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obsessed-with-fake-men · 7 months ago

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After His Show

After seeing the band play a gig in the city, you ride back to town on Seb’s motorcycle. But, you get a little distracted along the way…

Sebastian xF!Reader, Sebastian xAFAB!Reader

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Tw: nsfw, mdni, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, mentions of cigarettes, pet names, semi-public sex, oral male receiving

AN: This fic can be read as a follow up to Under His Desk or as a stand alone. I have been on the motorcycle thirst trap side of the internet lately and I thought that perfectly aligned with a fic idea. I have never ridden a motorcycle so if my descriptions are inaccurate, I’m sorry :)

Wc: 4400

It was another fall day and you had just finished a harvest which meant one thing - it was time to pop into Pierre’s for some more seeds. You head down the road that leads into town trying to decide if you want to focus on artichokes or if you have enough time left in the season to plant some fairy roses. You’re so lost doing the mental calculations that you would’ve run into Sam if he hadn’t grabbed you by the arms.

“Look where you’re going, farmer! You could’ve made a dent in me,” he jokes, squeezing your biceps. “No, but for real you’re strong right?”

“Uh yeah, I guess I am?” you shrug.

“Well, we could use an extra roadie for the Goblin Destroyer show tomorrow night if you’re free,” he says. “I know Seb would be really happy if you were there.” Sam winks at you.

You flush, forgetting that Sam knows you and Seb have been fooling around since he almost walked in on the two of you. If you’d only grabbed your bra before hiding under Seb’s desk this embarrassment could’ve been avoided.

“Yeah, sure I don’t have any plans for tomorrow,” you say. “It would be cool to see y’all at a real gig and not just rehearsals.”

“Sweet! Okay, we’re meeting at the bus stop at 4, see you there,” Sam calls as he heads for home.

The next day you finish your chores around the farm as quickly as you can. You may be a roadie tonight, but you’re a groupie at heart and you want to look the part. When you’re satisfied that you look somewhere between halfway decent and slightly hot, you head for the bus stop.

As you approach, you see Seb leaving. You try to catch his eye but it’s clear his head is elsewhere. When you get to the bus stop, Abigail whistles at you.

“Damn girl, you clean up nice,” she exclaims. You hadn’t really had a chance to dress up for a night out since you moved to Pelican Town a few months ago.

“Thanks,” you laugh. “You look great too, very punk rock.”

“Dude I wear this outfit literally all the time, but thanks,” she laughs.

You help load the rest of the equipment, looking around every now and then hoping to see Seb. By the time all of the gear is loaded, Sebastian still hasn’t appeared. You see Sam lingering by the doors to the bus.

“Hey Sam, is Seb… I mean I saw him heading to town when I got here and we’re about to leave,” you trail off.

“Oh yeah, he had to help his mom with something, he said he’ll meet us there,” Sam replies.

Disappointed, you board the bus behind Sam.

The ride to the venue goes by faster than you expected, and you spend the whole time laughing and joking with Sam and Abigail. Upon arrival you jump into your role as a roadie, unloading gear off the bus with the same focus you use to plant or harvest crops. When everything is set up, you head outside for a smoke break. You’ve always smoked off and on, but since hanging around Seb the habit has admittedly gotten a bit worse.

Searching your pockets for a lighter, you come up empty. You wish Seb was there, he always has one on him. As if in answer to your prayers you hear a motorcycle nearing. Looking up, you see Seb riding towards you. You had to focus to keep your mouth from falling open. Sure you’d seen him working on the bike and that was objectively hot, but seeing him ride up on it was another thing entirely. You weren’t sure if it was the confidence he rode with, but even with his face obscured by the helmet he looked sexy.

Seb pulled the bike up right next to you. He was surprised he parked straight because he had been looking only at you since he entered the lot. Seb knew you were going to be there tonight, but damn he didn’t know you were going to look this good all dressed up in black. He knows that it’s the traditional color crew wears, but he hopes you considered his reaction as you picked out your outfit - the thought makes him blush. Those tight black jeans seem to hug every curve and your top is cut just low enough to get his heart racing.

Sebastian pulls off his helmet and runs a hand through his dark hair.

“Need a light?” he asks, nodding toward the unlit cig in between your fingers.

“Yeah, your timing is perfect,” you say, as Seb dismounts the motorcycle and pulls a lighter from his pocket.

You lean forward, breathing in as he lights the tip of your cigarette.

“Sounds like you were missing me,” he teases, plucking the cig from your fingers to take a drag.

“Missing you or just your lighter, who’s to say,” you retort.

Seb offers the cig back to you, instead of taking it, you lean forward making eye contact as you take a drag while it’s still between his fingers, lips brushing his digits. Seb’s cock twitches at your brazen flirtation and he huffs out a laugh. Damn, you really know how to get him going.

Seb grabs your hand and pulls it up to his mouth. He kisses the inside of your wrist, causing you to draw in a ragged breath.

“Well I missed you, y/n…” he whispers against your wrist.

You can’t think beyond his admission and his breath dancing across your sensitive skin. It makes your heart race and you’re certain he can feel your pulse quicken under his soft touch.

“Are you sure you haven’t missed me too?” he teases, pulling your body flush with his. Seb’s other hand captures your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his - the cherry of your cig reflected in his blown-out pupils.

“You can tell me, baby,” he coos. “I know how to keep a secret.”

The back door to the venue opens with a bang.

“Yo Seb, you out here?” Sam’s voice calls. “It’s time for the final soundcheck!”

“Yeah man, I’ll be there in a minute,” Seb shouts back, not taking his eyes from yours.

Without warning, he pushes you back against the wall of the building, lips locking with yours, cigarette dropped forgotten on the pavement.

His hand travels to your waistband, fingers skillfully popping the button of your jeans.

“Seb what are you doing??” you hiss. “Someone will see us!”

“Not if I’m quick,” he promises with a wink.

Undoing your zipper, his long fingers find their way to your underwear. A moan escapes your lips as he brushes over the wet cloth barely covering your pussy. Seb is quick to capture the sound with his mouth.

When you quiet he whispers in your ear, “Can’t believe how wet you are for me already sweetheart.”

Gently he runs a finger through your folds under the fabric. You gasp, struggling to remain silent. Seb plunges the finger deep into your hole, covering your mouth with his other hand to keep you from crying out.

He pumps his finger into you a few times, just enough to make you ready to beg for more when he removes his digit from you, bringing it to his lips. Watching Seb suck your juice from his finger causes your walls to clench around nothing - you can’t get over how hot and bothered this man makes you.

“Don’t worry baby, I just wanted a taste. Let’s call it a good luck charm,” Seb chuckles. “C’mon, they’ll be wondering where we are.”

As Sebastian heads onstage for sound check you grab a drink from the bar and join the waiting crowd. You’re not in the first row but you don’t mind. Positioning yourself in front of the keyboard, you look around, shocked by the number of unfamiliar faces at the show. The second the lights go down and the band takes the stage, there’s a palpable shift in the energy. Sure you’d been to rehearsals and a couple of local shows, but seeing the guys and Abby on a stage in the city, they look like they belong up there.

Seb had played it cool in front of you, but as he walks onto the stage he can feel his hands begin to shake. Shit, this is the biggest crowd they’ve ever had. He can NOT fuck it up now. Positioning himself behind his keyboards, Seb blinks through the spotlights to the sea of faces. Well maybe not a sea, but it’s a decent-sized lake. As soon as his eyes adjust, he sees you. He’d recognize your smile and bright eyes anywhere. He’s always nervous for shows, but locking eyes with you, he lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. You mouth “you got this” and blow him a kiss. God you’re so cute, he thinks, shaking his head to himself as his heart swells.

Abby starts the count-off with her drumsticks and muscle memory kicks in. Seb loses himself in the music as he always does. Forgetting he’s on a stage in front of a crowd of strangers, his fingers know just where to go. As the first set ends Seb slowly comes out of his daze, guided by Sam’s voice distantly addressing the crowd.

“We are Goblin Destroyers, thanks for coming out tonight!” Sam shouts as the crowd cheers. He introduces the band, and as you hear him say “...and on the keys we have Sebastian!” a huge cheer erupts from the audience. It’s a little too big of a cheer for your liking, and you can see Seb trying to hide his flushed face behind his dark fringe. You feel a sudden surge of jealousy and mentally kick yourself for not having marked Seb’s neck with your lips and teeth before the show. You’ll have to remember that next time.

The music starts back up and you surrender yourself to the sound. The bass thrums in your chest and your eyes are glued to Sebastian. You love watching him play. It’s as if all his worries melt away leaving just Seb and the music. It’s so hot to see him this way, totally raw - the mask he usually keeps up between himself and the world is replaced by a look of utter calm.

The only other time you’ve seen him like that is when he’s inside of you. Watching his fingers expertly fly across the keys sends a shiver down your spine as you remember where they were just an hour before. You try to keep your lust at bay and enjoy the show, but the only music you want to hear now are the sweet groans from Seb’s lips as he fucks you.

After a few more songs, the show is over and people begin filtering out of the venue. You head backstage to help pack up when a hand grabs your arm and pulls you into a dark corner. Just as you open your mouth to shout, Seb slots his lips between yours for a devastating kiss, full of tongue and teeth and the adrenaline high he still has from the gig. You pull back for breath and punch him in the arm.

“Ow, what was that for?” he asks rubbing where you struck him.

“For making me think I was getting kidnapped,” you laugh, putting your hands around his neck. Leaning up, you whisper into his ear, “You looked really hot up there,” and you take his lobe between your teeth. Seb lets out a soft groan and cups your ass in his hands.

“Ahem,” Abigail clears her throat.

The two of you freeze, debating whether it’s too late to pretend you were doing something, anything more innocent than what she’s seen.

“Oh my god, chill out you two,” she scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I know you’re fucking, Sam called me as soon as he left your little sex pad.”

You burst out laughing and Seb says, “Ew, Abs don’t call my room a ‘sex pad’.”

“Whatever, will y’all just help pack up the gear?”

You turn to leave, but Seb pulls you in for another quick kiss.

“If everyone knows, I might as well show you off,” he says with a wink before walking away.

Packing up is quick work and before you know it everyone is piling into the bus.

“You want the same spot?” Abigail asks.

“Oh um actually Seb said he’d give me a ride back….” you say.

“Ah, I get it. You two drive safe and use protection,” She says, closing the last door on the equipment storage.

You flush and stammer, “wha- we won’t uh-”

“Oh my god wear a helmet, dumbass,” Abigail laughs, punching you lightly in the arm as she heads for the bus.

You make a final sweep of the venue to make sure nothing is left behind. Emerging into the parking lot you see Sebastian, leaning against his bike. The lone streetlight above like another spotlight, and he’s putting on a show just for you. Seb’s lips curve into a soft smile as takes a drag from his cigarette. The smoke curls up around him, obscuring all of his features except his gleaming eyes that track you as you approach. All his.

Finally alone, the desire that has built up over the course of the night threatens to overtake you right here in the parking lot. You reach for him as Seb puts an arm around your waist pulling you close. He leans down, kissing up your neck to your ear.

“Did you get all dressed up in black just for me?” he whispers, nipping at the sensitive shell of your ear. You let out a shaky breath.

“All for you Sebby,” you sigh.

His cock hardens from both the nickname and your admission. He pulls your body flush with his. You gasp as you feel his hard length pressing against you.

“Let's get you home sweetheart, there’s so much I want to do to you,” Sebastian growls into your ear.

Taking one last drag from his cig, he drops it to the pavement putting it out with a twist of his foot. Seb reaches behind his back and produces two helmets. He hands you the smaller one.

“I thought you only had the one helmet,” you tease.

“Gotta keep my girl safe,” he says with a wink.

The two of you put on the helmets, and you watch as Seb straddles the bike. Ugh, he looks so hot, something about the helmet covering his features, only his neck exposed, really gets you turned on. He starts the bike and revs the engine. Seb reaches out a hand to you and you take it, straddling the bike behind him, you wrap your arms around his stomach. He reaches back, running his hand down your thigh, giving you a quick squeeze. And then you’re off.

God, you feel so good nestled behind him. Your arms hold him in a tight hug as your thighs squeeze him. Fuck he loves your legs and with your tits pressing into his back, he’s in heaven. Seb has always loved taking his bike out, he feels so free flying down the quiet highway under the stars.

His heart swells at the trust you place in him, to keep you safe as the two of you speed through the empty streets. He hopes you’re having a good time too when he feels you lean back and let out a whoop into the night air. Seb laughs and does the same. When he’s with you, it’s like gravity’s endless weight is lifted and he can dream again. You must sense this because you squeeze him tighter for a moment.

Something no one ever told you about riding a motorcycle is that it’s basically one giant vibrating seat. And with your arms around the man you’re planning to fuck the second this ride is over, the sensation is making you extremely horny. You can feel the wetness pooling between your legs and you try to adjust your position to get the vibration right where you want it. Seb must think you’re uncomfortable because the moment you shift his hand reaches back to squeeze your thigh again.

His worry for you makes you determined to let him know just how good you feel. You start to move one hand, running it down his stomach. Seb returns his hand to the handlebar, thinking your touch is to reassure him, but you aren’t done. Your fingers drift downward, searching and finding. His cock stiffens and his hands clench the handles. You give him a rough squeeze through his jeans and he lets out a groan barely audible through the sound of the wind. You tug on his length as you rock your hips on the seat.

Closing your eyes you begin a slow pace of jacking him off over his jeans and grinding your pussy into the vibrations. You’re so lost in seeking your pleasure that you don’t notice Seb has turned off the highway until the motor cuts off. You whine at the lack of vibration, not fully comprehending what’s happening until Seb pulls you off the bike. His helmet is still on but his visor is open. You can see the desire flashing in his eyes.

“My needy girl, couldn’t wait to finish the ride before needing my cock,” he growls.

“I- I didn’t mean to…” you whimper as Seb pulls off his helmet, and runs his hand through his hair.

“What am I gonna do with you,” he huffs out a laugh, shaking his head.

Setting down the helmet, Seb circles the bike. You take off your helmet, shaking out your hair. He drinks in the sight of you, the moonlight shining off your hair, the desperate look in your eyes, the way your black clothes cling to you and how he wants to peel them off. He pauses in front of you, hand palming his now aching erection. Your gaze is glued to that hand, taunting you.

Seb undoes his belt buckle, pops the button on his jeans and slowly pulls down the zipper. Watching you squirm with every small movement, he could do this for hours, basking in your hungry gaze knowing that you want him just as much as he wants you. But he won’t keep you waiting. He eases his cock out, hissing as the cool night air trails over his hot length.

“On your knees baby.”

You oblige instantly, he chuckles at your obedience.

“That’s a good girl,” he growls.

He shudders as you grab him, pressing a light kiss to his tip before you flick your tongue along the slit dripping with precum. And when your warm, wet mouth wraps around his length he has to stop himself from thrusting into the back of your throat. You take your time, sucking with your mouth and pumping with your hand until he can’t take it anymore.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and rocks his hips forward. Forcing his cock to hit the back of your throat. The feeling of your tongue on the underside and the light scrape of your teeth on top force out a groan from deep within his chest. His eyes lock on yours, so full of tears just waiting to spill out. He thrusts a few more times, relishing in the feeling of his balls hitting your chin. When your throat squeezes him as you choke on his cock, he swears if he died right now at least he’d die happy.

And as much as he craves to chase his own pleasure and pump his seed into your waiting mouth, he has to make sure you’re okay. Pulling his dripping length from your lips, Seb crouches down to cup your face in his hands. You cough and take in a few ragged breaths before meeting his gaze. He strokes your cheek, “such a good girl for me” he sighs pulling you in for a searing kiss.

“Up you go,” he says, pushing you up to standing. You lean back against the parked bike, not trusting your legs to hold you. Now it’s your turn to look down at Seb, even though you know you have tear streaks on your face and drool on your chin, his eyes are full of adoration. It’s so cute you don’t know if you want to laugh or to cry.

He rubs his hands soothingly up and down your thighs. Then his fingers catch the hem of your shirt, lifting it just enough for him to press a soft kiss to your stomach. He grabs the waist of your jeans, eagerly undoing the button and zipper he pulls them down to reveal your black panties. This pair has a little bow just below the waistband like you’re a present that’s his to unwrap. He stands slowly, moving his hands from your waist to cup your breasts.

He kisses you softly then whispers in your, “Turn around for me baby.”

You do, bracing yourself against the bike. He softly touches your ass. It’s fully on display, framed by the lacy black straps of your thong. He growls, slapping your soft flesh. You let out a moan as the cool night breeze instantly soothes the sting. Seb cups your pussy and chuckles when he feels the hot wet crotch of your panties.

“If I knew you’d like the bike so much, I would’ve put you on it ages ago,” he teases, pulling the fabric to the side.

He teases your slit with a long finger, dragging it through your folds to lightly flick your clit. You gasp and arch your back. Fuck he loves how responsive you are, every touch eliciting a reaction. He plunges two fingers into you, pumping his cock at the same pace. He gets lost in watching his digits disappear into your warm, wet hole.

“M-more Seb, please,” you whine, pulling him from his trance. Before you register the loss of his fingers, the tip of his cock is already teasing your folds. You moan, pushing your hips back.

Seb chuckles. “Is my sweet girl ready for my cock?” he asks under his breath.

He knows the answer is yes, he knows you’ve been ready since before the show, but he likes making you wait. Teasing you until his cock is the only thing that could make you feel better. He notches his length at your entrance and slowly pushes into you. You groan, finally getting what you’ve been craving for days. Your toys at home can’t compare to this feeling. Being filled and fucked by your man.

He slowly enters you until his entire length is sheathed inside your perfect pussy. Your walls clench around him causing his breathing to turn ragged. His grip on your hips tightens, as he eases out of you until just his tip is inside of you. Then without warning, he shoves all the way back in. You cry out, arching your back and Seb knows he’s hit the spot inside you that makes you see stars. He thrusts into you again and again, fingers leaving bruises on your flesh as he steers you closer and closer to orgasm. Your walls squeeze him tighter and he knows you’re close.

“That’s it, baby,” he grunts, “Cum for me, you can do it.”

And you do, expletives and his name string together in a chant that he’s sure could raise him from the dead as you cum around his cock. He follows you over that cliff, pushing as deep as he’s able, sealing his body with yours as tightly as he can. If two souls could join, it must feel like this, he thinks as he empties himself into you.

The two of you stay in this position, you draped over the motorcycle like Seb’s wet dream and Seb still inside you, head hung low, trying to keep his legs from giving out as he decides if he ever wants to move again. And then your pussy flutters around his length and he’s sure if he doesn’t pull out now he’ll die from the overstimulation. Easing his cock from you he watches entranced as his seed drips out of you.

He’s never wanted kids but his mind is suddenly filled with images of your belly swollen as his child grows inside of you. He flushes and his cock twitches painfully at the thought. He pushes that desire down, your relationship (if you can even call it that) is so new, he’ll do anything to keep from scaring you away.

Carefully, he covers your dripping pussy with the thin strap of fabric that is your thong. You groan and wiggle your hips as he rubs you through the fabric. Seb slaps your bare ass, huffing out a laugh at your little yelp. After tucking his cock away and pulling on his jeans, Seb helps you up and turns you around. Leaning against his bike, he pulls you into his arms kissing the top of your head and breathing in the smell of your hair. You rest your head on his shoulder, kissing his neck.

His heart is so full he fears it might burst. You pull back to see his face, the look in his eyes is so tender, so loving you have to hold back tears. You slide your hands behind his neck and pull him in for a kiss. The kiss is long, full of hope and passion and all the things you are too nervous to say.

Pulling away from the kiss, Seb squeezes your still-exposed ass. “Let’s put this away before you tempt me to go again,” he says pulling up your jeans. You giggle, buttoning your pants. When you look up Seb is back on the bike, his arm extended toward you with helmet in hand.

“What do you say, baby, let’s keep this adventure going?” he asks, hoping you understand the weight of his words. You know that after tonight, your heart is his whether he knows it yet or not. You take the helmet and climb onto the bike behind him. You whisper into his ear, “Lead the way Sebby,” and set the helmet on your head. He starts up to engine and with a whoop, the two of you speed off into the night.

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creamflix · 7 days ago

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Hiiiii queen, not sure if your requests are open but what are your thoughts on a reader x gym instructor Toji fic? as a gym girly, I’m feining for that shit bjsjsbsh 😭 If you’re not into it, no worries at all, just ignore this! thankyou loveyou 😛 hope u have an amazing day <3

HOT GIRL SUMMER! — toji fushiguro x female reader

18+ content, minors and blank blogs do not interact. gym trainer toji, gym trainee reader. mentions of gojo satoru. toji's kinda a dork. lots of sexual tension. big dick toji yessir. orgasm control & denial. doggy style. fingering (f. receiving). big four: dirty talk, degradation, teasing and praise. slight dacryphilia. overstimulation and mindbreak. hair pulling. semi-clothed sex. locker room sex. p in v sex (protected!! no creampies today folks). crack + fluff ending, somewhat aftercare?

thank you to anon who requested this <3 i hope you enjoy!

— general masterlist ☆ read on ao3

your first day at the gym felt a little like the first day of school — except instead of a backpack full of supplies, you had a duffel bag stuffed with coordinated athleisure and just a tiny bit of misplaced confidence.

toji fushiguro. the name echoed in your head like a mantra, which was completely coincidental and not at all the result of a quick late-night “gym instructor thirst trap” google search. nope, not at all.

as you walked in, the gym smelled of disinfectant and...testosterone? was that what testosterone smelled like? you weren’t sure, but it had a distinct, musky gym-bro-y vibe. before you could question your life choices, a deep, gravelly voice boomed over the general clatter of weights and treadmills.

“alright, rookies! welcome to hot girl summer bootcamp. i’m your instructor, toji. keep up, and you’ll love me. fall behind...and you’ll still love me, just a little less. maybe. let’s go!”

oh.

my.

god.

this man wasn’t just hot. he was illegal. broad shoulders that could probably carry a family of four, a scar on his lips that somehow made him hotter, and those arms — did the gym air conditioning suddenly malfunction, or were you overheating just looking at him?

play it cool, you thought, adjusting your cropped tank top and hoping you looked effortlessly sporty rather than like someone who stayed up all night watching his gym tutorials on youtube.

“you, newbie,” toji pointed in your direction, his sharp green eyes locking onto yours. “what’s your goal for the program?”

your brain short-circuited. goal? what goal?

“uh, uh...i want to — uh…” you stammered, your mouth suddenly drier than a protein shake with no milk. “be able to...carry all my groceries in one trip?” nailed it.

he raised an eyebrow, smirking as if you were the funniest thing he’d heard all morning. “realistic. i respect that.”

as he moved on to interrogate another poor soul about their fitness dreams, you caught yourself staring at the way his tank top clung to his chest. focus! focus! groceries!

the first warm-up nearly killed you.

it wasn’t even anything extreme — just high knees and jumping jacks — but you were convinced your spirit left your body halfway through. toji, however, didn’t seem to notice your imminent demise.

“c’mon, grocery girl,” he teased, jogging over to you during a plank hold. “don’t tap out on me already. what’s that, two minutes?”

two minutes felt like two hours.

“easy for you to say,” you panted, glaring at him. “you look like you eat kettlebells for breakfast.”

toji crouched beside you, his smirk growing wider. “nah, i eat waffles. protein ones. maybe i’ll make you some when you hit your first milestone.”

oh, so you’re a malewife too? just take me now.

you managed to survive the rest of the class, though it involved more wheezing than you’d like to admit. as you grabbed your water bottle, toji sauntered past, giving you a casual, devastating grin.

“good hustle, grocery girl,” he said. “see you tomorrow?”

you nodded, cheeks flaming. “yeah, tomorrow,” you replied, already dreading the soreness that was about to hit you in waves.

walking out of the gym, you made a mental note:

stop chanting his name during your nightly activities, because that would definitely get weird if you slipped up in class.

figure out how to be normal around the human equivalent of a greek god.

spoiler alert: you wouldn’t succeed.

— ☆

toji leaned against the front desk, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he eyed satoru, who was fiddling with his phone instead of paying attention to literally anything else. typical.

"seriously, satoru," toji grumbled, his voice a low growl. "five grand for this program? five? you think these rookies deserve me for that price? do you know how many squats i had to watch today? squats, done wrong."

"aw, c’mon, toji," satoru drawled, not even looking up. "think of it as community service. you're making the world hotter one newbie at a time." he flicked his snow-white bangs out of his annoyingly perfect face.

"besides, you love attention. what are you complaining about?"

toji's scowl deepened. "attention doesn't pay my rent, dipshit. if i wanted praise, i'd do push-ups on the street. and don't call this ‘community service.’ i ain't some saint."

satoru grinned, finally setting his phone down. "you're just mad because you can't charge extra for...specialized instruction." his grin turned wicked. "you know, one-on-one, intense focus...maybe a hand here, a hand there."

"you're disgusting," toji deadpanned, though he didn’t bother denying the accusation.

"but i'm not wrong," satoru shot back, leaning on his elbows. "soooo? any student caught your eye yet? some sweaty rookie got your heart racing?"

toji huffed, his lip curling into a smirk. "isn’t it obvious?"

satoru blinked, genuinely curious. "wait, for real? who? the one in the neon pink outfit? or the guy with the weight belt who clearly didn’t need it?"

toji ignored the question, grabbing his water bottle from the counter. "none of your business, dipshit. but let’s just say someone’s got a long way to go before they’re carrying groceries in one trip."

“groceries?” satoru cackled, almost doubling over. “oh, man. you really know how to pick ‘em, huh? let me guess, rookie can’t plank for more than thirty seconds without praying for salvation?”

toji’s smirk widened just a fraction, and he turned toward the gym floor. "thirty seconds? generous. more like twenty. but...they've got potential."

“potential or a cute face?” satoru called after him, earning himself the bird as toji disappeared into the weight room.

satoru shook his head, still chuckling. “toji, you greedy bastard. just don’t make it weird, yeah?”

as if that was possible.

— ☆

day three, and your thighs felt like they’d been personally cursed by the devil himself. you were convinced that even sitting down was a workout at this point.

but toji? toji looked fresher than a damn protein shake commercial — biceps bulging, sweat glistening, and his sharp green eyes scanning the room like a predator hunting his next meal.

and maybe, just maybe, you were on the menu.

you caught him staring again. or maybe that was just wishful thinking? nah. those weren’t just glances — they were slow, deliberate, and paired with that cocky little smirk that said he knew. knew you were stealing glances at him every time he turned his back. knew you were biting your lip and adjusting your shorts every time he got too close.

“grocery girl!” his voice cut through your haze, and you nearly tripped over your own feet.

“y-yeah?” you stammered, clutching your water bottle like it was a lifeline.

“plank position,” he ordered, stalking toward you with a towel slung over his shoulder. “let’s see if you’ve improved since day one.”

improved? babe, i can’t even look at my floor without flashbacks to this torture.

still, you dropped down, doing your best to hold the position without trembling too much. but then he crouched next to you — close enough that you could smell the clean, heady scent of his sweat — and suddenly, holding anything became a challenge.

“hips down,” he murmured, his voice low, and your brain went static.

before you could process it, his hand was on your lower back, pressing gently to correct your form. “like this. don’t cheat yourself.”

cheat myself? i’m about to cheat on my sanity if you don’t move that hand.

“you good?” he asked, his tone dipping into something almost teasing.

“uh-huh,” you croaked, feeling the tremble in your arms spread to every inch of your body.

“ya sure?” he leaned in just enough for his breath to ghost against your ear. “y’er shakin’ like a leaf.”

if you weren’t so oxygen-deprived, you might’ve said something snarky. instead, you clenched your jaw, determined not to crumble under his gaze — or the weight of his stupidly attractive hand.

“good girl,” he finally said, pulling back.

your entire body locked up.

did. he. just.

“keep it up,” he added casually, walking off like he hadn’t just detonated a dirty bomb in your brain.

you managed to hold the plank for another ten seconds before collapsing into a heap, thighs burning and mind spinning.

grocery girl? more like gone girl.

but as you left the gym that night, legs wobbling and sanity in tatters, you couldn’t stop replaying his words.

maybe next time, you wouldn’t just be locking in groceries. maybe you’d be swinging something a little more...muscular.

— ☆

you burst into the gym like a bat out of hell, duffel bag slung over your shoulder, cheeks flushed, and already out of breath — and you hadn’t even started the workout yet.

the weeknd’s smooth, sultry vocals blared from the speakers, which only made the scene more ridiculous. this wasn’t exactly the kind of music that screamed “fitness bootcamp.” but then again, satoru — ever the chaotic piece of shit — was in charge of the playlist. because why not let the white-haired menace control everything?

“late again,” toji’s voice sliced through the air, sharp and low, cutting right into your frazzled panic.

you froze mid-sprint, your brain short-circuiting as you turned toward him. he was standing at the front of the gym, arms crossed, one brow raised in a perfect arch of judgment.

“got caught up,” you said, lamely holding up your water bottle like it explained anything.

toji didn’t budge. he didn’t even blink. instead, his eyes dragged over you slowly, assessing. it wasn’t the fun kind of eyeing-up you hoped for; it was the “how much time are you about to waste” look.

“class started fifteen minutes ago,” he said, his tone laced with that signature mix of annoyance and condescension that had you wanting to melt into the floor.

“yeah, well, blame the playlist,” you blurted, motioning toward the speakers. “you ever try running on time to ‘earned it?’”

the corner of toji’s mouth twitched, but he quickly covered it by rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t try blaming satoru for your inability to read a clock.”

you swallowed, your cheeks heating up even more. “i’ll make it up, promise!”

toji snorted, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “oh, you’ll make it up alright.”

you blinked. “huh?”

“stay after class,” he said simply, his gaze locking onto yours. “you can finish the session one-on-one. wouldn’t want you wasting that bargain-bin fee you paid for this ‘hot girl summer’ thing.”

your jaw nearly hit the floor. stay back? alone? with toji?

your brain immediately jumped into overdrive, filling in all the blanks with...decidedly non-fitness-related scenarios.

“uh, sure,” you managed to squeak, your voice somehow two octaves higher than normal.

“good,” he said, already turning away. “get moving, grocery girl. we’re doing circuits today.”

as you stumbled to the nearest mat, still reeling from the interaction, satoru leaned out from behind the front desk, earbuds dangling.

“one-on-one, huh?” he sing-songed, loud enough for you to hear over the weeknd’s crooning. “careful, rookie. toji’s not great with boundaries.”

toji flipped him the bird without even looking back, and you bit your lip to stop yourself from laughing — or screaming.

you didn’t know whether to be mortified or excited, but one thing was certain: this program was about to get a whole lot more interesting.

toji leaned against the squat rack, arms folded over his chest, watching you with a smirk that had trouble written all over it. sure, he didn’t care who rolled into class late — hell, he didn’t even care if they showed up. paycheck was a paycheck. but you? oh, you were special.

watching you stumble in all flustered and breathless, making excuses about playlists and time management? priceless.

now, you were sprawled out on the bench, your brows furrowed in determination as you pushed up a whole ten kilograms like it was the weight of the world. your form was...passable, at best.

“careful there, champ,” toji drawled, stepping closer. “don’t wanna overdo it. wouldn’t want you pulling a muscle with that massive load.”

you shot him a glare, though the pink creeping up your neck betrayed your attempt at nonchalance. “’s fine. i’ve got this.”

toji crouched down next to you, resting his forearms on his knees as he tilted his head, studying your face. “uh-huh. ya sure? y’er arms shakin’ like a chihuahua in a thunderstorm.”

“they’re not!” you protested, though your voice wobbled a little.

“mhmm,” he hummed, leaning in just enough to make your pulse spike. “y’er breathin’ all wrong too. gotta pace yourself. in through your nose, out through your mouth. like this.”

before you could argue, he demonstrated, exhaling slow and deliberate, his lips quirking into a smirk when your eyes flicked to them.

“got it?” he asked, his voice low and teasing.

you nodded quickly, your grip on the bar tightening as you tried to focus.

“good,” he said, standing up and moving behind the bench. “because i’m upping the weight.”

“what — wait!” you yelped, nearly dropping the bar as he added an extra plate to each side.

“relaaxx, grocery girl,” toji said, his smirk widening. “y’er stronger than ya think. or is it all talk?”

your jaw dropped. “i’m not all talk!”

“prove it.”

you gritted your teeth, determined not to give him the satisfaction of backing down. with a deep breath, you pushed up the bar again, your muscles screaming in protest.

“there you go,” toji said, his voice annoyingly calm. “juusst like that. keep goin’. you wanna make it to after-class, don’t you?”

you nearly dropped the bar. “excuse me?!”

toji chuckled, his eyes glinting with mischief. “you heard me. gotta be in top shape for...extra training. wouldn’t wanna disappoint, would you?”

you sat up, face burning, and watched him walk away, his broad shoulders and infuriating smirk seared into your brain.

what the hell had you signed up for?

— ☆

toji cursed under his breath, leaning on the counter at the front desk where satoru was spinning a pen between his fingers like he had nothing better to do.

“the hell are you even doing here?” toji grumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “you’re not even working today.”

“who says ‘m not working?” satoru chirped, not bothering to look up. “i’m in charge of morale. and you look like you could use some.”

toji rolled his eyes. “whatever. just...ya got a condom or what?”

that got satoru’s attention. the pen stilled, and his blue eyes flicked up, wide with mock surprise. “toji fushiguro asking me for protection? man, didn’t think i’d live to see the day!”

“shut the hell up,” toji growled, looking around like the floor might swallow him whole.

“relax, big guy,” satoru teased, standing up and fishing through his gym bag. “why do you need one anyway? didn’t know you were into ‘safe sets.’”

toji’s eye twitched. “just hand it over.”

“ohhh,” satoru grinned, pulling out a foil packet and dangling it between two fingers. “don’t tell me this is for grocery girl? you finally gonna ask her if she’s dtf?”

toji swiped the condom out of his hand, shoving it in his pocket. “shut up, and dtf doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

“doesn’t it?” satoru grinned, leaning on the counter. “down to flexibility? full-body workout? man, she’s been killing those planks lately. bet she could handle it.”

toji muttered something incomprehensible, walking away before he could throttle the smug bastard.

back in the gym, you were finishing your last set, your face flushed and sweat dripping down your temple. despite the tremble in your arms, you racked the weights with a triumphant sigh.

“better late than never,” toji said, his voice low and smug as he appeared beside you.

“jesus, do you ever not sneak up on people?” you snapped, though your smile betrayed the irritation.

“you survived,” he said, ignoring your jab and eyeing you with a mix of approval and something darker. “good. now you ready for your after-class session?”

you blinked, tilting your head in confusion. “after-class? i thought we were done.”

toji smirked, leaning in just enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. “oh, we’re just getting started.”

his eyes flicked over you, lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch.

“now let’s see how flexible you really are,” he murmured, straightening up and motioning for you to follow him.

your heart pounded as you trailed behind him, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips.

maybe satoru wasn’t entirely wrong about the full-body workout after all.

— ☆

you may have looked like the epitome of gym-girl confidence on the outside, with your matching hot pink spandex set, a perfectly executed high ponytail, and that “accidental” giggle whenever toji smirked your way, but inside? absolute chaos. a full-blown mental spiral.

did you stink? like...bad enough to ruin the vibe? gym sweat wasn’t exactly the kind that screamed sexy glisten. and no, BO unfortunately didn’t stand for bend over — though give it a few minutes and maybe that could change. if you played your cards right.

was your hair still in place? you couldn’t even check without making it obvious. sure, it felt secure, but your elastic had seen things today, and who’s to say it wasn’t moments away from snapping like your sanity?

and your lips — oh god, your lips. you’d spent twenty minutes on that routine before leaving the house, crafting the kind of pout that was supposed to say “effortlessly kissable.” the process itself had been more intensive than a skincare regime, involving a lineup of:

a honey sugar scrub (scrub, rinse, repeat),

a hydrating lip mask (because you weren’t about to let crust ruin the vibe),

a peach-toned lip liner to enhance the shape (read: fake plumpness),

a glossy pink-tinted balm for the natural flush, and

a strategically placed clear gloss dab right at the center for that “i’m dewy and so is my life” illusion.

now? that careful work had probably melted into oblivion, and you were too chicken to check in case it looked like you’d been eating barbecue wings during your bench presses.

but there was no time to worry about any of that now. because toji — yes, your gym instructor toji — had waved you into the locker room with one of those stupidly smug smirks, the kind that promised trouble.

and now here you were, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the empty space, his broad frame taking up way too much room as he leaned against the lockers, arms crossed.

“so,” he drawled, his deep voice practically dripping with amusement, “you gonna stand there all day, or did you actually wanna get to the...extra training?”

you swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry despite your meticulous hydration schedule all day. “oh, um, yeah. totally. i’m ready.”

toji arched a brow, taking a slow step toward you. “you sure? because you look a little...distracted.”

“i’m not distracted!” you blurted, louder than intended. “i’m just...focused.”

he chuckled, low and gravelly, closing the space between you in two strides. “focused, huh?” his gaze flicked down to your lips, lingering just long enough to make your knees wobble.

“then prove it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “show me just how much you’ve been paying attention.”

your breath hitched as he leaned in, his hand coming to rest on the locker beside your head.

mental checklist? forgotten. lip gloss? nonexistent. your name? who even knows.

but whatever was about to happen, you were damn sure it was about to be worth it.

— ☆

toji had this all planned out — or so he thought.

he was supposed to be the cool, non-chalant one here, the collected gym instructor with the alpha energy. though just thinking that phrase made him grimace. alpha energy?

yikes. he’d rather drop his dumbbells on his own feet than lean into that nonsense.

but still, he had a role to play, didn’t he? lead the charge, keep it professional until it wasn’t. you know, manly things. hot-gym-instructor-guy things.

except now, as he leaned casually (or so he hoped) against the locker, one arm propped above your head, his brain was running through a thousand different scenarios, none of which involved him being the one to lose his cool first.

toji couldn’t help it though — he was sweating. not just the faint gym sheen kind of sweat, but the sweating bullets kind, the kind that made him worried he’d be the one stinking up the confined space of the locker room. which, really, was the last thing he needed when he was trying to exude effortless charm.

he opened his mouth, ready to play it smooth. “so, you —”

and then your lips were on his, crashing into him with so much urgency it almost made him stumble.

oh. okay then.

toji froze for half a second — half a heartbeat — before the message clicked loud and clear in his brain. whatever he thought he was going to say, whatever stupid quip he had lined up, melted into nothing as he cupped the back of your head, pulling you closer like the damn door to the locker room was about to disappear and leave you stranded.

you tasted faintly like strawberries, probably from whatever overpriced lip product you’d slathered on before this, and toji had to suppress the urge to groan. the kind of groan that might make you think he was more desperate than he wanted to admit. but the way your hands fisted in his tank top, tugging him even closer, made him reconsider — maybe desperation wasn’t so bad.

he pulled back just enough to look at you, your lips flushed and eyes wide, and gave a low chuckle that felt more confident than he actually was in the moment. “well,” he drawled, his voice rougher than he intended, “guess we’re skipping the warm-up.”

you rolled your eyes, but your breath hitched as his hand slid down to your waist. “don’t act like you weren’t waiting for it.”

toji smirked, leaning in until his lips brushed against your ear. “message received, loud and clear, sweetheart.”

he might’ve thought he was supposed to be in charge, but hell, he wasn’t complaining about this turn of events.

“now let’s see if you’ve been keeping up with your endurance training,” he murmured, his voice teasing, but his grip on your hips told you he was already taking this challenge seriously.

training? oh, the session was just getting started.

— ☆

you thought you had an idea. you’d done your research, watched enough videos of the kind of stuff that should’ve prepped you for moments like this. but this? this was an entirely new level of freaky, toe-curling, brain-melting insanity.

toji had a system, a stupidly cruel system that you were 90% sure he cooked up just to mess with you. it was simple: he’d trace a muscle on your body, one agonizingly slow swipe of his rough fingertips at a time, and if you guessed the name of it right? well, you’d cum that many times.

easy, right? wrong. so wrong.

especially because right now, this cocky little shit had your gym spandex yanked down to your thighs, your ass perched high in the air, and was treating this whole situation like it was a damn trivia segment on who wants to be a millionaire. except the prize wasn’t cash — it was a full-blown ride to pound-town.

“alright, genius,” he drawled, his voice dripping with amusement as his fingers brushed over the curve of your shoulder, down to your upper arm. “name this muscle.”

you froze, your breath hitching as the cool air brushed against your heated skin. “uh — uh, the...deltoid?” you stammered, hoping the few snippets of your high school bio class would come in clutch.

toji snorted, clearly unimpressed. “correct. guess you do pay attention sometimes.”

the next second, he was gripping your hip, his free hand sliding between your thighs in a way that made your brain short-circuit.

oh.

“‘s one,” he muttered against your ear, low and teasing. “don’t get cocky yet, though. we’ve barely started.”

you barely had time to catch your breath before his hand trailed lower, stopping just above your thigh. “now,” he continued, his tone infuriatingly calm for a man currently wrecking your ability to think straight, “what’s this one called?”

you blinked, frantically rummaging through the dark corners of your mind for an answer. shit, what was it? quad? hamstring? quad-something?

“uh...quadricep?” you ventured, your voice shaking.

toji hummed, the sound vibrating against your skin. “good girl. maybe there’s hope for you after all.”

then he moved. his hand, his lips, the sheer weight of him — every part of him was suddenly everywhere at once, dragging you so close you could barely breathe.

and just when you thought you might lose it, he leaned back, smirking like the devil himself.

“next question,” he said, his fingers brushing over the curve of your back. “get it wrong, and we start all over again. think you can handle that, doll?”

you groaned, face buried in your arms. “‘s isn’t fair,” you muttered.

toji chuckled, dark and low. “oh, sweetheart, life isn’t fair. but this?” his grip tightened, his breath warm against your ear. “this is me being generous.”

generous? you’d show him generous. if you didn’t pass out first.

— ☆

“well, well,” toji murmured, his breath hot against your neck as he trailed his lips down your spine, his rough palms kneading the soft curve of your hips. “looks like someone paid attention in class after all. didn’t think you’d actually pass my lil’ quiz, but here we are.”

you should’ve felt victorious, proud even. but all you could focus on was the heat pooling between your thighs and the way his voice dipped into that gravelly tone, each word laced with promise.

“so here’s the reward,” he drawled, sliding a hand beneath you to spread your thighs just a little wider. “two orgasms. back to back. think you can keep up, sweetheart?”

you shuddered, biting down hard on your lip to stop the whimper threatening to spill out.

toji smirked, watching you squirm under him. “oh no, no. don’t get shy on me now,” he teased, his fingers dragging along your slick folds, collecting the evidence of just how desperate you were. “your little cunt’s doin’ all the talkin’ for ya anyway. she’s real chatty tonight, huh?”

you buried your face in your arms, heat blooming across your cheeks as the filthy squelch echoed in the confined space of the locker room.

“awww, embarrassed?” he chuckled darkly, pressing two fingers into you without warning. “don’t be. she’s got a lot to say, and trust me, ‘m alll ears.”

you gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth as he started a slow, deliberate rhythm, curling his fingers just right.

“ah-ah,” toji chided, grabbing your wrist and pinning it to the locker above your head. “none of that. i said quiet, but not that quiet. lemme hear you, baby.”

you whimpered, hips bucking against his hand as his pace quickened, his free hand gripping your ass to keep you in place.

“fucckkk,” he muttered, glancing down at the ruined fabric of your hot pink pants. “look at that. already makin’ a mess, huh?”

your head shot up, panic flashing across your face. “toji! these are new —”

“not my problem,” he interrupted, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he pressed his thumb against your clit, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. “you shoulda thought about that before you wore somethin’ so tight. can’t even blame me. ya lil’ cunt’s the one makin’ all the mess.”

you groaned, half from frustration and half from the sheer overwhelming sensation as he added another finger, stretching you just right.

“tell ya what,” he said, his voice dropping to a husky whisper as he leaned closer, lips brushing against your ear. “if you make it through both without ruinin’ those pants completely...maybe, just maybe, i’ll pay for the dry cleaning.”

“but if ya don’t?” toji chuckled, biting gently at your earlobe. “well...guess you’ll just have to wear ‘em messy next time.”

— ☆

“fucckk, you’re s’tight,” toji grunted, his fingers dragging slick trails over your thighs as he teased his tip against your entrance. “first with those tiny-ass weights, now this? guess i gotta stretch you out for the real deal, huh?”

you whimpered into your forearm, legs trembling from the aftershocks of the first orgasm he’d just coaxed out of you with his damn fingers alone. your head was a haze of pleasure and overstimulation, too lost in it to even realize how thoroughly you’d ruined your cute pink pants.

“hey,” he rasped, smacking your ass lightly to snap you back. “don’t go floatin’ off on me just yet, sweetheart. we’re just gettin’ started.”

his voice dropped lower, the sound rolling through the locker room like a growl as he pressed the fat head of his cock to your slick entrance, giving just the slightest nudge. “shit, you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. you want it that bad, huh? bet you couldn’t even tell me when your pants hit the floor.”

“toji,” you whimpered, trying to form a coherent thought, but it all shattered the moment he pushed just the tip inside.

“ohh fuucckkk yeah,” he groaned, his head tilting back, a shudder running through his massive frame. “ya feel that, baby? nice and slow…fuckin’ perfect fit.”

he sank in another inch, his girth forcing you to stretch around him. the burn was sweet, electric, and you couldn’t stop the high-pitched cry that escaped your lips.

“shi, don’t go cryin’ on me now,” he muttered, though his voice was laced with a smirk. “or is it just ‘cause s’too big, huh? couldn’t handle me even if you tried.”

your walls fluttered around him at his words, and he hissed through his teeth, gripping your hips to steady you. “oh, ya like that? filthy lil’ girl. already squeezin’ me like you don’t want me to pull out.”

you tried to push back, eager to take more of him, but toji’s hand slammed down on the curve of your back, holding you in place. “nuh-uh, not s’fast. you’re gonna take me slow, jussst like this,” he grunted, rocking his hips forward and shoving another few inches inside.

“fucccck,” he hissed, leaning down so his chest pressed against your back, his voice all gravel and heat in your ear. “you’re gonna break under me, baby, but you’ll fuckin’ thank me for it later.”

you moaned, gripping the locker for dear life as he finally bottomed out, his cock buried so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“there we go,” he growled, pulling back slightly before slamming back in, the force jolting you forward. “shit, look at you, takin’ it so good. bet you’ll be thinking ‘bout this every time you put those tight little gym pants on again, huh?”

he thrust again, harder this time, his cock dragging against every nerve ending as he set a brutal pace.

“fuckin’ mess,” he groaned, looking down at the slick mess coating your thighs and dripping onto the floor. “but don’t worry, baby. promise i’ll make it worth ya while.”

toji’s pace was merciless, each snap of his hips pushing you further into the lockers as your trembling hands scrambled for something — anything — to hold on to. the metal surface was cold under your palms, a sharp contrast to the fiery heat pooling low in your belly.

“fuck, look at you,” he grunted behind you, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. “all that attitude earlier, now ya can’t even keep your knees steady.”

you whimpered, trying to push back against him, but your legs were too weak to cooperate. toji didn’t seem to mind, one arm looping around your waist to pull you flush against him as his other hand dipped between your legs. the first stroke of his fingers over your clit had your head lolling back against his chest.

“shit,” you gasped, barely able to form the word as he worked tight, relentless circles against the swollen bud.

“what was that, baby?” toji’s voice was a rough purr in your ear, laced with amusement. “can’t hear you over all that babblin’. ya sayin’ somethin’ real important, huh?”

you weren’t, not really. every attempt to speak came out as a mix of incoherent cries and choked moans, your brain too fogged up to string together a single coherent thought.

toji chuckled, leaning back just enough to grab your tit through the snug fabric of your gym top. “shiit, look at these,” he murmured, giving it a firm squeeze that had you arching into his touch. “what’s this one called, huh? c’mon, grocery girl, don’t tell me you’ve been skipping anatomy class.”

you blinked rapidly, trying to summon any semblance of a logical response, but the only thing that tumbled out of your mouth was a breathy, “b-boobs.”

toji froze. for a moment, the locker room was silent except for the wet, obscene sounds of your slick and his choked laugh. “boobs?” he repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and amusement.

“uh-huh,” you nodded dumbly, too far gone to register the trap you’d just walked into.

toji groaned, but not the kind that promised satisfaction. he pulled back just slightly, the absence of his cock stretching you leaving you whining in frustration. “wrong answer, sweetheart.”

“w-what?” you stammered, your brain slowly catching up.

he pulled his hand away from your clit, ignoring your desperate whine. “told you, you gotta earn it. and what ya just said? ain’t even a muscle.”

“but —”

“nah,” he interrupted, gripping your hips to keep you from squirming against him. “you don’t even get the extra credit for effort.”

you felt him shift behind you, his cock brushing against your inner thigh, just out of reach.

“toojiiii!” you practically wailed, your voice pitching in desperation.

“naaahh, don’t ‘toji’ me now,” he drawled, smirking even though you couldn’t see him. “guess you’ll just have to wait for round two to get it right.”

the realization hit you like a truck: no correct answer, no dick.

“it’s the pectoralis major!” you blurted out, your voice cracking with panic.

toji chuckled low in his throat. “shit, there’s my smart girl,” he murmured, thrusting back inside you with one sharp, fluid motion that knocked the air out of your lungs.

“fuck, baby,” he grunted, picking up his punishing pace once again. “next time, don’t make me work so hard for it, yeah?”

you’re not sure who to thank first — god, your ancestors, or that one stray eyelash wish you made last week — because the way toji’s pounding into you feels like some divine intervention. maybe all of them had a hand in it. you’re sobbing — like, genuinely sobbing — and not just because of the hair-pulling or the fact that toji’s filthy mouth has been spewing the most degrading things you’ve ever heard.

“shit, cryin’ already?” his voice is rough, tinged with smug amusement as he fists your hair tighter. “can’t handle it, baby? nah, you’re tougher than that. gotta be — still lettin’ me wreck this tight little pussy like it’s mine.”

you hiccup a broken moan, legs trembling so violently you’re barely upright, and the lockers are the only thing keeping you from collapsing. your second orgasm hits you like a freight train, ripping through your body so hard you swear you lose all sense of time and space.

“therrre she goes,” toji groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he drives into you harder, chasing his own high. “look at this mess. got you so fucked out you don’t even know where you are, huh?”

you can’t respond — not with how your body’s spasming, clamping down on him like a vice, dragging him closer to his edge.

“fuck, gonna cum with me, yeah?” he growls, voice strained, his hips stuttering as he holds you so close it feels like you’re merging into one.

him cumming is the final nail in the coffin, sending you careening into an aftershock so intense you’re genuinely concerned you might pass out. both of you stay locked in place, panting heavily, sweat dripping off your bodies as the reality of your very messy situation sets in.

toji’s the first to break the silence, his lips quirking into a lazy smirk. “guess you’re gonna need a new gym set, huh? no savin’ this one.”

you groan, burying your face against the locker as if it could somehow swallow you whole. “yeah, no shit.”

he chuckles, pulling back just enough to smack your ass lightly, earning a half-hearted glare from you. “don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it, baby. besides…” he shrugs, flexing a little in his tank top as he adjusts it. “i still look good in this, so we both won here.”

“we truly live in a society,” you mutter under your breath, earning another laugh from him.

he leans down to kiss the side of your neck, smirking against your skin. “damn right we do. now, c’mon, let’s clean up before satoru comes snoopin’. dude’s nosier than a fuckin’ bloodhound.”

— ☆

toji, ever the professional, seems to flip a switch the moment your sweaty, blissed-out bodies part. he’s tugging his tank top back into place and wiping his face like he’s about to lead another class. the audacity.

his voice takes on this infuriatingly instructional tone, his hand on your lower back steadying you as he rattles off something about muscle recovery or post-workout hydration.

“you’re gonna wanna stretch that hamstring later,” he mutters, glancing down at your wobbly legs that threaten to betray you with every second. “looks like you overworked it — shouldn’t push yourself too hard, sweetheart.”

you blink at him, utterly dumbfounded. this man — this man — is casually chatting about hamstrings while his cum is literally dripping down your thighs and your legs are trembling so hard you could probably register on the richter scale.

“you’re seriously talking about muscles right now?” you deadpan, crossing your arms even though they feel like noodles. “toji, ’m boutta faceplant, and you’re out here giving me a biology lecture.”

he grins, a little too pleased with himself, and leans down to plant his hands on his knees, face so close you can practically feel the warmth of his breath. “what, want me to kiss it better or somethin’?”

“kiss me, idiot,” you huff, tugging him forward by the neckline of that stupidly tight tank top until your lips meet his.

and just like that, the gym instructor act shatters. his shoulders relax, his hand curling around your waist with a gentleness that feels so at odds with how he’d been handling you not five minutes ago.

he hums against your lips, pulling back just enough to mutter, “damn, baby, you’re somethin’ else.”

“soooo, does this mean you’re carrying my groceries now?” you tease, brushing some of your messed-up hair out of your face.

“depends,” he smirks, straightening up and patting your ass with zero shame. “can you walk without lookin’ like a baby deer? if not, ’m keepin’ my hands free to catch ya when you inevitably fall on your cute little face.”

you roll your eyes, ignoring the heat creeping up your neck. “big talk for someone who can’t keep his hands to himself.”

“can’t help it,” he shrugs, leaning in close again with that wolfish grin of his. “you make it too damn easy, princess.”

if he keeps this up, your next gym session might be less about training and more about dodging toji’s wandering hands in the frozen food aisle.

575 notes · View notes

anika-ann · 4 months ago

Text

A Series of (Un)Fortunate Events - S.R.

Part 1 of 2

Type: two-shot, idiots-in-love, feel-good fic

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word Count: 7,3k

Summary: It's just a bunch of Avengers and SHIELD agents who often cooperate on missions - hanging out and getting to know each other better on a camping trip. What could possibly go wrong?

A few things. A few things could and they all seem to have you at the centre. Luckily, you have a hero in shining armour to help you in the time of need.

Warnings: allusions to NSFW, minor injuries, mention of misogyny, brief reference to PTSD, language, attempt at humour, FLUFF , Steve being a menace

A/N: written for the Essie’s Summer Lovin’ 300 Follower Celebration. Congrats @bigtreefest and thank you for hosting 💕 I have chosen multiple prompts - in this one, you shall find “why’s it…sticky?” and modified “here, you can share with me”. I hope to finish the second part in time 😁

A/N 2: DIVIDER by @firefly-graphics; enjoy y'all 🥰 Several Agent of SHIELD characters are involved - I don't think you need any knowledge of the show to read this

The afternoon North Carolina sun warmed your skin pleasantly, even as you found yourself panting after the having climbed up the hill you. The backpack with an attached sleeping bag and a tent pack was growing heavier and heavier on your shoulders with every step, but the view and the company – most of it anyway – were certainly worth it.

Everyone seemed affected by the fresh air and exercise the Great Smokey Mountains provided, the atmosphere light and content as this was, for most, the first trip in a long time that had nothing to do with a mission.

Sure, one could argue there were some strings attached, as the ‘mission’ was to solidify relationships within the group – several Avengers and several SHIELD agents who were often outsourced for Avengers-level missions – but still: no one was shooting at you. And you wouldn’t have to write a report. That counted for something. For a lot, in fact.

Plus, the path was the goal. The destination, while set precisely according to Steve’s plan, might as well be just about anywhere.

You glanced at him as he walked by your side, smiling absently. The corners of his lips only twitched higher as he noticed you watching him, his gaze flickering to you as well.

He looked as if he was born to do this. A halo of dark blond hair around his head ruffled by the wind, sunlight painting them almost golden. The heaviest backpack of all sitting on his wide shoulders, straps around his broad chest and thin waist. Legs clad in light track pants that hugged his thighs and ass in the best way possible, a downright magnetic sight--- no.

Uh-huh, no.

No thoughts of that sort. You had forbidden yourself from that, at least for the duration of this trip, because you had known Steve would be a literal walking thirst-trap, the sheer happiness surrounding him making his glow ten times brighter. You had forbidden yourself from thinking like this, because this was not an appropriate observation to make about a colleague, a superior no less, even as everybody else probably thought along the same lines.

It didn’t matter that you wanted to throw hands at the mere idea of someone else making that observation as well. You didn’t exactly have the right to do that and it was a lost fight before it even started. Steve Rogers was simply too beautiful and essentially perfect in all his imperfections, and god knew that those imperfection had nothing to with his body. Ass included-

Gaze quickly snapping up back to his face, you found him smiling at you warmly, a soft dusting of freckles adorning his cheeks from the prolonged exposure to sun. The same phenomenon could be observed on his bare arms; a constellation of freckles, where angels had kissed their kindest, prettiest and most loyal creation; a constellation of places where you’d love to press your lips and linger, breathe in the scent of his skin and taste it.

God, he was breathtaking and all kinds of alluring. The nature around you was too, sure, the smell of pines and sandy rocks whispering of vacations and good times, but the way he-

“Whoa!” you yelped as you suddenly found yourself tumbling towards the ground, foot having slipped on a rock, you supposed.

Hands outstretched, you had no chance to break the fall, only to slow it, the burden on your back completely changing your momentum.

The second your palms as much as brushed the rocky floor, you were being held by your waist so firmly that none of your actual weight landed on the ground. You would recognize the arms holding you anywhere – just like the scent of sandal wood, musk, man and comfort, suddenly wrapping around you.

The safest place on Earth.

Steve’s arms.

Your stomach made a little flip-flop as his hands squeezed you gently and helped you up, only releasing you when his eyes found yours, silently asking if you were okay.

You responded with an embarrassed smile.

“Whoa, you okay?” Daisy rushed to your side, bless her, breaking the brief moment you had allowed yourself to bask in the sweet worry in Steve’s gaze and in the heat his body was radiating, despite the fact you could feel everyone staring at the newly nominated klutz of the group of superspies. You.

Heat of embarrassment flooded your skin under everyone’s scrutiny – and more so under the judgement in Agent Hopkinson’s glare, the jerk. Then again, you could hardly blame him for looking down on you right now.

Allegedly one of the deadliest agents known to the world; bested by a few rocks on a hiking trail and Steve Rogers’s smile.

You chuckled self-deprecatingly, quietly thanking Steve and turning to Daisy to assure her that besides your pride, nothing had been seriously wounded.

“I’m fine,” you said, scratching your forehead with a poor attempt to hide your embarrassment. “Must have missed a step, I don’t even know how…”

You did know how. You knew it precisely. You hadn’t been watching your step, too mesmerized by the beauty of your favourite Captain – and favourite person in the world. The man with the most honest, goodest, fiercest and most beautiful soul you had ever met, your closest friend.

“I do,” Agent Melinda May commented dryly, a pointed look aimed at your feet, revealing the culprit – and making you wish the Earth could swallow you, especiallysince it was her, the second in command at SHIELD – and one of the most admirable women in history of anything. And she had just seen you, an agent for both Avengers and SHIELD, a master of martial arts, to trip on nothing like a five-year-old. For the same reason too. “Your shoelaces are undone.”

“…thanks. And sorry. Go ahead. I think I can tie my shoelaces on my own,” you chuckled again, swallowing the shame even as you were among friends. Albeit some of them more reluctant than others.

“Clearly not,” Agent Hopkinson remarked, not missing the opportunity to belittle you, making you sigh as you crouched down, taking extreme care not to as much as wobble despite the heavy backpack.

Case on point, you supposed.

Having worked for SHIELD for years now, acting as the main liaison for situations where Avengers needed help, be it due to too many hostiles or the nature of the job leaning more towards spy-work that alien-invasion-work, your general experience was that tolerance and cooperation were the way. Some people were less pleasant than others, that much was true, but one should handle disagreements, various personality traits and different views on life. You certainly could; your approach to conflict, your supposedly calming presence and search for harmony in a team and the calm composure you maintained under pressure to quickly weigh your options, had even earned you your codename, Libra.

You genuinely believed tuning down an attitude for the sake of the mission was the custom, the golden rule.

And then you encountered Agent Martin Hopkinson. He was the exception. And a pain in your ass.

He got along alright with most people despite his arrogance; but you and him were a trainwreck happening in slow motion. He did not like you. Whether it was jealousy of your position, misogyny, or both, or something completely else, you wouldn’t know. But he was bitter and biting, always looking for a flaw, always making snidey comments.

You could handle that – an insult here, a mean comment there. After all, you could take a punch, a stab, a gunshot wound. You could take down men twice your size with your bare hands and just a little wit, if you tried hard enough. You had faced soldiers, rapists, murderers; Agent Hopkinson was but a small hindrance, annoyance on legs. But by god, your fists itched whenever he opened his mouth. And the feeling was mutual.

However, as a professional, you worked hard not to reciprocate his aggression, even as it only ever remained verbal; the same could not be said about him. And he didn’t care zilch about who heard him be ‘smart’ with you either, which, in turn, led to several reprimands; and on one delightful occasion, to Steve almost breaking his jaw when he heard him utter a comment about Coulson pimping out the pet agent again, clearly meaning you. The wrath Steve had showed was nothing hort of holy, and holy was the miracle that Hopkinson was still alive; the fact he barely toned down his attitude was just idiocy.

But had you mention Steve was an angel? A fiercely loyal protective friend, a gentleman, who might swear on occasion and be a little shit par excellence, but god should help anyone whose behaviour towards others offended him. He might be an angel, but was an avenging one.

A caring one too.

As soon as you stood up again, Steve was carefully cradling the backs of your hands, examining the teeny scrapes over your palms with about five droplets of blood in total, frowny gaze flickering to your knee which you hadn’t even realized you had grazed too.

“We should disinfect that.”

“Steve, I’m fine,” you laughed, even as you let him examine the barely-there bleeding, knowing there was no use trying to resist. “Thank you for caring, but it’s literally just a scratch… I’ve had worse.”

He shook his head, his expression darkening a bit. “That’s not comforting and you know it. And any wound, if infected, can be dangerous – I know I don’t have to tell you that.”

You knew instantly what instance he was referring too, a small shudder running up your spine. Yet, the rational part of you argued that there was no comparison, even if the cut on your arm over a month back had not been all that deeper and wider than this.

“That was literally a poisoned blade, Steve-“

“We were about to take one more break before reaching the destination anyway,” he interrupted you, unrelenting. “Let’s head up to that clearing and we’ll rest for a bit. I’ll take care of it, okay?”

“Steve-“

“I’ve got the first aid kit,” Bobbi uttered nonchalantly as she passed you, joining the others who had gone ahead already.

You sighed. Bobbi Morse – an agent with a clever sense of humour, sharp tongue and no-nonsense attitude, a good friend – and she was using all of her powers against you. Wicked.

“It’s just a-“

“Captain’s orders,” she almost sing-sang, earning a grin from Daisy who only shrugged, as if to confirm her words.

You sighed, rolling your eyes; acutely not aware that Steve was still holding your hands in his and your body was heating up from inside at the prolonged contact – particularly your chest and something deep within your belly.

You looked up at him, mildly annoyed and rather amused at his insistence and protectiveness. And even though you wouldn't admit that out loud, touched.

“You’re overbearing. You’re lucky I like you,” you scolded him in a whisper.

He only grinned, his worried gaze clearing and lightning up at your feigned outrage, and squeezed your hands before letting go.

“I love you too. Let’s go.”

You bit your cheek as you nodded, reminding yourself for at least the tenth time since you had set off hiking: friends. The keyword of this trip was ‘friends’.

It was just really hard to actually remember that when Steve looked at you like that, talked like that, and you could still feel the warm imprint of his hands on yours.

Steve Rogers was a man impossible not to fall for; from almost absurd handsomeness to even more absurd goodness he lived by, from his sharp wits to effective moves, from the crinkles in his eyes when he smiled to the tenderness in his touch. His sense of humour equalled to the one of duty, his drive and determination in leading interlacing with a soul of an artist and a simple man who appreciated the most ordinary things.

You had clicked instantly; your friendship bloomed almost effortlessly, working alongside him making for many opportunities to spend time together. Despite barely having met about three months ago, the times you owed him your life for were numerous; and the few times he owed you his, even as there was no such thing as keeping score, only strengthened your bond. Moments where you thought you wouldn’t make it out. Long nights at motels or in a stake-out cars, filled with mindless chatter, profound talks and comfortable silences. His goddamn smiles alone, always feeling a little warmer, fonder, when directed at you.

The fact he had quickly slipped into a habit of calling you Lee, a nickname derived from your codename with a wordless implication of you being his refuge, with that damn smile on his plush lips, was making something in your ribcage tremble with affection.

You had fallen hard. But who wouldn’t? You were only human.

And his proximity, his friendship, his affection, they were most precious to you; no matter which form they’d have, you’d take it.

Even if it meant inappropriate thoughts and your heart racing fast enough to collapse from exhaustion when he cleaned your scraped knee and palms with such care and focus one might believe they were fatal wounds.

Your heart would tremble less if he hadn’t kneeled in front of you as he did so, but you supposed Steve Rogers was just that kind of deadly. He cradled your hands in his huge ones as if they were as fragile as butterfly wings, smiling when he was done; and grinning when you said Thank you, nurse Rogers, the words carrying both humour and respect for his late mother.

His smile resembled the sun so much you almost missed how the actual sunrays grew less and less warm. It was only a few minutes later – every one of them making you aware of the either knowing or incredulous looks following yours or Steve’s every move, almost enough to make you self-conscious when snacking – when you realized you were getting cold.

The solution was easy; and despite how effective it would have been in chasing away the cold and lifting your spirits, it did not involve hugging Steve. Instead, you dived your hand down your backpack through the layer of snacks and other small necessities towards your clothes for the occasion.

And your hand reached something it most definitely shouldn’t have.

“What the-“ you murmured, still acutely aware of all the gazes on you, now joined by Steve’s. “Why is it… sticky?”

Puzzled and horrified – and suspicious, because Hopkinson might have never played a prank on you, but lines always had to be crossed for the first time someday – you threw out the things from the top, pulling out what was normally one of your favourite sweatshirts.

Fairly soaked in a rusty-red oily substance that now resided in your luggage.

Not that it hadn’t been there before – but before, it was safely stored in a Tupperware container along with the thin marinated steaks you had been tasked to carry for the team’s first dinner above fire, Hunter carrying the grate.

“What is it?” Bobbi asked, frowning at the poor article of clothing you had intended to wear.

You didn’t have to sniff it to answer; mostly because the scent of spices was strong enough to answer for you.

“It’s the… marinade from our dinner,” you informed her with a grimace, a small whine escaping you as you went to inspect the rest of your clothes with dread and irritation rising. Because you already knew that the sweatshirt would not be the only thing having been hit. There had been enough to marinade to drown Steve and Bucky in – that was why you had triple-checked it was secured when you had pulled the straw for carrying it in your backpack. “How is that even possible?! I swear I checked it at least five times! I used rubber bands and a plastic bag and- ugh.”

“It probably gave out with all the moving around,” Natasha said, compassion evident in her voice. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you sighed.

And it was. You were only just beginning to feel the mountains part of your destination. You weren’t even shivering – and god knew you had been exposed to much worse conditions with fewer clothing. It wasn’t even raining. You had been through much worse – this was but an inconvenience.

Kinda like Hopkinson himself.

Your gaze flickered to him as he himself put on a thin hoodie, your gaze narrowing in subtle suspicion; but there was no way. He almost looked as if he was pitying you. Genuinely. Though not enough to share his clothes; not that you’d accept if he had offered. But that was beside the point. The point was he probably wasn’t to be blamed for your current misery. Not where marinating your clothes was concerned anyway.

It was probably all on you. It seemed your Tupperware skills still needed some work. Goddamnit.

“It is fine,” you spoke to yourself more than anyone else. “I’ll walk the cold off and then stay close to the fire-“

Your heart skipped a beat as you felt a presence by your side, a large navy-blue hoodie entering your sight; it was as if talking about your potential inconvenience summoned him.

An angel by your shoulder.

With a soft frown and a welcoming smile, he set the hoodie next to you as your hands still held onto your tainted clothes.

“Hey… here, you can have mine.”

You opened your mouth to protest, the words dying in your throat when you met Steve’s gaze. The golden hour had arrived, highlighting the freckles and the god-like warm glow of his smile. Your fingers reflexively twitched in the fabric of the t-shirt in your hands as the urge to run them through Steve’s hair instead hit you like a sledgehammer.

Friends, you reminded yourself again. FRIENDS.

He was offering a friendly gesture. It was no different than borrowing boxing wraps from Hunter for training if yours had torn, borrowing a dress from Natasha because none of yours fit the theme of a party, or borrowing heels from Daisy because they matched better than anything you owned. There was nothing special about this and no one would think twice.

Yet, it was a gesture you had to turn down, no matter how gentlemanly it was – no matter how at home you knew you’d feel in that hoodie. The idea alone was tickling along the most sensitive parts of your body and for that alone you should refuse.

“Thank you, Steve… but that wouldn’t be fair,” you said. “You shouldn’t be cold because of me.”

Plus, I know this one is your favourite, you wanted to say, but bit your tongue, aware that the scene was already out-of-chart intimate as it was. It certainly felt like it.

“I won’t. You know I run pretty hot…”

You are hot, you wanted to say – but a little choked noise from Hopkinson and Bucky had you quickly set your mind straight.

Until Steve pulled out the big guns – rather literally. Long fingers wrapped around your bare forearm, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the nearly burning sensation, breath catching. It did not help the situation that something you didn’t dare to identify for the sake of your sanity flashed in Steve’s eyes when he touched you.

Friends. Friends, friends, FRIENDS-

“See. All warm. And it will stay that way even without a hoodie. Take it. Please,” he added. And soon, a content smile appeared on his face, because he recognized the signs of you yielding.

A girl had to pick her battles. Arguing with Steve was not one of those which you had no chance at winning – it would be like trying to move a ton-worth block of concrete with bare hands. You had enough experience with that – fighting with Steve on the matter of your comfort, not moving concrete – and there was no winning. He respected your choices, yes, but he’d fastened straps of a parachute on you himself if it came to it, even if it meant he wouldn’t have one himself; he was a sweet hypocrite like that.

“Fine,” you sighed, smiling just a bit. “If you insist… thank you.”

“My pleasure.”

You would swear you heard at least three people mutter under their breath: I bet.

Thoroughly warm and comfortable despite the numerous miles in your feet and tens of pounds on your back, you trailed behind Hunter and Bobbi, who were fighting animatedly – and most lovingly – about which European brand beer was the finest. For a couple who had been married and divorced, once talking about each other in not so nice terms including Bobbi being called ‘a demonic hell-beast’, they sure appeared very much in love – but every bit professional when it counted. They were lucky to find each other again, that was for sure. It made one long for a love like that; explosive as they were, you wouldn’t shy away from calling them soulmates. They belonged with each other; they were lucky to have find one another.

As you tugged at the sleeves of the hoodie you were wearing, long to easily hide your palms, you wondered if you were being lucky or cursed on this trip so far. Tripping. Spilling sauce onto your clothes. Withstanding Hopkinson’s moody glares of which exactly one resembled a shred of compassion and only lasted until you put on the hoodie of the Captain America himself. And yet, surrounded by colleagues, friends and Steve, on a trip with a sun that had slowly begun its descent at your back, you had to count your blessings.

Lucky. You were luckier than most.

Daisy had joined you for a bit, walking side by side with you when the path allowed it, meaningless chatter altering with meaningful; a natural course of conversation between close friends who were together for a few hours with nothing else to do but take it step by step, literally, admire the nature and talk.

Steve had promised it would only take less than an hour and you’d make it to where you were supposed to set camp. He had fallen behind, walking with Natasha and Bucky, who, judging by his tone and Steve’s groans, roasted the team captain about something with Natasha’s occasional but effective help.

Now, about what you assumed was twenty to thirty minutes later, the last challenge of today’s journey awaited you; fording a river.

A rather cold river.

The weather was nice, sure, and you were having a good time; but the idea of warding through water reaching your thighs was not all that alluring.

But of course, Steve Rogers was the man with a plan.

Walking down the river and finding a relatively shallow section of the river with several large rocks, all you had to do was to step from one slightly slippery stone to another without face-planting or letting your heavy backpacks break your balance. Easy – or it should be for a group of athletic agents.

Yet, Bucky and Steve were discarding their shoes in a blink, rolling up their pant legs, ready to dip in and get wet so other wouldn’t.

Your heart skipped a startled beat, a lump growing in your throat, as you watched Steve regard his friend, already knee-deep in water, with the tinniest bit of hesitance.

Cold water. Cold water.

In the early June, the water couldn’t be colder than fifty, fifty-five degrees; but if the supersoldiers planned to stand there until all of you crossed the not-so-unsignificant distance while they’d assist, they would certainly feel it. And while history taught you both Steve and Bucky could clearly take the cold better than anyone, the idea of being the person knee-deep in the water was anything but pleasant.

Especially to someone who had already laid his life by diving a plane into icy waters of the North Atlantic.

Without a second thought, you left the line forming at the best crossing point, walking down the bank to crouch at Steve’s side.

He noticed your presence in an instant, snapping his head to you, an all-easy smile forming on his lips. As if you couldn’t see the brief flash of anxiety before he hid it. As if you couldn’t see his carotid pulsing wildly. As if he, the supposedly fearless man to all, could hide the one flicker of apprehension he allowed himself to feel from you.

“Are you sure about this, Steve?” you asked, voice as low as possible as not to attract attention.

As you met his gaze, understanding flashed in his eye. A silent conversation; he knew why you came to him, where your concern came from.

And in a very Steve Rogers fashion, he ignored it. He just gulped and squared his shoulders and rose to his feet, suddenly towering over you again.

“Of course I am.” Of course he was. “It will be much easier than all of us fording through.”

You sighed, looking at him pointedly as you swallowed your irritation – and worry. That was not what you were questioning and he knew it. And you weren’t questioning his dedication or his ability to help either; just the decision to put himself through discomfort anyone else could have taken upon themselves, when it meant more hardship for him than others.

“I know. It just… it can be literally anyone else-- hell, I can do it.”

You could. You’d warm up after soon enough, judging by the terrain awaiting you. It was a better option that him going in there to freeze his toes off at and bring him back to--

To prove your point, you reached for the backpack buckles on your belly to take it off.

Steve’s hand was on your forearm stopping you before you could undo a single one, squeezing.

As your head snapped back to his face, there was a little crack through the mask he had put on, showing just the slightest hint of anxiety now. But there was a fresh wave of warmth in his expression too; gratitude lit up the blue of his irises the way the sun lit up the summer skies, dreamy and sweet.

His thumb pressed into your forearm gently, stroking, reassuring. You felt the tension melt from your shoulders faster than a butter on the stove, something stirring deep inside your bones as you took a shaky inhale.

“Thank you, Lee, but I’ll be fine,” he said, one of his eyebrows arching, a little quirk to his lips. “And we don’t want to undo the work the hoodie has done on you.”

Right. The hoodie. His hoodie. Yes, you were very much aware you were still wearing it, while he remained in a t-shirt that was at least one size too small for him and did all things delightful for his already insanely impressive physique.

Not the point.

You opened you mouth to argue, only to be interrupted by a shout from behind you.

“Oi, punk! You gonna help or just stand there enjoying the view?”

As you both turned to Bucky, you could see him helping Agent May cross the river, already halfway through.

Steve let go of your forearm, smiling at you once more.

“At least take the hoodie,” you insisted. He shook his head, your mouth opening on empty, deeming your effort fruitless.

“I have a jacket if I want… don’t need the hoodie,” he assured you, his grin earning a glint of danger that made your stomach flip-flop funnily, the heat in your abdomen burning hotter. “Plus, it looks much better on you.”

With that, he set off, jogging towards the water, and leaving you stand there with cheeks exploding with heat.

Damn you, Steven Grant.

Shaking your head, you returned to the line, anxiously watching Steve climb down into water, a shudder running down his spine.

“Come on. I saved you a spot,” Daisy said, gesturing for you to stand in front of her, earning an eyeroll from Hopkinson who stood behind her. “Everything okay with you and Steve?”

The phrasing had your head snap up with a startle, heart speeding up.

“What?”

What did she mean by that?! You and Steve?

No. There was you. There was Steve. Two separate entities. Friends.

Checking up on each other. Wearing each other’s clothes. Typical friends.

You relaxed when all you found in Daisy’s gaze was genuine care and curiosity, no trace of implying anything. Right.

You smiled back. “Yeah. Everything’s fine.”

Hunter and Bobbi followed after May; then it was your turn. The sight of the river, while beautiful, got a little less pleasant as you stepped on the first stone, testing just how slippery the surface was. It wasn’t awful – you could handle that, even as you felt the extra load on your back disturbing your balance.

But hey – the worst that could happen was you taking a cold bath. Just another inconvenience, right?

Yet, you didn’t have to worry. You didn’t even make it to the second large stone when a familiar pair of warm hands wrapped around yours, offering a gentle but firm support.

You met Steve’s reassuring gaze, a message without words: I’ve got you. You’re safe with me.

You send one back, squeezing his hands: I know. You makeme feel safe. You okay?

A tiny nod on his part and then you were on your way, careful taking step after step, always testing the surface first, making sure your every move was secure before shifting your weight. From one to another, you made it halfway to the deepest part of the crossing without any issue, actually enjoying the little adventure – which had obviously nothing to do with Steve’s touch, because you were not at all disappointed to see Bucky heading back from the other side of the river where he had left Bobbi to take you off of Steve’s hands. Not at all.

You were just stepping on the next stone when you felt a sudden drop in weight on your shoulders and back, an embarrassing yelp erupting from your throat as you scrambled for balance.

A fleeing thought of this trip being cursed for you indeed flashed through your mind as you braced yourself for the impact into cold water despite still trying not to have it come to that.

And it didn’t.

A splash sounded next to you, a few drops cooling your ankle, but that was it; you stood tall and firm on the irregularly-shaped stone, a hot vice of a grip on your hips, your hands having found purchase on just as hot and solid surface nearby.

Steve’s hands securely holding your hips.

Your hands on his shoulders.

Attentive blue eyes looking up at yours to assure both you and himself that you were okay.

Your face heated up, but the rest of your body was set on fire; indecent images of a wholly different situation with Steve’s hands having a steel-like grip on your hips and his eyes boring into yours flooded your mind, a wildfire of visceral need spreading through every single cell of your body and lightning it up. Steve was all about touch. Steve was all about eye-contact. You knew with absolute certainty that he’d never once let his gaze wander from your face when he’d sheathed himself inside you, feasting his eyes, because he lived for capturing images of beauty and he was a giver, the pleasure of people he loved being his own--- and you wouldn’t dare to look away. Your eyes might flutter shut at the sensation of utter-

Forcing yourself to snap back into present – into reality –, looking everywhere but at Steve as your whole body burned, a floating object caught your eye behind Steve’s back. A dark prolonged object, neatly packed, carried away by the stream.

Your tent. The thing that had fallen into water and nearly knocked you off balance was your tent, slowly sinking lower and lower as it slowed down its path down the river.

Great. Really great.

You were fucked.

How did it even-

“I got it!” Bucky hollered, changing course, heading to retrieve what was supposed to be the roof over your head for the next three days.

He’d get it; you weren’t worried. It was fine.

And the tent would be fine too. It was in the waterproof case. It would--- it would be absolutely soaked, because it was sinking. The entirety of the tent had gone under water, including the protective layer that was meant to save you from rain should it come to it.

There was no cloud on the sky but you had a feeling there’d be water dripping on you all night anyway.

How could it have fallen off? You had secured it with the buckled straps to the bottom of your fairly new backpack, checking repeatedly – every time before you put the backpack on again – that it held.

Then again, maybe you hadn’t done that after the fiasco – and the lovely result of it – with your marinated clothes. So you might be cursed, but by your own fault, really-

A squeeze to your hips brought your attention back to Steve, making you realize you were still standing in the middle of the river, stalling.

“I’m sorry, moving on, moving on,” you babbled, only to have him still your movements, eyes scrutinizing your face.

“You okay?”

Funny you should ask.

“Are you?”

You reciprocated the scrutiny; eyes roaming his handsome features, you searched for any signs of discomfort – not from having to hold you, but from still soaking his legs in the cold water. All you found was a reassuring smile; and yet, you couldn’t but brush your thumb inconspicuously over Steve’s shoulder in an attempt at comfort, incidentally along the hem of his t-shirt. An emotion flashed in his irises, eyes darkening a fraction, the grip on your flesh turning almost bruising before he began to release it, taking one of your hands again and then the other. You licked your lips – and you’d swear Steve’s gaze flickered to your mouth at that – standing up straighter.

From the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky dropping your tent on the bank of the river.

“Thank you, Bucky!”

“No problem, dollface. Get moving though, my old knees aren’t built for this cold anymore,” he said, causing you to glare at Steve accusingly.

He had lied.

Of course he had fucking lied.

And he had the audacity to grin when you looked at him with accusatory and genuinely worried eyes.

“Let’s get you to the other side, shall we?”

“I packed your favourite snack, but I just decided I’m gonna eat it alone,” you threatened your vengeance for him for not being honest.

Steve feigned hurt so well you might as well believe it; but the hold on your hands remained gentle and secure as he helped you continue the path. “That’s cold, Lee.”

The corners of your lips quirked up.

“I know it’s cold. Now was it so hard to admit it?” you questioned as you beckoned to the water – causing Bucky to chuckle and Steve to deadpan when he instantly realized your trickery.

“You should be around more often, dollface,” Bucky said, approaching you and taking up on Steve’s task.

Steve just grunted and made his way to help Daisy. You felt your face heat up further at Bucky’s remark, grateful no one else could hear the exchange.

…were you though?

“I’ll take your words for it… and Steve?” He glanced at you over his shoulder, clearly not really offended. “Thank you for catching me.”

His smile, no matter how small, said it all and felt like the softest blanket to wrap around you on a cold winter morning; I’ll always catch you.

Always.

Just as you had expected, once you all made it through the river, you reached the camp spot in no time; and just as you had expected, your tent was a lost cause. You could build it, hoping it would dry out overnight at least bit, but actually sleeping in it was out of question unless you wanted to wake up soaked up and sneezing.

In a brief moment of self-pity you granted yourself, you planted your butt on the ground, laying the drenched parts of your tent next to you, taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it as you stared at the traitorous pieces of equipment, including the buckles that had been meant to hold the package to the backpack but had given out.

While everyone busied themselves with unpacking their temporary shelters as well – Natasha with Bucky, Bobbi with Hunter, May, Daisy and Hopkinson each on their own in the lightest and therefore smallest tents possible, Bobbi took note of your state, smiling compassionately.

“Are you okay? The water really did a number on that thing, huh?”

You reciprocated her smile wryly, no less grateful for her care.

“Yeah… But you know what? I win. Sleeping outside? I can stargaze. I’ll be fine,” you said, shrugging and rising to your feet to get to work. You could build the tent to have it dry out at least and wash your clothes in the lake you had settled at. “I’m just… gonna sleep by the fire under the open skies, in… borrowed, non-marinated clothes and with no sleeping bag, because with my luck, it’s probably full of bugs or itching powder or something. It’s fine. God knows I slept in conditions a lot worse than that.”

And wasn’t that the truth. You had slept in much better conditions too, but that was beside the point. You tried to summon the memories of horrible nights spent in damp clothes, freezing, teeth clattering so hard the sound made it impossible to fall asleep; unbearable heat, loud noises, even just annoying persistent chatter. Sleeping under the open skies was practically a blessing in comparison. A dream.

And you did not want to remember nights that had been very different, because that would only make you miserable at your predicament.

“Yeah, not on my watch,” Steve called out lowly, placing another hook in the ground, using his foot to step on it and dig it deeper. “Not when the solution is obvious.”

Your heart skipping a beat at the obvious solution, you barely had time to breathe in to respond when someone else did – in an extremely irritated manner.

“Seriously?! What, you gonna lend her your tent too?” Hopkinson spat, rising from where he had been crouching by his tent. “Maybe even keep her warm through the-“

Steve lunged his direction so fast you didn’t even have time to be offended by the implication.

But Bucky, the supersoldier he was, was much faster; his metal arm stopped Steve in his tracks, palm pressing against Steve’s chest before he could make the almost-breaking-Hopkinson’s-arm a pleasant memory for the man.

Still, Hopkinson had enough wit to shut up and step back hastily, raising his hands defensively. His face turned white as a sheet of paper; good. He had some brain left then, it seemed. How he had survived for so long you had no idea.

Gulping – and shamelessly satisfied at the fear in Hopkinson’s eyes, because Jesus he did not just say that, even as you had thought about exactly the same – you turned your gaze back to Steve and Bucky.

And something in your core exploded hot, a tug so violent and visceral it was almost painful.

If Steve had looked at Hopkinson like he could break his arm all those weeks back when he had made his stupid comment, now he looked like he could break every single bone in his body, snap the guy in half and enjoy it. And he’d enjoy doing it for you. To defend you.

Steve’s smile was always a beautiful sight and so was the softness he could look at you with at times; but the rage in his face now, the fire in his eyes, on your behalf, were nothing short of breathtaking.

Avenging angel indeed.

He might not be carrying a flaming sword, nor had his shield on his arm, but that made him no less menacing, no less divine; and no less beautiful.

“Do we have a problem, Agent Hopkinson?” Bucky asked calmly, despite the clear effort with which he was holding Steve back still, even as Steve visibly didn’t move a muscle.

You were barely moving at all too; your chest was heaving, the rest of your body strung tight with effort not to let show just how affected you were by Steve’s near literal white-knighting.

“No, sir,” Hopkinson saluted, nodding stiffly, before he scrambled to finish building his tent.

“Good.”

Few seconds of deafening silence was only interrupted by the scrape of shoes against ground as the camp slowly came back to life again. Bucky shot Steve a look before he let his metal arm down, watching Steve avert his still flaming gaze from Hopkinson with shoulders remaining squared; and so alluringly wide you just wanted to run your hands over them, just as breathless at the sensation as you were now-

“I mean, makes sense you’d share,” Daisy broke the silence, everyone visibly relaxing. “It looks like your tent is pretty big, eh?”

Your eyes went wide.

Loud cough erupted from Hunter’s direction as he spitted the water he had been drinking; Bobbi patted his shoulders, amusement clear on her face. Bucky’s face twisted in a questionable grimace; Natasha pursed her lips, seemingly one second from making a comment. May bit back a smirk; Hopkinson was only showing his back, but he clearly froze in his movements.

Steve just looked shocked – shocked enough to snap from the anger that had overtook him on your behalf.

You would think it would take Daisy a few seconds to realize how she had worded her statement, accidentally referring to a figurative ‘tent’ men grew in certain situations – but judging by her seemingly innocent smile and the sparkle in her eye, she knew exactly what she had implied. And she had done so on purpose and with delight.

She was right, however. Steve’s temporary dwelling was probably the biggest one at your site and it even included a vestibule, where all the equipment which was meant for everyone was to be stored. His tent had the most space for the reason he could put his backpack to the vestibule alone.

Steve cleared his throat, taking a few steps to you, a relaxed smile having found way back to his face.

“…are you comfortable with sharing a tent with me?”

You reciprocated his smile, shrugging, even as you had to work hard to swallow your amusement at Daisy’s comment. One that was very much on point.

Yes. You were very comfortable sharing a tent with him indeed. More than, actually, but not everyone needed to know that; and you could feel several knowing gazes on you as you answered as levelled as possibly.

“I mean… we have shared a room before for a mission. I’m fine… are you? Comfortable with that, that is?” you asked, perfectly polite, considerate and friendly, even as your heart was racing in your ribcage.

There was no reason for the racing heart though. Because this was okay for friends to do. Absolutely. If you having shared the room sometimes included sharing a bed, which had naturally resulted in cuddling, body heat searching body heat, no one needed to know – especially not Agent Asshole Hopkinson. What happened in a motel room stayed in a motel room. Always.

A cute crinkle appeared in Steve’s eye as he gave the answer you already knew.

“I wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Of course, it’s fine.”

More than, whispered his gaze, so you averted it and busied yourself with gathering the wet parts of your tent, clearing your throat.

“Good… that’s good. Thanks. I really appreciate it, Steve.”

“Any time, Lee.”

You could feel his gaze on you, the warmth of his smile like a soft blanket on your back. It was going to be a long, long night.

Part 2

Complete masterlist

Steve Rogers masterlist

I hope you enjoyed reading 🤭 if you did, please consider leaving feedback and reblogging💕

I hope July has been kind to you!

#steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers #captain america #captain america x reader #captain america imagine #captain america x you #steve rogers fluff #essie’s summer lovin’ 300 follower celebration #summer lovin’ celebration #essie’s 300 follower special #anika ann #a series of unfortunate events

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baalzebufo · 4 months ago

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so I very briefly mentioned this au I have in my last gideon doodle post and saw one tag saying to elaborate and thats all the excuse I needed. ok to be honest i didnt need an excuse i was going to talk about it anyway

i had a dream shortly after the stanchurian candidate aired where my brain made up a fake episode of GF to essentially finish gideons 'arc'. and it involved him making a deal with bill to gain demon powers. bill promised him All The Perks, and he was desperate to get outta jail, so he took it.

turns out 'all the perks' involves being trapped in the nightmare dimension without a physical form and, while being tremendously powerful, unable to truly utilize those powers without being summoned. so he sort of just gets condemned to existing as a demon and is desperate to get back into a physical body because, turns out, the human brain is not really.. designed to process that existence for too long. it freaks you out. especially if 'you' happens to be a ten year old who is still afraid of the dark and spends most of their time surrounded by nightmares.

it was weirdly grim and i woke up like 'holy shit. i need to make that an AU' and it developed from there. in the more thought-out version, bill and gideons deal involved him swapping into gideons body to further his plans for a while. he never promised he'd give it BACK, though. it, uh. ended how you'd expect bill possessing a body to end.

'what happened to his eye?' bill thought it'd be funny if it was part of his collectin on gideons 'debt'. hes got one eye, you should have only one of em, too.

honestly I make most of the details up as I go and its mostly an excuse to draw my favourite worst son in various levels of power-thirst and distress. sorry gids even you dont deserve this one

#alloyart #gravity falls #gideon gleeful #gravity falls au #demon gideon au #yeah ill make a tag for that #i just checked and my original post about this was eight years ago good grief.#but yeah gideon spends a lot of time freaking out and then kind of switches to. 'ok i need to make a deal with someone to get out of this'#and switches on his manipulative charm again #he can proooobably contact people via their dreams even without summoning which is how he goads people towards it i think?#idk i havent actually thought about the specifics that hard despite it being a long-standing au of mine #puts my son in the nightmare blender and shakes him violently #i do like him i promise. hes like my favourite character. and its because of this that i must put him in Situations you see.

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weirdly-specific-but-ok · 9 months ago

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Hi maggots, it's Asmi!

It seems we have arrived at That Point again, when I need a new intro post. So here we are! The Official (kidnapped) Good Omens Mascot and uh Maggot Prince has returned with a fresh post.

First, before I talk about myself, here are some important links that people ask me for and I want to make sure they're accessible:

The Official Maggots Server of Doom on Discord: The server of kindness and chaos and brainrot where we just vibe (I promise you'll be welcome there, whoever you are, maggot, so many people who were shy are now screeching at me and I love that). Link here.

Weirdly-Specific-But-Ok The Youtube Channel: Yes, thanks to the 10khaos post, I made a Youtube channel. I intend to cause a lot of chaos on it, I have already begun. Hehe. Link here.

My Ko-fi: Ummmm this exists? Wahoo a Ko-fi. No pressure and I appreciate you all whether you're a silent lurker, causing chaos, supporting me with words or supporting me on Ko-fi. I love you. Link here.

My PO address and email: I'D LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU, SNAIL MAIL OR MAIL OR OTHERWISE! Link here.

The Good Omens Ad: A lot of you ask me what Good Omens is about. Never fear! I wrote an advertisement for it ages ago, and @1800ineedshelp edited it fabulously. Link here.

Okay I think that's the important parts, I'll edit it later, and now... uh HELLO!

I'm Asmi, I'm 20 years old, he/him, very queer and probably napping at any given moment of the day. Because of a chaotic post, I now have a fandom. My fans, such as they are, are known as maggots. There is a lot of significance behind that (accidentally, I just picked it because it looked like mascot kind of).

I am the Official Good Omens Mascot, because I was kidnapped by the fandom in January after I made a summary post of Good Omens without watching it, just by what I saw on my tumblr dash. I have grown very fond of this title and the fandom, and have since watched the show (some episodes twice).

Also, this blog is a safe space for all queer people, and yes that includes aroace-spec people, trans people, all queer people. If you don't agree with that, there's the door *points to a pit of boiling sulphur*.

ANYWAY YES ENOUGH TALKING WELCOME TO THE CHAOS JUST BE KIND AND RESPECTFUL OF EACH OTHER, BE AS IRREVERENT TO ME AS POSSIBLE, AND WE'LL GET ALONG GREAT. YOU DON'T NEED TO INTERACT TO BE PART OF THIS FAMILY, EVERYONE IS WELCOME! WAHOO!

[if you see talk of spare organs, the Wibbles Incident, Fae kidnapping, Red Bull-induced madness, me thirsting over Crowley etc, don't worry about it, it's normal here. just be careful when gardening and/or fishing is mentioned, it's a trap.]

I LOVE YOU!

#good omens mascot #weirdly specific but ok #intro post #asmi #now with a youtube channel #maggots #now with a discord server #the official maggots server of doom #good omens #good omens fandom #lgbtqia #crowley #my beloved #had to include them in the post #queer community #asmi10kpocalypse #10khaos

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faithst · 1 year ago

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LIVESTREAMS WITH ZB1

pairing zb1 x idol!reader

genre mostly comedy, maybe fluff ? reader is in zb1 🤝

warnings mentions of food/drinks in hao and hanbin’s

notes hi anon, thank you for requesting ! i didn’t want this to be romantic as idol life is,, something.. but still, i hope you enjoy this ! 🫶

masterlist<3

— zhang hao

you’re playing drinking games

and before you ask, no. it’s not actual alcohol

you mix up the most unhinged drink combinations

like soy milk + tea + mountain dew 😃

the drink literally has particles in it

you play the ‘of course’ game and it turns ugly real quick

“you know that i’m better than you at everything, right?” zhanghao says, feeling proud

“of course! zhanghao.. you know that hanbin loves me more, right?” a smirk tugging on your lips that zhanghao so desperately wanted to slap off

loses the game because of that and has to chug down every drop (he’s ok tho i think)

“you’re lucky we’re live right now.”

— sung hanbin

since he was a barista, you guys are making drinks

he teaches you some tips and tricks but it’s more complicated than you think

his drink is so much more visually pleasing than yours although you both followed the same steps 😭

like pretty gradient colors that blend well together

but it’s expected cuz he’s a professional

you do a taste test

and his drink tastes like heaven 👍

you offered yours to him and he tries it

ngl, you were nervous about his opinion

“uh, it’s definitely a new experience.”

— seok matthew

some kind of crafts live

where you both are making those bead bracelets

you make ones for eachother and also the other members !

and matthew is all like ‘oh, you’re gonna love what i made for you’

he’s so proud of his creations

and at some point he accidentally spills every bead onto the table 😭

and you both take a look at eachother like 😐

and it becomes quiet for a whole 5 minutes as he picks everything back up

after that, you both continue making bracelets for the other members 🫶

“jiwoon hyung likes this color, i know him better than you!”

— shen ricky

painting live

you guys are making paintings to hang on eachothers walls

it’s actually pretty chill with ricky 👍

but then he accidentally splattered some paint onto his designer white shirt

his honest reaction to that: ☹️

but its okay, he can just buy a new one. maybe get a car too while he’s at it

since ricky is really good at arts

you wanted to paint him smth nice too

so you just put your autograph onto the canvas

he loves it tho and keeps it in his room 😔

“i can sell this!”

— park gunwook

workout stream

it was actually supposed to be a live for gunwook and matthew

but matthew had to do smth else

so you offered to accompany gunwook instead !

gunwook shares his workout tips and you just nod and agree

you both share your workout routines and people make articles abt them 🫢

‘zb1’s gunwook and y/n workout routine: is it effective?’

oh and you also get thirst trap edits bcuz of this

flaunting your muscles and abs and stuff idk 😭

“do you guys wanna know the secret to my godly physique?”

— kim taerae

from the content we have now..

it’s 100% a karaoke live

wbk he loves singing and he wanted to invite you to ‘taerae show #2’

has his anpanman guitar, ready at hand 🤝

you both have a blast singing and taerae becomes main rapper at some point

he’s so immersed in the ballad songs, he prolly starts crying for effects 😔

biggest hypeman

like he’s all ‘OH MY GOD WOAHHHH’

and he also harmonises w you

don’t be surprised when you get a compilation of ‘y/n and taerae: 5th gen main vocals’

“100 points?! i’m so good!”

— kim gyuvin

q&a stream

answering fan questions and basically fan service

“is a butt one or two?”

gyuvin actually thinks about it for a second and is like “oh my god.” 😭

it got too confusing though so you continued reading the comments

someone asked what he did today and he started thinking

“uh..” “sorry, i forgot.” you joke, making gyuvin stare daggers to you 🫢

he looks back to the screen

and with a wide smile he said

“i’m sorry zerose! i think we have to end the live here. thank you for watching!”

— kim jiwoong

makeup stream

where you do his makeup

and he’s giving you those eyes yk 👀

the comments are going crazy bcuz of it

and when you do his lips, he smiles and it curves so perfectly (ahdguajskshaikahdh)

you accidentally went overboard with the glitter

but jiwoong pulls off everything so it still looks amazing

everyone loves what you did and your makeup style is trending 👍

“i think some glitter got stuck in my eye.”

— han yujin

i don’t know why but you both are face painting

but instead of face painting on yourselves, you face paint eachother

“i’m gonna make you into a piece of art” he says as he paints a streak onto your face

he stops to take a step back and look at everything from a bigger picture

and bursts into laughter 😃

you’re so worried abt what he did to you

he tries to regain his composure but laughs every few seconds

“what’s wrong? what did you do?” “nothing! i made you look very.. cool.” 😁

and then you look into a mirror and you look like shrek's offspring (yes, you get turned into a meme)

“this is my best piece yet! should i leave my signature too?”

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seastarblue · 8 days ago

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Training

Trying my hand at whump bless ft Kaiden and Sir Santhuff

and now the TWs: exhaustion whump, sleep deprivation, paranoia, poison (delivered via arrow), chasing? whump idk man she’s getting chased, ankle injury, suicidal ideation/thoughts, whumper trying to make whumpee “perfect”, training whump, fantasy whump, mentions of setting a bone back into place, beating, hair pulling, using whumpee as a punching bag, uh yea 👍

———

The knight collapsed onto the damp earth, tremors causing her whole form to quiver. Her runeswords—a pair of them, specially designed for her—slipped from her grasp. She tasted metal; from what, she did not know. Her quick, frantic breaths mixed with the crisp night air. A creek babbled nearby, mingling with her buzzing thoughts. It was nearly pitch black, and the dark spots now cluttering the edge of her vision didn’t help in any way.

‘That can’t be good,’ she thought, her mind feeling sluggish and slow.

That was even worse. She needed to stay alert, no matter the exhaustion deadening her senses, no matter the chill that seeped into her bones from the wet night, no matter how much she wanted to lay down and sleep right there in the mud.

He was going to find her, sprawled out on the floor, panting, pathetic, and she wouldn’t—couldn’t—let him see her like this. Not after he had gotten so close to catching her just now: she remembered the sting in her leg from the arrow he’d shot at her.

‘Get up,’ she told herself. ‘Get up and prove yourself. Prove him wrong. Make him proud.’

Staggering to her feet, she gripped a nearby fallen tree to heave herself up. She wavered in place, dizzy, then steadily moved forward, inch by inch, step by step, making her way to the creek. Water would assist the wound, her sluggishness, and provide her a good way of making it back to the starting point—the goal of this gruesome training session. She needed to make it back before Santhuff ensnared her in one of his many, many traps. He’d almost gotten her twice on the first day, and the number kept increasing as fatigue and hunger set in. She couldn’t hunt for food; he was hunting her. She couldn’t rest for longer than a few hours before his arrows whizzed past her head and into the bark behind her. She even tried to sleep nestled in a tree, but the lack of suitable escape routes made her already frayed nerves go haywire.

He might actually kill her at this point.

‘Though,’ she realized with chagrin, ‘that would just prove him right, wouldn’t it?’

She couldn’t have that. Santhuff had already been reluctant on letting her join the Azari in the first place. She would never had guessed it, given his previous enthusiasm on the night of the Ball, unless she hadn’t been eavesdropping on him while recording an entry for his diary.

So, pride and ego giving her strength, she started cleaning the possible poison out of her leg wound, and replenished her thirst with the river water. She looked up into the sky above, the twinkling stars winking at her, as if to say, ‘You can do it, just a little further, see, past the little berry bush, then you’re free.’

The knight got up again, feeling a little better at least, and started moving towards the goal point, moving quietly to avoid snapping twigs and the like.

Maybe she’d actually make it. Maybe she could prove Santhuff wrong. Maybe the self-deprecating part of her would see that she could do it, she could be just as good as the other Azari, then it would quiet itself forever. All she needed to do was make it to the goal.

She told herself that again and again, until the small yellow flag, magicked to glow gently for visibility, came into view, just a few dozen paces ahead. There wasn’t a need for the glow now—the sun had started rising, bathing the forest in gentle pinks and purples.

Lowering her guard—a bad idea, in theory, but she didn’t care—the knight stumbled towards the flag. The thought of a warm bed, a nice meal, and most of all, the boost of confidence, almost made her sob with relief.

She’d won! Against the First Justice! No one had ever bested him before—much less a new recruit—and here she was, outlasting him at his own game. Not outwitting—she was too frazzled for that—but she decided outlasting should be good enough tonight.

Just as the thought passed, an arrow flew by, nicking her face. A trickle of gold blood followed, and then the knight-turned-target was sprinting in another direction, away from the flag, her saving grace.

She’d been noticed. Damn it. She should have waited till she was certain Santhuff had moved on, till the wound on her leg had healed completely. Now she ran, branches whipping at her face, snagging her muddy clothes, and puddles splashing as her boots landed on them. Regret trailed near behind her, but the First Justice was nearer yet.

Despite her greatest efforts, the target’s injured leg caught onto a root, and she fell on hard earth. Her ankle twinged, and she was fairly certain it had twisted, if not worse. She’d have to fix that somehow before her curse healed it wrong.

“…you’ve lost.” the First Justice said, striding over to his target. He returned his bow to his back, the quiver still half full of arrows, some of which she knew were tipped with narcotics. “You know what that means, Kaiden.” He sounded dissatisfied, and that drained Kaiden of any pride she had.

She turned to get a better look at him. That was all she could do, after all, the fatigue—or perhaps the poison—had gotten to her. Once she was prone, she couldn’t find the strength to right herself and run again.

His eyes, normally blue, were stark yellow against the dark night, and Kaiden knew: he wasn’t simply displeased. He was furious. Dread filled her as he continued speaking.

“I am greatly disappointed. You have spent three days in pursuit of the flag, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing. Nothing but a muddy face and shame.”

He was now right next to her, looking down as if she was nothing.

‘I might as well be,’ she thought. Kaiden stared at his shoe, not wanting to make eye contact or even look upwards. She stayed like that for a while, panic slowly setting in.

Then, a rough hand pulled her hair, forcing her to look Santhuff in the eye. “Well?” he spat, teeth bared in a snarl. “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Kaiden simply stared. She could have died if his aim was just a little off earlier, and Lloyd Santhuff never missed. He could have killed her just like that, left her body out to rot with the wolves and vermin, truly killed her by cutting her head off—but he didn’t. She needed to keep it that way. If she said anything, it could—would—get worse.

The forest was silent for a few moments, the only sounds being the crickets, the swooshing of the branches, and Kaiden’s wildly beating heart.

Then he let her hair go and she crumpled to the ground in relief.

Santhuff turned to leave, and Kaiden made to follow—as best she could—but he stopped her with a swift kick to the ankle. The twisted one. She bit her tongue, drawing more gold blood, and braced herself for more blows.

One on her back, another at her gut, two more on her other leg, and a final one to the gut. Kaiden tried her best to stay silent, but she let out sob after sob.

A kick. Then another sob. Then another kick, and another, and another.

Then, finally, he stopped the assault, and stepped away.

“Come to the clearing a league north,” he said, voice devoid of any of the rage from mere moments ago. “In 3 hours. Don’t be late.”

And then he was gone, leaving the knight with the twinkling stars above. They didn’t seem so helpful now. In fact, they seemed to call to her now, mockingly:

‘Come join us, foolish girl, you will never succeed. The only certainty you have is death, so for once, do the useful thing and join us!’

~~~

It took Kaiden a couple of hours to make it to the rendezvous point. She was worried that she was late, but if Santhuff’s silence was anything to go by, she wasn’t. ‘Thank the stars,’ she sighed with relief.

Back to Vespar they went, a teacher and his student, a hunter and his quarry, the First Justice and the rookie Azari he’d sworn to mold to perfection. No matter what.

———

and then they lived happily ever after n Lloyd got yeeted off a cliff <3

finally trying my hand at whump lemme know what yall thinkkkkk plzzzz

I had fun!!!! this was fun :3

nyeh heh heh heh @bamber344 @aalinaaaaaa @abiteofhoney @cc-writes-stuff

#writeblr #o(sea’s)#sea’s story 1 #writers on tumblr #writing #oc writing #whump #whump writing #debated adding “she wouldn’t tell anyone about their training sessions; he knew. He’d made sure of it.”#but idk I’m tireddddd #exhaustion whump #training whump #fantasy whump #can you tell I want ppl to see this #osea: Kaiden #osea: Lloyd

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starshipsofstarlord · 1 year ago

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Got a Light?

Summary-> Norman goes to a bar after a long day on set, and he’s unexpectedly approached by a ‘stranger’ (1k)

Warnings-> implied smut, smoking, roleplaying, mentions of sex

A/N: I’m thinking of doing a second part with smut, I’d really love some feedback! And thankyou for reading

daryl dixon // norman reedus works main masterlist

The entire bar smelt of booze and sweat; it was crowded, there had been a mass of bodies entering after the clock hit 10, but it had been vastly quieter when Norman had arrived. It had been a long day on set, and all of the man had wanted was a drink before he headed home. He drank the rest of his beer, placing the pint glass back onto the sticky table, standing afterwards and shuffling his jacket onto his shoulders.

It was cool out in the parking lot, the fresh air hitting him better than the alcohol had. He rifled through his pockets, hands searching for the medicine that his lungs craved, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. Just cigarettes. There was no lighter on his body, he groaned at the realisation and threw his head back so that he was aimlessly looking up at the stars. He must have accidentally abandoned it on set or in the bar that he was facing away from, and he had no intention of going back.

One cigarette lay between his fingers as though it were ridiculing him. The sound of high heeled footsteps reached his ears, clearly he wasn’t the only soul that had gotten bored of the loud ruckus. The steps continued until they came to stand beside him, curiosity got the best of Norman and he decided to look at the company that stood beside him, and when he did he knew he was damned. Red lips and alluring eyes took his focus away from the rest of her body, and she could only chuckle at his agape expression.

“You know you need to light that right?” Her voice was like velvet, and Norman could only awkwardly lick his lips, as he tried to hold himself together in front of this beautiful woman. “Unless you’re one of those cheesy guys that are like ‘I can light it but u won’t, it just shows how much power I have.’” Her fingers had done quotation marks to imitate the kind of men that she was talking about, and Norman found it quite adorable.

Everything about her felt magnetising, he was drawn to her, and suddenly Norman felt thankful that he had lost his lighter. And then he realised that he had been silent through their entire interaction thus far, and it made him seem exactly like the type that she had mentioned. “Uh, I yeah. No I mean, sorry. You got a light?” He felt like he had made a complete fool out of himself. On the inside he was beating himself up, it wasn’t uncommon for Norman to be easily embarrassed, but he resented that it had to be seen by the enchanting eyes of this well put together and attractive woman, whose name was a mystery to him. Perhaps it were better for him if he didn’t uncover her social title, otherwise he was certain that he would never forget it.

“Sure I do.” Her hands slipped into the small object one would call a purse, and retrieved it for him, to which the man was thankful. If not for her he wouldn’t have gotten the release that he endearingly craved, but now to his own dismay, Norman thirsted for another. He thought of how her hair would look entangled in the rough grip of his fingers, lipstick smeared around her face and his cock. But he controlled himself and snapped out of his perverted fantasy, and opted for using her light so that he could smoke. “You look tense.” The nameless woman surveyed, pressing her red lips together in a decisive thought. “Sure you’re not just pretending so you can get in my pants?”

Norman had not expected for her to be so bold, and so he stifled and coughed on the trapped smoke in his throat, feeling the burn that it left behind. Whoever this woman was decided that it was appropriate for herself to laugh, relieving the panic that had momentarily subdued Norman. “I mean if that had been the case, let’s just say I wouldn’t be opposed. You’re cute, and I wouldn’t mind per say if you came home with me tonight.” There was a sly undertone in her words as she shamelessly flirted with him and ran her eyes scandalously down his body. Norman thought it to be some inkling of a continuous joke that she were playing along with, however he always tried his best to be optimistic, and this situation gave him a reason to be.

“Glad to hear it.” He responded, returning back to breathing in his cigarette that was getting shorter by the second. Ash flickered from its end, reminding Norman that the clock was ticking away until dawn began to rise, and although he was obligated by his contract to show up to work in the late morning, there was nothing written in the fine print commanding him to be well rested. Sure, it made his life and the stunts his script instructed him to perform easier, but he didn’t want this night to end despite his earlier apprehensions when he was sat in the bar alone.

“Are you ready to leave then? Unless you have someone waiting at home for you of course, committed men and cheaters aren’t really my type either.” She had made it as clear as a crystal for what she was looking for in him, and men in general. Norman stomped out the stump that was remaining of his cigarette, placing his hands that were feeling both hot and cold around her waist, pulling her closer to him, supplying the last heave of smoke to escape his lips and brush over her bare shoulders. “And I can’t help but notice that wedding band around your finger…”

This was all a rouse in her ploy, she was dragging him in for a night he’d never forget. “You’re gonna be the death of me y/n.” Norman informed her, watching as an all knowing smirk found purchase in her breathtaking face. She stepped away from him, only by a few inches as she held something rectangular and silver with her painted fingertips. His lighter. She was one devious minx, and he’d ensure that she was in for it when they got back to their home. “Don’t worry honey, you’ll enjoy everything that I have in store for us tonight.” Norman could only follow his Mrs Reedus to find out what she had planned for them.

#norman reedus x reader #daryl dixon x reader #norman reedus imagine #norman reedus fanfiction #daryl dixon imagine #norman reedus fic #daryl x you

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killerpancakeburger · 1 year ago

Text

Bloody nose // Miguel O'Hara

Pairing: Miguel O'hara x female reader

Summary: You find out that your 14yo niece is spider-woman and are very pissed about her keeping it a secret from you. But as you're lecturing her, her boss from the spidersociety shows up. Needless to say you are not happy to see him.

Warnings: canon violence, swearing, mention of alcohol drinking.

Tags : comedy, action, slow burn, Reader has superpowers, but is neither a hero nor villain, BAMF!Reader, Reader takes no shit, Miguel takes a beating but he's fine I promise, no use of Y/N.

Words: 2539.

A/N: Haven't written fics in years and its my first time writing one in English so, uh, go easy on me i guess? 😅

Part 2

The night was falling on New York. The booming laughs of your coworkers were resonating in the bar where you were spending your evening after work.

Being a bodyguard/security guard meant working in a field oversaturated with testosterone, but you made it work somehow. After all, a demonstration of your powers was always enough to deter any doubts on your abilities, and the rare stubborn ones left who harassed you about it were eventually convinced by a good beating. You quickly gave up on hiding your powers, since no one who saw you get shot and walk away with bruises would believe you were normal. But that's when NDAs came in handy. All in all, you liked your current company, your boss, and your teammates. To the point of spending time with them outside work, which meant a lot coming from you.

You're sipping your beer on a stool as usual, listening in on the conversations, when a notification makes you look at your phone. It's a text from an unknown number with a file attached. The text, laconic, says: "Thought you might wanna know about this."

When you recognize what's happening on the picture you received, you spit out your beer in shock and start choking.

"What the fuck!" You manage to groan.

Unfortunately your behaviour haven't gone unnoticed by your coworkers, and before you can say anything else, they start poking fun at you.

"What's happening to you? Can't handle your alcohol anymore?

"I know the beer is bad but its not that bad. You're gonna give the barman a complex."

"Did you receive a thirst trap or something?"

You do not grace them with an answer.

Beyond the good-natured mockeries, you see your closest colleague discreetly checking that you're not really choking to your death.

You have no time to lose. You finish your glass in one shot and gets up. Protests and falsely upset booing rise around you.

"It's way too early to leave!"

You cut short the argument with two words: "duty calls", which everyone of them know is code for “urgent private family matters”.

You grabs your leather jacket, your helmet, you dump a bunch of cash on the counter than is enough for your drinks, tips, and more, and you get out of here like the devil's on your heels.

Once outside, the fresh air helps to clean your mind. You take a deep breath before you start texting the number from earlier.

"Surely you wouldn't sent me this without coordinates?"

You can hardly stay still waiting, but the response comes up barely a minute later, with coordinates and a sarcastic message: "She's on top of an abandoned building of 50 floors. So have fun with that."

You swear at the new information. "Great! Just fucking great!"

You straddle your motorbike and take off like a shot. As you drive, the photo you received is stuck in your mind. Naomi, your 14 years old niece, wearing some kind of superhero suit, sitting carelessly on the ledge of a building. Between her recklessness and the fact that she kept being apparently a freaking superhero from you, when you've always been close, you feel your blood boiling. You imagine how the upcoming confrontation will go. Will she be ashamed? Panicked? Angry?

Not sticking exactly to the speeding limits has you right where you want to be in a short time. You inspect the building from outside. Abandoned means no electricity, and no electricity means no elevator for you... You leave your helmet and your bike behind. You assess the building, noticing large enough grips for climbing, and figure out how high you can get just by jumping. Then you walk backwards a few meters, take off running, gathering speed, and leaps as high as your superhuman body can. As soon as you reach the peak of your jump, you grab the closest ledge. Secure in your climbing, you start your ascension, going as fast as you can. Missing Naomi because you were too slow is out of the question.

You soon reach the top and dust yourself off a bit before going after your niece. The bright colours of her suit makes her easy to catch. You sneak behind her, ready to catch her if she falls, and calls her full name in a tone that betrays your frustration. You hate sounding like a parent grounding their kid – there are reasons why you’ve never had one after all –, but it's too late now.

She has more or less the reaction you were expecting – she flinches hard, and turns to look at you with a melange of shock and horror that makes you feel like the Grim Reaper coming for her life. She puts a hand on the back of her neck in embarrassment, and offers you a smile that looks like a grimace more than anything else.

“Au-auntie… what… what are you doing here…?”

She lets slip a nervous little laugh as she gets up from the edge but keeps a distance from you.

You cross your arms and looks at her sternly, trying to communicate with your glare that she better not try to bullshit you.

“I’m the one who should be asking you that question.”

The grimace widens and she avoids your gaze. You notice beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Oh well it’s a funny story, see-“

“What the hell are you wearing? Are you trying to be a superhero?”

“I’m not trying-“

She seems insulted at the assumption, and regains a bit of confidence for the first time since you arrived.

“You really thought you could hide this from me?”

You are her only family member with superpowers, even if you never tried to be a superhero.

“Oh auntie, it’s not like that…”

She looks genuinely sorry, like she understood that you felt hurt by being shut out.

“Then what is it? I can’t believe you hid this from me. I’m not your dad. I wouldn’t have been mad at you. Did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?.”

You sigh and bow your head with a disappointment you can’t contain.

Naomi makes a step towards you, worry on her face, extending her arm like she wanted to comfort you.

“Listen, it’s not that I didn’t want to tell you, but they made me promise not to…”

Your eyes open wide in horror and realization dawn on your face. Your whole body tense.

“They? Who the fuck is they? Are you being blackmailed?!”

You can’t help from raising your voice. Panic surges through you. You’re not one to lose your cool easily, but your niece is the exception to the rule. You’ve loved Naomi unconditionally since she came into this world. She could probably become a murderer and your feelings wouldn’t change. However, since her mother died – since your sister died –, she became the apple of your eye. You’ll be damned before you let anyone harm her.

Meanwhile Naomi panics too, but for what seems to be considerably different reasons. She grabs her hair and start walking in circles.

“Damn it! That’s not what I meant… I’m not supposed to… I promised I’d… Crap! Listen, I’m not being blackmailed, I swear!”

“Oh yeah? Then what-“

You’re interrupted by an incessant beeping that you quickly identify as coming from some kind of watch Naomi’s wearing. You narrow your eyes in defiance. You’ve never seen that thing before.

“What is that?”

Before you can finish, Naomi hurried to, quite uselessly, hide the watch behind her back.

“NOTHING!”

Another nervous laugh.

The beeping doesn’t cease.

You pinch the bridge of your nose with a mix of irritation and weariness at her shenanigans.

“Naomi. Whatever this is, make it stop.”

Reluctantly, Naomi brings the watch before her and pushes a button on the side of it. A flip screen deploys. Immediately, a male voice blasts from it. Its owner sounds riled.

“Naomi. I was expecting your report three hours ago. Explain yourself.”

His commanding and uncompromising tone immediately rubs you the wrong way.

“Oh, hi Miguel… I just… uh… I’m about to send it, I just ran into some… trouble…”

You post yourself at your niece’s side and get a peek of “Miguel”.

His striking red eyes are the first thing that catches your eye – you’ve never seen a hero with ones. Only villains. His face is broad, his features defined and his jaw unyielding. His thick, dark eyebrows are frown and his full lips aren’t smiling. Dark brown, pushed back hair that reaches the back of his neck frames a visage that must be pretty when not stuck in a perpetual expression of irritation.

Before he can formulate in response what obviously seems like criticism, you grab Naomi’s wrist, bring the watch closer to your face and articulate as clearly as possible :

“Consider this her official letter of resignation, dipshit.” You end the call.

Naomi instantly starts screaming in protest.

“Auntie! What the hell! Why did you do that!?”

“Is that fucker pressuring you? Who does he think he is, talking to you like that?”

“No! It’s not like that!” She sounds intent on defending that rude asshole. “He’s just… argh, I’m not supposed to tell others about the Spider Society!”

As soon as she finishes her sentence, she puts both hands on her mouth, as if it could stops her from blurting out more classified information.

“The Spider what?”

She shakes her head, mimicking the action of zipping her lips, and keeps a stubborn silence.

You roll your eyes at her childish antics and decides that enough is enough.

“I’m gonna get answers about this, whether you’re the one telling me them or not, are you aware of that?”

Silence. You put your hands on your hips and sighs.

“Whatever. I’m bringing you back home. And I’m telling your father about this.”

Suddenly her lips come undone.

“What! NO! Auntie, come on!”

You shake your head, implacable, and starts leaving, knowing she’ll end up following you anyway.

“This is not a negotiation, kid.”

“Nooo, you can’t do this to me! Please! He’ll ground me til adulthood! I’m begging yo-“

Naomi’s whining suddenly come to a halt as you start hearing some kind of… music? Coming from behind you.

*Spider-Man 2099’s theme starts playing*

[Insert "Why do I hear boss music?" meme.]

You turn around to see some kind of unstable orange-red hexagon floating over the ground and the man from the watch exit from it. You stay speechless, blinking in incomprehension.

“What the fuck.” You let slip under your breath. You’ve seen more strange phenomena than the ordinary mortal but this is something else entirely.

Unfortunately “Miguel” didn’t wait for you to come back to your senses and took advantage of your silence to start admonishing Naomi.

“Not only you let a civilian discover your identity but you showed them your watch? How much did you tell them?”

Miguel’s appearance seems to have turned your niece into a frightened mouse. She takes one step back for each he makes towards her, and you’ve never seen her so thoroughly shaken. Each words coming out of her mouth sounds like it’s tripping over her teeth to get out.

“I… I didn’t tell her anything… w-well I said the word Spider Society once but…”

Miguel grunts in frustration.

“ I knew it was a bad idea to take you in.”

You post yourself protectively in front of Naomi and are forced to note the size difference between him and you. He is massive. But you quickly pull yourself together – your strength always put you on top, even when your enemy had 30cm and 30kg on you. You narrow your eyes and throw a murderous glare at the man in costume.

“Leave her alone. She did nothing wrong.”

He immediately argues back.

“You-“

“I followed her here. There’s nothing she could have done to stop me.”

“Auntie has powers too”, pipes up Naomi behind you.

“Great, fantastic. Does that mean you’ll keep your mouth shut about this?”

You can feel your anger raising in your chest like a wave.

“There won’t be anything to shut my mouth about, because Naomi’s superhero’s business ends here and now.”

“But-“ starts Naomi.

“It’s out of question. This world needs a spiderman to protect it.” Announces Miguel like it’s law.

“Then find another spiderman!” you exclaim, exasperated.

“There is no other Spiderman.” He hisses back.

“Aren’t YOU a spiderman?” You gesticulate in direction of his suit.

He passes a hand over his face like explaining this to you is the bane of his existence.

“I’m the spiderman of Earth-928. There is no one else who can do this.”

“Tough luck.” You snap back. “My niece isn’t going anywhere.”

The tone between you two keeps raising, and soon you’re engaged in a shooting match.

“It’s not up to you. Her being spiderman is a canon event.”

You look at him like he’s insane – he must be.

“It’s a WHAT? No, wait, I don’t care. Deal with your own shit and leave my family out of it.”

You illustrate your words by shoving him hard in the chest, and he’s pushed back a few meters. His eyes flashes a bright, menacing red, and you swear he’s about to pounce on you when Naomi get between you two, arms outstretched in each of your directions.

“Don’t fight! We’re all on the same side!”

“He wants to use you!”/ “She can’t be reasoned with!” you both shout.

“The town needs me, insist Naomi in your direction.

You take your head between your hands.

“Can’t the town wait til your majority?”

But as the words leaves your lips, you already know how senseless they sound.

You sigh hard. Pinch the bridge of your nose. Knowing you are going to regret immensely what you’re about to suggest.

“What if I did it instead?”

“No.” reply instantly Miguel, a harsh expression on his face.

You roll your eyes. He could at least hear you out.

“Think about it for a second, smartass. I have had years to master my powers, contrary to a teenager. I have combat experience with both humans and supers. I’m a bodyguard. It’s literally in my job description to identify threats and neutralize them while protecting other people. I know how to work with a team and on my own. You won’t find a better recruit anywhere else.”

Never in your life you would have imagined presenting your resume to Spiderman, but looks like things are only gonna get crazier.

Miguel grunts, like agreeing with you was physically painful for him.

“Fine.”

“See, I knew we could come to a compromise!” Naomi beams. “Miguel is meaner than he looks, she adds to your intention. Well except for the time he threw a desk at me but-“

“He threw a WHAT at you?!” you scream in astonished rage. The fury who accumulated inside you all evening boils over.

“You fucking piece of shit!” You snarl at Miguel. He doesn’t have the time to react. You punch him in the jaw hard enough to send him flying through one, two, three buildings before you stop counting.

#miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x fem!reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara fic #across the spiderverse #spider man: across the spider verse #mine #rambling into the void #miguel ohara #miguel ohara fanfiction #miguel ohara x reader #spiderman 2099

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soraviie · 2 years ago

Text

being your secretary.txt

━ type: bts x gn! reader ━ masterlist

━ about: fluff and crack, emphasis on the last one

━ pictures taken from Pinterest ━ previously posted on soraviii

NAMJOON:

king of business casual attires

he hates wearing full suits, those are for exclusive meetings only as he finds them too stuffy

essentially somehow gets away with wearing a t-shirt by tossing a suit jacket over it

has a ton of nonprescription glasses that he wears fully for the right look of it, in reality, he wears his contact lenses and then glasses on top

would die of embarrassment if anyone found out about this

Also, definitely does not wear them just because you mentioned liking them on him once

arrives 10 minutes before you and prepares the morning briefing

power walks when he's irritated

if anyone hears those familiar dun dun dun steps, they scramble as fast as humanly possible

has been banned from the office kitchen after a very unfortunate coffee-making incident

gets cosmically stressed every other Wednesday and lets out this frustration by briefly screaming at the top of his lungs

does he know people can hear him? Does he care?

always knocks on your door before leaning through the gap and asking: "may I come in?"

nothing gets past him about you: which hotel are you staying at, when's your mother's birthday, what was the colour of the pen that you used to sign the documents with, it's all noted in his expansive calendar and notes

he knows it all

but about himself?

boy, oh boy, he makes you stressed

if you're on an overseas business trip, he can list the entirety of the ingredients in the foods you'll have on the plane and then you can point out:

"Didn't you have your passport hung around your neck?"

he freezes and in his eyes, you can spot, by now familiar, 404 error code

loses his work ID every other week

is available 24/7 'cause he's a workaholic

gets mistyped as the boss 99% of the time

if it's by someone whose particularly annoying he's all condescending and smug

"Actually..."

a big fan of saying "actually" when he's petty; anyone who hears it, knows that they're about to be deep-fried by an unlimited amount of sarcasm

during the first stage after being hired, he definitely stayed to work overtime to avert any conceivable flaws

you found him, hunched over the desk with a dim desk lamp as his only companion

"Why are you still here?" you question curiously and he nearly jolts out of the chair

"Just...just going over these fact sheets," he stammers. "Don't want to get anything wrong."

you had to wrestle him to leave

once he becomes more comfortable with you, begins to joke but more often than not follows it up with coughing "ignore that" as he lives in almost a perpetual state of embarrassment

does extra work at home over dinner

if you show up at his doorstep, emotionally distraught, he welcomes you warmly despite hardly being able to see through his sleep-laced eyes

And if he may or may not notice your stare lingering on the muscles of his arms revealed, he may or may not weaponise that knowledge when meeting outside of the office by wearing tight shirts and lifting his arms behind his head to flex said muscles

outside the office prefers to meet at the park

Because he definitely does not imagine it as a date

workers at the canteen hate him as he habitually harasses them for snacks when stressed

always has a book or two on his table, he doesn't even have the time to read them but he keeps them around as an emotional support

if you have something ultra-specific that calms you down be it a stim toy, a plush, or a candy he has that in his pockets always carrying it around

makes a show of making a thirst trap filled Instagram and then "casually" mentions it in passing so you'd give it a follow

why exactly does he need seven consecutive grey sweatpant workout selfies there?

it's for the uh....aesthetic, he answers, face as bright as a ripened tomato

goes on hilarious tirades after the events, complaining about how this and that was stupid

you let him, enjoying the chatter with a soft smile

is of tremendous help when writing any speech or anything that needs a literary nuance

always very proud of you

in a way, holds himself to a higher standard after meeting you

has a special encouraging smile for when you give speeches to motivate you on

and while glimpsing across the crowd you know you can never truly fail in his eyes

YOONGI:

no matter how impossible always gets things done

despite bemoaning and bitching about it, is actually great at handling inner office relationships

always manages to make everyone stay on the track

keeps various assortments of snacks on his table

loathes the entire HR team though there is no special reason behind it

where Namjoon goes in front of you to announce your presence, Yoongi is a silent shadow constantly on the lookout

has listened in on so many conversations, he's at this point a human spyware

most people dismiss him as a quiet, reserved, grinding sort of secretary but in actuality, he's playing the same game as you with just as much vigil

if someone slights you, so much as breathes a snide comment he'll let you know and then help you to deal with it

and if someone disrespects you, there's murder in his eyes

wears proper attire but hates the jacket so mostly walks around with a button-up shirt

that may or may be damning when he decides to roll up the sleeves

if the AC is not working as it should, he will dRAG the maintenance by the ear to have it fixed

has knowledge of things you never thought possible

for example, on a random drive to the office he may mutter, off-hand:

"Give your friend a call, today is their birthday"

could recite your dietary preferences while in a coma

tussles with any cook to keep them in mind whether on a lunch run or in a five-star hotel

when it's a late work day, often teases you with a nonchalant tone

something about a softer atmosphere, the dark outside the window and the dim light of your office makes him relaxed and feel closer to you

when you praise him and he's feeling cute, pulls this exact face whilst turned away from you

beCAUSE it's embarASSING

has laughed at you once when you walked into a door

doesn't wear glasses often but when he does you know he means business

you know he's aware of the power he holds and wields it with no regret or regard for the poor souls suffering at the end of these good looks

has three to five people in love with him at all times but rejects them very gently always making it seem he's a horrible catch

and not because he's attached to a certain boss

has made you food on his free days but doesn't know how to give it to you for months

so in the end he just brushes it off with an "I made too much so if you want here it is" and it just so happens to be your favourite meal

softly scolds you sometimes

if you wear eccentric clothes playfully teases you about it as well

has established weekly "trash talk sessions" with you and the janitor for the sake of his mental health

if anyone rags on him (rightfully) for lazing around he gets so offended lmao

"I'm bUsY!"

boogies when he succeeds after a particularly hard project

never acts cute on purpose but is so cute

has drunk dialled you once and deep down remains mortified despite pretending it's not a big deal

doesn't stay a single second after office hours are over, he's not about that capitalist life nah

and yet if you ask for help works the entire night and the next one and the next one

he's not about the capitalism but he is about you

at a company event, you can find him in the corner asleep

love or hate it, he knows the entire roster of the people you've dated before even if it was just a middle school crush, he has that information

if there's an important event, is there since the morning overseeing everything to the tiniest detail

if you appear in a televised interview watches it with sweaty palms

and if you're in a newspaper or a magazine he buys them and keeps them on his coffee table at home

if you drag someone through the absolute filth you know he's in the corner trying not to beam like a sunshine

sometimes on business trips after hours really lets his hair loose so to speak and you see another side of him

the bubbly giggly side and it's so adorable you want to eat him

(for the nasty people out there...you perverts)

and while we're at it he gets kind of flirty

if someone gets too handsy with you, death glares at them

is always working the angle on getting a raise, and while Yoongi is not about these capitalist schemes, he does love getting the coin

can often be found muttering underneath his nose that he's not paid enough to do this even if "this" in question is talking to someone whose a bit more annoying

big fan of wine drinking after work in the comfort of his home

often picks up his phone to text you an invitation but discourages himself from doing it every time

JIN:

always looks his absolute best

another king of business casual

but unlike Namjoon doesn't just throw on a suit jacket and call it a day

actually invests in good quality jumpers and shirts so he always looks expensive

and it may or may not be a deep gaping wound in the egos of many at the office

everyone talks to him but he rarely talks to them back

y'know

like he's popular because people decided he is not due to his own effort

with a face like that, he was bound to be, right

is by far and I do mean by far one of the most unorthodox secretaries ever to exist

you can swear that one second he has you thinking he'll never be able to do this and the next you're ready to worship him as he caught onto a mistake that could ruin the entire company

Jin gets things done but no one knows how exactly ???

though everyone has agreed that he looks superb in suits even if it simultaneously damaged everyone's ego

hates talking to clients, investors etc. etc.

but!

dude's an actor

so by being the fakest little bitch in the room, he manages to charm even the most heinous of competitors

has an adequate business brain

even if he says things that are undoubtedly questionable

like that one time he pitched the idea of selling Shooky's cookie fam for profit T-T

has the healthiest work vs free time balance

is not available 24/7

in fact, he's only available for the time that he's governed to be at

it's 5 o'clock? Bye, bye, watch the fumes from his back as he speeds away

a huge enthusiast of reading webtoons and watching dramas during work

so you see how people might be confused about just how exactly he gets everything done

but at the end of the day, he does

and that's what matters

also, his plot recaps are actually quite funny so you may allow the dastardly attitude for the sheer amusement of it all

makes snacks for you and himself

brings a warm cup of tea when you're stressed

if you praise him...

(♡⸃ ◡ ⸂♡) makes this face

and melts

he might act that he's above people's opinions but actually deeply craves them

an expert at defusing the tension

both when people quarrel and when you feel too stressed

he reminds you that this is not the end of the world and even if it is, it doesn't end until it does

attaches post-it notes with ridiculous questions to your various folders

for example,

"Ten mini giraffes vs one giant rat who would win?"

is either excellent at fashion advice or the absolute worst, there is no middle

blushes a lot if you show him special care and attention

Don't do that

But also not not do that

is almost never at his desk

sometimes he might have just locked himself into the office pantry to get away from people

participates at all social events despite his own great agony

does it because you asked and if you say please he will begrudgingly move mountains should it be needed

has been mistaken numerous times for your partner

and he doesn't bother correcting that ;)

once upon a blue moon someone actually manages to piss him off

but unfortunately the general population, you included, simply find that hot

it's about the furrowed eyebrows

on an unrelated note, does anyone else find angry rj uncannily resembling angry Jin I know it's logical but all the same

HOSEOK:

hello and welcome the social CPU of the office

does he want to?

no, not really

but it's beneficial

and it makes the workflow much smoother

he's a perfectionist so it's all about the workflow

keeps everyone in great spirits

so when he comes in depressed and moping to work everyone's in great distress and trying to improve his mood

the most efficient is you

as you simply make him a drink, put it on his desk and gently say that you're grateful for all that he's done

it's like a shining beacon of light breaking through the stormy night

rarely if ever wears office-appropriate clothing

but he always looks great so no one complains

and it's easy to find him

the pop of colour stands against the grey office in an almost comical fashion

doesn't usually stay after hours but absolutely takes the work home

sometimes calls you after work to make sure of something

doesn't make a note of the private things concerning your family or friends

but keeps detailed vigil for anything you related

doctors appointments, holiday plans, your birthday, he has it all marked down

sometimes spruces up your interior by hanging balloons and leaving behind cheesy encouraging cards

especially if you've gone through a hard time

occasionally drinks or dines with you after hours

these talks always escalate from work into conversations about life, hobbies, passions etc.

sometimes chooses to not pick up calls from the office when he's free

but

if you call him from a private number can and will answer in the middle of the night, on the beach, on the toilet

those are reserved for emergencies

gets shy when you praise him and constantly downplays his achievements

refuses to be promoted saying he couldn't handle the pressure, he's not equipped etc.

but it's just because he wants to stay longer close like this with you

he's reasonably ambitious so wrestles with it but he enjoys doing this so he always refuses

has a very, very secret folder of photos taken by him on official gatherings and outings

some make him proud, some make him giggle

like the one where you're holding an entire sushi roll whilst frowning at the opening speech for the business conference

definitely is caught up in like 10 people's business because they ask for his help and he's too polite to reject them outright

hates coming to work in deep winter

that's the most dishevelled he'll ever look

contributes a great deal to the improvement of internal workings

makes sure to greet every single person coming his way, be it a janitor or manager

hence why everyone likes him so much

it's actually impossible not to like him

hence why he's designated as the one to break hard news around the office

because he somehow makes sure no one feels too bad

rarely takes breaks during working hours as he's busy tending to the needs of his favourites

first and foremost - you

has every minute of every day planned and scheduled

colour coordinates events

and also sticker coordinates

sometimes sticks a cute sticker on top of a folder to cheer you up

and yes that does include your lunch breaks

has a frightening capability of faking a pleasant smile

he could be planning a murder to the most minuscule detail and no one would be the wiser

JIMIN:

so first of all he bungled the interview

bad

he got into his head, was late, wound himself in such an ulcer-ridden stress ball he could only mumble incoherently underneath his nose

so he's almost in tears

but then you say yes

cause you see something sincere about him unlike the manufactured cutouts giving perfectly polite, impersonal, well-readied replies

and because of that Jimin overworks himself to bone

he's so anxious over any conceivable mistake that for the first three months he practically lives in the office

going everything over and over again with sleep-deprived eyes

when it inevitably begins to show on his face you sternly sit him down and explain either he's going to adhere to the office hours or you're going to fire him anyways, in order that proper authorities are not on your ass for exploitation

moping away like a kicked puppy, he obliges

is practically mute for the first months in your presence

he's terrified of disappointing you

but slowly the fear ebbs away

and after a few out-of-office meetings

in front of you might as well sit a different person entirely

despite taking the longest to get used to it, he's the best at the job

is at this point a walking calendar

everything from your dentist appointment to whether or not you've worn this outfit before sits in his mind

has a different notebook/calendar for the types of things he needs to remember all colour coordinated

pink is for you, red for emergencies and previous mishaps, blue for finance meetings, grey - to be ignored

leaves behind himself cute reminders

is especially fond of cute, stylized post-it notes that often have quite little to do with work

mainly he uses it as a means to fluster you

perhaps succeeds

when he's really comfortable

he feels free to be mad at you

the King of Petty when he's mad

but unlike your competitors, all you have to do is flutter your eyelashes and he's a molten goo of floating hearts

you two are honestly a terrifying duo

cause if your secretary is this intimidating, glaring down something heavy upon the unfavourable guests while looking like he just descended from heaven...

what are you like then? o_0

master of passive-aggressive comments

the longer he works there, the better his fashion becomes

to the point where he has a distinct silhouette that reminds people more of a runway model than an office worker

expensive

you get what I mean, he looks affluent and posh 'cause by now he's as much as the face of the company as you are

the "click clack" of his heeled shoes as he walks around T-T

spends 75% of his mornings at your home

your alarm clock fairy really

if you're on overseas trips also lingers in your hotel room

feels quite lonely at home due to the lack of people

has beef with certain people in the office

also gossip central

but if any of it branches to insult you, snitches but not before making the person feel so bad they want to crawl out of their skin

frequently brings you snacks, foods and drinks :')

types in a concerningly aggressive manner, very loud and decisive like he's writing a national announcement

also another enjoyer of a wine glass (or a bottle) after work

after some time he simply reeks of professionalism

and as you sit and smile at him knowingly, having envisioned this happening

he gives a shameless smile in turn, rolls his eyes and collects the empty tea cups:

"Don't get excited, I might think you like me too much"

TAEHYUNG:

cardigans

wears an excessive amount of cardigans and soft jumpers

appears more like a funded art student than a secretary

but don't be fooled :)

he's absolutely cutthroat :)

there are a lot of people in the company that don't like you

and Taehyung is determined to show them exactly where their place is

all while grinning like an innocent angel

gets side-tracked a lot

invests early on into specific aesthetic notebooks, pens and folders

and then forgets it halfway

so now his table is mismatched with something that looks like the reading space of a retired elderly historian and normal office space

can't be found at the said desk for anything

prefers to work in your office

especially if that involves laying down on the couch and complaining

tends to forget small events and dates

"Hello, we would like to confirm the meeting on today's afternoon?"

he's sitting there on the phone with a ???? on his face

hurries all over the place to correct his mistakes

so seeing him rush suddenly out the door as though his ass is on fire is not exactly surprising

does not talk until 11:02

he's awake but at what cost

another enjoyer of knocking your ass awake in the morning

but unlike Jimin doesn't roll up glammed out and with pancakes in hand

but with hair a mess and dry spit on the corner of his mouth

gazing at you with sleep-swollen eyes

"let's go," says he and then promptly passes out in the car

knows the canteen workers on a first-name basis

at any given time, has 10 to 15 people madly in love with him

he's aware of this and is awkward about it

tries to cutesy his way out of your wrath

and does so gloriously

though when things get serious, he goes into hyperfocus mode

doesn't even recognize or grasp that someone's speaking to him when he does

is an excellent "light in the dark" person

meaning he offers unexpected solutions just when you think the situation couldn't get too dire

is a pro at throwing dust into people's eyes

he can confuse anyone and or anything in mere seconds

which is great for stalling or befuddling a competitor

if you try to call him and he doesn't pick up he then replies with a selfie and a text: "what's up?"

has made his own network of secretaries

which makes him practically the mastermind of the information

wherever he goes he picks up a new person to befriend

and as such singlehandedly has made the largest impact on the company's social list than any other department in its history

you try to promote him multiple times but he constantly whines about how he "likes to be under your wing"

often kicks back in the chair and thinks about how he wants to go somewhere else and not sit in this stuffy office

but all he needs is a single glimpse towards you that he reconsiders

it's not that bad, he supposes

his writing down technique is an absolute nightmare

it's a pandemonium

but he insists there's an order to this chaos

is a professional because he ultimately gets things done

but doesn't act like it at all

is still his silly, goofy self

is fond of green spaces or walking through the building than just sitting by his desk

it makes his soul drain out of his ears

where other guys establish dominance over glasses

he has closets full of bags

coordinates his bags to the events or days of work

a whole plethora of colours, designs and sizes

all have a distinct size

has tried to sneak Yeontan into the office in one of the upper mentioned bags

you're working away in your office when suddenly a wet nose presses against your calf

you peak underneath the table and find two soppy brown eyes staring back at you

tried his hardest to convince you to allow people to bring their pets to work

frequently compliments you

buys flowers for your office which he sneaks in when you're not looking

never says it's from him but from who else

may or may not contemplate leaving you secret handwritten letters

but he knows you'd figure it out from the scrawling handwriting alone

JUNGKOOK:

is mistaken for your bodyguard

because he keeps acting like one T-T

has a permanent 🤨🤨🤨 when outside of the office

at first, you think what an angel, so nice, so polite, so quiet, does everything you ask

and then the mask ebbs away

and now you have to be with this annoying demon

teases you a lot

does so at least in private

so from the outside, it's laughable - the act he pulls

the sheer fake innocence he radiates, he should be awarded all the nominations

but as annoying as he is

which is a lot

is great at grinding through a shitload of work

seriously, when he enters the concentration zone it's like nothing can rouse him

and to be fair he's still a perfectionist

so if he feels like this somehow reflects his own persona he will work until it is nothing but the top tier

also great at brainstorming

makes a habit of cleaning your desk space

and hiding his own snacks in your drawers

you reach one time to get a pen and find there a kit kat bar

searches and inspires his office outfits from Pinterest

so make it somewhat office friendly edgy

would rather die than hang out with any of his coworkers outside of the office

you're not a coworker you're a you in his mind

if he meets you accidentally outside of work, freaks out and probably tries to act like he's Jungkook's long-lost twin brother or smth

and if you tease him about it, he can't take it all

drunk dials you on the reg

it's not a Friday evening if you don't receive a very weird, and dragged-out call from your whatever-coloured hair secretary

as much as he's bad with remembering professional boundaries within work, if he somehow finds himself in your living place, is absolutely mortified

stands there like a plank, not daring to breathe or t o u c h anything

frequently forgets a lot of things, like meetings or where he's supposed to be

so it's not unusual to see him dishevelled with his big ass eyes looking around confused as all hell

but at the end of the day, he does what is needed because the thought of you being disappointed in him, carves a hole within his weird but warm heart

after some time he knows how to act professional so people who don't know better think "wow, what a young upcoming genius"

only for that genius to play with matches in your office later on

so while he's not exactly good at handling his own tasks on his own

due to him becoming distracted

he's superb at helping you to get things done

so the main prerequisite is to work with him side by side

and it's not at all just a ploy to spend more time with you

doesn't want to but somehow gets entangled with your family

has babysat/dog sat/catsat (??) for your friends and or relatives

they probably hound the shit out of you where's the nice young man

yeah, probably has a secret account that he uses to stalk you on social media

hates your most recent ex even if there's no reason to

only ever dresses office appropriate if there's a massive event going on

other than that he's walking around in sweaters, doesn't care

often rambles about weird, off-the-tangent things

when he's supposed to be doing paperwork

but you know he'll get it done anyhow

(cause he brings it home)

so you let him

has gone on a drunken rant about how great you are

he's probably adored by most of the office

who are simultaneously wondering why exactly you hired this funky muscular little dude

has probably injured himself trying to exercise and work at the same time

also can be often seen hauling his ass somewhere at top speeds

where? no one knows

when on an overseas trip, locks himself into a hotel room

and also takes any freebies possible

probably has half the office in his home, paper towels, tea packets, you name it

when there's a big project coming up, rushes up to you all frazzled, informing you what's going on

you may ask him how many energy drinks has he consumed

and he'll give an ungodly number

absolutely the type to pour an energy drink into coffee when at his lowest point

you don't know how it happened, but by now it's a habit that he carries your clothes and bags

it's just his thing

and don't you dare to give your stuff to anyone else, he'll throw a hissy fit

protects you a lot hence why everyone thinks he's your bodyguard

it's because he admires you a lot

and despite it not appearing as such, he really learns a lot from you

eventually, you see that he learns to focus better, and manage his time better all without losing his own distinct personality

when you give speeches, he has literal stars in his eyes :(

so while he's not the world's greatest secretary, he's your greatest fan

you'll never even get to feel down because he'll be constantly reminding you of how you can do absolutely anything

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unmaskthewriter · 1 year ago

Text

Blood Feuds, Ancient and Modern {John Marston x GN!Reader}

Summary: As the daughter of an infamous and wanted outlaw, you were always a target. Dutch never considered someone would go as low to harm you.

A/N: welcome back, dearest readers! I wanted (and still do) to write for John, I don’t know how to feel about this one though. 10/7 EDIT: I FIXED THIS TO BE GENDER NEUTRAL. I READ IT TO MAKE SURE BUT LMK IF I MISSED OR COULD FIX SOMETHING

Word Count: 1747

Warnings: angst, violence, mentions of minor character death

GIF IS NOT MINE! ALL CREDITS GO TO ADAMPAGE

You lay peacefully in the seclusion of your tent as the sun creeps slowly into the sky. Around camp, birds sing as members of the gang slowly begin to stir. Coffee is brewed and breakfast is prepared. Having previously made plans for the day, you awoke at dawn, getting dressed into a deep blue blouse and black pants held up with suspenders.

“G’morning, Pearson.” You greet as you pour yourself a cup of coffee and grab some food for breakfast. You look around the camp, observing that John was not yet awake.

“G’morning.” He nods to you as you swiftly drink your coffee and eat your breakfast. Afterwards, you approach your horse and saddle her before mounting.

“Where do y’think you’re going?” A gruff voice asks, approaching you. You turn to see Arthur standing a few feet away, beside his own horse. You could barely distinguish his features in the dark, and the hat he wore didn’t help.

“Mr. Morgan, why would I indulge you in any personal matters?” You toy with him, a small smirk playing at your lips.

“No reason. Just don’t get yerself killed. I don’t wanna hear it from Dutch or John later.” He waves before mounting his horse and riding off in the opposite direction. Your father, Dutch, was careful to let you out of camp, much less alone. He had already lost your mother, Annabelle, to Colm O’Driscoll’s thirst for revenge. He couldn’t bear to lose you either. You were too young to remember her.

“Let’s go girl.” You pat your horse's neck before gently kicking into her sides. You think back to John as you ride towards Rhodes. The previous night, you two had gotten into an argument.

You had been tipped off by a man in town that there was an ex-outlaw in the Bluewater Marshes sitting on a sum of money. John didn’t think it was trustworthy.

“We don’t know this place or these people! C’mon now, use your brain!” John shouted at you. You take a step back, shaking your head. You walk away before giving him a chance to explain.

You knew he had a point, John cared for you deeply. Your father knew, and trusted John enough to love and care for his only child.

Before you could make it to Rhodes, a few armed men emerge from the trees. You slow to a stop.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence, gentleman?” You ask, your free hand resting on your holster. Before you could react, someone behind you had spooked your horse, causing her to rear onto her back legs, tossing you. You land onto the ground with a loud thump. You look around hazily, seeing a man stand over. You quickly reach for your gun only to be kicked in the stomach. It sends you back, the revolver sliding a few feet away.

“Your daddy shoulda been more careful. Ain’t too smart of you to trust us, huh?” The man chuckles before his fist makes contact with your face, knocking you out.

—

As the sun sank lower into the evening sky, Arthur had returned to camp. Dismounting, he sees John and Dutch conversing.

“I know you worry. Arthur!” Dutch approaches quickly with John in tow, “have you seen my child?” Dutch questioned. Arthur hitches his horse to the post.

“Uh, not since dawn… believe they was heading to Rhodes to follow up on that tip.” Arthur mentioned.

“They took ‘em! They shoulda known it was a trap.” John raises his voice, throwing his hands into the air.

“Who?”

“Those damn Braithwaites. They had given them a tip on some score out in the marshes. Kieran thought he saw a few heading that way earlier this morning.” Hosea explains carefully as he approaches. Dutch turns to John who is silently fuming.

“We will find them and bring ‘em back to you, and kill anyone who would have the temerity… to touch one hair on their head… so help me, God.” Dutch calmly stated. Inside, he was raging with emotions, none of them good. How could someone take his child? Was this some sick joke, or revenge for all he’s done?

In the meantime, the men who had captured you had hogtied you and pulled a dark sack over your head. You could faintly hear their discussion and laughter.

“How much do you think he’ll pay for this sack o’ shit?”

“A bit, I imagine. Mother told me that they are the child of that scum outlaw that’s been seen in Rhodes. And one of those outlaws he runs with is sweet on ‘em.” You pass back out.

Two days have passed before you wake back up. Sitting up slowly, you groan and look around. You were in a large, lavish bed that didn’t belong to you. You had been changed into expensive sleepwear, and your clothes were clean and folded on a chair in the corner. Beside the bed were a pair of slippers. Slowly, you push yourself out of bed, and shuffle over to the mirror. In the reflection, you see the extent of the damages. A bruised, and cut left eye that you could barely see from, a busted lip and bruised ribs. Shit.

You should have listened to John, you thought as you walked carefully over to the window. You could see a city bustling with life and excitement, the sun sinking low into the sky until you could barely see it anymore. You hear a knock on your door, and a maid stands behind you.

“Mr. Bronte has instructed me to dress you for dinner.” She stands there with her hands folded at her waist.

“D-dinner?” You ask, a headache growing as you hold your hand to your head.

“Yes. You’ve been asleep for two days. You would only wake for a glass of water or to go to the bathroom.” She explains, shutting the door behind her and walking over to your dresser.

“Hell.. I don’t even remember..” You whisper to yourself, watching as she pulls out this lavish outfit that compliments your features.

“N-no,” You tell her, “I want to wear my clothes.” You insist, shuffling over and grabbing them from the chair. She remains silent, pressing her lips together as if in deep thought before helping you undress from the sleepwear and dress into your pants and blouse. Afterwards, she leads you to a large dining room. At the head of the table sat a formally dressed man. You stop in your tracks.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He stands from his seat. The table was laden with different dishes, mostly pasta and wine.

“Mr. Bronte?” You ask, confused as the maid guides you to your chair, helping you sit.

“That’s my name,” He explains, sitting back down after you, “you’re my guest here in Saint Denis for the time being. Do eat, the chef is exquisite.” He explains as he begins making his plate.

“I-I’m sorry, Mr. Bronte, I’m afraid there’s been a mistake. I have to go-“ You stand from your chair, prepared to leave.

“Sit back down.” He demands calmly. You look at him and slowly sit back down.

“I do not mean to scare you. No harm will come to you here.” He explains. You nod quietly and make your plate. Mr. Bronte begins to regale you on the history of Saint Denis and the surrounding area as you both eat. You go through a few glasses of wine. Towards the end of dinner, a butler enters the room and whispers to Mr. Bronte. He stands, wiping the edges of his mouth with a cloth.

“Excuse me. It seems time has gotten away from us, and I have guests. Miss Penelope, if you’d be so kind as to escort our guest back to their room.” He instructs before leaving. The maid from earlier escorts you back to your room, watching you enter before shutting the door behind her as she leaves. You sigh, looking around the room.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

You navigate the novels in the bookshelf of your room, eventually choosing one to read as you sit in the lounge chair. You weren’t sure what you were trying to attempt by reading, you could hardly focus. You needed to be thinking of a way of escape, yet your mind wanders to the gang.

Did they even realize you were gone? Did John care enough to see past the argument to come to your aid? You wonder how your Father is handling everything. Hosea is probably running circles to keep your father’s head on straight.

You let out a sigh, returning the book to its proper shelf. You wander over to the window. Outside, the moon and stars had taken over, leaving the city dimly lit and quiet. Another knock interrupted the silent isolation the room provides you.

“Excuse me, some men are here for you.” Miss Penelope explains, standing at the door. You quickly turn, your heart skipping a beat as you rush out the room, and quickly down the stairs. The butler standing outside opens the door for you.

“Father.” You whisper as he stands and looks at you, fighting a smile. He nods to Mr. Bronte before approaching you. He gently hugs you.

“Are you alright?”

“Yes… the Braitwaithes did this, not him. Let’s get outta here, please.” You whisper before he leads you outside. At the gates, John and Arthur are talking amongst themselves. It looks as though John hadn’t eaten or slept for days. Arthur lights himself a cigarette.

“John!” You cry out, running down the steps and towards him. He turns, lifting you gently into his arms. You wince slightly and he quickly sets you down, cupping your face in his hands. You lean into his calloused touch.

“Who did this to you?”

“The Braithwaites… John, I’m so sorry, I should have listened-'' You apologize, looking down in shame. He gently placed a hand on your chin, forcing you to look up to him. Dutch had caught up with you three and had began quietly conversing with Arthur as the two walked to their horses.

“Don’t… I’m just glad you’re alive.” He fights back tears, “if I lost you… I…” He tells you before leading you to his horse. Carefully helping you mount his horse, he does the same and sits in front of you.

“Let’s go home.”

#red dead fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #red dead redemption fanfiction #red dead redemption #john marston x reader #john marston #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #rdr2 #x reader #red dead redemption x reader

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