nash grier imagines ♔

Strong For You

Requested by: Calumpunkvampire

"Let's go! Another one!" your coach ordered you, persuading you to try a little harder.

He stood behind a large, 130-pound, punching bag, and wanted you to get a proper workout before your next fight.

Indeed, you were a female boxer for your hometown. You weren't necessarily famous for your powerful punches and blocks, but you still were well known on your side of town. One day, you hoped to be on television, earning thousands of dollars for every time you set foot in the ring.

But that was just one of your long-term goals that seemed to be slipping away from you slowly.

"Colette! Hit like you mean it!" he demanded, your punches growing harder and harder against the punching bag.

You often thought you were too young for something like this. You were amazing at what you do, but being a fresh, highschool-graduate seemed to give you a lot of underestimation.

You rested, sweat drizzling down your aching body, your lungs grasping for oxygen. You looked at the stained wood underneath your bruised feet.

Stains of effortlessly cleaned blood gnawed at you as you watched your beads of sweat drip onto the wood.

"I can't do this anymore," you said quietly, not hearing a single shuffle from your trainer.

"You can't do what?"

You thought of all the people that had been worried for your well being in the past. Your family, friends, and even... your boyfriend Nash.

They thought you'd end up injured and unable to live like a normal, able-bodied human being for the rest of your life. Now that you thought of it, they had a reason. They were right.

But you were so dedicated, focused, and determined on your fighting career that none of their worries seemed to get to you.

"I have to go," you said, quickly taking off your gloves and gear.

It was true: You were thinking about quitting.

                     **************

You were walking to your apartment, far west of your workout area, where you and Nash shared a happy, loving life.

He had been dating you since your earlier days of highschool, but it came to you in confusion as to why someone like him, would want someone like you:

Someone who was probably twice as strong as he was, and was more independent than words could ever say.

You laughed at the thought.

It was dark, and it was freezing. The bitterness of the wind blowing against you actually soothed your sore muscles, and your rise in body-heat had been slowly decreasing.

It was quiet, nothing but the loud gush of cars flying by, their horns honking in aggravation at one another. The streets appeared to be empty, but there was just some sense you had... that you weren't entirely alone.

"Yo! Poli!" you heard a female voice call behind you.

You flung around, your eyes studying the group of girls spread out a few feet back.

You indentified the girl, her distinct face certainly ringing a bell. She looked no older than 16, but her friends looked more like overaged family. Maybe in their early twenties.

"You the girl that beat my sister?" she asked, her New York accent echoing through the streets.

"It was a fight. Almost like a game. It's called boxing," you scoffed.