#post-injury shoulder recovery

[labsportstherapy]

Common Weightlifting Shoulder Injuries

Weightlifting often leads to shoulder injuries like rotator cuff tears, shoulder impingement, or labral tears caused by repetitive stress or improper form. Physical therapy focuses on strengthening, mobility, and pain management through tailored exercises and manual techniques, ensuring safe recovery and injury prevention.

[blythesarchives]

Подарок. | W.S

summary: You give the soldier a present for Christmas.

warnings: Fluff & Angst | Fem!reader | Winter Soldier!Bucky | Post!CA:TWS | PTSD mentions | Mention of medical treatments | Recovery | Brief talk of nightmares

a/n: Sort of unofficial part two to Sugar Plums since I had a few people asking for a part two. Same universe I guess, with some time between. Uhh probably rushed idk. To be edited later. ;; wc: 3.3k

Recovery.

Fickle, fragile, exhausting.

He gradually accepted being called Bucky, though the name stirred something uncomfortable within him each time it reached his ears. Steve, ever persistent and hopeful, would use various versions of the name - Bucky, Buck, or sometimes James - in his unwavering attempts to resurrect the friend he once knew, unable to accept that the Bucky from his memories had faded away like footprints in snow.

Winter had completely erased the old Bucky.

While these names would trigger a subtle internal struggle, he maintained an almost perfect mask of indifference, with only the slightest furrowing of his brow betraying any sign of his inner turmoil.

You, however, carefully navigated between calling him Bucky and Soldat, aware that using his old code name might reinforce programming you wished to help him break free from. Yet there was a slight relaxation in his shoulders when you used the familiar designation, the way it seemed to ease the constant tension he carried made it impossible to completely abandon - his comfort, however small, had become your priority.

Even if that comfort stemmed from a dehumanizing name.

It required negotiation and persistent discussions to convince Tony to finally allow the soldier access to the medbay wing for his necessary medical treatments. Despite the soldier's extended stay in the tower passing without any concerning incidents, Tony maintained a strong hesitation about providing medical assistance. His deeply-rooted skepticism and apparent distrust were sources of frustration for you, though you consciously chose to avoid escalating the situation into a full-blown argument, knowing it would only make matters more complicated.

You had already gotten into intense scuffles with Tony over the soldier’s stay, how he needed to be looked over, physically and internally. The dislocated arm Steve caused never healed, and he had been carrying his arm awkwardly close to his body. Other physical injuries on top of the apparent dehydration and malnourishment, he was constantly under a veil of sickness.

The situation was particularly delicate because Soldat struggled with being in the presence of the other tower residents. He was acutely aware of how everyone seemed to cautiously moderate their behavior around him, treating each interaction as if they were navigating through a minefield of potential triggers. Like they were walking along eggshells every time they were near him.

It felt like he was walking on glass.

You were his only source of comfort, though traces of caution still lingered in his demeanor. He knew you posed no threat to his wellbeing. You had been patient and gentle the entire time, regardless of his panic or prone sense to lash out if he got stressed enough.

Long nights stretched endlessly in the sterile medbay rooms, where you faithfully maintained your vigil in the uncomfortable chair positioned beside the standard-issue medical bed. The soldier’s bed remained empty, as he consistently chose to rest on the cold floor instead. Sleep was an elusive companion for him, a nightly battle he rarely won. More often than not, his rest was violently interrupted by his own terrified screams or desperate shouts, his body jerking upright with defensive movements, arms swinging at invisible threats.

You would spend countless minutes trying everything in your power to bring him back to reality and calm his frantic state. Sometimes, despite your best efforts and gentle words, the situation would escalate beyond your ability to manage, forcing the medical staff on standby to intervene with sedatives to prevent him from unintentionally causing harm during these episodes.

Luckily his recovery progressed slowly but surely, transitioning from those intensive IV treatments in the clinical environment of the medbay to the more comfortable setting of your personal quarters. His sleeping arrangements evolved as gradually as his treatment; first from the hard floor, then to the modest couch tucked against the far wall, and finally to your bed.

These days, he found his rest beside you each night, his body instinctively seeking comfort by curling close to yours, desperately trying to make up for all those decades of disturbed sleep and haunted dreams.

Over time, his attachment to you had grown increasingly intense, and he began experiencing waves of jealousy whenever your attention was directed elsewhere. You helped around the tower a lot, so you tended to be distracted with tasks or aiding in another’s need. The soldier didn’t like it, so he began leaving his mark on you. It started subtly at first, he would rub your clothes on himself, in his mind it was good enough that you smelled like him. He saw it in a documentary once, of animals, but he had been in such a dehumanized state for so long, it made sense to him. His body’s scent on you, others would back off. That would work.

But, no, it wasn’t enough.

One day, crossing an unspoken boundary between you, he started placing love bites along your skin, positioning these tender marks from your neck down to your shoulders, eventually becoming bold enough to venture lower, marking your chest with these plum bruises.

The possessive displays sent warmth coursing through your body, and you willingly accepted his territorial behavior. After all, you had become his sole source of comfort and security in this world, making it perfectly natural for him to want to claim you in some way - whether through his distinctive scent (you knew about him rubbing your clothes on his body) or these carefully placed marks. His need to establish this connection, to make his claim visible, he was terrified you’d be taken from him.

Progress was being made in your relationship.

While he was still cautious with physical contact, he had begun to allow gentle touches and brief moments of closeness, though always within carefully maintained boundaries. He was like a cat, deciding when he wanted physical attention and when he wanted it to stop. The challenge of memory recovery remained a significant hurdle in his healing process. You had to help him remember specific things, he often mixed Russian and English, or plainly forgot the simplest of words.

He couldn’t for the life of him remember what a pillow was.

When Steve would speak to him, sharing stories and memories of their past, Bucky would often find himself lost in confusion, unable to connect with the vivid recollections that Steve so enthusiastically shared. The determination in Steve's eyes was evident as he tried desperately to help his lost friend remember the bond they once shared, but for Bucky, these memories remained frustratingly out of reach.

Steve's enthusiasm was well-intentioned, but sometimes, it manifested as an overwhelming flood of information and expectations. You could sense Bucky's growing distress during these interactions, the way his shoulders would tense, how his eyes would dart anxiously around the room. The stark reality was that Bucky's memories of Steve were minimal at best, yet Steve continued to share detailed accounts of their past experiences with increasing intensity.

Your became a careful mediator, providing emotional support to Bucky while gently helping Steve understand that his passionate approach was more hindering rather than helping the delicate process of memory recovery.

Bucky would get frustrated with himself during his journey of recovery. His collection of journals became a sanctuary for his fragmented memories, filled with carefully preserved photographs (provided by Steve), detailed notes written in an unsteady hand, and hastily scrawled thoughts or recollections that would suddenly surface from the depths of his consciousness throughout all hours of the day and night. These journals became both a source of comfort and torment, evidence of his struggle to piece himself back together like a puzzle without a photo.

Even with help from you or Steve, he maintained strict control over his recovery process. He deliberately chose not to document anything that Steve mentioned or tried to convince him of, instead focusing solely on recording memories that emerged organically from within his own mind.

Having experienced decades of mental manipulation, he didn’t want anyone influencing his thoughts or memories ever again. He couldn't bring himself to simply accept Steve's version of events without questioning them, needing to verify everything through his own recollections.

You knew it hurt Steve to see Bucky this way, how he refused to listen or believe him, but you couldn’t blame the man. Either of them, really. It was delicate, it took a lot of patience on everyone’s part.

Bucky’s dedication to recovering his past manifested in sleepless marathons that would stretch on for days at a time. The soldier within him approached the task with military precision, attempting to reconstruct his shattered memories in a specific manner. Yet despite his efforts, the majority of his recollections remained disjointed and fractured, with memories of his time with HYDRA dominating his consciousness more than anything else.

While Bucky was trying to recall his elusive past, you dedicated yourself to helping him build new neural pathways and retain more recent experiences, hoping to make his daily life more manageable and give him a sense of independence. The simplest tasks had become foreign territory for him - the muscle memory and basic understanding of everyday activities having slipped away like water through cupped hands. Modern appliances like microwaves, coffee makers, or the oven had become objects that he approached with confusion.

His relationship with food had become particularly concerning. Unable to prepare proper meals, you would find him furtively consuming makeshift sandwiches, but only when he believed he could finish them before being discovered. His posture during meals was hunched, protectively positioning himself over his plate or bowl, shoveling food into his mouth at an alarming pace, his entire body tense as though preparing to defend his meal from unseen threats.

Food aggression, apparently, wasn't restrictive to just animals.

Among the numerous concerns, his recurring nightmares stood out as the most troubling and pressing issue. The frequency and intensity of these night terrors had become increasingly worrisome, regardless of how well he had progressed otherwise.

Night after night, his anguished screams would pierce the darkness, and these episodes gradually evolved into extended periods where sleep became completely impossible for him to achieve. Bucky would remain awake for days and nights at a stretch, fighting against his own exhaustion, scribbling nonsense into his journals until his body would finally surrender and he would collapse into a brief, troubled slumber.

This cycle would repeat, each time more severe than the last.

Your began looking into different methods that might help ease his troubled sleep so that Bucky could experience the simple luxury of peaceful rest. Your research led you through a wide array of options; from various herbal teas and natural sleep remedies to more conventional medical interventions. However, given his strong aversion to pharmaceutical solutions, you deliberately steered clear of medication-based approaches, knowing they would likely be met with resistance.

Over time, you discovered that a soothing routine of warm herbal tea and gentle companionship proved to be an effective remedy for his nightmares. The nightly ritual of sharing your sleeping space had become second nature, and you observed how this consistent presence brought him the comfort and stability his life lacked for seven decades. His sleep patterns were delicately intertwined with his emotional state, thus during periods of anxiety or perceived threat, his rest would become noticeably disturbed and fitful.

However, your unwavering presence served as a constant source of reassurance, creating a safe haven where he could finally find peaceful rest. Plus, it helped him regain new memories to write down and you could see how proud he was every time he recounted something from his past.

Christmas morning.

Every corner and crevice of the tower sparkled with festive décor, tinsel draped from every available surface, and twinkling lights illuminated the halls in a dazzling display. It was an extravagant winter wonderland that bordered on excessive, but that was exactly Tony's style - he approached every holiday with unbridled enthusiasm, and Christmas was undoubtedly his crowning achievement.

With his seemingly limitless resources at his disposal, there was nothing holding him back from creating the most elaborate celebrations possible.

Aka…he was rich so he could.

In contrast to Tony's lavish approach, you took a more modest approach when it came to gift-giving. The act of receiving presents always made you somewhat uncomfortable, as you found far more joy in being the one doing the giving. You selected meaningful presents for each team member, carefully considering their individual interests and preferences. You couldn't match Tony's extravagant spending (something he never failed to remind everyone of that morning), but you firmly believed that the genuine thought and personal consideration behind a gift carried far more significance than its monetary value (Tony disagrees).

Bucky perched uncomfortably at the far end of the plush couch, his posture tense and rigid while the other team members enthusiastically tore through their wrapped presents with childlike excitement. Your general annoyance with Tony's characteristic swagger and showmanship failed you this morning, a warmth spread through your chest at the genuine joy radiating from Pepper's face when she discovered the exquisite diamond ring he had carefully selected for her and presented after she freed it from the tight wrapping paper.

You stayed by Bucky all morning, carefully observing his reactions to the bustling holiday atmosphere. It was clear he was struggling to process the overwhelming sensory experience and you didn’t blame him. The twinkling lights and shimmering tinsel to the constant chatter and laughter of the group, on top of holiday music and the smells of breakfast and baked goods from the kitchen, were surely a lot to process. His discomfort grew and you recognized the telltale signs of sensory overload in his slightly widened eyes and shallow breathing. The social expectations was clearly taking its toll.

He had wanted to try, he wanted to sit down with you that morning, but he had been struggling.

Your gift pile was modest, exactly as you had requested. You insisted that presents weren't necessary, you found yourself the recipient of a generously stuffed Christmas stocking and an assortment of small, meaningful items carefully chosen by your teammates in a way that made it impossible for you to object to their kindness.

When Steve presented Bucky with a collection of carefully preserved mementos from their past, but the soldier's response wasn’t what he wanted. His eyes fixed on the items that should have sparked recognition, should have ignited memories of happier times, but instead were met with blank confusion and growing distress. You sensed the uncomfortable scene and noticed the mounting anxiety in Bucky's expression, you decided to intervene with a present you got for him.

"Here, I got this for you." You handed him a carefully wrapped bag with delicate tissue paper peeking out from the top, rustling softly with each movement. "Nothing all that special but...I figured it might be nice to have something like this." You replied gently, your voice carrying a hint of nervousness as you watched him, waiting with anticipation for him to open the gift.

Bucky held the bag tentatively, his eyes fixed on the festive baby blue packaging adorned with an intricate pattern of darker blue ornaments. The glitter-coated decorations caught the light as they spiraled across the surface of the bag. He had to blink a few times to refocus his eyes, his hand slowly reached up and grasped the white tissue paper that had been carefully arranged at the top, concealing the gift. He pulled it free, soft crinkling sounded as he removed it.

He reached into the depths of the bag, his fingers brushing against something soft before grasping it. As he drew it out, his hand revealed a charming stuffed elephant, its plush grey body soft to the touch. The toy was perfectly proportioned, with endearing fat limbs that dangled naturally from its tear-shaped body. Its oversized ears flopped gently and its trunk curved in a friendly manner that seemed to welcome embrace. The stuffed animal sat comfortably in his hands, sized just right for holding close and cuddling.

"Elephants are known for their memories, you know." You gave him a gentle, encouraging nudge, your voice soft and hopeful. "Who knows? Maybe having this elephant around will help spark some of those lost memories of yours. They say elephants never forget, after all."

Bucky turned to face you, his expression one of confusion and curiosity. His eyes held that familiar, guarded look the soldier usually carried - a careful blend of wariness and interest that never quite revealed his inner thoughts. He examined the stuffed toy with an almost childlike fascination, as if encountering one for the first time.

His flesh hand explored every detail of the plush elephant with careful attention, fingers trailing along the soft fabric. He wrapped them around the trunk, testing its flexibility, then moved to rub the floppy ears between his thumb and forefinger, then squeezing the body gently as if checking its softness.

"There's something else too." You smiled warmly, gesturing toward the bag with enthusiasm. "Go ahead, take another look." He complied, reaching in until his hand emerged clutching a brand new journal. Following the theme, the journal was decorated in a soothing light blue shade, its cover stamped with a delicately printed elephant in the center. "I noticed your other journals were getting pretty full, so I thought you might need a fresh start. This one's got plenty of space, lots of room for all those thoughts and memories you want to keep safe."

His hands gently set the items down after examining each one carefully, his eyes lingering on every detail as if trying to memorize them. Then he turned to you, his expression unreadable. "You...got these...for me." Bucky spoke slowly, each word carefully chosen, as if he was having trouble processing the simple act of kindness. "To help me remember?"

"And, the elephant will be a nice cuddle buddy for those long nights you tend to have," you explained softly, watching his reaction. "It has special infusions of lavender and bergamot oils that I picked specifically to help you sleep better. The aromatherapy might even help soothe away those bad dreams you've been having. Well, at least according to the sales clerk." You reached out and lifted the soft plush elephant, bringing it to your nose and inhaling deeply. "See? It's really calming, isn't it?"

He took the toy back and smelled it deeply, letting out a contented sigh as the aroma filled his nose and sent waves of comfort through his body, making him feel warm and fuzzy inside. He carefully lowered the elephant into his lap, treating it as if it were made of delicate porcelain. His throat tightened with emotion as he swallowed hard and looked back at you, his eyes wide with disbelief and gratitude.

"All this for me?" he whispered, his voice barely audible as he struggled to process the reality that someone would think to get him anything at all (Steve didn’t count). The concept of receiving gifts was so foreign to him, so far removed from his perception of what he deserved, that he could barely wrap his mind around it.

You thought maybe it looked sill to some people, but it was more about why you got it, not what you got him.

You nodded, offering a warm smile, "Yes...I got this just for you."

The soldier's gaze slowly drifted back to his lap, his fingers lingering momentarily on the thoughtful gifts before carefully pushing the journal and elephant to rest beside him. He then leaned forward quickly, closing the distance between you and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. The display caught you off guard, given his usual hesitance to initiate any form of contact beyond nightly cuddling or his possessive love-bites.

After you recovered from the sudden gesture, your arms encircled him in return. You drew him closer as he nestled himself against your body, seeking comfort in your warmth and smell. It was one of the only things he could consistently rely on.

A knowing smile played across your lips as you whispered against his ear, "I take it you like it?"

"...Да."

Thanks for reading. -em 🌿

Dividers by @/strangergraphics | Images found on Pinterest.

[bucketbueckers]

STICK AROUND

pairing: paige bueckers x fem!reader

content: language, fluff, slight injury

wc: 2.3k

synopsis: After an arduous year full of ACL recovery, navigating your new yet inexplicably familiar relationship, and falling back in love with Paige Bueckers (not that you ever fell out of love in the first place), Paige is finally cleared and ready to play basketball again for her senior season.

notes: yes this is the same banner. no comments at this time please! this is part 2 to come around, requested by a few anons (sorry i may have deviated from the request a lil bit) & @janaelalfysloml 🫶 i was not expecting the reception CA got - and also!! 1k notes? wtf???? that's actually insane to me, i get on here to yap and procrastinate my homework, i am so blown away by the love and how many of you guys actually like what i write 😭 i love y'all bad! so here is part 2 in honor of CA surpassing 1k notes and my anons and if you're curious - yes flattery gets you everywhere and this is definitely an open invite to keep sending asks. not proofread! i hope you all enjoy this 🫶

tags: @unadulteratedcyclepaper @avvwritesstufff @surferandskater5 @jnkbueckers

The months between August 2022 and November 2023 were full of ups and downs. This is not to say you were miserable – far from it, in fact. Transferring to UConn from UMN was the best decision you’d ever made in your entire life. You’d made more friends, your grades started improving, and you’d truly felt at home in Connecticut, making a name for yourself in some of their student organizations. It would, however, be wrong to neglect the other, considerably important factor in why your life was turning around for the better.

You and Paige were in a much better place – romantically, platonically, in every facet of being each other’s person. Your communication was a lot better. You learned to be a little more direct, to enunciate exactly how you were feeling. Paige learned patience, which is honestly a miracle in and of itself; she learned that it’s not her sole responsibility to try to protect you from outside noise or make whatever decision is best for you. The both of you had good intentions, but sometimes it’s really easy for those good intentions to get swept up in chaos and unravel before you. The both of you had to remember that you’re not just girlfriends, but you’re partners, too – you’re a team.

The year’s ups and downs weren’t on the two of you. You and Paige had “learning curve” moments as you’d called it, having to sit down and have uncomfortable, vulnerable conversations that left you feeling raw on the inside, but healthier in spite of it. Instead of being on the same page, it was as though you and Paige were the weaving lines and sloping letters, beginning on opposite sides yet meeting in the middle to form words, sentences, stories. You weren’t just there. You were together in a completely new sense, working side-by-side with the sort of ease that comes with fully knowing a person inside and out.

The troubles of the year stemmed more from her knee. Her recovery wasn’t linear. Some days were harder than others and some days were downright hell on earth. It was hardly comparable to the time her high school championship was cancelled due to covid – it was worse. The pain would leave her shuddering in bed, hiccuping through tears and there was only so much you could do. You’d spend countless hours at her side, alternating between the heating pad and the ice pack, helping her swallow her painkillers with water when it got too bad, brushing your fingers through her hair and rambling about everything and nothing to distract her. Once she’d made it out of the post-surgery, pain and soreness phase, her days were full of physical therapy and mental battles that tested the both of you. Some days you didn’t know what to say. Sometimes you wouldn’t say anything at all, letting her cry into your shoulder as you held her. Other days you let her talk for hours on end, entrusting you with the uncomfortable parts of her and the whispered confessions of, “I don’t know how I can trust my body after this.” 

Time was what she needed to heal. The both of you knew that. So, you stuck around, knowing that even if Paige was a mess, injured, struggling mentally and physically, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but with her. As the days turn into weeks and the weeks melt into months, she gets better. You knew she would. Watching that light return to her eyes, getting to see that spring in her step, hearing the way her laughter carried across the room was healing for you, too.

As she healed, you studied. You would spend the majority of your time in bed next to her with your textbook sprawled over your lap, her fingers tracing your skin and her chin hooked over your shoulder as she watched you do homework assignments. Your majors couldn’t have been further apart from each other, so admittedly, your time together was spent with Paige asking, “What the fuck is an electrophile?” and you responding with an endeared fondness, “Electro- means negative, -phile means love, so it’s a chemical species that accepts electrons,” followed by Paige huffing and declaring, “Yeah, you got that – you can be the breadwinner and I’ll be your sexy trophy wife.”

Whether she knew it or not, Paige helped you out a lot with your assignments. She kept your head on straight when your assignments got a little overwhelming and forced you to take a break when you were getting grouchy – “It’s what you did for me,” she would remind you, pressing soothing kisses to your cheeks, and murmuring, “You wanna DoorDash take-out?” (and who were you to say no to that?)

So as time passed, Paige recovered, the both of you healed, and by the time November 2023 rolled around, Paige was fully cleared to play basketball again. She’d been ecstatic for the weeks leading up to it, talking your ear off and dragging you to the gym with her even though the two of you fooled around more than she got her shots in. Her happiness was infectious – that was what mattered to you. You knew that she worked hard to get into UConn but you also knew she worked even harder to recover from the kind of injury that tests the resilience of many athletes.

The night before their home opener against Dayton, she revives an age-old tradition that you’d spent years missing. She takes you to Dairy Queen, shooting you an exasperated look over the center console as you teasingly pressed your card into her hand. She pays – she always does – driving off with her ice cream in the cupholder as she focuses on the road and you offer her spoonfuls of the same flavor you’d been ordering since you were both seventeen. Paige serenades you at the red lights, holding your hands and belting out off-key renditions of Keyshia Cole – because that hadn’t changed over the years, either. And when she finally pulls into a secluded parking lot, nothing but the moon and the crickets as your only witness, the two of you joke and ramble and flirt for what only feels minutes but are actually hours.

She still reserves that last bite of ice cream for you, guiding her spoon to your mouth and kissing the remnants off of your lips, relishing in the way your laughter reverberates throughout her Jeep. Paige tastes like vanilla ice cream and happiness, a lingering flavor that’s intoxicating when it mixes with your strawberry and the love for Paige that you’ve kept safe in your beating heart for years. Some things truly never change at all, you think when she rests her warm palm over your thigh as she adjusts her music (and the playlist she has fittingly titled ‘Freaky ass R&B’ with the heart emoji that she uses only for you). Things evolve, and they get better, and they have a way of surprising you in the best way possible, like when Paige gazes at you as you speak, her expression soft with a realization that sounds like I’m going to love you forever and a matching look in your eyes that looks like Forever sounds perfect.

Par for the course, her eyes start drooping around midnight, her movements fluid and her hands perpetually glued to your skin. The two of you talk for a little while longer until she finally blurts, “I have something for you.”

At that, you can only raise your brow, watching her as she leans into the backseat to grab a rectangular, gift-wrapped box. Panic fills your body at the thought that you may have missed an anniversary, but you remind yourself that it’s only November; your official anniversary wasn’t until late December.

She clears her throat, the nervousness reflected in her eyes, and you can’t help but remember how she asked you to be hers for the first time. You’re not seventeen anymore, nor are you in her stepmom’s Honda Pilot, but you’re both twenty-two living a life that feels both new and familiar, basking in a love that you’ve spent your entire life cherishing.

“You can tell me anything,” you remind her, your tone soft, and that’s enough for the tension to ooze out of her shoulders.

She smiles at you, that same smile from the first time she sat down across from you in junior year AP Lit. “I know,” she murmurs. “I just wanna do this right.” Your expression melts into one of understanding. “When I first convinced you to come to one of my games, I gave you my hoodie. I remember Coach lectured me for an hour straight, ‘cause he was all like, ‘Bueckers, the school pays a lot of money for those sweatshirts, and you lost yours!’” You laugh at her imitation of her high school coach. Her eyes shine a little brighter. “Coach wasn’t stupid. I’m sure he knew what actually happened. It was hard to miss you sittin’ in the student section and cheering me on like every bucket was one you made yourself. But, honestly…I didn’t care. I liked being able to look over and see you wearin’ my name and my number. It made me feel like I wasn’t just your best friend, that I was someone you’d want to…you know, do life with. That one day you’d love me in the way I loved you even though I didn’t know it was love yet.”

“So, you came to more of my games,” she continues. “You wore my hoodie. We’d get ice cream after and we’d talk for hours. I still remember that night I almost kissed you on your porch, that afternoon in your bed when I told you we weren’t so far away, that morning when I finally kissed you in the snow, when I asked you to be my girlfriend.” Paige swallows uncomfortably. “I remember when I broke your heart. I thought I was doing you a favor, but I just hurt the both of us. I missed you for two years but I didn’t think you’d ever want me back. So I hid. But we’d text each other happy birthday, and you’d reach out after I’d injured myself. I didn’t think I deserved your attention after what I did. Then I tore my ACL, and despite everything, you came.”

“You called,” you whisper, like it was the simplest thing in the world – because it was. Your heart beats to a cadence that sounds like the dribbling rhythm of a basketball and you know that Paige’s heart beats in tandem with yours. The two of you were so inexplicably intertwined in the fabric of each other’s lives, each other’s hearts, that it was difficult to discern where you began and she ended, but you knew that you wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yeah,” Paige agrees, her eyes shining. “I’on care what it takes, you’re stuck with me this time around. I am never letting you go. You’re my past, present, and my future. Which is why I want you to have this.” She gives you a meaningful look and you begin to unwrap the box. When you take the lid off, you can’t stop the smile from growing on your face as you reach in, wrapping your hands around Paige’s zip-up tracksuit hoodie. It has the Husky logo and it smells just like her. You know it’s the school issued one that she wears everywhere. “It doesn’t have my name or my number on it or anything, but I got a little something embroidered on the inside.” Allowing her to guide you, she pulls back the lapel, and on the left side, directly under the Husky logo that rests over your heart, the words “Not impossible. Not for us” are stitched delicately into the fabric. You feel tears prick at your eyes as you laugh softly. “Coach is gonna kill me,” she muses, “but it’s worth it – especially since you’ll be sitting courtside in my hoodie like we’d always talked about.”

Your lip trembles, but you’re smiling widely. “Paige,” you murmur. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll stick around for my games,” she says softly. “See if I’m still good at this basketball thing after taking a year off.”

Despite yourself, you laugh, placing the hoodie back into the box and wrapping your arms around her neck. Her hands find your hips, her lips pressing into your temple, and you both melt into each other with an overwhelming amount of relief. “You know I’m there,” you say. “Always will be.”

Paige squeezes your waist, pulling back far enough to smile at you before her lips find yours, kissing you with a gentleness and a passion that hasn’t gone away, no matter how long you’ve been together or how long you’ll spend looking for each other. Her kiss feels more like a vow of forever, and when she breaks away, whispering something that sounds like an I love you, you promise the same thing.

(You’re courtside at her home opener, as promised. You watch as Geno shakes his head at Paige when he catches her staring at you, mumbling something about these damn kids, but you know that she doesn’t care and you don’t either. She reserves a spot for you at every game, at every team hangout, in that crevice of her heart that you’d tattooed your name on ages ago. Every day, you fall just a little bit further in love with Paige, and one of the things that you know with an absolute certainty is that you’re spending the rest of your life with her.)

[wosospacegirl]

And they were roommates - part 6

Summary: Y/n gets injured and has to stay in recovery for 8 months. It's a good thing her friend and teammate Kyra is more than willing to move in with her. wink wink

Warnings: making out sessions getting interrupted :(

Word count: 5.4k

Masterlist

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 |

..

When the convocation of Australia, England and Spain came out Y/n was alone in the physio room at Arsenal while her other teammates were out on the pitch training,

It felt bittersweet.

She saw the names of her dear friends, and she saw Kyra’s name, which made her so proud, but she didn’t see her name. And she wasn’t going to. It would take more than just getting back into shape after her tibia had completely healed.

Y/n would have to work harder and train harder to prove she was even better than before to have another chance of being called into her national team.

Before, being in the squad had been a certainty in her life because of her great performance as a defender.

Now it wasn’t.

But she realised she wasn’t as sad as she thought she would be. Seeing Kyra’s name on Matilda’s squad was enough for her for now.

Y/n just had to learn to stay on the sidelines and, for the first time in her life, enjoy the football experience without being a player. Y/n would now begin her work as a hyper girl. As soon as she finished her exercises in physio she would look for Kyra and wish her–

“Oh, there you are!”

A voice said from the door of the physio room, ruining Y/n plans.

Y/n turned her head to the side and saw a man with a camera in his hand. It was Greg, the head director of Arsenal Media. He was a sweet middle-aged man, but the look on his face said he wasn't having the best day.

“Oh, hi, good morning,” Y/n said, tilting her head at him. “Can I help you, Greg?”

“Oh yes,” he said bluntly. “We’re filming some content today, for YouTube and Instagram.”

Y/n looked around the empty room, and then back at Greg.

“Okay? I think all the girls are out doing drills, they’re not here–”

“The team’s filming a Q&A with Russo, Williamson, and Wälti today,” he continued, completely ignoring Y/n.

“But the Wälti’s cat died so–”

“Lia's cat died?!” Y/n interrupted, her eyebrows raised as she sat on the physio bed. “That’s terrible.”

Damn, Lia loved that cat. Y/n should call her and ask if there’s going to be a funeral.

“Yeah yeah, whatever” Greg waffed. “She said she’s not coming to Arsenal today, so that's why we need you.”

“Me?” Y/n swallowed and pointed at herself.

“Yeah, Williamson said you'd be a good fit, she said you liked being in front of the cameras.”

Fuck you, Leah.

Y/n had been pretty ‘low profile’ since her injury. She hasn’t given any kind of interviews or statements. She hasn’t been to any Arsenal games to watch the girl. Nothing. She hasn’t even posted on her Instagram stories.

She used to like it. The cameras. The interviews. The attention. But not anymore. Y/n didn’t want people to see her injured, to think that she was any less of a player now. She didn’t want people to feel pity or sorry for her.

“Plus, we don't have anyone else,” Greg said, pinching his nose.

The man was stressed.

“How can you not have anyone else? There are about 25 people on this team.”

“We need someone with a personality, and you’re the least bad option I have at the moment.”

Y/n pointed at her leg. “I can guarantee to you, Greg, I’m not much fun to be around right now.”

“Yeah but–”

“Come on Y/n, don't give Greg here a hard time” Leah walked unexpectedly into the room and patted Greg on the shoulder.

Alessia was standing next to her.

“She doesn’t want to do it,” Greg said.

Snitch, Greg, that’s what you are.

“Of course, she doesn't want to. But she will,” Leah said smiling. “Because we need our charming, funny, and charismatic defender back on media day.”

“Are you on drugs right now? You’ve never complimented me before.”

“I'm trying to be nice,” Leah said, the smile on her face changing to a frown. “Alessia told me to be nicer to you.”

“It's scaring me,” Y/n said.

“See Alessia, I told you, being nice isn't our thing,” Leah said, pointing at herself and then at Y/n.

“Can't you two interact without bumping heads?” Alessia asked, looking like a mom who was tired of seeing her children fighting over and over again. “Just for one day, please?”

“No,” Y/n and Leah said in unison.

Alessia rolled her eyes and ignored them.

Alessia sat down by the physio bed, next to Y/n and wrapped her arms around her. “It’ll be fun, Y/n, I promise! It’s just me, you and Leah.”

“I just know one of the questions will be about my recovery” Y/n said, looking down. “I don’t feel like talking about it yet.”

“It’s been what? 2 and a half months since you got injured?” Leah asked. “You can dodge the questions forever, it’s better to talk about it while we’re doing some stupid card game rather than to give an interview. You can’t hide forever.”

Leah was right. But Y/n wanted to hide forever, at least until her bone grew back, at least. If it wasn't for Kyra and her patience and support, Y/n wouldn’t even be leaving the house.

“I just hate looking like this,” Y/n said, pointing at the cast, “I don’t feel like an athlete… I feel useless.”

Guess it was time to talk about feelings. Uhg.

“You’re no less of an athlete because of an injury,” Alessia said, patting her back. “If people didn’t see you as a player anymore, they wouldn't be asking for you to give interviews, or for you to come to our matches.”

“You make it sound like people only care about you when you’re active and playing, and that’s not true,” Alessia continued. “You mean something to Arsenal, you’ve been here for years. Not as much as Leah, of course, she’s been here since the year dot–”

“Hey!” Leah huffed.

Alessia ignored her. “What I’m trying to say is, that the Arsenal fans miss you, you pretty much disappeared from the public eye after your injury.”

Again, Alessia was not wrong.

“Come on, let’s go, I'm not as patient as Alessia and I miss having you at media day.” Leah nonchalantly picked up Y/n’s crutches that were leaning against the wall and handed them to her.

“I. Don't. Want. To” Y/n said slowly, marking each word as she pushed the crutches away from her face. “Get Kyra or Vic to do it.” Y/n pointed her finger in the air as if she had a eureka moment. “Get Beth! Beth loves to talk.”

“I don’t like listening to Beth!” Leah bit back. “She never shuts up”

“She’s literally one of our best friends, Leah,” Y/n said, rolling her eyes. “You should try to be nice to her, not me–”

“It’ll be fun!” Alessia, said, interrupting the bickering again. “It’s just a questions game like we used to–”

“Before I broke my bone?” Y/n completed.

There was a moment of silence.

“Yeah!” Alessia said innocently, smiling.

Alessia took the crutches from Leah, wrapped one hand around Y/n’s body and helped her to her feet. Y/n had no choice but to take the crutches so she wouldn't fall.

“Russo.” Y/n said in a warning, standing up and squinting her eyes at the blonde. “You’re even worse than Leah. Traidor.”

“ filming starts in 15 minutes,” Greg said impatiently from the corner of the room. “Wear your full kit, please.”

The man left the room. Poor Greg, he had to listen to her, Leah and Alessia yapping non-stop. His day had probably just got worse.

“I hate you all,” Y/n muttered but followed the girls as they left the physio room and headed for the changing room, just a few doors to the left. “Just wait till I get my leg back together, I’ll destroy you both in training…”

The two players ignored Y/n.

They entered the changing room and each of them went to their own lockers to pick up their change of clothes.

“They just want an update on how you’re doing, ” Leah said, a few lockers on her right, putting on her Arsenal shirt and looking in the small mirror on the wall “It’s not that hard.”

“They could just read my medical report, then,” Y/n said, picking up her own shirt.

She hesitated for a moment. She hasn’t worn an Arsenal shirt since her injury. It felt wrong, somehow, wearing it and not playing. Especially as the shirt had been in her locker since her injury, she hadn’t brought it home to wash it, it had a faint smell of dust from being in the locker for two months.

Y/n ignored her rambling thoughts and finally put the goddamn shirt on. Red always looked good on her, but today the colour felt off as if it was mocking her.

“Why are you being so difficult? It's just another video for media day,” Leah said again. “Nobody likes media day, we just have to do it”

“I like media days,” Alessia chimed in from the corner, putting her hair in a low bun. “At least we get to skip some parts of practice.”

“Why do you care if I’m in the video or not,” Y/n asked Leah, ignoring Alessia’s comment. “When you were injured you weren’t on media day duties.”

“Of course I wasn't, I was so snappy they gave up on trying to film me,” Leah said as she sat down and put on her boots.

“Oh, so that’s how you got away with it!” Y/n said, “I guess I’ll be snappy too!”

Y/n remembered when Leah got injured some seasons ago. The woman was completely impossible to be around. For a whole month, she could only talk to Leah on the phone because she refused to meet in person. Of course, Y/n, Alessia and the other girl stayed by her side until she got better.

Now it was Leah and Alessia’s turn to stand by her side. Y/n wasn’t so sure if she liked it.

“If Lia’s cat had just held on a little longer, I wouldn’t have to do this,” Y/n mumbled, “How old was he anyway? I feel like she had that cat forever”

“15 years,” Alessia said. “Poor thing had a whole life ahead of him,”

“No, it didn't. It was a geriatric cat,” Leah said. “But don’t tell Lia I said that she’s very sad it died.”

“Don’t call him it, Leah!” Alessia complained.

“Maybe we could come to Lia’s house later today,” Y/n suggested. “Check up on her, see how she’s doing.”

Lia was a sweetheart to her, it was the least Y/n and the other girls could do.

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Alessia agreed. “We can stop somewhere and bring her some food, too.”

“Alright, sounds nice!” Y/n said. “Kyra can drive us, we just have to wait until she’s done with the drills and training.”

Y/n didn’t even ask Kyra if she could drive them to Lia’s or if she wanted to go to Lia’s, but Y/n was sure she wouldn’t mind.

“You know, I was living for the day I would see you as a passenger princess,” Leah teased. “Now tell me, is Kyra that much of a good driver?”

Y/n took a boot from the cubby next to her and threw it playfully at Leah.

“Shut up, man!”

Leah nudged the boot and threw it back at Y/n. She aimed it at Y/n and it hit her right on the head.

"Wow. Hitting a disabled person. New low, Leah." Y/n pouted, patting the sore spot where the boot had just hit.

Leah shrugged, “You started it.”

“Can you two stop throwing things around?” Alessia asked, picking up the boot from the floor, scared Y/n would retaliate. “And that's Kim’s boot, she hates people touching her things.”

“She shouldn't be leaving her stuff scattered around, then,” Y/n said, chin up.

“Bro you took it out of her cubby,” Leah chimed in.

The door suddenly opened and one of the girls from the media said they had everything ready to start. The girls nodded and said they’d be right out.

“Wow, I thought that was Kim for a second,” Alessia said, putting her hand on her chest.

“Me too, I was afraid I was going to get hit twice today,” Y/n said, smiling as Leah nudged her shoulder playfully.

“Come on, the quicker we do it the quicker we finish it,” Leah said, helping Y/n on her crutches as they headed for the media room.

“Here we go,” Y/n said, not very enthusiastically.

..

Y/n, Alessia and Leah sat at a table with cards in the middle. The mediator of the dynamic was behind the camera, telling the girls that he would chip in when needed.

Arsenal had asked for a natural, chatty video, so that’s what the three girls would do.

The camera was rolling and Y/n was nervous. But she didn’t want people to know that, so she played it cool.

Alessia read the first question on the card and aimed it at Y/n and Leah.

“Y/n, how does it feel to be off the pitch for so long, and Leah, how do you feel as a captain when a player gets injured?”

Alessia gave Y/n a sad look, knowing the girl didn't want to talk about the injury, yet it was the first question that was drawn on the card.

Y/n hesitated, she opened her mouth, but no words came out.

So much for playing cool.

Y/n looked at Leah, a silent cry for help.

“I’ve been in Y/n’s shoes before with my ACL, as you guys know. I was out of the pitch for 9 months, so a whole season and it was very hard,” Leah said, patting Y/n’s leg behind the table as if saying I got you.“Surgery is hard, physio is hard, being off the pitch is hard, seeing yourself without football is hard.”

Y/n gave Leah a grateful look and nodded as the captain spoke.

“It’s more mentally challenging than people think it is,” Leah continued, as Alessia nodded at her as well. “And as captains, we have to help our players by being a safe place for them to talk when they need to, and of course, give them a little push if necessary,” Leah smiled at Y/n.

“When I got injured, having Kim as a captain by my side was very important for my recovery. She pushed me more and more and that’s one of the reasons why I’m here today, so yeah, we captains are annoying but I’d say we’re necessary.”

“And Y/n, do you think your teammates are a vital part of your recovery process?” The man behind the camera asked, clearly wanting Y/n to address her injury somehow, not just Leah.

Y/n hesitated again, but this time she pulled herself together and formed actual words and sentences.

“Oh, yeah, definitely,” Y/n said, her hands shaking slightly.

Why was this so hard to talk about?

“They’re more than my teammates, they’re my friends,” Y/n continued. “Leah and Alessia have been a big part of this recovery, they always try to push me so I can be in the best mental and physical state possible.”

“We’ve seen you get closer to other teammates as well after your injury too, right?” The man asked.

Fuck, that was one of the few questions Y/n absolutely wasn’t prepared to answer. She had to turn this around somehow.

Y/n blushed, she just hoped it didn’t get on camera. But for the looks Alessia and Leah gave her, her embarrassment was very clear.

“Hmm, yeah, I mean, they all are all my support network at the moment, since my family is in a completely different country.”

Y/n tried to dodge the question. She knew exactly the answer the man was looking for, but she didn’t know if she should be mentioning Kyra. Again, it was not a secret they lived together, but Y/n didn’t want everyone to pry too much into their lives.

“But there’s one particular teammate who’s been helping you out more. You even moved in with her? Cooney-Cross?” The man continued.

Y/n could kill this media guy.

If Y/n’s blush had been subtle, it wasn’t now.

Y/n went silent, but the man behind the camera urged her to speak.

“Yeah, I mean, I needed someone to help me around, and my mum couldn’t come live with me, so Kyra offered and—uh—she drives me to physio, and we watch films sometimes—uh, a lot actually—like, not all the time, just—uh—yeah… and we cook sometimes, but not in a weird way, I mean, obviously not weird, just…”

“This is painful to watch, you’re embarrassing,” Leah murmured under her breath, enough so that only she and Alessia could hear.

“Medicines! She reminds me to take my medicines and she—uh—makes sure I don’t fall over in the shower.–”

“What she’s trying to say is that Kyra is very supportive,” Alessia said finally, looking at Y/n, her eyes screaming ‘Shut up, right now you’re making a fool of yourself’.

Leah was a decent friend and cut Y/n’s suffering short by picking up the next card.

The camera continued to roll. The next questions were less personal and more professional, based on actual football rather than Y/n’s private life, so she relaxed more and answered the questions without sounding stupid.

When they were finished the man behind the camera said they were free to go on with their day.

“Was that bad?” Y/n asked the girls as they left the media room.

“It was horrible,” Leah said.

“I bit, yeah. Sorry.” Alessia said.

“You and Kyra need to figure out whatever it is you guys have going on, you can’t freeze up and start rambling nonsense every time her name comes up!” Leah said, rolling her eyes.

Y/n blushed, again.

“Me and Kyra have nothing going on– we’re just good friends and– best friends even and we–”

“See! Rambling!” Leah pointed out.

“Look, I know you’re private about your love life, and I get it, and so do I,” Leah continued. “But me and Alessia have known you forever and we can tell that you’re in love, so there’s no need to try and keep it from us.”

“Besides, Kyra kind of told me she liked you a few weeks ago, so there’s no need to hide that from us,” Alessia added.

There was a moment of silence.

“Kyra said she liked me?” Y/n asked, trying to sound casual.

Y/, and Kyra had been living together for two months now, they had a well-established routine and from the outside, it looked like they had been dating for years.

They kissed and made out all the time. But still, they haven’t had the talk about what they are, because it just didn't feel necessary. Maybe they would never have that conversation and that was more than okay for Y/n. They were just living in the moment.

But to know that Kyra liked her enough to go and tell Alessia? It felt amazing. As if she was sure now that it wasn’t one-sided. Kyra felt something for her, she liked her.

Kyra wasn’t kissing her or spending time with her just because she felt sorry for her. She actually liked Y/n.

Kyra liked Y/n, and Y/n liked Kyra back very much.

Y/n wanted their relationship to be private, not a secret, so it was nice that at least Leah and Alessia knew about it, even if only superficially, so she didn't have to sit down with them and have an awkward talk about it.

Especially with Leah. The girls were closer friends, but they did have a hard time talking about feelings. The last time Leah had told Y/n she was seeing someone she had said she felt like someone was squeezing her chest. Y/n had told her it was love.

“You’re grinning,” Leah said. “Keep that to your lover girl, please. It's disgusting.”

See? Feelings.

Y/n and the other girls walked down the corridor of Arsenal, and when she turned left, Leah and Alessia turned right.

“Where are you guys going?” Y/n asked, confused.

“Oh– we have pitch training right now with the defenders and other forwards,” Alessia said softly as if she didn't want to upset Y/n. “The midfielders just finished their training so–”

“Oh yeah, of course,” Y/n said, faking a smile. “Go on, good training.” She said before turning around and heading for the changing room.

It didn't matter how hard they tried, Y/n still felt like an outsider because of her Injury. She felt like the only kid whose mum wouldn't let her go to a sleepover when the girl had to go to the pitch to play.

Y/n opened the door to the changing room and was more than surprised to see Kyra sitting on one of the benches with her back to her.

Y/n’s sad face quickly turned into a grin when she realised that Kyra was shirtless, just wearing her sports bra and training bottoms.

“Oh hello there,” Y/n said as she walked closer to Kyra. “It’s so hot in here, isn’t it?” Y/n said, waving herself cheekily.

Kyra turned around, smiling. “Hey, gorgeous. Come here.” Kyra patted her own tight.

Y/n put the crutches on the bench and carefully Sat cross-legged on Kyra’s lap. Y/n kissed her face.

“You smell like grass,” She said

“Good thing it's grass and not sweat.”

“Well since you bought it up, sweat too, I was just trying to be nice,” Y/n laid her head on Kyra's shoulder.

“You’re never nice to me,” Kyra said, a fake pout on her face.

“I am, I'm always very–” she kissed Kyra on the lips. “–very nice to you.”

“Try harder,” Kyra said, enjoying the kisses.

“Okay,” Y/n kissed Kyra more deeply, slipping her tongue into her mouth.

“It's it nice enough?”

“I'll think about it and I'll let you know,” Kyra teased.

“You're annoying, no more kisses for you,” Y/n mumbled but still pecked Kyra’s cheek.

“Please? A few more just because I’ve called to the Matildas?” Kyra asked.

Ym smiled and kissed Kyra's nose, then her chin. “Just because you got called up and I'm so proud of you.”

“I was so nervous I wouldn't get in,” Kyra said, stroking Y/n's good leg. “I was in the gym when Steph and Caitlin told me we were all in, it was like I could breathe again.

“You deserve it, baby, Y/n said, wrapping her arms around Kyra's shoulder to balance herself. “You've worked very hard.”

“How’s your day so far? I haven’t seen you on the bench on the pitch today,” Kyra said. Y/n’s breath was warm against Kyra's neck, her fingers tracing small circles on her back.

“I was at physio, and then I had to do some media bullshit,” Y/n mumbled. “Just so you know, don’t watch the next YouTube video on Arsenal’s channel, okay?”

Kyra laughed. “Why? Why did you say that?”

“Well, they brought you up and my brain just froze and I started rambling, but Alessia and Leah pulled me out of my misery as soon as they could.

“Oh? You rambled? Kyra said teasingly, kissing Y/n’s cheek. “You get nervous talking about me? That’s cute.”

“Don’t say it like that, come on” Y/n blushed. “I just wasn’t prepared for them to talk about living together, it caught me off guard.”

“I'll watch the video, just so you know.”

“No, you won’t not.”

“I will, we will be watching it together actually, I wanna see you squirm.”

Kyra’s hand slipped up Y/n’s leg, now almost to the end of her tight. The touch sent shivers down her spine. She pulled back slightly pulled back, her lips brushing Kyra’s ear.

“There are different ways you could make me squirm, you know.” she said against Kyra’s mouth. “fingers, tongue, str–”

Y/n wasn’t a sex freak, but oh God did she want to take the cast off completely so she couldn't finally have sex with Kyra.

Kyra put her palm over Y/n’s mouth. “How are you so blunt?” she said whisper-yelling and looking around the room.

“I just am,” Y/n whispered-yelled back. “why are we whispering there’s no one here, everybody’s…”

The door to the changing room cracked open, and for a split second, it seemed as if the universe was playing a joke on Y/n and Kyra. The girls’ heads turned at the sound of the doorknob.

Beth walked in, her innocent eyes trailing the room until they landed on Y/n and Kyra.

Kyra went pale as Y/n’s stomach dropped.

Beth froze when she saw Kyra and Y/n, a grin on her face replacing the innocent expression from before as she examined the position Y/n and Kyra were in very carefully.

“Am I interrupting something?” She said, wiggling her eyebrows. “You two look very comfortable.”

Y/n and Kyra looked at Beth like a deer caught in headlights.

“I got a cramp in my good leg,” Y/n said quickly and defensively while trying to leave Kyra’s lap. “so I had to– hm– sit down.”

“And there weren’t enough benches so she had to sit –on, hm– my tight,” Kyra finished, blushing hard. “Yep, that’s pretty much what happened!”

Beth looked at them like they were idiots.

“One, two,” Beth counted, pointing to each bench available in the room. “Three, four and five. Five branches available for Y/n” She said, smirking. “You’re a bad liar Cooney-cross, it causes me physical pain.”

Y/n struggled but was eventually able to sit down next to Kyra, but she kept a very safe distance.

“I’m not lying!” Kyra stammered, blushing even more. “I just offered my injured friend a place to–”

“Injured friend?!” Y/n turned to Kyra. “Are you serious?”

“What?!” Kyra shrugged in confusion.

Before Y/n could open her mouth, Beth was already speaking.

“You know what, I’m going to spare you both from whatever the hell that was,” Beth said, walking straight to her cubby “I just wanted to grab this,” she pointed at her shin pads now in hand. “I didn’t mean to intrude on a private moment.”

Y/n wanted to slap the grin off Beth’s face. She was enjoying herself far too much. The girl breathed in and out, trying, trying to think of how to handle the situation or rather, how to handle Beth.

“We can just never mention it again,” Y/n suggested, trying to sound chill.

Yn looked at Kyra out of the corner of her eye and it pretty much looked like Kyra was silently panicking. She was looking at the ceiling, not making eye contact with either Beth or Y/n, while her hands tapped anxiously on her own tight.

So much for trying to act cool.

“Oh no babe, I’m never letting this go.” Beth replied with a mischievous smile “I’m saying I’ll spare you both now because I'm late for the drills.”

“But we’ll talk about this on the way to Lia’s house,” she continued, the grin on her face stronger than ever, “ Leah tells me Kyra is driving you all to Lia’s, do you have a seat for me?”

“Yes, we got one last spot,” y/n mumbled, looking hopelessly at Beth.

Her plan to keep her relationship with Kyra on the download had just gone down the drain. Beth was an amazing friend, but the girl couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it. She would eventually let it slip what she had seen in the changing room to the other girls. Beth just couldn’t help herself.

“Great!” She walked to the door. “Bye, lovebirds!”

Kyra's hands immediately shot up to cover her flushed cheeks “Oh God, that was so embarrassing!”

Kyra didn’t mind being seen with Y/n. To be honest she wanted the whole world to know it already. But at the same time, she wanted to keep what they had private. She wanted the affection and the sweet touches to stay in between them.

The less people knew the less they could pry on them. Although Kyra knew it wouldn’t last long, the Arsenal team was very close, they were more than a team, they were a real family.

Fortunately, there was no taboo about dating among players, especially at Arsenal, one of the clubs with the most couples.

Y/n smiled and reached over, gently pulling Kyra’s hands away from her face. She kissed the back of Kyra’s hand. “It’s okay, baby.”

“They’ll know eventually,” Y/n said softly but firmly. “Besides, it wasn’t that bad.”

Kyra’s tensed body slowly relaxed at Y/n's touch.

“Hey,” Y/n said, lifting Kyra’s chin so she was looking at her. “It’s not a big deal, okay?” She planted a gentle kiss on Kyra’s cheek.

“But you were straddling me,” Kyra murmured.

“So? It still could be a lot worse, trust me.” Y/n said with a warm smile, trying to reassure the girl. “Katie and Caitlin were much worse, don’t you remember?”

“Oh yeah, and Beth and Viv didn’t know what personal space was,” Kyra chuckled, before turning serious again as the realisation set in.

“Bloody hell Steph and Caitlin are going to tease the hell out of me, just like I did when they started their relationships.”

Kyra looked devastated. It was cute.

“Karma, baby,” Y/n joked, trying to ease Kyra’s nerves. “You’ll get through, yeah?”

“Whose side are you on?” Kyra asked grumpily.

“Yours, always.”

Y/n leaned back against the bench and picked up her crutches. “Don’t worry about it, yeah?” her tone was reassuring. “We'll figure it out. But now I have to go to my medical exam, I think the doctor is already waiting for me… you make me lose track of time,” she grinned at Kyra.

Before Y/n could walk away, Kyra grabbed her hip. “Hey, what was Beth talking about before? About going to Lia’s house?” Kyra asks, confused.

“Well, as my favourite driver, you were chosen to drive me, Less, Leah and, now Beth to Lia’s, her cat died,” Y/n said, patting Kyra’s cheek.

“Her cat died?!” Kyra asked, eyebrows raised. “Oh damn, I’ll have to pay Katie.

Y/n furrowed her brows. “What do you mean?”

“I bet the cat would last another year,” Kyra admitted, a slight blush on her cheeks. “Katie said it would be dead within a few months.”

Y/n was silent.

“You bet on Lia's cat’s life?” Y/n said, her mouth hanging open. “That’s like so fucked up, mate.”

“It was Katie’s idea!” Kyra said, holding up both hands defensively.

Y/n rolled her eyes. “Of course it was, and you just went along with it, didn’t you?”

Kyra gave her a cheeky smile. “That’s correct.”

“Hm, you pest,” Y/n muttered, giving Kyra one last kiss. “We’ll go after the drill is over, yeah? We can meet in the car park.”

“Okay, I’ll wait by the car,” Kyra said.

“You don’t mind driving us, do you?” Y/n asked just for the fun of it, she already knew the answer. “I didn’t even ask you.”

“Nope, I don’t mind as long as you sit in the passenger seat,” Kyra said teasingly, her thumb caressing Y/n’s skin.

“Good girl,” Y/n said with the same teasing tone. “Now please put your shirt back on or else I won't answer for my actions.”

“You are a pervert,” Kyra said, rolling her eyes, but doing as she was told.

“Yes, that's me!” Y/n said, before blowing a kiss and leaving the room. “See you later, babe.”

..

| PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 |

Notes: Please like, share and let me know what you think! Feedback is important and makes me want to write even more. :D

Read more of my work here -> Masterlist

[moonstruckme]

Hi!! I had surgery a few weeks ago and I’m definitely hitting a wall mentally. I’ve been so sad with recovery and I’m so exhausted and cranky (unfortunately). I was wondering if you could write an emt!marauders or poly!marauders w reader going through that?? Thank you! Your writing has been a huge comfort for me during this time 🩷

Hi lovely! I realize it's been a while since you sent this so I hope you're feeling much much better now! Thanks for requesting <3

cw: post-op recovery, shoulder injury

poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 727 words

James enters the bedroom to witness three stages of wakefulness. There’s Remus where he left him, fluffy haired and squinty eyed scrolling through his phone. One of Remus’ hands is toying idly with the ends of Sirius’ hair, who’s still dead asleep next to him, on his stomach with his face pushing into the pillow (James has never been able to figure out how he can breathe like that). Then there’s you, just sitting up with a groan and a sour look on your face. His angel. 

“Here, love.” James sets the coffee he’d brought for Remus on the nightstand, making sure the handle is facing him. Remus’ thanks is croaky with drowsiness, his smile gentle. James says to you, “Morning. How’d you sleep?” 

“Hard,” you mumble. You shrug your one shoulder experimentally, and grimace. “Too hard.” 

Remus makes a sympathetic sound, looking at you over the rim of his mug. “Did you sleep on it wrong?” 

“No.” You sound a tad defensive. “I was on my back all night.” 

Remus hums. “This is what happens when you don’t do your stretches at night, dovey.” 

You scowl. James ruffles Remus’ hair. “Be nice,” he chides. “You could do some stretching now, angel.” 

Sirius makes a disgruntled sleepy sound, rolling onto his side to wrap his arms around your waist. He settles his head contentedly on the plushness of your thigh. “Everyone shut up,” he grumbles. “And stop getting up.” 

“We’re not getting up,” James placates him. “She’s only doing her stretches.” 

“But it hurts,” you whine. 

“That’s why you do your stretches, sweetheart.” Remus gives you a look. 

James can feel you getting irritated. You’ve been recovering from your surgery for weeks now, and you’re growing exhausted not only with all the things you can’t do with your shoulder but also all the things you have to do to build back its strength and mobility. He goes to the dresser as you slump forward into your own lap, hapless. 

“Come on,” he laughs, tossing you your towel. “You can start with the towel one first. That one’s fit.” 

You look up at James. “It is not.” 

“Y’always look good, babe,” Sirius mumbles into your thigh. 

“See? And extra good when you stretch your arms like that.”

“He’s dead to the world.” You roll your eyes, though you’re petting Sirius’ hair fondly. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” 

Still, you sigh and pick up the towel when Remus nudges it towards you pointedly, rolling your neck in preparation. James feels a bit of warmth come to his face (he was only partly joking about how attractive you are when you stretch). 

It’s a bit difficult for you at first, clearly, the result of growing a bit lax about your stretches over the past few days. James can see Remus’ lips press together like he’s physically restraining himself from commenting on it. A low whine builds in your throat. 

“There you go,” says Sirius in a salacious tone. James is beginning to suspect he’s more awake than he’s letting on. “Tell us how you really feel, sweetheart.” 

“This is so pointless,” you grumble. “It’s too lame to do anything.” 

“Don’t say that,” James chides you. It’s not his intention to make you feel like you can’t vent to them, but James is firmly of the belief that ceasing negative talk will eventually lead to an abatement of negative thoughts. “It’s working, you just need to give it time. You’re tons better than you were a couple of weeks ago, right?” 

“If you mean I can pick up an empty soda can,” you say drily, “then yes.” 

“That is what I mean. Empty soda cans are a big step.” 

“It’s a process,” Remus tells you in a more placating tone. “You can’t expect to be all the way better overnight. Especially not if you’re not doing your stretches.” 

You don’t miss the judgment threaded through that last bit, your expression turning sour again. Sirius appears to sense this without opening his eyes. He hugs you around the middle, smearing a kiss over your thigh. 

“You’ll get there, lovie,” says James. “And hey, if it’ll help, I can sit with you while you do your stretches every day. I wouldn’t mind that at all.” 

Remus snorts, and Sirius mumbles something into your skin that sounds like “I’ll bet you wouldn’t.”

[meazalykov]

soft place to land

catarina macario x chelsea!reader with features of platonic!sam kerr x reader

warnings: cancer, recovery, angst

you haven’t been to any major doctor’s appointments since the ankle injury a few months ago. nothing urgent, nothing scary. it was just routine physio after a tackle during that game against west ham. there was light rehab, and a return to full training before the season picked up again. 

everything healed the way it was supposed to. 

or at least, that’s what you told everyone.  

now it’s something else.  

it started slow. a tingle at the base of your neck, creeping up your throat, like a subtle warning that didn’t feel worth mentioning at first. your voice would crack during post-training banter, or disappear altogether when you tried to call for the ball. you blamed it on overuse, maybe dehydration. you figured it would go away but it didn’t.  

you live with it now.  

you train, you play, and you act like nothing’s wrong, but every day it gets harder to pretend.  

you do not want to cause worry, especially not for cat. she has enough on her plate… coming back after recovering from her own serious acl injury, easing back into match fitness, proving herself all over again. but she notices. she always notices.  

"you didn’t say anything all session," she murmurs as you collapse beside her on the pitch after training one day. the black and pink training shirt clings to your back with sweat. your lungs burn. your throat aches.  

you give her a tight smile and a shrug, but it feels forced.  

"just tired," you say, even though the words come out hoarse and strained.  

cat’s brows pull together, concern flickering in her expression. she reaches over, fingers brushing gently under your jaw. 

"it’s your throat again?"  

you nod.  

"you need to tell sonia," she says quietly.  

"i’m fine," you lie, and she hears it. she always does.  

catarina doesn’t push. she just sighs and leans into you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder like it’ll ground you, knowing her love will hold the pieces of you together. the next day, you feel it again…worse this time. the pressure sits like a stone lodged in your throat. you can barely speak. your hands shake. your vision swims mid-sprint. when lauren passes you the ball, you miss the trap completely.  

"y/n, you good?" millie calls from across the pitch, jogging toward you.  

you wave her off and bend over, hands on your knees, willing your body to behave. you hear hannah whistle, then sonia’s voice from the sideline, sharp and direct.  

you straighten and pretend you’re okay because that’s what you do. you’ve always kept things to yourself until they become impossible to ignore.  

after training, you sit in the locker room with your boots still on, half-zoned out as the chatter around you continues.  

"she didn’t say a word again," erin whispers to lucy, trying to be subtle but failing miserably.  

"it’s not just her throat," ashley adds, brushing a towel over her head. 

"she’s slower and her passes are off. that is not normal for a player like y/n."  

you feel their eyes on you, but you keep your head down.  

when you finally glance up, it’s catarina who’s kneeling in front of you. your girlfriend’s hands rest lightly on your knees, her eyes searching yours. she doesn’t say anything. she doesn’t need to.  

later that night, when you’re curled into her on the couch, her arms around your waist and your face tucked into her neck, you let yourself exhale.  

"i don’t know what’s happening to me," you whisper, voice thin and trembling. 

"i feel like my body’s shutting down."  

"then let’s find out what it is," she says. 

you feel her hand over your heart. steady. warm. you nod.  

however, the fear lingers because it’s not just the throat thing anymore. it’s everything and the rest of the team knows. you see it in how guro always walks beside you now, keeping pace even when you fall behind.  

how mayra offers to cover your runs without being asked.  

how millie wraps an arm around your shoulders before matches and leans in close, like she’s trying to carry some of your weight.  

no one says anything directly but it’s there, all of it, aka the silent dread none of you know how to voice.  

a week later, you are more than aware that the champions league match against real madrid was days away. everything was intense for this group stage match. training, tactics, focus. every player was locked in, especially with how competitive this season had been. 

the club enforced mandatory monthly clinicals, making sure everyone was in top condition before important matches. it was routine. you had done it plenty of times before.

you stepped into the medical room like it was just another checkbox to tick off. same nurse, same hallway, same small talk about the weather. you were calm. casual, even.

things were fine until you stepped on the weight scale.

you stood still, the machine humming quietly beneath your feet. the doctor glanced at the screen, then back down to the scale, brows pulling together in a confused frown. the doctor’s mouth opened slightly like she was going to say something, but didn’t. instead, she stepped forward and checked the scale again, typing something into her computer with more urgency than before.

“what’s wrong?” you asked, your voice scratchy and hoarse…same as it had been lately.

the doctor looked up at you, professional, but concerned.  

“have you noticed the weight loss?”  

you blinked, “huh?”  

she took a careful breath, “you’ve lost eighteen pounds in the last three months.”  

your chest tightened, “i haven’t changed anything,” you said quickly. 

“my diet’s the same and i sleep all nine to ten hours.”  

she nodded once but didn’t look reassured. 

“that’s what concerns me. unexplained weight loss like this, paired with other symptoms, it’s not something we can overlook.”  

you were in there longer than expected. one by one, you started listing what had been happening. you did not want to draw attention to yourself, but because it suddenly felt like all of it was connected.  

your throat…the discomfort, the inability to speak sometimes.  

your periods…completely off schedule, skipping whole months.  

your hair…thinner in the shower, on your pillow, in your brush.  

your sleep…ten hours felt like three.  

the doctor listened closely, then gently reached out, fingers pressing along the sides of your neck. you winced slightly. she nodded again, like something in your body confirmed what she had already started suspecting.

“i want to send you in for a full body scan,” she said, still using that calm, practiced voice that somehow made everything feel more real. 

“your symptoms and physical indicators suggest we may be dealing with something involving your thyroid. it’s best we know for sure.”  

you waited for hours after that and the scans felt surreal. the cold machines, dim lights, the hum of technology that had nothing to do with football.  

when it was over, you were told to wait in a small private room. you waited for about an hour before the door finally opened with a soft knock.  

the club’s main doctor returned, this time with sonia, your coach, by her side.

sonia offered a gentle smile and stepped forward, “are you alright?”  

you swallowed. your throat ached again, “i don’t know.”  

the doctor explained it carefully, like she had done it a thousand times before. her tone was level. informative. precise.  

“the scans revealed abnormalities in your thyroid. after consulting the images and your recent symptoms… i’m sorry… but we’ve confirmed you’re in the early stages of thyroid cancer.”

your heart didn’t drop. it froze since everything inside you went cold and quiet. you didn’t react right away. all you did was just stared ahead, blank. your vision blurred at the edges, the words thyroid cancer echoing in your mind like a far-off siren.

the doctor kept talking…mentioning how it was the easiest form of cancer to recover from, how it was caught early, how treatment options were promising…but the words barely registered.

you weren’t thinking about recovery.  

you were thinking about football or about training or about your place in the squad or about the champions league or about the call up to the national team.

all you thought about was how everything was about to stop, and you had no idea how long the recovery process will take.  

sonia rested her arm around your shoulders, a comforting gesture. you didn’t lean into it. you looked at her instead, tears building in your eyes.

“where’s catarina?” your voice cracked. 

“please… can you get her?”  

“of course,” she said softly, “anyone else?”  

“sam,” you whispered, “please get sam too if she is in the recovery area today.”  

sam, your closest friend on the team. it was not just because of football, but because of kristie. kristie and you had grown up through the national team system together. she had been your person, your steady support. sam is too thanks to her.  

minutes later, the door opened again. cat walked in first, her face immediately searching for yours. sam followed close behind, her smile gone the second she saw the drained look on your face.  

sonia closed the door quietly behind them, giving you space.  

the doctor repeated the explanation, this time for them. you didn’t look at either of them. you couldn’t. you just stared at the floor, shoulders slumped, hands trembling in your lap.

your chest hurt…not from the diagnosis, but from the heartbreak. you weren’t stupid. your career would stall. you wouldn’t be able to train or to play. you were scared, no…terrified, actually.  

sam knelt in front of you and took your hands, already teary. 

“you’re gonna be okay. we’ve got you, yeah?” she said softly. 

“you’re gonna fight through this, and we’ll all be right here.”  

it was cat who saw the fear in your eyes. it was not the surface-level sadness, but the deep, soul-crushing fear in your eyes. the ’what if?’ fear.  

she moved beside you quickly, arms wrapping around your body, anchoring you against her. your cheek pressed into her chest, your hands fisting the front of her hoodie.  

“i’m here,” she whispered into your hair, “i’ve got you, baby. i’m not going anywhere.”  

you started to cry…finally. heavy, silent tears. your throat felt too tight to sob, but she felt your body shake against hers.  

“you were there for me every single day of my acl recovery,” she said, her voice thick. 

“you never left me. you pushed me through it. and now i’m going to do the same for you. every step. every appointment. i’m not letting you face this alone.”  

you nodded against her, barely, because it was all you could do. your girlfriend’s arms were holding you, and your best friend was sitting beside you but you didn’t feel like a footballer. you didn’t feel like someone strong or unstoppable. you felt like a woman who was scared out of her mind.  

“how could i be so stupid?” you whisper, voice breaking as you cling to the sleeves of catarina’s hoodie, the sterile walls of the room closing in around you.

cat pulls back just enough to cup your face, her thumbs wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks, her brows pulling together with quiet urgency.

“no. don’t do that,” she says firmly, “don’t start blaming yourself for this. you didn’t know. there’s no way you could’ve known.”

you try to look away, but she gently guides your face back to hers.

“you’re not stupid. you’re sick. and now we’re going to deal with it. together.”

sam nods beside her, sitting on the edge of the chair near your hospital bed, eyes glassy, “cat’s right,” she adds, “you’re not a doctor and none of us on the team are either. don’t be so hard on yourself, y/n. you did what you always do…you kept pushing. that doesn’t make you stupid.” 

you don’t say anything for a while, just sit there with both of them, the weight of it all slowly sinking in. it doesn’t matter how early it is or how “treatable” the doctor says it is. the word cancer sticks to your ribs like cement. you feel your career pause. you feel time pause. everything shifts in your world with no warning, and now all you can do is hold on.

a few days after the announcement is made, chelsea posts an official update on the matter. you don’t check social media at first. you think it’ll make you feel worse. when you finally do, you see hundreds…no, thousands of comments. people from everywhere. your national teammates. old teammates from your time in france. fans who remember your debut. strangers who just want to wish you well.

your chelsea teammates post pictures with you. sam writes a long message calling you “one of the strongest people i’ve ever met.” erin tags you in a throwback clip of one of your goals that she assisted, writing, “we’ll be here waiting, don’t rush. we need you whole.”  

even with all the love, you feel… weak like nothing inside you matches the strength people are seeing.  

you need cat more than you’re willing to admit.  

she's there every chance she gets. when she’s not training, or playing, or traveling, she’s with you—helping you with picking up your prescriptions, driving you to hospital visits, cooking when you’re too exhausted to lift your head. 

she’s become your steady presence, even when you feel like dead weight.

you hate relying on her so much, afraid of pushing her away somehow.  

one night, you break down while brushing your hair…a lot of it falling out in your hands. you throw the brush down, tears streaming silently down your cheeks. you don’t even hear her come in until her arms are around you again.

“stop it! i don’t want to be a burden to you,” you say softly, “you have your own career. your own recovery. you don’t need to babysit me if you do not want to.”

she looks at you like you’ve just said the dumbest thing she’s ever heard.

“you’re not a burden, y/n,” she says seriously, “you’re dealing with cancer. of course you’re not in top condition. of course you’re going to need help. and i want to help. just like you helped me. remember those two years when i didn’t feel like myself? when you sat with me through every painful stretch and every lonely rehab session? you never left and i’m not going to either.”

you try to protest, but she just presses a kiss to your forehead.

“i’m not doing this out of obligation,” she whispers, “i’m doing this because i love you.”

after your thyroidectomy, the healing begins slowly, but noticeably.

your strength doesn’t return all at once. your voice feels hoarse some mornings, and the hormone fluctuations leave you with bouts of exhaustion, but you can tell things are improving. the doctors at the hospital chelsea partnered with are kind, attentive, and thorough. your hormone levels are being monitored carefully. you’re told you’ll need daily thyroid hormone replacement therapy, but the prognosis is good.

you mainly stay home resting, taking meds, watching cat’s games when she’s away. the couch becomes your new recovery base. the one place where cat can return after training and just hold you without a single word needing to be said.

when naomi, yes naomi girma your national teammate, signs for chelsea a couple weeks later. she surprises you at your flat with coffee and snacks, giving you the biggest hug. you cry in her arms for ten minutes without saying anything. she doesn’t let go once.

your world is smaller now, but the love in it feels infinite.

a month later…just one month, though it feels like a lifetime…you’re back in light recovery training with the other injured players. you jog lightly. you stretch. you do basic ball work. everything feels harder than it used to, but you’re doing it. you’re moving again.

catarina watches from a distance during her cooldowns, waving at you every time you look her way. sam throws an arm around your shoulders at the end of each session, joking that she missed your chaos on the pitch.

“you’re getting there with me,” sam says, “we need to go slow and steady like a little comeback queens.”

you grin at her, then glance at cat, who’s already walking toward you with a water bottle and a towel in hand.

“you’re not my physio, you know,” you tease as she reaches you.

she smirks, brushing your hair out of your eyes. 

“no,” she says, “but i am your girlfriend.”

you laugh quietly, “your love might actually be part of the recovery process.”

“then i’ll keep it coming,” she says, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “as much as you need. for as long as you need.”

honestly, right now, you need it more than anything. for the first time in weeks you feel like maybe, just maybe, you’re gonna be okay again.

masterlist

authors note: I took some inspiration off of this post. you should check it out as well, its amazing writing!

[prettygirl-gabi]

Title: No One Fights Alone

Pairing: Reader x Paige Bueckers x Aubrey Griffin

Fandom: UConn Women’s Basketball

Warnings: Injury, recovery struggles, emotional distress

Summary: A devastating ACL tear during the Final Four changes everything, but your never alone

I’ve been playing basketball long enough to know what an injury feels like. Twisted ankles, jammed fingers, a couple of bruised ribs—occupational hazards. But nothing could’ve prepared me for this.

One second, I was cutting toward the basket, the ball barely leaving my fingertips on a perfect pass. The next, I was on the ground, pain ripping through my knee like fire.

The arena went silent.

I knew it was bad before I even tried to move. The way my leg twisted underneath me, the way the impact rattled through my bones—I didn’t need to see the replay to know.

Then, before I could process anything else, two familiar voices cut through the chaos.

“Baby, don’t move—just breathe,” Paige’s voice was the first thing I focused on, steady but tight with panic.

Aubrey was right beside her, kneeling next to me, hands hovering over my leg like she wanted to fix it right then and there. “We got you, okay? Just stay still.”

I clenched my teeth, blinking against the bright overhead lights. My heartbeat roared in my ears, drowning out the murmurs from the crowd.

Someone—I think it was KK—was trying to wave off the cameras, but I knew they were on me. It was the Final Four. The whole damn world was watching.

I felt a hand slip into mine, squeezing tight. Paige. “You’re not alone,” she whispered, her voice cracking.

Aubrey, her free hand on my shoulder, nodded. “We’ve been here before. We’ll help you through it.”

I swallowed hard. If there was anyone who knew what I was feeling, it was them. Paige had gone through her knee rehabs. Aubrey had been through it too.

The trainer finally made it onto the court, but I barely registered what they were saying. All I knew was that I was being lifted, carried, and as the pain flared sharper, I squeezed my eyes shut and gripped their hands like a lifeline.

The days after the injury blurred together in a haze of pain meds; morphine and muscle relaxers to be exact, doctor visits, and an overwhelming sense of dread.

I cried when the MRI confirmed what I already knew. ACL tear. Surgery needed.

I cried when I saw my teammates leave for practice without me, leavening e in the PT room by myself.

I cried when I woke up in the middle of the night, my knee throbbing, and felt Paige pulling me into her chest while Aubrey rubbed circles on my back.

“It’s okay to be mad,” Aubrey whispered one night when I couldn’t sleep, my frustration bubbling into tears again.

“It’s okay to be sad too,” Paige added, resting her forehead against mine. “But you’re not doing this alone.”

I didn’t respond, but I let them hold me until I drifted off again.

The first time I tried to put weight on my leg post-surgery, I nearly collapsed.

“Whoa, whoa, I got you,” Aubrey rushed forward, her hands firm on my waist as I struggled to balance on crutches.

Paige, sitting nearby, her own knee bouncing in nervous energy, smiled at me. “You look better than I did my first time.”

I rolled my eyes, gritting my teeth as I forced myself to stand taller. “Yeah, well, I don’t feel better.”

Aubrey gave me a soft look. “That’s why we’re here.”

And they were.

Every. Single. Step.

Paige came to PT sessions with me, encouraging me when I wanted to quit.

Aubrey made sure I was eating, stretching, not overdoing it.

They both celebrated the smallest wins, even when I didn’t think they were worth celebrating.

When I managed to bend my knee to ninety degrees, Paige clapped so loud the whole PT room stared.

When I took my first unassisted steps, Aubrey wiped a tear from her eye, even though she swore she wasn’t crying.

And when I finally—finally—ran for the first time, they were both there, waiting at the end of the track, arms wide open.

The Mental Battle

Physical recovery was one thing. The mental part? That was the hardest.

I didn’t realize how much I had tied my identity to basketball until I couldn’t play it. I felt useless. Lost. Like I wasn’t me anymore.

One night, I sat on my bed, staring at my brace, feeling the weight of everything crash down. “What if I never feel the same again?”

Paige, sitting next to me, didn’t hesitate. “You won’t.”

I snapped my head toward her, surprised.

She gave me a knowing look. “You won’t feel the same. You’ll feel stronger.”

Aubrey, standing by the door, nodded. “And we’ll be right there with you when you do.”

I wanted to believe them.

Some days, I did.

Some days, I didn’t.

But they never let me give up.

Not when I hesitated before cutting on my knee for the first time.

Not when I had nightmares about reinjuring it.

Not when I doubted if I’d ever play like myself again.

And slowly, day by day, I started to believe them.

One Year Later

I walked back into the arena, my heart pounding as I took in the court, the lights, the banners hanging high above us.

I had worked my ass off for this moment.

And standing beside me, their hands in mine, were the two people who had never let me fall alone.

“You ready?” Aubrey asked, squeezing my hand.

I exhaled, nodding. “Yeah. I am.”

Paige grinned as we headed to the tip off line. “Then let’s get back to work.”

And just like that, I was home again.

---

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                 -Thank You For Reading!🩵🩶

                             -prettygirl-gabi🎀✨️

[wangxianficfinder]

In the mood for..

March 16th

~*~

1. hiii do you know any fics where either wwx or lwj stalk the other, or they both unknowingly stalk each other? @ashxi-wx

you only ever touch me in the dark by sweetlolixo (E, 5k, WangXian, Modern AU, Dark LWJ, Older LWJ, Age Difference, Boypussy, Intersex WWX, Feminization, Rape/Non-con Elements, Dirty Talking LWJ, Stalking, Size Difference, WWX Has a Non-Con Kink, Dark WWX, Daddy Kink, Mirror Sex, Restraints, Virginity Kink, Blindfolds, Deranged4Deranged Wangxian)

~*~

2. Hello! Hope you're doing well! 🩵

I was recently reading For You by 10thNoNamePerson (amazing story) and I was wondering if you could recommend some stories that have detailed fight scenes of WWX just letting loose displaying either his sword fighting skills, talismans or even resentful energy.

Here is an excerpt from "For You" that gives an example of what I'm looking for:

Slash. Stab. Strike. Faster. Faster. I need to go faster!

His movements become a blur, daring to step over the line he has firmly drawn when he gets too immersed into a fight. He can’t stop, won’t stop until Lan Zhan lets him step out. Back out, back out, just back out!

It doesn't really have to be WWX only, it could just have really detailed written fight scenes.

Thank you!! 🩵

❤️ I Started From the Bottom/And Now I’m Rich by x_los (E, 57k, WangXian, WWX/Others, Mutual Pining, Marriage of Convenience, Arranged Marriage, No Sunshot Campaign, Fix-It, WQ Lives, Transmigration, Time Travel, Weddings, Sugar Daddy, Sugar Daddy, Black Widow, Protective Siblings, Dysfunctional Family, Family Bonding, Sugar Baby, consort, Politics, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Crack Treated Seriously) has WWX going toe-to-toe with Madam Yu, if that's any help?

If We Keep Holding On, Just a Bit Longer by Kestral (T, 55k, WangXian, LXC/JGY, JYL/JZX, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Urban Fantasy, Dark Fairytale, and seriously i mean Dark, will include specific content warnings for each chapter, Abuse, Torture, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Second Person, Multiple Povr, eaders are not expected to be familiar with changeling: the lost, trust me though changeling angst is so delicious read this for pain, Fae politics, Fae & Fairies, Non-Chronological, Slow Burn, Secret Relationship) I'm reccing my fic for #2. No wwx fight scenes posted yet, but there are several in the chapter i'm currently working on.

~*~

3. I want to read some fics that are sad and look into grief (especially LWJ’s morning after WWX died). Could it be set during the time period (e.g no modern or time travel AU’s) and have no incest. Bonus points for A-yuan being in it. Thanks mods !!

🔒 It Will Pass (but it is here now) by AmyNChan (G, <1k, LSZ & LWJ, Death, LSZ Needs a Hug, Child LSZ, Good Kid LSZ)

to the act of making noise by words-writ-in-starlight (WordsWritInStarlight) (G, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Father-Son Relationship, inquiry, LSZ is the best of boys and I will not hear debate, Music, Angst, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, [Podfic] to the act of making noise by Ceewelsh, flamingwell, kisahawklin, Rionaa) check out the podfic with music if you want to use even more tissues

Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses by hansbekhart (Not Rated, 19k, LSZ & LWJ, WangXian, dad wangji, LWJ’s Questionable Parenting Skills, Grief/Mourning, Recovery, Injury Recovery, Hopeful Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Gathered Herbs & Sweet Grasses [podfic] by someplacelikebolivia)

let the yoke fall from our shoulders by occultings (microcomets) (G, LSZ & LWJ, LSZ & WWX, wangxian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Character Study, Mentions of Canonical Character Death, Grief/Mourning, Gusu Lan Juniors Dynamics, let capricorns cathart agenda, Happy Ending, Family Feels, Established Relationship, [Podfic] Cold read of let the yoke fall from our shoulders by kisahawklin)

🧡 Ghosts Shouldn’t by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 15k, WangXian, Grief/Mourning, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Ghosts Shouldn't by ShanaStoryteller [Podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea)) if you don't mind a little canon divergence?

New Perspective by mrcformoso (T, 8k, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Major Character Death, Angst, Hopeful Ending, Fatherhood, Regrets, Flashbacks, POV LWJ, LWJ-centric, Canonical Character Death - WWX, Pining LWJ, LWJ Has Feelings, LWJ Needs a Hug, Character Development, Dead WWX, Introspection, Feelings, LWJ is Bad at Feelings, Character Study, Regretful LWJ, Breaking Toxic Cycles, Canon Compliant, LWJ in Seclusion, Post-LWJ in Seclusion, Child LSZ)

partly frozen, partly flowing by astrolesbian (T, 4k, LXC & LWJ, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Hurt/Comfot, Sibling Relationship)

🔒藕断丝连 by RoseThorne (G, 456, WangXian, LSZ & LWJ, Grief/Mourning, Memory Loss, Memories, POV Third Person, POV LSZ, Rituals, lotuses)

~*~

4. Hiii itmf something cute where teenager WY is a bit older than LZ (like ~3-5 years) and LZ is fuming because he has a huge crush on him! Maybe they just meet as students during CR training arc, or maybe they were betrothed by their parents/guardians for a future political alliance. Shixiong WY is a very charming and competent older disciple and attracts people and friends, and small LZ is both territorical and furious that he likes this annoying and smiling bully (how dare he treat him like a kid?!). Any AU except modern w/o cultivation. Amazing if they get together when both are a bit older. Something fun and sweet, but longer works with angst and happy ending are also okay! Thank you!l

For the Sake of a Smile by Reikosama7716 (Not Rated, 94k, WIP, WangXian, Minor Everyone/WWX, CSSR/WCZ, Older!WWX, Oblivious WWX, Top LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Protective!JC, JZX's Attempt in Public Confession, WWX and his ducklings, Everyone is young and gay for WWX, WWX and Jiāng siblings are cousins, Canon Divergence, LQR Metaphorically Qi-Deviates, WWX in his YLLZ appearance, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Third wheeling of unfortunate sect disciples, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

Conquering the Emperor by catbrainedschemes (E, 21k, wangxian, Historical AU, Imperial China, Emperor WWX, General LWJ, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Historically Inaccurate, Misunderstandings, Fluff, Eventual Smut, Light Angst, Non-Graphic Violence, Getting Together, Sexual Tension, Some Plot, Slow Burn, Happy Ending)

you'll love me at once (the way you did once upon a dream) by sweetlolixo (T, 18k, WangXian, Dark Fairytale, Inspired by Maleficent (2014), Wingfic, Sleeping Beauty with a twist, Maleficent WWX, Prince LWJ, Older WWX, Younger LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, True Love's Kiss)

🔒As Years Pass Us By by Loqui (G, 32k, WIP, WangXian, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiangs, Age Difference, Younger LWJ, Older WWX, LWJ Has Feelings, Pining LWJ, Introspective LWJ, Canon Divergence, Fluff and Humor, Slow Burn, very light, Light Angst, WWX is a Lan, POV LWJ)

I risk it all (just to be with you) by Manu_K (G, 2k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, will mostly follow the book plot, Pining LWJ, Pining WWX)

~*~

5. Been rereading Delight in Misery by nirejseki and it's got me in the mood for more fic where LWJ joins the Jiang sect after WWX's death or resurrection, if anyone else has written that? Thank you! @aroace-lukeskywalker

The Sun Sets Like a Whispered Regret by OrdinaryRealities (T, 41k, JC & LWJ, WangXian, Resurrect Your Gays, LWJ and JC enemies to brothers, MDZS Big Bang 2020, Minor Character Death, discussion of characters who have died, And the trauma of that, Kidfic, Sort Of, characters working through trauma together, Give MXY some GD agency, Happy Ending)

picking up the pieces by KouriArashi (M, 111k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Alternate Canon, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Regret, Family, Kid Fic, Families of Choice, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Politics, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, canon typical political bullshit, Eventual Happy Ending) Jiang Yanli becomes sect leader following Jiang Cheng’s death and Lan Zhan moves to Lotus Pier where he and Jiang Yanli raise their children together after Wei Ying’s death in picking up the pieces

~*~

6. Hello, I have a nsfw itmf request:

Can you recommend works where wangxian ust is progressing into lz going silently forward with intimacy waiting for WY to tell him to stop (almost like gay chicken but lz is not joking, he just can't help himself) and WY is speechless but curious and letting him.

The way it is in "When you like somebody bite your tongue" by sophiahelix, "oh no, what'll I do, my perky ass groped on the train" by sweetlolixo or "Summer heat" by athena_crikey

Thank you! 😘

~*~

7. Hey y'all! I was in the mood for some fics where the Lans treat Wei Wuxian as family. Not because of adoption, but just because Wangji loves him so much, so they, by extension, love him too. Do you know any fics like that? Thanks a million in advance! @fero-setsuri-blog

When we were small by deliciousblizzardshark (T, 7k, LXC & LQR & LWJ, LQR & WWX, WangXian, JFM & LQR, Modern, Kid Fic, Good Uncle LQR, Neurodivergent LWJ, Baby LWJ, Baby WWX, Parenthood, Homophobia, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, POV LQR, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, Grief/Mourning, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, When we were small [Podfic] by Stasia Reader (Stasia), [Podfic] When we were small by sisi_rambles)

Seasons of Falling Flowers by merakily (G, 40k, WangXian, LQR & WWX, LQR & LWJ, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Character Study, Introspection, In-Laws, Golden Core, Emotional Baggage, Family Bonding, Protective LWJ, Good Parent LQR, LQR has feelings, LQR & WWX become friends)

Just Say Yes Series by edenwolfie (T/M, 338k, WangXian, Matchmaking, Pining, Getting Together, Canon Divergence, POV Alternating, Fluff, First Kiss, Declarations Of Love, Humor, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Good Uncle LQR, Engagement, Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It)

Deeper Seasons by piecrust (G, 8k, LQR & WWX, WangXian)

~*~

8. Similar fanfic Set in Stone by thesongofsirens with Lan Zhan rejecting Wei ying? Thank you in advance 💕✨ @yuukikonnos-world

When the Words Stop Coming by mrcformoso (T, 7k, WangXian, Canon Compliant, POV WWX, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Pre-Sunshot Campaign, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canonical Character Death, Love Confessions, Rejection, LWJ is a Panicked Gay, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Trauma, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending) the rejection is out of gay panic tho

~*~

9. Hello, I'm in the mood for docs where wwx was adopted by or related to someone and the relatives loves him, spoils him, and nurtures his genius and boasts about him to others. It can be a kid wwx or whatever. Something similar to the fic "Sunset, Sunrise" by Ariana Deralte or "All Things Belong"" by kuroi_atropos. Thank you!

🔒 shades of grey spill from my veins (bleeding ink all over the page) by Reverie (cl410) (M, 58k, NieLan, WangXian, SangNing, POV NMJ, Canon Divergence, Joining the “Wei Wuxian raised by the Nie Sect” Club, Mentions of WWX’s life on the streets, Hurt/Comfort, Accidental Sibling Acquisition, Single Dad NMJ, NHS & WWX Friendship, Fluff, Humor, Happy Ending, Everyone Lives AU, Protective NMJ, Sunshot Campaign, Some angst, Blood and Injury, Kidnapping, Protective Siblings, Found Family) Wei Ying is brought into the Nie sect as a child and nurtured and loved in shades of grey...and Heart of the Beast

Heart of the Beast by WaitForTheSnitch (E, 488k, WangXian, WWX Isn't Adopted by the Jiāngs, Adopted WWX, WWX is a Niè, Canon Divergence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Oblivious WWX, Protective NMJ, Scheming NHS, Protective NHS, Soft NMJ, NMJ is So Done, NHS Is A Little Shit, Pining, LWJ Has Feelings)

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming) (link in 14B)

~*~

10. hello! an ask for ITMF! fics where wwx is a victim of/recovering from rape/sexual assault? preferably a central point of the story, any setting/au etc! thank you!!!

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas  (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma)  

~*~

11. I don't know if this group is still active, but I was watching Living Dead and had this thought... I wonder if there are any fics that follow on from the movie or tie Wangxian back into it. @lovelyseraph

~*~

12. Hello, 🤗 Could you please recommend something in the mood of "truth will be out on the video" and "Black sun"? Thank you!

An Unscheduled Stream by trippednfell (M, 77k, WIP, WangXian, Modern AU, Modern Cultivation, Misunderstandings, BAMF WWX, BAMF Wen Popo, WWX cultivates resentful energy but keeps his golden core, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Presumed Enemies to Lovers, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, Time Skips, Dual Cultivation - Not the Sexy Kind, but ALSO the sexy kind, POV Multiple, Hurt/Comfort, Horny wound tending)

~*~

13. Hello! ITMF great Madam Yu stories, where she is a badass, independent and straightforward (read vicious and unashamed about it) woman, a strong cultivator and a great, caring in her not so gentle way, protective and fierce mother and aunt for the whole Yungmen trio! I really crave some good maternal figures for them lately. Also kudos if Jiang Cheng is both her little copy and a mother's boy, and if they both are badass and protective towards Wuxian and Yanli, especially towards their lovers. Thanks! ☺️ @shellennium

Sun Stained Lotus by MidnightLightHowlite (T, 70k, WangXian, YZY & WWX, Good Parent YZY, non abusive non toxic YZY, WWX still has his complexes tho, Angst, Fluff, Grandmasters of Miscommunication, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Good siblings, Trauma!, Death!, lots of death!, LWJ wants to help but he's emotionally stunted, LQR is a responsible adult!, sworn sisters YZY and CSSR, Emotional Damage, Suicidal Thoughts, Self depreciation)

suddenly my eyes are open (everything comes into focus) by eraiklys (G, 3k, YZY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Comfort, Mother-Son Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, im sorry JFM but youre the bad guy in the verse, very gay undertones, Like, YZY and CSSR gay undertones, Cynophobia, Dog, JC's dogs, JYL is a sweetheart, Everyone Is Gay, Everyone Needs A Hug)

🔒Aunt Knows Best by retired (misbehavingvigilante) (M, 10k, WWX & YZY, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Character Study, Crossdressing, Dysfunctional Family, Gender Identity, Fix-It, Sexism, Trans WWX, Good Parent YZY)

Zephyrs Blowing Below the Violet by Comfect (T, 64k, FengYuan, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Bad to Good Parenting, cursing, Anger Management, No Golden Core Transfer, Bad Parent YZY, Good Parent YZY, POV YZY, YZY Learning and Adapting, Not Everything Ends Up Sad, Happy Ending, YZY & JFM Live)

heavy is the head that wears the crown by izukillme (T, 41k, YZY/JFM, YZY/CSSR, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Canon, BAMF YZY, YZY-centric, Good Parent YZY, Bad Parent JFM, Jiang Family Fix-It, Fix-It, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Canon-Typical Violence, Canonical Child Abuse, Child Abuse, note: the suicide itself is offscreen, but is referenced multiple times through the story, Lesbian YZY)

🧡 Heaven Has No Rage by flipfloppandas  (M, 51k, WWX & YZY, JFM/YZY, implied wangxian, WWX/WC, WWX/others, rape/non-con, modern, hurt/comfort, protective YZY, good parent YZY, hospitals, medical procedures, vomiting, trauma) link in #10

🔒Hope series by RoseThorne (M, 69k, WangXian, WIP, Transmigration, Time Travel Fix-It, Memory Loss, Angst, Recovery, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Parent YZY, Referenced Sexual Slavery, Blood and Gore, Sexual Tension, Arranged Marriage, Grief, POV Third Person, POV Alternating, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Good Parent LQR, Clairvoyance, Butterfly Effect, Kid Fic, Epistolary, Resentful Energy, Cultivation Sect Politics, Character Death, Assassination Attempt(s), Attempted Kidnapping, Hostage Situations, Mentioned WCZ Disobeying Orders, Explosions, Yin Iron, Grief/Mourning, POV WWX)

~*~

14. A) Any and all fics where WWX embraces being Lan Er Furen and it's the best Furen Cloud Recesses has ever had! Or at least is acknowledge! Does anyone know of one?

B) I was just thinking if there was a fic where WWX is mistreated and/or evicted from the clans by the Jiangs very publicly and EVERYONE knows he is a prodigy and wants him, but WHR arrives first and basically gives him normal levels of kindness and wwx is almost like "daddy"? And he even promises to arrange a marriage for him with LWJ and all. Basically WWX being treated like he deserved, everyone wanting him, and WHR getting him and as a bonus, the second jade o lan. @lostandmessedup

14B)

Scars of Lightning by The_peregrine_falcon (T, 6k, YZY & WWX, WWX & WRH, WangXian, YZY’s A+ Parenting, Canon Divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Wen WWX, zidian, YZY is a bitch, Canon-Typical Violence, Blood and Injury, Major Character Injury, Heavy Angst, Lotus Pier, Nightless City, Young WWX, Muteness, Hurt kind of comfort) has Wei Ying thrown out of the Jiang sect and he’s found with injuries that Madam Yu gave him by Wen Qing and Wen Ruohan. These next ones aren’t quite what they’re asking for either because Wei Ying hasn’t been cast out by the Jiangs in these, but they involve Wen Ruohan going after Wei Ying because he sees his genius and because he suspects Wei Ying is his grandson:

All Things Belong by kuroi_atropos (M, 93k, WRH & WWX, WangXian, WWX is a Wēn, Abuse, Whipping, Manipulations, Warning: WRH, Smart WWX, Possessive Behavior, Warning: JGS, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Past Rape/Non-con, Society Level Victim Blaming, Victim Blaming)

and

Sunset, Sunrise by Ariana Deralte (ArianaDeralte) (T, 59k, WWX & WRH, WangXian, WIP, Time Travel Fix-It, Crack, Temporary Character Death, sorry I killed a-Yuan for a few paragraphs before the time travel, WWX is a Wen, Genius WWX, WRH gets to rewatch the series as a treat, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, in this house we acknowledge that all the sects have flaws, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, WWX Has ADHD, Bad Parents JFM & YZY, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Autistic LWJ, Loss of Limbs)

~*~

15. Hello! This one is for ITMF: Any recommendations for Post-canon fics where characters get some sort of closure/bonding? Like, Yunmeng bros reconciliation, Nie Huaisang and Wei Wuxian being friends again, Wei Wuxian learning to love himself, Jin Ling and Wei Wuxian bonding, The Juniors being protective of Wei Wuxian, etc.? (not all of this has to be necessarily present in one single fic!! My only main requirements are Post-Canon, The Juniors, and Wei Wuxian)

(Some fics I have read with these are "Tell some storm" by qurbat, "Mark My Place" by BenevolentErrancy, and "The stone-filled sea" by yukla. All of them are absolutely amazing works and I'm looking for something similar)

Also, thank you for the last ITMF help (Feb 2, I think?), I enjoyed all the fic recs! @mysteriouslytragic

🔒 Lan by AmyNChan (G, 3k, LSZ & LJY, Family, they're cousins or brothers or something your honor, LJY has enough faith in LSZ to move a mountain)

🔒 I have a father by AmyNChan (G, 1k, LSZ & WWX, Some things stay the same, Derogatory)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff)

hills and rivers are waiting by LtLJ (T, 15k, WangXian, JL & WWX, Feels, Canon-Typical Violence, Case Fic, BAMF WWX)

Rotten Work by ShanaStoryteller (Not Rated, 63k, WangXian, WWX & JL, Post-Canon, Protective WWX, Protective JL, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Reluctant Matchmaker JL)

the place your heart inhabits by Fleetling (T, 8k, WangXian, LWJ & LSZ & WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, Post-Canon Fix-It, Father Figures, father-son bonding, Getting Together, Mutual Pining, Humor, Oblivious WWX, Pining WWX, WWX-centric, Good Kid LSZ, Adopted LSZ, Wingman LSZ, LSZ is LWJ & WWX's Child, Good LSZ, WWX goes back to gusu, resentful energy, Golden Core, wwx has both and it's a struggle, Unreliable Narrator)

🔒What Is Left Over by Loriqod (T, 30k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Yunmeng Shuangjie, Yunmeng brothers, Post-Canon Fix-It, WWX Has a New Golden Core, Happy Ending, WangXian in Love, bite-sized angst, Canon-Typical Violence, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Training Montage)

~*~

16. hiiiii do you have any canon divergence fics where wwx goes back to gusu with lwj? @ashxi-wx

Do not take that which does not belong to you by Selene210 (E, 7k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Protective LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Jealous LWJ, Possessive Sex, Kidnapping, Murder, Blood and Violence, wangxian married and have a son, Explicit Sexual Content, Biting, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Bath Sex, Rimming, Anal Sex, Anal Fingering, Top LWJ/Bottom WWX, WWX has an angry LWJ kink, Wangxian canon breeding kink, LWJ canon massive dick)

🔒 Swordless by WithBroomBefore (G, 32k, WangXian, JC & JYL & WWX, LQR & WWX, Established Relationship, Canon Divergence, WWX goes to Gusu, Happy Ending, Trust, Healing, unofficial title: The Communication AU, Golden Core Reveal, Crying, Feelings, Trans Character, AFAB LWJ, philosophy, Kissing, POV WWX)

gone with the silence by SpeedingCheetah (M, 63k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX & LWJ, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Canon Divergence, Arranged Marriage, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Self-Harm, Major Character Injury, Injury Recovery, Eating Disorder Not Otherwise Specified, POV LWJ, WangXian-centric, Location: Cloud Recesses, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, Golden Core Reveal, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WangXian Adopt LSZ, Ambiguous/Open Ending, a sorta-kinda-maybe fix it story, WWX Goes to Gusu, triggers are in the notes)

Practical Considerations by teawater, the_anthropologist (E, 97k, WangXian, JC & WWX, LXC & WWX, LQR & WWX, Arranged Marriage, Canon Divergence, Found Family, Spouses to Lovers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Politics, Scheming, Lán Elders are assholes, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, eventually BAMF LXC, learning to make decisions, Learning Self-worth, Self-Esteem Issues, Sweet Wangxian, Domestic Fluff, Fix-It, JC is a big asshole, he improves somewhat but it’s open-ended, WWX learns to stand up for himself, Quote: Come Back to Gusu With Me, POV wwx, POV LWJ, POV JC, Golden Core Reveal, Teacher wwx, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Alcohol as a Coping Mechanism, Past Suicidal Thoughts, Post-Sunshot Campaign, WWX Protection Squad, Feelings Realization, WWX protector of the twin jades, Protective LWJ, Protective WWX, Protective LQR, Demonic Cultivator WWX, WWX is Loved, Married WangXian, Genius WWX, Everybody Lives)

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

17. Hi I'm itmf fics that A) confront what jc was doing to demonic cultivators after wwx died and B) fics that are jc critical/not jc friendly

17A)

Symmetry by Vir_Abelasan (M, 13k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, One-Sided ChengXian, One-Sided ChengZhui, Canon Divergence, LSZ is raised by wwx, Wwx still dies sorry, Revenge, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dark LSZ, Manipulation, Power Imbalance, Torture, Not JC Friendly, JC’s Canonical 13 Years Murder Spree, BAMF LSZ, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, LSZ Gets to Go Apeshit)

The plagues of Jiang Wanyin by Lyna_Mei (T, 54k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Cultivation Sect Politics, Family Feels, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Torture, Minor Character Death, Not JC Friendly, JC suffers, Canon-Typical Violence)

17B)

to heal with the sunrise by justdoityoufucker (orphan_account) (T, 2k, Minor ZhuiLing, Canon Divergence, Not JC Friendly, Canon JC Characteristics, Bad Uncle JC, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Child Abuse, Healing, Best Friends, Non-Linear Narrative, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending)

These Barren Lands In Between by lingering_song (T, 4k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Married WangXian, POV Outsider, Misunderstandings, Cultivation Sect Politics, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Not JC Friendly, No JC & WWX Reconciliation)

The Price of a Golden Core by AshayaTReldai (M, 9k, WangXian, Angst, Tension, Aggression, JC pays the price for his choices, demanding letters, JC is a Brat, Supportive Lan Brothers, WWX deserves the best, Life Debt, Sad Ending Sad Ending for JC)

🔒💖 Resilience. by Vrishchika (T, 7k, WangXian, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Self-Indulgent)

on restitution by glitteringmoonlight (M, 98k, LSZ & WWX, WWX & JL, WangXian, Dark JC, not JC friendly, Captivity, Angst with a Happy Ending, no reconciliation, Crossdressing, Non-Graphic Torture, Violence)

🧡 Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WangXian, WWX & WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Angst, Not JC Friendly, BAMF WWX)

Meet you at a different place by tawaen (M, 57k, WQ & WN, WN & MXY & WQ, WQ & WWX & WN, Eventual WangXian, Ghost General WN, Ghost WQ, Canon Divergence, WQ comes back to haunt the cultivation world, Bad idea to kill the one person who didn’t kill anyone, Cultivation World Critical, Not JC Friendly, Wen Remnants Deserve Better, Sīsī Deserves Better, MXY Deserves Better, POV WQ)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons)

🔒 Bright Voice Roughly Rendered Softly Silent by Preludian_Staves (T, 26k, WangXian, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon Divergence, No Golden Core Transfer, Muteness, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Not JC Friendly, Confessions, Angst, Choking, Red String of Fate, Appearances by Paperman WWX, Inventor WWX, Good Uncle LQR, WWX Goes to Cloud Recesses, Feelings Realization, Caretaking, Supportive Lan Family, Genius WWX, Angst with a Happy Ending, WangXian Get a Happy Ending, Protective LWJ, Protective Lan Family, Character Death (not wwx or lwj))

🔒 Worth of a Good Man by Vrishchika (G, 6k, WangXian, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Not Jiang Sect Friendly, Not JC Friendly)

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[4theitgirls]

hii <3 i absolutely love all your workout posts soo soo much <3 thank u for them ! i just had a request if you could make a post about a weekly plan for beginners ? like someone who's just recently starting exercising for weight loss and overall health as a student who's prepping for a national exam , ive spent the entirety of 2024 on my desk , its caused me back issues , weight gain , joint pain and more , now that i finally have time i'd love to feel healthy and strong again <3 it would be a huge huge help if you post it <33 thank u a million times

hi lovely! i’m so glad my posts have helped you. most of the videos i’m going to be posting in the near future are likely going to be beginner friendly because i have had a flare up of inflammation in my shoulder, so i will not be going too hard for a bit. the videos that will work for you will vary from mine and anyone else’s, so the actual videos you do are really up to you and how you’re feeling day to day. however, i can suggest a split for you to try and give you some tips and channel recommendations!

split:

monday: full body strength

- if you have joint issues, strength training can definitely help with that! just make sure that you are doing low-impact exercises to keep pressure off of your joints. madfit and heather robertson have a lot of these types of videos, both with equipment and without! you can also do pilates for this if you feel it will benefit you better, and i have a beginner pilates routine masterlist posted.

tuesday: cardio & mobility

- same as monday, just be sure that you are doing low-impact exercises for cardio. i have a masterlist for cardio routines as well in case you need some recommendations. for mobility, i recommend heather robertson and julia.reppel on youtube. mobility is great for improving joint health!

wednesday: lower body

- you can really do any form of strength training here, with or without weights, pilates, etc. i have a lower body masterlist up as well, but i would recommend trying some mat/lying workouts to build up some muscle before moving into more intense exercises for lower body day. i have a couple of those masterlists posted as well!

thursday: active recovery

- this can include so many things, including mobility, stretching, yoga, walking, or anything else you can do that is gentle on your body. again, i love heather robertson’s active recovery routines.

friday: upper body

- if you have joint issues in your upper body, i would be gentle on upper body days, meaning just don’t push yourself too hard and if a movement doesn’t feel good or causes you pain, stop. emi wong and hailey c. have great upper body workouts that do not require any equipment.

saturday: cardio & core work

- same thing with the low-impact cardio. core work has so many benefits and is great for stabilizing your spine and, in turn, reducing the risk of injury to your joints. madfit has a lot of ab workouts, but you can really find them on any workout channel you like!

sunday: rest or active recovery

NOTE: please make sure, especially if you’re a beginner, that you are stretching after each workout! this will reduce soreness and risk of injury.

[firewasabeast]

okay so I wrote a fic based off this post that I made earlier today so... enjoy!

read here or on ao3

Thomas Kinard is eighteen years old and he just graduated basic training.

He's standing among nearly two hundred other graduates, all filled with some form of anxiety and excitement.

They're all standing at attention, although Tommy knows everyone's eyes are searching the audience.

They've all been given their orders.

They stand at attention until a family member or loved one comes and taps them out. Only then can they be at ease.

Tommy had called his dad a couple weeks ago. Left him a message on the landline about the date and time of his graduation. He hadn't expected a call back. The payphones at basic weren't great and you didn't have much spare time to be on them, but he knew his dad would get the message.

He wrote a letter to his grandparents, just in case. His aunt on his mom's side, and his older cousins too.

They'd been proud when he told them he was graduating early, joining the service, would be celebrating his eighteenth birthday in boot camp.

Even his dad has slapped him on the back and told him he was glad he was finally becoming a real man.

Tommy's eyes scanned the crowd, but it was hard to make anyone out.

He waited patiently through the ceremony. His heart skipped a beat or two when people began making their way toward the graduates.

He stood still, only his eyes darting around as the people beside him began to get tapped out. He listened to the cries of parents who had done nothing but miss their children for the past 10 weeks. Saw grown men cry at the site of their moms. Heard the laughter from boyfriends and girlfriends who surprised their partner by showing up. Watched little kids run to their sibling and wrap their arms around them in a hug.

He was certain that only a few minutes had passed, but it felt like hours.

As more and more seconds passed, his heart continued to pound, but for a different reason now.

Surely he wasn't the only one. As he glanced around, he didn't see anyone else waiting. No, he couldn't see everybody, but he was near the back in the center row so he could see most people, and they all had somebody with them.

A hand tapped his shoulder and his head jerked to the side, eyes wide. He felt a lump in the back of his throat when he saw his commanding officer standing beside him. He had the softest look on his face that Tommy had ever seen.

Pity.

“At ease, soldier.”

Tommy takes a breath, relaxes his posture. His CO moves in front of him, shakes his hand. “You've done well, Kinard. You should be proud.”

Tommy nods. Can't find his voice to speak.

He feels tears in his eyes, but he blinks them away.

He shouldn't have expected anyone to show up anyway.

He lowers his head as he walks off the field. A part of him wonders what it was all even for?

*****

Thomas Kinard is forty-eight years old and he just got promoted to captain.

It's not something he ever thought about until the past couple of years. He wouldn't get to fly much as captain. There's more paperwork, more politics, more people to answer to.

But there's also more stability. Especially with being the captain at Harbor. A regular schedule, forty-eight on and ninety-six off.

It was safer. There had been a scare a couple years back. Engine failure on his bird. He went plummeting toward the ground and, if not for a dense area of trees slowing his descent, the chopper would have exploded the second it hit the ground.

He survived, obviously, but his injuries were severe. He had a broken pelvis, fractured leg, thirty stitches down his arm, cranial bleeding, and ended up in a coma for nearly two weeks.

The recovery was long and so, so painful but he had Buck by his side every step of the way. Even the times he'd push Buck away, tell him to please just leave him alone, Buck stayed. He stayed and he learned all the physical therapy techniques and he loved Tommy through all of it.

Flying hadn't felt the same since. He was relieved when he had fully recovered. When he took his recertification classes and passed with flying colors.

But the freedom he had always felt with being in the sky changed into something completely different. There was anxiety. Relief when he was back on solid ground.

He stared out into the crowd, at the little girl sitting on Buck's lap.

Juniper. Six years old and looking more grown up every day. She was glancing all around the room, her eyes never staying in one place for very long. She kept pointing at things, leaning back to whisper into Buck's ear. He'd nod, smile, then whisper back. Tommy was sure they were swapping facts.

So much like her father, he thought.

He'd never forget the day he got home from the hospital. Juniper, only four then, staring at him as he was wheeled into the house. She was clutching onto Eddie's hand, her knuckles snow white. She hadn't gotten to see him in nearly a month, besides an occasional Facetime call.

Once he had gotten settled into the hospital bed that had been delivered to the house the day before, he called her over to him. She slowly climbed up onto the bed, Buck helping her settle beside Tommy without really touching him.

“You scared me, Papa,” she spoke quietly, eyes wet with unshed tears. “Please don't do it again.”

No, flying was never the same after that.

His eyes wander over the rest of the crowd.

A small smile breaks out over his face when he realizes he knows everyone in the first two rows.

Besides his husband and daughter, Maddie, Chimney, and Jee were there. Hen- or, Captain Wilson, now- and Karen. Eddie, Ravi, and Athena. Behind his family were all the firefighters from Harbor. They had been thrilled when they heard Tommy would be the new captain. He'd been taking cues from Bobby recently, starting special dinners with the crew and getting to know them better before he even became captain. He wanted his team to know he'd be there for them, that they could count on him. From the excitement they showed when it was officially announced that he'd be the new captain, he was fairly certain he'd done a good job so far.

The only person not in the audience today was Bobby. But, that was simply because Chief Nash was the one leading the ceremony.

Tommy takes another look around at the family in front of him. He waves at Juniper. She grins wide, showing off her missing front teeth, waves enthusiastically.

His eyes meet Evan's. Tommy gives him a wink. Buck smiles, winks back.

He straightens his posture as the ceremony begins.

He thinks, this... this is what it's all for.

[aworldinsideaperson]

Loss-Robert “BOB” Floyd

Pairing: Robert “Bob” Floyd x wife!reader

Plot: The worst day of Bob’s life.

Warnings: Critical injuries, medical themes (probably many inaccuracies), Angst, sadness, potential for death, car accident, talk of Carol Bradshaw’s death.

Word Count: 2,967

Robert Floyd had few fears. If asked, he would say the list of things that scared him was rather short. Spiders, talking to new people, and death. Though as he walked in circles around the hospital waiting room he wondered if the only thing that truly terrified him would come to pass.

He couldn’t tell if it had been seconds or hours since he arrived, a phone call he never expected to receive putting him in auto pilot; one moment standing beside his friends smiling to being in the faux comforting waiting area trying to piece together the words the doctor had uttered.

Accident. Bleeding. Severe. Surgery. Everything we can. Everything we can. Everything. We. Can. Bob Floyds one, true, debilitating fear coming to fruition. The loss of his wife.

He was hardly aware of his surroundings, pacing in a never ending circle, determined to walk a hole into the floor of this hospital. One by one his friends came, calmly laying a hand on his shoulder and taking a seat to watch Bob’s cyclical parade of one.

Phoenix stood from her seat, placing a hand on the man’s shoulder as he came to a stop. “Bob, why don’t you sit down.”

His head shook violently as the tears came to his eyes and his breath caught as he stuttered quickly. “I- I- I can’t. I can’t shit- sit c- c- cause they’re gonna- gonna be out any- ugh- any second and ugh they’re um- they’re gonna - they’re gonna tell me she’s okay and- and I- I just- I just- I gotta be ready. Cause- Cause if I'm standing they’ll know who to talk to and- and there won’t be any kind of um mix up with- with who to- who to talk to. So I’m gonna stand and I’m gonna wait and- and she’s gonna be fine. She’s gonna be fine and- and- and- and-” He could feel his heart beginning to race again and he found it difficult to get a breath as the panic began to rise in his chest once again.

Nat took his hand and squeezed to tightly in hopes of grounding him as she spoke gently. “What if I stand for a little while, you sit, take a breath, and I’ll stand. So they know.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took a deep breath and nodded. “Thank you.” He said softly as he squeezed her hand and moved back to the seat Natasha had vacated.

Bob sat between Bradley and Jake, taking a deep shaking breath, and Natasha stood. She took up post for her backseater, pacing in his place; half an hour she paced before Bradley took her place, then Jake after him. A change of guard every thirty minutes as each of his coworkers, his friends, his family, took turns standing and pacing and waiting. His people being there for him as much if not more than his wife.

As Bob stands, ready to let Maverick have the seat he’s vacating is when news finally comes. Striding toward the naval group was a tall man with a stoic look. “Mister Floyd?” Feeling as though the air has caught in his chest once again Robert Floyd only nods and takes a single step closer.

He tries to keep his head high with confidence as the man before him stands rigid and places his hands behind his back, his face still set without emotion. Bob is sure he’s about to get the worst news of his life, quickly playing out if anyone would be fast enough to stop him from walking into traffic. Then the doctor’s lips start to move.

“My name is Doctor Michaels, would you like to go somewhere more private?”

Robert Floyd looks around the room, filled with some of the people who cared about him most, people who’d kept him alive, people he’d kept alive, his family, and he shook his head as tears began to well up in his eyes.

Nodding, Dr. Michaels continued. “Your wife is on her way out of surgery and into recovery. Making it through the surgery was tough but she did make it. She is by no means out of the woods and I don’t want to give you a false sense of hope but you can come back and stay with her while we monitor her and get a room ready.”

Dr. Michaels began to walk away, leading Bob toward a double door as he continued to speak. “Over the next few hours we can discuss the extent of her injuries and what recovery may look like going forward.” He stopped beside a clear glass wall and Bob averted his eyes, keeping his focus on the doctor as he continued to speak. “She’s not out of the woods but making it through the surgery should be seen as a positive step.” Reaching out and placing a hand on Bob’s shoulder Dr. Michaels attempted a reassuring smile of sorts. Peaking for the first time at his badge he saw a yellow line across the bottom and the word ‘Resident’ in bold script. He wondered if this was the first time he’d had to deliver poor news. If the worst day of Bob’s life was a sort of milestone for the young man before him. “You can head in whenever you’re ready.” Squeezing his shoulder Dr. Michaels turned away and continued to walk down the hall.

Squeezing his eyes tightly Bob breathed deeply and finally turned to the door the opened automatically before him. Stepping inside the room he was greeted to a barely lit room, two nurses moving beside his wife tending to her. Tucking a blanket around her legs, hanging bags from her IV pole, quietly finishing and moving from her bedside. Both nurses gave him a small, sad smile as the left the room.

He couldn’t bring himself to move. He couldn’t bring himself to look up from the floor. The beeping. The pumping of the ventilator. He wasn’t ready to attach the surrounding sounds with an image. It feels like an eternity before he feels he can look at her. She doesn’t look like herself. Hooked up to machines, bags of medication dripping into her body, bruises and cuts marking every inch of skin he can see. It’s not until he sniffles that he realizes the tears he’s been bottling for hours have finally broken free. He moves slowly across the room, sitting in the chair beside the hospital bed. He reaches out to brush his fingers over her hand, fingers then slipping into her palm and drawing patterns on the soft skin. The only place that seems to be free from cuts.

Letting out a breath he trains his eyes on the face of the woman he’s loved for so long. “Hello there Mrs. Floyd, it’s me, Mr. Floyd your husband. I’m here darlin’.

Hours had passed, the sun long since set when a hand was once again placed on his shoulder. His fingers still drawing on the skin of his wife’s palm as he looked up at several staff members shuffling into the room. The woman holding his shoulder spoke gently. “We’re going to transfer her to the ICU now. The process of moving patients can be overwhelming for family so if you’d like to come with me I have some paperwork for you to work on; you can it back to the waiting room and I’ll come get you when she’s all settled?”

Bob shook his head, turning back to look at the woman he loved. “I’d much rather stay.”

“Truthfully Mr. Floyd-” She began before being cut off by Bob.

“It’s Lieutenant. Sorry she’s always on me about correcting that.” He didn’t have a habit of interrupting people. In fact if his mother had been in the room she would have attempted to scold him like he was a little boy again. But his wife was always addamet about correcting his title. Said he worked hard for it and deserved to have it recognized. She’s been so proud of his promotion she’d moaned lieutenant for hours that night.

“Lieutenant Floyd.” She began again. “Truthfully, she’s due for more sedation and there is a probability that she’s come out of it enough to experience some significant pain during the transfer. You need to take care of yourself too and you don’t need to experience that. Please. Let me come get you when we have her all settled.” She reached for the hand he had dangling over the armrest and squeezed it in her own. “I promise you if things take a turn in the time you’re away I will come and get you quicker than a flash.”

Bob looked into her eyes and as his shoulders relaxed he nodded. He squeezed wife’s hand once more, and whispered that he’d be right back as he kissed her forehead. Then he turned from the bed, following the woman out of the room and towards the nurse’s station. With a sad smile she hands him a stack of papers, a clipboard, and a pen.

“Here is that. Take your time with it. There is a lot of information and questions in there so don’t feel like you have to do it all at once.” Turning around she reached for a large opaque bag with the hospital’s name and logo printed on the front and handed it to him. “Here are her belongings. Most of the clothing was unsalvageable but everything is in there except…” Her eyes darted around the space in front of her as she searched for something. “Aha! This is the jewelry she was wearing when she came in, including her wedding ring.” Placing the small bag in his hand and wrapping his fingers around it as she squeezed his hand tightly. A feeling of comfort passed through him as she held it tightly. “I’ll come get you the moment she’s settled.”

Looking into her eyes Bob took her in for a moment. A short woman, early 50’s, graying brown hair and deep brown eyes radiating kindness. She reminded him of his mother and tears came to his eyes again. “Thank you.” His words hardly audible.

“Do you need help finding the waiting room?”

Shaking his head Bob slipped the small bag into his pocket. “No, I remember. Thank you ma’am.” She nodded and Bob turned to walk back to the room where his nightmare started.

Walking back through the double doors he looked up to find the waiting room still half full of faces he knew and a gentle smile came to his face. “What’re you guys still doing here?”

Mickey answered. “We wanted to be here in case either of you needed anything.”

Shaking his head Bob found two empty seats, placing the contents of his arms in one and plopping down heavily into the other. “You didn’t need to do that. It’s been hours.”

Natasha moved to the other side of her friend, draping an arm around his shoulder and pulling him in for an awkwardly angled hug. “We needed to be here for you. How is she?”

“Not good. Critical condition they say. They’re transferring her to the ICU and they’ll come get me when she’s settled.” He leaned forward, his forearms on his knees as he closed his eyes and tried to focus his breathing.

“How are you?” Jake asked, today one of the few times he’d been truly kind to Bob.

Looking up at him, his body still resting forward, Bob let out a huff that was reminiscent of a laugh. “I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” Leaning back again, eyes trained on the floor as he spun his wedding ring around his finger. “You guys should head home, it’s late and I’m sure we’ll still be here in the morning.”

“At least let us see her. Let her know that we’re here for her and that we’re with you. Whatever either of you need, we’re here.” Maverick insisted.

Looking around the room, the eyes of his friends trained on him as they all nodded in agreement so Bob nodded too. Tears filling his eyes at the love surrounding him. “Thanks guys.”

For 45 minutes the group sat in near silence; startling at every opening door or foot step rushing past. When the woman from earlier came into the room Bob made sure to take note of her name tag. Elizabeth. Social worker. She smiles warmly as she approaches Bob, taking note of the gaggle of people following along as they arrive on the 8th floor. Trekking down the hall in a single file line until they reach room 875. Directly across from the nurse’s station. Bob grabs Nat’s hand and squeezes tightly as the two of them walk into the room, everyone else lining up against the wall to wait.

He can hear Nat suck in a breath but to Bob it’s a better sight than before. The room is a little brighter, there’s a tv playing the Food Network attached to the wall, a wall of windows and they’d turned off the sound of the monitors so at least he wouldn’t have to hear the incessant beeping though the sound of the compressing ventilator still filled the room. His wife is still covered in bruises and cuts, but she looks like she’d been cleaned up. Most of the dried blood was gone, and it looked as though someone had at least attempted to smooth her hair. Sitting in the hard recliner beside her bed, Bob took her hand again and the tension in his shoulders eased. “Let everyone know they can come in when they’re ready.” Bob didn’t move as she left the room and returned with their flock.

For several minutes everyone just stood watching. Watching as her chest moved up and down. Looking at a woman whose face they knew but the could hardly recognize in the current state. Then slowly but surely they stepped up to her bedside one by one.

Fanboy taking her hand and whispering a prayer before kissing it and making a sign of the cross.

Rueben with a crack in his voice assured her that she’d be okay as he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

Jake had tears welling in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Bob from behind and squeezed him tightly. “I live the closest. Call me if things change.”

Coyote stayed by her feet, his face hard as he gently patted her ankle and quickly left the room.

Maverick kissed her forehead, telling Bob he’d be back in the morning.

The last three in the room, Bob, Nat, and Bradley. The three of them sat silently for some time; Natasha in the chair opposite Bob and Bradley on the couch built into the wall beneath the windows. Eventually as the clock signaled the end of one day and beginning of the next Natasha stood, pressed a kiss to her good friend’s head and turned to Rooster.

“You comin’ Roo?”

“Actually Bob, if you don’t mind, I think I’d like to stay.”

Giving Bradley a sad smile he let his head fall to the side as it shook. “You really don’t have to do that Brad.”

“I want to.” He assured.

Bob nodded and Phoenix said her goodbyes, hugging her backseater extra tightly and then leaving the men alone in the room.

Bob sighed, his hand still gripping tightly to his wife’s. He leaned back in the chair and turned his head to face Rooster. “So, why’d you want to stay?”

Bradley leans back slowly, running a hand through his hair as he looks up at the ceiling. “Um, my mom was in the hospital when she died. She had been doing pretty good and we were expecting her to get out soon so no one was there. Well, no one but me. One second we were laughing and talking about going on a road trip before I left for college and the next,” His eyes were now trained on the ground, emotions surfacing that he rarely let others see. “Well the next she was gone.” Standing up, Rooster took the seat on the other side of the bed and took her hand in his. “I was alone when my mom died and I know that Mrs. Floyd here is going to make a full recovery, but on the off chance that I’m wrong, you don’t deserve to be here alone.” Bradley looked over at Bob who’s tears were once again finally spilling over.

“Can I have a few minutes alone with her right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll go find us something to snack on, gotta be a halfway decent vending machine around here.” He stood and walked out of the room, the door closing behind him.

Bob sits in silence at first. His head devoid of thoughts as he watches his wife’s chest move up and down in time with the only sound in the room. He’s holding her hand, remembering the very first time their hands touched all the way back in the 7th grade. How her fingers had brushed against his so softly as they sat side by side in the library. It happened six times before Bobby swallowed his fear and took hold of her hand firmly. Their hands had been so small then but he remembered them fitting like puzzle pieces when their fingers interlocked. Their hands had grown but they always managed to still fit together perfectly.

Bob closed his eyes tight, lifting her hand to his lips he pressed a kiss to the back of it before he looked at his wife’s face and spoke firmly. “I don’t know if you can hear me baby, but if you can, don’t give up on me.”

[emeritusemeritus]

Can I sleep here tonight?

Title: Can I sleep here tonight?

Pairing: Fred Weasley x pregnant!wife!reader, Molly and Arthur Weasley (being absolute gems)

Timeline: Set post-war. George lost his ear a per canon but Fred is very much alive and thriving, married and expecting his first child. The burrow is mentioned for story purposes so it didn’t burn down and we’re ignoring canon once more.

Summary: George arrives at the burrow asking to spend the night, desperate to get away from Fred and his pregnant wife.

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, pregnant character, brief mentions of war and previous injury, though no graphic description is included. Mentions of sex.

It's way past tea time, darkness settling all around as the last glimmer of winter sun fades into the hills when George Weasley apparates onto the familiar dirt road leading up to his childhood home. He's armed with only his wand and a small suitcase no bigger than a briefcase, only holding the basics.

Since the war, Molly and Arthur had kept up the old enchantments placed upon the Burrow as a precaution, the fears never truly leaving them. With a wave of his wand, George clears the enchantments and steps through the invisible barrier to get to the house. As he steps towards the little stone step that acts as the threshold to the house, the door is thrust open and a warm and solid body pulls him inside. He recognises the body as his mother the very second her height and smell come into focus.

"My boy! What are you doing here?  You look tired and peaky, is something wrong? I'll make you something to eat. Arthur!" Molly shouts loudly for her husband after fretting at seeing George on their doorstep without any prior warning, especially without his twin. Since opening the shop, them moving out together, the war, George's recovery, and Fred's wedding, the twins have been so busy it's been an endeavour to get them back home even for a simple visit. "Arthur!"

"Mollywobbles what is it?" Arthur shouts back, his voice getting louder as he moves towards the kitchen. "Oh hello son," he says as he walks into the kitchen, seeing George stood there clutching a small briefcase. Arthur instinctively frowns at the unexpected visit but welcomes his son with warmth, wrapping him in a hug, patting his back a few times before pulling away.

"Do you want a cup of tea dear?" Molly asks, already making her way over to the kettle and busying herself to make something to eat for George, regardless of his radio silence.

"Now Molly, it seems he might need something stronger than tea, right son?" Arthur asks, patting George's shoulder once. "Why don't be crack open some of my Knotgrass mead? I've been saving it for an occasion, no time better than the present." He ushers George to sit at the table and Molly rushes over with a large bottle of mead and two pint glasses, bringing over an elaborate sandwich on a plate for George.

"Thanks mum," George says as Molly places down the welcomed food, noticing that she'd used one of her nicer plates for him, not something that he was ever allowed when he was younger. 

"Cheers!" Arthur says, holding up his glass towards George's after he'd poured them, happy to have a drinking buddy at home.

"So what's wrong son? Not that you're not always welcome of course," Arthur says, eyeing his son with a hint of suspicion as Molly takes a seat opposite George, placing down a cup of tea made for herself.

"Can I stay here tonight?" George asks, cringing at the slight awkwardness of his request, feeling like a child again.

"Of course you can!" Arthur says as if he's offended by the notion of George even having to ask.

"Of course you can dear, how nice to have a fuller house again! I'll put some fresh linens on the bed for you," Molly rushes up towards Fred and George's old room and with a swish of her wand, changes the bedsheets in no time at all. She returns to see the men chatting at the table and takes her place once again, reaching for her tea.

"Do you want to tell us what's wrong?" Arthur says, taking the lead. George sighs heavily, not wanting to say outright what the problem is but unable to think of a plausible excuse.

He sighs once more before admitting to the issue under his parents concerned gazes, "it's Fred and y/n."

"Have you had a falling out?" Molly quickly says, interrupting George. Arthur gives her a quick look which tells her politely to be quiet until their son has finished to which she nods and waits.

"Not exactly, it's just... I can't bare to listen to them having sex anymore. Silencing spells don't work, I've even tried muggle earplugs, well one, but that didn't work either! I only have one ear and it's still bad! Since Y/n got pregnant it's none stop, I thought getting pregnant was bad enough but bloody hell," George barely conceals a shudder at the thought of his twin brother and his wife having near constant sex in the same flat as him.

He picks up the sandwich and begins tucking in, not having time to get any food in his haste to flee the flat about the shop that he shared with Fred and y/n.

He turns his gaze back to his parents and is immediately surprised at the look they are sharing between each other. Both of them are smiling lovingly, a blush spreading on both of their faces, both appear to be speaking with their eyes.

"What?" George says with a mouthful of food, frowning, not understanding their reaction.

"Why do you think we had so many children?" Arthur suddenly laughs, earning a little giggle from Molly, a sound that George had never heard fall from his mother's mouth.

"I couldn't resist your mother when she was pregnant, just something about it," Arthur trails off as if he's daydreaming, a nostalgic smile plastered on his face. "The second she popped one of you out I wanted to try again."

George wants the ground to swallow him up in his entirety as he sits disgusted and uncomfortable. Was nowhere safe anymore? He finds his appetite has significantly decreased and is thankful that he'd finished the sandwich quickly; only praying he could keep it down if his parents kept talking about that.

"It's entirely biological son, it's what the muggles call 'hormones', or so I'm told. There's just something about seeing your wife carrying your child..." Arthur shakes his head slightly as he daydreams, a goofy smile still hanging off his lips as Molly swats his arm playfully.

"I'm going to bed," George mumbles, wanting desperately to get away.

"We'll keep it down tonight!" Arthur jokes earning a cackle from Molly as they both laugh at Arthur's attempt at humour. George grumbles the entire way up to his old bedroom, holding back a shudder at the very thought of not only his brother and y/n but now also his parents.

I need to move away, he thought.

[half-of-a-gay]

Armor Between Us

Knight!Sevika x princess!reader

When political corruption, forbidden love, and an old enemy threaten the realm, Sevika must navigate her loyalties, her growing feelings for the princess, and the ghosts of her past to protect everything she holds dear.

previous chaper next chapter

Chaper 4:

The Gilded Cage

Reassigned to the princess’s side, Sevika finds herself trapped in a world of quiet elegance and gilded restraint. As the days turn to weeks, fleeting conversations and gentle gestures begin to forge an unexpected bond. Yet, beneath the surface, Sevika battles the weight of her oath—and the growing ache of something she cannot name.

---

Sevika stood before the council chamber, her shoulders squared, her face carved from stone. The long hall was cold, lit by the weak light of dawn that filtered through the narrow windows.

It had been weeks since the battle. Weeks of slow, painful recovery in the infirmary, where her body had betrayed her at every turn. Her arm, though no longer wrapped in heavy bandages, was still bound in a sling, its strength lost. The scars on her face had healed enough to stop stinging, but they burned every time she caught a servant’s glance and saw pity—or fear—in their eyes.

She wasn’t whole yet. Not physically. Not in any way that mattered.

The king sat at the far end of the room, flanked by his advisors. They spoke in hushed tones, their words sharp and clinical, barely acknowledging her presence.

“…a matter of necessity,” one of the advisors said, his gaze flicking toward her like she was a weapon being appraised. “Sir Sevika’s injuries leave her unfit for the battlefield. However, her skills and loyalty remain… valuable.”

Sevika’s hand curled into a fist, her jaw tightening at the word “unfit.”

The king nodded, his expression indifferent. “Effective immediately, Sir Sevika will serve as the personal guard to Her Highness. She will remain stationed within the castle.”

Her chest tightened. Of all the outcomes she had imagined—discharge, exile, even some hollow honorary position—this was not the one she’d expected. A guard. A glorified sentinel for court politics and idle royal banter.

The battlefield was where she belonged—where she had proven herself again and again. But here? In the gilded cage of the castle, following the princess through marble corridors like a shadow? The thought made her stomach churn. A bodyguard. Babysitter to a royal.

It took everything in her to keep her voice steady. “Understood, Your Majesty.”

The king waved a hand dismissively, and the meeting was over. Sevika turned sharply on her heel, ignoring the murmurs of the council as she walked away. Her footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, each one feeling heavier than the last.

She hadn’t looked back at the princess, who stood in the shadows of the room, silent.

---

The first few days in her new role felt like wearing armor that didn’t fit.

Sevika’s life became a rigid routine: trailing the princess through the castle, standing guard in court sessions filled with endless, droning voices, and following her through sunlit gardens and shadowed hallways.

The princess tried to engage her—small attempts at conversation that Sevika deflected with curt answers. A comment about the roses in the royal garden. A question about whether Sevika had eaten that day. An invitation to sit with her at breakfast.

Each time Sevika declined with a cold politeness.

It wasn’t out of cruelty. Sevika simply didn’t know how to be anything else anymore. Her scars itched under the gazes of the nobles, and her left arm hung useless in its sling, a constant reminder of the life she had lost. She couldn’t afford softness, not here.

But then came the night the princess cornered her.

The corridor outside the princess’s chambers was quiet, lit only by the flicker of a single lantern mounted on the wall. Sevika stood at her post, her armored frame blending into the shadows, her eyes trained forward. She had spent every evening like this for weeks now, and though the weight of her armor was familiar, the role was not.

“Sir Sevika,” the princess’s voice called softly from behind the door.

Sevika straightened, her shoulders pulling back instinctively. “Your Highness?”

“Will you come in for a moment?”

Sevika stiffened. “My place is outside, Your Highness.”

The princess turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “You’re my guard, aren’t you? I think that means your place is wherever I am.”

Sevika’s jaw tightened, but she stepped forward, her boots heavy on the stone floor. She didn’t lower her gaze, but neither did she meet the princess’s eyes directly. “What is it you need, Your Highness?”

The princess gestured toward a small seating area near the hearth. “You’ve been at your post for hours. Please, sit.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Sevika said, her tone as clipped and professional as ever.

The princess crossed the room slowly, her movements as deliberate and graceful as her words. She paused by the window, where the moonlight spilled across the floor, her hands clasped lightly in front of her.

“You don’t speak to me,” the princess said quietly, her tone measured. “You stand by my side each day. You follow me from court to garden to hall. But you say nothing unless I speak first.” She turned slightly, glancing at Sevika. “Is that how you see this arrangement? Just silence and duty?”

Sevika stiffened, her hand twitching at her side. “My duty is to protect you, Your Highness.”

“I see.” The princess’s voice remained calm, but there was something in her tone—a faint edge that Sevika couldn’t place. “And is it your duty to seem as if you’d rather be anywhere else?”

Sevika’s chest tightened, but her expression remained neutral. She chooses not to speak, not knowing what to say.

The princess studied her for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. “I notice, Sir Sevika. I notice the distance you keep. The way you refuse to look at me for too long. The way you speak to me as if you resent even being in this castle.”

Sevikas gaze shifted to the fire burning low in the hearth, its light casting shadows across the room.

“I do not resent you,” she said at last, her voice quieter than before.

The princess stepped closer, though still maintaining a respectable distance. “Then what is it you resent, Sir Sevika? The castle? The court? The crown? Your injury?”

The question lingered in the air, and for the first time, Sevika’s composure faltered.

She exhaled sharply, her good hand tightening into a fist. “If I have caused you offense, Your Highness, I apologize. That was not my intention.”

The princess tilted her head slightly, watching her. “There is no offense. Only… curiosity. I would like to understand the person who has sworn to protect me.”

Sevika’s throat tightened. Her gaze remained fixed on the hearth. “There is nothing to understand. I am here to do my duty. That is all.”

The silence that followed was heavy, but the princess didn’t press her further. Instead, she stepped back, her hands brushing lightly over the folds of her gown. “I suppose that will have to do, for now.”

Sevika inclined her head, her voice steady again. “Good night, Your Highness.”

“Good night, Sir Sevika.”

She turned and left the room, her boots echoing softly in the corridor. But as the door clicked shut behind her, a faint unease settled in her chest. She had seen something in the princess’s gaze before she left—something quiet and unspoken, but unmistakably sad.

Sevika clenched her jaw, her good hand brushing against the bindings beneath her armor where the handkerchief still rested. She didn’t let herself dwell on it for long.

Her place was outside the door. And that, she told herself firmly, was where it would remain.

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The days bled into weeks, a quiet rhythm settling into Sevika’s new role.

At first, she kept her distance, answering the princess’s questions with clipped responses and maintaining her usual stoic presence. She stayed back as they walked through the gardens, kept her eyes fixed forward during meals, and remained silent in the shadowed corners of the court.

But the princess was persistent in her own gentle way.

One morning, she offered Sevika tea. “It’s jasmine,” she had said, holding out the porcelain cup with a small smile. “The kind I like best. I thought you might enjoy it.”

Sevika had stared at the delicate cup, so out of place in her calloused, battle-worn hands. “I don’t drink tea,” she had muttered, declining it with a stiff bow.

The princess hadn’t seemed offended. She simply tilted her head, studying Sevika with that quiet intensity that always made her feel exposed. “Maybe next time,” she said lightly, setting the cup down.

The “next time” came sooner than Sevika expected.

The princess began to draw her into small moments of conversation, asking about her life before the war, her family, her training as a knight. Sevika answered sparingly at first, her voice guarded, but something about the princess’s sincerity made it hard to stay silent.

On one quiet evening, as they walked the castle walls at dusk, Sevika found herself speaking more freely than she intended. She told the princess about her early days in the royal army—how she’d trained in the rain until her hands bled, how she’d sworn to never return to the humble village she had come from until she was someone worth respecting.

The princess listened intently, her hands clasped in front of her as they strolled. “You must have been very young when you left home,” she said softly.

Sevika nodded. “Fourteen.”

“And did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Become someone worth respecting?”

Sevika faltered, her steps slowing. Her good hand brushed over the bindings on her chest where the handkerchief rested. “I thought I had,” she said quietly. “Once.”

The princess didn’t press further, but her eyes lingered on Sevika’s scars for a moment before she turned back to the horizon. “For what it’s worth, I think you are.”

The words sat heavy in Sevika’s chest, but she didn’t reply.

It wasn’t just conversations that softened the edges between them.

On one particularly cold evening, as the wind howled through the castle corridors, Sevika found herself adjusting the princess’s cloak before a walk through the gardens. She hadn’t meant to—it was instinct, something she used to do for her soldiers on the battlefield. But the moment her hands brushed the soft fabric, she froze.

The princess looked up at her in surprise, then smiled faintly. “Thank you,” she said, her voice warm.

Sevika pulled her hands back quickly, muttering, “It’s nothing,” before stepping aside.

And then there were the quiet moments, when no words passed between them but the silence was comfortable rather than tense.

The princess began spending more time in the library, often seated near the large windows where the light filtered in just so. Sevika stood nearby, as always, but the sound of turning pages and the faint scratch of a quill became oddly soothing.

Occasionally, the princess would glance up from her books, offering Sevika a small smile that wasn’t quite so formal anymore. And, though Sevika never returned the gesture, she found herself holding the princess’s gaze a little longer each time.

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The council chamber was buzzing with its usual noise—lords and advisors speaking over each other, their voices blending into a haze of politics and ego. The princess sat at the head of the room, her expression calm as she listened, her quill moving delicately across the parchment in front of her.

Sevika stood behind her, tall and imposing, her watchful eyes scanning the room. The subtle movements of courtiers, the soft rustle of fabric, the stray glances sent her way—all of it passed through her gaze like water through a sieve, nothing escaping her notice.

Her attention sharpened when her eyes landed on a man near the far side of the chamber. He stood stiffly, too stiffly, his head low and his shoulders tense. His hand twitched at his side, brushing beneath the folds of his cloak.

Sevika’s grip tightened on the hilt of her sword. Something about him didn’t sit right.

Then he moved.

The glint of steel flashed in his hand as he pushed through the crowd, and Sevika was already moving.

“Your Highness, get down!” she barked, her voice cutting through the chamber like a whip.

The princess startled, her quill dropping to the table as she turned just in time to see the man lunging toward her.

Sevika threw herself forward, her armored shoulder slamming into the assailant. The knife glanced off her shoulder plate with a screech of steel, but the man twisted, his blade catching the princess’s arm before Sevika could fully knock him back.

The princess cried out, the sound sharp and fleeting as she clutched her arm. Fury ignited in Sevika’s chest.

The man staggered, but Sevika didn’t give him a moment to recover. Her fist collided with his jaw, and he crumpled to the floor. Guards swarmed in immediately, dragging the man away as he sputtered incoherent protests, but Sevika barely noticed.

Her focus was entirely on the princess. “I’m fine,” the princess said quickly to ease the furrow in Sevikas brow, though her voice wavered as she clutched her arm. “It’s just a scratch.”

“It’s not nothing,” Sevika said sharply, her tone uncharacteristically tight. She reached out, her good hand brushing against the princess’s as she gently pulled it away to inspect the wound. “We need to get this bandaged.”

Before the princess could say anything else, Sevika already slipped her good arm around her waist, lifting her with practiced ease. The princess let out a soft gasp, her hand brushing Sevika’s shoulder for support.

The room erupted in frantic whispers as Sevika carried the princess from the chamber, but she didn’t care. Her focus was solely on getting the princess to safety.

Sevika eased the princess down onto the cushioned bench in the infirmary, her movements careful despite the tension in her body. Sevika dropped to one knee beside her, her heart hammering as her gaze fell to the thin line of red trailing down the princess’s arm. It wasn’t deep, but it was enough to make her breath catch in her throat.

The princess flinched as Sevika pressed a damp cloth to her arm, but her lips curved into a faint, teasing smile as Sevika kept cleaning the blood from the shallow wound looking terribly worried.

“You look more worried than you should, Sevika. I'm sure you’ve seen worse in your time.”

Sevika’s jaw clenched. Her voice dropped, quiet and almost to herself. “Not when it’s you.”

The princess blinked, her expression softening. “What did you say?”

Sevika’s shoulders stiffened. She pulled back slightly, her stoic mask sliding firmly back into place. “Nothing. Just hold still, Your Highness.”

“You didn’t have to carry me,” the princess murmured, her voice soft.

“You weren’t walking fast enough,” Sevika replied curtly, though her touch was surprisingly gentle.

The princess’s gaze lingered on her, unspoken words dancing behind her eyes. “Thank you,” she said after a moment, her voice quiet.

Sevika froze, the cloth stilling against the princess’s arm. “It’s my duty,” she muttered, her voice low.

“That doesn’t make me any less thankful for what you've done,” the princess said softly.

Sevika didn’t look at her. She focused on bandaging the wound, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions raging beneath her calm exterior.

When the princess reached out suddenly, her fingers brushing against Sevika’s scarred cheek, Sevika flinched.

“You’re bleeding aswell” the princess said, her voice tinged with concern.

“It’s nothing,” Sevika said quickly, pulling away before the princess could say more. She stood abruptly, her good hand curling into a fist at her side. “Rest, Your Highness. I’ll keep watch.”

“Sevika…”

But Sevika was already stepping toward the door, her back stiff, her footsteps heavy. She couldn’t stay—not with the princess looking at her like that.

[queen-of-reptiles]

𝙼𝙰𝚁𝙺, 𝚂𝙴𝚃, 𝙶𝙾!

description - maz's 'friend' is the no.1 400m runner in the world, she needs to prove that at the world champs. if she does, maz will hard launch

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maz pacheco x female reader

disclaimer - i am not in anyway assuming Maz’s sexuality this is all just fiction

warnings - fluff, elude to sex and that’s it i think xx

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y/n just posted

Liked by, racheldaly3, maz_pacheco and 1.2 million others

tagged racheldaly3, maz_pacheco, jordannobbs, leahwilliamsonn and 11 others

y/n I promise I am training hard... 🫡

view 472, 888 comments

username1: hahahahhahahahah😭

username2: Why does she know the womens football world??????

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username3: She and Rachel Daly grew up together !! And she is close with Millie Bright and Maz Pacheco

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username2: Ooooooh Thanks !

racheldaly3: I so think I could do the 400m 🤷‍♀️

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mbrighty04: You can't even count that high stfu

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y/n: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH 😭

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racheldaly3: 😡😡

username4: Whooooooooo! 💙💙💙

username5: Gold for sure! 🥇🥇🥇

username6: So excited !!! 🥳🥳🥳🥳

leahwilliamsonn: Go on our girl - so excited to see you run! 🩷🩷

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y/n: 🩷🩷🩷

maz_pacheco: <3

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y/n: <3

teamgb: Come on y/n!!

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y/n: ❤️‍🔥❤️‍🔥

username7: 💞💞💞💞💞💞💞💞

username8: I DREW Y/N !! PLEASE CHECK IT OUT

jordannobbs: Chickyyyyy 🐣🐣

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y/n: Jordyyyyyy 🐣🐣

see more comments...

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maz_pacheco just posted on her story

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twitter/X:

username1: Anyone seen Maz's story????

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username2: I think a load of the Villa girls and Lionesses are there supporting y/n!!!! 🥳

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username1: Ahhhh Thank you!

username3: y/n is so fit omg 😝😝

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username4: The fact she walked out of the intro just grinning and waving! 🥺🥺

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username5: The lil hair flick UGHHHHH

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username6: THE ABS??? 😰😰😰

username7: Anyone see y/n and Maz's little wave

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username8: Their friendship is so cute omg 🥺

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y/n breathed a deep breath out, trying to keep her composure, her stomach was tight with nerves but as she looked over to her girlfriend she couldn't help but let out a small smile.

Maz was sat there, a smile on her face and as they locked eyes, y/n could almost feel her girlfriend's confidence in her flow through her.

y/n had been running most of her life, she found it freeing and exciting, she had set the world record for 400m, but with Femke Boll right on her shoulder she knew today would be a test.

The outdoor world championships were made to push, but y/n had to show that since her gold at the last Olympics her ankle injury had not changed her.

Truth was it had, every had seen her push through the finish line seconds ahead of everyone and then watched her go down in pain as her Achilles snapped.

It had been a long road to recovery, one of tears and upset despite the gold which was hung in her home, she had won but at what cost was the headlines everywhere.

y/n had been described as someone who had changed running, and now she needed to prove it. All of her qualification times had been slower than expected but still easy races.

It was clear she was not pushing herself to make quick times only qualify, and that had made the media wonder if the 23 year old still had it in her to run.

y/n had many things on the line here today as she prepared for the final. But the one she really cared about was Maz's encouragement that morning.

"You win, and I'll tell the whole world." Maz said with a grin, her arm tracing patterns on y/n's bare shoulder, kisses being placed into her hair line.

"Really?" y/n questioned, Maz nodding simply as y/n chuckled and pressed a kiss to her long-term girlfriend's lips.

"Well, I better win then." y/n smiles Maz leaning down to press a deep kiss against her just as the door opens.

"Separate and clothe please, I want my cuddles!" Rachel stated as she walked in, throwing a random top at y/n as the woman chuckled and pulled it on, her best friend landing next to her on the bed.

"3, 2, 1." Maz counted as the door opened again and Millie appeared, the Lioness landing the other side of Maz also.

"You know guys, this is a 2 person relationship." y/n had said and Millie snorted.

"No it ain't." Millie denied and the group shared a laugh.

y/n couldn't help but smile at the memory of that morning, knowing full well that Maz's promise had pushed her mind a little further as she set down.

She waited for the call, the crowd now dead silent, this was it, this was the final push. y/n breathed in, breathed out. The shot echoed, and y/n leapt.

Her feet pushed against the ground, her breathing regulated as she came into the first bend, she looked at nothing, heard nothing, not even Femke behind her, trying to keep up with the blistering pace y/n had set.

y/n did not look at the clock as she came down the back straight, she didn't hear the shouts from the crowd as their eyes continuously darted between the clock and y/n herself.

y/n continued, going around the final bend and into the home straight, she realised somehwat that she felt as if the race had gone quick, very quick.

"Come on baby!" Maz's voice brought her back into the race, pushing her legs harder as her lungs burnt and she raced past the line, the girl slowing her legs down as she collapsed onto the floor.

y/n's body shuddered as she tried to breathe, only just acknowledging the deafening cheers coming from the crowd as Femke got her yelling excitedly.

"Fe, what?" y/n asked with a pant as she got up, accepting the water throwing her way and throwing half of it on herself before trying to take small sips of the rest.

"Oh my god!" Femke grinned, turning her around to see the screen so y/n could see her time.

"HOLY SHIT!" y/n screamed, jumping back and running in shock. She collapsed on her knees, looking at the time in shock and someone wrapped a flag around her shoulders.

45.67 seconds - WR, WL, SB, PB

The crowd could now definitely be heard as y/n shouted in joy up at the sky. Photographers racing to get a photo of the new record holder who had almost matched the men's.

y/n leant down pressing a kiss to the track beneath her as she was helped up on shaky legs, throwing herself at the people around her who were just as happy for her as she was.

That was something y/n had always loved about competing. Those around her despite being from different places, were always as happy for each others achievements as the person themselves was.

y/n ran at her friends, Rachel and Millie dragging her into a hug as y/n tried to compose herself. Maz was next the woman leaning down and placing a kiss on her girlfriend's lips.

"Had to go an set a world record as well?" Maz asks her and y/n grins, pushing herself up and into Maz again, another kiss being shared with the cameras flashing wildly.

Millie and Rachel cheered with the girls around them, excited it was finally out and they no longer had to keep the hard to do so secret.

"Love you!" y/n called as she hopped down, Maz grinning as y/n ran off, flying the flag behind her as she celebrated and shouted with the crowd.

This was a race she would never forget, and the photos taken would soon be all over her and Maz's home, as the love shared was perfectly captured in a snapshot of victory.

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y/n just posted on her story

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maz_pacheco just posted on her story

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twitter/X:

username1: you know MAYBE ONE DAY we will all stop being idiots :)

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username2: na never gonna happen

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username3: THEY ARE SO CUTE THO 😩😩

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END

Tried my hardest with this but still not super happy can’t lie ! xxx

[zeezelweazel]

A fluffy Leah fic for her comeback???? Maybe r being the one to give her the armband when she gets subbed on or like Leah being shy when asking r to be there during her comeback game??

Leah Williamson| Welcome Home|

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LEAH GOT AN ASSIST ON HER FIRST GAME BACK

(I also hit 1k followers 🥹 thank you so much guys)

I wrote this just to get my mind off jilly so it's short, sorry but I'm so sad rn

Finally some fluff to cleanse all the smut

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You remember the day Leah tore her ACL vividly. You were on the bench, having been subbed off just a few moments before. Nothing compares to the feeling of absolute dread that filled your entire body the moment you saw her go down. When the stretcher brought her on the sidelines Leah looked at you her eyes wide and scared and you knew.

Her recovery was long and hard but you were there. For every small step forward and every step back, for every time she was angry or frustrated or sad you were there. To hold her and brush your fingers through blonde strands of hair and whispers sweet nothings in her ear and kiss her forehead. You loved her when she didn't love herself and you kept loving her as she got stronger and stronger. You watched as she picked up different hobbies and did amazing things she never thought she'd do.

And now you watch as she gets up from the bench to warm up and your heart soars. You grin wide as you try to keep your head in the game but your body is buzzing with excitement at what's to come.

Soon enough you hear the crowd soar and you look at the bench to see Leah, smiling free and happy, ready to take your spot on the field. You didn't care about being subbed off, having done your part, so you run towards her. You carefully slipped off the captain's armband and approached her.

The loud stadium was tooned out as your whole world turned into blonde hair and blue eyes. As you reach the white line you take Leah's hand, holding it longer than necessary, and you slip the arm band on. Leah pulls you in for a quick hug and you don't waste the opportunity to place a chaste kiss on her head.

For the rest of the match your eyes are firmly locked on Leah. You watch closely as she sprints around and goes for tackles, because of course she does, and you watch as she puts in the perfect ball for beth to score. She was perfect in every way even after being gone for so long. Only your Leah would be able to do that.

You jump up from the bench to celebrate, probably too excited for a goal in a match that's already been won, and you wish you could run on the field and scoop her up in your arms.

And that's what you did. The moment the final whistle blew you made a beeline for Leah who was already looking for you. When your eyes met you recognised all those different emotions swirling in her blue irises.

You pull her in for a tight hug, Leah giggling happily as you spin her around.

"I'm so proud of you baby, you did amazing."

Leah smiled at you blushing and placed her head on the safety of your shoulder. She stayed there in your arms until the team had to huddle in a circle while Jonas gave his post match celebratory speech. You squeezed Leah's shoulder from your place next to her when he talked about her injury, her recovery and the fight she had to put up to get here. Leah blinked rapidly, her head moving from the sky yo the ground as she desperately tried to fight off her tears.

You moved your hand to rub her back and Leah gave you a grateful smile even though the tears didn't leave her beautiful eyes.

"You did it baby, I couldn't be more proud."

She turned and placed a kiss on your lips, not caring about the rest of the team. You enjoyed the warm feeling of her lips on yours and the soft hands on your hips. You chuckled at the cheers and whistles of your teammates and leaned your forehead on Leah's.

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[leclercsredhelmet]

Sweet Nothing ✰ Joe Burrow

A/N: Hi! I'm back with another Joe blurb! I was inspired by the bridge of Sweet Nothing to write this, I hope you guys enjoy it!

“They say the end is coming, everyone is up to something. I find myself running home to your sweet nothings” 

Life with Joe is like a rollercoaster of emotions, it’s a bit of a whirlwind but you’ve grown accustomed to it. Much like any other relationship, you guys have your ups and downs but you always have a way to manage through them. Recently you had to deal with his unexpected injury, the road to recovery was a little complicated but you managed to pull through it, and now that you’d both eased into your previous routine everything was smoother than before. 

Now that the season is quickly approaching people are starting to talk and the topic of interest is your relationship, much to your and Joe’s dismay the conversations are varied and most of them are not positive. For the most part, you’ve both done well to drown out the noise and ignore it but this time you’re finding it hard to drown out everything because the attacks are coming right at you. 

Joe’s been the talk of the town ever since his runway debut for Vogue World, there’s been a lot of positive feedback and you’re so thrilled for him. As expected you accompanied him on the trip but didn’t partake in anything runway-related. Still, people found time to criticize you for existing and for enjoying some time alone in the city. 

The rumor mill went crazy saying things that ranged from you not supporting Joe and deciding to go off on your own, that it was a pr-relationship which frankly makes no sense to you because you’re not famous in any sense, and of course; the classic rumor, that you and Joe had broken up. 

It was all utter and total bullshit but still, some of the comments were getting to you and it was making you retreat into the shell you have slowly been stepping out of. 

Reaching for your phone you made the mistake of checking the comments on your most recent Instagram post. Many of them were people questioning the validity of your relationship status, but the ones that hit the most were the ones commenting on your body and whether you’re suited to be Joe’s girlfriend. 

“Babe, give me the phone,” Joe gently says. You look up to see him extending his palm, “It’s fine,” you reply and your voice comes out a little strangled as you choke back a sob. Instead of waiting for an answer, he takes the phone from your hand and reads the comments before setting the phone down. 

His jaw clenches a little and by the expression, you can tell he’s not fond of the comments. Swiftly, he pulls you into him and wraps his arms around your body. Not helping it you just start crying, his grip never falters and he just lets you cry while holding you in his arms. Gently he lifts your chin and wipes your tears.

“It just gets too much to handle sometimes Joey,” you say. “I know baby, but these comments don’t have anything on you okay,” he tells you. “It’s just people projecting their insecurities onto you and I know those words sting but they’re untrue okay? I love you for you; always have and always will,” he says.

You nod and hug him again, “I love you so much,” you say into his chest and he chuckles a little. “I love you the most,” he replies and kisses your head softly. “Listen, I propose a phone-free day for us,” he says. “What are you suggesting?” you ask him. “Hiking your favorite trail,” he says. Smiling you kiss his cheek, “There’s that smile,” he says poking your cheek and you giggle. 

It’s sunny and the breeze combs through the leaves and they rustle lightly. Adjusting the backpack on your shoulders you wait for Joe before starting the trail. “It’s so quiet,” you say while walking. Joe is beside you and he smiles, “We needed this kind of quiet,” he says with a smile. Chuckling lightly you look at him. “We did, there’s no gossip, no soul deconstructors,” you say and he laughs. “Just us and nature,” Joe says. Laughing you place a kiss on his cheek and pay attention to the nature that surrounds you. 

Once you spot the view of the Ohio River you know you’ve reached the end of the trail. Dropping your backpacks you drink some water before standing next to Joe. His arm is around your waist and you lean into his side. “Listen, I want to you know that no matter what people say I wouldn’t change this or you for anything else,” he says. You let out a big breath and look up at him, “I know. Sometimes I just can’t help but feel like I’m here next to you by mistake,” you say with a small laugh. 

Joe turns to you and caresses your face, “You could never be here by mistake, just because there was someone else before you it doesn’t mean we’re a mistake,” he says gesturing between you with a finger. You hesitate before speaking but Joe beats you to it. “Hey, I can see the gears up here turning,” he says tapping your temple and you chuckle. 

“Finding you was the best thing that’s happened to me so far, you’re fucking amazing, smart as hell, kind, honest, stunning, and a great person,” he says. Laughing you look at him, “So I’d be dammed if I didn’t tell you how lucky I feel to have you here beside me, and anyone that criticizes you and what we have without knowing a single detail can go fuck themselves,” he says and you let out a hearty laugh. 

“You’re right, these people are just throwing stones into the void,” you say. “Exactly,” he says before kissing you sweetly before pulling you into a hug “I love you so much,” you say into his chest. “I love you most,” he replies and you chuckle. “Do you feel better now?” he asks, “Much better, I really needed to get out of the house,” you say and he laughs. 

You go down the trail and decide to get some lunch at your favorite spot in town. As you listen to Joe talk with and move his hands around you smile and think about how lucky you are to have found someone who is attentive, kind, caring, fun, and someone who doesn’t stop at putting a smile on your face. Sure, the atmosphere surrounding you both may get a little too heavy, or too much to handle sometimes but there’s no one else you’d rather go through it all with. 

Whenever all these outsiders say that you should be doing more, you find yourself running to Joe in search of sweet nothings.

(all photo credits go to the respective owners)