#ACL Surgery Recovery Time

[dr-aashish-arbat-pune]

ACL Surgeon in Pune

Dr. Aashish Arbat is the best ACL Surgeon in Pune. Top ACL Surgery Doctor in Pune. ACL Doctor in Pune. ACL Reconstruction Doctor in Pune. Best for ACL Treatment in Pune. Visits the Best Hospital For ACL Surgery In Pune, India

[goldfades]

COMFORT ─── PAIGE BUECKERS

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 | 2.1k

⟢ ┈ 𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲 | (request: you’re injured and paige takes care of you w her knowledge from her own injuries) you tear your ACL during a pivotal time in your college basketball career, but paige makes sure you never feel alone.

⟢ ┈ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | descriptions of ACL tear/recovery, hurt to comfort, sweet!paige, nothing else... just sweet hurt to comfort

The world doesn’t end the way you thought it would. It doesn’t explode into fire and chaos. It doesn’t even slow down. Instead, it keeps spinning, indifferent to your pain, while you sit in the sterile silence of the trainer’s office with your head in your hands.

You hear the trainer’s voice—calm, practiced, rehearsed in a way that’s meant to comfort but fails miserably. The words barely register. Partial tear. Complete tear. ACL. Surgery. Out for the season. Each one feels like a slap, sharp and deliberate. They echo in your head, refusing to settle.

You were supposed to be untouchable. Unstoppable. Instead, you’re here, clutching your knee and trying to keep the tears at bay. Except it’s no use, and the first one spills over, hot and unforgiving, sliding down your cheek as you bite down hard on your lip to muffle the sob threatening to break loose.

“Hey,” a voice breaks through the haze, soft but sure, and you’d know it anywhere. Paige.

She’s leaning in the doorway, her face pulled tight with concern, her blue eyes scanning yours like she’s trying to piece you back together. You can tell she’s walked into this kind of scene before—hell, she’s lived it. She doesn’t wait for you to say anything. She just steps inside, closing the door behind her, as if the world outside doesn’t deserve to see you like this.

Her sneakers squeak against the floor as she moves closer, crouching down in front of you. “Talk to me,” she says quietly. Her voice is steady, but her hands are hesitant as they hover near your knee. It’s like she’s afraid touching you will hurt more than it helps.

You shake your head, throat too tight to speak, and look away because meeting her gaze feels like admitting you’re broken.

“Look at me,” Paige says, and this time there’s a firmer edge to her voice, one that doesn’t leave room for argument. “You’re allowed to be upset. You’re allowed to cry. Just—don’t shut me out, okay?”

You sniff, dragging the sleeve of your hoodie across your face like that’s going to fix the mess you feel like. “I—” you start, and your voice cracks. “I can’t believe this is happening.”

Her expression softens, and she nods. “I know,” she says simply, like she really does know. Like she’s lived through this storm and found the words she wishes someone had told her.

You don’t fight it anymore. The tears come in full force, and she’s there, catching them in the space between her hands and your shattered pride.

Paige doesn’t flinch when you finally break. She doesn’t pull back, doesn’t make any effort to shush you. Instead, she stays close, her presence steady and grounding as the sobs wrack through you. She waits, letting you cry, like she knows there’s no point trying to stop the flood. She’s been where you are—she understands that grief is messy, raw, and loud.

When you finally start to calm, your chest heaving as you pull in shaky breaths, Paige shifts. Her hands settle on either side of your chair, her fingers curling lightly against the frame. She’s close now, closer than she was before, and it forces you to meet her gaze. Her eyes are so blue it’s almost unnerving, but there’s nothing cold in them. They’re soft and warm and completely locked onto you.

“You’re going to be okay,” she says, her voice low but firm, like she’s willing it into existence. “Not right now. Not tomorrow. But you will be. I promise.”

You huff a bitter laugh, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks. “How do you know?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “You don’t know what this feels like.”

Paige tilts her head, her lips pressing into a thin line. For a second, you’re afraid you’ve pissed her off, but then she shifts again, sitting back on her heels. “You’re right,” she says evenly, and you feel a flicker of guilt until she continues, her voice quiet. “I don’t know exactly what this feels like for you. But I do know what it’s like to have everything ripped away. To feel like your body betrayed you.”

Your eyes widen as the words hit you like a punch to the gut. You don’t have to ask what she’s talking about—her injuries are part of her story, the kind of thing reporters love to milk for drama. You’ve heard the whispers in the locker room, the jokes people make about her being made of glass. But hearing her say it, hearing the crack in her voice as she lays it out for you, is something entirely different.

She leans forward, resting her forearms on her knees as she looks up at you. “When I tore my ACL, I felt like my world ended. Like everything I’d worked for was gone, and I didn’t know who I was without basketball.” She pauses, glancing down at her hands. “And when it happened again? I didn’t think I’d ever come back. But I did. And you will too.”

The words land heavy between you, their weight almost too much to carry. You want to believe her, but the doubts are louder, screaming in your head like a storm. You shake your head, your voice trembling as you speak. “What if I don’t? What if I can’t—”

“You will,” Paige interrupts, her tone sharpening. She reaches out then, her hand closing gently over yours. It’s the first time she’s touched you, and the warmth of her palm against yours is enough to still your spiraling thoughts for a moment. “I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, but this injury? It doesn’t define you. You’re so much more than just a basketball player.”

The sincerity in her voice catches you off guard. She’s not just saying it to make you feel better—it’s like she genuinely believes it, like she sees something in you that you can’t see in yourself.

For the first time since the trainer delivered the news, you feel the tiniest flicker of something—hope, maybe. It’s faint and fragile, but it’s there, tucked beneath the layers of hurt and doubt.

You nod slowly, your voice barely a whisper. “I’m scared.”

Paige’s grip on your hand tightens, just enough to ground you. “I know,” she says softly. “And that’s okay. But you don’t have to do this alone, okay? I’ve got you.”

Her words settle over you like a blanket, their warmth chasing away some of the chill that’s been clinging to you all day. You don’t say anything, but the way your fingers curl around hers is enough.

In that moment, you know this won’t be easy. It won’t be quick. But with Paige by your side, maybe—just maybe—you’ll find your way through.

A week passes, but it feels like a lifetime. In some ways, the days blur together—endless stretches of ice packs, pain meds, and quiet moments spent on the couch as your knee heals, your body’s recovery slower than you ever thought possible. The swelling subsides little by little, but the emotional toll still lingers. It’s not just the injury itself; it’s everything that comes with it—the sense of being lost, of not knowing who you are without the game you’ve built your life around.

Through it all, Paige is there. Every step. Every moment.

You didn’t ask her to stay. You didn’t need to. She just… did. She’s in your apartment more than you are, rearranging the furniture to make sure it’s easier for you to move around, grabbing your crutches when you forget them, offering you soft smiles that somehow make everything feel less heavy.

At first, you thought it would be temporary. Maybe she’d check in now and then, offer a few encouraging words, and then go back to her life. But Paige doesn’t leave. She doesn’t even give you a chance to feel like a burden before she’s sitting next to you, flipping through a medical textbook she found in your living room, looking up at you with that concerned-but-gentle expression as she explains exactly what your recovery is going to look like.

“You need to ice it after every physical therapy session, okay?” she says one morning, kneeling beside you on the couch. Her face is close—too close, but you don’t mind it. “And remember, no jumping for at least three months. Even if it feels okay, you’ve got to take it slow.”

You nod, your attention drifting to the way her hair falls into her eyes, the soft blue of her UConn hoodie clinging to her frame. She’s spent the last few days talking you through every little detail, but you’re more focused on the way her presence fills the space, making the room feel less empty. Less… lonely.

She doesn’t seem to mind when you have to ask the same questions over and over, doesn’t grow frustrated when you get teary or frustrated with yourself. She just holds you—gently, quietly, as if she’s got all the time in the world to wait for you to heal.

A few days in, you wake up from a nap to find her sitting on the floor beside you, her back against the couch, her head tilted back against the armrest as she takes a short rest. You smile faintly, surprised at how natural it feels to have her here, like this.

She stirs as you move, glancing up at you with a sleepy smile. “Hey, you’re up,” she says, pushing herself into a sitting position. She doesn’t even look tired, though you know she’s been here, practically living with you. The sleep-deprived bags under her eyes tell a different story, but she never complains. She just brushes it off and makes sure you’re okay.

“You don’t have to keep doing this, you know,” you murmur, your voice soft but filled with a weight you hadn’t expected to carry. “I mean, you’ve got your own stuff to do. Your recovery, your workouts—”

“Don’t,” she interrupts, her eyes serious. She reaches out to take your hand, her grip warm and steady. “You’re not a burden. You’re never a burden to me, okay?”

You swallow, the lump in your throat growing thicker. The truth is, you want to believe her, but you can’t shake the guilt that gnaws at you. It’s been a week, and Paige hasn’t left your side, hasn’t hesitated to show up for you in every way possible. She doesn’t even hesitate when she has to pick you up from your appointments, drive you around, carry your bags—her whole world seems to revolve around making sure you’re okay.

“I’m here because I want to be here,” she adds softly, her thumb running over the back of your hand. “I know what it’s like to be in your shoes, and I’m not going anywhere.”

She says it so easily, so confidently. You can see it in the way she moves, the way she holds herself around you. There’s a softness to her that’s more than just kindness. It’s her care, her understanding, her quiet insistence that you will get through this.

Later that evening, after another grueling round of physical therapy, you slump down onto the couch in exhaustion, your leg elevated with an ice pack resting on your knee. Paige sits next to you, gently brushing your hair back from your forehead. You glance at her, trying to keep your voice light. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“Take care of me like this. I mean, it’s not like you don’t have your own recovery stuff going on, too. And yet, here you are—every single day.”

Paige’s smile is soft, but there’s something fierce behind it. She doesn’t look away as she answers, her voice quiet but filled with conviction. “Because I love you.”

You blink at her, the words catching you off guard. There’s a warmth in your chest that spreads like wildfire, catching you off guard, even as you try to fight it. But you can’t. Not with Paige here, not with the way she’s been by your side without hesitation, without complaint.

You pull your knee up, adjusting it so you can sit facing her. “I love you too,” you murmur, the words slipping out before you can second-guess them.

She tilts her head, her smile gentle and soft, her eyes searching yours like she’s waiting for something more. “You don’t have to say it just because I did,” she teases lightly. But you can see the glimmer of emotion in her eyes, the way she holds your gaze a moment longer before looking away.

But then, just like that, she’s leaning over to gently press a kiss to your temple. The touch is sweet, tender, and full of love—like a promise, a reminder that, no matter what happens with your knee, she’ll be there.

In that moment, with her warmth beside you, you know that you don’t have to walk this road alone. Paige will carry you through this. And maybe—just maybe—you can find your way back to the game, to yourself, with her by your side.

↳ make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated !

↳ thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[requiemforthepoets]

the underdog 𖦹 CL16

PAIRINGS: charles leclerc x fencer!leclerc!reader , f1 grid x fencer!leclerc!reader

SUMMARY: despite being a talented fencer, you were still considered as an underdog, but you are here to prove everyone wrong.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: it’s my first time doing something like this, and i apologize on my dry humor…but i hope you still enjoy this though.

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WARNINGS: typos

FACE CLAIM: maxine esteban and others on pinterest, but mostly maxine esteban.

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, lorenzotl and 578,982 others

ynleclerc 2022-2023 was one hell of a ride.

This past year has been a never ending whirlwind of challenges and triumphs. From the devastating ACL tear and the subsequent surgery that threatened my fencing career to the grueling recovery process that tested my limits, it has been a journey of resilience, determination, and unwavering support. After six months of rehabilitation, I am beyond thrilled to share that I have received medical clearance to return to competitive sports.

However, that’s not all. I have been keeping this secret for a while now, one that I have cherished and guarded closely, even from my family. Today, I am proud to announce that I am switching my fencing nationality from Italy to Monaco. This decision has been a deeply personal and emotional one, driven by my love to Monaco, my home, and the desire to represent Monaco on the global stage.

I owe a debt of gratitude to my former team for shaping me into the athlete I am today. Now, as I embark on this new chapter representing Monaco, I carry with me the lessons and memories that have defined my journey so far.

Je suis heureux (se) de vous annoncer mon changement de nationalité sportive, passant de l'Italie à Monaco. C'est une décision qui me remplit de fierté et d'un profond sentiment d'appartenance. Merci à tous ceux qui ont rendu cela possible et qui continuent à me soutenir dans cette nouvelle aventure 🙌🏻

I am thrilled for what lies ahead and am setting my sights on qualifying for Paris 2024. Together, let's write the next chapter of this incredible journey. Merci infiniment. 🇲🇨🤺❤️

view all 10,739 comments

pascale.leclerc.355 C'est une nouvelle très excitante, mon chéri ! Je suis impatiente de te voir aux Jeux Olympiques représentant Monaco! ❤️🇲🇨 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc Merci maman pour ton soutien sans fin!! Je t'aime tellement!! 😭❤️

username1 OUR FAVORITE LECLERC REPRESENTING MONACO!! 🙌🏻

username2 OMG imagine if y/n won a medal in the Paris 2024, she’ll be the first one to win a medal for Monaco in the olympics!! 😭❤️

username3 charles winning the monaco gp and y/n winning the olympics 2024, imagine the POWER. prince and princess of Monaco 👏🏻

username4 MANIFESTING PARIS 2024!! 🗣️

carlossainz55 Vamos, y/n!! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

scuderiaferrari Congratulations to our favorite Leclerc!! ❤️❤️❤️ ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

charles_leclerc I can’t believe that I’ll find out this amazing news online?! Félicitations à notre petite sœur! Je sais que tu vas faire des merveilles, tu es une formidable escrimeuse. Il n'y a aucun doute que tu te qualifieras pour Paris 2024! Nous t'aimons tellement ❤️ ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc tbf, i never told a single soul abt this, and it was really hard keeping it from you guys!!! But thank you so much, charlieee 🥺❤️ ♥︎ liked by charles_leclerc

pierregasly Secure that gold medal! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username5 i’m a new fan of f1 and i just found out that charles has a younger sister?!

username6 yes! she’s the youngest of the leclercs and she’s a fencer!! there’s a thread about her on the x app!!!

haterusername1 she’s gonna be losing left and right. italy is at the top of the game when it comes to fencing, this transfer is literally a bad move for her lmao can’t wait to see her lose lol

TWITTER POST

ynleclerc

liked by pascale.leclerc.355, arthur_leclerc, charles_leclerc and 465,323 others

ynleclerc new season, same dream. 🤺🇲🇨 let’s go! ❤️🔥

view all 12,838 comments

pascale.leclerc.355 Je suis tellement excitée, mon cher! Faisons honneur à nous-mêmes et à Monaco! 🇲🇨💕 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc Merci maman, je t'aime!! ❤️

landonorris PARIS 2024 HERE WE COME!! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc hold your horses there, norris. i have yet to win the championships 😂

landonorris already claiming and manifesting it

username7 OLYMPIAN Y/N LETS FUCKING GOOOOOO

username8 MANIFESTING SO HARD FOR THE QUALIFYING

username9 if she qualifies for Paris 2024, i’m shaving my eyebrows ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username10 NOT Y/N LIKING THE COMMENT 😭😭😭

username9 QUEEN I- 😭😭😭

haterusername2 she’ll be demolished by the other fencing team, knowing that the monaco’s fencing team are weak. haven’t even won any medals in the olympics lol, as if she’ll be able to qualify in the Paris 2024 🤥🫠

haterusername3 totally agree! not all these people hyping her up just bc she is some famous person’s sister. tbh, her fencing is literally average.

username10 omfg shut up you boomers. bet a hundred bucks that you cant’t even do what she does LMFAO speaking as if you have fenced in your whole life.

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, landonorris and 687,943 others

tagged: charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and scuderiaferrari

ynusername supporting my fav ferrari bros charles_leclerc & carlossainz55 before heading off to Cairo. Forza Ferrari! ❤️

view all 15,839 comments

scuderiaferrari it was such an honor to be graced by your presence, our favorite ferrari girl! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc I had a very amazing time. thank you, ferrari! ❤️

landonorris WHY DIDNT YOU TELL ME YOU’LL BE ATTENDING THE GP 😭 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc SORRY I FORGOT TO TELL YOU OMG 😭 I’LL MAKE IT UP TO YOU NEXT TIME!!

oscarpiastri I thought you’re team papaya 😔 heart been broke too many times 💔 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc i’m so sorry my nephew 😔💔

oscarpiastri we’re the same age 😐

ynleclerc but you’re my bro’s child 😔 btw, say hi to lily for me!! miss hanging out with her.

oscarpiastri will do 👍🏻 lilyzneimer y/n says hi and told me that she missed hanging out with you

username11 OSCAR WTF 😭😭😭

mclaren pls be in our garage next time 😔💔 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

scuderiaferrari back off sis, she’s ours ✋🏻😐

username12 not ferrari and mclaren fighting for her in the comsec 😭

fencing_fie

liked by ynleclerc, charles_leclerc, arthur_leclerc, and 987,745 others

tagged: ynleclerc, paris2024, olympics

fencing_fie On her way to Paris 2024, ynleclerc is inspiring the next generation in 🇲🇨

view all 36,873 comments

ynleclerc

liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris, lilyzneimer, and 1,673,992 others

ynusername I can’t stop crying. We did it kids.

OFFICIALLY QUALIFIED FOR THE PARIS OLYMPICS 🇲🇨🥹❤️

Qualifying for the Paris 2024 Olympics is another check in my list, and representing Monaco makes it even more special. This journey has been long. Series of heartbreaks and tears, some milestones…but whatever happens, I am happy and thankful to be where I am right now and meet such wonderful people around the world.

To my family. Maman, Lorenzo, Charles, and Arthur, thank you for never giving up on me and my dreams. For sticking with me through thick and thin, especially during the challenging times after my ACL tear and surgery, I know that I was unbearable that that time, crying 24/7 because I kept on thinking that it might be the end of my career, but your love and encouragement has been my strength. To my medical team, thank you for pushing me in getting back on my feet and giving me chance to chase my dreams once again.

Le plus beau des rêves se réalise aujourd’hui. Merci à tous pour votre soutien. Je suis prêt pour ce nouveau chapitre!

Love, y/n 🤍

view all 57,939 comments

scuderiaferrari CONGRATULATIONS TO OUR FAV FERRARI GIRL!!! ❤️🔥

ynleclerc thank you, admin 🥺❤️

lilymhe i know that i might be beheaded by my own country, BUT FUCK IT LETS GO MONACO!!! 🗣️🗣️🗣️🇲🇨🇲🇨🇲🇨 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username13 OMF LILY 😭😭😭

mclaren WAY TO GO Y/N!! 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username10 how are we feeling today? better prepare your eyebrow username9

username9 already prepared and accepted that i’ll be shaving my eyebrows ✊🏻

ynleclerc tag me when you do it…JK pls don’t!! i don’t want your mom to be angry at me 😭

username9 OMSJDJEJDJWKDK

landonorris SEATED. READY. FRONT ROW. ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username14 BOOKED MY FLIGHT TO PARIS FOR THE OLYMPICS, CANT WAIT

username15 MOTHER.

francisca.cgomes YESSSS GIRL YOU GOOOOOOOOOO 🙌🏻🔥💪🏻 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

alexandrasaintmleux congratulations!!! we are all behind you!! 🇲🇨 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

lilyzneimer oscar and i are ready, we will be there!!! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

arthur_leclerc YEEEEEEEES congratulations, petite soeur! celebration is in order 😁🥳🤩 ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

charles_leclerc

liked by maxverstappen1, lewishamilton, georgerussell63, and 2,473,973 others

tagged: ynleclerc

charles_leclerc I can’t believe it, our petite soeur just qualified at Paris 2024!

Remember when you first picked up a fencing foil, nearly took out the living room lamp and maman getting angry 😂 all of us knew that you are destined for greatness right then and there (or at least destined to break a lot of household items). Fast forward to today, screaming your heart out in victory, making us all incredibly proud!

I’m so excited to see you compete in Paris 2024. I know you’ll do great. Congratulations, superstar! You made us all proud. Let’s get ready for Paris!

OUR BABY SISTER MADE IT TO THE OLYMPICS!

view all 68,938 comments

ynleclerc YOURE MAKING ME CRY AGAIN 😭 thank you, charlie. love you!!! 🥹🫶🏻 ♥︎ liked by charles_leclerc

lewishamilton Congratulations, ynleclerc! I know you’ll do everyone and Monaco proud! 💪🏻❤️ ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

ynleclerc thank you so much, sir lewis!

georgerussell63 Congratulations! Carmen and I will be there in support! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

pierregasly gold medal secured in the bag! ♥︎ liked by ynleclerc

username16 PRINCE AND PRINCESS OF MONACO! 🇲🇨

username17 charles and y/n making monaco proud!! 😭❤️

username18 the moment y/n wins the olympics, prepare to be sick of me. PREPARE TO BE SICK OF ME!!!!!

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER ONE

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff | lmk if you want to be added! wc: 7.1k notes: see masterlist for content warnings. buckle up, here we go 🙂‍↕️

'South Carolina Basketball Star Tess Kennedy Hits Rock Bottom'

On March 31, the South Carolina Gamecocks went head to head with the Iowa Hawkeyes in the heavily anticipated Final Four match-up. For South Carolina, this was their two-peat season, coming off of an electric championship win back in April 2022 against the formidable Connecticut Huskies. For Iowa, this was their underdog season. Their last Final Four appearance was back in 1993. With powerhouses such as Kamilla Cardoso, Aliyah Boston, and Tess Kennedy, South Carolina was a fan favorite to win, but Caitlin Clark and the Hawkeyes would prove to be a wrench in the plans.

Late in the third quarter, Tess Kennedy fell to the ground clutching her knee as Clark drove past her. To those on court, the injury was obvious. She was carried off in a stretcher. We would later receive the news that Kennedy had officially tore the anterior cruciate ligament (ACL) in her left knee and would undergo surgery within the week. Kennedy would have the entire offseason and most of the regular season to rehab and hopefully return for the 2023-2024 season, but onlookers quickly found that would not be the case.

April 9 marked the beginning of what was taunted as the "Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour." It had simple beginnings - a Twitter reply here, a heated Instagram argument there.

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: USER GAMECOCKS4LIFE33: "TESS KENNEDY YOU SUCK, THANKS FOR THROWING OUR BACK TO BACK SEASON, I HOPE YOUR ACL NEVER HEALS!!!" | USER TESSKENNEDY25: "I'M PRAYING THAT YOUR WIFE HAS AN ABORTION. I'D STRANGLE MYSELF WITH MY OWN UMBILICAL CORD IF I CAME OUT OF THE WOMB AND YOUR FACE WAS THE FIRST THING I SAW." END TRANSCRIPTION.]

As recovery progressed, Kennedy soon frequented a local bar nearby the University of South Carolina campus. Kennedy would spend nights there, often inebriated and starting arguments outside. Her nights out would only end when other members of the South Carolina women's basketball team came to rescue her. They have all declined to comment at this time.

Kennedy's supporters have gone online with desperate cries for anyone at all to get Tess Kennedy the help and recovery she needs. South Carolina has been unnaturally quiet regarding their star player's self-destruction. Kennedy has expressed that she wishes to enter the WNBA draft after her senior year, and considering that an ACL tear often makes or breaks an athlete's career, it does not surprise us in the least that Kennedy is having a difficult time with her injury. The only question remaining is if someone will pick her up, or if Tess Kennedy will be left to her own devices and continue to sink.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 3, 2023

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

The silence in the conference room is palpable. Tess is currently battling a migraine, though she’s not sure if it’s from her hangover or the absolute bullshit her manager just subjected her ears to. She’s surrounded by Amaya, the aforementioned manager, Diana, her publicist, Coach Staley, a counselor from the university’s counseling and wellness center (though she’s already forgotten her name), Paige Bueckers, for whatever fucking reason, and two other unfamiliar people.

When Amaya called her to schedule a meeting, Tess didn’t know what it was for. Amaya didn’t say and Tess was too shitfaced to argue, especially when Amaya was yelling at her bright and early at 7 am. The regret pools low in her belly and she tells herself for the millionth time that she should have skipped this meeting.

“Tess, we’ve brought you in today because everyone is worried for you,” Amaya states. “Frankly, we should have done it earlier. That has been a critical error on our end. Your teammates have told us that you either lock yourself in your room for hours on end or go out and get plastered. I’m sure you’re familiar with what the media is calling the ‘Tess Kennedy Destruction Tour?’”

Paige, quiet from the other end of the table, raises a brow while Tess scoffs. “I feel like that’s a little excessive,” Tess says.

Diana frowns. “Since your ACL injury, you’ve been in several arguments online. You frequent bars and are at risk of a severe alcohol addiction. We know you’re not rehabbing nor are you taking your medication.”

And, at the heart of it, Amaya and Diana aren’t wrong. Maybe when Tess is a few drinks in and she opens Twitter and sees what all the trolls are saying, constant repeats and barrages of Tess Kennedy sold South Carolina’s game – she deserves so much worse than an ACL tear and South Carolina made a mistake in recruiting her, maybe she responds to them, because why wouldn’t she? She’s a college athlete, she understands trash talk and competitiveness, but everything that is said about her is downright cruel. She loses all of her inhibitions when the tequila flows through her veins – making the trolls feel just as bad as she does is one of the simplest remedies she could offer. The alcohol makes her forget about her injury, about the guilt of costing her team the game and the championship. It’s simple. So what if she drinks a little more lately? She’s not addicted. She’s just trying to forget.

Her avoiding rehab and her medication were just unfortunate casualties of war. Her injury was too fresh on her mind for her to fully commit to attending, even though Kamilla tried her best to get her to the physio’s office. Her medication was a different story – she had to be weaned off of her lexapro for a couple days before her surgery so she could safely be anesthetized for it. Then she wasn’t allowed to take her medication for a few days post-surgery given the nature of her painkillers. It all spiraled from there. She was off of her rhythm in multiple ways, and the last thing on her mind was her anxiety medication.

“We know you won’t listen, so we are not giving you options,” Amaya says firmly, forcing Tess back into the moment. She resists an eyeroll. “You’re at risk of killing yourself, Tess. You’re at risk of losing your basketball scholarship because your grades have slipped after finals – you’re lucky enough that your GPA was high enough from the past two years to cushion straight C’s this semester. Your brand deals are inches away from dropping you entirely. So, we are going to fix that. Three times weekly, you will meet with a trainer for mandatory physical therapy. Once a week, you will meet with a psychologist for your mental health and alcohol dependence. And during this off-season, we’ve made the decision that you and Paige Bueckers will be in a fake relationship so you can repair your images.”

Which brings us to where we are now.

“You can’t be fucking serious.”

Tess’s eyes nearly fall out of her head. Paige seems equally as shocked from across the table, jaw slack, though her expression hardens with indignance as Tess demands, “Why her? What is fake dating going to do about any of this?”

“Your brand deals are at risk of pulling away from you because you are destroying your image,” Amaya says again. “You’re too volatile. Paige’s brand deals are at risk of pulling away from her because…” Amaya struggles to find the words.

“I’m not ‘family friendly’ enough,” Paige supplies, fingers raised in air quotes.

At that, Tess snickers. “And by that, she means she sleeps around too much, people are noticing, and her conquests are bitter.”

“Why the attitude? Jealous I ain’t sleepin’ with you?”

“Oh, sure, because I’ve always wanted an STD.”

“At the rate you’re destroying yourself, you might be closer than you think.”

“Enough,” Amaya snaps. Tess and Paige close their mouths. Paige at least has the decency to look a little ashamed while Tess glares. “But yes. Paige’s brand deals feel as though she’s too… all over the place. Having a fake girlfriend will placate her brands and consumers who are upset with them for not taking action. The two of you together will show that Paige is not a womanizer and that Tess is not a flight risk.”

“I don’t agree with this,” Tess states.

Amaya hums. “I’ll take your grievances into consideration.” She pauses for a moment, tapping her chin dramatically as if thinking hard, before smiling. “Okay, I’ve considered. You and Paige will fake date. You’re going to go to all of your appointments and you are going to try to get better. Your doctors said you would be able to play again depending on your recovery. Why are you trying to destroy yourself? Why are you making this harder on yourself than it needs to be?”

Tess doesn’t have an answer for that. At least, not one she’s going to admit in front of her Coach or Paige Bueckers. Paige got lucky – she tore her ACL and she’s almost fully healed now. The chance that Tess might not be able to, no matter how slim, fills her with indescribable envy. Taking her destruction into her own hands gives her some semblance of control that she otherwise doesn’t have. She wasn’t in control when her ligament tore. She wasn’t in control when she was in surgery for hours and the doctors were meticulously replacing it.

When she doesn’t respond, Amaya sighs. “Paige flies back to Connecticut on Saturday. I want you two to take this week to get to know each other and soft launch – how you do that, I don’t care. We just want the public to know you’re seeing each other currently.”

After some more fine-tuning between Amaya, Diana, and Paige’s manager and publicist, the meeting concludes. Tess doesn’t waste any time before she’s hauling herself to her feet. She grunts as the pain shoots through her leg, gripping the table to stabilize herself. “Tess, hold on,” Coach Staley calls. “I need a word with you.”

Tess resists a sigh. No matter how fucked up she might be, she’s not going to be the one to test Coach Staley. The conference room filters out, though Tess doesn’t notice Paige’s lingering gaze as she leaves. “I know you probably feel a little trapped right now,” Coach says. “That we’re forcing you into this. Which we are – I mean, I won’t sugarcoat it. I know basketball is your dream and you feel like it’s all slipping away because of your injury. Let me be the first to say that the Tess Kennedy I know wouldn’t let this stop her. I don’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t know why you’re spiraling, but I do know that our team is a family and we are always here to support you if you’d just let us in. You are an amazing player, an asset on and off the court. Please give this your all, if not for me, if not for your teammates, but for yourself.”

Tess can feel the tightness in her throat and the slight sting in her eyes. Part of her knows that Coach is right – she always is. The other part of her is so overwhelmed by her grief that it’s hard to fully absorb it. “I’ll try, Coach,” she says softly, feeling more sober than she has in weeks. Coach Staley squeezes her shoulder, walking out of the room. After wiping the tears pooling in her eyes and taking deep breaths, she walks out, too.

“Hey –”

Tess nearly jumps out of her skin, a hand over her chest. “Jesus fucking Christ, Paige.” The blonde guard can’t help but snicker, crossing her arms over her chest. “Not funny, dude. You’re an asshole. I can’t believe people line up to sleep with you.”

“They do that?” she asks, smiling smugly. “Didn’t know.”

Tess rolls her eyes in annoyance. “Do you have a reason to be talking to me or are you just trying to make me start drinking at 9 am?”

Paige shoves her hands in her pockets. “Amaya told me your first PT appointment is in an hour. She wants me to go with you, help you out and shit.” Paige must recognize the look on Tess’s face because she huffs. “Look, I wanna be doing this as much as you do. But work with me a little. I wasn’t this insufferable when I tore my ACL.”

At that, Tess’s gaze turns into a hard glare. “Fuck off. You don’t know shit about my injury.”

She scoffs. “I know more than you think I do, and I think that’s why you’re all pissed,” she says, voice low. “Yeah, you’re in pain 24/7, but it’s the mentality that fucks you up. You’re scared you’re never going to play ball again and you’re taking it out on other people. You’re taking it out on yourself, Tess; you’re literally killing yourself over an injury you can bounce back from. It’s hard and it’s scary and it’s fucked up. And as shitty as it sounds, tearing your ACL is something that only happens to other people, right? It wasn’t supposed to happen to you.” Tess’s mouth morphs into a guilty frown, watching as Paige shifts her weight to her healthy leg unconsciously. “So, face it. You tore your ACL. You trashed your reputation to cope with it and now we gotta dig each other out of the mud. But your recovery is up to you. Commit to it, follow the PT, do what you gotta do – or you’re never playing on that court again.”

Despite her harsh words, Paige’s eyes are soft with understanding, not pity. Tess was used to seeing the commiseration on her teammates' faces. They didn’t understand; understanding an ACL tear came with the fact of having one, and as mad as she was at the world right now, Tess would never wish something like that upon her teammates. Do what you gotta do – or you’re never playing on that court again. Paige’s words run around her head on repeat. Tess isn’t surprised that it makes her angry. She is surprised to find that the anger isn’t directed at the blonde herself, who she’s about to be stuck with for months on end. Tess is pissed at herself. Her actions may have just cost her weeks, if not months of extra recovery time. She was so lost in what-ifs that she didn’t focus on the things that were actually around her.

Tess would work on it. That is as much as she could promise herself.

Unable to fully process the genuine culture shock of Paige’s rant, Tess swallows thickly and looks anywhere but the blonde’s blue eyes. “Do you, um, wanna grab coffee before PT?” she asks forlornly.

Paige’s jaw ticks, but she seems to recognize the invitation for what it is – an olive branch. “Yeah. Sure. You should swing by your apartment and grab your crutches, though.”

Tess almost rolls her eyes at the mother-hen tone of Paige’s voice. “I don’t need them anymore,” she retorts. “Doctor said 2 to 3 weeks post-surgery. I’m very much 2 to 3 weeks post-surgery.”

“Pretty sure 2 to 3 weeks depended on good behavior,” Paige states. “You did literally the opposite of that. Plus, I saw you wince when you stood up. Go get your crutches, Tessa.”

“Okay, first of all, Tess isn’t a nickname,” she gripes, but she leads Paige towards the athlete apartments. “Tessa is not on my birth certificate. Second of all, don’t boss me around.”

Paige hums. “Okay,” she concedes, which shocks Tess enough that she turns around. Paige has a solemn look on her face, but the look in her eye tells Tess all she needs to know. “According to Amaya, we’re girlfriends now. That means I gotta look out for you. So lighten up, ma. Get your crutches and let me buy you a coffee so you don’t get cranky in PT.”

Tess wrinkles her nose. “Do not call me that either.”

“Okay, Tessa.”

“You’re actually so fucking annoying, it’s unreal.” Tess turns around again, leaning on her right foot to take the pressure off her left knee. She clasps her hands together, trying to distract herself from the way Paige smiles smugly at her, eyes bright. Tess suddenly feels stupid for not realizing any sooner that Paige was just fucking with her. The worst part about this whole situation was how Paige’s banter did manage to chip away some of the guilt and anguish that slowly frosted over her heart. She’d never admit that much to the blonde, though – her ego is already the size of Jupiter. “Don’t call me ma. Don’t call me Tessa.”

“So what’s actually on your birth certificate?” Paige asks when Tess starts walking again.

“Tess Kennedy.”

“Middle name?”

“Why do you care?”

Paige scrunches up her face. “We’re girlfriends –”

“We are not girlfriends,” Tess interrupts.

“Okay, what the fuck ever,” Paige gripes. “Middle name. We need to know stuff about each other. Mine’s Madison. You might as well just tell me anyways ‘cause I’m pretty sure it’s on your Wikipedia.”

Tess heaves a sigh. Paige has to get off on being an annoying fuck – there’s no other reason why she’d be harassing her right now. “It’s Alessandra. Tess Alessandra Kennedy. I was named after my mom.”

“Tess Alessandra,” Paige repeats. Her name sounds far too good rolling off her tongue and Tess gets mad all over again. Paige is a woman of many talents it seems, although it’s unfortunate that shutting up is not one of them. “Cute. Is that Italian?”

Tess softens at the genuine interest in her tone, realizing she's being an asshole. “Yeah. We moved here from Italy when I was seven. I grew up in New York, came down here for ball…the rest is history, I guess.”

“Can you say the thing?” Paige asks with too much glee.

Tess glances at her warily. “What thing?”

“You know, the ‘Ay, I’m walkin’ here!’”

“Jesus Christ,” Tess mutters. She and Paige exit the athletic facility, and the South Carolinian guard leads her on the short path back to the athlete apartments. “You’re the most annoying person I’ve ever met. It’s impressive.” 

“I like setting the standard.” Tess glances at her. Paige looks comfortable – too comfortable – sporting an easy-going smile, as if being perpetually on Tess’s nerves is enjoyable for her. Tess isn’t sure what to make of her. “So, what was coming to the States like?”

The shorter of the two shrugs. “It was an adjustment. My English was decent, but I struggled to make friends. Basketball made me feel like I belonged here, although it reminded me of home, too.”

“You still consider Italy home?” Paige asks softly.

Tess mulls it over, humming. “Home is a feeling,” she states. “I never had to second guess myself in Italy – whether or not I was using the right words or doing things the ‘American way.’ I feel at home when I play ball. I never doubted myself there, either; it’s what my brain is wired for.”

“And now that you can’t play, it feels like leaving everything you’ve ever known?”

Tess’s lips curl into a half-smile. “Something like that.”

Paige makes a noise in the back of her throat that sounds vaguely like understanding. “No wonder you went on a destruction tour.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “And the moment’s over.”

“Nah, I was being for real!” Paige defends. “I’m just sayin’ – I get it. Basketball means something different to everyone, right?”

Tess softens. “Yeah. Guess so.” She opens the door to the athlete apartments, leading Paige to the elevators. She pushes the number three and the elevator closes. She sighs, leaning against the wall, and lifting her leg slightly. “So what about you?”

Paige glances at her. “What about me?”

“Your ACL. What was different for you?”

Paige wiggles her leg. “Well, I’m still recovering. Want to be 110% before I’m on the court again.” She stares at her reflection in the elevator mirror before her eyes look anywhere else. “It was tough. It is tough. I felt useless for a long time but my teammates and family pulled me out of my slump before I let myself sink. It just took me a while to let them in.” At that, Tess feels hot all over, looking down at her feet and not at the blonde next to her. “I just wanna play,” Paige admits. “But it just feels like every time I get into a groove, there’s something that benches me. I don’t like letting my teammates down.”

“You’re not,” Tess states, surprising herself.

Paige looks up, meeting Tess’s eyes, lips curling into a solemn smile. “Aren’t I?”

The ding of the elevator saves Tess from having to answer. She frowns, but heads in the direction of her apartment. She hopes that Kamilla and Bree are out. Walking in with Paige Bueckers attached to her hip would be an uncomfortable conversation. Tess sticks her key in the door, opens it, and nearly drops her lanyard in surprise at the sight in front of her.

“Tess, what the fuck? I woke up this morning and you weren’t here. I thought –” Kamilla’s rant slows to a stop as Tess walks in, Paige in tow, who suddenly looks like she wants to be anywhere but Tess’s apartment.

“Good morning, Kamilla,” Tess says guiltily. “Say hi, Paige.”

The blonde waves. “What’s up, Kamilla?” Kamilla blinks at the two of them. “Uh, I can just wait outside.”

“Stay,” Tess says, her words coming out like a demand. Paige nods, shoving her hands in her pockets. “Um, I had a meeting with Amaya. I’ll tell you about it later, Kam, I promise, but I have PT in like, 45 minutes, so I really need to go.”

Kamilla doesn’t say anything as Tess hobbles to her room and exits with her crutches in tow. The two roommates stare at each other for a beat before Tess inches forward and wraps her arms around Kamilla, who freezes in shock before returning the hug. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a jerk,” she whispers. “I’ve been an asshole to you and Bree. You guys didn’t deserve that. Thank you for trying to take care of me when I didn’t want to take care of myself.”

“Hey, we’ll talk later,” Kamilla says softly. “We love you, okay?”

Tess’s eyes burn with unshed tears. “I love you, too.”

Kamilla releases her with one last lingering look, smiling softly before glancing at Paige. “Best behavior, Bueckers,” she says coyly, much to Paige’s amusement, who raises her hands in mock surrender. “See y’all later.”

Paige, as if sensing Tess’s inner turmoil, allows her to lead them to the on-campus Starbucks in silence. It’s not too far away from the athlete dorms. Tess and many of her teammates would frequent it over the years, seeking caffeine for study sessions, though she’s aware of how different the situation is now. When they walk in, Tess is thankful to find it relatively empty. The two baristas on duty hardly offer them a second glance. Paige settles a tentative hand over the small of her back. “What d’you want, ma? You can sit and I’ll get your coffee.”

Tess is less bothered by the nickname the second time around. “Vanilla sweet cream cold brew. Please?”

Paige nods. “Got you.” She walks up to the counter while Tess grabs a spot at a booth out of sight. Tess pulls out her phone as she waits, having it on Do Not Disturb for the better part of the morning. She feels guilt all over as her notifications are full of missed calls from Kamilla and Bree and countless text messages. She clears them out and sends another “i’m sorry” to their group chat, to which both Kamilla and Bree quickly respond with heart emojis. Tess texts her parents back, who’d been blowing her up with reasonable concern after her media escapades. She tells them she’s doing better but doesn’t wait around to see their response. Tess has countless other messages she needs to get around to, but settles for silencing her phone again, promising to get back to them later.

Paige returns to their booth with their coffees in hand. The blonde passes her a straw and Tess quietly thanks her. “How much was it? Let me pay you back.”

Paige scoffs. “Bro, get outta here with that. I told you I was buyin’ so you don’t get cranky.”

“I’m already cranky, Paige–”

“That’s just your personality.”

Tess cracks a smile, the first genuine one all morning. “I’m serious. Let me pay you back.”

“You can pay me back by workin’ with me on this,” Paige says. She takes a long sip from her coffee, humming at the flavor.

“I’m good now,” Tess grumbles. “Trust.”

Paige snorts. “Trust?”

Tess nods solemnly. “I was kind of a jerk earlier. I’m sorry for calling you a whore.”

Paige blinks. “We don’t gotta talk about that, Tess, really –”

“No, just hear me out, okay?” Tess says. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me. Your business is your business. I shouldn’t have used that against you.”

“I shouldn’t have used your ACL against you, either,” Paige concedes, “when I said I wasn’t insufferable when I tore mine.”

Tess smiles weakly at her. “I kinda deserved that one, to be honest.”

“Well…” Paige trails off, grinning menacingly, and Tess rolls her eyes. “Hey, we’re cool now. We’d be even more cool if you’d answer my DM, but it’s whatever.”

“I ghosted a lot of people, you’re not special,” Tess gripes.

“I am,” Paige insists. “We’re ACL buddies now. ACL girlfriends if you wanna be real. Two knees, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona–”

Tess buries her head in her hands, unwilling to let Paige see the smile on her face. “We are not girlfriends. And what was that? Did you just compare our knees to Romeo and Juliet?”

“We’re star-crossed lovers, ma; you more than me since Caitlin crossed you up and snatched your ankles,” Paige jabs. At that, Tess can’t help the laugh that rips from her mouth.

“I actually hate you,” she says, but the words lack bite. She takes a sip from her coffee, too. “Okay. How do we want to do this?”

“Amaya wants it, like, obvious that it’s us, right?” Paige says. “You could post a picture of our coffees on your story. Don’t gotta show my face but you could keep my chain in the photo.”

Tess glances at Paige’s collarbones, where her necklaces rest delicately. There’s a chain with a silver cross on it and her signature #5 chain right next to it, albeit it’s a smaller, less loud version of the one she wears for hype videos. Tess knows the online fans are freaks with how they notice things – they’d instantly clock it. “You could post me at PT,” Tess offers. “Like holding my crutches or something.”

“Or something,” Paige agrees, eyes lighting up with mischief. “You trust me?”

Tess eyes her warily. “Not particularly, no,” she admits. “But it’s your story and your soft launch. It’s your call.”

“Bro,” Paige sighs. “We’ll work on it.” She adjusts their coffees then fiddles with the chains around her neck. “Look good?”

Tess tries not to focus too much on the way Paige’s collarbones protrude slightly, the fairness of her skin. “Mhm,” she says noncommittally, readying her phone. Paige reaches for her own phone, angling it just slightly so the edge of her purple case is in view. Satisfied, she takes the photo, flipping the screen to show Paige, who nods. She sits for a moment, pondering the caption, before typing out, ‘and a new day will bring about the dawn.’ She shows Paige again. “You like?”

“Frank?” she asks, smiling when Tess nods in confirmation. “It’s a little cheesy maybe. But it shows, like, you’re optimistic and shit. That you’re getting better.” Tess makes a noise of agreement, centering the text to her liking. Paige lays a hand on her wrist before she has the chance to post. “We should set some rules before we do this.”

Tess sighs. “Really, Paige?”

“Yes, really,” Paige retorts. “We’re lying to millions of people right now. Gotta make sure we got our shit straight or we’re fucked. When did we start talking?”

“You DMed me after my injury,” Tess offers hesitantly. “Offered support.”

“Lotta help I was with you spiraling for a month straight,” Paige grumbles.

Tess smirks wryly. “A little bit of truth in the lie goes a long way, right? You messaged me, I didn’t want to accept help, but you still tried – maybe you flew out to surprise me? You’re here now.”

Paige pauses, swirling the straw in her drink. “That works. We bonded over our ACLs, realized we had other shit in common. I pulled you out of the deep end–”

“And I got you to settle down.”

Paige raises a brow. “Oh, so that’s where we are now? You won’t even friendzone me but I’m settling?”

Tess rolls her eyes. “You’re literally on my last nerve.”

The blonde smiles smugly. “Alright. How open are we being with the media?”

Tess shrugs, chewing on her straw. “Maybe just be all coy and shit? We’re in different states so our options are limited. Repost couple-y stuff on TikTok, get active in each other’s comments, that kind of stuff. Maybe in month or so I can fly up to see you and we can hard-launch?”

Paige nods. “Works for me. Let me know when you’re thinking and I can pick you up from the airport or something.” They fall silent for a moment. “I feel like we’re media-trained enough that we don't need to overthink it. Just don’t invent an anniversary.”

“Agreed.” Tess stretches out her leg, rubbing her knee with a sigh. “You wanted rules?”

“Mhm,” Paige hums as she opens the notes app on her phone. At #1, she writes COMMUNICATE in uppercase, bold letters. Tess can’t disagree. “We have to make sure we do this right. If either of us gets uncomfortable, we need to talk about it and fix it or end it. I’m sure there’s community service or some shit to show we’re redeemed people. For public appearances, we gotta, you know…kiss and stuff to sell it.” Paige’s cheeks flush red as she says this. “Uh, we can talk about it later. If you want.”

“Yeah,” Tess agrees awkwardly. The thought of having to kiss Paige leaves a stirring feeling in her chest that she can’t quite place. At #2, Paige writes No seeing other people on the DL. “That’s pretty self-explanatory. You sure you can handle it?” she teases.

Paige rolls her eyes but she has the decency to look guilty. “Contrary to popular belief, I am not a womanizer, Tess Alessandra,” she sasses.

“I believe you, Paige Madison,” Tess retorts.

At #3, Paige writes Nobody can know. “My teammates have big mouths,” Paige states. “But also I feel like it adds to the story.”

Tess frowns. “Well, I kind of already promised to tell Kam and Bree. I owe it to them after being a shitty person for a month straight.” Paige stares at her for a beat before adding, Nobody can know, except Kamilla and Bree. Tess nods, satisfied. At #4, she writes, NO CATCHING FEELINGS. She blushes as she writes it and Tess raises a brow. “Is that a concern of yours?”

“No!” Paige says a little too quickly for Tess’s liking. “I can do casual,” she adds, voice lower. “Ion know about you. But you can’t fall in love with me. That would ruin all of this. We can’t let this get out of hand, you know?”

“Sure,” Tess agrees. “But you can’t fall in love with me, either.”

Paige’s jaw ticks. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“Good.”

They fall into a brief silence. “You wanna add anything else?” Paige asks.

Tess shakes her head. “Shake on it?” Their hands meet in a crisp dap and Tess finally hits post on her story. She closes the app immediately, knowing that her notifications will explode. Paige finishes off the rest of her coffee, eyeing Tess curiously. The blonde has an unreadable look on her face – Tess isn’t quite sure what she’s thinking, and it rattles her. She glances at her phone, noting the time. “You ready?”

Paige nods, collecting their empty cups and tossing them in the trash. “Lead the way, ma.”

Tess settles into her crutches, feeling uncomfortable as they dig into her arms, but relieved as they take the pressure off her knee. Tess leads Paige back to the athletic facility, listening to the blonde’s rant about something Azzi said to her. She wonders how much of Paige’s brain is basketball stuff and how much is the random shit that apparently floats through there. Tess has only spent maybe an hour and a half one-on-one with Paige Bueckers, but she’s convinced the inside of her brain is a Where’s Waldo picture. Sure, they’ve chatted after games – okay, it’s probably more accurate to say they trash-talked after games, especially after South Carolina kicked their ass in the championship last year, though it was all in good fun – but getting to know her on a personal, less basketball-focused level is different.

They reach the physio’s office just in time for the start of Tess’s PT session. Craig, the trainer, greets her warmly, saying, “I’m glad to see your days of skipping PT are over, Tess.”

The South Carolinian guard rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I have an enforcer now.”

“Present!” Paige chirps.

Craig begins with a preliminary check-up, asking a few questions that Tess is tempted to sugarcoat if not for Paige’s convincing glare. Admitting that she hasn’t done much outside of skipping her PT to Craig’s face makes her feel embarrassed all over. The overall lack of proper rest and elevation coupled with overuse is expected to tack on another two months at most to her recovery, Craig estimates, but the idea that she still has a chance does enough to quell some of her worries.

With the questioning out of the way, Craig leads her through a couple of stretches and exercises. Paige joins in, working on her knee, and it makes Tess feel less silly about herself. It’s a strange thing to say. People always advise you to do it scared when you’re worried about trying new things, but Tess has come to find that the issue isn’t being scared – it’s doing it alone that makes it so difficult. She’s slightly ashamed to admit how much easier this whole process has become with Paige sitting next to her, extending her knee and breathing through the pain.

When Craig steps out to grab something from the storage area, there’s sweat beading at Tess’s hairline from the exertion of working her knee productively. She lays an ice pack over it, breathing through the slight pain and regretting everything that’s led her to this moment right now. “I’m never guarding Caitlin Clark again,” she mutters, half-serious.

Paige breaks out into infectious laughter. Tess has to fight back a smile at the sound. “You gotta get your lick back,” she says. 

“Trust, I’m working on it,” Tess says. “I’m gonna get better out of spite and break her ankles next season. Though she’ll probably drop a three on my head right after. That’s ball, baby.”

Paige reaches out, dapping her up and agreeing, “That’s ball.” Then, she pulls out her phone. “Soft launch time?”

Tess groans. “I know I said it was your call but please don’t do anything weird. I can’t handle it after this PT session.”

Paige rolls her eyes. “You gotta trust me, ma,” she chides. She readies the camera and reaches out for the ice pack, swatting away Tess’s hand. Her right knee bumps into Tess’s left thigh as she scoots ever so slightly closer, pressing the ice pack onto her knee. “Get your bracelet in there.” Tess does as Paige instructs, inching her hand closer in frame. Her bracelet is silver with a few notable charms, though the one that stands out the most is her jersey number, 25. “This okay?”

They look like a couple, Tess has to admit. Their proximity is one thing – you could say that’s just being friendly, but the fact that Paige is icing her knee feels weirdly intimate. “Yup,” she manages to get out. “All good.”

Paige takes the photo wordlessly, handing the ice pack over to Tess once she’s 100% satisfied with the way the photo has come out. She ponders the caption for a moment until she settles on the female doctor emoji and an ice cube. Tess snorts as she hits post and immediately silences her notifications. “You’re so creative.”

Paige rolls her eyes, but a smirk tugs at her lips regardless. “My bad. Next time I’ll use a cheesy ass Frank lyric.”

“You said it worked!” Tess exclaims, much to Paige’s amusement. She doesn’t get the chance to say more as Craig walks back in with the supplies he’d gone out to find. He wraps Tess’s knee and secures a huge ass brace around it. Given that she fucked up so much of her early recovery, he advises her to wrap her knee every morning and ice her knee on and off each day for about a week. Craig tells her to keep strenuous movement to a minimum and to use her crutches at all times – basically, everything her doctor told her to do in the first place. She nods along, promising to follow Craig’s instructions, but after a long day of PT and general emotional realizations, all she can think about is getting back to her room and taking a long nap.

Craig finally releases her from her session, reminding her to show up at the same time on Friday. Tess doesn’t fight him on it. He gives her one last gentle smile before she and Paige take their leave, walking back to Tess’s apartment in a comfortable silence. Paige scrolls on her phone before chuckling at something, nudging Tess, and showing her the screen. Her messages are full of questions from her teammates, with Nika Mühl’s sticking out like a sore thumb, reading, ‘I KNOW you didn’t seriously cancel on me and Lili this week to play doctor in SC!!!’ Tess can’t help but laugh out loud at that one. “The articles are crazy, bro, look,” Paige says, closing out of her iMessage and opening Instagram, where Overtime has shared pictures of both of their stories with the wide-eyed emoji. “‘Fans are speculating that Paige Bueckers flew out to meet up with South Carolinian shooting guard Tess Kennedy amidst controversy and Kennedy’s recent ACL injury,’” Paige reads.

“‘Amidst controversy’ is crazy work,” Tess huffs. “It wasn’t even that bad.”

Paige snorts, scrolling down. “We got detectives and shit,” she comments, showing Tess her screen. An Instagram account called ‘wcbbupdates’ has shared both of their stories again, having marked Paige’s chains and phone case and Tess’s bracelet in bright red circles. Paige narrows her eyes at a comment as she reads it aloud to Tess. “‘They are not slick, this is the hardest soft launch I’ve ever seen. I always knew Paige and Tess had sexual tension. Do you guys remember the regular season game in Paige’s freshman year where she was all up on Tess?’ Bro, what the fuck?”

Tess glances at Paige knowingly. “Something you want to share with the class?”

Paige scoffs. “I was not all over you,” she says. “We call that playing good D around here.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “You’re such a fucking liar,” she grumbles. “Just wait until I’m healthy again. I’m gonna cross you up so bad you have to retire from college ball or you have to take a super senior season just to fix your busted stats.”

The blonde smirks at her. “Oh, yeah?”

Tess doesn’t like the goading in her tone, nor the insinuation in her response. “You’re so –”

“Annoying?”

“So fucking annoying,” Tess confirms, much to Paige’s delight. 

“I love when you say nice things to me,” Paige croons.

Tess rolls her eyes, not responding, which draws a quiet laugh from Paige as they continue walking. Once they make it back up to Tess’s apartment, Paige lingers behind Tess, as if she’s unsure what to say for once in her life. The South Carolinian guard turns on her heel, leaning against her crutches and watching Paige carefully. 

“You’re here until Saturday?” Tess asks noncommittally, although she knows the answer. Paige nods. “You, uh, wanna come to PT on Friday, too?”

Paige shoves her hands in her pockets, giving Tess some sort of half smile. “Yeah. I can do that. Could get coffee or something.”

Tess studies her, lips quirking, but not giving anything away. “Or something,” she agrees. “Just text me. We can figure it out later.”

The blonde unlocks her phone and hands it over to Tess. She punches her number in and saves her contact. “Don’t ghost me this time?” Paige asks coyly, taking her phone back.

Tess snorts. “I’ll see what I can do,” she says gently. “See you later, Paige.”

Paige gives her one last fleeting smile. “Later, Tess. Be good for Kamilla.”

At that, Tess rolls her eyes, waving goodbye to Paige and finally inching inside her apartment. The door shuts with a click behind her. Tess sighs, leaning her head back against the wall, feeling the pressure of a migraine building behind her eyes. She doesn’t think Amaya is fully aware of what she’s asked both of them to do. Tess is struck with the realization that she’s in way over her head with Paige, with their silly little fake relationship, with her busted knee, and all of the mending she has to do over the next few weeks.

Tess takes a seat on the couch, propping her leg up on the coffee table in front of her. She turns the TV on and flips through various shows until she settles on her weekly rewatch of 2 Broke Girls. She makes it through the first episode before a knock at her apartment door forces her to get up. There’s nobody on the other side, but when she looks down, there’s a Chipotle bag and a drink on the ground. Confused, she picks it up. Her name is on it, but the cherry on top is the note attached to the receipt. 

Realized I took you to PT on an empty stomach. Hopefully I got your order right. You seem like a chicken and veg kinda girl. Sour cream and guac’s on the side. Lemme know if you don’t like any of this and I’ll order something else so you don’t bite Kamilla’s head off. See you Friday!

Tess barely registers half of the note. All she knows is that she’s well and truly fucked.

[mapiforpresident]

number 20 alexia putellas teen reader????

I can do it

Alexia x little sister reader

summary: waking up from acl surgery and Alexia being there for you and taking care of you.

~~~

The bright afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, illuminating the small hospital room where you lay groggy and disoriented. It had been a mixture of sadness and pain since your ACL injury during an intense match against Real Madrid. You had felt your knee buckle as you tried to get around a defender and instantly knew you had the same injury your sister had just recovered from and that every footballer feared.

You were 21 and had been playing with the Barca first team since you were 16. Your mom, Eli, and Alba were out of town, leaving your older sister Alexia to take care of you. She was quiet and reserved, but also fiercely protective of you. Despite her usually stoic demeanor, you knew she cared deeply for you and would help with your recovery as best as she could, even if you knew she would be a little overbearing at times.

~~~

As you tried to blink and get your eyes to focus, the silhouette of Alexia came into view. She was sitting in a chair by your bedside, her hair down, wearing a barca sweatshirt. Her eyes showed a mixture of relief and concern.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she said, her voice soft trying not to startle you.

“Alexia?” you croaked, your throat dry. "water please."

"of course, of course, here use the straw," she said as she scrambled to find the cup of water the nurses left for you and held it steady as you took a few sips. The cool liquid soothed your throat, and you could see her visibly relax as you drank.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, her eyes searching yours for any signs of discomfort.

“Like my leg got ran over by a truck,” you said as you tried to chuckle but ended up coughing.

~~~

Over the next couple of days you stayed at Alexia's flat and she made it her mission that you didn't move an inch, even after the doctor told you to start walking on your crutches and start adding some more movement into your routine.

On the fifth night at her flat, you got up off the couch using your crutches and started walking to the kitchen to get a snack haven not eaten in couple hours.

Alexia was sitting at the table working on something on her computer, when she noticed you hobbling into the room.

"Hey, what are you doing. You should be resting. You could have called me I can get you anything you need. What were you getting water, food. Go sit down i'll get it for you," she rambled as she shot up walking over to you and trying to guide you back to the couch.

"Alexia if you try to make me sit one more time I will leave and go to Mapi and Ingrid's, the doctor told me to move around more and I am going crazy just sitting on the couch. I am just getting a snack and then I will go sit back down and put my leg up as the doctor instructed."

Alexia’s expression shifted, a hint of defensiveness creeping in. She knew how bad the injury could be mentally and knew you weren't actually mad at her. She also thought that she was doing the right thing and helping you by doing everything for you. “I’m just trying to help you, Y/n. You need to focus on healing, and I want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I get that, but it’s a bit much sometimes, I feel like I can't even stretch or you tell me I'm overdoing it,” you replied, frustration bubbling up. “I’m not a child, Alexia.”

Her face fell slightly, and she crossed her arms, hurt evident in her eyes. “I’m just trying to care for you the best way I know how.”

“Yeah, but can’t you see I need some normalcy? Just a little bit of independence?” you snapped, your voice sharper than intended.

“I’m sorry if I’m being overbearing,” she said quietly, standing up from her chair. “I’ll give you some space.”

“Wait—”

But she was already gone, the front door clicking shut behind her. You lay back down on the couch against the pillows, anger and guilt swirling inside you. You felt bad for snapping, but the feeling of being smothered was hard to shake. You wanted her support, but you also wanted to feel like yourself again.

After a about an hour of silence, the door creaked open, and Mapi stepped in, her warm smile lighting up the room. “Hey, how’s my favorite patient?” she asked, her cheerful tone cutting through the tension.

“Just dealing with miss overbearing again,” you admitted, attempting to keep your voice light.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly curious. “Alexia being too protective again?”

“More like too much of everything,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the pillows. “I know she means well, but it’s like she thinks I can’t handle anything on my own.”

Mapi nodded knowingly. “I get it. She can be a bit… intense. But you have to understand, she’s worried about you. It’s not easy for her to watch you go through this, especially when she knows how hard it can be.”

“I know she cares, but I’m 21. I need some independence. It’s frustrating,” you said, frustration leaking into your voice.

“Believe me, I understand. I’ve been there with my own family,” Mapi said, sitting down on the edge of your bed. “But Alexia is just trying to cope with the situation in her own way. She’s always been your protector, since the day you were born.”

“Yeah, but it feels more like a cage sometimes,” you confessed, your voice softening.

Mapi smiled gently. “It’s a tough balance for her. Just give her a little time. She’ll come back around. Maybe a little chat about how you feel might help.”

You nodded, appreciating her insight. “Thanks, Maps. I really needed to hear that.”

“Anytime,” she replied. “You’re going to get through this. Just remember to take it one step at a time. And when you’re up and walking again, we’ll go out and celebrate.”

You chuckled, picturing yourself hanging out with all your teammates again. “That sounds like a plan.”

Just then, the door opened again, and Alexia stepped back in, looking a bit sheepish and like she had gone on a run. “Can I come in?” she asked hesitantly.

“Of course,” you replied, your heart softening at the sight of her.

“I’m sorry for how I reacted,” she began, her voice sincere. “I didn’t mean to crowd you. I just want to help, but I realize I might have gone overboard and we should both listen to what your doctor says first and foremost.”

You took a deep breath. “I’m sorry too. I know you care, but I need to feel like I’m still me, even in recovery.”

Alexia nodded, relief washing over her features. “I understand. I’ll try to give you more space. Just know I’m here whenever you need me.”

“Deal,” you said, a smile breaking through the tension.

Mapi stood up, sensing the moment was right for her to leave. “I’ll let you two talk some more. I have to get home anyways Ingrid is making my favorite dinner,” she said, giving you both a smile and a hug before she walked toward the door.

Once Mapi was gone, you turned to Alexia. “I love you so much and I know you are just trying to help me. I'll let you know if I need help for any reason and how about when I need to get up i'll let you know so you can be nearby in case I need help.”

“That sounds good,” she replied, her eyes brightening at the compromise.

With the air cleared, you both relaxed a lot more , Alexia only helping you after you tried something first or with stuff the doctor told you you couldn't do.

[isak-dot-gov]

Could you please do a follow-up to Rumor Has It where R gets injured but ends up recovering in CT & lives the WAG life while on the sidelines? Thanks

Basketball WAG

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x WWE!Reader

Word count: 1070

My Masterlist :)

The injury was a nightmare. One bad landing in the ring, a snap you couldn’t ignore, and everything changed. What you thought was just a twisted knee was diagnosed as a torn ACL, a wrestling career halter for at least nine months. You’d have to take time away from the WWE, and the road to recovery would be brutal. But the worst part was knowing you couldn’t compete. The roar of the crowd, the thrill of the fight—it all slipped through your fingers as you traded the ring for physical therapy rooms and doctor visits.

Paige was by your side from the start. She’d flown out the second she heard, cutting her own trip short to be there as the doctors explained the surgery, the long rehab process, the toll it would take on your body. Her hand stayed wrapped around yours, steady and reassuring, her eyes filled with a quiet determination that somehow kept you from completely crumbling.

After the surgery, recovery became your full-time job. Paige insisted you stay with her in Connecticut while you healed. You hesitated at first, worried about disrupting her season, but she wouldn’t hear of it. “I want you here,” she’d said simply, her voice steady and resolute. “Besides, Connecticut needs you in the stands.”

You’d been living in Connecticut for a few months now, trading the chaotic travel schedule of WWE for the quieter routines of campus life. Your days were filled with gruelling physical therapy sessions, carefully regimented workouts, and endless ice packs. But every evening, Paige would be there to drive you home, her infectious smile and stories from practice lighting up the end of your day.

As the season started, you embraced your new role as Paige’s personal hype squad. With your crutches, leg brace, and a collection of UConn hoodies, you became a courtside staple at her games. The cameras always found you, and you couldn’t help but grin when Paige would flash you a quick smile before tip-off, mouthing a little “love you” that never failed to make your heart race.

The fans took notice, too. The internet had already gone wild when you and Paige went public, but now the excitement only grew. Photos of you on crutches, decked out in UConn gear, became fan favourites. Someone even made a fan account called “ACL_WAG” where they posted updates of your journey alongside Paige’s highlights. They tagged every picture with #SupportiveWAG and #PowerCoupleGoals, and while you joked about it with Paige, secretly you loved every second of it.

At first, the role of “basketball WAG” felt foreign. You were used to the thrill of competition, the intensity of training, and the satisfaction of a match well-fought. But now, you were cheering from the sidelines, and though it wasn’t the same, it was special in its own way. You’d show up to her games with hand-painted signs, cheering louder than anyone else in the stands, loving every moment of seeing Paige shine.

In the quiet moments, it was just the two of you, and those were some of your favourites. You’d sit together on her apartment couch, legs tangled up as she massaged your sore knee, her thumb tracing gentle circles over the brace. Sometimes, after a particularly good practice or a win, she’d make a special dinner just for the two of you, with pasta, a glass of wine, and her cheesy playlists in the background. She even made little post-rehab care packages with her favourite snacks, motivational notes, and sometimes a little joke, just to make you laugh.

One night, after a particularly tough physical therapy session, you were sprawled on the couch with an ice pack on your knee, grumbling about the lack of progress. Paige wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close as she kissed the top of your head. “You’re going to get back out there,” she said, her voice soft but fierce. “And when you do, I’ll be right there, cheering louder than anyone.”

Her confidence in you was unshakable. When the rehab exercises got too repetitive or you felt the weight of the setback, her encouragement kept you going. She’d remind you that every tiny step was progress, every painful stretch and controlled squat was bringing you closer to the day you’d step back into the ring. You’d never felt so supported.

As the season went on, Paige’s bond with her teammates only grew, and you found yourself becoming part of her world. You’d tag along for team dinners, swapping wrestling stories with her friends, or even sharing tips on training and recovery. Sometimes, the girls would rally around you after a game, giving you high fives and telling you they couldn’t wait to see you back in the ring. Paige’s coach even joked that you’d become a “good luck charm,” showing up at practice whenever the team needed a morale boost.

But the biggest surprise came one Saturday night in February. You’d hit a new milestone in your recovery—walking without crutches. Paige had been waiting for this moment, and as you limped out of your physical therapy session, she wrapped you in a hug so tight you could hardly breathe. That night, she threw you a small party with her friends, decorating the apartment with signs that read “Strong as Ever!” and “ACL Survivor.”

A few weeks later, you’d made enough progress to go without the brace. That night, Paige surprised you with a beach trip, just the two of you. As you walked along the sand together, your knee only slightly sore, you felt something shift. You were finally healing, both physically and mentally. Paige had been there for every painful, frustrating moment, and now, with the gentle ocean breeze and her hand in yours, you felt ready to take the next steps back to the life you loved.

By the end of the season, you were nearly fully recovered. You and Paige had planned a vacation to celebrate her season and your return to the ring, and this time, there was no hiding or sneaking around. The world knew you were Paige’s biggest fan, and she was yours. 

As you prepared for your comeback in the WWE, Paige made sure you knew she’d be there, cheering from the front row, the same way you’d cheered her on all season. This time, the tables would turn, but no matter what happened, you’d always be each other’s number one.

[coupsvi]

S.COUPS Military Enlistment : coupsvi rant

Hey! So I've seen many people talking about how Cheol's exemption from both military and public service means that his injury is worse than we thought, but that may not be the reason.

I left a comment on one post talking about this, but I thought I'd post it so that anyone coming to the following tags could see it.

Yes, his exemption means that his injury was bad. However, they said the surgery went well. When ACL's heal, they almost never regain the same strength as before, but that doesn't mean you can't be activve anymore. It's also weaker and more prone to tearing again, and having an injury that causes you to be unable to walk would serve no purpose in the military.

That being said, I think the main reason for him being exempt from service was that the risk of him re-injuring himself was too threatening, since even those going into public service need to undergo a period of military training. There's not much of point to enlist someone who's likely to be hurt during basic training, so exemption is just a way to avoid that possibility. It's been about 6 months since his surgery, and full-recovery of an ACL injury typically takes around 9 months. Though he's resuming SEVENTEEN activies alongside Jeonghan soon, that doesn't mean he's fully recovered.

At the same time, we still need to be supportive of him. I'm sure it's common knowledge that enlisting is a big part of every (required) Korean citizen's life, and for him to no longer be able to experience this big event may be upsetting for him. Don't give him hate. This entire process couldn't have been easy for him, so we need to give him the most support we can and DON'T SPREAD HATE!

[lwwife]

Hi!!! Request for Leah (smut), something based on the first time Leah can use the strap properly again after her ACL and she goes to town on reader with it after not being able to do that for so long. They’re still completely switch tho, so some bottom!Leah too.

I've missed having you like this

Smut: Leah and Reader!Switch, strap on, fluff

Word count: 1,870

-

Leah’s pov:

Y/n and I’s sex life since doing my ACL has been uneventful, to say the least. Y/n has been able to go down on me, but I’ve still had to keep cautious of the way I move my legs. I haven’t been able to touch Y/n properly in a long time. We found a compromise for her to sit on my face, but it rarely happens. I’ve finally hit my 9-month mark since surgery and am back playing almost full games. I have an appointment later this afternoon with the surgeon which should be one of my last. Y/n is going to tag along as she has for all of them. She wants to make sure she knows how to look after me perfectly and I recover well.

-

“Okay Leah, your scans show an almost perfect recovery, you’ve done incredibly well in rehab and I’m going to clear you for a full 90 minutes.” I grin excitedly and Y/n squeezes my hand.

“Congratulations baby!” she turns to me, “I’m so proud of you.”, I look at her lovingly.

“Yes, you’ve done very well Leah you should be very proud of yourself.” The doctor smiles and nods.

“Excuse me, I just need to pop to the loo” Y/n stands up and kisses my head on the way out. Once the door closes, I turn back to the doctor nervously.

“Is something wrong Leah?”

“No sir it’s just I um I’m not really sure how to ask this” I look down.

“Leah I’ve heard some wild things in my years, please go ahead” He smiles softly.

“Okay well, I um I was just kind of wondering if um I would be able to you know” I raise my eyebrows and he laughs.

“Have sex?”

“Yeah, yes um that” He laughs again.

“Yes, you can, you’re practically cleared for any form of physical activity, except I wouldn’t recommend getting back to your gym time backflips just yet” he grins, and I have to laugh.

“Thank you, sir,”.

-

Y/n’s pov:

“Darling! Dinner’s nearly ready” I call out to Leah, who’s God knows where doing God knows what. I haven’t seen her since we came home from the doctor, she disappeared upstairs almost immediately. “Leah! babe! Come on I’m serving it up” I shout again.

“Coming bub!” she shouts from the stairs. I turn around to place the food on the table when Leah comes around the corner, hair freshly washed, skin looking clean, and I can smell her perfume from here.

“Nice scrub?” I laugh at her.

“Shush you” She comes over to me and kisses me on the cheek before sitting down. “This looks lovely baby thank you for cooking”.

“You mean like I do every night?” I raise a brow and Leah rolls her eyes and giggles.

“Mmmh” Leah almost moans, “This is delicious y/n” She runs her foot up my bare calf. I raise my eyebrows and almost choke on my wine. She just continues to eat, ignoring my hard stare.

As I’m washing up the dishes Leah comes up behind me wrapping her arms around my waist, slowly leaving kisses along my neck and up to my ear. “What’s gotten into you tonight?” I question her.

“Am I not allowed to touch my beautiful girlfriend?” She takes her hands off me and brings them to her chest, acting offended. I simply roll my eyes and giggle as she walks off to the couch.

I’m lying in Leah’s arms, in between her legs, back against her chest watching our current obsession, Game of Thrones, when Leah begins to run her hand up my thigh. I look up at her, but she continues to look forward, raising her hand higher and higher. “Leah” I whisper.

“What?” she smiles,

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing, what are you doing?”, I cock an eyebrow at her childish response. “Ugh! You can’t take a hint can you?” She whines.

“What are you talking about baby?” I frown.

“I want to fuck you, babe! We haven’t had sex in ages, I’ve been trying to tease you all night! I just had the longest shower of my life, shaving every possible inch of me!”

“Leah, darling, I know I want to too, but you’re still recovering I don’t want to ruin your rehab baby.” I frown at her again, stroking my thumb over her cheek.

“The Doctor said it’s fine” she mumbles.

“What?”

“The Doctor! He said it was fine to have sex” She looks down, “I asked him” She keeps her head low but looks up at me with a pout and a small smile.

“You naughty girl” I whisper.

-

“Oh yes fuck! “, Leah moans and cums loudly as I suck hard on her clit. “Come here” she orders me, and kisses me hard, tongue diving straight into my mouth. “I want to make you feel good” she groans. “Stay here, I’ll be right back”. I smile, excited. Leah returns a minute later with our favourite strap attached to her.

“Oh shit” I mumble as I feel myself instantly drip.

“Turn around” She orders me, and I turn to get an all fours, just how I know she likes it. She moves me so I'm resting on my forearms instead of my hands, and my face is down into the pillow. She smacks my ass hard and I wince but moan at the feeling. “God I can’t wait to fuck you like this” she growls, spreading me open by the cheeks, moving forward a little more. She smacks my ass again and runs the strap over my clit and down, so it’s completely coated in my wetness. “Do you want me to fuck you baby?” she leans down to my ear, her front against my back.

“Yes please, I want you so bad baby please fuck me”, Leah smacks my ass one more time before she slowly thrusts the strap inside me. I moan loudly, instantly feeling the pleasure I’ve so badly craved. “Fuck! Yes, keep going” I pant, my entire body tingling. Leah's thrusts start to speed up and become more forceful.

“Yeah? You like that baby?” She growls into my ear.

“Yes! Yes! Fuck yes! Oh, you fuck me so good” I moan. Leah moves back so she’s no longer against my back and grabs at my hips roughly. She begins to slam into me, harder and harder. I moan so loud I begin to feel sorry for our neighbours. I scream and scream and scream while Leah continues to groan and tell me what a good girl I’m being. After one last hard thrust, I cum all over the strap and begin to drip down my thighs. I wince and groan at the feeling of Leah removing the strap from me.

“Shhhh it’s okay baby, I know” She hushes and turns me over so I’m on my back. She kisses my head softly and lays down next to me. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed that; I’ve been dying to fuck you like that for months.”

“Yeah, well you better not ever stop,” I whisper. “Take it off” I look down at the strap. Leah looks at me confused, as if she was waiting to go another round on me. “I’ll let you go again later you addict, let me have a turn”, I move closer to her and begin to undo the harness. I strip her of the strap and put it on myself. Leah lays, patiently, a small smile visible on her face, waiting for me to climb on top of her. I sit up and rest my back against the headboard. “Come sit” I demand. Leah almost jumps at the chance. Moving over she places herself onto my stomach, subtly grinding, her wetness coating my abdomen. I move my hands to run over her breast, we aren’t quite at eye level so she’s looking down at me, however, we both know I have all the power at this moment. I squeeze her breasts and she throws her head back. I pinch her nipples then move forward to kiss her chest. Her hands immediately find their way to my hair, pushing me in further. I lick and suck all over her chest, biting and pulling softly at her nipples. Leah’s grinding starts to get quicker, so I stop.

“Ride it,” I say simply. Leah doesn’t hesitate to move back, hovering herself over the strap, which is still wet from me. “Now sit,” I tell her. Leah slowly sits onto the strap, her mouth instantly opening, angelic noises escaping. Once she fills herself with the whole thing I grab onto her hips and begin to guide her up and down. As she moves faster her moans get louder, and her breasts jump in front of me. “Fuck you’re so good, taking it all for me” I growl at her.

“God, you feel so good, baby. Fuck!” She screams out and her motions quicken. She grabs onto my shoulder, scratching into my skin, “I’m going to cum, oh fuck!” She continues to scream, louder and louder until she finally collapses. Her body is exhausted and almost limp so I turn us over so she’s lying down, and I can pull out. She whines at the loss of contact and pants heavily. I remove the strap and quickly go to the bathroom, wash it and put it away. I return to Leah awaiting me, smiling. “I forgot how good it is when you fuck me” she grins.

“I won’t ever let you forget again” I whisper as we lean in for a sweet kiss. Hands wondering, eager for another round.

-

A/n: Hope this was okay and everyone enjoyed it! Feedback is welcome in my comments, messages, or asks! 😊

[dr-aashish-arbat-pune]

ACL Tear Exercises Without Surgery

Learn here all about: ACL Tear Exercises Without Surgery. Know about, Long-Term Effects of ACL Tear Without Surgery. Grade 3 ACL Tear No Surgery. Complete ACL Tear Treatment Without Surgery. ACL Strengthening Exercises. ACL Tear Without Surgery Recovery Time… from Dr. Aashish Arbat… Top Orthopedic Doctor in Pune. Top ACL Surgeon in Pune.

[avaf00rd]

Here with me

Leah Williamson x reader

Based off: HERE WITH ME - D4VD

Cried making this. It think it’s just the song anyways.

enjoy

————————————————————————

watch the sunrise along the coast

as we’re both getting old

I can’t describe what I’m feeling

You both sat up against a large rock, sitting on the sand. You somehow managed to get your girlfriend up at this ‘Godly hour’ to see the sunrise. You adored the sunrise and seeing it with your person made it 100 times better.

She rubbed circles and heart shapes on your thighs as she laid in your lap. The orange light already beaming onto her beautiful blonde and perfect features. “You look so beautiful I could cry” you said in an almost whisper to the girl in your lap.

“What?” She smiled, not quite getting what you muttered.

“I said you look so beautiful I could cry” you slightly giggled. It wasn’t a lie, just seeing her face gave you a sense of gratitude, the fact that someone just like her could love you somehow.

She gave you a sad smile. Not in a sad way. But in a way that, what you said got her in her feelings. “I tell you every flipping day but my girl I’ve never seen anyone like you” she said, quickly sitting up so she could peck your lips.

“I love you” you said for maybe the millionth time just since you got to the beach, deciding the quick peck on the lips given to you wasn’t enough, so you pulled her in for a longer kiss filled of love.

“I love you” she said once you had both pulled away. She settled herself to lay back down in your lap “can we just say here forever? Corny I know. But I never want to leave right here.” She said squeezing your hands she held close to her chest.

“Corny but, If I could have it my way I would stay here until we are old and grey”

“Ok Shakespeare” she giggled fidgeting with your fingers

“How is that Shakespeare?” You laughed at the blonde you held close

“You just have a good way with words” you smiled at her words.

“I could go on forever and ever about my love to you” you kissed the top of her head before you both fell into a comfortable silence, eyes fixated on the horizon.

So please don’t let me go

You both sat upright on a bench in the middle of the medical room at emirates stadium. You had just finished your match, that she was earlier pulled off from, when Leah was confirmed she had done her ACL, she knew the second she heard the pop and the pain that rushed thought her knee.

But hearing it straight up from a professional hurt. A lot. You held the girl tightly in your arms, she had completely collapsed into your chest once the medics said they would give you a second and shut the door behind them.

“Oh my girl. I’m with you every step. You’ve got me you’ve got me. Everything is going to be ok I promise you Leah” you reassured the crying girl balled up in your arms. You felt your voice start to crack with your words.

After 5-10 more minutes. Leah felt she had no more tears left to cry. “Baby what can I do for your right now” you asked quietly, kissing her forehead multiple times softly.

“Just don’t let go” she mumbled, you pulled her in even tighter as you held her.

“Never” you said, your chin resting on her head, as Leah sat there in thought.

I don’t care how long it takes

As long as I’m with you I’ve got a smile on my face

“I’m so excited to see you!” You exclaimed through your MacBook screen. You were currently in Australia for camp, Leah wasn’t at England camp as she was still in recovery after surgery.

“Don’t forget that little water bottle” Leah pointed to behind you though the screen, a spare water bottle of yours sitting high up on the window sill.

“Thank you honey” you chuckled after she pointed it out, you grabbing it. You would be heading downstairs to the lobby with almost of your luggage, heading back to London.

“You would not have seen that” she laughed

“Probably not” you said zipping up you carry on properly. “Okay baby I’ll call you on my plane, but I’ve gotta pack my computer and head down now” you said to the computer on the bench.

“No worries. And I’ll just contact you about picking you up. I think I’ve got the right time you’ll land”

“Yay” you smiled at her

“I’ll just wait at baggage and look for the brunette with the beaming smile. And the dark tan” she said motioning to the dark colour your skin developed while being back in your country.

“Love you” you blew a kiss at her through the FaceTime

“Love you more bye” she kissed back before hanging up.

All I know is your here with me

You held your girlfriend’s hand as you dragged her through the hall down to the right cinema. “Here, screen 3!” You said pointing to the large number outside the cinema door

Leah had already seen this movie multiple times, it was supposed to be scary. It was a rerun that they were playing in the movie theatre, you of course took at as the opportunity for a date night.

You held hands once you both get seated, Leah always slightly got annoyed at the large divider between seats at the theatre, which is why she preferred being able to cuddle you for hours in your apartment together whilst watching a movie.

Like most movies, you asked Leah multiple questions, most of them you knew the full answer to and what was going on. But you knew how much your girlfriend loved when you asked her questions in films, it made her happy explaining it to you and made her feel smart.

“Thanks for coming with me. I know you’ve seen it heaps. I just wouldn’t wanna see it with anyone but you” you whispered into her ear sweetly.

“Wouldn’t miss this, you’re the best person to see it with” she said into your ear, before quickly kissing below it.

Just after she pulled away, a jump scare on the large screen in front of you made your heart want to jump out of your skin. Leah quietly laughed at your antics and pulled you arm closer, bringing you head into the crook of her neck.

I wish I could live through every memory again

Just one more time before we float off in the wind

The day you married the love of your life and best friend was a million times better than any other day in your life you name ‘the best day of your life’. You truly could cry of happiness, and you already had, multiple times.

Your kept on having to hold your index finger to the bottom of your eyes as you read your vows, right hand in hand with hers, in front of all your favourite people in your life. But let those tears of happiness fall when she read her vows to you out loud.

You sat down at a table, long white dresses on both you and your newly wife, surrounded by your close families.

“Hey I’m Jacob, Leah’s brother and now y/n’s brother. Although it has always felt like you are a close sister to me since Leah introduced me to you” his words on the short stage made you heart melt. “Before I go on a long speech, not too long don’t panic, I just want to show two lovers a special video made by the people here tonight. We love you” he said slightly bring his champagne glass up towards you, before running to his computer connected to a cord on a projector.

He played a video on the large screen in front of everyone. The video had old vintage love songs as a background tune, as sweet videos of you Leah. Taken by you two and by others played. You immediately leaned into Leah as you both watched in awe. Just so happy. All your favourite memories with you and your wife played from when you first met at Arsenal at the age of 20, to now, as you were wiping tears away for the tenth time.

Then a series of videos played of people congratulating you on your marriage, like other high footballers and other special people in your life, as well as everyone at a table in the large room full of your loved ones.

You both went up and hugged him tightly, tears in your eyes, Leah told him over and over of how grateful for him she is.

Listening to your parents’ speeches and both your siblings of all the memories throughout your journey together made your life feel complete.

But today didn’t fill a piece of your life missing like most would, that last piece was placed in your life the moment Leah first ever said a word to you even years ago.

—————————

Short, but like always I must sleep now

Lyyy!!! Please send in requests🤍

[greasebabexpress]

Small Town AU (Greaseball)

Greaseball was on her way to be a pro athlete but ended up tearing her ACL during a practice and the recovery process was not kind to her.

Since she lost out on potential contracts and she’s not sure what to do if it’s not something physical or sports related she ended up moving back home a few months after her surgery.

In this AU I want to include some of the obc stex characters so in my mind the original male greaseball is her dad and CB is like her weird neighbor/family friend that no one is sure as to how he wormed into their life and is just a bit stranger every time he visits.

Greasedad is a train operator for long haul freight so it’s a toss up on whether he’s home or not. When he is home he’s either sleeping or doing an odd job or two.

CB calls girl greaseball GBJ (Greaseball Jr) and she fucking hates it but he’s been calling her that since she was a tyke so there’s no reasoning with him.

Somehow after moving home she got roped into coaching youth sports at the community center.

Initially she was checking to see if there were any fitness classes to sign up for but she ran into Dinah (who teaches a cooking class at the community center) and when she was flirting with her lied and said she was an instructor as well and that she could “be Dinah’s personal trainer” and have some “one on one sessions”

Momma who was passing by overheard Greaseball, instead of calling her out on her lie roped her into the empty youth sports coordinator position.

So now every Saturday morning and Wednesday evening Greaseball either has to coach snot nosed kids or call other towns in the county to set up scrimmage matches.

Greaseball would never admit it but she does enjoy it when the kids win or make a good play in the game. Makes her feel like she’s actually doing something worthwhile

[sydnikov]

saw you were asking about requests and if that’s still the case: something hurt/comfort where the reader is comforting svech when he finds out he has have to surgery, and helping him through the recovery process.

either established relationship or a feelings realization maybe? whatever you’re most comfortable with.

In Five || A. Svechnikov

Author: Sydney / @sydnikov

Pairing: Andrei Svechnikov/Reader

Word Count: 6.7k

Warnings: Cursing (mild this time), sports injury (torn ACL/ligament), steamy kissing, bad proofreading, so much angst, but don’t worry there’s fluff at the end

A/N: I really tortured myself writing this. The emotions are still high, I hate the Bruins (sorry Bruins followers), and I hope you guys get all the feels as you read this. In all seriousness though, THANK YOU to whoever sent this in because it got me out of my writer’s block. (p.s. I’ve now opened requests to get me more inspired… so go submit stuff!!) anyways, I hope y’all enjoy 😁

It wasn’t bad. Not at first glance—at least that’s what you told yourself from the stands, clenching your fingers so hard they left nail indentations in the middle of your palms.

But you knew. You knew your best friend because you could read him like a book. Every twitch of the eye, a quirk of his lips, they all were a glimpse into his mind of what he was thinking. Andrei is your favorite book, and you just reached the chapter where everything starts to fall apart.

He was trying to hide it, the pain he was feeling from the quick stumble he took at center ice. It was just a small muscle pull, though, right? That’s what you thought, but then you saw him skate to the bench, favoring his right knee with the expression of one who knew he messed up.

Andrei played the rest of the game, but as you headed down to the locker room you couldn’t fight the feeling of dread steadily creeping up your heart.

“Hey,” you greeted a few of the girls leaning against the wall, waiting for their significant others to finish interviews. You were sort of an outcast in that manner, because Andrei wasn’t yours… No matter how much you wanted him to be. “Has he come out yet?” you asked.

The solemn shake of their heads gave you your answer, and you didn’t even bother trying to hide your worry when you leaned back against the wall with them, anxiously chewing your lip. The time came and went, seconds turned to minutes and minutes turned to an hour of watching the other Hurricanes players come and go—none of them the man you wanted, no needed to see.

It was times like these where you questioned how you got here, waiting on Andrei like a girlfriend but being firmly stuck in the friend zone. He had never made you feel like anything less because of it, but you felt it aching in your very bones when he’d flash a smile to the girls at the bars you frequented, or when he’d ask you whether the blue shirt or the red shirt would look better on a date with the cute girl he met at a shopping mall.

It was funny, too, because you hadn’t met him any differently than he’s met the other girls he’s taken out. It was at a bar, actually, one in downtown Raleigh not too far of a drive from PNC Arena, and you were nursing a drink with a few friends from work when the place exploded in activity because players from the Carolina Hurricanes had just arrived.

You didn’t ask “who?” like one of your coworkers asked, because you loved hockey and went to a decent amount of games, and you could confidently answer which player had which number. In one game you’d even managed to snag glass seats, and that had been the best night of your life.

Never had you actually met any of the players, though. Odd, considering you had always made it a habit to go out at least once on the weekends, but one fateful Saturday night was when you finally were able to get a good look at the players outside of their hockey uniforms. You were content to merely watch them from a distance, but soon you realized they were just like any other regular bar patrons and soon lost interest in eyeing them a few tables back.

It was as you were ordering another drink that you caught from the corner of your eyes a body settling down on your right, too close to be convenient because there were other open seats far from you. You hadn’t been looking for a hookup that night, though, so you figured playing hard-to-get might ward off any men looking for a quick one-night stand.

“Hi,” the man suddenly spoke, accent too thick to be attributed to intoxication. A foreigner? You met his eyes, your gaze colliding with warm brown that reminded you of the hot chocolate you’d buy to keep your hands warm in the winter. “Drink not up to standards?” he said, leaning against the bar counter to get a better look at you.

Your brain had short-circuited, because wow this guy was good-looking, and it only took another minute of analyzing his features with your tipsy brain to realize you were talking to Andrei Svechnikov, or rather, he was talking to you.

“Not much of a drinker to begin with.” you had replied smoothly, shocking even yourself because talking to attractive men had never been a strong suit. “What about you? What do you drink?”

You and Andrei, who had later introduced himself and to which you responded with a cheeky quirk of your lips, “I know”, had hit it off immediately. You talked for hours that night, unable to shake the undeniable chemistry you had between you until one of your friends ran into you slurring her words and stumbling in place that signaled your outing time was up.

You exchanged numbers that night, and unbeknownst to either of you, your hearts were beating in tandem for days after, and brains spiraling with ‘what ifs’ and ‘I think they like me’. Unfortunately… It had never gone beyond that, because communication was hard to begin with for Andrei without the added challenge of having to speak English, and well–past relationships have made it a little hard for you to put your trust in people.

So, here you were. Confidently able to say that Andrei was one of your closest friends who you just so happened to be in love with, but knowing it would never go beyond that. You’d rather have Andrei in your life as a friend than not at all, right?

That’s what you told yourself when you finally heard the familiar sound of Andrei’s deep voice from the locker room, coming closer and closer as the distance between you decreased.

“No, no,” Andrei said, firmly, finally making his appearance. “No hospital. I feel fine.”

“Son, you’re favoring your knee. You need to go, now.” Head Coach Rod Brind’Amour marched in right behind the left winger. “I let you wait out the rest of the game, that’s what we agreed.”

Andrei remained in place, stubbornly glaring at the older man with the two looking like raging bulls getting ready to charge the other.

“‘Drei?” you finally found the courage to speak, hesitantly stepping forward and breaking the heated glare between the two men. You didn’t even notice until now that the athletic trainer was waiting behind them, phone held to his ear. “What’s going on?”

Immediately, the Russian’s eyes whipped towards you and he stepped back from Rod immediately. He said your name in slight confusion, even embarrassment at being caught in the metaphorical pissing match between him and his coach.

“I—” he licked his lips, struggling to find the words in English. “My knee. It is… Messed up.”

“Messed up?” you said. “What do you mean?”

That’s when Rod popped in. “He took a bit of a stumble on the ice, it didn’t look too serious at first but his knee is hurting.” He turned to glare at Andrei. “He can barely stand on it.”

Andrei clenched his jaw, attempting to shift his weight onto his right knee, but he could barely manage to stand before his face twisted up in pain and he had to use the wall to balance himself.

You stepped up to the Russian, worriedly wringing your hands together before stilling them to grab your stubborn friend's arm. “You’re too stubborn for your own good,” you smiled wryly, attempting to mask your worry with a small tease.

Andrei towered over you, but his size had always made you feel safe rather than scared, and that applied to now, roo. “I am fine, darling,” he murmured the pet name in Russian, his voice matching the softness of his eyes he could never hide when looking at you. Sometimes he’d speak in his native tongue in front of you because he knew you didn’t understand, and the scowl on your face afterward always made him laugh.

But, even though he was definitely not fine, he could barely take having to bother his teammates and coaches with his issues, nonetheless you. He didn't want you to see him so weak, at least not like this.

“My knee is just stiff. Sore.” he shot a look towards Rod, who up until this moment had been staring at the wall to give the two of you privacy. “It is not that bad, I am sure of it.”

“Then you’ll go to the hospital to get it checked out since it’s ‘not that bad’.” Rod deadpanned, finally breaking the bubble of tension that always seemed to surround you and Andrei when together.

“I agree with him, Andrei,” you said, placing another hand on his arm to gain his attention. “You need to get it looked at, at the very least.”

You gave him your best puppy eyes, peering up at him as he stood over you. You could see the hesitation on his face, knowing his protesting was mostly because he hated bothering others with his problems.

“If not for your career, do it for me?” you said, attempting to bring back his smile by poking him in the chest. “Please?”

A moment of silence, you staring at Andrei and Andrei staring at you…

“—fine.”

He agreed, but his knee was not fine as he said it was. It was bad because it wasn’t actually his knee that had been causing his pain, but rather a torn ligament connected to the knee that turned out to be the ACL in his right leg.

And Andrei was devastated. You weren’t allowed to be in the room with him while they checked him out because he needed an MRI, but Martin and Seth were and it was them who came up to you in the hallway, grim looks on their faces as they broke the news. You could hear the raised voices of both Andrei and Brind’Amour shouting from the room.

You couldn’t see Andrei’s face, but you felt your heart breaking for him anyways as the doctor probably told him how long his recovery would take, the physical therapy he would need to endure, and the amount of time he wouldn’t be able to play hockey for.

“Nine months,” Andrei said, angrily typing away on his phone to his brother, Evgeny, probably. “Maybe six if I am lucky.”

You remained silent, watching him from the kitchen counter at a loss for words. You had offered to drive Andrei home, unofficially taking on the role of caretaker since Martin lived with his girlfriend and Seth was, well… Seth.

Andrei was on the couch, dressed in an old Hurricanes hoodie with shorts, his right leg propped up on a stool wrapped in a temporary cast. His face was flushed, and his hair messy from all the times he had run his hands through it. You knew he was in pain, both mentally and physically, but it really was unfair how he still managed to look so attractive all throughout.

Leg cast and all included.

“Is that what the doctor said?” you asked, finally gaining the courage to speak as you crossed the room. You carefully sat on the couch next to him, not wanting to jostle his leg.

The Russian dropped his phone on his lap, bringing a hand up to rub his eyes before gazing at you with determination. “Yes. But I’m going to be better in five.”

You finally cracked a smile, there’s the ‘Drei you knew and loved, your first one since hearing the news and bringing him back to his house. Andrei couldn’t help but grin, feeling the fondness for you in his heart grow. You were so good to him, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to keep his feelings to himself while you stayed with him.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t mind having you stay with him for the rest of the year, though. Andrei was selfish, and he was also possessive, so he liked having you to himself. He considered Martin and Seth and Sebastian his good friends, his teammates, his bros if you will, but you were his. His best friend, his best girl—you were the only one he wanted, and maybe this new living situation would give him the opportunity to finally tell you.

Andrei just hoped you felt the same. He wouldn’t be able to stand losing you because he couldn’t keep his heart under control.

“Well, you know I’ll be here to help you get through it.” You stated with conviction, reaching over to give his hand a squeeze and your heart beating all the while.

You held your unspoken promise, especially on the day of his surgery a little less than a week after his prognosis. It was an early surgery on a Thursday morning, and you even called off work so you could be at the hospital with him when he woke up.

You already knew most of your friends and family were wondering why you were putting so much effort into caring for someone who was just a friend, and if you were being honest you didn’t have much of an answer to give them. They had a point after all, right?

You and Andrei were just friends. That was it. You may be in love with him (now more than ever), and you definitely omitted that little detail during past conversations, but still. Friends move in with each other to help recover from big injuries all the time.

This time with Andrei was no different, and you had to repeat this mantra over and over again in your head as the anesthesia slowly wore off and his eyes were so soft and droopy, mumbling his words and his accent was thicker than ever and your heart was beating so fast it was going to jump out of your chest–

“Thank you for being here with me,” Andrei slurred, gazing up at you with those warm, half-lidded eyes.

You grabbed his hand, gently, lacing your fingers together and squeezing once. “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

Andrei squeezed back once before losing consciousness, his eyes closing and his head lolling back against the pillow. “That’s normal, right?” You asked the nurse, who was busy writing on a clipboard. She only had to look up once to take in the situation before responding.

“Everyone responds to anesthesia differently. Your boyfriend is just one of many who has to sleep it off.”

You felt your stomach drop, your eyes widening only slightly at the nurse’s casual use of ‘boyfriend’. Of course, that’s what you and your best friend must have looked like to her, right? You, holding Andrei’s hand, and he gazing up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

It was probably just the drugs in his system. Definitely.

Andrei was cleared to leave the hospital the next day, and you heard the news from the group chat you, Martin, and Seth were in. It was comically titled, ‘Andrei’s bobble-leg’, courtesy of Seth, of course, and it was essentially just the three of you coordinating who has Andrei duty on the days you weren’t able to be with him.

Unfortunately, the day he was able to go home was the day you had to be back at work, so Martin and Seth left their morning skate early to drive him home. And so, here you were now, finally off from work and driving down Capital Blvd road to Andrei’s home.

Martin, Seth, and surprisingly quite a few of the players were already there when you arrived. You knocked on the front door before letting yourself in, curiosity written all over your face as you walked closer to all the noise.

Happy shouts of your name rang across the room when you appeared in the doorway, and your face flushed red in embarrassment at all the eyes suddenly upon you. “Hey guys,” you said, eyes scanning around the room looking for the only man you really cared about.

Finally, you found him. Andrei was seated on his couch, leg safely propped up on the ottoman and wrapped in tight bandages and a brace. He had an Xbox controller in his hand, the video game he was previously playing on pause.

“How was work?” Sebastian asked from the right of Andrei, also holding a controller. There were several bags of chips laid out across the ottoman, and both men were currently snacking.

It was probably against their diet, but you weren’t going to be the one to tell them that, especially Andrei.

“Work,” you finally responded, rather dry. Most of the population, including you, unfortunately, were not lucky enough to play the sport they loved as their job.

A few chuckles and about an hour later, everyone began packing up to leave. Somehow, you had gravitated toward Andrei during this time of catching up with his teammates and ended up on the couch next to him, on his left. His arm was casually strewn across the back of the couch, fingertips playing with the ends of your hair and occasionally brushing against your neck, sending shivers up your spine.

You liked to pretend it was just you harboring feelings for him sometimes because it was less scary, but every day that fantasy was getting harder and harder to live… Especially when you would turn your head to catch a peek at his side profile, and he was already staring as if knowing the effect he had on you.

“How’s your leg feeling?” You asked once you heard the front door shut, signaling the exit of the last guest. It was silent other than the TV playing softly in the background, it having changed from Call of Duty to a rerun of Friends some time ago.

Andrei sighed, attempting to hide his emotional turmoil with a smile. Bringing his arm down from the back of the couch, he tentatively rested it on your shoulders, gauging your reaction before bringing you to his side. He’s been an affectionate person since you first met him, so you were used to the random hand-holding or hugs, but it still never failed to make you long for something more.

He patted his leg gently, careful not to disturb it from where it rested. “Hurts. But that is to be expected, no?”

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean it can’t suck.” You said, your voice nothing more than a murmur. You rested your head against his shoulder, tugging at a loose string on one of your sleeves.

The hockey player didn’t respond, instead, he placed one of his big hands on your shoulder and squeezed, a sign he at least heard your attempt at reassurance. Time passed quickly like this; Friends continued playing, as did your position tucked into Andrei’s side.

You felt at peace, and while he didn’t say it with words you could tell the Russian beside you felt the same. Hopefully, the next few months of healing will just fly by.

And they did, at first. But even though the Carolina Hurricanes were missing one of their star players, the games must go on. His teammates went out on the ice, each and every one of them feeling Andrei’s absence keenly.

You felt it too, as the Boston Bruins scored their fourth and final goal of the night, winning the game in a shootout. The hope immediately dissipated within your chest and in rose frustration and disappointment to take its place, but you were sure that was nothing compared to what Andrei was feeling beside you.

The entirety of the game, your hand was wrapped in Andrei’s, his squeezing down when the Bruins scored their first goals in regulation and releasing to clap when we were finally able to tip the puck in. Then the team came back in the third period—you weren’t sure what Brind’Amour had said to the boys during the second intermission, but whatever he said had worked.

The Hurricanes had been controlling the puck in the Bruins’ zone, something they had failed to do in the first two periods. They were passing, aiming, shooting, scoring, first by Skjei in the corner of the net and then by Aho on a tight pass from Martinook that slipped right past Swayman’s shoulder.

It was looking so good because Andersen had finally gotten his head in the game and the defense had stepped up, but then we went past overtime scoreless, and then to the fateful shootout.

You had felt the anxiousness from every fan in the arena. If anyone was an avid Hurricanes watcher, including you, they knew shootouts had never been this hockey team’s strong suit.

Andrei’s frustration was palpable next to you. His left leg was bouncing up and down for the entirety, and you could see the muscles tensing and untensing in his right leg as if he had wanted to move. It only got worse when Brind’Amour sent Burns out first, something that had you, Andrei, and every single Hurricanes fan in the arena watching on in confusion.

“No, no,” you had heard the Russian mutter from next to you. “Why is he sending Brent? He needs to send Fishy, or Turbo—” the words then died in his mouth as Brent missed as everyone knew would happen, and sadly Teuvo, who went out next, did too.

Unfortunately for us, the Bruins had good goal-scorers. Coyle had slipped the puck past Andersen, as did DeBrusk, and then it was done. Game over. Just like that.

You finally turned to face the man next to you just as his head fell into his hands, tugging at his hair and messing up the gel you forced him to put on because no, Andrei, you can’t show up with bedhead. He was muttering words you couldn’t understand, most likely the creative Russian curses you heard him say on occasion.

If this game had been hard to watch for you, you couldn’t even begin to imagine how Andrei was feeling.

“‘Drei,” you said, tentatively. “Are you—”

“No. Don’t.” He snapped, rubbing at his eyes before unsteadily rising to stand. His right leg shook, but he refused the arm you held out and didn’t dare to look in your eyes to see what look they held. As he tried to reach for his crutches, his leg buckled from underneath him, and this time you ignored the hurt of him lashing out to put your arms around his back to steady him.

“Can we— Is it okay if…” he struggled to speak, his accent thick with emotion as he struggled to find the words. Andrei had never been good at communicating when upset, literally, because everything always came to him in Russian naturally, and this time was no different. “Leave? Can we leave?”

“What about—”

“No. No team. No reporters.” he said, digging his fingers into the back of his jersey you were wearing.

You softened, gently maneuvering your body so you could face him better. Now you were chest-to-chest, your arms still wrapped around his midsection to keep him steady. “What do you want then, Andrei?”

“Home,” he murmured. “Home. With you.” he wasn’t able to convey it right at this moment, but his heart was pounding as he said the words. To him, to anyone in his culture, this was the closest he could come to expressing his love without outright saying it.

He found he wasn’t scared about finally admitting this out loud, either, because you were his home. Everything about you was home because he wouldn’t dare let anyone else except his brother and mama see him so vulnerable.

Of course, you were oblivious. He normally found it cute, but right now he wanted to shake you because all he wanted right now was to hold you in his arms and kiss you as he found comfort in your presence.

“Okay,” you finally whispered, the double meaning of his words flying right over your head. But something emboldened you, gave you the courage to raise your hands to his shoulders so you could reach up and press a gentle kiss to his cheek, right next to the corner of his lips.

“Let’s go home, ‘kay?”

The ride home was silent, comforting even despite the rough loss the team took. By the time you finally managed to get to the car, the two of you were struggling to keep your eyes open and also keep your hands off each other. Andrei tangling your hands together, you gently leaning against his side…

It was all surface-level, neither wanting to speak the words out loud but yet not wanting to sacrifice the innocent, physical intimacy you found with each other. This was all racing through your mind the closer you got to Andrei’s house, and you were almost positive he was thinking the same.

Andrei, in fact, was actually contemplating the one-hundred different ways he was going to kiss you, if he ever gets to that stage with you. He was currently facing the window but left enough room at the corner of his eyes to take little peeks at you, only fuelling his determination to do something about the tension between you.

And, yeah, maybe he was hyperfixating on you to distract him from the fact his team lost and if he was down on the ice he knew he would have been able to fix it, been able to score. His emotions had skyrocketed since the game ended, and everything felt so much more intense than usual.

Maybe that was just the pain medication he was on, though…

After you finally arrived at Andrei’s house, it took a little bit over an hour to finally get yourselves ready for bed. The problem? Neither of you were ready for any sort of sleeping, and you both knew it.

Currently, Andrei was leaning back into the couch, his right leg once again propped up on the ottoman and a blanket haphazardly thrown over his lap. You were next to him, legs comfortably tucked underneath you with a few inches of space left between you and Andrei.

There was half a family-sized bag of Doritos in between you that he said was in his pantry, so you were both currently snacking on them while watching the NHL channel. It was quiet other than for the TV, for neither of you were speaking a word for fear of breaking the thick silence between you.

The tension was so thick you could have cut it with a knife, and what made it even worse is that you didn’t think Andrei even noticed. He was wrapped up in his phone, most likely watching the game recap because his face was twisted up and his whole body seemed tense.

You shoved another Dorito in your mouth. Fuck. You were so, so screwed. You needed to get it together before you said something you regretted, especially since you had temporarily become his roommate.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and spoke. “Andrei?” you said, hesitantly looking towards him.

“What?” he responded after a moment, not taking his eyes away from his phone.

Now you felt uncomfortable. Before, in the arena, he was looking at you like he loved you, but now he was snappy and tense and worse than normal because his team lost without him being able to play.

Picking at the skin around your nails, you attempted scooting down the couch before just giving up and moving to stand. “Nevermind,” you said with a mutter, feeling withdrawn and defeated. If he didn’t want to open up to you, fine, but you didn’t deserve to have him take out his frustration on you.

At least, not like this.

Andrei didn’t even respond, furthering your feelings of bitterness towards the man you had so many feelings for. Wrapping your hands in the long sleeves of his hoodie you were still wearing, you shuffled down the hallway and into the guest room you claimed as your own.

You could still hear the TV playing in the background, but that was the only sound in the otherwise silent house. You blinked the frustration from your eyes and crawled underneath the bed sheets, scrolling on your phone until you fell into a dreamless sleep.

Hours passed of restless tossing and turning, and then suddenly it was three in the morning and you were being woken up by countless knocks on your door.

“The fuck?” you muttered sleepily, crawling out of the cocoon of blankets you were in to answer your door. For whatever reason, your sleep-addled brain wasn’t able to comprehend that it was probably Andrei on the other side. “Andrei?” you said, confused as the Russian leaned against the wall.

He looked rather sheepish, slightly embarrassed. His hair was ruffled, and the TV was still playing so he probably fell asleep on the couch.

“Oh, shit,” you said, suddenly realizing that he was probably here because he needed help. Of course. That was all it was. “I’m such an idiot, sorry,” you breathed, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes as you stepped out of the room. “C’mon, I’ll help you get in bed.”

Andrei stopped you with a hand, opening and closing his mouth as he struggled to find words. “No, that is not it.” he finally settled on.

Okay, now you were curious. “Huh?”

“I am sorry.”

What?

“For what?” You asked, staring up at him wide-eyed. You were honestly too tired for a heavy conversation like this so you were struggling to keep up.

Andrei swallowed the lump in his throat. His leg was currently throbbing, but it was nothing compared to the throbbing in his heart as he looked at you. Your hair was all over the place in the most endearing way, and your eyes were droopy in a way that told him you were just sleeping.

“For not treating you right, for—” He cut himself off, sighing in frustration. Why was English so complicated? If only you understood English. “English is stupid.” he muttered, then released a big sigh and steeled his resolve.

Stepping closer, he brought the two of you chest-to-chest and brought his arms to cage you against the wall.

And you, you meanwhile, let out the most embarrassing noise possible when he suddenly got close, and then Andrei was everywhere and nowhere all at once. His body was trapping you in, and while your senses were on overdrive you strangely enough didn't feel like fleeing.

“Andrei?” You squeaked, sinking further into the wall if it was possible. Your eyes dropped, finding the center of his chest to firmly set your gaze. His eyes were so dark, intimidating, and swimming with an intention you were nervous to find out. “What are you doing?”

“Look at me, please?” A large hand smoothed against your skin, gently tilting your head up. Your eyes automatically locked with his, and the emotion on his face had you gasping. “There’s my girl,” He said.

Okay, yeah, your body was frozen, the breath leaving your lungs in a torrent of sharp breaths. This… This was new territory, for the both of you, and you couldn’t help but wonder how Andrei looked so calm while you looked like a startled deer—an unattractive one, at that.

He started speaking, heart thundering while the words poured from his throat like warm, melted butter. “I’m in love with you. You are my person, I knew from the very first moment I saw you in that bar so many months ago. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner, but tonight, having you next to me… You’ve always been next to me, and I’ve taken advantage of that. Darling, I want to make up for all the times I never kissed you senseless, and I want nothing more than to have you as mine, and I yours.”

Your favorite music, your favorite voice, words so filled with emotion and yet you couldn’t even understand him as he looked at you like you were his sun, and he a plant desperately seeking your warmth. Andrei had only spoken in Russian a handful of times in front of you – most being curses or quips exchanged with Pyotr – and never had he spoken so much of it.

You’d always thought Russian was rather harsh. The sharp whistles, clicks of the tongue, hissing of certain words; you admired anyone who could speak it, but it had never been an easy language to listen to you. But, when Andrei spoke Russian… It was soft, almost musical, and expressive to the point you felt like you could understand the very subject at hand if you thought about it. Maybe you were just biased, but you swore you fell more in love with him every time he spoke it.

“No words?” he said, a grin on his face that made you realize you’d maybe been silent for a little too long.

You opened your mouth to speak, but nothing came out. You were breathless— literally.

“I show you, then, what I said,” Andrei brushed his fingers against the side of your neck, almost fully grasping it as he gently brought you closer. You had no complaints, though. “Yes?”

He said your name again, looking at you with those warm eyes so full of depth they hypnotized you and had you nodding yes, almost instinctively.

Andrei sucked in a breath, tightening his grip on you only slightly as he slid his hand around the back of your head. Your lips were slightly parted, shiny and red from where you’d been biting them previously, and that cupid’s bow that always drove him crazy when you smiled was quirked upwards as if it was asking him to kiss you.

He waited a moment, stared into your eyes, his fingers merely a whisper of a touch against your cheek, and finally took the leap. The first touch of his lips was shy, testing, but then you whimpered with need and tugged at his shirt to bring him closer and Andrei had an internal moment of fuck it where he realized just how crazy he was for you. Pressing you into the wall, he nipped at your bottom lip and was granted entrance with a gasp drowned out by the sound of his own groan. He put every ounce of his passion and love and relief into this kiss as if trying to convince you to stay because this, this here? It was worth it—you were worth it. Fireworks, electricity, butterflies, and everything all at once was igniting in your gut and caused you to let out a pathetic whimper the moment your lips finally detached. He was clearly skilled at this, wholeheartedly controlling the moment as his lips left a trail of kisses down your neck, nipping at the skin that met your collarbone.

“‘Drei,” you gasped, clutching the hair right at his scalp – when did you move your arms around his neck? – as he sucked a mark under your jaw. “Hm?” he hummed, not stopping with his ministrations.

“What,” you said, throat dry and raspy as you tried to speak over the sound of your beating heart. “What did you say— oh,”

Andrei’s grin was almost feral as he drew the beautiful sound from your lips. “Found it,” he said, voice full of pride as he brushed his fingers against the newly-found sweet spot on your neck.

Finally, you couldn’t take it anymore and grabbed his head in between your hands, bringing his head to yours so you could press a quick, affectionate kiss to his lips before pulling back to gather your thoughts because you had a lot of them.

Andrei pouted the moment you pulled him away but respected your boundaries and merely rested his hands on your waist to keep you close. He said your name gently, his tone bordering on questioning. “Did I… Did I push too far?” he said.

“No, no, not at all,” you rushed to correct him, already having caught the guilt in his eyes. “I just want to know what you said earlier, before you— you know.” It felt almost taboo to say ‘before you kissed the life out of me’, not wanting to break this delicate balance you found yourself in.

The Russian hummed, already catching on to your bashfulness and deciding to tease you for it. “No, darling, I think you need to remind me,” he brought a hand up to loosely wrap around your neck, the contact keeping you grounded. “On what I did before what?”

“Andrei,” you said, immediately dropping eye contact as your face flushed red. “You’re being a tease,” you muttered.

He dipped his head, brushing your lips together as he spoke. You felt his breath against your skin and had the sudden desire to taste him again. “I can do this all night, but the question is can you?”

You gave up at that because the moment he spoke he drew back and you couldn’t stand the feeling of not having him close to you anymore. “Andrei,” you sucked in a breath. “What did you say before you kissed me? In Russian?”

“I love you,” Andrei didn’t miss a beat as he crept his other hand farther up your waist. “That is mostly what I said. And more.”

“More?” you squeaked out as he drew closer.

The hockey player hummed, then suddenly stepped back and grabbed your hand. “Much more,” he confirmed. “Now—bed?” Short, sweet, and to the point Andrei always was…

Just one of the many things you loved about him.

Twenty minutes later you lay in Andrei’s bed, swallowed in another one of his shirts, and curled into his chest. His arm was wrapped around your waist, stroking gentle circles into the skin exposed to the room. It was silent, null except for the steady hum of the air conditioning and the gentle breathing of two humans reveling in each other’s presence.

“I miss it,” he said, suddenly speaking up. You lifted your head only slightly from his chest, already missing the sound of his heartbeat lulling you to sleep. “Hockey. And I miss playing with my brothers.”

Brothers. Your heart broke at hearing the longing in his voice, because every single player on the team he played with was his family, in one way or another, and now he was being forced to watch them play the sport he had no chance of helping them win.

You couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain he was feeling.

“I know, Andrei,” was what you finally settled on. Your voice was soft, gentle, trying to convey your understanding with actions rather than words. You drew tiny circles on his chest, taking pride in the way goosebumps rose in your fingers’ wake. “I know.”

He tightened his grip on you, holding you closer to him as if he were afraid you’d disappear. “Will you be here?” he suddenly asked, frowning. Andrei knew he was being slightly irrational, feeling so vulnerable, but he really hadn’t felt secure in himself since first tearing his ACL.

What was his purpose in life, really, if not to play hockey and have you with him?

You hadn’t yet spoken, so he quickly clarified. “In the morning. And all the mornings after.”

A smile broke across your face as you buried your head into his chest. You felt the rumble of his chest as he chuckled, and then he shifted to where you were laying on top of his chest so he could see your face. “All the mornings, huh?” you asked, feeling bashful.

Andrei grinned, his tongue poking out from behind his teeth, knowing the effect he had on you. “Every one,” he replied. “If you will have me.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

And you meant it, truly, with every fiber of your being. The next months were going to be rough, the ones where you’d have to be there for Andrei as he watched his team ultimately compete and fall through in the playoffs especially.

But you knew the two of you could do it. Andrei was nothing if not committed, even through all the arguments, tears, and emotional breakdowns, you were there for each other through the long haul.

And Andrei, meanwhile, after many difficult months down the road, had the biggest smile on his face as the doctors told him it was a miracle.

Because he had healed from his ACL injury in five.

fin

A/N: Before my medical professionals come at me, YES I KNOW acl injuries take up to a year to recover from almost all of the time, but for the sake of this fic just pls ignore that little fact 😭 in all seriousness though, I can’t wait till our favorite Russian gets to play again bc I miss him sm. As always, please leave likes, reblogs, and comments. Ily all <33

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[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER FOUR

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur wc: 9.7k notes: mama a MASTERLIST behind you 💜 lots of filler content but it's kinda pivotal ig 😛 hope you're all enjoying, reading all of your comments makes my day 🫶

‘South Carolina Basketball Star Apologizes for Destruction Tour'

After a month of out of control behavior, Tess Kennedy has officially put an end to her destruction tour. In a heartfelt message on her socials, Kennedy apologizes to her team, coaches and staff, and basketball fans and she opens up about how her ACL injury “flipped [her] world upside down.”

“My injury forced me to consider a future where I could not play basketball,” Kennedy writes. “I moved to the States at a young age and basketball was the one thing that made me feel at home here. Believing that I’d lost basketball made me feel like I’d lost the one place I belonged. My thoughts were, ‘if I can’t play, then what’s the point?’”

Many fans responded well to Kennedy’s apology, understanding the guard’s feeling of homelessness. Many others appreciate the candor. One commenter noted that athletes don’t tend to discuss the darker parts of the ACL injury, claiming that this transparency is paramount in making mental health resources more accessible and more normalized for athletes. There are others who are firm in their belief that Kennedy’s reaction was unacceptable. Supporters rallied in defense for Kennedy.

[IMAGE TRANSCRIPTION: USER THOMASBLINKY39: “GOOD ATTEMPT AT SAVING FACE. YOU OVERREACTED AND LET DOWN MANY, ESPECIALLY YOUNG GIRLS WHO LOOK UP TO YOU. TELL YOUR PR MANAGERS TO WRITE A BETTER APOLOGY NEXT TIME.” | USER TESSKENNEDYUPDATES: “IT’S THE SAME WITH YOU PEOPLE, ISN’T IT? A MAN IS ALLOWED TO REACT. A WOMAN CAN ONLY OVERREACT. DON’T PRETEND TO UNDERSTAND WHAT TESS IS GOING THROUGH. ALL YOUR COMMENT DOES IS SHOW THE YOUNG GIRLS YOU PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT THAT THEY ARE NOT ALLOWED TO FEEL AND FALL APART WHEN THEY’RE HURT. TESS SHOWS THEM THAT THEY CAN COME BACK EVEN STRONGER.” END TRANSCRIPTION.]

Reactions aside, one thing is for certain. Tess Kennedy is fully on the road to recovery and things are looking up for her.

“I’m connected with great physical therapists to rehab my knee and I am meeting with a psychologist to address my mental health and alcohol dependence,” Kennedy shares. “I am thankful for my friends, family, and support system. They were patient and loved me when I couldn’t love myself. This process hasn’t been pretty and it won’t look pretty for a while – but I owe it to myself to do what I need to so I can play the game I love again. This is a new opportunity to compete, only I’m against myself this time, and the one promise I can make is that I don’t lose to the same opponent twice.”

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MAY 9, 2023

Tess’s alarm wakes her on Tuesday morning. It takes her a moment to blink the sleep out of her eyes, still feeling the residual exhaustion from accidentally staying up later than she’d been accustomed to the past week. It’s only 8am, but she can hear Kamilla and Bree milling about in the kitchen, presumably making breakfast, quietly laughing over the gentle hum of whatever music they have playing. Tess hauls herself out of bed, stretching the ache out of her body and making her way into the bathroom.

Tess was never usually one for sleeping in. It was a hard habit to break after years of being up bright and early to go on morning runs and hit the gym. She fell off of that part in her routine after her surgery, and although she can’t exactly do much running or lifting currently, trying to repair her sleep schedule and other routines helps bring back some normalcy in her life. So far, it was working pretty well, though it’s been a struggle to figure out what to do with her time on the days she doesn’t have PT in the morning.

As she brushes her teeth in the bathroom, she’s distracted by thoughts of the upcoming 12 hour drive she’ll have to power through. It was her only choice – she wasn’t cleared for air travel just yet, so it’s an unfortunate fact of life she’ll just have to deal with. She’s less stoked about the long conversation she’ll have to have with her parents. Between PT and her other obligations, Tess hasn’t really had the time to truly sit down and give her parents the closure they deserved. They’d texted and called numerous times; Tess felt terrible for ignoring most of it, but she just couldn’t stomach their worry and disappointment. She couldn’t stomach her own shortcomings, either, nor the fact that she let it get so bad and that she iced out the people who have been in her corner since day one. The more she thinks about how she ghosted her own parents and let them watch her crash and burn through gossip articles and online videos, the more she feels like she’s going to throw up.

She can’t avoid it forever, though. Not when there’s nothing between her and her parents besides their car’s center console and 715 miles of open road.

Tess rinses her mouth out, splashing water on her face, reaching for her cleanser and moisturizer. When she begins applying her skincare, it’s the first good look she gets of her face all morning. She stares at herself for a long moment. The bags under her eyes are fading and her cheeks finally have their fullness back. She feels okay – she really does, which she thinks is a weird feeling to celebrate, but she’s celebrating it regardless, knowing she’s felt anything but okay in the past month. The one feature, however, that almost brings a smile to her face is the subtle shine in her eyes, the flash of life that has otherwise been missing.

She looks good. She feels good. That much is enough to improve her mood. She ventures out into the kitchen, grinning at Kamilla and Bree who look up with matching smiles as they work. Kamilla is flipping something in a pan at the stove while Bree chops veggies. “Hey, guys. Need a hand?”

Kamilla shakes her head, waving the spatula at her in a way that reminds Tess of her nonna. “Nuh-uh. Sit. You want an omelette?”

Knowing better than to test Kamilla, Tess slides into a stool, careful of her knee. “Yes please.”

Kamilla hums, cracking a few more eggs into a bowl, adding milk, and whisking them together. “We didn’t wake you or anything, right?” Bree asks, dumping some peppers and onions into Kamilla’s bowl. Bree lowers the volume on their music just slightly so she can hear Tess’s response.

“Nah,” she reassures her. “I had an alarm set. My parents should be here around noon.”

Kamilla turns on her heel suddenly. “Oh, speaking of, you got a package like, twenty minutes ago. It’s by the door. What the hell did you buy? It was heavy as shit.”

Tess can’t help the flush that covers her cheeks, though she doesn’t understand why Kamilla’s question makes her feel as though she’s been caught red-handed. “Uh, I might have bought a PS5,” she admits, and Bree snorts. Tess shoots her an indignant look. “My therapist says I need new hobbies. Turns out I had zero personality outside of basketball, so I’m trying to find out what else I like.”

“Besides a certain blonde hooper, of course,” Bree says, straight-faced and deadpan. Kamilla nudges her with her elbow and they both break out into giggles.

Tess narrows her eyes. “You guys aren’t funny. We are literally just friends.”

“Well, you said y’all was strictly business last week, so which is it?” Bree teases. “I saw those photos of y’all at the airport, too. You looked heartbroken –”

“Stop,” Tess whines, burying her face in her hands. “It’s just for the media.”

“Cheer up, T,” Kamilla says comfortingly. Tess looks up to watch as Kamilla dumps the omelette onto a plate, sliding it her way with a fork. “Bree’s just jealous. The football player she’s been plottin’ on for months has a girlfriend back home, so she’s sad.”

Bree gasps, shooting her a scandalized look. “First of all, I wasn’t plotting on Shawn. I was just testing the waters, and the waters say football players are not husband material. Second of all –” Bree redirects her attention to Tess, whose fork hovers halfway to her mouth as she stares at her teammate, “–Tess is the worst actress I’ve ever seen in my life. Remember that time we tried to plan a surprise party for Aliyah and Tess couldn’t stop grinning the entire day?”

“That’s different!” Tess interrupts, the egg falling off of her fork. She groans as she scoops it up again. “I can’t lie to my friends. But I can lie to the media.”

“No the hell you can’t!” Bree retorts. “You can’t control your face. That’s why you trend on Twitter after pressers because half of the country turns you into a meme.”

Tess’s face falls. “Wait, they do that?”

Bree points at her as Kamilla snorts. “This is exactly what I’m talking about! Anyways!” She claps her hands, gathering her thoughts. “You can’t control your face. You are the worst liar I’ve ever met. Which is why I know that look on your face at the airport was real. You aren’t lying to the media – you’re lying to Paige, which is why you’re fumbling the bag. You fuck with Paige, whether you’ve realized that or not.”

Tess’s face burns red as her thoughts race. “What are you, my therapist? I don’t fuck with Paige, whatever the hell you mean by that.” Bree narrows her eyes at her, and Tess has to look away. “Christ,” Tess mutters, fingers pressing into her temple. “Look, me and Paige are just friends. I’m just a mess emotionally with everything going on and she’s like, the only person I’ve hung out with that’s not you two.”

Kamilla nudges Bree with her elbow, drawing her attention as she breaks her silence. “Maybe we don’t need to grill her on this now,” she suggests, but her tone of voice leads Tess to believe that it’s more of a demand. “She’s going through a lot. Let her friendships just be friendships.” Tess shoots her a grateful look as Bree sighs, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter.

“I’m just looking out for you,” Bree says after a while. “I know you – you’re my girl, Tess. You’re not good at lying, or keeping secrets, or pretending, or doing anything casual. You’re real, maybe blunt to a fault, and you always give everything your all. I just want you to be careful. Blurring those lines with Paige can make things really complicated and you need to focus on recovery – not her.”

Tess frowns, pushing around the egg on her plate. She suddenly doesn’t feel hungry anymore. The anxiety creeps up into her chest, kickstarting her heart, and she has to breathe through the what-ifs and the slight panic that comes with questioning everything you’ve known for the past week. “I know you mean well, Bree, but I’m good,” Tess states once she gathered her thoughts. She gives her two teammates a smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, and judging by the way Bree deflates, she knows that she knows she’s soured the mood. “Trust. I’m not going to fall for Paige and I’m not going to blur those lines. We’re just friends who have to make the best of a weird situation because we fucked up our reputations. Nothing more.”

Bree stares at her long and hard, as if she doesn’t believe her. Tess doesn’t believe herself, either, but she has all the time in the world to start convincing herself that she’s just fine with her situation and there’s nothing to read into. “If you’re sure,” is what Bree says instead.

Tess can only give a half-hearted nod, suddenly feeling a lot less sure.

Her parents arrive shortly after noon as expected. She moved all of her packed belongings to the living room, anticipating their arrival, and she’d nearly teleported to the door once she heard the knock. Kamilla and Bree made themselves scarce after their uncomfortable conversation after breakfast. Tess isn’t sure if it’s because they knew that she needed time alone with her parents or because they were regretting bringing up the Paige situation at all. Maybe it was a mix of both, but Tess remembers she has other things to worry about as she opens the door to her apartment, coming face to face with her parents.

Her mother and her father, Alessandra and Mateo, stand just a few inches taller than she does with her father tallest of their trio. When she was younger, she used to hate that she stopped growing at 5’10 when her parents were 6’0 and 6’3 respectively. It used to make her feel small, like she wasn’t meeting her potential. Now, after everything she’s been through, she falls directly into their open arms and it feels like coming home all over again. They wrap her up tightly, engulfing her completely, and she finds that she has a newfound respect for being the shortest of them.

She doesn’t realize she’s crying until she feels her tears soak her mother’s blouse and her mother starts smoothing the hair at the crown of her head. The gentle touch is enough for the dam to finally break. Tess shudders through heaving sobs as her parents hold her tighter, whispering pleasantries in murmured Italian that only makes her wish she’d never shut them out. She wishes she asked them to come down for her surgery, that she asked them to take her home after the fact. She wishes she was cognizant enough to have asked for their help before she let everything consume her. It’s too late for ill-timed wishes, although there’s still plenty of time for her to make up for her misgivings.

Her parents let her cry until there’s nothing left, and only then do they pull away. Her mother wipes away the residual tear tracks on her cheeks with her thumbs, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead as her father stares at her with a look that mirrors both his concern and his love for her. She stares back at him, at her mother, at the two people who have dropped nearly everything to support her and her dreams. They let her have her way when she couldn’t bear to see anyone after her surgery, they let her have her way when she wanted to move several hundred miles down south for basketball because she believed in what Coach Staley was preaching. Tess feels so much remorse and grief and love constrict around her heart and she can’t stop herself when she rushes out, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I–”

“You have nothing to apologize for, piccola,” her father says, interrupting her spiraling thoughts, but his understanding does nothing to quell the guilt.

“Yes I do,” she chokes out, eyes wide as she stares at the both of them, fresh tears beading at her waterline. “I got hurt and I pushed you guys away and I almost killed myself. I spiraled for a month straight and said awful things and almost ruined my knee for good. People tried so hard to help me and I didn’t let them.”

Her mother squeezes her hand, smiling softly at her. “We are your parents. You do not need to do anything to earn our forgiveness. You have it. Unconditionally.”

Tess’s lip trembles. She tries to fight the tears. “That’s not how that works,” she says weakly. 

“Some things don’t have to work any certain way,” her father says. “Sometimes they just are. We’re proud of you, Tess.”

Growing up, people always said that Tess was a mix of her parents. She had her mother’s coiled, dark brown hair, her laugh, her nose, her sarcasm. She had her father’s eyes, his smile, his heart, his drive. Now, she’s beginning to realize that the trait her parents share – their ability to forgive – hasn’t quite reached her just yet.

“You don’t need forgiveness from other people,” her mother says, halting her racing thoughts. “You just need to forgive yourself, sweet girl. Learn from this, bounce back and recover, but you cannot do any of that if you hold the blame close to your heart.”

“I’m trying,” Tess confesses.

Several thoughts swim in her brain. She hears it all. Trying isn’t enough. Try harder. Why did you let it get this bad in the first place? It takes her far too long to realize the voice is her own. Her parents would never say any of that to her. But what they do say instead is, “Sometimes trying is all you can do,” and that’s enough to make her bottom lip wobble again. She launches herself back into their arms as her father continues, “We know you can heal from this. We know it’s hard. But you need to believe in yourself and try.”

The words get stuck in her throat as she tries to breathe through the pounding in her chest. All she can manage is a nod, but they understand her – they always do. Her parents hold her until she comes back to earth, her mother flashing a familiar smile at her. “Are you ready to go?”

Tess nods again, wiping her cheeks again. “Yeah. Just let me say bye to Kam and Bree first.”

Her parents nod, picking up her suitcase, her backpack, and her Amazon box by the door. They exit her apartment with her belongings in tow as Tess makes her way to Bree’s door first, knocking on it gently and waiting for her to open it.

When Bree does, she opens her arms immediately and Tess falls into her embrace. “Have a safe drive, okay?” Bree says, squeezing her. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will,” Tess promises, pulling away.

“Listen,” Bree says. “I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t be in your business like that.”

Tess shakes her head. “It’s okay. I know where you’re coming from. Thank you for looking out for me. Just trust that I can look out for myself, too?”

“Done,” she agrees, and she sweeps Tess into one last hug before saying her goodbyes and venturing back into her room.

Kamilla’s room is her final stop. She doesn’t even have to knock before Kamilla opens the door and wraps her arms around Tess. “Don’t miss me too much,” Tess says jokingly, and Kamilla laughs, her chin resting on Tess’s head.

“Too late,” her best friend states. “Come home, Tess Kennedy. The kids miss you.”

Tess grins, rolling her eyes. “Sorry, Kam. I gotta go my own way.”

Kamilla pulls away but smiles fondly at Tess. “Text me when you’re home safe. I don’t care how late it is.”

“I will,” she promises again. Kamilla wraps her up one more time, saying goodbye, and returning to her room.

When Tess makes it back to the living room, her parents are back and empty handed. Tess smiles at them, slipping her crutches under her arms, and together, the three of them begin the 12 hour journey back to Brooklyn.

The first few hours of the drive are dedicated to the much needed conversation with her parents. Tess recaps the last few weeks to her them, explaining her thought process, the loneliness, the near constant knee pain. It’s all smooth sailing until she reaches last week’s events and the meeting with Amaya. She honestly has all intentions of leaving out the Paige situation, not wanting to lie to her parents because she and Paige agreed they wouldn’t tell anyone. If there was one thing Bree was right about, it was the fact that Tess was a shitty liar, and she would prefer to avoid the situation as a whole.

“So what about that blonde guard you’ve been hanging out with?” her dad asks innocently, completely ruining her entire plan.

Fuck. So much for that.

“Um,” she says smartly, a blush rising on her cheeks. Her dad glances up, meeting her eyes in the rear-view mirror, and his lips twitch into a smirk. “We’re taking things slow right now,” she says slowly. “Paige reached out after I tore my ACL and offered her condolences. I didn’t really want to accept help from anyone, but she flew out and surprised me after my meeting with Amaya, and, I don’t know, but it was really nice.”

“Do you like her?” her mother asks.

“Mamma,” she groans, exasperated. Her mom levels her with a look that makes her insides crumble. She remembers that her and Paige aren’t even publicly official, so what’s the harm in downplaying it? “I mean, she gets it, you know?” She gets me, is the clarification that goes unsaid, but Tess gets the idea that her parents understand her meaning just the same. “We play on different teams. I didn’t, um, want to let her get close,” she says tactfully, feeling as the words hit a little too close to home. “But I couldn’t stop it. I like being her friend and talking to her. That’s good enough for me for now.”

Her parents share a look in the front seat. Tess is sweating bullets in the back, trying desperately to distract herself by flipping her phone mindlessly in her hand. Truth be told, she’s not even sure where the truth ends and the lie begins. This whole situation is so messy, she thinks to herself, only snapping out of her thoughts when her mother speaks up. “Well, you sound happy,” she says, which genuinely surprises Tess. Another thing Bree was right about. She cannot control her expressions. “She may be good for you, piccola.”

Tess swallows thickly, craning her head to stare out the window. The trees on the side of the interstate pass by in a blur. She finds them much more interesting to look at now. “I hope so,” Tess says, the words coming to her easily.

Thankfully, her mother cranks up the AC and adjusts in her seat, aiming to take a power nap before she swaps places with Tess’s father to finish out the drive. Her father glances at her once more through the rear view, a knowing smile on his face, which unsettles Tess more than she’d like to admit, but the underlying softness in his eyes makes it hard to be too worried. Releasing a deep breath, she pulls her own blanket over her legs, pops her earbuds in, and leans against the car door as she closes her eyes, hoping to speed the drive along by sleeping through it. They still had another 10 hours to go, and Tess will be close to losing it if she has to talk about Paige for any longer.

The rest of their drive passes in relative peace. Tess crashes for a few hours and wakes up in time to order dinner from a drive-thru. Her parents switch driving duty an hour later at the closest rest stop and Tess takes the time to get out of the car to stretch her leg and use the bathroom. She stocks up on a couple of overpriced vending machine snacks, and before she knows it, they’re back on the road again.

She tries to nap again, but after the three hour snooze she took, she feels more restless than anything. Combined with being in the car for six hours, she’s ready to start running laps, knee be damned. She’s running out of playlists to listen to and she can only play Subway Surfers for so long before she starts getting exhausted of it. As if she senses her turmoil, a text from Paige comes through, and Tess can almost cry with relief, knowing that the blonde will have something stupid to say that will distract her.

Are you alive?

barely the longer we drive the more i wish i took a plane there’s got to be a donor somewhere out there who can give me their knee

So I don’t think that’s actually how that works!

so i don’t think you’re qualified to say that!

I am The ladies call me Dr. Bueckers Okay that was actually worded really bad

“the ladies” huh

Please don’t make this a thing I regretted it as soon as I sent it

every day i wonder how and why girls throw themselves at you you literally can’t flirt for shit you just annoy people and say the stupidest things so confidently

Well you’re still talking to me I think it works

my choices right now are entertaining you or staring out the window for another six hours

This is progress cause a week ago you would have said you’d prefer to stare out the window Tess Kennedy MIGHT like me 🤩

paige bueckers MIGHT be delusional 🤩

The line between delusion and manifestation is thin but I get what I want so just keep on hating

ok bars ur still delusional though

One day I’ll get you to admit it I’ve grown on you

much like a fungus

You think I’m a fun guy!

[8 Ball]

Don’t deflect

are you chicken?

Okay I see how it is

Tess and Paige probably set the record for the most pool games played in one sitting, which is surprising for two reasons. The first being the fact that Paige apparently had nothing going on for six hours, the second being the fact that Paige actually sat and played pool with Tess for six hours. Tess’s eyes had started drooping around 11:30 pm, but she and Paige were tied in how many wins they had (318 each – they kept track in a shared note), so she kept pushing through, even though her eyes burned and she wanted to crash. When Tess claims victory 319, Paige almost loses it.

You’re actually cheating

how tf am i cheating at 8 ball?

You seem like the type to take a screenshot and use the ruler

i’ll have you know i’m a woman of honor and integrity you’re just ass

You say the nicest things Okay one last round and I need to go to bed You’re almost home right?

we have like 20 more min yeah

Lock in

Tess, in fact, does not lock in. Six hours of pool is probably detrimental to her eyesight, so she cuts her losses and accepts one final draw between her and Paige. 319 each is good enough for her – especially with the time inching closer and closer to midnight and the fact she’ll likely see the pool table in her sleep.

Rematch tomorrow?

i don’t think i can ever play 8 ball again it will be too soon when my therapist said to find a new hobby i don’t think this is what she meant

You’re welcome!

i did not say thank you

You didn’t have to But you’re welcome for spending 6 hours on 8 ball with you

thank you

Oh my God that sounded genuine

and you just killed the moment

We were having a moment? 🤭

ok goodnight don’t text me again

You’ll miss me Lemme know when you’re home for real I’ll stay up

you don’t have to

So notice how that wasn’t the request

fine i'll let you know

Paige simply reacts to her message with a heart, and with a soft smile, Tess shuts her phone off and finally gives it a rest after six hours of non-stop use. Her screen time was probably off the charts, but that’s a problem for another time.

The last fifteen minutes of the drive passes by quickly and before she knows it, her mom is pulling into the driveway of their house. Tess could cry in relief, though whether it’s from lingering homesickness or the need to get out of the car, she doesn’t know. Her mother shakes her father awake and together, the two of them grab Tess’s bags from the back while she slips her crutches under her arms as they make their way into the house.

Tess hardly has the time to soak it all in. The last time she was home was during spring break, but right now, her main concern is hauling her ass to bed and passing out. Her parents carefully deposit her belongings on the floor in her room. Sharing one last hug for the night and exhausted goodnights, her parents leave her be and Tess all but collapses into bed. She adjusts the pillow under her knee, plugs in her phone, and opens her messages with Paige.

i'm home

Paige’s response is near instantaneous. Tess wonders if she was hovering, patiently waiting for her message before she let sleep consume her. Tess doesn’t dwell on it, not liking the way the thought made her chest tighten.

Thank you Night ma 🫶

Tess bids her goodnight, too, and she shuts her phone off, placing it on the bedside table. She stares at the ceiling, wondering why Paige’s message leaves an almost foreign stirring feeling in her stomach. But as her eyes slip shut, she determines she’ll just have to deal with it at another time, and she lets sleep finally take her.

MAY 11, 2023 - JUNE 20, 2023

The next month of Tess’s life passes in a blur of PT, weekly therapy appointments, mentoring from various Liberty members (although that was unplanned for), movie nights with her parents, and truthfully far too much Fortnite with Paige. She had her first PT appointment with Theresa, or Terri as she’d insisted Tess call her, on May 11th. As her appointment was in between the Liberty’s first two preseason matches, Tess saw a lot more of the Liberty players than she was expecting to. Stewie is taller than her Wikipedia led Tess to believe and Betnijah was even prettier in person. They all expressed their condolences as they filtered in and out for last minute screenings and check ups, and Tess couldn’t quite lose her stupefied awe no matter how many pros she talked to. She even got a follow back from Stewie, who joked that she was “alright for a Gamecock.” 

Tess genuinely felt like she won the lottery. She couldn’t believe Sabrina had reached out for her or that it was even this easy in the first place, though she probably has to give more credit to the Liberty front office for granting their permission and monopolizing on the opportunity. So far, it’s been pretty mutualistic — Tess works with Terri, learns from seasoned veterans, cleans up her image a little more, and honestly increases her draft stock through league exposure; in turn, the Liberty monopolizes on Tess’s branding and status as a college athlete, aiding in growing the scene. There’s a lot of viewers out there who tune in solely for college athletics. The Liberty have already reported an increase in traffic on their websites and even some ticket sales, which Tess is honestly surprised by. She still has another year minimum in college; the fact that people are tuning in for her (when she isn’t even in the league yet) and the fact that she’s helping grow the WNBA simply by hanging out with the Liberty and rehabbing her knee is insane. 

That was something Paige had teased her relentlessly about when they both found the time to FaceTime that Friday. Paige’s flight back to Minnesota was delayed a few hours, so she spent most of Thursday at the airport. She and Tess were supposed to chat after she landed, but the blonde went straight to bed once she made it home. 

“With the 1st pick in the 2024 WNBA Draft, the New York Liberty select—”

“Okay, you’re not funny,” Tess gripes, narrowing her eyes at Paige, who can’t control her laughter from across the screen. Tess is in the middle of setting up her Playstation account, trying — and failing — to remember where most of the buttons are on the controller. Paige already has Fortnite loaded up on her screen and tries her best to help Tess with the logistics, but she keeps getting sidetracked. “The Liberty won’t have first pick for a hot minute. And you’d think they’d take me over Caitlin?”

“Stop talking about other women!” Paige cries. “Am I not enough for you or what?”

“You are so easy to mess with, it’s unreal,” Tess states. She leans in closer to her screen. “What the hell is L1?”

“Top button on the left,” Paige supplies. “The one on the back is the trigger, L2.”

Tess sighs, pressing the button and finishing up some of her customization as she navigates her way to the console store to download Fortnite. “Nerd,” she says under her breath, but the indignant gasp from Paige is the only reaction she needs. “Honestly,” she begins, hesitating slightly. “I might not declare in 2024.”

“What?” Paige blurts. “Don’t tell me you’re quitting ball. An angel just lost its wings.”

“Not like that!” Tess rushes to say. She stares at the download bar as it fills up, not looking at Paige. “I was talking to Sabrina this morning — chill, she is grown and she has a man —” her words do nothing to quell Paige’s dramatic huff, “and she suggested I use my redshirt eligibility and take an extra year. I mean, I’ll be back in time for March Madness and can play a few games with the new redshirting rules, though I’m honestly not feeling confident in returning from an injury, taking on high level play with little to no practice, then declaring for the draft fresh off of recovery. I’m not, like, worried about my ability, but from a purely logistical standpoint, no team would willingly want to draft me in this condition, right? It wouldn’t be safe. I wouldn't be a reliable pick. I feel like it would be good for me to stay, get back into it, and declare when I’m actually at my best.”

Paige is quiet for a moment, and when Tess glances down at her phone, she can see that Paige is deep in thought. When she finally responds, her voice is soft. “I know what you mean. I think you should,” she says. “Stay, I mean. I don’t think I’m declaring in 2024, either.”

Tess smiles knowingly at her. “Oh, you just wanna keep getting dunked on by me, huh?”

Paige rolls her eyes, but grins at her. “You’re 5’10. Only way you’re dunking is if they lower the rims.”

“You’re such an asshole!”

“You started it!” They dissolve into laughter. Tess’s download finally finishes and she opens Fortnite. “I’m serious, though,” Paige continues thoughtfully. “I’ve missed so many games due to injuries. I want a healthy offseason. A healthy season in general. A natty.”

“I always forget you barely have two seasons worth of games played,” Tess admits. “Your stats are kinda crazy.”

Paige smiles smugly. “Super efficient, I know. Don’t get too jealous.”

Tess scoffs. “Every time I say something nice, I immediately regret it. You can never just say thank you, can you?”

“Thank you, Tess Kennedy, I can’t wait until we play each other in 2025 and I stat pad my 3-point percentages 'cause you can’t guard me,” Paige declares confidently. 

Tess’s jaw falls open. “I’m more likely to go #1 in the draft than you are to score on me,” she states. Paige raises a brow, as if to say really? and Tess rolls her eyes with an amused smile. “Okay, friend me or something. I don’t know how this works.”

“What’s your Playstation name?”

“tkennedy25.”

“Super original,” Paige says dryly, but quickly enough, she gets a friend request from pboogers1. “Don’t ask.” Tess accepts it with a wry smirk, as well as the party invitation. She watches as Paige’s character spawns on her screen, fully decked out. Tess’s character honestly looks like a loser next to hers, though it’s probably because her starting character is a man. “Where’s your drip at?”

“I don’t know,” Tess whines. “Why am I a man?”

“You gotta play more to get skins,” Paige supplies unhelpfully. “Are you ready to spend the next month playing Fortnite?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Nope! Ready up!”

Tess does just that. Her first few games are frustrating. She’s still getting accustomed to the button layout and the building in the game sucks, but Paige has endless patience (somehow) and Tess finds herself having more and more fun as Paige tries to guide her through it. She spends a fair bit of time begging for Paige to revive her (fall damage is not a fun concept) and even more time yelling that she’s getting shot at. They’re halfway through a match and making their way into the zone when they come across another duo.

“Flank them!”

“What the fuck does that even mean?!” Tess cries, trying to aim and shoot. Multitasking has never been so difficult.

“I’m at the top of the key,” Paige says. “Go to one of the wings.”

“What do you – ohhhhh.” Tess does as instructed and with both her and Paige firing, the other players are quickly taken down, leaving their loot. “Wait. Why was that actually a good call?”

“There may be hope for you yet, ma,” Paige says, placing a hand over her heart like she’s swooning, and it’s enough to make Tess crack a smile despite the flush on her cheeks.

When they take the win at the end of the round, Tess isn’t sure who’s more surprised – her or Paige. Tess drops her controller on her bed as she cheers – loudly – and Paige buries her head in her hands. If her knee was in better shape, she’s certain she’d be taking victory laps by now.

“I can’t believe you stole my fucking kill,” Paige says in near disbelief. “I did so much damage–”

“Oh, my God!” Tess screams, not processing any of Paige’s words. “We won! Did you see that?” she asks excitedly, barely hearing Paige’s initial response. She digs around in her blankets to locate her phone. When she finally fishes it out, Paige is already gazing at her through the screen, face and smile softening as she takes in Tess’s excitement.

“I did,” Paige confirms. Tess finally keys in on her stupid grin and she feels the flush travel the length of her body.

“I feel like you’re making fun of me.”

“I’m not!” Paige exclaims, and her grin widens. “Just proud, s’all. You went from not knowin’ where X was to gunning people down.”

“We make a good team,” Tess says nonchalantly, but, fuck, Bree is always right – she can’t keep the dumb expression off her face. Her eyes are bright with elation, with the satisfaction that comes with finally understanding something. Paige’s raw honesty and the simple ‘Just proud’ means something different coming from her, even if her pride stems from Tess sucking just a little less at a video game.

Paige’s smile turns tender, and instead of a witty remark, her voice is soft when she admits, “Yeah, we do,” and it makes the warmth creep onto Tess’s cheeks once more. “Couple more?” she asks hopefully. “I got nothin’ but time.”

And that’s how they spend the rest of their day, learning more and more about each other in between game queues and early game rotations. Tess eventually has to get off to save her eyesight and do some PT, but it’s hard to get rid of her smile even after she shuts off the console and she and Paige hang up. When she ventures out of her room for dinner, Tess tries her best to ignore her parents’ knowing smiles. The look in their eyes explains more than their words ever could, and briefly, as she’s layering salad on her plate, Tess thinks of a future where everything is less complicated, where she and Paige don’t have to put a fake label to something they’re not.

But that thought sounds suspiciously like something Tess isn’t ready to face, so she wipes it from her brain and drizzles the balsamic over her salad.

On Saturday, Paige introduces her to Drew. He’s off school for the weekend and Paige asked if she’d be interested in running trios with him. Tess honestly couldn’t think of a world where she’d say no to that, to learning more about who Paige Bueckers is outside of basketball and being a charming mix of annoying and unbelievably sweet. Looks aside, Tess would have assumed that Paige and Drew were fully blood related the way their mannerisms were exactly the same, all the way down to their sassy, “Alright now,” that never failed to make her laugh. Drew tells her all about how his classes are going and how he’s going to be better than Paige at basketball one day. Tess is pretty sure she and Drew become best friends when she tells him, “I think you’re already better than her,” and Paige gasps so indignantly that she almost chokes.

Tess is an only child, but with the speed at which she and Drew bond, she thinks he might become an honorary brother. She’s so focused on Drew that she misses the look of complete adoration on Paige’s face, the tender curve of her smile. She only registers something is off because Paige is unnaturally quiet – which never happens because Paige has a near inability to shut up. It was something Tess had to convince herself was annoying, but now she knows it’s just another part of who Paige is.

“Lock in, Paigey,” Drew tells her, realizing she’s unfocused, too, and his demand makes Tess erupt in laughter.

“Bro, I am locked in!” she exclaims.

The three of them load into the game and Drew drops a marker in the middle of the map. He looks at Paige with an expression that is menacing in the way only a younger sibling can ever be capable of. “You should pay more attention to the game,” he says innocently, “and less on your girlfriend.”

“Drew!” Paige cries, her face reddening. Tess feels the burn on her cheeks but she can’t stop herself from bursting into peals of laughter. Paige drops her controller long enough to bury her face in her hands in exasperation. Drew’s giggles are infectious, which makes it harder for Tess to get the air back in her lungs. “Bro, do not kill my girlfriend. I will hunt you down, swear.”

Drew sticks his thumb and index fingers up in an L shape, shoving his hand in Paige’s face, who pushes him back dramatically. “You both need to lock in,” Tess gripes, but she can’t wipe the smile off her face. “You promised me a win, Paigey.”

Paige scoffs, picking her controller back up. Together, the three of them begin their descent, along with dozens of other players, into the most populated location on the map. “Don’t trip, ma. You know I got you.”

Tess hums, unconvinced. Eventually, they do end up taking the win at the end of the match, which results in Drew showboating after he successfully stole the final kill from Paige. Tess giggles as she watches him run a victory lap around their living room over the phone. Paige meets Tess’s eyes, a fond expression on her face, although she rolls her eyes good-naturedly. The blonde isn’t a different person around her brother by any means. She’s still sarcastic, freakishly charming, but there’s an underlying softness in how she speaks to him that reminds Tess of how Paige speaks to her. She’s not soft because Drew is younger or needs coddling, but Tess suspects that Paige just treats him that way because Drew just means that much to her. There’s an immeasurable amount of care in her heart that most people miss simply because Paige likes to tease, but having grown up similarly, Tess is fine-tuned to the way Paige shows her love, fine-tuned to the way it manifests in their own friendship.

For the next month and some change, this is their routine. Tess and Paige spend hours on FaceTime playing Fortnite. Sometimes it’s with Drew, who yaps just as much as Paige does, but as the time goes by, Tess finds that she truly enjoys listening to the both of them go on. They talk about their blended family and their other siblings, Ryan and Lauren. Paige lights up when Tess asks more about them – it’s obvious that she’s an amazing older sister and her siblings clearly adore her. In turn, Tess opens up about her cousins. Her mother had fertility issues and Tess was their miracle baby; her cousins were the closest people she had to siblings, and she wouldn’t change a thing about it. One day, Drew declared that Tess is his sister now, too, and that was enough to shock Paige and make Tess tear up.

Other times, it’s just her and Paige hanging out alone. They talk about any and everything, poking fun at each other over the simplest things, laughing at stupid shit, and stirring the pot online when they share photos of their wins with cringey captions like, “my duo.”

Tess has never verbalized it before, but she knew it was just as true: Paige gets her. The knee, the on-court pressure, their other shared interests. The understanding between her and Kamilla is different from the one between her and Paige. She lacks the ability to define it, and honestly, she’s not sure how important the actual definition is anymore. She’s acutely aware of just how much of her life she’s inadvertently dampened by trying to understand something before experiencing it. The moral is that Paige has quickly become an integral facet in her life. That thought doesn’t scare her as much as it used to.

“Okay, so what do you notice that’s different about me?” Tess asks coyly one day after she props her phone up on her nightstand, taking a few cautious steps backwards. She places her hands on her hips, watching as Paige taps her chin dramatically.

“Wait, you’re not using your crutches anymore!” the blonde exclaims.

“Nope! Officially cleared.” Tess wiggles her leg, a beaming grin on her face. “Still got the brace, though.”

Their friendship progresses over the month and so does Tess’s recovery. Her wins easily become Paige’s wins. Paige celebrates her with just as much enthusiasm as she celebrates wins on the court, all teeth and wide smiles when Tess reports back with crucial developments in therapy or new developments with her knee. Tess is just as invested in Paige’s life as she is in hers; Tess “officially” meets some of her teammates when they’re on live one night and Paige forces her to join. They spend hours together, and judging by all of the screen recordings they’re tagged in the morning after, they clearly did a good job at pretending to be together (although Bree’s factual statement about Tess being unable to lie swims in Tess’s head on repeat).

When they’re not playing Fortnite or fucking around on the other games Paige forces her to try out, they’re building LEGO sets together. They were on FaceTime one night building two different sets: Tess with a tuxedo cat and Paige with a red rose, and the jokes were flowing. When Paige finished her rose, she displayed it proudly with a cheeky smile, holding it up to her phone screen as if she was giving it to Tess. While Tess rolled her eyes, she couldn’t curb her growing fondness for the blonde, and they both seemed to know it.

“What do we think about the white?” Tess asks another day, holding the aforementioned dress over her body, displaying it for Paige, who sits patiently on the other end of the phone.

The blonde raises an unimpressed brow. “Who all’s gonna be there?”

Tess levels her with an unimpressed look of her own, lowering the dress slightly. “P, it’s my cousin’s baby shower. Take a wild guess.”

Paige raises her hands defensively. “All I’m saying is the white looks good as hell on you. I might have to fly out to make sure no one brings a plus one who’s on some funny shit.”

Tess flushes, but rolls her eyes with a pleased expression. “The white’s nice, right? But look at this gold one I have, too.” Tess hangs the white dress back in her closet, returning with the gold one in tow – it has a slightly longer skirt but it’s a little more snug at the top. Paige is quiet for far too long. Tess narrows her eyes at her, stepping closer to the phone to see what’s going on only to realize Paige is just shamelessly checking her out. “Eyes up here, Romeo. White or gold?”

Paige clears her throat. “Can’t you just wear a paper bag or sum’?”

“To my cousin’s baby shower?” Tess deadpans.

Paige stares back at her with a serious expression. “Well, it’s either the paper bag or you figure out how to become ugly. Only one of those is possible.”

“You are no help at all. Let me call Sabrina –”

“Gold,” Paige interrupts quickly. “You don’t need Sabrina. She’s not even six foot.”

“And her height makes her unfit to pick out dresses, because…why?”

“She don’t see the vision like I do,” the blonde says simply, smirking in a self-satisfied way. “The gold? Immaculate.”

“Spell immaculate.”

Paige gasps indignantly. “Alright! It’s like you’ont even want my help. What am I even here for?”

Tess grins mischeviously at her, returning the dress back to the rack in her closet. “Clearly just to stare at me. You have no shame, Paige Bueckers.”

She raises her eyebrows suggestively, her expression appreciative. “Well, I mean–”

“Goodnight, Paige!”

Somewhere in between late night FaceTimes and breaking the Internet one Instagram comment at a time, their friendship seems to shift. It all becomes natural. She wakes up, responds to Paige’s timely Good morning! texts, reposts her stories and comments on her posts. The longer that this goes on, the less that Tess cares about whoever they’re supposed to be pretending for. Her brand deals are trusting her again and the trolls in her comments start disappearing. Her PT and therapy appointments are going well and she starts feeling like herself again. She’s sure she could credit that to Paige’s near constant presence in her life, but she knows the blonde well enough by now – Paige would emphasize that it’s all Tess. For a while, Tess was fearful of letting this get out of hand, but she’s coming to realize now that she doesn’t mind how their friendship has evolved.

But Tess has been around for long enough to realize that the ball drops sooner rather than later. Late at night in early June, Tess gasps awake with debilitating pain in her knee. It was unexpected – she hadn’t felt it like this in quite a while. Her exercises were going well and she was usually cautious to not overwork herself, but perhaps she did a little too much that day and it’s coming back to bite her in the ass. She groans in pain as she pushes herself into a sitting position, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and blindly reaching for the insulated cup full of ice that she keeps on her nightstand for times like this. Tess digs through her blankets until she finds her phone and turns the flashlight on. She pours some of the ice into a ziplock bag she keeps on hand, zipping it shut tightly and pressing it to her knee. It does little to soothe the pain, but it’s better than nothing, and her breathing becomes a little easier.

It’s only after she takes care of her knee that she finally registers the dryness of her mouth, the thirst for something to numb the pain. She falls back onto her pillows in equal parts frustration and grief – she thought she was past this. She’d made so much progress in therapy and figuring out how to fill her time with new hobbies and activities to distract her. She hadn’t felt an actual craving in a few days, but now, it feels like undoing a month’s worth of work. Tess reaches into the cup and shovels a handful of ice into her mouth. As she chews, it soothes the dryness and the cold is enough to shock her brain, but it’s not enough to regulate her. The pain in her knee combined with the urge to do something she’ll regret makes her feel like she’s drowning again. She could easily satiate it – her parents moved their liquor (not out of distrust, but to keep it out of mind), although she knows where the hiding spots are. She grew up with younger cousins. Knowing how to keep it out of reach was just a matter of responsibility. But now, that responsibility feels uncomfortably like temptation, and it takes everything in her to keep herself rooted to the bed.

Tess reaches for her phone before she even fully processes what she’s doing. She types in her passcode, swipes over to her contacts, and hits call. The phone only rings twice before the line clicks through.

“Tess?” Paige’s voice is quiet, but rough with sleep. Part of Tess feels guilty for waking her up, although the other part of her knows that Paige would have been upset if she didn’t call.

“Hey,” Tess says softly, unconsciously relaxing.

“Are you okay? What’s up?” Paige sounds a little more awake now, shifting around on her bed, and Tess exhales. She hates how much better she does feel just from hearing her voice. Her knee still aches but her brain clears. It’s like coming back up for air after diving.

“I’m sorry for waking you–”

“Don’t,” Paige says firmly, interrupting her. “What's wrong, ma?”

Tess smiles, forgetting Paige can’t see her. “I woke up and I was in so much pain,” she admits in a near whisper, listening to the sound of Paige’s breathing. “Felt like I was tearing my ACL all over again. And then the cravings came back. I was doing so well, like I was improving, but… I’m frustrated and exhausted and my knee hurts so bad, and, I don’t know, I just wanted to hear your voice.” Her confession rings out in the silence of her room. She tries to ignore the way her voice cracks, but her honesty makes the weight on her shoulders feel a little lighter.

“You know you can call me whenever,” Paige says after a while, her voice soft. “I’ll answer.”

“I know.”

“You are improving,” she continues, trying to find the words. “This isn’t a set back, ma, just part of recovery. It’s never gonna be linear. Some nights are gonna be harder than others. But that doesn’t mean you’re going backwards. It just means you gotta fight a little harder.”

“I don’t want to fight anymore,” Tess admits. “I just want to be okay again.”

“You will be,” Paige says confidently, endlessly patient. “Tess Kennedy doesn’t lose to the same opponent twice, right?”

Tess chuckles. “That was kind of a bar.” Paige hums in agreement. “Thank you for picking up.”

Paige makes a noise in the back of her throat, like the idea that she wouldn’t pick up is preposterous. “Always, Tess, you know I got you.” Tess can’t stop the slow smile from spreading across her face. “You want me to stay?”

Tess opens her mouth, hesitating, but reminds herself to be honest. “Can you? Please?”

Paige hums again, her voice sounding sleepy, and Tess relaxes as Paige begins to ramble. “Lauren and Ryan are comin’ up this week. We’re just gonna hang, do a big dinner and shit. I wish they lived closer, but I mean, I’m in Storrs most of the year and they’re getting older so they’ll be goin’ off to college, too. I just really miss them a lot. I think you’d like them. Maybe you can fly up for the holidays and I can introduce you. My parents ask about you. They might like you more than they like me, which is insane…like these past 21 years didn’t mean anything to them.”

“Poor baby,” Tess teases in a soft murmur. She hears Paige snort.

“Are you free, um, fuck – on the holidays?” Tess listens to Paige shuffle around, a smile growing on her lips. “Do you celebrate?”

“Thanksgiving, no; Christmas, yes,” Tess responds. “My parents and I usually just watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade on TV and order a pizza.”

“Lemme fly you out for Thanksgiving? Meet my family?”

Tess hardly has to give it a second thought. “Sounds perfect to me,” she says. “You wanna fly out here after Christmas? New Year’s in New York?”

“Whatever you want,” Paige replies. “You’ll have to give me that insider Kennedy knowledge. How do I get your parents to like me?”

Tess laughs, feeling her eyes droop. “You don’t have to worry about that, trust. My mom thinks you’re good for me. And my dad thinks you’re the worst kept secret in the history of Tess Kennedy’s worst kept secrets.”

“Yeah?” Paige huffs out a quiet laugh. “And what does Tess Kennedy think? Am I good for her?”

Tess struggles to stifle her growing smile as she answers coyly. “What do you think?”

She can almost visualize Paige’s grin. “I make you smile. I think ‘m doing somethin’ right.”

And for that, Tess truly has no rebuttal, embracing the warmth that creeps up her cheeks. Paige keeps speaking and Tess tries her best to stay awake to listen, but the timbre of Paige’s voice reverberates throughout her room and lulls her to sleep. It makes her forget about the ache in her knee and the chaos in her mind. Paige’s soft laugh as she recounts her first dunk is the last thing Tess hears before she succumbs to a blessedly peaceful slumber.

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Our Wonder Kid | Mini Fic Series

⟫ A young teen reader gets seriously injured in a game & faces a downward spiral during her recovery.

pairings: meadema x teen reader, arsenal x teen reader

summary: teen reader is an extraordinary young player who is the youngest on the Arsenal and England women's teams. She is having a fantastic season, but unfortunately, she suffers a serious injury that tears her ACL. As a result, she spirals into a dark place and blames herself for what happened.

Luckily, she has the support of her mother figures, Beth and Viv, the rest of the ACL crew, as well as the rest of the team to help her through this difficult time.

warnings: heavy angst and mentions of topics such as self-harm, mental health and eating disorders.

⟫ I'm not even that sick!

Y/N is too stubborn to admit she's sick, even though it's obvious to the rest of the team.

⟫ Turmoil of events...

Y/N insists on playing despite being ill and ends up suffering the consequences on the pitch.

⟫ So, history is just repeating itself then?

The harsh reality of Y/N's injury comes to light as she has to deal with handling the news.

⟫ Please don't shut us out, kid.

Y/N has been struggling to come to terms with her injury and continues to push the girls away.

⟫ It's only up from here now on, kid

The day of Y/N surgery comes around a lot quicker than she would like, and it's not just her that is feeling nervous about it.

⟫ The journey to recovery begins now

Y/N is wallowing in her own self-pity, reluctant to ask for help even though she has a lot of people around her who care about her.

⟫ What if I'm not good enough, anymore?

reader has self doubts that she won't be as good as she was when she makes her return to the pitch.

⟫ Setbacks are going to happen sometimes

reader's recovery isn't completely smooth sailing and that's okay to admit that

⟫ Don't forget about us, will you?

Y/N is told the news about Viv leaving the club and she doesn't handle it that well.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[leveloneandup]

For Christen Press, the Joy is in the Journey

Progress isn’t perfect.

That’s been Christen Press’s motto over the 781 days since she last played in a soccer match—and not just when it comes to her recovery from the ACL tear she sustained in June, 2022, but also when thinking about life as a whole.

“You have to accept that things won’t go the way you think they will, but maybe they’ll go better,” she explains. “Progress isn’t linear. It’s up and down and back and forth. But in that movement there’s more than what you ever imagined. So the imperfection—the struggle, the setbacks—those are actually the greatest gifts as you get to learn about yourself and you have the chance to grow.”

Press has had more than her share of setbacks over the last two years, as an initial surgery turned into two, then three, and finally four.

“I think every single time that I was told I’d have to have surgery, from the first ACL reconstruction and the three scopes that I had, I always thought I would be on the quickest timeline possible,” said Press when she returned to Angel City training in June. “I think that's part of who I am. I'm just relentlessly optimistic. I'm naively positive, and just thinking that everything's going to work out for me—and I never want that to change, you know? And I got off course of all of those timelines so many times that I finally had to actually relinquish that expectation of myself.”

In her two years off the field, Press says she’s grown and healed in more ways than just physically, but the goal was always to return, even if that possibility felt far off at times.

“I never thought about giving up,” says Press, “but there were moments that I thought I’d have to accept that I wouldn’t make it—or that ‘making it’ might not look how I expected.”

One of the hardest things about this process has been accepting that the outcome was not fully under her control. “I’m able to do a lot of suffering for success, and I’ve been that way since I was a child,” she says. “The question I had to answer was how to accept and be open to things I cannot control.”

Press had access to the best medical and rehabilitation care in the business—first at the Meyer Institute of Sports, an El Segundo rehab and performance facility specializing in elite athletes, and then with Angel City’s training staff, including VP of Medical and Performance Sarah Smith, Head Athletic Trainer Manny De Alba, Head of Sports Science Dan Jones, Director of Rehabilitation Sarah Neal, Performance Coach Michael Roman, Assistant Athletic Trainer April Seymon, and Senior Physical Therapist Joscelyn Shumate Bourne.

Ultimately, bodies don’t always heal the way we hope they will. All she could do was show up every day and try her best.

“I had to make decisions that centered my well being and full personhood,” she says. “To start to find my inherent value outside of excellence in the pitch.”

In part, that meant finding joy in other areas of life. She worked on her business, re–Inc, including starting a podcast with (business and life) partner Tobin Heath, initially focusing on the 2023 World Cup, then branching out to cover women’s soccer more generally. She went to the beach. She spent time with family.

In some ways, this time away from the game Press loves has been freeing. “The last two years have been the first of my career that I wasn’t evaluated on my performance,” she says. “I showed up for PT every day with a smile on my face and gave max effort. That’s all I had to do.”

Press’s return comes at a perfect time for the club: they’ve begun to build momentum with two convincing Summer Cup wins, against Club América and Bay FC, as they look ahead to the back half of the regular season. Playoffs are still well within reach heading into this stretch, a fact that Press’s return can only make more tangible.

“Her quality is inevitable,” says First Assistant Coach Eleri Earnshaw. “Last week in training, she scored a couple of goals that we haven't seen anyone else do yet this season in training.”

Returning to play after such a long hiatus isn’t easy for anyone, but Earnshaw says there’s a point the coaching staff have emphasized both to Press and to other injured players eyeing a return to the field: “your ability doesn't change overnight,” she says. “There are some things that just stay with you. Her chance creation, her separation from defenders—you’ve got to be in the right physical and mental place to be able to perform those things, to be confident to do it, but she is building those things up every day.”

“If we can get that quality onto the pitch for any number of minutes, great,” she concludes.

As Press anticipates her return to what she calls “the real world of professional sports”—one “filled with stress and pressure and often angst,” as she puts it—she’s going in with a fresh perspective.

“I’m determined to enjoy it,” she says. “I know who I am as a player and person, and I see this opportunity as a chance to do what I love. I told my teammates today: football is a miracle. It’s a miracle we get to do the thing we love.”