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repulsiveliquidation · 9 months ago

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Thorn in My Side || Jessie Fleming

warnings : mentions of injury and surgeries. insinuations of cheating and false accusations. angst. happy ending and smut will be in part two.

summary : you get injured, its Jessie's fault. or so you thought.

a/n : as i type this, i think i've figured out how to incorporate the smut! i'll get to writing as soon as this is posted! i'm not sure if it makes much sense, here's to hoping. enjoy.

“for your UCLA Bruins, number 21, Jessie Fleming!”

Jessie steps forward and smiles, waving to the flood of Bruins fans in the stands cheering them on. You clap with a scowl on your face, watching as the girls in the stands ogle and fawn over her. You’re admittedly jealous of her for reasons unbeknownst to you, but seeing the 5’5’ Canadian made your blood boil.

She was good on the football pitch and was smart to go along with it. Jessie had it all. Being called up for most of her time in school and playing for her national team made her well-known in the soccer world from the moment she was here in America.

She was ferocious on the grass, a fearless midfielder who put everything out there.

The game was a close one, tied at the half 2-2. There were lots of contact, tackles, and battles that made it clear to anyone watching that there was tension between you and Jessie. One always found the other; if one had the ball, the other wanted it.

You had possession, running towards goal. There was a flash of blue and you were on the ground yelling in pain, hands clutching at your ankle. There was a loud pop and your ankle began to swell. The trainers came over and were hauling you off on a stretcher almost immediately, the ref showing Jessie a yellow for the unsafe tackle. It wasn’t a red card because really you fell a little weird and her studs were nowhere near your ankle.

She looked genuinely sorry, taking your hand in hers as you were stretchered off. You were in too much pain to care, shoving her hand out of yours and your teammates pulling her away from you.

A broken ankle was what they said. It was a clean break but you needed surgery and that meant no more soccer for the season.

Just great.

They put you in a wheelchair before you head to the hospital, your parents are already at the stadium to take you. You hear the final whistle blow and your teammate rolls you in, the girls all feeling sad when you tell them the news. There’s a little Bruins blue in the sea of Trojans in front of you and there’s a Canadian standing there digging her cleat into the grass, wanting to apologize.

Megan and Kasey stand beside you just in case things get a little heated. Jessie steps forward and looks more sorry for you when she sees the bandages and you in a wheelchair.

“Is it broken?” she asks genuinely, looking at your leg and then at you.

“No thanks to you,” you snide, rolling your eyes at her. “What do you want now, Fleming?”

“I wanted to apologize, I didn’t mean for this to happen,” she says sincerely but you’re too bitter to hear her take ownership of her actions.

“You knew what you were doing, Fleming. You’ve always been out to get me our entire college career and now in our final year you finally get what you want!”

You don’t know the tears were starting until they did, pouring down your face hot and fast. She looked a little mortified and pale, backing away and saying she was sorry over and over before a sea of Bruins pulled her away to celebrate their win.

The whole car ride to the hospital you spent weeping, thinking about how you’re not going to be able to play your senior year out like you had hoped. But more so of the look of pure horror on Jessie’s face when you accused her of hating you so much that she would purposely hurt you.

She looked on the verge of tears. Like hurting you scared her.

You scared her.

“The break is clean, but rehab will take a while if you’re not careful,” said Dr. Jeff, the attending podiatrist.

“How long?”

“You’re looking at 14 to 16 weeks, kiddo. Two years if you’re stubborn like most of my patients are.”

“16 weeks sounds great.”

“Smart kid you got here,” the doctor tells your parents with a smile, “I’ll schedule you in for surgery today, you should be out of here by the end of the week.”

The doctor leaves and your mother begins to fuss, propping up pillows and getting your nurse to bring you more jello. Your father, on the other hand, has a look of all-knowing on his face.

“I’m sorry Dad,” you begin, head hanging low the moment your mother leaves the room.

“Don’t be sorry, peanut. These things happen. Better now than when you’re on a professional team, yeah?”

“She didn’t really make me break my ankle did she?” you ask, looking up at your dad who was rubbing your back as the tears filled your eyes again.

“It was the perfect tackle, kiddo. You just fell a little funny is all.”

“She looked so horrified when I said she did it on purpose,” you sob, leaning into your father’s stomach. He held you tight and cradled your head, your heart hurting more than your broken ankle, the face Jessie made when the words left your mouth etched behind your eyelids.

There are plenty of flowers in your room the moment you wake from surgery. Lots of cards and get well soon balloons hung from the ceiling. You were still groggy when your teammates visited, Megan was sure to bring lots of Sharpies to sign your cast with, all the girls leaving a nice note for you on it.

There was an hour left for visitations and your parents just left to wash up at home. You were mindlessly scrolling through the terrible TV channel selections while finishing your 5th Jello cup when there was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” you yell, thinking it was a nurse coming to check your vitals again. What you didn’t expect was to see a brunette Canadian poking her head through the door.

“Hi,” she said sheepishly, standing by the door unsure if you really would want her to come in.

“What are you doing here?” you ask as kindly as possible, eyes flickering towards the clock above the door, “it’s late, why aren’t you back at school?”

“Spring Break, my parents are down from Canada so I asked to see you before we drove back,” she says quietly, stepping in a little more. “Can I come in?”

You nod, unsure if your mouth would be polite enough. Anger still seethed in your bones but the look of sheer horror on her face was still fresh in your mind.

“How bad was it?” she begins, still standing near the now-closed door.

“Clean break, should take 16 weeks if I’m careful.”

“That’s good. The doctors here are great.”

“They are quite convincing, they know how to get a patient to stay on their medical plan.”

“Did you get Dr. Jeff?”

“He accused me of being stubborn.”

Jessie laughs and you smile, a light blush creeping up your cheeks. It’s an adorable sound and her face of laughter replaces the one of fear you had burned into your mind.

“I’m really sorry for all this,” she begins but you cut her off.

“It wasn’t your fault, my dad said it was a clean tackle. I just fell funny.”

You looked up at her and saw the relief on her face and she stepped forward, taking your hand in hers. You took a deep breath and reciprocated her ownership of her mistakes, feeling the weight lift off your shoulders the moment you looked her in the eyes.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said the other day Jessie, that was not fair to you.”

“Heat of the moment love, don’t worry about it.”

Your heart clenches hard when the pet name slips out of her lips and you smile, hoping she didn’t see your eyes dilate and feel your skin warm up. She nods and bids goodbye just as her phone rings which tells you her parents are waiting outside.

You sit there giddy and a little starstruck as she disappears out of view. Your hand is warm from her touch and you can still feel her hand holding yours. You thump your head back and curse loudly, before grabbing your leg in pain temporarily forgetting that you were actually hurt.

You giggle and bite your lip, shaking your head when your phone dings.

Maybe: Jessie Fleming.

“You look cute when you’re flustered.”

You clap a hand to your mouth and smile, face heating up with a dark blush.

“You did this, you better fix it.”

“I think we can make that happen, love.”

You don’t think you slept much that night, texting till the sun came up. Your parents came in to check on you in the morning and found you with your phone still on call with Jessie but you two were asleep. You woke up to your doctors talking to your parents and discussing your rehab plan. There was another text from Jessie, making your heart skip a beat.

“You’re also very cute when you’re sleeping.”

Over the next few weeks, you two talked constantly. Jessie kept you company when you were bored at rehab and you kept her company while she was training on her own. You called her every night before bed, giggling and laughing well into the night most nights.

“How is rehab coming along?” Jessie asked as you were lying back on the examination table to relax your ankle. She was in her bed, looking as stunning as you had been denying yourself the chance to admit.

“Good, looks like I can put pressure on it by next week if Tiff lets me,” you say, side-eyeing your trainer Tiffany who was doing cupping on another teammate’s back.

“Girl, I will hold your papers hostage, don’t test me,” Tiffany jokes, waving the lit fire stick at you.

“Yes ma’am I’ll be super-duper extra careful!” you answer with a salute, making Jessie laugh so loud it rings through the room. Most of your teammates know the thing you’ve got going with her and think it’s cute.

All but one.

Megan.

She stood at the door listening to you ramble on about Jessie this and Jessie that, her blood boiling at the thought of you being buddy-buddy with the girl she believed to be the one who hurt you.

Megan was a freshman who was from Florida. She was a great pick from her high school team, and the best defender on the East Coast. She made the team here at USC and to say the least, she fit right in.

There was homogeny that wasn’t there before she joined and the linkup between you and her helped you take her under your wing. She looked up to you and was so ecstatic to play with you after watching you on TV.

She felt that Jessie took away her only chance to play with you before you graduated.

Jessie needed to pay.

“Hey, weird question,” Jessie starts, one night while you two were tucked in bed and on the phone with each other.

“Yeah?” you ask, turning over onto your side. Jessie looked a little concerned but you shrugged it off, the girl was known to constantly look worried.

“Someone sent me this photo but it’s from an unknown number, I thought it was weird.”

Sent.

You looked at it in shock.

It was you. Kissing a girl on the basketball team.

“Jess this isn’t me.”

“I’m not blind you know, that’s you.”

“Jessie, I swear this was doctored! I’ve never talked to this girl, let alone fucking kissed her!”

“Then why did the fucking photo come with a text that said, “She’s not who you think she is,”?”

“I don’t know! No one else but the girls know about you and me! I promise Jessie please!”

“I need some time to think. Leave me alone.”

She hangs up.

The tears fill your eyes as you stare at this photo. You don’t even think you’ve crossed paths with this girl, having not been the biggest fan of basketball. But your face was clearly there and hers was too. Her lips were on yours and you looked like you were enjoying yourself.

You think and you think hard. You didn’t go to any parties lately with your leg and you haven’t been to any games of theirs. You stared at the photo for hours, wracking your brain for some kind of explanation.

An explanation as to why Jessie looked so hurt at the thought of you with someone else.

#jessie fleming #woso x reader #woso soccer #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso community #portland thorns #jessie fleming x reader #jessie fleming imagine #woso #woso angst

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