#earpskeeper

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[earpskeeper]

shy Chelsea x England reader word count - 2.3k trigger warnings - anxiety - potential autism? - r being an awkward potato

The locker room at Cobham is almost empty by the time you finish untying your boots. Most of your teammates cleared out a while ago and the only sound left is the soft clatter of your own movements. You prefer it this way anyway, quiet and safe. No eyes on you. 

So when someone taps your shoulder, you almost jump out of your skin. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you!” smiles Lucy Bronze with a grin on her face that is both inviting and terrifying. “We’re having a little party tonight for Aggie's birthday tonight. You should come.”

For a second you think she must be talking to someone else, someone more part of the team until you realise she is still staring at you. 

“Me?” you respond with a shaky voice. 

“Yeah, you!” Lucy laughs out. “I know Aggie would love it if you came, we all would.”

Your stomach knots. Sure you'd been to a few England camps, enough to know faces, voices and personalities but you spent most of those camps hovering at the edges, trying not to get in the way. And now you are being invited to a party with everyone there, teammates from both club and country. 

“Oh, um o…okay” you manage to stammer out. 

“Awesome! We are meeting at 7 round Beths, I'll send you the address.” Lucy says, giving your arm a squeeze before heading back out the changing room and as the door swings shut you just stand there. Frozen. 

Aggies birthday, Beth Meads house, a party and you are invited. It's enough to send you into a spiral and you fight the urge to see your dinner again as you start packing up your things. Your mind is racing after all, what do you even bring to a party? A present or a card? Something funny or something personal and handmade? Everyone else will know what to do, they always do, always fitting in with ease. But you, you have never been to a birthday party before. Not a team one, not even growing up. Not ever. 

When you step outside into the cool evening air your phone buzzes with the promised address from Lucy and you just stare at your phone. You have exactly zero ideas and only a few hours to come up with a present idea that won't make you look completely out of place. 

By the time you get home, the sky is already turning dusky. You dump your kit bag by the door and sink into the sofa, elbows on your knees and hands in your hair. Your heart is still trying to punch its way out of your chest. You check your phone and check it again as if rereading the address might magically hold the answers but it doesn’t. It just sits there, silently mocking you. 

You try searching online - what to bring to a teammates birthday party/casual gift ideas that don’t look like you’re trying too hard/small gift ideas for footballers - but the results are useless. Nothing feels right or the things that do feel right would only arrive next week. 

You stand up, pace then sit down again. Your stomach twists so tightly you think it might actually tie itself in a knot. Everyone else is probably wrapping their gifts in cute wrapping paper, knowing exactly what would make Aggie smile. But you are just clueless. 

You wander into your tiny kitchen just to have some different scenery. Your gaze drifts over to your counter and lands on the little row of baking ingredients you always keep stocked and your chest loosens a little. Your messy thoughts drift back to your grandmother, the way her soft accent and steady hands guided yours as she shows you the traditional recipes she learnt growing up in Bavaria. Before you fully realise what you’re doing, you’re reaching for the familiar ingredients. Pulling out the spices and honey to make lebkuchen. It was her favourite after all and the one thing that never failed to calm you. It's not much nor is it fancy but hopefully it will be enough. 

By the time your baked goods are cooling, you are standing over them with crossed arms and chewing your lip. They look good, they smell like home but your stomach is flipping again. 

What if they think I’m weird? 

What if they think I’m childish? 

What if…

You shut down the spiral by snapping the lid down on your tupperware and tuck the box carefully into your bag. It’s too late to start over now and besides, it's the only thing that feels like you. 

You pause by the mirror near the door, catching your own reflection. Your hair looks tidy enough and your outfit decent but none of it does anything to ease the heavy fear pressing on your chest. You adjust your bag on your shoulder and curl your fingers around the strap, feeling the faint warmth of the lebkuchen through the fabric. 

Finding Beth’s house turns out to be harder than you expected. The street is quiet and tidy, lined with identical looking homes each with the same neat hedges and driveways. You check the address Lucy sent you again, zooming in and out on the map until the screen blurs. According to your phone you are in the right place and the house in front of you is the correct house but you still have an uneasy fear in your stomach. You walk a few steps up the pavement and then back again whilst scanning the numbers on the gates. Each time you think you’ve found it, doubt twists your stomach and you second guess yourself. You retreat more than once, pretending you are just out for an evening stroll. 

Just as you are about to give up and go home, inventing a fake illness as to why you couldn’t come, you spot Keira casually walking up a driveway a few houses down. You watch as she doesn’t even knock, just opens the door and disappears inside. 

Your heart jumps and plummets all in one and you force your legs to move. You trail after her but the closer you get the slower you end up moving and when you reach the driveway you stop completely. Your whole body locks up and you are frozen in fear. The weight of the Tupperware in your bag suddenly feels enormous, ridiculous even. 

What if this is weird?

What if they laugh?

What if they wonder why you even came?

You clutch the strap of your bag until your fingers ache. 

Footsteps crunch lightly on the gravel behind you but you don’t even realise someone is approaching until you hear a familiar voice. 

“Of course Keira goes on ahead, doesn’t offer to help carry anything. It’s like she doesn’t even know what helping means… unbelievable!”

You turn just as Leah Williamson steps into view, juggling a couple of bags. Her head is down at first but as she looks up, she slightly freezes. Her eyes widen, actual shock floods her face and she blinks once then twice. 

“Oh!” She blurts before she can help it. “Hi, you’re… you’re here.”

You instantly feel yourself shrink, heat rushing to your face. Leah blinks, clearly trying to get her reaction under control even though surprise still lingers in her eyes. 

She shifts her bags and clears her throat softly. 

“I mean, of course you are here.” she adds quickly, a small smile appearing. “It’s nice, really nice. To see you outside of football I mean.”

Her gaze flicks from you to the door, then back to your tense posture. She takes in everything: your rigid shoulders, the wide eyes and the way you look like you are seconds away from bolting. 

“Would you mind getting the door for me? My hands are full and Beth will kill me if I drop any of this.”

It’s a lifeline, a small simple action to stop you from running and Leah doesn’t realise the breath she is holding until you nod and step forward. It's shaky but real and Leah lets out a soft sigh of relief. 

You push the door open for Leah, your hand trembling just slightly on the handle. Warm light spills out, along with the layered tones of conversation (accents overlapping). It's overwhelming, too bright and too warm and quite possibly just the type of thing you yearn to be accepted into. 

Leah steps in behind you, nudging you gently forward with her shoulder so you didn’t even have a chance to retreat. The living room appears in front of you, full of familiar faces spread across sofas and the floor. Even the kitchen doorway is occupied with people leaning against it. This time though, you don’t get a chance to freeze before Beth Mead spots you with her face lighting up  instantly. 

“Oh! You made it!” she exclaims as she crosses the room towards you. Her gaze flicks to Leah as she silently pieces together what may have happened on the driveway. “Ohhh, you found her, did you?”

Leah huffs out a soft laugh. “Found her stuck on the driveway more like.”

Your cheeks burn immediately.

“O…oh, sorry,” you mumble, wanting to sink into the floor. “I just… got a bit lost.”

Beth waves it off with a grin.

“Don’t worry about it, half the squad gets lost the first time they come here. Grace once wandered straight into my neighbours garden while they were having a barbecue. I had to do so much apologising for that one.”

You relax, only by an inch but it's something until Beth notices the bag on your shoulder. Or more specifically, the Tupperware peeking out from inside it. 

“You brought something?” she says brightly, leaning a little to try to see inside. “What’ve you got there?”

Your entire face goes hot.

“It’s… it’s nothing” you stammer, pulling the strap closer to your body as if to hide it. “Really. Just… well just something small.”

Beth’s grin widens. “You brought a gift?”

Now everyone eyes feel like they’re on you and your voice comes out soft, almost apologetic and stumbling over itself:

“I… I didn’t know what to bring. I’ve never… Well, I’ve never been invited to a party before. So I’m sorry if it's weird or wrong or too small.”

It's like the world goes still for a moment, and Beth's expression shifts instantly and kindness floods into her eyes.

“Oh Sweetheart” she says warmly “There's nothing wrong with that and I want Aggie to see this. Oi Aggie!”

She turns and calls over the crowd, voice carrying easily over the music.

“Aggs! Birthday girl! Come here a sec!”

Across the room, Aggie looks up from where she’s perched on the arm of a sofa.

“Coming!” she chirps, hopping down and weaving her way through different people towards you. She steps forward eager to see what you’ve brought and Beth leans in more until she is practically hovering on your shoulder. Your fingers tremble slightly as you pull the container from your bag. 

But the moment you lift the lid, Beth lets out an immediate and in your opinion slightly dramatic gasp. 

“Oh my god, what is that? It smells incredible.”

Your face flames so much you are convinced it must be bright red. 

“It’s just an old family recipe, my Grandmother's favourite” you mumble, gripping the container as if it can shield you from the attention. 

Beth opens her mouth to say something else but is interrupted by another voice.

“What, who? Is that lebkuchen?” she gasps as her eyes widen and she goes to pick one up “Who made these?!” 

Before you can answer, someone (you aren’t even sure who) answers for you. 

“Y/N made them, a family recipe.”

Sjoeke pauses before speaking again:

“A family recipe?” she repeats slowly, eyes narrowing on you as if she is analysing a suspect. “How did you learn to make it?”

You swallow, nerves fluttering in your stomach. 

“My grandmother” you admit softly. “She… she grew up in Germany. Bavaria.”

Sjoeke’s eyes widen even more.

“Your Oma was German?! Oh my god, that makes so much sense. This smell is like, properly authentic. I knew it wasn’t that supermarket stuff.”

Before you can respond, another voice chimes in which you recognise as Keira’s. She comes sliding in as if she is following a cartoon smell trail. 

“Oooo, what’s that?” she asks, eyes already locked onto the container. And Leah, who is still standing behind you, instantly groans. 

“Of course you show up now” she says loudly. “Not when I needed help carrying everything but the bloody kitchen sink up the driveway. Not when I yelled your name. Oh no. but the second food appears? Suddenly you’ve got super hearing.”

Keira shoots her a guilty looking grin. 

“I didn’t hear you.”

“Oh you heard me” Leah fires back. “You just ignored me.”

But Keira is already edging closer, eyes fixed on the cookies like they are treasure. Beth, meanwhile, has gone full gremlin. She snatches two cookies before anyone can say anything about it and stuffs one in her mouth.

Aggie gasps. “HEY! Those are for MY birthday!”

Beth speaks through a full mouth, managing to spray a few cookie crumbs as she does. 

“Sharing is caring!”

Keira makes a grab for one but Beth spins around: Keira lunges again.

“Youv’e had THREE!”

“Get your own!”

“Theyre for Aggie, not you!”

Leah pinches the bridge of her nose.

“I can't take you two anywhere.”

Whilst they bicker and Beth tries to sprint away with the container, Sjoeke steps closer to you, still glowing. 

“So your Oma taught you?” she asks softly. “You spent time in Germany?”

You nod, the embarrassment easing into something gentler. 

“Every summer. We’d visit her village, go to the markets and bake together. She loved sharing the old recipes with me.”

Sjoeke smiles with genuine warmth.

“That's amazing and this…” she inhales again, blissfully. “This smells like my childhood.”

Her enthusiasm is infectious and before you know it she gestures towards an empty sofa. You settle in and soon find yourself talking effortlessly. The party carries on around you, but for the first time tonight you feel like you truly belong.

[earpskeeper]

part 6 to the you're spiralin again series part 5 can be found here trigger warnings remain the same for the whole series and are posted on the master list word count - 2.8k

It had been three days. 

Three full days of not knowing whether Bailey would make it. Three days of silence, machines, prayers whispered under breath. The weight of hope and dread lingered but Beth hadn’t left you alone. 

On the first day, they had reduced your sedation, hoping to see some sign (any sign) that she was still there. But you hadn’t woken up. And since then, they’d just been waiting. Hour after hour. Breath held. Hope burning low.

Still, Beth didn’t leave your side.

And then the door creaked open. Soft footsteps. A rustle of fabric. Beth looked up. Kyra stood in the doorway, eyes red rimmed, clutching a small stuffed bear to her chest. She took a cautious step inside, voice gentle.

"I thought maybe she could hold onto this. She always liked it when…"

"GET OUT."

Beth’s voice tore through the quiet like a knife. The room snapped to attention.

Kyra froze.

"Beth" Leah started from her place near the door.

"GET HER OUT!" Beth screamed, standing so fast her chair crashed backward. "I don’t want her in here! I don’t want to see her face!"

Kyra’s lower lip trembled, eyes flooding instantly.

"Beth please, I…"

"GET. OUT!" Beth roared, body shaking. "SOMEONE GET HER OUT BEFORE I DO!"

The others rushed in, Katie and Caitlin immediately going toward Kyra, guiding her away with soft touches and murmured reassurances. Kyra didn’t fight it. She didn’t say anything else. She simply nodded, holding the bear tight to her chest and turned to leave, tears streaming silently down her cheeks.

Katie and Caitlin followed Kyra out into the corridor, guiding her as she wiped furiously at the tears streaking her cheeks. Her shoulders trembled, and she clutched your teddy bear to her chest like it was the only thing holding her together.

"Ky" Katie said softly, stepping closer and placing a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Do you want us to take you home? We can stay with you if you want. Or we can call someone else. Whatever you need, just say the word."

Kyra gave a shaky, watery laugh, brushing the back of her hand under her nose and straightening up as best she could. Her voice came out hoarse. "No, I’m fine. Really. I’ll just head back to the flat. I need, I just need some time."

Caitlin exchanged a concerned glance with Katie, then looked back at Kyra. "Are you sure? You shouldn’t be alone right now. It’s okay to need people. You don’t have to go through this by yourself."

"I’m fine," Kyra repeated more firmly this time, though her forced smile barely masked the devastation in her eyes. "You should be here for Beth and Bails. I promise I’ll be okay."

Katie hesitated but nodded, her hand giving Kyra’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. "Alright. But you call us, okay? Anytime. Day or night."

Kyra just nodded and turned to go. They watched her walk away, her figure small and hunched under the weight of grief, the teddy bear still pressed tightly to her chest like a lifeline.

The flat was cold and silent when Kyra pushed open the door. She didn’t turn on the lights. The dim afternoon glow through the windows was enough. She dropped her keys onto the counter with a dull clatter and wandered into the living room, still wearing her jacket, her shoes leaving faint trails on the floor.

It felt like the air had been sucked out of the place. Everything was exactly as they had left it.  Your mug sat forgotten on the coffee table. Your shoes were still by the door. Hoodie draped over the back of the chair. Your laughter, your presence, it had all vanished, but the remnants of you remained like ghosts.

Kyra’s eyes drifted to the hallway. To the room at the end. Your room. Her breath caught and her heart thudded painfully in her chest. But her feet moved anyway. She pushed the door open slowly.

The scent hit her first. That faint sweetness that always lingered after you. Your room was untouched. Fairy lights still strung along the wall. Photos tacked up of her with Beth, of your mum, of the whole team and childhood photos. A book open on the bed like you had just stepped out for a second. The whiteboard still had a half written message from a few nights ago: "physio at 11!!!"

Kyra choked on a sob.

She stumbled forward, falling to her knees by the bed. Her hands trembled as she clutched the teddy closer, pressing it to her chest.

"I’m sorry," she whispered, voice cracking. "I’m so sorry."

Her body shook as the tears came faster, harder. She pressed her forehead against the edge of the bed, unable to contain the grief pouring from her.

"I should’ve tried harder," she cried. "I should’ve seen it. I should’ve done something, anything. I should’ve been better."

She gasped between sobs, her voice barely above a breath. "I’m so sorry, Bails. I’m so, so sorry."

The silence in the room swallowed her whole. And still she knelt there, rocking, shaking, muttering apologies to a girl who wasn’t there to hear them.

“I miss you,” she whispered brokenly. “Please come back. Please, please come back.”

But the flat remained quiet. Still, as though you had taken all the light with her.

The morning hum of conversation filled the locker room, the rustle of kit bags and the occasional burst of laughter echoing off the walls. It was just a gym day, light conditioning and recovery drills. Most of the team moved with the kind of ease that came after a long, emotionally exhausting week.

No one expected her to show up, but still the door creaked open.

Katie barely glanced up at first until she caught a flash of a familiar jacket in the corner of her eye. Her brows furrowed, her words dying mid sentence.

Kyra walked in.

She looked almost exactly as she always did, kit bag in tow and her hair tied back. But there was something off. Her eyes were too distant. Her jaw too tight. Her whole body carried the weight of something unspoken, like she was trying her best to hold herself together..

Katie was the first to notice her and Caitlin turned at the sudden silence and nearly dropped her water bottle. “Wait, what?”

They watched in stunned silence as Kyra began methodically changing, her movements stiff, mechanical. Not a single trace of emotion on her face.

Katie blinked, stepping forward. “Kyra?”

Kyra didn’t look up. “Morning.”

Caitlin exchanged a wide eyed look with Katie, lowering her voice. “Did she… did she not see the message?”

“We told her,” Katie whispered as she stepped back, confused. “I literally texted her last night. It’s just a gym day. Light work. Optional.”

“She shouldn’t even be here,” Caitlin said softly. “Not after yesterday.”

Kyra tied her trainers like she hadn’t heard a word. But Caitlin could see the tension in her shoulders. The way her jaw was locked. The way she blinked a fraction too long before standing up.

Katie approached cautiously, keeping her voice low. “Kyra, you didn’t have to come in. We weren’t expecting you. We figured you'd be resting, after everything…”

“I needed to move,” Kyra interrupted. Her voice was flat, controlled, emotionless. “Sitting still doesn’t help.”

Caitlin opened her mouth, hesitated, then stepped forward too. “We just thought after what happened, maybe you’d want some time…”

“I don’t want time,” Kyra said, more sharply than she intended. Her eyes flicked between them. “I want to train.”

That was the end of it. She grabbed her water bottle, headed toward the gym, and didn’t look back. Katie stood there for a long moment, heart aching. “She’s not ok.”

“Yeah,” Caitlin murmured. “I know.”

They exchanged a look and then followed her out in silence.

Later that afternoon, the locker room had mostly cleared out. Just the low hum of the showers in the background and the occasional creak of a bench as gym gear was packed away. Caitlin sat on the edge of the bench, pulling on a fresh pair of socks before her sliders, her eyes flicking up now and then to where Kyra was across the room, wordlessly folding her kit.

Katie had already left to grab coffees. It was just the two of them now.

Caitlin took a breath. “Hey… Kyra?”

Kyra didn’t look up. “Hmm?”

“You doing alright?” Caitlin asked gently, keeping her voice low. “I mean, really.”

Kyra paused, then gave a short laugh, more breath than sound. “I’m fine.”

Caitlin raised an eyebrow, watching her carefully. “You don’t have to pretend with me, you know.”

“I’m not pretending,” Kyra said, still not looking up, still folding with robotic precision. “I’m just, just dealing.”

Caitlin got up, stepped a little closer. “You don’t have to deal with it alone either. If you want to talk about anything, even just sit in silence with someone, I’m here. We all are.”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Kyra said, sharper this time. She straightened, slinging her bag over her shoulder. Her mask was perfect (composed and expression unreadable) but her fingers were clenched too tight on the strap.

There was a long pause.

Then Kyra glanced over. “Has there been any change? With Bailey?”

That brief flicker of hope in her voice cracked something in Caitlin and she softened. “No. Not yet.”

Kyra’s face didn’t change, but the hope in her eyes dimmed a little. She nodded once, stiffly.

Caitlin hesitated, then added, “Katie and I are going back to the hospital tonight. Just to swap with Leah and Kim for a while. You’re more than welcome to come too, if you want.”

The offer barely left her mouth before Kyra cut in.

“No!” she said quickly, far too quickly. “I… I can’t.”

And before Caitlin could say anything else, Kyra was already moving, pushing through the door and disappearing down the hallway, her footsteps fast and echoing. Caitlin just stood there, heart sinking, watching the door swing slowly shut behind her.

Back at the hospital, Beth wouldn’t leave your bedside. She stayed sat, curled in the uncomfortable hospital chair, hunched forward, one hand wrapped tightly around yours, her eyes fixed on your face like she was trying to will you awake with sheer force. Her knuckles were white, lips dry, body trembling from hours of stillness and exhaustion. Nurses came and went, adjusting drips, checking vitals, but Beth barely registered them.

Because if she looked away, if she let go, if she left for even a second, something might happen. Something might go wrong, again. Your mother had gone like this. Beth had left the hospital room just to get a cup of tea. It was five minutes. Five minutes of looking away. And when she came back, your mum was gone. You both hadn’t even been able to say goodbye.

Now every tick of the clock, every breath you took scraped against her nerves. Beth pressed her forehead to your hand, rocking slightly.

“Please stay. Please stay. Please don’t leave me too.”

Leah had tried to get her to rest. So had Kim. Steph brought a sandwich Beth hadn’t touched. But Beth wouldn’t move. Couldn’t. Her whole body seemed fused to the chair. Katie and Caitlin came in quietly in the evening, exchanging a glance before stepping closer.

"Beth," Caitlin said gently, kneeling beside her. “You need a break. Just for a moment. Come get some air. She’s not going anywhere.”

Beth flinched, her grip tightening.

“No. No, if I leave…if I leave her, something will happen.”

Caitlin sighed, trying to keep her tone calm. “Beth, it’s been three days. You’ve barely eaten. You need rest, your body needs rest. Bailey wouldn’t want this for you.”

Beth turned to her sharply, voice rising. “Don’t tell me what Bailey would want! Don’t pretend you know what this feels like!”

Caitlin blinked, taken aback. “I’m not pretending anything, I’m trying to help. You’re hurting yourself.”

Beth stood up, trembling, her hands balled into fists. “Hurting myself? You think I don’t know that? You think I care? I can't leave her!”

Caitlin opened her mouth to speak, but Beth cut her off. "And what if I leave and she dies?" Her voice cracked. “Are you going to tell me it’s not my fault then? Like everyone did with Mum?”

Caitlin froze.

“Beth” Katie warned gently, stepping forward.

But Beth was already spiraling, eyes wild. “You know what it feels like to leave for five minutes and come back to find the person you love is just gone? 

Do you? Because I do. I was the one who made Bailey leave the room, I made her get fresh air and our mum died! So no, I’m not doing it again.”

“Beth, please,” Caitlin tried again. “I’m not trying to replace that situation. I’m just trying to make sure you don’t break.”

“You think this is the same thing?” Beth shouted, her voice raw and trembling. “Your sister is fine, Caitlin! She is fine and you have no idea what this is like. My sister might die. So excuse me for not wanting to leave her like you left yours when you moved away.”

The silence that followed was instant and suffocating.

Caitlin reeled back like she’d been slapped, her face draining of colour. “Did you just bring Jamie into this?”

Beth hesitated for a fraction of a second, the fury in her eyes briefly replaced by guilt but it was too late. Caitlin took a step back.

"Wow," Caitlin whispered, genuinely shaken. 

Katie moved fast, stepping in to wrap an arm around Caitlin. “Come here” she murmured, pulling her girlfriend into a protective hug.

Leah stepped in next, moving close to Beth and gently taking her arm. “Beth. Breathe. Look at me. We’re not your enemies. No one is blaming you. No one wants to take you away from her, we just want to help you survive this too.”

But Beth shook her head, eyes brimming with rage and grief. “She shouldn't have said that. She doesn't get to tell me how to grieve. She doesn't get to suggest walking away like this is some kind of break I can take.”

Kim stepped forward now, calm but commanding. “Alright. Katie, take Caitlin outside, yeah? Make sure she’s okay. We’ll handle things in here.”

Katie nodded immediately, guiding a stunned and silent Caitlin gently out of the room whilst Leah remained near Beth.

Kim stood quietly by the door, her eyes fixed on Katie as she gently guided Caitlin out of the room. The door swung shut with a soft but final click. Kim crossed her arms, her posture rigid and jaw tight. Her whole presence radiating seriousness. She was preparing to say what needed to be said, no matter how hard it might land.

“Beth that was not ok.” Kim started off, but Leah shifted beside her, glancing at Beth with concern.

“Uhh, Kim, I don’t know if she should hear this right now,” she whispered with a flicker of doubt in her voice.

Kim shook her head firmly without hesitation. “No, Leah. She needs to hear this. Now.”

She turned fully to face Beth, who sat tense, eyes red and unfocused. Kim’s voice dropped into a calm but resolute tone, steady and unyielding. “Beth, this has gone on too far. Everyone here, all of us, we care about you. We care about Bailey. We’re here because we want to help, not to fight or push you away. But you can’t keep shutting people out like this, or lashing out when they try to support you.”

Beth’s chest rose as she opened her mouth to respond, anger and pain flickering behind her eyes. But Kim raised her hand again, sharper this time.

“No. Not a word. This is non negotiable.”

She stepped closer, lowering her voice so it was firm but not cruel. “You’re going to choose someone to take you home and you will go tonight. You’re going to eat something real that doesn’t come from a vending machine and then you’re going to get a proper night’s sleep. Away from these walls and the machines, because you’re not going to be any good to Bailey or anyone else if you break down completely.”

Kim’s gaze didn’t waver, challenging Beth to argue but making it clear she wouldn’t win. “And tomorrow, you come back here. Fresh. Ready to face whatever comes next. But right now, you need to take care of yourself.”

The room was heavy with silence. Beth’s lips trembled, eyes glossy with tears and the slow slow realization that Kim was right. Kim softened just a fraction, her voice quieter but still firm:

“We’re all here for you, Beth. But you have to let us help.”

[earpskeeper]

part 5 to the you're spiralin again series part 4 can be found here trigger warnings remain the same for the whole series and are posted on the master list word count - 2.7k

The corridor outside the resuscitation room is ice cold, the sterile hospital lights buzzing quietly above. Beth stands pressed to the glass window of the room, eyes fixed on the chaotic scene inside. Her fists are clenched white at her sides, her whole body coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. Through the transparent barrier, she can see Bailey, pale, surrounded by doctors shouting instructions and nurses scrambling with equipment.

Wires, tubes and monitors.

Beth doesn’t blink. Doesn’t breathe.

She barely registers Steph standing just behind her, or Kim to her left, both as tense and silent as statues. Kim had driven them there after the ambulance sped away, lights and sirens blaring. They hadn’t been allowed inside, it was critical, they were told. Critical.

And now

A long, flat beep pierces the air.

Beth’s breath catches in her throat. The monitor. The flatline.

“No,” she whispers. “No no no”

She bolts forward before either of them can react, hands slamming against the door.

"Let me in! That’s my sister! LET ME IN!"

Steph grabs her from behind, arms wrapping tightly around her waist to hold her back. Beth struggles, feet scraping against the tiled floor.

"She needs me! She needs me!"

"Beth, stop!" Steph snaps, breath ragged. "You can't go in there. You can’t help her!"

"Let the doctors work," Kim adds, stepping in front of the door as if to block it from view, even as her voice shakes.

Beth fights them both, body shaking with grief and adrenaline. But she's no match for Steph's grip, and finally she collapses back into her arms, sobbing.

Kim's eyes are fixed on the scene inside the room, lips pressed tightly together as the crash team continues working.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sees movement down the corridor. Turning, she spots a group of familiar faces appearing at the end of the hall - Leah, Kyra, Caitlin, Katie, and the rest of the squad. All of them have come, their faces drawn and pale, eyes scanning desperately for answers.

Kim raises a hand to them quickly and calls out, her voice sharp but calm. "Over here!"

Then she looks back at Beth, still crumpled against Steph, tears soaking her sleeves, eyes locked on the window.

Kim turns to a nurse nearby. "Can we get some help? She needs to sit somewhere else. She can't watch this."

The nurse nods and brings over a wheelchair, but Beth waves it off, stumbling to her feet with Steph and Kim on either side of her.

"Please," she mumbles. "Please don't let her die. I can’t lose her too!"

"Come on," Steph murmurs, gently guiding her to the row of chairs on the far side of the waiting room. "We're right here. You're not alone."

Beth allows herself to be guided to a row of chairs across the room. She drops into one heavily, hands over her face, trembling. The others gather near her, a solemn, silent circle. The world around them is all fluorescent light and muffled footsteps, beeping machines, and the constant hum of dread.

Kyra leans slightly toward Steph, voice barely audible. "It happened before. At the flat. She collapsed. In the bathroom."

Beth doesn’t catch all of it, but the words hit her like a bus.

"What did you say?" Beth's voice is low, but sharp and dangerous.

Kyra freezes, instantly pale. "Back at the flat. Bailey, she collapsed. In the bathroom. A couple weeks ago."

Beth's heart lurches. Her hands drop from her face.

"What?"

"She came round quickly, I didn’t think…"

"You didn’t think?" Beth is on her feet in an instant, eyes burning, voice rising with every syllable. "You KNEW something was wrong with her and you didn’t SAY ANYTHING?"

Kyra looks like she might shatter on the spot. "I didn’t know how to"

"I could’ve stopped this!" Beth sobs. "I could’ve gotten her help! I could’ve…"

She steps forward and shoves Kyra, hard, her grief exploding outward in furious waves. "You should’ve told me!"

Kyra stumbles back, tears spilling down her cheeks. She doesn’t defend herself. She doesn’t move.

"Beth!" Leah's voice cuts through the tension like a whip, and she steps between them, hands on Beth’s shoulders. "That’s enough."

Kyra looks utterly broken. Caitlin and Katie are at her sides instantly, taking her arms, murmuring quiet reassurances, steering her away with gentle, steady hands. Kyra goes without resistance, her head hanging, shoulders curled in.

"This isn’t anyone’s fault," Leah says, trying to hold steady even as her own voice trembles.

Beth’s expression contorts with rage and anguish. "It IS! She should’ve said something! She let this happen, this is - ITS HER FAULT!"

"NO." Leah steps forward, firm, unwavering. "Enough, Beth. We tried to talk to you. You didn’t listen."

Beth blinks. The words hit like a sledgehammer. Her breath catches. Her mouth opens. Closes. Everything collapses at once. Her knees give out. Leah catches her just before she hits the floor, lowering her down slowly, arms wrapping around her as Beth lets out a sound that’s more scream than sob. She crumbles completely, face buried in Leah’s chest, wailing. Her body trembles violently with the weight of it all.

And somewhere in the dark, in the in between, Bailey is standing on a shoreline that doesn’t quite exist. Water laps at her bare feet, but she feels no cold, no wind. Only silence. A figure stands in the distance, familiar and glowing faintly. Bailey takes a step forward. Then another. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Mum?"

The figure turns, and it is her. Gentle smile. Kind eyes. Arms open.

"Hello, my darling."

Bailey starts to run. She crashes into the woman’s embrace and feels her mother’s warmth like a distant memory come back to life.

"I missed you," Bailey sobs.

Her mum runs a hand through her hair. "I know, baby. I missed you too."

They stay like that, pressed together, time suspended. Then her mum pulls back slightly, cupping Bailey’s face.

Bailey pulls back, barely able to see through the tears. “But… are you really here? Am I, am I dead?”

Her mum’s eyes glisten with sadness as she gently takes Bailey’s hand in hers. “Not yet. But you’re close.”

Bailey’s lips tremble. “So this is, what is this?”

Her mum doesn’t answer, only squeezes her hand, and suddenly the space around them ripples like water disturbed.

The light shifts. The darkness fades. And then:

They’re in her childhood garden.

Sunlight streams across the familiar patch of grass, slightly overgrown and messy in the corners. The old swing set creaks in the breeze. Flowers bloom along the fence line, her mum’s favourites: dahlias and foxgloves. A dog barks distantly. Wind rustles the hedges. Birds chirp. The air smells like summer.

Laughter rings out, bright and pure.

Bailey turns and sees her younger self (eight years old, hair in messy plaits, jersey two sizes too big) chasing a scuffed football across the lawn. Beth, only a little older, darts beside her, giggling and shoving her playfully. Their mum watches from a sun faded lawn chair, clapping and calling out encouragements.

Bailey stares. Her chest tightens. “I remember this day.”

Her mum smiles beside her. “You were happiest here. Free. You loved the game before it became pressure. Before it became pain.”

Bailey swallows, the lump in her throat growing thicker. “Before everything changed.”

The memory flickers like a candle in the wind, and then melts away.

Now they’re standing at Arsenal’s training ground.

Bailey sees herself again, older now. Freshly signed. Shirt pristine. Standing proudly beside Beth as their mum fiddles with a camera, telling them to smile. Bailey’s cheeks are flushed with joy, heart full, hand clutching her new kit like it’s the key to the world.

Beth bumps her with an elbow. “Better not outshine me, squirt.”

Their mum laughs from behind the lens. “That’s my girls.”

Bailey watches the moment like it’s on glass. She wants to press her palm to it. Wants to climb back inside and freeze it forever.

“I wanted to make you proud,” she murmurs.

Her mum looks at her. “You did.”

The warmth fades. The light changes again.

Suddenly, everything is too bright. Too cold. Too sterile.

They’re in a hospital room now. The walls are pale blue and humming with machines. Bailey’s own body lies still on the bed, tubes and wires snaking from her arms. Her skin is ghost-pale. Her lips tinged with blue.

Monitors beep erratically. Nurses move in frantic, rehearsed patterns. A crash cart is wheeled in. One shouts something indecipherable.

Outside the glass wall, her teammates are crowded—faces pale, eyes wide, expressions twisted with shock.

And Beth,

Beth is broken.

Held tightly by Steph, she’s sobbing into her shoulder, her entire body wracked with grief. Her face is red, tear streaked. Her mouth open in a silent scream. She looks like she’s crumbling from the inside out.

Bailey recoils. “Is… is this real? Am I going to die?”

Her mum doesn’t answer right away. Instead, she studies her daughter’s face, her expression unreadable. When she does speak, her voice is soft but unwavering. “That depends on you.”

Bailey shakes her head. “I didn’t mean to. I just… I didn’t think it would go this far.”

Her mother’s gaze sharpens, not angry, but deeply wounded. “You’ve been hurting for so long, Bailey. And you’ve pushed away every hand that tried to pull you back. Why now?”

Bailey opens her mouth. Closes it. Her voice is hoarse when it comes. “Because I didn’t know what I was losing. I didn’t know they’d care so much. I didn’t think anyone would even notice.”

Tears pool again in her eyes. “But they do. Don’t they?”

Her mum steps closer. “Yes. They do. They always did. Even when you couldn’t see it.”

Bailey crumbles, her shoulders shaking. “I don’t want to die.”

Her mother gathers her gently in her arms again. “Then fight.”

“I’m sorry,” Bailey sobs. “I’ll try. Just… please. Please give me another chance.”

Her mum cups her face, her thumb brushing away a tear as her eyes shimmer with sadness. She doesn’t answer right away. Then she says, softly, "It might be too late."

Bailey flinches like she’s been struck. "No. No, it can’t be too late. Not when I finally want to try. I…I know I pushed everyone away. I know I hurt people. But I want to make it right. I need to."

Her mum runs her thumb across Bailey’s cheek, catching a tear. "It’s not about need, love. It’s about choice. You have to choose to fight. Even if it’s hard. Even if it hurts."

"I am choosing! I’m here, aren’t I? I’m still here!" Bailey sobs, voice raw. "Please. Please! I didn’t mean for it to go this far. I didn’t mean for any of it to end like this. I just wanted the pain to stop. But not like this, not like this..."

Her mother takes a breath and cups Bailey’s face again, more firmly this time.

"You have to find a way to live without me now," she says, her voice both gentle and unflinching. "Because I can’t come with you. Not where you need to go. But I’ll be with you. Always. Watching over you. You won’t see me, but you’ll feel me when you need me most."

Bailey crumbles into her arms, sobbing. "I don’t know how to live without you."

"Then learn, sweetheart. One breath at a time. One step. You still have people who love you. Let them in. Let them help. Let yourself be forgiven." Her mum pulls back slightly, voice thick with emotion. "You don’t get to change the past. But you do get to choose what comes next. Right now. Before it really is too late."

Bailey nods through the tears. She can hardly breathe, but she manages to whisper, "I choose life."

Her mum kisses her forehead, holding her close one last time.

"Then go, my brave girl. And don’t waste a second of it."

The world tilts, and everything fades to white. The screeching sound of medical machines come back into play and the pain hits Bailey all at once. 

Minutes stretch into an agonizing blur of silence, interrupted only by the distant murmur of hospital staff and the faint, rhythmic blip of machines from inside the room. Beth paces like a caged animal, her fingers twitching at her sides. Steph sits on the edge of a chair, elbows on her knees, head bowed. Kyra hasn’t spoken a word since Beth's outburst, she sits huddled between Caitlin and Katie, eyes red, guilt clinging to her like a second skin.

Nearly three hours pass.

Three hours of waiting.

Of fear.

Of not knowing if Bailey will survive.

Then, finally, the door at the end of the corridor opens and a doctor steps through, peeling off gloves. His scrubs are stained, face drawn but calm. Everyone rises immediately.

“Beth Mead?”

Beth nods frantically, pushing forward. “Yes. Yes, I’m her sister. Please, what’s happened? Is she…?”

“She’s stable,” the doctor says, and the breath leaves Beth’s lungs in a single, broken sob. “She was touch and go for a long time, but she’s stabilised now. We’ve managed to get her heart rhythm steady and her oxygen levels are improving. She’s not awake yet, and we’ll need to keep her in intensive care for the time being, but she’s alive. She made it.”

A stunned silence falls over the group. Shoulders drop. Hands cover mouths. Someone cries quietly. Kyra, maybe. Caitlin hugs her tightly. Katie sits down hard, like her legs have given out.

Beth sways where she stands.

“Would you like to see her?” the doctor asks gently.

“Yes,” Beth says instantly, without hesitation, but then her eyes flick sideways, silently searching.

Leah is already on the move. She crosses the space in two quick steps and slips her arm around Beth’s waist, grounding her. Beth grips Leah’s hand tightly, as if letting go would mean falling apart again.

The doctor leads them down the hallway. The others remain behind, huddled together, watching silently, barely daring to hope. Outside Bailey’s room, the doctor pauses, his tone calm but more clinical now. 

“She’s unconscious, but stable. She won’t be able to respond yet, but we will continue to monitor her closely.” 

Beth nods quickly, her heart hammering, but the doctor gently clears his throat, stopping her before she reaches for the door handle.

“There’s one more thing,” he says carefully. “Given the nature of the overdose and what we found in her system, we’ll need to follow protocol. That includes a full psychiatric evaluation once she’s awake. It’s standard in cases where intentional overdose may have occurred.”

Beth’s face twists, shaking her head immediately. “No. No, she wouldn’t, she wouldn’t do that. She didn’t try to kill herself. She wouldn’t. Never.”

Her voice rises, hot and fast, as if saying it louder will make it true. “She wouldn’t do that, she wouldn’t leave me!..”

“Beth,” Leah says gently, stepping in and placing a firm hand on her shoulder, anchoring her. “Nobody is saying that right now. Okay? No one’s making that call yet.”

Beth turns toward her, breathing heavily, her eyes wide and desperate. Leah holds her gaze, calm but steady.

“Let’s just go see Bailey.”

The doctor lingers a moment longer, but Leah catches his eye and gives him a subtle nod, understanding, quiet agreement to delay the harder conversations. The doctor gives a small, respectful nod back and steps away, disappearing down the corridor.

Leah squeezes Beth’s shoulder. “Come on.”

Beth swallows thickly and nods, following Leah into the room. Inside, the lights are low. Machines beep rhythmically. The air feels too still. Bailey lies in the hospital bed, pale and unmoving, a tangle of tubes and wires keeping her tethered to life. Her face is soft in sleep, but there’s a haunting fragility to her now, like she could disappear if Beth looks away for too long.

Beth crosses the room slowly, brushing a hand across Bailey’s cold fingers, her voice breaking.

“Oh bubba.”

Behind her, Leah stands by the door, silent and steady, watching over them both.

[earpskeeper]

word count - 1k trigger warnings - minimal sadness, angry Spanish woman you have just lost the final to England (and Lucy), and when she comes over to talk to you, both of your feelings get a little crazy i changed some bits to fit the style i wanted to take it so i hope everyone enjoys it

The final whistle had blown, and the deafening noise of the crowd had faded into a low, distant murmur. You sat alone on the pitch, hunched over with your hands hiding your face, the tears hot and angry as they streamed freely. You had given everything. Fought until your body had nothing left. And still, it hadn’t been enough. 

Spain had fallen short in the Euro final to England.

This was supposed to be the last piece. The final trophy missing from your collection with Spain. You’d already climbed to the pinnacle with the World Cup. But this... this was meant to complete the legacy. To silence the doubt. To finally reclaim the joy that had been tainted.

As the weight of that reality settled, grief took its place. You might not get another shot. And that truth wrapped around your chest like a vice, unrelenting and sharp.

You heard the sound of soft footsteps approaching, deliberate but hesitant. You didn’t need to look up to know it was her.

Lucy stood in front of you, silent. You could feel her patient gaze resting on you. Still, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet her eyes. The anger burned in your throat (not really at her, but she was the one there) and that made it impossible to hold it back.

"You," you spat, voice bitter as you finally looked up. "Why did it have to be you?"

She didn’t flinch. She just looked at you with calm, sad eyes.

"I didn’t ask for it to be," she said softly.

"You could’ve…" you stopped yourself. The words didn’t make sense. What were you even accusing her of? That she should’ve gone easy? Let you win? You both knew it was nonsense. You were just hurting.

"You should go celebrate," you muttered, voice cracking. "Go be with your team. Go…" You almost said something cruel, something you’d regret. But it caught in your throat, burning with shame, and you swallowed it down. "Just go."

Lucy didn’t move. She knelt down slowly, still watching you.

"Just say what you need to say," she whispered. "Get it out. But you can’t push me away. Not this time."

You stood abruptly, fists clenched at your sides, and let yourself simmer in the silence. The rage swirled and twisted inside you, but it was fleeting. Words tumbled out before you could stop them.

"I hate you, but I don't. I love you and I don't know."

Your voice cracked on the last word, trembling under the weight of everything you were trying to make sense of. You felt yourself spiraling, the confusion, grief, and exhaustion colliding all at once.

Lucy moved quickly, without hesitation. She sat beside you and pulled you into her arms. You didn’t resist. You leaned into her, letting the sobs tear through you, your face buried against her shoulder.

"Hey," she murmured after a while, brushing your hair gently from your face. "You were incredible."

You shook your head, clinging to her tighter. "It wasn’t enough."

​​After a while, Lucy shifted slightly with a hiss, trying to reposition her leg.

You instantly noticed. You pulled back, brow furrowing. "What was that? Are you okay?"

Lucy winced and quickly tried to wave it off. "It’s nothing. You don’t need to worry about me right now. Let’s just, let’s go back to you."

"No" you said sharply. "Don’t you dare deflect. What did you just do?"

Lucy looked at you, caught. "It’s... I just hurt it a bit, that’s all."

You didn’t say a word. You just gave her that look, the one that always made her cave.

Her shoulders dropped with a sigh. "Okay, fine. It’s my leg. Fractured. Since June."

You gasped, hitting her arm without thinking. “que carajo!” “what the fuck!”

Lucy pouted dramatically and rubbed her arm where you hit her, eyes wide with faux innocence. "Ow," she grumbled, “that hurts”

You stared, mouth dropping open. "You played the entire tournament on a fractured leg? Are you serious?!"

She gave a sheepish shrug, guilt tugging at her smile. "Didn’t want to miss it."

"That is so stupid! What if you’d made it worse? What if you’d done permanent damage?!"

"But I didn’t," she said gently. "I’m okay."

But you weren’t finished. You launched into a rant in rapid Spanish (half scolding, half disbelief). Your words spilled out like fire, furious and full of concern. "Cómo te atreves a jugar un torneo entero con una pierna rota?! Podrías haber arruinado tu carrera por completo, sin mencionar tu capacidad para caminar! En qué estabas pensando, eh? Esto no es valentía, es terquedad!

"How dare you play an entire tournament with a broken leg? You could have  completely destroyed your career, not to even mention your ability to walk! What were you thinking, huh?! This isn't bravery, it's stubbornness!"

Lucy didn’t interrupt, she had the sense not to. She simply sat there, nodding slowly, lips pressed into a pout, eyes cast down like a kid getting told off by their parent. She accepted every word, not daring to argue.

When you finally ran out of breath, you stared at her. Still furious, but softening.

Lucy peeked up at you with that sheepish grin she has. “Lo siento mucho, bebé.” “I’m very sorry baby.”

The words were soft, almost teasing, but there was something honest in her voice too. You tried to stay stern, to hold onto the anger but it cracked the moment you saw that ridiculous, guilty little smile. Your resolve crumbled and you let out a shaky breath. 

You reached down and gently helped Lucy to her feet, mindful of her leg. She gritted her teeth slightly but leaned on you as she rose. Once she was standing, you pulled her into a tight embrace. 

She hugged you back just as fiercely, and for a long moment, the two of you stood there (anchored to each other and unmoving) as chaos bloomed around you. Your teammates were grieving. Hers were celebrating. But in that small, silent space between you two, it was just stillness. 

Just understanding. Just love.

[earpskeeper]

Mary Earps x f1 driver girlfriend reader word count - 3k trigger warnings - unwritten smut (minors dni), hot hot Mazza you get a win taken away from you and Mary is quick to comfort and correct you

The champagne hadn’t even dried on your race suit yet.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling. Mary had her arms around your shoulders, face flushed from shouting over the roar of the crowd, and the team was a blur of orange and black behind you - cheers, hugs, hands clapping your helmet like you were a god.

You’d done it.

After a brutal, relentless race, after clawing back position after a chaotic safety car restart, you’d crossed that finish line first. No one could take it away. Not the doubters nor the other drivers. Or so you thought.

You didn’t see your race engineer at first. You were halfway through giving an interview to Sky, your helmet off, sweat still dripping from your hairline, a grin stretching across your face.

Then she appeared. Walked straight past the media, past your celebrating crew, her expression grim, eyes locked onto yours like a missile. She didn’t even have to speak for your heart to drop.

“What?” you asked immediately, voice clipped. “What?”

“There was a review of your re entry on the last lap,” she said, voice steady but tight. “Unsafe. They’ve added two seconds to your time.”

You blinked.

“No,” you said flatly. “No, I won. I…”

“You crossed first,” she confirmed quietly, her eyes flicking toward the cameras. “But the penalty puts you second.”

Just like that, the win was gone. Snatched from your hands. Undeserved. Unfair. Mary was at your side in an instant. Champagne bottle still in hand, her smile slowly fading as the words registered. You stood there in the pit lane like the air had been sucked out of the world.

They’d stripped it from you. After everything. After the perfect lap. After the risk you’d taken fighting your way back. After you have celebrated. You'd barely heard the interviewer trying to pivot the question. Or the awkward claps still echoing behind you.

Your jaw clenched. Vision starting to blur, not from tears but from fury.

Mary gently touched your back. “Babe…”

You stepped away from her hand. Then you threw your helmet. Hard. You didn’t even feel yourself move before the helmet left your grip and flew across the paddock slamming into the garage wall with a sickening crack. It narrowly missed one of your crew as they flinched and stumbled back. 

The sound was deafening. The garage went silent. Everything else moved away from you.

“Fuck this,” you spat. “Fuck this.”

Someone (a young, kind intern just trying to help) stepped forward with a bottle of water, voice low and hesitant.

“Here, just try to take a minute, yeah?”

You smacked the bottle clean out of his hand.

“Don’t. Don’t treat me like I’m a fucking kid. I don’t want fucking water,” you snapped. “I got screwed and I’m the only one who seems to care.”

The bottle hit the ground and rolled, water splashing out over the asphalt. Silence settled in its place.

Everyone stopped. No one dared say a word. Mary stepped forward instantly.

“We’re done here,” she said firmly, voice cutting through the tension. “She and I are taking a breather.”

You turned to her, still fuming, but she ignored the look you gave her.

Instead, she gripped your upper arm (tight, but not rough) and started walking, practically dragging you out of the garage and away from the stunned silence and awkward stares.

“Mary, I…”

“No.” Her tone left no room for argument. “Not another word.”

You didn’t fight her. Not really. You were still burning from the inside out, but somewhere beneath it, shame was beginning to curdle with the rage.

By the time you reached the car, your hands were shaking.

And Mary still hadn’t let go of your arm.

The elevator ride was tense.

You could feel the heat of Mary’s hand wrapped tight around your upper arm, her grip like a warning that hadn’t yet been spoken. You tried to yank yourself free once, an instinct more than anything, but her fingers only dug in tighter, sending a silent message not to test her. 

She didn’t say a word.

Not when you scowled at your reflection in the elevator doors. Not when you muttered under your breath about the FIA. Not when you cursed the stewards for “screwing you blind.” She let it all burn out in the silence, her expression unreadable.

When you reached the hotel room door, she didn’t let go.

She just shifted behind you, used her free hand to unlock it with a practiced flick of the keycard, and then shoved the door open, before using the grip on your arm to push you through it.

You stumbled forward a few steps, catching yourself on the side table with a muttered curse.

“Oi! What the…”

The door shut hard behind you.

“Care to explain to me,” Mary said, voice low and clipped as she folded her arms, “what on earth your behaviour was down there?”

You turned back toward her slowly, your chest still rising and falling like you’d just stepped out of the car.

“I got completely screwed over Mary, how about we start there.” you spat out.

Mary’s expression remained eerily unchanged. That only made it worse.

“You nearly concussed your jackman,” she said flatly. “Start there.”

You clenched your jaw, looked away, the shame threatening to crack through the rage simmering just under your skin.

“That wasn’t” you started, but the words stuck. “That wasn’t what I meant to do.”

“But it’s what you did,” Mary snapped, finally stepping toward you. “You lost control. You threw a tantrum and didn’t care who got caught in the crossfire. Now everyone else is scrambling to put out your fire while you stomp around like the world owes you something.”

“Fuck you, Mary,” you snarled, eyes flashing as your fists clenched again. “I won that race. I deserved to win.”

Mary stared at you for a long, frozen moment. Then she stepped forward. Slowly. Deliberately.

You held your ground. Until she reached you.

And in one smooth movement, she grabbed your wrist and spun you, pinning you back against the wall with her hand flat against your chest.

“You done?” she said low in your ear.

Your breath caught. The anger inside you buckled, tripped on itself. Still, your pride lashed out.

"Are you done trying to be in charge?" you hissed, eyes locking with hers.

Mary didn’t respond with words. She just stared at you. Hard. Jaw tightening slightly before stepping in again. Closer than before and took every last bit of control from you. Then, without another word, she stepped forward, grabbed your wrist again, and spun you from the wall.

You barely had time to react before she guided you (firm and unrelenting) across the room before shoving you onto the bed. You bounced once, breath leaving your lungs in a stunned rush, palms sinking into the soft duvet as you looked up at her in disbelief. She stood at the foot of the bed, eyes locked on you, her chest rising and falling with slow, measured control.

“You think this is about control?” she said, voice like low thunder. “This is about you remembering who you are when the helmet comes off. Who we are.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to argue, maybe to apologise, you weren’t sure. But she didn’t give you the chance before she was reaching for the hem of your shirt. In one swift movement Mary took hold and tugged it upward, pulling it up and over your head before you could protest. 

You blinked up at her, your chest rising and falling, heat blooming under your skin, not from anger now but from something else entirely. Something that made your pulse stutter.

“Less talking,” she said, voice low. “More listening.” 

Then Mary kissed you firmly, the kind of kiss that left no room for argument as her hand slid down. Not rushed or rough, but purposeful, landing just where she knew your resistance would crumble.

And in that moment, it did.

The fire in you gave way to something else entirely; an ache to let go, to be held, to be hers. Mary felt it. Knew it. She didn’t need you to say a word. Her lips hovered by your ear as her hand remained exactly where it was; light, steady, commanding.

“Are you ready to be my good girl now?” she whispered, her voice a breath and a promise all at once.

And this time, you didn’t fight it, you just nodded, everything in you softening under her touch.

The silence afterwards was thick.

Your body was spent, your limbs tangled with Mary’s beneath the sheets, your heart still thudding too fast in your chest. She lay beside you, warm and steady, her fingers absentmindedly brushing over your hip, grounding you in the quiet.

Neither of you said anything for a while.

Then softly “It’s okay to be upset,” she murmured.

You stared at the ceiling, jaw tight. “I’m fine.”

“Are you?”

Your throat ached. Your shoulders were locked in tension, every muscle resisting the weight of what was threatening to rise. But you shook your head stubbornly, swallowing hard, forcing it all back down.

“I’m not falling apart,” you muttered.

Mary didn’t argue. She just shifted closer, her hand sliding over your stomach, anchoring you with her presence.

“You don’t have to hold it in with me,” she whispered. “You’re safe here. With me.”

You blinked up at the ceiling, vision going blurry. You still didn’t move.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she added, voice so gentle it cracked something in you. “Let it out. I’ve got you. I’m right here. I’m not leaving.”

That was it.

The last thread snapped.

You turned into her, a sharp gasp catching in your throat as the sob broke through, and then another, and then another. You buried your face into her chest as it all came pouring out, the frustration, the helplessness, the rage you hadn’t known how to name. Your hands fisted into the sheets, your entire body trembling with the release.

Mary didn’t say anything else.

She just wrapped her arms around you tighter and held on, her lips brushing your forehead as you cried into her: unguarded, vulnerable, and finally letting go.

You’d cried until your body had nothing left to give.

Now you lay limp in Mary’s arms, your face pressed to her collarbone, breathing shallow and slow. Every now and then your chest hitched with the ghost of a sob, but even that was fading, worn down by sheer exhaustion. The adrenaline, the fury and the grief, all of it had bled out of you in her arms, leaving only the kind of tired that reached deep into your bones.

Mary shifted beneath you, brushing your damp hair back from your forehead.

“Come on,” she said gently, voice almost a whisper. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You didn’t answer, just curled tighter into her, releasing a small, pitiful sound somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. It wasn’t resistance, but it wasn’t cooperation either.

Mary exhaled softly, not frustrated, just tender.

“Alright, alright,” she murmured, and then she moved.

You felt her arms gather you up again, one under your knees, the other around your back, lifting you like it was the easiest thing in the world. You were barely aware of it. Your body slumped against hers, too heavy with sleep to even think about being strong.

She carried you into the bathroom, nudging the light on low with her elbow. The soft glow settled over the tiles as she set you gently on the closed toilet seat, steadying you when you swayed.

You blinked blearily, making a faint noise of protest, but Mary just shushed you quietly.

“I know, just for a second.”

With practiced hands she wet a soft cloth and gently wiped the dried tears from your cheeks, the salt from your lashes, the flushed skin along your neck and chest. You let her, you didn’t have it in you to argue anymore. Her touch was careful, reverent, and it made your throat tighten again, though this time from something quieter. Something like peace.

Mary then shifted down, wordlessly, and the cloth moved lower, cleaning you with the same gentleness. When you tensed at the sensitivity, your breath catching in your throat, she paused just long enough to soothe.

“Shh” she murmured, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “It’s okay. I’ve got you.”

She even dabbed at your under eyes, then reached for the familiar bottles on the counter and began doing your skincare for you. The routine you were normally militant about, now entirely out of reach.

You didn’t lift a hand.

She didn’t mind.

You were somewhere between asleep and barely conscious when she scooped you up again, carrying you back into the bedroom. You felt the cool fabric of your favourite pyjama shirt being pulled over your arms, then the gentle tug of soft flannel bottoms, your body limp in her care. You barely noticed the warmth of your fluffy socks being pulled up over your feet, but the comfort registered in some quiet corner of your mind.

And then she was pulling the duvet over both of you, her arms wrapping around you again, tucking you against her chest like she didn’t plan to let go for hours.

She kissed the top of your head once, then rested her chin there.

“You’re alright,” she whispered. “You’re safe.”

You let out a small, broken sound. Not quite words. But it meant thank you. Mary didn’t move and neither did you.

The morning sun filtered through the hotel curtains, golden and uninvited. You stayed curled beneath the duvet, face buried in the pillow, arms crossed like a sulking child. You hadn’t even changed out of your pyjamas. Your hoodie was still crumpled on the chair across the room.

“I’m not going,” you muttered, voice muffled in the sheets. “They all hate me. I looked like an idiot. It’s humiliating.”

Mary, already dressed, stood by the door silently. Then came the sound of her footsteps (measured and purposeful) as she crossed the room toward you.

“Get dressed,” she said calmly.

You let out a loud, stubborn whine, shaking your head. “Noooo, Maryyy, I can’t. It’s too embarrassing. They’re gonna stare. Just let me hide up here.”

She didn’t respond right away. But you could feel her presence at the edge of the bed; close, steady, stern. Then her hand came down on the back of your neck, firm and grounding, her fingers curling into the sensitive skin just below your hairline.

You froze.

Mary leaned down, her voice low and no nonsense against your ear.

“You are gonna march that pretty ass of yours downstairs and apologise to each and every member of your crew for your behaviour yesterday.”

You groaned, letting your forehead thump back into the pillow. “Baabbyyy, why are you so mean to me,” you whined dramatically.

“I’m not being mean,” she replied coolly, still gripping the back of your neck. “I’m holding you accountable.”

You stomped your foot against the mattress like a petulant child but still rolled out of bed with a dramatic sigh. Shoulders slumped, you dragged yourself toward the chair to yank your hoodie over your head, grumbling the entire time.

When you were finally dressed, Mary pointed calmly to the door. "Let’s go."

You huffed, dragging your feet toward it with all the attitude you could muster.

Behind you, her voice came firm and low. "Lose the attitude, baby, or you won’t like what happens next."

You straightened immediately, spine snapping to attention. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

Breakfast was painful. Stiff smiles. Awkward glances. But when you approached the table and gave your apology (quiet, sincere, eyes lowered) they nodded. A few offered kind words. One of the engineers even clapped you on the shoulder.

When it was over, your cheeks were flushed, your body hot with leftover shame and adrenaline. You scanned the room until you found Mary, sat off to the side with a coffee in hand. You trudged back to her, arms crossed tight over your chest, and collapsed into the seat beside her with a huff.

She didn’t look at you right away. Just reached out, slid her hand beneath the table to rest on the top of your inner thigh; warm and steady.

"Proud of you," she murmured into your ear.

Your muscles slackened instantly. The breath you let out was almost a sigh, almost a whimper. You turned your head and tucked it into the curve of her neck, letting your shoulders drop. Her scent, her calmness, her presence was everything.

Mary shifted slightly, just enough to press a kiss into your temple.

"I love you," she whispered.

Your chest squeezed. You nuzzled deeper into her arms, voice barely audible against her shirt.

"I love you too."

[earpskeeper]

lotte x best friend reader

word count - 1k

trigger warnings - breakdown, anxiety

You didn’t even remember what minute you had come off.

The match blurred behind your eyelids, a haze of shanked passes, heavy touches, mistimed runs, and that awful, echoing silence when you had missed a challenge and the crowd groaned. You kept hearing it. The groan. Over and over. Like a ghost that had attached itself to the base of your skull, rattling your confidence every few seconds.

You hadn’t looked at the manager when your number went up. Hadn’t looked at Lotte either. You’d just jogged off, head down, cheeks burning, legs trembling beneath you. The weight of failure settled deep into your muscles.

You didn’t make it to the bench.

You couldn’t.

As soon as the final whistle blew, Lotte’s eyes flicked to the substitutes’ bench, scanning for that familiar figure, arms crossed and legs bouncing. But you weren't there. She frowned, the tension in her jaw tightening.

“Have you seen Y/N?” she asked one of the trainers but they shook their head. “Thought she was with the subs.”

Lotte moved fast, heart picking up speed, something cold creeping down her spine. She checked the dugout, the tunnel. No sign. She called your name once, quietly, hoping she was just around the corner. Nothing.

By the time she got to the changing rooms and found them empty, the cold turned to panic.

“Come on, where are you?” she whispered, moving back out into the stadium’s underbelly, eyes darting.

That’s when she heard it.

A faint, stuttering breath, like someone struggling to breathe. Lotte followed the sound until she turned the corner and froze. There, curled up in the narrow corridor between the physio room and the laundry carts, you were.

Knees pulled to chest. Hands clenched in your hair. Breath ragged, gasping. Your face was blotchy, eyes wild, and there were small red crescents dug into your palms where your nails had bitten through the skin.

Lotte dropped to her knees without a second thought.

“Hey, hey, it’s me. It’s Lotte. You’re okay. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t respond, couldn’t, your breath came too fast and your eyes too wide. Lotte shifted closer, gently pressing a hand to your back, grounding you.

“Can you feel that? My hand right here. You’re not alone. I’ve got you.”

Her voice was low, steady, exactly what you needed.

“Look at me, alright? Can you do that?” Lotte coaxed.

It took a few seconds, but your gaze slowly flicked toward her.

“There you are,” Lotte whispered, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “You’re safe. You’re okay. Just breathe with me. Match me, alright?”

You inhaled, exaggerated and slow.

“One… two… three…”

You tried. Failed. Tried again. On the third attempt, your lungs caught the rhythm, and slowly your breathing began to even out.

Then Lotte noticed something.

Your fingers were clawing at your arm now, scratching hard at the skin like you could tear the feeling out of yourself.

“No, no,” Lotte said gently but firmly, reaching down to grab your wrist. “Don’t do that. Come here. Please.”

She took your hand into hers, holding it tight. You tried to pull away, but Lotte wouldn’t let you.

“You’re okay. I’ve got you. I’m not letting go.”

And that was it. That was what cracked it.

You collapsed forward, falling into Lotte’s arms with a sob that shook your whole body. You stayed there for minutes, just sitting in silence, Lotte’s arm wrapped firmly around your shoulders, anchoring you. The corridor was cold, but neither moved. The muffled sounds of post match chaos buzzed somewhere far away, irrelevant now.

Gradually, the chaos got louder. The sharp trill of studs on concrete. Shouts. Laughter. The team returning after clapping the fans. Lotte looked up, arms still around you as she caught Leah passing the end of the corridor.

“Leah,” she called softly.

Leah stopped, turned, and her expression shifted immediately when she saw you. She stepped closer.

“Is she alright?”

Lotte shook her head. “Not really. She’s not feeling well, and I think she just needs some space. Could you grab our stuff and drive us back to mine? Please?”

Leah nodded slowly, her brow creased. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

She looked at you again, concern flickering across her face. She clearly didn’t buy the whole "not feeling well" thing, but she didn’t push it.

“I’ll be outside in ten,” she said gently, then turned away.

When Lotte returned her attention to you, she gently spoke out.

“Come on. Let’s go home.”

The car ride was silent, but not in a bad way.

You sat in the back, curled against Lotte with a blanket wrapped around your shoulders. Your eyes stayed fixed out the window, but every so often you would blink slowly and press a little closer. Lotte didn’t say anything, she just kept her hand in your lap, steady and warm.

Back at Lotte’s flat, she took care of everything.

She helped you change into comfier clothes, made you a cup of tea, and pulled the duvet over her.

She tucked a hot water bottle under your feet and sat beside her on the bed. She even lit the small lavender candle she kept on the nightstand, the one she only used when she couldn’t sleep.

And then you finally spoke, voice hoarse and quiet.

"Sarina called me today," you said, eyes fixed on the ceiling. "Said I'm not on the roster for this camp. Said I need to get more minutes to get the call up. But it's not happening, Lot. I keep getting subbed off, keep playing bad."

Your voice broke, and she swallowed thickly.

"I didn’t tell anyone yet. I, I thought if I just played well today, I’d prove I deserved it. But..."

Your eyes filled again, and you didn’t finish.

Lotte reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me. And one game, one rough patch, doesn’t erase everything you’ve worked for. You're still you. You’ll get back there. I promise.”

“But what if I don’t?”

“You will. And even if it takes time, even if it’s messy and hard… I’m not going anywhere.”

You let out a shaky breath.

Lotte took your hand again and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Get some rest. We’ll figure this out together.”

You nodded, just barely, your throat too raw to speak. Her thumb brushed softly over the back of your hand, over and over, the rhythm grounding you more than anything else had in weeks.

The warmth of the duvet, the soft flicker of the lavender candle, the weight of Lotte beside you, it all wrapped around you like a balm. For the first time in what felt like forever, your shoulders eased away from your ears and you closed your eyes.

This time, your mind didn’t race ahead or spiral back. It just floated: quiet, calm and safe. With Lotte’s hand in yours and the sound of her gentle breathing beside you, you let go.

And finally, you rested.

[earpskeeper]

awfc oneshots:

not tired just done

breathe