Woso one shots

𝗝𝗼𝗿𝗱𝗮𝗻 𝗡𝗼𝗯𝗯𝘀 ➻ 𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗕𝗼𝗻𝗱𝘀

When I look back on the past two months, I realise how much everything has changed. I'm Y/N, a physiotherapist at Aston Villa, and my patient Jordan Nobbs is a footballer whose career was on hold due to a serious injury. It was a period marked by the sweat of effort, focus, and above all, an unexpected connection that formed between us.

Jordan arrived with a determination I had rarely seen. At first, our interaction was purely professional. She was very reserved, focused on each exercise, each session, and I did my best to help her regain her form. The first few days, our conversations often boiled down to instructions and technical corrections.

"Okay, Jordan, focus on your breathing," I'd say, guiding her through a strengthening exercise.

She would nod, but her responses were short, often punctuated by a polite but tired smile.

Gradually, the relationship evolved. Jordan began to relax, and our conversations extended beyond the exercises. We shared anecdotes about our lives, football stories, and laughter. I came to know not only the player but also the person behind the athlete.

One August afternoon, as the heat was nearly stifling, we were alone in the physiotherapy room. The other staff members had gone, and we were surrounded by the soft hum of the rehabilitation machines.

Jordan was stretching after a series of squats, sweat glistening on her forehead. She dropped onto the bench, wiping her face with a towel. I was preparing the next exercise when she suddenly looked up at me.

"You know, Y/N, I've never really asked you what made you decide to become a physiotherapist."

I smiled, surprised by the question. It was the kind of conversation that hadn't taken place before. "Well, it's a long story. I've always been fascinated by the human body and how it works. I had a personal experience with a sports injury during my university years, and it inspired me to help others recover."

Jordan nodded, intrigued. "That's interesting. I guess we all have our personal reasons for doing what we do."

She straightened up, her eyes meeting mine with an intensity I hadn't noticed before. "And you, Jordan, why football?"

She smiled, a smile that lit up her face. "For me, it was an escape. When I was young, it was the only place where I truly felt alive, free. Football gave me direction and purpose."

There was something in her voice, a vulnerability I hadn't seen before. I moved closer, gently placing my hand on her shoulder. "You talk about football as if it's a part of you. It's beautiful to see how something can become so essential in your life."

She looked at me with a look of gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. Sometimes it's hard to find someone who truly understands the importance of this sport to me."

That day, something changed. Our conversations deepened. We began talking about our dreams, hopes, and even our fears. Jordan was becoming more open, more relaxed. I felt like I was learning not just about her sports journey, but about her as a person.

One evening, after a particularly long session, we decided to stay a bit longer for some stretching. The daylight was fading, giving way to a soft, golden light. We were both tired but happy with the progress made.

Jordan was lying on the mat, and I leaned down to assist with a hamstring stretch. Our hands brushed, and an unexpected warmth enveloped me. I looked up to meet her gaze and saw a spark I hadn't noticed before.

"Y/N, you're truly amazing," she said suddenly, her voice almost a whisper.

I paused, my fingers still on her legs. "Why do you say that?"

"Because you've been there for me, not just as a physiotherapist, but as a person. You've done more than heal my body; you've repaired something in me I didn't know was broken."

There was an intensity in her eyes I couldn't ignore. I felt my heart racing. There was a palpable tension between us, a kind of gravity pulling us towards each other. I slowly placed my hand on her arm, my fingers grazing her skin.

"Jordan, I..." I began, but the words caught in my throat.

She sat up, moving closer. "What? What's happening?"

The world seemed to narrow down to that exact moment. Our eyes locked, and it felt like everything we had shared, everything we had felt, culminated here, now. Without thinking, I leaned in and kissed her. It started as a tentative kiss but deepened, as if we were trying to make up for everything we hadn't dared to express.

When we parted, I felt a wave of relief mixed with a gentle surprise. Jordan looked at my lips, then my eyes, with a smile full of understanding.

"I don't know exactly what this means for us, but I know I have no regrets," she said softly.

I returned her smile, words escaping me. "Neither do I. I think we've just found something really special."

We stayed there, in the golden light, hand in hand, letting the warmth of our connection fill the space. Rehabilitation was no longer just about restoring a body; it had become a shared journey where emotions and human connections played a central role.

In the days that followed, our relationship grew more complex, but also richer. We continued to progress as footballer and physiotherapist, but also as two people whose paths had intersected in an unforgettable way. Football and rehabilitation had taken on a new dimension, where feelings and human connections were as important as physical performance.

And over the weeks, I learned that sometimes the greatest challenges in life weren't the ones faced on the field, but those encountered in moments of shared silence and in glances filled with promise.