#but no torn ligaments or anything like that | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aviawrites · 7 months ago

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when we were teenagers (challengers)

pairings/relationships: tashi duncan x sister!reader, patrick zweig x fem!reader, art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: Tashi Duncan’s younger sister, Ava Duncan, never gets a chance to be seen past her sister’s shadow. When Ava gets injured and Tashi starts gaining fame, the two become more and more at odds with each other. Tashi juggles Art and Patrick while Ava struggles to keep up. When over a decade passes and a peace isn’t reached, either the Donaldsons or Zweigs, either Tashi or Ava, has to come out on top. (7.2k)

a/n: you know the movie was good when you have to rewatch so you have all the info for the fic🥴 with that being said, the dates and stuff may be a little off but i did my best with what wikipedia had to offer. regardless, im a patrick zweig stan 4L. anyway, as always, ur interaction is greatly appreciated, ily<3

warnings: description of injury, allusions to sex/almost a smut scene, swearing

in this story, yn is: Ava Duncan

March 16, 2006 //📍home, 9:35pm

The goofy grin on the brunette’s face and the blond’s childish giggle replays over and over in your head. Your mother’s muffled snores mix with Art’s laughs as a smile grows on your face, your eyes closed.

You’ve found yourself in this position too many times, imagining what could’ve been if the cute guys were eyeing you rather than your sister. But you’ve experienced it enough times to not even be hurt by it anymore. No guys approach you at volleyball events, especially not hot ones. So if anything, you find some comfort in lying upside down on the corduroy couch making up scenarios in your head.

The click of the front door forces your eyes open, sitting upright and perking up like a dog as your sister tip toes through the door.

“So…” You rest your chin on your fist, “Which one was it?”

“Shh,” Tashi smiles, pointing to your mom’s closed door. “Which one was what?”

“Come on,” You continue as she stands in front of you, “Which one did you…Y’know.”

“Oh my- Neither of them, Ava.”

“What!?”

“Shh!”

You lower your tone, “Seriously? You were alone with them both and didn’t make a move?”

“It wasn’t like that.” She laughs, “They’re like…I dunno, they’re weird.”

You scrunch your face up, “What, are they gay?”

She pauses, cocking her head.

“They’re actually gay?”

“No, no they’re not.” She giggles, “I just didn’t do anything with them. I mean we kissed but that’s it.”

“Did you kiss the blond?” You interrogate, “I really like the blond…”

“His name is Art and I kissed them both.” She smirks.

You roll your eyes, “Whatever.”

Tashi laughs at you, plopping next to you on the couch and resting her legs across yours.

“They did ask for my number again.”

“What’d you tell them?” You stroke her leg.

“I said whoever wins the match tomorrow gets it.”

“God, I wish.” You sigh, throwing your head back. “I’d kill to see Art just one more time…”

———

May 15th, 2006 //📍home, 6:00pm

You wince as your mom tightens the brace, covering your face in frustration.

“It’s okay, baby.” She kisses your head, “You tell me if you need anything, okay?”

You nod as she presses one more kiss onto your hair before walking out, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

Almost every athlete you know has been injured before, half of the girls on your team are covered in braces and tape all season. A torn ACL seems more like a right of passage than a serious and life changing injury. But when you heard the pop and felt the ligament rip, it was almost immediate; The realization that you very well may never play again. You’re not sure if yours was worse than others or if you’re just weaker, but the trauma of the blistering pain has turned you away from getting back on the court for the last month.

You already can tell who’s on the other side of the door from the lack of a knock. You internally sigh, wanting to be left alone, as Tashi sits at the foot of your bed.

“Hey, I was thinking we could go to the courts today. I could practice with you.”

“Tashi…”

“I know you haven’t been wanting to go but since you just hit a month I was thinking, you know, maybe you’d want to start working again.”

You shake your head, “Tashi, I don’t think I’m ready.”

“When will you be?” She asks, her voice stern.

You stare at her, “I don’t know, Tashi. Why?”

“I’m just saying Ava, it’s not good to stop for this long. Some people never get back out there and you have to at least try.”

“I am trying.” You raise your voice, “My insides tore apart. Sorry if I’m not eager to put pressure on myself again.”

“There’s no pressure I’m just asking you to get up and at least walk on a court again.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Why the fuck not?”

“Because I’m fucking scared, Tashi!” You shout, tears falling from your eyes. “I’m fucking scared of it happening again! I am not ready!”

She stares at you, a look that you can only describe as disgust on her face.

“…You don’t even want to drive out there just to see-“

“Get out.” You cover your eyes, a headache creeping up on you.

“Ava, I’m not going to let you waste away in here-“

“Get out of my room or I’m calling mom.” You stare back at her, “Go.”

She stands, giving you one last look of disapproval before leaving, slighting slamming your door behind her.

———

September 18th, 2006 //📍Stanford Tennis Courts, 5:00pm

“Passing…Down the line…Cross…”

Tashi’s grunts echo throughout the court as you throw shots at her, a pile of green tennis balls forming behind you. It took a few weeks but she got you back on the court, just not the volleyball courts. You’ve watched Tashi’s practices long enough to know the game, so when you reluctantly offered to help her train, she jumped at the opportunity.

You zone out, robotically tossing the balls as Tashi dashes across the court. You silently hope for a specific someone show up. Patrick Zweig had your sister in his phone and occasionally in his bed, but Art Donaldson was a free man. The only Duncan in his phone was Ava, an achievement that you pride yourself on even weeks later.

Sure, the two of you aren’t a thing, not the way Tashi and Patrick are. But you’re happy to be anything with Art, so the talking stage that you seem to be stuck in doesn’t bother you at all. You can only pray that it’ll blossom into something. Something meaning you being Ava Donaldson in the near future.

As if you summoned him, a very familiar blond boy opens the wire door, locking eyes with you. Your heart skips a beat when he waves at you, your hand immediately dropping the ball and waving back.

Your sister turns around to see Art, a smile growing on her face as she walks over to him. She wraps her arms around him, pulling him in for a hug as you watch. They barely pull away before Tashi begins chatting, her face too close to his for your liking.

Across the court, they’re too far for you to hear their conversation. But judging from Art’s hand draped over her waist and her arm resting on his shoulder, you see enough to be angry. You can only look down, waiting for the conversation, along with your humiliation, to end.

After an abundance of giggles, Art turns and walks away, giving you another wave.

“I’ll see you.” He smiles.

You purse your lips, terribly embarrassed as you nod, “Yeah. Good seeing you, Art.”

The door shuts and with it, your smile drops. Tashi gets back into position like nothing happened, waiting with her racquet. Playing along, you throw her the ball. Only, you don’t call the drill. You throw with a little more force and much more unpredictability as the anger in you rises.

“Ava…” Tashi calls, frantically chasing the ball.

It’s only when the ball flies past her head, barely missing her, that she stops.

“Ava, what the fuck!?”

She walks toward you, meeting you at the net.

She shrugs, “What’s up, what’s going on?”

“Are you serious?”

She only looks at you, confused.

“Tashi, come on. You were literally all over him.”

“Wh- Art?” She deciphers, “Oh, Ava my bad I didn’t mean- I really didn’t mean to.”

“Yeah, sure you didn’t.”

“Seriously, I didn’t. He’s my friend I was just saying hey.”

“Saying hey with your arms around each other? That’s bullshit, just say you still like him.” You look down, mumbling. “It’s fine, it’s just annoying that you go after every guy I like knowing they’ll choose you.”

“Hey…” Tashi softens her tone, stepping over the net and nearing you. “Ava.”

“What?” You look at the ground.

“I didn’t mean it like that…” She insists, “I’m just stressed with school and stuff, he’s the only one who gets it.”

“Right.” You roll your eyes, not in the mood for ‘I’m stressed,’ to be the excuse for going after your guy. “It’s not like I go to school too or anything.”

“No, I know you do. It’s just…Stanford’s different, you know?”

“Whatever.”

“Ava,” She lifts your chin to look at her, “I’m sorry, okay?”

The two of you ogle at each other as she waits for an answer. She always does this, almost forces you into accepting her apology which you do not.

“We good?” She asks.

“…Yeah, sure.” You shrug, pulling away from her, “It’s whatever.”

Tashi just looks at you once more, seemingly satisfied as she steps back over the net. She gets back into position as you pick up another ball, a look still on your face.

“Down the line.”

———

December 21st, 2006 //📍Stanford Dining Hall, 12:00pm

“How many?” The employee asks.

“Umm, can I have three?” You lean on the counter, “Or four, actually.”

She reaches under the counter before handing you four mayo packets.

“Thanks.”

You start the walk back toward the table, Patrick having picked the one in the far back. He clearly hasn’t returned from the bathroom as you see Art and Tashi still sitting alone. As you near them, you catch a glimpse of their conversation.

“Don’t you think you deserve it?” Art asks, his eyes so focused on your sister that he doesn’t see you walking up. “I mean, who wouldn’t be in love with you?”

Tashi doesn’t respond, only angrily stands and walks away, nearly knocking you over. She passes you, smoke practically coming out of her ears. You watch her go before sitting where she was, handing Art the packets.

“Thanks.” He smiles, “Patrick still in there?”

“I guess so.” You laugh, insecurity lacing your voice as you simultaneously try to decode the conversation they were having.

“I’m so not surprised.” He takes the bun off of his burger and tears open the white packet with his teeth.

You watch him, hesitant to speak. Though, your words spill out before you can stop them.

“Do you ever wish Patrick let you win the match?” You ask.

Art looks up at you, mid squeeze. He cracks an unsure smile.

“What kind of question is that?” He laughs.

“I don’t know,” You do the same, tragically self conscious. “Maybe you wonder what it’d be like to date my sister or something. I don’t know, it’s stupid.” You look down, fiddling with your fingers.

Art pauses, putting his burger down and placing his hands on yours.

“Hey,” He grabs your attention, “I’m here with you today.

You smile, “No, I know. It’s just…She’s like better than me in every way so I wouldn’t blame you.” You chuckle.

“What? I don’t think so, I think you’re great.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t get in to Stanford. Nor do I win all of the tennis tournament or-“

“Ava,” Art stops you, shaking your head. “You’re just as good as Tashi.”

Your eyes tread on each other as you try your hardest to believe him. But you do realize that this is the exact same way he looked at Tashi on the courts.

The two of you are snapped out of it as Patrick returns, taking his seat next to Art.

“Sorry, they had like no toilet paper.”

“Oh good, thanks for letting us all know you took a shit, bud.”

“Whatever. Ava doesn’t give a shit, right?”

“No,” You laugh, “You’re all good, Pat.”

———

📍Tashi’s dorm, 2:00pm

“So if he’s seeing other girls I won’t even fucking know now.” Tashi vents, stretching for her match.

You scroll on your phone, sitting at her desk. “It sounds like he was just trying to be nice, Tash. He was trying to help you out-“

“No, he’s not nice. Nothing about them is nice, Ava. They’re fucking weirdos, both of them. Art just hides behind this persona that he’s so caring and team Duncan when really he wants the same thing from me as Patrick.”

‘He wants the same thing from me.’

You sigh, tired of hearing the same things and watching her run back to them minutes later.

“Then stop complaining and fucking leave him already.”

Tashi stops in her lunge, “What?”

“You keep complaining about them.” You grunt, “If you really didn’t want the attention you’d just drop them both.”

“If I didn’t want the attention?”

“Yes.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“Exactly what I said.” You say, irritated.

“Ava…” She stands up, looking down at you. You continue scrolling until your phone is snatched from you. “Hey.”

“What the-“

“Do you have something to say to me?”

“Give me my phone back.” You stand up, reaching for it.

“No, say what you mean.”

“Really?” You grab for your phone once more but she pulls it away from you like a child, “Fuck - Okay, Tashi, all you talk about is how hard your life is. How hard training is for a tournament that you know you're going to win. How hard it is dating a famous and touring athlete. How hard it is being friends with the nicest guy who only wants to help you. How fucking hard it is to have two guys fighting over you. How hard it is to go to an ivy league. How hard it is to live the fucking dream. How about you actually do something about it instead of rubbing it in our faces that you're above us and can play with two guys at once because you're so fucking amazing?"

The two of you stand nose to nose, a stance Tashi used to always initiate in order to intimidate you.

“How long have you felt this way?” She asks, her breath shaking.

“Ever since you became the Tashi Duncan and I was left in the dust. Now give me my phone.”

“Are you fucking serious, Ava? You think I asked for this?”

“Asked for what? A great life where you succeed in fucking everything? No, Tashi, you didn't have to ask for it. We worked so fucking hard and only you survived it. I succumbed to my fate, I quit my dream, I went to a shitty college, had shitty friends, watched shitty games, and watched the boys I liked fight for my sister. But no; Please, continue bitching about your hard situation."

You snatch your phone from her hands, walking toward the door. "Good luck at your fucking match."

———

2:45pm

You barely look up as you exit the library, occupied with connecting your earbuds to your phone. It’s only when you see a familiar black head of hair sitting in the common area that you stop.

“Patrick?”

He looks back, taking his feet off of the Stanford branded coffee table.

“Oh, hey Ava.” He makes space for you to sit beside him on the small loveseat. “How’s it goin’?”

“Good, um…” You put your stuff on the floor and sit next to him, “Why aren’t you at the tournament?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” He smiles that same crooked smile from the night you met him.

You curl your legs up, leaving your arm on the back of the seat. “Did y’all fight too?”

Patrick leans back, looking over at you. “Yeah. Yeah, we did.” He laughs.

“What was yours about?” You pry, smiling.

“Uh,” He rubs his eye, “Just…not letting her control me. I’m my own boss kind of shit.”

“Seriously?”

“…Yeah, why?”

“That’s what our fight was about too!” You burst into giggles, “Well, not her controlling me but her controlling you. And Art, him too.”

“Shit, Art too?”

“Yeah, I mean, especially Art. You’re the only one who stands up to her bullshit.”

“Oh yeah?” He asks, “I don’t know, you seem to put up a good fight.”

“Yeah, but I’m her sister. It’s takes a brave man to break free of Tashi Duncan.”

“Oh god, did I break free?”

“You definitely broke free.” The two of you laugh.

“No but I see what you’re saying, she definitely had me whipped.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Like I remember one time,” He turns toward you, getting comfy, “The first time her and I, um…”

“Oh, Jesus.” You cover your face.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He laughs, “But the first time we did, I remember she said she’d leave me if I told anyone. And I was head over heels, so of course I didn’t want to tell, right?”

“Right.”

“But Art’s my guy, y’know? So instead of being straight up and jeopardizing Tashi’s love, we made this stupid ass signal.” He tells in between laughs, “The way that Art serves - Like, you know how he puts the ball at the neck of his racquet?”

“Yeah, yeah.” You listen intently.

“Well, if I served that way, that meant yes, we did sleep together, And if I served my way, it meant we didn’t.”

“…And?”

“Well, I put that motherfucker right in the middle.”

“Oh my-“

You and Patrick erupt into laughs, covering your mouths as the librarian eyes the two of you. Your stomach starts to ache, not being able to remember the last time you had this kind of belly laugh.

“Well, cheers to breaking free of her.” You put your fist up.

“Oh hell yeah, cheers to that.” He bumps it.

———

3:05pm

The crowd outside thins out as you and Patrick head down the back halls and toward the parking lot. In true honor of breaking free, the two of you decided to not say goodbye. Instead, you’d go home without saying a word to your sister.

You’re a few doors down from the exit when Patrick stops in his tracks, looking into the nurses office.

“Tashi…” He walks in.

You enter the doorway, peeking in behind him. Inside, you see Tashi sitting on the table, Art by her side.

“No, out.” Your sister points.

“I’m sorry-“

“Get out!”

“Tashi, listen to me-“

“No, get out!”

“Please-“

“Patrick, get the fuck out!” Art shouts, standing.

Patrick stays for a moment, taken aback as he looks from Tashi to Art. If he has the same vision as you, it’s clear that it’s them against him. It’s no longer Patrick and Tashi, but Art and Tashi.

He looks back at you before obeying, walking down the hallway.

Now alone, you come into full view, nearing your sister.

“Tash, what happened-“

“You too.”

You stop, tilting your head. “What?”

“I don’t want you here, leave.”

“Wh- Are you serious?”

“Ava, I think you should just go.” Art says lowly, wary to step in between you too.

You ignore him, “Tashi, I’m your sister.”

You get no answer, she only looks forward. You look at Art as he stands over her like some bodyguard.

Just as Patrick did, you back away, realizing what this is. You frantically look between the two as you wait for Tashi to change her mind, to see that regardless of what fight you had you’re still sisters. Though, it’s clear that doesn’t mean anything to her, it’s been clear for a while now.

Now, it’s only Art and Tashi.

———

10:03pm

“Coming in from Stanford; Student and highly lauded tennis player, Tashi Duncan, took a hard hit at her match against Pepperdine this afternoon. Sources say a hard fracture to the knee has Tashi in the care of medical professionals. It is unknown if she’ll ever be able to play again.”

The blinding fluorescent lights of the cheap fast food place burn your eyes as you and Patrick look up at the TV.

You bury your head in your hands, groaning.

“Fuck.”

“She probably thinks she’ll never be able to play again.”

“Please, please don’t say that, Patrick. I’ll feel so guilty.”

“Ava, there’s nothing we could’ve done.”

“We could’ve at least showed up.” You rub a hand over your head.

“Hey,” He forces you to look at him, “None of this is our fault, okay? Injured or not, she still treated us like shit. Art only gets to stay by her side because he’s whipped.”

“I just…” You sigh, “I just wish I had been there.”

The two of you stand up, leaving the restaurant. Outside, a huge Adidas billboard with your sister’s face on it dominates the sky.

The two of you get into Patrick’s car, him cranking it up and turning down the radio.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“Okay.” He nods, looking at you.

“Like…” You think, “Your tour.”

“Oh, God.”

You laugh, “When are you set to go back?”

“Uh, next week I’m pretty sure. But if I’m being honest, I don’t even want to go. I’ve been getting my ass kicked out there.”

“Patrick, Tashi would lose it if she heard you say that.”

He leans in, resting his arms on the center console as he examines your face. “Let’s not talk about Tashi…”

“Okay,” You hold the intense eye contact that he began, “What do you want to talk about?”

His nose is almost touching yours as you unconsciously near him, eyes flickering from his eyes to his lips.

“Let’s talk about you.” He grins, rubbing your waist.

“What do you want to know?”

“Tell me what you like.” He says, lowering his lips to your neck and softly pressing.

“I, um,” You tilt, holding the back of his head as he gets sloppier, “I loved volleyball. My team was out of California but we travelled for tournaments. We ranked…fuck…we ranked second in the country-“

Patrick cuts you off, his lips ravaging yours as he runs his hands over you. You can’t stop yourself from leaning into him, crawling over to sit on his lap. Both of your hands get more and more heavy as he pulls your shirt over your head, tossing it in the backseat.

“Fuck,” You say in between kisses, “Fuck, wait.”

“What?” He looks up at you, “What, is something wrong?”

“Is this wrong to do?” You ask, out of breath. “Should we stop? What about Tashi and Art?”

“They yelled at us to leave when we tried to help.” He reminds you, “Why should we stop when they treated us like that?”

You look at him, convincing yourself that you’re considering it when all you want to feel is your mouth on his.

And you do, pushing the thoughts of Tashi and Art far from your mind.

———

February 15th, 2011 // 📍Zweig condo, 9:30am

5 years later

At one point in your life, it would take you multiple seconds to figure out how to say the dollar amount that you and your husband had in your bank account. Now, as the number almost falls short of five figures, you feel ashamed just looking at it.

You switch tabs on the laptop, the light from the ceiling to floor window behind it hurting your eyes. Scrolling through tournament options, the distances only get further and the prize money higher. Years ago, you and Patrick wouldn’t even consider the amount, as Patrick just wanted to play tennis; And that still holds true, only you’ve been stuck in your ways for so long that he’s forgotten how to play to win.

Nails scratch the hardwood behind you as your golden doodle, Bear, comes barreling down the hall. Right behind him is your husband, chasing the dog around the living room.

“I’m gonna getcha, I’m gonna getcha!” He says, the dog running desperately from him.

You chuckle, “Good morning.”

You hear Patrick give Bear a smooch before walking over to you, wrapping his arms around your neck.

“Good morning, baby.” He kisses your neck, looking at the screen. “Found anything good?”

“Not really,” You groan, frustrated. “I don’t know when these matches got so fucking far.”

“It’s okay,” He strokes your head, “I’m sure there’s one we can make it to.”

You continue scrolling, the qualifier maximum getting smaller and smaller.

“What about this one?” He points.

“Atlanta? Patrick, that’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know, I know. But we can make the trip, no? I hear some of our friends may be there.”

You turn your head, furrowing your brows at him. A sly smile plasters over his face, one that makes you realize all too quickly.

“They’re going to be there?”

He nods.

“God, why would you want to be anywhere near them?”

“We probably won’t even see them, baby. But if they’re there we’ll have a big crowd.”

You think on it, the thought of seeing Tashi making your stomach turn in knots.

“…And look at that winner’s reward money.” He says convincingly.

A sigh escapes you before clicking submit, Patrick’s entry automatically being sent.

“Mm,” He kisses your wedding ring finger, “Thank you, baby.”

“Yeah, yeah.” You jokingly roll your eyes, pecking him on the cheek.

——

February 24th, 2011 //📍Atlanta, 7:40pm

Nausea consumes you as Patrick’s smell fills your senses. The aroma of the city is one thing, the aroma of your husband another, but the scent of your sister’s old perfume radiates off of him like a cancer.

You watch as he sets his coat down, coming behind the couch to kiss you.

“Did you-“ You pull your face away, not able to let him touch you, “Did you see anyone we know?”

Patrick is taken aback, looking at you with a confused smile.

“No…Why?”

His eyes bore into yours as you search for any answer than the one you’re imagining. Though, as he hands you the chinese takeout bag and takes a seat next to you, you find yourself voiding the conclusion entirely; Your mind not willing to believe the man you love would be meeting her.

He wraps his arms around you, watching the TV. As the smell seems to corrupt every sense you have, a tear sneaks into your cheek, the possibility still piercing your gut. Even so, you wrap your arms back around him.

As of this moment, the comfort of hiding in his arms trumps the possibilities of the truth.

——

June 3rd, 2013 // 📍Zweig Condo, 3:00pm

2 Years Later

‘Hey, I know it’s been a while. But if you’re willing, I’d love to come out and see you and the baby. - A ♡’

The ‘Read’ under your message seems to taunt you the longer you stare. Your phone screen is interrupted by a call, ‘Mom,’ at the top of the screen. You answer.

A small gasp escapes you as you’re immediately met with the smallest human you’ve ever seen. You’d know she was Tashi’s in a sea of babies. You wave your husband over, eyes staying on the baby.

“Oh my goodness.” You whisper, “Hi, baby.”

Her eyes stay closed, her hands in small fists.

“Oh, Ava, she’s so beautiful.” Your mom lowly says down the phone.

“Is…” You wipe away a stray tear, “Is Tashi okay?”

The camera flips from the baby to your mother.

“You know you could always ask her yourself, honey.”

“No, I know. But- Just tell them we said congratulations. She’s precious.”

Your mom lets out a sigh as she looks from you to behind the camera.

“Mom, who is that?” You hear your sister’s voice in the background.

Your hands turn clammy, your heart beating faster and faster as she begins to turn the phone to Tashi.

“Um, Mom we gotta go, we’re breaking up. I love you-“

“Wait, Ava-“

“Love you, mom.” You spit out, hanging up and turning your phone face down.

You stare out for a minute, shocked at your body’s response to your sister’s voice. Sobs escape your mouth before you can stop them. You shove your face in your hands.

“Oh, baby.” Patrick holds you, rubbing your back.

“It’s been too long.” You cry, “She fucking hates me.”

“You don’t know that.” He reassures you, “She may come around. You did good.”

———

May 1st, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle, 10:00am

6 Years later

Making it to New York from home took up the rest of Patrick’s savings. The house that you downsized to is completely funded by you and your remote sales salary. Patrick continues to fight a losing battle with tennis, barely able to pay for food for himself every week. Straining your marriage was the last consequence of his money struggles. Though, it has the biggest impact on your day to day. Nonetheless, you remain by his side. In all honesty, you’re not completely sure how to continue anywhere else.

“I’m going to see Art today.” Patrick tells you, downing a handful of trail mix.

“Art?” You ask, holding Bear’s paws on your

thighs, “Why would you do that? It’s been years.”

“I think it’s been long enough, we’re already here.” He shrugs, “I think it might be good for me.”

You focus on Bear, still not seeing a clear reason as to why he’d want to speak to Art after a decade.

“Maybe you should go see Tashi.”

Your eyes snap to him, her name barely being spoken in your house for the last six years.

“…And do what?”

He shrugs, “Might be good for you…”

…

1:00pm

Your stomach seems to twist in a thousand ways as you continuously fix your hair and outfit on the way into the far too fancy hotel. As you pass the lobby, you almost turn around and throw up. But as your sister heads for the elevator, you know this is your one chance to speak to her.

Your shoes thump against the marble floor as you jog after her.

“T- Tashi!” You whisper shout, reaching her just in time.

She turns around. Taking one look at you, she looks to your left and right, utterly confused.

“What are you doing here?” She asks, tone laced with disgust.

It’s been so long. She looks so different, her voice has such a maturity to it. But that dominating energy that she brings everywhere hasn’t changed a bit.

“Well I…” You fumble, all of your practice going out the window. “ I heard you were here, I wanted to say hello.”

“Say hello?” She looks you up and down, turning her full attention to you as she steps forward. “Honestly, I don’t want your fucking hello, Ava. Really, I don’t.”

You shake your head, “Tashi-“

"I can't believe you have the balls to be here. After what you fucking did to me."

"What I-“ You compose yourself, remembering exactly how arguments with your sister always go. “Tashi, what the fuck did I do to you?"

"Are you serious?" She asks, "You're joking, yes?"

"No, I'm really not."

"You left me for 13 years by my fucking self." She raises her voice, "I had a wedding, I had a baby, and where were you? My sister was too stuck on a grudge to ever come back into my life, you're a waste of my fucking time." She begins to walk away.

“Hey.” You follow her, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around.

“Get off.”

"Not one of those events was I invited to, Tash. Not one. If you wanted me back, if you gave a shit, you would've acted like it. But you're not going to sit here and act like I was in the wrong and I should've reached out to you. Hell, I did fucking reach out to you.”

“In the wrong?” She snatches her arm from you. “Ava, are you clinically fucking stupid? You're hung up on a situation from 13 years ago-"

"No, but it's not from 13 years ago, Tashi.” You cut her off, getting in her face. “Because you're doing the same thing right now that you did when you were 18. You're sitting here blaming the world for your life decisions. You're blaming me for being angry that you were and are a narcissist who wants someone else to be the athlete that you never were. Every time I thought of coming back l'd imagine what my sister would say and I couldn't do it. But guess what Tashi, now I see through you. I fucking see it, Patrick sees it, and when Art finally opens his eyes you'll finally see yourself for what you are."

She stares at you, a chuckle escaping her. "Ava, this is pathetic. Genuinely. Because at the end of the day, it's not my fucking fault that you gave up. Now l'm in a position where I don't have to be here. I have a life, a pretty fucking good one, outside of this. Outside of you. This Final, it's practice. It's fucking child's play for us, whereas for the Zweigs...This is it for you. Your last fucking loss.”

“Yeah. Okay Tash.” You roll your eyes, "Keep throwing insults at me to distract from the fact that you're a shitty person."

"I'm a shitty pers- You fucking abandoned your family for 13 fucking years!"

"Because my sister is an insufferable egomaniac who can't accept the fact that her husband doesn't want to do this shit anymore and her tennis life is over!” You shout back, your voices echoing throughout the hotel. “It's fucking over Tashi, give it up. That's why I left you, because you're fucking dreadful! You're dreadful and everyone knows it."

Tashi slowly nods, the hotel staff looking at the two of you.

"...Ava, do you know what your husband does late at night?"

Your eyes widen, your heart skipping a beat as she addresses the unspoken.

"Fuck you." You spit.

"I'm really asking, because from what I experienced...You're a lucky woman."

Now you’re the one with disgust in your eyes, the urge to spit in her face stronger than ever before.

“…Say hi to mom for me, Tashi." You say, your hands balling into fists.

“Happy to.” She utters, walking toward the elevator. “Tell Patrick I’m wishing him good luck.”

…

3:00pm

You only tell your husband bits a pieces of your encounter, not daring to remind him of the man he was in Atlanta.

“I don’t even know why I tried.”

“Both of them are assholes.” He agrees, “At least now we’re sure of it.”

“I guess.” You bite your nails, stroking Bear’s ears. “Patrick you have to beat him in the Final. We can’t let them win.”

“I know, baby.” He nods, on your wavelength. “I know.”

——

May 4th, 2019 // Night Before the Final, 11:25pm

“Pat, it’s really coming down out there.” You look out of the hotel window, tarps flying into the street. “What if they cancel the match?”

“They’d never do that.” He watches the TV, “It should lighten up by morning.”

You hum, snuggling next to him as the bright screen flashes through an action sequence. Patrick’s phone vibrates, his phone brightness lighting the rest of the room.

“Oh, baby.” He shifts his body, making you sit up. “I gotta go.”

“Now? Why?” You try to look on his phone but he pulls it away, scrolling.

“I have to, um,” He rubs his head, looking stressed. “My racquet, I have to pick it up.”

“The fuck does that mean?”

“They just messaged reminding me that we have to have this certain racquet to compete tomorrow.” He stands up, rushing toward the door.

“What- Patrick,” You follow him, “It’s like a fucking flash flood out there, can you not do this tomorrow?”

“Baby, they close at midnight, I gotta go,” He kisses you, “I love you.”

“Patrick, wait-“

“I love you, I have to go!” He shuts the door behind him.

…

12:30am

You have a strange urge to cry as you scroll through Art Donaldson’s instagram. Photos of him and his seemingly perfect family are plastered all over, an ‘@Tashidonaldson ♡’ at the top of his bio.

Patrick never wanted kids, said they’d cost too much and you couldn’t care for them. He was correct about the former, but care for children, you are willing and able to do. But when you married him, he did a lot of the decision making for you.

Now, as he’s blown all of your savings, lost his tennis touch, and been out of the damn hotel room for an hour doing god knows what , you wish you could shout at past you to get a grip.

Though, looking at these picture now, you wish you could do the same to past Art Donaldson too.

———

May 5th, 2019 // 📍New Rochelle Courts, 1:00pm

Final Day

The crowd’s heads robotically turned side to side as Art and Patrick dog it out in a vicious match. You sit in your assigned seat next to your sister, the endless stream of slander not ceasing, not even today.

“Is he retiring after this?” You ask, your head still going between the men.

Tashi shrugs, her expression hidden behind her sunglasses. “Maybe.”

"...I don't think Patrick will ever retire. I think tennis is all he has."

She hums, "If only he'd start winning his matches."

"He doesn't always play for the wins, Tashi."

"Yeah, he plays for the participation money."

"Maybe he does." You say, "At least he does it by choice."

She looks to you, her attention no longer on her husband’s tie breaker. "Art does it by choice."

“Like hell he does.” You scoff, “He wouldn't be retiring after becoming a Career Grand Slam if he wanted to be doing this.”

“Art is an adult, he does what he wants.” She looks back to the court.

“Art is your slave, he does what you want.”

Tashi continues trying to get to you. As Patrick sets for his next serve, he looks in your direction. Only, he isn’t looking at you, he’s looking at your sister. He returns his gaze to Art, placing his ball in the neck of his racquet.

Both you and Art freeze, staring at your husband. The men seem to be in their own world, but Patrick must’ve forgotten that you know too. The word seems to muffle around you as you stare at your husband’s evil grin at Art.

You stand on shaky legs, grasping your stomach as bile threatens to come up.

“Hey…” Tashi calls after you, “Ava, what the fuck are you doing?”

You run to the nearest exit, Patrick’s blatant disrespect and repulsiveness making you want to genuinely die where you stand.

It’s only as you stumble to your car that it truly hits you who the man you married really is, and how he really sees you.

Like everyone else, he thinks you’re a pawn in Tashi’s game. A piece that can be battered and bruised but will never go away, as it’s crucial to the game of Tashi. You want to vomit as you sit in your car, Patrick’s scent sending you into a violent sick.

———

May 14th, 2019 // 📍Zweig home, 12:00pm

9 Days Later

Three knocks at the door echo through your almost empty house. You pause your show, unlatching the chain and opening it.

Patrick stands in front of you, a hysterical attempt of a sad expression on his face.

“Everything’s here.” You walk him in, pointing to the boxes full of his stuff in the kitchen. “The only things that aren’t are your racquets, trophies, cups, stuff like that. Those are in the closet so they wouldn’t get mixed up.”

“Thanks.” He says, feeling like an alien in this house.

“Yeah.” You give him a thumbs up, returning to the couch next to Bear.

He spends an hour loudly moving his things from the kitchen to his car, the sound almost drowning out your show. Regardless, you stay put, wanting him to be done as fast as he can.

“Ava…” He calls over the reality TV. You ignore him, popping another veggie straw into your mouth.

Suddenly, his arm comes from behind you, grabbing the remote and muting it.

“Hey.” You turn around.

“I’m talking to you.”

“Okay, well I don’t want to talk to you.”

“Ava, I’m sorry-“

“Pat,” You chuckle, not being able to keep it in. “Don’t even.”

“Baby, listen to me, okay? I fucked up-“

“Patrick, Patrick!” You stand up, “Just stop, okay? Leave me be, finish getting your shit, and I’ll have the papers served to you by the end of the week.”

“Baby, no. Please.”

“Honey, there’s nothing you can say.” You shake your head, having prepared for his begging days ago. “Go beg to your mistress, yeah?”

He continues rambling, stumbling over his words. “Ava, it was such a bad mistake. I told myself it was strategy and- And because me and her have a complicated past I couldn’t see straight-“

“But nothing about us is complicated, right? We are married, we’re supposed to be a team. But you betrayed me, plain and simple.” You lay it out for him, “You’re a cheater and we’re done, now go.”

“It was a mistake-“

“Patrick…” You inhale, “I’m trying not to lose it, you need to get the fuck out.”

“Just hear me out-“

“Get out of the house, Patrick.”

“We can come back from this, Ava. We can.”

Your jaw hangs agape in genuine disbelief. He seems to notice he fucked up again as he stops speaking. You walk around the couch, getting in his face the same way Tashi used to get in yours.

“Patrick,” You begin, “I gave everything for you. I gave up my life, I gave up my family, I gave up Art, I left it all for you. I abandoned so much to be in your corner because I was in love with you, I really was. Whether you felt the same about me, I’ll never actually know-“

“I loved you, baby. I still love you-“

“But I thought you were the one who understood me, Patrick. But somehow every time I gave you a chance to correct yourself you threw it away to be with Tashi. Over and over. She’s constantly being picked over me, her feelings over mine, her body over mine, her opinion over mine…You’re just another one of her fans. You’re just like Art- Honestly, you’re fucking worse. At least he pretended to like me all those years ago. Now, as my husband, you just don’t give a shit. Just publicly showing that you slept with my sister.”

“…Why do you keep bringing up Art?” He looks down at you, “Do you- Do you feel something for him still?”

“Oh my fucking-“ You cover your face, composing yourself once again before continuing. “Pat, it’s been a long, long time since this all started. And if I could go back I’d change many things. But at the end of it all, I’m here because I worked for it and I endured it. You and Art can stay stuck under Tashi’s finger, that’s fine. But I know that life is bigger than that. Bigger than this weird threesome love triangle shit that you circle back to every few years. I am a grown woman who is in control of her own life so if you don’t have anymore comments, you need to get out and sign the papers when they’re served to you, Patrick.”

“…Baby, please,” He cries, his lip quivering. “You love me, we love each other. Please just think about it.”

You tilt your head, “Do you want me to be honest?”

Patrick nods, hiccuping on his tears.

“…All of this is really really beneath me.” You quietly tell him.

He lowers his head, his hands covering his eyes.

“When I was 18 I might have been broken over stuff like this but…” You shrug, “Things are very very different from when we were teenagers.”

#challengers #challengers fic #challengers imagine #challengers fanfic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #tashi duncan #art donaldson fic #patrick zweig fic #art donaldson challengers #patrick zweig challengers #challengers film #tashi duncan fic

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makethatelevenrings · 6 months ago

Text

Reports and Renewal // S. Riley x f!reader

A/N: hiiiii consider this a 5k follower celebration!!! thank you!!! wtf!!! I am SLAMMED with life and work right now. I'm about to post this and go study some more but HI I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO MUCH.

I will hopefully be able to do more of a celebration/interactive follower thing once I absolutely dominate this test. Bc I will. (Manifesting!!) warnings: mentions of injuries (fractures, ligament tears) and fatigue, subtle misogyny, swearing but tbh if you're reading COD fanfics and are surprised by swearing...I can't help you

Two sharp raps against the wood of your door drew you away from the cursor blinking repeatedly and the slow creep of it across the page. It wasn’t your fault that it was taking you longer than usual. Only one of your hands was in commission right now thanks to a nasty fall during the last mission. The thought of the injury made your lips thin into a grimace as the sling on your shoulder dug into the tender skin there. A fractured radius and a torn ligament in your shoulder meant you would be stuck at a desk for about two months.

You shuffled the papers back into the manila folder and cleared your throat before calling out a brusque, “come in.”

While you were expecting someone to come in and add more to the growing piles of reports that you needed to type out. Since you weren’t able to be in the field, everyone on your team assumed that you would gladly take on their grunt work.

The massive form of Lieutenant Riley filled the doorframe and you instinctively glanced at his hands for some files, relieved to see something other than those fucking folders. But your brow raised as he stepped into your office and brandished what he held in his gloved hands.

“They gave me an extra sandwich by accident,” he said in lieu of an explanation. “Cook thinks I need to eat the whole fuckin’ Mess. Figured you’d need t’eat something since you weren’t there.”

You spared a glance at the clock on your computer and let out a noncommittal hum. Huh. Guess you were so focused on getting through all this work that you missed dinner call. That sparked your body into making you aware of the stiffness of your joints. You sat back against your chair, a small groan escaping you as your spine stretched and popped.

“Yeah, thanks.” You gestured with your uninjured hand for him to sit across from you. The lieutenant eased himself down into the small wooden desk chair and grimaced at the creak it emitted as it strained under his mass. He leaned forward and placed the sandwich on top of the file you had been working on before sitting back, eyeing the pile that had amassed in the corner of your desk.

“These all yours?” he grunted. You huffed out a laugh that turned into a triumphant cry when you successfully got the sandwich unwrapped.

“Clearly not considering I’m the only asshole around here who finishes their shit on time. Apparently desk duty means being the paperwork lackey. I’m surprised you haven’t caught on and brought me something to type up.”

His dark eyes studied the pile of papers and then he picked them up, thumbing through the paperwork. You didn’t worry about him looking at it. He was of equal rank as you and, while you weren’t 141, you operated in similar circles and collaborated on missions enough to know that he was a cold bastard, but he wouldn’t jeopardize anything.

“Any of these my guys?”

“Nah, MacTavish and Garrick would never.” You took a bite of the dry sandwich and nearly moaned. It was boring and plain and tasted a bit like sawdust, but you were starving. Simon silently nudged your water bottle closer to you and you nodded in thanks. He snapped the files close and set them back on the edge of the desk, the corner teetering off the side and nearly tipping over under the weight.

“Arm’s alright?” Ever the conscientious leader. The constant ache of your torn ligament and broken bone was frustrating, but it was a nice reminder that you were alive. The fall had been from a warehouse walkway when an assailant tossed his empty gun and instead went for a tackle that sent you both over the edge. You twisted your body to make sure he took the brunt of the fall, but your arm hit the ground first after he did. The evac had been a nightmare and couldn’t get in for three hours. Three hours of brutal pain radiating with every move as you and your team held back an onslaught of fire until the 141 was sent to finish business.

“I live to see another day,” you said, with both a hint of humor and the tension of your tentative morality lining your words. You sat back in your chair and winced as your arm jostled against your side.

“You should be resting,” he chastised.

You scoffed. “You’re one to talk. Didn’t you come back to work three hours after your appendix burst?”

His mask hid his face, but you could see the slight crinkle of his eyes and that was enough to confirm that the bastard was smirking. You had seen him walk out of medical after they dug two bullets out of his shoulder. There was a reason why the Ghost was such a legend. He didn’t answer but instead pointed at your food and you dutifully took another bite.

“Your team is a bunch of dicks,” he finally said. You bristled at his words and immediately went to defend your men, but he simply raised a hand to stop any arguments. That just made your skin prickle even more with indignation.

“Don’t get me wrong, they’re good at what they do. But you’re better. Price has asked about bringing you onto our team.”

“Pretty sure I’d slow you down,” you muttered. Yeah, your team had no qualms in dropping piles of paperwork on your desk, leaving their shit in the gym for you to clean up, and made a point of never inviting you out after work hours. But you didn’t join the military to become best buddies with everyone. You were good at your job, but you weren’t task force material. The 141 were the guys that went in when no one else could. You were the person they sent in when it was a mid-level threat.

“Top of your recruitment class, high marks in everything except in things we can easily train you on. Besides, we got some demolition nuts already. Don’t need a third one of you or Price will go gray by next year. You’re one of the best analysts and have prepared more missions than most. Price thinks you should join us.”

You took a sip of your water to jostle the dryness out of your throat and then screwed the cap back on. Your eyes caught his and you met his stare head on. The Ghost should scare you. He should make you avert your gaze and apologize for daring to look.

He had never made you feel that way. From the moment you were assigned to this base, to this unit, to this office, the Ghost had been distant but decently nice. You had seen him ream out privates for forgetting to tuck their pants into their boots before. Hell, you could hear him yelling at privates and cadets as they attempted the obstacle courses in the pouring rain while you were inside. But he had never raised his voice with you.

Sure, he had been firm and even snapped once or twice, but he hadn’t yelled the way he had at the kid who tracked mud through the halls last week. Simon made him get a bucket and a brush and to scrub the floors by hand so the janitors wouldn’t have to clean up his mess.

“You’re an established team already. I would just throw off the dynamics.”

“Garrick and Soap already agree they want you in,” he retorted.

Maybe you had a concussion too. Your mind was fuzzy with the details when the 141 came to evac your team. The pain had started to make your brain go foggy when they breached the building. How did you get onto the heli? Surely you walked, right? But you can also remember someone shaking you. That hurt like a bitch. Your team hadn’t given a shit about you at that point when they were busy saving their own hides.

“What do you think about me joining?” The words left you before you could reel them back. You wanted to know. You were terrified of the answer. He had given you this hope, but was he cruel enough to take it away? Was this the Ghost toying with you? You wished you could see his face.

He merely stood and grabbed the stack of files from your desk, nodded curtly, and exited your office without another word. You waited until the door shut behind him before you let out a long, frustrated breath.

“That motherfucker,” you swore under your breath. Fucking hell, your shoulder ached. Your head ached too. You let it fall against the cool wood of your desk and shut your eyes in an attempt to ward off the exhaustion, pain, and embarrassment that now burned its way through your chest.

Might as well get this goddamn fucking report done.

You sat back up, pushed it all aside, compartmentalized, breathed. You opened the folder and began to peck at the keyboard once more.

Once it was done and sent to the appropriate COs and channels, you grabbed your bag and made your way down the hall towards the Mess. You were almost out of the office quadrant when a gruff voice called your name. Captain Price exited his office and extended his hand, luckily the opposite of your uninjured one so it wasn’t an awkward shake.

“Got your transfer paperwork drawn up and ready, if you want to sign it before you head out. Get you over to our team faster. I’ve heard great things from your CO and I’ve seen the work you’ve done in the field. It’ll be nice having someone more level headed than those muppets.” He paused and an almost pained look took over his face. “How likely are you to accidentally set off an explosive just for shits and giggles?”

You stifled a laugh and followed him into his office so you could sign those papers.

“Simon has told me what he’s seen during your training. You’ll be a great asset to have on the 141,” Price continued once you signed your name without hesitation. You paused once his words sunk in and looked up at your new boss.

“Ghost has talked about me?”

“Christ, I think he might be ready to make some fucking t-shirts with your face on it. Thought he damn near ripped the spines out of those boys who had you doing their reports. Don’t tell him I told you that. He’d take a right fucking piss out of me.”

“Your secret’s safe with me, sir,” you assured.

“Right, dismissed then. Be here at 0700 tomorrow. I don’t give a shit if you’re on IR, we’ll find something for you that isn’t pecking the keys until your eyes fall out from staring at that screen.” You nodded and didn’t even try to fight the smile that crept onto your face. It lingered on your face, right next to the phantom touch of the Ghost’s gloves when he grasped your face the moment they found you in that warehouse.

#simon riley x reader #simon riley imagine #cod imagine #ghost x reader #ghost imagine

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lullinglily · 3 months ago

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hello my darling! ur work is so so lovely, i was wondering if you had anything in the ol’ cranium regarding miquella and love languages, he’s such an interesting creature to analyse

pairing: miquella x gn! reader (sort of)

notes: genuinely not sure if this was supposed to be an x reader request or not, but hopefully either way you enjoy it. i tried to implement both my ramblings and also x reader elements. i agree he's way fun to analyze; glad i got to do it even more!

acts of service: malenia serves as miquella's blade and, in turn, your shield. her brother wants nothing more than to guarantee that you are well looked after, and so employs her to protect you fiercely while he is away. while not a direct act of service, your safety is one of his top priorities and he will do anything to ensure your well-being. he sees his ascension as an act of service as well. when he stood before the gate of divinity he thought not only of his people and his sister, but of you as well. if he could usher in this gentle age then all despair would be wiped from the world, and you would remain pure and merry for the rest of your days with no pain to follow you and no grief to wet your eyes. each ligament lost, each drop of blood spilt, and every vein of his torn asunder were all discarded with the promise of your eternal happiness.

physical affection: miquella's embrace is as light as air and as warm as a delightful ray of sunshine. his hugs feel as though a spirit has you in their arms the way you can hardly feel his touch, only his familiar temperature makes his affection known. he enjoys both giving and receiving touch, although he has a preferred fondness for the latter. his preferred method of registering physical affection is most certainly through hugs. wrapping his arms around your waist from behind as he rests his head upon your own or surprising you by throwing his arms around your shoulders from the back and peppering the side of your face with kisses are his favorites. he has such an otherworldly feel. even when you know he's holding you, it feels like he isn't there at all. his love for the one he adores is real, but with no tangible touch to prove it so.

gift giving: he most certainly adorns his beloved in the unalloyed gold that he alone crafted. each bit of jewelry you wear is meticulously designed and brought to fruition by his careful hand. he fusses over you while bestowing his gifts as well, tucking stray strands of hair behind your ears and carefully smoothing out any wrinkles in your garb as he settles a headband or necklace upon your figure. he'll absolutely melt when if he sees his beloved wearing the immaculate gifts he'd created for them; partly because it makes his heart swell with pride that you'd sport his very own handiwork, and partly because you look absolutely ethereal in them. it is mostly the latter that is his reason for swooning; the sight really bolsters his ego. while he enjoys gifting his lover such splendid ornaments, he'll often pass onto them bushels of blooms as well. your bedchambers are swamped with flowers. it's absurd.

quality time: this is, unfortunately, the language miquella is most lacking in when it comes to his beloved. he's quite the busy empyrean, planning for his ascension and whatnot. he must achieve his order before any more pain be brought upon the Lands Between, or you for that matter. however, when he does spend time with you, it is oft spent by showering each other in affection. usually he spends time with you in the haligtree, cooing to each other sweet words in hushed tones as you lie across his lap and let him braid your hair. if he's not too busy, he'll take you horseback riding on torrent.

word of affirmation: and here it is -- the language that miquella best practices! he's quite the charmer, if you hadn't noticed. jokes aside, miquella's beloved, as well as just about anyone he cares about, are constantly being bombarded with his tender words. he makes sure that those he adores know how much he adores them, he will simply crack and break if they don't. such devotion becomes a tad bit obsessive. if anyone seems even slightly off in demeanor he will assume that perhaps they are upset with him, and he will remedy this by drowning this person in flowery language. he's rather insecure, and so words of affirmation is not only the language that he is best at performing, but also the one he craves the most.

#elden ring x reader #miquella x reader #miquella the unalloyed x reader #miquella the kind x reader #so many miquellas #imbibe nectar :: anons

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happy74827 · 11 months ago

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Happy Accidents

[Todd Ingram x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: You might've broken your leg due to Todd, but that didn't mean you couldn't still have quality time together.

WC: 2672

Category: Hurt/Comfort, Fluff

This was such a random plot I came up with, but I’m actually in love with it. I feel that this little one-shot is 100% Todd accurate (I say little but it’s literally 2k words lol).

Also, please don’t send the vegan police after me for my inaccuracies (lmao). Google was my only option 😭😭

『••��••』

Spending time at the hospital wasn’t the plan you had in mind for your Friday night. You expected it with you curled up on your couch watching whatever crappy reality show that was airing with Todd by your side.

He was always the perfect person to binge with; his reactions were an endless source of sarcastic commentary. It actually made it funnier.

But you couldn't be too upset. You still had Todd, and you had… some television. Sure, it wasn’t 90 Day Fiancé, but it was better than nothing.

Usually, when it came to broken legs, you were at the hospital for two hours. Two. Hours. Not you, of course. Your boyfriend had to be a vegan and have those whacked-out powers. It was a given that there’d be an accident.

Who knew a flying amp could be so hard to catch?

At least you didn't have a concussion. The only injury was your leg, but your leg was completely messed up. Three different fractures in your femur and a torn ligament. It was the most you had ever been injured in your life, including all those times you fell off your bike or when you broke your arm in third grade.

The doctors at the hospital said that they couldn't let you leave until Monday. Surgery was also still on the table and could happen as early as tomorrow, which you definitely weren’t paying for

So, you were stuck in the hospital, eating the terrible hospital food and watching stupid television.

And the worst part about all of this was that it was slowly taking your mind off of Todd.

It was only the last couple months when the two of you started dating. Neither of you were exactly serious or anything, but you had feelings.

He was a big guy and a real sweetheart, not to mention a badass with those powers of his. It was obvious that he had a good heart, and he didn't take shit from anybody. That included you.

You had to admit that it was cute when he got jealous. He never had to worry, though. You were never interested in guys like him. You had your eye on Todd, and now you were stuck in a hospital bed because of him.

Now that it was just a memory, the moment you broke your leg was pretty comical. Envy needed a rehearsal before their band went out on tour the following week, and since you and Todd planned the night out together, you attended their quick practice.

As usual, they were awesome. You were like a little fangirl when Envy started singing. You kept your cool, though, sitting on the couch while they ran tempo and entrances. You weren't paying too much attention either, until you heard a voice and turned your head.

Lynette, the drummer, apparently had a very salty day and decided to pick fights with Envy’s ideas. She even suggested that she should learn how to write songs. That was a big no-no when it came to Envy, and it was made very clear that it would be her last comment for the day.

It was a blur, really. Envy and Lynette were throwing insults at each other, and Todd was caught in the middle of it. He was pretty bad at confrontation when it didn’t technically involve him and so he usually let it slide, but something about Lynette had pissed him off this time.

You could still remember the words he said.

"You know what I hate about you? Your hair."

You giggled, and that was your mistake. Lynette absolutely loved her hair. That haircut was her pride and joy. Todd could never understand what it was about it, but it was Lynette's favorite feature.

So, when he insulted her favorite thing in the world, she immediately started attacking your boyfriend, causing you to go over and try to stop this before it escalated.

Well, it escalated. Todd subconsciously went into “vegan mode” when he was mad. It was a defense mechanism or something like that. In any case, an accidental movement of his hand had an expensive amplifier aimed right at your leg.

Envy saw it coming and screamed his name to get his attention, but he couldn’t hear her over Lynette, and you couldn't move out of the way fast enough.

And then, everything stopped. All you felt was the excruciating pain that was apparently your broken bone, multiple places, as you later found out. Your mind went blank for a moment as all the horrified expressions of each band member turned towards you.

Todd threw the amplifier aside with his powers, profusely apologizing to you. His hair settled back down to normal as he took you in his arms.

"Oh, god, am I an idiot." He said. "I didn't mean to… oh, man, you’re okay, right?"

You were on the verge of tears when you nodded your head. The adrenaline of the moment had taken over your pain as you wrapped your arms around his neck and squeezed him tight.

Envy most definitely cursed him out on your behalf. Lynette was still pissed as she stood off to the side, crossing her arms with a huff. She didn’t really know you, so she didn’t really care that you got hurt.

But Todd knew you, and he cared a whole hell of a lot about you. He was going to be making up to you for a while. You were going to get the apology of a lifetime and probably an entire chocolate cake with strawberries. You loved strawberries.

You did not care about your injury at that moment, though. The scene of Todd apologizing to you, Envy yelling derogatory words at him that were obviously unknown to him, and Lynette's head turning in the other direction was probably one of the best sights you had ever witnessed in your life.

“How’re you feeling?” Todd’s voice snapped you out of your memory. He was in the chair beside you with a hospital pillow on his lap. He had a bag of Doritos in his hand, which he was munching on.

You turned your head over to him and couldn't help but smile. It was a smile full of love and adoration, one that made Todd raise an eyebrow.

"I'm alright," you replied, reaching for the water that was by your bedside. You failed miserably, but Todd noticed it and hovered it over to your hands.

He took the opportunity to grab another chip and take a bite before looking back at you.

"You sure you're okay? I mean, you got hurt 'cause of me.”

"That's what I get for dating a badass, I guess." You laughed, shaking your head.

Todd scoffed, "That's not funny."

"It kinda is."

"Whatever." He crossed his arms and pouted a little bit. "I'll have to watch my back more now. I could have killed you."

“It’s okay. Envy would’ve reunited us if you had. She would’ve torn you a new one. I'd say you dodged a bullet there.”

As Todd munched on his Doritos, nodding along to your words, you knew there was nothing in his brain that connected what you’d just said. He was most definitely agreeing, just to agree.

And just because of that, you couldn't help but admire him. He was sitting there with his messy hair and those brown eyes of his. His clothes were wrinkled, and you could see the tiredness in his eyes, but none of it mattered to you because he was still so beautiful.

Todd being a vegan was also a blessing because it gave him such an amazing physique. He was lean but toned, his abs always visible even under his baggy shirts. Not that you cared if they were showing or not.

"Can I have a chip?” You asked him.

He turned towards you with a look of horror on his face. "You don’t like these. You like the non-vegan Doritos.”

“Aren’t they all… not vegan?”

Todd let out a sigh, his eyes rolling back.

"Not these. Spicy Sweet Chili. I got these from the vending machine. They're for me."

He sounded like a little child, which you couldn't help but laugh at. He always was so serious about these things, even though they were snacks that were meant to be shared with people.

"That's not what I asked." You said.

"Yeah, but-"

You made grabby hands at him. You were starting to feel that pain again as your muscles were getting tired. You needed those chips.

"Todd, please."

He let out a sigh, trying to hold back a smile. He was always such a big softie for you.

He handed over a bag of chips, and you wasted no time in taking one. Immediate regret as you took a bite out of the spicy snack, choking as you did so. You managed to swallow it down before taking in a drink of water to wash it all down.

"Told you that you wouldn't like them." He said with a grin.

"I… like them. I just don't like how I feel after I eat them."

"Mhmm.”

You glared at him, narrowing your eyes. "Stop being smug."

"I can't help it if I'm so cool." He winked.

He wasn't wrong, though. Todd had a very good self-esteem about himself and was never shy to tell you so. But it was the way he said it, that smug look of his and his stupid wink, that made you want to punch him and kiss him.

It was those little things.

"You know," you said as you crossed your arms, "this isn't how I planned on spending my Friday night."

"I know, babe. I know."

"I mean, I thought we were going to have some quality time. The two of us and the TV, I really wanted to catch up on that old Ed and Rose storyline.”

"I know, I know.”

"And instead, I'm here with and because of you." You glared at him as you finished your sentence.

He was ready for your attack, crossing his arms to match yours. You two were in the middle of a staring contest when Todd opened his mouth to say something, but the nurse came in at the worst possible moment to interrupt him.

"Ah, you're awake. How're you feeling?”

Unfortunately, this made Todd win the battle as you were forced to look at the nurse. She had a smile on her face, one that made you feel relaxed. Todd turned to look at her as well.

"I'm feeling better now." You said. "Thank you for asking."

The nurse nodded her head, writing down your words before turning to Todd with a smile. "Since your friend—”

“Girlfriend.” He corrected her, pointing a finger at you.

You couldn't help but laugh, turning your head to the side as you did so. Your laughter got the nurse to smile.

"I apologize. Since your girlfriend is doing better, you’re welcome to visit back in the morning. Visitation hours are from eight to twelve and one to three. After that, only family will be allowed in.”

Todd turned to look at you, and you could see that he wanted to say something, but with a simple nod from you, he leaned back in the chair with his arms crossed, giving the nurse his attention.

She gave him another smile as she looked back at you. "I’ll come back in about an hour for a checkup. Press the button if you need anything in the meantime."

"Thank you." You replied.

She left the room smiling, leaving the two of you to look at each other.

You let out a sigh as you leaned your head back on the bed, closing your eyes. Todd's eyes never left you, staring at you as you did so.

“Should've said we were married. I would've been able to stay the night here." He said.

"Yeah, but then I wouldn't be able to sleep because of your snoring. You know, that's why I get up so early in the mornings. I have no choice but to leave the bed when you're snoozing away."

Todd had the audacity to smile at that, shaking his head.

"Whatever, I don't snore. Besides, you love the way my arms feel around you."

You opened one eye, staring at him. "Are you trying to make me feel bad?"

"No. I'm just stating the facts. I have great arms if you hadn't noticed."

You scoffed at him and his bragging. You closed your eyes again.

"I hate you so much."

"I know." He said with a smirk on his face. “Can I have my chips back now? You ate almost all of them."

You handed the bag back to him without another word, sighing deeply. You could feel Todd's stare at you as he opened up the bag again.

You heard him take another chip into his mouth as he stared at you, but he was too quiet, so you knew he had something else to say.

"What?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

"You know that I meant it when I said sorry, right?"

"Of course I know, Todd. You always apologize."

He swallowed down his chips. "Yeah, but this time I really meant it. I was so scared when you got hurt. I didn’t mean to; I just got pissed at Lynette, and that all happened."

"Todd, it's okay. I know you didn't mean it. You would never hurt me."

"You're sure?" He asked.

You opened up your eyes again, looking at him. He was staring down at his lap as he said those words, biting his lip. You could tell that he was genuinely worried about this, so you reached over and made grabby hands again, but instead of the chips, you were looking for him.

Todd looked up at you and raised an eyebrow. He placed the bag of chips aside and got out of his chair, going over to the side of the bed to look at you. You placed both of your hands on either side of his neck, smiling at him.

"I'm positive. I know how much I mean to you, Todd. You don't need to worry. I'm not mad at you."

He was looking right into your eyes as you said that and nodded his head, moving closer toward you as he placed his hands on the side of the bed. You didn't want him to be too far away from you, so you wrapped your arms around his neck.

"I'm just glad you're okay. I didn't mean for this to happen. I swear."

"I know." You replied. "It's not your fault."

You stared at each other for a few more moments before he leaned down and kissed you. He placed both of his hands on either side of the bed as he deepened the kiss. He didn't do this often, but when he did, he knew exactly what he was doing.

He was also extremely careful now that you had broken your leg, making sure that he wasn't putting any pressure on your side. He placed one hand on your face to hold you in place as he kissed you while his other hand supported his body.

It felt like a few minutes had passed before he broke the kiss. He leaned down and rested his forehead against yours, closing his eyes.

"I love you." He whispered.

"I love you too."

It wasn't the first time he said it, and it definitely wasn't the first time you had said it to him, but it was the first time you heard those words without any fear in his voice. There was no worry, no hesitation, only love.

He opened his eyes, looking at you with a smile on his face. His brown eyes always captivated you, especially when he smiled.

You felt your own smile spread as you looked into those beautiful eyes of his, kissing him on the cheek before snuggling up to him.

You felt his hands wrap around your body and sighed contently. Eventually, he’d have to leave, but until then, you were going to enjoy this.

And if it came with spicy chips, then even better.

219 notes · View notes

dullgecko · 1 month ago

Note

Fabian Kristen and Fig think it’s funny to pick Riz up by the scruff of his neck, which turns really bad really quickly after sophomore year spring break when he almost takes out Fabian’s good eye in a panic and then disappears for like a week afterwards

When he finally reappears everyone decides to make a list of boundaries for the group (Kristen bans people sneaking up on her, Fabian bans anyone doing anything to him that can unexpectedly put him in water, Riz bans touching his neck, etc) that they pin to the fridge of Mordred (concerning the shit out of Jawbone who was not told about half of this shit but Adaine and Fig refuse to tell him because it’s not their stories to tell)

Riz panics EVERY time someone picks him up without giving him a heads up. It worse when he's scruffed but his body's automatic reaction is to partially paralyse him and by the time he's put down again he's not likely to lash out at anyone. The only problem is you have to grab a very SPECIFIC spot to cause the paralysis and if you miss its actually pretty painful.

Thankfully his friends had stopped playing their game of pick-up-the-goblin since before their spring break. Riz was already pretty tightly wound and jumpy normally but after that whole experience it was on a whole new level. He hadn't told his friends about what Baron and the demons in the hotel had done to him and he didn't particularly want to either. Preferring to bury the memory of icy hands around his throat and getting hauled around like luggage by the back of his neck in the back of his mind where he didn't have to think about it.

He'd been looking for a specific bit of information in a book in the library when the incident happened, the goblins focus completely locked in on the page he was reading as he stood next to one of massive bookshelves in the Auguefort library. His awareness of what was going on around him non-existent as he tried to memorise what he was reading meaning that he didn't notice Fabian sneaking up behind him.

The half elf shot a hand forwards and grabbed the goblin by the back of the neck but his aim was a little bit off. Paralysis not setting in and pain shooting down Rizs spine as he was hauled into the air with the sound of quiet laughter, the book he was holding falling to the floor with a thud. He wasn't even thinking about it, mind immediately flashing back to a demon dragging him out of the mirror with the same painful grip, and he lashed out. Claws raking across Fabians stunned face and making him drop the rogue into a heap on the floor so he could cradle the massive gash he'd made next to his good eye.

Riz didn't land well, one leg twisting underneath his body at a bad angle when he fell but he didn't feel it yet. Adrenaline coursing through him as his mind kept him trapped in the flashback and he tried to bolt. He needed to get away from his attackers, hide, go to ground and lick his wounds, so he did. He was a good rogue, no one would find him, and they didnt see hide or hair of him for a week.

When they did see him he was still limping around with a crutch, the goblin having had to go to the free clinic after school when he finally calmed down and found his ankle swollen and purple. He didn't want to go to his party since he was convinced they hated him now and he couldn't afford magical healing otherwise. Instead choosing to suffer with the torn ligament and let it heal naturally. It made him a lot easier to catch when Fabian finally spotted him.

#fantasy high #riz gukgak #fabian seacaster

43 notes · View notes

sydnikov · 2 years ago

Note

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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knullanon · 4 months ago

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Can I request a maybe part 2 to the Nolan Grayson; gremlin villain reader? Where readers powers were working on a subconscious level to heal them but after enough punishments reader down to their core believes that death is the best alternative and their powers ‘turn off’. I wanna see the reaction of the family after a harsh punishment and reader just. not healing.

Listen I love angst and you’re more than welcome to ignore this but I think it would be so interesting

(Nonbinary reader pls as well)

I don't think I'm very good at angst but here u go pls enjoy and I'm sorry if it's shit🙏👍

tw: death, heavy gore mentioned, like a lot, reader is dying so they're not really there, angst, you die (!) so there's that, Nolan is kind of a dick, sad ending

~~~

It hadn't been very long since you were left there. You could tell because almost nothing in your body healed yet. Most of, if not all of your bones had been broken, fractured or missing and you could barely feel any of your limbs.

The only thing you could feel was your hands. Often times, on your missions you needed to fight or use your hands, and so you made it a habit to heal your hands before the rest of your body. Of course, this was before you were kidnapped.

They weren't totally healed: you still had a few fingernails missing, your left pinky was crooked, and your palms didn't have any skin. But compared to the rest of your body, they were the most intact.

You tried to move your legs but they were shredded. In fact, only your right leg was there, as the other had been ripped off. What was left of the right leg was just a hunk of meat: Nolan had ripped out your femur since you decided to run away. They were slowly growing back, you could feel them there, but it was a slow proccess.

As soon as you could feel some sensation in your neck, you turned your head, looking around to see if there was anything you had missed in the basement. There was the chair, a few empty boxes, and a mirror.

There wasn't a mirror there before. You struggled to get onto your forearms, ignoring the crunching noises of your bones as you dragged yourself to the wall. When you tried to push yourself up, you fell back down, as you remembered your spine didn't completly heal.

You waited a few moments, and focused all of your energy on your back. You counted the beat to your favorite songs, one of the best ways for you to heal quicker as you found. You kept counting, kept switching songs, but... nothing was working. Sure, you were able to flail your arms around a bit, along with moving... what's left of your leg, but it wasn't going back to the way it used to be. It was completly severed, you felt, but where you would feel ligaments and muscles and bones morph and fuse back together, there was nothing.

After a few minutes, you stop trying. Pain meant nothing to you at this point: you've been torn apart and put back together again more times than you could count, but it felt... weird. Like you were a piece of paper slowly drifting down, swaying side to side until you finally met the ground.

As everything went dark, you stopped thinking about Nolan, about Mark, and even Debbie. It didn't matter now. You were going to be free.

---

Before bed, Nolan had Mark go with him to see his "ill behaved sibling," as he put it. The basement was more dingy and dark than he remembered it to be. Besides the smell of iron and blood, there wasn't the usual groan or crunch or curse from you. In fact, when Nolan got completely downstairs, he basically flew over to you.

"Get up."

Mark stood at the bottom of the stairs, staring down at your dismembered body. Unlike other times that Nolan had punished you, you weren't fully healed or even partially. Almost every single wound that you had hours earlier in the day were still there, and it looked like you had dragged yourself around the room from all the blood on the floor.

When you didnt move, Nolan kicked you, hard. Mark was expecting you to say something, do something, maybe at least try to fight back, but you didn't. You just sat there, bleeding all over the place. It made him think something was wrong

At this point, Nolan was obviously pissed. He picked you up by your neck, and held you above him, dangling your body in front of him.

"Dad, I think-"

"Let me handle this, Mark."

"You think you can just pretend to be dead so you can get out of being punished? You were the one who ran away, not me."

He tossed you across the room, letting you hit the wall and slide down unceremoniously. He then floated all the way back up the stairs, before looking back to Mark.

"Good luck trying to get them up."

And with that, he left. Mark stood there for a moment, before he rushed over to you.

"_____, I'm so sorry, I didn't think he would be that mad, I-"

When you didnt look at him, he stopped. He shook you, trying to get your attention, but your eyes were glassy. Empty.

"_____?"

You didnt awnser. Mark kept asking you, shaking you, moving you, but you weren't responding. Not even with a kick or a shout or anything.

It was when he couldn't feel your heartbeat when he started to panic.

"I know you're- you're upset, but cmon, it's just me!" He pleaded, shaking your body again and again. "Dads not here, he's upstairs, somewhere, it's just me!"

You didn't react. You just sat there, pressed up against the wall, looking like a ghost. Mark sat next to you, holding the remains of your hand.

"I'll sit with you, OK? Until you feel better. Don't worry, I don't mind. It's not like I'm doing anything."

He laughed to himself, before he squeezed your hand.

"Please heal soon. I miss you."

~~~

sorry if that sucked ass but oh well

#yandere invincible #yandere invincible imagine #yandere omni man #yandere nolan grayson #yandere mark grayson #yandere invincible x reader

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grantmentis · 17 days ago

Text

Women's Hockey Roundup: October

Woof, I fell off of these for a while. Blame baseball and college! Anyway, I'm going to just do what happened in women's hockey in October (and maybe the last few days of September) for all leagues. This is only confirmed news and games, so rumors are not included

If you're new, i recap the top stories from around club play women's hockey (so not collegiate) and try to give more detail on european women's hockey, since that's less reported on in north america :-) Feel free to add if i miss anything!

PWHL (USA/Canada)

The PWHL schedule has been released! We have a few TBD's in venues, most likely for playing select games in bigger venues or neutral sites. we do not currently have streaming/television info, so stay tuned for that. There will be a preseason, but not open to the public.

Training Camp Begins November 12, with preseason/mini camps The 19-22. New York's training camp roster is here. Boston's is here. Minnesota's is here. Montreal is here. Ottawa's is here. Toronto's is here.

Nov. 27: Deadline to finalize rosters of 23 players and 3 reserves

Abigail Boreen signed a three year deal with the Montréal Victoire. She played with the Minnesota Frost last year, including in the playoffs, as a reserve player.

Ronja Savolainen signed a three year deal with the Ottawa Charge. She played with Luleä most recently and is a star of the Finnish national team.

Sarah Lefort, most recently with Montréal Victoire, has announced her retirement

The PWHL has begun the process of expansion for 2025-2026, targeting two new cities

SDHL (Sweden)

Fanni Garát-Gasparics signs with Brynäs IF, though is still rehabbing the injury she sustained last year with the Ottawa Charge

Dutch national team legend Savine Wielenga signs with Leksands IF

Rookie Reece Hunt of Luleä is out for the season with a torn knee ligament

Frölunda general manager Kim Martin Hassons is extended to 2028, and head coach Erika Holst is extended to 2026. Frölunda has been massively successful thus far this year, currently in second place in the standings and coming off a big win against firs place Lulëa

While Luleä and Frölunda are at the top of the table, MoDo is making noise in third place, having won six of their last eight.

A couple key story lines: -> Finish National Team forward, Elisa Holopainen (Frölunda) is lighting the league on fire in her first year in the SDHL. She has 9 goals and ten assists in 13 games -> We have a few wonderful comeback stories this year. Hanna Olsson (Frölunda) is back to her old self after missing most of last year with injury, with 16 points in 13 games, good for fourth in the league. Erica Reider, (Luleä) who did not play for two seasons, looks like she never left, currently leading all defenders i the league in points. And Kassidy Sauvé (SDE), who missed almost two full season's with a hip injury, currently leads all goaltenders in save percentage. -> MoDo Hockey is being powered almost entirely by a youth movement: top producers Ebba Hedqvist, Adéla Šapovalivová, Mira Hallin, and Lovisa Engström are all 18 or younger and playing prominent roles on the 3rd place team

Auroraliiga (Finland)

Canadian Emma Hall joins KalPa after playing in the NDHL (Sweden's second division) last year

Kärpät will retire the number 20 in honor of long time legend Saija Tarkki. After 21 seasons with Kärpät as well as the Finnish national team, Tarkki retired in 2019. She will be honored Novembe 23rd.

A Couple key storylines: -> 18 year old Czech forward Barbora Juříčková i having a breakout year with HPK, already surpassing her point total from last season with 22. She joins Emma Ekoluoma (Ilves), who was a star on the U18 Finnish team last year, as one of the young players to keep an eye on in this league -> Kiekko-Espoo sits at the top of the table, with Ilves right behind. Last year's champions HIFK are feeling the loss of several star players and sit in fourth place. -> Sister's Jennika , Joanna and Jatta Ojala all played for the same team together for the first time at the top level for Team Kuortane

SWHL A / Postfinance Women League (Switzerland)

Not technically league play, but since they play in this league too ill put it here: EV Zug won the EWHL Euro Cup, which is played at the beginning of the season including select club teams across europe! They bear the German league's Memmingen to do so. Noemi Neubauerova, who is set to play with the Toronto Sceptres when the PWHL game begins, scored the game winning goal

Sponsor PostFinance announces that in 2025/2026, they will only financially support men's club teams that have a women's counterpart

Nadine Hofstetter of EV Zug is out three weeks with a broken finger. She is one of the team's veteran defenders who also plays for the Swiss national team. Vanessa Ryhner, Nina Harju, and Julia Näf are also out with injury for EV Zug, though Rhyner should be back any day now.

ZSC Lions Fraun is hit with injuries: Slovakian forward Tereza Lahova is out for the year with injury, and Aurela Thalmann and Alena Polenská (aka Alena Mills) are also injured. They are calling up Univ. of Saskatchewan alumni Sophie Lalor

A few storylines: -> Elizabeth Lang (HC Davos Ladies) is leading the league in points in her rookie year and scoring at a goal per game pace. She graduated from University of Calgary last year -> Lara Stalder (EVZ Women's team) continues to do Lara Stalder things and is tied with Lang in goals, but newcomers Michaela Pejzlová (HC Ambrì-Piotta Girls) and Clara Rozier (SC Bern Fraun) who were stars in last year's finnish league are close behind. The top scorer race for this league will be exciting, and that's not to mention old friends like Rahel Enzler and Estelle Duvin, among others. -> HC Davos Ladies is currently at the top of the standings, but EV Zug and SC Bern Frauen are very close behing them -> 18 year old Ivana Wey (EVZ Women's Team) has been off to a blistering hot start, a lot of hype surrounding her after a strong performance at both u18 and senior worlds. Another interesting young player is Lucie Tenenbaum, an American set to play at Minnesota State next year but is spending this year in Switzerland. The 18 year old has 5 goals and two assists with HC Davos Ladies so far

EWHL (Central/East Europe)

EV Bozen Eagles are currently dominating the league, with the help of players such as import Kristin Della Rovere, who has 16 points in 9 games. The Bozen eagles are part of a larger plan to help get italy's women's national team ready for the 2026 olympics

HK PSRZ Bratislava are undefeated thus far this season, after winning last year's title.

Canadian USport alumni are thriving in this league; Cassidy Maplethorpe, Hannah Tait, and Lauren Nicholson among top goal scorers

Slovak Ema Tothova continues to be the young player to watch, after her breakout seeason last year the 17 year old forward has 10 goals in five games. She is also competing in a boy's league in Slovakia while playing in the EWHL

OTHERS

watch this space for Czech forward Adéla Mynaříková to mak the u18 team this year. She's 15 and just steamrolling people in the Czech top league, with 15 goals and 5 assists in 8 games playing against a lot of grown adults

Norweigan forward Une Bjelland Strandborg, who was arguably one of the best NCAA DIII players of all time and graduated last year, is killing it in Germany's league with newly added Austrian team HK Budapest. She has 7 points in 6 games

#pwhl #sdhl #ewhl #aurora liiga #auroraliiga #swhl #postfinance women league #hockey #women's hocky #i am scheduling this at 12pm when i will be asleep #bc im currently writing tis at 3:30 am #so if some major news breaks between now and then my bad

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mrchiipchrome · 1 year ago

Note

ummm… 25 with viv miedema if that’s ok

prompt 25. -It will be okay, as long as you’re here with me.

If you want to request, there's a prompt list linked in my masterlist:)

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

Watching Viv go down, clutching frantically at her knee broke your heart into a trillion pieces.

The first thing that came to your mind as one of the physios was those three dreaded letters, the mechanism of injury pointing to it being the most likely option.

Her heart shattering cries only getting louder as you neared her, kneeling by her writhing body as she kept on crying.

Turning her body over, the dutchie has tears pouring down her face while she keeps her grip on her knee.

The girlfriend part of you wants to wipe her tears away and tell her everything’ll be alright, but the professional side knows that is not possible.

Right now you weren’t her girlfriend, just the team medic. Or at least that was what you convinced yourself.

“Viv, baby, can I touch your knee? I need to baby” The football player nods her head under the forearm she placed over her eyes.

Taking hold of her calf and her upper leg, you lift her calf towards you slightly, performing a lachman test to see if your suspicions were correct.

The results were concerning to say the least, and your own tear nearly falls at the look your girlfriend gives you. It’s almost like she knows.

As you gesture towards the bench for a sub, the other trainers bring out the stretcher to place your girlfriend's body on. The tear from before finally falls as you help carry Viv off the pitch, now being able to be her girlfriend.

Taking her into the physio room, she gets moved from the stretcher onto the uncomfortable bed. Quiet sobs take up the space in the silent room, you and Viv being the only one there.

“It’s my ACL isn’t it Y/n/n?” The tears well up in her eyes again, this time not because of the pain but rather the helplessness she’s feeling. Fact is, you knew exactly what she felt, having suffered one while you were playing in high school.

“Vivi, we have to run more tests and go in for a scan-” You start off softly, not wanting to make the girl any more upset. It doesn't work the way you wanted it to, seeing as it made her even more upset.

“Y/n, just tell me straight up. Be doctor Y/n and not girlfriend Y/n.” She concludes and you let out a sigh, dragging your hand down your face.

“Viv, it’s very likely that it is a tear of the anterior cruciate ligament due to the mechanism of injury as well as other factors. We won’t know for sure until you get your scans done but I would recommend preparing yourself for the worst.” The monotone doctor's voice you put on makes Viv slightly uncomfortable, used to always hearing your emotion filled voice.

“Can I be girlfriend Y/n now?” You ask the forward quietly, and when she nods you stand up from the desk chair you’re sitting on. Pulling her head into your chest, you stroke her hair calmly as she sobs.

Kissing the crown of her head, the whispers of sweet nothings floating through the stale sickly smelling air.

“It’ll be okay my love, shhh shhh it’ll be alright” You reassure her quietly, pressing kisses to her hair every so often.

“But only as long as you’re here with me, I can’t make it without you Y/n” Viv mumbles into your chest, the muffled words breaking your heart yet again.

Separating your bodies, you make sure that you look her in the eye when you say;

“Vivianne Miedema, nothing will ever make me leave your side. You won’t get rid of me easily, I hope you know that by now” She smiles up at you softly before leaning up to steal a soft kiss from you.

—---

In the weeks after the scan that showed your girlfriend's ACL had been torn, a lot happened. Viv had her surgery, and spent countless days just crying on the couch or just straight up feeling numb. You’d come home and find her where you’d left her that morning, the girl a shell of the person she once was.

But regardless, you stuck by her side. You helped her with anything she needed help with and even took a couple vacation days to look after her. It was just what felt right.

And suddenly after all those months of you and Viv training together, everything seemed to look up again.

Viv started to become herself again, smiling and laughing at your stupid jokes, even agreeing to some outings with the team. Your Viv was back.

Tears of joy flooded down your face when she ran for the first time in months, and when Viv was back to training with the team you couldn’t help but feel the most pride you’d ever felt.

All those late night training sessions and all the tears shed had led up to this moment, the sign going up for nr 11 to be subbed on to the pitch again after her horrific injury.

The applause coming from the Chelsea and Arsenal players alike, had a single tear slipping down your girl’s face. Despite the fierce rivalry between the two London clubs, both sets of fans gave standing ovations for the Dutch player.

The game ends with Viv scoring once, retaining her place as the greatest scorer of the WSL, and as soon as the whistle signaling the end of the game Viv runs straight into your arms.

“Thank you for being by my side baby, I couldn’t have done this without you. I- I love you so much liefje, and I guess what I’m trying to say is…will you marry me?” The Dutch woman drops down to one knee, pulling out a box with the most gorgeous ring in it.

Being careful as you can be, you quickly throw yourself in her arms whispering yes over and over.

No matter what, you wouldn’t leave her side. ‘Til death do you apart, ‘no’ you think, not even death would be able to separate you from your love.

#woso #woso x reader #arsenal wfc #vivianne miedema x reader #vivianne miedema #song prompt blurb

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snippy-tano · 1 year ago

Text

Old Injuries

surprise! i’m back!

at least for this request anyways. this request came from a commenter on ao3! so thank you AnimeWeeb_2001!! basically they requested a one-shot with Hunter where the reader hurt her leg during a mission they were on together and kept it from Hunter until she literally collapsed and couldn’t walk anymore. basically some solid Hunter fluff.

and I am very happy to oblige!

so here it is! hope you all enjoy it!

masterlist is here!

taglist is here!

tagging: @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life; @marvel-starwars-nerd; @mackstrut; @dissapointingpancake; @ahsokatano-thetogruta; @welcometothepedroverse; @padawancat97; @fractiouskat; @mandaloriandin; @bantha-shit; @badbatch-simp24; @katelynnwrites; @s1st3r; @leotatombs; @torchbearerkyle; @rain-on-kamino; @the-navistar-carol; @bombshe77; @arctrooper69; @social-mockingbird; @littlebluebatbrat; @get-wr3ckered; @flowered-bicycles; @idoubleswearimawriter; @eris-k; @dangraccoon

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

The mission itself was meant to be easy.

A quick in-and-out that didn’t require the entire Batch. Which is why it was only you and Hunter who went. And for the most part, it had been going smoothly.

You had both split up to cover more ground and make sure exit routes were clear. Hunter had commed you moments before stating that his path was clear and he was heading to the rendezvous point.

You had no sooner echoed your own confirmation of a clear path and turned off the comm when your foot stepped in a small hole and pain exploded throughout your leg. You instantly saw stars and your good knee hit the stone ground.

You forced your eyes open and looked back, seeing a small cracked hole in the pavement. If you had been paying attention, it was absolutely avoidable.

Back when you were a teenager, you injured your knee playing a game of boloball with some neighborhood kids. It was as simple as some torn ligaments and you had made a full recovery at that time. But occasionally, if it was particularly cold or if you slept strangely, it would ache.

In this case, all it took was stepping in a hole for the condition to flare up in the worst possible way. You knew you didn’t tear anything, at least you were pretty sure. It didn’t quite feel as painful as it did the first time, so you were fairly confident that you only slightly re-injured your knee.

But you had to admit, it kriffing hurt.

You let out a groan of pain, blinking your eyes to get rid of the fuzziness and tears. Your hand went to your knee, as you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths, trying to will the pain away or at least hope that it lessened to a more manageable level. But that was not happening.

Kriff this was bad.

Really really bad.

Hunter’s voice calling your name over the comm dragged you out of your fog. “-you okay? Are you there? Report. I’m at the rendezvous.”

“‘M fine.” You choked out a response, grabbing your blaster and forcing yourself to your feet despite the agonizing pain. “I’m almost there.”

You stumbled to the edge of the alleyway, bracing your hand on the cool brick of a building. You took a few deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth. When your vision focused and you could breathe again, you started moving.

Each step was like agony. Your knee felt like it was on fire and every slight movement had pain shooting through your leg. It was far more intense than it had been in a long time, which worried you.

But you needed to focus. Hunter was relying on you for this mission.

You would not fail.

Pain was an old friend. You had this under control.

You spotted a figure in the distance among the busy market and you forced another deep breath into your lungs. The figure turned and you met eyes with Hunter who gave you a nod as you approached.

His eyes narrowed slightly. “Are you okay?”

You willed your heart to stop beating so rapidly and your breathing to calm down. You plastered a small smile on your face. “I’m fine, just ready to get this over with.”

Hunter let out a soft chuckle. “You and me both. Come on.”

He turned and headed into the crowd and you followed as closely as you could. The pain had not lessened in the slightest, in fact it had only gotten worse.

You may not have torn anything this time around, but if you kept walking on your leg, you just might end up reinjuring it.

Stop. Focus.

Hunter entered a building and you stepped in after him, taking a glance around the darkened bar. He took a moment to gaze around the bar before walking towards a booth in the back corner.

You headed for the bar, practically collapsing in a stool with a wince. A bartender appeared in front of you almost instantaneously.

“You look like you could use a drink.”

Normally you’d refuse.

Now was not the time or place to have a drink. You were on a mission and needed to be completely sober. But the throbbing, stabbing pain in your leg was a powerful motivator.

“Give me something strong.” You rasped out and the bartender grinned.

“Coming right up.”

While you waited, you again focused on your breathing.

Kriff you were so stupid. How could you do this on a mission? Hunter was relying on you and you injured yourself.

Kark.

A glass appeared in front of you and you gave the bartender a grateful look before lifting the glass and downing the amber liquid in one go. The burn down your throat momentarily distracted you from the pain in your leg. You could feel the warmth beginning to seep into your body and felt yourself take a shuddering breath.

You glanced over at the corner of the bar and saw Hunter speaking quietly with the man in the corner booth. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but it didn’t look like it was going poorly.

At least not yet.

You heard the sound of liquid being poured and turned to see the bartender refilling your glass. When he saw your confused look, he chuckled softly. “This one’s on the house. You look like you could use it.”

You gave him a quick grateful smile that he returned before stepping away to tend to other patrons seated at the bar. You looked at the glass in front of you, fingers playing with the cool condensation on the glass.

You shouldn’t.

Your first drink wasn’t nearly enough to get you even remotely tipsy, but you really shouldn’t be drinking. Not while on a job.

But then you thought about your leg and the continuous stabbing pain.

And you downed the next one.

You pushed the glass away as the drink burned a path down your throat and again began to warm your limbs. You pulled out some credits, probably more than the first drink was for, but you wanted to repay the bartender at least something for his kindness.

You felt the ghosting of a hand at your back and turned to see Hunter with a bag now slung over his shoulder. His eyes flicked to the empty glass, but he didn’t say anything.

You stood up, clenching your jaw and the pain in your knee as it protested you standing on it again. The bartender gave you a small wave and you returned the gesture with a nod as you followed Hunter out of the bar.

As soon as you were back in the crowd, Hunter began to speak.

“Are you sure-“

“-did you get what we needed?” You interrupted and he hesitated for a moment.

You were only here to “recover” something that had been “stolen” from Cid by someone she’d managed to piss off, which didn’t surprise you. You honestly weren’t even sure if it was Cid’s to begin with, but she was insistent and concluded that a small party would be better, hence why it was only you and Hunter.

Your contact, the man in the corner of the bar, had “stolen” what was “stolen” from Cid and offered it for a price that Cid deemed acceptable. It was a ridiculous mission and you’d make sure to tell her when you returned.

“Yes. We can go.”

You took another two breaths, in through the nose and out through the mouth.

You both moved fairly quickly through the busy market streets, heading to where you had parked the Marauder. You were almost there, almost home free.

You could rest your knee and finally get off this planet.

There was some movement in front of you and you looked up just in time to see two kids running through the street towards you. You barely had time to brace yourself before one of the kids ran into you, shouting an apology as they kept going.

Normally, it would have been fine.

But normally you weren’t injured.

You stumbled as a renewed pain shot through your leg and Hunter was quick to grab your arm, steering you away from the busy streets only a few turns away from where the Marauder was waiting.

So much for the alcohol.

Your uninjured knee hit the hard ground as you gasped for breath.

“Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?” Hunter’s steady hand at the crook of your elbow was steadying in a way, but it also reminded you that you were in the middle of a mission and couldn’t afford for this to be happening right now.

“I’m fine, just give me a second.” You choked out, trying to push aside the continually growing pain.

“What happened? Did you get hurt?” Hunter insisted. “Your heart rate is too erratic.”

“My knee.” You hissed.

You felt Hunter’s hand rest gently on your leg and you gasped as a flash of pain exploded through your leg. Your hand clamped on his wrist, as you inhaled sharply.

“Don’t.” You choked out and he was quick to pull away, arms raised.

“Can you walk?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yeah, just give me a sec.”

You took a few more deep breaths, feeling like the stupidest person in the galaxy for hurting yourself, even if it was an accident. After a few calming breaths, you gave a nod to Hunter and he looped an arm around you, helping you to your feet.

Once you were standing, he kept his arm in place, supporting you as you wavered slightly.

“Are you sure you can walk?” He asked and you gritted your teeth.

“Positive.”

You had a feeling he knew you were lying, but he didn’t say anything. Instead, he helped you hobble back out into the busy streets towards the waiting ship. Thankfully, not many of the crowd paid you any attention, so some of your pride was still intact.

You were right around the corner from the ship when you knee buckled beneath you. But this time, Hunter was ready, easily keeping you upright. Before you could protest, he looped an arm under your knees and lifted.

You hissed in pain at your knee being jostled and Hunter breathed a quick apology.

“I told you I can walk.” You whispered as he moved quickly through the shipyard, the Marauder getting closer with every step.

“This is faster.” Was all he replied.

He was probably right.

Unfortunately.

You made it to the ship and Hunter climbed the steps with ease, setting you down gently in a chair. He gave your face a quick once over as you waved him off. The door to the ship hissed shut as he left you and began starting the ship for take off. . You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to focus on anything but the pain in your leg.

It wasn’t as harsh as before, but the throbbing was nearly unbearable and any movement had sharp pain shooting through your leg.

The ship jolted and you inhaled sharply, cursing under your breath.

A few moments later, as you were starting to feel like you could open your eyes again, you felt a gentle hand on your wrist. You looked up to see Hunter kneeling beside you, eyes soft in a way you only ever really saw him be with Omega. It had your heart clenching in your chest.

He gave your wrist a squeeze before he removed his hand and set down a medpack on the floor. As he riffled through it, he began talking. “What happened?”

“It’s an old injury. Normally it’s fine.”

“But not this time?”

“Apparently not.”

Hunter nodded as he pulled out a stim and quickly administered it with only a few curse words.

“When did it happen? Not the original injury, but this? Was it that kid?” He asked and you bit down on your lip.

You avoided his gaze until you heard him say your name softly.

“Right after we split up to clear paths and check the perimeter. I misstepped.” You replied and he only let out a soft sigh.

You knew that sigh.

He did it all the time when Omega and Wrecker mention they put more mantell mix on the tab, or when Tech stays up all night without realizing it, or when Echo neglects to mention one of his prosthetics gets too stiff.

It’s his “I’m disappointed sigh.”

And it’s never been directed at you.

You’d always had sympathy for the others when on the receiving end of the sigh, but it was another thing entirely to know he was upset because of you.

Kriff you’d have to apologize to the others. They were right. This is brutal.

“You don’t have to hide these things from me.”

Okay.

You were wrong.

That statement was even more painful than his “I’m disappointed” sigh.

“We needed to complete the mission, as stupid as it was. I wasn’t going to say anything because we couldn’t turn back. I knew we would finish it quickly and get back here where I could rest.” You said. “I know it’s stupid and I’m sorry for not saying anything. I just - I just didn’t want to compromise the mission.”

Hunter rubbed his forehead before sighing again. “You’re more important than the mission.”

You felt a pang in your chest and took a shaky breath.

“You got that? You can tell me these things.” He again said and you nodded softly.

“I got it.” Your throat felt tight, but you responded.

“Okay, now let’s see if we can patch up your knee.” Hunter pulled out the small medkit and you carefully sat yourself up fully, wincing at the sharp pain in your leg. “How did you hurt it initially? You mentioned an old injury.”

“I was a teenager. We were playing boloball in the streets and I tore some ligaments. It healed back then, but sometimes it flares up.” You said as he pulled out a brace and some bacta.

“How often does it flare-up?”

You sighed. “Sometimes when it’s cold or I step weird it bothers me, but for the most part it’s fine.”

“Except for today.” Hunter asked with a bit of a smirk and you let out a breathless laugh.

“Except for today.” You confirmed and he shook his head.

“Let’s get your boot off and see if we can get some bacta on your knee.” He said and you quickly leaned forward to untie your boots only for your hands to be batted away by Hunter’s. You watched, stomach swirling, as he very carefully untied your boot and removed it without jostling your leg too much. He then helped you very gently roll up your pant leg until it was slightly easier to access your injured knee.

Hunter wiped off his hands on a damp towel before beginning to spread the bacta onto your slightly swollen knee.

You did your best to not think about just how gentle he was being or how much it made your heart thump in your chest. You knew Hunter would likely be able to hear any changes in your breathing or heart rate, so you just focused on keeping them both as even as possible. But you weren’t sure if you were succeeding.

Hunter finished and while he washed his hands again in the small refresher, you slowly worked your pants back down over your leg since the bacta dried quickly. Hunter reappeared and pulled out the knee brace you happened to have lying around. He carefully secured it, helped you put your boot back on, and then assisted you standing up.

You swayed slightly, Hunter’s hands quick to grab your arms and hold you steady as you bumped into him. You weren’t able to stop the loud thump of your heart in your chest. You were both eager to get out of such a charged situation and also unwilling to move at all. Your hands gripped his arms and you resisted the urge to sway closer.

Hunter gave you a small smile before leaning forward, pressing his lips to your forehead.

It was at that moment that you truly felt like you stopped breathing. Your eyes closed and you wished to live in this moment for the rest of your life.

There was a sudden loud beeping from the cockpit and Hunter pulled away, clearing his throat. “Come on, we’re almost to Ord Mantell.”

He stepped away, offering his hand. You looked at his hand before looking up at him. He looked shy, more timid than you had ever seen him. It had a smile spreading across your face. You placed your hand in his and he helped you hobble to the cockpit and take a seat in one of the pilot chairs.

You gave his hand a squeeze before you let go and you felt your mood brighten further when you saw a faint darkening of his cheeks.

You turned to look at the controls, helping Hunter with the landing sequence after you dropped out of the hyperspace, feeling lighter and happier than you had in a long time.

Maybe the resurfacing of old childhood injuries weren’t a bad thing, because maybe, just maybe, they would lead to something new and exciting.

#aaaah #hope this was fluffy enough for you bb #for all of you really #asks #askBri #hunter x reader #the bad batch hunter #tbb hunter #tbb hunter x reader #the bad batch #tbb

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lovintasteslike · 1 year ago

Text

Stone Cold Under Your Feet

One where drunk actions have harsh consequences

Word count: 700+

a/n: now whyd this actually take me so long. the ending is so trash. also I just saw a pic of niall getting kfc with basil standing behind him idk why that's so funny to me. anyways send me requests plsss

You wake to a sharp ringing and a glow illuminating the room from your bedside table, interrupting your dream of...who knows what. You think it must have been a good one as your brain tries to grasp onto sleep again.

Your arm remains sprawled onto your right hand side of the bed, Niall's side, as your brain processes the noise coming from behind you.

Once the ringing subsided, your eyes start to droop, breathing slowing, until you perk up, finally realizing that Niall hasn't come home from his night out with the boys.

Thought finally enters your brain as you reach your hand back in the direction of your phone, mindlessly trying to find it in the dark of your bedroom. You brush your fingers along it, then grasp it, bringing it to your face. Your eyes squint to adjust to the light. As you click on the 'missed call' notification, Deo's caller id returns to the screen.

You slide your finger across the screen to accept the call.

"Hello," You speak first, your voice groggy.

"Ya gotta come down 'ere, y/n."

"Hm? Whaddya mean..."

"They're saying Niall broke his foot. We're at t'emergency room by Queen's Arms. Y'might wanna see this."

The remaining drowsiness quickly drains out of you as you hear the words, "emergency room," out of Niall's cousins mouth. You throw the comforter off your body and rush to find some clothing, grabbing the first thing in sight. His beloved Speak Up sweatshirt.

"The emergency room- wha- why hasn't Niall called me." In a scramble to start the Range Rover (which you hate driving because of it's enormous size), your phone falls beneath the seats.

"Ah mate, he's completely out of it a' t'moment"

"Like you're any better," you mumble under your breath. "I- just- I'm coming, okay? I'm ten minutes out. Don't do anything stupid, I'm begging you."

Before he could even take a breath to respond, you hastily grab your phone, ending the call to focus on the road in front.

...

The emergency room practically empty this late at night, or...early in the morning, whatever it may be, the doctor leads you to your boyfriend. He pulls the curtain back to reveal Niall laying on the bed, eyes shut and tugging his fingers through his hair. His leg is propped up at the foot of the bed where a nurse stands, wrapping his leg with cloth.

She looks back towards you.

"Are you the spouse?"

Niall's eyes shoot open, lifting his head just enough to be able to make eye contact with you. Your lips tug slightly at the sight of Niall's distressed position, but you hold back. You look back to the nurse, sarcastically sighing.

"Unfortunately so," you let out humorously.

The kind nurse smiles. "I'll excuse myself to give you two some privacy."

You nod at her, mouthing a thank you.

Niall sits there with his hands in his lap, one resting on his thigh. You look at him with a sympathetic glance before moving closer, taking a seat beside him. His head falls onto your shoulder and your hand subconsciously comes up to play with his hair, offering him whatever comfort you can give.

Niall, glossy eyed either from the pain or the pints, looks up at you.

"Did they tell y'what happened?"

"Had to pry it out of Capaldi, but yea..."

A beat of silence goes by before he starts again. "Why'd ya come 'ere?" You look down at him, raising your eyebrows. "You'll be tired when ya go t'work tomorrow."

You click your tongue and nod your head side to side, telling him no. "Your foot is one step away from dangling off and you're worried about my sleep."

"Ya wanna see it?" He asks, grabbing the X-ray papers from the side of the bed. "It's gnarly stuff."

He opens the folded paper and you grimace in disgust at the sight of ligaments torn and misaligned from his foot.

"'M not leaving you alone at home while you're like THAT"

"Yer gonna stay home for me?" The puppy dog eyes stared lovingly at your face. "Awww," he says, placing a hand over his heart. He squeezes you tight in a hug. "Love ya so much, petal."

You groan. "God, you're so insufferable," rolling your eyes, dramatically.

"Ya love me. Want to take care of me. Ya love when 'm a li'l stupid after a few pints."

You cross your arms over your chest.

"Keep at it and I'll whack you so hard, you'll stay stupid."

"Oop- yes ma'am"

You raise your eyebrows at him, a breath of laughter escaping both of your lungs as Niall's head falls onto your shoulder. Peace consuming the both of you, despite this ridiculous situation.

#niall horan #niall horan fic #the show #horan #niall horan blurb #niall horan one shot #niall horan fluff #niall horan x reader #niall horan x y/n

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argosfrfr · 3 months ago

Note

(He wags his tail and goes to stand so that he can come with her but whines and lays back down.)

(Argo limps into Penelope’s room whining.)

Argos!? What happened? "she runs over to examine him*

#ive read to much warriors XD #<<got to get some yarrow to fight any infection:D #ive been a med cat in rps to much TvT #yarrows the only herb that I can list off for wounds like this bc everyone always goes for flesh wounds-#like girl Ik you got mauled by a dog but can we spice it up for once-#like a good concussion-#or maybe even a torn ligament if we’re feeling quirky-?#not just a broken leg or sickness- and I swear to starclan if I get another mauled cat-#Tbh Argo probably makes a habit follows Penelope every time she leaves her room to make sure none of the suitors try anything-#and it just never goes away-

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magicfootballstuff · 2 years ago

Text

Gym Buddies (alexia putellas x reader)

Summary: When you rupture a ligament shortly after joining Barcelona, your new captain is there to help you through the long recovery process.

———

You don’t actually see much of Alexia in your first few weeks at Barcelona.

You had been in camp with your national team when the news broke that Alexia would be missing the Euros because of a knee injury, and though you paid attention to the story, knowing that this was an injury affecting a soon-to-be teammate, you had been so caught up in your own Euro preparations that it didn’t actually register what it meant until you actually find yourself in the Barcelona training facility for pre-season.

You meet Alexia on your first day with the team. She welcomes you in accented English and pulls you in for a hug - the kind of polite but awkward hug you get from a vague acquaintance - and then moves away to chat to some of the Spanish girls, leaving you slightly starstruck. You try not to let it show though. She may have a Ballon D’Or and another potentially on the way soon, but you’re a European champion, a very good footballer in your own right, but it’s Alexia bloody Putellas and she has this aura of magic around her, even without a ball at her feet.

And then, when the team start their warmup drills for your first ever training session at Barcelona, Alexia disappears off the pitch for her rehab session in the gym, and you realise it might be a little while longer before you actually get to play with her.

She remains a bit of a mystery, showing her face here and there, though she mostly seems to spend time with the girls who have been at Barcelona with her for years, and she shows up dutifully to every match to cheer from the sidelines, but Alexia is focused on the rehab that keeps her away from the training pitch.

But then, three weeks into the season, just when you’re starting to feel settled and have found your place in a star-studded Barcelona team, an awkward challenge in a match sees you falling badly and being helped off the pitch by the team physios with tears in your eyes. You hope it’s just a sprained ankle, something you can recover from quickly and find yourself back on the pitch in just a few weeks, but the scan the morning after the game confirms the worst - you’ve torn a ligament and will be out for several months.

Having not really spent much time with Alexia so far, it’s a bit of a surprise when you turn up to the training ground for your first session post-surgery, foot strapped up in a plastic boot, and are greeted straight away with a hug from your injured captain.

“We’ve got this,” she murmurs into your ear, her arms still wrapped around you as she holds you close. “Anything you need, I’m here to help.”

“Thank you,” you tell her, squeezing her just that little bit tighter in response.

———

Later, when most of the girls are out on the pitch and you find yourself in the gym with Alexia and a couple of others who are sidelined with minor injuries, she reiterates her support for you.

“Are you okay?” she asks, while one of the physios is writing up your programmes for the day on a whiteboard in the gym - you’ve got an upper body circuit while Alexia will be doing a mix of strength training and low impact cardio.

“Yeah,” you reply. “I’m fine.”

“No, I mean are you okay? Like mentally?” Alexia taps her fingers against her temple to emphasise her question. “An injury can be tough to take.”

“Oh. Well, I’m disappointed, obviously. I just want to play. But this is part of football.”

“Somebody paid attention to their media training,” Alexia jokes, shooting you a little smirk. “A very professional answer. But you can open up to me if you’re struggling. I get it.” She gestures down at her knee. “Some days I’m really not okay. I love supporting the girls but it’s so hard to watch them and not join in. So if you need someone to talk to, remember I’m here. As your captain and as your friend.”

You realise now why she’s so popular among the team, why everybody who knows her speaks so highly about her as a person off the pitch as well as her obvious talent on it.

“Thanks, Alexia.”

“We’ll get through this. We’re injury partners now.”

“How about we say gym buddies instead of injury partners?” you suggest, gesturing around at the gym that will be your home for the foreseeable future until you get the all clear to go back out onto the training pitch. “Less depressing.”

Alexia grins at you.

“Deal.”

———

“Hola, gym buddy,” says Alexia, hurrying to catch up with you and draping an arm around your shoulders as you hobble into the gym on crutches two weeks into your rehab.

It’s been the hardest two weeks of your career, but you wouldn’t have been able to make it through without Alexia’s constant presence and support. You haven’t known her for long but she seems to know you better than anybody else on the team, she knows exactly what to say, when you need support and when you need space, and is rapidly becoming the sole reason you’re able to get out of bed each morning and motivate yourself to work through the slow progress of your rehab.

“Hey, Alexia,” you greet your captain.

“Ready for another day of hard work?” she asks you.

“I am now,” you joke.

Rehab is hard. And boring, too. You don’t yet feel like you’re actually making any progress, still unable to do any exercises that put unnecessary weight on your injured foot, you’re really just playing a waiting game until the boot can come off and the real work can begin.

“I’m hoping they let me use the bike today for the first time,” Alexia tells you, excitement barely contained in her voice.

“Ale, that’s huge!” you congratulate her. “I’m so happy for you.”

———

Recovery isn’t all good news. You learn that the hard way when your plastic boot comes off. What you thought would be a huge step forward in your recovery actually ends up just highlighting the mountain you have ahead of you. Perhaps naively you thought you’d be able to start ramping up the exercises pretty quickly, but the trainers are cautious and your rehab programme consists of the same old upper body workouts with only a handful of conditioning exercises for your ankle thrown in. Actually kicking a football again seems like it’s an eternity away.

But you’re not the only one who finds it difficult. Alexia presents such a strong exterior, full of motivation on your darkest days and always the one working hardest in the gym to get back to her best, but not even she is made entirely of stone.

You learn that when you go to the bathroom in the middle of a gym session and hear somebody crying in a locked cubicle.

Most of the team are outside on the training pitch, and of those of you doing recovery sessions indoors, all except one were accounted for when you left the gym a moment ago. There’s only one person this can be.

“Alexia?”

The sniffling stops and the subsequent silence that shrouds the bathroom is enough to confirm your hunch that your captain is the one crying in the locked cubicle.

“Alexia, it’s me.”

“I’m fine!” she calls back.

“Do you want to talk about it?” you ask.

Silence. You want to support her but you’re not going to push it if she’s not comfortable.

“Okay, I’m going to go now but if you change your mind…”

You hear the bolt being slid across and the hinges creak as Alexia steps out. Her eyes are red and puffy and her cheeks glisten with tear tracks.

“I can’t do this,” she confesses, her voice cracking mid-sentence as she tries to stifle a fresh flood of tears.

You don’t know what to say. Alexia, the stoic captain, your rock since you picked up your own injury, standing before you more vulnerable than you’ve ever seen her before, and all you want to do is make sure that it’s all going to be okay. But telling her that doesn’t feel right - you know from your struggles with your own injury that those kinds of empty assurances are sometimes the exact opposite of what you need.

Alexia doesn’t need telling that, she needs to know that somebody understands her pain.

“I’m not going to tell you that you can do this,” you start, “but there have been so many times over the last couple of months that I’ve thought that I can’t do this. I’ve wanted to give up, to quit football. Some days I haven’t even wanted to get out of bed. Do you know the only reason why I did get up on those days?”

You pause for effect and Alexia says nothing, waiting for you to answer your own question. You place your hands on her arms as you look into her shimmering eyes.

“Because I know that when I get to the training ground, my gym buddy is going to be there to help me through the day.”

Alexia’s mouth twitches at the mention of the affection nickname you’ve been using for each other throughout your recovery.

You continue, “I’m working towards the day that I get to step out onto the grass and kick a ball around with the person who has saved me from my own worst demons. I want to play football with you. And just like you’ve been there for me, I’m here for you to make sure we get to that day together.”

“I can’t be strong every day.”

“You don’t have to be. But I think the strongest thing you’ve done since I met you is admitting that you’re not okay. I’m here for you today, so let it all out. Tomorrow we fight again together. Okay?”

Alexia throws her arms around you and pulls your body against hers for a tight hug.

“Okay,” she murmurs into your hair.

———

Something shifts after that moment. Before Alexia’s little breakdown, you had thought that it was her who was supporting you through your injury, but now you realise that you’re helping her just as much. You both have difficult moments - setbacks, or days where your return to the pitch seems an impossibly long way in the future - but you learn to read each other. Alexia can tell when you’re having a down day and gives you extra encouragement, hugs and humour, and you do the same when you can tell that she needs it too.

The months pass and the recovery intensifies. Somehow, despite your differing injuries, the timelines start to match up. You’re back running on the grass not long after Alexia, you rejoin the rest of the team for parts of the normal training within a week of each other, and when the time finally comes for you to return to the matchday squad, you and Alexia are both given approval to play again by the physios on the same weekend.

You even get subbed onto the pitch at the same time, when Barcelona are four goals up with twenty minutes left on the clock.

As the official gets the substitute board ready, Alexia’s hand finds yours and she squeezes your fingers. Your turn your head to look at her, to find her grinning at you.

“We did it,” she tells you.

“Yeah, we did.”

There’s so much more you want to say, so much you need to thank her for, because you wouldn’t have made it to this point without her by your side, but this isn’t the moment.

The teammates you’re replacing high five you as they come off and just like that, you’re back on a football pitch for an actual competitive game for the first time in forever.

The stadium erupts into monumental applause, and while you know that the Barcelona fans are mostly cheering the return of La Reina after ten months off the pitch, Alexia makes sure to direct her own applause to you as you both jog onto the pitch, and that’s all that matters to you.

Alexia ends up scoring Barcelona’s fifth and final goal, a free kick from just outside the box, because how else does a double Ballon D’Or winner announce their return to competitive football? As the back of the net ripples and the crowd roars, she runs straight over to you and wraps you in an embrace so tight that she physically lifts you off the ground, and your feet only touch the grass again when the rest of your teammates join the huddle to congratulate their captain.

The match ends not too long after and Alexia once again seeks you out straight away. She puts a hand on either side of your head and looks you straight in the eye, her face cracking open into a grin.

“We’re back,” Alexia says.

“We are,” you agree. “And you scored.”

“That goal was for you.”

You don’t get to respond because the rest of the team bundles into you and you can only watch as they work together to lift Alexia up and start throwing her into the air. Then before you know it they’ve gone for you too, and you find yourself lifted off the ground in celebration of your return to the matchday squad.

You have a brief moment of worry that they’re going to drop you and inflict another injury on you, but then you hear Alexia’s laughter rippling through the air and you feel at ease again.

She always has a way of settling your anxieties, whether she’s trying or not.

———

Some time later, when you’ve showered and changed and the dressing room is almost empty, you look around for Alexia but can’t see her anywhere.

Lucy, who is supposed to be giving you a lift home after the match, nudges you and says, “She went back onto the pitch.”

You turn to look at her quizzically, because she can’t possibly know who you’re looking for.

“What?”

“Alexia. Go on, I’ll wait in the car. Tell her how you feel.”

Your cheeks burn.

“It’s not … I don’t …”

“If there’s anything I’ve learned from my own past injuries,” Lucy interrupts your stammering, “it’s that life is too short to live with any regrets. Go and talk to her. I think you’ll be surprised.”

You don’t say anything but nod your thanks to Lucy, hoisting your boot bag onto your shoulder and exiting the dressing room. You wander back down the tunnel and out to the edge of the pitch. Alexia is nowhere to be seen, but when you turn around, you spot a lone figure sitting up in the stands, surveying the empty pitch in front of her.

You climb the steps two at a time and walk between the rows of seats, before sitting down next to Alexia.

“I’ve been playing on this pitch in a Barcelona jersey for longer than I can remember,” Alexia tells you, keeping her eyes straight ahead. “Every time it’s special. I can’t tell you how many times in the last few months I thought I’d never get that honour ever again.”

You laugh, ready to tell Alexia that she’s insane, because while you had similar moments of worry in your own rehab journey, you never for once doubted that Alexia wouldn’t make it back, but she turns to you and continues speaking.

“Maybe I wouldn’t have got here without you,” she tells you.

“I definitely wouldn’t have done it without you,” you admit. “My gym buddy.”

Lucy’s words ring in your ears. Now is the moment to tell Alexia how you feel, but you clam up at the prospect, unable to find the words to tell Alexia how much she means to you.

Luckily, Alexia seems to be stronger than you, and finds the words you can’t.

“You’re so much more than my gym buddy,” Alexia tells you, reaching across and taking your hand. “You entered my life at exactly the right moment and I’m so lucky to have you.”

You let your fingers tangle with Alexia’s, you heart hammering in your chest as you steel yourself for a moment that seems harder than any you went through during your recovery.

“I’m the lucky one,” you confess. “I wouldn’t have wanted to do this with anybody else by my side. You’re more than my teammate, more than my friend. I think I’m falling for you.”

There. It’s out. You finally admitted it. Your heart is out there for Alexia to bruise in a way that will be much harder to heal from than a stupid ankle injury.

But Alexia lets out a deep breath and her mouth curls up into a smile, a look of adoration in her eyes as she squeezes your fingers.

“Me too. I’m so glad you feel the same. I thought I was being stupid.”

“Can I kiss you?” you blurt out.

“Please,” Alexia nods.

You lean in and the moment that your lips touch Alexia’s is even more euphoric than kicking a football again after months of rehab. A memorable day becomes even more special as Alexia reciprocates your kiss, lips moving slowly against each other, a reward and a thank you for months of helping each other through the tough times to get to today.

You pull apart when you’re getting breathless, and though you’d happily spend the rest of the night here, kissing Alexia in the stands at the Estadi Johan Cruyff until long after the sun has gone down, you know you should probably head home.

“I really don’t want to go, but Lucy’s waiting in the car to drive me home,” you tell Alexia, still holding onto her hand as you start your goodbyes. “But thank you again for everything.”

“I don’t think I’m going to forget today for a long time,” Alexia says. “For more than one reason.”

“Me neither,” you agree. You lean in for one more kiss, unable to get enough of Alexia’s lips, before you pull away and reluctantly let go of her hand as you stand up. “See you in training?”

“Or sooner,” suggests Alexia, with a smile that causes your heart to do a little flip. “I’ll text you.”

“I can’t wait.”

#woso imagine #woso x reader #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

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