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sunny44 · 8 months

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A new start (Ruin it pt. 5)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x reporter! Reader

Warnings: none

Summary: You and max were always teasing each other and over the years it turned into a huge sexual tension, until the fights of all the years and the accumulated lust turned into one long night of great sex.

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The days in Mykonos passed in a blur of sunshine, laughter, and exploration.

Max and I continued to enjoy each other's company as friends, and we made the most of our time on the picturesque island.

This morning we decided to rent a small boat to explore the crystal-clear waters of the Aegean Sea.

As we sailed along the coast we couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom and adventure, it was moments like these that reminded us of why we were drawn to each other in the first place.

“This is amazing, just you, me, and the open sea.”

“It really is. It's moments like this that make me forget about all the complications.”

“Sometimes, simplicity is the answer to life's complexities.”

We anchored the boat in a secluded cove where the water was a brilliant shade of turquoise.

We spent hours swimming, snorkeling

and exploring the underwater world. It was a chance to escape from the world's pressures and simply be in the moment.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, we reluctantly returned to the shore.

We knew that our time in Mykonos was coming to an end and the real world awaited us with all the challenges.

That evening, we shared a quiet dinner at a charming seaside restaurant.

The atmosphere was serene, with soft candlelight casting a warm glow on our faces.

“Max.” I called him as we were looking at the stars in silence. “I've had an incredible time here with you. It's been like a dream so thank you.

“It has been for me too. Mykonos brought us closer and I'm grateful for that.

“I know can't deny the connection we have, Max, It's special and I know I said we should just be friends for now but I don’t want to just be your friend.” He got closer to me. “I want to be the one cheering for you when you win a race and to be the one who comforts you when you have a bad one. I want to kiss you in front of everyone and to be your partner in life.”

“I want you to be all of this too.” He says and comes closer to me. “No matter what happens, I want you to know that I'll always be here for you.“

“And I'll be here for you too, Max.”

In that moment, we didn't need to say anything more. He kissed me and then turn me around so he could hug me from behind and then we spent a few hour there just enjoying each other’s company.

The next morning we packed our bags and prepared to leave Mykonos. Our time on the island had been a beautiful escape but reality awaited us. We knew that the challenges ahead of us wouldn't be easy but we were both willing to face them, whatever the future held.

As we boarded the plane back home we looked out of the window one last time at the sun-kissed beaches and azure waters of Mykonos. As we landed in Monaco, Max invited me to sleep at his house as we arrived late and I was too tired to drive home so here we are at his apartment.

When we entered, we were greeted by his cats who came excitedly to welcome their owner.

"You can take a shower in the bathroom of my room if you want, I'll bring you a towel in a bit."

"All right, thanks." I went towards the room he had pointed out and got into the shower.

I took off my clothes, tied up my hair and stepped into the shower. When I felt the hot water on me, my body relaxed.

Then I heard the door open and Max came in holding a towel.

"I'll leave the towel here." He says and just as he's about to leave the bathroom I call out to him. "Yes?"

"Wanna join?" He smiled and started to take off his clothes.

We were too tired for sex so we just had a relaxing shower before going to bed.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

(Is good to be back home) posted at 00:54

Tag list: @44-ilton @babyvinnie @hockey-racing-fubol @xjval @xcinnamongirl @dudenhaaa27 @evans-dejong @chilwellspulisic @rossylightwood @rm25711 @imperfect-paragon @formula1mount @flwr-stella @stylesxmunson

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babydollmarauders · 9 months

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WYD NOW? — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!singer!reader

summary: in which y/n writes a song about her ex-boyfriend, 3 years after their breakup, and it gets back to him, leading to their reconnection

notes: inspired by the song WYD Now? by Sadie Jean. ending kinda sucks, but ehh i did my best. pretty sure i lost motivation for this halfway through it, but i tried to power through.

not my gif

*** JUNE 17TH, 2018 ***

“i bet, at this time in a few years, we’ll be painting the walls of our shared apartment.” my boyfriend’s whisper rings through my ears as i turn my head to look at him.

heat rises to my cheeks, Jack’s blue eyes gazing into mine.

“yeah?” i laugh, running a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower he took before coming over.

“mhm.” he hums in confirmation, his hand snaking up under the stolen shirt that adorns my body, gripping my waist and pulling me closer. “i’ll be playing hockey, and you’ll be a big pop star, my little songbird.”

i bury my face into his neck in attempt to hide the redness on the apples of my cheeks from the nickname.

“you gonna write songs about me?” he whispers, pressing a kiss against the side of my head.

“i already do.” i murmur, my lips brushing against his collarbone, causing him to shiver.

*** JULY 30TH, 2019 ***

“i don’t think i understand.” it feels like my head is underwater, my lungs burning for oxygen, but unable to receive it.

“we can still be friends, y/n. you can call me whenever.” Jack sits on my bed, gripping my hands in his hold. “the future is just, so far away and we don’t know what’ll happen.

“i don’t want my dreams to hold you back from achieving yours, y/n. you may not see it right now, but this just seems like the best option for now. and maybe, down the line, once we’re both at a stable place in our careers, if we’re both single, we can revisit us.”

my head is bobbing ‘yes’ but my heart is screaming ‘no!’

it’s like my brain understands where he’s coming from, that he’s being logical and that he’s doing this for the greater good of both of us; no matter what we’ve always thought, we’re still just kids, we were dreaming. but my heart isn’t getting that message. all my heart knows is that it’s being crushed into a thousand pieces and it feels pretty unsalvageable right now.

“are you okay?”

it’s my instinct to tell him ‘yes’. my instinct to not let him know how much he’s really hurting me. how much i want to scream that we’ll be fine. that i would give up my dream to be by his side while he accomplishes his. but i know that would just hurt him; because that isn’t what he wants.

he may be hurting me, but he’s doing it for all the right reasons. he doesn’t want me to push my dreams aside for his, because he wants to see me living them. he wants the best for me.

“yeah, i’m okay. i understand.”

*** PRESENT: SOCIAL MEDIA ***

y/nonthegram

liked by tatemcrae and 246,517 others

y/nonthegram in your faded t-shirt

that i’ve kept this long

i still hear you laughing

Load more comments

user13 NEW LYRICS??

user92 that’s what i was thinking too! seems too poetic to just be a caption

trevorzegras hey that looks familiar

user57 OH MY GOD NEW MUSIC?

user04 AHHH ANNOUNCE A NEW ALBUM PLEASE

user6 I’LL EVEN JUST TAKE A NEW SINGLE! I JUST NEED NEW MUSIC

tatemcrae my best friend writes the best captions

y/nonthegram MY best friend writes the best songs

tatemcrae says you!

user83 new love song? break-up song? both?

colecaufield what’s this 👀

y/nonthegram

liked by trevorzegras and 283,752 others

y/nonthegram surprise! ‘WYD Now?’ out tonight at midnight.

wholly written in my bedroom at 2am, this song means the absolute most to me, and i hope some of you can find comfort in it like i have <3

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user04 OH MY GOD! THANK YOU FOR BLESSING OUR EARS TONIGHT!

colecaufield so proud of you!

y/nonthegram thank you, coley ♥️

user94 since when does she know nhl players?

user63 she went to high school with some of the 2019 draft class

user72 I CAN’T WAIT OMG

user18 SHAKING, CRYING, THROWING UP! I’M SO EXCITED

_alexturcotte our little melody makin’ munchkin, making moves!

y/nonthegram oh god please don’t bring back “melody makin’ munchkin”

_alexturcotte too late

tatemcrae GO BEST FRIEND THAT’S MY BEST FRIEND

y/nonthegram LEMME KISS YOUR FACE!! MWAH!!

user55 i’m so curious to hear these lyrics 😭 how am i gonna wait 8 more hours?!

jackhughes

liked by y/nonthegram and 352,850 others

jackhughes 3/3

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user77 hey wait, didn’t @/y/nonthegram date Jack in high school? is the new song yesterday about him?

user55 yess! it’s gotta be!

trevorzegras dizzyyy

user91 you should go listen to y/n’s new song 👀

user02 have you heard ‘WYD Now?’ ???

user36 omg he remembered to post 3/3

colecaufield same time next summer? 🫡

subbanator 🚀

y/nonthegram

liked by jackhughes and 227,951 others

y/nonthegram i’m so grateful for all the love on ‘WYD Now?’ these past couple days! thank you all! <3

here’s some photos @/tatemcrae took at our song celly night last night to celebrate the release of WYD Now? and greedy!

in celebration, i’ll be answering some questions in the comments!

Load more comments

user74 is the song fictional? or was it inspired by someone?

y/nonthegram not fictional <3

user99 is this a single off the upcoming album? or just a normal song?

y/nonthegram the album is still being written, so i can’t confirm or deny if this is a single because i’m not sure yet if it’ll be on the track list! <3

colecaufield omg y/n please come to Montreal! i love you so much! you’re my idol!

y/nonthegram hey remember that time i bumped you with my car? i think we should do that again! i’ll stomp on the gas this time!

colecaufield omg you noticed me!!

user42 at 18, where did you imagine yourself being at this age?

y/nonthegram New Jersey <3

trevorzegras where did he set the bar?

y/nonthegram above the moon

user28 if the song isn’t fictional, then who’s it about?

user96 it’s 100% about jack hughes. if you scroll way down on her page, there’s pics of her and jack in high school, but they stop when they were 18. then he moved to new jersey and now he’s playing hockey, like the song states “you finally got the job you like”. that we’re all aware of, she didn’t have any other boyfriends in high school. she and jack seemingly dated from ages 16-18 until he left for the NHL

liked by y/nonthegram

_quinnhughes 💙

user10 this song was amazing! i really related and it made me feel so seen!

user88 big question is: has jack heard the song yet?

jackhughes call me?

user98 @/user88 if he hadn’t, i’m guessing he has now

*** PRESENT: REAL LIFE ***

my heart races as the notification comes through.

i wasn’t sure if he listened to my music, or if the song would get back to him. i just needed to get my feelings down on paper, and then it turned into a song, and then i liked it too much to not release it.

the night i wrote it, i had played a small show in New York, and i could’ve sworn i saw him in the back of the venue. of course, i knew it wasn’t, but it had rattled me; bringing all my feelings for him back to the forefront of my brain.

“call him.” my head snaps up to face my best friend, her eyes soft as she looks at me from the doorway.

“i-” Tate cuts me off with a shake of her head.

“don’t make excuses, y/n. call him.” she repeats, “you deserve to be happy, and from what you’ve told me, he makes you happy.”

she doesn’t stick around; instead bidding me goodbye and heading back to my guest room to give me some privacy.

i pace my bedroom, iphone clutched in my hand. his contact is pulled up, but i can’t seem to build up the nerve to call him. though, it seems i don’t have to, because my phone begins to ring instead, Jack’s photo displaying on the screen.

“hi.” i breathe out, pressing the phone to my ear.

“hi.” he repeats. “i heard your new song. i’m so proud of you, my little songbird.”

my face heats up, blood rushing to my cheeks. i haven’t heard that nickname in almost four years.

“thank you.” my words come out a whisper, still in disbelief that i’m talking to him again.

“did you mean it?” the question causes a panic to erupt in me, swarms of butterflies erupting in my nervous system.

“did i mean what, Jacky?” i need him to say it.

“what you wrote,” he clears his throat, “in the song. did you mean it all? do you still think of me? do you really wanna try again?”

laying sprawled out on my bed, i stare up at the ceiling as i speak.

“i wouldn’t have written it if it wasn’t true.”

“oh- okay. so, uh,” he stutters, but i can hear the smile on his lips, causing the same reaction upon my own face, “where are you right now?”

“um, my apartment?” my brows thread together in confusion, but he just chuckles.

“i mean like, are you living in LA? are you home in Michigan? what state?”

“oh.” i bite my lip, squeezing my eyes shut in embarrassment. “i live in New York, Jack.”

“really?” his voice is emotionally distant and seemingly hurt. “so close?”

“yeah.” i nod, although he can’t see me. “i’ve gone to a few of your games.”

“you did?”

“mhm.” i hum in confirmation. “i just- i didn’t wanna be the one to reach out and then have you think oddly of me or have you already be in a relationship or something. i’m sorry i didn’t tell you, i just didn’t wanna be seen as that clingy ex-girlfriend or anything.”

“that’s not what you are, y/n.” he sighs, “would you wanna meet up soon? catch up? i’d love to hear about your glamorous new pop star life.”

“i’d love to. although, i wouldn’t call myself a pop star, Jacky.”

“you are to me.” i blush at his words, glad he can’t see how much of a mess i am at the moment. “are you free on saturday? i have practice in the morning, but after that, maybe we could go to lunch?”

“yeah, i can do that.” i confirm.

“okay great, i’ll text you on friday to hash out details?”

“sounds great!” my cool hand rises to press against my heated face in attempt to cool myself down.

“great. i gotta go, Luke and i are going out with the guys. i’ll talk to you soon, yeah?”

“yeah. bye, Jack.” i wait for him to repeat a goodbye before hanging up, burying face in my pillow and letting out a muffled scream.

***

my knee bounces underneath the table of the New York City diner, my hands clasped together on the table.

Jack should be here any minute, and saying i’m nervous would be an understatement. my palms are clammy, my legs won’t stop shaking, and i’m eighty percent sure that i have no skin left on my bottom lip because i’ve chewed it all off.

the little bell above the door rings and my head snaps up to look, but it’s just a young couple with their toddler. i send a friendly smile to the tired looking mother before looking back down at my hands that won’t stop fidgeting.

i zone out, retreating back into my head and all the thoughts that have been plaguing me since we planned this meeting.

what if he doesn’t like me anymore?

what if he has a girlfriend and he’s just trying to be nice?

or worse, what if he’s just asked me here so he could tell me to leave him alone? to stop writing songs about him.

“hi.” i’m pulled out of my thoughts by Jack sliding into the booth across from me, a gentle smile on his face.

his hand snakes across the table to hold mine, and i can’t help but feel like a teenager again, back when we used to have dates like this all the time; where he would hold my hand over the table and we would laugh and joke around for hours.

“hey.” i smile back, giving his hand a small squeeze in return.

“how are you?” he questions. he brings his hand back in order to hold his menu, but his focus remains on me, not even glancing down at the menu yet.

“i’m good!” i nod. “how are you?”

“good, i’m glad. i’m good too.”

we’re interrupted by a waitress, taking a second to look over our menu’s before giving her our orders.

once she retreats, i squirm from the small talk, never having been any good at it. which Jack seems to remember.

“so, how’s the pop star life?” he smirks teasingly, and i giggle.

“not a pop star.” i remind him, shaking my head. “but it’s good. i like where i’m at right now in my career. i like having a strong fanbase but still being unknown enough that i’m not being hounded on or followed like, say, Taylor Swift.

“i’m able to just write my music and put it out, go on small tours, interact with my fans on a more personal level; it’s really nice. i don’t know if i would want it to be more than that.”

he nods in understanding, a wide grin on his face as he listens.

“i get it. and i’m really glad you’ve achieved what you wanted. i’ve always rooted for you.”

“what about you? mr. ninety-nine point season!” he blushes at my words, shaking his head and looking down at his hands, which rest on the tabletop. “how’s that?”

“it’s good! really good.” he looks back up at me, and i have to fight myself from getting lost in his eyes like i would when we were seventeen. “i love it. it’s hard, it’s a lot of work, but it’s amazing. and honestly, i’m pretty glad i’m not on a canadian team. i like that i can go out and still have a pretty normal life outside of hockey, ya know? not be stopped on the street a bunch.”

“yeah, i get it.” i tell him. “i’m so glad you’re happy though. you play great, as you always have.”

he releases a ‘thanks’ before a silence settles over us, neither of us sure what exactly to say next.

i begin to play with the paper wrapper from my straw, winding it around my finger before sliding it off and gently pulling it straight again.

“so, Cole sends me your songs.”

snap! the paper wrapper breaks in two as i look up at him.

“he does?”

“yeah. you know i don’t get on social media too much, so i don’t always know right away when you put one out, but Cole sends me all of them. just in case i miss one.” he explains.

my head bobs up and down as i try to display a level of cool, “oh.”

“that doesn’t bother you, does it?” he asks. “that i don’t always listen to them right away?”

“not at all! i didn’t really think you listened to them at all.” i confess, sinking lower into the booth. “not really your genre.”

he smiles gently, reaching forward to hold my hand tightly in his.

“y/n, you could write a children’s nursery rhyme, and i would still listen to it.”

my head tips back against the booth, joyous laughter spilling from my lips. my nose scrunches, resulting in a small snort, which cause him to laugh as well.

“you’re just saying that.” i choke out, and he shakes his head.

“no! i’m serious! i would!” Jack insists, right as the waitress arrives with our food. she sets our food in front of us, making sure we’re all set before she retreats.

a comfortable small talk takes over as we eat; discussing our friends and their accomplishments since graduation.

“you remember that time,” Jack starts through broken laughter, “that you hit Cole with your car because he said he didn’t think it would hurt?”

“yes! and i barely even tapped him, but the big baby whined that it hurt so bad, i may have crushed his NHL dreams!” my face hurts from smiling so big, but i can no longer fight it.

“and then he was fine and back to practice that afternoon! not even a bruise left on him!” he retorts.

“ever the dramatic, Cole is.” i sigh, sitting back in my seat from position slouched over the table.

“since we’re walking down memory lane, do you remember how i said that maybe down the line, we could revisit us?”

i’m sobered up now, my smile gone as i eye him. he’s playing with his bracelets, a sign of nerves from him, and i just now realize that he’s still wearing the string friendship bracelet i gave him at eighteen; just before his draft.

i swallow the lump that built in throat, nodding, “yeah.”

“you think maybe now would be a good time to do that?” he asks. “start slow; go on dates again, maybe you could come over sometime for movie night with Luke and i, come to a few more of my games, where i actually know you’re there this time. and then see where that could take us?”

butterflies swarm my stomach, my heart beating rapidly in my chest, and my teeth sink into my lower lip, biting back a smile.

“i’d love that, Jack.”

#jack hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes imagine #jack hughes fic #jack hughes blurb #nj devils #nhl fic #nhl imagine #faithlynn’s writings <3

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d3adlyromb3ar · 19 days

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'. ݁₊ ⊹ cold lips, cold heart — one

— pairing. hockey player!choso x ice skater!fem!reader

— synopsis. you were one of the most graceful skaters to ever skate in your local arena, competing at a young age— racking up trophies and medals as the years passed. after an accident at your last competition, you find yourself afraid to skate again. your coach decides to ask one of your local hockey team players for help, desperate to get you back on the ice. but out of all the players your coach could’ve picked, it had to be him.

— word count. 3.5k

— contents. enemies to friends (eventual), friends to lovers (eventual), angst, trauma, fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of injuries, language

— notes. i think hockey players are hot & choso is extremely hot, so put those together and life just feels perfect 🤤 thank you @saradika for the dividers 🤍

main masterlist

How does one find themself in this situation, one so backwards. One so disorienting you wonder if this is merely a dream or the harsh reality. It couldn’t possibly be a moment in your life that needed to happen. You outright refused to believe that this was happening for a reason.

Between the battlegrounds you call your life and the way you were losing your mental strength as every day passed— the ice was the last place you clung to. It was the only place where you could be free. Free of the pain, the agony— of it all.

As you feel the cameras flashing, the blurred outlines of faces and silhouettes crowding you— you realize that you life was about to change. The pit in your stomach only grew in size at the possibility that you may never skate again. What was once a place you could call home, could now just be remembered as a sheet of ice.

Your eyes remained unfocused, staring blankly at your legs covered by a sheet, being wheeled into the back of an ambulance. Voices could be heard from either side of you, although they were unclear. It sounded almost as if they were speaking underwater— you weren’t listening.

It became too much for your eyes to stay open, and you begin to drift off. If only you knew how much your life was about to change.

“Here you go,” You handed the man his extra large coffee with two sugars and two creams. Just like every day. “Enjoy!”

“Thanks darling.” The man sent her a smile, heading outside to his usual spot, in the shade, just a hair out of the sunlight.

You smiled as he walked away. He was such a kind old man, face so gentle— and wrinkly. Still, he was sweet.

“What bullshit!” Your friend Maki hissed, face stuffed in her phone, “They keep making these damn tickets more expensive. Fucking fuckers.”

You slapped a hand to your mouth, trying your hardest not to giggle at her frustrated state.

“C’mon, you don’t really wanna go to a hockey game that bad, do you?”

“Hell no.” She hissed.

“Right, right. You just wanna try and get some big hunky hockey player dick.”

Maki had a proud expression on her face.

“That’s right— and I’m not ashamed.”

You shook your head, letting the giggle escape this time.

“You’re utterly ridiculous.”

“And youuu need to get some hockey dick too. Or just dick period.”

You rolled your eyes, very aware of your dry spell that has been going on for… well. Awhile.

“I am doing just fine actually, thank you very much.”

Maki leaned forward, her glasses perched on the tip of her nose. She was giving you her best really look.

“Honey, I’m all for this independent female attitude you got going on but, let’s be real. You need to be dicked down.”

You made a disgusted face, embarrassed that she was talking so loudly when there were costumers around.

“You might feel a little less stressed once you do,” She told you, “Find some super good dick and all your issues might just vanish.”

“Yeah, wish that was the case.” You were at a whisper by the end, glancing down to the scars that started below your knee and disappeared underneath your shorts.

Maki noticed your stare, her gaze softening.

“Listen, it might be good for you to at least meet someone, y’know? You need to stop moping around and go do something— live a little!”

You pouted, crossing your arms.

“I’m not moping around.”

Maki gave you another look.

“Babe, you’re the epitome of moping around.”

You acted hurt, holding a hand over your heart.

“Damn Maki.”

“I’m serious (Y/n).”

You waved her off, brushing all your joking to the side. Plus, you were only using humor to hide how you were truly feeling— defeated.

“I know, I know.”

“I just wanna see you happy, that’s all. You deserve that after everything you’ve been through.” She told you sweetly.

“I am happy Maki. Life at the coffee shop couldn’t be better.” You tried to convince her. Hell, you couldn’t even convince yourself.

“You need a life outside of work, and one that makes you happy.” She corrected.

You walked past her, nudging her shoulder playfully as you passed.

“On it boss!” You said lastly as you headed for the back. Your shift was ending soon.

You clocked out of work, setting your apron in your work locker before heading towards the bus stop. You had a plan to go home and binge some cringey tv show while stuffing your face with junk food. Yeah, that sounds wonderfu—

“(Y/n)!”

Scratch that.

You turned to see your old coach walking towards you, huge smile on her mature face.

“Hey there Ms. Utahime. What brings you here?”

She furrowed her brows, stopping when she was in front of you. Her look was one that made you wonder if you should know why she was here.

“One, can’t I just come see my favorite person in the world,” She definitely wanted something, “And two, I’m wondering why you aren’t back on the ice?” Yup, there it is.

“I told you coach, I’m not going to be starting up again. Already returned my skates and all my uniforms.”

“Nope. Just had everything returned to your place.”

You gave her a wild look.

“Why would you do that?”

“Because you’re going to be back on the ice soon.”

You sighed, leaning on your left leg to give your right a break.

“Coach, I’m not skating anymore. I’m sorry, I’m just not.” You started, pleading almost with her, “That chapter of my life is completed.”

She gave you a motherly look. Oh god.

“(Y/n) that chapter of your life was just beginning. You were doing so well and I couldn’t have been prouder of you.” You felt a but coming. “But,” Yup. “You aren’t done with what you’ve started, I’m sorry, I won’t let you waste your talent.”

“Coach—”

“Nope. I’m not giving you a choice. You’re gonna be back on the ice and train, because I know for a fact it’s been awhile since you’ve skated— no thanks to you.”

“I get it.” You rolled your eyes.

“I have big plans for you (Y/n), and they match up with your big plans.”

“Maybe that used to be my plan. Grow up to be the best skater there ever was, but after my…”

She waited patiently, watching your mouth open like a fish before closing. You had to gather your thoughts.

“After what happened,” You worded differently, “Things have changed. That girl, it isn’t who I am anymore.”

Coach Utahime sighed, giving her a moment to gather herself before letting her hand rest on my shoulder— in attempt to bring me some comfort.

“Will you at least think about it?”

You gazed into her eyes, her hope filled eyes that had you feeling weak and guilty— almost forcing the words out of your mouth. God, how you missed skating, and you’d do anything to get back to where you were. But it wasn’t that easy.

With a deep breath, you found yourself nodding.

“I’ll think about it.”

Her eyes were beaming, a smile taking over her face as she almost started jumping up and down from excitement.

“Great. I’ll see you soon.” She turned and waved goodbye, heading back to wherever she had come from.

Now it was just you standing at the bus stop, head full of chaos. What were you thinking? You couldn’t skate again, could you?

Like a robot following its coding, you walked onto the bus, sitting down in your usual spot all the way in the back— a window seat of course. You let your elbow rest on the arm of the seat, your palm cradling your chin. The view was pretty. In the sense that you got to admire people as the bus passed by. People didn’t realize how interesting they became when they were so oblivious to the watchers of the world, quirks and habits poking out as people became lost in their own little world.

It was a weird thing to appreciate I guess, but it calmed you.

You wondered how you looked to others that happen to watch you. You wondered if they felt sad, or if they felt embarrassment— for how someone could live such a dull life. Especially when life started so colorful, so lively.

Will you at least think about it?

You grumbled into your palm, annoyance at yourself for caving so easily to Utahime. It wasn’t easy to say no to her. She was the best coach you’ve ever had— the only coach that is. She was also not only a constant on the ice, but she was consistent in your personal life as well. It was odd but endearing.

Your thoughts were interrupted when a figure moved from your left. Glancing over, you watched the man sit on the furthest seat from you— except he was in the same row. The very back. Your section.

The man was facing the window, the view not helping you confirm who he was. The second he turned his head, and you were able to get a glance at his stupidly perfect side profile— you wanted to gag.

Choso Kamo.

You went with a scoff instead.

Choso turned his head towards the noise, his eyes unchanging as he saw you. Without smiling your way or offering any kind of greeting— he simply turned back to face forward. Not paying you any attention.

You narrowed your eyes at him, soon facing the window again— allowing yourself to once again sink into the abyss you called your mind.

Choso Kamo. Where to even start with Choso. It was pretty simple. He was a moody, angsty man who praised himself too high at being one of the best hockey players there was. Because that definitely wasn’t right… right? He had this mysterious aura about him, always keeping to himself. Never one to strike a conversation. To make things even better, the only confrontations you have with him were sour. He was always short and rude. It wasn’t that you wanted to dislike him— you just couldn’t stand him.

It also didn’t help that you used to have a crush on him, y’know, before you met him and then realized you hated him sorta thing.

I mean, who wouldn’t have a crush on him? Despite his shit personality, he was insanely attractive. Bone structure sculpted by the gods themselves. It was quite unfair really, to be gifted with such lethal looks— only to be a dick. Oh yeah, it didn’t help that he played hockey too. Apparently, it made a man 10x hotter when they played hockey. I don’t make the rules.

You snuck another glance at him, wondering what he was doing now. Or if he had gotten off the bus while you were daydreaming about hi— I mean thinking. Thinking about him.

You couldn’t help the pink dust your cheeks, seeing as he was already looking your way. In fact, he was holding your gaze with something unspoken. You instinctively placed a hand on your belly, wishing to stop the butterflies.

Again, like you were invisible, he looked away. Gazing out his own window, not paying you any mind. Again.

You chewed the inside of your lip, still unsure why it had to be him that had your gears grinding. He was a dick, yeah that’s it.

“Do you need something?”

The deep voice startled you, snapping you back to reality. A pair of dark eyes were staring at you, his brows furrowed at you as he waited for an answer.

You must’ve been looking at him still while you were lost in your thoughts. Great.

“Uh… no?” You didn’t even know why you were making it sound like a question.

“You were staring at me.”

“You were staring at me first.” You shot back.

His eyes narrowed in on you, silent for a moment as it almost seemed like he was trying to get a read on you. It had you squirming in your seat slightly— his gaze intimidating.

“I didn’t recognize you at first, (Y/n).” He admitted, your name falling off his lips so smoothly. “Was just making sure it was actually you.”

You swallowed, unprepared for that kind of response.

“Surprised you even remember my name.”

He turned his body slightly more facing you.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

You narrowed your gaze, starting to pick at the skin around your fingernails. A bad habit.

“You’re making it sound like we used to be close or something.”

He didn’t respond for a moment, just staring at you with confusion— like he didn’t understand you. He didn’t quite understand where your hostility was coming from.

“Were we not?”

You couldn’t possibly think of a way to respond to that, stuck staring at him like he’d just said the most outrageous thing. You felt confusion, shock and most importantly— embarrassment.

Remembering the day all too well, the day of your innocent much younger self building up the courage to express your feelings to a certain person. The same person who was sitting at the back of the bus with you.

You could still remember the utter humiliation of being rooted in your spot as he told you he didn’t feel the same. The sinking feeling in your stomach when he walked away, leaving you all alone to all watching eyes. You could still feel the tightness in your throat at the last glance of his pitied look towards you before he turned away.

Were we not? Choso had asked. The question almost making you laugh maniacally— at how obvious the answer was.

“No.” You told him blankly, “We were never close, I don’t know where you even got the idea that we were.”

He looked at you again for a moment, the only sound of the lulling engine of the bus. He had such a confused expression, and for a second you thought you saw something along the lines of a hurt look. That couldn’t be right.

“Yeah, guess you’re right.”

He turned back to his window, gazing out at the scenery passing by— leaving you to your thoughts again.

You shook your head, noticing that it was your stop coming up. You got up and headed towards the front of the bus, your hand hanging onto the bus railings as you walked along.

“Have a good day ma’am.” The driver had said sweetly.

You gave them a small smile, holding onto the railing tightly as you focused on your steps. Why did the bus stairs have to be to steep? You thought.

Your heel hovered too far ahead of the next step, causing you to slip— your right knee buckling from the previous stair, crumpling under you.

The bus driver gasped, something about asking if you were okay— but all you could focus on was the hot sensation coming from your right leg. You gripped tightly onto the railing, stopping yourself from falling any further. You bit your lip as a weird sensation flourished throughout you, memories of the accident fresh in your mind— the visions almost causing you to physically flinch away.

“Ma’am? Are you okay ma’am?”

You closed your eyes for a minute, taking a deep breath before you stood on shaky legs, your left leg taking most of the weight. You hobbled off the bus, limping pathetically until you reached a bench.

It wasn't completely a reaction from the pain. Yes it hurt, but it were the overwhelming flashbacks that would cripple you momentarily. You just needed to relax on the bench for a couple seconds, you'd be okay after.

"(Y/n)—?" The familiar deep voice startled you, lifting your gaze to see Choso holding out your bag. "You dropped this."

You kept a neutral expression, grabbing your bag back.

"Thanks."

"You okay?" He asks, and you were confused at his genuinely concerned expression.

You tucked your hair behind your ears, taking a deep breath. You felt better now that the uncomfortable feeling passed.

"Yeah, I'm fine." You kept your answers short.

Choso didn't believe you.

"You sure?" He pushed.

You narrowed your eyes, studying him— almost like you were trying to figure him out.

"Do you actually care?"

Choso sighed, crossing his arms, still standing in front of you.

"Why would I ask if I didn't care?" He replied, his expression the same as when he'd started talking to you— concerned.

"Why would you even ask? You've never bothered to talk to me before, so why now?" You wondered, this sudden change confusing. He was usually quiet and keeping to himself— certainly not bothered to strike up conversation with you. So why now, was it rude to ask?

"You looked like you were in pain, so I thought I'd make sure you were okay." He explained, his brows furrowed as he was slightly annoyed, "Maybe I don't talk a lot, but that doesn't mean I'm heartless."

"Could've fooled me." You mumbled.

"Why do you hate me so much?"

You scoffed, wondering if you should tell him how your younger feelings were hurt. Your younger self experiencing her first heartbreak. Definitely not.

"I don't hate you... I just would rather not talk with you." You said instead.

"Alright... because?"

"Because I just don't wanna talk with you."

He sighed again, running a hand through his hair— which looked so soft and just gorgeous. No, don't think about that.

"Seems unfair."

You shrugged, leaning back on the bench as you crossed your legs. Taking your time when you set your right leg overtop your left, as it felt a little sore from your tumble.

"Life's unfair." You muttered, hating that you were repeating what you had been told all your life. To be on the other end of it felt weird.

He chuckled. He actually chuckled, the deep vibrating sound floating through the air. You really couldn't ignore how much you loved hearing that sound. Actually, you hated that you loved it.

"Alright, well take care (Y/n). Give your leg some rest, hope you feel better." He said, turning to walk away.

Your cheeks flushed, hating that he had caught you— but how?

"I told you— I'm fine." You tried to convince him.

"I know. You're a terrible liar." And he was incredibly observant.

You bit your lip in annoyance, uncrossing your legs and holding your hands over your right thigh— like you were trying to hide it. Yeah good luck.

You couldn't find it in yourself to respond, too frustrated that he had called you out. A part of you wanted to appreciate that he at least seemed like he really cared— but you also didn't trust that it was genuine. You wanted it to be— that small part of you always having a spot in your heart for him. For some reason.

His steps were swift and relaxed as he walked further away down the sidewalk— to where exactly? No idea. You were almost positive this wasn't even his stop, and that he only got off for you. To give you your bag back you weirdo— yeah thats it.

With everything, like coach pressuring you into skating, your family drama that you'd rather not talk about, Maki's odd obsession with getting me dicked down— and now Choso? I didn't need this and I didn't want it.

So why was your head filled with thoughts about him, and his stupidly handsome face?

Fuck.

Your phone rang in your bag, and you scrambled to get it out with a huff of annoyance. Can't I just be left alone? You thought.

Pulling it out, the caller ID said Coach. With a sigh, you slid to answer.

"Hey Coach." You greeted.

"(Y/n)! Good news—!" Her voice squealed through the phone, making you flinch back from it, "I got someone to help you get back on the ice!"

You face palmed your face, running a hand down as you held in the urge to whine.

"Oh, really?" You ask in fake interest.

"Yup, they will help you get comfortable skating again. I wouldn't have asked this person if I didn't trust them." She informed you.

"Great." You said sarcastically.

"(Y/n), try to sound a little excited— god." She complained, and you rolled your eyes. "I'm gonna send you this person's profile. Maybe you can meet and talk with him, get to know each other before you start training. Y'know, get comfortable with each other."

"Alright fine, but I'm only doing this because I know you'll just force me anyway."

"Very true." She laughed. "I'm sending over the info now, gotta go— text you later!"

She hung up before you could say bye, and you got the expected ding of the text. You clicked on the link to the profile and immediately noticed the logo on the profile— it was a hockey team.

Your eyes skimmed over the profile and widened in disbelief when you read the name listed. You gotta be fucking kidding me...

Choso Kamo.

Well fuck.

— ending notes. thinking about making this a series, but I have so many projects in the works right now, what am I doing to myself lol

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preservationofnormalcy · 2 months

Note

Hey! I've been curious, are there any extranormal sports?

Oh, great question. Never was a sports guy myself, despite growing up in football-obsessed Virginia. Most extranormal folks like a lot of mundane sports (there’s been a few semi-famous professional athletes who were lycan or what have you) but there’s a few unique to or famous in the extranormal community.

Yellow Circle folks have this game with three teams and three “balls” that’s a little like basketball mixed with hockey. It’s infamously a contact sport and also completely underwater. It’s a little hard to spectate, much less participate - you pretty much have to be a certain way into your “development” as a Circle member. I also wouldn’t recommend spectating unless you’re already used to nonstandard spatial forms. I can’t pronounce what it’s called in the Circle tongue, but it translates to “Returning The Eyes To The Empty Below”, or colloquially “Eyeball.” Fun fact - it’s actually adapted from an Atlantean sport. They’re similar enough that two teams could hypothetically play together without much changing of rules, but the two styles have extremely proud traditions and have horrible arguments over which style is best. Think American Vs Canadian football.

Fae don’t have a sport, I think, but they do play this incredibly complex board game via messenger butterfly that can take years, sometimes generations.

I hear younger wizards play something called “Valorant” and they take it incredibly seriously but I wouldn’t know about it.

#office for the preservation of normalcy #ask #atlantis #yellow circle #wizards #fae #ooc: I wasn’t able to use the regular yellow text this time? I’ll edit it on pc later

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gotham--fc · 3 months

Text

Torn - A Megan Keller Imagine

R is Canadian and gets hurt really bad in a rivalry series game, her and Megan try to cope

lowkey inspired by an actual real life person I know who had a torn labrum for almost 4 years because sports med refused to take her seriously

this was supposed to be short and quick but ended up being around 4k words..... enjoy!

Megan wishes she couldn’t remember what happened with such clarity. She wishes she was looking the other way, or was across the ice, or back in the locker room completely.

She teased Y/N for weeks leading up to the game. At every Boston practice she would ask to be on a different scrimmage team so she could get practice going against her. She would refuse to sit next to Y/N on the team bus so she could get her head in the rivalry. Y/N rolled her eyes and took everything Megan gave her and gave it right back.

The game was tense and physical right from the start. It always is and everyone’s prepared for it. It’s a close game, both teams pushing to pull ahead. It’s late in the second period and Y/N goes to dig the puck out from the boards behind the US’s net. Megan gets there before her teammates and she presses up against Y/N’s back and jams her stick at the puck.

“Give me the puck or I will dump you,” Keller says. Y/N snorts.

“At least try and chirp something believable at me.”

Y/N pokes the puck free and skates after it. Keller reacts a second too late, and Abby Roque skates up to Y/N from the other side. Keller watches it happen. She watches Abby drop her shoulder and watches her slam into Y/N. Y/N’s focused on the puck, she doesn’t see it coming. Keller watches as Roque slams Y/N into the boards and Keller knows it’s a pen right away when she saw Roque drop her shoulder, and then Y/N hits the boards, her stick and arm twisted up and then she screams.

Keller feels her blood run cold.

Y/N collapses on the ice, screaming, and she writhes on the ice clutching at her shoulder. The ref blows the whistle and points to Roque but Keller isn’t paying attention. Y/N won’t stop screaming. The crowd goes silent, not that Keller was paying any attention to them, but that means she can hear Y/N’s screams in more clarity.

Oh god, Megan’s never seen her in pain like this before.

Megan doesn’t move, doesn’t take her eyes off Y/N, even as the Canadian players go after Roque, even as Laura Stacey drops to her knees beside Y/N and tries to calm her down.

“I know,” Stacey says, “I know it hurts. Try to keep still. Stop screaming.” Stacey’s hands are everywhere, on Y/N’s shoulders, on her arms, her chest, pulling her helmet off.

“Please, stop screaming,” Stacey says, “I know it hurts.”

Y/N screams and cries so hard she gags.

“Stop screaming,” Stacey keeps saying.

She keeps saying it even when the medical staff comes out onto the ice. She keeps saying it when they assess Y/N. She keeps saying it when they help her up and start to lead her off the ice. Y/N’s stopped screaming so loud, but she keeps making pained sounds as they move her. Keller doesn’t even realize she’s following them until she gets to the Canada bench and Marie Philip Poulin stops her with a hand on her chest and a shove that feels rougher than it is.

“Go back to your bench Keller,” Poulin says.

In a daze, Keller skates to her bench. She can’t pay attention to anything her coach says. Her head feels underwater and her teammates all pat her on the back and try to comfort her, but she can’t hear it. All she can hear is Y/N’s screams.

***

It’s the worst pain Y/N’s ever felt.

She’s had shoulder problems for a while, but nothing she couldn’t play through. She’s been to physio and to sports med and they all tell her the same thing. It’s her posture, she’s too tense, she needs massages, or physio exercises, it’s nothing medically wrong. It’s frustrating having a constant dull ache in her shoulder that only gets worse when she moves it, but she can play hockey and she can get through it. Besides, if there’s nothing to be done, then what can she do?

The medical staff leads her back to the locker room and help her out of her jersey and her pads so they can assess her shoulder. She can’t move her shoulder at all, and screams in pain as they try to gently maneuver her pads off. Finally, she’s left in just her undershirt and sports bra. They determine that’s there more structural issues with her shoulder than they can handle (duh) and they decide she needs to go the hospital to get checked out.

“Wait,” Y/N speaks up for the first time since she hit the boards, “I wanna stay for the game.”

“We can’t medically clear you to get back on the ice,” One of the medics says, “I’m sorry, but you have to get x-rays and possibly an MRI. We need to take you to the hospital.”

“I just wanna stay for the end,” Y/N says, “I don’t wanna play. I’ll stay in here. I don’t wanna go alone. I don’t want to go to the hospital alone. Please. Let someone else come with me.”

Y/N knows they don’t want to, she knows they want her to go to the hospital right away, and Y/N knows she should, but she also knows she’s not in the mindset to be stuck in a hospital all night alone. She knows she won’t be able to pay attention to anything that the doctors tell her, and she won’t be able to ask the questions she knows she should ask. Finally, one of the medical staff sighs.

“Fine. We’ll talk to Troy at intermission.”

***

After the game, Y/N gets loaded into a non-emergency ambulance with Laura Stacey.

Her shoulder feels like it’s on fire and the makeshift sling she’s in doesn’t keep her shoulder from jostling. The medical staff are on her one side, Stacey on the other, and Y/N just wants to curl up in bed and cry. They’re walking from the locker rooms to the exit door and Y/N doesn’t react to the pounding footsteps behind them.

“Y/N!” Megan calls. Y/N’s foot falters, then keeps going. She knows she’ll fall apart if she looks at Megan right now. “Wait, wait, what’s wrong? How bad is it? Are you going back to the hotel?”

“Keller,” Stacey stops and puts her hands out, stopping Megan from getting any closer. “It’s okay, she’s okay. She’s going to get checked out. We’re not going to be back at the hotel until the morning probably. There’s nothing you can do right now, just give her some space. I’ll keep you updated.”

“Wait, wait, I can come with, I can…” Megan’s voice gets increasingly frantic, “Please, let me do something.”

“Let’s go Megs,” Now it’s Hilary’s Knight’s voice. She shepherds Megan away. Megan resists, but she leaves with Hilary.

Y/N wants to feel bad. She wants to feel bad that she didn’t turn around, that she didn’t look at Megan or talk to her or tell her everything’s going to be okay. She wants to be, but she’s not. She’s in too much pain to care about anything right now.

***

Megan stays up all night. She sits in the bathroom, staring at her phone in her hand and waiting for it to ring. Hilary’s her roommate for this camp and she banished Megan to the bathroom after her restless movements and phone light kept Hilary from sleeping.

She barely resists texting Y/N, knowing that she probably can’t answer. She doesn’t know how bad the damage is, but with how Y/N was screaming, it can’t be good.

Oh god.

Megan doesn’t think she’ll ever forget the sound of Y/N screaming.

She felt helpless on the ice, and she feels helpless now. Stacey is right. There’s nothing she can do, nothing any of them can do now. Megan itches to do something. Her knees bobs constantly, she picks at her fingernails, tries to google shoulder injuries and then closes Safari when she starts reading about the worst shoulder injuries athletes can get.

She texts Stacey again, having got her number from Hilary who got it from Poulin.

any updates?

how is she feeling? is it as bad as it looked?

Stacey doesn’t respond.

Megan stands up, paces the tiny bathroom, then sits down again.

***

“See this here?”

Y/N has done ultrasounds and x-rays and an MRI. She’s been passed around for test after test and none of them help make her feel better. Her shoulder hurts and she’s been crying since they left the rink. The nurses are nice, but it’s clear they know how bad things are, and they pity her. Stacey is with her when she can, but Y/N knows she knows it’s bad too.

The doctors came in and pulled up her scans on the screens. Y/N tries to look at them, but she doesn’t know anything about this medical stuff. She doesn’t know what a shoulder is supposed to look like.

“This is an old injury,” The doctor continues, “A torn labrum. It looks months old, which most likely contributed to your shoulder instability. Have you been in any pain? Have you gotten your shoulder checked out?" Y/N nods.

“Physio did an x-ray,” She says, “Said nothing was wrong.”

“Right, these types of injuries are very hard to spot on an x-ray. It’s why we recommend an MRI for shoulder injuries. As you can see…”

Y/N zones out as he talks. She doesn’t understand what he’s saying and all she knows is her shoulder hurts and she just wants to go home.

“What kind of timeline are we looking at?” Stacey asks. This is why Y/N wanted someone else here. She knew she wouldn’t be in the headspace to ask the doctors anything.

“Well, after the surgery, she’ll be at least six weeks in a sling. Then depending on how the shoulder’s recovered, there will be three, four months of physio to get mobility back and build her strength back. Probably another two, three months, before she can be cleared to get back on the ice.”

“But, she’ll come back? She’ll make a full recovery?”

“That’s the hope,” The doctor says, “Every injury is different and it’s hard to create an exact timeline at this stage. Physio will build strength and mobility and if all goes well, she’ll be perfectly fine to play; however, if the stability never recovers, I would say it’s unlikely she’ll get back on the ice. But, that’s worst case scenario. Surgery should repair the torn ligaments and muscle, and then if she keeps up with her physio and doesn’t push too hard and set herself back, I’d say she has a good chance of getting back on the ice.”

“Thanks doctor,” Stacey says.

The doctor leaves and Stacey sits on Y/N’s good side and takes her hand. Y/N doesn’t look over, just stares at the wall.

“You’re going to be fine,” Stacey says, “You’re in good hands. I have complete faith in you.”

The doctor is in the hall talking to the team medical staff, Y/N can hear their voices. She knows she’s not having surgery here. She doesn’t know where she’ll get it. She supposes it’s up to the medical staff. A nurse comes in and gives her a few pills. For the pain, she says. Y/N takes them without complaint.

“Megan wants to know what’s going on,” Stacey says, “What do you want me to tell her?”

“I want a new physio.”

***

on our way back to the hotel. looking at a six month recovery at least. she's in a lot of pain. I’m taking her to her room to get some rest. talk more in the morning

Megan reads Stacey’s text over and over again. She debates going down to the lobby to meet them. She debates going to Y/N’s room. She debates calling Stacey. She debates going to bed.

In the end, she decides to get some ice. She takes the ice bucket down the hall to the machine and fills it. She sits in the hallway and crunches on the ice cubes. She takes the bucket with her as she heads back to her room. She debates going downstairs and going out on the back patio, but she knows she’ll only end up in the lobby. She goes out onto the balcony. It’s chilly outside, but she grabbed a hoodie to wear before she went outside. Her room is at the back of the hotel, so she can’t even look out and see if she can see Y/N coming back.

She chews another ice cube.

***

In the morning, Knight finds her passed out on the balcony, the ice bucket just water. She tipped it over at some point during the night and the water seeped into her socks, making her grimace.

“Have you heard anything?” Knight asks as she tugs her wet socks off.

“It’s bad,” Keller says, “Stacey wouldn’t tell me details. Six month recovery, she said.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Hilary says, “She’s tough as hell, she’ll be fine.”

Megan heads down for team breakfast and tries to see if she can spot any of the Canadian players. She sees Jamie Lee Rattray and beelines it for her. She puts up her hand before Megan makes it to her.

“I don’t know any more than you do,” Ratty says, “None of us have seen her yet and Stace isn’t saying anything.”

“Do you know where she is? I want to see her,” Megan says, “Can you tell her to find me or call me or something? She didn’t…” Megan swallows heavily, “She didn’t even look at me.”

Ratty puts her hand on Megan’s arm.

“I’ll let her know you’re looking for her when I see her.”

Megan doesn’t end up seeing Y/N. She does see Laura Stacey and follows her around the hotel while asking every question she can possibly think of. Stacey informs Megan of what the doctor said, what the extent of the injury is. Megan sees red when Stacey tells her Y/N’s been complaining about shoulder pain but her physio told her it was nothing.

“I’m going to kill him,” Megan seethes, “How can he just ignore a persistent problem? And now she’s hurt because he wouldn’t do anything!”

“You can’t do anything about it now,” Stacey says, “None of us can. It sucks and it’s frustrating but all we can do now is deal.”

“I need to see her,” Megan says, “I need to see if she’s okay.”

“She’s not up to seeing anyone right now,” Stacey says. She sighs. “I’ll talk to her, but she’s tired and she’s in pain and she’s upset and I think she needs some space right now. You have to let her come to you.”

***

Megan sees Y/N later that night. She’s in the lobby waiting for food her and Hilary ordered, when Y/N steps off the elevator. Her arm is in a sling and she looks exhausted. She has a group of Canadian players with her, and they’re talking loudly and joking around, but Y/N is quiet, walking a beat behind them. Megan puts her phone away, food delivery be damned, and she heads for the group.

“Y/N,” Megan says when she’s close enough. Y/N glances at her for a second then she looks away and walks quicker to catch up with the group.

Megan doesn’t react, in shock at the reaction, and then her phone starts ringing as her delivery driver arrives.

***

Megan keeps seeing Y/N. She’s never alone. Megan knows Y/N well enough to know that she would hole herself up in her hotel room if someone didn’t force her out, and on one hand Megan is glad that her teammates can get her out and hopefully keep her spirits up, but Megan also wishes she could be that. She wishes Y/N would let her help. Every time Megan sees her, Y/N avoids her. She turns the other way, or she clings to whoever is closest to her and refuses to even look at Megan.

She sees Y/N talking to Abby Roque, smiling, laughing, and Abby touches her good arm and Megan wants to scream.

Y/N flees before Megan can reach them.

***

Y/N can’t sleep.

Her shoulder hurts, but she can’t take her pain meds because she skipped dinner because eating makes her feel sick. And since she can only use one arm, eating is an ordeal and she’s tired of having to ask her teammates for help like a child.

She lays in bed, awake, for an hour before she sneaks out of bed. She doesn’t even bother changing, still in her pjs, ragged shorts and a faded tee shirt that used to belong to Megan. She walks up the two flights of stairs it takes to get to the USA floor and she stops in front of Megan’s door. It’s late and she doesn’t want to wake up Megan’s roommate. She doesn’t want to be a bother.

She pulls out her phone and texts Megan.

u up

at ur door

cnt sleep

wana c u

She doesn’t get a response, and she should’ve expected Megan would be asleep. It’s late and just because she can’t sleep doesn’t mean Megan can’t either. She slides down the wall until she’s sitting on the floor. She’s tired and hurting and she just wants to see Megan. She debates calling her, but that would wake up her roommate too. And she doesn’t think she should wake Megan either. She’s been a shit girlfriend lately.

She rests her head on her bent knees even though it makes her shoulder hurt. She should get up and go back to bed before anyone notices she’s out here. She shouldn’t be here, in this hotel, with her team. She should go home, she should get surgery, she should start her recovery, not sit on the hotel floor outside her girlfriend’s room. Outside of Megan who might not be her girlfriend anymore’s room.

The door opens.

“Y/N?”

It takes Megan a second to see her.

“Hey,” Y/N says, her voice rough. She tries to stand, but her shoulder hurts and she just ends up on her knees biting back a groan.

Megan steps out into the hallway and helps her up. Y/N doesn’t say anything else, just stares at Megan’s hand that stays on her elbow.

“Do you wanna come in?” Megan asks. Y/N shakes her head.

“Roommate.”

“Let’s go somewhere else.”

Y/N follows Megan through the hotel, not really sure where they’re going and not really paying attention. Eventually Megan leads Y/N to an empty conference room they’ve been having team meetings in.

“Are you okay?” Megan asks after she closes the door.

Y/N takes a step forward, and then another, until she can lean all her weight onto Megan. She shakes her head against Megan’s chest and lets out a sob, then a pained noise when it hurts her shoulder. Megan holds her, whispering softly to her, until Y/N’s sobs die down.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Megan asks. Y/N shakes her head.

“I just wanna go to sleep,” Y/N says, “But my shoulder hurts. I want… I just want to play hockey.”

“I’m sorry,” Megan says, “I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry. I’ve been a bad girlfriend.”

“It’s okay. You’re hurt.”

“I just wanted to keep it together. I just wanted to be strong and… and… I can’t do that with you. You’re… I don’t have to be anything else with you, so I can’t be. I knew I’d lose it if I saw you, or talked to you. And… I’m embarrassed.” Y/N’s mumbling by the end of her speech.

“Embarrassed about what?”

“I was screaming so loud,” Y/N whispers, “I could hear it but I didn’t realize it was me until Stace told me to stop. I’m embarrassed because I scared everyone. Because I knew I had shoulder problems and I played through them. Because I listened to my physio and I didn’t get a second opinion. Because I let him convince me it was my fault. That I avoided you. That I hurt you.”

“This wasn’t your fault,” Megan says decisively, “You are not a medical professional. You trusted your physio and sports med and they let you down. You did nothing wrong. It sucks that this happened but it was not your fault.”

“I hurt you.”

“It was hard being shut out. I can’t lie, it really sucked. I didn’t know what to do or how to fix it and you just looked so miserable every time I saw you and I just wanted to run to you and hold you and everyone just kept telling me to leave you alone. I just want to help.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You got dealt a shit hand and you’re allowed to process any way you want to. I can’t imagine what you’re going through right now.”

Y/N sniffs, wiping her nose with the back of her hand.

“I have to get surgery to reconstruct my whole shoulder,” She says, “It’ll be weeks before I can get out of the sling and then months to get mobility back and then months to build my strength and grip back and after all of that I might never play hockey again. I might never get full mobility back, or my shoulder might be too unstable still to play hockey. It might take years to get to 100% and by then…” Y/N trails off.

“You can’t focus on the future right now. Yes all of that sucks, but you have to focus on the next steps. You can’t look at the finish line, you just have to look at what’s next. That’s surgery. Don’t focus on anything after, just on that. And you have the best medical staff with you and you have a whole country behind you. And me. I’ll always be here rooting you on.”

“I just want to play hockey. I want to sleep so bad.”

“Let’s go to bed then.”

“My shoulder,” Y/N says, “I can’t take my pain meds on an empty stomach.”

“Good thing I have food in my room.”

“Megs,” Y/N says frustrated, “I can’t eat. I only have one fucking hand. I’m tired of being treated like a child.”

“It’s a sandwich,” Megan answers, “You can eat it one handed. And then pain meds and then sleep. Okay?”

Y/N sniffs, then agrees. Megan leads her up to her hotel room. Y/N doesn’t know how to act, and Megan keeps fidgeting and picking at her fingers, and it’s Y/N’s fault, that they don’t know what they’re allowed to do.

“We can sit on the balcony,” Megan says when they get close to the room, “If you’re worried about Hil waking up. I don’t care, she can deal. But if you’d rather not, we can sit on the balcony.”

“Okay.”

Y/N sits on the balcony while Megan gets the sandwiches. They eat in silence, which Y/N is grateful for, until she realizes that Megan might not be saying anything because she might not have anything to say to her.

“I really am sorry,” Y/N says, “For being shitty to you. I don’t know… I don’t…” Y/N was determined not to cry, but now she can feel her eyes watering and knows she can’t stop it. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you, please don’t…” Y/N’s full on crying now, “Please don’t leave me.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Megan drops her sandwich and rushes to Y/N’s side. “I’m not breaking up with you. I love you too.”

“I’m so awful to you.”

“No,” Megan cups Y/N’s face and forces Y/N to look at her, “Something shitty happened to you and you coped with it the best you could. This… hiccup doesn’t ruin what we have and it doesn’t make me want to leave you. I don’t know what I’d do without you either and I was so scared that you would leave me that I tried to give you space and back off if you didn’t want me around so that you wouldn’t. We’ll get through this baby, I’m not leaving you.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

They finish their sandwiches, each eating one handed, Y/N with her one arm in a sling and Megan with one hand on Y/N’s knee. Megan helps Y/N take her pain meds and, despite Y/N’s protests, into Megan’s bed. They’re not technically allowed to do this, sleep in each other’s rooms, but Megan thinks no one will be upset at them this time. It takes a minute to find a comfortable position for Y/N to lay in, but once the meds kick in, she’s out like a light. Megan stays up for a little longer, looking at Y/N, and being grateful that they’re on the road to recovery and vowing to be by Y/N’s side every step of the way.

#megan keller #megan keller imagine #uswnt imagines #hockey imagine #womens hockey imagine #hockey rpf #uswnt hockey #woho #woho imagine

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