#leather green sling bag

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Break A Sweat.

Summary: Terry ‘TJ’ Richmond was recommended to you by your brother who is a Marine. He’s now your personal trainer and Krav Maga teacher.

Warnings: SMUT, degradation, nasty talk, rough sex, 18+ content.

This is going to be a two part series. ENJOY!

Terry is a no-nonsense guy. When you’re in his gym, you follow his rules. After all, you’re the one that signed up for self defense one–on–one sessions. The rugged, burly ex-marine, wandering nomad. He’s overly domineering, striking green eyes staring you down unblinking whenever you did something he didn’t like.

“Your form is wrong…I thought we discussed this? Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart and your toes pointed slightly outward…”

“One more set. Let’s go. No days off. You want it? You gotta get it at all costs…”

“If you find yourself in a scary situation and need to defend yourself, you’ll be at a huge advantage if you know exactly how best to react to your opponent — whether or not your moves are fair.”

“You have to become the attacker and defender simultaneously…NOW STRIKE!”

Your older brother recommended Terry Richmond to you when you finally decided to crack down and focus on your overall health and well–being. Although you loved your generous curves, life and longevity were more important. It’s absolutely nothing wrong with being a bountiful beauty and work up a sweat.

Terry held your ankles as you finished your last rep. Your last set of ten. Sweat dripped from every inch of your dark skin. Every muscle was screaming at you. Angry. Your body was angry. You let out one final huff and sat up, slinging your arms over your knees. Terry patted your back.

“Halfway there.” He said, looking down at you as he stood above you.

his chiseled body with biceps the size of your head, shoulders wide enough to emphasize the narrowness of his waist, and veins crawling up his limbs even when the muscles weren’t flexed. He was a mean looking man, like a first impression recruit in the military that’s both respected and feared. Whatever he got into during his days training was truly nothing you’d want to take part in.

To add insult to injury, from the first session within his home gym, you regretted it. Terry didn’t care if it was your first time lifting a dumbbell or using the stair master, when you’re in his gym, you go hard. No ifs, ands, or buts. And that pissed you off. So irritatingly bad.

On a cloudy afternoon, you park your all black Lexus ES within his driveway. Killing the ignition, you relax into the soft leather of your seat, wary eyes glancing at the two car garage. One side of the garage was his home gym. The place you dreaded entering.

Terry’s home is an impressive single–family with a spectacular country setting with quick access to everything. You slowly open the car door, pink and green Hoka sneakers touching concrete. You push yourself up from your seat, large breasts touching your chin because of the sports bra you wore. The warm breeze caused the stray curls that had fallen from your high puff to graze the back of your neck.

Shutting the car door, you ease towards your trunk, skin tight athletic leggings almost giving you a wedgy. You adjust yourself before clicking the button for your trunk on your key fob. It popped open smoothly, revealing your Puma gym bag.

As you grab it, Terry Richmond situated himself within the doorframe of his home, bulging biceps folded over his defined pecs. You catch his eye and quickly avert your gaze because of its intensity.

“How you doin’ Y/N?” Terry greeted.

“I’m doing fine, Terry. Everything good?”

“Yeah. Good to see you still showed up. Thought I’d scared you off.” Terry said.

You glance up at Terry standing on his top steps with his hands on his hips. You do a quick sweep of his body, taking in the way the berry–red tank top he wore molded into his upper body and the thigh–hugging black shorts outlined his crotch and his ass. He had no decorum when it came down to his attire during your sessions and it was distracting to say the least.

“I don’t give up easily,” You respond, trying your hardest to appear confident.

“I’ll be the judge of that. Today you just might…”

He clapped his hands, drawing your attention to how large they are. Anticipation and excitement gnawed at your belly. He was going to touch you with those hands again. It was only the second time, but the sensation would feel like the first time all over again. 

“I’m still recovering from day one. My thighs are burning.” You admit with a nervous smile.

“That’s what comes with the discipline. Have you been stretching?”

Your lips remain sealed. Terry tilts his head at you and with a slight chuckle, he makes a slow descent towards you. The closer he gets, the more you recognize the way his skin appeared bronze from the sun. You focus on his face, his green eyes commanding attention.

“What did I tell you about that, huh? It’s important and unavoidable. You have to stretch frequently, otherwise you’ll end up with stiff joints.”

“I know. I’ll do better.”

“Will you?” Terry countered.

“Yes.”

“So, you know that adds an extra thirty minutes to your session today, right?”

You fight the urge to groan.

“No time to waste then. Let’s get to it.”

Terry leads the way towards his garage. It opens, revealing a well–equipped home gym. You both step inside, the garage door slowly closing behind you. Terry motioned for you to come over and sit your things down.

“How’s work coming along?” Terry asked.

You place your bag against the wall, crouching down to open it with a hiss from the pain in your thighs.

“It’s going. Been putting in overtime.” You replied.

“I’m sure you have a loaded schedule, being a mom and all.” Terry said, waiting patiently for you to finish. He stood with his hands folded over his crotch.

“You learn to adjust, no choice anyway,” You stand, fitting your weight lifting gloves over your fingers, “Can’t complain though, I love my baby girl.”

“What’s her name again?”

“Aria.”

“Pretty. How old is she?”

“She’s four.”

“Wow. I bet she gives you a run for your money,” Terry chuckled.

“Oh yeah. All the time,” You laugh, “So, what now, Mr. Richmond?”

Terry smirked at you, “Stretching. Go ‘head and kick off your shoes. We’ll hit the mat for about thirty minutes before we jump into our basic moves.”

Terry walked away, giving you time to kick your sneakers off. He turns on some music and makes his way over to the thick floor mats situated in front of wall–length mirrors. You join him, stopping in front of him.

“Okay, down on your back.”

You settle on your butt and then relax back until your head touched the mat. Once again, you can’t avoid Terry’s body above you. He lowered to his knees at your feet.

“We’ll start with the hold–relax technique.”

Without warning, Terry straddles your left thigh and instructed for you to elevate your right leg with your foot in the air. Your eyes blinked slowly while staring up at the ceiling, but your body reacted to Terry’s hand on your knee and the other on the heel of your sock–covered foot. Your body hummed with desire. Something you couldn’t control. And if you so much as lift your left knee, you would brush across his crotch. The little voice in the back of your mind told you to do it and see how he’d react, but you ultimately restrained yourself from being too bold. This was a passive pre–stretch, held at a point of mild discomfort for about ten seconds.

“Ready on three. One…two…three—”

You count down ten seconds in your head, still keeping your eyes glued to the ceiling of the garage.

“Good, good,” Terry tapped your knee with his hand, “Think you can go again before we do the next part?”

“Uh–huh,” You replied with a weak laugh.

You brace yourself, palms flat against the mat. Terry does it again and you count down, the aching muscles in your thighs struggling to hold on.

“Well done. Nearly there,” Terry shifted his hips over your left leg, drawing in closer, “Y/N?”

Your gaze snapped down to meet his. You wish you hadn’t. He looked good from that angle. The thin, gold rope chain around his neck dangling in your face. His hazel–green eyes blinking at you, that lush mouth with pink lips and a pink tongue looking inviting—

“Ouch!”

Terry applied a hip flexion force. You squeeze your eyes shut and roll your lips inward tightly.

“Hold and don’t let me move the leg.” Terry ordered.

You hold and resist the movement so that isometric muscle action occurs. After six seconds, Terry allowed you to relax. He slowly lowered your leg and you couldn’t control the tremors, thigh meat jiggling involuntarily. He repeats the same stretch to your left.

“Still with me? That was light work,” Terry chuckled at your death glare, “Hate me now?”

“Very close to hating you,” You giggle but quickly stop because of the pain, “Is the thirty minutes up already?”

“Not even close,” up on his knee, Terry placed his right hip between your legs and his hands around the knee of the target leg, “Let’s do some inner thigh stretching. I’ll start with this leg first…”

Both legs bent comfortably with your feet on the mat, Terry pressed your right leg outward against the resistance and only goes so far as you can resist the movement. You exhale rapidly, the pain so severe that you’re unable to take even, slow breaths.

“You gotta relax for me, Y/N—”

“I can’t do this—”

Terry cuts you off, “Stop saying what you CAN’T DO. Trust me, your body is more than capable. RELAX. Ten more seconds…”

Bastard.

“Three, two, one, okay…”

You sigh, leg quivering. Startled, your right leg jerked from Terry caressing your inner thigh. You lock eyes with him, face growing hot with arousal. He may not have been aware of how this was turning you on, but the throb of your clit told you so.

“One more on this side and then we’ll do the left.”

You roll your eyes, “Terry, this is hard…”

“Bet you’ll stretch more now.”

You bite your tongue. Terry gave you another minute and then he was stretching the right leg again. Shaky breaths escaped your mouth. Terry gently placed your right leg down after thirty seconds and turned towards your left. You close your eyes and turn your head to the side, staring at the mirrors. Your eyes admire the thin material of his shorts spread over his ass. It was enough to distract you from the pain. Just a little. Every major and minor muscle in his body was defined. You were in the presence of an Adonis.

“Are you still with me?”

You blink away from the mirror and nod your head with a smile.

“Okay. One more…”

After the final stretch, Terry allowed you to stand and take a break. He offered you some water and you drink a generous amount. Terry did the same, pacing back and forth with his eyes on you.

He recapped his water, “We’ll do upper body next.”

“Do I have a choice?”

Terry tucked his chin and looked at you with a sly smirk, “I think you know the answer to that question.”

After a few minutes you were on your back again. Terry dropped to his knees above your head and motioned for you to raise your arms. He instructed for you to interlace your hands and keep your legs bent comfortably. Terry leaned over your head and brought your arms upward toward him. Your eyes look up and you’re staring directly between his legs and at his crotch…

“We’ll hold until you can’t anymore. Ten reps…”

“Okay…”

Terry stares down into your eyes. You look back, aware that your cleavage is touching your chin. He blinks away and down the length of your body before bringing your arms down. The closer he gets, the more you can smell almondy tonka bean and citrus wafting from the space between his legs and it caused the hairs on your arms to stand up.

You raise your hands a little too quickly and you almost hit him in the face. Terry’s head swiveled out of the way and he laughed, although you felt embarrassed. It was his fault, but you weren’t going to tell him that.

“I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay. That’s why I lead and you follow.” He spoke evenly with a half smile, “Don’t get too carried away now…”

Your dick smells nice and I want to bury my face between your legs.

“Breathe, almost done, okay?”

“How many reps do I have left, I sort of checked out.”

Terry chuckles, “Three more, Y/N.”

——

Days stretched into weeks.

In neutral stance, she waits for further instructions.

When Y/N exercises, Terry watches her shine like a freshly washed car in the morning light. He moves forward once she’s still, fighting the urge to run his fingers down her arms just like the mirror in his bathroom after a hot shower, always slick with condensation.

The closer he gets, the more he could smell her sweat, a mixture of musk and the deodorant she wore. He grew accustomed to her scent from heavy exertion, craved it the more he’d spent time with her. Terry stopped, staring down at her with domineering eyes. She looked adorable with her serious eyes and look of determination. Her legs are shoulder-width apart and her arms hung by her sides. This position replicates how you would stand when you are unaware of an attack.

Terry circled her body, stopping directly behind her. He didn’t warn her when his large body pressed against her back and his arms pulled her into a bear hug from behind. He pinned her arms to her body, Y/N automatically fighting to break free. Her movements almost knocked both of them off balance, but she was still unable to defend herself from Terry’s tight grip.

“What did I teach you, huh?” Terry spoke between breaths, “drop your weight…drop your weight, Y/N.”

Her ass continued to collide with Terry’s groin. He clenched his jaw to stop himself from grunting. All that plushness within his embrace is exactly what he loved. His type of woman.

Keep it professional.

She dropped her weight with a fast squat. In a wide stance, Y/N shifted her hips sideways to strike his groin with her palm. Y/N lunged forward and elbowed Terry’s stomach before escaping. None of her blows were damaging, but it was enough to free her. Terry watched as Y/N cheered, throwing her arms up and hopping up and down. She was wearing an athletic halter top in hot pink with matching shorts. Her curly fro was frizzy from sweating, some strands falling into her eyes.

Terry couldn’t ignore the bounce of her breasts and the pretty smile on her round face.

“Finally! It took me forever to get that one!” Y/N spoke excitedly.

“You did good. With more practice, you’ll be able to fight me off in no time.” Terry replied.

He gave Y/N two thumbs up before giving her a high–five with both hands. Y/N bent over and braced herself on her knees, trying to steady her breath. Terry grabbed a towel and wiped sweat from his face. Y/N’s pendulous breasts teased his eyes again. The sheen on her cleavage from her sweat made his mouth water.

“What next?”

Terry sat the towel down and pulled his gaze away from her titties just in time for Y/N to look up at him.

“Look at you, so eager,” Terry arched a brow at her, “Where did this energy come from, hm?”

“I’m already on ten, I need an outlet.” Y/N admitted.

“Mind if I ask why?”

Y/N took a seat on a bench. Terry watched her face as stress lines appeared.

“Aria’s father. Just co–parenting issues.” She revealed.

Terry nodded his head in understanding. He didn’t press her to dig deeper, so he gave her some space to calm down before they continued. He’d wondered about Aria’s father and whether or not he and Y/N were still together.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

“I am,” Y/N stood, “Let’s finish this.”

They fell back into training some basic Krav Maga moves. Terry grabbed a kick shield so that Y/N could practice kicks. She was getting better since incorporating more mobility stretching.

“There you go! Get that leg up higher!”

“Umph,” Y/N struck the bag with her left foot.

“That was weak,” Terry pushed back, causing Y/N to lose her footing, “what type of kick…”

“Really?” Y/N threw her leg up and with all her strength she hit the shield, “How was that?!”

Terry rocked back on his heels. He looked at Y/N with an unblinking stare as sweat rolled down her face. She tried catching her breath, chest rising and falling faster than usual.

“BETTER,” Terry taunted her by shoving her with the kick shield to provoke her, “But not IMPRESSIVE.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes at Terry. Her angry face was so freaking cute. Anything she did was cute to him. Just adorable and fun-sized.

“When will you give me my props, Terry? I’ve been going hard for nearly a month!” Y/N argued.

“When you stop doubting yourself and seeking validation with every little step then maybe I’ll ease up.” Terry fired back.

“You’re insufferable!” Y/N charged him, throwing messy jabs and kicks while Terry held up the shield, “YOU. MAKE. ME. SICK.”

“I make you WHAT?” Terry said, towering over her.

Y/N planted her foot so hard into the shield that she rocked Terry’s equilibrium. He dropped the bag at the same time as Y/N went to kick again, not realizing he’d done so. Terry grabbed her ankle with a vice grip. Y/N hopped on one foot, breath hitching and eyes wide like she’d been spooked.

“Pay attention.”

Terry let go of her ankle and Y/N stood there with shock.

“That kick is what I needed from you. That’s how you do it.” Terry said.

Y/N wiped sweat from her chin and gave Terry a small smile. He returned the smile, one hand reaching out to give her shoulder a squeeze.

“I push you because I see the best in you and I know you can do it,” Terry counted off on his fingers, “Vigilance, empowerment, good instincts, freedom. You gain all those things. It’s important that you take this seriously and you take my training seriously.”

“I understand.” Y/N responded with a sigh.

“But?” Terry bowed his head to stare down at her.

Y/N fidgeted with her short, acrylic french tips. Terry waited for her to find the words to say whatever was on her mind. His fingers itched to tilt her chin up and look him in the eye. When she finally stared up at him through her lashes, Terry held her gaze.

“I want to impress you. I seek validation because I want to make you proud, Terry.” Y/N admitted with a small voice.

Her thoughtful words warmed his heart and his eyes. His gaze softened as he watched her pretty brown eyes drop to his chest then down to her hands again. Terry’s hands grasp her shoulders. He leaned in and tilted his head to meet her gaze.

“I am proud of you, Y/N. You’ve impressed me with how easily you learn and grow. I just want you to embrace the challenges with a confidence boost.”

“Thank you,” Y/N replied with a bashful laugh, “I’m sorry I kirked out on you.”

“No need to apologize,” Terry straightened his back, “Just don’t let it happen again.”

Y/N parted her lips to speak but no words came out.

——

You pull up to your brother’s rancher, parking behind his pick–up truck. The sound of children playing filtered from behind the home, carrying you there and past the iron gate. You catch a glimpse of your daughter and her multi–colored braids swaying as she ran to kick a soccer ball. Her cousin who’s slightly older than her, Madison, ran behind her with a big smile and pig tails falling into her eyes.

You stop to watch with a smirk as your daughter kicks the ball, missing the goal as it rolled in the grass. Madison took the lead and sped past Aria, aiming for the opposite goal. Aria started having a temper tantrum, stomping her little feet and scrunching her face. Madison kicked the soccer ball into the goal and it collided with the net.

“I did it! I did it!” Madison cheered.

Aria glowered at her older cousin. You make your way over to her, Aria noticing you and her frown turned into a big, toothy grin. She ran the rest of the way towards you, wrapping her tiny arms around your neck. You squeeze her, pressing your nose into her hair that smelled of argan oil.

“Mommy! Mommy!”

“Hi my baby,” you kiss her temple, “How’s my little princess?”

“Good,” Aria kissed your cheek, “We painted in school today! I have a picture for you!”

“Ahhh! Really?! Oh my goodness. I bet it’s a masterpiece.” You spoke excitedly with bright eyes.

“It can go on the fridge next to the flowers I colored.” Aria babbled as she formed words.

You grab Aria’s hand, “It can. We have plenty of room.”

Madison walks over with her soccer ball in hand and you pull her into a hug before kissing the top of her hair.

“How’s my niece? Did you win your game today?”

“Yes! You should have seen me out there!”

Madison showed you a move that won them the game.

“I already knew you were gonna win!” You replied boisterously.

The sound of a glass door sliding open caught your ear. Out walked your older brother; James. He wore a pair of faded dark blue jeans and a black T-shirt. The glasses over his eyes made him look articulate. He’d shaved his head completely bald since his hairline started receding, but it suited him. James could pull off any hairstyle.

“Hey, hey!”

“ ‘Sup sis?”

James gives you a one arm hug and a kiss to your hairline.

“Thanks for picking up Aria. My session ran a little late today.”

“All good. You know I got you.”

You follow your brother into the house. Aria ran off to grab her things and Madison followed behind. You open the fridge and grab yourself some homemade iced tea. James was in the middle of thawing out some steaks for dinner. You glance at the family photos on his fridge before walking away.

“Where’s Jr?” You question.

“In that room playing the game.”

“Tonya’s at work today?”

James nods his head while reaching inside of his pantry for some potatoes, “She’s been working longer shifts at the hospital lately. She finally got a weekend off. Been planning it for Madison’s birthday for months now. I have everything taken care of so she can ease her mind.”

“That’s good to hear. You know I’m here to help if you need me, bro,” You take a sip of your tea, “I’m still making my potato salad and seafood salad.”

“Damn right you are! shid, before momma passed she put you in charge of that!” James replied with a laugh following.

“Like you can’t do it.”

“I’m on grill duty! You want my famous ribs don’t you?!”

“Shut up,” You sit your cup down on the kitchen island and stretch your arms above your head, wincing in pain, “I can’t wait to go home and take a hot bath in epsom salt.”

“Terry been workin’ you hard, huh?”

“Too hard. Treating me like I’m one of his cadets.” You complain.

“Stop it, Aria! It’s mine!”

“Hey! What I tell ya’ll about that bickering? Pipe it down!” James chastised.

“Aria! Behave!” You say, “These little girls…”

“Terry knows his shit, baby sis. He’ll get you right in no time.” James replied.

“I know he does.”

James started peeling potatoes.

“I see a change in you for sure.”

“I feel it too…feel like I’m getting back to myself.” You reveal.

Aria came dashing out from Madison’s room with her back pack and tablet in one hand. You check to make sure she had everything before saying farewell to your brother and niece.

“Drive safely, sis. Love you Ari,” James gives Aria and you a goodbye hug, “I’ll see ya’ll this Saturday. Shoot me a text when you make it in.”

“Will do! Love ya’ll.”

You hug Madison and make your way outside, locking the door behind you.

——

Terry handed you a jump rope and you gave him a bizzare look. His serious face with steadfast eyes was enough for you to take the rope from his hand. He watched you turn your back towards him and toss the rope over your head while holding both sides.

“Forty–five seconds.” Terry set a timer, “Go.”

He was soaked with sweat from his earlier workout. He figured he’d take a shower after his session with you. The front of his olive green tank top held a large stain of sweat. His face glistened beneath the lights and the tattoos on his arms popped from the perspiration leaking from his pours.

Terry watched you jump, short, plump legs pushing off of the gym mat. You wore a teal blue workout set. A skort with a matching bralette. The bralette had a keyhole style in the front, giving a peek of cleavage. Your feet in white sneakers tripped over the rope causing you to stumble. Terry paused the timer.

“I suck at jump rope, Terry.” She admitted with a tired exhale.

“You were doing well. Give me a full forty–five seconds and I’ll let you rest.”

You perked up at the mention of rest, big brown eyes that reminded him of hot cocoa on a winter night twinkling.

“Still gotta do glutes and hamstrings, Y/N.”

The brightness of your gaze dimmed.

“Let’s go.” Terry commanded.

You take a deep breath before positioning yourself again. Terry set the timer and you went back to jumping, face scrunched in discomfort and sweat flickering from your body with each move. Terry licked his lips as he paced, taking his arms and folding them over his sturdy chest. You catch his eye in the mirror for a second before squeezing them shut from the intense burn.

“Terry—”

“Ten more seconds. Hold on.” Terry reassured.

His deep voice and the sternness of it motivated you. The timer beeped and you stopped, tossing the jump rope to the floor and resting your hands on your hips while you attempt to calm your racing heart and uneven breaths.

“GOOD JOB.” Terry encouraged with a thunderous clap of his hands.

You nod your head. Terry walked up towards you and placed a hand on your back, rubbing it. He could feel the tension in your muscles loosening beneath his callused hands. Terry took that moment to embrace the sensation of your skin. Silky smooth. Blemish free. Soft. His eyes did a quick sweep of the tattoo teasing him on your lower back. It looked like a butterfly.

“Rest time…”

Terry dropped his hand. He hadn’t realized he was rubbing your back the entire time. Lost in the sensation of your delicate skin.

You settle on a bench and grab your water jug. Terry turned the music down and joined you with his own water. You both sat in silence for a moment until Terry turned his body at an angle to get a better look at you. Your curly hair had that freshly fucked look to it. Wild coils tightly wound from shrinkage. He could smell the shea butter. You glance up at him bashfully before your eyes focused on the bottle in your hand.

He made you nervous. More so during moments like this. When everything was still. He wanted to pick your brain, learn more about you.

“Any plans this weekend?”

She looked at him again, “Saturday. My niece has a birthday party.”

“Ah, James told me about that.” Terry revealed with a smirk.

“…you’re coming?”

Terry caught the thrill in her question. She wanted him there. He scratched the side of his face with his thumb to fight the urge to smile at that revelation.

“I planned to,” Terry licked his lips, “Support a friend and eat some good food, ya know?”

She laughed, “That’s sweet of you,” she nudged him with her elbow, “I’m making potato and seafood salad. The best in town.”

“Seafood salad is a favorite of mine. I gotta see that for myself.” Terry replied with playful banter.

She picked up a towel to dab sweat away from her face and chest. Terry’s eyes did a slow descent to her chest, his mouth watering and tongue aching to taste. He looked away and shut his eyes for a moment.

“I can’t wait to make you eat your words, Terry Richmond.”

“Not the whole government.” Terry chuckled.

“Because I don’t play about my seafood salad. When I say it’s the best, I mean it!”

You swatted his arm with your towel. Terry caught it with his hand and with a slight tug he pulled you closer. You gasp, the sound shooting straight to his semi–hard dick. Terry brought his face closer to yours, eyes locked on to your dilated pupils.

“Aht, aht…play nice. Save that energy for sparring, baby girl.”

He released the towel and it dropped to the floor. You quickly avert your gaze before bending over to grab it. At that moment, Terry’s hazel eyes studied that lower back tattoo. It was a butterfly indeed. Cute.

And is that…back dimples?

“Do we really have to lift today?”

The pout on your lip made him smile.

“YES. Better get on it now so we both can relax, right?”

You groan and take your time standing from the bench. Terry set up the squat rack while you drink a little bit more water. You make your way over and he instructs for you to get into position. Back facing him, he guided the safely squat bar over your shoulders.

“Alight, three sets of twenty.”

Still behind you, Terry counts as you squat. Your stance is perfect and so was that big ass poking out at him. Bending over like that made that ass bigger. Terry tried to focus on anything else, but no matter how many times he counted, you were distracting him. He looked down at the bulge beneath his grey shorts and how noticeable it is.

I’m in trouble, he thought.

“Last one.” Terry said.

You struggle to lift so Terry grabbed a hold of your waist to ease you back up. The moment your ass grazed his print you created space between you both. A look of embarrassment crossed your face and Terry was too stunned to speak.

“That was my fault—”

“No I was too close—”

“I was only trying to help—”

“I should have stepped away—”

Both of you pause. Neither of you could let the other speak first. Terry blinked slowly at you. You stared up at him with your lips parted. An unspoken glance at his crotch made it acutely aware of his stiffness. There was no denying it. Not when his dick sat fat and twisted to the side. It almost poked out the leg opening of his shorts.

“Uhm…”

Terry just stared at you.

“What’s happening right now?” She spoke.

Terry glanced sideways and then back into your eyes. At this point, might as well come out with it.

“No reason to skirt around the obvious…”

You fidget with your hands and shift your weight. Terry cocked his head and his gaze remained locked on you. Unyielding.

There goes your scent again. That musk. He was losing control. The silence was killing him. If you weren’t going to speak he sure was.

“Aight, Y/N. If you haven’t already guessed by now, I like you. A LOT.”

Terry cut to the quick.

You nod your head slowly. Unsure if what was happening was real.

“What happened,” Terry’s hands raised as he tried to explain himself, “I didn’t mean to…to get close…but I’ve wanted to…for weeks now. No sense in boiling it down to excuses.”

Terry got closer. You blink up at him like you were stuck in a trance.

“Can I get some feedback here?” Terry cracked a smile as he studied your face, “I don’t know what you’re feelin’.”

He could see that you were struggling to find the words to speak. Terry’s hands touched your arms and he stroked your tacky skin with his thumbs. A shaky exhale escaped your mouth. Pretty brown eyes filled with uncertainty met his gaze.

“I…I’m feeling the same…” She spoke softly.

“Do you?” Terry asked.

“I do. I just didn’t expect…”

Terry’s hands fell to his sides. You reach up and touch the spot where his hands once were.

“Didn’t expect me to be interested?”

“Yeah.”

Terry smirked, “Now, what would make you think that? Because you’re beyond beautiful.”

Your mouth dropped open.

“I’m James’ sister.” Y/N replied with a small voice.

Terry furrowed his brows.

“Uh…what that mean, Y/N?”

“It means I’m off limits! Right?”

“Who the fuck made that rule?” Terry replied with a slight curl of his upper lip.

“Nobody—”

“Y/N, you feel the same, right?”

“Yes,” her eyes flickered with confusion.

“So fuck it.” Terry spoke confidently with a slight hint of mischief.

You laugh nervously.

“For real.” Terry said.

——

What had just occurred?

You stand before your trainer, eyes wide and mouth open. Your fine ass trainer just admitted to having feelings for you and all you could do is stand there like a deer in headlights?

His dick is hard because of you. His beautiful eyes admired you with romantic intensity. He didn’t care what your brother thought. He wanted you. Something straight out of a book. This was a chance encounter with a man that checked off all your boxes, even though he worked your last nerve in the gym.

“For real.” He said.

This was a grown man talking. Apparently he’d been silent long enough. It took for your ass to tap his dick for the truth to emerge. Funny how that happens. Your stomach fluttered with excitement. Terry titled your head up to look at him. Your eyes danced between each other. He stroked your chin with his thumb.

“You’re so pretty.”

“Thank you,” you replied, “so are you—I mean—what I was trying to say—what I meant to say was—”

Terry chuckled, “Y/N, shut up.”

“Huh? Excuse me—”

His thick lips graced yours. He shut you up alright. Stunned, you rock back on unsteady feet. Terry’s hands circle your plush waist and he took control, walking you backwards towards the mirrored wall. Your back against it, immediately his tongue slipped into your mouth and you mold your hands against his chest, falling onto the kiss with your own tongue.

You could taste his sweat. His tongue glided over yours like a wet tentacle. It made your breath hitch and your fingernails drag down his chest. The hands on your hips planted against the mirror, trapping you while he devoured your mouth with his skillful tongue and pliant lips. Sandalwood, tarragon, and spearmint. That’s what you could smell. Woody, earthy, and with an animalistic undertone.

His tongue swiped your lower lip with a hungry growl and his large hands cupped your round face to keep you in place. He guided your movements how he wanted, your fingers trembling as they smoothed over his shoulders and down to his hips. Broad upper body gracefully narrowing down to a tapered waist much like the letter ‘V’. The coveted shape that symbolized the pinnacle of physical attractiveness. You’d never seen him shirtless, and you desperately needed to.

Lips puffy from kissing, Terry gave you a moment to breathe properly while his mouth explored your neck. He pressed kisses against your sweaty skin and the tip of his tongue stroked upward until he was latching onto your earlobe decorated with a diamond Tiffany stud. Terry’s hands were everywhere. He kneaded your curves desperately, palming your ass and hips. He did it so forcefully that you were almost lifted from the floor.

“I…need…you…” he spoke with a hushed tone.

Your breath hitches, “Take me…” you replied barely above a whisper.

Terry unlatched his head from the crease of your neck to lock eyes with you. His eyes were low and sleepy–like. As if he were intoxicated from you.

“Take you? Oh…don’t say that if you ain’t ready. I’ll take that ass to the moon. Have you seeing the fuckin’ galaxy.”

“Terry…”

His brows snapped together and his tongue sat in the corner of his mouth. He hooked his fingers beneath the straps to your bralette and with a tug he made your breasts bounce. Repeatedly.

“Big ass titties…fat titties…just how I like it…”

You couldn’t believe how he was talking to you. Terry let go of your straps and they snapped in place with a slight sting. He cupped your breasts from the sides and mushed them up. You watch with a weak gaze as he fondled like he was kneading dough.

“I want my…”

He paused.

“Your what, Terry?”

“Intrusive thoughts…you just make me weak, girl…”

This big, strong man?

“Tell me…”

Terry looked at you.

“I want my dick sandwiched between these.”

You knew that’s what he was going to say but you wanted to hear him say it. And you loved the way he said it so desperately. Like he was begging you.

“Can I see you?”

He bent down and pecked your cleavage through the keyhole of your bralette. You moan from the tickle of his lips. Glancing down you couldn’t believe your eyes. Terry was past the point of hard. You didn’t know what to categorize his dick at that moment. That long dick pitched a tent in his shorts. You’d never seen it like that before.

“Yes, yes,” you touch his tip with your fingers, “Terry, oh my god…”

Terry fit his long fingers beneath your bralette and with a hard tug he released your hanging breasts. They bounced free and Terry didn’t waste time grabbing both and pointing your hard nipples straight at his mouth. You couldn’t look away if you tried. He suckled your breasts and looked you in the eyes. Large body hunched forward to feast.

“Oh my gosh,” you had no choice but to look at him, “Terry, please don’t stop.”

This can’t be happening right now. He’s sucking and licking your nipples. Terry pressed his face between and his tongue wiggled while he used your breasts like earmuffs. You whimpered, overwhelmed with how much he enjoyed your breasts. His tongue licked all over your areolas, cleaning the sweat from your skin.

“FUCK.”

Terry resurfaced and twirled your nipples. He sought out your lips again while he tugged and pinched and rolled your nipples between his fingers.

“You gon’ make me unleash this beast and fuck the shit outta you girl.”

He was talking his shit. You didn’t have the capacity to do so at the moment. He was thumbing your nipples and it made your clit jump. Wet and tingly between your legs, you SO FUCKING NEEDED him to do that with your pussy but wait—

“C’mere…”

Terry turned you around abruptly and with a hand on your spine he pushed you forward. Your hands connected with the mirror and he locked eyes with your reflection.

“Move that ass up and down on this tip. Three sets of twenty.” Terry ordered, “COUNT.”

Hand in your hair, one on your waist, you start to move your hips up and down. Your ass brushed his tip and you could feel it poke your pussy lips from behind each time you went up.

“Six…seven…eight…”

“Feel that burn?”

“Yesss…eleven…twelve…”

“Get used to that…”

His hand on your waist reached around to squeeze your stomach.

“Keep going, I ain’t tell you to stop.”

“Nineteen…twenty…”

You were clenching around nothing. Pussy flutters out of control.

“Two more. If you keep it up I’ll stick my tongue in it just like this before I feed you this dick…”

His deep baritone sent chills throughout your body. You feel sweat dripping from every inch of your skin the more you moved with a slow motion. Your glutes burned and your thighs quaked. Terry released your hair and right before your eyes he lifted his shirt to rest under his chin.

Good GOD.

Thick ridges of muscle. Shining like he’d been oiled down. This man had eleven percent body fat. Disciplined. Sculpted. Holy SHIT.

“T–ten…eleven…”

“Good girl…not too much longer…”

He’s the epitome of sexy. Whatever control this man had he definitely didn’t give a damn now. With one more slow whine, Terry was on you like white on rice. He had a wet spot over his tip and his breaths came out uneven and rushed as he led you over to a pair of UFC pull up rings.

“Grab each one and bend over…”

“Terry, wait…”

You knew what he wanted but you were musty from working out. He popped you on the ass for moving too slow.

“NOW.” He spoke evenly and firmly.

You grab onto the rings and without warning Terry was tugging on your skort until it fell around your ankles. You stood there in a pair of panties and they were soaked with sweat and your arousal. Your frantic eyes sought out his. Terry gave you a smirk before using one hand to remove your panties. You step out of them and watch with shock as he admired the creamy essence on the crotch of your panties. Terry thumbed it and spread it over his fingers like he was inspecting it before sucking it off.

Those panties found a new home in his pocket. You watch stunned as he takes off his sweaty T-shirt and it joined your bottoms on the floor. Terry stood behind you with a bare chest and a gold chain. He used a single finger to trace down your back and between your ass cheeks. You nibble on your bottom lip to control the quivering.

“Bend that ass over for me, love.”

——

A wide ass and a back with rolls of delicious flesh.

Pendulums known as your breasts swaying from your postiton.

The way you looked back at him like you couldn’t find the words to describe how much you NEED his tongue in you.

And Terry was going to put his tongue so far up that fat pussy to the point of dislocating his jaw.

His tastebuds sizzled with gluttony to taste more. Creamy pussy with that twang that had him primal.

He got down on his knees behind your short frame and spread your cheeks. Two holes met his piercing eyes. Pink flesh with a creamy center beckoned him and without pause his tongue wiggled between hungrily.

“UNH!”

You hang your head and stand on your tip toes. Swaying forward, Terry followed your movements. When it got out of control, he’d pop your ass to keep you still.

“Fuck this shit,” He locked your thighs with his biceps.

He sucked and slurped so cruelly. Like he was punishing you for moving. Vanquished, you slump forward and from your blurry vision you could see a stream of spit drip to the floor. He was slobbering all over your folds.

“Oh, fuck,” your arms began to shake and burn, “I can’t hold it.”

Terry released your clit with a deep exhale that fanned your pussy with hot air, “Fuck my face.”

With a weak whimper, you pop your juicy pussy on his mouth. Terry’s wild tongue and thick lips had you experiencing an out of body sensation.

“Fuck, you’re eating the fuck outta my pussy!”

He got closer with one hand on the floor and he angled his head to eat it from a different direction. He was all up in your pussy and at this point you didn’t care if you weren’t showered he wanted it he could have it.

“You taste…exactly how…I pictured you would…”

He spoke between licks and sucks.

“Sweet and strong…the best thing next to my momma’s cooking…good pussy…”

You moan in response.

“So tasty…feed me…”

You fight back a groan and rock back on his fine ass face. Your back muscles burned deliciously. In the mirror you could see your ass moving like a tidal wave.

“Right there…oh, yes,” you moan.

“Mhm…mhmmmm…hmm…mhmm?” he hummed into your pussy.

There it was, sneaking up on you.

“I’m cummin’ I’M CUMMIN’!” You squeal with broken moans.

Terry sucked you up and you caught a slight cramp in your calf muscle from how drastically your body convulses. A total body vibration. He gave you soft kisses all over your pussy and that only increased the overstimulation. Terry finally came up for air and you locked eyes with him. His face was glossy and stained with cum. He helped you stand and with his hands he massaged your stiff shoulders and arms. You could smell the pungent pheromones on his lips. Leaning in, Terry caught your tongue between his lips and sucked. While kissing, you stroked his impressive length through his shorts.

“I ain’t scared you off yet, did I?” Terry asked.

“No.” You respond with a dazed look.

“You sure? Because,” Terry gripped your wrist firm and slipped it past the waist band of his shorts and compression briefs, “This what you gettin’.”

You were too late with masking your gasp. It just slipped past your lips. Your chubby fingers couldn’t form a complete ring around his girth.

“Still ain’t scared?”

Terry guided you to stroke him. The veins beneath the palm of your hand rendered you speechless. Big? No this was a behemoth. And you weren’t exaggerating about never having a dick this big. It was completely true.

“You can be honest with me.” Terry said with a grin.

“…definitely bigger than what I’m used to.”

“I think we can both agree you’ve proven that you can take whatever I dish out…”

Terry kept his eyes on you but the hand on yours in his shorts tightened. He wanted you to feel how stiff he is. Like he could withstand anything. All of this was for you. He was like this because of you.

“It’s time to take care of this.”

You drop to your knees and stare up at him. The visual before your eyes…

Shorts past his hips and resting around his thighs, you come face to face with a monster. The body matched the dick. You could pat yourself on the back for your skills but this was another hurdle to overcome. But, you had to remind yourself that you gave birth which is a challenge indeed, so sucking a big dick should be a breeze, right?

It’s a pretty dick. Darker in contrast to the rest of his body. Terry gave your hair a slight tug to focus you on the task. You hold that big motherfucker at the base and with hungry lips you wrap them around his tip and start sucking.

““Dasssit, suck that mothafucka,” Terry grabbed a fistful of tight coils, “I get to play with your mouth. Good. Eyes up here.”

You look up at him while sucking half and jerking the rest. Sunken in cheeks and a bob of your head was his visual. Terry extended his neck and started moving his hips to meet your mouth as you came down over him. He’s so thick in your mouth. You shut your eyes and suck and slurp, loud noises a reminder of how sloppy it’s supposed to be. Spit clung to your chin and made its way to your breasts in such a short time.

“Suck it like that,” Terry’s hips would jerk a little to pump into your mouth while his hand pet the back of your head, “Good girls like you get a dick in the mouth. You see this dick?” Terry pulled your mouth off of him by gripping your hair, “It’s your Daddy dick, right?”

“Y-yes,” You were horny, pussy soaked, reaching out to stroke him. 

“Cute ass. Stick your tongue out.”

You do as your told and Terry slapped his dick on it a few times before forcing more of him down your throat.

“Hold it. Just like that…been daydreaming of fillin’ these jaws with this dick…”

You gag and pinch your thumb to help control the urge to gag again. Terry wanted you messy and he did just that with the way his dick going in and out of your mouth produced more spit.

“Hands behind your back, mhm…big titty, pretty lady…”

His pubic hair tickled your nose and it smelled powdery and fresh despite the amount of sweat on his body. The taste of his pre-cum was enough for you to tongue his slit. Terry tilted his head down at you with a look akin to defeat.

“Uuuuuhhhhnnnnn, FFFFUCCCKIIIIN SLUT—”

You weren’t prepared for that brazen performance and the vulgar tone. Terry’s free hand made a fist that pumped the veins in his arm. You could see his balls jump with his release down your throat and it was magical. His cum tasted delicious and you savored every drop. After wiping away as much as you could, Terry helped you to your feet and thanked you with a sloppy kiss. He pressed his forehead against yours before his lips attacked your jaw.

——

You’re in his bedroom. A master bedroom with a king size bed, walk–in closet, a lounge area, and a large bathroom. Terry carried you all the way to his room with his tongue in your mouth and his hands cuffing your ass. He picked you up like you were feather weight.

Now, strong hands gripped your hips tightly. You can’t run from the pain and pleasure. Too much to handle at once. Nonsense spewing from your lips, you squeeze your eyes shut but the tears disobeyed you. You’ve never been this filled and fucked at the same time. He put you in position and fit that dig in despite your cries. The mantra of being stretched just fueled him. With the little strength you could muster, you try to ease off of his big dick but his hands smoothed up to your waist and with a shove your right cheek planted hard against the comforter.

“what I say ‘bout all that runnin’?” Terry barked out.

“I’m sorry!” You cry.

Without another word, he went back to fucking the shit out of you. while your spine is curling to shy away from him, his big hips clapped against your ass while you’re crawling closer easing closer to the headboard. Your trembling fingers fisted the sheets, trying your best to ease some of that pressure, that stretch, that split. His big hands smooth over the rippling flesh of your backside, squeezing on it like two handles, yanking you back where he wants you. The feeling of his tip hitting the bottom of your pussy caused hot tears to prick the corners of your eyes.

“Can’t run from me baby, remember? I train you to do. what. I. say…”

His thrusts were punctuated.

“When I tell you to do something you fuckin’ do it,” he murmurs, tongue deviously tracing his bottom lip because that pussy is his meal.

“Terrrryyyyyyyy….”

Terry allowed his hips to do all the work while he grabbed one of your ankles. Your pussy recoiled back onto raw dick. Your pathetic squeaks get shoved out of you with every plunge, riding through the burn as your pussy responded to the harsh treatment with a flood of more cream, wetting his entry just like he wants.

“That’s it, baby girl, cream like that, good girl,” Terry observes in awe, mouth dropping open and brows pinched together tightly, “Fffuck…mmm.”

You were making a creamy ring at the base of his dick, stringing in his dark pubic hair. So much slick and so much more pleasure. So intense it surged a heat so powerful all over your skin. Sweat poured from both of your bodies.

“Mmm, damn girl,” Terry hums, teeth marking the space past his lower lip as he bites down on it hard.

That clamp on your ass cheeks constricts and you know from his grip alone it’ll leave bruises, whimpering brokenly into the mattress.

“Ter–Terry…” You release an airy sigh of defeat.

“Tell me what you want, use that mouth of yours, you do any other time, right?!” He teases through a husky exhale, tipping his head back as he looks down at that pussy slurping him up making the nastiest sounds.

“I want to cum! Please–Please D–Daddy!”

You were so close. And you were afraid how intense it would be. The knot in your belly tightened and your body seized up out of your control.

“Cum on this dick!”

His deep voice through clenched teeth caused you to erupt liked you’d never done before. And Terry didn’t stop. He fucked you through your orgasm. And now, you were squirting.

“Open up, nah, wet this dick up.”

He continued to fuck you long dick style. Your titties smacked together from the force and once again another orgasm was on the horizon.

“Fuckin’ this pussy up just like you deserve.”

This man was plowing you.

“Ohmigooooddddddd—”

Clapclapclapclap

“OH!”

Terry’s hips slowed to a stop but that dick remained deep as he kissed along your spine.

“I’m so open,” you couldn’t believe it.

Terry eased himself out and the sensation made your back arch. He palmed a hefty, cellulite–filled cheek and jiggled it.

“Yeah, she open alright,” Terry admired his work while fisting his messy dick, “Time to climb on top though. I want that weight on my dick.”

Terry crawled onto the bed and you sat up on your knees, watching him settle on his back. Terry motioned for you to swing a thigh over and when you did he pointed his tip at you pussy and with both hands on your ass and his biceps curled beneath your knees, Terry entered you with an upward thrust.

“Look at me…”

You look down past your breasts and belly and the man beneath you smiled at you like he didn’t just fuck your brains out. What he did next shocked you. This man used you like a barbell and did arm curls over that dick. Two hundred plus pounds being handled on the dick.

And it was loud. Skin slapping bouncing off the walls while he bounced you in his lap. His arms circled your waist and it forced your breast to rest on his forehead. He fucked up into your pussy so good you could only pout your lip and give in. But he was talking. Terry was talking.

“Tell daddy where he’s at…you know I like it when you do that baby…uh-huh…all up in this pussy, huh? Been wanting me to fuck you? Now you get to feel this dick in your stomach…that’s it, my big girl…fuck back like a big girl…”

He had that ass gyrating. Your mouth unhinged and at the same time his balls clapped your ass you nutted on that dick again.

His stamina is out of this world. You were seeing shooting stars and the milky way behind your lids. Terry was drenched from head to toe and now he had you folded like origami with his hands on the back of your thighs to keep you locked in place and his toes digging into the mattress. Like a piston he fed your pussy more dick with his chain hanging over your face. Your feet were on his shoulders and your breasts sat up and out for him to suck on. He had a hand on your belly now and all you could do was watch him fuck you.

“You know this my puss, right?”

“It is!” You shout.

He withdrew his hips and put his lips on your pussy again.

“Terry SHIT!”

This man was too much. You could hardly see him past your big titties but he latched onto your clit and sucked. Your toes curled in opposite directions while your hands tangled in the sheets. Speaking of the sheets, they were soaked through.

He kissed your clit and sat up to look at you. You stare down at him before falling back against the pillow. Terry crawled up next to you and settled behind you. He lifted your leg and entered you from the side.

“This is probably the best session you’ve had so far, Y/N,” Terry thumbed your clit while staring down at you, “I’m not your average nigga. If you wanna keep fuckin’ on this dick you gotta keep up with me…”

You stare down between your legs at his big dick.

“Terry,” you lock eyes with him as best you could, “Terry, I’m your slut, I’m your fat pussy slut, this your wet pussy!”

He turned you out.

“That’s right, baby, know that shit!”

The amount of clapping your ass was doing could amplify a stadium. This Carolina boy had you dumbstruck. Terry reached around and cupped your fupa and put his leg up to dig deeper.

“Ohhh, ooooo, you finna’ have me paint your walls…you thick, pretty bitch…”

He cupped your chin, turned your head, and smashed his lips into yours. All while fucking you. Your sweat mingled and the smell of sex permeated the air. Him calling you a bitch had your walls gripping him up. Terry buried his face into your neck, one hand on your titty, the other on your stomach.

“I’m fuckin’ nutting in you DEEP—”

“Yes!” You cry out.

One thick leg in the air Terry gave you a finale that knocked the wind out of you. He pumped to the point of headboard banging and then hot, jizz filled you up to the brim. He would give you quick pumps while he was still buried deep. He released a huff when his dick slipped out. You push his cum out and Terry watched with lustful eyes while fingering your mixture of fluids.

“My kinda woman,” Terry smiled at you with his hand cupping your pussy.

You giggle, “Oh, Terry Richmond. You’re full of surprises.

“And you’re full of my cum.” Terry whispered.

[simp-ly-writes]

Favourite Face

─────── · · A 'Day of the Jackal' (TV series) FanFic

Pairing: Alexander "Jackal" Duggan x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: A former MI6 agent now on a mission for survival, you use your expertise as a weapons engineer, masquerader, and manipulator in order to take on illegal missions. After a close call on your most recent mission, you stumble into the hotel room of a fellow assassin... the last person you would expect to see.

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, depictions of blood, mentions of guns and violence, fighting, usage of pet-names (ex. love, sweetheart, etc) swearing, light angst.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 2,195

─ · · A/N: thank you to @calmowl2407 for this incredible ask! I had so much fun writing it that I hope you all enjoy reading it just as much. As always, your interact helps me to know what to write!

─────── · ·

Summer | Middle-of-Nowhere, Germany | 13:01 PM

A red Alfa Romeo Spider drove down bending and twisting country roads before they turned to dirt and gravel. The roof was open, your hair blowing away in the wind from underneath your sunhat. The sun was warm against your skin as you changed gears and parked the car behind a wall of trees before grabbing your leather bag from the boot of the car and slinging it over your shoulder.

With a slam and a beep, the car lights dimmed and you trekked through the rocky terrain before entering an opening in the trees, a small pond sat in the middle, a pair of ducks swimming and ruffling their feathers in the shallow waters as you knelt down behind a fallen tree and zipped open your gear.

A few cicadas hummed in your ears as your forrest green pants became brown at the knees from the wet earth. The bottom of your designer boots ruined but you couldn't find it in yourself to wince, knowing how easy it would be to just buy a new pair when you arrived back to your hotel room.

Taking off your sun glasses, allowing them to hang from the unbuttoned portion of your creme shirt before sorting through the bag, you pulled out various 3D printed pieces of a medium-distance rifle and laid them out atop the log.

Attaching the grip to the slide with a satisfying click, you twisted on the barrel and flicked back the safety on the gun before lifting it up to look down the sights and pulled back the trigger. You could hear the scream of the bullet and the muffled bag ringing through your bones as you brought the handle back to your chest, observing your skewed shot with a grunt.

Flicking the safety back on, you pulled out a roll of leather that held your tools all nicely in a line as you tinkered with the finishes that matched the diagram floating through your head. Standing up and reading yourself for another shot, your squinted your eyes to a branch threatening to fall before taking aim, flicking back the safety, and firing... bullseye.

The branch crashed, the ducks from earlier taking upwards and into the clear blue skies as the cranked your head to the side, pondering for a moment before tucking the empty gun into the back waist of your pants.

You grabbed and built the remainder of the weapons you wanted to test this afternoon ahead of your biggest mission yet in Munich. You never would have thought this to be your future, setting up an illegal firing range and testing not-to-code weaponry in the middle of a field in Germany but you were left with little choices as your husband divorced you, your family not wanting anything to do you- and it seemed that MI6 had the same thoughts. Abandoning you in the Middle East back in the early two thousands.

You work with a silent rage, eye twitching as you remember calling out from your microphone only to receive a soft apology from your handler, and then nothing... left stranded in the middle of a desert.

You remember stripping yourself of your badges, your gear, and only carrying what food and water your could carry with a small handgun hidden beneath your ripped shirt. You let your past self die in that desert, stealing from house to house, and hitchhiking, pleading and acting like your were some kidnapped tourist.

You could only scoff once reading the headlines of your platoon being "dead" when you hacked into their servers a few weeks later as you started taking on private work. The document read that you, weapons engineer and expert were "missing" and consequently, all your brothers and sisters had all died from a failed mission and planted IED. But you knew the truth... They left me out there to die. And ever since then, you worked for only yourself, and not even your morals- whatever it takes, you reminded yourself, firing off shot after shot, sweat dripping off your temples and soaking into your shirt, whatever it takes.

─────── · ·

Meanwhile in Munich, Germany...

Alexander sat on the couch within his hotel room, all the blinds closed, stopping the daylight from entering the room besides a few strands coming from the gaps, casting horizontal lines across his form.

He wore a simple tan linen suit to account for the warming temperatures, a handkerchief wrapped around his neck for an added flair. A pair of tasteful leather loafers on his feet to match his belt, his hair combed back into subtle waves as he squinted at the laptop screen, reading over a report he had requested from an old contact that read:

"Callsign: Veil. Known for having "many-faces;" master of disguise, manipulation, and seduction. Ex-military weapons engineer and weapons expert. Presumed Dead: Cause of Death: IED."

Alexander scoffed after reading that last sentence, he knew you to be alive, saw it himself when he too was running through the desert after killing his own team, leaving only his spotter alive to survive alongside side him. Duggan needed you, your expertise and abilities if he was to succeed on this next mission, one that could potentially set him up for life...

He was obsessed with finding you for weeks up until today, stalking any minuscule fault you made. Dressing up as cleaning staff and butlers to get even a potential glimpse of one of your many faces as he pinned-pointed and tracked each identity you used. And how did, the Jackal, know these people to be you? One may ask... well, the Jackal smiled to himself, finger tracing over your covered face as you cosplayed as lawyer within the airport footage. A suitcase in your hand that he smirked at before looking at his matching one, knowing the work to be your own that his current employer gifted him.

You two had worked alongside one another many years ago when you both were in training and served.

CHAT ROOM OPENED:

"$*^4^78&" said: 2005, Platoon 274, Palm Hotel. Trust. Business Opportunity.

Now all that was left to do... was wait. Something that the Jackal was exceptional at, but when it came to you, he could be described as most anxious for those who had the pleasure of viewing it beneath the five layers of coldness he hardened his features into.

─────── · ·

Munich, Germany | 7:48 PM

Your newest weaponry had worked beautifully, seven clear shots all placed right between the eyes as you walked through the crowd of running and screaming museum goers from the charity event as best as you could in your nine-inch heels.

Your deep blue silk dress carrying after you as the cold night air kissed the skin of your leg through the slit. The shawl you wore covered the wound you sustained when pushed onto a pile of glass shards. You held a panicked face, looking around as you followed the various officers yelling out directions and walked back to a nearby hotel room, the staff offering their condolences and not even taking a second look as you stepped into the elevator and broke into a random room on one of the upper floors you thought to be empty thanks to the cleaning cart blocking the doorway.

And the room was barren, blinds down and not a single item used or removed, perfect. Locking the door behind yourself, you flicked on the bathroom light and began removing parts of your prosthetic cheek "implants" and lips. The wig you wore discarded as you washed your face clean and felt around for a hand towel. Fingertips gracing the soft material you pressed it to your face, make-up smearing onto the white before looking up through the foggy mirror to find another standing just beside you, meeting your eyes through the reflection.

Instantly you hook your foot around their ankle yet feeling themself falling they pull your arm down with them as you both crash onto the tiled for. You make no reaction, watching as the mans face slams against the marble as you hike your leg over his waist and press your hands around his neck. He grabs your hips tightly, trying to throw you off as he starts to cough yet you squeeze your thighs tighter together as he curses and groans before pushing to the side- rolling you underneath him as he pins your hands above your head with a glare.

Mascara dripped down your eyes, lipstick smeared and cheeks warming, you spit at his face only for him to wipe it off with a cheeky grin by the back of his suit. "Civilized aren't you?" the man belittles you as you scoff in return.

"Let go of me," you do not plead yet demand, baring your teeth, eyes sharp as he leans down closer to your face. "Are you willing to talk?"

"Depends, you'll have to let go first to see," you counter, trying to blow the hair out of your face as they reach down to tuck it behind your ear- you shiver in disgust. "And why would I do that, knowing someone like yourself?" He tilts his head slightly, eyes searching your own, awaiting your response with sick eagerness that makes you feel sick to your stomach.

"And just who am I?" you ask, giving him an equal stare as you feel the grip on your wrists slightly loosening but before you can move, he places more of his bodyweight atop you, keeping you in place.

"Veil," he says as if an obvious thing like the weather, "weapons-smith, master engineer, ex-MI6..." he rattles off your resume off-the-top of his head as you furrow your brows, they must have been- or are a high officer, you think to yourself, knowing your files to still be accessible to a degree but what shocks you to your core is his next words, "...and 2005, Platoon 274, Palm Hotel, it's been quite the show, watching you, and is an equal delight seeing you this close." You shiver.

For once in your life, you are greatly disturbed, stopping all your sudden movements as you take in his appearance, trying to analyze and pick apart his image before he takes your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "Now, I'm going to ask again. Are you going to behave if I let go? Or must I strap you to a chair for your own wellbeing?"

You let out a deep sigh before batting your eyelashes and putting on a soft smile, "You know, I don't remember the last time I had a man on me. I wouldn't mind staying like this," you tease, offering a small giggle. Alexander hums, "Is that so, well then let us get comfortable..."

With every play you put on, he follows along, casting the line that much further from the shore. A competition of play happens between the two of you, switching between characters, accents and languages. Breaths becoming ragged before he lets you go.

You lie there for a minute, trying to catch your breath before looking up at him and taking his extended hand. Feeling a bit dizzy, you wobble in your shoes as Alexander stabilizes you, leading you towards the couch as you settle yourself, carefully observing his every movement as he pulls a suitcase you instantly recognize to be a work of your own.

Feeling your stare he calls from over his shoulder, "I am a man in awe of your talents." And in that moment a memory flickers over your vision, a young man with dusty hair and sun-kissed cheeks. Camouflage prints running up muscled arms and legs- you shake your head awake. Squinting at the man before you as he stands, suitcase in hands looking down at you.

"Cat got your tongue- hm?" the graduate of your sniping school year presses. "fuck you, Alex," is all you can spit out as you sort thought the onslaught of thoughts as your hands rip the luggage from his hands.

Alex takes a seat beside you, arm casting over the back of the couch, fingers just barley touching your shoulder as you tinker and fix the weaponry before you. You feel his stare as you silently work, dropping a screw by his next carefully chosen words, "good to see you again, (first/name) (last/name). My favourite face of them all."

You glare down at the screw, working your hands around the furnishings to fish it out before carrying on as if nothing happened. "How would you feel about a business opportunity?" You pause your work once more with a huff, annoyance growing as your shoulders rise and you cast a glare his direction.

"I'll stop here if you are not going to pay me for my work here-"

"Not even a deal for an old friend-"

"Alexander" you growl out his name, hating the way he smiles every time you say his name.

"Yes, you'll get payed for this busywork and for a new job, if you'll take it."

"What is it?"

"How does a quarter of a billion sound?"

"Perfect."

─────── · ·

─ · · JACKAL TAGLIST: @swiftietevitdrewjew @groovyponypatrollamp

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Where Will All The Martyrs Go [Chapter 3: The Ones Who Died Without A Name]

Series summary: In the midst of the zombie apocalypse, both you and Aemond (and your respective travel companions) find yourselves headed for the West Coast. It’s the 2024 version of the Oregon Trail, but with less dysentery and more undead antagonists. Watch out for snakes! 😉🐍

Series warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, med school Aemond, character deaths, nature, drinking, smoking, drugs, Adventures With Aegon, pregnancy and childbirth, the U.S. Navy, road trip vibes, Jace is here unfortunately.

Series title is a lyric from: “Letterbomb” by Green Day.

Chapter title is a lyric from: “Holiday” by Green Day.

Word count: 6.1k

💜 All my writing can be found HERE! 💜

Let me know if you’d like to be added to the taglist 🥰

The Tahoe runs out of gas just west of Ashland, Ohio, coasting to a stop along the shoulder of State Route 96, sapphire skies and cotton ball cumulus clouds, emerald fields of Swiss chard and beets slowly being nibbled bare by deer and rabbits, the inheritors of an abandoned earth.

“Well, that’s it,” Baela says, offhand, blasé, as if it’s not a disaster. You’ve sorted this out, it didn’t take long: there are people who aren’t allowed to panic. If they do, it’ll be like a dam crumbling, and the flood will burst through to drown everything, like when Noah’s wrathful God decided it was time for the world to start over. Baela can’t panic. Aemond can’t panic. And maybe you can’t either. Rio gives you a skeptical look—Are we really about to walk to Oregon?—and you slap his thigh encouragingly as you climb over him and out of the Tahoe.

“Everyone gets a gun,” Aemond says as he starts distributing them: Rugers for Rhaena, Baela, and Helaena (although she winces as she obediently takes the revolver, immediately tucking it away into her burlap messenger bag), .22s for Daeron and Aegon, Remington 12 gauges for Jace and Rio, who gives you his M9. You’re better with it anyway. Aemond’s Glock 20 is in a handmade leather holster he took from the cellar of the house back in Distant, Pennsylvania. Luke, still a potential zombie, will not be armed; but Aemond slings the strap of a .22 over his own shoulder for in case Luke recovers.

“Safeties on, right kids?” Rio goes down the line checking everyone’s gun. “Remember what we practiced, use your sights, don’t go pointing the barrel at anyone unless you’re okay with blowing a hole in them. The noise is risky, but getting bit is worse, so use your best judgment.”

“I don’t have any of that,” Aegon says, grinning.

Rio grabs Aegon’s sunburned face roughly and smacks a kiss onto his cheek. “I know, Honey Bun. Don’t you worry. Stick close and I’ll do your thinking for you.”

You spy it up the road a ways on the right, half-obscured by tree limbs: a white and orange sign, a logo shaped like a diamond. “Oh my God. It’s a Stewart’s.”

“A what?” Aemond asks, squinting at the sign. It’s late afternoon, and soon the sun will be sinking into the west like a drowning man through deep water, and like all prey animals you are restless without the promise of shelter.

“A Stewart’s Root Beer. They used to sell hot dogs and barbeque and all these neat soda flavors like key lime and black cherry. We had one where I grew up. That was the fancy place. You knew it was a good day if you ended up at Stewart’s for dinner.”

Aemond considers you, that subtle ceaseless curiosity. “We can stay the night there.”

“I thought we didn’t want to waste any daylight, Aemond,” Jace jabs as he helps Luke—miserable but presently human—out of the Tahoe. “That’s what you said when I wanted to check out that Barnes & Noble, Aemond.”

“What the hell do you need books for?” Aegon says. He’s grabbing clear CD cases out of the center console of the Tahoe. He pounds on the eject button and then punches the CD player when he realizes he won’t be getting that particular disk back. “Oh, you bitch! I had Shakira on there!”

“I would like to preserve my ability to read at higher than a fifth-grade level. I wouldn’t expect you to understand. I was going to work for Sullivan & Cromwell, you know.”

“And now you’re a jobless loser just like me. Isn’t life funny?”

“You can’t be serious,” Baela says to Aegon, his arms full of CD cases. “You’re going to carry all those to California? You don’t even have a way to listen to them.”

“I’m not leaving my mixtapes.” Aegon shoves them into a U.S. Army backpack he found at Fort Indiantown Gap and then hoists it onto his back with a grunt.

Aemond tells Jace: “We only have a few hours until the sun starts going down. We don’t know what’s up ahead. We should take advantage of a safe place to sleep if it’s available. Getting caught out in the open after dark is the worst case scenario.”

“Whatever, Aemond. It’s your call. Everything is your fucking call.” Then Jace plods out into a field of rabbit-ravaged Swiss chard to relieve himself semi-privately, his back to the Tahoe.

“Hey, Chips Ahoy,” Aegon says, taking the folded-up map out of the pocket of his shorts, mint green plaid. “Want to tell me if there are any nuclear power plants near our route so we can steer clear of them and not get irradiated?”

“Uh, well, I don’t exactly have them all memorized…” You examine the map, hoping the black-ink cities will jog your memory, trivia you catalogued years ago, snippets you’ve heard from your fellow seamen. “Perry’s in Cleveland. We won’t be anywhere near that one. Fermi is up by Detroit.” You hesitate as your fingertips skate past Chicago. “Braidwood, LaSalle, and Byron are someplace between Chicago and Peoria, but I’m not sure where. And then there are a few others around the border of Illinois and Iowa. West of that, I don’t know. Rio?”

“Cooper’s in Nebraska, dead east of Lincoln. That’s all I got.”

Aegon is nodding, making notes on his map with a glittery forest green gel pen. “Cool, cool. If I don’t end up eaten or a zombie, I can look forward to being a sterile, glow-in-the-dark mutant.”

Luke frets: “What if we accidentally drink contaminated water or something?”

“Then you die an agonizing death, kiddo,” Rio says. “Your cells dissolve and you turn into human Jello and there’s nothing anybody can do about it.”

Luke swallows noisily. “Awesome.”

“You might just get cancer if the dose is small enough,” you tell him. Luke does not seem pacified. Rhaena gives him a sip of warm Coca-Cola from a plastic bottle from the Wawa.

Jace comes trudging back to the road, zipping up his khaki chino shorts. “Alright, are we ready?”

Helaena is gazing solemnly out over the fields of green leaves, red roots that grow like arteries into the soil. “We should try to find antivenom.”

“Antivenom?” Aemond asks, distracted as he makes sure nothing of importance was left in the Tahoe. The keys are still dangling from the ignition; you won’t need them. There’s no breathing the Tahoe back to life. There’s no returning to Aemond’s house back in Boston. There is only the West, beckoning you to cross rivers and plains and mountains to join her, and to do it as people did two hundred years ago, no cars, no phones, no escape hatches. The only way out is through.

“For the snakes,” Helaena says.

Aemond stares at her. The stitches in his face are dissolving as the flesh weaves back together, jagged maroon scar tissue, beautiful savage ruins, landscapes of improbable survival. “Helaena, antivenom has to be refrigerated. Even if we miraculously found some, it wouldn’t be useable.”

She nods, eyes wide and glazed, still peering into the fields, into the earth.

~~~~~~~~~~

A hand brushing the loose strands of hair out of your face, a whisper through the dissipating indigo of sleep: “Guess what today is.”

You startle awake and yelp as you bolt from your assailant. Aegon is watching you without any shame whatsoever. People are laughing as they gather up supplies so you all can get moving again, brushing teeth, arranging hair, drinking glass bottles of Stewart’s soda found last night in crates in the storeroom, snacking on bags of Utz chips. Sunlight is streaming in through the windows; specks of dust glimmer in the air like comets through the inhospitable void of outer space.

Luke says from where he is sitting on the floor, his arms and legs tethered: “Hopefully the day when somebody’s going to untie me.”

“It’s my birthday!” Aegon announces.

You’re still blinking at him, disoriented. “What…?”

“Aegon, I told you,” Aemond says, sipping a bottle of Stewart’s key lime soda. “It’s not your birthday. It’s not the 23rd.”

“It’s the 20th, right?” Rhaena says.

Rio looks to you, bewildered. “Isn’t it like the 25th?”

“We’re still in June?” Luke says. Now Aemond is hacking through his ropes with a hunting knife from the cellar in Distant, Pennsylvania.

“Your hand is healing up. Your color is good, your temperature is normal. I guess we can officially declare you human for the foreseeable future.”

“I knew it,” Jace says, combative so no one will see the desperate relief underneath.

Aemond examines your hands next, calloused over where the heat of the transmission tower burned the skin. There is no pretext for needing to tend to them any longer, no antiseptic or ointment or gauze. Aemond nods somberly at your palms, as if he isn’t entirely happy to pronounce them cured. His hands linger on yours for slow, unnecessary seconds.

“So what are we going to do special for my birthday?” Aegon presses eagerly.

“We’re going to walk between ten and twenty miles towards California,” Baela says.

“That’s not a birthday activity!”

Daeron groans as he inspects the screws and bolts of his compound bow. “Aegon, it’s not your birthday!”

“Shut up. You can’t even apply to get a credit card.”

“No one can get a credit card now! Currency is worthless!”

Rio offers you a cherries and cream soda. You take it and say: “Aegon, how old are you? On today, your alleged birthday?”

He hesitates. “That’s not the important part.”

Aemond smiles as he tells you, mock-whispering: “He’s thirty.”

“Thirty?!” Rio exclaims. “That’s like, an actual adult age. Marriage and a mortgage, shit like that. What were you doing before everything went insane?”

Aegon gestures vaguely. “I was considering a number of opportunities.”

“He was living on my couch,” Aemond says.

Rio shakes his head, grinning. “No job? No school? No nothing?”

“I wasn’t doing nothing. I played a lot of golf.”

“He was totally doing nothing,” Jace says. “I was in my third year of law school at Harvard, Baela was getting a master’s in Aeronautics and Astronautics at MIT, Rhaena just started an Anthropology PhD, Luke was getting a master’s in Screenwriting at Boston University—he was going to be very sad and very broke, but still, he had a plan—and Aegon was doing…nothing.”

“I’ve never had a real birthday party before,” Aegon tells you; and there is something in his murky blue eyes that is tremendously sad, wounded, childlike. “I might not get another chance.”

“What do you want to do?” Now people are alarmed, skittish glances and mouths open to object. You are encouraging him.

“I don’t know yet,” Aegon says. But he’s glad you bothered to ask. You can see it on his face.

It’s not until several hours later—after noon, the sun high and blazing, everyone’s unpracticed feet aching and blistering in their shoes—that Aegon experiences a revelation like the angel Gabriel appearing to the Virgin Mary or Sir Isaac Newton extrapolating gravity from an apple falling on his head. Aegon’s epiphany appears in the form of a bowling alley in Shenandoah, Ohio called Luxury Lanes. It is remarkably unluxurious, a nondescript black rectangular building with a few doors in the front, one small tinted window on each, and no other openings. To Aegon, it is an oasis in a desert.

“I want to go bowling!”

“Aegon, we’re not going bowling,” Baela says, breathing heavily but trying to hide it, her hands massaging the small of her back. Aemond is watching her worriedly. Baela is the only person not burdened with carrying any supplies beyond her hammer and shiny new Ruger—and she resisted this accommodation at first—but still, she suffers more than anyone.

“Once again, it is my birthday—”

“Aren’t bowling allies soundproofed?” Rio asks Aemond. “You know, so they don’t get noise complaints?”

“Uh, I guess so…?”

“It’s kind of a fortress, isn’t it?” Rio continues. “Not many ways in or out. We wouldn’t be seen or heard. Might be a good place to stop for the night. ”

“Yeah!” Aegon says. “Right, Aemond?”

Aemond looks at you. It takes you a moment to figure out why. “I think the bowling alley is a good idea,” you tell him. “It’ll be safe, assuming we can clear it. And Aegon can have his party.”

Aemond is skeptical. “A party?”

“Survival isn’t just about not dying. It’s also about holding onto the things that make us human.”

“Like bowling!” Rhaena says excitedly. “It’s preserving a tradition! And I used to be so good at bowling. I bowled a 250 game once.”

“I have no idea what that means,” Aegon says, still delighted to have her on his side.

“There’s a sign for a Walmart maybe half a mile up the road,” Daeron points out. “We could search it for supplies and then double back here.”

Aemond polls the audience. Everyone agrees.

Shenandoah is tiny, rural, religious, and out of the way from the major highways. The Walmart doors are chained shut with padlocks, and amazingly no one has taken that as an invitation to drive their car through them or otherwise shatter the glass yet. Rio is honored to be the first. He takes the butt of his Remington shotgun and punches through the glass of the locked doors, kicks away loose shards, whistles and shouts to lure out any zombies. A dozen of them come reeling out of the aisles and towards the doorway. Daeron shoots down most of them with his compound bow. Rio kills two with the butt of his Remington, his new favorite toy. Aegon, the birthday boy, uses his golf club to beat in the skull of a teenager who is still wearing glittery pink nail polish and fake eyelashes. According to her nametag, her friends and family once called her Raelynn.

Inside the Walmart, Jace and Aemond take one side of the store, you and Rio the other, doing a quick sweep to make sure you didn’t miss any undead employees or customers waiting for the chance to sink their teeth into you. And when that’s done, you begin shopping.

The shelves are probably two-thirds empty, but there are still treasures to be found. You push carts through the aisles and fill them with candles, lighters, Chef Boyardee, Doritos, canned soup, fruit snacks, tuna pouches, 5 gum, bottles of Snapple, socks and underwear, hair ties, t-shirts and shorts, Kleenex tissues, pads and tampons, toilet paper. Baela finds some cute maternity dresses. Helaena picks through the pharmacy for useful medications, Aemond shadowing her with a baseball bat in his hands and his Glock at his waist.

“Chips, they got Cheddar Whales!” Rio exclaims, tossing several boxes into your cart.

“I miss grocery stores,” Rhaena says as she climbs the shelves to get the last box of Teddy Grahams.

“I miss going to the mall and getting Auntie Anne’s pretzel nuggets,” Aegon commiserates. Then he stumbles upon the liquor aisle and his eyes light up like high beams. “Aemond!”

Aemond appears—perhaps a bit flustered—and deliberates for a while as he browses the selection, Aegon waiting anxiously, before he decides: “Since it is allegedly your birthday, you can drink tonight. And you can pick one other person to drink with you. But only one.”

“Rio,” Aegon says immediately.

“Come on!” Daeron whines.

Aegon is already putting bottles of Captain Morgan rum into a cart. “Sorry. Illegal. Underage.”

“I’ve helped you butcher countless zombies, but I can’t drink?!”

“Just Say No, as Nancy Reagan would tell an innocent child such as yourself.”

Jace strides over, sly and playful, gnawing on a Twizzler. “Aemond, were you over there rummaging through the medicine aisles again? What do you keep looking for? Condoms?”

There is an awkward silence, an extremely awkward silence. Aemond glares at Jace. Jace’s eyes go wide.

“Oh, I, uh…I was definitely joking. But…congrats on the possible future sex!”

“I already checked,” Luke tells Aemond apologetically. “You know condoms were the first thing to get bought up or looted everywhere.”

“Okay, great,” Aemond says quickly, willing the conversation to be over. There is blood, hot and mortified, flaring in his cheeks. He was thinking of you, he had to be; the only other single woman here is his sister, and obviously that’s not an option.

Jace takes another bite of his Twizzler. “Just pull out, man.”

Baela, incredulous, gestures to her belly. “Because that worked out super well for us.”

“I told you to stop riding me!”

“Yeah, a whole two seconds before you impregnated me with your super-swimmer Michael Phelps sperm.”

“Please don’t make me listen to this,” Luke begs. “I’m starting to wish I really was bitten.”

“Don’t you know all the tricks to not getting someone pregnant, Aemond?” Jace says. “Wasn’t that going to be your specialty? You wanted to be a vagina doctor? So don’t you know all the mysteries of the vagina, Aemond?”

“He was going to be an OB/GYN,” Baela says, unamused.

“Really?” Rio turns to Aemond. “Why would you want to do that?”

“So he gets to look at pussies all day,” Aegon says morosely, as if heartbroken that such a path is inaccessible to him.

“That’s not why,” Aemond insists, mostly to you.

You smile. “I didn’t think so. What’s the actual reason?”

“Interns do rotations in different departments so we can figure out what we enjoy and what we’re best suited for. I knew within two days of my OB/GYN rotation that that’s where I wanted to be. Giving birth is the only life-threatening trauma that is necessary for humanity to continue. I wanted to help people get through it as safely and painlessly as possible.” Then his gaze darts to Baela. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it sound worse—”

“No, it’s okay, I’m very much aware. It hurts like hell, people die. Believe me, I’d be thinking about that even if you hadn’t said it. I think about it all the time.”

“I have an idea you’re not going to like.”

“What?” Baela says. Aemond nods to the nearest shopping cart. “No way. You’re not going to push me around in one of those.”

“I believe it’s an adequate solution until an alternative appears.”

She sighs. “I’ve lost my body, my career, my society, my parents…must I lose my dignity too?”

Aemond winks. “Only when you’re too tired to walk.”

“Alright, Aemond. I realize you’re under the impression that this is a favor. So thank you.”

“That’s what I’m here for.”

“Let me give you a favor in return.” Then Baela begins shooing everyone except you and Aemond out of the liquor aisle. “Grab anything else you want, we’re leaving in five minutes! Jace, come look at the baby clothes with me…”

When the two of you are alone, Aemond says: “I really hope that didn’t make you feel too weird. I’m not someone who gets uncomfortable about the…um…the subject matter in general. But I wouldn’t want you to think that I was trying to…I don’t know. Assume anything or pressure you into something that you weren’t already open to. Obviously I like…um…I mean, enthusiastic consent is essential, and I just…I would never try to convince anybody or…you know what, I’m just going to stop talking now. Okay?”

“Aemond, I’m fine. I didn’t think it was weird.”

“It’s a compliment,” he confesses, flushing pink again, touching his chin, perspiration gleaming at his temples.

Now you have to show interest so he knows you’re on the same page. You’ve never had to think this way before, you’ve never liked anyone enough to play the game. “So hypothetically, if someone didn’t want to get pregnant but there were no condoms, pills, etcetera…what are the options?”

He looks at you, pleasantly surprised. “Well, there’s the rhythm method. It’s not perfect, but it’s been around forever and is reasonably reliable if done correctly.”

You are only vaguely familiar. “We didn’t get a lot of sex ed down in Kentucky.”

Aemond chuckles then leans in, a mischievous curl of his lips, a craving in the crystalline river blue of his eye. He grips the shelf above your head, his arm a canopy. His voice is hushed. The front windows of the Walmart face west where the sun is setting; golden light floods in to illuminate the store. “Is your cycle regular?”

“It is, actually.” This should be embarrassing, but it’s not; it’s exhilarating. You’re imagining him seeing you, touching you, unearthing secrets you’ve never been tempted to share with anyone else.

“So if we imagine it like a circle…” He draws one on the back of your hand, invisible, mesmerizing, blue-white lightning crackling up the path of your metacarpals, wrist, ulna and radius, humerus and clavicle, descending ribs like the rungs of a ladder to jolt the sinus rhythm of your heart. “The start of your period would be Day One.”

“Okay,” you say, hypnotized as his fingerprint skates in an arc across the bumps of your knuckles.

“Ovulation doesn’t happen until around Day Fourteen. You might have noticed some increased arousal and…wetness. Clear in color, elastic consistency.”

Your eyes are trapped in his face, smooth skin, jagged scar tissue. You tease him back, stepping closer. You can hear people snickering in the next aisle as they eavesdrop. You don’t care about them, and neither does Aemond anymore. “Now that you mention it…”

“That’s nature trying to trick you into reproducing. Day Fourteen is crunch time. Once ovulation occurs, the egg is only good for up to twenty-four hours. And then the rest of the cycle you’re effectively useless, as far as making miniature humans is concerned.”

“Wait, you’re telling me people can only get pregnant one day a month?” This seems improbable. “How has the species managed to survive this long?”

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” Aemond admits. “Depending on the health of the specimens, sperm can survive up to five days inside a woman’s body. And it’s difficult to tell exactly when ovulation occurs. So, in practice, there’s basically one week a month when you’d want to avoid a man…completing the act, if you will.” He’s still smiling, taunting, famished, imagining the same scenes you are. You know this with a categorical certainty, as if you’re reading his thoughts like stark stripes of distance on a measuring tape. “And that’s also the week when your hormones are demanding you have sex, inspiring you to make all sorts of impulsive yet extremely consequential decisions.”

“Don’t I know it,” Baela laments from the next aisle, and there is a rupture of wild giggles.

“Anyway.” Aemond lifts his finger from the back of your hand and you have to stop yourself from reaching for him as he recedes from you. “There’s a basic overview.”

“It was very educational.” You follow him out of the liquor aisle.

“I’ve used the rhythm method for years,” Rhaena says as everyone makes their way towards the front of the store with their carts. “Clearly that’s just anecdotal, so don’t think I’m officially endorsing it. When I’m in my fertile week we add condoms. Well…we used to. Back when we could get them.”

“Ugh, I hate condoms,” Baela grumbles.

“We can tell,” Aegon says.

“I hate the way they feel, I hate the way they smell…”

“They’ve never bothered me,” Rhaena says. “I don’t notice that much of a difference. And it can be fun to try different kinds.”

“Are you on drugs?” Baela whirls to you. “Seriously, what is wrong with her? I’m right, aren’t I? Condoms are awful.”

Rio gives you a cautious look, uncharacteristically reticent. He’s not going to be the one to reveal it. He doesn’t know if it’s something you’re willing to share. But if anything is going to happen with Aemond—and you want it to, already you know you want him—then it’s something you think you should be honest about. You want him to know about you. You don’t want to have to create some false version of yourself to wear like a pelt, heavy, smothering, something that will inevitably need to be taken off.

“I am regretfully not qualified to say.”

“You’ve never used condoms?” Baela asks, a bit dubious.

“I’ve never done any of it.”

Everyone freezes at the defunct checkout counters and turns to gawk at you. “No sex?” Jace says. “No nothing?”

You shrug, smiling a little self-consciously. “I made out with a guy once.”

“The Marine from Corpus Christi?” Baela asks. They’re obsessed with him, they’re convinced there’s some lore to be excavated, translated, displayed like a relic in a museum. There isn’t. Sometimes people pass in and out of your life as seamlessly as shadows or sunlight, no weight, no indentations, nothing to recall or relay. He existed and then he didn’t. He was an airplane drawing contrails in the sky that faded before the blood red fire of dusk filled the horizon.

“No. Someone from home. Just a guy, not even worth mentioning.”

“Girl, you gotta fix that, soon, pronto, like yesterday.” Jace seems genuinely horrified. “You can’t die a virgin.”

“You really can’t,” Daeron adds, and Aegon pretends to be distraught over the loss of his youngest brother’s virtue.

“That’s what I’m always telling her!” Rio says.

“Not everybody wants to have sex,” Helaena murmurs as she records today’s findings in her spider notebook.

“True,” Jace concedes. “And that is totally legit. Mother Teresa, Queen Elizabeth, Jesus Christ, Buddha, Joan of Arc, Sir Isaac Newton, Nikola Tesla, the Jonas Brothers for a while, all great people. But Chips is not celibate by choice, correct?”

“Buddha had a wife and son,” Aemond says, preoccupied. He isn’t looking at you now, which is concerning; he’s peering down at where his hands grip his shopping cart, his brow creased with…what is that? Unease, disapproval, concern, thoughtfulness, fear?

“It’s not some big thing,” you backpedal. “I don’t have a hangup about it, I just never met a guy I liked enough, and enlisted men, they’re…well, a lot of them are taken, or cheaters, or idiots. Or all three.”

“Not to worry, Chipper.” Aegon claps a hand on your shoulder; and you aren’t sure if it is his purpose to break the tension, but he seems to have that effect regardless. “If you ever wish to be initiated into the art of lovemaking by a slightly below average and entirely unintimidating penis, I’d be thrilled to assist you. I love condoms. But in their absence, I am the king of pulling out. 100% success rate. Zero bastard children running around to my knowledge.”

“You should give Jace lessons,” Baela says.

And the last thing Aegon takes from the Walmart is a green battery-powered Toshiba CD player so he can blast to his mixtapes.

~~~~~~~~~~

Flickering candles lining the middle lane, drinks and snacks strewn across the tables, Rio’s Moonbeam propped up so it’s aimed at the disco ball still hanging from the ceiling from a time before the dead started devouring the living. Daeron is at the end of the lanes to reset the pins after each player’s turn. Helaena is keeping score in her notebook; Rhaena is currently in the lead by a massive 80 points. Aegon is wasted, dancing on a table and crunching Cool Ranch Doritos beneath his bare feet, his blonde hair flopping. Each time it’s his turn to bowl, Aegon has to roll the ball down the lane with two hands like a child. Rio, several shots deep but unable to feel much shy of half a bottle, is singing along with him to Cruise by Florida Georgia Line, but it’s really more like shouting, each sentence an off-key monstrosity that makes you laugh.

“Baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!

Down a back road, blowin’ stop signs through the middle, every little farm town with you!

And this brand new Chevy with a lift kit, would look a hell of a lot better with you up in it!

So baby, you a song, you make me wanna roll my windows down and cruise!”

You cleared Luxury Lanes easily; the only difficult part was figuring out how to get into the area called the pit where, in normal times, felled pins were mechanically collected and sorted. There were two former employees roaming around back there in their tattered uniforms, snarling and drooling blood. Both were rapidly neutralized.

Someone always has to be by the front doors, watching through the small tinted windows for signs of trouble, whether from zombies or living humans. Aemond is currently on guard, nursing a Snapple. According to the bottle, the flavor is called Takes 2 To Mango. You grab your own Snapple—plain and simple Lemon Tea, no charming gimmicks—and walk over to join him.

“So now I guess it’s my turn to say I hope that conversation didn’t make you feel weird.”

He smiles politely, glancing out the window. “No, I’m completely fine.”

“Good. Because I don’t want you to look at me differently than you would any other girl, like I’m better than them, or worse than them, or like there’s anything wrong with me, because it really isn’t something I consider to be paramount to my identity, and people always seem to get all twisted up about it, but it’s a pretty boring story, I just…”

“You’ve never liked someone enough to take the risk. I get it. I don’t think you’re a freak or anything.”

“Okay. Good.” The next song on Aegon’s mixtape is Shaboozey’s A Bar Song. Jace is dancing with Baela, spinning her around as she giggles. With Rhaena’s coaching, Luke bowls his first strike. You rest your head on the door as you gaze up at Aemond, the phantom of a smile on your lips. “I might like you enough.”

And he says as if it’s the worst thing in the world, a plague, an infection, an apocalypse: “You’d fall in love with me.”

It hurts, of course it does, this flippant rejection. He burns you, he cuts you, he stitches you up with no anesthetic. You try not to show it. “You’re…confident.”

“No, I don’t mean because of anything specific I would do, it’s just…it’s natural to form a certain…attachment. To the first person you’re with. It leaves an impression.” Not an impression like a first judgment, superficial and swift; an impression like an imprint, a hollow, a prehistoric fossil that is preserved through eons. “That was already true before. And everything is more intense now, because life is so…” Aemond takes a while to settle on a word. “Precarious.”

You say like a challenge: “Are you still in love with the first girl you slept with?”

A shadow that ripples through his face, a flinching he tries to hide. You shouldn’t have asked. Still, you feel like you need to know, like you’ll run out of oxygen if you don’t. “I think I’ve gotten enough distance from it to realize that she wasn’t…wasn’t good for me in a lot of ways. It was an unconventional situation. But I still carry all these pieces of her around with me, yes. I don’t think that will ever go away.”

“Aemond,” you say gently. “Who was she?”

He is evasive, smirking. “It’s a cliché.”

“Was she a patient? That’s very Grey’s Anatomy of you.”

“No. She was my professor.”

An older woman, wise and experienced and captivating and sophisticated. He’s cut you again, a blade slicing effortlessly through veins like soft butter. “Oh. From med school?”

“Undergrad.”

“You were really young,” you say, a little startled.

He nods. “I was eighteen when it started. I was this shy, insecure, friendless freshman, she was married with two kids around my age. And it was off and on, but there was never anyone else for me, she took up too much space in my head, in my chest, like I couldn’t breathe unless I knew we were okay.”

“It went on for seven years?”

This seems to stun him, hearing how much of his existence she bottled like a terrarium. “I guess so.”

Is she dead? Missing? Safe somewhere with her husband and kids? “Is she…gone?”

His gaze drops to the floor. “Yeah.”

“Did you see it happen?”

“I was the one who killed her when she turned.”

It’s indescribably horrible; you don’t know what to say. “Aemond, I’m…I’m really sorry…”

He is abruptly nonchalant, the blue of his eye cool and dispassionate. “Look, I’m not prepared for this to be anything more than casual. And I don’t think casual is really in the cards for us. So it’s probably best to leave it alone.”

“Right,” you agree numbly, not meaning it.

“We’re headed different places, I’m going to California, you’re planning to end up in Oregon, it’s just…a bad idea to muddy the waters, I think.”

“Because I haven’t done this before.”

He shrugs ambiguously. “It’s a contributing factor.”

“Well you seemed pretty interested before you found that out, so.”

“I don’t mean to offend you.”

“You aren’t offending me. You’re disappointing me.”

Now Aemond is offended. “By trying to protect us?”

“No, by saying you don’t think I’m a freak when you clearly do, and by having some savior complex, or a whore-Madonna complex, or whatever’s going on in your head, it’s always such a mystery to everyone else.”

He downs the rest of his Snapple and shoves the bottle into the nearest trash can. You hear it thump against the bottom, no garbage bag. “Alright. This was fun.”

“Maybe you’re afraid of making a mistake, just like I always was.”

“Maybe I don’t want to have to teach you how to do everything,” Aemond snaps.

“I taught you how to shoot.”

“The fact that you don’t realize how wildly different those two situations are proves you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Okay, bye. Sorry about your zombie girlfriend.”

Aemond glares at you, shocked, furious. “That was so fucking low.”

It was. You regret it. But you can’t bring yourself to tell him that. You flee to the far end of the bowling alley and sit alone at a table draped in shadows. After a while, Rio notices and ventures over to see what’s wrong, a bottle of Captain Morgan swinging from one hand. He’s tipsy now.

Rio sighs as he takes a seat beside you, reaching over to rub your back. His hands are large and indelicate; what he means to be comforting is more like getting manhandled. Sometimes he leaves bruises, but it’s not his fault. Nature gave Rio the body of a killer. If anyone is going to survive the zombie apocalypse, it’s him. “What’s going on, Chips?”

Your voice breaks as you say it; tears sting in your eyes. “I hate caring about people.”

He bursts out laughing. “Yeah, it’s the worst, isn’t it? But once in a while it works out.”

“Bryan.”

And now he knows you’re serious. You have his full attention, large dark eyes fixed on your face, lines etching into his brow beneath the artificial starlight of the disco ball. “What are you asking me?”

“We can’t leave them and walk to the West Coast ourselves, can we?”

“I mean, technically we could, but it would be really stupid. Everything’s so much easier with ten people. And also I think I’d have to kidnap Aegon and take him with us, I love that little dude. Why? Do you really want to leave them?”

“No.”

“I figured.” He offers you the half-empty bottle of Captain Morgan.

“I’m not drinking that.”

“Come on. It’ll take the edge off.”

You look at him. Rio looks back, smiling now.

“I’ll watch out for you,” he says. “And if you get bit I’ll shoot you dead, no hesitation, swear to God. I remember our promise. I won’t let you die alone.”

“You’re a good guy.”

“I know.” He nudges your arm with the bottle of Captain Morgan. “A few swigs won’t hurt. It’ll help you sleep.”

You take the bottle, twist off the cap, drink down amber-gold poison that burns like gasoline, like fire.

[bebemoon]

look for the name ROWAN (requsted by anonymous) | vivienne westwood red sheepskin and floral velvet jacket (a/w 1994), miu miu suede nappa leather micro mini skort, thistlethistle "phaser" ear cuff in bronze, miu miu leather and wood floral-detail open-toe platform heels, freckle farm "green + red" handmade necklace, freckle farm "twig" moonstone and opal handmade earrings, diptyque paris "tempo" eau de parfum, anna sui black leather sling bag, unearthen brass signet ring, unearthen brass measuring spoon set, hans christian andersen fairy tales first edition hardback (c. 1912), versus by gianni versace metal plate leather belt (c. 199o's) + vintage gold-tone orchid heart belt buckle, baserange "lima" rib over-ankle socks, gold-tone anklet w/ bells, beeswaxrubberstamps (on etsy) "bullfrog in water" mounted rubber stamp

[spaceshipellie]

everything’s about you to me

ellie williams x reader

chapter three: bathe me clean

masterlist for other chapters (prev) (next) *✧･ﾟ: wc: 5.9k

summary: in the midst of the apocalypse, you and ellie find each other after you’ve both lost everything. what started out as a mere safety in numbers pairing, turns into something imperishable. however, after some time you get separated, leaving you both to believe the other is dead. four years later you find a commune in wyoming.

warnings: tlou au, violence, knives, guns, dead bodies, murder, stab wounds, self inflicted injuries, ellie’s dad humour, 18+ MDNI

author’s note: this took me a lot longer to write than i was expecting so hope people are still interested in this series lol, i’m kinda proud of it and thank you for being patient <3 as always lmk what you think!

♪ ‘cause the world could be burning, and all i’d be thinking, is “how are you doing, baby?”

A few days had passed and you and Ellie had decided it was a good idea to investigate the town. You were in the kitchen, checking through your backpack to make sure you had what you needed. You had to make sure you packed enough so you had resources out there, especially considering the town was several miles away, but not too much that it meant your bag was too heavy to move swiftly with.

“You got the map?” Ellie asked, zipping up her own bag and slinging it on her back. You noticed she had traded her blue shirt for a brown, long sleeve shirt that must have been Jack’s. It was slightly oversized on her but not too much.

“Yeah.”

You put your bag on, attaching the machete on the side and putting the pistol in your back pocket. You had already locked and secured the front door so you followed Ellie out the back and towards the barn. She grabbed the brown leather bridle from a hook and took it over to Harley, stroking her peach-fuzz soft nose before hooking it over her ears and buckling it up.

“Where did you learn to do that?” you asked, watching as Ellie scrunched her face in concentration.

“I read about it.”

She then grabbed the saddle and the forest green blanket underneath and slung it over Harley’s back. She studied it for a moment, adjusting its position until it seemed to slot better with the curve of the horse’s back. Harley stood patiently, kicking one of her hooves on the floor and snorted a soft breath. Ellie reached under her stomach for the band that dangled down, bringing it up to her side.

“Okay okay, let’s remember how to do this,” she mumbled to herself, fingers fiddling with the buckles. She stuck her fingers in between the band and Harley’s stomach to check the tightness and yanked around at the stirrups before giving Harley a pat on the neck, seeming satisfied with it all.

“That should be fine,” she said, turning to you. You blinked a couple of times, not realising how hard you had been staring at her hands working. You nodded, standing back as she led Harley out of the barn.

Ellie put one foot in the stirrup and held onto the saddle as she swung her other leg up and over. She adjusted her hips in the seat, bunching the reins in one hand before taking her foot out the stirrup and holding out her other hand to you.

“You ever ridden a horse before?” you asked.

“Nope, you?”

You grabbed her hand, putting your foot in the free stirrup to support you as she helped pull you up. You had to hop a little on the foot that was on the ground cursing a “fuck,” as Harley took a step forward as your leg flew over.

“Never,” you said as your ass hit Harley’s back.

She chuckled. “Well, this’ll be fun.”

She replaced your feet in the stirrups and indicated for the horse to start walking. The sudden jolt made you keenly aware that this was definitely the closest you and Ellie had ever been. Instinctively, she put her free hand on your knee for a second steadying you before moving it back to rest on her thigh.

“You okay back there?”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m good.”

Your chest was pressed against her backpack, brushing up and down slightly with the movements of the horse. Harley walked through the field until you reached the road, the clack of her feet louder now that they were on the concrete. You held the map in both hands so it didn’t blow away, looking to see if you were heading in the right direction.

“According to this, we walk down this road for about a mile then we go right when we hit the junction,” you observed before folding it and shoving it back in your pocket, hands resting on your thighs.

“Seems easy enough, ‘least it’s not raining.”

“You’ve jinxed it now,” you teased.

“Oh shit,” she laughed.

It felt wrong to laugh too but you did. It felt selfish laughing when so many bad things had happened lately. It felt insensitive to laugh when your mom wasn’t around to hear it. Up until now, you thought you might never laugh or even smile again. You knew that it would take you a long time to heal after her death for who could put a restraint on grief. Yet you didn’t want to feel like actual poison was running through your veins anymore.

After losing your dad, it had been anger that had controlled you. You had fallen into a frenzy where everything you did was erratic and irascible. It was as if your body didn’t belong to you anymore. Your fingertips would claw at anything that made you feel as though you had found some retribution for what had happened to him. You thought at the time that it was the worst pain you had ever felt, but you’ve come to quickly realise that sadness is worse than anger. Anger can blindley carry you through whereas sadness makes your limbs too heavy to even move.

After losing your mom, you were overwhelmed with sadness. Everything hurt permanently and instead of time moving rapidly as a distraction, it had slowed to an impossible pace, as if it had pins holding your eyes open to watch the events play out over and over again. Her speaking to you, hugging you, leaving you.

“Y/n?”

“Huh?” you shook your head, snapping out of your thoughts.

“I said what does the map say after we turn right?”

“Oh right, um,” you flustered as you tried to pull the map out of your pocket, fingers suddenly feeling slippery as you tried to unfold it. “Um, oh fuck, fuck.”

Your hand flew out as the piece of paper floated to the ground, whisking along with the breeze. Harley staggered back and forth on her feet as your weight shifted, naturally trying to follow the direction of the fallen map.

“Woah, careful,” Ellie’s hand suddenly gripped your leg firmly and your hand darted out to grab her arm to stop you from sliding off.

“Sorry, but shit, the map,” you said pointing.

“I know, here,” she held her hand out for you to take, “get off for a second.”

You complied and she did the same, rushing to stamp on the measly bit of paper so it didn’t go any further. She picked it up and shook off some of the dirt, wiping it before holding it up to you.

“See? Good as new.” She chuckled at her own sarcasm.

Your stomach lurched with anxiety. You had barely left the house and you’d nearly lost the very thing that could help you navigate this place.

“Hey, don’t stress. We’ve got it,” Ellie said, noticing the way you were wringing your hands and nibbling your lip.

You met her eyes and nodded. “Sorry, I’m fine.”

She handed you back the map and you folded it up, safely tucking it in your pocket. She mounted Harley, once again holding her hand out to help you on.

“I had a look, after we go right we need to go left at a gas station,” Ellie informed you, asking Harley to walk again.

“Okay.”

“If you need to hold on, don’t be shy. I’d rather you not actually fall off.”

You nervously placed your hands just below her waist, lightly fisting the fabric of her shirt so as to not touch her body too much. She had just said to not be shy but that didn’t mean you weren’t. You spent the next few minutes in comfortable silence, taking in the sights of greenery around you. How it shined under the strips of sunlight that poked through the huge clouds.

“Have a look in my bag a second, there should be a book in there.”

“Did you not see me nearly fall on my face? I don’t think I’m good enough to read and ride a horse,” you jested.

“Not that kind of book,” Ellie laughed, “just look.”

Keeping one hand gripping her shirt, you unzipped her bag and dug around for something book shaped. When you felt it you pulled it out.

“No Pun Intended: Volume Two,” you read outloud, “what the hell is this?”

“Open it and read something,” Ellie pushed, grinning to herself.

You flicked through the pages.

“I stayed up all night wondering where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.”

Ellie laughed. “Funny, right?”

“Sure,” you smiled, unconvinced.

“C’mon, read some more.”

You turned the page.

“I never trust stairs because they’re always up to something,” you snickered, flicking through more pages.

“These are so dumb,” you commented before finding another. “I had a crazy dream last night. I was swimming in an ocean of orange soda. Turns out it was just a Fanta sea.”

“I don’t get it,” Ellie said, frowning in confusion.

“Me neither.”

“I’ve got one,” she started excitedly, already laughing at her own joke. “Did you hear about the restaurant on the moon? I heard the food was good but it had no atmosphere.”

You put the book over your mouth, trying to stifle the laugh escaping your lips. “These jokes are so stupid.”

“Yeah, but you’re laughing.”

“No, I’m not,” a smile evident in your voice.

“Yes you are, I can hear you,” she chuckled, turning her head around for a second trying to look at you.

“Okay, fine. I laughed. But you’re the one who’s memorised some of them!”

“Who knows when you’ll need an emergency pun!”

You squeezed Ellie’s side where your hand was and it made her jump. “You’re so weird.”

About an hour later, you arrived at what you heavily presumed to be the town. The gas station you had passed on the way you thought you would check out on the way back if supplies in the town weren’t great. On approach, you could see terraced buildings lining the streets. It looked like a typical small town. Shops with broken windows. Cars parked in skewed positions with flat tyres. Street signs half covered in vines that grew thick across brick walls. A general eerily quiet atmosphere. Very normal. Ellie pulled Harley to a stop and you both got off.

“Where should we look first?”

“Um, maybe make our way down these,” Ellie gestured to a row of shops on your left. You climbed over the open window pane, carefully avoiding any of the broken glass on the floor. You seemed to be in a pharmacy with its clinically white walls and flooring. The shelves were mostly empty, some completely knocked over with various items littering the ground. You naturally both went to different sides, scanning for anything useful. There wasn’t a great deal where you were looking, just some paracetamol that expired the same year as the outbreak, some expired baby formula, definitely won’t be needing that, and some dust covered sunglasses. They had massive frames with electric blue lenses. Beside them on the wall you saw a ripped poster of a guy who was also wearing sunglasses and a colourful open shirt, carrying a large board on a beach. You smirked to yourself and wiped the lenses clean before putting them on and looking up at where Ellie was.

“Think I might save these for my next beach visit. You know, try ‘n’ catch some waves,” you joked, putting on your best surfer dude voice for the last sentence.

“Hot,” Ellie laughed, stepping closer to you and slapping a huge, wide brimmed straw hat on her head. It had a reduced sticker on it which made sense considering the world went to shit about a month after summer. “I’ll join you.”

Getting into character, you sauntered over to her and rested an arm on the shelf beside her, popping your hip and resting your hand on it. You pitched your voice lower. “What brings you to the beach, pretty lady?”

Ellie pitched her voice higher, pretending to twirl her hair around her finger. “Oh, you know, just wanna work on my tan.”

“Well lemme know if you want any,” you pretended to flex your muscles, “any surfing lessons.”

“Oh I will,” she fake giggled before you both burst out laughing.

“That hat looks ridiculous,” you said, slapping the front of the rim.

“These don’t look any better.” She tapped on the lens of the sunglasses.

“No really? I thought I looked cool.” You took them off, pretending to be disappointed.

Ellie chuckled and frisbee-threw the hat across the store. You continued your searches for supplies, again coming up against nothing. You crouched under a knocked over shelf, more broken glass crunching under your feet.

“Ohhh, fuck yeah.”

Your head snapped up at the sound of Ellie’s voice. She was grinning smugly at something small in her hands.

“What is it?”

She held up and wiggled a tiny plastic bag containing thin rolls of paper.

“Weed?”

“The one and only. Saving that for later,” she smiled, shoving it in her pocket.

You smiled at how excited she seemed. You had smoked once when you were fifteen with Amy but you both had no idea what you were doing so you’re not even sure if you did it right. You just remember it making you feel a bit wobbly and your throat had felt scratchy and burnt.

“I’m not having any luck here, wanna try next door?” you suggested and she nodded.

After searching through the row of shops you decide to find the supermarket, using the map for directions. It was a large, standalone building with rusted cars parked sporadically in the carpark. A few with windows broken and dented hoods, some completely destroyed from crashing into each other. It made you stop and think for a second about how terrifying and confusing it must have been when the outbreak hit. One minute you’re hearing the sounds of shopping carts across gravel whilst you load your shopping into the car and then you hear screams and screeching tires trying to escape.

“This seems to be it,” Ellie pondered. She suddenly mumbled a “shit” and you followed her eyes down to a skeleton beneath ripped clothing on the ground by the door. You grimaced thinking about how long that had been there and how many people had walked past the decomposing person over the years. Perhaps not many as this seemed to be the epitome of a ghost town.

Not being shocked by the sight, Ellie began trying to shove the broken automatic doors apart further. You watched as the wind blew a piece of her hair across her face, catching it in the corner of her mouth. You wanted to reach out and fix it for her, frowning to yourself as you weren’t sure why you had the urge to do that. Instead, you helped her pry the doors apart, each slipping through once there was enough room. You glanced around the expanse of aisle, noticing the signs that hung above them. The chipped cream floor was littered with anything from knocked over produce, broken shopping baskets, ripped pieces of board, broken glass, smears of blood and other unknown substances. The deeper you looked the darker it got, the light from outside only travelling so far, especially seeing as on one side some of the windows had large pieces of cardboard taped to them. Maybe that person out the front had been camping out here once upon a time.

“I’ll start left, you start right and we’ll meet in the middle?” you suggested. Ellie merely nodded before heading to the far right aisle. There were fifteen of them in total so hopefully you would find something.

You had made your way down to aisle four and had lucked out in finding some scissors and matches. Shaking a box upside down to see if anything came out of it you suddenly heard a rattle which sounded like the door. You inched your way towards the back, careful to not to bump into anything and give your location away. You prayed the sound was just Ellie, but you weren’t about to call out her name to find out.

“In here,” a gruff voice sounded. Fuck.

Footsteps clambered in, rubber soles screeching on the floor. You couldn’t detect how many there might be but you were definitely outnumbered. You made a mental note of where your weapons were and clutched your machete. You racked your brain for what to do, fear boiling up inside you. You could hear the movements from these newcomers spread out, shadows slipping underneath the shelving units. You slipped around to the end, peering round to see if the next aisle was clear. It wasn’t.

A woman was walking towards you, a gun in her outstretched hands. You moved quickly back into aisle four before she could see you but you knew you weren’t safe to stay there. You trod carefully down to the other end, towards the front of the supermarket but there was someone guarding the door. Knowing that you would have to face one of them no matter what direction you went in, you decided you had a better chance against the woman who could be turning in your direction any second now. You paid close attention to any noises you heard although the building was eerily silent as you made your way back up to the other, darker end of the aisle. Your body faltered as you heard a squelch in the distance followed by a low, agonising grunt.

Having reached the end, you braved peering around the corner again only to see the woman with her back to you, slowly walking away. You swapped your machete out for your switchblade and took your opportunity to wrap a tight arm around her neck and puncture it. She choked out a splutter of bubbling blood, dropping her gun as you brought her body down slowly to the ground. You snatched the gun from the floor and moved forwards in hopes of finding Ellie.

The next aisle was clear so you kept moving before a hand suddenly slapped itself over your mouth and an arm held a firm grip around you, yanking you back into them and onto the floor behind a freezer unit. Your eyes widened and your body went rigid until you glanced down and saw the brown shirt sleeve. Bringing your knees closer to your chest so that they weren’t sticking out the side of the freezer you slowly turned your head. Your eyes met Ellie’s as she removed her hand from you and brought a finger to her lips to be quiet. You noticed some blood smeared on her hand. Your worried eyes darted between hers as she tightened her lips in a line.

“They got Milo.” you heard a sinister voice.

“Sadie too,” a shakier voice said.

“C’mon, let’s find those little shits,” the first voice commanded.

Your back pressed harder into Ellie and the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end. You both knew you couldn’t just wait there, they would find you eventually, but you had no idea how many of them were left.

“We’ll take out the guard at the door and run,” Ellie whispered so quietly she had to practically press her lips against your ear in order for you to hear.

She snaked her arm away from you and gave you a gentle push, indicating for you to shift away so she could sneak a look over the freezer. You were now both crouched as she peered over before snapping her head back down. She pointed left and you nodded slowly before beginning to move forwards, still in your crouched position. You held your breath as you emerged from behind the freezer, exposing yourself to the possible dangers. Swiftly, you ducked into one of the aisles, Ellie following suit.

You moved down the aisle with careful speed, wanting to just get out of there. A dark shadow flashed before your eyes before a tall man with a scar starting from his cheek and finishing on his neck appeared. You halted and immediately rushed back up the aisle to create more distance, now behind Ellie as you both ran. A sharp, dense pain hit your thigh as you yelped and stumbled to the ground. You looked down at your leg and saw a knife that the man had thrown at you lodged in your flesh. Beneath the rip it made in your jeans, blood spilled down your leg.

Your eyes darted up to the sound of heavy boots stomping towards you. Ellie reached for your hand as you tried to scramble your way up but a rough hand gripped and yanked at your ankle, pulling you onto your back and away from her outstretched hand. You tried to kick as the man climbed on top of you, a cry coming from your lips as he ripped the knife out. With your legs stuck under his weight, you tried to blindly grab for your machete. You could hear Ellie’s grunts in the distance and assumed she had also been grabbed. Your frantic fingers managed to get a hold on the weapon and pull it out from its location on the side of your backpack but before you could swing, the man gripped your wrist. With everything you had, you tried to fight against his strength but it was no use. With his other hand he slammed his knife down and you screamed as the metal punctured your arm. He then pulled your machete out of your weakened grasp and tossed it so it skidded along the floor far away from you. You looked into his hardened eyes, your own glossing over. Your fingers scratched at him as you tried to push him off but your actions were cut short when he pulled the knife out of your arm and brought it up above your chest, thick fingers adjusting to get a stronger hold on the handle. Your crimson blood dripped from the blade and clung in splotches to the fabric of your top. Whether or not Ellie was okay flashed through your mind before your ears started ringing and your eyes squeezed shut at the sudden splash of something on your face.

A gunshot echoed through the store and when you opened your eyes you realised the only thing holding the man up anymore was your grip on him. You gasped at the glassy look he had in his eyes as you shoved his corpse off of you, the knife he had clattering to the ground. You sat up and tentatively brought your hand up to your face and swiped your cheek before looking at the blood that coated your fingertips. Turning your head you saw Ellie with an enraged look on her face and a shotgun pointed in your direction. At her feet lay another dead body, blood spilled and smeared around it. She lowered her gun and her expression softened ever so slightly as she walked towards you, crouching at your side.

“Here,” she mumbled as she ripped a piece from the hem of her shirt to make a tourniquet for your leg. You winced as she tightened the knot and her eyes glanced quickly to your face before noticing the stab wound on your arm. She ripped off another strip of material and did the same thing before holding your arm to help you stand up. You scrunched your face in pain at the weight being put on your leg but gritted your teeth to bear it.

“Was that all of them?” you asked.

“Think so, I haven’t seen anyone else.”

You hobbled towards the door of the supermarket, Ellie keeping a firm grip on your arm to support you. She hadn’t let on that she had any injuries but you could tell she had suffered beatings of her own by the way she slouched and strained her face. When you reached the door she let go of you to pry the doors open again. As soon as her hands gripped them a scrawny body came out of nowhere and wrapped a metal pole tight around Ellie’s neck. You screamed her name as her hands flew to grab the stranger's arm, trying to pull it away from her as they stumbled back. The man looked young and scared yet he desperately held his firm grip on the pole.

Ignoring your injuries, you grabbed your switchblade and threw yourself at him. The impact made him loosen his grip letting Ellie free. She was bent over, coughing and holding her neck as you tackled the boy to the ground. The fear you had felt about nearly losing your own life as well as Ellie’s transitioned into red anger as the faces of everyone you had lost flickered through your mind like embers. You fell completely inside your own head to the point where it felt like your ears were stuffed with cotton wool, blocking out the cries and screams of the man as you stabbed his chest over and over again with your knife. The sticky blood splattered your hands and stomach as you remained on top of him, repeatedly releasing your rage with every slash. He started to choke on bright blood as his eyes lost light. A pinching grip on both your arms was the only thing that snatched you from the trance, your vision and hearing becoming clear again. Ellie’s shouts became louder and clearer.

“That’s enough, that’s enough! Stop!”

She pulled you off of the man, your switchblade slipping out of your red hands. You sat sideways with your legs bent and looked up at her sat on her knees in front of you, her hands still holding your arms. She looked into your eyes with concern and took in your bewildered expression.

“I-” you choked on your words. The adrenaline was still running through your body.

“It’s okay, let’s go home.”

Ellie grabbed your switchblade off the floor and wiped it on her jeans before shoving it in her pocket along with hers before helping you to your feet once again. You both wobbled your way out and thankfully over to Harley who hadn’t been harmed. She neighed and kicked her front foot upon seeing you as if she was grateful you were still there. You steadied yourself by placing a hand on Harley’s neck whilst Ellie lifted herself up. She held her hand out for you and you braced yourself as you heaved your aching body up and onto the horses back. You had no embarrassment this time about holding onto Ellie’s waist as she gently kicked her feet for Harley to go.

The ride home felt like an eternity. The adrenaline had soon worn off, allowing the searing pain to sink in. Ellie had occasionally checked in on you with a quick “you still with me back there?” to which you’d mumble out a yes. All you wanted was to lie down. When you reached the house you climbed off of Harley and made your way to the back door whilst Ellie secured her in the stable. As soon as you got through the door you slumped into one of the dining chairs. You groaned as you shoved your backpack off, revelling in the removal of its heavy weight. Ellie came in and dropped her bag down also before rotating one of her sore shoulders and sighing.

“Wait there,” she instructed.

“I don’t plan on moving any time soon,” you joked as she dug through the kitchen cupboards.

She pulled out a first aid kit and some alcohol before marching back over to you and setting them on the table. She pulled a chair for herself to sit in and placed it in front of you. Your knees bumped as she opened up the first aid kit. She then paused, realising that in order for her to access your wounds you would have to take your clothes off.

“Um,” she started. It then clicked for you too.

“Oh right, um, yeah, you know, I can do it if you–fuck,” you groaned as you started to stand up. Her hand darted out to stop you but she quickly brought it back.

“It’s fine,” she laughed nervously, “if you don’t mind, I don’t.”

You nodded in appreciation, pausing before fumbling with the makeshift tourniquet on your thigh. You tried to swallow a groan as the pressure on your leg was released. You hesitantly undid the button and zipper on your jeans before resting your weight on your other leg so you could push the rigid denim down, exposing the nasty, deep gash on the side of your leg. You pulled your top down over your underwear and looked at Ellie who was looking intently at the wound. She didn’t seem phased, only concentrated on helping you. She poured a bit of sterile rain water onto a cloth and dabbed to clean any grime out of it, pausing to look at you when you flinched.

“Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

“It’s fine, you’re not the one who stabbed me.”

She chuckled at your dumb joke and continued dabbing the wound. You became very aware of how her fingers softly touched your bare skin. It felt like that shouldn’t be something to think about right now but you couldn’t help but watch how she was delicately looking after you.

“Okay, this definitely will hurt,” she said, grabbing the alcohol and twisting the cap off.

You shifted in your seat, readying yourself. You had suffered stab wounds before but that didn’t mean you had gotten used to it. You let out a string of curses as the splash of alcohol burned. It dripped to the floor in tinted red droplets as she pressed the cloth to the cut again, applying pressure whilst she grabbed the roll of bandages with her free hand.

“Hold this, keep the pressure on,” she gestured with her head to her hand on your leg and you swapped with her.

She started to wrap the bandage around your thigh, your hand slipping away as the wound was covered and she used her switchblade to cut through it and tie the bandage off. You thanked her before she gestured to your arm.

“I’ll go and get you some clean clothes then do your arm.”

She ran up the stairs and returned with a top and some loose pyjama trousers and handed them to you. You thanked her and winced as you pulled the trousers on before peeling your sweaty, blood soaked top off, leaving you in a vest. Ellie resumed her role as nurse and treated your arm the same way she had done your leg. She gave you a soft look as she helped you pull the fresh top on.

“Can I help you now? What about changing this–”

“Don’t,” she cut you off and sat back as you tried to reach for her bandaged right arm.

You sat back too, mumbling an awkward sorry whilst her eyes darted nervously side to side.

“Sorry,” she muttered.

“It’s fine.”

A somewhat uncomfortable silence fell. You couldn’t help but stare at the bandage and wonder why she didn’t want your help. Especially seeing as she was completely fine helping you. You didn’t know what to assume but you could only suspect that something horrific had happened to her to make her suddenly shift from sweet to closed off in an instant.

“You should get some rest,” she whispered, avoiding eye contact.

You nodded and made an attempt to stand, groaning as you did so. A hot flash of burning pain pounded in your leg as you put your weight on it. Ellie quickly snapped a hand out to support you.

“Maybe you should just stay on the couch.”

“Yeah, good idea.”

Your lips tightened as she helped you shuffle to the living room where you not-so-gracefully flopped onto the couch. You thanked her again and both mumbled goodnights before she disappeared upstairs, leaving you alone with your pain and curious thoughts about her.

ELLIE’S POV

Ellie’s fingers tapped nervously on her wrist where her hands rested on her stomach. It was in the early hours of the morning and she was staring up at the ceiling, her body feeling restless and flighty. She couldn’t keep this up any longer, not now that she wasn’t travelling alone. She was scared to death about how you would react and how you’d see her if you knew. She had to do something to hide it, something much more convincing than a raggedy bandage. The mattress springs screeched as she got up from the bed. She made her way to the bathroom and rummaged as quietly as she could through the cupboards.

“Fuck, nothing.”

She carefully descended the stairs, nose scrunching at the loud creak from the top step. She had to find something fast so that you wouldn’t accidentally wake up. She crept into the kitchen and started looking through all of the cupboards. Her wavering eyes suddenly landed on a white bottle. Hesitantly, she reached her hand out for it and stood up, staring at the glaring warning labels. Her eyes quickly scanned the small print to see if it was strong enough to do the job and when she deemed it was, she turned her head to peer out the kitchen door and into the living room. You were still fast asleep. Grabbing the bandages and a bottle of the sterile water that was still left out on the table, she went back upstairs and set the things down on the bathroom floor by the bathtub and shut the door. She took a big breath and stared at the items before her. Shaking her head to rid it of the doubtful thoughts she quickly knelt on the ground and yanked up her sleeve, peeling off the bandage. The scarred indents of the bite mark revealed themselves and she brushed a hand over it.

“Ok ok ok,” she chanted quietly to herself in an attempt to psych herself up.

She grabbed the bottle and twisted the cap off, grimacing at the chemicals unnerving scent. She clenched her right fist and held out her arm over the bath. Her teeth gritted as she held the bottle ready to pour, occasionally tipping it back each time it got close to releasing the liquid.

“Fuck, come on.”

She clenched her jaw and tried to swallow a grunt as she poured the substance over the bite. Her skin stung but it took a few minutes before she could see it turning red with irritation. Her fist tensed as she let the chemical stab away at her skin, ensuring that it would blister enough to cover the bite mark. She tried to focus on keeping a steady breath to avoid thinking about the pain and when she had had enough, she quickly rinsed her arm thoroughly with the water before bandaging it up. She slumped to the ground and hung her sorry head low between her bent knees, looking down at her arms before her. She didn’t even realise she was crying until she felt a tear drop on her hand. She sat there and quietly sobbed until her head started to hurt. She figured she should put the bottle back in the kitchen where she found it to avoid any suspicion from you before she climbed into bed. Her eyes felt sore and heavy, a contrasting drowsy feeling to the lightening pain that was prickling her arm. But eventually, she was able to sleep.

taglist *✧･ﾟ: @bellasfavelesbo@ximtiredx @abbyily @heartzjules @gold-dustwomxn @sawaagyapong @aouiaa @pinkigirl @nil-eena @ucannotcompare @cherriesxinthespring @blvebanisters @lonelyfooryouonly @ellieslegalwife @carmellie @iheartgeto @faceache111 @lveunoialv @jajsnjz @simpforellie @frickfrack-paddywack-ukulel-blog @unicycl @cass00x @lizziee-williamss1 @muthafuckingstargirl @kattirin @corpsebridenightamare @hopeless-y @eleactric @666eve999 @wavesgocrash

[rowniebow]

we were here | steve harrington x male!reader

summary: you and steve are good friends and someone feels it's about time to take it to the next level.

pairings: steve harrington x male!reader

cw: bickering, fluff

word count: 2.6k+

an: steve harrington is bisexual and it's definitely cannon! (/s, i wish) if you read/watched all the bright places...you get it

masterlist

⭒

"dude, we're slinging it right now!" robin called out.

"we're totally slinging it." you echoed.

"we're slinging so hard."

"we're so slingin' good at slinging."

"will you two please shut up?" steve interjected.

silence came between you and robin for only a moment as you shared a glance with two sets of pursed lips.

"but we're slinging so hard right now, steve!"

"we couldn't be slinging any harder!"

steve groaned from the back room. "you guys make taking my break like hell!"

"that's the goal, dingus."

steve stomped up to the door to look out at us from the back room. "no one is even here! you're not slinging shit!"

your scooper seemed to gather ice cream in itself on it's own. you placed your scoop into a cone and took a bite that stuck needles into your teeth and all the way up your skull.

"i slung that."

"oh, you slung it so well!" robin cheered for you while steve groaned again.

⭒⭒

"you're really slacking with the ladies, man." you taunted with a smile as you watched claire robbins walk away with a grimace on her face.

"yeah, well i don't see you pulling any." steve groaned.

"oh, i could if i wanted!" your eyes danced as you found an opportunity to play your favorite game: teasing steve harrington.

"prove it."

"i will!"

⭒⭒⭒

"i love that necklace, angela! where'd you get it?" you spoke over the counter to the blonde you had no real interest in.

"it's sick how he can just ... look at her like that." steve's narrowed eyes watched your laughing back. how you could conjure a sparkle in your eye like that was baffling.

"what, are you jealous, harrington?" roving smiled at the glaring man next to her.

"jealous of what?" the venom in his voice told robin all that she needed to know.

"jealous that he can charm any girl in a mile radius and you can't even get one? or that he's not looking at you like that?"

"shut up." steve pouted his way into the back room of the ice cream shop.

⭒⭒⭒⭒

robin kept a count on her whiteboard.

steve: 0

you: 9

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"what's up, lover boy?" you cheesed at steve as you climbed in his car through the window. when you would use the door like a sane person - he'd never know.

"w-watch the seats!" he groaned watching your dirty shoes leave marks on the leather. "i just cleaned this car."

"sorry!" you mindlessly apologized as you pulled a map out of your bag and unfolded it. several bright sticky notes that you had plastered on to it fell on to the floor of the car.

"where are we going?"

"you'll see when we get there!"

"it better not be like the gas station from last time. shit was creepier than the monster dogs."

"it'll be fun for me, at least."

"yeah, you said that about the gas station..." steve mumbled to himself seeing you were too entranced by your map of excitement.

he noticed that your collection of road trips around indiana (that you were keeping for you two to travel to had grown from not just a green (the scary gas station), yellow (a river in south indiana that you wanted to show him), and blue (wherever you two were to be headed today) route. now, various shades of reds, purples, pinks and browns littered the page.

"what are those new ones?" he asked, his eyes trailing from the road to you.

"you'll see when we go! don't get ahead of yourself." you folded the map onto your lap and pulled out one of the many cassette tapes from you bag and popped it into the car radio.

'oh! darling' began humming from the speakers. steve rolled his eyes. you had abbey road on repeat for far too long. he didn't need to know every single word in the album.

though, he didn't hesitate to start screaming along with you and your air guitar by the time the third section of the song came along, of course.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

steve's car couldn't seem to fight off the summer heat. sweat dripped down both of your foreheads. the windows rolled down allowed the blue sky and fluffy clouds to leak in and fill your noses with hot humidity. your shirt clung to you and constricted your breathing.

"there it is!" you shouted, nearly falling out of the window after steve slammed on his breaks.

a green sign with white print read 'hoosier hill - indiana's highest point - elev. 1257'.'

"pull over, pull over!"

"oh, you gotta be shitting me," steve grumbled under his breath. you heard it very loud, of course. you always heard him loudly. you were also always very aware that his complaining meant next to nothing when it came to you, though.

you climbed out of the car before steve could turn the car off, "c'mon, steve!" you practically whined for him.

"is this really it?" he questioned as if he were going to leave you there if you said yes.

"no, there's stuff up there!" you pointed up a hill amidst the trees and green bushes to a faded trail that looked as if it were going to blow away in the summer breeze.

steve huffed, preparing himself for the short walk that would feel like miles in the heat. you didn't take a second to wait for him, though. you ran up the hill even with the heat filling your lungs and making them as small as could be.

steve watched your frame stop. "this is it!" you called to him.

he shrugged after arriving next to you and catching his breath. "it's a little underwhelming but at least it's not that gas station."

you both stared at a wooden sign that restated what the green sign said. steve plopped down onto a bench that sat on the same small plot as the wooden sign.

you looked at it for a moment more.

then ran down the hill and back to steve's car. he stuttered out a call for you, but found his attempts fruitless.

you returned a moment later, out of breath and more sweaty, but with your bag. you fished out a push pin with white fabric on it and a black marker.

you tossed the bag to steve, scribbling your name down on the fabric.

"the hell are you doin'?"

you scooted the pen over to him with the fabric, "write your name."

"what? no, what is this for-?"

"steve," you watched him with a look he knew all too well: 'just do it for me'.

he rolled his eyes and participated, "i swear to god, if this is going to put my name into a cult or something i'm never forgiving you."

you snatched the fabric and pen back and finished what you wanted to write, then went to pin the fabric to the wooden stick.

steve and y/n were here.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"you have to bring extra shoes," you scolded in through the window of his car. your backpack begged you to set it back down in his car but you needed to go home for the night.

"what the hell do i need extra shoes for?"

"you should bring some you don't care about,"

"i'm not bringing extra shoes, alright?"

"if you say so. you're going to regret it, though." you turned and began taking your steps toward the door.

"why would i regret it?" he called to your retreating figure.

"eight a.m, harrington! we need to go before work!"

steve watched your door shut.

"god-dammit!" he muttered to himself as he began driving home into the newly born night.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"we're going to milltown, you should probably get gas," you choked out while you climbed into the car. dirty feet all over the seats (once again).

"milltown? dude-,"

"no complaining! i'll pay for your gas if your going to have a hissy fit about it."

"maybe you should try driving for once."

"no thanks," you plugged a cassette in to the car radio, 'come on eileen" started playing from the middle of the song.

steve mindlessly nodded his head along to the songs, listening to your mindless humming.

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

"you know what? this one is actually kinda cool." steve admitted.

"right!"

you two stood admiring what looked to be several trees that had been covered in shoes with their laces tied so they hung off the branches.

you plopped down on to the grass. the cold morning dew seeped through your clothes and pinched your legs. you tugged your dirty reeboks that were too small off of your feet. "you brought extra shoes, right?"

steve let out an extended breath as he watched you tug a pair of converse out of your bag and pulled them onto your feet.

"i told you to bring some!"

"yeah, i know!" he rolled his eyes but sat next to you and pulled his own pair of reeboks off.

you both tied the laces of your pairs together, tugging to make sure they'd stay on with the rest of the hanging shoes.

and off they flew as you both tossed your pairs in the air together. the summer breeze carried the two pairs of reeboks onto the branches, shaking the tree and it's leaves and shoes.

"dude, you didn't get yours anywhere near mine. how will the people know that we came together?"

"'the people' wont give two shits about where our shoes are on the tree. they're all in that pile."

"i will care!"

"alright, well you can get a ladder and go move the shoes." steve said as he sat on the ground and leaned back onto the soft grass. "i will be right here whenever you're done with that."

you glanced from the lounging man with his eyes closed to still swinging shoes in the sky.

you decided it wouldn't matter in the long run, and at least he had done it with you despite having no extra shoes to wear (maybe it'd be nice if you offered yours to him but, also, maybe he should have just listened to you!).

you laid down next you him with your hands behind your head and stared up at fluffy white clouds that swam in the sea of blue above. the breeze moved the blades of grass to dance along your cheeks and neck. your hair danced with them.

you watched the clouds mold into their own shapes and pointed out different things you saw to steve:

"that one looks like a turtle!"

"that's a fucked up turtle."

"that one looks like a shark!"

"it looks like it's swimming after the turtle to eat it."

you both continued on like that for seemingly forever. the midday heat began to creep in and making it to work began to clog your mind but steve was in no rush, so you pushed the thoughts away.

"i gotta ask you for advice about something." steve began out of nowhere. he dressed his words in formal attire. "i've gotten really close to someone recently, like a lot closer than we've ever been before."

steve doesn't get serious with you (or anyone) often. so, of course, you listened with every fiber in you. you treated his concerns with upmost importance.

"and i've - i don't know. i've started to-to like this person. a lot. but, well, i don't even know if they'd feel the same way about me."

"that's never stopped you before," you smiled, glancing to the side to read his features.

"yeah, but this person is just... different."

"what do you mean?"

"well, for one, i can't even imagine what other people would think. my dad for sure. he'd kill me. but, i also just actually like this person. and like... care about them and our relationship, and what would happen if they didn't end up liking me, too."

"does it really matter what your dad thinks?"

"i mean, i don't really care. i just always imagined he'd be at my wedding and it would be pretty shitty if he wasn't there."

"you're already thinking about marriage with this person and you haven't even asked them out yet?"

"yeah, is that bad?"

"i think that just proves that it shouldn't matter what your dad thinks if you really are already thinking about marriage with them. since when does steve harrington think about marriage with a girl?"

"i-i mean, yeah! that the dream, you know?"

"really?"

"i'd love to have a bunch of little harrington's runnin' around."

"so what advice do you need from me? it sounds like you already know what you want, you just gotta get the balls to go get her."

"sure, sure. you're right. thank you."

"'course man," a nervous silence overwhelmed you. you could never tell if you said the right thing, especially with steve. he was so difficult to read.

"that one looks like a squirrel that can't get open an acorn," steve pointed to a cloud above with a smirk over his features as if he knew he just said the stupidest thing in the world.

"no it does not, you idiot,"

⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒⭒

your name echoed from the street outside of your house that night. your eyebrows shuffled together in confusion as you scurried to your window to see what - or who - could be causing all that noise.

you peaked your head out to see steve harrington holding roses, 'i just called to say i love you' blasting through his car stereo from one of the cassette's you had given him.

you couldn't help but let a smile creep onto your face at how absolutely sweet he looked with his nervous feet and fingers tapping. his eyebrows were sewn together and his lips looked licked raw. he motioned for you to come down stairs and that's exactly what you did.

"what the hell are you doing?" you laughed as you ran out in your pajamas, sandals, and a sad excuse for a jacket.

"listen to me,"

"you are so lucky my parents aren't here right now, harrington, they'd kill you for being so loud!" you reached in his car and turned the volume down to a reasonable volume. the smile never left your face, though.

steve spoke your name again, and grabbed your arm to turn you around. "listen, i-" his eyes searched your face for the words he wanted to say. he couldn't find them, though.

"i'm listening," you smiled, leaning against his car as stevie wonders continued to play.

he rolled his eyes (at himself) and found his answers away from your face. "i-i-i-i've just- i've been talking to robin a lot more lately and she's helped me understand that i-i, you know, i like you and i think you're really cool but i've never liked a guy before you, ya know? i don't know how to do any of this shit," he mumbled to himself. "here," he shoved the flowers into your hand.

the smile never left your face, "steve,"

he looked up at you. he hadn't realized how close he had come, practically trapping you against his car.

"is it okay if i kiss you?" you whispered into his ear.

his cheeks went as red as could be. you'd never seen him so flustered (or flustered at all, for that matter).

his mouth opened but no words came out. just an eager nod.

the hand that wasn't holding the roses found its way to his cheek and pulled him in to meet your lips. it was short and sweet, the smallest bite of chocolate. it drew steve in and let him know what he was in for in the coming future with you.

and steve was absolutely in love.

[shadowdaddies]

Hi, do you think you could write a Asterin x reader x Vesta fic where reader decides to go out into the woods for a thing and doesn’t come back for a while, but since readers more adventurous it’s normal for her to take a few days to explore the woods.

But then it’s been a week and the witches are about to say fuck it and go in after reader but then suddenly reader show up with a massive, half-feral female wyvern and is just like “hi, missed you babes this is Fenrir”

hii💜 I've been feeling whimsical lately and that definitely shows in this fic

Lucky Me

Asterin x Reader x Vesta

warnings: none

Shoving the last of the rations into your bag, you clasped it shut, slinging the leather strap across your body. Asterin and Vesta watched you from the doorway, thinly veiled worry in their eyes. 

“Why do you feel the need to go into the forest, again?” Asterin questioned, plopping down on your bed, her black and gold eyes peering up at you through long lashes. 

Vesta rolled her eyes, laying down on the bed next to Asterin. “This is what she does. Our Fearless Adventurer,” she mocked with a flourish of her hand. 

You scoffed, playfully sticking your tongue out at Vesta as you made your way towards the door. “The Jungle of Morla is known to have sprites called Leipreacháns. Apparently if you capture one, it has to give you its fortune,” you said, waggling your eyebrows as you elaborated on the mysterious tale. “It’s been a bit dull around here lately, and I’ve been wanting to explore the Witch Kingdom. And what chance would a little sprite have against a witch?” you bragged haughtily.

Asterin pouted, sitting up from the bed to throw her arms around you. “I don’t want you to leave,” she mumbled into your shoulder. 

Pressing a kiss to her cheek, you swore, “I won’t be gone longer than a few days. If I don’t find a Leipreachán, I’ll just scout the jungle so that we know what it’s like for the sake of defense and head back home.”

Soft blonde hair buried further into your shoulder, Asterin’s hug around you only tightening. Vesta stood, a smirk on her face as she moved to join the hug.

“I hope you plan on sharing that gold with us,” she teased, and you only brought her closer, basking in her comforting scent before you finally let the pair go and turned to walk out the door.

~~~

The jungle was full of life - the trees a more vibrant green than you’d ever seen, birds, snakes, and large cats found at every turn. But after a full day of travel, there remained no sign of any fairies, much less Leipreachán. 

Exhausted and frustrated, you rolled out your pallet on the forest floor, listening to the sounds of chirping birds and the babbling brook as you fell asleep.

The next day passed in an almost identical manner. You enjoyed the liveliness of the forest, the fresh air and unique wildlife, but no fairies were to be found. Until you crossed the tree line, where the colors of the leaves changed. As in, they changed constantly. You were covered in a rainbow of magic, the treetops changing from green to blue to purple hues and everything in between as you marched onward. 

Whispers echoed through the wind, your clue that dryads were in the trees. Bubbles sprung up from the brook, showcasing the alven who waved as they floated downstream. 

You had clearly entered into a place of magic, surrounded by fairies, and thus decided that this would be a proper place to set up camp for the evening. Remaining cautious not to destroy or loot any of the plants and berries nearby, you pulled food rations from your bag. Jerky, bread, and chocolate was what remained at this point, and you decided that the protein and carbohydrates from the beef and bread would provide you with better sustenance to further your search of the Leipreachán tomorrow. 

Setting the chocolate back inside your bag, you ate your dinner listening to the musicality of the enchanted forest, eventually drifting off to sleep under the starry sky. 

~~~

Unbeknownst to you, time moved slower the further you ventured into the Jungle of Morla. While less than three days had passed where you were, seven had passed in the Witch Kingdom.

Vesta paced back and forth, fingers tangled in her red hair as she fought the anxiety building within her. Asterin watched her from the couch, leg bouncing as she chewed on her lip.

“What do we do? Do we go after her? We don’t even know where she could be,” Vesta babbled, breathing growing difficult as visions flashed of all the terrible things that could have happened to you.

Asterin released a shaky exhale before she stilled, looking up at Vesta. “Of course we go after her. We can venture to the edge of the forest - that’s nearly half a day’s journey, and we’ll decide from there. I’m sure she left a trace of where she traveled.”

With that, the witches packed their bags, setting off towards the jungle.

~~~

A small, frustrated huff echoed in your ear, rousing you from your sleep. Bleary eyes opened to see a greenie at your side, hopelessly trying to open the bag which you were currently using as a pillow. You eyed the little golden fairy for a moment before you sat up, keeping your hand firmly on the bag.

The fairy jumped back, frightened as its iridescent wings twitched in irritation. “What do you want?” it hissed up at you.

You scoffed, shooing the fairy back with your hand. “What do you want? Who do you think you are, trying to dig through my bag?”

The fairy sniffed, turning her head to the side as she tapped an impatient foot. “You are the one in my forest, bringing chocolate! Of all the sweets, you bring chocolate and expect no fairies to take it? I could smell that from a mile away,” she huffed, eyes flicking to the small opening in your bag.

“Nuh-uh,” you tsked, slamming your hand over the opening with a Cheshire grin. “I’ll make you a deal,” you drawled, the greenie immediately perking up at your offer. “If you can help me find a Leipreachán, I’ll give you all the chocolate that I have. Which is a good bit, I’ll add.”

The fairy took about one half of a second to decide before she reached out a gilded hand, shaking the tip of your finger. It was a deal.

“The Leipreachán waits at the end of the brook,” the greenie said, holding out her hand expectantly for you to deliver the chocolate. You sighed, opening the bag to snap off a tiny piece of the sweet before dropping it in her tiny hands.

“I’m going to need more information than that, if you want more chocolate,” you countered. “How does a brook have an end? Where is that?”

Gold dust shook from the fairy as she stomped a foot, glaring up at you. “The end of the brook is the end of the brook,” she scowled, pointing upstream. “It begins at the lake. You will know it when you see it.”

You took a moment to consider, knowing how mischievous greenies and other sprites can be. Her directions seemed simple enough. “Fine. Here, take the rest of the chocolate,” you granted, setting down the bar in front of her. You were shocked at the strength she showed, her tiny wings beating like a hummingbird’s as she lifted the bar twice her size, flying away without another word.

“I guess that’s it, then,” you muttered, rolling up your cot and beginning your journey towards the lake. You walked for several hours with only the sounds of strange birds and the dryads to keep you company, when you came across a clearing. 

The trees parted, their colorful assortment of leaves making way for the sunny afternoon sky and a calm, crystal clear lake ahead of you. Scanning the landscape, you began to search for the Leipreachán when you felt something pull on your pant leg. 

Startled, you drew your dagger, turning to find a small, very old looking man with a long red beard. Immediately, you lunged for him, barely catching the little sprite’s ankle in your grip to drag him back towards you.

The Leipreachán spewed curses at you, thrashing in your hold as he fought to be free. You pressed your dagger to his throat, and the sprite’s eyes grew wide as he stilled. 

“Okay, then. You’ve caught me. I assume it’s my gold that you want, then?” he asked, his voice too light and teasing. Something was amiss here. Nonetheless, you nodded, eager to hear what he had to say.

“My pot of gold is at the end of the rainbow. If you find it, it’s yours,” he said, a delirious chuckle echoing from his lips until his face turned red, the Leipreachán disappearing into a puff of green smoke. 

Waving your hand, you coughed and sputtered out the smoke from your mouth as you sat back on your heels, pondering what he meant. There was no rainbow; it hadn’t rained recently. The sky was clear above you. If only you could climb above the tree line to see the horizon, see if the rainbow was there.

As you searched for a tree to climb to gain the vantage point you needed, the realization hit you like a brick, knocking you on your ass in laughter. The multi-colored trees of the enchanted forest were like a rainbow, and the end of the rainbow must be the edge of the forest. 

Surveying the trees that surrounded the lake, you found that the path through which you’d come had disappeared. There were no multi-colored leaves that exuded magic, just crisp greenery. The cracking of branches sounded from behind you, and you looked across the lake to see the trees tops shaking, a monstrous roar sounding from within. A small sliver of brilliant colors peeked through the far side of the trees, and you smirked at the realization. The monster was the end of the rainbow.

~~~ 

Vesta was doubled over, hands on her knees as she panted for breath. “Goddess, how and why does she go on these treks? This should be a designated form of torture,” she heaved.

Asterin took deep breaths, opening her canteen as she stood next to Vesta, the two of them at the edge of the jungle. “I don’t know, but if she’s okay, I might kill her for putting us through this.”

Vesta’s head whipped towards Asterin, golden-onyx eyes sparkling with mirth. “You could just tell her how you feel,” she said, smugness radiating in her tone.

“So could you,” Asterin snapped back, huffing as she put her canteen away. “Let’s get going, before nightfall.”

Vesta managed to stand, aching muscles following Asterin closer to the tree line when they heard it. The trees shook with a massive wind, a loud roar bellowing from above, shortly accompanied by the sound of your voice, yelling something unintelligible.

Panic struck the witches, their hearts pounding with worrisome fear as a shadow passed overhead. Daring to look up, they saw the deep purple scales of a wyvern, your broad smile as you sat atop the beast. 

Your excitement was palpable as you directed the wyvern towards the ground, Vesta and Asterin nearly losing their balance at the force of the landing. They watched, frozen in shock as you leapt from the beast, hauling your bag over your shoulder as you approached the wyvern’s snout.

“Good girl,” you cooed, scratching the creature’s chin. Striding towards Vesta and Asterin, you dropped the heavy bag to the ground, rubbing your shoulder at the pain from the weight it had been carrying. 

“What are you two doing here? You missed me too much after a couple of days?” you teased, your smile quickly fading at their twin looks of confusion.

“A few days? It’s been ten days since you left,” Asterin whispered, her voice shaking. Your stomach dropped, mind reeling as you tried to process her words. “And you have a wyvern?” she gestured to the beast, admirably unflinching at how its wings flared, talons digging into the ground at her movement.

You glanced to the beautiful creature, admiration in your eyes at the marvelous being. “This is Fenrir. I think I’ll keep her,” you explained, giggling as Fenrir brushed her snout against you affectionately. After a moment of charged silence, you continued. 

“Fenrir was guarding the Leipreachán’s gold. She was all chained up, poor thing. So she’ll be coming home with us,” you said, almost more to Fenrir than the others. 

Asterin charged you, wrapping her arms around you in a tight hug as she buried her head in your shoulder. “Please never leave for that long again. I don’t think I could bear it,” she sniffled against your skin. You waved Vesta over, the other witch joining the hug.

“We both missed you, too much. I am just glad you are alright,” she breathed. With a smirk, you leaned back from the two of them, walking to where your satchel lay on the ground. 

“I’m more than just ‘alright,’” you teased, an arrogant smile on your face as you dumped the pounds of gold from the bag. “Now, let’s fly home.”

[terresdebrume]

Messrs Payne and Rowland's Adventuring Agency Part 1: The arrival of young Crystal - 21 I'm going back to work tomorrow and the 40-45hrs workweek might do a number on my ability to imagine scenarios again so I might as well at least try to update this before I am consumed x) Also, I feel like we're getting close to the end of that first part! Which is probably good because it's uh. About 13k long at this point. I'm not sure how to proceed from there. On the one hand, I don't know that I want to draft the entire series on Tumblr, but otoh I have a bunch of stuff I need to work on and this method is the one that's yielding the most consistent writing so far so... idk. Thoughts are welcomed, I guess.

Crystal wakes up alone, the pillow next to her long cold. Frowning, she steps out of bed and onto the plush green carpet Charles planned for her, her cheeks warmed by the dappled sun falling down from the branches. She wasn't exactly accurate when she told Becky about the tree. It's not so much that it's in the room, it's that her room is in it. Well. It gives the impression to be in a giant tree: she's tried extending her arm past the small balcony and the air went solid and bouncy like stretched leather. She couldn't fall off this thing if she tried. It's still cool, though, and the sun feels real enough to raise her face to it and let it warm her for a second.

Still, Rebecca might not be in danger of hurting herself in this room, but the Agency isn't child proof by any means. Just the thought of the girl alone in the armory makes Crystal shudder, and she exits her room without taking the time to wash up. She bypasses the small hall outside of the bedroom and steps into the main space, where the kitchen has been summoned. Becky is sitting at the table, drinking from a bowl bigger than her head, the sleeves of her night shirt rolled up so many times they look like snakes around her elbows. Behind her, Mr. Payne is at the stove, frying eggs. Crystal has been with him and Charles for over a week at this point, but the sight still makes her do a double take, until her notices her presence and clicks his tongue with a dramatic roll of his eyes.

"You ought to be used to this by now, young Crystal."

"It's just Crystal," Crystal protests, then winces at how young the petulance in her voice makes her sound.

She can't see it, but she can feel Mr. Payne smirking. Sighing, she goes to the table and sits in front of Rebecca, pouring herself a large glass of milk from the chilled jug set there. On the wall behind her, the books are gone, replaced by the Agency's everlasting pantry, and the animals in the window have been joined by a myriad of bees dancing on the yellow wall.

It's a cozy space, probably her favorite in the Agency, probably because it reminds her of Charles more than Mr. Payne. No wonder Becky looks so settled when she finally finishes her bowl and bends down to lick the yolk of her eggs off her plate.

"Absolutely not," Mr. Payne protests, spatula pointed at her. "You are not a dog. Get more bread if you wish to make the most of your eggs."

Crystal rolls her eyes, and she's making a face at Becky behind Mr. Payne's back when the front door opens and Charles steps in, two empty bags in his right hand. He has his left arm in a sling and his armor is off, but other than that he looks fine, if maybe a little less stable than usual when he drags the boot pull towards him. Crystal catches his eye when he looks towards the kitchen, and finds his smile just as contagious as ever. It's almost annoying, really.

"Good to see everyone's awake," he exclaims, striding up to them just as Becky clambers off her chair, the fabric of her nightshirt awkwardly wadded up in her hands to avoid tripping on it. "Ready to see your parents?"

"Oh yes!" Becky exclaims, smiling so brightly looking at her almost aches. "They're going to be so happy!"

"Great! Here, I'll show you where to wash up."

"We're leaving as soon as young Crystal is done with her meal," Mr. Payne calls out, and Crystal groans into her milk as he puts a plate of eggs down in front of her.

"If you keep calling me young Crystal," she threatens, "I'm going to start calling you old Mr. Payne."

"That would be inaccurate," Mr. Payne protests, visibly holding back a scandalized expression.

"Don't care," Crystal retorts. "Stop it, or I'll start."

"Start what?" Charles asks, stepping back into the kitchen with a curious expression."

"Your protegée," Mr. Payne sniffs, "is currently attempting to threaten me."

"Old man Payne started it!" Crystal retorts.

"I am only thirty-five years old!"

"Practically ancient," Crystal insists, relishing the way Mr. Payne's face reddens, the near-perfect O of his mouth as he prepares to reply.

"Alright, alright," Charles says, literally stepping between the two of them, "we're trying to leave soon, so why don't we all take a deep breath and work towards that, mmh?"

Crystal, to her own surprise, deflates immediately and busies herself with her eggs, keeping her nose down. To her right, she hears Mr. Payne protest his innocence again, audibly irritated. She can't catch the exact words either of them say, but it's easy to detect the soothing tone Charles adopts with him, the way Mr. Payne's voice softens almost immediately now that he's not talking to Crystal anymore. She wonders what it took to get the two of them to that kind of intimacy--feels, just a bit, like she's intruding even more than usual, this morning.

By the time she's done with her food, Charles and Mr. Payne have fallen into a hushed conversation that may or may not revolve around her, and Crystal is almost relieved to leave the table.

[maryamsweb]

HOLY GROUND, miles morales

“spinning like a girl in a brand new dress

we had this big wide city all to ourselves

we blocked the noise with the sound of 'i need you'

and for the first time I had something to lose”

pairing: felicia hardy x miles morales

1.

FELICIA HARDY WASN’T ONE TO LIVE WITH REGRET.

she tells herself, `everything is for a reason.’ a mission went bad? maybe trouble was coming. her father getting sent to prison? to teach her a lesson. but getting roped into saving the world with spider-man?

she had to have had questionable critical thinking skills.

felicia was currently in a battle with the green goblin as she and peter try to stop the collider.

she quickly draws her claws and engages with the green goblin with ferocity, dodging his attacks while landing blows on his glider. meanwhile, peter goes on the defensive, trying to avoid the green goblins's pumpkin bombs barrage.

the fight reaches the point where the heroes are backed into a corner. as they try to come up with a plan, the green goblin makes his move and charges at them, swinging his glider, threatening to thrust them out the window.

without hesitation, felicia launches herself at green goblin, delivering a series of kicks and punches, hoping to unbalance him. but the green goblin is ready and slams her with his glider, sending her flying towards peter. he catches her and sets her down, checking if she’s still capable of fighting.

as they stand face to face with the green goblin, he throws more pumpkin bombs destroying the underground. felicia’s eye catches peter swinging to the ground. as she approaches, she unzips her leather bag and pulls out some black and metallic claws, flicking and twirling them expertly before landing them in the back of her gloves.

the green goblin circles them, determined to take them out. but felicia lands a fierce attack, and begins to wonder where peter went. surely he didn’t leave her to fight by herself?

felicia now left to fight alone with the green goblin dodges his relentless attacks and fights back with deadly precision. but despite her best efforts, he proves to be a formidable foe, and she's having trouble holding him off on her own.

as peter swung back to the battle, felicia was barely holding her own, breathless and tired. the green goblin was gaining the upper hand until he arrived to turn the tide of the fight.

with peter back in the fight, the duo was once again a formidable force, and they began to deal heavy blows to the green goblin.

“we’re running out of time peter! use the override key now!”

just as peter was about to insert the key, kingpin’s inner circle intervenes, emerging from the shadows to take down the two heroes.

felicia lunged at the prowler with her claws, but he was too quick, dodging and weaving her attacks with ease. meanwhile, order, using his web-slinging and spider-sense, was able to keep the green goblin at bay, avoiding his bombs and the deadly glider.

the fight became more intense as the prowler landed a few hits on felicia, sending her reeling back. peter quickly came to her aid, knocking the prowler off his feet with a well-placed kick, but the battle wasn't over yet.

as the trio exchanged blows, the green goblin launched a new attack with a modified collider, constructing a black hole in the facility. the collider is dangerously unstable, and spider-man knew he had to act quickly to stop it.

in the chaos, the green goblinnoticed a moment of vulnerability in felicia. using his glider, he launched himself at her at full speed, knocking her down. she tried to get up again, but felt that something was wrong with her leg.

with no time to assess her injury, peter and felicia fought through the pain to stop the collider from going off. in the midst of the fight, peter saw his opportunity to seemingly destroy the collider and dove in.

but his heroic act proved futile as kingpin emerged to reveal that he only needed the collider for a few more moments - enough to complete his plans and finally eliminate his hated foes. as fisk smugly watched from a safe distance, green goblin threw peter into the black hole.

felicia watched in agony as green goblin used his glider to send letter tumbling into the collider's black hole. the sound of machinery grinding to a halt was followed by complete darkness and utter silence in the facility.

she tried to get to her feet to go to peter’s aid, but the pain in her leg was too much. as she gasped for air, tears rolling down her face, she realized that she was now alone in the facility with no way to rescue her fallen friend.

as she struggled to move, kingpin emerged from the shadows, snickering as he approaches. felicia’s rage burned bright, ready to take down fisk, but she knew she was too injured to fight him.

fisk stood there, triumphant over his victory and relishing in felicia’s heartbreak. he explained how the collider would be of great use to him and how careless she and her dear spider were to think they could interfere with his plans.

felicia watched from a distance, barely able to make noise, as fisk brought his hands down on peter’s chest, killing him. she watched as kingpin and his goons left.

she was barely able to make sense of what had just happened. everything felt like a blur, but as she started to come to her senses, she knew that there was one thing that she had to do.

ignoring her own injuries, she crawled towards peter’s body, crying with every groan of her body. she knew that she was powerless to save him, but she was determined to stay with him until the end.

as she got closer, she saw that his wounds were critical - there was no way that he could have survived what he had just been through. she took a deep breath, praying that he would hear her words, even if he wasn't able to respond.

"peter," she said, her voice choking with tears. "i’m so sorry. I never thought that this would happen. I wish that I could have done more, that I could have saved you.”

her heart was shattered into a thousand pieces, and all she could do was cry. the tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she gazed at peter’s lifeless form, unable to comprehend what had just happened.

she crawled to his side, hoping against hope that he would move, that he would smile that cocky grin of his, that the two of them would go back to the way things were. but as her hand came to rest on his chest, she knew it was too late.

her voice shook as she spoke to him, telling him how much he meant to her, how much he had taught her, how grateful she was for all the time they had shared. she talked to him as if he was listening, though she knew deep down that he wasn't.

felicia paused for a moment, her sobs choking her voice. she took a deep breath, forcing herself to keep talking.

"i’m so sorry that i couldn't save you," she whispered. "i tried, i really did. but it wasn't enough. i’ll never forget you, peter. I'll remember all the good times, the tough times, the victories, and the defeats. I promise you that I'll keep fighting, that I'll keep trying to make the world a better place, just like you did."

felicia leaned down and kissed peter’s forehead before sitting back and gathering her thoughts. even though she was heartbroken and didn't know what to do next, she knew she had to keep fighting, to continue being the hero that peter parker had helped her become.

[ceruleanmusings]

Mason - Fashion

eventually i'll do a visual fashion post for the mason girls so i have a place to reference their styles without needing to describe everything they're wearing.

but to keep it short:

Sammi - "classy", sundresses, platforms and heels, skirts, and jumpsuits are her go-tos. if it's cute, great, if it's mint green, even better! has a makeup look, shoes, a bag, jewelry, and nails to match any and every outfit. coat slings for looks rather than actually wearing them. wears mint green, florals, gingham, and houndstooth patterns. has a metallic green cartilage earring.

Jazz - "sassy", lots of cropped shirts, loose tanks, skinny or distressed jeans, muscle shirts, cold-shoulder shirts, so. many. vans, ever-present backwards red cap, short-shorts and high-waisted shorts, knee-high socks, surfer/paradise/skater brands, tends to wear rings. goes for reds, pinks, tans/creams, and black attire. always wears dark red polish. easy makeup, foundation, eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, dark red lips, has a metallic red eyebrow piercing.

Mel - "funky", collegiate-meets-sporty, letterman jackets, nikes, collared sleeveless shirts, high-tops, leather jackets and vests, tapered cargoes and split color jeans, lots of band tees or vintage tees, baseball jersey-style shirts and local small business pieces, tends to wear bracelets and anklets. goes for purple, black, white, tan, and gray attire. always wears black polish. easy makeup, foundation eyeliner, eyeshadow, mascara, neutral lips. has a metallic purple lip ring.

Mickey - "fresh", partial to big hoodies and sweatshirts, simple jeans, overalls, doc martens (pre-style evolution, s1 + s2), punny or sarcastic graphic tees and outerwear, 90s pop culture t-shirts, jean jackets, mickey mouse shirts/patterns, hooded shirts, cuffed or skinny jeans, doc martens (post-style evolution, s3 + s4), tends to wear necklaces, mostly bowtie shapes. always wears blue, will occasionally swap in black or gray. no makeup, but if needed then just eyeliner and mascara. occasionally wears black or blue glitter polish. has a metallic blue nose ring.

[alinapresley]

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[shesthejukeboxhero]

could you make a Jason Carver x rockstar!reader one shots where they meet at school from reader being friends with lucus. And lucus convinced Jason to come to one of your shows with corroded coffee?

Could you use they/them prns as well

If your not comfortable with this ask feel free to skip

Thanks for the request!! I hope this is okay I was really debating posting it because I’m not used to writing/reading gn! fics so I hope this is okay 😭 I worked on this for months and I got a little rusty so if this isn’t good I’m sorry 💀

Paradise City

Jason Carver x GN!Reader

Warnings: Drugs (alluded to, weed), Alcohol, Smoking, maybe one swear word, basically just pure fluff 💁🏼‍♀️

Summary: When Lucas’ new friend makes a pit stop in Hawkins, they catch the eye of one starry-eyed blond.

The rumble of the Corvette shocked the entire basketball team as it rolled into the parking lot. The Metallica blaring from the speakers causes their heads to turn and see who has courage to be different in this cul-de-sac town.

“SINCLAIR!” The mysterious voice yelled as they rolled their window down, Metallica flooding the air around them. “I’VE GOT A SHOW TONIGHT, LETS ROCK AND ROLL!”

Lucas slings his bag over his shoulder and walks to the car, but not without eyes on his back as he walks away.

“Sinclair, who’s this?”

He turns around to face the blond, confused. “It’s my friend, they’re just visiting.”

Then the sound of boots on pavement approaches the group of boys. “Let’s go Sinclair, I’m running late already.” They then notice the blond staring at them. “Y/N L/N.” They say, extending their hand out in greeting.

“Jason Carver.” He says, shaking his hand.

Nodding, the leather-wearing rocker steps back toward Lucas. “You ready to go?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Lucas says, walking towards the car.

“Wait, what are you doing tonight that you’re in such a rush for?” The blond says, watching them closely.

“I’ve got a show tonight at the Hideout. You should totally come.” They say with a smirk as they walk back to the Corvette. Before Jason can even say a word, the Corvette is speeding out of the parking lot.

It’s safe to say Jason was far out of his comfort zone as he arrived at the Hideout. He normally wouldn’t go, but for some reason, he felt the need to come see your show. As he walks in, he notices he DEFINITELY does not fit in. Girls with fishnet leggings, boys with big long hair, this is definitely not his style. That’s when he locks eyes on them. The leather jacket on their arms, the guitar strung over their shoulder, it’s almost like a drug pulling him in.

“Good evening Hawkins!” Their voice rings out over the speakers. “Or as I like to call it, Paradise City!”

They swing the guitar over to the front of their body, and starts strumming the intro to “Paradise City” by Guns N’ Roses. As they begin singing, their voice is as smooth as butter and felt like a hymn to the blond.

“Take me down to the paradise city, where the grass is green and the girls are pretty!”

The crowd finished the lyrics by yelling, “Oh won’t you please take me home!”

Jason recognizes maybe one of the songs, they’re all too… rebellious for him. One thing he does know, is that Y/N has a voice for singing, that’s for sure.

After the show, Jason spots them at the edge of the stage, talking to all of the band’s groupies. The guitar is no longer on their shoulder, but they still looks just as badass as before. He approaches them, which causes all the groupies to give him weird stares.

“Well, look what the cat dragged in.” Y/N says, a smirk tugging at their lips. “Never thought I’d see you at a rock concert, Carver.” A cigarette (or what Jason thinks to be a cigarette…) hangs loosely in their hand as a few groupies wrap their arms around them, trying to claim Y/N as “theirs”.

“Until tonight I would have had to agree.” Jason says, trying not to let his confidence slip.

The smirk on their face was electric. “So, what brought you out here tonight?”

“You invited me, and I would never turn down an invite to a free show.” Jason was just trying to save his ass from being embarrassed. He would never be caught dead here, and the rockstar knows it.

“Well, I’m glad you showed up.” The rocker pushes the groupies out of the way and extends their hand out to Jason. “Why don’t you join me back stage, have a few drinks. I’ll show you how to play!” They said, referring to the guitar on their shoulder.

“Why not, I could never turn down a free drink.”

The two of them head backstage, and Jason never thought he’d experience a day like this. I mean, his parents would kill him for dating someone like this! Rock is the art of the Devil, they told him. Sure didn’t sound like it when it comes from the mouth of Y/N. They hand him a beer, then they lead him to the couch.

“So, tell me about yourself.” The rocker asks, kicking their boots up on the coffee table in front of them.

“What’s there to know?”

“Well, what’s your favorite song?”

“You wouldn’t know it.”

“Try me.”

Now Jason had to actually think. He never had a favorite song. Now he has to come up with some generic answer to give them.

“Take on Me by a-ha.”

“Stereotypical.” They flip the guitar over their shoulder and starts strumming the chords to the song. Jason is in awe, how can someone know the chords off the top of their head?

“It’s a simple riff really, you just move your fingers like this.” They show him, then hand him the guitar. Getting it situated on his lap right, they grab his hands gently and help him get his fingers on the right chords.

“Now just move your fingers over as many as I tell you to, okay?” He nods, willing to listen to anything they tell him.

As they tell him the chords, they sing the lyrics so he knows how it’s supposed to sound.

“Talking away~ good, good. Now, move your fingers to the fifth place.”

Eventually, the two of them reach the chorus, and he’s got the hang of it now.

“Take on me… take me on… I’ll be gone in a day or two…~ That was perfect!” The rocker says, high-fiving Jason, but Jason knows this is his chance. Grabbing their hand, he pulls them close to him and…

To his shock, they don’t pull away. They don’t pull away for a long time. It’s like time stopped, the world stopped turning. Jason never thought he could love someone so different from him, but tonight that changed.

“Guess Hawkins is Paradise City, after all.”

[mrsaguapapi]

Ch 1 

Chapter 2

Critical Hit

The Vibe:

She's a Rainbow-The Rolling Stones

I lie awake in bed, on my back and limbs sprawled out like a starfish; thinking about last night's strange series of events.

Fucking sorcerers. They're just damn wizards without hats.

"Strange people," I say out loud to myself, "Yukio, we're gonna go into the city today," I say out loud waiting for her to come to me. I feel her jump up on me and rest in my lap; I pet her and continue, "We'll go for a walk, maybe stop at our favorite ice cream shop. How does that sound?" Yukio wiggles her tale and licks my hand in excitement.

I get up and begin my morning routine feed Yukio, eat 2 bananas, shower, brush my teeth, and throw some loose curls in my hair. The great thing about Japan's winter months is that I can wear my hair down without frizz-altering humidity. I'll throw some box braid in a few months to prepare for the summer heat.

I walk to my closet and hold my hand out feeling for the tags on my hung-up outfits. Each outfit is put together and hung in garment bags along with a shoe that matches; Each bag has a permanent tag written in brail so I can tell which is which. I have a personal shopper who specializes in helping the blind; she comes in and organizes my closet every once in a while, occasionally swapping out old outfits for new ones.

I find the label of one outfit,

Chunky black leather ankle boots| Stone-washed, high-waisted capri jeans Forest green knitted long-sleeve halter tank top Long black overcoat

I'm 25 now and it's been about 10 years since I lost my sight, I can barely remember what colors look like, and my memories have faded a bit. I told my shopper to pick whatever and that,

'I'm blind but I still wanna look hot

I get dressed and grab my sling bag with my essentials, wallet, keys, and my foldable cane and pack my bag; as well as leash up Yukio and begin our walk. We do our usual stroll in the city walking past several markets and shops and listening to people laugh and gossip like no one is listening. It was a nice little hour and a half of constant eavesdropping; some people watch the Kardashians I go and ear hustle the streets.

We stop at the ice cream shop and I decided to just get a vanilla milkshake and grab Yukio a puppy cone to enjoy. We sit outside the shop on a bench enjoying our cold treats when my phone vibrates and begins to speak a text to me,

TEXT FROM KAI

Hey boss, can you stop by and sign for delivery? They are refusing to release our product until the owner signs off.

DO YOU WANT TO REPLY?

"Yes," I say

REPLY NOW

"I'm about a 10 min walk away, be there asap"

ARE YOU READY TO SEND IT?

"Yes" I reply

I put my phone back in my bag and stand up, "Come on Yukio gotta stop by work real quick" I say to her as we navigate to my restaurant.

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

When I arrive I hear Kai arguing with the delivery boy in the foyer of the restaurant.

"I'm sorry it's a part of our new policy," the boy says

"You think you could have notified us first? Our owner is blind she needs to know these things ahead of time"

"Kai," I say, "Thank you, I can take it from here. Wait out here with Yukio for me?

"Yes ma'am," he says before taking Yukio's leash

I walk into the building and throw my customer service voice on, "Hi how can I help you?" I ask

"Are you the owner?" he asks

"I am"

"I thought the owner was blind"

"Well, that was incredibly ignorant." I say pulling out my cane for a little bit of flair, "Is this better?"

The delivery boy clears his throat and hands me a clipboard and a pen, "I'm sorry ma'am, can you please sign for this?"

"Yes," I say taking the pen and board, "Can you guide me where to sign?" he takes my hand with the pen and places it on the board prompting me to sign there.

"Where should I unload these?"

"Take them to the kitchen, Kai will guide you, and for now on Kai can sign off on these. Thank you" I say before walking out "All taken Care of, you now have the authorization to sign off," I say holding my hand out for Yukio's leash.

Kai places the leash in my hand, "Thank you, boss, sorry for the inconvenience"

"It's no problem, honestly. The delivery boy is going to unload in the kitchen, you got it from here?"

"Yes ma'am! Have a great day!" he says before walking away inside

I let out a long sigh, before turning around and beginning to walk away.

I hear someone clear their throat from my side, "Excuse me Miss" a man says causing me to stop in my tracks and look at him, "Kiyotaka Ijichi. Gojo sent me to pick you up for your interview"

Gojo?

"Um?... What interview?" I ask

"The interview for the Combat Specialist position," he says a little nervous

Not this shit again

"I already turned down his little offer. The answer is no"

"Ma'am I-"

"You know what, call him please?" I politely demand

"Yes Ma'am" he obliges rather quickly.

The phone rings twice before Gojo Answers, "Gojo Mrs. Himari-"

I quickly take the phone from his and put it to my ear, "Gojo what the hell man"

"Heyyyy! Ari, what's up?"

"Don't play dumb, what weird shit is this? Why is there a man waiting for me outside my business, I could have sworn I told you no, did I not? "

"You did. Come on, at least come to the interview and check it out."

"Why? Why would I do that? I don't need a job"

"Because It'll be fun. You seem like you could use a little fun. I saw the way you fought it was natural for you, even with being blind. You can't tell me you aren't a little bored with your mundane life? I have a feeling you weren't always this 'humdrum'"

I scoff, "Oh whatever, don't pretend you know me, asshole."

"Come on, will it kill you to humor me?"

I hold my head back and rub my brow bone in frustration, "If I say yes will you leave me alone?"

"Yes," he says rather quickly

"Was that a lie?" I follow up

"Yes" he laughs

"Goodbye Gojo," I say before handing Ijichi the phone, "Hang up on his ass"

"Yes Ma'am"

"Take me to this damn interview" I sigh and check my attitude, "Please" I add

"Right away Ma'am," he says before opening a car door

"Yukio you first," I say. I hear her climb into the car and follow her.

Ijichi closes the door for me and climbs into the front seat, "Jujustu High is in the outskirts of Tokyo, we'll be about 20 min okay Ma'am"

"Okay, thank you," I lean my head on the cool window pain and relax for the short car ride.

----------------------------------------------- When we arrived I could smell the blossoming trees and fresh air. We must be near tons of trees and greenery. Ijichi leads me and Yukio through the halls of this supposed school; after a few more turns we stop and Ijichi opens up a door, "I have been instructed to go only this far. Please navigate yourself to your seat the principal will be with you shortly"

I bend down and unleash Yukio as well as pull out my cane, to help with the walk, "Thank you" I say before walking forward through this big room and eventually making my way into a seat with Yukio sitting beside me on the floor. There we wait for about 10min before I hear a large man walk through the room and sit behind the desk that rests in front of me.

"Himari Sanada?" he asks

"In the flesh" I dryly respond

"Principal Yaga, nice to meet you," he says, "Gojo says you're a natural fighter"

"I suppose, I am"

"How open are you to sparring with some of us?"

"You want me to fight you?"

"Yes, no point in getting further into the conversation until after I see your skills. The position is for combat not speech"

"Well, I'd really rather not. I have warded off senseless violence, Unless absolutely necessary."

"Is that because of your previous occupation?"

"Okay, so not only have I been stalked at my place of work, but you've also looked into my past. Don't get it twisted just because of what you read, you still know shit about me" I say showing my frustration

"I know you're the adopted daughter of former Yakuza boss Tonaka, at the ripe age of 6 you began training with your father, and by age 11 you were running point on missions for him, I know you lost sight due to a degenerative optic nerve condition at the age of 15 and that somehow you came out from that horrible fate stronger than ever. They called you Kokushibyō, the Black Death. You were a career criminal, an assassin"

"What are you getting at?" I dryly ask

"Mrs. Senada, every day these cursed spirits get worse and worse and jujutsu sorcerers are becoming even more of a rare breed. Last year the Night Parade of a Hundred Demons, we lost nearly a hundred of our Sorcerers in that battle. As we raise the next class of fighters I see that they are lacking in hand-to-hand combat and weapons proficiency. Our children are dying, we need help."

I breathe in and cross my arms while rubbing my neck.

"I was almost hopeless and then I hear of a blind girl who was able to not only navigate her way through a curses pocket dimension but then went to kill said curse that she couldn't even see. You didn't have a cursed tool, which leads me to believe you have mounds of cursed energy within you. You seem like you want to live a good life, like a good person, and that you don't want to hurt anyone anymore and I want that for you but why let your skills waste away when you make good use of them?"

I sigh loudly and roll my eyes, "Fuck you for making me feel" I say in disgust, "If I agree, we do it my way, How many students?"

"Nine total, but we want you to focus on the first years for now; Yuji Itadori, Megumi Fushiguro, & Nobara Kugisaki "

"Okay, who's currently in charge of teaching them?"

"Kento Nanami part-time grade 1 sorcerer, from time to time teaches hand to hand; took the time to personally train Yuji Itadori, who is probably the most skilled out of the three of them. As for weapons, Atsuya Kusakabe grade 1 sorcerer, and teacher here; skilled swordsman but no honor, he would 100% leave you behind if it meant saving his own skin."

"Noted." I stand up and dust my pants off and grab my cane, "Well if we are gonna do this, I'd like to fight the first years as well as Mr. Nanami."

"Why not Atsuya as well?" he asks

"Well from what you just told me, I've got a clear understanding of what kind of fighter and man he is. A coward and cowards are shit fighters" I respond. Yaga says nothing but laughs under his breath as stands leading me out of his office.

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

He leads Yukio and me outside to what I assume is an open field by the feel of the grass under my feet. Eventually, we come to a stop and I hear a few familiar voices, "ARI!!!" I hear Gojo yell, "Are you ready to tussle?" He asks.

"Are you ready to shut the hell up?" I snarkily say. Next to him, I hear the smallest most hidden chuckle coming from Gojo's side.

"Ouch right in the heart, why don't you like me?" he asks fawning sweetness

"Because you're annoying" I laugh at him

"She's right," Nanami says, he must have been the one who chuckled

"Ari, glad you came!" Yuji says before hugging me

Fucking golden retriever

"Down boy." I laugh

"Sup," Nobara says, "You can't see him but our black cat is next to me. Say hi Megumi"

"Hi" The boy plainly says, "Is that your dog?" he says with a hint of excitement

"Hey, girl, nice to meet you Megumi, yes this is Yukio" I respond, "You can pet her". Megumi quickly takes me up and that offer and kneels down and pets her head.

I listen around me a little further and hear that there are a few other people there whose voices I don't recognize.

Principal Yaga speaks up, "Fushigoru, Itadori, & Mrs. Kugisaki front and center." he commands. The three take their time making their way to the center of the field near Yaga. "You three one at a time will fight Mrs. Senada. The match will be over once one of you are unable to continue."

"No need for one at a time, all at once is fine" I chime in folding my cane away and taking off my coat, and placing them on the ground with my sling bag; I begin to approach the others, stopping when I stand in front of the first years.

"Okay, then you heard her," Yaga says walking away, "You may begin"

"Umm this doesn't seem fair," Megumi says a little unsure, "You're blind and it's three against one"

"Worry about yourself," I say, "attack when you're ready"

The Vibe:

Swamp Bitches-Doechii, Rico Nasty

We all stand there for a few minutes, I hear them contemplate and whisper amongst themselves

"Itadori, you bulldoze and rush ahead, you've got the strength for it, Kugisaki and I all will come around the sides"

I'm sure they think I can't hear them.

"On the count of the 3. 1..2..3!"

Itadori quickly approaches throwing several punches, I manage to bob and weave between his attempts and block his last hit with my forearm, which hurt like hell; he's definitely got the strength and the speed but he's sloppy as hell. While blocking his hit with my arm I take my free hand and punch him in the side causing Itadori to topple over in pain; I finish him off with a right hook and he falls to the ground.

Finally making her move, I feel Kugisaki come up behind me and try to restrain my wrists; while she was focused on my hands I took the opportunity to knock my head back hitting her in the face. She let go suddenly in pain and I swiftly back kicked her in the stomach.

I hear Fushigoru rush toward me and decide to run towards him head-on; just as we were about to meet I used the momentum from the dash to drop kick him in the chest knocking him back to the ground. From the force of my kick, I fall down too but quickly recover rolling back and making my way to my feet.

Taking a second to assess the situation, I listen and hear Itadori sound asleep, I must have knocked him out. Kugisaki is on the ground trying to stand back up but not finding the strength in her legs. Lastly, I focus on Fushigoru and hear him coughing and gasping for air.

"Your reflexes are shit," I say out loud, "Your sight is a privilege that you take advantage of and you underestimated my strength. Lots to learn," I say that last bit under my breath. I go over to Fushigoru and bend down to him, he still wheezing, I put my hand on his chest, "Calm yourself and Breathe" I say as I breathe in deeply and out slowly encouraging him to do it with me. He does and eventually, he calms down a bit, "You and Nobara most likely have bruised ribs, take it easy and go help her up" I say standing up and holding my hand out to help him up. He walks away holding his chest.

I make my way to Yuji and bend down to make sure he's okay, he's still fast asleep, "Yuji wake up" I said shaking him. After a few seconds of this, I give up, "Gojo come get your kid" I speak up a little louder, "He's not waking up any time soon; honestly, they all should go to an infirmary" I say

"I see why they called you the Black Death, quick and painful" Gojo says

That stings, I hate that fucking name

I think Yaga notices my uncomfortablity and quickly speaks up, "Gojo take your students to Shoko"

"WHAT! Why do I have to go, it's getting so good" Gojo protests

"Kugisaki and Fushigoru can't take Itadori to shoko they are clearly injured. Go and be responsible for once" Yaga plainly states

"Fine" Gojo says defeated before he basically throws Yuji over his shoulder and begins walking, "Come on you two" he says to Megumi and Nobara who follow behind.

"I thought we were friends Ari" Nobara says as she walks away

"We still are" I laugh and yell behind her.

"Alright Mr. Nanami, you're next" Yaga says

I hear him take a deep long sigh as he makes his way to the center of the field, "Lets make this quick, you know how I feel about overtime"

I softly laugh at his demeanor as I take my position on the field, "This should be good, You can start whenever" Yaga says

We stand there for several minutes sizing each other up and planning our first move, "I am a VERY patient girl and I promise you I'm not moving first 'Mr Overtime'." I say taunting him.

"Teasing me won't work. Considering one of my only friends is Gojo, I have HIGH threshold for nonsense." he quips back, "I want to go home so I suppose I'll I make the first move" He says before suddenly throwing a punch

I quickly block him but he's fast, he manages to sucker punch me in the stomach knocking me back a bit.

Fuck, he's got some strength

I hear Yukio begin to bark and growl, she thinks this is a real fight , "Yukio Stay" I command. Swiftly I recover not allowing myself to feel that pain. I advance towards him and throw a series of punches at him, starting with two at his stomach, two at his chest, and a upper cut to his face now knocking him back. I hear him grunt as he quickly regains his stance throwing a left hook in my side and his right to my face knocking me to the ground

Jesus fucking christ that hurts; I think he broke my nose, Clearly he's got speed and brute force. I need to be more agile and quick on my feet to keep up.

While down, I take the opportunity fuck with his head, "Oh god" I wine and moan, "You broke my nose you asshole; what the fuck" I begin to cry real tears (Low key does really fucking hurt).

Nanami instantly regrets his actions and comes near me to offer a helping hand, "Shit are you okay? I knew we shouldn't have done this; i was afraid you would get hur-" he says before I punch him in throat cutting him off. He instinctively grabs his neck gasping for air; I stand up over him and side kick him in the face knocking him down to the ground.

I feel my nose bleeding down my face, so i back up a few paces and swipe the blood off my face and wipe my hands in the grass, "Get up" I say before I take my hands and placing them on both sides of my nose before I quickly break my nose back in place, "Fuck me that hurts" I yell.

I hear Nanami groan and struggle to get back up, eventually he stands back and begins to speak, "That was a shitty cheap trick" he says with a raspy voice

"That was shitty is that you came into this fight thinking it was an easy win. I'm a fighter in my own right treat me like one." I say holding my hands up a defensive position.

Nanami rushes me and throws a few more punches, this time with less focus; he is pissed, "Your anger is making you sloppy" I say before grabbing his punch and twisting his wrist as I swing my legs around his neck using my weight and his to pull us down hard to the ground. I soften my land with body and quickly crawl up him resting my legs on his upper arms pinning him down and for extra measure I have a hand around his neck and my other ready to knock him unconscious if he moves, "Do you concede?" I ask. He says nothing but uses what mobility he can and taps my leg with his hand.

I take the hint and release him and roll off of him and eventually stand up. I offer a hand to him to help him up; I can tell he's hesitating, so I gesture again for him to take my hand and eventually he does. I help him stand up, this is the first time I've been this close to him and actually let myself be aware of his height and how he towers over me.

He smells so nice, like evergreen trees and lemons

"Good fight" he says to me bringing me back from my inner thoughts. Eventually he lets go of my hand and for some reason I'm a little saddened by that. Yukio makes her way to me and begs at my feet. I bend down and pick her up and reassuring that i'm okay.

"I've seen enough" Yaga says pulling both of our attentions, "You've got the job if you want it"

"I'll take it" I say, "You have me Mondays and Wenesdays for hand to hand training. Fridays for weapons and Sundays will be open to staff who want extra training. I own a restaurant so my Tuesdays and Thursdays will be dedicated to that unless discussed beforehand and Saturdays are for me."

"Deal" Yaga says, "Welcome to Jujustu High"

[aimeedaisies]

ROYAL FANDOM VIRTUAL CORONATION PARTY 2023 - Buckingham Palace Reception for foreign guests ✨

🥂 Dress - I have chosen the Vampires Wife Green Festival Corduroy Maxi Dress 💚

🥂 Hair - for my hair I have chosen to have bouncy beach waves

🥂 Makeup - for my makeup I’d do something like Gigi Hadid is wearing here, a shimmery smokey eye with eyeliner with a slightly darker nude lipstick

🥂 Jewellery - I have two piercings in each ear so I would stack these gorgeous vintage emerald and diamond drop earrings and some simple emerald and diamond studs. I know that Queen Camilla loves her Van Cleef & Arpels jewellery so I’ve drawn inspo from that. I would wear the gold and malachite Vintage Alhambra bracelet with 5 motifs.

🥂 Shoes - The Versace gold La Medusa sling back heels

🥂 Bag - To match the shoes I have chosen the Gucci Dionysus super mini leather clutch

🥂 A food to serve - mini versions of these Swedish Princess cakes, look at how dainty and beautiful these are 😍

🥂 A drink to toast with - I saw this delicious looking cocktail on Tiktok, called the Strawberry Limoncello Lemon Drop. It has vodka, limoncello, lemon juice, strawberry syrup and edible glitter 🍓🍋

@theroyalsandi

[emerald-isle-sniper]

Taking a step back Gen adjusted the edge of the grinning veil across her nose. Her head cocking one way and then the other as she studied the side of the base she had made her canvas. The fresh can of paint in her hand rattling with an idle shake, just like the loose silver charms on the twine of leather wrapped around her wrist. Silently deciding what to do next or whether or not she should switch colors.

Because she was new on the base Genevieve doubted anyone would recognize her. Giving her the opportunity of ambiguity until people eventually noticed she and her brother had moved in. It helped that if anyone were to see her, the sniper looked more like a wild street child than a professional killer.

Her massive mane of copper curls were barely contained into two braids that rested on either shoulder. While her clothes were an old pair of paint tattered dark grey cargo pants, and an old grey-ish green zip up hoodie. With her grinning sniper veil up over the lower half of her face and a fabric sling bag full of can's of spray paint, Gen almost looked ready to rob someone.

Shaking the can again she finally stepped forward to start spraying where she had left off. Marking the wall in bright streaks of yellow over the red she had already painted on. Not immediately noticing the massive figure moving closer until she paused to look at her work again. About jumping right out of her boots with a hissed "Shite!", that nearly made her drop the can in her hand.

Out of reflex the hand holding the spray can immediately went behind her back like a kid caught red handed. Acting like that might somehow give her plausible deniability if he were to say anything about what she was doing.

"What?" She snipped quickly with guilt squeaking in her voice. "What are ye looking at? I wasn't doing anything."