#MMA Fight Gear | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

themsleeves · 1 month ago

Text

Mastery and Power: The Art of Precision Striking

In the combat arena, whether it's in the ring or in life, self-mastery and striking power stand as pillars of victory. This article serves as a roadmap for those seeking to sharpen their technique, strengthen their body, and hone their strategic acumen. We will breakdown the essential elements needed to maximize body mechanics, build a robust foundation of basic physical skills, and strategically apply your capabilities across different ranges and domains. Prepare to transform your potential into actual, palpable power.

Maximizing Body Mechanics: Mastering the Jab, the Uppercut, and Combination Strikes

Body mechanics is all about the science of efficiency. Each movement, every strike, must be executed with surgical precision. For this, body alignment and balance are fundamental. Picture your body as a mountain range where every peak needs to be aligned to withstand the forces of nature. Your jab should be like the wind—swift and elusive—while your uppercut should resemble an earthquake—powerful and devastating.

Harnessing this power requires an understanding and utilization of kinetic chains—a discipline of connecting every body segment in a fluid and explosive movement. When you throw a jab, it's your entire body at work, from the tip of your back foot to the extension of your fist. The uppercut is born from the rotation of the hips and the engagement of core muscles, creating a punch capable of toppling mountains.

The keys to an effective jab are precision and timing. It should disrupt, open up the guard, setting the stage for heavier strikes to follow. The uppercut, on the other hand, should be launched with lethal accuracy at the moment your opponent least expects it.

Integrating footwork with strikes is akin to playing chess with your body. Every move is strategic, each step calculated to maximize reach and power. Practices such as shadow boxing, lateral movements, and pivots should be drilled until they become second nature.

Building Core Physical Skills: Breath and Conditioning

Breath is your energy source. Controlled breathing signifies calm and focus, even amid the storm of combat. Techniques such as diaphragmatic breathing and meditation can help in maintaining this tranquility.

Strengthening the core muscles is essential for both delivering and absorbing blows. Exercises like planks, Russian twists, and leg raises are not just workouts; they are your arsenal for building a shield of muscles.

Cardiovascular endurance is your armor against fatigue. Running, cycling, swimming are disciplines that push your heart to throb with vigor, preparing your body for endless rounds.

Flexibility is key to dodging blows and counterattacking with grace. Yoga, Pilates, and dynamic stretching must be integrated into your routine to ensure your body can bend without ever breaking.

Strategic Application: Adapting Strikes Across Distances and Domains

Understanding combat distances is critical. In close range, you become a warrior ready to exchange blow for blow. At mid-range, you transform into a tactician, controlling the fight with jabs and straight punches. Long-range turns you into a sniper, selecting your strikes carefully to destabilize your opponent.

Adapting your techniques to different opponents is a real-time chess game. Each opponent is a unique puzzle, and it's up to you to find the key to unlock it.

Anticipation is your sixth sense. It allows you to read movements, feel intentions and react before the punch is even thrown.

Mental flexibility is your shield against the unexpected. Combat is a constant flux of change, and the ability to adapt and change strategy mid-fight is what separates a good fighter from a great one.

The Fighter's Equipment: Choosing Your Arsenal for Training and Combat

A fighter's equipment choice is as crucial as their technique. Every piece must be selected with care to optimize performance and protection. Boxing gloves, for instance, are a fighter's first line of defense. Adequately padded to protect hands and wrists, yet pliable enough to allow precise connection with the target, properly fitting gloves with secure fastening are critical to training and combat scenarios.

Fairtex - Microfiber Gloves - Art Collections - Blue Wave

Theses are in my equipment list and still having fun using them !

Hand wraps are equally important. They stabilize wrist and finger joints, reducing the risk of sprains or fractures. Quality wraps should be the right length to offer full coverage while made from breathable material to prevent excessive sweat build-up.

The headgear is another essential piece, especially during training. It should provide clear visibility without restricting head movement, while guarding against direct hits. Well-fitted headgear can reduce the risk of cuts and bruises and can be a decisive factor in preventing head traumas.

RDX T1 HeadGuard with Removable Face Cage

Ordered a batch of theses for my students ! And they are really valuable ! Best value for price available ! Protects also when fighting with foam weapons...

Technology and Innovation: The Impact of New Materials on Performance

Technology and innovation have revolutionized combat gear. Modern materials, such as shock-absorbing gel and memory foam, have allowed for the creation of gloves that offer superior protection without compromising speed or feeling. These advanced materials are also found in shin guards, which must provide defense against powerful strikes while allowing complete mobility for kicks and rapid displacements.

Performance wear is crucial as well. Moisture-wicking fabrics help regulate body temperature and keep the fighter dry and comfortable. Boxing shoes must provide sufficient grip for quick movements and pivots while supporting the ankles to prevent twists or falls.

The Importance of the Punching Bag: More than Just a Striking Tool

The punching bag is much more than a mere tool for venting frustrations; it's a precision instrument that helps develop timing, power, and endurance. It's a tireless opponent available at any hour for the dedicated fighter. To fully exploit the punching bag, the athlete must practice a variety of strikes with varying intensities and at different angles, thus simulating a wide range of opponents and combat scenarios.

The variety of punching bag types means there's always a new challenge to conquer. For instance, free-standing bags provide a solid base and are particularly suited for practicing low kicks and knee strikes. Wall bags encourage precision and can be used to sharpen the speed of your straight punches and jabs.

RDX F9 4ft / 5ft 4-in-1 Punch Bag with Mitts & wall Bracket Set

youtube

Training Accessories: Reflex Balls and Jump Ropes

Training accessories like reflex balls and jump ropes aren't just useful for warm-ups or cooldowns; they are essential for developing agility, coordination, and speed—critical attributes for any fighter.

The reflex ball, a small but formidable tool for developing reactivity and hand speed, forces the fighter to focus intensely while tracking the unpredictable movement of the ball. This stimulates the same neural pathways used to anticipate and react to a real opponent's movements.

Jump ropes, the most underestimated training tool, are incredibly versatile and appropriate for a variety of conditioning goals. From light ropes for speed to heavier ones for strength building, jumping rope enhances cardiovascular endurance, coordination, and foot speed.

Conclusion

Mastering body mechanics, building a solid physical foundation, strategically applying your skills, and making wise equipment choices are the cornerstones on which you will build your legacy in the combat world. It's a path of discipline, sweat, and determination. But for those who are willing to commit, the rewards extend far beyond the ropes of the ring. They manifest as unwavering self-confidence and an inner strength that echoes in all life's aspects. So, lace up your gloves, breathe deeply, and step into the arena, armed not just with your strength but also with the equipment that will lead you to victory.

9 notes · View notes

tjkl895 · 6 months ago

Video

Coach Cerminara with Gregor Gillespie. Check out the 17-33 sec. mark to see Coach Cerminara’s physical excitement before he wrestles his opponent. Wrestling chain drill. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=exq8aUTbrSg)

youtube

243 notes · View notes

danger-equipment · 5 months ago

Text

Master the Octagon with UFC Gears from Danger-Equipment

Stepping into the Octagon demands the best. Whether you're a seasoned fighter or an aspiring contender, having the right equipment is paramount to performance, protection, and ultimately, victory. Here at Danger-Equipment, we understand this need and have partnered with the UFC Gears to bring you a premium line of fight gear designed to empower you to dominate the competition.

Danger-Equipment: Handcrafted for Champions

Danger-Equipment boasts a rich heritage in combat sports. Since 2004, we've been meticulously crafting top-quality Muay Thai and boxing equipment handmade in Thailand using the finest materials. Our commitment to quality has earned us a loyal following amongst professional athletes and everyday fitness enthusiasts.

UFC Gears: Engineered for Unleashing Your Potential

The UFC line at Danger-Equipment is a culmination of expertise from both worlds. We've merged our understanding of traditional martial arts with the cutting-edge technology and innovation demanded by the UFC. This translates into a range of fight gear that offers unparalleled protection, flexibility, and performance.

Gear Up for Glory:

Gloves: Our UFC Gears-grade gloves are crafted from premium leather for superior durability and impact absorption. Multi-layered padding ensures optimal hand and knuckle protection, allowing you to unleash powerful strikes with confidence.

Shinguards: Danger-Equipment's UFC shinguards provide exceptional shin and ankle protection without sacrificing mobility. High-density foam ensures effective shock absorption, while ergonomic designs guarantee a comfortable and secure fit.

Fight Shorts: Engineered for unrestricted movement, our UFC fight shorts are made from lightweight, moisture-wicking fabrics. Built for the demands of the Octagon, they offer a distraction-free experience during your bout.

Protective Gear: From headgear and chest guards to kicking pads and focus mitts, Danger-Equipment's UFC range includes everything you need to train safely and effectively.

Beyond the Equipment:

Danger-Equipment isn't just about providing top-tier gear; it's about empowering fighters. We understand the dedication and discipline required to compete at the highest level. That's why we offer exceptional customer service and a community of passionate athletes who share your drive to succeed.

Step into the Octagon with Confidence:

When you choose Danger-Equipment's UFC line, you're choosing equipment trusted by champions. Our gear is meticulously designed to elevate your performance, maximize your protection, and allow you to focus on what matters most – dominating your opponent.

Visit Danger-Equipment today and explore the UFC Gears line. Equip yourself for greatness and Master the Octagon.

For More Info -

Website - https://www.danger-equipment.com/

#danger equipment #UFC gears #MMA gears #danger muay thai gloves #danger fight gear #trustgloves #Focus gloves

0 notes

recklesssezon · 27 days ago

Text

𝗛𝗼𝘂𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝗶

𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 | alessia russo x mma!fighter

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 | alessia and ella find themselves in chaos of trouble and you have to go save them.

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 | blood, violence, slurs, misogyny, i suck at warnings

𝗻𝗼𝘁𝗲 | just gonna silently drop this here and dip. thank you to the anon that requested this!

“I knew I shoulda drove. Now look at what you've done. You gotten us lost.”

Alessia sighed, turning the wheel down an unknown neighborhood. “The map said turn left, Less!” she groaned, dropping her head on the steering wheel, halting the car in the middle of the road. That was the second wrong turn she had took, they’ve only been down three blocks.

Ella made the absolute mistake of letting Alessia drive. She should have manned up and drove with her tweaked ankle that surely would have gotten them to dinner faster.

“I swear it said turn right!” Alessia exclaimed, peering around the neighborhood for some familiarity. Ella gasped in disbelief, snatching the phone out its holder, shoving it right into Alessia’s face.

“Left! It said left!”

Alessia grinned sheepishly, the clear displayment of a left turn route proved Ella’s point. “We’ve all mistaken our left for our right.” Alessia flinched back when Ella reached over the console, threatening to strangle her. Alessia released her foot off the petal backing herself far from Ella as much as she could. Momentarily forgetting to put the car in park.

The car rolled forward, the two girls were far too busy fighting to notice the sudden movement. They jerked, Ella frozed mid-climb, Alessia had stopped screaming. Blue eyes staring into one another as stunned as they can be. Both too scared to look at the situation they found themselves in.

“What did we just do?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why don’t you look?.”

“Why don’t you?”

“You’re the driver.”

“You’re the idiot that attacked the driver!”

“Okay. Let’s both look on the count of three.” Alessia nod, she grabbed Ella’s hands interlacing them for the worst to come. One…Two…Thr-”

“Hey!” Their heads snapped to the booming voice, a man furiously marching towards them. Hurling slander at the top of his lungs. Terror surged, and Ella repeatedly slapped Alessia to take action. “Drive! Drive!”

Alessia stammered, fumbling the gear between reverse and drive, “I can’t! The road’s too fucking small!” The attempt to make an escape was useless, giving up, Alessia scrambled out the car. “Sir! Sir, I’m sorry I didn’t mean-” She stumbled back startled by the closing proximity as he continued his march, no sign of stopping.

“You think I care what you mean! You hit my fucking car!” He screamed, inches away from Alessia’s face. She turned her head, shielding herself from the strong aggression. Ella instantly went to Alessia’s side, yanking her back. “I paid pounds for it! Only for some two stupid girls to wreck it!”

Ella scrunched her nose in disgust, spit flying everywhere from his yellow jagged teeth. Smart mouth as ever, Ella said, “Technically, we didn’t wreck it. A little bump to the side is more like it. So don’t go get your teeth in a twist.” His face grew beet red by the second, Alessia pushed her best friend behind her. There was no way they were going to get out of this alive if Ella kept talking.

“I understand you’re angry but we’ll pay for the damages.” Alessia pleads, hoping that by taking responsibility they’ll be good to go. “We?!” Ella cried, wincing when Alessia stomped on her foot. She threw a stern look, silently warning Ella to shut her mouth. “Yes, we. We’ll take full responsibility and pay for all expenses needed.” Alessia forced a smile, praying that what she said was enough to settle the tension.

He chuckled, “You think I’m going to trust two whores to have that kind of money?! Do you take me for a fool?! This is a vintage Rolls Royce, your family's generational wealth couldn’t pay for this!” He slammed his fist onto the hood of Alessia’s car, pointing a threatening finger at her. “I’m going to call the police, don’t go anywhere!”

Alessia gulped, her stomach tightened as storms of emotions winded her. She felt stupid for being distracted, stupid for not putting the car in park. She wishes that things will be handled privately, no need for the media or you to hear about this, especially you. But, while Alessia was preoccupied, Ella had made a call.

“Hello, mate? I think it’s best you get down here, Alessia’s a bit in a situation…Yeah, we’re nearing that pond you threw Lucy in last month. Alright, see ya. “

Ella tucked her phone in her pocket, just catching the man walking away. “Don’t stress too much, I’ve got it handled.” Alessia looked at her with red eyes, hot tears brimming slightly over the edge. Ella pulled Alessia to her side, wrapping an arm around while they waited. It didn’t take long for you to arrive, two minutes after the call to be exact. It’s a good thing they didn’t make it far with Alessia’s poor driving skills.

Her eyes grew large at the sight of you racing over, she didn’t expect you to be here. She zeroed in on Ella, knowing she had something to do with your sudden appearance. You had become the team’s go to person whenever they were in trouble, especially if Alessia was an unwilling participant. Then, certainly you’d show up.

“Alessia! Are you okay, love?”

You engulfed her in your arms, looking over her shoulder, Ella nodded assuring that she was unharmed. Alessia released a breath, the security of your arms brought her comfort more than she could imagine. “I’m okay. But what are you doing here? You can’t be here.” Alessia’s words tremble with worry. You were still under investigation after last year’s incident. Headlines that followed hours later spread like wildfire.

You became the center focus, your name and photos plastered on every media outlet there is. Your team did some damage control and ceased the fire but that wasn’t enough to call off the rumors and speculation circulating you.

In terms of Alessia, her name was out of the limelight. Your team along with hers worked overtime to ensure that her and her friend’s association with you wouldn’t be put to questioning. The possibility of your career tanking was on everybody’s mind, the last thing you wanted was for Alessia and her mates to get mixed up in it all.

You furrowed your brows, assessing your surroundings. Your eyes wandered over Alessia’s car, “I came as soon as Ella called. Said that you were in trouble, and it looks like she wasn't lying. What the hell happened?”

“Alessia hit another car and then this grumpy old man came out of nowhere and started yelling! He called us stupid and whores! I’m not a whore!”

Ella kicked the rubble on the road, more comfortable to express her anger now that you were here to ensure that she wouldn’t get hit for talking her smack. You looked for Alessia for confirmation, rest assured, she nodded. You sighed, pressing a kiss to Alessia’s forehead. “It’s alright, Less. I'll go have a little chat, rough him up a bit and then we can go.”

There was no point in stopping you, she had learned the hard way. You cupped her jaw, the heat radiating from her red cheeks soothed your cold hands. “Stay with Ella until I’m done. I mean it.” Alessia searched for anything else other than the love and determination, you always held. You didn’t let go until she said what you wanted to hear.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with her until you’re done.”

You softly smiled, understanding that she didn’t want you fighting her battles for her. Ever since your public outburst, Alessia’s been walking on eggshells with whom she interacted and how she interacted, becoming more reserved to avoid another mishap. “Don’t worry your pretty head. It’ll be quick.” You kissed her lips, smiling when she refused to pull away. You gave her a parting peck.

“Ella, you mind pointing him out?” Ella pointed an accusatory finger to the flat behind you, confident that you’d be kicking some ass today, and maybe she could jump in, earn some street credits to her name.

Alessia stared at her friend in betrayal, Ella shrugged, “What? If she ends up in prison, at least you know she’ll get your name tattooed on her neck.” Alessia rolled her eyes. Though you assured her multiple times that prison wasn’t in your future, it didn’t stop the possibility from potentially becoming a reality. “Maybe she could be the next Mike Tyson.”

The door opened, revealing a woman in her thirties, a wash cloth in hand. “Hello, darling. What can I do for you?” You gave a charming smile, not expecting a woman to be on the other end. Did the man that just called your girlfriend and friend a whore have a wife? “Um, I’m looking for your husband I presume. I wanted to speak about some problems we've made along the way.” She smiled politely, seemingly unsuprised that her husband got caught in a web of trouble.

“Oh, I’ll go get him for you.”

You gave thanks, rocking on your heels as you waited. A man appeared with a beer in hand, a phone in the other. “What do you want?” His voice gruffed, your nose twitched at the stench of alcohol, body odor and family disappointment.

"An apology. You see the two girls behind me. Well one of them is my girlfriend and the other is her best friend. And I don't know about you, but I don't take anyone disrespecting my girl lightly."

He scoffed, the audacity to scoff in your face had your self-control hanging by a thread. He stepped out the door threshold, guzzling his beer before throwing it down on the pavement. Shards flew up a few inches, yet you stood your ground.

"Yeah? What the hell are you going to do about it, bitch?"

Instantly, you grabbed him by the collar, throwing him down the small steps to his freshly cut lawn. Groans escaped his mouth, his body curled up withering in pain from the blow to his back. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

You skipped the steps, kicking his ankle when he tried to stand. “Many things but none that are worth discussing. What’s your name? Because I don’t think hillbilly bob is it.” He pushed himself up to his knee, this time you let him. He glared up at you, grumbling his name.

“Paul. The name’s Paul.”

You motioned for Alessia and Ella to walk over, “Girls, I know you already met, but this man here name is Paul. Now, Paul, we're going to try this again. Give the girls the apology they deserve.” You tapped your foot, unfazed by the lasers he shot at you. You’ve dealt with the worst people, all who're skilled in kicking your ass. Baseless men like Paul failed to install fear in you. You were the BloodHouse for crying out loud. You weren’t so easily shaken.

“She hit my car. I'm not apologizing for shit."

You huffed, your team thought it’d be best for you to lay off matches for a while, you haven’t stepped foot in the cage with another fighter for months. Your body was itching for a fight, a real one, and it looks like you found one. “I really wish you didn't say that.” You pulled your fist back, striking him across the jaw.

He fell back, and white flash of pain surged from his back to his jaw. Blood flooded his mouth. He gathered up the little strength he had to spit on you. You inspected at the red blob on your shoe, your heart pounding in your ears. Your fingers twitched, feeling the uncontrollable urge to pummel Paul black and blue.

You rushed forward, grabbing Paul by the ear, forcing him up before you tore it off. You inched closer, dropping down to a whisper. “You're lucky that she’s here. If it was just you and me, I would’ve beaten you until you’re tube fed. Now, say you're sorry.”

Fear striked through him, his doe eyes looking at you like some kind of monster. He turned to the girls, reluctant but nonetheless muttered what you were looking for. You purse your lips, unsatisfied. Grabbing his wrist, twisting his arm behind his back. "Louder and make it sincere.”

You weren't a very patient person, never have been, never will be. A trait you honorably gotten from your father, you pushed Paul's arm further as he took his sweet time.

“Sorry, girls. Seems like he lost his voice, no worries I’ll get your apology.”

“Babe, I don’t think-”

“Come on, mate. Say it. It’ll be done and over with before you know it.” Alessia threw a look over her shoulder, silently blaming Ella for dragging you into this mess. Ella raised her hands in surrender. She was partially to blame for this she'll admit.

He visibly clenched his jaw, no matter how hard he tried to conjure up his strength he was no match for you. Your stance established the power imbalance between you two. Him barely holding himself up while you stood firm. Ella smiled in triumph, Alessia winced as the man croaked out an apology, a fearful one, but one nevertheless.

You smiled at Alessia who stood weary behind you, she was still getting used to the extent violence could go, slowly she became immune but time could only tell. "What do you say, love? Do you think he's being genuine?"

Alessia glanced at you and then to the man down on the ground, her chest filled with a pride. “Yeah, I think he’s fine.” You patted Paul on the shoulder, feeling a hint of glee when he hissed.

“Told you were lucky.”

Though you weren’t done as they thought. You dragged Paul, not minding the dead weight as he tried to stop you. You flipped open the bin, readjusting your grip on the back of his shirt before tossing him in. You closed the lid, kicking it to the ground. Smirking when a shout came from the fall. You turned to Alessia, looking for a job well done.

Ella applauds, entertained by the show you provided, disbelieving that this is what she’s been missing. “Can we go now? I’m getting hungry.”

“Gladly. Wait before I forget.” You pulled out a wad of pounds from your pocket, throwing it beside the bin, “For your car!” You gave it an extra nudge, slinging your arm around Alessia as Ella took your spot and continously kicked the bin.

“Take that you arse!”

#woso x reader #woso imagine #arsenal x reader #woso fanfics #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #hound

394 notes · View notes

13uswntimagines · 11 months ago

Text

I'll Take Care of You (Alessia Russo x MMA!fighter R)

Request: Could we maybe see some slightly more stern dom alessia dealing with r (doesn’t have to be smut) in front of the team because reader starts acting bratty with them?

Part of the same universe as the come down.

Warning: Slight touching but not actual smut. Also D/S fic

Author's note: Hey Y'all, i really hope you enjoy this. I want to point out that D/S dynamics are based on trust and communication, so that's what I chose to focus on. Alessia is a soft dom, and chooses a punishment that she knows will be effective. If you want to chat or have any ideas or comments, feel free to hit me up.

Gearing up for a fight was the equivalent of stretching out a rubber band to its limit. It was 8 weeks of nonstop training, 4 weeks of conditioning your body to shed water so you could make weight, 2 weeks of cameras following you around for UFC embedded, and 1 week of media bombardment where you had to listen to grown men act like 5-year-olds talking about who was going to beat who.

It was utterly exhausting.

The only upside was that at the end of it, you got to step into the octagon and do what you did best.

You got to put the plan your coaches drilled over and over into your brain into place. You got to release all of the built-up anxiety and frustration from camp.

You got to fight.

It was like coming up for oxygen after being trapped underwater. Sometimes the cage felt like the only place you could really breathe on your own.

It had been your safe haven for almost as long as you could remember, which was kinda strange considering your health was put at immediate risk every time you stepped inside. It had been your escape from your family, and your only coping mechanism for as long as you could remember.

To go through training camp, and fight week and the weight cut, only to have your fight pulled at the last minute was fucking devastating.

It was like when Alessia brought you all the way to the precipice of an orgasm and then pulled away just before you could tumble over it, except far far far worse.

It made your blood boil. It made the monster in your chest roar that your opponent couldn’t do his end of the job to make the fight go on after all of the shit he was talking. And there was nothing anyone could say or do to make it better.

Dana promised that the fight would be rescheduled. He even threw in that if you won, you would be next in line for a title shot.

But it didn’t help.

The fight was set to be at the O2 arena, meaning your girlfriend and all of her teammates had been set to see you, and now they couldn’t. You couldn’t get your 10 training weeks back and you would have to do the weight cut all over again.

It was a shit sandwich, and it made you feel completely out of control. It made you crave for someone else to put you right again. For Alessia to remind you that she had control always.

Maybe that’s why you chose your satin button-down shirt to go to dinner with your girlfriend and her teammates and paired it with tight black skinny jeans.

It wasn’t often that you liked to push Alessia’s control. That you toed the boundaries that she set, but tonight it felt like the prize comparable to stepping into the cage.

With the little black dress she had worn, you really couldn’t blame yourself either. You could never resist when she showed off her legs. You were obsessed and she knew it. It was probably why she had chosen the outfit, to begin with.

It was probably designed as a reward of sorts for after your fight, except you weren’t having a fight. So you supposed it was kind of like a consolation prize.

Except you felt wound too tightly to really enjoy it.

“So that’s it, they just call the whole thing off?” Ella asked leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand.

“Yep,” You popped the p, your finger running a gentle circle on Alessia’s exposed knee. “I can’t even sign a paper that says I’m fine fighting him despite the failed drug test, and it’s too late to find a replacement even if we allow a catchweight,”

She let the movement continue, the hand wrapped around your shoulder gently squeezing the arm furthest away from her.

While she was relieved that the rules prevented you from fighting a man on steroids, she knew how gutted you were about the cancellation.

“Probably for the best mate,” Leah said, sipping her wine.

You shrugged, letting your finger trail a little higher on Alessia’s leg.

It was slightly too… forward for the steakhouse her teammates had chosen, but with the dimmed lights you figured no one could see your hand under the white tablecloth anyway. Not with how close you were sitting to your girlfriend.

“I already made weight, so it’s kind of a waste,” You muttered, dragging your nails up the inside of her thigh to just below the hem of her dress. “I’ll have to start camp all over again unless I take something short notice,”

“Can you do that?” Mary asked, from your other side.

You shrugged again. “I told Dana I was game if he needed someone to fill in, so we’ll have to see,”

Alessia’s eyebrows pulled tighter together “You didn’t tell me that, love,”

“Didn’t I?” You asked, feigning dumb, as your fingers finally made it past the hem of her dress. “Must have forgotten. I’m excited to see you all play on Tuesday though,”

You ran your nail across the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh, dangerously close to her center. But before you could make it any further, her free hand caught your wrist, and repositioned you so your hand was resting very innocently near her knee again.

“Ireland is always fun to face,” Ella smiled at you. “Should be a bit chippy,”

“I’ll definitely be rocking my MacCabe jersey,” You matched her expression, your thumb again beginning to rub circles into Alessia’s skin.

Leah frowned, dropping her menu. “You will?”

“Absolutely,” You smirked, wiggling your eyebrows and slyly trailing your thumb back up Alessia’s thigh. “Gotta support my favorite foul-mouthed Gooner,”

Leah’s eyes went wide, and Alessia squeezed your shoulder.

“And what about me?” Your girlfriend asked, a pout pulling at her lips.

You wiggled your eyebrows, a witty remark at the tip of your tongue, knowing it would piss her off, but the tension in your chest made you unable to stop yourself.

You wanted to push her. To force a reaction, even when you knew all you had to do was ask for what you wanted.

“Are you ladies ready to order?” A waiter asked, appearing behind Leah before you could let it fly.

You let your smirk widen, closing your menu with a thud and making eye contact with the waiter.

“Since she’s not on the menu,” You started, leaning closer to your girlfriend for just a second, edging your hand even further up her thigh until it was again past the hem of her dress. “I think I’ll have the tomahawk, medium rare with a Yorkie and the roasted carrots please,”

You winked at the waiter for good measure as the table giggled and Alessia’s cheeks turned bright red.

The waiter cleared his throat, turning his attention to your girlfriend. “And for you ma’am?”

Alessia opened her mouth, probably to order, but you cut her off instead.

“She’ll take the sirloin, medium with the Orzo and kale salad,” You said, reciting her normal order with perfect precision. “And she’ll be having me for dessert later,”

More giggles erupted from your friends, and you dragged your hand impossibly higher, extending your pinky so it brushed against her underwear.

She inhaled sharply next to you, sending you a warning side eye as the rest of the table continued to order, but she didn’t immediately remove your hand.

You ignored her warning, letting your pinky slide over the satiny fabric of her underwear.

It wasn’t what she normally wore, and you couldn’t help the wolfish grin that took over your features.

She had worn lingerie for you.

Maybe that should have stopped you. Made you consider that you wouldn’t get anything if you kept pushing, but again you couldn’t seem to help yourself.

“Will you be in the Ireland friends and family section then?” Leah asked, wiggling her eyebrows at your girlfriend. “Cause I don’t think my family or Less’ will enjoy you wearing the opposing team’s jersey,”

You made a noise like you were considering it as you finally slid your hand up and cupped your girlfriend’s heat. “I don’t think I’d feel at home though. Surely your family can deal with it right Less?”

Alessia nodded once, very stiffly. “My family loves you no matter what you’re wearing,”

You smiled impishly at her, adding just a little more pressure to her core.

She shifted in her seat, leaning very close to your ear, as Ella started talking about some movie she and Joe had watched, taking the attention of the rest of Alessia’s teammates.

“They’d even love you if you had to wear your collar at the game,” She chuckled darkly in your ear, her voice soft enough to get lost in the noise of the restaurant as her free hand yet again caught your wrist and pulled your hand back to a much more innocent position. “Now behave, or I promise you’ll regret it,”

You pulled away, your devilish smirk only getting broader. “No,”

Her eyebrows furrowed her expression something between anger and concern and warning, like she was trying to figure out why you were pushing the boundaries when you never did before.

You wiggled yours in return, offering her nothing else before joining the conversation of her teammates.

You weren’t ready to talk yet.

You were too content digging yourself deeper and deeper.

*****

You continue to push Alessia all throughout dinner, taking every opportunity to make her blush or to creep your hand further up her thigh. At one point you had even wiggled a finger beneath her underwear before she could stop you.

And your behavior hadn’t stopped once you left the restaurant.

You definitely placed your hand far too low on her waist as you and your friends walked back to the hotel the UFC had rented for you, and winked cheekily at the fans as you entered the building, spending far too long signing things and flirting just to annoy your girlfriend.

You knew from the “come on darling,” and the way she wrapped her arm around you, her fingers closing gently around the back of your neck that you were in serious trouble as she led you into the hotel and to the elevator.

“Good luck mate,” Leah nodded towards you as she stepped into her hotel room after Mary and Ella. “Think you’re gonna need it after that show,”

She tilted her head toward your girlfriend glaring a hole in Leah’s doorframe.

“Good night Leah,” Your girlfriend bit out, pressing her thumb into the space at the very center of the back of your neck.

Leah rolled her eyes at the movement, well aware of the dynamic between you and your girlfriend. More aware than most of her teammates for both club and country because of how long you had known her. “Right you two, do have too much fun,”

You stared at the door for a long moment after it closed, the tension in your chest bleeding down to your stomach.

You knew your time was up. That you would have to pay the piper so to speak, and it had guilt swirling along with the unpleasantness.

You knew that all you had to do was utter a word and it would all be over.

You knew that Alessia would stick to your limits, no matter how hard you pushed her, but you couldn’t help the… lingering anxiety that came from your past relationships.

The ones that took advantage of your submissiveness, and the unhealthy way you had always chosen to deal with stress. The ones that ignored your pain for their own pleasure.

“Come on then,” Alessia said, very gently running the nail of her thumb down the length of the back of your neck, and squeezing your shoulder.

You hummed, allowing her to lead you down the hallway to your own hotel room door, but she paused before she opened it. You looked up at her, realizing suddenly that you were trapped between her and the door.

She stepped closer so your noses were nearly touching. She dragged her hand from your neck to your chin, using her thumb to tilt your head to where she wanted it.

“I love you,” She said, her voice soft and sincere. “No matter what,”

She leaned in the last centimeter separating you, connecting your lips in a very sweet kiss.

You leaned into it, opening your mouth when her tongue poked out, welcoming it and meeting it with your own so they spun in a slow dance.

It was the reminder that you desperately needed.

The promise that she would take care of you, even when you acted like a brat.

She pulled away just enough to disconnect your lips, and your mouths separated with a low pop.

“Remind me of your colors,” Alessia said, her thumb running across your cheek.

“Green for good, yellow for slow down, and red for stop,” You recited, your voice breathless.

“Good girl,” She hummed. “Open the door, and take off your shirt and pants once we get inside,”

You swallowed hard at the change of tone.

“Yes Miss,” You said, already pulling the key card from the back pocket of your jeans. You didn’t look away from her as you fumbled until you heard the lock on the door beep, and clumsily pushed it open.

You stumbled backward, unwilling to break eye contact with your girlfriend because you knew you would probably get very little of it tonight.

She turned away from you as soon as the door slammed shut, busying herself with something you didn’t know.

“I believe I told you to do something,” She said, not even sparing a look over her shoulder at you, and you realized you had been staring for too long.

You cleared your throat, your fingers trembling as they unbuttoned your straining shirt.

You carefully pulled the satin materials from your shoulders, folding it neatly and laying it on the bed before you started on your pants.

It took you three tries to undo the button, the zipper getting caught in the stretchy material of your boxers. You peeled your tight jeans down your legs, folding them and placing them next to your shirt.

You felt Alessia’s presence behind you as you pulled off your shoes and socks.

As soon as they had been placed in their rightful place, her hand found its way to your bare back.

The touch was soothing and grounding and exactly what you needed to combat the slightly floaty feeling in your brain.

The hand slid up your back, all the way to your neck.

“Kneel,”

The soft squeeze on the back of your neck was like magic, as was the soft, but stern order.

You sank to your knees without question, your butt resting on your heels, your hands facing palm up on your thighs, your back straight and your head bowed, as the tension in your chest slowly ebbed away.

“I think we need to have a chat,” She continued, the hand on your neck sliding up to run through the hair at the base of your skull. Her nails scratched soothingly at your scalp. “Because your behavior in the restaurant is not the behavior of the good girl I trained,”

You grunted, glaring at a spot in the carpet.

You didn’t want to talk.

You already had to talk to Dana, to your coaches, and to the media. You had nothing left to say.

“Do you want to tell me what that was about at dinner?” She asked you, the fingers on your scalp wrapping through your curls. She gave it a sharp tug, forcing you to look up at her. “Because I’d really like to know what the fuck you were playing at,”

Her blue eyes burned into you, concerned and… something else lingering below the surface.

“I wasn’t playing at anything,” You grit out.

She raised a perfect eyebrow at you, as she searched your face.

“Is this because your fight was canceled?”

You didn’t answer her, unwilling to admit how… off balanced it made you feel.

But that was enough of an answer for her.

Her eyes softened minutely. “Baby,”

You shook your head.

You didn’t want her sympathy or her pity.

You wanted her to crush you.

“Alright,” She signed, tilting your head back so far it was painful. “I’m going to give you 2 options. We can call Clarke and Lexa and they can run you through a workout,”

You shivered at the mention of your respective striking and jujitsu coaches, knowing already that whatever the alternative was, you would be choosing it.

“Or you can take a punishment of my choosing,” She finished. “It won’t be an easy one,”

“I’ll take a punishment,” You muttered after a beat.

You didn't need easy right now.

She hummed, holding you close for a long second, and you relished in the attention.

That had been why you acted out at all anyway.

She dropped her hold on your hair suddenly, and you crashed back on your knees.

“On the wall,” She said, completely cutting contact with you, and walking towards the little kitchen area of the suite.

You let out a shaky breath, pushing yourself to your feet, and shuffled over to the wall next to the television across from the couch.

You turned to face the couch, wincing when Alessia pulled a wine glass out of the cabinet and a jug of water from the counter and returned to you.

She carefully filled the glass to the halfway mark, before her attention turned to you.

You knew immediately what punishment she had chosen.

The rules were simple, you would balance the glass in one of the designated calisthenic positions. If the water spilled, or the glass fell then you would move to the next position. The punishment would be over when you made it through all 15 positions to Alessia’s satisfaction, or if you safeworded.

It sounded easy, or like it wouldn’t be effective, but that was entirely wrong. It was the punishment that you hated the most.

Your stomach never failed to drop when Alessia approached you with the wine glass and water. Just the sight of her with it was enough to have your muscles quivering at the impending fatigue.

“Ready darling?”

You made a low sound, leaning back against the wall, bending your knees, and getting into the first position.

A wall sits with your knees pressed together to focus the pressure on your quads.

She used a hand on your shoulder to push you further down the wall until your thighs sat parallel to the floor, and then very carefully balanced the stem of the wine glass between your knees so the base just barely brushed your hamstring.

You frowned. She usually balanced it on top of your legs further up your thighs so all you had to do was stay level. But where it was now meant that you would have to stay level and squeeze with your adductors so it didn’t slip and spill the water.

“Tell me your color,” She said, her thumb sweeping under your chin, drawing your eyes away from the glass to meet her blue.

“Green,” you murmured, leaning into the gentle touch.

“Good,” She hummed, cupping your cheek for another long second before she pulled away. “I’ll be right there, reading my book,”

Your gaze trailed after her as she settled herself on the couch directly across from you, picking up the 7 Husbands of Evelyn Hugo. She easily found her page and began to read.

You glanced back to the balancing glass between your knees. It was already shaking slightly, the liquid vibrating around the bowl of the glass with the effort of your muscles to keep it in place.

It irritated you that you could already feel your quads and adductors quivering. It was pathetic that they were already fatigued after only 30 seconds.

You grit your teeth, letting your hips slip down further so you could squeeze with your glutes to take a little bit of the pressure off of your adductors. The glass shifted minutely, and the water inside sloshed dangerously before it settled.

Your eyes flickered back up to Alessia, wondering if she saw it too, but her eyes stayed planted in her book.

That irritated you too.

The only upside to your fight being canceled was that you got to spend more time with her. You wouldn’t have to split your attention between her and not getting your face caved in.

Now you didn’t even have that.

You thought of safewording and forcing an early end to your punishment. It would be a violation of the rules though.

But when she found out that you broke her trust (the most severe infraction you could ever commit) she might choose a more… harsh punishment. One of the ones that was listed in the soft limits the two of you had agreed upon. One that would separate you from reality, and leave you feeling floaty and thoroughly controlled. Thoroughly owned.

A part of you wanted her to forcibly put you in your place. To disregard how bad it would feel tomorrow and the bad memories it would bring up for you, and just demolish you. To crush your will and grind you into dust. To beat you into oblivion.

It was what your opponent would have done anyway.

You knew Alessia would never agree to it while you were this upset. She didn’t like to give in to your self-destructive tendencies.

The glass between your knees shook again, drawing your attention back to the warm fire setting deeply into your quads. They would ache tomorrow you were sure, but then again wasn’t that part of the point?

It would be a reminder that even when she wasn’t with you, you belonged to Alessia. It was an invisible mark that claimed you. That reminded you she would always take control when you felt dangerously unstable.

And then it clicked.

This punishment was Alessia’s favorite because it was based on your choice to obey her. Your choice to push your body to its limits to please her. Your choice to give her control over you.

She didn’t need to use a belt or a paddle to bend you to her will.

She just had to ask.

You just had to relax and trust that she would take care of you.

You let out a long breath, counting down from 3 in your head. You let it fall back into the wall with a low thump and your shoulders sagged, as the remaining tension in your chest drained out of you.

“Good girl,” Alessia said softly, and the page of her book turned. Your eyes darted back to her, hoping that they would be on you, but they weren’t.

She looked so composed, both legs tucked under her, reading her book. It was diametrically opposed to how you felt, completely out of control. A quivering mess fighting to stay in a simple wall sit.

It further reminded you of your place, and the weight of it was enough to have your eyes sliding closed.

You focused on your breathing, 3 seconds and 3 seconds out. Deep and slow.

You lasted for more breaths before the glass slid from between your legs, landing on the carpeted floor with a light thud.

Your eyes snapped open, and again you expected to meet Alessia’s eyes, but they remained trained on her book.

“Next please,” She said softly, flipping another page in her book.

You slid down the wall to the floor, sucking in another long breath as you nodded, wishing that she would just look at you, but you knew that was part of the punishment too.

You took another breath as you rolled over to your stomach and sat yourself up on your elbows, squeezing your core. It was a slightly modified plank designed to show off the muscles in your back and arms for the benefit of your girlfriend and to give your legs a break for a bit.

She waited until you were in a position to stand, slowly padding over to you and grabbing the wine glass off of the floor.

She paused next to you, and you felt the way her eyes dragged across the muscles on your back.

“Always so pretty for me,” She hummed and you heard the water as she refilled the glass. “Too bad you can’t have the reward I had planned,”

Her touch lingered as she carefully balanced it between your shoulder blades, and stepped away.

“Let’s see if you can beat your best time on this one,” She said, talking more at you than to you. “Your record is 22 minutes, which isn’t quite championship timing. I think you need to make it at least 25,”

You groaned.

Her competitive streak was legendary and often a part of your punishment when you had been particularly ornery. You switched positions at her pleasure, so you knew you would be planking all night if you couldn’t break 25 minutes.

It was like when she decided you needed to break your edging record.

There would be no mercy unless you safeworded.

You focused on your breathing as she sauntered back to the couch, fighting to keep your core and back muscles locked to prevent the glass from tipping.

Your abs clenched, and you so badly wanted to roll your shoulders to relieve the tension building in the space between them. The space holding the glass.

You focused on the sound of Alessia’s breathing. Each rhythmic inhale and exhale like the clicking of a metronome, broken only by the occasional fluttering of a page.

You wished she had put the timer in front of you so you could see how long you had left.

But then again that would probably be worse.

You always found it harder to go the distance in a fight when you could see the clock ticking down. It always made you feel more exhausted at the end of the round, and made standing up off of your stool at the start of the next round that much harder.

You sucked in another breath, refocusing on the sounds of Alessia’s inhales and exhales. You counted each one, letting them wash over you and lul the fog slowly seeping through the crevices in your brain.

It let you forget the trembling in your core muscles and the sting between your shoulders. They didn’t matter. All that mattered was each of Alessia’s breaths, and your ability to please her.

To be honest, you forgot about the water balancing on your back.

You shifted, lifting your head so you could watch Alessia, and that sent the glass tumbling to the floor with a low thud.

She looked up at the noise, pushing herself to her feet and grabbing the glass.

“Good job darling. You made time.” She rewarded you by meeting her eyes for a long second and flashing you a winning smile. “Position 3,”

You took another deep breath as she filled the glass.

You pushed yourself up into a pushup position, slowly lifting your right arm and left leg so they extended.

Your arms shook immediately, and it was then that you recognized just how exhausted you were already. Your core ached in a way that was edging on unpleasant, and your back felt like you had run 5 rounds with your jujitsu coach.

It was strange that you felt so drained and you had only made it through 2 positions.

Alessia waited until you were stable before she balanced the glass in the very same area between your shoulder blades.

The spot that felt so tight.

You knew you weren’t going to last long before she even stepped away. But you tried to breathe through it. You tried to ignore the little beads of sweat collecting at the small of your back, and the cramp setting in just below the glass, radiating up to your neck.

You deserved the pain. You had done your damndest to make sure Alessia gave it to you.

“Tell me your color,” Alessia said, her voice dripping dominance, sending a shiver down your spine and causing the glass to tumble off your back.

You collapsed to the floor.

You hadn’t even made it a minute.

“‘M ok,” You murmured into the carpet, each breath rattling as it left your lips.

You hadn’t even lasted long enough for Alessia to make it back to her seat.

It was pathetic.

“That’s not what I asked you,” She said, crouching next to you, her hand resting on the throbbing space between your shoulders. “Tell me what your color is,”

Your brain ran into overdrive, taking stock of the burn in your thighs, and the way the muscles in your back were locked up tight, and before you could even think through all the reasons why you shouldn’t safe word, “red,” was falling from your lips.

You had been red before you even started position 3, you realized.

“Good girl,” She said, settling fully down beside you, her hand running soothingly up and down your sweat-soaked back. “You did so well for me, and I’m so proud of you for knowing your limits,”

You groaned into the carpet as warmth spread through your chest, chasing away the last of the tightness that had been there since Dana caught you after the weigh-ins.

“‘M sorry for pushing you,” You mumbled, your words nearly getting lost in the floor. “Didn’t know how to…”

You trailed off, losing your train of thought. You weren’t even sure what you didn’t know how to do, only that antagonizing your girlfriend. Your miss. Had been the only way that seemed to make sense to achieve it.

“I know darling,” She hummed, gripping under your arms and shifting so your head was resting in her lap and your upper body was between her legs. “Take some deep breaths for me, and then we’ll get you cleaned up and we can cuddle,”

You made a low sound of agreement. You felt content with her completely around you, her scent enveloping you, and her hands running gently through your tangled hair.

She was the stability to your rocky seas, and you trusted that she would take care of you, just like she had already tonight.

A cuddle sounded perfect because it was perfect.

It was everything you needed. She was everything you needed.

#woso x reader #woso imagines #alessia russo x reader #alessia russo imagine #the come down universe

598 notes · View notes

prismuffin · 1 year ago

Note

Hi hi! I'm sorry if your busy, but could you write an Ghost and König (separate) ask for me?

Basically, M!Reader being both of their not straight awakenings.

Incase you didn't know, most bases have training equipment and workout gear. Just like gyms. So maybe M!Reader is working out with the rest of the 141, but his body type is a lot more lean muscle. (Think of Dick Grayson in the comics)

With his job on the team needing him to be more flexible and aglie, maybe he dose more advanced stretches. Like a gymnast would. As well as practice MMA.

Ghost and König just wanted to turn to ask a question to M!Reader, but got a sexuality crisis instead. M!Reader doing his workouts in men's yoga pants and shirtless, while working on his punches.

They just weren't ready for it that early in the morning.

LMFAOAOAOAO "not straight awakening" 💀💀💀- anyways I think that-

Ghost's breath would hitch as he turned to ask you a question, not expecting to see you shirtless and working out. Though you doing that wasn't the shocking part and neither was the way you dressed, it was the feeling it gave him that shocked him the most. His heart made a loud thud in his chest at the sight and he physically reacted. Grabbing his chest as his head jumped back in shock, his question dying on his tongue as he watched you practice your punches. His burning face hidden by his balaclava as he cursed to himself over feeling this way for a man. He'd acknowledged that you were attractive to him before but he'd been ignoring the deeper meaning until now. His eyes trailing over your body, your form, as you worked out. You truly made him speechless.

König would've entered the training room early in the morning, he knew you were in there prior and was planning on asking you something, though now that he's in here he's forgotten what that something was. His eyes were wide, his face red as he watched you work out, eyes scanning over your lean form, certain thoughts clouding his head. He snapped back to reality at the sound of his water bottle hitting the floor. He cursed, jumping at the sound as he scrambled to pick it up. Hearing you chuckle, he looked up only to make eye contact with you still in your fight stance, looking over your shoulder with a smile as you noticed it was just König who made the sound. The look in your eyes was enough to make him want to melt into the floor and disappear forever. He may have been ignoring it before, the way his heart would speed up at the mere mention of your name but now he was sure that it was something a lot more complicated, for him at least.

———

Directory

1K notes · View notes

pookalicious-hq · 11 days ago

Text

pt.1 - bestest friends ... sukuna ryomen x reader

| next | masterlist |

˚₊‎‧♡‧₊˚part of the all japan youth summer games crossover event! synopsis: they've always been best friends since anyone could remember, what's changed now? tags/tws: crossover au, childhood friends to lovers, swearing word count: 2.5k

If you were to ask Sukuna Ryomen how he stumbled into the world of MMA, he’d roll his eyes and insist that he’d always been a fighter. Some people are simply born with the instinct to throw a punch, and he was no exception. The sport came naturally to him, a second skin that fit him better than any uniform ever could.

Each strike was a release, channelling the frustration of his parents’ absence into raw, explosive power. The thrill of the fight surged through him, electrifying his veins, and for those precious moments, he felt alive. Here, his talent wasn’t just acknowledged; it was celebrated, roars of encouragement enveloping him like a warm embrace. And for that opportunity, he had one person to thank—the only one he truly respected: you.

bestest friend ever! - 2 new messages - omg ryo - let’s check out the big gym! i heard they have free snacks :)

He huffed a small laugh at the text, rolling his eyes at the contact name you’d assigned yourself all those years ago. The message finally registered in his head, the set from before still taking a toll on his energy. He reached for his water bottle with his other hand, the water a stark relief to the heat radiating off of his skin.

After a moment of rest, he typed back.

- already here. - better hurry your ass up

With that, he resumed his workout, feeling the strain in his arms as the weight tested his endurance. He, along with a few other fighters, had already settled into the AJYSG campus, spending the past few days getting accustomed to all the high-end facility had to offer. This was only his second time in the weight room, though he wouldn’t dare tell you that. He hadn’t invited you the first time—or this time—and he knew you’d have something to say about it. Not that he was feeling guilty or that he didn’t want to bother you… Not at all. Whatever.

In all truth, whenever the two of you trained together, Ryomen found himself… distracted. But make of that what you would. Maybe it was the way you filled his ears with soft ramblings, stories of the birds outside your window that you saw the other day. Or maybe it was how even the hint of your smile could make him falter, sending his sets into a nosedive. Not that he minded all that much. You’d be there to spot him anyway, your face scrunching in concentration as the muscles beneath the athletic fabric of your shirt shifted, helping him lift the weights back onto the rack.

Even now, the thought of you scolding him for not inviting you made the slightest smile come to surface, knowing you’d be just as persistent in teasing him as you were at keeping him in line.

All these thoughts from two simple texts. By now, Satoru would be shaking his head, telling him he was “down bad” and, hell, maybe he was. But before he could dwell on it, his phone buzzed again in his hand.

- where are you???

He huffed.

- use your eyes idiot

With a roll of his eyes—but not without a small smile—Ryomen pocketed his phone just as a figure came up to the bench he was using. A girl he vaguely recognized from earlier workouts, dressed in AJYSG gear, flashed him a friendly grin.

“Hey, you were here a few days ago, right?” she asked, shifting her weight as if eager to chat. He gave a short nod, answering with a flat, “Yeah,” before looking back toward the entrance, hoping to spot you.

Undeterred by his response, she continued, ��I was hoping to run into you again. It’s such a huge place; I still get lost sometimes.”

“Mm,” he muttered, noncommittal, eyes still flicking to the doorway. Then, as if answering his silent wish he found the vibrant shade of pink he had been hoping to see.

He spotted you almost immediately—a flash of baby-pink biker shorts and a matching sports bra. You stood near the entrance with your headphones on, oblivious to everything around you as you scanned the gym. Ryomen felt the faintest tug of a smile as he got up from the bench, already moving toward you before he realized it.

The girl, apparently still hopeful, followed close behind him. “So, what do you think of the place so far?” she asked, trying to keep pace.

“It’s fine,” he replied, barely glancing her way. His focus was fully on you now, watching as you turned left, then right, squinting through the crowd with that familiar crease in your brow. You looked a little lost, the corners of your mouth downturned in that soft, concentrated frown he’d seen a thousand times. It was kind of endearing if he let himself admit it.

As he neared, he raised his hand and, without hesitation, gave you a light tap on the head.

You jolted at the tap on your head, your headphones slipping slightly askew, and for a split second, your eyes were wide with surprise. But then, as recognition set in, your gaze softened with pure joy, warmth radiating from you as if he were the best sight you'd seen all day.

Damn. What he’d give to see that look every second of his life.

“This place is too big, couldn’t find you,” you huffed, feigning exasperation, though a grin was already tugging at your lips. He smirked, satisfied with your reaction, and as you tugged one ear of your headphones off, the soft hint of that familiar citrus scent he’d come to associate with you drifted in the air between you. It wrapped around him, grounding him in the shared moment like the quiet center of a storm.

With a raised brow, he stepped closer, flicking the middle of your forehead with a grin. “Nah, you’re just blind.”

You rolled your eyes, batting his hand away. “You know I’m near-sighted, dumbass. I just don’t wanna wear my glasses right now.”

He chuckled, crossing his arms as he towered over you, eyes gleaming with a challenge. "Yeah, I understand. They make you look like a little nerd anyway."

You scoffed, in turn flicking him in the stomach, “Shut up. At least they help me see.”

The two of you were wrapped in that familiar rhythm, the playful back-and-forth that filled the air between you with a quiet warmth. His eyes narrowed, honing in on you, his focus sharpening as you laughed, the sound like a tether that kept him grounded. For a moment, everything else faded—just you, the ease of this orbit you both shared. He leaned in, ready to land his next comeback, when an unwelcome voice broke in from beside him.

“So, what program are you in?”

The girl had reappeared, planting herself with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, her gaze unwavering on him, almost as if you were a mere background detail. His jaw tightened, a flicker of irritation cracking through his calm. He barely nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes drifting back to you as he tried to sidestep her—only for her to step directly in his way again, as if by sheer willpower alone.

You sighed, nudging his arm, an exasperated smile tugging at your lips. “Ryo, don’t be rude.”

He scoffed lightly, shooting you a look that all but said, You can’t be serious. He turned back to the girl, giving her a curt, flat response, “MMA program,” before he moved to stand by you again. Ignoring her, he let his shoulder brush against yours, a subtle but firm return to where he wanted to be—beside you, with no interruptions.

The everlasting smile on your face hadn’t faded one bit. Your eyes sparkled as you took in the facility, a spark of excitement there that he might’ve imagined had deepened as you looked at him. But before he could fully soak it in, the girl’s voice rang out beside him again, her words barely registering as they drifted past his ear.

“—I was really hoping that—”

“Actually,” he cut her off smoothly, his voice carrying just enough edge, “we’re in the middle of a conversation.”

She blinked, as if just now noticing you, glancing you up and down with feigned surprise. “Oh! I’m so sorry, I didn’t see you there!”

The three of you were all fully aware she’d seen you from the start.

“Oh!” she continued, her expectant gaze turning back to Ryomen. “Are you two, like… siblings?”

You let out an awkward laugh, scratching the back of your neck. “Uh, don’t think we look that alike… but no, not siblings!”

Ryomen snorted, amused by your uneasiness, but it wasn’t enough to deter her.

“Huh, not even cousins or—”

“We’re dating.” His voice cut through the air, smooth and unflinching, his words laced with just enough finality to end the girl’s line of questioning. “Not so nice meeting you. Hopefully, we won’t see you around.”

Without waiting for her reaction, he wrapped his fingers lightly around your wrist and pulled you away, his grip firm but oddly gentle. The warmth of his hand was grounding, and though his focus seemed set on getting away, he missed the deepening blush on your cheeks as you hurried to keep up with his long strides.

“Hurry up and get your stupid yoga stretches in,” he called over his shoulder, still holding your wrist until you matched his pace. “I was in the middle of my set—why are you walking so goddamn slowly?”

He finally glanced back at you, only to find you wide-eyed and flushed. You looked as if you’d been caught completely off guard, and he slowed, arching a brow as he took in your unusual hesitance.

“You good?” he asked, his voice rougher than intended but with a flicker of concern. He’d never seen you look this rattled, not with him.

Your cheeks warmed even more as you averted your gaze, trying to gather your words. “Yeah! I’m fine. Just… um, why’d you say that?”

He blinked, his confusion slowly shifting to a look of mild annoyance, but the blush on your face caught him off guard, keeping his curiosity rooted in place. “Say what?”

“That we’re dating,” you mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as if you were speaking it aloud for the first time yourself. The words hung between you both, almost fragile. And just like that, something unspoken settled in, taking him by surprise.

He stilled, his mind processing. It finally clicked. Oh. He hadn’t thought twice about the comment—it had been an instinctual way to brush off the girl’s annoyingly persistent questions. After all, he was used to you ignoring his constant flirtations. The idea of you reacting, of actually caring… it hadn’t crossed his mind in ages. An uncomfortable twist formed in his chest, bringing with it a cascade of old feelings he’d long buried, and he found himself momentarily speechless.

With a smirk that barely masked his sudden nerves, he leaned down, meeting your eyes in a way he rarely did, that spark of mischief just barely hiding his hesitation. “What’s goin’ on with your face, dumbass?” His tone held its usual teasing lilt, but there was a slight catch in his voice that betrayed him.

You glared up at him, clearly flustered, and quickly brushed off your embarrassment. “Nothing, I just…” You hesitated, glancing away before mumbling, “Were you just… you know, messing around?”

The question hit him harder than he’d expected, and he could feel his heart lurch in response, though he was quick to mask it with a nonchalant shrug. As his gaze met yours, he caught something in your eyes—a nervous hope, a glimmer of something vulnerable—and the realization stirred up emotions he’d shoved down long ago. This wasn’t how he’d pictured today going. Honestly, he hadn’t planned on bringing up the feelings he’d locked away for what felt like a lifetime.

But he wasn’t ready to deal with those feelings now, not with you looking at him like that. So he did what he did best: played it off.

“Of course I was, idiot.” He gave a casual shrug, though his tone held an edge, rougher than usual. “You can’t actually think I’d be serious about something like that.”

The casual remark barely left his lips before he saw your expression change. It was subtle—just the slightest drop in your shoulders and a flicker of something that looked a lot like disappointment in your eyes. You quickly covered it with a small, practiced smile, but it wasn’t enough to hide the moment of vulnerability he’d managed to bring out.

“No, yeah. Obviously,” you said, your tone light but a little too cheerful, as if trying to smooth over what he’d just tossed away. “I’ll, uh, go warm up. Be right back.” Without another word, you turned, leaving him standing there, watching as you walked off.

The second you left, it felt like he’d been sucker-punched. His stomach dropped, and a knot tightened in his chest, twisting uncomfortably as he replayed the moment in his head. That tiny hint of hurt in your eyes haunted him, gnawing at his thoughts, each replay worse than the last. Why hadn’t he just gone with it? Why did he have to brush you off like that? He could’ve at least made a joke or said something that didn’t leave you reduced to a person he couldn’t recognize.

“Fuckin’ Idiot,” he muttered to himself, running a hand through his hair. The self-directed insult echoed in his mind as he paced, now too agitated to focus. He clenched his fists, resisting the urge to punch the nearest wall. It was so obvious that he had feelings for you, had always had them. And when the chance came to admit it, he did the exact opposite.

As he looked over, he caught a glimpse of you stretching across the room, still smiling, but he could tell now it was forced. That fake cheer only made the ache in his chest worse, filling him with a wave of regret and frustration he could barely contain. His fingers itched to go over, to fix it somehow, to tell you that maybe he hadn’t been kidding, that he was just too dumb to admit it. But what would that accomplish now? He’d already crushed whatever moment the two of you had shared, all because he hadn’t been able to let his guard down for two seconds.

With a low groan, he forced himself to look away, glaring at the floor as he tried to steady his breath. It felt like a battle between his pride and his need to fix things, both sides pushing him to take a step but too stubborn to act. As much as he wanted to storm over there and set things straight, all he could do was stand there, caught between the things he wanted to say and the wall he’d built around his feelings for so long.

a/n: omg yay! first fic in my crossover au! i hope you like it pookies, lmk if you have any requests for other characters or any comments, I love seeing what ppl have to say. lmk if you wanna be added to the taglist mwahhh <33

taglist: currently no one :(

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #gojo satoru x reader

110 notes · View notes

cobaltperun · 11 months ago

Text

Lost (2) - Into the nothing

Tara Carpenter x female Reader

Summary: To anyone on the outside, and to Tara’s friends, you were Tara’s fierce protector, the MMA fighter who’d take anyone on for Tara. The Guard Dog, as Amber called you. You had no idea you’d have to protect her from people who claimed they loved her. It didn’t matter. As long as you and Tara had one another there was nothing you wouldn’t be able to survive.

Story warnings: Scream violence, family issues, trauma, angst, certain sensitive topics

Word count: 4.2k

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

-Heaven hear me, I know we can make it out alive-

You woke up around half past seven, the fatigue from battle still weighing you down, but more than that you couldn’t shake off that uneasy feeling from the last night. You tried and you tried, but you just felt like something was wrong. You sighed, the sound of birds chirping by your window did little to take your mind off the bad feeling. So, you sat up, turned the TV on and got up while the documentary about whales droned on. You lived in an efficiency apartment, and as cramped as it was, you made it a home thanks to Tara. She got you the few trinkets that were lying around. The cheesy ‘Home is where the heart is’ hung from the doors above the coat hangers. The small porcelain cat napped on the fridge, and a slightly bigger stuffed dog she bought you for your twelfth birthday sat on the nightstand drawer next to your bed. There were only two framed photos in your apartment, both of them were just you and Tara, one from her eighteenth birthday, it was actually spontaneous one, you just got done setting up the table for her birthday and she came out to her backyard with Chad keeping her eyes covered. She barely even registered all the food, she just ran over to you when he let go of her and jumped into your arms, and that was the moment Mindy captured from the side, the moment when Tara was leaning her forehead against yours and looking you in the eyes. The second one was back when you were kids and Tara and Mindy won an award for a short video.

Everything else was pretty much minimalistic, you hardly had space for anything else, given the living area wasn’t even 250 square feet. Bed at the corner, with nightstand drawer to its’ right, the TV hanging on the opposite wall, a coffee table you modified to be taller that doubled as table in general between the two with a couch just beneath the window. The kitchen area was small as well, just bare necessities, which sometimes made cooking a bit of a struggle for space. What little space was left was used up by the wardrobe closet and your bag and basic training gear, both by the wall where the TV was, standing between the doors and the TV.

You were comfortable in your home, comfortable in your own small space, separated from the rest of the town, in a building that was meant to be a part of some bigger project that got canceled, but the building remained, and the couple you worked for owned this apartment and a few other in the building and they rented it to you for a ridiculously cheap price. Right now, however, you couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling off, you needed to go train, or go to work, or do anything to keep your mind off whatever was causing that damn feeling.

So, you broke your rules and ran down the stairs all the way from the third floor, and then, the moment you stepped through the main building entrance, you began running. You had a set of rules you lived by, eat healthy, train hard, rest enough, and resting enough involved having a day off after a fight, meaning no work, no training, just recovering. Yet here you were, running on an empty stomach while the town woke from the slumber. Cars drove past you, as did the school bus, and for a moment you thought you caught a glimpse of Tara sitting by the window, probably with Amber next to her. Running cleared your head a bit and you made up your mind. Next weekend you’d take Tara away from Woodsboro, you’d take her wherever she wants to go, Amber’s whining be damned.

You were tired of the distance, and you could feel Tara was tired of it as well, and it was about time you did something to change that.

With that sense of clarity and the decision you finished your run and, despite still having a day off, took a shower and went to work.

~X~

It was always the same old story when he and Mindy were alone. Always the struggle for the rights to control what they’d watch.

“There’s a basketball game on right now and I want to watch it,” Chad raised the remote above his head, not willing to budge. Could he have gone to his room to watch it? Absolutely, and Mindy could have gone to her room to watch whatever movie she wanted to watch tonight. Still, over the years it turned into a bit of a game between them, to see who would cave in first and he wasn’t going to be the one to give in this time.

“Pft, there’s a brand new horror movie airing and the remote has my name on it,” she pulled his forearm down so she could reach the remote, but he just tossed it to his other hand.

“No way, watch it later,” he took a few steps back and went around the sofa to put some distance between him and Mindy, only because he knew Mindy would stay put, choosing to wisely use her energy.

Mindy snorted at that. “No way, dude,” but she was grinning, clearly not annoyed by their usual argument.

Chad was about to say he was the one with the remote, hence he held the power, but his phone rang and he looked over the sofa to see who was calling him. Mindy had already grabbed it and handed it to him.

“It’s Wes,” she said and while he was picking up took the chance and stole the remote from him.

“Hey, give that back!” Chad complained before Wes could say anything.

“Chad,” Wes’ sounded like he was on the verge of tears and the remote was almost instantly forgotten.

“Hey, pal, what’s wrong?” Chad asked, worried, he rarely heard Wes this distraught, and Mindy noticed his tone as well, as her victorious grin dropped.

“It’s Tara. She- she was attacked, Chad, she was stabbed seven times in her own home. Doctors are fighting for her life as we speak,” Wes wasn’t making any sense, Tara was stabbed? Doctors were fighting for her life? He must have gotten high or drunk or something.

No. This was Wes. He rarely drank any alcohol and he most certainly never got high.

“Does,” he swallowed the lump in his dry throat. “Does anyone else know?”

“No, I’ll call Amber, you, you handle Y/N, please,” Wes told him and Chad felt dread fill him up.

There was a reason why he’d choose to tell Amber and not you. Amber was Tara’s girlfriend, sure, and she’d take it hard, she’d be worried, she’d rush to the hospital and stay by Tara’s side. You on the other hand, you’d be a tempest of rage and grief and fear. Sure, you and Tara weren’t close these past few months, but it was just a small, temporary break, you were still Tara’s Guard Dog, and you didn’t protect her.

Chad had no doubt in his mind that you’d be a hound, hunting down whoever hurt Tara and making them regret going after Tara.

“I’ll call her,” Chad still promised, and he’d call you, as frightening as the call was going to be.

Wes thanked him and hung up, his voice cracking near the end.

“Chad?” Mindy walked over to him and wiped his cheeks, and only then did Chad realize he was crying as well.

“Tara was stabbed, Wes doesn’t know if she’ll live,” he whispered, breaking down and hugging Mindy. He cried against her shoulder while she tried to stay strong for them both. The remote, the TV argument, it all remained forgotten.

~X~

At half past eleven p.m. you were back in your apartment, ready to sleep, even though it evaded you. You were just lying on your bed and staring at the ceiling. That bad feeling, that worry, it came back while you were wrapping up your shift at the restaurant you worked in.

You abruptly sat up when your phone rang, and you just stared at Chad’s name for a few moments. The bad feeling intensified in an instant. Chad rarely called, especially this late.

“Hey,” you pushed the feeling back, you were just paranoid for no reason. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

“Hey, Y/N,” the shakiness of his voice nearly made you drop your phone, he sounded like he just stopped crying. Something was wrong, but you were still in denial.

Just stay calm, that’s what you kept repeating to yourself as your heart drummed against your chest. “What’s wrong?”

“Wes just called. Tara, she-“ the pause he made when he took a deep breath to collect himself was deafening. “she was attacked. Stabbed seven times. She’s at the hospital.”

He was wrong.

He wasn’t.

It couldn’t have happened to Tara.

It did.

The world and time itself stopped, everything stopped. You wanted to scream, but you couldn’t, you just went through the motions as you grabbed your jacket and car keys. “Thanks,” before you understood what was happening you were already outside your apartment. “I’m heading there now.”

Move. Just get there. Just get to her. Just get to her. Just get to her. Those four words were on repeat in your mind like a chant. You couldn’t stop, not for a red light or anything else, you just kept going until you reached the hospital. You just barely recognized Wes’ mom as stopped you before you could enter the hospital.

“Easy, Y/N, breathe,” how distraught did you look if those were the first words she said to you.

“Tara, how is she?” nothing else mattered at the moment, not the worry in her eyes, not the weight pushing your body down, nothing but getting to Tara. The police would handle the attacker, so you only cared about how Tara was right now.

“She’ll live,” if you were capable of thinking clearly, you’d find it ironic how such a short sentence shook you to your core for the second time in your life. And it was, ironically, the exact opposite of the first time, of the ‘he’s dead’ that broke you all those years ago. At the moment, though, you felt like you were being torn apart and pulled back together at the same time. She’ll live, Judy had told you, the reassurance brought some semblance of clarity to your mind, yet at the same time the simple fact that she needed to clarify that made you feel like you were drowning.

“Y/N, where were you between nine and ten p.m.?” the question barely registered in your mind as you leaned back against the wall and took several deep breaths.

“Work. Woodsbo-Restaurant,” when did your voice become so hoarse? The need to just get inside and find Tara was almost overwhelming but a part of you, the last rational bit of you, managed to keep you rooted to the spot just until Judy told you to get going. Trying to force your way inside would only delay you reaching Tara.

Judy sighed and pulled you into the hospital. “Come on, I’ll take you to her room.”

She guided you through the dark, cold halls, going past the reception and up the stairs to where Tara hopefully was. You were barely aware of the few nurses stopping to look at you, as if surprised by what they were seeing. You didn’t care. None of that mattered at the moment.

You promised you’d do something nice for her and Wes when Tara recovered. Not before that though, you needed to prioritize. And prioritize you did as you walked through the doors to Tara’s room. Your vision became blurry as you looked at her. Still. Pale from blood loss. Attached to medical equipment. You didn’t even realize it when your legs gave out and you crumbled to your knees. All the fighting, all the hits you took, all the times you were struggling to get up, it all paled in comparison to this feeling. The sight in front of you weighed you down so hard you couldn't even struggle to get back up. For the second time in your entire life, you felt like you couldn't move, like nothing could make you move. Tara's steady breathing was the only reason you managed to keep your own breathing steady.

“Tara?” you breathed out, trying to will her to open her eyes and look at you, to show you she’d be fine, but she didn’t. She just laid there, completely still and if it wasn’t for the beeping of her heart rate monitor you were sure you would have gone mad right then and there.

“Y/N!” Judy’s shout felt distant, but you felt her touch on your shoulder.

Your slightly parted mouth closed, jaw clenching so hard you would later wonder how you didn’t crack any of your teeth. In the whirlpool of emotions, you clung to the one that was just arising, anger. “Did you catch whatever did this to her?” the anger burned through your veins. You wanted to hurt whatever did this to her.

“No, whoever did this to her fled. Tara told us it was someone dressed like a Ghostface,” anger turned to wrath. Whatever attacked Tara, that something wearing a damn Ghostface costume, was still out there, free. Oh, you knew violence, and fighting was how you made a living and that was all the difference. You fought in a controlled environment, against a willing and often just as capable opponent, the purpose was to win. Something that attacked Tara was different, the exact opposite, so as tears fell down your face and you clenched your fists a single thought ran through your mind. Ghostface better hope the police catches it.

An irrational part of you thought you should've been there with her. A more rational side argued you haven't spent a night with Tara in the past four months. Another rational argument was that you were at work when the attack happened, so you wouldn't be able to do anything even if you made plans to spend the night at her place. The irrational part argued back that it was supposed to be your day off, so in a perfect world, you would be there to keep her safe.

The world wasn't perfect, but the irrational part of you still kept winning as you got stuck in the loop of what-ifs, regrets, and guilt.

Judy squeezed your shoulder and you looked at her, and she was startled, afraid even, pulling her hand away from you and taking a step back. The pure, unrestrained wrath you felt must have been clear in your eyes. “We’ll catch the one responsible,” Judy promised you as she regained her composure.

You just nodded, getting up from the cold hospital floor and sitting down on the bed next to Tara’s, clearly not willing to leave her side. And Judy understood that, as you vaguely heard her tell some nurses to not even try to separate you from Tara.

For the next twelve hours, the only sound you properly and consistently registered was the heart rate monitor beeping to the rhythm of Tara’s heartbeat. You didn’t speak, you didn’t even look at Tara, you just sat there, hands dangling between your knees and head hung low. The sound calmed you down, it assured you Tara would be fine. It also made you a bit more accepting of doctors and nurses, so when they entered you just observed their every move like a hawk instead of, well, whatever the less appropriate alternative was. Frankly, you weren’t sure what that alternative was, but you knew careful observation was a better option.

A groan shattered the silence and you jumped to your feet only to kind of freeze, not sure of what, if anything, you should do. Tara’s eyes opened slowly and the tension in your body just began fading as her eyes met yours. She blinked a few times, likely confused and still under the effects of the pain killers.

“Y/N,” the sound of her voice, or rather how hoarse it was finally got you to move as you filled a glass of water and helped her take a couple of sips.

“Easy, I got you,” you dropped down to one knee, opting to as gently as you possibly could brush your fingers against the back of her right hand.

Tara looked around, taking in the hospital room she was in, and then her eyes widened, her heart rate sped up, as did her breathing as she frantically looked around for any signs of danger.

“Tara! Tara you’re safe!” you jumped to your feet and cradled her cheek, getting her to look at you. “Okay? You’re safe,” you whispered as her eyes locked with your own, searching for something, anything to cling on to, to anchor herself to and calm down, and she did find it. Her heartbeat gradually normalized as the two of you just remained like that, frozen, with your hand on her cheek, and your left hand gently holding her right hand.

A sob tore through Tara’s throat as she tried to take your hand. “Please, don’t leave me,” she cried out, her eyes filled with fear and yet to be shed tears.

“I won’t. I swear I won’t,” and you’d be damned if you broke that oath. You moved your hand and wiped the tears off her face and Tara, still sobbing, leaned into your touch.

“You promise?” she asked, a bit calmer as she stared into your eyes.

You wanted to hug her, to hold her, to never let her go, but you were afraid you’d hurt her. “I promise. You’re stuck with me until you tell me to leave,” that brought a small smile to Tara’s face and you found yourself smiling back, caressing her cheek.

“Could you help me sit up?” she whispered, still weak, fearful, but reassured that you wouldn’t leave her.

You nodded and carefully moved her. You weren’t absolutely certain about your approach, but you still wrapped your left arm around Tara’s shoulders and gently helped her sit up. Tara leaned back before you could move and rested the back of her head on your left shoulder. You were about to speak but Tara turning her head and looking at you, mere inches away from your face kept your mouth shut. “Let me stay like this for a bit? Please?”

Was it uncomfortable? Definitely. You were sort of leaning back and you could feel your muscles, still somewhat sore from the fight and lack of proper rest, ached a bit as you committed to staying still. Could you make it even more physically uncomfortable? Yes. Would you do it? If Tara let you, you most certainly would. So, you moved your left arm to hug Tara from behind, sort of, it was more like letting your left arm rest beneath her neck to avoid her injuries. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” she closed her eyes, relaxing and just for a moment it felt like everything was fine, like everything was the way it was a few months ago when you would spend countless hours watching movies or shows and Tara would unavoidably end up in your arms. The bubble the two of you created, the illusion of everything being as it should burst the moment Tara accidentally moved her broken leg and winced. “Did they catch him?” she asked, fear and panic once again overtaking her. The heart rate monitor’s beeping getting faster just offered you concrete proof of how much the idea of her attacker not being caught yet affected her.

“Not as far as I know,” and you knew. Despite not leaving the room you did your best to stay informed and as of half an hour ago, there were no news of Ghostface, or anyone really, being caught.

Tara buried her face in the crook of your neck. “I’m so scared Y/N,” she whispered, exhausted to the point of not even having the strength to cry anymore.

“I’m here. I won’t let it hurt you again,” if Tara noticed your refusal to refer to Ghostface as a human being she didn’t comment on it, she just leaned further into your touch. The beeping of the heart rate monitor slowed down, and you felt and heard Tara’s breathing getting even. As exhausted as she was you weren’t surprised, she fell asleep once again.

Tara didn’t tell you to move, or even to let her go, so you didn’t. Aching muscles be damned. That being said, your own exhaustion made it difficult to keep your eyes open and despite the position you were in you still fell asleep for the first time in roughly thirty hours.

~X~

Tara woke up to the smell she came to associate with you, a soft scent that didn’t trigger her asthma, a scent that was quintessentially you, and it felt so right. The feel of your muscular arms around her, keeping her safe, the sound of your breathing near her ear, keeping her calm. Your warmth, your strength, you. For a moment Tara even forgot what happened, but then she raised her left hand and saw the bandages and it all came back.

The knife piercing her flesh, the boot breaking her leg, the pain… The fear. The helplessness! She was all alone and all she could see was that mask, that figure, that knife through her palm. All she could hear was that voice, the security system repeating that her systems were disarmed, the knife going inside her stomach and back. All she could smell was blood, her blood.

She frantically looked around, her eyes wildly looking for any signs of danger, and then, as if you instinctively knew something was wrong you tightened your grip on Tara. Tara’s eyes widened as she turned her head toward you, as she watched your closed eyes, the slight furrow of your brows and a tiny scowl, you clearly weren’t comfortable like this, but she still melted into your touch. The sound of your breathing overtook the sound of Ghostface attacking her. Your warm touch replaced the cold knife. Your scent pushed the scent of blood to the back of Tara’s head. Right then and there you were all Tara could feel.

Tara got her breathing under control, she felt her heartbeat calming down, she relaxed. You were with her. You wouldn’t leave her. You wouldn’t let anyone harm her. You didn’t abandon her, Amber was wrong. Tara now knew that without a doubt. You were here with her, you spent who knows how long watching over her, you did what Amber didn’t. You came when Tara needed you. Despite everything that happened to her, Tara felt safe, you made her feel safe. And she smiled, letting sleep take over once again, at least until a doctor or a nurse came.

~X~

The sleep didn’t last nearly enough to get you back to a hundred percent as not even two hours after you fell asleep you felt fingers brushing against your cheek.

Your entire body felt stiff as a board, and you had to bite back a groan at how uncomfortable you felt right now.

“Y/N, you’ll get stiff like that,” there was a tiny hint of amusement in Tara’s voice, and like the hopelessly in love sucker you were you thought it was completely worth it.

“You think?” you smirked a bit and finally managed to open your eyes and look at her, she was no longer as pale as she was last night, but she still looked tired.

“I sent a text to Amber,” Tara said, making it clear she was awake for some time. Her phone was in her lap, and you definitely didn’t give it to her so someone else was here while you were sleeping.

“Damn, how come I didn’t wake up?” you groaned. So much for keeping her safe, you were so tired you didn’t even wake up until she touched your cheek.

“I do have that effect on you,” and the playful teasing was back, along with a slightly mischievous smile. Good. She was messing with you and for once you would let her do it. Also, well, you couldn’t really deny it, you did have a heavier sleep when Tara was with you.

“Yeah, let me get up before Amber sees those effects you speak of,” alright, maybe you couldn’t completely let her off the hook for teasing you. The beeping sped up again, not by much, but seeing as you were listening to that beeping for half a day you could tell the difference.

“Amber isn’t here,” there wasn’t any anger or any other negative emotion in Tara’s voice, but between her words, the additional acceleration of her heartbeat, and the way she was looking at you, you could understand the unspoken half of that sentence. You were here.

You were with her, as if there was any way you wouldn’t be with her in this situation. And, if allowed, you were going to make sure you remained with her from now on.

A/N: And the reader can cook, because why not. Tara shall get spoiled with good food! Anyway, this is moving a bit slowly, so I’m hoping to make the next chapter longer.

Story Masterlist / Previous part / Next part

#tara carpenter x reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter #scream #jenna ortega x reader #x reader #x female reader

346 notes · View notes

ambersports · 1 minute ago

Text

From the bag to the ring, dominate every round with Champ Fight Gear Alpha Series Boxing Gloves. Durable, breathable, and versatile for all your combat needs. Are you ready to bring the heat?

Shop now at https://ambersports.com/boxing-equipment/boxing-gloves/the-champ-alpha-series-gloves.html

AmberSports #BoxingTraining #AlphaSeries #FightOn #TrainLikeAPro

#amber sports #boxing gear #mma fight gear #boxing #gym #sports #boxing equipments #boxing gloves #workout #muay thai

0 notes

vhstown · 1 year ago

Text

miles g morales ★ general headcanons

warnings: sort of angsty, mentions of his dad's death, money being tight and such 😞

a/n: hi my little piranhas im feeding you today say AHHHHHHHH.... all my random non-relationship miles g thoughts dumped into one! he has 6 lines but less is more right 😁 im okay i promi

Let me just geek out about his non-existent gear functions for a moment 😞 Miles is all about little modifications and improvement so when he messes around with his uncle's gear he decides to make some adjustments to the design and also the functionality. Has his own spin to all of his gear cause a part of him really wants to be like the superheroes he sees in comics with their own sort of persona. But of course it has to be functional so...!

All of his gear is coordinated and he has a mode where he can turn off all the lights for stealth and such! The lights are actually off most of the time but he puts them on to show off mostly or make himself known when he's bored of waiting.

A really cool function would be if he could redirect or offset his lights so when he's fighting in complete darkness he can easily confuse his enemies. Tends to scope out places and mess around with the power supplies — uses the occasional smoke bomb too. He's in his element in dark, maze-like places, which essentially makes Brooklyn his concrete playground.

Scarily good at lockpicking. Has broken into his own house multiple times from forgetting his keys. He can open most doors with simple tools and disable electronic locks with a little work.

Can I just mention his shoes as well... they're like the jumpy shoes from Subway Surfers you can't prove me wrong until the next movie comes out like— Okay no but seriously I imagine he can stick to surfaces and things and maybe they can propell him upwards? You see those glowing lights idk figure it out 😞

Also somebody (I have no idea who but here's the link to the original post) had a headcanon that he'd have a high auditory intelligence, so for a while, he spends time developing a voice modulator. He likely has one anyway to keep his identity a secret, but what he really wants to do is is create a device that can replicate other people's voices.

Because he's good with sound and physics he makes it work in no less than a few weeks. The first voice he tries is his uncle's and he says a bunch of dumbass stuff. (Aaron is a little annoyed but more proud of his nephew than anything.) Eventually it gets to the point where he can calibrate it with a couple clicks since he has such a good ear for frequencies and the like that deceiving villains is no trouble at all.

I think Aaron and Miles would still have that cool uncle and nephew relationship but its also a mentor and student one. While Miles is good at the tech stuff I think he's a pretty lousy fighter at the beginning and Aaron has to teach him a LOT.

Uncle Aaron probably used to fight for sport back in the day (boxing mayhaps? 😁) so a lot of Miles' technique stems from MMA due to its versatility (anything hand-to-hand at least.) Even then, most of the problem is being able to think quick and act quicker, so Miles goes through lots of practical training (so he's being chased by the Sinister Six from day one 😭) It's well worth it though because without the Spider-powers he has a lot of catching up to do.

While training with Aaron he's exposed to a lot of his old records and develops a taste for jazz. He comes to associate certain manoeuvres with the way the music goes, so he tends to hum to himself while casually knocking the wind out of people. His uncle finds it just a little creepy, but again, he's glad to see Miles coming along.

In fact, Aaron is relieved. His nephew had been reserved and was pretty much holed up in his own room for weeks after his dad passed. Of course the passing of Jefferson was hard on Aaron, but Miles has it even harder. Eventually, they decide to paint the mural together, and Miles lets Aaron know what's on his mind. He's always been close to his uncle but especially then spending time roaming the streets, painting, boxing and listening to old records was his lifeline.

Miles figures out his uncle is the Prowler before Aaron even lets him in on it. After seeing how determined his nephew his is, that's when it all started.

But with everything going on in his vigilante life, his normal life is something he has has to be careful not to fall behind on. At the age where college applications are coming up, Miles is driven to the bone with school, despite not actually being there half the time. Still, he's somehow averaging As and the occasional B, easily the top of his class in AP Physics and Calc.

He doesn't try to talk to people in school like he might've before, but he's not antisocial by any means (sometimes his bluntness is mistaken for talking back though 💀)

He's also the type of dude to do homework as soon as the teacher hands it out, because he knows he will not have time later (and to avoid all the night-before crises of freshman year.)

Rio is being pulled thin too, always covering shifts for her colleagues at the hospital just so she can have a little extra pay. She's been saving for Miles' birthday since his last one, always checks his clothes for holes or if they still fit, and makes sure there's something in the microwave if she can't be there for dinner. Rio makes sure he always has everything he needs, even while paying bills and rent. They're not struggling too much, but it's not like they can do whatever they want.

Despite that, they're managing; what she doesn't know is that the sigh of relief she breathes every month is because of him. Miles always makes sure to take care of his belongings, put in any cash he makes from his "part time job" into her account, just doing whatever he can to help. Also, he's become more and more protective of his mom, and he always takes the opportunity to do errands for her, especially when it's getting dark outside.

Miles is actually more paranoid than her when it comes to saving. Even when it's winter, and she tells him to turn on the heating whenever, you best believe he's throwing on his jacket in his own room and firming the cold. It's entirely unnecessary of course, but he can't shake the guilt when he feels the only reason his mom works so hard is because of him. They've moved twice already and there's no way they're moving again, so if the landlord gives them trouble he'll just give them hell (let's just hope it won't come to that.)

Miles learnt how to treat his own injuries from Rio. She taught him basic first aid at the very least, and on a couple of occasions he's tried to learn things himself with the clunky old first aid kit at home. Rio never asks why the stitch on one of their pillows is done with dental floss, and looks strangely like that of a suture (a very bad one at that.)

His Spanish also improved a lot too. After his dad's passing, he met a lot of relatives from his mom's side that he doesn't remember ever seeing before, but it encourages him to learn how to speak better. Long gone are the days of silently observing family drama over the phone — he has to keep up now, and he'll defend his mom cada día de la semana (even if she's somewhat embarrassed by it.) Essentially he's at that level of fluency where he can be rude without being rude 😭 (just saying some of the things his relatives say are NOT helpful.)

With all of this going on in his life, it's no surprise that sleep doesn't come easy. Or maybe it is, considering how much he works his body. Either way, he's left staring at the ceiling or curled up on his side most nights, the untouched toys and collectibles in his room to keep him company. Miles used to sleep at 8pm on the dot and wake up at 6; that was when things were good, and he didn't have his whole universe on his shoulders. All his bed is now is a place to collapse, and close his eyes until it's light outside. Most days, he's exhausted — bone-tired — but the most he gets is a light, forced, uncomfortable sleep. It's one in which he wakes up more tired than he was the night before, but he presses on, getting exercise in during the morning and trying to make breakfast for his mom because he knows a slice of toast is the most she'd bother to have.

And despite all that's changed since his dad has passed, Miles is still a kid. He has a thousand pictures from the time he went to Comic-con, a sketchbook full of drawings he never finishes, meticulously-organised playlists, college applications — all in the midst of a city that's falling apart at the seams as much as he is.

But he's okay, for now. As much as he can be.

"Keep your head up, son."

It's what his dad would've wanted, at the very least.

@phoenixinthefiles @qiupachups

hey 😊 "where's ain't no love part thre—" (GLASS SHATTERING NOISE) (CAT MRYEOWING) (BABY CRYING) (POLICE SIRENS) (WEE WOO WEE WOO)

forget miles IM being pulled thin ... half of this may or may not be projection... schrödingers headcanons anyone 😞 anyways ive been like busy. so . SOON! (lying in 4K)

reblogs appreciated!!! 😘 FIND MY MASTERLIST HERE and urrrr my 42 x reader headcanons here if you're interested ?

#miles g morales #miles gonzalo morales #prowler miles #miles g #42!miles headcanons #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles #42 miles morales #miles 42 #the prowler #atsv headcanons #atsv #across the spiderverse #spiderverse #beyond the spiderverse #vhstown

178 notes · View notes