#Challenged Athletes Foundation

[wannab3-writer]

Game, Set, Love

ART DONALDSON X READER (18+)

Mature Content Warnings: spoilers if you SQUINT , Forbidden Love, Second-Chance Romance, Age Gap, Mentor and Protégé, cheating ( sorta, not on reader), SMUT, NOT PROOF READ.

WC: 13.2 k

description

After walking away from tennis at the height of his career, Art Donaldson finds himself drawn back into the sport as a favour to an old friend. His new charge, Katrina King, is a talented but emotionally young player navigating the intense pressures of the professional tennis circuit. Art and Katrina's connection deepens as they train for the 2020 US Open but a single night changes everything.

2020 BEVERLLY HILLS CHALLENGER

August 31st, 2020

Art Donaldson sat in the shaded section of the stands, his arms resting casually on the armrests. He'd made it clear to everyone—Tashi and the media—that he was done with tennis. But Martha King, a long-time supporter of his and Tashi's tennis foundation, insisted that he attend, going so far as to cover all his expenses for the weekend so he could attend. Her daughter, Katrina King, was playing her final challenger before qualifying for the US Open, and Martha believed it was something he couldn’t miss.

"It's just one set; I'm not going to sit here and beg you to coach her or anything. Just watch, Art. I think you'll find it worthwhile."

Art nodded slightly, keeping his expression neutral. "I’m here, aren't I?" he said, keeping an aloof facade. He glanced toward the court, where Katrina was preparing to serve and begin the last set. Her movements were fluid and purposeful. He'd heard about her talent and determination, but he wasn't ready to be pulled back into the tennis world.

The game began, and Katrina's serve was powerful, almost explosive. Art watched with mild interest as her opponent, a seasoned French player, struggled to keep up. He watched her body move, head to toe, taking her in. She was tall and lean; her body was nothing less than an athletes that was for sure.

"She's impressive," Art commented, a hint of genuine appreciation in his voice. Katrina’s mother smiled, her perfectly manicured fingers resting on her lap, glancing over towards him.

"She works hard," she replied. "A lot like Tashi used to. I remember watching her play when she was just starting out. She had the same intensity, the same drive."

That had left a bad taste in his mouth.

Art's gaze lingered on Katrina as she moved around the court with confidence and agility. Each shot was precise. He found himself leaning forward slightly, and his interest piqued despite his best efforts to remain indifferent.

Martha noticed the shift in his demeanor and cocked a brow. "It's good to see you out here, Art. I know you didn't want to come, but I'm glad you did," she said, her voice soft yet firm. Art nodded, his eyes fixed on the match.

"I'm just watching; nothing special, really," he replied, unsure if he was convincing himself or her.  — Another ace, and the crowd erupted in applause. Art found himself joining in, clapping slowly, though his eyes were locked on Katrina. Something about her—the energy, the focus—reminded him of the early days, the days of fire and ice, Stanford, Wimbledon, and Tashi. It was electric.

As the match progressed, Art's arms uncrossed, and he sat forward, his attention fully on the game. Katrina was dominating, each point building momentum until she reached the match point. The rallies were intense, and the shots were sharp and strategic. With one last ace, Katrina secured the game and title, and her triumphant fist-pump met with a roar from the crowd.

Art stood, clapping with genuine enthusiasm. It had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of excitement watching a match. Martha looked at him, raising an eyebrow, her expression expectant.

"Well?" she asked, her voice warm but with an edge that demanded a response.

Art hesitated only briefly, the words coming out almost involuntarily. "I'll do it," he said, realizing that he meant it. The idea of coaching Katrina suddenly seemed like an opportunity he couldn't pass up.

Martha smiled, giving him a tight-lipped smile. "I knew you'd come around," she said. "Katrina will be thrilled."

Art nodded, his gaze returning to the court where Katrina stood, smiling at the applause. Turning towards the crowd after a few seconds, she found her mother’s gaze, and then — Arts, and she held a fiery look in her eyes, sporting a raised  brow and sly smirk for what felt like at least a minute. One thing was sure for Katrina, on August 31st, 2020, the match wasn’t the only thing she had won that day, and maybe, just maybe, tennis had a place for him again.

THE MEETING

Katrina King walked down the narrow corridor backstage, sweaty, hot, and short of breath, the adrenaline from her victory still coursing through her veins. She was basking in her win, her smile broad and confident. But her mother's text just minutes after the game was clear: "Come to the players' lounge. Now."

She pushed open the door and saw her mother sitting at a small table with Art Donaldson. Katrina knew who he was—everyone in tennis knew. A former tennis champion, the US Open winner from a decade earlier.

Art looked up as Katrina entered the room, his eyes scanning her with a mix of curiosity and appraisal. Her long hair was tied back in a tight ponytail, and her eyes sparkled with a mix of intensity and confidence. He noticed the subtle tilt of her chin—she was used to winning, and it showed.

"Katrina," Martha said, gesturing for her to join them. "You remember Art Donaldson, don't you?"

"Of course," Katrina replied, extending her hand. Art stood, his movement deliberate, and shook her hand firmly. His hair was longer than she remembered, resembling his past self, his Stanford days, and recalling his games she'd seen on YouTube. His grip was strong.

"Great game today," Art said, his voice measured. "You played with a lot of confidence. That last ace was a killer."

"Thanks," Katrina replied, a hint of pride in her tone. She could tell he was assessing her and weighing her potential. She didn't mind—she'd done the same with him, reading up on his career and his playing style as soon as she found out he was attending her game. He was known for his

Martha cleared her throat. "But," she said, her tone turning sharp, "there were a few things you need to work on. Your backhand was a bit sloppy today. And you were late on a couple of volleys. If your opponent had been more aggressive, you could've lost points."

Katrina's expression hardened. She knew her mother was right, but the criticism was not something that needed to be said in front of Art; for God sake, she was a 20-year-old woman but felt like she was a child getting scolded in front of her peers, especially after a big win. Art watched the exchange, noting the dynamic between them.

"I'll work on it," Katrina said, her voice steady. "But I got the win, didn't I?"

"You need to be prepared for tougher competition. Complacency is the enemy." Martha replied. “If you think you can win the grand slam playing like that, you’ll be in for a rude awakening, Katrina.”

Art leaned back in his chair, watching the interplay. Katrina definitely had the spark and the drive, but there was also a stubborn streak in her.

So Tashi

When she was younger, she was always pushing boundaries and never satisfied with just a win. He could see the potential for greatness.

"She's got a point," Art said, jumping in. "There's always room for improvement. But you played a solid game today. The key is to keep that momentum going without getting overconfident."

Katrina glanced at him, assessing his words. She appreciated his straightforward approach. He wasn't coddling her, but he also wasn't tearing her down. It was a balance she could respect.

"I'm not planning on slowing down," she said, meeting his gaze. "I want to keep getting better. Whatever it takes."

Art nodded. He liked her attitude. It was raw and unfiltered, just like he had been. But there was also a hint of something else—an edge that could either make or break her career. He'd have to be careful, tread lightly, and guide her without pushing too hard.

"Good," he replied, a faint smile on his lips. "Because coaching isn't just about winning. It's about building a mindset, a work ethic, and knowing when to listen. You up for that?"

Katrina raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You wouldn’t have agreed to coach me if I wasn’t.”

PRACTICE

Art Donaldson stepped into the grand foyer of the White residence, feeling a slight twinge of unease. The housekeepers greeted him politely, their voices formal and distant, leading him through the opulent hallways.

The backyard was large, with meticulously manicured gardens and a full-sized tennis court at its center. Katrina was on the court, stretching with the fluid grace of a seasoned athlete. Her dark hair was tied back in a ponytail, and in her matching tennis outfit, everything was neatly upheld, even Katrina.

"Hi," she said, her tone somewhat neutral, almost formal. "Ready for practice?"

Art nodded, his expression detached.

Katrina stretched a little longer, glancing at Art occasionally. He stood with his arms crossed, his posture stiff and unwelcoming. The silence between them felt heavy, and neither seemed eager to break it. Katrina was used to coaches being more engaged and enthusiastic, but Art seemed distant, as if he was doing this out of obligation rather than passion.

"Let's get started," he replied, keeping his voice level. He placed his bag on a bench and scanned the court, taking in the pristine surface and the quality equipment. It was clear that the King family spared no expense on Katrina's training facilities.

Art finally spoke, outlining the plan for the day. "We'll start with your serve. There's a lot of power, which is why you can get so many aces in, but you need better footwork if you want to avoid long-term injuries. Then we'll work on your defense, and after that, we'll focus on your shot selection."

Art finally spoke, outlining the plan for the day. "We'll start with your serve. There's a lot of power, which is why you can get so many aces in, but you need better footwork if you want to avoid long-term injuries. Then we'll work on your defense, and after that, we'll focus on your shot selection."

Katrina listened with a mix of uncertainty and skepticism. Art Donaldson wasn't the type to mince words, and despite his unbothered demeanor, his comments were sharp and to the point. What puzzled her was how much he seemed to know about her style, despite only seeing her play once.?

Art continued, his voice even and matter-of-fact. "I've reviewed some of your past games, mostly the ones you lost. It's clear you have the raw strength and power, but you rely on them too much. That's great for getting those aces, but without proper technique and precision, you're risking injuries and inconsistency. We need to refine that raw power and give it more structure."

Katrina couldn't help but feel a flicker of irritation. She knew she was strong, and her serve was one of the best on the circuit, but hearing someone dissect her game so quickly was unsettling. This was only their first practice; they hadn’t even started playing yet, but somehow Art already seemed to know her weaknesses better than most of her previous coaches.

Art continued, unaware of her internal resistance. "So, I've created a set of drills that will help improve your footwork and balance. It's not just about hitting the ball hard; it's about control and accuracy. If we don't work on these areas, you're going to burn out before you reach your peak."

Katrina folded her arms, her brow furrowing slightly. She wasn't one to take criticism lightly, especially from someone who'd barely spent time with her. Art had a point—she'd heard similar comments before—but his bluntness felt a bit too forward for her liking. Who was he to tell her she needed refinement after only seeing her play once?

As much as she wanted to dismiss him, she knew, deep down, that he was right. Her strength was a double-edged sword; it gave her an edge, but it also left her vulnerable. She'd suffered minor injuries in the past due to poor technique, and she'd lost matches because of these errors. Art's critique, though harsh, had truth to it.

Art noticed her hesitation and the slight edge in her expression. "I know this might sound a bit blunt," he said, softening his tone slightly. "But I'm not here to sugarcoat things. If you want to make it to the top and stay there, you need to listen and adjust. This isn't about criticism—it's about giving you the best chance to succeed."

Katrina sighed, feeling her resistance wane. Maybe Art was a bit too forward, but he wasn't wrong. He had seen something in her that others hadn't—or maybe he was just willing to point it out where others had stayed silent. She was stubborn, but she wasn't stupid.

"Okay," she said, her voice steady. "Let's give it a shot."

Art nodded, his demeanor slightly less rigid. "Good. Let's start with the footwork drills. I'll show you what I mean."

As they moved onto the court to begin the practice, Katrina felt a cautious sense of optimism. Art was a mystery; she had only met him once before and couldn’t recall him being this cold, but there was something about his straightforwardness that felt refreshing, even if it rubbed her the wrong way at first. Maybe this coaching thing would work out after all—if she could just learn to trust his instincts.

Art watched her for a while, his arms still crossed. He occasionally offered a brief correction, but his tone lacked enthusiasm. "Keep your elbow in on your serve. It'll give you more control," he said without much inflection.

Katrina adjusted her stance and served again, this time with better accuracy. "I got it," she replied, glancing at Art to gauge his reaction. He simply nodded, his face expressionless.

As the practice progressed, the tension between them slowly eased. Art started giving more detailed feedback, explaining why certain techniques were important. Katrina listened intently, realizing that, despite his aloof demeanor, he knew his stuff. His advice was sound, and when she followed it, she could see near-immediate improvement in her game.

"You're not bad at this coaching thing," she remarked, trying to lighten the mood. Art gave a faint smile, the first she'd seen from him. "Just repeating what I've heard a thousand times," he replied.

Katrina tilted her head, curiosity getting the better of her. "Didn't Tashi coach you your whole career? There must have been an adjustment when you two decided to retire, huh?" After those words left her mouth, she knew she had hit a sore spot.

Art's expression changed, the brief smile vanishing. "Yeah, she was." She hadn't meant any harm; really, it was an honest question. Art had a successful career with more than enough titles under his belt, not to mention a prior injury; it only made sense to retire when he did.

His voice grew colder. "Alright, breaks over." He turned away, signaling the end of the conversation.

The rest of the practice was more focused, with Art providing steady guidance and Katrina working hard to apply his advice. As the session drew to a close, Katrina felt a subtle shift in Art's attitude. He seemed a bit more relaxed and engaged in the process.

Before they wrapped up, Katrina decided to ask a question that had been on her mind. "Art, why did you agree to coach me?" she asked, her tone softer, almost hesitant. “No offense, but you didn't seem the most pleased when you got here.” She stopped and laughed. “And I know my mother's paying you well, but I'm sure you do good for yourself on your own.”

Art paused, considering his response. He looked up to the sky in thought, licking his lips only to settle his gaze on her while she rolled out her quads. "When I watched your game, I saw the determination and drive for tennis that I haven't seen in a long time," he said, his voice softer, almost reflective. "Not since Tashi," he added, his eyes distant. The memory of Tashi's knee injury and the end of her career lingered in the air. “It honestly felt like I was watching her for the first time again.”

Katrina nodded, sensing the heaviness in his words. "Thank you," she said quietly. She knew there was more to Art's story, but she also knew it wasn't her place to press further. She got up after her stretch, dusting herself off.

Art nodded, "We'll meet again tomorrow at the same time," he said, his voice returning to its usual calm. Katrina agreed, sensing that this coaching relationship would take time to develop but feeling that they were on the right track. “I think it would be a smart move to sign you up for some challengers; we’ll be able to fully gauge your abilities after a couple of weeks of training and see what we need to adjust.”

AFTER PRACTICE

Katrina stepped out of the shower, the hot water having done little to soothe the tension in her shoulders. The first practice with Art had been intense, and her muscles were starting to feel the strain. Wrapping a towel around herself, she took a deep breath, wondering if she'd made the right choice in agreeing to work with him.

As she got dressed, the scent of dinner wafted through the air, a rich aroma that made her stomach rumble. She hadn't eaten much during the day, and she hoped her mom would let her have something substantial.

Katrina entered the dining room, where her mother was already seated at the head of the table, a glass of wine in hand. The table was set with a carefully arranged selection of dishes, but Katrina noticed the absence of anything remotely indulgent. No desserts, no heavy carbs, just the usual assortment of protein and vegetables.

"Good evening, Mom," Katrina said, forcing a smile as she took a seat. Her mother looked up from her phone, her eyes bright but her expression serious.

"Katrina," Martha replied, her tone even. "How was practice with art?"

Katrina shrugged, picking up a piece of grilled chicken. "It was fine. He's... intense, but I guess that's to be expected from someone like him." She paused, then added, "How did you even get him to come to my match? He's been avoiding tennis for ages."

Martha's smile was tight, the kind that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Art and I have a history; we’ve always been interested in his foundational work. I just reminded him of the impact he could make by coming back, even if it was just for one match. And you know, he doesn't say no to me, not when your father and I are as generous as we are during his charity events."

Katrina raised an eyebrow, sensing the hint of manipulation in her mother's words. "So you used the foundation to guilt him into coming?"

Classic

Martha's eyes narrowed slightly. "It's not guilt, Katrina. It's connections; your father and I do a lot for you and your career. There's a difference.” She paused. “The money we put into the foundations were investments for you; we would have preferred Tashi, sure, but after Art retired, she went off to coach some European girls, so we got the second best.” She was irritated. “Besides, I thought you'd be happy to have a coach like Art. You said yourself you needed someone with real experience." 

Katrina sighed, realizing that arguing with her mom was a lost cause. "I guess," she said, taking a cautious bite of the chicken. She glanced at the dessert tray on the far end of the table, spotting a small dish of fruit tarts. Her mouth watered at the sight of them.

Martha followed her gaze and shook her head. "Don't even think about it," she said firmly. "Your dietitian would have a fit. You know you're on a strict regimen."

Katrina rolled her eyes, but she didn't push back. Her mom was relentless when it came to her career, and any deviation from the plan was met with immediate correction. "Yeah, yeah," she muttered, feeling her appetite wane.

“Where’s Jayden and Judea?” Katrina asked only now, noticing her siblings were missing from the dinner table.

“They went out to dinner with the rest of the kids that train with them and coach Pattcheo.”

“mmh.”

After dinner, Katrina retreated to her room, closing the door behind her. She felt a mix of frustration and curiosity. Frustration with her mom's overbearing attitude and curiosity about Art.

She opened her laptop and started searching for Art's social media profiles. His Instagram was sparse, mostly old tennis photos and a few promotional shots, brand deals, and the foundation. Barley has no pictures of his daughter and no recent ones of Tashi. His Facebook was similar, with long gaps between posts. There were articles about his career, but nothing stood out.

"For such a big shot, there’s not much for me to stalk," she muttered to herself, scrolling through the limited content. It was clear that Art wasn't one for the limelight, preferring to keep a low profile. Katrina found herself intrigued.

She searched for videos of his old matches, curious to see him in action. She found a few highlights from his glory days, watching as he moved across the court with precision and grace. It was easy to see why he'd been a champion—his technique was flawless, and his focus was intense.

"Not bad," she said to herself, watching a particularly impressive rally where he had dominated his opponent.

As the night grew darker, Katrina closed her laptop and leaned back in her chair. Art was weird, and she wasn't sure how to feel about him yet. But one thing was clear—he had a depth that she'd have to uncover if she wanted to make the most of his coaching. And maybe, just maybe, he'd be the one to help her reach the next level.

SIX DAYS BEFORE US OPEN

It was six days before the Open, and Art stood at the far end of the court, watching Katrina as she moved through a set of agility drills. The sun was beating down, but Katrina was relentless, her movements swift and precise. As he took her in, he marveled at how good she looked. The thin layer of sweat that covered her form made her glow in the evening light, with her baby hair clinging to her face as she hit ball after ball. He drank in her curves, nearly forgetting what he was actually here for.

Art was calling out instructions, his voice clear but encouraging. Clearly, the past five weeks of training had brought them closer, both in skill and in the ease with which they interacted.

"Remember to keep your weight centered," Art said, pointing toward her feet. "Don't lean too much into the shot; it'll throw off your balance. Other than that, you’re looking good."

Katrina nodded, adjusting her stance. She enjoyed the sound of his voice, especially when he was praising her. It felt genuine, not just a coach’s platitude. She could sense an unspoken tension between them, but she couldn't quite define it. It was there, in the way his eyes lingered a fraction longer than they needed to, in the way he sometimes reached out to correct her form.

"Nice volley," Art said as she expertly returned the ball over the net. "You're really getting the hang of these drills."

"Thanks," Katrina replied, giving him a small smile. "I learned from the best."

Art chuckled, shaking his head. "Flattery won't save you on the court, but it's appreciated." He watched as she moved into position for a backhanded hit, a play that had been a weak point for her. She swung, and the ball clipped the net.

Maybe she was just tired, or maybe he just looked too good; either way, she was distracted. How was she supposed to focus when he was standing with his broad shoulders and arms crossed and that damn backwards Sandford snapback observing like a hawk? She understood that’s his job; he’s quite literally getting paid to be here. Something was different though; the look he gave her five weeks ago, shit even two weeks ago, was nothing near the way he looks at her now.

“Stop.” He says, and she halts her hit.

Art moved closer, taking a pause, before walking behind her, closing the distance between them. "Here, let me show you," he said, reaching around her to correct her grip on the racket. His breath was warm on her neck, and Katrina tensed, feeling a heat that wasn't from the sun. His touch was gentle but firm, guiding her into the proper position.

"Like this," Art said, stepping back slightly but still close enough to feel his presence. "Keep your elbow straight and your wrist firm."

Katrina nodded, swallowing the lump in her throat. She took a deep breath and swung again, this time clearing the net with ease.

“There we go, atta girl.” He whispered while cracking a smile.

She felt hot, oh god, and it definitely wasn’t the sun. How could he say that so casually? She didn’t have to just deal with the fact that she’s now all hot and bothered, but also the guilty embarrassment of realizing she has a fat crush on her 30-sum-year-old tennis coach, who just happens to be a husband and father.

Right

Pulling away, she changes the subject, considering he’s been silent for the past minute and a half. "How's your daughter doing? And Tashi?" She felt the atmosphere shift as Art cleared his throat, stepping back.

"Lily's doing well," he replied, his voice controlled. "She's on tour with Tashi, who's coaching her for the season." He left it at that, his eyes avoiding hers as he focused on the court. "Keep hitting the ball with that form," he added, his tone all business now.

Art adjusted his pants, his expression tight, and turned to leave. "I'll be right back," he said. "I just need to run to the bathroom."

Katrina watched him go, her heart still racing from the moment he'd been so close. She tried to push the thoughts aside, focusing on her training, but the lingering warmth of his presence was hard to ignore. The open tournament was coming up, and she needed to be at her best, both on and off the court. The challenge would be to keep her focus where it needed to be.

“Oh, what the fuck, Art?” feeling his own disappointment, he said to himself as he did his best to fix the hard-on that was growing by the second. What would he give to be able to take a cold shower right now?

Scurrying to the bathroom, he quickly shut the door behind him. He takes a deep breath and leans against the door, contemplating what just happened and palming himself.

“Fuck” was uttered in a raspy and hushed manner.

He turns to look at himself in the mirror. He felt guilty forgetting hard for a girl over a decade younger than him. But that wasn’t what he really felt guilty about. He felt guilty because he liked it. She was fiery; she was driven, and the way she looked at him, with admiration, was long since Tashi looked at him with any emotion of the sort. Katrina made him feel good about himself. And fuck, was she hot. He was almost certain that as the days of training passed, the length of her skirt shortened and her tops got tighter, or maybe he just started paying attention to it.

He needed to stop thinking of her for his sanity and his cocks, because leaving every practice with blue balls for the last week and a half hasn’t been pleasant.

Splashing himself with cold water and tucking his dick into his waistband, he walks back out before she starts questioning anything.

"All right, that's it for today," he called out, clapping his hands to get her attention. "Good work. We'll take it easy tomorrow, then hit the road the day after."

Katrina straightened, wiping the sweat from her brow with the back of her hand. "Thanks," she said, her voice a little breathless from the intense workout. "I feel good about it. I think we're ready."

Art nodded, watching her carefully as she walked toward him. There was a grace to her movements, even in her exhaustion. She carried herself with confidence, but there was also a vulnerability that he'd come to recognize. It was in the way she sometimes hesitated before speaking or the way her eyes softened when they shared a joke.

"Thanks for, you know, doing this," Katrina said, her eyes meeting his. "I know you didn't have to, but... I'm glad you did."

Art felt a strange warmth in his chest, a sense of connection that he'd been avoiding, or perhaps suppressing. There was something about Katrina that made him want to stay, to guide her through the ups and downs of the game. And it wasn't just about tennis. It was something deeper, something that made him feel almost protective.

"It's been a good few weeks," he said, trying to keep his tone light. "You've got a lot of potential, Katrina. I wouldn't be here if I didn't think you could go far."

She smiled, a genuine smile that made her eyes crinkle at the corners. "Thanks. It means a lot to hear that from you."

There was a moment of silence, a charged pause where neither of them moved. He knew he should step back and create some distance, but he found himself drawn in, his gaze lingering on her lips, then her eyes. There was something about her.

"All right," he said, finally breaking the silence. "Get some rest tonight. We've got a long drive ahead of us, and I need you focused."

Katrina nodded, her eyes locking with his. The tension was palpable, a mix of excitement and something else, something neither of them wanted to name. Art felt the stirrings of something almost primal, a desire that had been dormant for a long time. He knew it wasn't appropriate, but it was there, simmering just beneath the surface.

"Good night," she said, her voice soft, almost a whisper.

"Good night," he replied, his eyes lingering on her a moment longer than they should. "Rest up. I'll see you tomorrow." With his things packed, he walked off the court, leaving her to stretch.

The US Open tournament was coming, and with it, a new set of challenges—both on and off the court.

THE DRIVE TO SAN DIEGO

This was unexpected. Somehow, Katrina was sitting in the passenger seat of Arts Blue Bronco and had managed to snag herself a one-on-one tournament weekend with the Art Donaldson himself. Her mother had only missed three of her games throughout her entire career. The first time was when Katrina was 12. Her mother didn't attend because Katrina had just started playing tennis, and her mother assumed she wouldn't be good enough to watch, so she spent her time on holiday with the neighborhood housewives and was pleasantly surprised when Katrina returned with her first trophy. The second time was when Katrina was 16. Their grandmother had passed away, but Katrina's mother insisted that Katrina should play in the game instead of staying home to grieve like a normal person. She told Katrina that every win was one step closer to a successful career; bad things happen all the time, and you simply “need to get over it and move on." The third time was today, when Katrina was 20, after her little brother's appendix unexpectedly burst at 4 a.m. in the morning, and he and their mom had to rush to the hospital.

"How do you feel about your mom not being here this time?" Art asked, leaning back in his seat. He took a sip of his coffee, glancing at Katrina's expression carefully.

Katrina shrugged. "Honestly? I'm kind of happy she's not here. It's like a weight off my shoulders. I don't have to worry about her criticizing every move I make or every shot I miss."

Art nodded, sensing the relief in her voice. "Your mom seems pretty tough on you."

"She is," Katrina replied, swirling her drink. "She talks a big game, but sometimes I think she doesn't really know what she's saying. Like when she criticizes my plays—she doesn't really get the game, you know? She just wants to be involved, but it's not always helpful."

Art felt a twinge of sympathy. He'd known parents like that, always pushing, always expecting perfection without understanding the sacrifices involved. "I'm glad I could be here for you, then," he said. "You shouldn't have to go through all this alone. It's hard enough without extra pressure from someone who isn't really helping."

Katrina shrugged, her lips curling into a small, ironic smile. "It's been like that since I was a kid. I never had much of a childhood, anyway. The little bit of teenager-like stuff I did, I had to sneak around to do it. Mom was always watching, always pushing me to be the best and to win. I never really got to be a kid."

Art felt a pang of something deep in his chest. It wasn't just empathy—it was a sense of injustice, of the things Katrina had missed out on. He'd seen it before in other athletes whose parents lived vicariously through their children, expecting them to carry the weight of their own dreams. It was a burden no young person should have to bear. Shit went through it himself with Tashi, and it eventually cost them their relationship.

"That sounds rough," he said, his voice gentle. "Everyone deserves a chance to be a kid—to have fun, to make mistakes, to figure things out without a constant spotlight." 

“I definitely have to make mistakes." She paused and giggled in embarrassment. “This might be T.M.I. But my first time was with a random guy around my age that was dragged to a dinner party at his parents house.” She side-eyes Art for a moment. “Of course, while the adults did whatever adults do, we snuck off into the liquor cabinet, got so hammered, and then decided to go up to my room.”

Art only looked at her with a raised brow, waiting for her to finish.

“Long story short, by the time we were done, everyone was looking for us — of course we were too stupid to think that anyone would notice we were missing for over an hour.” She sighs with a smile. "Anyways, it turns out they were serving desert, and when the housekeeper came in looking for us, she couldn’t hold back a scream. It's safe to say I can’t even remember how long I was grounded for.”

Art was fully laughing now, not sure if it was from second hand embarrassment or because of how unexpected this was.

“Mistakes aren’t something; you escape, believe me.” He seemed nostalgic.

"Yeah," Katrina replied, her gaze dropping to the table. 

“Anyways, I’m sure instances like that’s what made me basically one of the strongest tennis players of all time,” she concludes, sarcastically exaggerating.

Art sighed, leaning forward slightly. "Strength isn't just about winning," he said. "It's about finding your own way, making your own choices, and being okay with who you are, even if it doesn't fit someone else's expectations."

Katrina looked up at him, her expression thoughtful. "That's what I want," she said. "I want to play because I love it, not because I'm trying to prove something to someone else. I just... I wish I had more time to figure it all out."

Art nodded, understanding her struggle. "You'll get there," he said. "You've got a lot of potential, and you're doing it for the right reasons. Just remember, it's okay to take a step back sometimes. To enjoy the game, to find joy in the small things,

Katrina smiled—a real smile that reached her eyes. "Thanks," she said. "I needed to hear that."

Art returned her smile, feeling a connection that went beyond coach and player. It was a moment of genuine understanding, the kind that made all the effort and hard work worth it. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but at least they had each other to navigate it together.

AT THE HOTEL

After a two-hour drive, Art and Katrina King arrived at the hotel where they would be staying during the tournament in San Diego. The hotel was upscale, with modern decor and spacious rooms. They'd been given a suite with two separate bedrooms connected by a shared living area. It was the perfect setup for coach and player.

Art had just finished unpacking when he decided to knock on Katrina's door. It was only 7 p.m., and he thought it might be nice to have dinner together. A little bonding before the tournament might help ease some of the tension they have been feeling lately. There is no harm in a friendly dinner. 

Right?

Katrina opened the door, her eyes widening in surprise when she saw Art standing there. "Hey," she said, her voice softer than usual. "What's up?"

"Want to grab dinner?" Art asked, keeping his tone casual. "There's a nice restaurant downtown I've been meaning to check out every time I come down here."

Katrina hesitated for a moment, then nodded with a hint of a smile. "Sure, why not?" she replied. She felt a slight flutter in her stomach—this wasn't just a quick meal at the hotel lobby; it was a proper dinner out.

"Great," Art said, checking his designer watch. "Meet you back here in 40."

Katrina agreed, closing the door to get ready. She picked out a simple black dress, something a little fancier than she normally wears. Her brown hair, usually tied back in a ponytail, cascaded down in curls. When she checked her reflection in the mirror, she felt a mix of excitement and nerves. This was just dinner, right?

When she stepped out of her room, Art was already waiting in the living area. He glanced up and immediately did a double take. Katrina looked stunning, the soft curls of her hair framing her face perfectly. Her dress hugged her figure in a way that made it hard to look away. Art felt like a high school boy going out on his first date. He could already feel himself stiffen. 

Blinking, he gives up a smirk. "You look great."

Katrina blushed slightly. "Thanks," she replied, feeling her cheeks grow warm. "You don't look too bad yourself. Nice seeing you outside of tennis attire."

The place was dimly lit with candlelight, adding to the intimate atmosphere. As they sat down, Art felt a sense of ease with Katrina that he hadn't felt in a long time. It was nice to know that for once, something in her life wasn't just about tennis; it was about getting to know each other on a personal level.

As time passed, they got into a comfortable conversation, talking about anything and everything.

"So," Katrina began, looking across the table at him, "you mentioned your daughter earlier. Tell me about her."

Art smiled at the mention of Lily. "She's great," he said. "She's 10 and a total fire cracker; she’s starting boarding school next year. She’s got this energy that lights up a room. She loves tennis, too, but I'm trying not to push her too hard. I want her to find her own path."

Katrina nodded, appreciating his perspective. "Sounds like you're a good dad."

Art chuckled softly, then his expression turned a bit somber. "I try to be. Things have been complicated at home. Tashi and I are technically still together, but it's more for Lily's sake than anything else." He paused, glancing at Katrina to gauge her reaction. "We're not really happy, but we're making it work—for now. Nothing has really been the same since I retired, you know."

Oh, that makes sense. She tensed.

Katrina felt a guilty glimmer of hope. If Art and Tashi were essentially separated, then maybe her fantasies weren't so impossible after all. The thought made her blush, and she took a sip of water to hide it.

As the dinner progressed, they subtly flirted with each other. Art ordered a bottle of wine to keep the conversation going, which prompted Katrina to raise an eyebrow. "Isn't this off-limits?" she teased. "My mother and my dietitian would be so disappointed."

Art smirked. "You have to live a little," he replied, pouring her a glass. "Besides, a glass of wine won't ruin your career. It's all about balance, right?"

Katrina laughed softly. "Isn't it ironic that a thirty-something-year-old man is telling a twenty-year-old to have fun?"

Art chuckled, the sound deep and warm. "Maybe I know a thing or two about loosening up," he said with a playful wink. "Life's too short to be serious all the time."

“You sure look like you know how to have fun,” she said in a teasing tone. It was clear her words had a double meaning.

Art smirked and quipped, “I do; you just have to pry it out of me, I guess.

As the evening went on, the tension between them grew more palpable. The candlelight, the soft music, the wine—all of it added to the atmosphere. There was an undercurrent of attraction, a pull that neither of them could ignore. By the end of the night, you could’ve cut the tension with a knife.

Art leaned in slightly, his voice lower. "We should probably head back," he said, his eyes locking with hers. "I don't want to overdo it before the tournament."

Katrina nodded, feeling her heart race. "Yeah, probably a good idea," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper.

As they left the restaurant, the night air felt cooler against their skin, but the heat between them hadn't cooled at all. They walked back to the hotel in comfortable silence, each aware of the unspoken desire simmering just beneath the surface, steeling glances here and there.

The tension had been building throughout dinner. As they reached their suite, Art turned to Katrina, his expression neutral but his eyes holding a hint of warmth.

"Well, I guess we should call it a night," he said, reaching for his key card. He didn't want to cross any boundaries, especially with the multiple games she had tomorrow. But the way Katrina looked at him during dinner made it difficult to ignore the desire simmering just beneath the calm exterior.

Katrina held up a finger. "Okay...” she paused, feigning a thought. “But we didn't finish the bottle of wine," she said with a playful smile. "And my mom's going to be back for the second day of the tournament. This might be our only chance to… get to know each other; we’ll have to throw it out if we don’t finish it tonight, just sayin’."

The wine was definitely hitting.

Art hesitated, then nodded. "You're right. It'd be a shame to let it go to waste."

They moved into the shared living room, which had a small kitchenette and a comfortable seating area. Katrina grabbed the bottle of wine and two glasses while Art flipped through the channels on the television, settling on a random movie for background noise. It was an action film with a lot of explosions and fast-paced scenes, but neither of them paid much attention to it.

As they settled onto the couch, Katrina poured them each a glass of wine. The atmosphere was relaxed, but there was an underlying current of flirtation. They started talking about the tournament, about tennis, and then about life in general. The conversation flowed easily, punctuated by laughter and playful banter.

"You know," Art said, taking a sip of wine, "I didn't think I'd enjoy coaching, but I'm glad I came back for this."

Katrina raised an eyebrow. "Coaching? You're more like a mentor," she teased. "Plus, you're not that old to be called a coach."

Art chuckled. "Careful, or I'll make you run extra laps tomorrow," he replied, giving her a mock stern look. "I'm not that old, but I've seen a lot in my time."

"Sure, sure," Katrina said, rolling her eyes. "You're practically ancient."

They both laughed, the sound filling the room. As the conversation continued, they found themselves leaning closer to each other, the space between them shrinking with each passing minute. The flirting became more overt—the playful touches on the arm, the shared smiles, and the lingering glances.

Art felt the tension building and the pull growing stronger. He knew he should keep his distance, but the way Katrina looked at him, her eyes sparkling in the dim light, made it difficult to resist.

"You know," he said, his voice low and smooth, "you're more than just a talented player, Katrina.” He looked at her with a dark gaze. “There's something about you that makes it hard to stay away. Even when I know I should."

Katrina's eyes widened slightly, her heart racing at his words. The air between them felt electric and charged with anticipation. There were no words left to be said; they leaned in without even noticing, and there they were, on the hotel couch, lips smashed together. The wine glass in Katrina's hand tilted, spilling a few drops onto the couch, but neither of them seemed to notice or care.

The kiss was intense, filled with the desire that had been building for weeks. It was risky, even dangerous, given their roles as coach and athlete. But in that moment, none of it mattered. The world seemed to melt away, leaving just the two of them caught in a whirlwind of emotion and longing.

Sprawled out like a couple of horny teenagers making out on their parent’s couch, it was almost comedic. 

When they finally pulled apart, their breathing was ragged, and their eyes locked in a mix of surprise and exhilaration. The movie played on in the background, the noise a distant echo as they sat there, close together, knowing that everything had changed in a single moment.

“We shouldn’t do this.” Art broke the silence first.

“Yeah, we really shouldn't.” She pulled back for a moment. “But we already did.” She moved up to fix his nonexistent collar. “Unfortunately, I have this really good coach, and he’d hate to see me not finish something I started.” Sha gazed up at him as she finished giving him a cheeky smile.

She was giving him that look, a look that said nothing less than fuck me.

Art couldn’t do anything more than chuckle and give in. “Well, I’d hate to be the reason you disappoint him.“ He told her as he lifted her up into his lap.

“You’ve gotta live a little, you know.” She said it in-between kisses. His lips, his neck, and his jaw. There wasn’t an inch of him; she wasn’t going to kiss tonight.

“You’re right.” Their mouths dance together, their tongues fighting for dominance. Arts hands were taking all her in. Her dress pooled around her waist as he slipped his hands under it, grasping her tits. “You don’t know how much I’ve wanted this, Katrina.” He breathes out in a hushed manner, biting at her lip.

“Prove it to me, Art.” She says she is pulling her dress over her head. He stopped taking a moment to drink her in; she was beautiful.

“Holly fuck.” He rasps out, unclasping her bra, leaving it to be forgotten, much like the wine.

Katrina could feel the raging hardness beneath her. Grinding into it, she lets out a moan as he kisses and sucked on her exposed breast. “Every time I’d walk on the court, and I’d see you wearing your tight little tennis outfits, god,” he rasped while bighting his lip. “All I could think about was how I wanted to bed you over and fuck you right then and there.” He picked her up and started walking to her bedroom. “Now, I get to be a good coach and teach you a thing or two.” He threw her on the bed, peering over her with hungry eyes and breathing heavily. “Will you be a good student and let coach fuck some knowledge into you, huh, baby?”

“I’ve never let you down, have I?” She answered him, looking up at him from the bed, her big doe eyes saying everything for her. “Show me how it’s done, coach.” She wet her lips seductively.

“Well, first, pretty girl, it’s important to get warmed up. You need help warming up, babe.” Art drags his finger from her thigh to her stomach and back down to her panties.  Slowly pulling them off. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, he gazes up at her with hooded eyes. He kisses along her thighs, sucking now and then, making his way up to her sopping cunt. When he does reach her, he begins lapping at her like a man who’s been deprived of water for forty days and forty nights.

“Oh my God, Art, it feels so good.” She could feel herself getting short of breath. It was so good, better than anything she had fantasized about while taking the shower head for a spin. Grasping his hair in her hand, she can’t help but grind her pussy in his face, making both him and her a sloppy mess.”

“You’re so good for me; you've always been a fast learner, you know.” He pulled up, leaving trails of kisses as he made his way up and onto the bed. “My pretty girl,” he says, looking down at her with a smirk, his chin wet with her juices. He gets off the bed and starts to strip. His shirt comes up first, giving her the opportunity to get up on her knees and run her hands over his toned abs as she continues to kiss his neck. He follows with his. Belt slipped off his pants, his cock springing up, strained by his boxers. Katrina can’t help but feel her mouth damn near water. Pulling his boxers down, she lets a glob of her saliva leak on his cock before taking him into her mouth with a moan. Art only grabs her hair in his fist before letting out a deep moan and letting his eyes roll back. “Really got a mouth on you, huh, pretty girl.” He caresses her cheek. “Taking me all in.”

He pulls out, a string of saliva following, only to drip down from her chin onto her chest as he motions for her to lay back down on the bed. “You ready to get that pretty pussy fucked?” he leans down, sucking on her nipples. “You’ve warmed up enough, don’t you think?”

"Yes.” Its barley is above a whisper.

“What was that? You’ve got to use your words, Kat." He says, slightly pulling away from her lips, waiting for a better response.

“Please fuck me, Art.” She moans out, “I need you now."” She pulls him back down for a kiss, lining her hips up with his. He’s teasing at her entrance for a moment before she grabs his lower back and pulls him in the whole way. They both let out a sigh of relief as she felt her walls stretch around his length and he felt her wetness embrace him.

He’s fully thrusting now, with his whole strength, his hips snapping into hers with purpose. Grunts and moans are coming out of both their mouths.

"Switch,” she says, suddenly pushing him back a bit, only for her to get on top, grinding her hips in circles while riding him. “You’re so good, Art; you make me feel so good,” she’s breathless, guiding his veiny hands onto her chest. “I’ve ouched myself so many times fantasizing about this, thinking about how I’d take your cock.” She slips his fingers into her mouth, sucking on them for a second. “Even better than I dreamed,” she smirked. She could feel the pit inside her tighten; she was close, and she could tell that he was too.

She looked down at her and motioned for Art to open his mouth, and when she did, she let her spit trickle down into his mouth with a satisfied grin. That was it for him; after she did that, he started hammering on her mercilessly.

“Oh my god, harder art.” She says this with her head tucked into the crook of his neck. He obliged his vice like a grip.. Her ass was so hard, she wouldn’t have been surprised if it bruised tomorrow. His pace was uneven with labored breaths; he let out one loud moan before pulling out and cumming all over her stomach, some even getting on himself. She didn’t even have the time to process what happened before she was pushed onto her stomach. 

There he was again, nose deep in her aching pussy, only this time it was from behind, and he was going between her cunt and her asshole. Moaning into a pillow, it didn’t take long for her to finish all over his face, collapsing onto the bed, flat on her stomach.

After a long and hot shower, Art lay on his back, his arm around Katrina as they were in bed, enjoying the stillness of the night. The hotel room was dimly lit, casting a soft glow that created an intimate ambiance. Katrina's head rested on his shoulder, her hair cascading over his chest. It felt comfortable and natural, like they belonged there.

Art turned slightly to look down at Katrina, her face peaceful and relaxed. He traced his fingers gently along her arm, a simple, affectionate gesture that made her shiver slightly. It was a closeness that was rare for him, something he hadn't felt in years, and he cherished it.

"You're something else, you know that?" He said, his voice low and warm. "You've got this way of making me feel like I'm twenty again. I don't know what it is, but you bring out a side of me that I thought was long gone."

Katrina smiled, her eyes still closed as she nestled closer against him. "That's a good thing, right?" she asked, her voice a soft murmur.

Art chuckled, his hand gently stroking her hair. "Yeah, it's a good thing," he replied. "I really enjoyed tonight. It was... different from what I'm used to, but in the best possible way. I wasn't sure I wanted to get into coaching, but being your coach has been one of the best decisions I've made in a long time."

Katrina opened her eyes and looked up at him, her gaze warm and inviting. "I'm glad you did," she said. "I don't know where I'd be without you. It's not just about tennis—it's about everything else. You made me realize it’s not just hitting a ball with a stick."

He leaned down and kissed the top of her head, a simple, tender gesture that spoke volumes. "You've got a lot of talent, Katrina," he said.

Katrina blushed, feeling a sense of warmth that had nothing to do with the physical closeness. "Thanks," she said, her voice soft. "That means a lot coming from you. I feel the same way, you know. You make everything seem a little easier, like it's all going to be okay."

Art nodded, his heart swelling with a feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time. It was more than just affection—it was a sense of connection, a bond that he knew was special.

Katrina sighed contentedly, her head resting against his chest. The rhythm of his heartbeat was soothing, grounding her in the moment. She felt safe, secure, and genuinely happy. It was a feeling she hadn't had in a long time, and she wasn't ready to let it go.

Art tightened his arm around her, holding her a little closer. It was a simple gesture, but it spoke volumes about the depth of their connection. He knew the road ahead wouldn't be easy, but with Katrina by his side, he felt like he could take on anything.

THE TOURNEMENT

Katrina woke up to an empty bed. The warm spot where Art had lain the night before had cooled, and there was no sign of him in the hotel room. She rubbed her eyes, feeling a twinge of disappointment. It was early, but she figured he had probably gone to start prepping for the tournament—they had a busy day ahead. It had been a long night.

She sat up, stretched, and looked around the room. Everything was in its usual place; nothing seemed out of order. Art's clothes were gone, and her things were neatly put away, almost as if he had never stayed there.

Strange

Katrina didn’t dwell on it. It made sense that he might have moved his things back to his room to get ready for the day. After all, he was her coach, and today was important.

She got dressed in her tennis gear, taking her time in the bathroom to brush her hair and freshen up. The uncertainty about where Art had gone was starting to creep in, but she pushed it aside. There was no need to get worked up—he'd turn up soon enough.

Katrina made her way to the living room and kitchen, expecting to find Art there, but he was nowhere to be seen. She checked her phone, but there were no messages from him. It was odd; usually, he'd leave some sort of note or text. She grabbed one of her pre-prepared meals from the fridge and ate it while waiting for him to return, her mind running through the drills they’d be doing later that day.

After what felt like an eternity, Art finally walked in, holding a cup of coffee from the café downstairs. Katrina felt a rush of relief. "Hey," she said, trying to sound casual. "You went out for coffee?"

Art nodded, but his demeanor was noticeably colder than usual. His eyes were distant, and his responses were curt. "Yeah," he replied, taking a sip of his coffee. His tone was flat, lacking the warmth she had come to expect from him.

Katrina felt a flicker of anxiety. "Is everything okay?" she asked, trying to engage him in conversation. "You seem a little off."

Art shrugged, barely looking at her. "Just focused on the tournament," he said, his voice detached. "We've got a lot to do today."

Katrina felt a pang of confusion. This was a complete 180 from the night before. They had shared something special, something she thought was meaningful. She wasn’t expecting a proposal. But now he was acting as if it had never happened. So she pressed the issue.

"Art, why are you acting like this?" she asked, her tone edged with concern. "Last night was... well, it was nice. What changed."

Art set his coffee cup down, his expression hardening. "I'm being a responsible coach," he said, his voice cold. "You have important matches today. We can't afford distractions."

Katrina was taken aback by his abruptness. "Distractions? Is that what last night was to you?" she asked, her voice rising slightly.

Art sighed, rubbing his temples. "Katrina, we can't do this. You need to be focused. What happened last night." He stopped, choosing his words carefully. "It was a mistake, and I need you to be serious about this tournament."

Katrina felt a surge of anger and hurt. "A mistake?" she said, her voice sharp. "So that's it? We just pretend it never happened. You can't just switch like that!"

Art's expression was stern. "You need to act like you've got an important game today, because you do. And I have to be the coach you need, not something else."

Katrina felt her heart sink. This wasn't the Art she knew. The warmth and connection from the night before were gone, replaced by a wall of professionalism and distance. But there wasn't time to press further—they had to get to the court and start their warm-up drills.

The argument left Katrina feeling disoriented and hurt, but there was no time to dwell on it. She had to focus on the tournament, even if her coach seemed to have turned into a different person overnight. As they headed out the door, she tried to shake off the feeling, knowing that the game ahead demanded her full attention.

FIRST MATCH

The stadium was buzzing with anticipation as the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, introducing the players for the Challenger tournament. The crowd applauded as Katrina King and Alexis Grace stepped onto the court, each acknowledging the fans with a wave. Art Donaldson watched from the sidelines, his eyes focused on Katrina as she moved to her position.

"Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the first match of the US Open," the announcer said, continuing on.

Art knew it would be a challenging game. Alexis was a good opponent who could hold her own, but based on states alone, this should be an easy win, for lack of better words. Art felt a pang of guilt for how he'd acted that morning. He'd been cold and distant, trying to maintain professionalism, but it wasn't what he wanted. He wished he could go back and handle things differently, but now wasn't the time for regrets—Katrina needed his support.

The first set began with Katrina serving. She delivered a somewhat strong shot, but Alexis returned it with ease, sending the ball back with a blistering forehand. Katrina scrambled to keep up, her movements swift but slightly off-balance. She managed to return the shot, but Alexis was already at the net, volleying the ball with precision.

Art watched, his heart racing. Katrina had the talent, but he could tell she was getting into her own head. The missed points seemed to weigh heavily on her, and she was starting to lose her composure. He couldn't blame her—his behavior hadn't helped.

Katrina's next serve was strong, but Alexis anticipated it, returning the ball with a slice that landed just out of Katrina's reach. The crowd murmured, sensing the momentum shift in Alexis's favor. Art clenched his fists, trying to stay calm. He needed to be there for Katrina, even if she didn't want to hear it right now. Her errors were becoming more frequent. A double fault here, a missed volley there—it was starting to add up.

Art's internal thoughts were filled with frustration and guilt. He knew he had to do something to help her, but he also knew her head wasn’t focused on the game. As the set progressed, the tension in the stadium grew. Katrina's shots were becoming more erratic, and Alexis capitalized on every mistake.

Finally, the set ended with a decisive point from Alexis, securing her the first set. The crowd erupted in applause, but Art felt a sinking feeling in his chest.

Katrina King sat on the bench, her racket resting between her knees, and tried to catch her breath. The set break was supposed to be a chance to reset, to gather her thoughts, and to prepare for the next game, but she couldn’t stop her mind from racing. Her body felt tense, and her heart was heavy with doubt.

This match was supposed to be a warmup, and I’m making a complete fool of myself. She thought, scrunching her brows as she looked up at the sky.

Her hand gripped the racket tighter, the familiar texture offering a semblance of comfort.

A mistake

This morning kept replaying in her mind, each word like a weight pressing down on her. It had thrown her off and shaken her confidence. She couldn't understand why he'd suddenly turned so cold.

What the fuck did I get myself into? She wondered, feeling a mix of anger and confusion.

She glanced at the sidelines, where Art sat, his arms crossed, watching the court with a distant expression. He was focused, but not on her. He seemed lost in his own thoughts, and his detachment made her stomach twist. It felt like a betrayal, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she was alone out there.

He's just a coach. I don't need him to win. I've been doing this on my own for years.

But the more she tried to convince herself, the more her emotions swirled. Last night felt like a turning point, like they were connecting on a deeper level. And now, all that warmth and all that understanding were gone. It left her feeling hollow and unsure of her next move.

Forget about this morning. Forget about last night. Forget about Art. Just play the game. That’s all you're good at anyway.

She couldn't forget, not when it felt like her world was shifting beneath her feet. The pressure of the tournament, the expectations from everyone, and now the unexpected 180—it was all too much. She needed to find her focus, but it felt like she was battling more than just an opponent on the court. She was battling her own doubts and her own insecurities, and it was starting to show.

The umpire's call signaled the end of the break, and Katrina stood up, her legs feeling heavier than usual. She couldn't afford to let this slip away. She had to find a way to center herself and regain the focus and determination that had brought her this far. But as she walked back onto the court, she knew it wouldn't be easy. The shadows of doubt were growing, and she wasn't sure if she had the strength to push them back.

The final set was about to begin, and the energy in the stadium was electric. Kat had lost the first set to Alexis, barely clawed her way back to win the second, and now faced the challenge of closing out the match.

A whirlpool of frustration was consuming her. She knew she should be playing better than this. Alexis was a competent player, but she shouldn't have been able to pressure Katrina like she was doing now. The missteps, the errant serves, the missed volleys—it was all spiraling out of control. She knew she had to get her head back in the game.

"Come on, Katrina," Art muttered under his breath, his frustration growing. He knew he should’ve never said what he had this morning, and God did he regret it. Not even because it threw her off her game, but simply because it wasn’t true.

I didn’t mean it, Kat.

Alexis returned Katrina's second serve with a deep forehand, forcing Katrina to run to the back of the court. She managed to get the ball back, but it was a weak return, and Alexis took advantage, hitting a powerful backhand down the line. Katrina struggled to reach it, her footwork sloppy.

The crowd murmured, sensing the shift in momentum. Katrina felt her frustration bubbling to the surface. "Get it together," she told herself, trying to drown out the negativity in her mind. She took a deep breath and prepared for the next point, knowing she couldn't afford to lose her composure.

Art clenched his fists, watching Katrina's struggle. He wanted to shout words of encouragement; right now, he needed Katrina to find her focus and to play like he knew she could.

The next few points were a back-and-forth battle. Katrina managed to win a couple of rallies, showing glimpses of her usual skill, but Alexis was relentless. Katrina's errors were piling up, and Alexis capitalized on every mistake. A missed serve here, a poorly timed volley there—it was all adding up, and Katrina felt like she was falling apart.

He knew he had to do something to help her, but he wasn't sure what. She was slipping, and he could see it in her eyes—the doubt, the frustration. He wished he could just rewind the morning and start over.

Katrina's frustration boiled over as she missed yet another shot, sending the ball wide of the sideline. She clenched her racket, her anger turning inward.

What the actual fuck kat? She felt herself slipping.

Art watched as Katrina's confidence seemed to crumble. Every point felt like a battle, and she was struggling to keep her emotions in check. The crowd's cheers seemed distant, drowned out by her own inner turmoil. She needed to find her focus and remember why she loved the game in the first place.

Katrina King stood at the baseline, bouncing the tennis ball as she prepared to serve. The pressure was immense. The score was tied, but this was match point for Alexis.

"Just get this right," she told herself, bouncing the ball one more time. "Keep it simple, focus on your form, and breathe."

She threw the ball up and swung, her serve powerful but lacking the usual precision.

The umpire's call was clear: "In!"

Alexis immediately raised her hand, signaling her challenge.

Katrina tensed, holding her breath. Fuck. She had already accepted defeat.

The electronic system, designed to track the ball's trajectory, sprang into action. The large screen above the court displayed the replay, with the lines highlighted in bold white against the blue surface.

The slow-motion replay showed the ball’s descent, curving slightly in its flight. It landed, from this perspective, millimeters inside the line, causing the crowd to murmur in anticipation. The pause felt longer than it actually was, with everyone waiting for the official verdict.

Alexis stood with her racket resting on her shoulder, her expression tense and unimpressed. She glanced at Katrina, who remained at the baseline, her stance rigid.

The electronic system confirmed the umpire's call: "In!" The word flashed across the screen, accompanied by a graphic showing the ball's exact position—just inside the line. The crowd erupted in applause, and Katrina allowed herself a small smile. She was relieved that the serve was good, but she knew she couldn't let her focus slip.

Alexis nodded curtly; her challenge was unsuccessful. She adjusted her grip on her racket, preparing for the next point. The moment of doubt had passed, and the game resumed its intensity.

Art saw Katrina's moments of ease, but he also saw the hesitation in her footwork and the slight tremors in her hands.

Alexis's return was a deep shot to Katrina's backhand, forcing her to pivot quickly. Katrina reached for it, but her timing was slightly off. The ball clipped the net, but it went over. Katrina breathed a sigh of relief as Alexis scrambled to reach it. and get her racket under the ball just in time.

The volley was clumsy, but it kept the rally going. Katrina's heart raced as she tried to regain her rhythm. She could feel the momentum slipping away, and she knew she couldn't afford another mistake. Alexis, however, was relentless, keeping the pressure on with precise shots to the corners of the court.

Art clenched his fists, chewing his gum while watching Katrina's struggle. He felt the intensity of the moment, knowing that this point could determine the outcome of the match. He wanted to find a way to ease her nerves, but all he could do was watch and hope she could pull through.

The rally continued, with Katrina barely managing to keep up. Alexis played a drop shot, and Katrina lunged to reach it. She got there just in time, but her return was weak, giving Alexis the upper hand. Alexis moved in for the kill, smashing the ball toward the baseline.

Katrina dove to reach it, her body hitting the ground as her racket connected with the ball. It went over the net, but it was a high lob, an easy shot for Alexis. Alexis jumped, delivering a powerful overhead smash that Katrina couldn't hope to reach. The ball hit the court with a decisive thud, and the umpire called the point.

Art felt a pang of disappointment as the crowd erupted in applause. He knew Katrina had fought hard, but the internal turmoil had cost her the match. He saw the frustration on her face as she stood up, brushing off the dirt from her fall. She glanced toward him, her eyes filled with a mix of anger, defeat, and tears.

Katrina knew she had given it her all, but it hadn't been enough. She felt the weight of the loss, knowing that her own doubts and the fight with Art had played a part in her performance. As she walked off the court, she felt a mix of disappointment and a lingering sense of confusion about what had gone wrong—both on and off the court.

Art made his way down to talk to Katrina. She was sitting on the bench, her head down, a towel draped over her shoulders. Art approached, trying to keep his voice steady. "Hey, it's okay," he said, his tone gentle. "It's just one game; you’ve got three more today. You can still turn this around. Just focus on your game, okay? Don't let this get in your head." He finished and tried to embrace her in his arms for some sort of comfort, but his efforts proved futile because before he could fully hug her, she pushed him off.

Katrina looked back at him, her eyes watery, cold, and distant. "Oh, now you're being supportive?" She shot back, her voice laced with sarcasm. "What happened to the coach who was so concerned about being professional this morning?"

Art winced, feeling the sting of her words. He knew he deserved it, but it still hurt. "I know, I messed up," he said, trying to keep his voice calm.

Katrina shook her head, her expression hardening. "I don't need your fake support, Art," she said, standing up. "Just let me play my game."

“Kat, don’t be like that.” He said he was stepping forward, trying to get a hold of her.

“Be like what, Art?” she said, feeling her anger rise. “I shouldn’t act like you treated me as if I were a late-night tinder hookup.” She paused, her lips trembling. “I wouldn’t be like this if you would have had the human decency to treat me with a little respect, even if you regrated it!” She took a breath. “You know what the worst part is; you could have waited for the tournament to be over to shit on me, on us, like that. At least I would’ve left this stupid fucking weekend with a champion title and cup.” She started walking away from the locker rooms. “Guess once your balls are empty, you come to your senses, huh?” She hadn’t even bothered to turn around for the last bit.

"Kat, wait!" he said, grabbing her arm gently but firmly. "Please, just give me a minute."

Katrina turned, her eyes blazing with anger. "What do you want?" she snapped. "Haven't you done enough today? Did you finally decide to be a good coach?"

Art knew he deserved that, but he needed her to hear him out. "Just let me explain," he said, his voice desperate. "Not here. Let's go outside, away from everyone."

She hesitated, clearly still furious, but she didn't pull away. Art led her through a side door and out into the area behind the arena, where it was quiet and they could talk in private. He released her arm, taking a deep breath to calm himself.

"Katrina, I'm sorry," he began, his voice soft but urgent. "I'm sorry for everything I said this morning and for telling you it was a mistake. I didn't mean it. I was just... scared."

"Scared?" Katrina's eyes narrowed. "Scared of what? Scared of actually caring about someone? Scared to give up the overdone, nonchalant act you’ve got going for you?"

Art shook his head, struggling to find the right words. "I was scared that I was crossing a line," he said. "I was scared that I was too old for you and that being your coach and being with you would mess up your career. I was worried that we'd end up like... like me and Tashi."

Katrina's anger flared. "I'm not Tashi!" she shouted, stepping closer to him. "So stop comparing me to her; I'm my own person, and I'm nothing like her!"

"I know," Art replied, his voice gentle but firm. "I know you're not her. But that's what scared me. I don't want what happened to me and Tashi to happen to us. I didn't want to mess up your game, your career, or... anything."

Katrina huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "Well, you sure did a good job of that," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look at what happened today! I lost because you couldn't make up your mind about what you wanted!"

Art felt a pang of guilt, knowing she was right. "I know," he said, his voice low. "I was selfish. I shouldn’t have acted like I did. I just didn’t want you to get hurt because of me. But now I see that I hurt you anyway, and that’s the last thing I wanted." He is groveling.

Katrina looked at him, her eyes still blazing. "So, what do you want now?" she asked. "Are you just going to apologize and then go back to being cold and distant?"

Art stepped forward, taking her cheek gently in his hand. "I don't know what we are, Katrina," he said, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "But I know I don't want to stop whatever this is. It's special. You make me feel things I haven't felt in a long time, and I can't keep ignoring that."

Katrina's anger softened, her eyes searching for any sign of insincerity. Art felt the connection between them, the tension that had been building for weeks, and he knew he couldn't let it end like this.

"I was wrong this morning," he continued. "I was scared, and I acted like an idiot. But you... you're amazing. You didn't deserve the way I treated you, and I know the game today was my fault. You were distracted because of me, and I'm sorry. But I know you're going to win this. I believe in you. I always have, and that hasn’t changed."

Katrina's expression softened, her anger giving way to something else—something that felt like forgiveness. Art leaned in, pressing his lips to hers in a passionate kiss, his hand still gently cupping her cheek. She responded with equal intensity, her arms wrapping around his neck as they pressed against the concrete wall.

The kiss was long and intense, filled with the emotions they’d both been suppressing. When they finally pulled back, their breathing was heavy, and their eyes locked in a shared moment of understanding. Art pressed a soft kiss to her forehead before laying his against hers.

“Are you ready to bring another title home, pretty girl?” He says, gazing into her eyes.

She looked up, her eyes glistening with a familiar spark. “You wouldn’t have agreed to coach me if I wasn’t.” She held a soft smile, bringing him in for another kiss.

#art donaldson x reader #art donaldson fic #challengers #challengers fic #challengers x reader #mike faist #mike faist x reader #challengers universe #x reader #smut #Art donaldson x oc

[chlorinecake]

🎙️ star-crossed lovers 【 薄幸な恋人 】 ⛦

summ✩ry ⭑⭒⭑ As rehearsals and promotions for your big collab stage with Enhypen become progressively more intense, you and Niki face challenges that might effect your secret relationship and standing with the company...

p✩iring ⭑⭒⭑ idol!niki x popstar!reader PREVIOUSLY

cont✩ins ⭑⭒⭑ band au, fluff, secret romance, kissing + a slightly heated make-out scene, mild bullying, LOTS of drama, reader is younger than Niki, 3.6k words

It felt strange having your hair, makeup, and clothes managed by someone else, especially in such a meticulous way.

Today was the big day of the Riot Grrlz x Enhypen fan meeting that Hybe was hosting in honor of your upcoming collaboration stage, the event acting as some sort of promotional.

The fashion theme for the day, as decided by the likes of an online poll distributed by Enhypen's Instagram account, was 'Schoolgirl / Schoolboy,' which meant everyone would be dressed in plaid neck ties and neatly-ironed button-down blazers.

“This'll have to do,” murmured one of the makeup artist's on duty, simply dusting you with a bit of blush, some gloss, and shimmery eye shadow because they couldn't find a foundation shade that matched your skin color.

“I can't find my contact solution!” Serenity exclaimed frantically in the dressing studio, searching through her sparkly teal duffle bag for the fifth time this hour.

Of course none of you were willing to assist her on the aimless contact solution hunt, especially not with the way she verbally harassed the makeup crew for not "lining her eyes right."

“Just let it go, Ren,” Sunghoon said with an annoyed sigh, “the stylists are making all of us wear glasses for the concept today anyways...”

“Okay first of all, don't call me by my nickname. Second, it's not my vision I'm worried about, but my image,” she clarified matter-of-factly, “I wanna impress the Korean fans with a big and bright boba eye moment...”

“You have sooo many problems,” Jade added with a similar irritation, rolling her eyes at the diva before a hairstylist ran over to clip in another track of fake hair.

“Tell me about it,” Serenity huffed despairingly, sticking her arms out like a scarecrow as the fashion crew adjusted the belt around her waist.

“Let's just try and maintain a good mood before the meeting guys,” you started optimistically amongst the tension, “the fans might pick up on our bad energy if we all show up pouting like this...”

“Easy for you to say,” Niki replied teasingly, “you slept like a baby last night… meanwhile, you kept me up with your insistent snoring…”

“Did not,” you whined in protest, looking back at his attractively playful expression, “it’s not my fault that the stories you tell in your groggy bedtime voice are so relaxing.”

Niki meant to reply but was rudely interrupted by Serenity’s stinky attitude, “Aww, late night bonding moment, I see? Hope a little ‘story time’ was as far as it got for you two lovebirds...”

You and Niki shook your heads in unison at her senseless comment, the rest of Enhypen and your band mates soon rushing out of the dressing room and outside to the awaiting limousine as the schedule manager directed.

“Make sure you have everything you need, guys! We’re running a bit behind on time and can’t afford any more set-backs,” exclaimed a tall, broad man in athletic wear, a black Hybe hat topping off his look.

“Got it, sir,” Jungwon replied politely, double-checking his leather cross-body bag before stepping into the vehicle, the rest of you following after him.

You didn’t expect to see Miss Kim in the front seat with the chauffeur, but you greeted her nonetheless.

“Morning, Miss Kim!,” You and Hearin started enthusiastically.

“Morning, Riot Grrlz,” she returned while not looking at any of you, writing hasty yet neat notes down on her clipboard, “I’ll be bold and assume you ladies have never attended any sort of fan event, correct?”

“Y-yes, that is correct,” Jade answered before you, crossing her legs in her seat, “this’ll be our very first experience today…”

“Oh, that’s cool for you then, isn’t it? Don’t worry if you don’t know what to say or do, by the way... just copy us,” you heard Heeseung encourage somewhere behind you, but your mind was more focused on the way Niki’s hand accidentally brushed against yours while you two glared out of the same window...

Accidentally… maybe…

“I was just getting around to that, Heeseung,” Miss Kim continued after clearing her coffee-stained throat, “Korean fans as a whole are pretty cutthroat, and whether you’re a foreigner or not, they expect you to present yourself a certain way…”

“Perfect,” Sunoo thought out loud, “they expect you to be perfect…”

“That’s just the way this idol life goes, I'm afraid,” Jungwon sighed from his seat, not empathetically, but in a realistic sense.

“Either way, you girls should be safe to mirror whatever the boys are doing if you ever feel confused…” Miss Kim trailed off, the limo being just a few feet from reaching the fan meeting center, “Good luck today, you all.”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

Things were turning out surprisingly smooth at the event, to say the least.

Needless to mention, you and Niki stayed pretty close the entire time, and the fans seemed to be amused by your attempt at famous duo heart poses with him.

“Just extend your hand like this,” he instructed while giggling, watching as your overhead heart ended up looking more like an oval to the audience.

Serenity was received as a fan favorite, too, her “boba eye” look captivating the male attendees while others were more entertained in her beginner Korean skills.

“Hwaiting,” she exclaimed confidently before the fans one too many times for your tolerance, Sunghoon’s face clearly showing just how much he was enjoying not being the cringiest person in the room for once.

Or, at least that was until an older fan requested that he and Sunoo sing and dance to the infamous aeygo Ottoke song for good luck at the show tomorrow.

“The things we do for engene,” the two boys collectively thought to themselves while fastening coquette bunny ears atop their heads, hoping that their enthusiasm would override the embarrassment.

It was all just such a culture shock for you and your group.

“Uhhh, a little help here?” Haerin worriedly called out to Jake as a particularly excited Korean fan approached her with a lot to say that she could barely understand.

“Oh- allow me,” Jake offered between the language barrier, translating to Haerin what the fan was trying to tell her.

“She thinks I’m a what now?”

“A K-pop Idol, mostly because of your trendy look today,” Jungwon giggled warmly, “the prophesied eighth member of Enhypen, in fact...”

Haerin laughed with both embarrassment and flattery, trying her best to explain to the young fan that she was a member of the Riot Grrlz and Riot Grrlz only.

Interactive activities continued just as well after this, the event nearing its end as you and Niki did a few TikTok dance challenges for the fans on stage.

Dance challenges that you had practiced with him in eery hours of the night, or whenever you two were left alone in the dance studio.

That, alongside other things too… like stealing sweet kisses here and there… or nearly melting while staring into each others love struck eyes—

“____, right?” A fan asked, approaching you with a blue marker and square of paper.

“Yes, that’s me. Nice to meet you,” you returned, keeping eye contact with her, despite the dark shades she wore.

“Nice to meet you, too! I have so many questions to ask you about what it’s like working with Enhypen!… and I really like your hair, too! The highlights look really nice with your outfit hehe… ALSO, I've been listening to a lot of your groups songs recently, and my favorite has to be the main track from your most recent album, it’s so unique!…” the fans voice eventually trailed off shyly.

“Oh my goodness, sorry for rambling!! Uhmmm, can I get your autograph by any chance?”

“Aww, thank you,” you smiled brightly, “and it’s okay! I find it cute how interested you are in my experience and music…”

Your hand reached out to grab the marker from her grasp, your body leaning forward slightly as you signed your name on the photo, resting your weight on the desk before you.

So lost in the moment, you didn’t even realize that the photo you had just signed was one of you and Niki hanging out just outside of Yeouido Park the other night.

It was impossible to hold back the gasp that escaped your throat at the realization, your finger loosing its grip around the marker as your stunned eyes met her knowing ones.

“Look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she chuckled in a facetiously sweet tone, you and her hands fighting over the now autographed-polaroid before your grip overthrew hers.

“Where did you get that—”

“Your secret’s safe with me, alright?” She interrupted with a sharp whisper, “So long as you work on distancing yourself from Niki moving forward…”

You blinked in feigned confusion at her words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re just colleagues—”

“And he’s an idol,” she cut in again, “idols don’t belong to silly American girls like you… you don’t even belong in our world…”

At this point, you're certain she could see how upset you were with her, and you didn't even care to hide it. “Everyone has welcomed me here, expect for you… and to what gain? I’m here with my band solely for work purposes, and I can assure you there is nothing you have to worry about concerning my professionalism.”

Your strong reply seemed to have rubbed her the wrong way, one of her hands fastening the bag over her shoulder while the other adjusted the glasses sitting at her nose.

“Thank you for your time,” she nearly growled at you, that same phony smile plastered to her lips before she hurriedly walked away, disappearing into the crowd of fans.

You let out a breath that you didn't even know you'd been holding, trying to calm yourself down before anyone noticed the silent commotion that had occurred on your side of the meeting booth.

All you could do was hope that this was the only copy or evidence of you and Niki hanging out that night as you folded the paper into a small square, tucking it under your sleeve in a way that no one would notice.

Above all though, you were just glad that the event was coming to an end soon, a few on-set staff members already helping to put away some stage props, meanwhile Sunoo, Heeseung, and Jade helped themselves to bringing along some gifts from fans.

“Hey... uhm, Heeseung? Can I-”

“Yes, Jade,” Heeseung answered with a giggle, “you can have all of my kitty plush gifts...”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The limo ride back to the HYBE building was quiet, the sole thought roaming in the back of your mind being that one fan's cruel words…

…𝘴𝘪𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘈𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶… 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘭𝘥...

It wasn’t like you were trying to infiltrate the world of K-pop.

You and your group were simply expanding your collab horizons upon being invited, and it seriously boggled you how anyone would have a problem with that—

“Knock knock,” Niki said with a smile in his voice from behind the door to your private backstage dressing room, waiting for your cue that it was safe for him to come in.

“You can come in, Niki,” you replied softly, standing in front of the body length wall mirror while struggling to fix your hair into a suitable style for the stage practice in a few minutes.

“Hi,” you greeted again once he reached you, watching as his eyes traced your reflection, almost immediately picking up on your nervous demeanor.

“You did great today, ____, y’know that?” He started with a low voice, guiding your stressed hands away from your head and resting them at your sides.

“Niki, I have to get ready—”

“And you already look more than prepared,” he encouraged, securing his hands around your waist before leaving a kiss below your ear, “gorgeous, even...”

“Thanks,” you answered shyly, somehow already feeling a bit better about things now that he was near you.

“So. Are you gonna tell me what’s got you upset or are we gonna make this a guessing game?” He teased, making you chuckle a bit as his attempt to cheer you up.

Your eyes fell to the floor, his grip on you loosening as a little sigh escaped your freshly glossed lips.

“A fan…,” you began quietly, “at the meeting today… she asked me to sign this photo.”

Reaching into your bra, you pulled out the mysterious square photo and watched with a pout as Niki carefully unfolded it from each corner.

“I… I don’t understand…” he stuttered, eyes glazing over the sight of you and him holding hands at the firework show that night.

“I know, it’s my fault that—”

“No…,” he interrupted your words before meeting your guilt-ridden eyes, “I don’t understand why you’re letting this get to you…”

“Excuse me?” You asked with a confused expression, “if something like this gets out, it could ruin both of our careers, y’know?”

“Sure,” he responded nonchalantly with a shrug, “but I couldn’t care less about some jealous sasaeng’s creepy little photo fest… by now, it’s gonna take a lot more than an innocent, harmless photo of us hanging out to make me question our status in this field.”

“You never take anything seriously, Nishimura,” you smiled with a sigh, shaking your head as you watched his fingers tear the photo to pieces.

“Well you’re definitely an exception to that trait of mine,” he smirked, tucking the torn shreds of paper into his back pocket before finding your face in his hands, placing a tender kiss to your left cheek.

“How sweet of you to say,” you whispered softly, grabbing the neckline of his shirt and pulling him closer to your height, “now how about you kiss me properly this time?”

He hummed at your teasing tone, sharp features softening as he tilted his head, sealing the space between you and him with the sweet kiss you’d been waiting for.

“I’ll never get tired of this,” Niki sighed against your lips, his right hand removing the rubber band securing your ponytail so his fingers could roam freely through your curls.

Things were escalating pretty quickly now, both of your breaths sounding more labored with each second as you stumbled backwards onto the desk, his energy leading the kiss as he remained on top of you.

It was almost more than you could handle, his hands roaming at your sides before your eyes barely fluttered open, the sight of his slightly blushed button-nose making you feel like melting on the spot.

Thats when you realized his pink hue was a result of two reasons: (1) The way your hands shyly clung to his shoulders right now, and (2) the shadow of footsteps peeking behind your dressing room door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Hello? Miss ____, its Kim... Are you decent?”

“Erm, one second!” You responded in an obvious frantic.

Niki helped you get up from the vanity table, kneeling down quickly to hide himself under the it as the stern lady made her way into the room anyway.

“Sorry to intrude,” she began abruptly, not even taking note of your currently disheveled hair and flushed expression, “but I’ve unfortunately been appointed as the bearer of bad news for today…”

“Oh... uhm, w- what is it, is everyone alright?” You asked with a concerned tone, trying to take your mind off the fact that a Niki stained with the glimmer of your peach flavored lipgloss all over his mouth was literally under your desk right now, a mere two feet away from Miss Kim’s leather boots.

“For the most part, yes… but it concerns one of your band mates… Serenity, specifically… Since you are the leader of your group, I found it humble to have at least this much respect to tell you first in private.”

You let out a breath, closing your eyes for a moment before opening them back up, restoring your usually confident aura and making eye contact with the woman.

“Thank you, Miss Kim… I’m listening…”

▶︎ ၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊| • • •

The sounds of shoes rhythmically scuffing, mics going in and out of focus, and layered fits of heavy breathing filled your ears for the next two hours.

Design tech, stage directors, and performers alike were giving it their all to perfect things before the big show coming up.

You paced around the shiny stage, a sweat rag secured lazily around your neck as you and the Enhypen members just got through with rehearsing the main choreo at the performing arena for the first time.

Everyone except Jay and Jade that is, who were still busy with working on their guitar duet for the intro show backstage with the music writers.

“I have no idea how you can still see after being in front of these bright stage lights all the time,” you huffed out tiredly, glancing at Sunoo who only shrugged while taking a few gulps from his grey water bottle.

“I’m not too sure either, but for the lot of us, it’s just something you have to get used to,” he tried warmly before letting himself fall on the ground, limbs spread out like an exhausted snowman as sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Here, lemme show you a little trick I like to use,” Niki offered with a smile while approaching you from behind, his larger frame casting a shadow before you.

“Look down there,” he started, guiding your waist with one hand as he pointed ahead of you with the other, “do you see the tech crew down there?”

You looked to where his finger was pointing, eyes being met with the sight of workers who sat in reclining chairs while others drank some coffee, a few sporadic employees carrying clipboards with stacks of paper, giving out orders to their fellow floor members.

“Yeah, I see them,” you answered, making Niki laugh slightly for reasons you didn’t fully understand.

“That means you’re too close then,” he replied, still holding your waist as he guided you to take a few steps back, which ended up being more steps for you given the leg length differences.

“There’s a rule of thumb that if you can see the audience, they can’t see you… are the lights still bothering you now?”

“Not as much, actually,” you said, turning to face him as he still held you close, everything in your body fighting not to kiss him in this moment given the way he looked back at you, “thanks again…”

“Anytime,” he smirked smuggly, “but uhhh, I think people might be looking at us now—”

“Oh,” you giggled shyly, backing a few inches away from him.

“Ahem,” a nagging voice cleared from beside you two, breaking the wholesome presence of the moment.

“Do you guys think you’re invisible or something?” Serenity asked, crossing her arms while staring the both of you up.

“Uhm…. No?” Niki answered for you, furrowing his eyes at the blue-eyed diva.

“Then why’re you just standing there? You’re blocking my light…”

You let out a scoff at her words, feeling baffled at the thought of how insecure girls like her could have such egotistical tendencies.

“Sorry, Serenity…,” you said half-heartedly, “didn’t mean to disturb your… solo mid-break practice session...”

“Really appreciate it, leader lady,” she replied sarcastically, very intentionally bumping into your shoulder as she walked past you before stopping in her tracks, a loose copy of the stage schedule getting caught under her baby pink sneakers.

She leaned down to pick it up, examining the text before her eyes stumbled over a line of bolded words. All of this was for reasons she didn’t understand, but either way, would soon resent.

“Ugh?!!” She exclaimed with a confused scoff, “HYBE is kicking me from the show??”

Your eyes widened at her words, the furious, confused, and torn look on her face doing nothing but make Niki smirk to himself, “Serenity, I can explain—”

“And you knew about this, didn’t you?” She accused with balled fists, looking between your nervous face and Niki’s shamelessly proud one.

“I just found out today, okay? But Miss Kim specifically instructed me not to say anything about until she revealed it to you herself after practice,” you clarified with a shaky voice.

“Please,” she said with a scoff, “And what’s with the face, Nishimura Nimrod? Huh!? Your little girlfriend told you before she told me, her own band mat—”

“I didnt tell him anything!” You retorted with a slightly raised voice, cracking with nerves you couldn't keep buried anymore.

You never liked being in the hot seat unless you were sitting there with Niki, thanks to his ability to always maintain his cool under pressure...

However, for some reason, even with him next to you right now, you still felt like hurling yourself to the ground.

“You had to have told me him something, so just stop with your insistent lies, ____,” Serenity spat, poking a finger in the center of your chest. Hard.

“You couldn’t wait to get rid of me, its been all over your rotten little face ever since we got here… You’re so jealous of me and it’s honestly depressing at this point…”

Oh Serenity, you thought in your mind, if only you knew this was all brought on by yourself…

You’d had enough of her ignorant speech, holding a fierce eye contact with her while trying to conceal the tears forming behind your eyes.

The sadness growing in your heart…

“None of this was my decision, Ren, so if you have a bone to pick with someone, try taking it up with Miss Kim herself,” you said firmly, walking back a few steps in case she tried touching you again, “I'm sure she'd be more than happy to inform you on her reasons for exiling you from the main activities…”

“What’s going on you guys?” Haerin asked timidly in the midst of the chaos, having just come back from washing up in the restroom.

Serenity practically burned holes in your face with her venomous glare before turning sharply on her heel, footsteps loud and startling as she marched off the stage, murmuring a string of curses under her breath.

“Soooo,” Sunghoon started with a curious accent, “I’m usually not the best at comprehending things, but I’m assuming that whatever just happened was a lot more serious than the usual Riot Grrlz drama, correct?”

“Yeah, what's the big deal ____?,” Jade asked alongside Jake, who gave your shoulder a comforting shake.

You fought with everything in your body to not to let any tears fall...

Because in this moment, it just felt right to cry, but at the same time, was it really worth appearing weak in front of everyone?

Everyone who counted on you to remain strong?

You exhaled with a deep breath, wiping the pricks of moisture from your eyes before speaking, “Serenity won’t be performing with us for the special stage anymore… only the ending song.”

A cacophony of gasps filled the room at your words, Jungwon having picked up the loose schedule copy to analyze it for himself, the bolded words reading:

>> SERENITY TAYLOR Authorized to be PULLED from Furthering Her Performance Activities in Sight of Behavioral Decency Violations Under HYBE's Collaboration and Code of Conduct Standards

“Will she be allowed to attend the award show at least,” Heeseung inquired, not out of empathy, but curiosity as all of this was unfolding pretty fast.

“Perhaps, but for now, we can rest on the thought that we’ll have one less problem while preparing from here on out,” you answered, feeling a large hand take your hand in theirs before giving it a gentle squeeze.

Niki.

“Either way, the show must go on you guys,” he said with a deep voice, the faintest smile being on his face as he looked back at you, dark eyes sparkling with sincerity.

The stage lights flickered from ahead and above you, a key indicator that the radio would be picking up again soon, playing the instrumental to your practice track.

“Mic check everyone and it’s back to rehearsals in five,” yelled out a staff member from below the stage, the ten of you now lining up in formation while adjusting your headsets around your ears.

There was only one thought that remained in your head as the choreographer hopped up center stage to explain how the performance would accommodate for Serenity's sudden absence:

The show must go on.

🎙️For my baby, @microwvdstrawb3rri3s 💕 This is episode 3 for ya ~ Thanks for being so patient with me :3

⛦ TAGS: @squoxle @nikisvanillaccola @yourmomscuntis2tighy @nikimeows @kimjiho1 @nikipedia07 @nishimuradaniel @ashgonedash @laurradoesloveu @caithefly @samhomo @rikikiynikilcykiki @3ngene--frvr @illymontyshit @filmofhybe @whoslug @nikiiitties

🎙️ Feel free to check out more fun reads on the pinned post at my home page ~

#niki fluff #niki x reader #niki scenarios #niki fanfic #niki imagines #niki soft hours #niki drabbles #enha niki #niki enhypen #enhypen #enhypen nishimura riki #niki ff #enhypen riki #nishimura riki #enhypen x reader #enhypen x y/n #enhypen fic #enhypen fluff #enhypen soft hours #enhypen scenarios #enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen ff #nishimura riki x reader #riki fluff #idol au

[blossom-sims]

Elemental Legacy Challenge for TS3

Hi all, this is my first Sims 3 legacy challenge I've made myself, it is a result of my boredom on a Saturday evening but it was a lot of fun, so I'll throw this at you ☺

This elemental legacy challenge is for The Sims 3 and spans 9 Generations. It is inspired by the Chinese Zodaic Elements and also inspiration from my favourite JRPG's which utlise a lot of elemental themed magic. It has guided ideas and generational requirements with story themes throughout. Feel free to tag me if you have a go at this ✨

Rules:

I have listed the intended requirements for each generation, move on to the next generation once the requirements are complete or the next heir becomes a young adult

I have listed some guidance on careers, lifetime wishes and traits. I recommend taking 2-3 of the traits listed but they aren't mandatory

You can use money cheats if you wish, I've tried to write the generational order to put you in the desired financial spot for storytelling, but please just have fun with it

Please do alter and play this how you wish & how your stories pan out, the guidance is just there for ideas and isn't meant to limit you

Generation 1 - Earth

Child of earth, you are grounded and resillient. Your goal is to provide your family with solid foundations for the generations to come. You are selfless, stubborn and driven. You know what you want and will work your upmost to achieve it. Your ambitious and frugal nature can get on other's nerves and prompts the question: with so much planning for the future, are you really taking time to enjoy your own life?

Traits: Ambitious, Frugal, Natural Cook, Snob, Workaholic

Job: Medical Career

LTW: World Renowned Surgeon

Requirments:

Begin in a starter house. You should not move lots or houses this Generation and instead add extensions onto your house when needed

Master the cooking and nectar making skills

Fall in love and marry one person in your lifetime

Do not have children until you reach level 8 of your career

Save 20,000 for the next generation

Generation 2 - Water

Child of water, thanks to your parents hardwork, you had a carefree childhood and now plenty of savings behind you. You are a calm free spirit that lets the oceans currents carry you to your next adventure. You are in no rush to settle in one place just yet, why rush when you are having such fun? Your time for settling down will come evetually. Whatever will be will be.

Traits: Adventurous, Loves to swim, Commitment Issues, Easily Impressed, Athletic

LTW: Seaside Saviour/Seasoned Traveler/Deep Sea Diver

Job: Lifeguard

Requirements:

Travel to 3 different destinations

Do not get married and settle down until adulthood

Have at least 3 children with 3 different people you meet in your travels

Master the diving skill

Own a boat or live in a houseboat

Generation 3 - Fire

Child of fire, you are passionate and hot-headed, throwing yourself headfirst into your work and relationships with a grandeur flair. You wear your heart on your sleeve, making many flock to you for friendship or more. Your self-awareness around your temper certainly helps your popularity as you channel your temper into your physical fitness. You certainly aren't burning out anytime soon!

Traits: Social Butterfly, Hot-Headed, Artistic, Loves the Heat, Flirty

LTW: Super Popular

Job: Self-employed Painter

Requirements:

Master the painting and martial arts skills

Have at least 20 friends and maintain friendships until you are an elder or the next generation takes over

Have 3 passionate lovers in your lifetime

Throw a party once per week

Woohoo once per week

Generation 4 - Grass

Child of grass, you just can't get enough of babies, especially your own! Your family and their wellbeing are your whole world. You live to nourish, protect and teach your loved ones. However, you have been told on one or more occasions that you can be overbearing...a helicopter parent perhaps? Don't they know you only want what is best for them?

Traits: Nurturing, Perfectionist, Loves the Outdoors, Family Orientated, Green Thumb,

LTW: Surrounded by Family/The Perfect Garden

Job: Daycare

Requirements:

Have a garden and live off the land, using your grown produce for meals

Max the gardening skill

Fall in love and marry your childhood sweetheart

Have 5 children and a bad relationship with at least one

Teach all of your children their toddler skills

Live within your means in a small-medium house - never have more than 10,000 in household funds

Generation 5 - Ice

Child of ice, your parents doting nature only added onto your pressure. You never felt like you fit in with your family, never felt understood. They were all so extroverted and loud whilst you much preferred your quiet isolation. Perhaps that's why you prefer animals over people. You have a lot of love to give, I can only hope you will find someone to share that with (who is not one of your many pets).

Traits: Shy, Animal Lover, Hates the Outdoors, Savvy Sculptor, Loves the cold

LTW: Descendant of Da Vinci

Jobs: Self employed Sculptor/Painter/Inventor

Requirements:

Have a poor relatioship with your parents and siblings, you will leave your childhood family home as soon as you age into a young adult

Have 3 pets at one time

Only leave your house when necessary

Meet your lover through online dating

Master the sculpting and inventing skills

Have a child through the time machine

Generation 6 - Electricity

Child of electricity, you sure are a shocker! You thrive in the spotlight and want all eyes on you, for better or worse. You would never miss an opportunity to make a good story for the headlines. Rumours have been circulating that your appearances are a rouse: you're broke, narcissistic and even miserable! They're just jealous of your fame and fortune...right?

Traits: Inappropriate, Star Quality, Charismatic, Daredevil, Irresistible

LTW: Superstar Actor/Rock Star/Vocal Legend

Job: Actor/Musician/Singer

Requirements:

Reach Celebrity Level 5

Reach Level 10 of your chosen career

Have 3 negative scandals in your lifetime

Act inappropriately once per week

Live beyond your means - live in a large mansion and keep your household funds below 5,000. Spend any additional income on items, spa treatments and activities

Have a fall from grace and leave your children with nothing

Generation 7 - Metal

Child of metal, you know what it's like to be at rock bottom. Due to your parents neglect and carelessness, you taught yourself all you know to get by and find your next meal, even if you aren't proud of it. You are stubborn, self-reliant and one hell of an evil genius. You won't hit rock bottom again. Ever.

Traits: Evil, Kleptomaniac, Genius, Night Owl, Rebellious

LTW: Become a Master Thief

Job: Criminal Career

Requirements:

As a teen: consistently maintain D's at school, skip school, pull pranks and steal from neighbours

Work for tips as a mixologist in your young adulthood

Master the mixologist skill and learn every drink recipe

Have a found family

Steal an item every week

Never fall below 2,000 simoleons when you are independant. If you do or are about to, start doing whatever is necessary. We will never hit rock bottom

Marry a rich sim, have a child with them and kill your partner off

Generation 8 - Air

Child of air, your life so far has been turbulent and chaotic. Your parents death has scarred you and you have floated through life lost. You try to travel on the right path for your late parent, but you can't help but feel there is more to life than what meets the eye. There are sounds at night that wake you, unexplained foresight into future events and a pull to the paranormal. Perhaps it is time to stop fighting this unknown path and instead let the winds carry you to where you are meant to be.

Traits: Good, Light Sleeper, Unlucky, Over-Emotional, Neurotic

LTW: Master of Mysticism/Paranormal Profiteer

Job: Fortune Teller/Ghost Hunter

Requirements:

Join a base game job in young adulthood. Quit once you reach level 3

Reach level 10 of your chosen career

Donate money to charity every week to honour your late parent

Marry a supernatural or one of your clients

Do one exceptionally good thing in your lifetime (examples include: cure a supernatural, adopt a child, revive a dead sim)

Have a close relationship with your children

Generation 9 - Space

Child of space, you certainly are special. With your parents holding a unique view on the world and the afterlife, you grew up with an open mind and childlike awe of life's wonders and mysteries. Your parents advocated for you to question the world, and question you did! You excelled in your studies and took a particular interest in space. Is it true you become a star if you die?

Traits: Genius, Childish, Athletic, Slob, Ambitious

LTW: Perfect Student

Job: Military

Requirements:

Keep straight A's throughout school

Go to university and achieve a perfect GPA

Master the logic skill

Reach space by becoming an astronaut (Reach level 10 of the military career)

Have an alien baby

#Elemental legacy #sims 3 legacy #sims 3 challenge #ts3 gameplay #ts3 #sims 3 #blossomsims #elementallegacychallenge #sims #s3elc

[aus-wnt]

Matildas star Steph Catley was at a training camp for club side Arsenal when a nutritionist blurted out the news: Sam Kerr had ruptured her ACL while at a Chelsea training camp in Morocco.

“I literally felt like someone had stabbed me in the stomach,” Catley said.

“My stomach fell. I just felt really emotional really quickly just because I felt really removed from it and I couldn’t go and see her and I couldn’t speak to her in that moment.”

Women’s soccer is booming. Before her injury, Kerr, the Matildas captain, and Catley, the vice captain, were part of an Australian side that captured the nation’s attention in the Women’s World Cup in 2023. The Arsenal defender then flew back to London where she played in front of record crowds in the Women’s Super League, including 59,042 at the Emirates Stadium against Kerr’s Chelsea in December.

But that boom is hiding a serious issue.

As a female athlete, Catley is no stranger to serious injuries among her peers. As well as Kerr’s injury, Holly McNamara was called up for the Matildas last year but did her ACL. At Arsenal alone, four stars suffered ACL injuries in the space of just six months: Lionesses captain Leah Williamson, WSL’s record goalscorer Vivianne Miedema, European Championship Golden Boot winner Beth Mead and Austrian international Laura Wienroither.

Catley says the foundations of women’s soccer are not developing fast enough to keep pace with the product.

“Obviously it’s what we absolutely love doing, but I think now that the game is at a point where the standard is so, so high and the games are so challenging and physically demanding [that] a lot of teams and a lot of clubs don’t have facilities and don’t have the right calibre of staff that can keep players healthy and strong,” she said.

“They don’t have the facilities to cater for the amount of demand and the pressures that are on the women’s game now.”

On the eve of Williamson’s return to the playing squad late last month, the 26-year-old defender said the current calendar and demands on female footballers were unsustainable.

“We’re not bred for this. We get to October and girls are saying ‘I’m tired’ because you’re carrying so much from the previous season,” Williamson told UK’s The Telegraph.

“We are driving ourselves into the ground, so some sort of solution needs to be found soon, in terms of the schedule, otherwise it’s not sustainable.”

ACL ruptures disproportionately affect female athletes at a rate 3-6 times greater than their male counterparts.

Research into ACL injury prevention and causation is ongoing and newer reports suggest an intersection of risk factors of intrinsic (anatomy, physiology, biomechanics and hormones) and extrinsic factors (training, conditioning, preparation, facilities and resources).

While Catley was hesitant to speak on the causation of ACL ruptures as she was not an injury expert, she said there was no room to properly switch off mentally or physically on the merry-go-round of the calendar year, putting a lot of strain on the resources available.

“I don’t know if A, B and C leads to this. But yeah, it does logically make sense that if there’s that much demand and not enough support and not enough foundations underneath that people break down mentally, physically, in every way possible,” said Catley.

“I think that’s human and that’s the way bodies work.”

Some English clubs can play as many as three games a week during the height of the season when the WSL, Champions League, FA Cup and League Cup calendars are running concurrently. The additional travel, plus the demands of national camps and tournaments, can further complicate schedules. Major tournaments occur in most WSL off-seasons, including a rotation of Olympics, World Cup and regional championships such as the Asian Cup, meaning most players will get one off-season free every four years.

When Matildas defender Ellie Carpenter ruptured her ACL just over a year out from the World Cup during Lyon’s Women’s Champions League final win over Barcelona, she referred to it months later as a “blessing in disguise”.

“I really needed this break. I was very fatigued, I’ve played a lot – a lot – of football in the last year and a half. I was just on the verge of [being] burnt out, really,” she told Forbes last March.

“The injury came, and, obviously, it was disappointing but at the same time, it was the perfect time for me to reset, get stronger, have a rest, have an off-season that I never really have had.”

In Kerr’s absence, Catley will captain the Matildas for the final Olympic qualifiers in Melbourne on February 24 and 28 against Uzbekistan and, if they progress, again at the Olympics in July. Catley did the same in Kerr’s absence for the first half of the World Cup.

Catley said as a kid, she never thought captaining a women’s team at the Olympics would even be possible. But now it is, it’s a “pinch me” moment.

“To be honest, even having that honour at the World Cup was extremely special and something that I’ll remember for the rest of my life, and cherish for the rest of my life, because it’s stuff that you dream of, really.”

But before she flies to Melbourne, for a 48-hour stop to play the first qualifier, she is deep in the thick of an Arsenal campaign for the title.

The club is looking almost back to full strength after regaining Mead, Miedema and Williamson this season, and sit third on the table, below Chelsea and Manchester City.

Catley said the title race was heating up. And while in the past seasons her side has struggled in those bigger games, this year they’ve done well against top opponents – but let others slip that they’d usually win. This is best summed up by their 4-1 win over Chelsea in December and then a 1-0 loss to Tottenham the following week. On Sunday, they lost to relegation-threatened West Ham.

“You’ve got some incredible teams that are also in form and if anyone drops points at any point, it’s like sharks,” said Catley.

“It’s just so, so close.”

#steph catley #arsenal women #arsenal wfc #matildas #auswnt

[estapa-edwards]

BACK IN MICHIGAN - R. MCGROARTY

paring: Rutger Mcgroarty x fem! reader

word count: 5.5k

requested? yes - the youngest hughes sister having joined the nhl and started playing a team that wasn’t close by to any of her brothers maybe the jets??? and she’s in the playoffs so they all came out to see her play. rutger and her having started getting closer and anyone of the team could tell they liekd each other so the hughes all notice it but they also notice how much of a family she has seen to made in the team

warnings: use of y/n.

THANK YOU GUYS FOR 100 FOLLOWERS

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Y/N Hughes was never one to shy away from a challenge. With the blood of hockey legends coursing through her veins, she set out to conquer the ice on her terms. Unlike her brothers, who dominated the league with their respective teams, Y/N chose a different route. She opted to join the Winnipeg Jets, a team far from the familiar territory of her brothers' teams. This decision wasn't just about distance; it was about carving her identity away from the shadows of her siblings' legacy.

The Jets weren't just a team for Y/N; they were a new family, a group of warriors bound by a shared love for the game. Among them was Rutger McGroarty, a name synonymous with grit and determination on the ice. Y/N and Rutger's paths intertwined long before they donned the Jets' jersey. They were college comrades, forging a bond that transcended the rink. As fate would have it, their journey continued in the NHL, with both finding themselves wearing the same colors once again.

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Their college experience was like any other student-athlete's – a whirlwind of classes, practices, and games. Yet, amidst the chaos of their schedules, Y/N and Rutger found solace in each other's company. They were drawn together by their shared passion for the game, spending countless hours on the ice perfecting their skills and pushing each other to new heights.

But their bond extended beyond the rink. They were kindred spirits, united by a fierce determination to succeed and a relentless work ethic that set them apart. Whether it was late-night study sessions or impromptu adventures around campus, Y/N and Rutger were inseparable, their laughter echoing through the halls as they navigated the highs and lows of college life together.

As teammates, they were formidable, their chemistry on the ice undeniable. Y/N's lightning speed and precision passing complemented Rutger's brute strength and unwavering resolve, creating a dynamic duo that struck fear into the hearts of their opponents. But it was off the ice where their friendship truly flourished.

In each other, Y/N and Rutger found a confidant, someone who understood the unique pressures they faced as student-athletes. They shared their hopes and dreams, their fears and insecurities, building a foundation of trust and mutual respect that would withstand the test of time. Together, they navigated the highs of victory and the lows of defeat, leaning on each other for support when the weight of expectations became too much to bear.

In the quiet moments between classes and practices, Y/N and Rutger found sanctuary in each other's company. Their dorm rooms became havens where they could escape the chaos of college life and simply be themselves. It was here, in the intimacy of their shared space, that they had some of their most profound conversations.

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Late into the night, with the soft glow of their laptops casting shadows on the walls, Y/N and Rutger would talk for hours about their dreams and aspirations. They shared a vision of one day making it to the NHL, of hoisting the Stanley Cup high above their heads and etching their names into hockey history. But amidst the lofty goals and grand ambitions, they also spoke of their fears – the fear of failure, of letting down their teammates, of falling short of the expectations placed upon them.

Y/N sat cross-legged on her bed, laptop perched on her knees, while Rutger lounged in the bean bag chair beside her, his own laptop open in front of him. The dim light of their room created a cozy atmosphere, perfect for the late-night conversations they often found themselves engaged in.

"You know," Y/N said, breaking the comfortable silence, "sometimes I wonder if we're crazy for dreaming this big."

Rutger looked up from his screen, a small smile playing on his lips. "Crazy or not, I wouldn't want to chase this dream with anyone else."

Y/N chuckled softly. "Yeah, I guess you're right. It's just... daunting, you know? The NHL feels like this distant, unattainable goal sometimes."

Rutger nodded in understanding. "I get it. But think about how far we've come already. We've put in the work, honed our skills, and earned the respect of our teammates. We're closer than we think."

Y/N sighed, running a hand through her hair. "I know you're right. It's just hard to shake off the doubt sometimes."

Rutger reached out and gently squeezed her shoulder. "We all have our moments of doubt, Y/N. But we can't let fear hold us back. We have to keep pushing forward, one step at a time."

She smiled gratefully at him, feeling a wave of reassurance wash over her. "Thanks, Rutger. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Rutger returned her smile, his eyes reflecting genuine warmth. "Likewise, Y/N. We're in this together, remember?"

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Their friendship was the kind that seemed to transcend boundaries, drawing them together like magnets no matter where they went. Whether it was on the ice, in the classroom, or simply hanging out in their dorm room, Y/N and Rutger were inseparable.

Their teammates often joked about how they were joined at the hip, their camaraderie evident in the way they moved and interacted with each other. It wasn't uncommon for people to mistake them for a couple, their easy banter and shared laughter fueling the rumors.

But Y/N and Rutger paid the speculation no mind. They were content in the comfort of their friendship, secure in the knowledge that their bond went far deeper than any fleeting romance. They shared a connection that went beyond the superficial, built on a foundation of trust, mutual respect, and unwavering support.

And so, they continued to spend their days and nights together, their friendship growing stronger with each passing moment. Whether it was studying for exams, cheering on their teammates from the sidelines, or simply enjoying each other's company, Y/N and Rutger were always there for each other, a constant presence in each other's lives.

As the rumors persisted and the whispers grew louder, they simply shrugged them off, their smiles never faltering. For Y/N and Rutger, their friendship was all that mattered, and they wouldn't let anything – not even the speculation of others – come between them.

The tension in the locker room was palpable as the Michigan Wolverines prepared to take the ice for the most important game of the season. Y/N and Rutger sat side by side, their heads bent together as they discussed strategy, their voices hushed but determined.

"We need to shake things up," Rutger said, his brow furrowed in concentration. "Their defense is tight, but I think we can exploit the gap on the left side."

Y/N nodded, her eyes alight with determination. "Agreed. If you can draw their defenseman towards you, I'll slip through and position myself for the pass."

Rutger grinned, a spark of excitement igniting in his eyes. "Sounds like a plan. Let's show them what we're made of."

With their strategy in place, they joined their teammates on the ice, the roar of the crowd echoing in their ears. The game was tense, with both teams fighting tooth and nail for every inch of ice.

As the final minutes of the game ticked away, the score remained deadlocked. But Y/N and Rutger refused to let despair set in, their determination unwavering as they fought for victory.

With less than a minute left on the clock, Rutger saw his opening. With lightning speed, he weaved through the opposing defense, drawing their attention away from Y/N who streaked towards the net with laser focus.

In a split-second decision, Rutger sent a perfectly timed pass soaring across the ice, the puck gliding effortlessly towards Y/N's waiting stick.

Time seemed to stand still as Y/N positioned herself, her heart pounding in her chest as she prepared to make her move. With a swift flick of her wrist, she sent the puck flying towards the net, the sound of it hitting the back of the goal ringing out like music to her ears.

The crowd erupted into cheers as the final buzzer sounded, signaling their victory. Y/N and Rutger embraced in a tight hug, their faces alight with joy and triumph.

"We did it," Y/N exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.

Rutger grinned, his eyes shining with pride. "We sure did. Couldn't have done it without you, Y/N."

As they skated off the ice, their teammates cheering them on, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude wash over her. Gratitude for Rutger, for his unwavering support and unwavering belief in her abilities.

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Y/N and Rutger lounged on the couch, their laughter filling the air as they scrolled through TikTok videos together. It was a rare moment of relaxation after their recent victory, and they were relishing every second of it.

As Y/N swiped through her "For You" page, a familiar face appeared on the screen – Rutger's. She couldn't help but grin as she tapped on the video, eager to show him.

"Hey, check this out," she said, turning her phone towards him.

Rutger leaned in, his eyes widening in surprise as he watched himself on the screen. "Whoa, that's me!" he exclaimed, a mix of excitement and disbelief in his voice.

Y/N laughed, nodding enthusiastically. "Yep, someone made an edit of you. It's actually really cool."

As they watched the video together, Y/N's finger hovered over the screen, her intention to show Rutger quickly overshadowed by a sudden slip of her thumb. In an instant, she accidentally liked the video, her heart sinking as she realized her mistake.

"Oh no," she gasped, her eyes widening in horror. "I didn't mean to do that!"

Rutger looked at her, a puzzled expression on his face. "What happened?"

Y/N swallowed nervously, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment. "I... I accidentally liked the video. On my public account."

Rutger's eyes widened in understanding as the implications of Y/N's mistake sank in. Their teammates had already been teasing them about their close friendship, and now, with Y/N accidentally liking an edit of Rutger, the rumors were bound to escalate.

"Oh man," Rutger muttered, running a hand through his hair. "This is not good."

Y/N groaned, feeling a knot of anxiety forming in the pit of her stomach. "I know. People are going to think... they're going to think we're dating for sure."

Rutger sighed, his expression resigned. "Well, I guess there's nothing we can do about it now. We'll just have to deal with whatever comes our way."

As they continued to scroll through TikTok, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over her. She knew that their accidental like would only fuel the rumors surrounding their relationship, but deep down, she also knew that their friendship was worth more than any speculation or gossip.

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The bright lights of the arena illuminated the stage as Y/N and Rutger took their seats for the pre-game interview. The anticipation in the air was electric, a buzz of excitement permeating the atmosphere as they prepared to discuss the upcoming game.

The interviewer, a cheerful woman with a microphone in hand, smiled warmly at them as the cameras began to roll. "Welcome, Y/N and Rutger! It's great to have you both here. Let's jump right into it – you two have been playing exceptionally well together on the ice. Some fans are even speculating that there might be more than just friendship between you. Care to comment?"

Y/N felt her heart skip a beat at the question, her gaze flickering to Rutger for a brief moment before returning to the interviewer. She swallowed nervously, her mind racing as she searched for the right words.

Before she could respond, Rutger spoke up, his tone casual but firm. "No, we're not dating. We're just good friends and teammates who happen to have a great on-ice chemistry."

Y/N's heart sank at his words, a pang of hurt flashing through her chest despite her best efforts to suppress it. She forced a smile onto her lips, nodding in agreement with Rutger's response.

"Right, just good friends," she echoed, her voice betraying none of the turmoil swirling within her.

The interviewer smiled, seemingly satisfied with their answer. "Well, you two certainly make a formidable team regardless. Best of luck in tonight's game!"

As the interview concluded and they made their way back to the locker room, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of disappointment that lingered within her. She had always known that she and Rutger were just friends, but hearing him dismiss the idea of them dating so quickly had stung more than she cared to admit.

In the quiet of the locker room, she took a moment to collect herself, plastering a smile onto her face as she prepared to face their teammates. But deep down, she couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within her. She knew that their friendship was worth more than any rumors or speculation, but a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between them after all.

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As Y/N and Rutger settled into their roles on the Winnipeg Jets, their bond on and off the ice only seemed to grow stronger. They continued to be each other's rock, supporting and pushing one another to new heights with each game they played.

But amidst the chaos of the NHL season, Y/N found herself grappling with feelings she had long kept buried – feelings that went beyond friendship. She watched as Rutger dazzled on the ice, his skill and determination shining brighter than ever, and couldn't help but feel a surge of admiration and affection swell within her.

Yet, she kept her feelings hidden, burying them beneath layers of friendship and camaraderie. She couldn't risk jeopardizing their relationship, especially not when they were both focused on achieving their dreams in the NHL.

But fate had a way of throwing unexpected curveballs, and one evening, during a crucial game against a fierce rival, history seemed to repeat itself. As the clock ticked down and the tension mounted, Y/N found herself in the perfect position to recreate the play that had once brought them victory back in Michigan.

With Rutger by her side, she darted across the ice, her heart pounding with anticipation as she positioned herself for the pass. And just like before, Rutger delivered, sending the puck sailing towards her with pinpoint precision.

Time seemed to slow as Y/N made her move, the familiar rush of adrenaline coursing through her veins as she fired the puck towards the net. And then, with a resounding thud, it hit its mark – the same pass, the same goal they had scored together all those years ago.

The arena erupted into cheers as their teammates rushed to congratulate them, but amidst the jubilation, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling of déjà vu that washed over her. It was as if time had folded in on itself, bringing them full circle to where it all began.

Amidst the jubilation, Rutger made his way over to Y/N, a grin stretching across his face as he clapped her on the back. "That was incredible, Y/N," he exclaimed, his voice filled with genuine excitement. "You really nailed it out there."

Y/N returned his smile, her heart fluttering at his praise. "Thanks, Rutger. I couldn't have done it without your perfect pass."

As they basked in the glow of their victory, Rutger's expression turned thoughtful, a hint of nostalgia flickering in his eyes. "You know," he began, his tone soft but earnest, "that goal we just scored... it reminded me of our time back in Michigan."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his words, her mind racing with memories of their days as college teammates. "Yeah," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. "It felt like déjà vu, didn't it?"

Rutger nodded, a wistful smile playing on his lips. "It did. Back then, we were just a couple of rookies with big dreams. And now, here we are, living those dreams together in the NHL."

Y/N's heart swelled with emotion as she gazed at Rutger, her feelings for him bubbling to the surface with each passing moment. "Yeah," she said, her voice barely a whisper. "Here we are."

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

At team dinners, amidst the clinking of utensils and the chatter of their teammates, Y/N found solace in the familiar presence of Rutger beside her. It had become a ritual of sorts for them to sit next to each other, their seats gravitating towards one another as naturally as breathing.

During team dinners, Y/N often found herself gravitating towards Rutger, drawn to the comfort and familiarity of his presence. As they sat side by side, their shoulders brushing against each other in a silent display of solidarity, she found solace in his company.

Rutger had a way of making her feel seen and understood, his easygoing demeanor putting her at ease even in the midst of a bustling dinner crowd. He knew so much about her life – the trials and triumphs, the joys and struggles – and there was a certain comfort in knowing that he was always there to listen, to support her, to be her rock in times of need.

As they engaged in light-hearted banter and shared inside jokes, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for Rutger's unwavering friendship. He was more than just a teammate; he was her confidant, her ally, her closest companion in a world that often felt overwhelming and uncertain.

But amidst the warmth and camaraderie of their team dinners, there were moments when Y/N's insecurities threatened to resurface. It was during one such dinner that someone not on her team mentioned her family, their words casting a shadow over the jovial atmosphere.

"They say she's always lived in her brothers' shadows," the voice said, loud enough for Y/N to hear.

Her heart skipped a beat as she forced a smile onto her lips, her grip tightening on her utensils as she struggled to maintain her composure. The words stung, dredging up painful memories of feeling overlooked and overshadowed by her brothers' achievements.

But before the words could fully settle in her mind, Rutger's touch brought her back to the present. His hand found hers under the table, his grip gentle yet reassuring as he squeezed her leg in silent solidarity.

In that simple gesture, Y/N found the comfort and support she had been seeking. Rutger knew her struggles, understood the pressures she faced, and offered his unwavering support without needing to say a word.

"Y/N is one of the most talented and hardworking players I know," he said, his words carrying across the table with quiet conviction. "She's earned every success she's had on her own merit, and anyone who says otherwise doesn't know what they're talking about."

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

As the playoffs approached, the excitement in the air was palpable, a tangible energy that permeated every aspect of life both on and off the ice. For Y/N, it was a time of heightened anticipation, a chance to prove herself on the biggest stage of them all alongside her teammates, including her steadfast companion, Rutger.

As the playoffs drew nearer, Y/N decided to take a bold step and introduce Rutger to her family. She knew that her parents and siblings were eager to meet the man who had become such an integral part of her life, both on and off the ice. And as she watched Rutger interact with her family, she couldn't help but feel a swell of pride and affection for the man by her side.

Her parents, Ellen and Jim Hughes, greeted Rutger with warm smiles and open arms, instantly putting him at ease with their genuine warmth and hospitality. And as they observed the easy camaraderie and shared laughter between Y/N and Rutger, it was clear to see that they were more than just teammates – they were kindred spirits, united by a bond that transcended the confines of the hockey rink.

Ellen Hughes, in particular, couldn't help but notice the undeniable connection between Y/N and Rutger. She had long been aware of her daughter's major crush on Rutger, her keen maternal instincts picking up on the subtle cues and glances that betrayed Y/N's true feelings.

But as she watched the two of them together, Ellen couldn't help but feel a surge of hope and optimism. Rutger was more than just a teammate – he was a kind and caring presence in Y/N's life, someone who brought out the best in her both on and off the ice. And as she looked at them, laughing and joking together like old friends, Ellen couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the man who had captured her daughter's heart.

As the playoffs intensified and the pressure mounted, Y/N and Rutger found themselves locked in a fierce battle on the ice. But instead of crumbling under the weight of expectation, they rose to the occasion, their chemistry igniting like never before as they propelled their team towards victory.

With every pass and every play, it was as if they were in perfect sync, their movements fluid and instinctual as they danced across the ice in a mesmerizing display of teamwork and skill. They seemed to anticipate each other's every move, their connection transcending words as they communicated through subtle gestures and knowing glances.

After the game, as they sat together in the locker room, still buzzing with adrenaline from their hard-fought victory, Y/N couldn't help but marvel at the intensity of their performance.

"Did you feel that out there?" she asked, her voice filled with awe and wonder. "It was like our chemistry exploded on the ice. We were unstoppable together."

Rutger nodded, a wide grin spreading across his face as he relived the exhilaration of the game. "I know what you mean," he replied, his eyes alight with excitement. "It's like we were on the same wavelength, reading each other's minds out there. It was incredible."

Y/N nodded in agreement, her heart swelling with pride at the thought of what they had accomplished together. "I've never felt anything like it," she admitted, her voice tinged with amazement.

It's like we were meant to be." Y/N's heart skipped a beat at Rutger's words, her breath catching in her throat as she processed the weight of his statement.The words echoed in her mind, sending a flurry of emotions coursing through her veins.

"Oh," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper, but filled with a depth of feeling that she couldn't quite articulate. In that moment, the air between them seemed charged with an electric tension, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the space between them.

Rutger's gaze softened, his eyes searching hers with a mixture of warmth and vulnerability. "I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice gentle but earnest. "I just meant... I don't know, it's hard to explain."

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding in her chest as she struggled to make sense of her own emotions. "I know what you mean," she replied, her voice tinged with uncertainty. "It's just... it feels like we have this connection, you know? Like we were always meant to find each other, even if it's just as teammates."

Rutger reached out and brushed a strand of hair away from her face, his touch sending shivers down her spine. "Yeah," he said, his voice soft but sure. "I feel it too."

As Rutger's touch lingered on her skin, Y/N couldn't help but wish that he could feel the same depth of emotion stirring within her. The uncertainty gnawed at her, a constant ache in the pit of her stomach as she grappled with the weight of her unspoken feelings.

But little did she know, Rutger's heart beat in rhythm with hers, his own emotions swirling in a tumultuous whirlwind of longing and desire. With every glance, every touch, every shared moment, he found himself falling deeper under Y/N's spell, unable to deny the magnetic pull she held over him.

As they sat together in the quiet intimacy of the locker room, Rutger wrestled with his own inner turmoil, his mind consumed by thoughts of Y/N and the unspoken connection that bound them together. He longed to reach out and tell her the truth, to lay bare his own feelings and risk it all for the chance at something more.

But fear held him back, the fear of rejection, of ruining their friendship, of losing the one person who had come to mean everything to him. And so, he remained silent, his words caught in the tangled web of his own insecurities.

As they sat together in the hushed stillness of the moment, Y/N couldn't help but feel a sense of longing wash over her. She wished she could read Rutger's thoughts, decipher the silent language of his heart and know once and for all where they stood.

As Rutger found himself unable to shake Y/N from his thoughts, her presence lingering in his mind like a haunting melody, he knew he couldn't ignore the turmoil that churned within him any longer. With each passing moment, the weight of his unspoken feelings grew heavier, threatening to consume him from the inside out.

*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨* ≈☆≈ *¨¨*:·..·:*¨¨*

Unable to resist the pull any longer, Rutger made his way to Y/N's apartment, his heart pounding with a mixture of anticipation and trepidation. He knew that this was a risk, that laying his heart bare could change everything between them, but he also knew that he couldn't continue to live in the shadow of his own fears.

As he stood outside her door, his hand poised to knock, Rutger's mind raced with a thousand different scenarios, each one more terrifying than the last. What if she didn't feel the same way? What if he ruined their friendship? What if...

But before he could spiral any further into his own doubts, Rutger took a deep breath and knocked on the door, his heart hammering in his chest as he waited for her to answer.

When Y/N opened the door, her eyes widened in surprise at the sight of Rutger standing on her doorstep. "Rutger, what are you doing here?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity and concern.

Rutger took a step forward, his gaze locked on hers with a fierce intensity. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "I couldn't get you out of my head, and I realized... I couldn't keep it in anymore."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his confession, her heart racing with a mixture of disbelief and hope. "Rutger..." she began, her voice barely a whisper as she struggled to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her veins.

But before she could speak, Rutger reached out and gently cupped her face in his hands, his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across her skin. "I know this might be a lot to take in," he said, his voice soft but urgent. "But I had to tell you... I care about you, Y/N. More than I've ever cared about anyone."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat at his confession, her pulse quickening with a mixture of disbelief and longing. She searched his eyes, the depths of their blue depths mirroring her own uncertainty, yet tinged with a vulnerability that laid bare the rawness of his emotions.

Rutger took a deep breath, steeling himself for what he was about to reveal. "It wasn't just today," he confessed, his voice tinged with a hint of nostalgia. "It's been building for a while now... ever since Michigan."

Y/N's brow furrowed in confusion, her mind racing to make sense of his words. "Michigan?" she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper as she urged him to continue.

Rutger nodded, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips as he recalled the memories that lingered in the recesses of his mind. "After we won the game," he began, his voice laced with a hint of nostalgia, "and we scored that goal together... something changed for me."

He paused, his gaze searching hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. "In that moment, with the crowd cheering and our teammates surrounding us, I realized that I was falling for you, Y/N. Hard."

As Rutger's words hung in the air, time seemed to stand still, the weight of his confession settling between them like a delicate veil. Y/N's breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding in her chest as she processed the depth of his feelings.

"That day, I felt like it was just us against the world," Rutger continued, his voice filled with a quiet conviction that sent a shiver down Y/N's spine. "I guess what I'm trying to say is that I love you."

Y/N's eyes widened in astonishment at his words, her heart soaring with a newfound sense of hope and joy. She searched his gaze, the depths of his blue eyes reflecting a vulnerability that mirrored her own, yet tinged with an intensity that made her pulse quicken with anticipation.

"Rutger..." she whispered, her voice barely above a breath as she struggled to find the words to express the whirlwind of emotions coursing through her veins. "I... I don't know what to say."

But Rutger reached out and gently brushed a tear from her cheek, his touch sending sparks of electricity dancing across her skin. "You don't have to say anything," he said, his voice soft but urgent. "I just needed you to know how I feel."

In that moment, surrounded by the quiet intimacy of her apartment, Y/N knew that she had a choice to make – to embrace the love that pulsed between them, or to retreat back into the safety of her own fears. And as she looked into Rutger's eyes, shining with a vulnerability that mirrored her own, she knew that she couldn't ignore the longing that pulsed between them any longer.

With a trembling breath, she reached out and took Rutger's hand in hers, her fingers intertwining with his in a silent promise of what could be. "I love you too, Rutger," she whispered, her voice filled with a depth of feeling that she hadn't known was possible. "More than you'll ever know."

As their hands intertwined, a wave of electricity surged between them, igniting a spark that had been smoldering beneath the surface for far too long. With their hearts pounding in unison, Y/N leaned in slowly, her eyes fluttering closed as she closed the distance between them.

Rutger's breath hitched as he felt her soft lips press against his, a surge of warmth flooding through him as their kiss deepened. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them wrapped in the cocoon of their shared emotions.

Their kiss was tender yet passionate, a silent affirmation of the love that had blossomed between them. With each brush of their lips, they poured their hearts into the moment, savoring the sweetness of their newfound connection.

And as they finally pulled away, their foreheads resting against each other as they caught their breath, Y/N knew that this was just the beginning of their journey together. With Rutger by her side, she felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges the future might hold.

"I love you," Rutger whispered, his voice filled with a depth of emotion that mirrored her own.

"I love you too," Y/N replied, her heart overflowing with happiness as she pressed another gentle kiss to his lips.

#rutger mcgroarty imagine #rutger mcgroarty #rutger mcgroarty x reader #hockey #nhl x reader #umich hockey #hockey imagine #nhl players #nhl hockey #nhl

[growingstories]

Body positivity

Jake Evans was not your average high school football player. With his chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and athletic physique, he was the epitome of the golden boy. Blessed with riches and good looks, Jake had never faced the challenges that many of his had teammates to endure. Especially because of the sponsorships his father gave to the school.

As the handsome quarterback of Westfield High School's football team, Jake was treated like royalty. Girls swooned over him, and his popularity seemed to grow with each victory. But deep down, Jake knew he hadn't earned his success. He had become complacent, relying on his natural gifts rather than hard work.

Coach Thompson, an old-school hardliner, had always been jealous of Jake's privileged life. He had seen countless talented players go unnoticed while Jake basked in the glory. Determined to bring Jake down a notch, Coach Thompson devised a plan to ruin his handsome looks by making him gain weight. He believed that by adding a few pounds, Jake's popularity would dwindle, and he would finally be forced to put in some effort.

Coach Thompson knew that correcting Jake's outward appearance would require a forceful approach. He hatched a scheme to force-feed Jake, compelling him to consume copious amounts of calorie-laden junk food. Under the guise of promoting team bonding, Thompson organized frequent eating sessions, encouraging Jake to indulge in pizzas, burgers, and milkshakes.

Initially, Jake saw these gatherings as a way to fit in and show his commitment to the team. Little did he know that Coach Thompson had ulterior motives. As the days turned into weeks, the weight gradually began to pile on. Jake's once-toned physique was now concealed beneath a layer of flab.

The once-popular Jake had become a shadow of his former self. Every pound he gained was matched by a decreasing number of cheers from the crowd. His female admirers moved on to other, more desirable figures, leaving Jake feeling like a forgotten relic.

Inside, Jake felt an intense mix of emotions. Anger and dismay battled with his desire to prove himself. It was during those moments of isolation that the seeds of determination took root. He realized that if he were to regain his position and show Coach Thompson his worth, he needed to transform his weight gain into an asset on the field.

As rumors of Jake's struggles began to circulate, his wealthy father learned about Coach Thompson's wicked plan. Distraught by his son's humiliation, he hatched a secret plan of his own. Mr. Evans, decided to sponsor the football team some extra, ensuring that Jake would have the resources and opportunities necessary to triumph even in his altered state.

Jake's new training regimen focused on using his increased weight to his advantage. He worked with coaches and trainers who specialized in building strong linemen. Under their guidance, Jake aimed to become an exceptional offensive lineman—an iron wall that would protect the quarterback from the ferocious opposition.

Initial struggles humbled Jake; however, his unyielding spirit pushed him to persevere. Determined to prove his worth on the field, he put in hours of relentless work and switched his focus from the limelight to the foundation of a great player.

On the day of the first crucial game of the season, Jake stepped onto the field as an offensive lineman. He was unrecognizable, having transformed his once sought-after face into a determined warrior's visage. As the ball was snapped, Jake burst forward, his newfound strength and agility surprising everyone, including himself.

Jake's performance was nothing short of stellar. The crowd, once disinterested, now marveled at the lineman who had risen from the ashes. His strength and dedication were contagious, inspiring his team to play at a level they had never reached before.

The final whistle blew, and Westfield High School emerged victorious. The audience roared with approval, cheering for Jake and his teammates. Coach Thompson, begrudgingly, had to admit that he had underestimated Jake's resilience.

Jake's journey from a privileged golden boy to a forceful lineman became legendary in the annals of Westfield High School's football history. His once hated weight gain became a testament his to determination and commitment. As he strutted through the halls, no longer ridiculed but admired, Jake had proven to himself and the world that true strength is not just a matter of physique but of spirit.

#fictionalweightgain #maleweightgain #maleweightgainstories #weightgain #weightgainstories #fictionalstories #wg fantasy #wg fiction

[rockethorse]

Foundations for Families Challenge: Rebooted!

Inspired by an ask, this is a reboot of the Foundations for Families contest over at Mod The Sims 2 from 2012. I've reverse-engineered the original floorplans based on the surviving entry images, streamlined/loosened the rules, and hopefully this old contest will interest some players as a new challenge!

You can participate using any Sims game.

The challenge:

Pick one foundation blueprint below and assign it to one of the families below.

Place an empty lot and build a foundation that matches the blueprint exactly. You may use any lot size or type, position the foundation anywhere on the lot, and rotate the foundation however you like (but cannot mirror it).

Build something on the foundation according to the specifications of the family you picked.

You're done! Share with the tag #Foundations For Families Challenge or simply enjoy your handiwork!

The rules:

You can only use each blueprint and each family once; so at the end of the challenge you will have four different families with four different foundations.

You can have as many decorative floors/dormers as you want, but only the first one or two floors may be useable or accessible by Sims (after the foundation).

You can use any combo of the three basegame foundation types to build the blueprint, but stages can only be placed above existing foundations.

You can only build walls above foundation, and you cannot have flooring or roofs extend/"hang" over the edge of the foundation. This includes greenhouses, but excludes pool walls. Fencing, flooring, and awnings are allowed on the ground.

If you want to build a basement, go for it, but it must be contained entirely within the original foundation and cannot be visible from the outside. There may only be one level of basements.

The families (all credit to @w-sims):

The Barkworth Family - Mike and Meadow Barkworth both love the outdoors. They've always dreamed out having a beautiful log cabin home they can come back to after a long day of hiking and insect collecting. They would love for their house to be a traditional pine cabin, with a gorgeous fireplace in the living room. The bathroom(s) should be simple and in-keeping with the style of the house, and Meadow loves the idea of flowers, home-made quilts and decorations all throughout the house.

The Montenegro Family - Rain Montenegro is a struggling artist. Her house is filled with art projects in various states of completion, but she wants a studio in her house so she can escape the world and focus on her art. As for the rest of the house, simple, cheap furniture will do, as long as it's bright and colourful. Rain loves the colour green, but can't stand purple.

The Lewis Family - When Layton and Lucinda found out they were expecting it was the greatest day of their lives. When they found out they were having triplets? Not so much. Now their three daughters (athletic Lara, bookworm Leanne and musician Lorrie) are all teenagers, they are demanding their own rooms. Layton and Lucinda are happy to move, but want a large master bedroom and their own en-suite bathroom.

The Gravel Family - Tyler Gravel is a romantic, fitness fanatic and rising athlete. He wants his house to have a modern feel, and the wow factor that will impress all the ladies. A home-gym is a must, and a swimming pool outside would be his idea of perfection. Tyler also wants a guest bedroom for when his family fly in to town to watch his matches.

The blueprints:

Have fun and feel free to share your finished builds with #Foundations For Families Challenge!

#sims challenge #sims build challenge #sims 2 challenge #sims 3 challenge #sims 4 challenge #sorry for the tag spam aha #Foundations For Families #Foundations For Families Challenge

[felipeandletizia]

Speech by Princess Leonor at the Princess of Asturias Awards 2023

I would like to be able to easily express what I feel on a day like today, here in Oviedo, after having taken the oath of service to Spain before our flag just two weeks ago. And after having started my military training, which is allowing me to share continuous learning with people who have chosen a life of service with great demands and personal sacrifices. Furthermore, on the 31st I will turn 18 and I will have the honor of taking my oath of allegiange to the Constitution, with what that means for me personally and institutionally. What I can tell you is that I very well understand and am aware of what my duty is and what my responsibilities entail. As Honorary President of this Foundation, one of them is to understand and value what our awardees contribute to a society where many generations live together with the idea of ensuring that those who need it most have the opportunity to improve their lives, their education, their health; and that science, culture and environmental protection are a priority. We can only achieve this with common objectives and individual and collective effort. By knowing the immense legacy of Nuccio Ordine, how he managed to humanize humanity and his defense of teachers, I understand why education is the foundation of any society that aims to be better. And with Meryl Streep's films, I see how a great artist can strip herself away to make room for her characters and dilute herself in her emotions. And to do so, furthermore, throughout an impeccable career and with freedom, courage and sensitivity to the challenges of our time. Hélène Carrère's contribution to the analysis of contemporary history and the efforts of the Mary's Meal organization to feed children in their schools are also examples of those who understand that it is necessary to get involved to help improve things. I admire that Murakami has built his own universe with words for decades, in which East and West are portrayed in urban and often challenging environments. And I also observe with enthusiasm the eagerness of the Kenyan athlete Kipchoge to overcome his limits and always continue working to achieve his goal and, also, be supportive. Biologists Gordon, Greenberg and Bassler amaze me with their studies on the bacteria that live in our body and how essential they are for health and life. And the work of the Drugs for Neglected Diseases Initiative is reflected in these words from its executive director: there are diseases that affect a quarter of the world's population and that represent one percent of research. Today there are people present on this stage with whom I aspire to feel identified, although they are a few decades older than me. Because I feel that they transmit, with their actions and in their works, that hope that guides and inspires us young people. I want to thank all our winners, also those who have left us. For that light they project on the challenges and complexity of the world in which we live. And for ensuring that the awards that bear my name encourage us to follow a shared and hopeful path, without shirking efforts and with responsibility. Thank you very much.

#Princess Leonor #Princess Leonor of Asturias #Princess of Asturias #20231020a #PoA 2023 #Official Event #October 2023 #Youtube

[jalebi-weds-bluetooth]

ArShi SS: Crossing Boundaries

Warning: 16+, heavy themes on desire

Note: I watched the kidnapping track where they're just so desperate for each other hence this is the end result. And a little gift for the enthusiastic reaction to the Sobti interview!

(Psst, please do go over and paste your comments in the website as well!)

Chapter 1 | Imagination

The mind does not differentiate between thought and reality. If an athlete simply imagined that they were running across a field track, their mind was stimulated as if it were in reality.

Thus when Arnav woke up mid sleep, drenched in sweat, heart racing as remnants of a sinful dream faded with waking, he knew he had crossed the first boundary of whatever moral decency that existed.

Khushi in a modest red saree with a daring backless blouse with no room for a bra.

He knew that it would just take a flick of a finger to undo the blouse.

What if the saree hadn't been pinned?

He had seen the sliver of skin through the gossamer fabric.

The long lashes wet in the rain, lips quivering in confusion...

Could he assume anticipation? Damn it, he was losing his mind. Playing games with Khushi Kumari Gupta was no longer fun. At first he had foolishly thought that it was a battle of wits and he had been so entertained to put her through menial tasks, watch her intelligent mind get frustrated with the redundancy. She was close to making a mistake, to not finding a creative solution for the assignments.

It had taken him one day to realize her mind, and mouth, were as sharp as a razor.

Thus having her stand motionless, mute, with a coat all day was the masterstroke. He saw the way her eyebrows shot up when Liza hugged him, then why did it piss him further when she seemed perfectly unperturbed when Liza continued to harp praises on him. Why did he need to get her attention on him?

And since when had Arnav Singh Raizada fret over a nobody.

Fret. Arnav scoffed, he was wiser than that. Obsession was the truth. There was something about her, something that frustrated him to no end.

Because having anything with Khushi Kumari Gupta would change the fundamental outlook of his life. She valued love, marriage, commitment and would see lust in the bracket of sin.

Arnav flopped back in his bed, content with being exhausted enough to catch a few more hours of sleep.

Being attracted to Khushi Kumari Gupta would challenge his formative beliefs and there's no way he would be trading his foundation for a passing fancy.

Even in a hypothetical world, Khushi wouldn't change to fit in his life. She wouldn't ever be a safe bet.

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

Khushi couldn't risk fancying Arnav Singh Raizada. Fancy? Khushi sighed in defeat, twisting away in bed, unable to look at Payal's sleeping face nor Devi Maiyya.

She was bothered by her relief in staying back in Delhi. Of course staying back in the same city as Buaji meant the most, but he lived in this city too.

Something bugged her about Arnav Singh Raizada. It almost felt like if she spent another minute in his presence, something might happen.

Something that might fundamentally change Khushi Kumari Gupta.

Something for which she'd trade her strict upbringing and romantic dreams.

In the romantic novels she sneaked in at library, the term fancy felt closest. Because this couldn't be love. But it bore the symptoms of it all.

Yes, she wanted to see him again, yet run away at first sight.

Yes, he made her pulse go faster, as well as her nerves.

Yes, she had dreams where he caressed her hair in her sleep, and a reality where he'd push her buttons to the extremes.

The contradictions ruled out anything that could happen between them. But when she told she couldn't, no, wouldn't see him ever again, she wanted to stay back and look at the disaster on his face.

They had nothing, but it felt like she broke something.

Khushi closed her eyes, shivering at the wind brushing her hair across her forehead.

He stared at her, brushing the hair away. Once to see her, then again to caress her. She felt his strong hands rest on her skin as he carried her, lightweight. The sheer power in his physicality - the heat emanating from his skin or the eyes that just saw right through what she wore.

Imagination was worse than reality, Khushi concluded.

Reality gave one the excuse to state that one didn't anticipate crossing the boundary. But imagination revealed that one was yearning to cross it all along.

A/N: Let me know in the comments how you liked it. And yes this is prewritten and will be posted pretty soon unlike my other stories *cry* - Jalebi Tagging: @butaneandthebeast @shiyaravi @shaonsim @thenainitaldisaster @maansiloves @muttonthings @sapnokiduniyaisalwaysbetter @bengudill @myloveforstuff @laad-governess @laadgovernorandsankadevi @leila1 @lostafpanda @magicfeltmybloop @honeybellexox x @featheredclover @goals1024 @bigfatreader @simplycurlz @persephone-with-a-cat@sankititaliya @ijustchangedmyname @noor1025 @bitchy-bi-trash @thecharlesboyle @minpdnim @starzin8s @zaphbeeblebrox @white-thebeauty @bunnypassionsworld @scorpio-smiles @exosexosekai @whateverworks21 @chutkiandchotte (let me know if you want to be added or removed)

#ipkknd #arshi #arshi ff #jalebi writes #crossing boundaries #romance time

[xstarkillerx]

Hey hey hey :)

I saw your post about wrestling Anakin into submission and I was just thinking...I'm 6'0 ft and a gym rat. I could literally take him in both ways. I dunno but wrestling for his cock, seeing the rush in his eyes at the challenge......

Omfg sorry

Original post referenced

NO don't be sorry because I legit think turning him on might be one of the only ways to avoid him being a sore loser. Because listen, he loves sparring, it's one of life's greatest past-times, but he can easily turn sour if he feels like he should be winning but isn't. * (Accidently went on a sfw, off topic tangent about Anakin and him being Shii-Cho critical because he's arrogant)

In the throws of it though, when it could be anyone's game, when you're both panting and sweating but your muscles still have some steam in there, that's when you see the rush in his eye. There's a subtle tell that a lot of Anakin's peers, people who don't quite know how to read him, overlook or attribute to his arrogance;

if Anakin manages to disarm you in combat, gains possession of your saber, has the undeniable upper hand– if he wins and yet he chooses to discard the sabers and taunt you to engage in hand-to-hand combat, oh boy that's how you know you've got him. Because listen, Anakin likes hand-to-hand combat as much as the next guy, but obviously saber fighting is where it's at for him, he also fights in Djem So, with foundational roots (via Obi-Wan) in Ataru, ending the battle quick is what's fun for him... unless it feels like it's leading to something else.

So that's what I'm picturing, right. You were sparring, he disarmed you but instead of ending the fight as he usually would and resetting back to square one, he tosses the Sabers aside and continues the fight hand-to hand. Maybe that's when he starts to realize he underestimated you. Anakin can fight, he's a swordsman but you, you've got brute athletic strength. He's having the time of his life as you both lose your breath together, trading blows, dodging kicks, bruising each other.

He'd never let you win, you know this, so it's a very genuine thing when you do. He isn't even upset when you get him on his back with his arms pinned under you, I think he'd laugh a pure laugh just from the joy of it, the kind of laugh he lets out on the rare moments he feels at home in his skin, when he's racing, or flying, or after a good fight. It would be infectious, ticking the skin of your face with how close you are to him. The moment would settle though, and all that would be left is the thick air between you two, hearts pumping, bodies close, and a solid warmth against his stiffening cock. Adrenaline fueled sex, two warriors, two athletes, two friends and sparring partners, solid strong bodies against each other. I think there would be something warm and bright about it, the kind of sex were you can't stop smiling at each other, as your tired body works to make him know he's been bested.

In the post where I talked about dominating Anakin as a person much shorter than him, I talked about having to be smart about it, having to know how to shift the balance of power in your favour because he can easily flip you over and take the reins back. In this situation though, the battle for dominance was the foreplay. He'd make some playful efforts to regain control, flipping over, trying to make you cum first, but he knows he's been beat and gladly accepts you taking what you want from him.

Sorry this isn't as erotic as the other one was, as I was writing it I kind of realized how much joy he would probably get out of being challenged this way, to the point where it would bring out a very bright and joyful side of him. Intellectual, mental, or hierarchical domination, anything that may actually make him feel disrespected or less than, is a definite no-go with him, but this stuff I think he absolutely loves. It's fair, it takes a considerable amount of effort that he can feel in his body, it makes sense to him.

#donnie does 👑 #anakin nsft #anakin smut #star wars smut #anakin nsft headcanon #anakin smut headcanon

[octuscle]

Roman holiday

Max had been given a tour of Germany by his German-born grandmother as a graduation present. He flew to Frankfurt and was to travel from there through the Rhine Valley to Cologne. From there it went on to Hamburg, Berlin, Dresden and to Munich. At the end, a week of skiing in the Austrian Alps was planned.

Max liked the first stop, Frankfurt, very much. Thanks to the generosity of his grandmother, he stayed in an excellent hotel. And after the first evening, he had made friends with the handsome bartender. Max had once been quite athletic, but during his studies, sports had suffered. So it did him good to be able to flirt despite his belly.

Two days before leaving for Cologne, Max went over his travel plans again at the bar. He barely understood a word of German, and he didn't really understand the confirmation of the hotel located directly on the Rhine. He held out his cell phone to the bartender and asked if he could explain to him what was in the booking confirmation and, above all, why the nights were so insanely expensive. Max was paying more than double what he usually had to pay on his tour of Germany. "Guy, are you seriously asking me that?" the bartender replied. "I thought you were going to Cologne specifically for Carnival. Very different from New Orleans or Rio, but the biggest party Germany. And your hotel booking includes admission to one of the hottest costume balls." The bartender pulled out his cell phone and showed Max a few photos from his last trip to Cologne Carnival. "I'm really jealous. There are some really hot lads in town that weekend. You're going to have your fun. Do you have a costume yet?" Max replied in the negative and the bartender played with his cell phone a bit. "Here, what do you think of this? Roman Legionnaire. Cologne is a Roman foundation, so that fits. And you'll look hot in that costume!".

The price was really reasonable, Max accepted and the bartender ordered directly with delivery to Max's Cologne hotel.

When Max arrived at his Cologne hotel on Saturday afternoon, there was already a party atmosphere. The foyer was decorated and hardly a guest was walking around without a costume. Max checked in and was informed that his package was already in his room and that the costume ball would start at 7:11 pm. "Strange time," Max thought to himself. But this was a weird town, too. Max moved into his room, unpacked his suitcase and then opened the package. Shit, that wasn't the costume he ordered. This one looked more elaborate. But it also showed much more skin. Too much skin for Max's taste. Max tried to combine the costume with a t-shirt, but that looked even goofier. Well, thanks to the helmet, no one would be able to recognize him. And he wouldn't be at the party for long anyway.

At 7:30 p.m. Max put on the cape and headed for the elevator. In the hotel hallway, he was met by several other guests in a party mood. Almost everyone stared at him or turned to look at him. In front of the elevator, the stares of the other guests made him almost uncomfortable. Then the elevator doors opened. And Max stared at his reflection. He was no longer Max. He was Maximus!

What a party…! It was 02:00 in the morning and Max needed a cigarette. His transformation had been complete for a long time. He had gained several more pounds of muscle. And his costume had also changed. Instead of plastic, it was now made of high-quality leather. And his cape was no longer made of polyester but of a heavy loden fabric. Max stepped in front of the hotel, where hundreds of people were smoking and drinking. He took off his heavy metal helmet and asked the muscular Viking next to him if he could have a cigarette. "A kiss first, Centurion," was the reply. The crowd roared as Roman and barbarian stuck their tongues deep down each other's throats. Carnival had just begun. And promised to be a lot more fun.

@axeegliter, always a pleasure to accept your challenges!

#male tf #muscle tf #tf challenge

[blowflyfag]

WORLD WRESTLING FEDERATION MAGAZINE :  MAY 1990 

YOUTH, SPEED, & FURY

SHAWN MICHAELS FACES BRET “HIT MAN” HART

It promised to be a dream matchup. Bret “Hit Man” Hart and Shawn Michaels, components of the two of the World Wrestling Federation’s most dynamic tag teams-the Hart Foundation and the Rockers, respectively–agreed to test each other’s heralded ralents in a singles bout. What followed was a dazzling display of wrestling scientific and grueling combat. Even after the contest became inflamed to the point that the referee had to call for a double disqualification, each gladiator left with great respect for the other. 

“I didn’t expect anything less.” stated the handsome Michaels, unwinding in the dressing room with his partner Maety Jannetty after the bell. “When you sign on the dotted line against Bret ‘Hit Man’ Hart, you sign to fight a hurricane. I had to give it all I had, and—if you ask me—I came out of the battle looking pretty good.” He touched a bump above his left eye and joked, “This’ll heal fine, and soon I’ll be breaking hearts again. But the first thing on my mind right now is Bret Hart. What I wouldn’t do to step in the ring with him again and gain a decisive victory!”

Several yards down the corridor, the mood was the same. Hart and teammate Jim “The Anvil” Neidhart looked at one another and grinned. 

“Tough kid,” Neidhart muttered.

Hit Man shook his head. “He fought some match. My ears are still ringing from his punches. I’d love to say ‘I didn’t know he had it in him,’ but that’s not true. The reason I wanted this match is that I knew that Shawn Michaels is a fabulous wrestler. I’ll give him this: He knows how to mix it up. I guess next time I’ll have to play a little bit harder.”

In the stands, the fans were almost as winded. The bout had been so intense that it seemed to blur past the spectators. When one man applied a punishing hold, the other was quick with a counter. As soon as the referee broke a clutch, the grapplers were tangled up again. When the combatants decided to start bending the rules, nothing less than a four-man brawl—starring the Rockers and the Hart Foundation—followed. 

“These guys didn’t let up for a single second, observed manager Bobby “The Brain” Heenan, normally on the opposite side of both competitors. “I’m not saying that either of these chumps could beat one of my men, but I still watched the match with interest. Because Hart and Michaels are similar types of wrestlers, I figured I’d see what they use against members of the Heenan family. That’s the key to smart managing, pal. Learn their repertoires and use the knowledge to your advantage.” 

[Bret Hart showed his lightinglike reaction time and his quick reflexes by grabbing Shawn Michaels in a reverse atomic drop when the two ran the ropes.]

Heenan was intrigued by this contest. While the manager is short on praise for his foes, his interests in the Hart-Michaels confrontation can be interrupted as a compliment to both men. By taking meticulous notes on the match, Heenan sent out a clear message: Hart and Michaels are at the top of their profession and pose a threat to every other wrestler.

The information was not news to the battlers. The bout had come about through mutual respect, coupled with the desire to overcome a formidable challenge.

Michaels was clearly the hungrier of the two, and his thirst for greatness was understandable. In Hart he saw an accomplished athlete, solid in technical skills and proficient in fisticuffs, who had “made it” as both a singles and tag team grappler. With Neidhart, Hit Man had held the WWF Tag Team Championship. In individual competition, he had established himself as a contender for the WWF Championship and Intercontinental Titles, and he was even profiled in a special issue of WWF Wrestling Spotlight.

Hart was just as anxious to log a victory. Despite Bret’s apparent youth, he has grown into a hardened veteran of the mat wars, and he wanted to ensure that he had not grown rusty. Hit Man viewed Michaels as one of wrestling’s “new breed,” one who rebels against the conventions of ring combat and who improvises and innovations in each match. The moves utilized by the Rockers impressed Hit Man, and he admitted feeling twinges of envy. Hadn’t he also been labeled a spectacular new force in the early days of the Hart Foundation? From the dressing room entrance, Bret watched the Rockers wage war with the mountainous Powers of Pain. He was reminded of the Foundation’s brace encounter with Andre the Giant in the closing moments of Wrestlemania 2’s battle royal. He wanted a bout with Michaels, to test himself. 

Rather than being divided in its loyalties, the crowd was solidly behind both wrestlers, giving each a rousing cheer as he made his way to the ring with his regular tag team partner. To offer moral support–or, perhaps, when two fiercely determined athletes square off–Jannetty and Neidhart remained at ringside after the bell rang. 

The match began in a sportsmanlike fashion, and it seemed relatively even. They locked up collar-to-elbow, with Michaels backing Bret into the turnbuckles. The Rocker broke the hold, detaching himself from his foe. When they tangled again, Hit Man applied a reverse wristlock. Michaels wiggled, loosened his opponent’s grip, then slipped behind Hart and clamped on a hammerlock. Bret displayed his experience by reversing the maneuver.

The fireworks that would be seen later in the match were ignored in the manner in which Michaels broke the hold. He thrust his elbow backward into Bret’s throat. The gesture was hardly a whack with a closed fist or a kick to the rings, but it qualified as roughhousing.

Hart recovered swiftly. He caught the Rocker in a reverse atomic drop and leveled him with a meteor of a clothesline. A snapmare appeared to disable Michaels further, but the war was just beginning. Whether the Rocker had exaggerated his injuries or recovered from the brink of defeat by pure heart, he still will not say. 

[Shawn Michaels struck with solid skill and dazzling moves. In the end, tempers flared, and a wild, full-fledged brawl ensued.]

What is known is that Michaels began fighting as if he had never been hurt. He slid out of the way of his foe’s elbowdrop and did some fancy spinning in midair to land on his feet after a backflip. Hart turned around to be blasted by a dropkick. Seeing Hit Man sprawled on the canvas, Michaels went for the kill.

His planning was premature. Bret waited for his opponent to mount the top rope before gripping him from underneath and hurling him across the ring. Possibly embarrassed by Michaels’ good showing, Hit Man got tough and unleashed forearms and elbows. 

Tempers were starting to flare. Michaels contained his anger long enough to avoid a side suplex–doing a 360-degree turn while being lifted, landing on his feet and bodyslamming Hit Man. Again, both men ran the ropes. This time, it served neither’s advantage, as they elbowed on another and hit the mat simultaneously.

A classic moment occurs when they rose and took turns exchanging suplex attempts. The defensive skills of each were so refined that neither could accomplish his task. 

Frustrated, they wrestled into the corner. Neither wished to break. Asserting his authority, the referee wedged between them. When separated, they could not wait to duel again. Words were exchanged, then shoves. Bret clocked his adversary. Jannetty stepped onto the apron to argue with– and then punch–Hit Man. Neidhart chimed in and was slugged by Michaels. Within seconds, the ring was flooded with WWF officials trying to restore order in a four-way free-for-all. 

Remarkably, the bad feelings were left in the ring. Each man recognized the others gutsiness, and each will go so far as to compliment the rival tag team. Both the Rockers and the Hart Foundation pledge support for each other if it is needed. 

But if it is not, Bret Hart and Shawn Michaels cannot wait to tear into each other again. 

#wwf #world wrestling federation #shawn michaels #bret hart #marty jannetty #jim the anvil neidhart #jim neidhart #bret the hitman heart #The Rockers #The Midnight Rockers #The Hart Foundation #Bred #magazine scan #magazine transcript #wwf magazine scan #wwf magazine

[ingek73]

In Canada, Prince Harry and Meghan Markle Remind the World of Their Impact

As an Invictus Games alumni tells T&C, the Sussexes make you “feel seen and heard.”

BY EMILY BURACKPUBLISHED: FEB 17, 2024 10:00 AM EST

GETTY IMAGES; DESIGN BY MICHAEL STILLWELL

Ever since Prince Harry and Meghan Markle stepped back from their roles as senior working royals in 2020, drama and public discourse surrounding the couple have ebbed and flowed, from their sit-down interview with Oprah, to Harry’s memoir, Spare, to their attendance at King Charles’s coronation. But over the three days they spent this past week in British Columbia, the world was reminded of the power the couple has for bringing attention to causes that matter to them.

And there’s no cause that’s nearer and dearer to Prince Harry’s heart than the Invictus Games. “These last few days have been very, very special,” he said at the visit’s penultimate event, which was held at a local community center. “Every single one of you inspire me, and you inspire us, every single day.”

KARWAI TANG

The Duke and Duchess at Whistler Sliding Centre on day two of their three-day trip.

Throughout their packed itinerary in Whistler, Squamish, and Vancouver, the Duke and Duchess of Sussex spent time meeting with the wounded and injured veterans who were learning winter adaptive sports ahead of next year’s Invictus Games, as well as with members of local First Nations communities. Wherever they went, it was typically Prince Harry who deviated from the meticulously planned timetable. When they were scheduled to spend 15 minutes on Whistler-Blackcomb mountain meeting with the athletes, they took 45, because Harry had to speak with everyone (and try out sit skiing). One skeleton run at Whistler Sliding Centre quickly turned into multiple, because the Duke of Sussex just had to go again.

As Mike Bourgeois, an Invictus Games alumni who spent time with them on this trip told T&C, “You’ve got a timetable, and we’re in that timetable, standing by ready to go and leap into action. And the first veteran that Harry is able to catch their eyes—the schedule is just out the window. He’s devoted to getting down on his knees and looking an athlete in the eyes and asking about how their experience is,” he says.

Bourgeois, who competed with Team Canada at the Invictus Games at the Hague, was back—along with his wife, Lori—to serve as an ambassador for the Games at the One Year to Go events this week. “We’re nobody,” he says with a self-deprecating smile, “just one of a thousand people that work to support the foundation and the Invictus Games. But the Duke remembers us. If you’ve met [Prince Harry], and you’ve interacted and you’ve talked about your experience as a veteran, he remembers—a year or two years later, you just pick up the conversation, which is pretty astonishing.”

He continues, “Yes, they’re briefed on a daily basis about who they interact with. But the nuances in the conversation, you can’t fake that. The best way I can describe what the impact is of their involvement is: You feel like you’re seen and heard. You’re not lost in the woods, you're not insignificant.”

KARWAI TANG//GETTY IMAGES

Bourgeois stands with Meghan as she borrows his phone to snap a photo of Harry. Lori stands at right (in a matching Invictus Games beanie).

Harry and Meghan’s ability to keep their attention focused on the cause was all the more notable given recent criticism of the couple. After a story published in the Telegraph this week suggested that the Sussexes had “three days to prove they can behave,” their spokesperson issued a statement to the Mirror: “We’ve heard time and time again that certain opportunities are make or break for the couple. They’re still here. They’re still working and pursuing what they believe in, despite constantly being challenged and criticized. This couple will not be broken.” And in an interview with Good Morning America, Prince Harry did not dwell on any family conflict. He spoke briefly about his father, King Charles, saying, “Look, I love my family. The fact that I was able to get on a plane and go and see him and spend any time with him, I’m grateful for that.”

The Sussexes’ dedication to their work was evident throughout their time in Canada this week, and Prince Harry was clearly in his element amongst fellow veterans. “We are talking about the royals, there’s a lot of protocol involved,” Bourgeois says. “But when you get into fellow veteran environments, it's like: We’re his people and he’s our people. A little bit of the armor can be shed when you're together because it’s a safe space.”

For Major Joanna Labonté, who competed in the Invictus Games in Düsseldorf with Team Canada last year, the support that Meghan and Harry bring to the wounded and injured veteran community is powerful. “Considering my injury, for a long time, I felt very powerless and invisible,” she told T&C. “I feel like they’re shining a light on us—the military members who have struggled, who have felt a lot of uncertainty in our future. And they're saying ‘Your journey is just beginning, it’s not over. Yes, you’re releasing from the military, but you’re just beginning this brand new phase of your life. And you matter.’”

Labonté continues, “We really genuinely feel like we matter to that lovely couple. Healing through sport is something significant—I've seen it in myself, in my teammates. It's the real deal.”

“We really genuinely feel like we matter to that lovely couple.”

Every Invictus Games participant that T&C spoke with this week said a version of the same thing: The games have changed their life, for the better, and Prince Harry and Meghan are a notable part of that. “The Invictus Games have gone a long way helping my recovery—they have helped me mentally, physically and emotionally,” Peacemaker Azuegbulam, a competitor from Nigeria, says. “Before, I was worried [about] how to cope with my life with the new condition that I’m [in].” (Azuegbulam lost his left leg when his army unit came under fire.) But when he got to the Invictus Games, he says, “It makes me feel good. It makes me feel loved.” Prince Harry later spoke about Azuegbulam, calling him, “quite remarkable.”

JEREMY ALLEN

Chief Sparrow is second from left, at the Hillcrest Community Centre.

This week, too, wasn’t just about the Invictus Games community, but about the First Nations that the 2025 Games are partnered with. At a wheelchair curling event of the week, Chief Wayne Sparrow of the Musqueam First Nation and Wilson Williams of Squamish Nation gave a traditional welcome, and land acknowledgement (a message acknowledging original Indigenous inhabitants of the land who have often been displaced). When Harry spoke, he shared, “Thank you to the four First Nations for allowing us to be on your territory.” He and Meghan also spent time with First Nations communities this week, at the Squamish Líl̓wat cultural center, and Mount Currie Community Centre.

“When we met the Duke, he said, ‘I want to learn more about reconciliation,’” Chief Sparrow tells T&C. “That meant a lot to me: The very first time I met him, for him to [say] he wants to learn and then [ask] how we can move forward together—that is something that I brought back to my community. That’s all part of the reconciliation and the wrongdoings of what happened. We can’t dwell on the past. We have to move forward, as a society.”

ANDREW CHIN//GETTY IMAGES

Meghan and Harry take a photo with an athlete.

After the final event concluded at Hillcrest Community Centre, Prince Harry came up to the small group of reporters, including myself, that had been at every event of the week. He thanked us, joked about the cold, and despite his antipathy towards the press in the past, it was clear there was genuine appreciation for the media attention on the Invictus Games.

In that moment, it was hard not to think of Princess Diana. Harry’s warmth, and his ability to make those around him feel seen, is directly reminiscent of his mother—as is his ability to use his spotlight to highlight the causes that matter most to him. In just 72 hours, the impact of Harry and Meghan became clear.

This year marks the 10 year anniversary of the Invictus Games, and next year’s event will be its seventh edition. In Prince Harry’s remarks closing the week, he spoke directly to the Invictus competitors, saying, “I know how much you love to serve. In many instances, you live to serve.” He finished with a promise, outlining the duty both he and Meghan feel to the community. “We will continue to serve,” he said, “and to inspire people up, down, around the country and around the world.”

#prince harry #meghan markle #duke of sussex #duchess of sussex #invictus games #vancouver #first nations #canada

[popculturelib]

For the Record: Women in Sports (1985) by Robert Markel and Nancy Brooks

Introduction:

Women athletes have participated in a multitude of sports and competitive events since the Games of Hera. Over the centuries since then, barriers to women's involvement in organized sport have been raised and then stormed; many, but not all, have fallen. Women have challenged records in popular and less well known sports and have performed feats of physical prowess. But until now it has been possible to find out about their accomplishments only by tedious and frustrating search that as often as not yielded incomplete or inaccurate information. The records established by women in sports have not been publicized in any organized or systematic format, and the stories behind the statistics—of such inspiration to young athletes and interest to fans—have not been widely known. I have, it is true, received recognition for my accomplishments, but probably more readily because I was the youngest ever on the team than because of my specific achievements. In the past, when women athletes have been noticed, it has generally been for some secondary or even frivolous distinction. This is a time for change. Women athletes are entitled to have their feats recorded and recognized, and they deserve to be seen as part of a tradition. Fans, who in ever-growing numbers are watching women in sports, are entitled to have access to the best information about women athletes past and present to enhance their understanding and enjoyment. And perhaps most important are the young, who will carry on our standards and traditions. Joe Di Maggio and Willie Mays are, rightly, heroes to boys who play baseball; girls playing softball should have a similar opportunity to admire and emulate Bertha Tickey and Joan Joyce. This book is the place to begin. Donna de Varona President, Women's Sports Foundation Gold Medalist, 1964 Olympics

The Browne Popular Culture Library (BPCL), founded in 1969, is the most comprehensive archive of its kind in the United States.  Our focus and mission is to acquire and preserve research materials on American Popular Culture (post 1876) for curricular and research use. Visit our website at https://www.bgsu.edu/library/pcl.html.

#bgsu #libraries on tumblr #women's history month #women in sports

[theanticool]

How do you think Steve Erceg and Mokaev stack up to the rest of the division after their performances tonight? Are either able to beat the top 5 guys?

I've been critical of Mokaev for a hot minute now. Guy just does not have the physicality to force his grappling game onto top fighters at flyweight. That said, Brandon Royval is currently ranked #1 and I could see him falling into this type of fight where he decides he's going to try to sprint grapple Mokaev and ends up getting subbed in the 2nd or 3rd. I think Pantoja, Nicolau, Moreno, Kape and Albazi are nightmare stylistic match-ups for him at the moment. Or at the very least, he'll be walking on very thin lines all the way through. I could see a version of what happened hear against Perez happening with a guy like Kape. Kape has lost fights by just not being super busy and wanting to line up perfect counters, though I think he'd score big moments against Mokaev.

Erceg I think has legit title challenger potential. He's such a good boxer when he gets the fight he wants and he's able to use his jab to draw out counters. That said, someone like Alessandro Costa was able to tag him hard repeatedly because his defense is very "tall man". Costa's explosiveness and power basically forced Erceg into becoming a wrestler. A gutsy performance, but also a reminder that his two big wins in the UFC (Schnell and Dvořák) are not traditionally amazing technical or athletic strikers. But what we did see was a man with a great foundation. Would love to see Erceg against Moreno, Kape, or Albazi. Different fighters stylistically from one another but all have unique qualities that I'd like to see Erceg have to deal with - Kape''s power, countering, and athleticism. Moreno's technical skills, speed, and scrapiness. Albazi's raw physicality. All fun match ups though.

#ufc #mma #results

[tkachuktkaching]

Matthew Tkachuk healthy, ‘chomping at the bit’ after Stanley Cup Final defeat

Tkachuk has been back on the ice for over a month and is ready for Panthers training camp

“I'm feeling great, excited to be back,” Tkachuk said. “It was a very short offseason, which is exactly how I want it going forward. Just a lot of excitement level to be back down here in Florida. After last year and the way it finished up, I’m just chomping at the bit right now.”

Between coming up short in the Stanley Cup Final and then having to suffer through the recovery process of an extremely painful injury, Tkachuk was also chomping at the bit to get his offseason started.

The plan had been to do some traveling with family and friends, but that became a challenge.

Once he was able to move around comfortably, Tkachuk had to squeeze everything he wanted to do into a limited time window.

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It's exactly how I want it,” he said. “I want to be a short offseason for the rest of my career.”

Tkachuk and his teammates were all together on Monday at the swank Weston Hills Country Club to take part in the Florida Panthers Foundation annual golf tournament.

Similarly to his summer travel schedule delay, Tkachuk had to wait until getting the green light from doctors before he could get back on the golf course.

“I got cleared a couple of weeks ago,” he said. “So I’ve played a few times. This is like my fourth time in two weeks, so I’m trying to cram it all in before the season starts.”

It was Thursday, June 8 when Tkachuk suffered his broken sternum during Game 3 of the Stanley Cup Final. He played his last game on June 10, and Florida’s season ended three nights later.

An offseason that began with healing and rest was eventually able to resume some sense of normalcy in terms of on-ice training.

It was about two months after initially suffering the injury when Tkachuk was able to get back on the ice and start shooting a puck again.

From there, as Tkachuk explained, it was just a matter of getting back into a familiar frame of mind.

“Once you do it a few times and you're comfortable, like I've been doing all the normal stuff for a few weeks now,” he said. “I worked super hard to get myself feeling like I am right now, and to be honest, I thought it was going to be a little bit longer than what it was.

“It was, right out of the gate, definitely very frustrating. I didn’t think I was ever going to get better, I'm sure it's what everybody says of injuries, but I'm very happy with where I'm at right now and hopefully peaking at the right time here.”

Another thing that comes with an athlete recovering from a serious injury is that they can now shift their focus elsewhere.

In Tkachuk’s case, that meant remembering what it felt like to go on that playoff run, and knowing the blood, sweat and tears that must be sacrificed to reach the mountaintop.

“There's definitely that hunger, especially when you get that that close,” he said. “I think we're in a great spot mindset-wise, where we know what it takes and we have the hunger to do it. It's a pretty short-term mindset though right now, it's have a good camp, get off to a good start. I'd say the long-term goal is we’ve got to make playoffs. We saw what happened last year, so we can't think too far ahead, but playoffs is what's on everybody's mind, certainly on ours.”

The Panthers will take the ice for training camp on Thursday at the Ice Den in Coral Springs. Their season begins on Oct. 12 in Minnesota. 

“It's exactly how I want it,” he said. “I want to be a short offseason for the rest of my career.”

“I got cleared a couple of weeks ago,” he said. “So I’ve played a few times. This is like my fourth time in two weeks, so I’m trying to cram it all in before the season starts.”

It was about two months after initially suffering the injury when Tkachuk was able to get back on the ice and start shooting a puck again.

From there, as Tkachuk explained, it was just a matter of getting back into a familiar frame of mind.

“Once you do it a few times and you're comfortable, like I've been doing all the normal stuff for a few weeks now,” he said. “I worked super hard to get myself feeling like I am right now, and to be honest, I thought it was going to be a little bit longer than what it was.

“It was, right out of the gate, definitely very frustrating. I didn’t think I was ever going to get better, I'm sure it's what everybody says of injuries, but I'm very happy with where I'm at right now and hopefully peaking at the right time here.”

In Tkachuk’s case, that meant remembering what it felt like to go on that playoff run, and knowing the blood, sweat and tears that must be sacrificed to reach the mountaintop.

“There's definitely that hunger, especially when you get that that close,” he said. “I think we're in a great spot mindset-wise, where we know what it takes and we have the hunger to do it. It's a pretty short-term mindset though right now, it's have a good camp, get off to a good start. I'd say the long-term goal is we’ve got to make playoffs. We saw what happened last year, so we can't think too far ahead, but playoffs is what's on everybody's mind, certainly on ours.”

The Panthers will take the ice for training camp on Thursday at the Ice Den in Coral Springs.

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