admit your uniqueness

[earpskeeper]

you are such a weirdo

i hope you know that

[earpskeeper]

wouldn’t wanna meet up with a toe sniffer anyways

excuse you

you called me your best friend

[lvnleah]

you are but you also have a toe sniffing problem too x

[earpskeeper]

NO I DONT

FAKE NEWS

[earpskeeper]

Don’t meet up with weirdos online do you not know that

i didn’t realise just how weird they were before sadly 😔

im just a girl…