#Interaction chapter trademark

[ravetillyoucry]

PUPARIA

Chapter 11 - No Moon At All

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"... So, you haven't missed all that much really." Hosah slouched back into the booth seat, greatly undermining the gravity of all he'd just explained to the recently absent detective.

The ashy, almost silver, haired man opposite him seemed to be at a loss for words. Looking at him and Jeanne sat beside each other was definitely an interesting sight. In terms of just about everything, the two were polar opposites, maybe that was why their relationship seemed so distant, so cold, so strained. Hosah had told Teddy all about his concerns about the pair, but the lunch time they'd spend together, the first time as a whole group, would surely show his assistant exactly what he meant.

One thing the shifter always liked about Thierri is how they seemed to be on the same wavelength. There was no feeling of making things weird or awkward in a conversation with the guy, he seemed to always understand just exactly where Hosah was coming from, which was nice when he didn't really want any logical solutions to his problems, just someone to validate him and indulge in whatever delusional perspective he had.

"Oh yeah, same old same old, right?" Thierri tilted his head in a shrug of mutual understanding, taking a sip of his disgustingly sweetened coffee all the while.

These kinds of conversations were the ones Hosah’s father had taught him were just in man’s nature, playing down their struggles in phrases like ‘Living the dream’ or ‘Nothing new’ , not making a spectacle out of their struggle. It was a lesson the shifter carried with him through every day life, one that men such as himself wouldn’t be too talkative of their struggles as to not worry anyone, his respective job as a man to be the one to help others, and not to be helped.

It was at this point when the shifter realised he'd been the only one speaking this entire time, his coworkers all having an air of uncomfortable tension about them, an unresolved issue that Hosah had no idea about. Eugh. So awkward. The only thing filling the void of conversation was the painful sound of cutlery against the ceramic plates. God, that noise, it drove the shifter absolutely insane.

Rather than focusing on the people in-front of him, Hosah would rather just eat whatever food he'd spent an unreasonable amount of money on, and that was really saying something. It was too pretty to eat. A cute little slice of the same cake Teddy had bought for him a week or two prior, hand iced with little slices of strawberries between the layers, cemented by whipped cream. He fidgeted with his fork in his hand, trying to calculate what bites would be the best in order to get the most satisfaction out of the cake.

This was something Hosah had done ever since he could remember, it'd start with the second best bite, then he'd work his way around the meal picking out the more unsatisfying parts until he'd gotten to the very best bite at the end. Very much impractical, but the thought of not doing this just made him want to not eat at all. Not necessarily a good habit, but it could be worse.

A hand giving a reassuring rub on his knee caught him off guard. It was Teddy, with a slightly concerned smile plastered across his face, eyebrows angled down, as if to say 'All good?'. It was already hellish before Hosah had said anything about his doctors concerns, how everyone treat him as some fragile, incapable victim, constantly on the brink of breaking, but everything was about to get at least a hundred times worse from here on out.

Another thing getting progressively worse was the tension around the lunch table. The shifter desperately wanted to break the silence, feeling like a child in the middle of a messy divorce, but there was nothing that came to mind in terms of conversation topics. Lately, Hosah found himself praying for divine intervention a lot more than he usually would.

"Oh, also, autopsies came back whilst you three were sent over to the bakery." Jeanne, like the angel he was, swooped in to save the group from certain death due to awkward silence.

If the shifter had put the fork to his mouth in all the time his food had been sitting there, he would've surely spat it out in surprise. "Really? What happened? What did they all say?"

Hosah could assume the last victim had bled out from his assistant's observation, but the rest seemed to be in perfect health on the outside, aside from the fact they were dead, of course.

"Well, they all seemed to have overdosed, aside from fifteen. Looks like whoever done it has access to the medication they give the shifters who grow in order to keep them regular sized." The dark haired, one-eyed detective took a sip of his drink, leaving Hosah at the edge of his seat, wide eyed, waiting for more detail. "Obviously, 'ts gonna work differently when you're on the opposite side of the shifter spectrum. Did it to keep them small I guess."

Ugh. The more detail the shifter received, the more he wished he'd just stayed in Colorado on shit money working in retail by day, babysitting by night.

Hosah had almost forgotten there were other people around the table aside from himself and Jeanne as his assistant interjected,

"How can people do that. I don't understand. I.. What would motivate anyone to treat others so badly." Teddy didn't look at the shifter beside him, or at anyone around them in-fact, instead, staring off into the distance with glossy eyes and a pursed lip.

The shifter was always aware that his assistant was quite perceptive and insightful, but he’d not expected such a high level of empathy toward his own situation. Only made sense, given his reaction to having the parents identify their child’s shrunken, rotting corpse in front of him. Now seemed like the time for Hosah to take his turn giving the man a pat on the leg, to let him know all would be okay, even if he didn’t fully believe that himself.

"Man, you should get on the internet and just see these kinds of message forums. Just unbridled, unprecedented hatred. I don't know what the fuck we did to them, it's these fucking.. Conspiracy theorists. They have their own shitty lives, and instead of realising maybe they're the reason for it, they want to look to anywhere else but themselves to put the blame. We're just easy targets, easy to say that we use everyone around us, that we're just the same as any other city rat running around the streets spreading all kinds of diseases."

Oops, Hosah didn't mean to rant on like that. In embarrassment, he quickly shovelled his first bite of the strawberry shortcake into his mouth, hoping someone else would pick up the conversation, or the topic would be changed.

"Mmm. After all, with great power comes great responsibility. Most don't know how to handle having such an imbalance over people in this world. People take advantage of others even when they don't have to power to kill them with one harsh movement, you guys have never stood a chance really." That last part may have been a little offensive, but Jeanne was right.

Mouth filled, all the shifter could do was give a passionate 'Mmm' with a point over to his superior in support of his statement. How great, he knew inviting Jeanne wasn't such a bad idea, look at these high intellect, insightful conversations being had. Anyone who overheard must be thinking , 'Woah, what a set of intelligent and handsome young men' .

"That reminds me, actually, sorry for the other day, Jeanne, I was careless and couldn't handle my emotions. Sorry." Teddy perked up, this was something the shifter had no idea about, what the fuck did Teddy of all people have to apologise to Jeanne about?

Was this why his friend had been avoiding the two all this time? What happened whilst Hosah wasn't there? When was Hosah not there?

"Damn, bitch, what'd you do?" , was the most casual way Hosah could put all of his questions.

Instead of giving a straightforward answer, the ghostly looking detective sitting opposite him waved Hosah off, "Long story, no big deal, it's all resolved now, just a.. misunderstanding. Don't worry about it."

Hm. No, no yeah, the shifter was definitely going to worry about it.

Everyone, now seemingly at ease, continued to chat about nothing as Hosah continued to question in his mind just what could've happened between the two. Chowing down on the cake, he wondered how exactly they got into a situation where they'd be fighting. In fact, Hosah became so deep in thought that he'd actually cleared the plate in front of him. Perfect! One less problem to worry about, surely now that he'd eaten one slice of cake, that means all future food related issues have been defeated, and he'll never have to worry about that specialist appointment or his doctor's theories ever again!

Feeling all proud of himself, Hosah and his assistant trailed behind the two detectives in front of them, walking in pairs back to the office.

Teddy took the shifter by the shoulder, pulling him in closer, his hand cupping the blonde head and pressing it into around his collar bone area due to the height difference. "We should go back to that cafe more often, since the food is good there,"

"Psh, come on," Hosah scoffed, his neck now craned up to rest his stubbled chin on his assistant's shoulder, "I told you, there's nothing wrong with me, just been too stressed to have any kind of appetite lately." If that were the case, the shifter would've been stressed every moment of his life.

It was better if he gave everyone one less thing to worry about anyway, there was enough on Teddy's plate, despite his claims of wanting to help, the shifter knew it was just too much to ask from him. This would be something Hosah would handle himself, given that everything else in his life was a shared task. It was his right as a man after all, to take care of his own shit and to not expect the people around him to help him with it.

"Right." Teddy didn't let go of the detectives head, instead playing with his hair, his fingertips moving in satisfying circles.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, the sensation was very nice. They probably looked like a couple to everyone else around them, but for once in his life, Hosah didn't really care. He couldn’t even really be bothered if his stalker took notice, maybe it’d teach them to back off, now that he had a guard dog that’d stick by his side during every second of the day.

That reminded him, his hair was one of the things on his mental list of 'jobs to cover once you're normal sized', "On the way back home, can we stop at the convenience store? Need to fix my hair, it's all grown out and shit."

"Yeah, yeah sure. I can help you with the back if you need it." Teddy reassured the shifter, despite wanting to say ‘Yeah, I can see that’.

Hosah was gonna need all the help he could get after the last time he tried to do this job alone, exhibit A of the disaster being his current state. Yellowed, with a texture similar to that of straw or hay, as his hair desperately wanted to curl, but would he brushed out and left a frizzy mess.

-~-

"I don't know, what do hairdressers do, bleach first or haircut first?" The shifter had never actually had his hair cut or bleached by a professional, which is probably why it looked so choppy and bad.

Teddy didn't look up from the instructions ok the box, "Never been to a barbers before?" he smiled, not in a demeaning way, but it still annoyed Hosah just a little.

"Nope. My grandpa owned his own barber shop so he taught my dad how to cut hair. He usually did it for me."

Instead of using his words, the assistant gave a little 'Mmm' of understanding, too indulged in using the box guide rather than trusting the process as Hosah usually did.

"Okay," he said, grabbing a towel from the back of the bathroom door in which they sat in, "Colour first, then cut."

Despite insisting to do it himself as he had done so countless times in the past, Teddy had already decided he was going to play hairdresser today, with the shifter sitting shirtless on a stool in the already cramped bathroom as his hair was being covered in the shitty store bought shit he'd become accustomed to.

"You do this yourself usually, right?"

"Yup."

".. Can tell." Teddy winced as he got around to the back of the shifter's head.

Turning back to look at the man behind him, Hosah asked, "What, is it bad? Why didn't you tell me before?"

"Keep your head forward." the assistant used his un-gloved hand to give Hosah's cheek a gentle touch back into the previous position it was in before, "No, it's not bad, it's just.. Roots are pretty long. And the length. 'Ts like mullet."

"Shut up, no it's not, it was just buzzed before, that's all"

Hosah didn't take kindly to being laughed at, resting his elbows on his knees and cupping his face in his hands like a bored schoolboy.

It was particularly hard not to squirm with the sensation of the brush against the back of his neck, Teddy's fingers gently pressing against the almond skin, keeping the shifter in place as he brushed from the ends to the roots of his choppy hair.

Shivering under the touch, Hosah felt the need to clarify, "Sorry, the bristles tickle."

"Not much left to do now," his assistant said under his breath, "Your hair is just.. very thick. It's nice."

The shifter got stuck between saying thank you or saying something self deprecating, ultimately deciding silence was the best way to take the compliment. Letting people say nice things about him put Hosah at unease, as if acknowledging it would make him come off as big-headed or vain, so instead he usually just denied it instead.

It was proving to be very difficult not to shift whilst in his seat, with the skin to skin contact around his shoulder and the gentle brushing of the bleach against his scalp. As much as he didn't want to admit it, Hosah's default size was three inches tall, he's the most comfortable when shrunken, being a 'regular' height to him felt like one massive perpetual growing pain that filled his entire body.

Despite the pain of getting around, the least physically painful time of his life was probably when he'd gotten height stuck for three months. Over time, the shifter learnt to just tune out his chronic pains, but getting into a comfortable position in life where he had someone to look after him, the thought of just staying tiny forever became overwhelmingly tempting.

" 'Kay, looks completely covered to me." Teddy said in a sigh, removing his singular glove, "Now we wait."

The urge to run his hands through his bleach covered hair was difficult to overcome, "I'm gonna go put a record on,"

It was honestly a miracle that Teddy also owned a record player, as the world had made its shift from tapes and vinyls to CDs and ipods, but that was one thing Hosah took immense pride in. His vinyl collection spanned all the way back to the fifties, as a good portion of the records he'd amassed were 'borrowed' from his father. Scanning through the box he'd had his assistant bring over, ultimately the shifter decided on a little Townes Van Zandt, playing Hosah's all time favourite song 'I'll Be Here In The Morning'.

This song always reminded Hosah of his ultimate dream, living in that cabin on the islet in the lake, although there were some sour memories and feelings attached to it, he felt as though he'd spent too many years fantasising about it to give up now.

"I never really pegged you as a country type of guy." The voice came from the figure leant up against the bathroom door frame, almost being as tall as the door itself.

"Well," Hosah sighed, "I'm not really that picky. Jazz is my favourite though. Just sucks that all the best artists are dead now."

Teddy laughed as he approached, their height difference being more prominent that ever as he stood directly in front of the shifter now, "There are still some talented musicians. Can go to one of those Jazz Clubs and bars over the weekend, it'll be fun."

The taller figure leant down, close to Hosah's face, which was hidden by the fact he'd chosen to stare at the rug underneath him rather than the person he was talking to. If that was Teddy's idea of weekend fun, then the shifter had been doing it wrong his whole life.

"Sounds nice, yeah," Hosah turned his head even further to the side as he spoke, desperately trying to hide how red he'd gotten from the close proximity.

It wasn't supposed to be happening this way around, it had been years since the shifter had been teased by a man, he'd grown used to being the one having to initiate all these sorts of feelings. It was a pleasant change of pace, one he welcomed like an old friend at his doorstep.

"Cool." Teddy echoed the shifters own words back to him.

Hosah would’ve taken this as his sign for a smoke break if he didn’t have a thick layer of convenience store hair bleach on his head. The pain of his own flustered-ness was almost unbearable, but his morbid curiosity kept him around the sofa on which his assistant had now sat on, waiting for what move he would make next, if any at all.

Still, with his eyes focused on the wooden floor under his feet, the shifter could feel eyes lingering on him.

“Hey, do we not need to put like, I don’t know, foil in your hair, or a plastic bag?” Teddy asked, his head tilted to rest on one of the many pillows accumulated on the couch.

“No clue. What are you, some kind of professional?” Hosah joked, hoping his downturned eyebrows and his squinted eyes would distract from the shade of red his face had turned.

His roommate just shrugged, “Might as well be, my mom spent more time in hair salons then she ever did at any of my games and shit.”

“Ahh, so you played a lot of sports as a kid then?” Now they were getting somewhere. A nice common ground for the two to stand on.

“I mean,” Teddy stood to his full height, “Look at me. I was six foot by my fourteenth birthday. They begged me to join the basketball team.”

Sounded about right.

“Kind of always expected you to be more, you know,” Hosah took a moment to consider whether the other person would take offence, ultimately deciding he didn’t really care as he did his best ‘classic highschool movie nerd’ voice, “In the book club.”

“God, I should’ve been,” Luckily, Teddy took it like a champ, laughing it off, showing his radiant smile, “What about you? Not really the football type, right?”

“Baseball. I was fuckin’ great at it too. Short and skinny, aerodynamic you know? Then I started shifting more, and I got busy with all the doctors visits and health consultations, had to quit in the end.”

A bittersweet memory, but still one Hosah looked back on fondly. It was one of the only times he really felt like part of a friend group as a kid.

“Yeah, I can picture that, you in the cap and the cleats?” Teddy went back to his previous teasing ways, an unexpected turn for the person the shifter assumed to be quite the prude about these kinds of things.

All discombobulated, Hosah struggled to get his words out in one piece, “I think it’s time to rinse.”

Without turning back, the shifter speedily shuffled back to the bathroom, with Teddy following close behind him.

“Just sit down on the floor and hang your head over the side of the tub,” Teddy instructed, grabbing a towel from the bathroom door, shutting it behind him all the while.

Hosah obediently followed the instructions given to him, his neck uncomfortably craned up so it rested on the bathtub’s walls, his hair still stuck in its same position due to the solution in it.

The warm water hitting his scalp certainly was a pleasant feeling, the hard pressure of the shower head being weirdly soft against the tender skin the water pounded down upon. If it wasn’t hard to shrink before, it was definitely a challenge to stay his current size now. Hosah hadn’t even realised how he’d had his eyes closed for a while now, enjoying the pampering of which the likes he’d never experienced.

“It’s nice, right?” Teddy laughed, although the shifter had no plans on saying anything in return, being too indulged in the process to even notice the fact his assistant had said anything at all.

And that wasn’t even the best part, Hosah knew true bliss as the shower head was turned off, Teddy moving over to the shampooing process. Gentle fingertips massaging the purple solution into his scalp, the sensation being so satisfying that it brought a wide, involuntary smile to the shifter’s face.

It was moments like these which made Hosah wish for just a few seconds, he could leave his body and look in from an outsiders perspective. Seeing this moment from the angle of a painted idea would probably be pretty beautiful, although his position, leaning up with his head hanging over the tub, probably wasn’t all that nice looking from a third person view point.

Teddy lifted the jug of perfectly warm water, carefully rinsing the shifter’s hair of the soapy mixture he’d just rubbed in, brushing his fingers through the freshly bleached locks to make sure he got all of it out.

As the shifter opened his eyes, long after the sensation had ended, he was met with that same smug look Teddy sometimes carried, when he’d gotten his way with things.

“Enjoy yourself?” He asked, taking it upon himself to start drying Hosah’s hair, delicately scrunching the ends rather than the usual scrub the shifter would give to his own scalp after washing it.

Hosah scoffed, too flustered to think of anything witty to get his assistant back with.

The pair sat on the cold, tiled floor together, Teddy tenderly rubbing the towel in a circular motion against Hosah’s head, the setting sun gleaming in through the small, stained glass window above the toilet which they were hanging out beside. Even with the mess from the bleaching job that just took place, Hosah could picture how beautifully picturesque this scene probably looked. Trying to imagine himself from a different perspective than his own was difficult, but it was one he was willing to try out in hopes of painting this moment, as payment for his assistant’s care.

This reminded him, he had to ask what specifically Teddy wanted him to paint for him.

“You know that painting I promised you?” Hosah began his inquiry, his big brown doe eyes looking up innocently at the figure which sat above him.

“How could I forget?”

His hands balling up into tense fists, the shifter continued, “What specifically did you have in mind for that? Just so I can get started,”

Teddy’s eyes adverted from the task at hand to look at the shifter below him, “Anything you think would be best. I wouldn’t even mind if you threw something you did years ago at me, to be honest,”

Great, perfect, that means Hosah had free rein on what he was creating, just how he liked it. But now was the hard part, making something as equally as beautiful as the person he was making it for. The task seemed daunting, almost impossible, but the shifter wouldn’t want to let Teddy down, especially not after all he’d done for him so far, with more aid surely to come in the future.

“There,” Teddy moved a few inches back, now sitting on his butt the same as the shifter did rather than on his knees, “All better now.”

Hurriedly, Hosah got up to look at his new and improved hair in the mirror, and sure enough, it looked even better than it did the last time he’d done it himself. He felt finally whole again, finally himself as his hair had been returned to the sleek, almost white colour it once was. There was still a little dark root peaking through, but this time it looked very intentional, and it made his head hair match his facial hair and eyebrows, which was always nice.

“You like?” Teddy asked, moving in behind the shifter, resting his chin on the damp hair.

“Yeah, yeah of course. Best it’s ever been.” Despite wanting to be angry over how his assistant positioned himself, Hosah couldn’t bring himself to feel any negative emotions at all.

Looking Teddy in the eye through their reflection, the shifter added, “Thank you, it looks great.”

“Aww,” the pale arms wrapped around Hosah’s dainty shoulders swaying him left and right playfully, “Anytime.”

If this is what life would be like with Teddy, the shifter wasn’t sure he’d even want to return to his own apartment once all the crazed stalker shit had worn down.

[joelsrose]

Guns & Roses

next chapter

Summary: New series! Joel Miller couldn’t stand you, and you weren’t exactly fond of him either. Yet somehow, fate seemed determined to weave your lives together, no matter how much you resisted.

TW: just mean!joelmiller - 4.8k words eee enjoyyy

Chapter One

You and Joel Miller were not friends. Not at all.

Ever since Joel Miller had entered Jackson, there had been something—something you couldn’t quite name—that kept him at arm’s length from you. It wasn’t just indifference or distance; it was as though every time you were near, it set off an invisible alarm in him, a deep, simmering irritation that crackled in the air between you.

You didn’t understand it.

It felt personal in a way that made no sense, as if just being around him was enough to make him want to leave the room.

And you had no idea why.

Sure, Joel was a gruff man, with his trademark stoicism and hard edges. Everyone knew that. He was someone who struggled to connect, someone with walls so high you’d wonder if he’d ever learned how to take them down.

But slowly, after a few months in Jackson, Joel had softened. Not by much, but just enough.

You’d see him offering small smiles to the townsfolk, his weathered hands occasionally helping out with a chore, his nods of acknowledgment more frequent. He wasn’t friendly, exactly, but he was warming up to the people around him. Jackson, with all its noise and community, had chipped away at his rough exterior.

But with you? Joel Miller remained a brick wall.

He didn’t smile at you. He didn’t wave or nod. He didn’t even make eye contact unless it was absolutely necessary. Every interaction felt like walking on thin ice, a sharpness to his silence that made the air between you ache with discomfort. The warmth you’d see in him, the small flickers of humanity that everyone else seemed to coax out? They evaporated the second his gaze found yours, as if all the walls that had softened for others came crashing back up around you.

It wasn’t just confusing. It stung.

What made it worse was that you couldn’t figure out why. You were well-liked in Jackson. You had a reputation for being kind, caring, funny—charismatic in a way that drew people in without much effort on your part. People sought you out. You were the type of person others trusted, the one who could make a tense moment lighter with just a smile. You knew how to connect with people, how to build friendships that were rooted in something real. You had friends everywhere—Tommy, Maria, the patrol groups—and wherever you went, you fit in.

But not with Joel Miller.

With Joel, it felt like no matter what you did, you could never find your footing. He didn’t laugh at your jokes, didn’t seem to care about the easy rapport you had with everyone else. If anything, his coldness made you doubt yourself, made you second-guess every interaction, every conversation. You, who had always been so sure of your ability to connect, were suddenly questioning everything.

You could still remember the day Joel arrived in Jackson, Ellie by his side, both of them looking weathered and wary. There was something raw in the way Joel had embraced Tommy, a kind of relief that softened the edges of his usual guarded self. For a moment, he had looked so vulnerable, so unburdened by the weight of the world, that you’d thought, maybe, just maybe, we’ll get along. After all, if Tommy loved him, how hard could it be?

Tommy had been so excited to introduce you two. You were one of his closest friends in Jackson, practically family, and he’d pulled you aside that day, a wide grin on his face as he said, “I can’t wait for y’all to meet, I know you’ll get along great.” There had been such hope in his voice, such warmth. It had made you smile, had made you eager to get to know Joel. You had thought of all the ways your bond with Tommy would naturally extend to Joel—how you’d become this little trio of friends, tied by loyalty and time.

But it hadn’t happened that way.

Instead, from the very first moment you and Joel had locked eyes, something had been off. You couldn’t pinpoint when, exactly, it shifted, but as the months wore on, the gap between you seemed to widen. You couldn’t understand what you had done to push him so far away, but whatever it was, it felt irrevocable. It was as if, in Joel’s eyes, you had done something unforgivable before you even had the chance to know him.

Tommy’s words echoed in your mind sometimes, taunting you with their false promise: You guys will get along great.

You remembered the first time you had met Joel—it had been one of those evenings meant to feel light and warm, filled with laughter and food. Maria had invited you to Tommy and hers for dinner, a small gathering, just family and close friends. The kitchen had smelled like garlic and rosemary, the scents swirling around you as you helped plate the dishes while Maria buzzed beside you, chatting about the latest updates in town.

Then you heard the door creak open, the murmur of low voices carrying into the kitchen. Joel and Ellie had arrived, their figures framed by the dying evening light streaming through the doorway. There was something comforting in how they stood—a familiarity, an ease that only family can share. Tommy’s laugh rang out, hearty and genuine, as he clapped his brother on the shoulder, leading him into the room.

“Hey, Maria,” Joel’s voice cut through the air—gruff, grounded, with a depth that seemed to echo from the very walls of the house. And then, Tommy turned to you with that warm brotherly smile of his, introducing you.

You’d smiled—nervous but friendly—extending a hand as you offered a casual greeting. “Hi, it’s so nice to finally meet you, Joel.”

A light-hearted joke about the food had slipped from your lips, something meant to fill the space, to break the silence, to ease the unfamiliarity. But Joel had only stared for a heartbeat too long, his hand moving to shake yours with a grip that felt as solid and immovable as stone. There had been no warmth, no softness in his eyes, no smile to meet your own. It was as if your presence unsettled him, a chill descending between you two in that brief exchange. You had felt it then—the distance, the resistance.

And it only grew from there.

Through the evening, you had tried. Tried to coax him into the conversation with little remarks, to pull him in through laughter and lighthearted banter. Ellie had laughed, her bright smile flickering like sunshine breaking through the clouds. Tommy had nearly fallen out of his chair at one of your jokes, his laughter filling the space between bites of food. Even Maria had chuckled softly, her eyes glowing with warmth as she nudged you playfully.

But not Joel.

Every time you spoke, his brow furrowed just a little deeper. His lips pressed tighter together, and his eyes flicked away from yours as if he couldn't bear to hold your gaze. It wasn’t outright hostility, but the coldness lingered like a shadow, hovering between every word exchanged. The more you tried to engage him, the more distant he seemed, as if you were pushing against a wall that refused to budge.

And the more Joel pulled away, the more it gnawed at you, turning your confusion into something more jagged, more bitter. How could someone you barely knew have such a hold on your thoughts? How could one man’s distance feel like a rejection of everything you thought you were good at?

As the days blurred together, you’d find yourself thinking about it more than you cared to admit. And as much as you tried to brush it off, tried to tell yourself that you didn’t care, that his coldness didn’t matter—it did. It mattered more than you wanted it to.

And Joel? He didn’t seem to care.

That was why, when you saw your name paired with Joel for the next patrol, you were stumped. A frown pulled at your lips as you stared at the roster, the list mocking you with its cruel pairing.

Joel Miller.

The man who could barely look at you, who actively avoided your presence, now slated to spend hours—days even—alone with you out in the wilderness. Whoever had put this together had to be playing a joke on you.

But as your eyes drifted down to the bottom of the roster, you saw the telltale initials: M & T. Maria and Tommy. The two people in charge of organizing patrols.

Of course.

You gruffed in frustration, the idea of spending hours in silence, or worse, awkward small talk with Joel, made you inwardly groan.

Shaking your head, you started the short walk toward Maria and Tommy’s house, the crisp winter air biting at your cheeks. The snow beneath your boots crunched with each step, the sound sharp in the otherwise quiet evening. Jackson’s main path was lined with soft, glowing lights that reflected off the fresh blanket of snow, guiding your way.

Their house wasn’t far, tucked neatly alongside the other homes, warm and inviting with its soft glow spilling from the windows. You could see the familiar curl of smoke rising from the chimney, a sure sign of the roaring fire inside. As you approached, you could hear voices filtering through the thick wooden walls—louder than usual, urgent. You slowed your pace, the tension in the air becoming palpable, the muffled sound of raised voices stirring something uneasy in your chest.

“What the hell is this, Tommy?” Joel’s voice cut through the stillness, gruff and laced with irritation. You stopped short of the door, your breath catching as curiosity took hold. You shouldn’t eavesdrop—you knew that—but you couldn’t stop yourself. You needed to hear what Joel had to say, especially if it would finally give you some insight into why he always seemed to look at you with that simmering frustration.

“What’s the big deal, Joel?” Tommy’s voice echoed back, exasperated but steady, trying to keep the peace.

“You know damn well what the big deal is.” Joel’s tone was biting, sharp enough to cut through the thick wooden walls. His frustration was palpable, practically vibrating through the air. “You’re pairin’ me up with her? Jesus, Tommy, you know I can’t stand her.”

The words hit like a physical blow, and your heart clenched painfully, the sting immediate and deep. You had suspected it for a while, of course, but hearing him say it out loud—that he couldn’t stand you—felt like a punch to the gut, one you weren’t prepared for.

You weren’t the type to let words get to you, especially not like this, but this—this was different. A lump formed in your throat, and before you could stop it, tears pricked at your eyes, threatening to spill over. You pressed yourself closer to the door, the silence inside the house heavy as if even Tommy was taken aback by Joel’s outburst.

Finally, Tommy spoke again, his voice filled with frustration, tinged with disbelief. “And why the hell not? She’s a good person, Joel. A damn good person with a heart of gold. What the hell did she ever do to you?”

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat growing. You stepped closer to the door, your heart pounding as you waited—needed—to hear Joel’s response. You needed to know why.

“It’s not that simple, Tommy.” Joel’s voice was quieter now, the frustration tempered, but it carried a weight that made your pulse quicken.

“What the hell’s so complicated about it?” Tommy shot back, his voice rising in disbelief, clearly at the end of his patience. “You’ve barely said two words to her since you got here. If you’ve got a problem with her, why don’t you just spit it out?”

The silence that followed was thick, almost suffocating. For a moment, you thought Joel wouldn’t answer at all. The tension hung in the air like a coiled spring, ready to snap.

And then, in a voice so low you almost didn’t hear it, Joel finally spoke. “It’s just… I can’t, alright? I can’t… be around her like that.”

Your heart pounded painfully against your ribs, confusion swirling inside you. What did that even mean? You had no idea what he was trying to say, but it twisted something deep within you, the uncertainty gnawing at your insides.

“Jesus, Joel,” Tommy sighed, his voice carrying the weariness of too many conversations just like this one. You could practically hear him running a hand through his hair, frustration and exhaustion blending in his tone.

“Look, you don’t have a choice here. What if one day it’s just the two of you out there, the only ones available for patrol, and something goes sideways? You gonna let things fall apart because you can’t get over yourself and work together?”

There was a pause, Tommy’s words hanging in the air like a plea for reason. You knew you had heard enough. The knot in your chest had tightened to the point of pain, and you were ready to turn away, to retreat before things got worse.

But before you could move, the door creaked open.

Joel stood in the doorway, his broad frame blocking out the warm light from inside. His eyes found yours immediately, and in that instant, you knew—he had seen you. And he knew you had heard everything.

The flicker of recognition in his eyes made your chest tighten even more, your heart racing as the tension between you grew impossibly thick. There was no apology in his gaze, no softening in his expression. He just stared at you, his features tight and unreadable, leaving you suspended in the heavy silence of everything unsaid.

Behind him, you could see Maria and Tommy, their faces filled with worry, watching as the situation unfolded like a slow-motion tragedy. You felt exposed, raw, like an open wound, and the last thing you wanted was for anyone to witness that vulnerability.

Joel pushed past you without a word, his shoulder brushing yours as he strode down the steps, his footsteps heavy against the ground. He didn’t even glance back, leaving you standing there, heart in pieces, with nothing but the cold air biting at your skin.

You turned on your heel, walking away from the house, your steps heavy, dragging, like your body was weighed down by the ache in your chest. You wanted to move faster, to disappear into the night, but your legs felt unsteady beneath you, refusing to obey the urgency in your heart. Each step felt like a struggle, the sting of unshed tears blurring your vision as you tried to hold it together.

“Wait—” Tommy called after you, his voice tight with concern. “Come inside, talk to us.”

But you couldn’t. The tears were already threatening to spill, your throat tight with the pressure of holding everything in. The last thing you wanted was for them—for him—to see you like this, breaking apart in front of their eyes. Your vision wavered as the first tear slipped free, and you blinked hard, trying to will it away, trying to push down the hurt that was clawing its way up.

You needed to get out of there. Anywhere but here. You moved faster, your boots crunching in the freshly fallen snow, your breath coming in short, ragged bursts as you made your way down the path. The cold air nipped at your cheeks, but it did little to numb the burning in your chest.

Behind you, you heard Tommy rushing after you, his footsteps crunching through the snow, his voice softer now, urgent but gentle. “Hey, kid—he didn’t mean it. You know Joel. He’s complicated. He doesn’t know how to—” His words trailed off, as if he couldn’t find the right way to explain something even he didn’t fully understand.

You stopped, your feet rooted to the ground, but you didn’t turn to face him. You couldn’t. Not like this. Not when you were one breath away from falling apart entirely, from letting everything you’d been holding back flood to the surface.

“I’ll be fine, Tommy,” you said, your voice tight, barely managing to stay steady. It felt like a lie, like a betrayal of the truth you were burying inside, but you couldn’t let him see you like this. Not over Joel Miller. You wiped at your eyes hastily, trying to brush away the tears before they fell. “I just… I need to go.”

There was a pause, the silence thick between you, weighted with sympathy, with Tommy’s understanding and his guilt. He didn’t say anything else, and in that moment, you were grateful. He didn’t push. He knew better.

So you walked away, your heart heavy with the weight of it all. The cold air bit at your cheeks, but the sting of Joel’s words hurt so much more, echoing in your mind like a wound that refused to heal. And underneath it all, one question burned like fire, searing through every doubt and every hurt—Why?

Why did Joel hate you so much? What had you ever done to deserve it?

•••

The morning sun filtered through the thin curtains of your small home, casting soft, golden beams across the wooden floor. The house was modest—just enough space for one person, with a kitchen that opened into a cozy living room, and a bedroom tucked away in the back. The walls were lined with small, personal touches—books you had collected over the years, a few framed photos of moments from before, and little trinkets you had scavenged from various patrols. It was a quiet space, peaceful, but this morning, the weight of the silence felt heavier than usual.

You sat on the edge of your bed, your hands lingering over your boots before pulling them on with a sigh. The air in Jackson had the sharpness of early morning, and you knew the day ahead would be long. As you tied the laces, the conversation you’d overheard at Tommy and Maria’s house replayed in your mind—the sting of Joel’s words, the coldness in his voice. "Jesus Tommy, you know I can’t stand her." It had been days since, but the ache of it still hit like a fresh bruise, tender to the touch.

You stood and moved to the small table by the door where you kept your patrol gear—your rifle, your gloves, a well-worn coat. Everything felt heavier today. As you strapped on your holster, you caught your reflection in the window. You looked tired. Not just from lack of sleep, but from the quiet hurt that had been growing inside you, quietly gnawing at your spirit since the moment Joel’s words reached your ears.

With one last glance around your home, you opened the door and stepped outside, the crisp morning air hitting your cheeks. The stable wasn’t far, just a short walk, but the journey felt longer today. Each step reminded you of the awkward silence that was bound to hang between you and Joel, the weight of unspoken words and the tension that had always been there but now felt even more unbearable.

When you arrived at the patrol meet-up spot, your eyes immediately landed on your horse. He whinnied softly, recognizing you as you approached. You smiled faintly, running your hand along his muzzle, brushing through his thick mane. It was a ritual by now—whispering a soft hello to him, patting his side, and taking a moment to ground yourself before setting out. He was the one constant, the one being you could rely on during patrol. You leaned in, pressing your forehead gently to his, letting the warmth of his presence calm your frayed nerves.

But then, you heard the familiar sound of boots crunching in the snow behind you. Without even turning, you knew it was Joel.

You felt his presence like a weight in the air—heavy, silent. He said nothing as he walked past you, his eyes fixed on his own horse. There was no greeting, no acknowledgment, just the awkward tension that had settled between you both like a fog. The memories of that conversation played over again in your mind, and the pang of hurt hit you square in the chest as you stiffened slightly.

You stole a quick glance at him as he saddled his horse. His face was set in that same stoic expression, the one he wore around everyone in Jackson—but with you, there was an added distance. He kept his eyes averted, focusing on the task at hand, and for a moment, you wondered if this day would pass without a single word between you.

With a sigh, you climbed onto your horse, settling into the saddle with a practiced ease. The silence between you and Joel was palpable, thick like the cold morning air. You wanted to say something—anything to break the tension—but the words caught in your throat, stifled by the hurt that lingered.

Joel mounted his horse without a glance in your direction. You both sat there for a beat, the sound of horses shifting in the snow the only thing breaking the stillness. Then, without a word, he nudged his horse forward, and you followed suit, the two of you riding out together into the white expanse of the wilderness beyond Jackson.

The only thing heavier than the quiet was the unspoken weight between you.

You began your journey through the thick silence that had settled between you and Joel like a fog. The cold wind bit at your skin, but it was nothing compared to the coldness that radiated from the man riding just ahead of you. His shoulders were hunched, his back stiff, his eyes never once flickering in your direction. The snow crunched beneath your horse's hooves, the sound the only thing to fill the uncomfortable quiet between you.

Not a single word had passed between you since the patrol began. The tension was unbearable, the weight of Joel’s unspoken words hanging heavily in the air. You hadn’t expected warmth or friendliness, not after everything, but the biting silence cut deeper than you could have imagined.

Hours passed before Joel finally spoke, his voice a low mutter as he pointed toward a narrow path. “We’ll go through here,” he said, his tone flat and emotionless, as though he were simply checking off a list. It was strange to hear him speak after so long, and for a moment, it felt as though his words didn’t belong to him.

You followed in silence, the trail winding deeper into the forest, the trees closing in around you. The snow-covered ground glittered under the faint sunlight, casting long shadows that twisted and danced between the trees. The world felt smaller here, more enclosed, and with each passing moment, the unease inside you grew.

Eventually, you arrived at your destination—a crumbling cabin tucked deep in the woods, half-buried in snow, its wood aged and brittle against the cold. The stillness of the air made everything feel heavier, like even the trees were holding their breath. You dismounted your horse quietly, your fingers stiff from the biting chill as you fumbled with the reins. Joel had already tied his horse to the post, his movements precise, practiced.

He turned toward you, the lines of his face hardened, eyes sharp as they caught yours for a moment too long. His jaw clenched, the tension palpable. “Follow me,” he ordered, his voice cutting through the cold air like a whip. “And don’t say a word. Not a single word. From here on out, we’re silent.”

His command, rough and unyielding, struck you with a sharpness that left your chest aching. It wasn’t just the cold seeping into your bones—it was the weight of his disdain, pressing down on you, constricting your breath. You nodded, your throat tightening with unspoken words you knew would only make things worse.

You followed him toward the cabin, the wind howling softly around you, whispering secrets you couldn’t quite hear. The snow crunched beneath your boots, the scent of pine lingering in the air. But despite the open wilderness around you, the world felt unnervingly small. The cabin door creaked on its rusted hinges as Joel pushed it open, the sound echoing like a warning in the eerie stillness. You hesitated before stepping inside, the dim light barely illuminating the cramped space that lay beyond.

Your pulse quickened, your instincts telling you something wasn’t right. You’d been on enough patrols to recognize danger, but this… this felt different. It felt personal. Like the shadows themselves were watching, waiting.

Joel moved ahead of you, his broad shoulders tense, his gun drawn as he scanned the small room. His silence felt thick, suffocating, the air between you charged with unspoken tension. You tried to steady your breathing, to calm the hammering of your heart, but the unease gnawed at you, made every sound sharper, every shadow darker.

And then it happened.

A figure lunged from the darkness, too fast for you to react, the world tilting violently as you were tackled to the ground. The impact stole the breath from your lungs, the cold, hard floor biting into your skin. The raider was filthy, wild-eyed, his hands rough and cruel as he pinned you beneath him, the sharp gleam of a knife flashing before your eyes. Panic surged through you, but your limbs felt heavy, useless against the overwhelming force holding you down. The knife hovered dangerously close to your throat, the cold steel grazing your skin, and for one terrifying moment, you thought this was it—this was how it would end.

But then Joel was there.

He moved like a storm—fast, brutal, and unstoppable. In one swift motion, he yanked the raider off of you, throwing him to the floor with a strength that seemed to come from somewhere far deeper than just muscle. Rage radiated from Joel as his fists met flesh, each blow landing with a sickening crack that echoed through the tiny cabin. He didn’t stop. Couldn’t stop. The raider’s body went limp beneath him, but Joel kept going, his fists relentless, pounding into the man with a fury that seemed to possess him, until the only sound left was the ragged heave of his breathing and the wet thud of blood dripping onto the floor.

You lay there, gasping, your chest rising and falling in uneven, desperate breaths. The world spun around you, the edges of your vision blurred by adrenaline and fear. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, your body weak, every nerve on edge. Your heart thundered in your chest, so loud you could hear it in your ears, drowning out the silence that had settled like a heavy fog.

Joel turned toward you then, his chest still heaving with exertion, his fists stained with blood. His face was dark with anger, his eyes burning as they locked onto yours. “What the hell was that?” he growled, the fury in his voice so raw it made you flinch. “You could’ve been killed.”

His words were a blade, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the thin veil of composure you’d been clinging to. You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat making it difficult to breathe. You wanted to speak, to defend yourself, but the intensity of his stare pinned you down more effectively than the raider ever could. Every word you wanted to say died on your tongue.

And then he muttered it, low and venomous, just loud enough for you to hear: “Fucking burden…”

The words sliced through you, deeper than any knife. You felt them settle in your chest, a sharp, stinging ache that spread like wildfire, consuming the air around you. You stared at him, the sting of his words leaving you breathless, your heart sinking as if it had been thrown into the abyss.

“No,” you spat, your voice shaking with a mix of anger and hurt. “You don’t get to talk to me like that.”

Joel’s eyes flashed, his body going rigid as he turned fully to face you. “Excuse me?” His voice was dangerously low, like the quiet before a storm, but you didn’t back down. Not this time.

“You heard me.” Your chest was still heaving, adrenaline still coursing through your veins, but your resolve was stronger than your fear. “You don’t get to treat me like I’m some… problem you have to deal with. I’m out here trying to do my part, same as you.”

His expression darkened, disbelief twisting his features. “Do your part? You almost got yourself killed back there! If I hadn’t been here—"

“If you hadn’t been here?” you cut him off, your voice rising as the anger overtook the fear. “What, I’d be dead? Is that what you think? That I can’t handle myself? I’ve been on patrols long before you showed up. I’ve survived without you. Just fine.”

Joel scoffed, his lips curling in frustration. “Yeah? Didn’t look like it just now.”

His words were another blow, sharp and biting, but you refused to let them break you. “I didn’t need you to save me, Joel. I would’ve figured it out.”

His eyes narrowed, his jaw working as he fought to control the anger simmering just beneath the surface. “You think this is a game? You think you can just figure it out when you’ve got a knife to your throat?” His voice was loud now, booming in the small space, filled with a frustration that felt all too personal.

“You could’ve died. And for what?”

“Fuck you, Joel.”

The words slipped from your lips before you could stop them, raw and jagged, fueled by the fire burning in your chest. You didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that his eyes had gone dark with shock. You were done. Done with being treated like something fragile and disposable.

Joel stared at you, his body tense, his mouth slightly open like he hadn’t expected the bite of your words. For a moment, the space between you felt like a battlefield, the silence pulsing with the weight of everything unsaid. The anger that simmered in you wasn’t just from this moment—it was months of pent-up frustration, of feeling like you were constantly crashing against a wall with him, never allowed in.

Your chest heaved, your hands trembling with the adrenaline still coursing through you.

“I don’t need you to save me,” you said, your voice shaking with the force of what you felt. “I never asked for your help, Joel. And I sure as hell don’t need you treating me like I’m some burden. So fuck you.”

His eyes flashed with something—anger, guilt, maybe something softer, but he quickly buried it beneath that familiar cold exterior. His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you thought he might snap back, might throw something just as harsh in your face. But he didn’t. Instead, his gaze dropped, just for a second, like your words had found their mark.

“Fine,” he muttered, his voice low and hard. “You don’t need my help? Then don’t ask for it.” He turned sharply, storming out of the cabin without another word, his footsteps heavy in the snow, leaving you standing there in the cold, breathless and burning with the aftershocks of everything you’d just said.

But even as the silence swallowed him up, you knew the storm between you wasn’t over—it had only just begun.

[manonamora-if]

The 100% Good Twine SugarCube Guide!

The 100% Good Twine SugarCube Guide is a coding guide for the SugarCube format of Twine. It is meant as an alternative to the SugarCube documentation, with further explanations, interactive examples, and organised by difficulty. The goal of this guide is to make the learning curve for new SugarCube user less steep, and provide a comprehensive and wide look over the format.

VIEW / DOWNLOAD THE GUIDE!!!!

The Guide is compartmentalised in (currently) four categories:

THE BASICS or the absolute basics to start with SugarCube. No need for extra knowledge. Just the base needed to make something.

THE BASICS + adding interactivity, and creating a fully rounded IF game May require a bit of CSS knowledge (formatting rules)

INTERMEDIATE MODE adding more customisation and complex code Will probably require some CSS knowledge, and maybe some JavaScript

ADVANCE USE the most complex macros and APIs Will surely require some JavaScript/jQuery knowledge

Note: The Advanced Use includes all the APIs, macros, and methods not covered by the previous categories. This includes code requiring very advance knowledge of JavaScript/jQuery to be used properly.

Each category explains many aspects of the format, tailored to a specific level of the user. More simpler explanations and examples are available in earlier chapters, compared to the later ones.

If something is unclear, you found a mistake, you would like more examples in the guide, or would like a feature covered, let me know!

The Guide currently covers all macros (as of SugarCube v.2.37.3), all functions and methods, and APIs. It touches upon the use of HTML, CSS, JavaScript and jQuery, when relevant. It also discusses aspects of accessibility.

The Guides also provides a list of further resources, for the different coding languages.

The Guide is available in a downloadable form for offline view:

HTML file that can be opened in Twine

.tw file that can be opened in Twine

source code, separating the chapters, .js and .css files

GITHUB REPO | RAISE AN ISSUE | TWINE RESOURCES TWEEGO | TEMPLATES | CSCRIPT 2 SG GUIDE

Twine® is an “an open-source tool for telling interactive, non-linear stories” originally created by Chris Klimas maintained in several different repositories (Twinery.org). Twine is also a registered trademark of the Interactive Fiction Technology Foundation.

SugarCube is a free (gratis and libre) coding format for Twine/Twee created and maintained by TME.

VIEW / DOWNLOAD THE GUIDE!!!!

As of this release (v2.0.0), it is up to date with the version 2.37.3. If you are looking for the guide covering SugarCube 2.36.1, you can find it on my GitHub.

Note: the Guide is now complete. There won't be further substantial updates.

[mcrdvcks]

i love you, always and forever ࿐‧₊ homecoming

chapter summary: While giving a guest lecture at your alma mater, you run into two people you never expected to meet.

word count: 9.4k+

pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader

notes: the ending of this is kind of the set up for every other chapter; you'll see what i mean when you read it :)

warnings/tags: reader wears glasses, shy!reader, mention of absent parents, oral (f!receiving) fluff, slight angst

series masterlist - chapter 2 → chapter 4

“When two particles interact, they become linked, no matter how far apart they are. Changing one affects the other instantaneously, faster than light…”

Your voice faltered as you glanced at Logan, who sat at one of the desks, arms crossed over his broad chest, watching you with a small, amused smile. He wasn’t even trying to hide how much he adored you. You could practically feel it radiating off of him.

You froze mid-step, letting out a soft sigh. “This isn’t going to work,” you said, taking off your glasses and rubbing the bridge of your nose.

Logan raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. “What’s not gonna work, sweetheart?”

“This,” you gestured toward him, exasperated but fond. “You’re looking at me like my husband, not a bored college student who probably only showed up because there’s free food after the lecture. How am I supposed to practice if you’re just… swooning at me?”

Logan leaned back in his chair, chuckling. “Swooning, huh? Don’t think anyone’s ever accused me of that before.”

You crossed your arms, trying to appear stern, but the warmth in his gaze made it impossible. “I’m serious, Logan. I need honest feedback, not… whatever this is.”

Pushing himself up from the chair, Logan walked toward you, his hands finding your waist as he leaned in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Alright, darlin’. Give me fifteen minutes. I’ll make it more realistic for you.”

“Logan—” you started to protest, but he was already heading toward the door, a sly grin on his face.

When he returned, you were taken aback. Logan had enlisted some of the younger students—Rogue, Bobby, and Kitty, among others—and had them seated in the classroom. To keep things authentic, he had provided them with snacks and, you suspected, strict instructions to act as uninterested and distracted as possible. Rogue was already doodling on her notebook, Kitty was whispering something to Bobby, and Jubilee was tapping her pen loudly on the desk.

You frowned, looking at Logan as he leaned casually against the wall near the door. “You know I already teach them, right? This isn’t exactly a new audience.”

Logan shrugged, that trademark smirk playing on his lips. “Yeah, but they’re good at actin’ like they don’t care. Go on. You’ve got this.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your glasses and turned back to face the room. The students quieted down a little, though their expressions remained deliberately bored. With a deep breath, you launched back into your explanation, this time ignoring Logan’s soft chuckles in the background.

---

Later that evening, after the impromptu lecture had ended and Logan had dismissed the students, you found yourself in the library, curled up in one of the oversized chairs with a book. Logan entered quietly, his presence impossible to miss as he sat down on the arm of your chair.

“You did great, sweetheart,” he said, his voice low and warm.

You glanced up at him, a small smile on your lips. “You think so?”

He leaned down, pressing a lingering kiss to your temple. “I know so. You’re brilliant. Just had to make sure you believed it.”

Feeling a little less shy, you reached up to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “Thank you, Logan. For always believing in me.”

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Always, darlin’.”

For a moment, the world seemed to still, and it was just the two of you, together in the quiet.

---

“Well, if there are no more questions…” Robert, one of the faculty at Stanford, looked out into the audience, giving a polite nod toward the murmuring crowd. “Alright, thank you, Mrs. Howlett, for coming all this way for us.”

The room began to stir as students shuffled in their seats, gathering their belongings. A few polite claps echoed, mingling with the hushed sounds of conversation. “There are some food and drinks out in the hall if you’d—ah, no point,” Robert trailed off as half the students ignored him, funneling toward the exit.

You stood by the podium, your heart still racing slightly from the presentation. Public speaking wasn’t your forte, but Stanford was your alma mater, and you’d been determined to deliver a polished talk. From your vantage point, you spotted Logan lingering near the back, his arms crossed, a half-smile tugging at his lips. He didn’t bother to hide the pride in his expression.

As the room emptied, Logan made his way toward you. His heavy boots echoed in the quieting auditorium, his presence grounding as always. “Told ya it’d go fine,” he said as he stopped in front of you.

You smiled, still a little flustered. “Yeah, well… you’re biased.”

Logan snorted. “Sure. But it doesn’t mean I’m wrong.” He reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear with a surprising gentleness. “Proud of you, darlin’. Bet half of them couldn’t keep up, but that’s their loss.”

Rolling your eyes, you adjusted your glasses. “Thanks, Logan. That was—”

“—adorable? Endearing? Downright brilliant?” he offered, smirking.

“Not what I was going to say,” you replied with a laugh, shoving his arm lightly. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

He stepped aside to let you lead the way, trailing comfortably behind you. Once outside, you were both met with the sharp, sunny California afternoon, a stark contrast to the cool Westchester climate you were used to. The warmth in the air was matched by your mood—light, content, maybe a little relieved.

But before either of you could make it to the parking lot, a voice called from behind.

“Excuse me! Y/N?”

You froze mid-step, the hair on your arms standing on end. Logan instantly noticed your shift, his body tensing as he placed a steadying hand on your lower back. Turning slowly, you were met with the sight of an older couple, a man and a woman in their late fifties or early sixties. The man wore a sharp suit, the woman a tasteful blazer, though they both looked somewhat uncertain, hesitant.

The woman took a step forward. “Hi… I—I know this is sudden, but…” Her gaze searched yours for recognition, but there was none. Her voice softened. “We’re your parents.”

Your stomach dropped.

The words hung in the air like they weren’t real, their weight pressing down on your chest. Your first instinct was to laugh, to brush it off as some cruel joke, but their expressions didn’t shift. They were hopeful. Nervous.

Logan’s hand tightened ever so slightly against your back, a subtle reminder that he was there. You swallowed hard, taking a shaky breath as your mind struggled to catch up.

“I—I don’t…” you stammered. “Why now?”

The man, your supposed father, winced. “That’s a fair question. We—well, we’ve always regretted not reaching out sooner.”

“Sooner?” The word caught in your throat as you tried to process. “I’ve been alive for twenty-seven years. You could’ve called. Written. Literally anything. But you didn’t. And now, suddenly—”

“We’re sorry,” the woman interrupted softly, her eyes glossy. “We want to get to know you, if you’ll let us. Maybe… dinner? Tonight?”

You flinched at the suggestion, glancing at Logan. His jaw was tight, his gaze scrutinizing, but he didn’t speak, letting you handle this at your own pace. For a moment, you wanted him to step in, to tell them off for their audacity. But you shook the thought away, taking another deep breath.

“I’ll think about it,” you finally managed, your voice flat. “Can I… get back to you?”

They nodded quickly, a mixture of relief and sadness flickering across their faces. “Of course,” your father said. “Here—” He handed over a business card, the expensive stock and minimalist design further underlining the contrast between their lives and the one you’d known.

After a few more polite murmurs, they walked away, leaving you standing there in stunned silence.

---

Back at the hotel, you paced the room restlessly while Logan sat on the edge of the bed, watching you with a mix of concern and quiet protectiveness. Finally, he broke the silence.

“Darlin’,” he said gently, “you don’t owe them anything.”

You stopped, turning to face him. “But what if I do? They’re my parents, Logan. My parents. And I don’t even know why they gave me up. What if it was something… unavoidable? What if they’ve changed?” You ran a hand through your hair, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. “What if I’m just being a coward by not hearing them out?”

Logan stood, crossing the room in two strides to stand in front of you. His hands rested on your shoulders, grounding you. “Coward? No. You’re not that. But you don’t gotta torture yourself trying to fix somethin’ that ain’t your fault.”

His words soothed a little of the storm inside you, but they didn’t erase it entirely. “I know,” you murmured, leaning into his touch. “But if I don’t go, I’ll always wonder. I just…” You hesitated, looking up at him. “I don’t want to do it alone.”

His expression softened instantly. “You think I’d let you?” he said, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “If you decide to meet ‘em, I’ll be there. No question. Always.”

The weight in your chest lifted slightly. With Logan, it didn’t feel as scary. You nodded. “Okay. Let’s do it. Dinner.”

Logan pressed a light kiss to your forehead. “Alright, sweetheart. But just say the word, and we’re outta there.”

---

You fiddled with the edge of your dress, keeping your gaze down from your ‘parents’ across the small restaurant table. The world around you was warm and inviting—the soft clatter of plates, the low hum of conversation—but it might as well have been silent. Your parents, the very people who had abandoned you as a child, now sat across from you, smiling as though they’d earned this moment.

Logan, ever your anchor, sat beside you, his hand resting lightly on your knee under the table. The subtle pressure was calming, a wordless reminder that he was here, that you weren’t alone in this. You took a steadying breath and finally looked up to meet their gazes.

“So,” your mother began, her tone almost too casual, as though she were trying to bridge a lifetime of absence with small talk. “How long have you and Logan been together?”

You hesitated, glancing at Logan. He gave you an encouraging nod, his expression unreadable to anyone but you. “About a year and a half,” you said finally. “We got married six months ago.”

“Married already?” your father said, raising an eyebrow. “That’s… fast, isn’t it?”

“Not when you know it’s right,” Logan said smoothly, his voice low and steady. He leaned back in his chair, his arm now draped along the back of yours. Though he appeared relaxed, you could sense the subtle tension in his posture. He was watching them, every word and movement, like a hawk.

Your mother smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “And where do you work now? Still at Stanford?”

“No,” you replied, shaking your head. “I teach physics at a school in New York.”

“Physics,” your father repeated, his tone carrying a trace of surprise. “That’s impressive. Your grandmother always did say you were smart.” He sipped his wine, glancing briefly at Logan. “And Logan? What do you do?”

“I’m a teacher too,” Logan said simply, his gaze unwavering.

Your mother tilted her head, clearly not expecting that answer. “Oh? What subject?”

“History,” Logan replied. His tone was polite enough, but you could tell he was tiring of the scrutiny.

You shifted uncomfortably, eager to steer the conversation away from Logan. “What made you decide to reach out now?” you asked, your voice quieter than you intended but firm.

Your parents exchanged a quick look, and your mother’s smile faltered. “Well,” she began, folding her hands in her lap, “we’ve been thinking about you for a long time. And after your grandfather passed recently…” She trailed off, her expression turning somber.

Your chest tightened at the mention of your grandfather. Though your grandparents had divorced long before you were born, you’d had a close relationship with him growing up. Although, it had fizzled out when she died, he still made sure to send you letters every holiday.

Your father cleared his throat, his voice gentler now. “He left something for you in his will. A substantial inheritance. We thought it was important that we deliver the news personally.”

You blinked, stunned. “What?”

“He wanted you to have it,” your mother added quickly, as if that somehow justified their sudden reappearance in your life. “He left… quite a bit of money. Enough to make a difference.”

The words hung in the air like a lead weight. You glanced at him, and his jaw was set, his eyes sharp as they flicked between your parents.

“So, let me get this straight,” Logan said, his voice low and cutting. “You didn’t want her. Didn’t care enough to reach out for twenty-seven years. But now that there’s money involved, you’re here playin’ happy family?”

Your father bristled, his gaze hardening. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” Logan shot back, his tone daring him to argue. “Sounds pretty accurate to me.”

Your mother opened her mouth to respond, but the ringing of Logan’s phone cut through the tension. He pulled it from his pocket, glancing at the screen. “It’s Jean,” he muttered to you, standing. “I’ll be back in a minute.”

As Logan stepped away, your parents exchanged another look before your father let out a quiet scoff. “That’s who you married?” he said under his breath, though he didn’t bother to lower his voice enough for you to miss it.

Something in you snapped.

“That’s who I married,” you said sharply, your voice louder than you intended. Both of them turned to look at you, startled. “The man who’s been there for me every single day. Who loves me, supports me, and makes me feel like I matter. Unlike the two of you, who couldn’t even be bothered to stick around when I needed you.”

Your mother’s eyes widened. “We—”

“No,” you interrupted, standing now, your hands trembling. “You don’t get to explain. You don’t get to waltz into my life after nearly three decades and act like you care. You gave me up. You made that choice. And you don’t get to make me feel guilty for not wanting to play along with whatever this is.”

The restaurant was quiet now, other diners casting wary glances your way, but you didn’t care. You grabbed your bag, your heart pounding. “If Grandpa wanted me to have the money, fine. But don’t pretend you’re here for me. You’re here because you know you have no claim to it, and you’re hoping I’ll feel sorry enough for you to share.”

Your father’s face hardened, but your mother looked close to tears. As you turned to leave, you caught sight of Logan standing just outside the restaurant’s glass door, his expression unreadable. You knew he’d heard every word, his enhanced hearing ensuring he hadn’t missed a thing.

When you stepped outside, his arms were around you instantly, pulling you close. “You okay, darlin’?” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

You nodded against his chest, the weight of the confrontation beginning to lift. “Yeah,” you whispered. “I am now.”

Logan pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his grip tightening slightly. “Proud of you,” he said simply, and those three words meant more than anything else in that moment.

As you walked away from the restaurant together, hand in hand, you felt lighter. Logan was your family now, and with him, you had everything you needed.

---

Logan paced quietly near the small dresser in the hotel room, the dim light catching on the hard line of his jaw. You sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing your dress over your knees, the faint hum of the air conditioning filling the space. The weight of the confrontation had lifted slightly, replaced by a strange, bittersweet relief.

“Feel okay?” Logan asked, his voice soft, breaking the silence. He stopped pacing, leaning against the wall, his arms crossed as he looked at you.

You nodded, offering a small smile. “I think I do. It’s like… I finally said everything I’ve wanted to say for years. I’m not sure I even care about the inheritance. It’s just nice to have it out.”

Logan stepped closer, his movements measured, his eyes searching yours. “You were incredible back there,” he said. “I meant it when I said I was proud of you. Standing up for yourself, for us—it wasn’t easy, but you didn’t back down.”

His words sent a warmth through you that had nothing to do with the room. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible. You felt the bed dip slightly as he sat down beside you, his arm coming to rest around your shoulders. He didn’t rush you, just sat there, his presence solid and grounding.

“You sure you’re fine?” he asked again, his fingers brushing against your shoulder in a light, comforting touch.

You tilted your head to look at him, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose. “I’m sure,” you said firmly this time, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips. “Especially with you here.”

Logan’s eyes softened, a small smirk forming as he leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “You’re stronger than you think, sweetheart.”

His hand slid from your shoulder to the curve of your waist, his thumb brushing against the fabric of your dress. The touch was subtle, almost absentminded, but it sent a shiver down your spine. You leaned into him, your breath catching as his lips found the corner of your mouth.

“Logan,” you murmured, a hint of hesitation in your voice.

“Hmm?” His lips moved along your jaw, slow and deliberate, his breath warm against your skin. “You’re good, right? Tell me to stop if you need to.”

You shook your head, your hands finding his chest. “I don’t want you to stop.”

That was all he needed to hear. Logan’s lips claimed yours fully, his hand sliding up to cradle the back of your neck. The kiss was slow but deep, his tongue teasing against yours, drawing a quiet moan from your throat. His other hand slid lower, skimming the edge of your dress before tugging it slightly higher, his fingers brushing the bare skin of your thigh.

“You’re wearing this damn thing to kill me, aren’t you?” he muttered against your lips, his voice rough with need.

You flushed, a soft laugh escaping. “It’s just a dress.”

“It’s more than just a dress,” Logan said, his hand gripping your thigh, pulling you closer. His lips moved to your neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there. “It’s you in it.”

Your breath hitched as his teeth grazed your pulse point, your hands clutching at his shirt. “Logan…”

"Let me take care of you, darlin’," Logan murmured, his voice low and intimate. Before you could respond, he was guiding you back onto the bed, his hands sliding up your legs, pushing the fabric of your dress higher. His touch was firm yet deliberate, each movement precise and confident, like he already knew exactly what you needed.

The hem of your dress bunched at your hips as Logan settled between your legs, his rough hands warm against your thighs. His eyes met yours, the intensity there enough to send your heart racing. "Still okay?" he asked softly, his voice steady, but his grip tightened slightly, grounding you.

You nodded, breath hitching slightly. "I’m fine, Logan. Really."

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. "Good. ‘Cause I’m not stoppin’ unless you tell me to."

His hands pressed your thighs open further, his gaze locked on the spot where your panties were already damp. He hooked his thumbs into the fabric and dragged it down slowly, the rough pads of his fingers grazing your skin and making you shiver. The cool air of the room hit you, but Logan’s warm breath soon replaced it, and you squirmed in anticipation.

"Patience," he muttered, his tone edged with teasing as his hands slid back up your legs, spreading them wider. His lips pressed to the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving a trail of kisses that grew closer and closer to where you ached for him most.

"Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible. It wasn’t a plea—it was a need, a longing you couldn’t contain.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I know," he murmured, his breath hot against you. Then his mouth was on you, his tongue moving with slow, deliberate strokes that had your hands clutching at the sheets. Logan worked with a practiced precision, the rough scrape of his stubble against your skin contrasting perfectly with the soft heat of his tongue.

Your head fell back against the pillows as a quiet gasp escaped your lips. The tension in your body began to melt away, replaced by a wave of warmth and pleasure that only he could give. His hands gripped your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he delved deeper, his tongue exploring every sensitive spot with maddening care.

"You taste so fuckin’ good," he said against you, his voice a low growl that sent a fresh surge of heat through your body. He glanced up briefly, his lips glistening. "Could stay here all damn night."

You bit your lip, your hands reaching down to thread through his hair, the soft strands catching between your fingers. "Logan," you whispered again, more insistently this time. The sound of his name seemed to spur him on, his tongue circling that sensitive bundle of nerves before sucking gently, drawing a shuddering moan from you.

His hands tightened on your thighs, holding you steady as your hips jerked reflexively against his mouth. Logan groaned low in his throat, the vibrations sending another jolt of pleasure through you. He didn’t stop, didn’t slow, just kept up the steady rhythm that had your body trembling beneath him.

"Fuck, sweetheart," he muttered against your skin, his voice rough, his lips brushing the slick heat between your thighs. "Love hearing those sounds you make."

You swallowed hard, your breaths coming in shallow gasps. "Logan... please," you murmured, your fingers curling tighter in his hair, urging him closer.

"Please what?" he rasped, his lips pressing kisses along your inner thigh before returning to where you needed him most. His tongue flicked over your clit again, and you nearly cried out, your back arching off the bed.

Your voice was barely above a whisper. "Don’t stop."

Logan smirked against you, his hands shifting to grip your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth. "Didn’t plan on it, darlin’."

He was relentless, his tongue teasing and stroking in ways that made your head spin. The sensation built steadily, your body tightening as the heat coiled low in your belly. You couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything but feel as he worked you over, his stubble rough against your skin and his tongue unyielding.

"Oh- Logan," you gasped, your thighs trembling against his shoulders. He hummed in response, the sound low and guttural, his hands flexing against your hips.

The tension inside you snapped suddenly, and your entire body arched as a wave of heat and pleasure crashed over you. You cried out, your fingers tugging at his hair as you rode out the aftershocks, your thighs quivering in his grasp. Logan didn’t stop until you were squirming, pushing weakly at his shoulders as the sensation became too much.

He finally pulled back, his lips and chin glistening as he looked up at you with a satisfied grin. "There’s my girl," he murmured, his voice soft but edged with pride.

You let out a shaky breath, your head falling back against the pillow as you tried to steady your racing heart. Logan moved up the bed, settling beside you, his hand brushing against your arm as he leaned in to press a kiss to your temple.

"You good?" he asked, his voice quiet, almost tender.

You nodded, your breath still uneven. "Yeah. I’m good."

Logan stretched out beside you, pulling you close until your head rested against his chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat grounding you. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, his other arm draped over your waist.

"Meant what I said earlier," he murmured, breaking the comfortable silence. "You were amazing tonight. Stood your ground, didn’t take any crap. Made me proud, sweetheart."

A small smile tugged at your lips, and you tilted your head to look at him. "Thank you," you said softly, your voice steady now.

Logan leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "You don’t gotta thank me for telling the truth."

You settled back against him, your body relaxing completely for the first time all evening. Logan’s hand stayed firm on your back, his thumb tracing idle patterns against your skin as the quiet settled between you.

In that moment, there was no past, no lingering tension from the confrontation earlier. Just you and Logan, tangled together on the bed, his presence steady and unshakable.

---

You walked into the kitchen, the scent of freshly baked cookies still wafting in the air. Your eyes immediately caught Logan, mid-action, reaching for one of the chocolate chip cookies you and Jean had finished less than 30 minutes ago.

Before he could take a bite, you hurried over, grabbing his wrist. "Wait! I wanted that one!"

Logan looked down at you, raising an eyebrow in mild amusement. "There’s more right here, darlin’," he said, nodding toward the plate piled high with cookies on the counter.

You shook your head stubbornly, crossing your arms while keeping your hand on his wrist. "But I don’t want those," you said. "I want that one."

A low chuckle rumbled in his chest. "They’re all the same, sweetheart," he teased, holding the cookie just out of reach and starting to lift it toward his mouth. "Bet you wouldn’t even know the difference."

"I would," you shot back quickly. "That’s the one I want, Logan."

He smirked, his lips curling around the edges of the cookie as if to bite into it anyway, just to prove a point. Your eyes narrowed, and you acted on pure instinct.

Leaning in quickly, you pressed your lips to his, a fleeting but deliberate kiss. The move startled him just enough to loosen his grip, giving you the perfect opportunity to snag the cookie out of his hand.

"Ha!" you exclaimed triumphantly, taking a step back and holding the cookie aloft like it was a trophy.

Logan blinked, recovering from the surprise, and his smirk deepened into a full grin. "Did you just—" he started, shaking his head as his laughter spilled out. "That’s dirty play, darlin’. Using a kiss to steal it? You’re lucky you’re cute."

You bit into the cookie with an exaggeratedly smug expression, savoring the sweet, warm taste. "Lucky has nothing to do with it," you replied between bites.

He stepped toward you, a playful gleam in his eyes. "You know that’s not gonna fly, right? No one steals from me and gets away with it."

You tried to dart around the island, but Logan was too quick. He caught you easily, one arm looping around your waist to pull you close. You squealed, half-laughing, holding the half-eaten cookie out of his reach.

"Let me finish it!" you said, your voice muffled by laughter.

"Not a chance," Logan murmured, his nose brushing against your cheek. "Not after that stunt."

"Logan!" You wiggled in his grip, still laughing, trying not to crumble what remained of the cookie.

He dipped his head closer, murmuring low against your ear, "Fine. You win. This time." Then, with one swift motion, he stole a bite of the cookie you were holding, his smirk more self-satisfied than ever as he pulled back.

"Hey!"

"What? Just evening the score," he said, popping the stolen bite into his mouth.

The playful bickering turned to more laughter as you stayed in the kitchen, Logan’s hold never loosening entirely. Jean walked in a moment later, glancing between the two of you, her hands on her hips.

"You two do realize there’s a whole plate of cookies, right?" she asked, her tone laced with amusement.

"It’s not about the cookie, Jean," Logan replied smoothly, casting you a wink that made your cheeks heat. "It’s the principle of the thing."

Jean rolled her eyes. "You two are ridiculous. But at least now I know who I should’ve made extra for."

Still tucked against Logan’s side, you shot her a sheepish grin. "It’s his fault," you said, trying—and failing—not to laugh.

Jean just shook her head, smirking. "Sure it is," she said before grabbing a cookie and walking out of the kitchen, leaving the two of you tangled together in the aftermath of your very serious cookie standoff.

Logan’s grip stayed firm as he kissed your temple, murmuring, "You’re somethin’ else, you know that?"

"Is that a bad thing?" you teased, nibbling at the remaining bite of your cookie.

"Not even close," he said with a warm grin, his thumb tracing a slow, reassuring pattern against your waist.

---

Logan grumbled at his desk, glaring at the stack of papers in front of him like they owed him money. Being the history teacher wasn’t exactly his dream job, and grading exams just reinforced how much he hated it.

"How the hell do you mess up World War II?" he muttered under his breath, flipping through yet another exam where half the essay was about Napoleon. "Wrong war, wrong damn century."

Arms came around his neck from behind, your soft sleep shirt brushing against his skin. “You’re gonna tear that paper from how hard you’re grippin’ it.”

Logan’s scowl softened as your voice cut through his frustration, and the stiff set of his shoulders relaxed just a little. He glanced over at you, leaning against him with sleepy eyes and tousled hair, clearly fresh from bed. You were wrapped up in one of his old flannel shirts, sleeves hanging past your hands, paired with soft, fuzzy sleep pants. The sight alone made him feel warmer.

“Kid deserved it,” he muttered, though his tone had lost its bite. He held up the offending exam. “Wrote about Napoleon in World War II. Napoleon. You believe that?”

You huffed a quiet laugh, lips brushing against the edge of his ear as you leaned closer. “Maybe they figured he’d make a comeback.”

“Yeah, well, if he did, he’d still lose.” He dropped the paper onto the growing pile with a grunt and tilted his head back to look up at you. “What’re you doin’ up? Thought you were out cold.”

“I was,” you murmured, fingers absentmindedly tracing the line of his jaw. “You weren’t there.”

Logan stilled for a moment, his sharp gaze catching yours even upside down. That quiet admission—so simple, so soft—always hit him deeper than he cared to admit. He reached up, catching your hand in his larger one, and brought it down to rest against his chest.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, voice lower now, rough around the edges like it always was when he spoke to you. “Go back to bed. I’ll join you in a bit.”

You stayed still, your other arm still looped around his neck as you leaned more of your weight against him. “You’ve been at this for hours,” you said softly, glancing at the remaining stack of exams. “You’ll fall asleep right here at the desk.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Logan said with a slight smirk, but when you didn’t let go, he sighed. “You don’t quit, do ya?”

“Not when it comes to you,” you answered with an ease that made his chest tighten.

A small, reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he turned in his chair, his hands landing lightly on your waist to steady you. “Alright, darlin’. You win.” He stood, forcing you to step back slightly, though he kept one hand on your hip as if afraid you’d float away otherwise. “But if I see Napoleon showin’ up in another World War II exam, I’m quittin’ this job.”

You grinned, taking his hand as you tugged him toward the bed. “I’ll talk to Scott. Maybe he’ll give you a raise.”

Logan scoffed. “Yeah, I’ll hold my breath.”

The bedroom was dimly lit, moonlight spilling through the partially open curtains. You crawled back onto the bed first, curling up under the comforter as you waited for him. Logan, meanwhile, paused just long enough to strip off his shirt, leaving him in just his sweats before he settled in beside you. The bed dipped under his weight as he pulled you close, his arm sliding under your head to tuck you against his chest.

You melted into him easily, your cheek pressed to his bare skin as you sighed contentedly. “See? Isn’t this better than failing kids for Napoleon?”

“I wasn’t failin’ him,” Logan murmured, his lips brushing the top of your head. “Gave him a mercy D.”

You couldn’t help but giggle quietly, and Logan felt the sound reverberate against him. “Mercy D,” you repeated. “You’re such a softie.”

“Watch it,” he warned, but there was no heat in it. His fingers absentmindedly traced patterns along your back through the flannel, and for a while, the room settled into silence, broken only by the occasional rustle of blankets and the steady rhythm of your breathing.

You broke the quiet first, your voice soft and muffled against his chest. “Why do you still do it?”

Logan blinked, looking down at you. “Do what?”

“Teach history.” You tilted your head slightly, “you don’t seem to like it much.”

He exhaled slowly, his hand stilling on your back. “Someone’s gotta do it. Better me than some idiot who doesn’t know the difference between Normandy and Napoleon.”

You smiled faintly at that. “Fair point.”

Logan’s voice softened as he continued. “Most of these kids—hell, they don’t know half of what happened before they were born. I figure if they’re gonna learn somethin’ about the past, it might as well be from someone who’s lived a lot of it.”

You looked up at him then, your gaze searching his face in the dim light. Logan didn’t look away, but there was something guarded in his expression, like he wasn’t sure why he’d admitted that much.

“You’re a good teacher,” you said softly, your fingers brushing against his chest.

Logan snorted. “Yeah. Tell that to the kid who thinks Napoleon was stormin’ the beaches at Normandy.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest before settling back down. “Well, I think you’re great.”

Logan didn’t respond right away, but his arm tightened slightly around you, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your hair. “Get some sleep, darlin’,” he murmured. “I ain’t goin’ anywhere.”

You smiled against his skin, letting his warmth lull you back to sleep. Logan stayed awake a little longer, though, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as his fingers traced absent patterns against your back again. He didn’t say it out loud, but moments like this—the quiet, the warmth of you beside him—were the reason he stuck around at all.

For someone who’d lived lifetimes, this was the only one that mattered.

---

As you were walking from your classroom to your office, Jean called out your name telepathically, “someone’s at the front door for you.”

You frowned and made your way over to where a man in casual clothing stood outside. “Hello?” You asked, Jean holding the door only halfway open.

“Are you Y/N Howlett?”

“Yes.” You responded, moving slightly closer to Jean for comfort.

The man held out an envelope, “you’ve been served.”

You stared at him, stomach dropping at the words. Slowly, you reached out and took the envelope, the weight of it far heavier than just paper. Your fingers barely curled around it before the man turned and walked away without another word, leaving you and Jean standing in the doorway.

Jean looked at you, her brows furrowed in concern. "Are you okay?" she asked softly, her voice carefully even.

You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes still on the envelope as if opening it might explode your entire life apart. "I..." You glanced at Jean, trying to ground yourself in her steady presence. "I don’t know."

“Come inside.” She placed a hand on your back and guided you gently through the door.

Once inside, she closed it behind you and walked you to one of the couches in the main hall. Her calm, methodical movements gave you enough time to focus. "Do you want me to stay while you open it?"

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat. "Yeah. Please."

You tore open the envelope, unfolding the crisp papers inside. The legal jargon was an immediate headache, but the gist hit you quickly enough.

Your parents—parents you’d met just once at Stanford, a month ago—were contesting the will of your grandfather. You skimmed the words, anger brewing beneath the shock. The lawsuit wasn’t about you. It was about the inheritance your grandfather had left to you. Money you hadn’t touched—didn’t want to touch. Money your mother and father were determined to get their hands on.

“What is it?” she asked gently, leaning over a bit.

You sighed, lowering the papers slightly. “They’re suing me for the money my grandfather left. The same money they showed up to tell me about last time.” You shook your head, blinking furiously to keep your frustration and embarrassment in check. “I told them I didn’t want it. I never even filed anything to claim it.”

Jean frowned, her gaze hardening in sympathy as she processed what you said. “That’s awful, Y/N. I mean… that’s your family.”

“Not really.” You laughed bitterly, though the sound lacked humor.

Jean put her hand on your knee, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Hey, we’ll figure this out. Do you want to talk to someone about this? Scott can—"

"Logan," you cut in, almost reflexively.

Jean paused but nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. Do you want me to get him, or—?”

"I’ll go." You stood abruptly, still clutching the papers. “Thanks, Jean. For… sticking with me through that.”

“Always.” Jean watched you head out before leaning back on the couch with a worried sigh.

---

Logan was in the garage, predictably half under his motorcycle. He was wiping his hands with an oil-streaked rag when he heard you approach. As he sat up, he took one look at your face and tossed the rag aside.

“What happened?” he asked immediately, his voice rough but threaded with concern.

You held up the papers wordlessly, struggling to hold his sharp gaze. He took them from your hands, skimming through quickly, his brow furrowing as he absorbed the contents.

“Christ,” he muttered after a long moment, his fist tightening slightly around the edges of the papers. “They’re suin’ you? For money that’s yours?”

“Money I didn’t even want,” you added, sitting heavily on the bench by the wall. Your hands tangled together in your lap, a nervous habit you couldn’t quite break.

He looked at you, anger darkening his expression, but it wasn’t directed at you. It never was. “They think you’re some kid they can push around,” he growled, folding the papers and setting them down before crouching in front of you. His large hands found yours, prying them apart gently. “But you’re not. You’re a hell of a lot stronger than they give you credit for, sweetheart.”

Your chest tightened at the way he spoke to you, so firm yet so gentle all at once. “I don’t want to deal with this,” you admitted, your voice small. “I don’t want the money, Logan. I never did.”

“You won’t have to.” His grip on your hands firmed, grounding you. “We’ll fight this. They ain’t takin’ a damn thing from you.”

You nodded slowly, letting his words soothe you, though doubt still nagged at the edges of your thoughts. “What if they win?”

Logan’s jaw flexed, his sharp features hardening with resolve. “They won’t.”

“Logan, I—”

“Hey,” he interrupted, his voice low but insistent. He pulled you forward slightly so that your knees brushed his shoulders. “Trust me, Y/N. This’ll get sorted. I ain’t lettin’ them screw you over, okay?”

You searched his eyes for any trace of uncertainty but found none. Logan, as always, was unwavering.

“Okay,” you said softly, exhaling as you leaned your forehead against his.

The moment stretched quietly before he broke it, pulling back just far enough to press a kiss to your temple. “C’mon. Let’s get this over to Chuck. He’ll know what to do.”

You hesitated, though his calm tone bolstered you. "You don’t think it’s… embarrassing?"

Logan leaned back on his heels slightly, cocking an eyebrow at you. “Embarrassing? Dealin’ with greedy parents? Not even close.” His smirk softened into something fonder. “You ain’t gotta hide stuff like this from me, darlin’. Or from the team. We’ve all got somethin’ messy in our pasts. Ain’t nothin’ to be ashamed of.”

His reassurance worked its way past your anxiety, easing the knot in your stomach a bit more. "Okay," you whispered again, squeezing his hands. “Let’s talk to Charles.”

Logan stood and pulled you with him, his arm immediately going around your shoulders as he guided you inside. Whatever fight lay ahead, you knew you weren’t facing it alone.

---

Logan leaned against the dresser, shaking his head. “No.”

You gave a mock pout, holding up the pastel blue sweater that matched your sundress. “C’mon, Logan. It’s just for today.”

Logan crossed his arms, leaning against the dresser with a look of pure defiance. “No way. Not wearin’ that.”

“It’s Easter,” you reasoned, trying not to laugh at the sheer stubbornness etched onto his face. “The kids are excited, and it’s a pastel color. You’ll look festive. Besides,” you added with a teasing tilt of your head, “it matches my dress.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Festive? Darlin’, I ain’t the ‘festive’ type.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” came Jean’s voice from the doorway. She leaned against the frame with a smirk, her arms crossed. “I think you’d look great in it, Logan. Adds some softness to your usual gruffness.”

Logan shot her a glare that only made her smirk widen. “Nobody asked you, Jeannie.”

You hid your smile behind the sweater, trying to keep the peace. “Jean, don’t make it worse,” you murmured, though your tone was light.

“I’m just saying,” Jean replied with a playful shrug before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you alone with Logan again.

“See? Even Jean agrees,” you said, holding the sweater out to him again. “Come on, Logan. Just for a little while?”

He huffed, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not gonna let this go, are ya?”

You shook your head, your smile growing. “Nope.”

Logan stared at you for a long moment, his expression softening despite his obvious resistance. It wasn’t the sweater he was giving in to—it was you. With a grumble, he snatched it out of your hands. “Fine. But if anyone takes a picture, I’m burnin’ it.”

You bit back a laugh as he pulled the sweater on over his usual white undershirt. The pastel blue clashed hilariously with his rugged demeanor, but you had to admit, it looked... sweet on him. The way it matched your dress only made it better.

“There,” Logan said, tugging at the hem like it might suffocate him. “Happy?”

“Very,” you said with a warm smile, stepping closer to adjust the sweater’s collar. “You look good.”

He grumbled something under his breath but didn’t stop you. Instead, his hands found your waist, pulling you close enough that you had to crane your neck to look up at him. “You owe me for this,” he muttered, though there was no real bite to his tone.

“Oh, do I?” you teased, resting your hands on his chest. “What do I owe you?”

Logan leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear. “You’ll find out later,” he said, his voice low enough to send a shiver down your spine.

Your cheeks flushed, but you managed to keep your composure. “Well, let’s see if you make it through the egg hunt first.”

He groaned, pulling back enough to look at you. “Wait. Do I gotta do that, too?”

“Yes,” you said firmly, laughing when his head fell back in exaggerated defeat. “The kids will love it. And you look adorable.”

Logan shot you a flat look. “Adorable?”

You grinned, standing on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his cheek. “Yup. Now come on, let’s go before Rogue eats all the candy.”

Logan shook his head, muttering something about how he’d never live this down, but the small smile tugging at his lips told you he didn’t really mind. Not as long as it was for you.

---

You and Logan sat across from the lawyer Charles had recommended. The room was quiet, save for the faint rustle of papers as the lawyer flipped through the documents. Logan leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed, a scowl set deep on his face. You sat with your hands folded tightly in your lap, your glasses slipping slightly down your nose as you watched the lawyer with a mixture of apprehension and exhaustion.

“Well,” the lawyer finally said, setting the papers down on the desk in front of him. He adjusted his own glasses, his expression professional but sympathetic. “The good news is that the will is clear. Your grandfather left the inheritance to you and only you. Your parents’ claim has very little legal ground.”

Your shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in your chest didn’t fully ease. “But they can still drag this out, can’t they?” you asked quietly. “Even if the claim isn’t strong?”

The lawyer nodded. “Yes, they can file motions, request hearings, and essentially make this as difficult as possible for you. It’s not uncommon in cases like this.”

Logan growled low in his throat, his impatience bubbling to the surface. “So what do we do to shut this down for good?”

The lawyer glanced at him, unfazed by Logan’s tone. “There are a few options. You can contest the claim in court, which could take time but would likely result in a ruling in your favor. Or,” he paused, looking at you, “you can choose to forfeit the inheritance entirely. That would require specific legal filings, but it would end the dispute.”

You blinked, the weight of the decision settling heavily on your shoulders. “I don’t want the money,” you said quickly, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. “I never wanted it. I didn’t even know about it until my parents showed up at Stanford.”

Logan’s hand slid over yours, grounding you. “You don’t have to decide now,” he said, his voice softer than before.

The lawyer cleared his throat, his expression cautious. “There is one other matter to consider. If you choose to forfeit the inheritance, it wouldn’t simply revert to your parents. According to the terms of the will, the funds would be held in trust for any future heirs—your children, specifically.”

Your head snapped up, and you stared at the lawyer in disbelief. “Future children?”

He nodded. “Yes. It’s an unusual clause, but your grandfather was quite specific. If you don’t claim the inheritance, it remains part of the family estate and will be managed until it can be passed down to your descendants.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, and you glanced at him, your cheeks warming at the faint surprise in his expression. You hadn’t explicitly talked about children with him yet, though the thought had crossed your mind more than once.

“That’s… a lot to process,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I didn’t even know he thought about me that way. We weren’t close at the… end.”

The lawyer offered a small, understanding smile. “It’s not uncommon for people to make decisions like this in their wills, even if they weren’t directly involved in someone’s life. He may have wanted to ensure you were cared for in some way.”

You nodded slowly, your thoughts swirling. Logan leaned forward, his gruff voice breaking the silence. “Let’s say she forfeits. What’s to stop her parents from tryin’ to get their hands on the money anyway?”

“There are legal safeguards in place,” the lawyer replied. “The trust would be managed independently, and your parents wouldn’t have access to it. It’s airtight.”

Logan grunted, seemingly satisfied with that answer, but his focus shifted back to you. “What do you wanna do, sweetheart?”

You hesitated, your gaze dropping to where his hand still covered yours. “I don’t want to go to court,” you said softly. “I don’t want the money, and I don’t want to fight with them. If it can go to… someone else, to the future, then maybe that’s the right thing to do.”

Logan’s thumb brushed over your knuckles, his voice steady. “Then that’s what we’ll do.”

The lawyer nodded. “I’ll start drafting the necessary documents. It’ll take a little time, but once it’s filed, your parents won’t have a legal leg to stand on.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the meeting wrapped up and the lawyer left the room, Logan turned to you, his expression softening. “You okay?”

You nodded, though your chest still felt heavy. “Yeah. It’s just… a lot.”

He pulled you into his arms without hesitation, holding you close against his chest. “You did good, darlin’,” he murmured against your hair. “Don’t let this mess get to you.”

You closed your eyes, letting the warmth of his embrace chase away the lingering tension. “Thank you,” you whispered, your voice muffled against his shirt.

“For what?” he asked, pulling back just enough to look down at you.

“For being here,” you said, your gaze meeting his. “For always being here.”

Logan’s lips quirked into a small, crooked smile. “Where else would I be?”

You laughed softly, the sound shaky but genuine, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead before leading you out of the room.

As the two of you walked into the kitchen, Logan pulled out a bottle of mango juice from the fridge and poured you a glass. His movements were calm and deliberate, a quiet reassurance that everything was going to be okay. He set the glass down in front of you, leaning against the counter as you took a sip.

"You doin' alright now, sweetheart?" he asked, his gaze steady on you.

You nodded, holding the cool glass in your hands. “I think so. I just hate that it had to come to this.”

Logan reached over, brushing a strand of hair out of your face. “Ain’t your fault. They made their choice, and you made yours. That’s all that matters.”

You managed a small smile, his support giving you the courage to push forward. But the lawyer’s earlier words lingered in your mind, and after a moment of hesitation, you decided to voice the thought that had been nagging at you.

“Logan,” you said, your voice soft, “did it… bother you? What he said about the inheritance going to future kids?”

Logan arched a brow, folding his arms across his chest as he watched you. “Bother me?” he repeated, his tone questioning.

“Yeah.” You looked down at the mango juice in your hands. “We’ve never really talked about that, and I just—”

His hand was under your chin before you could finish, tilting your face up to meet his eyes. “Does it bother you?” he asked, his tone gentle but intent.

You bit your lip, feeling your cheeks warm. “I don’t think so,” you admitted. “I mean, I’ve thought about it before, but I didn’t want to push. I wasn’t sure if that was something you…” You trailed off, unsure how to phrase it.

Logan’s lips curved into a small smirk, his gaze softening in a way that was meant just for you. “Darlin’, I’ve thought about it plenty. Didn’t bring it up ‘cause I didn’t know if you were ready for that kinda talk.”

A soft laugh escaped you, nervous but sweet. “Guess we’re both good at overthinking things.”

Logan’s hand slid around your waist, pulling you closer until your hips bumped against the counter. “I’m not the kind to plan much of anything,” he said, his voice dropping to that rough, affectionate tone that always made your heart flutter. “But you… you make me wanna think about things like that.”

Your chest tightened with a mixture of nervousness and joy as you briefly rolled your bottom lip between your teeth. Logan’s other hand brushed against your cheek, his thumb sliding lightly across your skin, grounding you in a way only he could.

“Darlin’,” he said softly, his voice low and filled with warmth, “you don’t gotta look so nervous. We’re on the same page.”

You let out a soft, shaky laugh. “I know. It’s just... I didn’t think this conversation would come up like this.”

“Didn’t exactly expect it over lawyer talk,” Logan admitted with a small smirk. His hand cupped your cheek, pulling you just a bit closer. “But you think too much sometimes. There’s no rush, no pressure—none of that. But if you’re askin’ if I see it... yeah. I see it, sweetheart.”

Your gaze flicked up to his, caught in the sincerity of his words and the steady way he was looking at you. His eyes, weathered from lifetimes of heartbreak and battle, were now soft and filled with something you could only describe as hope.

You smiled, this time more genuine, a warmth spreading through you. “Me too,” you murmured.

His lips quirked into that crooked grin you’d come to love, and his hand slid to the back of your neck, tugging you forward until your lips met. The kiss was slow and unhurried, a promise sealed in silence. When he pulled back, he kept you close, his forehead pressed against yours.

“No better time to start than now,” he rumbled, the faintest hint of a playful edge slipping into his tone.

Your breath caught, your cheeks instantly flushing. “Logan,” you whispered, voice laced with equal parts shock and anticipation.

He chuckled, that deep, throaty sound sending shivers down your spine. In a swift, effortless move, he lifted you off the ground, one arm supporting your back while the other braced under your knees. You gasped, your hands instinctively wrapping around his neck.

“Logan!” you squeaked, your heart racing as he carried you like you weighed nothing.

“What?” he teased, his smirk widening as he began walking out of the kitchen. “Thought we were on the same page.”

You buried your face against his neck, laughing softly. “We are,” you admitted, your voice muffled against his skin. “You just caught me off guard.”

“I’m full of surprises,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple.

As the two of you reached the bedroom, the door creaked as Logan kicked it open, a certain ease in his movements that you envied sometimes. He set you down gently on the bed, leaning over you with a wolfish grin that made your heart do a somersault.

“You sure?” he asked, his voice suddenly softer again, no teasing this time. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing the edge of your glasses like it was instinctive for him to touch you this way.

The love in his voice and the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing anchoring him to this world—stole whatever doubt you might have had. You nodded, your hand curling around his wrist to keep his touch against your skin.

“Yeah,” you whispered, smiling. “I’m sure.”

Logan kissed you again, deeper this time, his arms wrapping around you like he never wanted to let go. And for that moment, nothing else in the world mattered.

this is still 2005! next chapter is also going to be 2005 and then after every chapter will be spanning 1 year!

(although i am now realizing that my timeline is a bit off but just roll with it)

[angelremnants]

Between Strength & Style l L. Laufeyson

PART THREE.⠀....THE RESTRAINTS TURN TO RUINS.

summary : Loki’s probationary stint with the Avengers takes a surprising turn when Thor insists on dragging him to the team’s fluorescent-lit gym—a place he deems far beneath his dignity. His disdain shifts the moment you stride in with effortless confidence, transforming the mundane gym into your personal runway, commanding the room and worse, directly challenging his ego. Determined not to be overshadowed, Loki initiated a playful competition, vying to outshine you as the gym’s reigning fashionista. Yet, what began as irritation soon evolved into intrigue—and an electric chemistry taking place between you and forcing him to confront not only your undeniable allure but also his own battle for self-control. The only question left was: how many Fridays would pass before one of you finally caves in?

pairing : Loki Laufeyson x f!reader

warnings : Mature themes (18+—MINORS DO NOT INTERACT), eventual romance, resolved sexual tension (finally!), kind of dub-con but also not?, love/hate sex, rough sex, dry humping, thigh riding, fingering, overstimulation, squirting, cum eating, shower sex, risky sex, power play, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it before you tap it!), implied oral sex (female receiving), creampie, hard dom!Loki/sub!reader, lots of heavy dirty talking, praise/degradation kink, hand gagging, flirting & teasing, emotional conflict, aftercare, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 27.8k

author's notes : My sincere apologies for the tardiness of the upload, uni started back a few days ago and I had, for some reason, quite some difficulty crafting this chapter—which is by far the filthiest smut I've ever written until now and possibly the longest, as I had to make up for the wait. Here is the long-awaited climax (no, really) of this three-shots. I'm pleased to see that this story was so well-received, as it was really written on impulse.

Make sure to read the first two parts if you haven't done it yet, not just for the context but also because the build-up makes it so much more worth it. ;)

(ao3 version)

⠀

Saturday. It ought to have been your haven—a priceless, untouchable day dedicated to rest. A day set aside for relief—a unique, treasured chance to relax, get some much-needed sleep or even enjoy a few blissful hours of inactivity. Maybe you would have gotten the sleep you had been missing all these days due to some godly parasite lingering inside of your head, or you would have spent a few hours of delightful indolence watching your favorite shows in the comfort of your cozy bed. Instead, like a prisoner heading to their execution, you found yourself stumbling toward the gym in the early hours of the following day, each step laden with fear.

And it was all become of him.

One month. It had been thirty maddening days since Loki had chosen to make you the center of his entertainment, enticing you into his intricate little game of battling for the spotlight and disrupting your carefully crafted lifestyle. You hadn't been offered the chance to decline or be offered a volunteer position. In fact, you didn't even know there was a game until he walked into the gym that fateful morning with his trademark arrogant smile, his piercing eyes, and his incredibly sharp tongue that seemed to be designed specifically to rile you up, strutting around like some arrogant peacock and prompting in you the burning sensation of desperately wanting to put him back in his place. It was as if he had come in with the express intent of making you lose your mind, and ever since, he had made it his goal to constantly torture, mock, and irritate you.

You thought you had done a great job of pretending it didn't bother you. It had all been part of your improvised plan to keep some semblance of sanity, brushing off his scathing remarks and acting as though you were unaware of the way his gaze lingered just a bit too long whenever he peered in your direction. However, the reality was that Loki had a strange way of getting under your skin, digging deep, and burning it like no one else ever could, ultimately making you enter many weekly rounds of push and pull and leaving the unforeseen public wanting more in their bets on which of the two would finally crack from their infantile provocations. 

The culmination of it all had been the previous day. You had completely failed to fall asleep, your heart still pounding with adrenaline, and your restless mind replaying over and over your last encounter with him. It was simply another verbal sparring match, a battle of glares and scathing retorts, nothing extraordinary. The shared spark hovering on the verge of burning was the only extra taste. It was enough to set your entire body on fire when he brashly pushed you against the shake bar counter and smiled menacingly, promising to ruin you in the finest way possible. Although it didn't completely rock your world, it certainly did cause your ovaries to tremble, which fueled the restless energy that had persisted in you ever since.

Hours passed slowly and you were still staring at the ceiling, scrutinizing any specks on it while attempting to interpret his final words when the first rays of sunlight came through your window. "When I settle things, I make sure it’s unforgettable." What on Earth had he meant by that? And more significantly, what fresh torment had he in store for you?

The questions flitted through your head like vultures as you dressed, putting on bras sports, a basic tank top and leggings with weak motions and a tired sigh—you didn’t feel the need to go all out for this morning, as you would be practically caged with your sworn attention-hungry enemy. Your body felt slow and fatigued, but your mind was racing at full speed. A part of you wanted to march into that gym and slam his smirk-adorned pretty face against the nearest wall until it was unrecognizable. Another part... well, you didn’t want to think about what the other part of you wanted. 

You pushed the treacherous thoughts away as you finished lacing your sneakers and turned to face the mirror, giving yourself a stern, no-nonsense look. “Get. it. together,” you muttered, insisting on each word that was coming out as much as a plea as it was an order.

Desperate to shake off the grogginess—and the simmering frustration—you bounced on your toes a few times, throwing a few half-hearted shadow punches. Some quick jumps, fists raised and throwing jabs here and there and a sharp exhale. The motion sent a small jolt of energy through your muscles, enough to strengthen your resolve, but it did little to alleviate the knot of apprehension that was tightly wound in your chest.

Whatever the god had planned, you promised yourself you would not let him get the best of you. Not this time, not ever, and not anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you slowly walked out of your room, your footsteps echoing off the walls as you made your way to the gym. The overhead fluorescent lights flickered intermittently, casting long, shifting shadows that added to your sense of foreboding. The closer you got, the heavier each step felt, as if the weight of expectation was dragging you down. 

The gym loomed ahead, having evolved into something more than just a room full of machines. It was a battleground, a crucible. Loki seemed so determined to push you to your limits, testing your patience, strength, and willpower with each encounter. You could not decide which bothered you more: the fear of losing control in his presence or the nagging suspicion that he was purposefully trying to break you to see how far he could go. Upper motives are Loki's specialty, after all. But, on the other hand, was this really just a game for him?

At last, you reached your destination, staying still in front of the entrance. Your fingers curled around the handle, allowing the cool metal to ground you for a moment while you paused, your pulse quickening as a dozen different scenarios raced through your head.

Was this your doom or your solace? And which one did you hope to find today?

You didn’t know. But as you pushed open the door and stepped inside, you braced yourself for whatever Loki had planned for you.

Surprisingly, it was already slightly ajar when you arrived, allowing just a sliver of light to pass through. The first rays of the rising sun spilled in, casting a soft, golden glow across the immaculate gym floor, which had been completely cleared of the chaos left by the Hulk's rampage. The sunbeams pierced through the towering windows, their warm light reaching all corners of the gym and illuminating the grandeur of Manhattan beyond—a city still waking up, its skyline bathed in the soft hues of dawn, almost as if holding its breath in anticipation of what was to come.

But it was not the breathtaking scenery that halted you in your tracks. 

No. What really drew your attention, leaving you momentarily speechless, was the sight of Loki. There he was, in the middle of it all, surprisingly barefoot. His form stood in stark contrast against the polished surroundings, like a shadow amidst the brilliance. The god of mischief was leaning against the cracked wall, his fingers moving with effortless precision over the remaining damage, the last traces of destruction fading beneath his fingertips. The ground had been thoroughly cleaned up, free of any debris from the mutant's rampage, so you did not have to worry about him injuring himself—not that you would be concerned anyway. 

The air around him buzzed with magical remnants that seemed to belong there, blending in with the repairs he was doing. His posture was lazy and languid, as if he were bored with the task at hand, and repairing a wall was nothing more than a minor inconvenience.

It irked you more than you cared to admit.

Despite his outward calm, a familiar knot twisted in your chest—a mix of irritation, resentment, and, for reasons you could not fathom, bubbling excitement. The same sensation that seemed to arise whenever Loki was nearby—a dangerous combination that you were all too familiar with.

And yet, he didn’t even acknowledge your presence. It was as if you hadn’t walked in at all.

You stood frozen in the doorway for a moment, arms crossed and eyes narrowed. There he was, the god who had turned your world upside down, with his back turned to you. You couldn’t decide whether to wait and see if his ever-annoying smirk would appear or if he would look at you with that cold, calculating stare he wore when sent out on missions, which always made your skin prickle.

A moment stretched. Then—

"Late as usual," Loki's voice broke the silence, smooth and taunting as always, his gaze fixed on his work.

Your lips pressed into a thin line. Here it is, you bitterly thought as you deeply inhaled, bracing yourself for what was coming next.

“I’m sorry, was I supposed to be impressed?” You retorted, stepping deeper into the room, sarcasm laced throughout your words. “You’re fixing a wall, not saving the world. Do you want me to give you a standing ovation?”

He let out a soft, almost bored sigh and continued to work as if your words did not bother him. "And good morrow to you as well. The first rays appear, and you are already up and taunting me. But I suppose that is part of your appeal, is it not?"

You moved around the room, your gaze scanning the gym. It was still a mess in places, but nothing you could not handle with a little effort—and probably Loki's self-assured arrogance as well. If you weren’t any pettier, you would be surprisingly grateful towards him doing most of the hard job—which is saying something, coming from Loki himself. Perhaps your worries weren’t misplaced, after all—as far as you knew, the god never did anything out of the kindness of his heart. 

“Don’t flatter yourself. Honestly, I have seen better magic tricks in street performances," you replied, your voice light but your irritation simmering beneath the surface. You focused your attention on the task at hand, preparing for the impending manual labor.

But your treacherous gaze quickly returned to him, still bathed in sunlight as he worked to complete the repairs. The golden light illuminated the muscular expanse of his back, accentuating every ridge and dip with almost agonizing clarity. Each movement was a seamless display of strength and precision, the sinews of his shoulders rolling effortlessly beneath his skin. A faint sheen clung to his torso, highlighting the sharp lines that drew the eye down the length of his spine.

Your eyes then lowered unwantedly, drawn to the way his trousers hugged his figure, especially the firm curve of his ass. The fabric clung in a way that left little to the imagination, draping over him with an almost sculptural elegance. Each subtle shift of his weight made the material stretch and conform, as though emphasizing every detail of his form.

Your cheeks flushed as your imagination deceived you, racing with uncontrollable thoughts of how you wanted to explore that body. You were split between silent adoration and an almost painful need to close the gap between you. The silence weighed down hard, interrupted only by the faint hum of his power. There was an electric tension in the air, thick enough to taste, as if something was going to snap. Perhaps another volley of sharp words—or something more physical.

Loki gradually stepped aside from his work, finally lifting his gaze to meet yours. His lips curled into an irritating, all-knowing smirk. “Are you finished inspecting my masterpiece, or do you plan to continue judging my artwork?” he asked, his tone almost playful, yet it carried a challenge beneath it.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes at the pointless instigation. “Oh, I’m sure it’s magnificent, Loki. Just like everything you touch," you sarcastically said, your tone basking in mockery.

His smirk unfortunately only deepened at your retort, a glint of mischief sparking in his eyes. “Do you always arm yourself with such wit before breakfast, or am I to feel especially privileged today?” He teased, his gaze lingering on you for just a little too long, never leaving yours.

It was tempting to fire back, to throw another retort his way, but you forced yourself to bite your tongue. You had a task at hand, and you were damn well going to finish it—no matter how insufferable Loki was being.

With a deep breath, you set aside your irritation. “Fine, let’s just get this over with. "The sooner it is finished, the sooner I can leave your delightful company," you muttered under your breath, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

Loki raised an eyebrow as he leaned against the wall, his lips curled into a lazy smirk as he crossed his arms. “My, such ambition. One might almost think you find my presence unbearable.”

You did not grace him with the privilege of an answer, instead reaching for a nearby broom and beginning to sweep up the last of the debris. Each step you took felt heavier than the previous one as you mentally prepared for the physical labor ahead. Whether it was the oppressive atmosphere or Loki's unyielding presence, you could not help but sense the tension building, hanging in the air like a storm about to break.

The only thing you were certain of?

Today was going to be longer than you anticipated.

After a while, you took a purposeful stride behind the bar, the motion almost automatic, deciding that a shake was exactly what you needed to boost your energy and, more importantly, to prepare yourself for the mental endurance you were sure this morning would require. The frustration from the previous few moments persisted beneath the surface, like an ember that refused to die. You forced yourself to concentrate on the simple task at hand: preparing your beverage. After all, getting through the rest of the day would require all of your strength and endurance, especially with the man in the background.

As you reached for the blender, his voice rang out behind you while he was seemingly approaching you, slow and taunting, as if he had all the time in the world. "I have already repaired the marble, you know. The only thing left to do is put the glasses away and clean the countertops. But, of course, you would rather stand there and make yourself a drink, would you not?"

You didn’t turn to face him, focusing instead on measuring the ingredients for your shake, with your back to him as you gathered your supplies. "I am making myself something to drink because I have not eaten yet," you answered with a clipped tone, revealing your growing irritation. “And trust me, I’m going to need it if I’m going to survive being in the same room as you.”

You could almost hear the smirk curling on his lips. He moved closer and titled his head over your shoulder, his voice dropping to a timbre of contempt. “A shake? How… pedestrian.” You sensed his obvious presence behind you, like a shadow too near for comfort. “If I were you, I’d be more concerned about what you really need.” 

His breath tickled the back of your neck as he leaned in, and his words sounded almost sensual. Your pulse quickened at the implication, and a flash of annoyance coursed through you. You couldn’t let him get under your skin—not this early at least. Taking a steadying breath, you returned your attention to the blender, attempting to ignore Loki's magnetic pull and the way he appeared to consume the space around him.

Then, just as you were about to finish blending your shake, Loki's voice dropped once more, this time with a sly, dangerous edge. “Do you think that shake will be enough to cool you off? Or would you rather I provide a more... appropriate remedy?”

Never mind him not getting under your skin—that pushed your patience over the edge.

Without hesitation, you grabbed the nearest glass of water, spun on your heel, and splashed it directly into his face. “How’s that for cooling off?” You returned with a strained smile, your words as sharp as your gaze, your chest rising and falling with the rage you could not control. You immediately spun away, determined to leave before your temper flared.

There was a brief period of silence. Loki stood perfectly still, his eyes closed since receiving the impromptu attack. He inhaled deeply as the magic around him crackled like a storm on the horizon, his irritation settled in the air, thick and heavy, like a warning. He slowly wiped the water off his face, his lips curling into that same infuriatingly composed smirk that made your blood boil.

"Fine," he finally said, his voice strained with barely contained irritation, though his smirk remained intact. “If this is the game you wish to play, so be it.”

He slowly peeled off his shirt and tossed it aside, taking you completely by surprise. The sight of his sculpted, damp chest was enough to send shivers up your spine. He did not seem to notice—or care, for that matter. Your stomach churned, and you immediately regretted throwing the water, especially since your gaze was drawn involuntarily to the muscle lines that rippled across his abdomen. Fuck. This wasn’t helping.

You could feel a flush creeping up your neck, but you quickly pushed the warmth away. You did not have time to get sucked into whatever game Loki was playing. If you wanted to get through today, you had to keep your cool.

"Whatever," you mumbled to yourself, taking a long, leisurely drink of your shake, as if it could somehow relieve the tension between you. The cool beverage flowed down your throat, yet the room was hot, the air thick with unspoken murmurs. It was going to be a long day. A very long day.

⠀

⠀

For an extended period, the two of you moved silently. It was as if you were in sync without saying anything, each of you was quietly immersed in your allotted job. You remained firmly rooted in your corner, concentrating solely on your task as a weird, even unsettling rhythm emerged between the two of you. The room, which had once been a chaotic mess after the Hulk's destruction, now appeared unsettlingly calm. You found yourself wishing for your headphones, something to drown out the oppressive silence, help you focus, and speed up the process. But with Loki there, you couldn't afford such a luxury—his mere existence made it impossible to escape into that peaceful seclusion.

The heavy sense of imminent peril lingered around you, like a weight suspended just above the earth, ready to fall. Loki, the deity of mischief and master of deception, has never been so silent before. His customary snark and demand for attention were strangely gone, and it was disturbing. It felt like a physical force weighing down on the room, choking you with its severity. He wasn't moving or looking at you, but you could sense him. His presence appeared to penetrate beneath your skin, a persistent, stifling awareness that hung over you like a shadow that refused to go away.

Even more unsettling was the fact that, despite all that had transpired, he wasn’t even looking directly at you—yet you were certain, without question, that his eyes were fixed on you and penetrating through the back of your head, even if they were out of sight. This unseen stare appeared to track your every action, causing your skin to tingle with a heightened sense of awareness, akin to a faint pressure that made it difficult to draw a breath.

Unavoidably, you found yourself matching his phantom gaze. Your vigilant eyes remained fixed on him, not merely out of wariness but also because you were unable to resist. It was unsettling how your mind wandered toward him in fundamentally inappropriate ways, particularly to his chest. That aggravating chest. Each time he shifted, it appeared to ripple, and you couldn’t pull your gaze away from the sleek, sculpted muscles that moved with effortless elegance. The arrogance that seemed to seep from him only exacerbated the situation, as he exuded an air of perfection, fully aware of the impact he had on you. And that drove you completely mad.

You despised the fact that you couldn't settle on a single opinion of him. A part of you wanted to reach out and touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips. Maybe even grope him to see how he reacts. Another, darker part of you wanted to lean in and lick, kiss, and feel the smoothness of his chest against your lips. Every part of you ached with the urge to claim him in some manner. But then you'd remember your current situation, the tension in the air, and the ridiculousness of it all. You couldn't let it. You could not allow those ideas to dominate you again.

It was nice that you had superhuman strength. Without it, you weren't sure how you'd get through moments like this—when your mind would wander into dangerous terrain, your body would betray you with a deep, frustrated need, and you'd most likely let a dumbbell drop from your fingers and land on your foot. Your strength kept you anchored, but it didn't alleviate the strain that coiled within you like a live wire, making it nearly impossible to concentrate on anything else.

And, worst of all, you were furious. Furious with him for just existing and being so mesmerizing. Furious with the way he handled himself, the arrogance that radiated off him, and, damn it, his body. You were upset with yourself for allowing him to get under your skin and for the way he put your insides on fire. But, more than anything, you were enraged by how easily he had entangled your thoughts in his clutches, without ever lifting a finger. It was as if he didn't even have to try to get inside your thoughts, and yet here you were—lost in a maelstrom of frustration and need, entangled in the web he had spun around you with effortless grace.

You moved through your set, the rhythmic clang of metal filling the otherwise quiet room, breaking the stillness with every shift of the dumbbells. Each time you bent to pick one up, the sound reverberated in the large, nearly empty space. You made sure to place each weight back precisely where it belonged, your movements deliberate and controlled, your focus unwavering, even as the strain of the workout began to wear on you.

Yet, every time you turned away, something peculiar began to happen. A faint shift, just enough to unsettle your balance. The weights would move, imperceptibly, enough for you to notice but not quite enough to confirm at first. You'd look back, only to discover that one weight had shifted slightly, a minor tweak that seemed to challenge your every action. Initially, you put it on exhaustion, but as the strange happenings continued, your displeasure grew. It felt as if your mind was conspiring against you.

With each shift, your nerves strained, and unease crept up your spine. You couldn't escape the idea that you were losing control, that something—or someone—was interfering with your thoughts. "What the hell..." you muttered under your breath as you hefted another dumbbell into position, the metallic clang too loud in the otherwise silent room.

"Be careful," Loki said from the other side, his voice shrill and mocking. "Or you'll cause more of a ruckus than the green beast did." His words were delivered with that exacerbating air of superiority that made your blood boil even as you tightened your jaw to avoid snapping back. You could clearly feel how much he was loving it.

You gritted your teeth and concentrated on the task at hand, ignoring him as much as you could. "It's not my fault," you murmured back, your voice tinged with displeasure as you kneeled to pick up another weight. You needed to finish. You couldn't allow him to get under your skin, yet again.

Regardless, as you proceeded, the disturbing adjustments in the rack became more regular, with the weights moving gently every time you turned your back. Something was certainly off, and you could no longer pretend otherwise. The unease in the air, the sensation of eyes on you, and the bizarre, inexplicable shifts had all contributed to something more planned than just chance.

At long last, after completing the final set of weights and ensuring that everything was in its proper place, you turned away from the rack, ready to move on to the next part of the gym. You had your back to the rack when you heard the unmistakable crash of weights hitting the ground. Your heart pounded in your chest, and your mind raced as you spun around, your eyes narrowing in surprise.

The dumbbells were scattered across the floor. The revelation struck you like a ton of bricks—or dumbbells, in this context.

"Loki," you snarled, the name tumbling out of your mouth before you could control it. You pushed the rack aside, your wrath pouring over as you stormed towards him.

The aforementioned deity stood several feet away, watching you with an aggravating smile on his lips and an incredibly calm posture, as if he hadn't done anything wrong. There was something almost sickeningly pleasant about his apparent enjoyment of the turmoil he had produced, as if he were enjoying every ounce of your frustration. 

You crossed the gap between you without hesitation, taking hurried steps towards him. "What's your fucking problem?" you demanded, your hands curled tightly at your sides and your voice tinged with rage. "This is your doing, isn't it?"

The Asgardian's grin widened further, and he inclined his head slightly in fake inquiry. "Problem?" he repeated, a nasty gleam in his eyes. "I wasn't aware I had one." His comments hung in the air, acting as an open invitation to retaliate. He was testing you, pressing your buttons just for the fun of it.

"You've been messing with me this whole damn time!" You fired back, your rage escalating as your fury boiled over. "What exactly are you trying to prove?"

Loki leaned in slightly, his stare sharp and calculated, with a glimmer of threat in his eyes. "Easily distracted, are we?" he asked, his voice silky and full of challenge. "I thought that perhaps you simply needed something to... redirect your focus."

Every ounce of patience you had was slipping away, and your fury was simmering just beneath the surface, threatening to explode. You took a step closer, your resolve firm, ready to confront him full on and force him to account for his little game. But as you did, your foot got snagged on something—your own, traitorous shoelaces.

"What the—" you exclaimed, taken aback by the sudden loss of control. You lost your footing and stumbled forward, unable to break the momentum. Before you could recover, you collapsed to the floor, your hands just reaching out to catch yourself. As you scrambled to lift yourself up, your gaze fell on the source of your clumsiness: your shoelaces—both of them—tied together in a knot that was too perfect and exact to be an accident. 

Heat flooded your face, a blush of humiliation rising in your chest as you slowly stood, the weight of your embarrassment sinking in. "You... you little shit," you hissed, angry and mortified. You instantly tried to unravel the knot, but your rage just grew.

Loki's laughter rang around the room, a low chuckle that made your blood boil even more. He stood there, arms crossed over his chest, observing you with almost predatory delight. He wasn't going to help you; it was evident he was enjoying every moment of your annoyance.

"Really?" you snapped, your expression tightening as you stared at him. "Tying my shoelaces? What are you, a child?"

His grin intensified, and his eyes shone with a lethal, mischievous light. He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a taunting divulgence. "I thought I might remind you not to forget your place, darling."

The combination of fury and shame pushed you over the limit. "Try me, Loki. Just one more time, and I’ll make you regret it," you threatened, your fists clenched so hard that your knuckles became white, raw rage barely restrained beneath the surface.

Loki raised an eyebrow and smiled unwaveringly. "And what exactly do you plan to do?" he inquired, his tone challenging.

You seethed, torn between the overwhelming desire to strike out and the strange pull he always seemed to have over you. The air between you was heavy with tension, suffocating, and the more you looked at his infuriatingly handsome face, the more you couldn't decide whether to lash out with your fists, pull him in for a kiss, or do both in an explosive clash of vexation and longing.

You deeply inhaled, muttering hopeful prayers for peace and quiet while attempting to calm the maelstrom of emotions forming within you. The soreness persisted beneath your skin, although there was no immediate way to release it. His attention was riveted on you, and the thought of your next move formed in your mind and slowly brought a wicked smile to your lips. You knew just how to make him squirm, and you were confident you could send his mind racing just like yours was.

As you crouched to relace your shoes, you took a moment to fix your shirt. The fabric changed, adapting to your shape with subtle precision—just enough to draw his attention without being obvious. The way the cloth clung to your body felt like a challenge, inviting him to gaze. And you knew he wasn't going to refuse. His eyes, though well guarded, revealed the admiration he could not conceal. You felt a surge of satisfaction as you realized you had the ability to divert him however you wished him to be.

Your fingers worked carefully, lacing the shoes with calculated precision, ensuring that your actions were slow enough to keep him focused. You could feel his stare sharpen and his breath quicken, as if just seeing you was enough to divert his attention. You had him exactly where you wanted him: utterly trapped in a whirlwind of unwelcome cogitation.

Once finished, you stood with deliberate slowness, savoring the moment as you straightened your posture and brushed your shoulders with exaggerated care. You discreetly looked at him from behind your lashes, noticing the lingering heat in his eyes—a flash of doubt, that tiny break in his otherwise immaculate composure that made your approaching win all the sweeter.

And now, it was time to seal it.

With a quick, careful rotation, you spun on your heel, your action graceful and calculated. Your leg sprang out sharply, catching him squarely in the shin. The hit resonated, pushing Loki to stagger back, his beautiful stance breaking for a fleeting instant. His stance failed, and he went on one knee, his sharp inhale revealing his normal calm.

A flicker of disbelief crossed his features, revealing a rare, fleeting breach in his mask of supremacy. His palms braced on the floor as he straightened himself, his movements calm and measured, as if he refused to give you the pleasure of watching him rush.

You stood over him, chin lifted, admiring the unusual sight of Loki humbled low. Your lips formed a cynical smirk as you cocked your head, and your voice sickly sweet with deadly sarcasm. "Aw, look at you," you drawled, every word dripping with arrogance. "You wear that position nicely. Almost as if it's second nature."

His jaw tightened, the glitter in his eyes increasing as your words slithered into his ego and pricked old wounds. You leaned in slightly, your tone becoming softer and more venomous. "It’s almost like that match a few weeks ago… you remember, right? The one where you ended up in the exact same position. Thanks to me." You allowed a beat of stillness and the weight of your words. settling between you like a blade poised to strike.

For a brief instant, you noticed it—that frightening flare of fire beneath his cold, calculating eyes. His lips curled into a smile that did not extend to his eyes—a vicious and knowing twist that sent shivers down your spine. "Smug," he finally uttered, his voice silky yet twisted with tempered rage. "I suppose you're entitled to it for the right reasons."

The faintest emphasis on the final lines struck like a warning, a thread strained tight and about to snap. He straightened effortlessly, rising to his full height with startling ease. You were aware of the purposeful character of his movement, however. Loki didn't just stand there; he reclaimed the area, his presence becoming stronger with each step he took closer.

His gaze was fixed on yours, haughtily looking down as his countenance meticulously honed into that annoying mask of distant enjoyment. But the tension in the air was unmistakable, like an electric charge buzzing between you. "Careful now, darling," he whispered, his voice honeyed but tinged with a dangerous undercurrent. "You might start to believe you’ve truly bested me. A dangerous illusion, don’t you think?”

Your victory faded as his words set in, his mocking tone slithering around you like a serpent. Loki moved closer as you defensively crossed your arms and maintained his molten stare, his motions leisurely and predatory. He was now examining you, his eyes searching your every twitch and breath, as if he were recording this moment for future revenge.

"Victory," he said almost to himself, his smirk broadening when he noticed you tensing at his sudden closeness. "What an ephemeral thing, isn't it? So fragile, so easily reversed." His voice faded into a whisper that permeated the room. "Enjoy it while you can."

The oppressive atmosphere squeezed in, heavy and real. Loki's lack of retaliation was more troubling than any outburst, his quiet intensity serving as a clear reminder of how dangerous he was. He didn't have to lash out to make his presence known; his deliberate silence was far more effective. You attempted to maintain his look, to equal the boiling challenge in his eyes, but it was like staring into the depths of a venomous forest—lush and vibrant, yet steeped in danger, each glance pulling you deeper into its poisonous embrace. The corners of his mouth curved as if to guarantee that this moment would not go unanswered, and without saying anything else, he turned on his heel and marched away, as if nothing had conspired.

The room somehow felt colder without his presence, but the weight of his words hovered over you like a wildfire gradually rising your body. Loki usually never forgets or forgives, and you were confident that he would make sure you remembered this.

Shaking your head, you pushed those thoughts aside, determined not to let him get to you. You knew his games. This sudden shift in behavior—this silence—it was just another trick, another part of his elaborate act. But still, something was unsettling about it, something that gnawed at you. 

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to concentrate, your attention returning to the cable station. You moved with experienced ease, your hands painstakingly cleaning the area and your body nearly swaying in time with the task. Before you knew it, a gentle hum slid from your lips, providing a distraction and drowning out the electric tension crackling in the room. Even if it was only for a moment, the sound was relaxing.

But you couldn't shake the impression that Loki was watching again, lurking like a famished hawk and waiting—his eyes fastened on you with a weight that made you feel as if he could see straight through you. Even though you attempted to dismiss it, you knew he wasn't planning to let you go on unscathed. Definitely not.

That theory was proven correct when you found yourself falling once again.

Your foot got hooked on one of the cables that had been left lying around indiscriminately on the floor. Your body lurched forward, unbalanced, and the objects in your hands flew through the air. You gasped, prepared for the inevitable crash, but a strong arm wrapped around your waist and drew you back into a solid chest.

Your breath froze and your chest clenched as you processed the sudden and unexpected contact. You were overpowered by the perfume of mint and something more, which was unmistakably his. You stiffened in his arms, but he held you comfortably, his presence overwhelming and unsettling. The warmth of his chest pressing against your back, his breath soothing against your neck, and the steady rise and fall of his chest served as a painful reminder that he had been, once again, the one to catch you.

As he held you, you couldn't help but notice how well his body fit against yours. The way his frame fit against your back was both shocking and comfortable, as if every muscle and contour were designed to match yours. You could feel the tightness in his body, the hardness of his chest pressing against you, but there was an undeniable ease in the way he embraced you, his touch strangely possessive but comfortable. For a time, you were hesitant to release the hold, your heart speeding with the weird mix of emotions he elicited in you.

You blinked, attempting to get your bearings, your heart pounding in your chest. Every nerve in your body seemed to tingle with his touch, prompting a flood of emotions to flow within you—frustration, rage, and, screw him for this, desire. You tried to concentrate on the chaos beneath your feet, but everything about him—the way his body fitted into yours, the sensation of his arms about you—made it nearly hard to think properly.

Looking down, you noticed a cable wrapped around your foot. Your rage boiled up, your eyes glaring with irritability. But before you could draw a full breath, Loki's voice cut through the air. "Having trouble, darling?" He commented with a smirk on his lips. His taunting tone, combined with the ease with which he unraveled the cable, exacerbated your aggravation.

You clenched your jaw, attempting to keep your bearings as you watched him deftly mend the mess you had created. His arrogance was bothersome, but you couldn't deny that his charm still managed to make you squirm.

"Another tangled mess, I see," he remarked with delight. "I was starting to think we’d finally outgrown these little mishaps." He let the words linger, an amused gleam in his eyes. Then, almost as if he couldn't resist, he continued softly and teasingly, "But I should’ve known better—you do have a knack for falling for me."

The subtle suggestion of the infamous treadmill event sparked a surge of rage in your chest, and the room suddenly became unbearably hot. Your face flushed, heat crawled up your neck, and your hands clenched into fists by your sides. The recollection of that day came forward—sharp, searing, and persistent. It was the same thing: his words and actions distracted you and caused you to lose your footing. And as usual, just as you were about to fall, he came out with his arms wrapped around you, reminding you of your powerlessness.

"Why do you keep doing this?" You fumed, vehemently frustrated. "Every time, you find a new way to mess with me. Is this some sick joke to you?"

Loki's demeanor changed slightly, his smirk still curling at the corners of his lips, but it was colder and tinged with something sinister. His gaze tightened, locking onto yours with such intensity that the air between you felt dense and menacing. "A joke?" he reiterated, his voice falling to a frightening, even poisonous purr. “No, darling. This is not a joke." He took a hesitant stride toward you, the space between you sparking with tension, as if the air itself was charged with an unspoken promise. "It's a reminder that no matter how hard you try, you'll always wind up back here, tied up to me. In this. In us."

His words hung in the air like smoke, heavy and oppressive, with an undertone of insult and something darker—something primal. It caused your blood to rush, a heat swelling in your veins that was both furious and something more—because while he was an asshole in his wording, he was, in a twisted way, correct. He knew exactly how to distort every statement and encounter, convincing you that you were always one step behind before taking you by surprise and knocking you down a peg in hopes of flustering you. And, as usual, you despised how effective it was.

You took a step forward with your hands so clenched that your nails dug into your palms. You were about to lash out, to deliver the punch you had been keeping back for far too long, but something stopped you—something in the way he stood there, his posture so nonchalant, his gaze never leaving yours. He was daring you, challenging you with a look that demanded you make the first move. The air between you hummed with unresolved frustration and suffocating tension. Your breath came in rapid, short bursts as you tried to maintain control.

"What exactly do you want from me?" The words came out rougher than you intended, colored with a barely contained wrath. "What, is it because you can’t stand that I beat you once?"

Loki cocked his head slightly, as if considering your remarks, his eyes narrowing with a mix of interest and amusement. He leaned in just enough to feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "Oh, I think you know exactly what I want, darling," he replied softly, his voice becoming a more intimidating whisper. "You just haven't admitted it to yourself yet." His lips twisted into a more troubling smile, one of sullen triumph. "But I'll leave you to figure that out on your own."

The smirk hovered between you like a dark cloud, an unspoken demand requiring you to act or reply. It was maddening—relentless. His presence loomed over you, stifling you, and his arrogance oozed from every word and breath. The weight of his confidence pressed against every nerve you had left, like an invisible hand around your throat.

You gripped your fists tighter, your knuckles turning white, your nails sinking into your palms, as if to steady yourself against the raging tempest within you. But it was useless. The rage, the frustration, the raw emotion—everything swirled in your chest, threatening to burst over, and you knew deep down that no matter how hard you tried to hold it in, you'd eventually lose control.

The frustration that had been building for weeks—no, a straight-up month—had now reached a breaking point. Every insulting remark, arrogant smirk, and sneaky innuendo he'd directed at you had piled up, brick by brick, into an unstable tower of contained wrath. Now that he was staring at you with that uncontrollable mix of merriment and something much darker, you weren't sure how much longer you could keep yourself together.

If looks could kill, Loki would surely be dead by now, buried so far in Dante's Inferno that even the devil himself would be shaking his head in sympathy. Even then, that would not have been enough. No, you would have gone all the way down to the circles of hell and dragged his arrogant ass back to the top just to get the joy of killing him again. And even then, it wouldn't have been enough to quench your fury.

You maintained eye contact despite the fact that your vision was beginning to warp at the borders, with red leaking into your concentration like a warning signal. Your heartbeat was loudly beating in your ears, blotting out everything else, including the slight creak of the gym equipment and the hum of the lights above.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, you broke the stillness, your voice low and venomous, quivering with your rage. "You know what I've figured out, Loki?" Your look could have pierced steel, and the words that came out of your mouth were like a dagger drawn in rage. "That you’re nothing more than a twisted, kinky, masochistic little shit who’s desperate for a beating. And I’ll be more than happy to deliver."

The words barely had time to be registered before you charged at him, throwing all logic out the window. Your fist lunged toward him with all of your pent-up rage, aiming directly at his foolishly smug face. You weren't holding back this time—not like the sparring bout or the constant taunting. No, this was different. This was not about training or teasing. This was utterly personal.

This time, Loki was prepared to fight back. He always was, when he was willing to put his mind to it.

With an infuriatingly graceful sidestep, the god avoided your strike with ease, his movements so fluid and deliberate it was as though he was dancing rather than dodging. The sheer elegance of it made your blood boil. Your momentum carried you forward, forcing you to twist awkwardly as you fought to regain your footing. But he didn’t retaliate—not physically at least.

Instead, that low, mocking chuckle of his slid into the air, its rich, velvet tone wrapping around your growing frustration like a vice. “Oh, dear,” he drawled, tilting his head, his smirk cutting like a blade. “Was that meant to hit me? Or were you aiming for the floor? Do clarify—I’d hate to misjudge your prowess.”

The heat in your chest flared dangerously, your jaw tightening as you straightened to face him again. He was playing with you, and worse, it was working. Every carefully chosen word of his burrowed into your head, twisting tighter, feeding the fire inside you.

“Keep running your mouth,” you growled, your voice low, coiled with the promise of violence. “We’ll see how smug you are when I finally smash your teeth off your face.”

His smirk only deepened, the corners of his lips curling with maddening ease. He leaned forward slightly, as though letting you in on a secret, his piercing gaze alight with mock amusement. “Darling,” he purred, the word drenched in condescension. “You wound me. This isn’t smugness—it’s confidence. Surely you can make the distinction.” He paused, letting his eyes flick lazily over you, every movement of his a calculated provocation. “But do continue—it’s delightful to watch you burn yourself alive while trying to best me. Your delicious little outbursts… they’re the highlight of my day.”

That was it. The dam broke.

With a sharp stomp, your foot struck the ground, the sound reverberating like a gunshot. The vibrations rippled through the gym, and the barbell lying nearby quivered before sliding toward you with an almost supernatural pull. Your hand snapped out, catching it mid-slide, your rage fueling the motion as you hurled it at him with all the strength you could muster.

For the briefest moment, Loki’s eyes widened, betraying the slightest flicker of surprise. He merely stepped aside, the barbell flying past him and clattering noisily to the ground. He turned his head to watch it roll, then looked back at you, his smirk firmly intact. If anything, it had grown.

“Temper, temper,” he chided, his voice a silken reprimand that only stoked the fire burning inside you. “Must you always resort to such dramatics? I thought we were past breaking walls after yesterday. Though I must admit, it’s terribly endearing.” He straightened, brushing invisible dust off his sleeve, his expression unbothered save for the glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. 

His infuriatingly calm demeanor added fuel to the fire blazing within you. You lunged at him without hesitation, your gaze fixed on the one target of his smug, condescending expression. But, as usual, Loki was faster. He avoided you with uncanny accuracy, his motions a dance of seamless escape.

Your momentum propelled you forward, and your foot caught the edge of the mat beneath you. Gravity took over, and your heart lurched as you stumbled. Before you could reach the ground, a pair of powerful hands seized your waist, keeping you steady.

Loki's touch seared against your skin, even through the thin fabric of your tank top, and the proximity jarred your senses. His grip was solid yet oddly soft, as if he hadn't yet decided whether to save you or let you fall. But as he adjusted his grip, something caught—the hem of your tank top, snagged in his fingers.

The sound of tearing fabric cut through the silence like a knife. In an instant, you were on your knees, skidding to a halt on the floor, the cool air brushing against your skin where your tank top had once been. All that remained was your sports bra, leaving you exposed to his gaze.

For a long, weighty moment, the world appeared to come to a halt. You looked down at yourself and then at the ruined strip of fabric hanging from his palm. Heat flooded your face, sending an explosive mix of embarrassment and rage through you. 

Loki stood frozen, his usual poise shaken. His lips parted slightly, and for once, there was no smirk—just wide eyes and something uncharacteristically uncertain flickering across his face.

“I—” he began, his voice oddly hesitant, almost... apologetic. “That wasn’t intentional."

But you weren’t listening. You scrambled to your feet, your cheeks burning as you shoved him hard against the wall. He barely had time to react before his back hit the surface with a dull thud.

"You—!" you spat, your hands gripping his shoulders as you glared up at him. "What the fuck is your problem? Is your ego so fragile that you have to act like a spoiled, overgrown brat just to get my attention?"

His countenance changed in an instant, the flicker of regret in his eyes was replaced with something harsher. His hands raised and gripped your wrists, not to push you away but to keep you there. His emerald gaze locked on yours, the teasing gleam replaced with a smoldering intensity that made your breath catch.

"My ego?" he hissed, his voice low and sharp. "You dare lecture me about ego when you've spent this entire morning pestering me like a petulant child desperate for validation? Tell me, dear, is your righteous fury truly directed at me, or are you simply lashing out because I won’t grovel at your feet like your precious Avengers?"

Your jaw tightened as his words hit their mark, but you refused to flinch. You met his gaze with a venomous glare, your breath faint with fury. "That's fucking rich," you bit out, your voice trembling with anger. "The pot calling the kettle black. You’ve spent the entire month skulking around like a fucking peacock and pushing every button you could find, all because you can’t stand being ignored for one damn second. Newsflash: I am not here to stroke your fragile ego or cater to your every pathetic whim. Grow up, Loki."

"Grow up, you say?" Loki's voice dropped to a silken murmur, laced with derision. "How amusing, coming from someone who stomps around like a resentful little girl when things don’t go her way. If I truly bother you so much, why are you still here, clinging to me with all the conviction of a martyr in a tantrum?"

Your frustration boiled over, and you tried to wrench your wrists free, but his grip held firm. His smile widened—a sharp edge to it now. "Perhaps it’s time we skipped the tiresome little charade of insults," he growled, his voice lower, rougher, and laced with an edge that made your stomach tighten, "and got to something far more... direct."

Before he even had a chance to savor his words, your retaliation was immediate and brutal. You jerked your arm down hard, breaking his grip on your wrist, and swung a quick jab at his smug face. Your punch cut through the air, but he easily sidestepped it, his motions crisper and more precise. His jaw tightened, and the storm in his eyes burned brighter.

You didn't need another invitation. You lunged at him, your attacks faster and more powerful, anger coursing through each hit. But Loki was no longer ducking with ease; he was matching your aggressiveness with equal vigor, his motions swift and unwavering. His attacks were no longer teasing; they were charged, with his full attention on you, and the air between you crackled with a dangerous tension. Each time your fists collided, it felt like a spark was lit, and with each dodge and counter, his frustration intensified. His jaw tightened, and his eyes burned with a mix of rage and something more primitive. His breathing rate increased, and his poise deteriorated as the struggle progressed.

The struggle began afresh, each of you moving with exactitude and fierceness, demonstrating your resolve to win. The gym became a whirlwind of movement as you traded blows, each swing propelled by your enmity. But Loki was a skilled opponent whose agility and ingenuity made him a frustratingly difficult target.

Your rage rose with each dodge and sneer that crossed his infuriatingly beautiful face. He wasn't just fighting you; he was playing with you, extending the engagement as if it were a game he couldn't lose.

"Stop holding back," he commanded, catching your next strike and bending your arm just enough to make you go closer. His wild and greedy eyes fastened on yours. "Do you think I don't see it? That fire burning inside you? Do you think I don't feel it every damned time I challenge you?"

His remarks threw you off, and that split-second hesitation was all he needed. He yanked your arm, dragging you forward and twisting your body against his. In one seamless action, he reversed your speed and pushed you back onto one of the exercise benches. The breath left your lungs as your back impacted the hard surface, and before you could react, he was on you. 

"Yield," he ordered, his face mere inches from yours.

"No way," you responded harshly, defiance shining in your eyes.

His grip tightened slightly to remind you of his strength, and his sheer size intimidated you. His sneer reappeared, somehow darker and more menacing.

"Stubborn little one," he murmured, his tone deceptively sweet yet full of threat. "Always quick to retaliate and keen to defend your position. Tell me—" He drew in closer, his breath warm on your skin, and his voice dropped to a whisper, sending shivers down your spine. "What are you hoping to prove? That you are my equal—my better? Or are you too proud to admit the truth?"

Your chest heaved with each strained breath, and your heart pounded in your ears. "And what truth is that?" You spat, your voice shaking with rage and something you refused to mention.

He tilted his head, his searing emerald eyes meeting yours. "That you crave this," he remarked gently, his voice a velvet caress. "That you desire conflict and chaos because you enjoy the thrill of it. But more than that..." His smirk broadened, and his attitude became almost predatory. "You don't only want to win. You want me to break you. To force you to submit."

Your heart stuttered, heat rushing to your face as his words cut through your defenses. “You’re delusional,” you snapped, struggling against his hold, though the tension in your body betrayed you.

“Am I?” he countered, his tone maddeningly calm. His grip on your wrists didn’t waver, his strength a reminder of how utterly in control he was. “Tell me, then, why do you fight so hard to deny it? To deny me?”

His words sent a fresh surge of anger through you, and you thrashed against him, desperate to escape the weight of his presence. But he held firm, his body pressing closer until the air between you was charged with unspoken tension.

“I don’t want you in the first place, you idiot,” you lied in a hiss, glaring up at him with all the fire and resolve you could muster.

“And yet, here you are, beneath me, fighting a battle you know you cannot win,” he replied, his voice softening but losing none of its intensity. “How long will it take for you to realize that resistance only makes it sweeter?”

The crackling energy between you was almost unbearable now, every inch of space charged with frustration, fury, and something far more dangerous. His grip loosened slightly—not enough to free you, but enough to make you aware of the choice he was offering.

“Yield,” he ordered again, his voice low and hypnotic, his gaze burning into yours. “Submit to me, and I promise you won’t regret it.”

You could feel your pulse hammering in your ears, your chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. His face was so close now, the faint scent of him—something clean and sharp, like the forest after rain—invading your senses. His eyes, once gleaming with mischief, searched yours as though he were trying to unravel your very soul. And for a fleeting moment, you thought you saw hesitation flicker across his face, a crack in the unyielding armor he always wore.

"We both know," he murmured, his voice softer now but no less intense. His tone wasn’t mocking this time; it was raw, vulnerable, almost pleading. "That you’re not angry with me—you’re angry with yourself. Because you hate that I get to you like this."

You clenched your jaw, refusing to let his words sink in. But the way his gaze roamed over your face, lingering on the flush in your cheeks and the way your lips parted with unsteady breaths—it was too much. Your heart betrayed you, fluttering wildly in your chest as though it were answering an unspoken call.

"You don’t know what you’re talking about," you shot back, though your voice lacked its usual bite. It trembled, weak and unconvincing, even to your ears.

Loki’s lips curled into a faint, bittersweet smile. "Don’t I? When I know that feeling all too well." He leaned in ever so slightly, his breath brushing against your skin, igniting a shiver that spread down your spine. His grip on your wrists loosened—not enough to let you go, but enough to let you know he wasn’t trying to hold you there anymore. He was waiting. Watching. And it scared you how much you wanted to close the remaining distance between you.

You swallowed hard, your gaze flickering to his mouth before snapping back up to his eyes. The way he looked at you now—it was almost reverent. Like he was afraid you might disappear if he blinked. That smirk you hated so much was gone, replaced by something fragile, something unspoken that hung heavy in the space between you.

"Don’t do this," you whispered, more to yourself than to him. But you didn’t move. You couldn’t. Your body was frozen, caught in the gravitational pull of his presence. "Don’t make this something it’s not."

Loki’s brow furrowed slightly, his expression softening even further. His thumb ghosted over the inside of your wrist, a featherlight touch that sent a jolt through you. "And what is this, then?" he asked quietly, his voice tinged with something that sounded almost like... fear. "Tell me, so I can stop pretending I don’t feel it too."

The words hit you like a punch to the gut, stealing the breath from your lungs. You opened your mouth to respond, to deny everything another time, but the words wouldn’t come out. Instead, you stared at him, your chest aching with the weight of everything left unsaid. And in that moment, the world around you faded away—no gym, no walls, no barbell lodged in the plaster. Just the two of you, teetering on the edge of something you wouldn’t name.

His gaze flickered to your lips, and you felt yourself leaning in—just a fraction, just enough to bridge the invisible chasm between you. Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the tension pulled taut, every second stretching into an eternity. You could feel the heat radiating from him, the warmth of his breath mingling with yours as the space between you grew impossibly small.

But just as your lips were about to brush his, reality crashed down around you. You turned your head sharply to the side, breaking the moment before it could shatter you entirely. "No," you said hoarsely, your voice cracking under the strain of everything you were feeling. "Get off me. I’m done with this. You win, congratulations—you’ve embarrassed me enough."

Loki’s hands fell away immediately, his expression flickering with something unreadable. For a moment, you thought he might let you leave—that he might let this be the end of it. You pushed yourself up, brushing past him as you tried to steady your trembling hands. But before you could make it more than a few steps, his hand shot out, closing around your arm with surprising gentleness.

"No," he said firmly, his voice low and strained. "Not this time."

You turned to scowl at him, ready to lash out—but before you could say anything or even process the action, he drew you closer and pressed his lips to yours. The force of it took your breath away, and your head reeled from his unexpected strike.

It began tentatively, as if he were testing your resilience. His lips brushed against yours with a gentleness that belied the heat seething beneath the surface. But when you didn't back away—when your body tightened but didn't resist—his restraint crumbled. The kiss intensified, primal and unrestrained, an implicit confession of everything he had been keeping hidden.

It was all there—his fury, rage, and ravenous desire—expressed in the way his mouth pushed against yours, engulfing you whole. His hands encircled your face, fingers weaving into your hair with a tenderness that was almost painful, and his lips crushed into yours with bruising force. He kissed you like a starving man, trying to take what he thought was his, and it left you gasping for oxygen.

You clutched to your rage, desperately looking for the reasons why this was wrong—for the endless excuses to push him away. But every time his lips touched yours or his body drew closer, it weakened your barriers. His scent, intoxicating and unmistakably his, surrounded you, and the warmth of his body burned into yours, grounding you in a way that only made the moment feel more inevitable.

When you finally answered, it wasn't with caution or uncertainty, but with all of the fire that had been growing inside you for weeks. Your fingers worked their way into his hair, tangling and pulling with such force that he groaned into your mouth. The sound shot a shockwave through you, sparking something primordial and irrefutable.

All of the emotions you had tried so hard to suppress—frustration, desire, and an excruciating vulnerability—rose to the surface, spilling out in the manner you kissed him back. It wasn't gentle or forgiving. It was a fight of wills, one neither of you appeared willing to lose, and yet, in that moment, surrender had never felt more inevitable.

His lips moved with an exhilarating blend of dominance and desperation, pressing into yours with such force that every inch of your body vibrated. His grip was firm, not unpleasant, but forceful, drawing you in as if he could swallow you whole. You pushed against his chest, desperate to create distance, but your attempts were futile—he was like stone, and you were nothing more than a passing breeze. Each kiss seemed like an expression of authority, as if he were claiming your every thought and breath. Between the crashing of his lips into yours, you managed to half-heartedly say, "You arrogant piece of—"

Whatever sharp retort you had brewing was swallowed by his lips once again crashing against yours, cutting you off with a force that was as maddening as it was intoxicating. His kiss was fervent, urgent, and relentless, like he was determined to strip every shred of defiance from you.

“Yes, yes, I am,” he murmured against your lips, his voice dripping with smug satisfaction. The mocking lilt of his tone was sharper than the grin you could feel tugging at his mouth, even as his lips pressed against yours with deliberate force. Heat rushed to your face, and you could feel the unmistakable warmth spreading across your cheeks, the betrayal of your body making your embarrassment all the more acute. His hands tightened at your waist, pulling you flush against him, the heat of his body seeping into yours and making your heart pound so loudly you were certain he could feel it through the layers of fabric between you.

The kiss wasn’t tender—it was ferocious, consuming, a raw claim that left no room for subtlety. It made your breath hitch and your stomach flip in a confusing mix of indignation and undeniable, treacherous want. His lips moved against yours with a precision that left you dizzy, and the pressure of his mouth sent sparks of heat racing through your veins.

You shoved at his chest, the warmth of his skin beneath your hands burning like a brand as you tried to push him away. Your breath was uneven, catching in your throat as you tried to summon your voice and push past the dizzying haze he had thrown you into. “You think you can just—”

“Take what I want?” he interrupted smoothly, his voice dark and velvety, curling around you like smoke. The deliberate arrogance in his words sent a jolt of anger through you, but it only added to the fire coursing through your body. He leaned back just enough to look at you, his piercing green eyes locking onto yours, and the sheer intensity of his gaze made your stomach twist.

“I thought we already established that I was hedonistic in nature.” His expression was insufferably smug, the smirk on his lips deepening as he noticed the way your chest rose and fell with each labored breath. You hated how flustered you felt under his gaze, how the heat in your cheeks betrayed your composure. 

Your skin burned with the flush of embarrassment and frustration, your nails digging into his chest as you tried to shove him away again. Before you could form a response, his lips claimed yours once more, harder this time, his teeth grazing your bottom lip in a way that sent a sharp thrill racing down your spine. The heat of his mouth was almost too much, overwhelming in its intensity, and you felt your knees weaken even as you tried to fight against him.

His hands were everywhere—rough, unapologetic, and searing as they roamed up your sides, holding you in place as though daring you to resist him. Each touch left a trail of fire in its wake, and your body betrayed you further with every brush of his fingers. Your heart was hammering in your chest, a wild rhythm that only seemed to match the chaotic pull of his kiss.

“Get off me—” you gasped, your voice trembling as you tried to summon even an ounce of strength to push him away. Your hands pressed against his chest again, your palms tingling from the sheer heat radiating off him.

His response was a low, dark chuckle that vibrated through you, making your face flush even hotter. “Off you?” he repeated mockingly, his voice dripping with sarcasm and maddening amusement. “Mh, of course.” His lips crashed into yours again, stealing your breath with a ferocity that left you spinning, your heart pounding so hard it echoed in your ears.

When he pulled back, his lips brushed against your jaw, leaving a trail of heat across your skin. “But, pet,” he murmured, his voice soft and dangerous. “I can’t help but notice… you haven’t exactly been making much of an effort to stop me.”

The audacity of his words sent another surge of frustration coursing through you, your face burning with a mix of anger and something far more treacherous. “You infuriating—”

“Go on, darling,” he interrupted smoothly, his smirk widening as his hands slid down to grip your hips with maddening confidence. The warmth of his touch seared through the fabric of your clothes, making it impossible to ignore the way your body reacted despite your fury. “Do you know how intoxicating you look when you're like this?”

You clenched your jaw, trying to suppress the wave of heat that rushed through you at his words. Your pulse was erratic, every inch of your skin buzzing with the infuriating, magnetic pull of him. “You’re insufferable,” you hissed, your voice trembling as you glared at him.

“And yet,” he murmured, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, the teasing intimacy of the gesture making your stomach flutter, “you enjoy every single second of it.”

Your hands fisted into the confines of his naked chest, your cheeks burning hotter as you realized you didn’t have a retort, couldn’t form the words to push him back. But before you could dwell on it, he kissed you again, his mouth moving against yours with a devastating mix of skill and dominance. His tongue swept into your mouth, a bold, possessive motion that left you gasping, your head spinning as every coherent thought scattered like ash.

“Don’t stop now,” he whispered against your lips when you finally managed to pull back, his voice low and intoxicating as his hands traced slow, torturous patterns along your back. “Tell me how much you hate this. Tell me how much you hate me.”

Your breath hitched, the heat in your face now searing as you tried to summon a response. “You—”

“Yes, yes, I’m a bastard, impossible, utterly intolerable,” he concluded, his voice laced with mocking amusement as his lips trailed down the column of your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, sending a shiver racing down your spine, and you hated the way your body leaned into him despite your anger.

“You—”

“Keep going,” he urged, his voice a silken taunt as his hands slid lower, his touch rough and deliberate. “I can take it.”

You hated him. You despised the way his words wrapped around you like a vice, turning your rage into something deeper, more frightening. You loathed the way his hands felt so nice against your flesh and how your body betrayed you by leaning into him when you should've moved away.

But then his lips grabbed yours again, in a slow and devastating manner that you could not resist, and every ounce of rage, every carefully built wall, shattered beneath the wildfire he had started, leaving only the heat and mayhem he sparked within you.

Each kiss was a war, each touch a challenge you couldn't win, and when he eventually pulled back, his lips swollen and his eyes flaming with triumph, you knew with a mix of umbrage and exhilaration that you were utterly undone.

Loki’s hands steadied you instantly, strong and sure, as though he sensed you were teetering on the edge of losing control. His grip tightened at your hips, grounding you with an infuriating ease that only he could manage. His lips ghosted over your ear as he leaned closer, his voice dripping with mock concern.

“Are you quite finished throwing your tantrum, sweet thing?” He purred, his tone both soothing and maddeningly condescending.

Your breath hitched, and you opened your mouth to snap back at him, but the words caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to retort, but the words tangled in your throat. “I—You think—” You stumbled over your indignation, frustration bubbling up as you tried to form a coherent insult. 

You hated how your voice wavered and how the overwhelming sensations he drew out of you made it impossible to sound as sharp as you wanted. “You conceited, pompous bastard,” you finally stammered, the insult tumbling out far less venomous than you’d intended.

He chuckled low and rich, the sound vibrating through you. “Hm,” he mused, tilting his head as though deep in thought. “I thought as much.” That infuriating, shit-eating grin widened, and before you could fire back another insult, his lips descended to your neck, and every coherent thought you had dissolved in an instant. 

His mouth was warm, his breath hot against your skin as he pressed slow, deliberate kisses along the curve of your neck. Each kiss seemed designed to unravel you further, his lips moving with calculated precision as if he were taking his time savoring your reaction.

“Loki, don’t—” You managed to gasp, your hands bracing against his chest, though your push lacked conviction.

“Don’t?” He echoed mockingly, his teeth grazing your skin in a way that sent a shiver racing down your spine. “Don’t what, darling? Don’t mark what’s mine?”

Your breath hitched again, and your heart thudded painfully in your chest. “I’m not—”

“Not what?” he cut in once again, his lips curling into a wicked smile against your neck. “Not mine?” His voice was a silken taunt, each word dragging across your senses as his mouth continued its relentless assault. “I hope you weren’t really planning to utter such lies.”

Hot, open-mouthed kisses trailed down your skin, each one igniting a fire that made it hard to focus on anything but the pleasure he was drawing from you. His teeth grazed your pulse point, a sharp contrast to the warmth of his mouth, and a moan escaped your lips before you could stop it. The sound seemed to encourage him, and he continued his assault, leaving marks that would serve as reminders of his claim on you. 

“Stop it,” you hissed, though the tremor in your voice betrayed you.

“Stop?” he repeated, amusement lacing his tone as he pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he studied the flush in your cheeks and the way your lips parted as you tried to catch your breath. “Tell me you’re not enjoying this far too much to mean that.”

You glared at him, desperate to reclaim even a shred of control, but the smirk tugging at his lips only deepened as he leaned back in, his lips finding the hollow of your throat. He pressed a lingering kiss there, his tongue teasing your skin before his teeth followed, and you couldn’t stop the soft sound that escaped you.

“That’s what I thought,” he murmured against your neck, his voice a low growl that sent another wave of heat coursing through you. With that, he shifted slightly, positioning you perfectly in his lap. The heat between you was undeniable, and as he began to work his fingers beneath your waistband, you realized you were on the precipice of surrender. 

Loki’s fingers slid beneath your waistband, his touch sparking a fire within you, sending a jolt of heat straight through your veins. “Just give in,” he urged, his breath warm against your skin, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, teasing the distance with maddening slowness, never quite allowing the connection you craved. “You know you want to.”

Your pulse quickened, your heart hammering as he shifted you in his lap, guiding you to press against his thigh. The warmth radiating from him was nearly unbearable, and your breath faltered as the intensity of it suffocated you. Without thinking, your body instinctively moved, grinding against him, eliciting a low, almost painful hiss from his lips at the contact.

“Look at you,” he crooned, his voice laced with a dark, sultry edge that made your spine tingle. “So eager, yet so defiant. Why fight it?” His hands seized your hips, his grip unyielding, forcing your movements with a possessive strength that left no room for dissent. “You’re reveling in this far too much to deny it.”

Your gaze seethed with defiance, your mind struggling to maintain its composure beneath the weight of the pleasure clouding your senses. “I’m not—”

“Not begging for more? Because it certainly feels like you are.” With a sudden, deliberate motion, he pressed you harder against his thigh, the friction pushing you nearer the edge, sending a flood of pleasure crashing through you like an unstoppable wave. Heat gathered in your core, and you fought to suppress the moan building in your throat, your teeth sinking into your lip. But your resolve was weak, crumbling with every movement as you ground down again, feeling the unmistakable bulge beneath you.

“See?” he whispered, his voice thick with raw lust. “You can’t resist.” His eyes, darkened with hunger, bore into yours, and his lips curled into a satisfied smirk. “Admit it. You’re mine.”

“Fuck you,” you managed to rasp through the haze of desire clouding your thoughts, your nails digging into the taut, bare skin of his shoulders in search of something to hold onto.

A cruel laugh rumbled in his chest, and he leaned in, his lips finding the sensitive curve of your neck, his teeth grazing your skin with an almost brutal tenderness. The sharp sting of his bite left a mark, a claim that would undoubtedly linger. “In an instant, darling,” he promised against your pulse, his voice thick with wicked amusement.

With a swift motion, he reached for your sports bra, expertly unclasping it and tossing it aside as if it were inconsequential. “Now, let’s see if you can behave,” he murmured, his gaze ravenously consuming you as his hands roamed freely over your exposed skin, igniting every nerve ending in their wake.

“Loki!” You gasped, feeling both exposed and vulnerable, yet exhilarated by his unyielding attention.

“Such a beautiful sight,” he breathed, his fingers trailing down your sides, teasingly slow. “You should be thanking me for this opportunity.”

As he urged you to grind harder against his thigh, the tension coiled tighter within you, like a spring ready to snap. His lips found your breasts, leaving a trail of bite marks as he savored every inch of you. “You’re going to be my good girl, aren’t you? Just let go,” he coaxed, his voice smooth like silk yet laced with a commanding undertone.

The pleasure began to overtake you, and with each movement, your anger ebbed away, replaced by an intoxicating mix of desire and frustration. You wanted to resist, to reclaim your defiance, but it slipped through your fingers like grains of sand.

You bit back another retort, but it faltered on your lips as he pushed you closer to the precipice, the sweet friction against his thigh sending you spiraling. “Come on, darling, let me hear you admit it,” he urged, his fingers digging into your hips, anchoring you to him as you lost yourself in the rhythm.

With every grinding motion, he intensified the sensations coursing through you, his breath hot against your skin. “That’s it. Just like that,” he whispered, his tone both sultry and commanding. “Feel how much you crave this.”

As the lingering tremors of your release slowly began to fade, your body quivered, the aftershocks of the overwhelming pleasure still coursing through you. Each tremble seemed to ignite a spark deep within, the reverberations of desire echoing in every inch of your skin. Your mind, once sharp and defiant, now felt hazy and disoriented, like a fog had settled over your thoughts. Every breath you drew was a laborious effort, slow and uneven, as though each inhale was a battle. The fortress you’d painstakingly constructed around yourself had crumbled, completely undone by the weight of your surrender.

Loki observed it all, his gaze darkening with satisfaction, an almost predatory pleasure gleaming in his eyes. His lips curled into a self-satisfied smirk as he took in the slow unraveling of your resistance. He hummed a low, approving sound, the vibrations of it reverberating through the space between you, sending a ripple of shivers across your skin. “There it is,” he whispered, his voice a velvety murmur that held a trace of something far more tender. “So well done, pet. You come so beautifully. Let it wash over you... Feel it.”

The world outside seemed to blur, the edges of reality dissolving until only he remained, his presence enveloping you like an inescapable fog. You struggled to regain your breath, your body still quivering in the aftermath, and as the final whispers of pleasure ebbed away, your thoughts slowly began to clear. And in that clarity, only one question emerged from the haze.

“Why?” The word left your lips before you could stop it, fragile and uncertain, hanging in the air between you like a whisper in the dark. “Why did you do all of this?” Confusion twisted through you as you sought to understand his motives—why he’d driven you to this point, leaving you trembling, vulnerable, and exposed.

Loki's gaze softened, and his intensity subsided for a moment. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your skin as he looked down at you, the play of light in his eyes reflecting a dangerous, intoxicating satisfaction. His smile was slow and deliberate, curling at the corners of his mouth with a satisfaction that alluded to something much darker. "Why?" he asked with a gentle pretense, his voice like smooth honey, taunting but also laced with something more. “Is it really so difficult to grasp?”

His brow quirked, a glint of devilish amusement flashing in his eyes as his fingers traced slow, possessive patterns across your skin, his touch leaving a trail of warmth behind. The way you shuddered at his touch seemed to delight him, as if your vulnerability were a prize only he could claim. “It’s because I don’t share,” he continued, his voice taking on a darker tone, thick with possessiveness. “I can’t stand the thought of others looking at you... wanting you. You’re mine, darling. Only mine.”

He moved beneath you, his hands tightening around your hips with a possessive force that sent shivers of submission through you. He drew you closer, his body hard and unyielding against yours, as if he were marking you in the most intimate way possible. His face loomed over you, his eyes penetrating, dark and intense, as if reading your soul. “I can’t bear the thought of anyone else touching you... of anyone else claiming what belongs to me.” His lips brushed against your temple in a soft, lingering kiss, and the words that followed were barely a whisper but full of danger. 

“And if you must know, I would do it again a thousand times over, just to see that look on your face.” His hands, firm and unwavering, held you as though you were a precious treasure, a fragile thing meant only for him. In that moment, his words sank deep within you, causing your heart to race again, each beat a reminder of his power over you. Loki was claiming more than just your body—he was claiming every aspect of you, from your desires to your thoughts, your very essence. He was claiming your soul, and with each passing second, you realized there was nowhere else you wanted to be than in his arms, surrounded by the intoxicating pull of his dominance.

He leaned in, his breath grazing your ear, the intimacy too intense, too overwhelming. “You’ve been quite the handful, haven’t you?” His voice was silky, but there was an unmistakable edge to it, a calm before the storm. “Your defiance, your little acts of rebellion… amusing, certainly. But now, I think you’ve earned yourself a well-deserved punishment.”

You felt a tremor come over you as you heard the words, but you refused to cower. Your heart rate quickened, and the fire in your chest flared, anger combining with the heat of the moment. “That wall you carelessly dented?” His voice dropped low, dangerously calm. “I’ve already fixed it. I don't care to repeat myself, so I think I’ll find another way to make you see the error of your ways.”

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words pressing against you while Loki's grip on you tightened, and you felt him lower your leggings, removing your underwear and setting them aside. The cool air in the room brushed against your exposed skin, causing you to shiver as much as his fingers did, trailing softly along your inner thighs, teasing you. Then, with maddening slowness, his fingers found their mark, and he began to stroke your clit in a steady rhythm. Your breath hitched in your throat, and you couldn't help but let out a soft gasp at the contact.

"Wait, Loki, I’m—” you began, your voice shaking but steady, trying to fight the way his touch made your body respond. You tried to pull away, but it was too late—his hold was firm, guiding you exactly where he wanted you.

“Sensitive?” he interjected, his chuckle dark and mocking. “I know, darling. That’s the point. You’ve always liked to test your limits, haven’t you? Pushing yourself at that absurd sanctuary of yours.” His eyes gleamed dangerously. “Well, now I’ll test your endurance, and see how well you fare.”

You felt a flush creep up your neck at his words, your heart thumping harder in your chest. Despite the vulnerability creeping over you, a flash of irritation flickered within you, and you lifted your chin slightly, meeting his gaze with a flicker of defiance. “I’m not some… toy for you to play with,” you snapped, though your breath was shaky, betraying your body’s response to him.

Loki’s eyes darkened with something much more possessive, almost predatory. “Of course not, you’re my pet,” he purred, his fingers still relentless, pressing you deeper into him. “You’re mine to test, to push, to bend to my will.”

His fingers continued to move with slow precision, each touch deliberate, sending waves of heat through your overstimulated skin. You bit down on your lip, your chest rising and falling in quick breaths, your hands curling against his shoulders, trying to find some control. You lowered your head in frustration, your forehead resting against the marks you had left on his skin earlier. His fingers never stopped, each motion calculated and designed to remind you of just who had control here.

With every touch, you could feel yourself growing more and more sensitive, your body responding involuntarily to his skillful touch. It was as if he knew exactly how to push your buttons and how to manipulate your body to his will. And despite yourself, you couldn't help but let out a soft moan, your body begging for more.

Loki's laughter was low and dark, full of satisfaction. "That's it," he whispered in your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "Let go. Give in to the sensation. You know you want to."

You wanted to resist, to fight against him, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. Your body was betraying you, responding to his touch in ways you couldn't control. You felt yourself getting closer and closer to the edge, your body trembling with need.

"Loki, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. You didn't know what you were asking for, but you knew you needed something.

His fingers stilled, the sudden absence a stark contrast to the overwhelming sensations that had just been coursing through you. The heat that had been building within you seemed to retract, leaving a hollow ache in its wake. A frustrated whimper escaped your lips—a sound that surprised even you. Your hands tightened on his shoulders, unconsciously seeking to bring back the exquisite torture, the delicious torment he had so skillfully inflicted.

"Loki," you insistantly repeated in a whine, the word now a plea laced with a desperation you hadn't intended to reveal. You lifted your head, eyes wide and pleading, searching his dark gaze for understanding, though you knew, deep down, he understood far more than you ever wanted him to.

His expression was unreadable, a mask of cool amusement playing on his lips. "Please what, darling?" he purred, his voice a silken whisper that both enticed and unnerved. He tilted his head, a challenge in his eyes. "Beg me for what you want."

The silence stretched between you, heavy and potent. You knew what he wanted. He wanted you to break, to crumble beneath his touch, to admit the weakness he so clearly enjoyed. It was a game he reveled in, and you were caught firmly in his web. You had been prepared for punishment, for a battle of wills, but the exquisite pleasure, the sheer intensity of what he had been doing, had left you utterly vulnerable.

Your hesitation was palpable, your dignity clashing with the urgent demands of your body. Each breath came in ragged gasps, and the lack of his touch felt almost unbearable. He observed you with a gleam of victory in his eyes, a silent victor savoring his moment.

"You are supposed to be punished, pet," he finally spoke, his voice a low, menacing rumble. His gaze swept over you, pausing at the blush on your cheeks, the rapid ascent and descent of your chest, and the instinctive shift of your hips toward him. "Moments ago, you were so responsive, so eager. You exposed your vulnerability so swiftly."

He chuckled, his mirth evident. "If you want more, show me just how much you crave it," he commanded, his tone authoritative. "Ride my fingers, sweet thing. Prove how resilient you truly are."

For a moment, you wavered, uncertain of your next move. But your body’s yearning overpowered your doubt, and you began to move your hips against his fingers, pressing down to find the friction and sensation you yearned for. You lifted and lowered your hips, gasping as his firm digits slipped inside you. The wetness and readiness made the slight stretch both intense and delightful. Feeling more confident, you moved your hips in a rolling motion, taking him deeper.

Loki’s smile widened as he watched, his eyes darkening with desire at the sight of you riding his fingers. "That’s it, pet," he encouraged, his voice brimming with satisfaction. "Just like that. Show me how much you yearn for this."

After weeks of being teased, taunted, and pushed to the brink of madness, you felt yourself finally surrendering, utterly lost in the pleasure. It was as if every nerve in your body had been strung tight, coiled with need and frustration, until now, when Loki’s touch unraveled you completely. Your thoughts, once sharp and defiant, were reduced to a foggy haze as waves of ecstasy crashed over you, each one more overwhelming than the last. The build-up, the anticipation—it was all worth it. Every tormenting moment led to this, and now, with him, there was nothing but release. Your body responded to him instinctively, desperate for more, drowning in a sea of bliss that left no room for resistance. You were lost to it, to him, to the intoxicating pleasure that had been so cruelly withheld for so long.

You moaned, your movements becoming more frantic as his provocative words filled your ears. "Fuck, you’re so tight," he groaned, his fingers curling inside you. "I bet you’re imagining this is my cock, stretching you open, filling you so perfectly."

The vivid imagery his words painted sent a surge of heat to your core, and you cried out, your inner muscles tightening around his fingers. "Mmh, yes," you babbled, "M’gonna kill you—oh, Loki—want you to take me."

"Oh, I will take you, indeed," he growled, his fingers thrusting more forcefully. "I’ll take you so hard you’ll forget your name. But first, you’re going to come all over my fingers, just like the eager little thing you are. Drench them, show me how sorry you are."

The combination of his words and the relentless thrusting of his fingers pushed you to the brink. You came with a silent scream, your body convulsing as waves of pleasure crashed over you. Loki continued to move through your orgasm, prolonging the ecstasy until you collapsed against his chest, utterly spent. The intensity left you feeling weightless, as if you were floating on a euphoric cloud. Your mind was blissfully empty, thoughts hazy and disjointed. All you could focus on was the pleasing buzz coursing through your veins, the residual heat between your thighs, and Loki's strong arms wrapped around you.For a few moments, there was only the sound of your slowing heartbeats and Loki's slightly elevated breathing as he held you close.

His fingers stirred within your sensitive folds, and you jolted at the sudden stimulation, a whimper escaping your lips. "Too much, too much," you protested weakly, but it was a token objection at best. Your body felt electrified, every nerve-ending raw and overwrought.

"Just a little more," Loki soothed, and you keened, moving your hips as much as your sated body would allow. The bench beneath you was rapidly growing damp, and you could feel a fresh surge of arousal building despite your recent release.

"Look at you, still desperate for it," he chuckled darkly, rubbing his thumb against your swollen clit. "Such a greedy little thing. I think you've earned another reward, pet."

His ministrations intensified, and you found yourself climbing towards another peak entirely too soon. "Please, please, fuck," you whined, unsure if you were begging for more or for mercy. The stimulation was almost too intense, pushing you towards the edge again. He worked you expertly, no longer teasing but fully focused on wringing every last drop of pleasure from you.

"So responsive," he commented appreciatively, urging you on with filthy encouragement. Your hips rocked of their own accord, meeting the thrusts of his fingers. "Come for me again. Show me how well you've learned your place."

The coil within you tightened, tighter and tighter until it finally snapped. Your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave, and you cried out sharply, your inner muscles clenching viciously around Loki's fingers. A gush of liquid heat flooded his hand and soaked through his trousers where you straddled his lap, dripping onto the bench below. The sensation was so intense it bordered on painful, whiting out your vision as you shook and shuddered through it.

Finally, you collapsed against him, utterly spent and dazed. Loki withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth. Maintaining eye contact, he licked them clean of your essence, his gaze smoldering. "Exquisite," he hummed, savoring your taste. "I knew you'd be delectable. Don't think we're done, sweet one. That was merely the beginning."

You could only whimper in response, your body still trembling with aftershocks. You were sure Loki would make good on his promise, bringing you to peak after peak as he had his wicked way with you, until you were a boneless, oversensitive puddle. He'd take you thoroughly, claiming you in every way imaginable, pushing your boundaries and wringing out every last drop of pleasure before finally allowing you a moment's respite.

Loki ran his fingers lightly down your spine, making you shiver and whimper at the hypersensitive touch. "Breathe, sweet girl, breathe," he murmured soothingly. "Let it all go, let yourself feel every aftershock."

⠀

⠀

As the aftermath of your third release rippled through you, you lay sprawled against Loki, still buzzing in the wake of the overwhelming sensations. He, on the other hand, appeared perfectly composed, with the exception of slightly ragged breaths—his eyes gleaming with that familiar, mischievous glint as he watched you recover, his fingers tracing absent patterns along your skin.

"Mind you," he began, his voice low and smooth, the slightest chuckle hinting at the amusement dancing behind his words. "I’ve heard some rather... curious things about the female body. And considering how often you frequent this ridiculous section, I couldn’t help but recall an interesting tidbit I came across not long ago."

You raised an eyebrow, your breathing still unsteady as you managed a tired glance at him, your voice weak but laced with a hint of defiance. "What now?"

He smirked, clearly enjoying the effect his words were having on you. "Ah, nothing too extraordinary. Just a small fact about a certain... fluid that the female body produces.” He scooped some of your combined essences from where they trickled down your thigh. He brought his fingers to his lips, maintaining eye contact as he licked them clean with a lingering purr. “Ever heard of it, darling?" 

You narrowed your eyes, the heat of your previous high still lingering in your chest as your mind slowly returned to focus. "What are you getting at, Loki?"

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as his fingers began to caress your side, bringing another shiver to your already overstimulated body. "Well," he continued, his voice dark and teasing, "it seems there's a certain substance in that fluid that shares some similarities with... the things you consume at the gym. Creatine, for instance.”

You blinked, your lips parting in surprise at his insinuation. The exhaustion from your highs didn't quell the stirring of your mind—nor the slight flush creeping up your neck as you caught onto his meaning.

"Are you suggesting..." you started, your voice tinged with disbelief.

Loki chuckled softly, eyes gleaming. "Oh, darling, I merely thought you might like to share a bit of what you regularly consume. Not that I need it, of course." He gave you a teasing look, his lips quirking into that devilish grin. “But I'd gladly go down for a taste any time. All day long if you'd like. Or would you rather I bend you over and show you the depths of my stamina, pretty pet? Take you apart on my cock until you're thoroughly wrecked and dripping with both our spend? Mmh, so many delightful ways to sully you."

He nipped at your earlobe. "So what shall it be, pet? Shall I feast on your pretty cunt or fuck you senseless? Or perhaps..." His hand drifted teasingly between your thighs, collecting more of your slick. He brought the coated fingers to your lips. "Both? Knowing what an insatiable little thing you are, I suspect you want it all."

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson, the tender remnants of pleasure still humming beneath your skin, making you all the more flustered as the dizziness of Loki’s teasing lingered. Each breath you took felt shallow, almost unsteady, and your body, still too sensitive, seemed to vibrate with a heightened awareness of him. You blinked up at him, your mind reeling, trying to push away the wave of heat that had gathered in your chest. But even as you tried to regain some composure, the words escaped you, weak and unsteady. "You're a heathen," you managed, your voice a breathless rasp, the remnants of his touch still pulsing through you.

Loki’s grin deepened, the corners of his mouth curling with dark satisfaction. His gaze flickered with amusement as he ran his tongue across his lips in a deliberate, almost languid motion. "Perhaps, but isn’t that just the way you like it?" His voice purred in your ear, smooth and velvety, tinged with a teasing edge. His hands began to shift, moving with slow intent, preparing to follow through on his words. But just as he was about to act, something in his expression shifted—a sudden, almost imperceptible change. The playful light in his eyes dimmed, replaced by something far more intense, more focused.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, your voice breathy and thick with confusion as you struggled to make sense of the sudden shift in his demeanor.

Loki abruptly moved with startling speed, his hands gripping you firmly and lifting you effortlessly. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, your body pressing flush against his, the closeness exacerbating the heat and tension between you. The world around you spun in an instant, and the disorienting sensation of teleportation swept you away. The familiar surroundings vanished, leaving behind the sterile, strangely fragrant air of a men's locker room—fresh towels, wood, and the space's cool, musky scent filling your senses.

"What’s going on?" You gasped, still trying to orient yourself as the confusion clawed at you. Your heart raced in your chest, still fluttering from the previous onslaught of pleasure. 

"You’ll find out soon enough," Loki replied, his voice hardening, no trace of humor left. It was almost as though he were impatient with your questions, his tone clipped and direct.

You scowled at the sudden shift in energy and pushed against his chest with an exasperated huff. "You could have at least warned me!" You grumbled, smacking his chest lightly, but your action only seemed to amuse him further, his lips curling into an unreadable smile. "Where are we?"

Loki’s gaze darkened just a fraction, a subtle glint in his eyes as his mood shifted again. "Careful, darling," he warned with a touch of mockery, his voice laced with a dangerous edge. "I wouldn’t want you to lose your balance..."

Before you could respond, the god shifted his weight, his hands loosening just enough to make you tilt precariously. Your body slipped dangerously from his grasp, and a startled squeal tore from your lips as panic surged through you. The disorienting sensation of falling sent your arms flailing instinctively, grasping at nothing in a desperate attempt to stabilize yourself.

Effortlessly, Loki caught you at the last possible moment, his grip tightening with practiced ease. His eyes sparkled with mischief as he steadied you, his lips curling into that signature, maddening smirk. “Come now, pet,” he taunted, and a low chuckle vibrated in his chest as he shifted your position, holding you securely once more. “What’s the matter? I thought you might enjoy a little... thrill.”

The sudden movement had brought a rush of delicious friction, making you shudder and gasp out loud. Loki didn't miss the effect, and his smirk turned downright sinful as he teased, "My, my, what a naughty little pet you are. Barely grazing you and you’re already trembling for me again." 

He ground you down deliberately, his hard length stroking your sensitive spots in the most tempting way. "Three times you've found your pleasure, and yet you're still desperate for more, aren't you? Greedy girl."

His voice was a deep, seductive murmur, the words dripping with sinful promise. You could only moan in response, too lost in sensation to form a coherent reply. All you could focus on was the delicious friction of his body rubbing against your swollen, sensitive flesh with each roll of his hips.

With a casual flick of his wrist, he used his magic to make the remaining clothes vanish, leaving nothing between your bodies. "Much better," he purred approvingly, his heated gaze raking over your naked form.

You couldn't help but blush, suddenly self-conscious under his intense scrutiny. His eyes devoured you, drinking in every dip and curve of your body like a man dying of thirst. You resisted the urge to cover yourself, knowing it would be pointless. Instead, you forced yourself to meet his stare, trying to project a confidence you didn't quite feel.

And as yours moved down his chiseled chest and abs, you noticed your cheeks flushing for entirely different reasons. God, he was perfection incarnate. All lean muscle and smooth skin, his body a testament to his otherworldly heritage. You reached out a tentative hand, trailing your fingers along the defined ridges of his stomach. He sucked in a sharp breath at the touch, his muscles clenching under your palm.

"Like what you see, pet?" He caught your chin, tilting your face up to meet his knowing smirk. Slowly, teasingly, he stroked your cheek with his thumb. "You're quite the vision yourself. A body made to drive a god mad with lust…"

You hid your burning face into his neck, nuzzling into him and breathing in his intoxicating scent. Unable to resist, you started peppering his throat with open-mouthed kisses, sucking on his pulse point. He groaned, his head falling back in bliss. The sound emitted from him emboldened you, and you began marking him with hickeys, determined to leave your claim on his skin. He shuddered in response, hips rocking into yours with desperate little thrusts. "You're playing with fire," he warned thickly, though he made no move to stop your ministrations.

Your fingers, originally clasped against the firm skin of his trapezius, wound up into the roots of his hair, the strands soft yet strong under your touch. You allowed yourself to revel in the warmth of his presence for a brief moment, noting the subtle tremors that coursed through his relaxing body beneath your gentle ministrations with a wicked thought. Every movement, every shift of your fingers was purposeful, exploring the sensitive area just beneath his hairline, feeling the heat of his skin radiate in response.

But all of a sudden, Loki's entire demeanor changed. His body tensed and he bristled at your touch, as if you had poured cold water on him. He moved again in long and hurried strides, carrying you swiftly toward one of the shower cabinets. The abruptness of his movement startled you, and you let out a small shout in surprise, hands instinctively clutching at him, fingers digging into the solid curve of his sides as you struggled to steady yourself. "What’s it to you?" You asked, your voice thick with confusion and a hint of frustration, before Loki suddenly spun back around, the quickness of his motion almost making your head spin.

He reached for the showerhead, turning it on with a forceful twist. The sudden jet of water splashed over you, drenching you in a cascade of cold droplets. You couldn’t help the startled exclamation that left your lips as the shock of the—now real—cold water hit your skin, and your body instinctively flinched from the unexpected deluge.

You gasped in shock as the icy liquid splashed over you, the cold sensation cutting through you like a blade. “Really, Loki? This is how you choose to handle things now?” You sputtered, your voice thick with irritation. The water clung to your skin, and you barely registered the chill as your exasperation grew. “We haven’t even finished rearranging the gym, and you’re wasting precious time with this nonsense!”

Before you could pronounce another word, Loki's hand shot up, leaving you breathless, and pressed firmly against your mouth. "Hush," he hissed, the command so sharp and forceful it sent a shiver down your spine. His eyes, intense and unreadable, narrowed as he gazed at you, the glint of something dangerous flashing in his expression. "We’ve got company."

You bit your lip, unable to tear your gaze away as the water dripped off his skin, each droplet catching the light and glistening like liquid pearls. The way it traced the contours of his body, gliding over every inch, was almost unbearably erotic. It was a sight that made your pulse quicken, the temptation to reach out and touch was almost overwhelming. But as you shook your head, trying to snap yourself out of the trance his presence had placed you in, you couldn’t ignore the warmth spreading through you, despite your best efforts to push the thought away.

Your eyes bore into him, brimming with frustration as your words rang out with increasing annoyance. “It’s your fault we’re behind schedule. Your endless antics, your distractions—” You threw your hands up in the air, as if to emphasize your point. “We could have been done by now!”

But Loki, ever the embodiment of calm control, merely leaned back slightly, his gaze unwavering as a wicked glint danced in his eyes. The smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips only deepened, like a cat toying with its prey. His amusement was palpable, and it only made your blood boil more. He cut you off once more in your tirade by swiftly moving his hand, gripping your hips with an iron hold and thrusting into you without so much as a warning. 

Your words died on your lips as a startled gasp escaped you, your nails lodging into their previous place in his skin, your body yielding to his intrusion in a burst of pleasure and pain. You were soaked from the precedent orgasms, but it didn’t feel nearly enough to take him comfortably. The stretch of his thick length filling you sent sparks of raw sensation ricocheting through your nerves and a river of whines and curses flowed out of your mouth. 

"Not so defiant now, are we?" He drawled in your ear, his voice a sinful rasp. "Moan for me, sweet thing. Let me hear what a needy little whore you are for me." His hips snapped against yours, driving into you with brutal force. The tile wall scraped your back as he held you in place, each powerful stroke jolting your body. Your hands scrabbled at his shoulders, torn between pushing him away and pulling him closer. 

The conflicting sensations overwhelmed you—his rough treatment, the cold water still splashing over your skin, the depravity of being taken so publicly. Anyone could round that corner and guess you pinned and split open on his cock, helpless. It seemed your thightening also proved to be too much for the Asgardian, considering the lowly grunts emitting from him at each move.

"Gods above, you’re so fucking tight. Always so fussy," he growled, nipping at your throat hard enough to leave a mark. "Complaining and bossing around as if you don't crave this. Admit it."

One hand hastily found temporary refuge against the shower tiles, against which he sharply tackled you, sending you nearly howling before he slid it between your bodies to circle your clit, the touch searing in intensity. Loki pinched the sensitive bundle of nerves, sending jolts through your core. "Tell me how badly you want it. How desperate you are for my cock."

"Fuck you," you spat, but it was breathless, and you bit your lips to retain another moan as your hips started to meet his thrusts. He was relentless, pummeling into your cunt like it was a personal challenge. The wet slap of flesh echoed obscenely in the cabinet, and your nails rivered down the mount of his back at each meeting.

"Filthy mouth. Keep running it, darling, and I’ll give you something far better to do with it. Though I much prefer the sound of you undone beneath me—such a dirty, desperate slut, getting fucked where anyone could see. Say it." He punctuated each of his words with hard and punishing thrusts, successfully pulling out a scream out of you. "Say you're my dirty little cock sleeve. Say it."

Humiliated tears pricked your eyes but you couldn't deny the intense pleasure coiling hot and low in your belly. He played your body like he had mastered it for years, winding you tighter with every roll of his hips and ruthless touch.

"I—ah, fuck, fuck! Loki, Loki—mmh, I..." You babbled, unable to form a proper sentence as you felt your walls repeatedly flutter around him, so close to the edge.

"Are you going to come like the wanton whore you are, pet? Show me what a depraved little fucktoy you are for me." His fingers worked your clit as he mercilessly pounded into your clenching heat.

You were teetering on the edge, every nerve in your body tingling with anticipation as Loki's unstoppable movements propelled you higher and higher. But just as the tension was about to break, a grating sound pierced the air: a door dragging on the floor as it was pulled open. Loki froze quickly, his sharp inhale the only sound above your ragged gasping. The abrupt halt caused a desperate moan to escape from your lips, your forehead pressing against his as your body trembled from the harsh interruption. His warm breath brushed over your inflamed cheeks, and both of you were frozen in place, chests heaving as the faint echo of the disturbance hung between you like a thick cloud.

Desperation gripped at you, and your hips shifted reflexively, sliding against him in a frantic attempt to pursue the high he had cruelly paused for. But as swiftly as you moved, Loki's solid hands grasped your hips, immobilizing you with relentless force. "Oh, you—" you began, your voice filled with irritation, the insult poised to spill from your lips. But before you could continue, a deep, booming voice resonated across the room, making your blood run cold. Thor. You froze entirely, your wide eyes focusing on Loki's face as his jaw clenched in displeasure. He cocked his head toward the sound, his cheeky grin replaced by a scowl, as if quietly evaluating the risk of being detected.

You pressed your back against the cool, tiled walls of the cramped shower cabinet, the water cascading over you in a rhythmic, steady flow. The silence that enveloped the space felt almost suffocating after the intensity of earlier, the echoes of your heated exchange still lingering in the air. Despite the cold water, your body hummed with unresolved tension, each nerve alive with the memory of the raw desire that had coursed through you moments before. Your gaze narrowed, locking onto Loki, whose expression was far too smug for your liking. His sharp features seemed even more defined in the low, flickering light, an almost predatory gleam dancing in his emerald eyes.

“You’re such a dumbass,” you spat in a harsh whisper, your voice too loud in the confined space, but it felt necessary. “Thor definitely heard us. How could he not? We weren’t exactly quiet!”

Loki's lips curled slightly at the corners, his gaze sharpening as he brought a finger to his mouth in a gesture that screamed mockery. “Silence, darling,” he purred, though there was an underlying tension in his voice, a trace of something darker beneath the usual arrogance. “I’ve cast a spell on you. Every delightful sound you might’ve made is now rendered... inaudible to him. You should be thanking me.”

“Thanking you?” you shot back, incredulity tinging your whisper as you poked a finger firmly into his chest. “We’re hiding in a damn shower because of your brilliant idea to—”

Before you could finish, a heavy footstep echoed through the empty locker room, the unmistakable sound of a boot scraping against the floor. The noise sliced through the air, halting both of you in your tracks. Loki’s jaw clenched in reaction, and before you could say anything more, he pulled you closer, one arm wrapping around your waist protectively.

“Loki?” Thor’s booming voice echoed through the gym, reverberating off the walls and setting your heart hammering in your chest.

Loki cleared his throat with practiced ease, his voice smooth, a mask of indifference slipping effortlessly into place. “I’m here, brother. Must you bellow like a wounded ox?”

The footsteps grew louder, nearing the cabinet, and you felt your pulse spike, your body coiling with anxiety. The tension in the air was palpable, thick enough to cut with a knife.

“Why are you in here?” Thor’s voice was laced with curiosity, though there was an undercurrent of suspicion. “And... why are you alone?”

Thinking quickly, Loki leaned toward the door, his tone shifting to one of feigned irritation. “Because,” he began smoothly, the words rolling off his tongue with practiced ease, “the company I’ve been forced to endure is entirely... unfit to handle my presence. She’s utterly incapable of composure, and I needed a moment of reprieve.”

Your eyes widened, and without thinking, your hand shot up to slap his arm. The sharp sound of your palm meeting his skin echoed in the confined space, making Loki’s head snap toward you in surprise. His gaze, normally filled with confident mischief, was now heavy with a silent warning.

Thor, hearing only Loki’s part of the conversation, paused, a flicker of concern in his voice. “Brother... are you all right?”

Loki sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face in mock exasperation. “Perfectly fine, Thor. Must you make everything sound so dramatic?”

“Perhaps,” Thor replied, his tone softening with genuine sympathy. “But I can’t help but feel some pity for her, having to endure your antics. It was foolish of you to start this little game, Loki. You knew it wasn’t a good idea.”

The air grew thick and heavy with the weight of Thor’s words, and you bit your lip to suppress a scoff. “He’s got a point,” you whispered under your breath, unable to resist the jab.

Loki’s eyes narrowed dangerously, the irises darkening as he turned his head toward you, his voice now a low growl. “I thought I told you to shut up,” he muttered, the words dripping with frustration and a simmering heat. 

Without warning, he pulled you closer to him, and you gasped at the sudden, almost punishing thrust of his hips. You couldn’t help the small whimper that escaped your lips as he controlled the rhythm with possessive intent, mewling at each slow shove made into you. You attempted to move yours again in response, but his hands gripped your hips even tighter, preventing you from properly chasing the sensation.

Loki leaned in closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he muttered under his breath, "You're lucky I know magic, darling," his tone laced with an edge of irritation. "I’ve muted the sound of you for the surroundings, but you still need to be quiet so I can maintain some semblance of normalcy here. Honestly, you’re as insolent as ever." His eyes flashed with barely-contained frustration, a sharp contrast to his usual composure, as he gave you a pointed look, warning you to hold your tongue. 

The smile that spread across your face was inevitable. This little concession of his? It only gave you the perfect idea to be even more of a brat. You leaned closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered just loud enough for him to hear, tightening your vice on him just enough to make him groan. "Maybe I like being a little insolent," you teased, your voice dripping with mischief.

Thor, hearing only Loki’s seemingly pained sound, furrowed his brows in concern. “Are you certain you’re fine? You sound... agitated.”

“Careful. He’s onto you.” The god gave you a warning glare, his lips curling in annoyance, and he was about to retaliate once more to silence you, but Thor's voice boomed again, this time with the wisdom of an older brother.

“Loki,” The blonde began, his tone shifting from concern to a rare, heartfelt sincerity, “I understand why you’re frustrated. But if you wish to court her, there are better ways than to rile her up like this. Annoyance is not an effective courting method, no matter how clever you think yourself for your strategy.”

The tension in the shower cabinet escalated, the air thick with the weight of Thor’s words. Loki’s posture stiffened immediately, his body rigid as he struggled to hide his surprise. You could not keep your mouth from hanging open, your head tilting as you processed what had just been revealed.

“Excuse me?” You scoffed with equal parts of incredulity and amusement.

Thor, completely oblivious to the storm he’d just unleashed, barreled on with the kind of brotherly advice only he could deliver, his voice booming in that way only he could manage. “I thought I made it clear in our previous talk, brother—though, granted, I had to drag it out of you. You’re not exactly being sneaky about it, too. The way you look at her, the way you seem to enjoy making her miserable... everyone sees it. If you just—”

“Thor!” Loki’s voice cracked with a mix of frustration and alarm, the sharp command of his words cutting through the tension like a hot knife.

The silence that followed was thick with disbelief. You blinked up at the raven-haired, your mind reeling as the puzzle pieces finally fit together. A slow, teasing smile spread across your face as realization hit you like a freight train.

“Oh,” you breathed, your voice dripping with amusement. “Oh. So that’s why you’re always so intent on being a pain in my ass.”

Loki’s eyes flashed with a mixture of panic and irritation as he turned to face you, his voice dropping to a dangerous low. “Don’t,” he warned, his lips curling into a thin, controlled line.

But you couldn’t help yourself. “You’ve got a thing for me,” you teased, your grin widening as you soaked in the rare sight of discomfort on his usually composed face. “All this time, all that effort to drive me insane... You’ve been pining.”

“Enough,” Loki snarled, but the faint flush creeping up his sharp cheekbones betrayed him, the evidence of his secret feelings undeniable.

You pulled back just enough, your heart swelling with quiet triumph as you observed Loki’s reaction. It was finally clear—those confusing, gnawing feelings you’d been battling were, in fact, reciprocated. It wasn’t your mind playing games anymore. Loki didn’t harbor any malicious intent toward you; in reality, he’d been concealing something far deeper, something that only served to heighten your sense of victory. The tension between you wasn’t just a fleeting sensation but something more tangible, and you were savoring every second of it.

With that newfound confidence, you couldn’t resist the temptation to push further, to enjoy the power you now held over him. You leaned in, your lips brushing lightly against his ear, your voice dropping to a husky whisper. “So, tell me, Loki... How does it feel to know that I’ve figured you out?”

Your smirk spread across your face as you watched his flushing slowly deepen at each passing second and crept on his neck, a reaction that only invigorated you in your ministrations. You couldn’t help yourself—your lips found that sensitive spot on his neck, pressing a soft bite to it before pulling away with a gentle tug. His sharp inhale sent a ripple of satisfaction through you, knowing you were pushing him to his limits.

The Asgardian groaned under his breath, clearly frustrated by the way you were toying with him. His hand shot out in an almost frantic motion, wrapping around your wrist in a tight grip, trying to halt your relentless teasing. But you weren’t about to give up that easily.

Just as the tension between the two of you seemed to reach its breaking point, Thor’s booming voice pierced the charged air. “Just admit it, brother,” he bellowed with a mixture of exasperation and amusement. “For once, be honest with her. Or at least do something about it.”

Loki's eyes blazed with a storm of annoyance and something much deeper—something he was not ready to divulge. His glance moved briefly from you to his brother, who was waiting outside the cabin, as if looking for an escape. But before he could respond, Thor had turned on his heel and proceeded to walk away, his footsteps thudding in the distance. "By Odin’s beard," Thor said quietly, frustrated. "I should've known you'd be this stubborn."

You couldn't resist the ultimate tease. With a jostling, even predatory grin curving at the corners of your lips, you pushed in closer, your breath warm against his skin. The pause stretched between you two, charged and oppressive, with only the sound of his rapid breath breaking the quiet. It was an intimate game, and you could see he knew it. "You still don't refute it. I win, Loki," you taunted, your words flowing with pleasure. "And to seal it... how about I mark my victory?"

You drew him in, your hands resting on his shoulders as your lips touched the contour of his neck again, pressing them firmly against the warm flesh, taking a slow, purposeful suck, the sensation of his pulse beneath your lips instilling a sense of accomplishment in you. With a fleeting flash of wickedness, your fangs sank into the fragile skin, leaving a mark—a brilliant, scarlet memento of your victory. His sharp, involuntary inhalation was delicious, and the sound just heightened your ecstasy. You could feel the strength flow through you, intoxicated with satisfaction.

The instant the mark was left, you pulled away, watching with relish as Loki’s chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven breaths. His eyes flashed with something sharp—irritation—but beneath it, there was something far deeper, more turbulent. You knew then you had crossed the line, and yet you were far from regretting it.

Before you could draw another breath, Loki's hand sped at you like a flash of lightning. His fingers pressed hard over your lips, suppressing any response before it could occur. "Silence, you nuisance," he rasped, his voice low and filled with barely restrained tension.

Your pulse increased, not from fear but from the palpable rush of adrenaline coursing through you. But before you could gather your thoughts, his other hand moved possessively beneath your thigh and hip, bringing you even closer to him. His hold was startlingly strong—firm and commanding—and his body pressed you into the corner with overpowering ferocity. The heat emanating from him was burning.

You attempted to speak, to resist, but the words died on your lips, muffled beneath his fingers as he kept you silent. His gaze latched on yours with such intensity that it made your chest tighten, the weight of his stare like a storm rising inside his eyes. You could feel the tension in his body, the way his jaw clenched, and the barely contained frustration flowing from him. "I will not tolerate being toyed with, pet." 

His words were clipped and authoritative, his voice razor-sharp, but the fire in his eyes screamed of a very different yearning. His breath came in quick spikes, and despite his pretending poise, the intensity in his stare revealed all. "You cannot tease and tempt, only to leave me wanting. Not anymore."

Cool air kissed your exposed skin and you shivered, torn between the urge to squirm away and arch into his touch. "I want you silent, obedient—just how I like it. You’ll let me have my way, won’t you?" he hushed, his lips brushing your ear. "Mh, yes, you will. I'm going to take what I want from this tight little body, fill you up, and fuck this insolent mouth shut. Perhaps you'll finally learn your place, pet."

He nipped sharply at the shell of your ear before trailing kisses along your jaw and down the column of your throat. His touch left a blaze of heat in its wake and your pulse thundered beneath his lips. Loki's palm cupped your breast, calloused fingers tweaking your nipple and making you effectively scream under his palm, heaving for air.

"Don’t make a sound," he commanded, pinching the sensitive bud. "Or I’ll make sure you regret it."

His hand then slid between your bodies, palming your mound in a possessive and hastened way, making you gasp against his hand. "No need for words, my sweet. I know exactly what you need. So pathetic for me, aren’t you? You love being used, you filthy thing."

He groaned at the visceral grip you exerted on him at his words, hilting himself fully in a deep thrust before slowly pulling back until just the tip remained and slamming in again, resetting into his brutal pace. His thumb hurridly nudged your bud, circling the sensitive bundle of nerves and forcing a choked sound from you. Your back bowed as another powerful moan bubbled up and got caught behind his palm, tears starting to build at the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming sensations.

"Mm, so tight and responsive," Loki purred, moving his fingers steadily. Sweat beaded on his brow from the exertion, hair wild and fanning around him. "Built for my cock and eager to be stuffed full. Gonna fuck you until you can't walk straight and ruin this needy cunt." Loki's fingers dug into your hips harshly enough to bruise as he used the grip to piston in and out of you. His pubic bone ground against your clit with every thrust, stoking the fire building in your core. 

The obscene squelch of your arousal filled the air, punctuated by your muffled cries. Loki set a punishing pace, pulling filthy sounds from your throat as his grip on your thigh tightened, blunt nails biting into your skin, before hauling you down on his length in one brutal thrust.

"Fuck, yes," he groaned, rolling his hips to bury himself even deeper. "Listen to you mewl so sweetly for me. I've created such a perfect cock sleeve."

He plundered your mouth in a filthy kiss, his tongue dominating yours and swallowing your whimpers. Angling his hips, he hit that spot inside that made you see stars. Seeing you recoil so much at the intense pleasure you were experiencing, he set his pace to an even more merciless one, slamming into you with deep, pounding thrusts. The wet slap of skin on skin echoed lewdly through the space. He drove into you with single-minded focus, each stroke hitting that spot inside that rendered you utterly speechless.

"Take it," he snarled, fingers tangling in your hair to wrench your head back. "Take my cock like an obedient little toy."

His teeth sank into your pulse point, marking you and claiming you. His words, filthy and crass, pushed you higher. Loki's grip on you bordered on bruising as he used your body with single-minded focus. Sweat slicked your skin and his cock throbbed inside you, stretching you wide. The pressure built at the base of your spine, coiling tighter and tighter until it snapped.

You came in a squirt and with a broken shout, vision whitening out at the edges as he fucked you through it. Your clenching walls dragged Loki with you, his cock twitching and spilling deep. His rhythm faltered, signaling his impending release. With a throaty moan of your garbled name, he buried himself to the root and painted your insides with thick ropes of seed.

Loki's eyes fluttered shut in bliss but his fingers kept up their sweet torture, wringing out your peak. You clenched around him, whining breathlessly into his palm as ecstasy crashed over the both of you again and again in waves. He collapsed against you, pinning you to the wall with his weight, chest heaving. 

Loki gentled his grip to smooth caresses, soothing the welts on your back and thigh. "There you go," he murmured, nuzzling your throat and planting a flurry of small kisses there. "My good girl. You did so well."

⠀

⠀

The room enveloped you in a cloud of warmth as you gradually regained consciousness, your body heavy and relaxed, draped in the pleasant haze of post-pleasure languor. A gentle weight rested on your chest, the traces of delightful exhaustion hugging you like an embrace. For a long, indulgent moment, everything felt impossibly soft, the lines of reality blurred, and the only thing keeping you in the present was the constant thrum of your pulse, which grounded you in this calm cocoon.

You blinked several times, attempting to dispel the fog that had obscured your vision, but all you saw was a twisted blend of images, like if you had awoken from an enticing dream. The sheets beneath you were pleasantly warm, their comforting heaviness coiled around your limbs, and the familiar aroma of wood, leather, and a distinct, seductive hint of him permeated the air, grounding you in the present.

As your senses gradually sharpened, you felt a gentle caress across your back—his fingers drifting lazily up and down, the motion slow and deliberate. Each stroke of his touch was like a salve, lulling you into deeper relaxation and smoothing away whatever tension had clung to you. It was a calming presence, a reminder of his closeness and concern, an unexpected tenderness that contrasted dramatically with the intensity of what had just occurred between you.

"You're awake," The god's voice shattered the silence, as rich and sweet as it always was, but with an obvious softness. It wasn't his usual mocking tone. His remarks had an almost protective ring to them, and his voice was vulnerable, revealing a part of himself that was rarely seen. "How are you feeling?"

You swallowed, trying to clear your head from the residue of the overwhelming sensations. "A bit... disoriented," you mumbled, your voice scratchy from more than just sleep. You cleared your throat, hoping to dispel the remaining fog in your thoughts. "And fuzzy. But, um, good." Despite the haze on your mind, you managed a little, happy smile, savoring the lingering warmth and contentment that remained in your chest after the tremendous experience.

Loki's low chuckle sent shivers down your spine, a sound that was both soothing and thrilling. "Good girl," he muttered, his voice full of satisfaction and something more. His fingers, warm and steady, moved slowly and soothingly across your skin, sending waves of heat wherever they touched. The way he treated you was almost reverent, in stark contrast to the ferocious, desperate energy that had driven the previous moments. It was as if he was giving you time to recover, giving you a moment of quiet after everything had happened.

You shifted slightly, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, still awash in the softness of the moment. "What about the gym?" you asked, your voice still drowsy from the effects. Your mind was still trying to catch up with the events that had unfolded, unsure of what had happened afterward. Loki’s eyes, though, glimmered with that familiar mischief, but there was no trace of the usual arrogance or playful smugness in his expression. He seemed... softer, less guarded.

"Ah, yes." Loki’s lips curled into a knowing smile, his gaze briefly flicking to the side in that way he had when he was about to reveal something more. "I took care of it. Told the others you weren’t feeling well from the lack of sleep and all that hard work." His fingers slid up your spine with a deliberate slowness, sending a ripple of warmth through your body. "You’re skipping the session for today, love."

The new nickname caught you off guard, warmth flooding your cheeks as a faint blush spread across your face. You let out a faint huff, still enjoying the comfy haze he had left you in. "You really have a way with the others." The remarks were smooth, almost dreamy, as you stared up at him, taken aback by how easily he had maneuvered the situation.

Loki's eyes softened for a minute, and you caught a glimpse of sincerity in his expression—something you rarely saw from him. "What can I say? I'm quite persuasive when I need to be." His voice was light, yet it had an edge to it, a taunting tone that hinted at the mischief he still harbored inside. But behind that, you sensed something more—a gentle compassion that had gradually developed between you two.

You couldn’t help but smile at the unexpected depth of the moment. It was clear now—beneath the arrogance, the teasing, and the endless games, Loki had always been more than the persona he projected. He was letting you see him in a way few others ever did. And for the first time, it felt like you were witnessing a version of Loki that wasn’t built on defense or pride, but one that was simply... normal, almost human if you dared to say.

For what seemed like an eternity, the two of you stood in the gentle calm of the room, the weight of your talk settling like a silent storm in the air between you. Your body was utterly at rest, every muscle relaxed and delightfully satisfied, but your mind was starting to catch up with the whirlwind of events. The tension, yearning, pull, and push all returned, along with a gnawing sense that refused to go away. Something deeper, unresolved, began to claw at your thoughts, compelling you to speak.

You broke the silence with a tentative yet forceful tone. "Loki," you started, the words feeling heavier than you expected. "Why did all of this happen? The competition, the mocking, the... push and pull. Why struggle for unwanted attention when you could have just remained normal? Confess like a regular person and save us both the hassle?"

Loki's lips quirked into a half-hearted smirk, yet there was something about it that indicated the inquiry had struck a chord. He leaned back, his stance comfortable yet guarded, his arms crossed in a defensive gesture as he looked at you. His eyes were piercing, but there was a hint of something else behind them. "Ah, the eternal question," he groaned dramatically, his sarcastic tone concealing a hint of discomfort. "Why indeed? At first, I thought you were really irritating. Dreadfully so. I thought—" He paused, letting out an exaggerated sigh and adopting a mockingly dramatic tone. "I figured taking you down a peg or two would be an excellent way to pass the time. You were just too confident for my liking."

Your brow raised, and a smirk tugged at the corner of your lips, but your gaze was somehow amused and curious. "So, you just wanted to ruin my self-esteem?" You taunted, but a part of you was beginning to sense something deeper underlying his remarks.

Loki grinned grimly, shaking his head, as if dismissing a stupid idea. "It wasn't about damaging it, more like taming it." His gaze shifted to you with a fascinating sparkle. "Or at least, that's what I told myself at the time." His voice softened, the sarcasm still but now infused with vulnerability, an unexpected honesty that cut through his bravado.

"But then, something changed." He paused, his gaze intensifying as he appeared to ruminate on the change that had occurred. "I started to notice things about you. Small things." His statements were calm and thoughtful. "I got more attentive. And, as you heard, it wasn't long until I fell for you. Despite my better judgment."

You stayed silent for a time, allowing the weight of his confession to settle in. The taunting and antagonizing had not been intended to break you down. It was his method of protecting himself, pushing you away to avoid confronting thoughts he didn't know how to address. Finally, your voice became softer and quieter as the realization settled in like a gentle tide. "So, all of it... was just your way of dealing with feelings you didn't want to admit to?"

Loki's eyes shone with a mix of laughter and something far more sincere than you were used to seeing from him. "I suppose I've never been one to handle my emotions well," he replied, his sarcasm still present but tempered with a reluctant honesty that caught you off guard. "It's so much easier to build a game out of it, right? Poking, probing, and playing with rivalries."

You leaned back against the bed, fingers running a gentle path across his chest, a grin curving on your lips as you took in his words. "I think we've both been playing games, Loki," you quietly said, the truth sinking in in an oddly comforting way. "But maybe... just maybe, we've both gotten a little too good at it."

Loki's hand reached up, stroking a stray strand of hair away from your face, his fingertips soft on your skin. He met your stare with an intensity you weren't used to, and for the first time, his comments were free of ridicule and teasing. Simply unvarnished honesty. "Perhaps," he said, his voice faint but steady. "Perhaps, darling, we both need to stop pretending."

As the lingering warmth of the moment enveloped you, your mind began to put things together. You gradually became aware of features that had previously gone unnoticed—the soft sheets underneath you, the familiar aroma of Loki's chamber, the fact that you were no longer in the same spot. Something was wrong, but in the cloud of your bliss, you couldn't pinpoint it until now.

You blinked, furrowing your brow as the truth of your circumstances gradually dawned on you. "Wait a second. Where are we?" you questioned just to get a confirmation, seeming perplexed. It was as if a fog had lifted from your thoughts, and everything seemed a little more... lucid.

Loki's lips twisted into a half-smile, his eyes gleaming with his signature mischief. "We're in my room, darling," he replied nonchalantly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world. "Isn't it comfortable?"

You looked about, your gaze drawn to the familiar walls, the luxurious bed, and the exquisite details. Then you gazed down at yourself and Loki, both in little more than the aftermath of your desire. Your heart skipped a beat, and you couldn't help but exclaim, still in shock, "Our clothes... How did we get here?"

Loki's smile developed into a knowing smirk. "I teleported us, of course," he said with pride in his voice. "I stored our clothes in my dimension pocket to avoid any awkward situations."

The knowledge hit you like a flash of lightning, and before you could stop yourself, you softly slapped his chest, your eyes widening in surprise and delight. "You could've done that from the start?" You lifted an eyebrow, annoyance tinged with laughter. "Instead of risking being caught by the others? Oh my God, you really enjoy the drama, do you?"

Loki's eyes flashed with a familiar playful glimmer as he seized your hand in midair, his grip gentle yet solid. "Now, don't call me in vain. And where's the fun in doing so?" He teased, his voice full of amusement. "I could not resist you, dearest. Watching you squirm and get caught up in our little tryst was far more entertaining."

You removed your hand from his grip, preparing to deliver him another fun slap across the chest. But he was decidedly faster than you expected. He was on top of you in an instant, softly pinning you to the bed. The weight of his body was warm and reassuring, but there was a palpable energy in the air between you. 

Loki's grin faded somewhat, his lips curling up into his distinctive half smile, but his eyes became more intense. He drew in closer, his breath murmuring across your neck, sending thrills down your spine. "You know," he mumbled, his voice falling an octave, tinged with laughter and something deeper. "I do love how you keep me on my toes." He paused, his eyes probing yours with such intensity that the air between you felt thicker and more intimate. For a heartbeat, his expression became serious, as if a ray of weakness burst through the walls he'd carefully placed around himself. "And, as much as I tease..." His lips hovered near your ear, just touching it as he said. "I would not change a single bit of it."

The weight of his words fell on you like a warm blanket, stirring something deep inside. Your chest clenched slightly, not because of discomfort but because you realized this was more than just fun banter. His earnestness hit you harder than you expected, and you struggled to match the vulnerability in his stare. You inhaled deeply and felt your pulse beat steadily under his, your chest rising and falling in time. 

In that short second, the tension between you two shifted, as if all the walls you'd been meticulously erecting came tumbling down in an unsaid acknowledgement. Without thinking, you leaned in, your lips brushing against his in a slow, deliberate kiss that was soft and tender—there was no haste, no urgency, only a delicate desire to close the gap between you. Your lips molded against his with unexpected tenderness, and the kiss was languid, as if savoring every fleeting second.

You wrapped your arms around Loki slowly, almost intuitively, dragging him closer until there was no more space between your bodies. The sensation of his chest on yours, combined with the rhythm of your hearts beating together, intensified the moment. Your cheeks heated, and warmth crept throughout your body as the fuzzy, heady sensation of intimacy rushed over you. Every breath you took appeared to match his, slow and steady, as if time itself had slowed only to allow you to enjoy this connection.

His hands glided down your body with careful slowness, caressing your sides before settling on your exposed waist. The touch sent a bolt of heat through you, and you could feel your muscles relax under his palms. The way he touched you was almost reverent, as if he was remembering the feel of your skin and the warmth of your body on his own. His hands, large and solid, held your waist just enough to draw you closer, a quiet encouragement to press further into him.

The kisses that followed were gentle and languid, exchanged with a calm passion. They weren't hasty or desperate; rather, they were an unspoken discussion, a gentle admission of all you hadn't said. Every brush of his lips on yours felt like a promise, each kiss deeper than the last, as if you were both pouring your entire being, every emotion, into that simple, leisurely exchange.

You could feel everything—his warmth, his kindness, the way he held you so tightly, as if he was terrified you might slip away. And as you kissed him, your emotions spilled out without words. Each kiss, each sweet touch, represented a confession, a surrender to what had always existed between you. The world outside appeared to blur and vanish, leaving only the sound of your breathing, the beat of your hearts, and the soft touch of your lips against each other.

It was the kind of kiss that could convey so much without saying anything. Each slow, deliberate movement of your lips conveyed a secret promise, an unspoken statement of everything you had shared and what was to come. The kiss lingered for so long that it seemed like time had stretched and warped around the two of you.

When you eventually pushed away, the space between you seemed impossibly little. Your foreheads rested together, breath mingling, eyes closed as you both cherished the closeness—the quiet realization that you no longer required words to express the feelings that had developed between you. It was a rare moment of calm in the midst of the insanity that had led you here. In that small, personal place, you both simply basked in the silence, far away from the complete chaos of outside. The loud clang of weights, the grunts and shouts echoing from the gym, the gossip and chatter, and the sterile buzz of the fluorescent lights all felt like they now belonged to a different world—a world far removed from the intimate bubble you had found in each other’s presence.

Loki's voice cut through the peaceful silence that had surrounded the two of you, its lighthearted tone still tinged with that mischievous sparkle. "I recall," he began, the words flowing effortlessly as a mischievous smile flickered across his lips, "that I did mention earlier that I was interested in trying creatine, just like you were."

You raised an eyebrow, a mix of humor and caution in your eyes. "Oh? And how are you going to test it?” Your comments were laced with playful sarcasm, and your head tilted as you observed him.

Loki's eyes darkened briefly with a hint of something deeper before he leaned in just enough to close the gap between you, his voice lowering into a near whisper, laced with an unmistakable teasing. "Well, my love," he purred, his grin expanding into something both menacing and knowing. "I was considering experiencing it, but in a manner more... tailored to my preferences." His eyes gleamed with wicked pleasure, the sensuous undertone of his voice quickening your pulse, the warmth of his words raising a heat to your cheeks.

You couldn't help but laugh, your body quaking slightly at the sound. "You're insatiable," you remarked, rolling your eyes in mock irritation. "At least give me the time to recover. You fucked me to the point of unconsciousness, for God’s sake."

"And for my sake, I need to have you on my tongue and figure out what's so appealing about the substance," he answered snarkily, his voice heavy with intent, low and tempting. "And you, my darling, are the most appealing thing I have ever tasted." His eyes moved over you, maintaining a feverish intensity as he continued. "Believe me when I say that I'm far from the type to turn away from something that keeps pulling me back."

The words wrapped around you like silk, sending shivers through your body and causing your heart to flutter unexpectedly. Without a beat, Loki's grin broadened into something devilishly attractive, and he vanished beneath the blankets. With a dramatic sigh, you fell back into the bed, allowing your head to smash with the pillow as you attempted to conceal the fluttering in your chest. A deep sigh escaped your lips, muffled by the softness of the pillow. "You're ridiculous," you whispered, eyes pressed shut as you tried to cool the heat on your face.

Loki's laughter echoed from beneath the covers, simultaneously reassuring and infuriating, a duality that only he could create. For a minute, you lay motionless, the cadence of his laughter filling the gap between you and the warmth of his voice resting in your consciousness. Despite your displeasure, a sweet, amused smile tugged at the corner of your lips, and you basked in the attention as a whimper escaped you.

⠀

⠀

BONUS:

The following Friday, the Avengers had gathered around the shake counter, the lively hum of chatter filling the air as they nibbled on snacks and leisurely sipped their drinks. It had been a while since they’d all been in one place, and the usual easy camaraderie was in full swing—banter, sarcastic quips, and the occasional jabs exchanged between friends. The familiar energy buzzed around them like static, grounding them in a rare moment of calm amidst the chaos of their lives.

Clint leaned back against the counter, throwing a pretzel stick into his mouth with the kind of casual grace only he could pull off. “Has anyone heard from our favorite power couple lately?” he asked, glancing at Tony with an eyebrow raised. “I mean, seriously, they’ve been off the radar. It’s like they’ve vanished into thin air. Did they go on some kind of 'relationship retreat’ or something? Maybe they’re on a spa vacation, enjoying massages and arguing over who gets the last cucumber slice for their eyes.”

Natasha rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her smirk as she turned toward Steve. “Wait, hold up,” she said, her tone dripping with mock incredulity. “You’re telling me Loki and [Y/N] have gone full stealth mode? What’s the matter? Did they finally have a 'moment’ and decide to go off the grid?”

Bruce, grumbling into his cup, seemed less amused. “I haven’t heard a peep from either of them. Last time they spoke to me, it was one of those ‘personal apologies’ for... well, everything,” he said with a grimace, clearly uncomfortable recalling the exchange. “If they’ve decided to disappear, I can’t say I blame them. That whole thing was... intense.”

Thor, his enthusiasm for shakes unrestrained, paused mid-sip at the mention of Loki. “Ah, well, I did see my brother not too long ago,” he said, his voice rising with the energy of someone sharing a truly remarkable tale. “It was on the day of their punishment. He was showering in the locker room, talking to me, and he mentioned something curious. Something about how Lady [Y/N] couldn’t ‘handle him’ and had ‘fled the scene.’” He paused for dramatic effect. “It was a bit strange, really. He said it with such intensity, like he had just fought a battle... and lost.”

The group fell into a brief silence, all eyes on Thor. “Wait, what?” Sam asked, narrowing his eyes. “Loki... said what now?”

Thor, scratching his chin as though trying to decode the bizarre conversation, recalled, “Well, he said something about her not being able to ‘keep up’ with him and that she had ‘run away’ after a particularly... frustrating session. Something about how she ‘gave up,’ as if... as if she couldn't handle the storm that is Loki.” Thor frowned, clearly baffled. “He seemed... upset. And, well, I couldn’t help but wonder if it wasn’t frustration, but maybe... regret?”

Tony, ever the expert in reading between the lines, exchanged a look with Sam. “Oh, this is rich,” Tony said, his tone laced with an all-knowing grin. “Sounds to me like we’re talking about a little friendly bet that went way past ‘friendly.’ Reindeer Game’s ego must’ve gotten bruised, and now he’s having a ‘moment.’” He leaned in, glancing at the others with mischief gleaming in his eyes. “I’ll let you all figure out the details, but I have no doubt that this is some kind of... interesting conclusion to a very personal wager.”

Sam’s grin widened, his eyes twinkling with the anticipation of what was to come. “Yeah, their little disappearing act? Safe to say, something went down. I’m guessing it got a little more... hands-on than either of them intended.”

Clint raised an eyebrow, clearly entertained. “Wait, wait. We’re seriously going to start speculating about their love life right now? Have you all lost your minds?”

Wanda, who had been silently watching, suddenly leaned in with a devilish grin. “Oh, it’s way too easy not to,” she said, her voice dripping with amusement. “Come on, guys, who do you think won the bet? Who do you think really gave in first?” She glanced between Natasha, Bucky, and Thor, her smile widening. “I’m putting my money on Team [Y/N]. Loki couldn’t handle the heat, and I’m betting he cracked first.”

Bucky shrugged nonchalantly, clearly enjoying the chaos. “Team [Y/N], no question. Loki’s pride is a glass house—it didn’t stand a chance. He probably broke first. I mean, come on. He’s Loki.”

Steve shook his head with a bemused smile tugging at his lips. “I’m not so sure. I think he’s got more... staying power than we give him credit for. I wouldn’t be surprised if she just snapped under the pressure.” He paused for effect, his grin widening. “Loki’s a lot of things, but he’s not easily outdone.”

Clint smirked. “So we’re all just gonna ignore the fact that this was, what, a long time coming? I mean, did anyone not see this coming?”

Tony leaned back, crossing his arms as he regarded the group with a knowing look. “I’m thinking if things went down the way I suspect, the real question is: who’s gonna be the first to fess up and admit they lost?” He raised an eyebrow. “And by the way, if it did go down the way we’re all thinking, I don’t think this was just a one-time thing. You don’t come back for seconds after a loss like that unless something really went down.”

Sam’s eyes gleamed with barely contained amusement. “Yeah, because honestly, if it was just a one-off, they wouldn’t be acting all... mysterious like this. There’s gotta be more to the story, right?”

Thor, ever the literal one, scratched his head, clearly puzzled by the specifics of the conversation. “I still believe my brother was... deeply disturbed by the events. He spoke as if something was very wrong. His words were... peculiar.” Thor furrowed his brow, a genuine concern crossing his face. “Perhaps I misunderstood, but he did seem upset, almost as though he regretted something.”

Bucky chuckled, clearly relishing the chaos around him. “We’ll see, big guy. You might be surprised. Things might not have gone the way you think.”

The gym was a whirlwind of activity, the sound of clanking weights and the occasional grunt reverberating off the walls, creating an atmosphere of focused chaos. In the midst of all this, the group was embroiled in their usual banter about the infamous bet. A debate was unfolding at lightning speed, the team divided and passionate, but then, like a couple of silent, mischievous storms, you and Loki casually entered the fray—synchronized, nonchalant, as though nothing of consequence had occurred moments before.

You and Loki walked into the room in matching gym gear—of course you did. A polished ensemble of sleek black and dark green athletic wear that clung to both of your figures with uncanny precision. His dark cloak, while still evident in the folds of his attire, seemed to blend effortlessly with the modern, athletic aesthetic of your matching outfits. It was almost as if you two had coordinated—though honestly, it felt more like a quiet extension of a bond that had formed through other means, and had yet to be fully explored.

Loki, as effortlessly charming as ever, strolled up to the team with a playful, easy grin plastered on his face. His steps were purposeful, but his confidence was what caught the eye—his hair swept back with practiced grace. He brushed an invisible speck of dust off his shoulder, a picture of casual elegance. “Ah, my favorite, unwanted little band of misfits, all gathered in one place,” he said, his voice oozing with faux warmth and grace.

His eyes flickered toward you, and his smile turned into something more teasing, more dangerous. He stepped closer to your side, never missing a beat. “Forgive me, darling,” he said, reaching out with exaggerated gentleness to kiss your hand. “It’s truly a pleasure to be in such fine company.”

You didn’t flinch as his lips brushed your hand. Instead, you gave him a knowing look, the corners of your lips curling upward as you allowed the kiss. You even gave his fingers a playful squeeze before responding smoothly. “Always a pleasure, my prince,” you said with a tone that was just as cordial, just as cool as his—if not slightly more mischievous.

The team stared at you both, clearly shocked by the fluid, casual nature of it all. Their curiosity was practically radiating, and it didn’t take long for the inevitable question to emerge.

Sam, never one to let something this good slide, leaned forward, his eyebrow raised in that signature way. “Alright, we’ve gotta know—who gave in first?” His voice was laced with amusement, and the grin on his face only deepened as he watched the dynamic between the two of you.

Loki, always one for theatrics, raised an eyebrow as he glanced at you, clearly enjoying this. “Ah, you’re eager to know, aren’t you? Well, darling, please, do tell—who was the first to give in?” His voice was light, playful, and oh-so-seductive, but there was something affectionate behind it.

You didn’t hesitate, a teasing smile tugging at your lips as you shot him a look. “I mean,” you began, your voice cool but dripping with mischief, “he did kiss me first.”

Loki’s eyes widened, his face twisting in mock horror. He sputtered, looking flustered for a split second. “W-What? You—” He shook his head, clearly not prepared for that revelation. “I was merely being—polite,” he stammered, trying to regain control of the situation, though his voice faltered slightly.

The Avengers burst into laughter, clearly enjoying the unexpected twist. Tony, unable to resist, leaned in with a grin that could only be described as mischievous. “Uh-huh, polite? Sure. Polite enough to kiss her on the lips? Interesting choice, big guy.”

Loki’s expression twisted into one of exaggerated disbelief, though he tried to hide his flustered state with a mock-serious tone. “I did not forfeit,” he retorted, arms crossing defensively. “I simply... allowed you the chance to realize you were outmatched. It was a strategic choice.”

The Avengers exchanged glances, clearly struggling to hold back their laughter. “Strategic choice, huh?” Sam snorted, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Come on, dude. Just admit it—you gave in first. Let’s put us all out of our misery.”

Bucky, who had been quietly enjoying the back-and-forth, couldn’t resist. “Team [Y/N] wins,” he said, smirking. “Loki cracked first. Didn’t stand a chance.” He winked at you, clearly proud of how the tables had turned.

Loki, however, wasn’t ready to give up so easily. “Fine,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “If we’re going to be completely honest, then yes... you could say I... yielded. In my own way.” He shot you a mischievous smirk before turning back to the group with an exaggerated bow. “But let it be known, she gave in first as well. I merely responded to her... advances.”

You raised an eyebrow, chuckling softly. “Oh, did I?” you teased, your voice laced with sarcasm. “I must’ve missed that part of the story, Loki.” You winked at him playfully. “But it’s true, we both gave in, and neither of us won the bet.”

The Avengers groaned in unison, clearly exasperated. “Seriously?” Natasha muttered, her voice flat. “You two can’t even make up your minds?”

Clint smirked, his eyes sparkling with humor. “Yeah, you’re both terrible at this. Either you both lost, or you both won. Pick one.”

Thor, confused by all the back-and-forth, raised a hand as if to settle the matter. “This is ridiculous. Why not settle this debate like warriors? A trial of strength or… style in your case, perhaps?” His booming voice carried an earnestness that made everyone pause—until Tony burst out laughing.

“Oh, yeah, because we all want to see them spar or whatever weird Asgardian thing you’re imagining,” Tony quipped, shaking his head. “No thanks, Point Break. Let’s keep it simple: they just need to decide. Right now. No dodging.”

Sam leaned back in his chair, smirking. “You heard the man. You’ve got ten seconds to give us a straight answer, or we’re voting on it ourselves.”

Loki’s expression darkened slightly, his sharp gaze flicking to you as though daring you to speak first. “You can’t seriously expect us to entrust the outcome of this bet to these mortals,” he scoffed, crossing his arms. “They’re biased.”

You rolled your eyes, suppressing a grin. “Biased against you, you mean,” you shot back, earning a round of snickers from the team.

Steve, ever the mediator, held up a hand. “Alright, that’s enough. Let’s make this simple: each of you gets one last chance to argue your side. Short and sweet. Then we’re done. Deal?”

“Deal,” you said instantly, giving Loki a smug look. “Let’s hear it, Loki. Defend your honor.”

Loki straightened, smoothing down his shirt with exaggerated elegance. “Very well. If I must. It’s abundantly clear that I—magnanimous as ever—showed remarkable restraint in allowing her to pursue her affections first.” He paused dramatically, his voice smooth and dripping with mock sincerity. “Her insistence on denying this was, frankly, as adorable as it is predictable.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “Oh, give me a break. If anyone was pursuing anyone, it was you. You’re the one who couldn’t stop making dramatic entrances and throwing around dirty pickup lines like confetti.”

Sam and Tony let out loud, exaggerated ohs, while Clint pretended to fan himself. “Spicy,” he muttered, grinning.

Natasha, smirking, looked between the two of you. “Alright, let’s cut to the chase. Did either of you actually win this bet, or are we stuck with a stalemate forever?”

Before you could answer, Loki leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear. “We both know the answer, darling,” he murmured, his lips twitching into a smirk. “But if you insist on denying it, I suppose I can share the victory. For now.”

You arched an eyebrow, your own smile forming as you replied softly, “Fine by me, as long as you don’t mind losing gracefully.”

The group groaned again as you and Loki finally turned back to them, both of you speaking at once.

“It’s a tie.”

Natasha threw up her hands, walking off with a muttered “Unbelievable.” Tony clapped his hands together. “Well, that was anticlimactic.”

“Not surprising, though,” Sam added, leaning back with a smirk. “I give it two weeks before one of you cracks again and we’re back to this same conversation.”

Loki’s grin was wolfish as he looked at you. “Two weeks? Oh, I give it far less time than that.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly, your competitive streak sparking back to life. “Careful, Loki. That sounds like the start of another bet.”

Steve, ever the responsible leader, clapped his hands loudly, cutting through the laughter and banter. “Alright, enough messing around. Gym time. Everyone, get to training. Now.”

A collective groan echoed through the gym as the Avengers reluctantly began to disperse. Sam muttered something under his breath about slave drivers, Clint whistled as he grabbed his bow, and Wanda rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. Even Thor shrugged and ambled toward the weights, clearly unbothered by the sudden order.

But you and Loki lingered near the entrance, neither of you moving to join the others. His gaze flicked toward you, a sly smile tugging at his lips. “You’re positively ravishing today, darling,” he teased, his voice low and smooth. “Though I’m still waiting for you to admit defeat. Shall I give you another chance?”

You crossed your arms, though the heat creeping up your neck betrayed your composure. “Not happening, Princess. I think you’ve had enough ego boosts for this month.”

Loki chuckled softly, leaning just a fraction closer, his hand brushing lightly against your arm. “Oh, I disagree. Perhaps one more would suffice.” His tone was playful but rich with unspoken promise, his smirk a little too pleased with itself.

Before you could quip back, Tony, halfway across the gym, turned suddenly on his heel and pointed a finger in your direction. “Hey, speaking of the two of you...” His voice carried, immediately drawing everyone’s attention again. “One of the agents made a call the other day. Said they found some liquid on one of the benches after you two ‘fixed’ the gym. Looked like coconut water or something.”

Your face instantly went scarlet, the heat spreading from your cheeks down your neck like wildfire. You opened your mouth to say something, anything, but Loki, ever composed, beat you to it. With an easy grin, he slid an arm around your waist, his presence both steady and infuriatingly smug. “Ah, yes. That would be mine,” he said smoothly, his voice effortlessly cutting through the tension.

“Simply diluted creatine in water. And the best kind.”

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ending notes : I actually counted and the smut part, starting from Loki asking if [Y/N] was done with her tantrum to the end, is give or take 9850 words. LMAO

Also, the creatine part is something my ex actually told me to make advances on me. It's a real thing, look it up. :p

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Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

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dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

angelremnants ©️ 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

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PART ONE.⠀|⠀LAST PART.

[demigod-shenanigans]

The choiceless hope in grief

Summary: Leo Valdez has lived and died for the gods. Their war has shaped his life since he was a baby. With Gaia defeated, he sort of hopes he can finally rest. He has friends and some semblance of home to return to for the first time since he was eight years old. Just this once, he allows himself to hope the good things might stick.

But the gods aren’t done with them just yet, by the time Leo finds his way back, Jason is gone.

This time, Leo decides he’s done just taking the Fates’ bullshit lying down. If getting his best friend back means striking a deal with the gods and venturing into the Underworld… well, it’s probably not even the most reckless thing he’s ever done.

The caveat of said deal? He has to trust Jason will follow him, or his self-doubt will doom them both.

And after the life he’s lived, Leo is so intricately familiar with self-doubt that he could probably trademark the word.

Or: The only possible way for Orpheus to succeed is if he learns to think of himself as a person worth loving.

Word Count for chapter 1: ~5k

Rating: Teen and Up

So! *claps hands together* I’ve been threatening you guys with my Orpheus Eurydice valgrace fic for a while! Technically I wanted to wait to post this until I’m completely done writing the fic, and I mostly intend to stick to that! I’m only posting this now because I have a minor surgery tomorrow and I’d rather be anxious about fic related things than about the surgery in question. So, take this chapter as a preview of sorts, more to come soon-ish but probably not immediately!

A couple of important notes before we start:

-TW for suicidal ideation. It’s less Leo actually wanting to die and more his canon behavior of “I’m doing something extremely reckless that might succeed but if it doesn’t, my death is an acceptable consequence”, paired with general grief related self-loathing, but if you think you’re not in the right headspace to read about that, come back when you are or at least tread carefully. This fic pics up at the end of The Burning Maze, so especially the beginning is pretty heavy on the grief stuff.

-Since ToA is vaguely canon to this fic, Leo and Calypso are technically dating in the beginning, but they don’t really interact positively as a couple (honestly they don’t interact that much in general) and break up pretty early on. Just be aware in advance that they’re still together for a little bit.

-Fic title is from Talk by Hozier which is maybe a painfully obvious pick but it was too perfect for me not to use it.

Chapter 1: Leo and Piper have an extended sleepover

It wasn’t a discussion between Leo and Piper whether or not to go to Jason’s funeral. They came to the decision that they wouldn’t silently—or as silently as one could come to an agreement when all parties involved were sobbing.

Maybe it should have been a discussion. There was a part of Leo that worried he’d regret this later—his refusal to take this chance to say goodbye and let himself grieve.

But Leo remembered his mother’s funeral. Remembered the way his aunt Rosa had looked at him like she knew his mother’s death had been his fault. Leo couldn’t stand the thought of people looking at him like that again.

He also didn’t remember his mother’s funeral bringing him any sense of closure or comfort. He’d stood at her grave, afterwards, just as desperate and afraid and utterly inconsolable as he’d been before the funeral, except it had suddenly felt sickeningly final. The wound it had torn in his soul had kept bleeding for years, and the scars would stay forever. He didn’t need any of Apollo’s shitty oracles to know Jason’s death would be exactly the same.

At this point, Leo was pretty sure his sanity was being held together by a combination of jokes and a truly questionable amount of duct tape.

Beyond all that, though, Camp Jupiter was a battlefield right now. It would continue to be a battlefield for the foreseeable future.

Leo wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go back and help. But one of his best friends was already in a box, and there was no way in hell he’d risk the other.

With how tightly Piper was clinging to him, maybe she was thinking the same thing. 

For all his big talk about dragon escorts, Festus did most of the actual escorting on his own, occasionally torching what Leo hoped were monsters and not random public monuments. Leo, for his part, spent most of the journey crammed into the backseat of the car next to Piper, sandwiched between her and a bunch of moving boxes that seemed determined to flatten him into a Leo-shaped pancake whenever they took a sharp turn.

He’d spent so long thinking about seeing her and Jason again. 

He’d talked Calypso’s ear off about them the whole journey, to the point where it had clearly started to annoy her. He’d thought about various ridiculous entrances he could make, and the fact that he’d probably get yelled at, but he’d also thought about sitting together by the campfire, sharing nachos. He’d thought about Jason hugging him so fiercely that he couldn’t breathe, and Piper cussing him out while she held him, making him promise never to do anything that reckless again.

Now Piper was actually holding him, and Leo couldn’t feel anything. There was a numbness in his chest. He wasn’t sure he had it in him to ever feel happiness again. Hell, even if he did, what was the fucking point? Every time anything even remotely good happened in his life, it got ripped away from him again.

They didn’t talk a whole lot for most of the drive. They cried until it felt like they couldn’t anymore, clinging to each other like desperate children.

Even if they’d wanted to talk about what had happened, Piper’s dad was right there, and despite the Mist usually working overtime for them, having him overhear seemed like a gamble. Or, well, maybe that was what Leo told himself. Maybe he just wasn't sure he was ready to hear it all. He still felt like he couldn’t think. He was overwhelmed to hell and couldn’t stop fidgeting.

Several hours into the trip, his stomach started grumbling. Piper dug through the bag at her feet and offered him one of her PB&J sandwiches, but Leo couldn’t eat. He hadn’t skipped a meal in forever—he’d been homeless and unsure when he’d even get access to the next meal enough times that it had been all but tattooed into his skull that he couldn’t afford to—but he couldn’t even think about eating without feeling sick. He thought about Jason. He thought about the state he’d left Camp Jupiter in and the fact that they hadn’t even been able to give the dead their proper funeral rites.

Had Leo’s help made any difference at all? Had anything he’d done in his life changed things even slightly?

Leo knew the Fates had intended for it to be fire that fell—for him to burn in a bright, hot blaze and turn himself to charcoal. But he’d refused to stay dead like a good little pawn, and now Jason was gone, and it was all his fault.

He wasn’t sure how Piper could even look at him right now, but he was beyond grateful that she was holding onto him as tightly as she did. It was the only reason he didn’t fall to pieces completely. The cog at the heart of Leo’s machine had broken in a way that made it utterly beyond repair, and now it felt like a matter of time before the whole thing came apart. Piper holding him was the only reason his remaining pieces were still functioning. 

It should have been impossible for Leo to fall asleep under these circumstances, but he’d been traveling for hours and fighting before then and he’d cried out his remaining energy, so eventually, the world started to fade around him, reduced to just the sound of Piper’s breaths, until finally, those went, too.

~~~~

It would have been kinder, maybe, if Leo had dreamed up some shitty visions promising violent death and/or the end of the world. That would have been business as usual. 

Instead, he dreamed of his time on the Argo II—of one of those early nights when the different groups were still getting to know each other, having a brief moment to breathe between their ridiculous tasks and saving the world. 

It had seemed reasonable to catch each other up on what had happened on their end. Percy, Hazel and Frank had talked about rescuing Thanatos, and Piper, Jason and Leo had told them what had happened with Hera in turn. 

This would have been a boring intel conversation at best, seeing as Leo had been there for all of their part, but they’d grabbed snacks and sat on cushions on the floor and made it a whole bonding activity. Jason had been wedged between Piper and Leo, and they’d taken turns storytelling. 

And Jason had bragged. So much. But he hadn’t even had the decency to brag about himself like a normal human being. Instead, he’d talked about how capable Piper and Leo had been, somehow managing to make Leo sound like the coolest person he’d ever met. Which was ridiculous, considering he’d met everyone else on their team.

And sure, Leo made it sound like he thought he was amazing all the time, but he was exaggerating, which everyone, himself included, knew. 

Jason didn’t seem to have gotten the memo, though. He had one arm wrapped around Leo the whole evening, and he got all starry-eyed when he talked. 

“Leo took on three Cyclopes by himself. Three!”

“Dude, stop!” Leo had laughed, shaking his head. “I know I’m incredible and you’re blessed to be friends with me and stuff, but you weren’t even conscious for that part.”

“Still happened, though.” Jason had beamed at him. “You’re amazing, dude. I would have died about fifteen times on that mission if it hadn’t been for you. You guys should’ve seen him.”

It would have been easier if Leo had thought Jason was just trying to talk him up to the others to make them more willing to trust him after how badly he’d messed up in New Rome, but Jason wasn’t the type. He’d looked like he honestly believed every single word he was saying.

So, of course, Leo had refused to seriously deal with any of the things that made him feel.

“Sorry, Pipes, but I’m pretty sure your boyfriend is in love with me. It’s the fire powers, I’m afraid. I’m just too hot to resist,” Leo had joked instead, and Piper had untangled herself from Jason’s other side to throw Doritos at Leo, and everything had been right in the universe.

~~~~

Waking up from that, blearily blinking himself awake in the car full of moving boxes and remembering… that was a worse punch in the gut than waking up from most nightmares had been. And Leo should know. He’d had so many of those over the years that he was basically a certified nightmare expert at this point.

Leo wanted to go back in time and spend forever in that one evening, living it over and over and over again until the Fates or a temporal paradox or something eventually killed him. He wanted to hold on to what they’d been back then—the three of them together and happy and whole,back before they’d realized what the prophecy really meant. 

He wanted to stay wrapped in Jason’s arm and hear him laugh at whatever stupid joke Leo came up with while he and Piper threw snacks at each other like ten year olds. He wanted to believe he could actually be the person Jason was bragging about—this invincible hero that could do just about anything and saved people’s lives.

But Leo had never been that hero. Even his sacrifice had been the selfish decision of a coward who wasn’t ready to die just yet. Jason had been their Superman. The guy who could fly and threw lightning and saved people from falling to their deaths. Jason had been the hero. And ultimately, that had been what killed him.

Leo wasn’t exactly sure what he planned to do once they got to Oklahoma. He should have been heading back to the Waystation, to give Calypso the normal life he’d promised. But he wasn’t thinking about Calypso, or the Waystation, and the thought of a normal life had gone out of the window the second he’d seen the coffin. Besides, the Waystation would mean people asking questions, wanting to know about his mission and asking him to talk about his feelings, and he didn’t want that.

The only thing Leo really wanted to do right now was not think. 

By the time they got to the house, it was so late that cross-country dragon flight seemed inadvisable for visibility reasons alone, so Leo agreed to stay the night. Festus nuzzled him for a bit, got a fuel snack from the canister Leo had brought and then folded down into his million pound suitcase form for the night.

It took a little under two hours to carry all the boxes inside, which was an annoying amount of time to be carrying boxes but seemed like an absurdly short amount to move the contents of an entire life.

They spent some time in search of the necessities that needed to be unpacked, but the house was still furnished and also had running water and electricity as of a few days ago, so it wasn’t that bad.

While Piper went in search of some ancient camping gear so Leo wouldn’t have to sleep on the floor—this seemed silly to him, the floor was far from the worst place he’d ever slept—Leo asked Piper’s dad if he could help with dinner. 

Tristan looked relieved at his offer, actually. He’d been staring at the assorted vegetables with a slightly lost expression, trying to hack at one of the zucchinis with a butter knife. It seemed like he was trying to remember how cooking worked and had just discovered he had absolutely no idea. 

Considering how long he’d been an insanely rich guy with a personal cook, Leo guessed that actually might have been a pretty accurate read on the situation. 

“You might want to try a sharper knife,” Leo suggested, which made Piper’s dad look absolutely mortified. “Try not to chop off any of your fingers, though. I think Piper’s been traumatized enough for one week.”

The words were out of his mouth before Leo could think to stop them. Tristan didn’t laugh, but at least it didn’t seem like he’d be tossing Leo out of the house over this. Maybe he realized people sometimes said stupid shit when they were grieving. Maybe Piper had just warned him in advance that Leo was like this sometimes.

Tristan just went to find a different knife, which would have maybe been concerning if he hadn’t gone back to hacking at the vegetables a moment later.

“Well, at least this one is actually cutting through the zucchinis. That’s already an improvement.”

“Yeah, I’m basically a cooking expert,” Leo said with a grin, only half-joking. He went to peel and chop up the carrots, and was done with those and about half the mushrooms by the time the poor zucchini had been hacked to bits.

“You and Piper went to school together, right?” Tristan asked after a while of them quietly chopping vegetables for the casserole, trying to make sense of things with information he didn’t have and that, judging from past evidence, probably would have made his skull crack. “You and her and Jason.”

“Yeah. We went to Wilderness school together.” Leo winced, trying not to think too hard of Jason while also trying to remember the lies they’d already told Piper’s dad. At this rate, he was pretty worried his own skull would crack, too. “Then all three of us switched to a different school. Then I was gone for a while.”

Tristan nodded like this made perfect sense, though he mostly seemed lost in thought. That was a little rude, in Leo’s opinion. If he went through all that effort to remember their elaborate setup of lies, the least Piper’s dad could do was appreciate it!

“I’m glad you’re here now, with everything that’s happened. Piper was really upset when you left,” Tristan said, still with that faraway look in his eyes. “The last few months were hard for her. Between the move and the breakup, she really could have used a friend.”

Leo promptly lost all rights to make fun of Piper’s dad and his vegetable chopping skills because at the word ‘breakup’, the knife slipped and he nearly sliced off two of his fingers.

“Fuck! Ow!” he said eloquently, trying to avoid bleeding all over the cutting board in his attempt to get to the sink. “Jason and Piper broke up?”

The question sounded absurd even to his own ears. Why would Jason and Piper break up? They’d been happy together.

Surely, Piper’s dad had to be talking about something else.

To Leo’s shock, Tristan nodded.

“A while ago, yes,” he said, but he didn’t go into details—possibly because Leo was bleeding all over the sink. “We should bandage that. Do you think you need stitches?”

“No, the cuts aren’t that deep,” Leo decided, turning on the faucet and holding his bleeding hand under the stream of cold water. Maybe he should have been more concerned about the injury, but his mind was still whirring at the thought of his best friends breaking up. Unfortunately, the cold water stung like hell. He hissed with pain. “Sorry for making your kitchen look like a crime scene right after moving in. Usually, I at least have the decency to wait a day or two.”

Because the house was a small, cozy place and Leo had not had the decency to curse quietly, Piper appeared in the doorway a moment later, an alarmed expression on her face.

“What happened?”

“I’ve been bested by a stupid potato,” Leo cursed, holding up his bleeding hand and wiggling his fingers for emphasis. He figured out immediately that this was a mistake. “Ow.”

“Stop that, dumbass!” Piper cursed, moving to stand beside him. “Sink was the right call, but you need to use soap or the cuts could get infected. Dad, any chance we have gauze lying around somewhere?”

Tristan didn’t seem to question why his daughter had immediately jumped into emergency medical treatment mode. He just abandoned the cutting board and headed for the front door.

“Not exactly sure what box our regular medical supplies are in, but I’ll get the first aid kit from the car. I’ll be right back.”

“Do we have to do the soap?” Leo whined, because fuck, that stung, but Piper nodded with a scary expression on her face, so he complied. “How do you even know this stuff? Are we sure you’re not secretly an Apollo kid?”

“I know this stuff because I’m friends with a bunch of morons who have zero sense of self-preservation,” Piper cursed, gritting her teeth. “You shouldn’t be around knives when you’re this distracted.”

“I can usually cook just fine when I’m distracted. Your dad was the one who told me you and Jason broke up in the middle of this stupid potato,” Leo said defensively. “Is that the Mist messing with him?”

That was the only explanation his mind had supplied so far that made any sense to him.

Piper shook her head. “We really did break up. That was a few months ago.”

Leo felt his jaw hit the floor. 

“What the hell happened? You were together for ages. I thought- you always seemed so happy.”

“I know, but-” Piper broke off abruptly when her dad came back inside with the first aid kit. Demigod stuff, then?

Leo’s mind was racing. The breakup was a completely stupid thing to focus on, considering everything that had happened in the last few days. He knew that.

But it was easier to try and make sense of this than it was to try and make sense of the fact that Jason was gone and he’d never get to see him again.

“Is it alright if we do this somewhere else?” Piper asked her dad, taking the first aid kit from him.

“Of course. It might be easier to patch him up when you’re both sitting down, anyway.” He turned towards Leo. “Thank you for your help, but I think I can take it from here.”

Leo sent a silent prayer to whichever deity was responsible for protecting vegetables—Demeter, probably?—and gave what he hoped was an encouraging thumbs up with his uninjured hand before he followed Piper into the hallway to presumably be reprimanded some more.

~~~~ They ended up sitting on an old bed that looked like it had lived a long, miserable life and was excited for retirement, but the wooden frame thankfully didn’t break down under the weight of the new mattress or the additional weight of them sitting on said mattress. Piper explained that this had been her dad’s room when he’d lived here as a child, and that it would probably become her room now. Then she went very quiet and focused on bandaging his hand, clearly avoiding looking at him.

“It wasn’t because of me, was it?” Leo asked. The thought made him feel ill. “Please tell me it wasn’t something like, I don’t know, you two being unable to stand being around each other after what happened to me. I think I’d actually have to blow myself up again if it was.”

He tried to make it sound like a joke, but it didn’t feel like one at all. The thought that he'd managed to ruin his best friends’ relationship on top of everything else made it hard to breathe.

When Piper shook her head, it felt like a whole boulder was lifted off his shoulders.

“I actually think we would have broken up sooner if you hadn’t gone missing. We leaned on each other a lot after you disappeared. It wasn’t until we realized we wouldn’t find you and things started to settle down a little that I had time to think. And when I did…” Her voice went very quiet, and she still didn’t look up at him. “I realized I wasn’t happy in the relationship. I don’t think I ever was.”

“How did I not know that?” Leo wondered quietly. “I just… you two seemed happy to me. What kind of garbage best friend am I?”

Piper shook her head. “It isn’t your fault. I was telling myself I was happy for a long time. It’s almost- sometimes I wonder if I was charmspeaking myself. That maybe I kept saying I was in love with Jason until I convinced myself I actually was. And with Hera and my mom setting it up… I love-” her voice caught in her throat, and Leo felt like maybe he needed to throw up, “-loved Jason, but not like that.”

“Pipes, I’m really sorry.” Leo squeezed her shoulder. “That sounds like it was super hard for both of you.” Leo felt awful about the fact that he hadn’t even been around to comfort either of them, but it wasn’t like he could fix it now. It was just another item on Leo’s unending list of epic screwups he’d never be able to make up for.

“Jason was… well, he took it exactly like I expected him to. He was surprised, but he didn’t get angry or anything. He mostly seemed okay. Part of me wonders if maybe…” But whatever Piper had been thinking about, she seemed to decide it wasn’t important. “It was hard to get a proper read on him, and as nice as he was about it, things were still super awkward after. I'm terrified he died thinking I didn’t care about him.”

And then she was tearing up again, and Leo thought he would shatter if she cried. 

“He knew you cared,” he said as earnestly as he could manage, pulling Piper to his chest again. “You love way too annoyingly for him not to have known. Hell, even I know you love me, and we both know I’m a fucking nightmare when it comes to this stuff.”

“I missed you so much,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around his back like it was the easiest thing in the world.

“Oh, I’m about to make you regret saying that,” Leo said, forcing himself to smile. “I’ll bring it up each and every time you say you find something I do annoying.”

“You’re annoying as hell, but you’re still my best friend.” He could feel her tears dripping onto his shoulder, and he knew that would make him start up again too. “I don’t know how I’d do this without you.”

And well, passing away from dehydration after crying too much would be a really lame way to die the second time, but everything was just too much right now, so if that was how he went, Leo wasn’t sure anyone could blame him.

~~~~

For the next couple of weeks, Leo stayed.

Helping Piper and her dad unpack was the perfect way to keep himself occupied and not have to think. Usually, a mundane task like this probably would have driven Leo nuts. But right now, it was a bit of a godsend—if not literally, at least figuratively. Being productive was always so much easier when it was done in order to avoid something you wanted to do even less. There was a reason his spaces in the foster homes had only ever been tidy when he had exams coming up.

He helped cook, too, and Piper’s dad became increasingly less garbage at it the longer this went on—like muscle memory was finally kicking in after years of disuse.

It was mostly good—listening to Piper reminisce about trips she’d taken with her dad and where she’d gotten the weird variety of items she kept in her room. When they weren’t unpacking, Leo and Piper played video games or watched movies or explored the area. Twice, during the night, they took Festus on a little flight to a nearby fast food place. Finding a parking spot was a bit of a nightmare, unfortunately. Leo would submit a complaint about their inability to accommodate celestial bronze dragons the first chance he got.

The first time they tried hiking—Leo didn’t even like hiking, he’d spent enough time outside for several lifetimes, why did he do this to himself—they got hopelessly lost in the woods, and of course, due to demigod bullshit, neither of them had brought a phone, so Google Maps wasn’t an option. It was probably for the better. The last thing that situation needed on top of them being lost was a monster attack. 

They were already jokingly planning out their new life in the woods when, thankfully, a girl their age came to their rescue.

“A human being! Thank the gods. The squirrels weren’t talking to us,” Leo greeted her, which had Piper shout “Please ignore Leo!” loudly from the branches of the tree she’d been climbing.

The girl lifted her head, spotted Piper and promptly burst out laughing.

“What in the world are you doing up there?” 

“Trying to get a better vantage point,” Piper sighed, making her way back down the tree. “We’re hopelessly lost.”

“Well, nice to meet you, hopelessly lost. I’m Shel,” the girl said, still grinning. Leo decided immediately that he liked her.

Piper had almost made it back down when she somehow missed a branch and fell the rest of the way. In comedic movie fashion, Shel moved before Leo had the chance to and caught her mid-tumble. “That was a bit of a dramatic way to get my attention, but you’re cute, so I’ll allow it.”

“Oh yeah, Piper’s got a bit of a thing with falling for people that way,” Leo commented, and Piper gave him her most murderous look while she got back on her feet.

“You guys need help getting back?”

“Please, yes,” Piper said immediately. “It turns out we’re both garbage with maps.”

“Maybe you just need a tour guide next time,” Shel suggested, winking at Piper, whose face turned scarlet. Leo wasn’t even mad about being the third wheel for once. He’d give her so much shit about this later.

And he did. And then Piper properly came out to him—no label or anything, mostly as extremely confused but sure she liked girls, which also made a few additional pieces click into place regarding her breakup with Jason. She ended her anxiety-riddled explanation by thanking Leo for being so normal and annoying about all this. 

Which was how Leo realized he’d apparently never told Piper he was bi.

Or maybe he had, and it had gotten lost along with their other memories of Wilderness. Stupid memory-stealing babysitters.

Well, at least they got to hug about it now. 

~~~~

It was strange how normal some days felt when nothing would ever truly be normal again. When in every moment Leo and Piper spent together, the gaping hole that had been ripped into their trio was so blatantly obvious.

The benefit and problem of this friendship was that Leo and Piper were both experts at not talking about things they were struggling with. 

This wasn’t exactly news. From what little Leo did remember of Wilderness School, they’d spent months not talking about his mom, or about the fact that Piper’s dad kept canceling their weekend plans. They’d both known there were things left unsaid, but as long as they’d been able to cheer each other up, that hadn’t really mattered. It made sense, honestly. Put two people who hadn’t had a shoulder to cry on for ages in a room together and see what happens!

Right now, this meant they were expertly ignoring the box of belongings Piper had picked up from Jason’s school. It had been pushed so far under the bed during that first night that it was no longer visible, and neither of them made any effort to move it out of its new home since. They ignored the topic of Jason, period, until it inevitably hit them in the face again. 

It was mostly dumb shit that set them off. Piper automatically reaching for vanilla ice cream at the grocery store because it was Jason’s favorite—seriously, who in their right mind even liked vanilla ice cream?

Sometimes, Leo would make a joke and burst into tears instead of laughing because he knew it would have cracked Jason up. They found old photos unpacking. One time, Piper’s dad suggested they make tacos and they started simultaneously bawling their eyes out.

Leo had spent a long time exactly like this—pretending everything was normal and okay when it wasn’t either of those things until he inevitably broke down. Then he’d started to actually feel sort of okay whenever he was with Jason and Piper. Now, he was sure he would spend the rest of his life pretending.

His appetite was too used to being stuck in survival mode for him to bow to nausea for long, so he went back to eating properly after a few days. He still cried himself to sleep most nights. He kept dreaming about Jason. The memories wrapped themselves around him like a safety blanket that he knew would get ripped away again in the morning. He always woke up feeling empty. Sometimes, he wished he could just go to sleep and never wake up again.

But other than that, it was mostly good.

Then demigod communications went back up, and everything went to hell.

———

Chapter notes:

Fun fact! I originally planned for this chapter (as well as the next few chapters) to just be backstory in my head and for me to maybe do a flashback or two. Unfortunately for me, Piper McLean waltzed into the room and refused to leave.

I do actually think the fic works better this way, but it will take a second to get to the plot! Hopefully you’ll enjoy the whole journey :)

I may not be able to have Leo and Piper go to Jason’s funeral without seriously messing with the plot of Tyrant’s Tomb, but I could at least pick the most evil reason possible for them not to go!

Side note: I sort of forgot that Hedge and Mellie were supposed to be here according to TBM, but by the time I remembered I already had this chapter written out and, as someone who cannot be bothered to figure out how to write them, I decided to just leave it. ToA is vaguely canon to this universe, but only for the most part. Some details are inaccurate, and I think that’s okay.

Anyway, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs super, super appreciated as always!!

List of people that at some point asked to be tagged when I post this: @poppitron360 @ginnyluna @keefessketchbook (feel free to comment if you want to get taken off or be put on the tag list for future chapters!)

[genshin-impact-updates]

Version 4.7 Quest Notices Compilation

New Story Unlocked - Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act VI "Bedtime Story"

After listening to the bedtime story that day, all the hilichurls had a dream.

The young soul waved goodbye, and the people and sun slept together warmly.

After reaching the corresponding Adventure Rank and completing the prerequisite quests, Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act VI "Bedtime Story" will appear in the Quest Menu.

(After these quests are unlocked, access the Quest Menu by: pressing "J" on PC (default settings); tapping the Quest Menu icon in the top-left corner on mobile; or pressing and holding L1 on PS5™ or PS4™ to open the shortcut wheel and select the Quest Menu icon.)

The "Focused Experience Mode" function is available for this quest.

〓Quest Start Time〓

After the Version 4.7 update, Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act VI "Bedtime Story" will be permanently available

〓Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act VI "Bedtime Story" Unlock Criteria〓

• Reach Adventure Rank 40 or above

• Complete Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act V "Masquerade of the Guilty"

"PlayStation", "PS5", "PS4", "DualSense", "DUALSHOCK" are registered trademarks or trademarks of Sony Interactive Entertainment Inc.

"Rapperia Chapter" Story Quest Overview

Travelers who reach the required Adventure Rank and complete the prerequisite quests will be able to use a Story Key to unlock Clorinde's Story Quest "Rapperia Chapter."

The Story Quest feature is unlocked at Adventure Rank 26. Story Keys are obtained by claiming Daily Commission rewards (one Story Key is awarded for every eight Daily Commission rewards claimed).

〓Quest Start Time〓

Permanently available after the Version 4.7 update

〓Quest Unlock Criteria〓

Adventure Rank 40 or above

Complete Archon Quest Chapter IV: Act V "Masquerade of the Guilty"

And complete Furina's Story Quest - Animula Choragi Chapter: Act I "The Little Oceanid"

[pdriesta]

CHAPTER ONE

“i want something that i know is real”

pairing — judexblack!girl

genres — fluff, slow burn, workplace romance (she’s a pt)

warnings — sexual themes (minors dni)

word count — 6k

summary — y/n, a rising physiotherapist, has just been promoted to work with real madrid's men's team. after a difficult breakup, she's determined to keep things professional. but when jude bellingham, the club's charming new star, sets his sights on her, maintaining boundaries becomes harder than ever. can she resist the pull, or will she risk everything for a love she swore she’d never fall for again?

an — i am so sorry for the delay! here’s chapter one (for the second time LOL) . i found the taglist thankfully through a reblog so let me know if any of you have reblogged the previous chapters it would save me so much time <3

masterlist

the sun was setting over valdebebas, casting long shadows across the training pitches as the players finished up a particularly grueling session. jude bellingham was among the last to leave the field, sweat dripping from his brow as he wiped his face with the back of his hand. his muscles ached, the intensity of the training pushing him to his limits, but he relished the challenge.

as he made his way to the physio room, his thoughts were already on y/n. he’d been looking for an excuse to talk to her again, and after today’s session, he had a perfect reason.

when jude entered the physio room, it was quiet except for the soft hum of the air conditioning. y/n was there, as he’d hoped, focused on organizing some equipment. she looked up as he walked in, her expression shifting from concentration to a warm, professional smile.

“hey, y/n,” jude greeted, his voice slightly breathless from the workout. “i think i might need some of that magic you worked on me the other day. today’s session was brutal.”

y/n nodded, her eyes scanning him with a practiced eye. “you look like you’ve been through it,” she remarked, a hint of concern in her tone. “come on, take a seat, and let’s see what we’re dealing with.”

jude followed her instructions, lowering himself onto the treatment table with a wince. “you’re telling me. i don’t think i’ve ever run that much in one session.”

y/n smiled softly as she gathered her supplies. “that’s madrid for you. they push you hard because they expect the best.”

“yeah, well,” jude leaned back on his elbows, letting out a dramatic sigh, “i guess that means i’ll be seeing a lot of you, then.”

there it was—the flirty edge to his voice that had become a bit of a trademark in their interactions. y/n, ever the professional, chose to ignore the bait, focusing instead on her work.

“you should be careful what you wish for,” she replied evenly, adjusting the height of the treatment table. “if you’re here too often, it means you’re not taking care of yourself.”

“trust me, i’ll do my best to stay out of trouble,” jude said, flashing her a charming grin. “but i wouldn’t mind having you around more often. makes the pain a little more bearable.”

y/n rolled her eyes playfully, but she didn’t comment, keeping her focus on his treatment. “let’s take a look at those legs,” she instructed, patting the space between his knees. “you can sit up for this.”

jude complied, sitting up straight as y/n moved to stand between his legs, her hands expertly probing the muscles in his thighs. the closeness of their positions was not lost on either of them. jude could feel the warmth of her body, the subtle brush of her arm against his as she worked, and he found himself leaning in just a little, his eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the softness of her lips.

but it was y/n who felt the shift the most. as she focused on the treatment, her fingers gently kneading the tense muscles in jude’s legs, she couldn’t help but take in his presence. up close, she noticed details she hadn’t before—the way his skin glistened slightly from the workout, the sharpness of his jawline, the deep brown of his eyes that held a certain intensity. it was no wonder social media was obsessed with him; he was undeniably handsome, and his charisma only added to the allure.

jude watched her intently as she worked, noting every small detail—the way her brow furrowed in concentration, the slight purse of her lips as she focused on the task at hand. each movement she made was precise, her hands skilled and confident, yet there was a certain grace in the way she touched his sore muscles, almost like she was pouring care into every motion. it was hard not to be captivated by her; she seemed so immersed in what she was doing, completely in her element, and there was something about that quiet confidence that drew him in even more.

as her fingers pressed and kneaded the tension from his muscles, jude couldn't help but feel his body start to relax under her touch. it was as if every knot of stress was being expertly unraveled, leaving behind nothing but a soothing warmth. his muscles softened, giving in to the gentle pressure she applied, and he could feel the lines between professional care and something more personal start to blur.

on her end, y/n was trying to stay focused, reminding herself to keep it strictly professional, but it was becoming increasingly difficult. as her hands moved over the hard planes of his back and shoulders, she couldn't help but notice just how solid he was—all muscle, lean and strong beneath her fingers. she could feel an unexpected attraction building within her, a warmth spreading through her chest that she hadn’t felt in a long time.

the tension between them was palpable, an almost electric charge in the air that neither of them could ignore. jude felt it too, a stirring of something deeper that went beyond just the relief of having his muscles worked on. as her hands continued to glide over his skin, he had to stifle a groan, the sensation of her touch sending a wave of unexpected pleasure through him. it took everything in him to keep it together, not wanting to make the situation more complicated than it already felt.

“you’re pretty good at this, you know,” jude finally said, his voice low and smooth, trying to bring some levity to the situation while still testing the waters.

y/n glanced up at him, caught off guard by the softness in his tone. “thanks. i’ve had a lot of practice,” she replied, keeping her tone light despite the flutter in her chest.

he flashed a smile, leaning into her touch a little more. “ever thought about switching careers? maybe you could be a magician—making all my pain disappear like this.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up at his playful remark, a shy smile tugging at her lips as she shook her head. “i think i’ll stick to what i know. besides, i’m not sure magic is really my thing.”

jude chuckled, the sound deep and rich, and for a moment, they just held each other's gaze, the air between them thick with unspoken thoughts. she quickly looked away, focusing back on her work, but the moment lingered, neither of them quite ready to break the connection that had formed between them.

y/n felt a flutter in her chest, but she quickly pushed it aside, reminding herself of the line she needed to maintain. “well, if you want to keep feeling this good, you’ll need to follow my advice,” she said, her tone returning to its usual professional demeanor. “stretching, rest, and hydration. don’t forget it.”

“anything for you,” jude quipped, though there was a sincerity in his tone that made y/n pause.

she shook her head, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “i’m serious, jude. if you don’t take care of yourself, you’ll be back here before you know it.”

“i hear you, y/n,” jude said, his voice softer now, the playful edge giving way to something more genuine. “and for what it’s worth, i do appreciate you looking out for me.”

y/n nodded, her heart skipping a beat at the sincerity in his eyes. “it’s my job,” she replied, though the words felt a bit heavier than usual. “and besides, we can’t have one of our star players sidelined, can we?”

“no, we can’t,” jude agreed, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he looked at her. “but i think it’s more than just that.”

the air between them felt charged, a quiet intensity lingering as they held each other’s gaze. y/n could feel her resolve wavering slightly, the closeness of their positions making it harder to keep the professional distance she’d tried so hard to maintain.

as y/n finished working on jude’s leg, she hesitated for a moment, her usual professionalism wavering. she could sense there was something more on his mind, something that went beyond the aches and pains of training. after a brief pause, she decided to break the unspoken barrier she’d been carefully maintaining.

“hey, jude,” she began, her voice softer than before, “how are you feeling about the first game? it’s coming up pretty soon.”

jude looked at her, surprised by the shift in her tone. he hadn’t expected her to ask, but something in the way she did made him feel like he could open up. he let out a small sigh, leaning back on his hands as he considered his words.

“honestly?” jude started, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “i’m nervous. it’s a huge club, and there’s so much expectation. i’ve been dreaming about this for years, but now that it’s here, it’s kind of overwhelming. i just keep thinking—what if i don’t live up to it? what if the fans don’t love me the way they did back in dortmund?”

y/n paused in her work, her eyes meeting his with a gentle, understanding gaze. she could see the vulnerability in him, the weight of the pressure he was carrying. setting aside her role for a moment, she spoke from the heart.

“jude, it’s completely normal to feel that way,” y/n said, her voice warm and reassuring. “real madrid is one of the biggest clubs in the world, and with that comes a lot of pressure. but you were signed because they saw something special in you. the fans are going to see that too.”

jude listened intently, his eyes never leaving hers. there was something in the way she spoke—steady, confident, and genuine—that calmed the storm inside him.

“you’ve worked hard to get here,” y/n continued, “and that work isn’t going to go unnoticed. the fans, they’re passionate, yes, but they also appreciate hard work, dedication, and talent. you’ve got all of that. just be yourself out there, play the way you know how, and they’ll love you for it.”

jude let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, feeling a sense of relief wash over him. “thanks, y/n,” he said quietly, his voice sincere. “that actually helps a lot. i’ve been so caught up in my head, worrying about everything that could go wrong.”

y/n smiled, giving his shoulder a light squeeze. “it’s going to be okay, jude. you’ve got this. and remember, you’re not alone—you’ve got a whole team behind you, and now, you’ve got me looking out for you too.”

a small smile tugged at the corners of jude’s lips, and he felt a warmth spreading through him at her words. “i appreciate that, y/n. really. it means a lot.”

they shared a quiet moment, the air between them shifting from the playful banter they’d grown accustomed to, to something more meaningful. y/n could feel the connection deepening, a mutual understanding that went beyond their professional roles.

“just promise me one thing,” y/n said, her voice lightening as she stepped back, returning to her professional demeanor. “when you’re out there on the pitch, remember to enjoy it. this is what you’ve worked for. let yourself have fun.”

jude nodded, his smile widening. “i promise. and i’ll make sure to give you a good reason to keep me in top shape.”

y/n laughed softly, shaking her head. “i’ll hold you to that, bellingham. now, go get some rest. you’ve earned it.”

as jude left the room, he felt lighter, more at ease with the challenges ahead. y/n’s words echoed in his mind, a steady reminder that he was more than capable of handling.

as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the real madrid facility, y/n found herself alone in the corridors, the hum of the fluorescent lights the only sound breaking the quiet. she was one of the last to leave, her habit of staying late a comforting ritual, a way to unwind from the day's relentless pace and ensure everything was in order. tonight, however, her mind was preoccupied with a different kind of noise.

earlier, she’d run into laura, one of her old colleagues from the women’s team, who had dropped by to visit. laura’s eyes had lit up when she saw y/n, the excitement in her voice unmistakable.

“i can’t believe it, y/n!” laura had exclaimed, her enthusiasm palpable. “jude bellingham—he’s here! i’ve seen all the photos and videos, and he’s just as attractive in person. what’s he like? have you met him?”

y/n had nodded, a faint, polite smile on her lips. “yes, i’ve met him. he’s… charming.”

“charming?” laura had raised an eyebrow, clearly expecting more. “come on, give me the details. is he as good-looking up close? i bet the girls must be falling over themselves.”

y/n’s thoughts had drifted back to their brief interactions. jude was undeniably attractive—his striking features, the way his eyes held a mixture of intensity and vulnerability. she’d noticed it all, yet she had no intention of letting her guard down. her role was professional, and she had no room for distractions, especially not of this kind.

“he’s very focused,” y/n had replied, trying to keep her tone neutral. “and yes, he’s as handsome as you’d expect. but I’m his physio, so my focus is on his recovery and performance, not his looks.”

“oh, I get it,” laura had said, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “but don’t you ever think about... well, what it’d be like if things were different? I mean, if you weren’t working with him?”

y/n had felt a twinge of discomfort at the question. she had not allowed herself to entertain such thoughts, not after everything she’d been through. she’d always been one of the last to leave the facility, a habit that allowed her to keep her distance from the personal drama that could easily complicate her life. her thoughts had drifted to her past with javier, her toxic ex who had belittled her in every way imaginable.

javier had been her childhood friend, someone she thought she knew inside out. but once they started dating, his true colors had shown. his comments had ranged from derogatory remarks about her looks to nasty jabs about her work and sexuality. the once familiar face had become a source of disdain, his words leaving scars that she was still working to heal.

the thought of entering another complicated relationship, especially with someone as high-profile as jude, made her anxious. her job was her sanctuary, a place where she felt in control, where she could escape the memories of javier’s cruelty. the idea of mixing personal feelings with her professional life was a risk she was not willing to take.

as y/n had watched laura walk away, her heart heavy with unspoken fears, she had felt a mix of longing and resolve. she admired jude’s charisma and attractiveness, but her past experiences had taught her the importance of keeping a clear boundary between her personal and professional lives. there was too much at stake, and she was determined not to repeat past mistakes.

the empty facility seemed to echo her thoughts as she continued her evening routine, methodically checking each detail. jude’s presence was a reminder of the world outside her carefully maintained boundaries, a world that, while tempting, was fraught with risks she wasn’t ready to face. she remained focused, her resolve strengthened by the quiet solitude of the facility, knowing that while she might appreciate jude’s attractiveness, she would not let it disrupt the professional distance she had fought so hard to maintain.

as the final whistle blew, the stadium erupted in a roar of jubilation. y/n stood on the sidelines, her heart racing as she watched jude bellingham weave through defenders with a fluidity and grace that made the game look effortless. the staff around her were just as engrossed, their eyes fixed on the field, their murmurs of approval punctuating the air.

y/n’s gaze was locked on jude, her admiration growing with each precise pass and each calculated move. she had seen him in training, had felt the intensity of his drive, but seeing him perform in a live match was something entirely different. the way he commanded the ball, the confidence in every stride—it was a testament to why he was considered one of the brightest talents in football.

and then, it happened. jude received a perfectly timed pass, his body shifting into position with the grace of a seasoned player. in a swift, decisive moment, he struck the ball with precision, sending it soaring into the back of the net. the stadium exploded into cheers, and y/n felt a surge of pride and excitement that she hadn’t anticipated. jude’s first game, and he’d already made such an impact.

as the players celebrated, y/n watched jude with a mixture of awe and joy. his face was alight with exhilaration, a broad grin spreading across his features as his teammates surrounded him. she could see the sheer relief in his eyes, a weight lifted off his shoulders as he soaked in the adulation from the fans.

when the final whistle blew and the players began their exit, y/n remained on the sidelines, a quiet smile on her face. she felt a deep sense of satisfaction, knowing she’d played a part in helping him reach this moment. as jude made his way toward the tunnel, still riding the high of victory, he glanced around, his gaze searching for someone.

to y/n’s surprise, jude’s eyes locked onto hers. with a burst of energy fueled by adrenaline, he jogged over, his smile widening. “y/n!” he called out, his voice filled with unrestrained joy.

y/n’s heart skipped a beat as jude approached, her mind racing. she had expected a handshake, maybe a polite acknowledgment, but this was different. as he reached her, he extended his hand for a handshake, but before she could react, he pulled her into a hug.

the contact was electric, a rush of warmth and energy that left y/n momentarily frozen. jude’s embrace was firm and enthusiastic, and she could feel the thudding of his heart, the exhilaration that pulsed through him. her arms remained stiff at her sides for a moment, her cheeks flushing with a mix of surprise and embarrassment. the scent of his cologne, the heat of his body—it was overwhelming. she could sense the bewildered looks from some of the staff nearby, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected display.

“jude,” she managed to say, her voice barely more than a whisper. “this is… unexpected.”

jude pulled back slightly, his hands still resting lightly on her shoulders. his eyes sparkled with mischief and a hint of flirtation. “i couldn’t help it,” he said, his voice low and smooth. “i wanted to thank you, and i’m just so... thrilled right now. i didn’t think i’d score on my first game. i was nervous, but you gave me the confidence i needed.”

y/n’s heart fluttered at his words. she was touched by his sincerity, though her professional demeanor was struggling to keep up with the personal breach. “i’m glad you felt that way,” she said, forcing a smile as she tried to regain her composure. “congratulations on the goal, jude. you played amazingly.”

“thanks, y/n,” he said, his voice dropping to a softer tone, his gaze lingering on her. “you know, I’m already looking forward to tomorrow’s session. can’t wait to see you again.”

y/n felt her cheeks heat up further at his words. she was already flustered from the hug, and his flirtatious remark only added to her embarrassment. she struggled to find her voice, her usual professional distance feeling even more crucial now. “i’ll be here,” she managed to say, her voice a touch shy. “see you then.”

jude chuckled, his eyes twinkling with playful intent. “i’ll make sure to keep my muscles in top shape just for you. and who knows, maybe I’ll bring some of that winning energy to our session.”

y/n felt her face warm at his flirtatious comment. she fumbled with her words, trying to maintain her professional composure. “um, that sounds... good. just, um, don’t overdo it out there.”

jude’s smile widened, his gaze lingering on her with a mix of admiration and affection. “promise I’ll do my best,” he said, his voice softening. “and I’ll make sure to give you a reason to keep me in top shape.”

as he turned to head toward the locker room, y/n watched him go, her thoughts a whirlwind of emotions. the brief embrace and his flirtatious remark had been a jolt, a reminder of how complicated emotions could become when you least expected it. she sighed softly, the reality of her role settling back into place as she prepared to head home.

when she left the facility, her thoughts were still with jude. she admired his talent and charisma, but she was acutely aware of the need to maintain her distance. the unexpected hug and his flirtatious comment had been a reminder of the fine line she was walking—between personal feelings and professional boundaries.

the lunchroom at the facility was bustling with activity as staff and players refueled after a demanding morning. y/n sat at a corner table, her usual spot, with a book in one hand and her lunch in the other. she preferred to keep to herself during these moments, finding solace in her own company amidst the chaos.

as she was about to take a bite of her sandwich, the familiar sound of footsteps drew closer. she looked up to see jude bellingham approaching, his smile as bright as ever. her heart skipped a beat, a mixture of surprise and apprehension swirling inside her. jude had already made quite an impression, and now, here he was, interrupting her solitary lunch.

“hey, y/n,” jude greeted, his voice warm and casual. “mind if i join you?”

y/n blinked, caught off guard by his sudden appearance. she glanced around the room, noting the curious glances from some of the staff members. she was about to protest, but jude was already pulling out a chair and sitting down across from her.

“uh, sure,” y/n replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “but, uh, why are you here? i mean, it’s lunchtime.”

jude chuckled, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “why not? i figured i’d keep you company. besides, i didn’t get a chance to really chat with you after the game.”

y/n felt a rush of warmth at his words, but she tried to maintain her composure. “you didn’t have to,” she said, her tone a mix of curiosity and caution. “i’m just doing my job, you know.”

“right,” jude said, leaning in slightly. “but i enjoy talking with you. and, well, it’s not every day i get to sit with someone who knows what’s really going on behind the scenes.”

y/n felt a knot of nervousness in her stomach. she had been trying to keep things professional, but jude’s relaxed demeanor and his easy smile were slowly eroding her defenses. “you’re not playing games with me, are you?” she asked, her voice trembling slightly. “what’s your intention here?”

jude’s expression softened, and he leaned back, a thoughtful look on his face. “games? no. i’m just trying to get to know you better. you’ve been really supportive, and i appreciate that. i guess i just want to be friends—or more if that’s where things lead.”

y/n was taken aback by his openness. her mind raced, struggling to process his words. she had always been careful with her emotions, especially after her past experiences. the idea of letting someone in, even in a friendly capacity, was daunting.

“friends,” she repeated, more to herself than to him. “but why me? you have plenty of people to talk to.”

jude’s smile remained steady, but there was a hint of sincerity in his eyes. “you seem different. you’re grounded and real. it’s refreshing. plus, i feel like i can be myself around you. i don’t get that feeling with everyone.”

y/n felt her cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and surprise. she was used to being the reserved one, keeping her emotions in check. but jude’s words were slowly breaking down her walls.

“so, uh, what do you want to talk about?” y/n asked, her voice a bit shy. “i mean, if we’re going to be friends.”

jude’s eyes lit up, and he leaned in slightly. “let’s start with something simple. tell me more about you. what’s your story? i’d love to hear about it.”

as they continued to talk, y/n found herself opening up more than she had intended. she spoke about her background, her move from spain, and her work at the facility. jude listened intently, asking questions and sharing stories of his own. with each passing minute, y/n felt a growing sense of comfort, though it was tinged with fear.

inside, y/n was wrestling with her emotions. she was scared of how easily she was letting her guard down, and how much she was enjoying jude’s company. the fear of becoming too attached, of losing control over her carefully maintained boundaries, was a constant undercurrent.

despite her internal struggle, she couldn’t deny that jude’s presence was comforting. he was genuine, and the way he looked at her with such attention made her feel valued in a way she hadn’t experienced in a long time.

as their conversation continued, y/n found herself smiling and laughing more freely. the lunchroom seemed to fade into the background, leaving just the two of them and their growing connection.the lunchroom was slowly emptying out, but jude and y/n wouldn’t part even as they said their good re still deep in conversation. jude leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he listened intently. y/n, though still somewhat guarded, found herself drawn to the ease of their dialogue.

“so, tell me,” jude said, his tone light and curious, “what got you into physiotherapy? it seems like such a demanding field.”

y/n took a sip of her water, considering her response. “it’s kind of a long story,” she began, her voice tentative but steady. “i’ve always been interested in how the body works, how it heals. it started with me playing sports in school and getting injured a lot. i wanted to understand how to recover faster and help others do the same.”

jude’s eyes lit up with interest. “that’s actually really cool. it’s amazing how personal experiences can shape our career paths. i had a similar thing with football. after a few serious injuries, i became fascinated with how the body responds to training and recovery.”

y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “so, you’ve had your fair share of injuries too?”

jude nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. “yeah, a few. nothing too serious, but enough to make me appreciate the work that goes into staying fit and healthy. and, of course, having good physiotherapists like you.”

y/n blushed slightly at the compliment but tried to keep her demeanor professional. “well, it’s all part of the job. making sure players like you stay in top shape.

“and you’re doing a great job at it,” jude said earnestly. “i’ve noticed the difference already.”

y/n’s heart fluttered at his words, but she quickly pushed the feeling aside. “thanks. it’s good to hear that my work is making a difference.”

“absolutely,” jude agreed. “so, what do you do for fun when you’re not working? any hobbies or interests outside of physiotherapy?”

y/n hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. she wasn’t used to sharing much about herself, especially not with someone she didn’t know well. “i like reading,” she finally admitted. “and, um, cooking. it’s a nice break from the routine.”

“really? that’s awesome,” jude said, his enthusiasm genuine. “i’ve been trying to cook more. maybe you can give me some tips. i’m still learning.”

y/n laughed softly, feeling a bit more relaxed. “sure, i can do that. just don’t expect gourmet meals right away.”

“hey, i’ll take any advice i can get,” jude said, grinning. “what’s your favorite dish to cook?”

“hmm,” y/n pondered, a smile touching her lips. “i’d have to say paella. it’s a bit of a project, but it’s worth it.”

jude’s eyes widened in interest. “paella? that sounds amazing. i’ve heard it’s quite the experience to make.”

“yeah, it can be,” y/n said, feeling a bit more animated. “it’s all about getting the right balance of flavors. it’s a bit like... well, like a football team. everyone has to play their part.”

“nice analogy,” jude said, nodding in appreciation. “so, do you have any other hidden talents or interests i should know about?”

y/n chuckled, shaking her head. “i don’t think there’s anything particularly hidden. i’m pretty straightforward, i guess.”

“straightforward can be a good thing,” jude said with a wink. “i think it’s refreshing. but don’t be surprised if i keep asking you questions to learn more.”

y/n felt a flush rise to her cheeks again. “i suppose that’s fair. but don’t expect me to reveal everything at once.”

“deal,” jude said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “i’ll take it slow. so, tell me about something you’re passionate about, something that makes you excited.”

y/n looked down, her thoughts drifting. “i guess... i’m passionate about helping people. seeing someone come in with an injury and then watching them recover and get back to doing what they love—there’s something really rewarding about that.”

jude’s gaze softened, and he nodded thoughtfully. “that sounds incredible. it must be really fulfilling to see the progress firsthand.”

“it is,” y/n agreed, her voice growing warmer. “it’s what keeps me motivated, even on the tough days.”

jude’s eyes met hers, and there was a moment of quiet understanding between them. “you’re really dedicated to your work. i can tell it’s more than just a job for you.”

y/n smiled, though her heart was racing. “yeah, it is. and you’re pretty dedicated to football, from what i’ve seen.”

jude laughed, a genuine, easy sound. “i guess we both have our passions. it’s nice to find someone who understands that drive.”

y/n nodded, feeling a mix of warmth and apprehension. “it is. and i appreciate you being open with me. it’s not always easy to find common ground.”

“i’m glad we did,” jude said, his smile bright and sincere. “so, what’s one thing you’d like to do that you haven’t had the chance to yet?”

y/n thought for a moment, her eyes drifting to the window. “i’d love to travel more. there are so many places i’d like to see.”

“traveling is great,” jude agreed. “maybe one day you’ll get the chance. and hey, if you ever need a travel buddy, let me know.”

y/n’s heart skipped a beat at his casual invitation. she laughed softly, a bit shy. “we’ll see about that.”

jeventually, the lunch break drew to a close, and y/n realized she had been talking with jude for a lot longer than she had intended. she looked at him, her expression a mix of relief and apprehension.

“i should get going,” she said, her voice tinged with shyness. “but, um, it was nice talking with you, jude.”

jude’s smile was warm and encouraging. “same here, y/n. i’m looking forward to more of these chats. and who knows, maybe we’ll find some common interests.”

y/n nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. “yeah, maybe.”

as she gathered her things and prepared to leave, y/n’s mind was still buzzing from their conversation. she was more comfortable around jude than she had planned to be, and that scared her. but she couldn’t deny the small, hopeful part of her that was looking forward to their next interaction.

as jude walked away, y/n watched him, her mind buzzing with the unexpected connection they’d formed. she was starting to let her guard down, and it scared her. she didn’t want to complicate things, especially with her past and her professional boundaries. but a part of her couldn’t deny the small thrill of getting to know someone who seemed to understand her so well.

as the day went on, y/n found herself replaying their conversation, trying to make sense of her feelings. she was still unsure about what the future held, but for now, she couldn’t help but look forward to their next interaction, even as she tried to keep her emotions in check.

as the final echoes of the day’s activity faded, y/n found herself alone in the physio room, the quiet a stark contrast to the lively bustle of earlier. the fading daylight cast a soft glow through the windows, illuminating the room in a gentle amber hue. she methodically tidied up the space, her movements automatic as her mind replayed the day’s events. the room, now peaceful and still, was the perfect setting for her thoughts to unravel.

the memory of jude's playful banter, his genuine interest, and the unexpected hug replayed in her mind. she tried to focus on the task at hand, but her thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation. it was easy to get lost in the way he looked at her, the way he made her feel like her thoughts and feelings mattered.

with a sigh, y/n leaned against the counter, her thoughts swirling. she was acutely aware of the delicate balance she was trying to maintain. her past with javier had left scars that were not easily forgotten, and the professional boundaries she’d set for herself were there for a reason. yet, jude’s presence was a constant, tantalizing distraction, pulling her into uncharted territory.

she glanced at the clock on the wall, noting how late it had gotten. she was often one of the last to leave, finding solace in the quiet after the bustling activity of the day. it gave her time to think, to process, and to escape from the complexities of her interactions with others. tonight was no different, except that her thoughts were unusually tangled.

as she packed up the last of the supplies, her phone buzzed with a message from laura. y/n glanced at the screen and read the text, but her mind was still occupied with thoughts of jude. she wondered if he truly understood the potential impact of his actions on her. did he know how much she wanted to keep her distance, or was he simply oblivious to the emotional turmoil he was causing?

y/n shook her head, trying to clear the haze of confusion. she reminded herself of her priorities—her work, her self-preservation, and her commitment to keeping things professional. it was essential to remain focused, despite the fluttering feelings that jude’s attention had stirred up.

as she finally finished tidying the room, y/n took a deep breath and headed for the exit. the evening air was cool against her skin, a refreshing contrast to the heat of her internal conflict. she walked to her car with a sense of resolve, determined to sort through her feelings and not let them cloud her judgment.

she knew that the next time she saw jude, things might be different. their interactions had the potential to deepen, and she would need to be ready to navigate the complexities that came with it. but for now, as she drove away from the facility, she focused on the road ahead, both literally and figuratively.

her thoughts were a tangled web of excitement and apprehension, but as she glanced at the empty passenger seat, she reminded herself that she was in control of her own path. whatever happened next, she would face it with the same dedication and professionalism that had guided her this far.

next

© PDRIESTA 2024

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona @treble-snot

[livesworthlivingau]

Lives Worth Living Chapter 26-28

ISAT/Two Hats Spoilers below! CW: Outbursts, Mentions of stabbing/killing, unhealthy obsessing.

"So how you holding up Sif?" (You suddenly snap back to reality and look over to Isa, now left alone as the other three had left for the market.)

"What do you mean?" (You ask, confused by the sudden question.)

"You looked a little zoned out there, and getting to see Vale again, and Nille, it's just a lot right now, even if it's good stuff. So... Just wanted to check in with you!" (He gives his trademark bright smile, and you can't help but smile back.)

"It is a lot... but it's good, the family's back together again, even L-Vale now... I just... I really hope it works out this time."

"This time?" (CRAB!!)

"Y-You know! Like, having them around... I want them to fit in is all!" (A more serious look appears on his face. There's no way he bought that...)

"Sif... You know you can tell me anything, right?"

"I do! I know! I... I'm sorry, but it involves them a lot too, and I can't talk about it without them." (Your voice falters a bit, the topic making you uncomfortable as you start to scratch absentmindedly at your arms. His large, gentle hand meet yours after a moment, trying to calm you down.)

"Hey, it's okay, I understand. I just worry, y'know? But if you're sure it's okay for now then I can wait!" (He smiles at you again. You place your head on his shoulder, closing your eye with a relieved sigh.)

"I love you Isa."

"I love you too Sif."

----------------------------------------------------

"Excuse me for a moment, I need to use the restroom~." (Vale explains before leaving the table and conversation. They seemed especially uneasy since Nille left to help Bonbon in the kitchen a few minutes ago, probably still struggling being around everyone else...)

"Siffrin, is there, uhm… Is Vale uncomfortable around us?" (Mira asks, it seems you weren't the only one to notice.)

"They're… just shy, you know? Not used to new people! That's all!" (You try to smile convincingly.)

"Right…" (Crab.)

"They just need some time to warm up is all!" (Isa to the rescue, as always. Thank the stars.)

"They were stuck in the loops too afterall! Sif was the only one they really interacted with, right?"

"No wonder they're so on edge." (Odile chimes in with a little tease, not even looking up from her book.)

"H-Hey!?" (Mira and Isa can't help but snort and snicker at your expense. It WAS a pretty good joke you guess…)

"Though we should discuss what our next course of action is, now that Nille has found us. I assume we'll still head to Bambouche for their sakes, then continue our little reunion tour? I imagine you'd like to return to Jouvente at some point Isabeau?" (Odile begins to plan aloud to get us all on the same page.)

"Eventually, sure, I'm in no rush! But what about you, M'dame? Don't you want to go back to Ka Bue too?" (Odile pauses for a moment, glancing over at you. You must have been making some kind of face considering how she raises a brow at you.)

"I believe our little time traveler here already knows the answer to that question." (You look away nervously.)

"It's uhh... complicated? I don't think Odile cares about returning anytime soon." (You try to keep it vague, to which she nods. Her eyes casually return to her book before she speaks up again.)

"Very astute of you, Siffrin. If I do happen to return, it will likely be out of obligation more than anything else. I believe we have more pressing matters to attend to, like the fact you're still looping."

"I wouldn't exactly call that pressing..."

"Th-This isn't something you should just put off Siffrin! What if it just keeps getting out on the back burner and suddenly you're right back where you started again?!" (Mira chimes in in a panic.)

"I'm not saying we just ignore it forever! Just... we have some time at least, and Odile stopped me from looping once already! If anyone's gonna know what to do, it'll be her, right?"

"I stopped it in the moment, preventing you from looping ever again is a whole ordeal in and of itself. It will take a lot of research on a subject that no one knows anything about, and another that is purely theoretical. I may be good at what I do but I'm not a miracle worker."

"You might not think so." (You chuckle a bit. No matter how many times it happens, she still managed to surprise you over the years with new breakthroughs and theories on craft, sadnesses, and otherwise. She smirks a bit as her eyes remain on her book.)

"While your confidence in my is flattering, I'd still like to tackle this subject sooner rather than later."

"Alright, we'll get to Bambouche and go from there, okay? For now I'm just glad we're all together again..." (Your expression falls to a bittersweet one. You feel Isa's hand on your shoulder, giving a light squeeze and smiling brightly at you. You lay your head against his side and close your eye, savoring the embrace.)

"Dinner'll be ready in a few!... Hey, where'd Vale go?" (Nille asks, stepping back in from the kitchen.)

"Oh! They went to the restroom! B-But it's been a while, hasn't it? should someone check on them?"

"I better do it, y'all sit tight!" (Nille quickly takes the offer to ensure no one else would, heading off to find them.)

----------------------------------------------------

"Before I explain this, it's not their fault, please don't blame them, they were going through a lot and I didn't notice how it was affecting them and I told their secret an-" (You start to explain at a million miles a minute, too frantic to be processed properly even as Nille lightly grabs your shoulders to snap you out of it.)

"Hey, easy, just start at the beginning okay?" (She tries to comfort you, to which you nod and take a deep breath.)

"... When I first looped back all those years, I was... frozen? I was panicking, stuck in my head, I thought it must be a dream or something, there's no way this was really happening, right?... And then I heard their voice... and all of that just went away." (You glance over at Vale. They look... confused? Shocked maybe? You guess you never got the chance to tell them this part.)

"I ran to find them right after, as fast as I could, and... I was just so happy to see them, I didn't think about how they were feeling... forced to be back, I'd been through so much and they were just left behind... and then I dragged them along back here to force them into a family they didn't want any part in."

"Stardust... That's..."

"It's true Vale, and I'm sorry. I really don't blame you for what happened." (Vale just looks away, clearly not agreeing, but they can tell they won't change your mind. Nille still looks very confused, waiting for the story to continue.)

"So things seemed fine for a little while, but then Odile noticed I was doing a little too well, and I told her about everything... including their secret, which they made me promise not to tell." (You really were hamming up how awful you had been, even if you didn't realize it. It was your fault after all, Vale can't be punished for that.)

"Vale found out what I did, they were already on the verge of snapping and that pushed them over the edge, so... they had to go back, before I dragged them to the party... They had to make us all loop back..." (Nille takes a second to process all of this, before her eyes widen, realizing what you were implying.)

"Frin, tell me what happened, please." (She asks, her eyes looking almost desperate, as if asking you to assure her it's not what she thinks.)

"Vale... They..."

"I STABBED HIM! I SHOVED HIS OWN DAGGER INTO HIS HEART AND FORCED HIM BACK, OKAY?! I'M A MONSTER AND A MURDERER!!!" (You jump back as they suddenly start screaming out. You look back to the door, thankful no one else was there at the moment. Nille pulls herself away from their outburst. Looking scared, confused, conflicted.)

"N-No! You're not Vale, you knew I'd be fine! You knew I'd loop!"

"And what if you didn't?!?! What if it all ended right there?!? How could I do such a thing?! How could I take that risk?! How could I hurt you like that?!" (Their eyes were wide and crazed, they gripped their hair painfully tight. They looked ready to snap again. Before you could try to comfort them, Nille was already holding their face to try and snap their out of it.)

"Hey hey hey! Vale, Calm down please." (They stopped suddenly, tears flowing from their eyes and staring back at Nille, surprised they weren't being treated like the monster they thought they were.)

"You made a mistake... a big one, sure, but a mistake none the less. Frin's okay now, right?"

"B-But... I killed them... H-how could anyone forgive me for that?..."

"Well, Frin did, and that's the most important person to do so I'd say... It's a lot to take in alright, still not really sure how I feel about it right now... but I'm not just gonna hate you for it, especially after everything." (Vale stares up at her, they look confused, their eyes darting about as they try to piece something together.)

"I doubt you want to go back in there tonight. Maybe you should stay at the Inn for tonight, cool off a little..."

"Y-Yes... that sounds like it's for the best..." (Before Vale can get too far, Nille lightly grabs their arm to keep them from going too far.)

"This doesn't give you permission to run away though! Remember... you made a promise." (She smiles softly then lets go.)

"... Right... I promise." (Vale can't hold eye contact with either of you for more than a second, slowly starting to walk off again.)

"We'll see you tomorrow, Vale?..." (You plead. They nod back at you before fully turning away. The both of you watch as they slowly vanish from view towards the town center.)

"... Hey, Frin? Are you sure you're okay?" (Nille starts to speak again, now that Vale was safely out of earshot.)

"... It's not that bad, I promise."

"But they killed you Frin... I know they've got issues but... I didn't think they'd be capable of doing that." (Nille holds her arms, gripping them a bit too tightly.)

"They're not! They knew I'd be okay! I'm still looping, it's fine! They would never have done it if they knew it wouldn't happen, like when-" (You cut yourself off, quickly slapping your hand over your mouth.)

"... When what?"

"... After the loops 'ended' the first time, I went to find them... That's when they admitted who they were, and they kinda... snapped. They attacked me, they were ranting and raving, they spent all that time just watching me do it and have an easier time than they ever did, everything they went through and my loops were practically a walk in the park in comparison... But when they had me beaten they couldn't do it! They wouldn't! They're not capable of that I swear!!!" (You do your best to convince her... and possibly yourself in the process. You still blame yourself for what happened, you just don't want Vale to suffer for it.)

"Frin... I'm not saying we should just send them on their merry way or anything but... they still attacked you, they still stabbed you... I don't know if you should just act like that's fine and forget it ever happened..."

"Nille... I've had a very long time to think about this. I've missed them for decades, and now they're finally back... I'm not going to do anything to mess that up, so please don't do so either." (You don't realize it until it's already happened, your face turning to a colder, darker expression. It felt vaguely familiar, likely similar to how you looked in those later loops... Nille looks a bit unnerved by it.)

"Siffrin, that's not healthy! Don't you think you're being a bit obsessive about thi-"

"I don't care!" (Nille jolts in shock, stepping back at your outburst. You stop before you lose it too much, taking a deep breath to compose yourself.)

"I just want them back... I just want them to be happy... I had 30 years of a wonderful life with all of you while they got nothing... Isn't that unfair? Isn't that a tragedy? They go through all the pain and suffering and I just come in and replace them?!"

"Frin! That's no-"

"NO! They're the only reason I'm here! They're the only reason I got to be happy for all this time! So don't you dare get in the way of me making it up to them!" (You snap. Nille stares down at you in a mix of shock and nerves. She looks over you a bit, as if trying to work out the best way to deal with this situation. You sigh and take a step back, making yourself smaller as you duck into your cloak a little.)

"I'm sorry... but please, don't... don't ruin this for me... I need this. I need them... Good night Nille." (You excuse yourself before you say anything else you may regret. You head back inside, ignoring anything she or anyone else may be saying to you as you pass. You reach your room and settle in for bed, not wanting to deal with this day any longer.)

[sashaisready]

Feel The Burn: Chapter 3

Lance Tucker x Reader | Destroyer!Chris x Reader

Series Masterlist

Your casual situationship with notorious flirt Lance Tucker comes to a shocking head at a party, fortunately the mysterious stranger you meet that same night is more than happy to help take your mind off it.

Wordcount: Approx. 2250

Sorry this took so long, I had a really restful Christmas break with my family and my whole brain shut down. But now it's back! Mostly! Thanks to everyone who has interacted with this story so far, I'm really enjoying it. As always, reblogs and comments mean the world. And shout out to SebStan for his golden globe win last night! Thoroughly deserved ⭐

“Lance…what are you-” you asked with trepidation as your eyes shift back to Chris, but he immediately interrupts.

“I’ve been trying to call you…” he explains coolly. He’s not looking at you, but over your shoulder at Chris, he seems irritated – his expression sour, “but there must be something up with your phone…”

“There’s not,” you respond curtly.

You see the tiniest hint of surprise on his face as he absorbs your meaning, you probably wouldn’t have even registered it if you didn’t know him like you did. But you do, and it’s there, a fleeting glimpse of fallibility before it’s consumed by his trademark smirk.

“Ah,” he chuckles knowingly without humour, “gotcha”.

“Is everything okay here?” Chris asks from behind you, his tone laced with concern. He gets up from the table and moves to stand next to you, an ally on your side of the battlefield.

“Everything’s fine, pal,” Lance responds before you can. His tone is breezy and light, but you can see him sizing Chris up. It’s almost funny to see them to see them together like this and you’re struck by the strange resemblance despite their stark differences in aesthetic. They could almost be brothers.

“Glad to hear it, pal,” Chris smirks back at him, unperturbed. “But I just want to hear it from the lady”.

“It’s fine, thanks Chris,” you smile at him before turning back to Lance.

“See? It’s fine, Chris,” Lance returns with a sickly-sweet grin, saying Chris’ name like its venom in his mouth. He expertly toes the line between sincerity and mockery, but it’s perfectly clear to you (and no doubt to Chris) which option he intends.

“I’m Lance, by the way,” he extends his hand to the other man and the two of them shake. Despite the cordial gesture, you can clearly see the way they’re both scrutinising each other.

Your eyes flit between the two men and you’re suddenly very aware that this not-quite-confrontation is happening at your place of work. You notice a few patrons glancing over and your heart suddenly beats faster. You’re not exactly one for public drama, you don’t want your personal life playing out in front of your customers and risking any potential impact to your business.

The thin veneer of politeness between Lance and Chris threatens to crack at any moment, particularly if Lance decides to be Lance and chooses to antagonise his new friend.

“So…Chris, what line of work are you in?” Lance practically sneers.

You feel your panic increase as they casually chat in strained short sentences about their jobs. You’re aware of how odd it is that you’re not chiming in, seeing as they’re both here for you – but you simply don’t know what to say. Chris showing up was a curveball, but Lance popping up too had completely knocked you off balance. You’re not built for this; you rarely have one man – let alone two. You can’t handle it.

“Mechanic huh? Maybe you could take a look at my fenders,” Lance grins.

“Yeah maybe,” Chris shoots back without missing a beat, “but I’m pretty busy. And very expensive…” he chuckles.

Lance laughs thinly and you realise you need to actually do something before this all implodes.

“I…uh…” you stumble as you try to ease the tension, but you seem to have forgotten how to form even the most basic sentences. You look between Chris and Lance as they both look back at you expectantly.

“What are you doing here, Lance?” you manage to hiss in a small whisper as you regain some of your composure.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he replies, leaning slightly closer towards you as if Chris wouldn’t be to hear. His briefly looks over at Chris and then back at you, slightly self-consciously. “I haven’t been able to get hold of you so-”

“I’ve been busy,” you cut him off, your voice hushed as to not draw to much attention. “And I don’t really think there’s anything to say”.

“What happened at the party…”

“I really don’t think there’s anything to say,” you repeat firmly, “and if there was, it wouldn’t be here…where I work”.

He bites his lip for a moment, glancing around the café as if he suddenly realises where he is for the first time. He scoffs dismissively, rolling his eyes.

“Cupcake…” he says almost teasingly.

“Lance, please,” you hiss again – your voice unintentionally more pleading than demanding.

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and you’re surprised that his eyes soften in response. You just expected him to continue antagonising you, but he seems to pick up on your distress.

“Fine,” he yields, his voice gentler now, hushed. He takes a second to choose his words and clears his throat, “I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. It was shitty, what I did, and I wish I could take it back. And I wanted to explain…”

You don’t respond, your blank expression shuts down anything further. Inwardly you’re shocked, you’ve never heard anything like that come out of his mouth before. He’s exposed…almost vulnerable in that moment.

But you wouldn’t let him get wind of that. Not after what he did.

He seems unsurprised by your lack of reply and takes a step back, “I gotta get back to the gym. Good to meet you, man,” he nods over at Chris, his tone somber.

“Yeah, you too,” Chris rasps back unconvincingly.

“See you around, Cupcake,” he tells you as he walks to the door. The two of you lock eyes until he leaves. You know this is the right move, ignoring the slight stirring in your stomach.

Chris chuckles as the door closes, “wow, motherfucker in the flesh, huh?”

You grimace, offering a hollow laugh of your own, “yeah that’s him. I’m sorry…I didn’t expect him to show up here like that…I’m sorry he was a dick to you…”

“Eh. Nothing I can’t handle. There are guys like that everywhere, you just learn not to rise to it as that’s what they’re counting on,” Chris shrugs nonchalantly and sits back down at the table. “Clearly, he’s having regrets about what happened between you two, and he obviously was thrown by me being here. I bet he had a whole speech planned for you which I messed up for him…” he smirks.

You nod as you sit back down, still embarrassed about this mini soap opera playing out around you. But Chris seems utterly unfazed by it all, he carries a quiet confidence – like he has nothing to prove to anyone. The opposite of Lance, loud and proud – ensuring everyone knows who he is. Surely Chris doesn’t need this? He’s cool. Calm. He can’t want high school stuff like this in his life.

“Chris…” you begin hesitantly, “I’m really glad you came over here to see me. And it’s been really nice chatting with you. But I’m sorry you’re somehow mixed up in my shit. Funnily enough my personal life is never normally this interesting,” you force a laugh, “but look…I’d completely understand if you don’t want to deal with my drama…”

“There’s no drama,” he cuts you off and begins collecting up your used mug and plate, “and I want to be here. It would take more than some jumped-up Olympian to scare me away from you,” he shoots you a wink.

You feel yourself flush at the compliment, then watch as he stacks up the crockery on the table.

“If you’re sure…Hey…you don’t have to do that…” you protest, going to take the plates from him. But he lightly shoos you away.

“Like I said, I want to”, he re-iterates as he locks eyes with you, “it’s okay to let people help you, you know”.

His tone is gentle, but the meaning is firm. He’s not just talking about dirty plates. You relent, dropping your hands to your sides as he moves the stack to the counter which Marina accepts with a smile. She thanks him as she moves them to the dishwasher crate, and he steps back towards you.

“Guess I’m kinda used to doing everything myself,” you smile meekly, your eyes dropping to your knees.

Chris leans over and props your chin up with his thumb. You’re practically nose-to-nose with him now, his cerulean eyes boring into you with a heat that catches you by surprise.

“I can tell you’ve had experience with people who keep you guessing, or don’t tell you exactly what they mean,” he whispers without breaking eye contact, “so let me be clear here, I will always be upfront with you. I say what I mean, and I mean what I say”.

You blink, bewildered but enraptured. The coffee shop melts away around you, it’s just you and him here now.

“And so…” he continues, “I’ll lay my cards on the table here and now. I like you. I think you’re cute. I think you’re interesting. I want to get to know you better, maybe take you out for something stronger than a coffee. But if you’re not into it, that’s cool too. It’s an invite, not a summons.”

You can’t quite believe his directness, but it’s refreshing – clear and unambiguous, an oasis of clarity after being lost in the desert of Lance’s mixed signals for so long. You also can’t quite believe he’s into you, your general shyness means you don’t normally catch the eye of men like Chris. You’re sure he’d rather be with someone cooler, someone prettier, someone with their shit together. But he seems so sure…

Maybe it’s time to step out of your comfort zone, accept help like he said – but also take people at their word. Maybe this whole Lance mess was meant to happen to help you see that, and start accepting better, more. Accepting what you deserve.

You nod dumbly, inspired by his boldness you grab a napkin and a sharpie from the counter and scribble your phone number on it. You pass it over to him quickly before your nerves talk you out of it.

He grins, carefully folding up the napkin and slotting it into his pocket as if it were some delicate object that he needed to preserve.

“Well, thanks. I’ve gotta get back to the shop. Thanks for the coffee, and the danish was great – you were right to push it”.

“Told ya”, you beam back at him.

He leans over and kisses you on the cheek. It’s sweet, chaste – you can’t help the little gasp that escapes your lips. Your skin suddenly feels hot, your heart pounding. He smiles again, that charming smile, and you’re amazed that you haven’t melted into the floor

He moves to leave, then turns to you once more, scoffing and rolling his eyes.

“He calls you cupcake? How lame…” he laughs.

You manage a chuckle back and shrug nonchalantly, but inside you feel a small sting. Embarrassingly, you like that Lance calls you that. It had started when he’d dropped by the shop one morning early on in your fling, you’d given him a coffee and suggested he get a cupcake with it. The new banoffee recipe. He’d looked at you like you’d shot him, the horrified outrage on his face so theatrical that you had fallen about laughing. He launched into a rant about his training and fitness and the evils of sugar while you watched on, amused, and tickled. You knew he was hamming it up to make you laugh, smirking knowingly as he went on and on - and it had worked, you were in hysterics. It had culminated in you taking a bite of the cupcake as he ranted, in defiance of his sugar hatred. He had responded by swiping the remaining cake and swallowing it almost whole. He mock admonished you through mouthfuls of cake about the extra gym session he’d need to fit in to work it off now you’d ‘forced’ him to eat that, as you protested through giggles. And thus, Cupcake was sealed, his nickname from you from then on. He barely used your real name after that.

It became a bit between the two of you, you offering him junk food and then him ranting about his training in response. It was an instant guarantee to get him worked up, and you couldn’t resist. But it was never serious. He never judged you for what you ate, never shamed you or made you feel bad. His discipline as a trainer never translated to expectations or judgement of you, and you never felt like he was looking down his nose at you for not surviving on mostly protein like he did. In fact, he brought you sweet treats, ordered you take out. He’d steal bites of your fries and play innocent afterwards. (‘Why would I steal your fries? Baby…you think these abs come from fries…?’) You always imagined that sleeping with a gym bro would mean lectures about trans-fats and insisting on morning jogs, but Lance, to his credit, never once projected any of that onto you. You only ever felt comfortable in your own skin around him.

So, Chris’ teasing was a surprisingly pinch. You weren’t sure why. It wasn’t like Lance deserved any of your grace, and it was a pretty cringy nickname…

You moved it to the back of your mind.

You waved Chris off and smiled as he left the shop. You went back to work, basking in the giddiness and excitement of meeting someone new…and finally not feeling like an afterthought.

[50calmadeuce]

Ch. 36: Another Deployment

Warning: Mention of miscarriage. Some chapters have sex.

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction using characters from the Top Gun: Maverick world, trademarked by Paramount Pictures Corporation. I do not claim ownership of the characters and the world that I am borrowing.

The story and situation I am creating are a work of my imagination and I do not ascribe them to official story canon. This work is for entertainment only and is not a part of the storyline.

I am not profiting financially from the creation and publication of this story, but I do hope it gives you happy thoughts.

These stories are my own, so please do not take them and use them for yourself without my permission. If you see them somewhere else, please let me know. :)

Jake held your left hand as the two of you slowly walked towards his family from the rental car. He carried his travel bag in his right hand.

"I'll be back," he said reassuringly.

You tucked a piece of hair behind your left ear as the wind blew. "I know, Jake. I've never had any doubt in that."

Jake squeezed your hand gently, a warm smile on his face. "That means everything to me, Y/N."

His family spotted you both and came over, their faces a mix of joy and a touch of sadness. Cindy was the first to reach you, wrapping you in a warm hug. "We'll take good care of you while he's gone," she whispered, her voice full of reassurance.

Jake's sisters followed suit, each giving you a hug and words of encouragement. "You just call us if you need anything, okay?" one of them said, her eyes full of determination.

Jake looked at his family, grateful for their support, and then a playful grin spread across his face. "I'm glad my wife will still be taken care of when I leave, but remember, I'm the one who's actually leaving," he said teasingly.

Jake's family laughed, and Cindy playfully swatted his arm. "Oh, we know, Jake. But you'll be in good hands too. We've got a care package ready for you."

Jake chuckled. "I appreciate that, Mom."

You stood back, watching the interaction with a smile. Jake's family had always been welcoming and supportive, and it was comforting to know they were there for you.

Jake's dad stepped forward, clapping Jake on the shoulder. "You stay safe out there, son. We’ll be here holding down the fort."

Jake nodded, his expression turning serious. "I will, Dad. Thanks for everything."

Max also stepped up to Jake and put out his hand. "She'll be in great hands."

Jake reached for his hand and then pulled Max in for a brotherly like hug. "I know."

As the time for departure grew closer, the family stepped away for you and Jake to get your last few minutes and Jake turned to you, pulling you into a tight embrace, your foreheads touching. "I love you, Y/N. I'll call as soon as I can."

You tried not to cry, but the pregnancy hormones got to you first as a single tear started to slowly form and slide down a cheek.

Jake grinned playfully. "Why Y/N Seresin, are you crying?" he asked with a teasing lilt in his voice. "My strong and independent wife is crying," he responded as he gently reached up with his thumb and wiped the tear away.

You half cried and half laughed. "Not funny, Jake Seresin."

"It is just a little bit," he said, gently pulling your face closer. As the two of you kissed, the tears really started to flow.

When you parted, Jake got down on one knee and placed his hands on your belly. "You take really good care of momma while I'm gone. You're a Seresin. We all stick together." He gently kissed your stomach and then slowly rose back up. "I love you, Y/N Seresin. Don't you forget that."

You smiled. "Never and the feeling is mutual."

He started towards the building, and just before reaching the door, he looked back for one final glance at you. Once again, he sent you a kiss through the air. Playing along, you mimed catching it and pressed it to your lips, then sent one back to him. He mimicked catching it, placing it tenderly on his lips. With a heavy heart, you watched him turn away and disappear into the building, the door sealing shut behind him.

The tears started to flow heavily now and you were really hating these hormones.

"Oh, Y/N. Come here, sweetie," Cindy said as she walked up to you. You turned towards her, burying your face into her shoulder and letting it all out.

An hour later, you and Max walked through the doors of Jake's apartment.

"Wow. I give you credit. I couldn't do that," Max said. "Especially after four years of nothing."

"Trust me, Max. It's not easy, but Jake and I have had to rebuild a solid relationship in a really short time."

He nodded. "Yeah. I saw that. My question is, how?"

Your phone dinged, and you looked at it. It was a text from Phoenix asking about Max, and you giggled as you glanced at him. "Maybe someday you'll find out for yourself what it's like to date an independent yet strong woman. I think Phoenix really has the hots for you."

Max, whom you've known for a while now, started to blush.

"Are you blushing?" you teased.

"No!" he denied, looking away.

You laughed, enjoying seeing Max flustered. "Come on, it's obvious you like her too."

Max rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. "She's… she's great. But I'm not sure she sees me that way."

You raised an eyebrow. "Oh, trust me, she does. That text was asking about you, after all."

Max sighed, trying to hide his smile. "Alright, alright. Maybe I'll talk to her."

"Good," you said, giving him a playful nudge. "You deserve to be happy, Max."

He smiled, finally meeting your eyes. "Thanks, Y/N. I appreciate that."

You looked around the apartment, thinking about the journey you and Jake had been on. "As for rebuilding a relationship… it takes time, patience, and a lot of communication. We both had to be honest about our mistakes and our feelings. Even that was a challenge. It's not easy, but it's worth it."

Max nodded thoughtfully. "I'll keep that in mind. You and Jake are a great example of what love and dedication can do."

You smiled, touched by his words. "Thanks. Now, let's get this place in order before we fly out to Wyoming," you said with a sigh.

"What about all the stuff from the baby shower?"

"Oh, Penny is taking care of that. I told her to send it and let me know how much it was and I would reimburse her. Chuck is aware of it's arrival." You turned and looked at him. "I found a small cabin to rent while we're there."

"Let me know half and I'll have it reimbursed for work," he replied.

"Will do," you responded as you sighed again and looked around the apartment. "I'll start in the bedroom. Did you just want to order take out since our flight leaves early in the morning?"

"Do you do this every time Jake leaves?" Max asked.

"Do what?"

"Clean his apartment."

"This is only the second time I've done it. Thankfully he doesn't have much here."

Max nodded. "Makes sense and yes. Take out is fine."

Later that night, you and Max sat at the small table in Jake's apartment eating Chinese food.

Max took a sip from his cup of tea and looked across the table at you. "You know, Y/N, I have to say, you’re handling all of this really well."

You smiled, pushing some rice around on your plate. "Thank you, Max. It’s been a lot, but I’ve got good people around me. Plus, it’s not the first time I've had to manage on my own."

Max nodded, understanding. "Still, it’s not easy. But you’re strong. I’ve always admired that about you."

You felt a warmth from his words. "I couldn’t do it without everyone’s support. And knowing Jake is out there doing what he loves makes it a bit easier."

Max’s eyes softened. "He’s a lucky guy. And you’re going to be a fantastic mom. I have no doubt about it."

You laughed softly. "I hope so. I guess we’ll find out soon enough."

"Are you scared?" he asked, suddenly serious.

You looked up at him, your eyes reflecting a mix of vulnerability and determination. "Yeah. I mean, I have so many questions about myself. Will I make the best decisions? Will I be able to handle everything? It’s a lot to take on, and sometimes I wonder if I’m ready for it all."

Max laughed. "This coming from a large animal veterinarian."

You mixed your food on your plate. "A baby isn't a large animal, Max."

Max chuckled, shaking his head. "True. But you’ve dealt with a lot of challenges with those large animals, and I’m sure you’ll handle this one just as well."

You smiled, appreciating his encouragement. "I guess it’s all about adapting and learning as you go, right?"

"Exactly," Max agreed, leaning back in his chair. "And I'm sure Jake's family will be there to help."

You laughed, a big smile on your face. "That is true."

As you both enjoyed your meal, the conversation shifted to lighter topics, with Max recounting amusing stories from his travels and you sharing updates about life back home. The comfort of having a friend by your side made the evening feel warmer and more manageable.

Tags: @buckysteveloki-me @bellyliveslife @tgmreader @callsign-barbell @86laura11 @dizzybee03 @kmc1989 @guacam011y @nerdgirljen @hookslove1592 @dempy @djs8891 @smoothdogsgirl

[katerina-marie]

Don't Go Slowly, Tell Me If You're Lonely (Series)

Chapter 4

Gojo Satoru x Reader & (past) Geto Suguru x Reader

Your relationship with Geto Suguru came to an end somewhere between the day of his betrayal and the day of his death. Your relationship with Gojo Satoru began somewhere in the midst of it all, even without you realizing.

WC: 8.4k

Content: Canon Divergence, Gojo x Female Reader (referred to as such but left descriptively vague), (past) Geto Suguru x Female Reader, Geto's canonical death, friends to lovers, angst, eventual happy ending, fluff later, reader is a sorcerer (left vague tho), no use of y/n. More notes below.

Chapter Count: Chp 1, Chp 2, Chp 3, Chp 4, Chp 5, Chp 6 (Final)

Notes: Would you believe me if I said the first two points on my outline for this chapter were "Omg, footsies" and "Fight, fight, fight"?

-------------------------------------------------

Chapter 4: Take Me From Your Vault, Tell Me It's My Fault (You Only Know What I Want You To)

After the initial shock of seeing Gojo Satoru waiting out in front of the airport, it was clear to you that you would never quite get over the flash of white hair, his towering stature, or those eyes of his that caught attention wherever he went if they just so happened to be uncovered as they were right then. His grin was slow to appear once you spotted one another, but still alluring to you nonetheless, and you had to tighten your grip on your luggage when the sweat of your palm made your grip on it slip. You forced yourself to walk to him at a steady pace, not quite faster than normal, but if the steps you took towards him were just barely longer than felt natural, you would blame it on your eagerness to get home. 

You fretted at what to do when you reached him. Standing there and simply looking up at him felt awkward. Wrapping your arms around him was impractical when you were dragging a suitcase in one hand and a large tote was hanging off your opposite shoulder. Maybe he would just start walking along with you and you could avoid a blundering interaction altogether, but just before you came upon him, you saw his right hand twitch upwards and you had your decision made. 

You came to a stop in front of him, and with deliberate concentration, you calmly set aside your luggage and tote before looking up at him with bated breath and a curious expression. Satoru returned it in kind, white hair falling just so into his eyes, and you encircled his waist with your arms and felt him do the same around your shoulders. Every point of contact was a spark of awareness in your mind, and the clean scent of soap that lingered around him to the silken texture of his uniform was comforting in its familiarity, but thrilling in the way it felt like meeting him again for the first time. The hug didn’t last unnecessarily long, plenty appropriate for reuniting friends, but Satoru was stiff when he pulled away and his back was stuck straight. Nimble fingers closed in around the backs of your arms and you were unnerved by the way his mouth opened and shut twice in quick succession before he dropped all contact and took a step back. 

“I’m sorry,” you said, now apprehensive at the way Satoru didn’t seem to know what to do with himself, “I didn’t mean to—,” 

He interrupted you with a shake of his head as he reached up to rub at the back of his neck. “Nothing to apologize for.” With a quick duck behind you, he grabbed the handle of your luggage and swiped your tote off the ground with his free hand, and whatever odd emotion had tightened his countenance was gone by the time he rightened himself back up and was replaced with his trademark smirk. “Ready?”

You could do nothing more than nod, and you fell into step beside him as the two of you started off towards his car. He began to talk about something related to his new student, but you only partially listened and were mostly preoccupied by the commotion going on in your head. You had hoped that his unusual reaction hadn’t been anything more than a quick adjustment to your presence after so long apart. Because you, on the other hand, were stupefied when you set your on eyes on him for the first time in a year and could formulate only one singular thought:

Oh. He was handsome. 

————————————————

The clock on your nightstand read twelve after six in the morning when a second knock on your door woke you from sleep. In between the third and the fourth, you managed to stumble blearily out of your bed, and Gojo Satoru was about to knock a fifth time when you swung open your door. 

“You know,” you grumbled, rubbing away the sleep from your eyes, “I really don’t appreciate your propensity for waking me up at unreasonable hours. I just got home two days ago. I need rest.” 

Satoru was unbothered, and he leaned against your door frame with a careless shrug of his shoulders. “You missed my birthday last month. Now that you’re home, I think it’s reasonable we go out and celebrate.” 

You hoped your deadpan expression was enough to convey to him the depth of your contempt for his audacity, and you gripped the edge of the door to slam it in his face in case the message wasn’t clear enough. What he called out next stayed your hand. 

“There’s food involved!” 

You narrowed your eyes at him, annoyed at the victorious grin on his face because he apparently knew you better than you thought, insofar as that you could easily be bested by the temptation of breakfast. While you were somewhat concerned about whatever mood he seemed to be in since your arrival back home, the grin on his face was genuine and eager, and you had missed him far too much to let his peculiarities get in the way of spending time with him. But Satoru didn’t need to know that, and it was too early in the morning for you to dwell on it further, so you let out a sigh of defeat and glared at your friend. 

“Give me fifteen minutes.” 

Half an hour later found you and Satoru in the middle of the city. The biting winter air of a dreary morning could do nothing to stave off the rush of bittersweet nostalgia that overcame you when the two of you rounded a corner and came to a stop in front of a familiar red brick building. A swirl of cursive French hanging from a wooden sign above the entrance announced the name of the bakery inside, and the bronze of the door handles wore down gold from years of use. 

“God, when was the last time we were all here?” you asked, astonishment coloring your tone, and when you turned to look at Satoru, his smile was wistful as he peered through the large glass window to the side of the door. You suspected his eyes would look practically the same if they weren’t hidden behind his blindfold.

“Nanami’s birthday, if I remember correctly. The last one before…everything.” 

The laugh that bubbled up and out of your mouth was thick with emotion, but you grabbed onto Satoru’s arm in barely contained excitement and gave him a tug forward. “Let’s go!” 

He humored you, letting you pull him along until the two of you were right up by the entrance, then reached out ahead of you to open the door and motion you through with a grand sweeping of his arm. The whole thing felt a bit silly, but it thrilled you nonetheless, and the immediate barrage on your nose of the scent of fresh baked pastries made your stomach growl. You were quick to glance around at the open tables to take a seat, and one particular spot caught your eye. 

“Our table!” you squealed, doing your best to be mindful of the other patrons already present by keeping your voice a volume level lower than normal.. 

Satoru was quick on your heels as you nearly skipped over to a table in the back corner of the bakery. It wasn’t fully centered under the large window overlooking the street, but just slightly behind it, allowing for a picturesque view of the awakening city without having to be watched from walking passerbyers. The tan leather of the seats groaned and squeaked the same as you remembered as you lowered yourself down into one. 

Out of the corner of your eye, Satoru swiped a triangular piece of paper slashed with black script from where it was propped up against the utensil holder between you and shoved it into his pocket before taking his seat. You were too preoccupied with grabbing the menu to pay him any attention, and you opened it up to scan the seemingly endless options of varying teas and coffees, savory breads and decadent pastries that were masquerading as a breakfast option, all the while a scene from the last time you were here played out in your head. 

“Wait, so you didn’t tell Nanami we were going to be here?” Suguru and Satoru had the gall to look chagrined from where they sat sprawled out in their chairs across the table from you. 

“Nope,” Satoru muttered, popping the last part of the word as it left his mouth while Suguru shook his head. 

You huffed in exasperation and turned back to the menu in your hand, unwilling to devote any more brain power to chastising the troubling twosome. 

Poor, unsuspecting Nanami. He frequented this bakery most mornings on his commute as some ritual habit to help relieve the tediousness of your collective career. He’d arrive at the school with a warm sandwich in hand, a drink in the other, and would refuse to speak more than a brief pleasantry to anyone before he was able to eat his breakfast in relative peace. While Nanami had reluctantly shared the location of this particular bakery with the three of you, he had never once extended an invitation to join him. You feared that as soon as he walked through the door and caught sight of the mismatched pair of white and black hair disrupting his sacred tradition—on his birthday, no less—he’d walk right back out, sandwich and beverage be damned. A travesty, really, for the food here was worthy of the divine.

“I don’t know which one to pick!” you whined, eyes switching back and forth between two options listed on the menu. “One’s smothered in chocolate, but the other has my favorite fruit on it.”

“I’ll share with you,” Satoru offered, but the mischievous gleam in his eyes that were half-hidden by his glasses promised nothing beneficial would come out of such an arrangement.

“Absolutely not,” you snapped back, “you’ll take two huge bites and not even leave enough for me to lick off the plate.” 

Satoru snickered. “Suit yourself.” 

Before you could launch a verbal attack, Suguru interrupted you with a nudge of his leg under the table. “I’ll get one,” he said, though you couldn’t say he sounded a hundred percent willing, “and you get the other one, that way you can try both.” 

You gave your boyfriend a sappy smile and wriggled happily in your seat. “Thank you, Suguru,” you cooed at him. He rolled his eyes playfully, but next to him Satoru gagged. You considered it beneath you to give attention to such behavior and ignored Satoru in favor of brushing your foot down Suguru’s calf to rub against his. He paid you no mind, but you continued on and let your eyes wander across the bakery. 

A tall head of blonde hair and peculiar glasses caught your attention, and you grinned at Nanami when he noticed you from his spot at the door. He was surprised at seeing you here, that was for sure, but there was the slightest smile on his face. It even looked like he was about to take a step towards you until his gaze flicked down to Suguru and Satoru, and all emotion slid clean off his face. Nanami spun around and made for the exit.

“Nanami spotted you two and is now on the run,” you announced calmly, and it took a moment for it to register before Suguru was throwing his seat back and on his feet to chase after your friend. 

You couldn’t blame Nanami for trying his best to escape, not when you knew Satoru was going to sing him an off-key rendition of ‘happy birthday��� while forcing him to wear one of those ridiculous party hats. You offering to pay for his meal as a celebratory treat wouldn’t be able to undo whatever mood he was going to be in after. But alas, Nanami would tolerate the chaos, and you decided not to call off Suguru as he was just about to make it out the door. Instead, you continued nudging your foot along the length of his—,

Wait a minute.

You jerked your head towards Satoru only to be repulsed at the sight of him concealing muffled noises of amusement behind his fist. His foot tapped against yours once from where they were still intertwined, and you wrenched yours back with a gasp.

“You’re incorrigible!” you sputtered at him, face blanching when laughter burst forth from his mouth. Satoru threw his head back against his chair, mouth open wide and hands braced against his stomach. It was loud enough to draw looks from others in the bakery, and you were one minute shy of bashing him over the head with a plate. 

By the time Suguru returned with a vexed looking Nanami under his arm, Satoru was wiping tears from his cheeks while you sat with your arms crossed and legs tucked up under you on your seat. 

“You okay?” Satoru’s murmured question ripped you back into the present, and his brows furrowed in perplexed concern at whatever he saw on your face. Whether it was solemn longing for the feeling of completeness from when you all had been able to gather together, or grateful sorrow that it had happened at all was anyone’s best guess, and both just so happened to be competing for the room you had left to offer. “Too much?” 

You shook your head and did your best to offer Satoru a faint smile. “No,” you said, voice soft but steady. You looked about the bakery, taking in the sounds of muted chatter and the clinking of dishes until you landed back at him. “Not this time.” 

He seemed content with your answer, so you went back to perusing the menu, ready to negotiate a sharing of desserts when you felt the curve of his foot hook gently around the back of your ankle. 

While unexpected, the contact wasn’t unwelcome, and it broke goosebumps out all along your body. The sensation had happened once before—the subtle tickle of titillating energy underneath your skin—and it was in the early days of your burgeoning relationship with Suguru. Except this time, he wasn’t the first person pictured in your mind and the guilt of it never followed. Instead, when you tapped your foot back against the one still next to yours, all you could focus on was the minute smile in the corner of Satoru’s lips and the restless drumming of his fingers as he ducked his head to peer down at his own menu.

No, it certainly wasn’t too much. 

————————————————

“So, the pink hair is natural?” 

Satoru hummed out a confirmation from where he lay spread out on top of your bed, his feet dangling off one end and his head cushioned by your pillows on the other. His eyes followed you lazily as you fluttered between boxes stacked in varying corners of your new room. Upon arriving back from your year on assignment, you had been fortunate enough to move down the hall into a larger, more updated room, and in exchange for waking you up for breakfast, Satoru had offered to follow you back and help unpack. However, you were beginning to seriously doubt how much assistance he could really offer if he never left his spot on your bed. 

“Well…interesting, I guess,” you said as you pulled some of your clothing from a box and recalled your first meeting with said pink-haired student the previous afternoon. You had run into Satoru and Itadori yesterday while walking through campus, and after proper introductions, your friend had given you a quick run-down on everything related to Itadori Yuji. The boy had a smile wider than you had ever seen but was equally infectious, and his child-like enthusiasm had melted your heart just a little—his penchant for swallowing cursed objects aside.

“And I’m just here to help train him?” you asked, walking over to your bed to grab at the extra blanket trapped under Satoru. You tugged at the edge of it, but it didn’t budge, and he made no attempt to lift any of his weight as he tucked his hands behind him under his head. 

“Yup,” Satoru said, looking far too amused as you continued to pull with your best efforts. “Since there’s three first years now and three of us instructors, I figured we could all spend time investing in some one-on-one training with each of them while I handle their group training most days.” 

“Sounds like a smart idea, and I—will you get off?” you snapped at him. Satoru responded with an exaggerated roll of his eyes, and with a heaving sigh, rolled to his side just enough that you could yank the blanket out from under him. “If you don’t start helping, I’m going to kick you out.” 

“Fine, fine,” he muttered and slowly pushed himself up and off your bed before shuffling off behind you. As you began folding up your blanket, you could hear the rustling of moving boxes and you hoped Satoru would actually get to work instead of finding another spot to take a nap in

“As I was saying, I’ll be happy to teach him. Itadori seems like a good kid, if not slightly misguided in what constitutes bravery versus stupidity, if how he ended up here is anything to go by. I’ll probably regret asking, but what did he swallow again?” you asked, folding the last corner of the blanket together and then reaching over to set it delicately on the corner of your bed. You then moved on to readjust the pillows Satoru had been lounging on while waiting for his response. 

“Satoru?” You looked back behind you to see him staring down at the desk pushed back against the opposite wall of your room and a small brown box was sitting next to him on top. You walked over to his side to peek at what had stolen his attention, and your breath rushed out of you in a quiet “oh.” 

In his hands and covering the entirety of the desk were dozens of different photos, each one displaying various combinations of you, Suguru, and Satoru. More were sitting in the box, and you suspected you had left it behind when you took off on your assignment, forgetting about it and all its contents until now. You glanced over every one that you could, taking in the smiling faces and goofy poses, and tried to welcome the bittersweetness of reminiscing. 

“Look,” you said to Satoru, reaching for a photo half-hidden under another, “I think this is our first picture together.” You held the photo up between the two of you, watching Satoru’s face from the corner of your eye as he leaned down a touch over your shoulder to study the photo. 

“I think you’re right,” he murmured. “Suguru made us take it, and the two of you had just started dating. I don’t think we knew what to make of each other yet.” 

“That’s a good way to put it,” you laughed. You studied the photo for another moment, noticing the awkward way you had your arm wrapped around Satoru’s back and how his had laid crooked around your neck. He hadn’t yet transitioned to blindfolds, and his dark glasses were perched on the tip of his nose. Your bodies were stiff and slightly shifted apart so that no more of you would come into contact with the other, but your smiles were wide and full of teeth, mostly for the man behind the camera. 

“It doesn’t feel like these are at least half a decade old,” Satoru said, picking up another photo of just him and Suguru in matching uniforms and smug grins. Each of them were sporting various bruises and cuts over their heads and necks, and you were sure there was an interesting story behind it. 

“Time passes quicker than we realize,” you said softly, and without thinking too much of it, you leaned your head to rest it gently on Satoru’s arm. “I suppose I need to do something with them, maybe put them in a photobook or something. I don’t want to get rid of them. I just wish…” 

You weren’t exactly sure what you were going to wish for. For Suguru to come back? To be alive, but wholly different? For time to rewind years into the past in the hopes you could prevent what would happen? Or for things to stay the same, but for it to hurt less, if just the feeling of grief itself could speed along into something more easily managed?

“Well,” Satoru quipped, stepping away from you rather abruptly to make his way towards your door, “sounds like a good idea to me, but it’ll have to wait. I promised Yuji we’d meet him for training here in just a bit.” 

Add whiplash to the list of calamities one might incur in the presence of the great Gojo Satoru.

“Are you serious?” you asked him, incredulousness making you sound a bit sharper than you intended, but then again you weren’t sure if the question was directed towards his sudden departure that nearly left him stumbling, or the fact you had just barely made a dent in unpacking and Satoru was already running off again. 

“Absolutely,” he exclaimed, nearly halfway out the door already, and you were left to scurry around your room to find shoes before chasing after him. 

“You still have to help me unpack!” 

————————————————

As you would find out in the coming weeks, the teaching of the next generation never came without its perils. 

“I am really sorry,” Itadori said, rushing to get the words out while he bowed at you in the same breath. You laid on his shoulder the hand that wasn’t busy holding an ice pack against your wound, and waited until he stood back up to offer him a reassuring smile from where you sat on an infirmary bed. 

“It happens from time to time, and I forgive you, so no need to apologize anymore. It was also my fault. I was distracted.” 

It was insulting enough to your pride to have been unable to dodge Itadori’s blow—where he lacked in experience he clearly made up with brute force—and it was made even worse for you to know that you were too busy fretting over Satoru’s rapidly changing moods to anticipate the attack or notice the sudden eruption of energy over Itadori’s fist before it made contact with your ribcage. 

You were quite unenthused at how Satoru volleyed back and forth between contentment in your presence and fleeing from the sight of you in the next. The thought of confronting him had crossed your mind more than once, but he had been unusually busy in the month since your last intentional time spent together at breakfast and the opportunity had yet to arise. 

In the meantime, you had offered your assistance to wherever you could be of help, and it had come in the form of pale pink hair and a puppy-esque personality. After landing his blow to your ribs, Itadori had followed you to Shoko’s infirmary, hands hovering all around as you walked with your arm braced under your chest, and he was obsequious in his haste to meet whatever perceived need you had while the two of you waited for Shoko. Where she was, however, was unbeknownst to you, but you suspected it might have something to do with the group of friends she seemed to have made while you were overseas. She had been persistent in getting you to join her for a night out in the few weeks you had been home, but you hadn’t quite felt up to going out, and you had used the excuse of obligatory training with Itadori to get out of this evening’s invitation. 

“Can I do anything else?” Itadori’s eyes were wide and his mouth was set into a dejected pout.

“No,” you assured him, “so please, go out and enjoy your Friday night. I’ll be fine waiting here for Shoko.” He seemed hesitant to leave you alone, but his desire to respect your authority must have won out because he began to step backwards towards the door. 

“Okay,” he said, his hand fumbling behind him for the handle while he still kept his eyes on you. “I don’t mind staying if you change your mind.” 

You shook your head and leaned further back against the pillows bracing your shoulders and back. “Go on.” 

Itadoria was all but one foot out the door and you let your eyes shut after tossing the ice pack aside when he called out to you. “Oh, I called Gojo-sensei earlier to let him know!” 

You lurched forward instinctively and immediately regretted it when pain burned through your side. It left you dizzy and vaguely sick to your stomach, and you fell back against the pillows before you reached down into your pocket to dig your phone out. The thought of sending a text to Satoru to downplay whatever Itadori had told him was tempting, especially if it kept him from appearing in the very room you were in, and you had just pulled up the message thread between you two when the door opened again and in he walked. 

“I heard you got beat up by a first year.” His voice was full of amusement, but there was something hollow about it. 

You watched as Satoru sidled up next to your bed, trying to gauge whatever mood he might be in from the movement of his body. The black blindfold was securely in place over his eyes, so you were already at a disadvantage. His shoulders were thrown back and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets, all pointing to an attitude of nonchalance, but something about him had been unusually tense as of late, and it had you on edge. 

“A silly mistake on my part, but yes.” While you couldn’t see where his eyes moved, you swore his head turned ever so slightly in either direction over you. 

“May I?” He asked, gesturing a hand toward your side. You deliberated on whether or not letting him look would serve any real purpose, but his fingers twitched towards the edge of your shirt and you nodded. He helped you sit back up, and you kept your eyes on his fingers when they gathered the fabric into his hands to lift it out of the way. Satoru observed the skin you suspected was now mottled with varying shades of purple and blue, but didn’t say a word otherwise. 

He eventually let your shirt drop back into place and left your bedside to retrieve another ice pack from the freezer at the back of the room. He had the grace to wrap it with a cloth before coming back to slide it underneath your shirt, but the cold was still a shock to your skin and you jerked away from it without thought. The same pain from earlier returned, and you couldn’t help the whimper that made it out between your gritted teeth. 

“Easy now,” he murmured to you, one hand holding the ice pack against your ribs while the other came up to skim his knuckles over your temple. You leaned back into the pillows as gently as you could to rest your weary body and angled your head so you could peer up at him as he kept his face turned in your direction. You understood the necessity of his blindfold, but you had a mounting frustration for it as of late. Where Satoru was proficient at clearing his expressions of any feeling, of putting forth a playful facade to mask whatever was troubling him, he could never quite keep the emotion from sneaking its way into his eyes, and now, as you did your best to stare through the dark fabric keeping them hidden, you wanted nothing more than to rip it away. 

“Satoru,” you said softly, crossing your arm over your chest to reach for the hand he still used to hold the ice pack to your ribs, “Are you—,”

The slamming of a door down the hall interrupted whatever was going to come out of your mouth, and Satoru was up and feet away from you in the next instant. 

“Shoko’s here,” he announced to you, his voice breezy and even-keeled, “I’ll check on you later.” 

He was out the door before you could protest, and in his absence you were left to worry about what exactly was going wrong.

————————————————

You had just crossed through the front gates of Jujutsu High after a failed blind date when you decided it was finally time to move off campus and into an apartment of your own, if only to spare yourself the humiliation of ever doing it again in a place where co-workers and students alike could see you arrive home dejected and alone. 

Spring had yet to arrive to ease the cold sting of the nightime breeze, and the complimenting wrap to your dress did next to nothing to abate how it chilled your exposed skin. Each step down the cobblestone path made your feet throb in your heels and every inch of you was filled with regret for putting in the effort to dress yourself up for something you knew you had no hope for. 

Nothing about the date itself had particularly gone awry. The man had been perfectly mundane, kind in his words but only slightly more interesting than his equally boring job. The food was marginally better, but each bite passed through your mouth in a tasteless lump and landed uncomfortably in your stomach. You had made an attempt to be politely interested and reciprocated any questions he had probed you with, but the only thing you could get yourself to care about was how quickly you could hail a taxi and return home. You’d have to apologize to Shoko for possibly insulting her friend, and you made a mental note to never again offer a favor as a thanks for interrupting her evening to have your wounds treated. 

In reality, the failure came from everything the man wasn’t. At no point did he have the same warm brown eyes that had tempted you into a first date years and years ago, nor did he know how you preferred your steak or what wine you would reach for first if given the option. He wasn’t Suguru, and you bemoaned the fact that every date after this one would most likely be one in the same, over and over until maybe one day—if you were lucky—one of them would pique your interest enough that you wouldn’t spend the whole date comparing them to a ghost.

Yet, in something more terrifying than a hopeless comparison, it was for whom you yearned to be sitting in front of you at dinner that occupied the majority of your thoughts. You had found yourself wishing that the eyes staring back at you had been a breathtaking shade of blue, and when your date had nervously run his fingers through his hair, you were disappointed that it wasn’t the same shock of white you had become so adept at spotting in a crowd. Satoru had been at the forefront of your mind the entire night—for the last few months, even—and you spent the whole car ride home trying to reconcile what your heart was wanting to what you thought was honorable to a lover lost. 

What could you possibly owe to a man dead and buried?

“Pretty dress.” Satoru’s voice rang loud and clear in the stillness of the evening, and the unexpected sight of him leaning against the entrance to the school’s living quarters had you frozen in place a few feet away. He was still in his uniform even though it was late enough in the day that any work obligations could wait until tomorrow, and his blindfold was pulled up over his forehead.

“Thank you,” you called back to him, fighting off the urge to squirm in place when his eyes traced every inch of you from the tips of your shoes to how you had styled your hair, and your heart throbbed so violently it actually caused your chest to ache. “It was wasted on the evening, but…” you trailed off with a shrug of your shoulders.

Satoru made a noise of disagreement and pushed off the wall he was propped up against to walk towards you. He kicked lazily at a rock or two in his path and you followed one with your eyes as it tumbled to and fro before coming to a stop against your shoe. “You look beautiful though,” he said. “Shame that the date didn’t go well.” Not one word of that last sentence sounded sincere. 

You glanced up to him in surprise, your eyebrows raising in question. “Shoko mentioned it earlier,” he offered, coming to a stop just before the tips of his shoes could touch yours.

The idea that Satoru had been waiting for you—specifically to return home from a date—flitted across your mind and it made your stomach flip nervously. “It didn’t go badly or anything like that. Just a fruitless endeavor,” you admitted quietly.

There was a small noise in the back of his throat, but otherwise Satoru didn’t say anything else, and ensuing silence left you to stand there anxiously. As was common in the time since you’d been home, the air between you two felt thick with tension and something unspoken, and the way his eyes had never left you while his fingers played in the pockets of his pants had you longing to step nearer and wrought it out of him.

You caught a glimpse of a piece of his hair that was stuck awkwardly in between his forehead and blindfold, and you used it as an excuse to move towards him. He tracked the rising of your arm as you hooked a finger under the loop of hair to loosen it free, and when your hand lingered there after it was done, he turned his head ever so slightly to nudge his nose against the inside of your wrist. The tip of it was just as cold as the surrounding night and you barely held back a shiver as it skimmed across your skin. Even though half his face was blocked by your arm, one of his eyes still held contact with yours, and sent your pulse racing. 

Satoru didn’t move as you lowered your hand to rest it against his side, and his eyes went half-lidded as you rocked onto the balls of your feet. You shut off the part of your mind that blared at you that this wasn’t something to be swept aside once done, but the idea of it had taken up too much of your thoughts lately for you to let it go untried. Your hands landed delicately on his chest and certainly he could hear the shakiness of your breath, maybe even feel it as you leaned your head to the side so your nose didn’t press too firmly into his, and you let your eyes drift closed just as you tilted your head back to brush your lips against his. 

“I can’t,” you heard him whisper, voice full of sorrow and longing, and he stepped back from you as your eyes popped open. “Not like this.” 

Your stomach fell to your feet, and you were immediately overwhelmed with a sense of embarrassment and regret. You cursed yourself for apparently reading wrong what was going on between you two this entire time, and your body flushed with sickening warmth as your mind plied you with every vile thing he could possibly be thinking in response to your attempt to kiss him. 

You wrung your hands as you stumbled backwards. “Satoru, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have, and with Suguru—,” 

Satoru shook his head, eyes wide, and his lips trembled as they opened up to say what he did next. “God, no, that’s not it.” A bitter laugh followed, and it sounded like he was questioning how exactly he got himself in such a predicament. “I’ve been lying to you.” 

Confusion and a building dread swept over you, and it must have shown on your face because he tore his gaze from you to glance around at the school grounds surrounding you both in a way that was helpless and searching. You twisted your hands into the fabric of your dress. “Satoru, I—,” 

He head snapped back to yours and in a rush he let out, “I lied to you that night. Suguru did say something.” 

Only once before had you felt your world tilt so violently on its axis, and the last time it did was the night he was referring to. Your mind went blank with static as you stared at Satoru in utter disbelief. You could feel your mouth struggling to form words that wanted to be said, but you couldn’t get the air in your lungs to flow freely enough to get anything out. Satoru lifted his foot to move towards you with a hand held out, but you lurched backwards. 

“What do you mean by ‘something?’” you managed out, raising your arm to hold your palm up to him. A cold prickle at your eyes hinted at the tears that were about to start flowing, and you watched forlornly as Satoru hesitated. His hands clenched and unclenched rapidly at his sides as his face contorted between grief and fear. “Tell me!” you demanded of him through gritted teeth. 

“Suguru and I—,” he paused to swallow and clear his throat audibly, “we spoke for a couple minutes…at the end. And he—he said some things about you.” A sob gathered in your chest and your body shook as Satoru looked like he desperately regretted every single choice that brought him to this moment. 

“Say it,” you pleaded with him, swiping furiously at your cheeks and nose to wipe away the moisture gathering there, “you have to say it. It’s not fair that I only know what you want me to.” 

Satoru bit down hard on his lip and took a step forward as he began to recount his last conversation with Suguru to you. You hung onto every word he said, but snuck a peak at the ground before you. Your stomach had begun to clench and roll in a way that threatened your earlier dinner, and only the pain of each word leaving his mouth kept you from staggering off to a bush. 

“She’s yours now, it would seem.”

Had you meant so little to Suguru that he could trade you off into the arms of another in a last ditch effort to clean up the mess he made? 

“Consider it a dying wish.” 

Suguru could have asked for anything, begged the world of his best friend in his final moments and Satoru would have relented. This is what had prevailed over any other request?

“You haven’t exactly said ‘no’, Satoru.”

Some sick and twisted part of you was wounded in your pride at how vehemently he had rejected the idea of you and him right after.

“She would not want me as I am now.” 

He was right. Your Suguru had died years before the night his heart had beat its last, but you would have given anything—any part of you—to see him one last time. To commit to memory every detail of him you had sworn you already knew if only to imprint him into your very being. But, as you had come to learn, Suguru hadn’t ever intended to offer you a final farewell, instead leaving you with words that felt empty and meaningless as they were relayed to you over a year later by proxy of his best friend. They made your skin crawl, and you wished you could pluck them out one by one from where they bounced chaotically in your mind, tumbling over and over another until they mixed into a single rush of sound. You would hurl them at the ground, into the arms of his best friend because never again did you want to recall the most dreadful words you had ever had the misfortune of hearing. 

“I’m sorry,” Satoru whispered, stilted and haunted. There were tears in his own eyes, and hot fury washed over you when your own traitorous heart craved to seek and offer comfort in him despite his own duplicity. “What he said was—,”

“It’s not even what Suguru said that bothers me so badly, Satoru,” you spat at him, stunning him into silence as he recoiled at the insistence behind your words. The idea of them, the meaning behind “she’s yours now,” wouldn’t have disgusted you that night like it didn’t now—though you can’t say they would have been welcomed—but having to hear them over a year later instead of right after Suguru died would prove to be the undoing. 

You hated the flicker of emotion in Satoru’s eyes, how it softened the corners of them and eased some slack into his previously clenched jaw. It was something teetering between undeserved hopefulness and tentative optimism, and you hated it because you knew you had been battling the exact same feelings from the moment you laid eyes on him at the airport. 

“I have spent every single second since that night convincing myself that I would be okay,” you cried to him, letting the tears in your eyes blur his figure beyond recognition just so you didn’t have to look at how his face crumpled at the pain in your voice. “It has taken all the time since then to repair even a fraction of the damage Suguru did to me, and you just undid all of it!”

“I know,” he groaned, reaching his hands up to rake them through his hair and tug at the ends of it, “I should have told you, and I’m so sorry, but I couldn’t think straight afterwards and I didn’t know what to do—,” 

“You don’t understand, Satoru,” you bit out, voice low as you walked forward to close some of the distance between you two and jab a finger into his chest. “You have someone out there waiting for you. You lost your best friend, I won’t downplay that, but me?” 

You had to stifle a whimper and Satoru looked as if you had ripped his heart from his chest. “I thought I had found my person. I was done. Suguru was it for me. A family, leaving the world of jujutsu behind, exploring the ends of the earth, or any other endless possibility—I wasn’t sure of any of these things, except for the fact that I would want them with him if that’s what we decided.”

A sob finally shook your shoulders and you reached up to curl your fingers deep into the fabric of his uniform in the hopes it would keep you standing. You had to tip your head back to look up at him. “But Suguru’s gone, and I had to live a whole year grieving and lamenting a future ripped from me, all the while you kept hidden words that made it seem like he had never once considered one for us. And I would have rather spent that time knowing so, to not pour myself out everyday for someone who didn’t deserve it.” 

Satour started to lift his hand to lay them over yours, but you yanked them from his chest before he could and crossed them over one another. The gulp of his throat was audible over the rustling of the leaves that scattered the ground next to you. “You’re right,” he said and his voice was frail. “I’ll always regret lying to you that night, but I just thought—,” 

Something snapped in your mind. “It doesn’t matter what you thought!” you screamed at him, words spilling out before you could understand the weight of them. “That wasn’t a choice for you to make for me! How dare you think you were entitled to such a decision. Can’t you see? Suguru had done the exact same thing, convincing himself and you that the two of you somehow knew what would be best for me! You were wrong. You were no better than him, and I hate—!” 

Your mouth snapped shut with a loud clacking of your teeth. You had been almost completely certain that it wasn’t going to be Satoru you were about to lay your hatred on, but every single speck of emotion died just the same on his face. Panic stilled your tongue and kept you from reaching for him when Satoru stepped back from you and lowered his blindfold. Right before it covered his eyes, you could see the impassivity that neutralized his features, and you feared the repercussions of what couldn’t be taken back. 

“Satoru,” you breathed out, scrounging your brain to come up with something to placate the words that were surely bringing life to his worst fears, but you were silenced by the hand he abruptly held up. It lingered in the air for a second before he let it drop down and into his pocket, and he didn’t give you a chance to speak before he brushed past you, his long legs eating up the ground. All you could do was turn to stare agape at his retreating figure, everything but his hair blending into the night completely. 

————————————————

There would be no rest for you in the shelter of your bed, nor would you find respite in the pacing of your floors. Minutes that ticked by on the clock transitioned into hours passed. When you couldn’t think through the feeling of being trapped by the walls of your room, you shed your dress and heels and pulled on any thickly layered article of clothing you could find before walking out into the barely lit morning.

Not once after the funeral had you entertained the idea of visiting Suguru’s grave, but you were hard pressed to keep your legs from carrying you up the hill to where he lay. The walk there felt reminiscent of the night he died: dark and dreadful and devastated. Each step you took echoed one of their names, and you had wrestled earlier with the decision of who to go to first. Practicality drove you to the dead man. You’d be lucky to find Satoru if he wasn’t interested in letting you. 

When you reached the grouping of trees that sat off from the trail, you stopped to stare at the barely visible monument marking Suguru’s grave. A great sense of sorrow filled the air around you as you saw how it sat lonely in the middle of a forest, but you would have never wanted it to be placed any closer to you than where it stood now. Unhurriedly, you forced yourself to move forward. You lowered yourself down to your knees at the edge of Suguru’s grave when you reached it, and you put your hands down to bury your fingers into the earth when your shoulders felt so heavy that they fell downwards to be closer to where he rested. You sat there as light trickled in slowly through the trees and began to fill in all the dark spaces.

“I would have wanted to say the last things I had for you months and months ago, even when I felt like you didn’t deserve it,” you said eventually. Tears dripped into the ground between your hands and you could see as one trickled down a blade of grass to disappear into the soil below it. “And I’m still not sure if you do. God, how I hate what you did to me…to us…and what it did to Satoru.” 

You swallowed down the thickness in your throat and yanked at the grass in between your fingers. “I would have followed you to the ends of the earth, Suguru. Not in the way you ultimately chose, but in the promises we whispered into each other’s skin.” 

Nothing was quite as painful as ‘almost.’ 

“I would have fought with you and screamed at you that night if you would have offered me that. It doesn’t seem like it would have made a difference to you, but I would be better for it.” You wiped the back of your hand under your nose, and then sniffled when it didn’t help in drying it off. 

“But you didn’t have anything to say to me, and instead you passed that burden on to Satoru. It was unfairly cruel, and I’m not sure who I’ll blame more out of the two of us if this is where I lose him too.” Fear was what was driving you to go to Satoru, but heartbreak kept you on your knees. 

“One day, someone is going to take your place and help me fix what you broke. It’s something I can do on my own, but I deserve to be happy and to have a future with someone when you decided all on your own not to continue ours.” 

You pushed up off your hands and knees and got to your feet to look down at the stone bearing Suguru’s name. “This isn’t because of you,” you whispered. “You may have put the words in Satoru’s head, but I started choosing him all on my own, without your interference.” 

And then you began to back away, not yet willing to take your eyes off where the corpse of a man you once loved lay, absent of everything that had made him who he was. You solidified every detail—each tree, the dark grey of the stone, to the exact green of the grass—so that you could be resolute in your ability to recall the scene in front of you from memory in its most precise form. If you never again stepped foot into this tiny slice of misery and ruin, you wanted to be sure you could always remember the consequences of words said and unsaid. 

————————————————

In a dimly lit apartment high in the sky, Gojo Satoru stood with his head turned towards his front door. Never once had he let go of his ability to always sense where you were in relation to him, and as he felt you drawing nearer to him, he wondered if anything would hurt as badly as knowing you hated him.

————————————————

Notes: I will maintain what I have said previously: it will get better! And probably in the next chapter because I hate angst, even when I'm writing it. I don't know why I thought it would turn out different for me lol.

Writer's block hit hard with this chapter, so I'm hoping it won't stick around for the next one. If it does, please worry not! I will not abandon this, but the chapter may just take a little longer to come out.

Taglist: @paprikaquinn & @kafanizdakicokiyi

[that-phantomstar]

Written a new Dark Sonic fic for AO3!

I wanted to do my take on Dark Sonic and how I would put him into the canon of the current world, so I did this!

It's very messy since I wrote most of it late at night, so don't expect the most grand thing you've ever set eyes on however.

Here's the fic's link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/61823041/chapters/158078368#workskin

If you want to read it here, it's under the cut:

(It's very long, so don't open it unless you're keen on reading the whole thing, with a count of 13,008 words)

CHAPTER ONE: ARRIVAL:

TUESDAY, 2:34 PM, THE RESTORATION:

Sitting inside the main office, were the Diamond Cutters, gathered around the circular table. At the head of it, was a monitor screen,  the Restorations logo proudly sitting in the middle of the black void, static slicing through the still image every so often.

In between the gap of the screen and table was Tails, a finger to his mouth, patiently waiting. His other hand rested atop of the glass table, softly tapping it to the rhythm of some song. Behind the door resting across from them, a muffled bang was heard, echoing through the hallways.

“Right on cue”. Tails hums out, a smile on his face as the door opens, revealing the blue hedgehog in all his glory. “Did I miss anything?”. Closing the door behind him, he lets out his trademark grin, looking right towards Tails, a gentle click coming from the smooth metal door behind him.

“Heheh, not yet. Couldn’t start without Mr. Fashionably late after all.” Tails grins at Sonic’s direction, arms folded as Sonic mirrors the look, letting out a small chuckle.

“Sonic! You’re here! And not the last one to make it for once!” Stars light up in her eyes as she faces him, tails swishing behind her, curling into all sorts of shapes. Whisper watches the two interact, smiling from her spot.

“Well who else is supposed to be here? I mean I believe Jewel might, but when I ran by she seemed to be doing somethin-”

His voice being sliced by an invisible blade, he, Tangle, Whisper, and Duo turn towards the door, being opened by yet another person, sounds of warm conversations more audible now from the other rooms.

Cautiously, Knuckles steps out from the frame, thick gloves cushioning the door handle. Behind him is the silhouette of  Lanolin, looking annoyed as she usually does.

“Oh, didn’t think you’d be here”. Looking Sonic straight in the eyes, he goes to sit besides Sonic, not losing contact. “Well I make sense, you don’t however. How’d Tails convince you to crawl away from the Master Emerald?”

Sonic leans forwards, invading Knuckles’ personal space, grinning ear to ear, ready for Knuckles’ response. “I was trying to be sarcastic. I already knew you were going to be here since Tails told me first thing”

Sonic slouches back, slyly rolling his eyes. “Oh of course you were…” He muttered underneath his warm breath. Before Knuckles could ask what he had said, Lanolin interrupts, clearing her throat, purposely interrupting the two.

“As nice as it can be to see a friend after a while, we’re here for a reason.” Dragging herself forwards, she stands tall besides Tails, at the other end of the screen.

“I got Tails to get you two,” she nods towards the blue and red figures, “since we seem to have found something interesting, something that me and the Diamond Cutters would struggle with on our own.”

Turning to Tails, she continues on. “Care to show, so we can get started?” Tails, grabbing a small black remote off a nearby shelf, points it at the screen. “Sure will do!”

The screen flashes to a group of images stacked on the left, showing what clearly was an Eggman base, alongside notes and bullet points besides them.

“When searching through Eggman's files, due to him being quiet out of the blue,” he muttered the last part through his teeth,  “I found what seems to be data on some new project of his.”

The screen flicked to some more data. No images, just words. “I can’t tell how ambitious it is, but it’s not his average plan.” Combing the short fur at the back of his head, he shifted his body to the side. “He seems to be creating something using a Chaos Emerald. That I could get from the data.”

Turning the screen off,  a small digital pitch cutting off, he turns to the group sitting at the table. “Whatever it is, one thing is for sure, Eggman is creating alterations of the Chaos Emeralds and distorting their energy signatures. For what reason I don’t know just yet, or what they are to accomplish.”

Thinking for just a second, Sonic pipes in. “What's so bad about it that the Diamond Cutters alone can’t take it on? They’re all capable themselves.”

Turning her head up to Sonic, Whisper replies. “I agree, it does not appear to be too bad.” Her voice soft and quiet, facing Tails, resting her mask in her hands.

“Well, if the fastest speaker alive will be still for a moment, I will get there.”

“Youch, all these names you’re calling me today…” He puts a hand to his forehead, palm facing outwards, eyes shut in a ‘offended’ manner. “If only they were original…”

Letting out a small laugh, Tangle adds on. “More like the fastest critic alive…”

“Hey!” Sonic playfully wails out, both leaning over and giggling, before Lanolin buts in again. “You two need to focus more like Whisper and Knuckles do…”

Confused, Duo, who had been quiet the whole time, leans into the table. “What about me? I haven’t done anything.” He nervously blurts out “I didn’t bring up your name, did I?” Lanolin lazily replies. Letting out a nervous laugh, he grips both of his arms. “Yeah, that's true, heh…”

Duo turns his head away from the rest of the group. Lanolin, ignoring this, signals to Tails. Nodding Tails looks away from Duo, confused face turning to a serious one once more.

“While like I said before, that being I don’t know what they are for, I do know that they emit some kind of radiation however. From what I can tell, it’s highly dangerous. That alone is enough to point out that Eggman hasn’t just been starting out a unique rock collection…”

Turning towards the direction of Sonic and Knuckles, he finishes his breath. “Hence why you two may be needed. With you, Knuckles, being more equipped with knowledge of Chaos energy.”

Sonic stands upright, chest grazing against the edge of the table as he stands upright, the plastic chair clattering down to the ground. “Well let's go then!” Literally leaping out of her chair, Tangle follows suit, pumping a fist into the air dramatically. “Yeah! I’m ready!”

Knuckles scoffs, as Tails pipes in, drawing in a quick breath. “Now hold on. We need to wait, as it seems that almost nothing is getting in and out from there, unless scheduled. I assume it’s to keep it secure…”

“Awwww” Sonic and Tangle deflate, pouting. Whisper lets out a small, almost nonexistent chuckle, with Knuckles smirking. Duo presses his mitten into the table, squeaking from the thick leather material.

Swallowing a lump in his throat, he looks over Tails’ shoulder, avoiding direct eye contact. “What will we do with them all when we are done with the mission…?”

Tails opens his mouth, until carelessly, Lanolin speaks up. “Make sure that he can’t use them for any plan, or make more ever again…”

A blank face forms on him, almost looking as if he was suppressing something. “Sounds good to me…”

Facing away from him, Tails and Lanolin look to the main group before them. Tails cheerfully bursts out. “Be ready to wreck the place!” Sonic and Knuckles laugh, with Sonic being the loudest. “Gotta love the enthusiasm!”

A gust of wind blows things off the table, as Sonic is now at the door, handle in hand. “See you until then!” Flashing a finger gun, he darts out of the door in the blink of an eye, an audible, sharp whoosh echoing down the halls.

“That's Sonic alright…” Knuckles sighs, rolling his eyes halfway.

“Well I don’t see you getting ready Knuckles…” Tails sternly replies, hands on hips, as if parenting the Echidna.

Knuckles slowly gets up, before walking to the exit, shoes squeaking against the smooth metal floors.

“Remember, in three days you have to meet us back here to get going!” Tails calls out, hands circling his mouth in an attempt to make his voice louder, teasing the guy.

“I know, I know, I’ll keep an eye on the time this time…” He takes his exit, a click from the door being the last sound in the room before the rest of the group get up, with Tangle spouting out all kinds of theories as to what it may be inside the base to Whisper.

Tails took his leave, taking his Miles Electric, which was plugged into the monitor, slings the strap over his shoulder, namesakes lifting off, as disappears from the room.

Duo, being easily forgotten in the group, slinks off, to no one's notice, blending into the shadows.

SATURDAY, 6:28 AM, THE OUTSKIRTS OF EGGMAN'S BASE:

Sitting atop of a grassy field is one of the many ‘proud’ creations of Eggmans. Shiny silver glistens in the morning light, accompanied by the sharp smell of metal. Branding the building is Eggman's logo, grinning with evil malice down at the group, watching from a distance.

Tapping his foot, Sonic looks up at the sky, trying to find entertainment in anything at all, but all that he can watch is the shifting clouds. Not even the Flickeys are out to chirp little songs. After all, why would they be sitting comfy near EggTech?

Tangle too seems to be bored, following Sonic closely in behaviour. Digital beeps and chirps slip out from Whispers maks as she tampers with it, dead set on improving something.

Knuckles is resting against the grass calmly, eyelids shut as he feels the breeze dance between his dreadlocks.

In his hands, the MIles Electric scans over the field, scouting the area. Tails’ ears bounce back and forth between his focus and the impatient blue hedgehog behind him, who is now sending small stones loose, clattering against other grey formations.

The Electric begins to beep a slow rhythm, as Tails reaches for a button to turn it off.

Sitting upright, feeling his muscles stretch and pull from slouching, he turns to Sonic. “Ok, we can go now. No need to destroy the ground around you.”

“Alright!” Sonic boasts, boosting off towards the base entrance. Startled, Tails tries to call out for him, voice cracking due to the cold air. “Sonic, wait! You can’t run in like that!” However, his plea is lost to the thick, still air.

Without hesitation, Tails jolts forwards, in an attempt to catch up. Knuckles lurches forwards. “Tails!” He gets up, as the rest of the group follow suit, darting to the entrance that Sonic had already reached.

Tails is the first to make it, landing on the ground as grass blows outwards. “Sonic! What was that all about!”

Back turned to the fox, Sonic does not respond, staring up ahead at the door. The air around them lingers, no one moving.

He steps forwards, placing a hand on his shoulder, feeling the cold skin through his gloves. “Sonic…?”

Tails rolls his eyes, shaking Sonic at a fast pace. “Sonic you can talk now.”

He turns his head to Tails, just in time to see the rest of the group catch up, with Tangle and Knuckles in the lead. “Oh!” He looks to the group direction, gaze slicing through them.

Knuckles is the first to speak. “Sonic! What was all that about!” Tails can feel him flinch through his glove, as if brought back to reality. “I dunno, getting away from you!” Suppressing a laugh through his teeth, he watches Knuckles become enraged.

Tails holds out a hand to both, preventing them from arguing any further. “Ok, let's not do that here…” His warm breath makes contact with the cold air, causing an unusual sensation to creep down to the ground.

Knuckles grunts, before loosening up, hands dropping to his sides. “Alright, Tails is right, let's get goin’!” Sonic spins around, facing back at the door.

Moving to the side, Sonic bows down, arms gesturing towards the door, his now exposed back shivering in the cold air. “Care to do the honors my dear companion?” He speaks, putting on a fancy accent, putting on the biggest smile.

Tails shakes off the earlier tension, adding an accent of his own to the situation. “Why I will, Mr. Needlemouse!” He puts on a cartoonish stride, approaching the access panel.

He reaches for the plug, connecting it to the server, waiting for the code to work its magic, with the occasional beeps filling the silence.

“Heyyy, you did not just call me what I think you did, did’ja?” Now upright once more, he slumps an arm over Tails’ shoulder, inspecting his little brother.

He blows a raspberry in response. “Nooo, you just misheard, my dear friend.” Tails pushes himself to Sonic, bantering with him.

Sonic puts his hands up in defence. “I mean is that even an insult to me? Really, I don’t think I was ‘Sonic’ at that time, thanks to a bad hit to the head.” He knocks on his head with his knuckles, a tapping sound coming from them.

“In case you two were too busy, you may have failed to remember that we’re here too, and to do a mission…” Lanolin buts in, approaching the now open door, which the duo had failed to notice, giving a very sheepish look to each other.

“Alright Diamond cutters, remember, be cautious of any Badniks here, since they’re going to be coming in and out now…” She and her group walk past the duo, with Tangle giving them a thumbs up on the way.

A streak of red stops by them. “Come on you two, we got a job to do…” Turning his head up, Knuckles walks off, as the two follow suit.

The door shuts firm behind them, sucking in the remaining cold air in one swoop. Echos of the classic trio’s conversation bounce around the lifeless corridors, alongside the eerie, distant pinpricks and jolts of unstable energy lingering around the base.

7:12 AM, INSIDE THE BASE:

“Taillllllls, it’s been like, hours and we’ve found nothing!” Sonic moans behind the red and orange figures, dragging himself forwards.

“Letting out a sigh, Tails mumbles out, “it’s hardly been an hour yet, Sonic. You just gotta wait until the Diamond Cutters have placed the USB drive in, so that we can navigate the more secure rooms with ease, and no alarms…”

Turning his head over his shoulder, dreadlocks rolling over, he speaks out. “Tails is right Sonic, you just need to be patient for once in your life…”

Scuffing his shoes and leaving small marks, Sonic begins to slow down. “But this is booooooring!”

Getting no response from his friends, he decides to throw more of a tantrum. “B. O. R. I. N. G! BORING!” He shouts out the last part rather harshly, piercing through what was still air, and bouncing around the hallways.

The two immediately turn around, halting in their steps. Knuckles looks furious, while Tails is startled. 

“Sonic! What do you think you are doing! We shouldn’t be bringing attention to us!” Knuckles immediately tenses up, a fighting stance in place of his relaxed posture from before.

Saying nothing more than a shrug, the sound of metallic joints and parts thunder through the halls. “Now look at what you’ve done…” Turning away, he faces the hallways up ahead, seeing tens if not hundreds of figures storm right their way, glistening under the industrial lights.

“Finally, some action! I don’t know what you have to complain about Knucklehead!” In a flash, nine metal frames are already down, with more being wrecked by the blue blur.

“Don’t hog all the fun!” Knuckles glides right on in, landing with a thud underneath a rather large robot. He hits the underside, sending it flying into the ceiling, damaging the light above it.

Standing apart from the commotion, Tails grabs out his device instead. “You two deal with them, I’ll let the Diamond Cutters know that they need to hur-”

Static cuts him off from the various speakers around the hallways. “New device paired, waiting to connect”. Almost unable to hear it due to the fight going on, he does not hesitate to finish up the steps needed to override the Badniks here.

“Hey Knuckles, catch!” Sonic kicks a smaller Badnik his hay, as Knuckles guts the thing right through, letting the frame slide off his hand.

Suddenly, a singular, loud beep echoes between the room, coming from all directions. Every Badnik in the room halts, before backing down. Knuckles dusts himself off while Sonic looks around confused.

“I’ve got access to most of base now!” Tails calls out to them, running to their position.

“Yeah! Now we can really start to trash the place!” Sonic, about to dash off, is grabbed by Knuckles, his wrist threatening to be torn off. “Now hold on Sonic…” Confused, he slinks into the grip, in hopes that Knuckles will loosen said grip.

Sliding into the conversation, Tails grabs Knuckles’ hand, in an attempt to get him to let go, before turning to Sonic. “We need to stick together still, since while I do have access, Eggman still does too.”

Now free, Sonic rubs his wrist, shaking it down as he turns to Tails. “I have it so that no basic alarms or functions will go off, but bigger ones with more tight access will, so I need you to follow me so that we don’t run into that problem…”

Taking in a deep breath, Sonic nods. “Fine, let's go now, get it done with…” Humming in agreement, Tails turns back to his device, connecting to Lanolin.

The audio from the Electric comes out poorly, almost butchering any words said through there, but he still listens in.

“You guys alright down there?” Tangle pushes herself in front of Lanolin, concerned for the group. “We sure are! No need for concern!” Sonic flashes a thumbs up, winning at the screen from over Tails’ shoulder.

“Oh! Well that's great!” Having to be escorted from the screen by Whisper, Lanolin’s face makes an appearance once more.

“Alright. So now that you got it sorted out, we’ll get to the plan, alright?” Tails nods. “Yeah, make sure that you get any information you can on this floor and the floor above, and contact me if need be.”

“We’ll go to the lower floor and inspect the crystals and see what we can do to get rid of them.” Tails finishes, opening another tab to access the map.

“Sounds good to me Tails. Once you’re done, let us know and we’ll see you at the exit.” “Alright! Just remember to keep contact to a minimum, as we may risk Eggman detecting us.”

With a simple nod, Lanolin cuts the feed on her end, leaving the group with the map on the screen.

“Heh, let's get on with it!” Knuckles, who was now also behind Tails’ shoulder, waited for an answer.

Sonic and Knuckles paced behind Tails, who was making sure to be precise in their exact location to not miss their destination, eyes glued to the screen.

Turning a hallway, Tails stops at a dead end.

Whistling, Sonic chirps in, “impressive”. He walks up to the door, knocking on it a few times. “Hello, any secret gem-thingies we can have?”

“Sonic…” Tails sighs, gently pushing him to the side, as he tampers with a panel at the side of the wall, tucked away in the corner.

A few beeps and clicks, and the sound of metallic gears begin to turn. Heavy metal gears, at that.

Suddenly, the middle part of the wall begins to split, showing nothing but darkness, before more metallic clicks ring out, and it begins to part.

The lights lazily flicker on, barely lighting the way down to the metallic stairs, descending into the ground, before blowing out and leaving darkness behind once more.

Decorating the plain walls were small, strange crystal formations in the gaps of the metal panels, ranging in various colors. However, not bright, welcoming colors, instead a dull, eerie, lifeless pulse.

Looking nervous, ears nearly pinning downwards, Tails takes the first steps, plunging into the darkness, with the Miles Electric leading the way.

Grunting, Knuckles follows suit, arms folded as he enters the cold pit.

However, Sonic stares down into it, a weird feeling entering his stomach, as if static were dancing through his blood and bones.

Attempting to shake it off he follows the two, slipping further and further into the void, before a cold shiver sends him to a halt, his quills rising. He lets out a noise of discomfort, gaining the attention of both Tails and Knuckles to stop and turn.

Despite the darkness, with the only light coming from the dim crystals and Tails device. He held it down to the ground, not wanting to flash it in his brother's eyes.

Tails draws in a cold breath. “You okay Sonic?”

Nothing but silence, before getting a late response, his voice cold and flat. “I don’t know, Tails, but suddenly, I don’t feel so well…”

He begins to slowly descend towards the duo, footsteps loud and sharp. Now face to face with them, he added on, “something feels… Off…”

Turning to Knuckles, he folded his arms. “You were brought down here with us since you’re good with the Master Emerald and whatnot. Can’t you feel it too?”

Knuckles shifts his posture, turning around, before replying to his question. “There is nothing strange or unusual I can detect down here. I can, however, feel the Chaos Emeralds power nearby, and that these-” He taps on a dull, violet formation. “-are the results of it being tampered with.”

Turning away, he descends further down the stairs, before letting out one last sentence. “The only ‘strange’ thing about these, is that I can’t seem to connect to them and get a better understanding as to what they can do…”

Those last words fade out, almost inaudible as he continues to walk further up ahead.

Tails however, turns back to Sonic. “I think it might just be the cold finally setting in for you, since typically you’re on the move, but here we’re moving at a much slower pace.”

Giving a reassuring smile, he too turns, following Knuckles. “If you do have any more ‘strange’ feelings however, let me know, and I’ll see what I can do.”

Sonic catches up, dragging himself through the thick air. “Yeah, that's true… I think I gotta stop running around and heating myself up like that, heh…”

Sheepishly playing with his quills, he and Tails reach the bottom of the dark room, finding Knuckles inspecting a freakishly large crystal.

“Yo Knuckles! What's the holdup! We need to find the Chaos Emerald first!” Sonic calls out, now on thick, solid, metallic ground.

“Hm. I thought that my lack of connection was due to those other crystals being small and weak, but here is a much bigger one, yet the same effect…”

He stands up from the ground, the pulses they emit lighting the hallways and rooms. While not as dim as the ones from the smaller clusters, they still appeared saturated and sad.

“Let's get moving then.” Firm words set in stone, Knuckles turns left, searching one of the various corridors.

“I’ll go this way, you two search up ahead. I can’t tell for sure where that Emerald is since all these fakes are interfering.” “Heh, that's fair…” Waving goodbye, Sonic and Tails depart from Knuckles, in hopes of finding the fabled Chaos Emerald.

8:25 AM, EGGMAN'S BASE, LOWER FLOORS:

So far, the search had not been doing so well. Nothing at all. Every room they checked had computers that were too risky to turn on without the issue of Eggman noticing their little visit.

By this point, Sonic and Tails had taken a break, resting in an empty room with nothing but one or two dusty crates inside.

This was one of the few rooms not to be covered in the eyesore that was those strange gems. Sure, there were a few here and there, but not coating the walls entirely. Thus, making it an easy choice.

Of course, that still didn’t stop the buzzing, electrifying feeling racing around Sonic’s body. It still crept and lingered around him everywhere he went. It had felt as if the crystals had eyes inside their translucent shell, following the hedgehog around, their pulse reaching out for him.

“Ughh… This is quite the letdown…” His voice was rather loud, despide, the quiet manner he spoke, since the room was so small and captured that line inside its metal walls.

“Well yeah, our best hope is that Lanolin comes back with something to make sense of this…” Tails sighs, rubbing his temples.

Fidgeting with a small, rusted orange gem that was corroding the metal around it, a thought came to Sonic’s head.

“Say, why don’t we give the computers a try?” He stands up, walking to Tails’ side of the room, footsteps blaring out like thunder in the lonely hallways.

“And guarantee letting Eggman know that we’re not just admiring his little collection down here?” He gives a disapproving look at Sonic, picking up the Miles Electric that was left lying besides him.

“Not if we can do it quick enough!” He grins, lending out a hand to him. Hesitantly, Tails looks down to the reflective black screen, seeing nothing but his own face looking back up.

Clearing his throat, Sonic attempts to get the fox on board once again. “I mean, any data on there has to be important, right?” He let that last word drag on out, eager to get Tails to do something down here.

Groaning, Tails sits up, taking Sonic’s hand. “Fine, but any casualties are on you…” Returning the grin, Tails begins to lead the way, booting up the map on his screen once more, a rhythmic pulse echoing through the speakers.

Nearing the main computer, the two begin to speed up their pace, swiftly entering through the frame.

Inside is a massive computer, with smaller ones accompanying it on the sides. In the middle of the room is a small metal table, with various metal draws scattered about.

Sonic whistles, laughing to himself. Tails turns to him, confused. Sonic notices, shaking his head. “Just getting deja vu. This place really reminds me of the Death Egg, more specifically the room Mecha Sonic kept me in for a while, I mean just look at it!”

He holds his arms out towards the room in all its sad glory, with the thick air (due to all the dust buildup) really affecting their sight.

Tails walks on forwards, around the table frame. “Heh, and the whole ‘splitting up part’ with Knuckles and the Diamond Cutters elsewhere…”

This time, Sonic lets his short laugh out, not trying to hold it back. “Yeah! Now all we need is for a giant towering robot to pop out of nowhere and swoop me away!”

Now at the computer screen, Tails notices that he has suddenly begun to stare at nothing. Said hedgehog then lets out a short puff of air before his gaze seems to land on solid objects again.

“Talking to Mecha again?” Tails pipes in, eyes adverted to his device as he cautiously hooks it up to the monitor. “Heh, yeah. Thinking of him and the Scrapniks kinda brought his attention over to me. He was just wondering what was up.”

Humming out a random tune, Sonic walks about the room, inspecting every space that he could invade, opening the squeaky drawers and making an annoying racket.

Watching his screen boot up, Tails calls out, “tell Mecha I said hi to him and the Scrapniks!” Sonic, who hadn’t even looked away from his ‘important’ task, called back. “Already heard you.” He slammed the draws shut, advancing to another space to snoop through.

Tails had flinched at the response. Sometimes he forgot that the two could experience some of the world around each other, just like how Mecha Sonic’s tears had shown on Sonic’s face instead, or how Sonic told him that he was able to glimpse a memory of Mecha’s when fighting him.

Stepping back and waiting for the computer to turn on, he scratched his head, wondering if some of Sonic’s actions or thoughts sometimes show through Mecha.

Booting up, the room was flashed in color, blue coating everything. Sonic was quick to cover his eyes, facing away from the light. “Geez, a little warning before giving me a flashbang?”

Tails grins, fiddling with his ear. “Sorry, didn’t think the screen would be that bright…” Files begin to clutter the screen, almost leaving no background behind.

“Ok, just give me a secon-”

In mere seconds, every light that was switched off down this floor burst with color, flashing red over and over, accompanied by the loud siren playing out. Tails has to cover his ears from the surprise.

Right then, the sirens are replaced by static laughter, from none other than Dr. Eggman. “Ohohoho! Did you seriously think that the first time you triggered my Badniks I wasn’t aware of your little ‘detour’ from you and your pesky group?” Somehow, the low audio quality made the man even more menacing, filling his voice with an unnatural tone.

Tails is left agasp, nothing to say, while Sonic is squaring up, looking around the room for any potential danger.

He looks up to what he imagines is the camera, giving it a death glare. “Well what were you sitting around for the first time you noticed?”

With no shift in tone, the madman once again bursts out laughing, having to cut himself short to explain. “Oh, you would’ve easily gotten out from the first floor, those Badniks were nothing new to you and your colorful companions. So, I waited until you were in a more… Trapped spot.”

As he says that, a loud bang sweeps through the halls, metal colliding with metal.

Tails is the first to know what it was. “The door!” Tails gasps out, panic starting to fill the air.

“Indeed, now you two, alongside that pesky Echidna friend  of yours, is stuck down here… As for your frail little friends upstairs, well, they’ve been dealt with for now…”

Blood begins to rush to his head, heating up. The feeling from before only starts to intensify, that fuzzy static zigzagging through him now racing around at a faster pace, becoming much more noticeable. “What did you do to them, Egghead?!”

Sonic yells out, tone immediately shifting, doing nothing to stop Eggman's howls of laughter. “Oh nothing much at all! However, they won’t be leaving here anytime soon…”

Ragged, shallow breaths starting to form, Tails manages to speak up. “What’s your game Eggman! You always have something planned! What is up with all these crystals and where is the real Chaos Emerald!”

“Hahaha! Oh those things! Originally I was going to test these out much later on when I found the right opportunity to, but seeing you both trapped down here alone with Knuckles, well, now I should be thanking you! You’ve made my job far easier!”

Suddenly, the red flashing comes to a halt. Tails looks down to see that his device has completely shut off, alongside the computer screen. He gives a deflated look.

“Now I know that I could’ve locked you all in here first step in, but I needed to make sure that you wouldn’t try hacking into any of my systems, so all I had to do was wait until you would carelessly plug it into my computers and link it up. Now that device of yours is mine to control.”

Tails slowly looks up to Sonic, a blank anger staring right at the blue hero. Sonic doesn't need words to know what Tails was thinking; It was his fault.

That static in his body becomes almost overwhelming, building up in his chest. Trying to push it down the best he could, he turns to the camera once more.

“Would you like to gloat about these ‘pretty’ things perchance?” He glides his knuckles down the side of a smaller gemstone, the pulse stuttering and flashing more to life upon the contact. Of which Tails had indeed picked up on. “What was the thought process behind them?”

Silence occupies the room for a minute, before the speakers screech once more. “Hm. Why I’m glad you asked. My first plan with these was to make a decent amount that was perfected to use in my machines, but then I made a discovery. A rather big one, infact…”

Another pause, presumably to take in a breath. “You are always taking down my greatest feats with those measly Chaos Emeralds every time. I decided I had enough, and the only way to prevent any more victories on your side, was to make sure they could no longer be used.”

Sonic just laughs. “So you went ahead and made my job easier by duplicating a bunch’a cheap knockoffs of ‘em instead?”

Eggman clears his throat. “Not exactly, my dear friend. What you see surrounding you everywhere is the result of my successful plans to replicate the Chaos Emeralds true powers…”

More silence, presumably Eggman was waiting for them to respond. So they did. “And what may this ‘true power’ be just now?”

“Wonder why Knuckles was having a hard time reaching out to their power?” Sonic and Tails recoiled, remembering that Knuckles was down here, certainly hearing this conversation from wherever he stood, due to the speakers implanted everywhere. Heck, it wouldn’t be a surprise if the Diamond Cutters were too, from wherever they are being held.

Taking the lack of response as a sign to continue, Eggman lets the bomb drop. “He was searching for all that positive energy, the one that you and your friends rely on so heavily… But not the negative power of the Emeralds…”

Dread sinks in, filling the air with despair. Sonic looks to Tails, who has nothing but shock written all over his face.

“Heheh, without that spark of ‘pure’ power, you all won’t be able to harness them anymore, once I get rid of the original copies, that is…”

Sonic, dumbfounded, tries to come up with a response. “What makes you think that we can’t restore these to have that spark in them again like we did with Perfect Chaos and so many others?”

“The fact that these never had that ‘spark’ in them to begin with. That, and the fact that nobody, not you, or even Shadow, will dare to use the negative side of them. If you even could touch into that kind of power, that is. Hahahahaha!”

Sonic turns to Tails, hoping to find his mind lost in thought, of any way to get them out of the current situation, but nothing showed.

Sonic lets out a grunt. “So what, you just leave us here to rot away while you go and enact that plan of yours?” Something inaudible moves in the background, along with the sound of a keyboard clattering, before silence fills the air once more, Eggman speaking up.

“Why of course not! I am no fool, and I know that you’ll find your way out of here at some point. So, while you lot are here, I might as well make you useful.”

“I myself cannot use Chaos Energy alone, with my glorious machines not having to pick sides, just the energy it’s given. No changes, no ‘advantages’, just plain energy. Thus, I have no way to make sure that you really can’t tap into some ‘repressed’ side of these Chaos Shards.”

Tails and Sonic look up to see some of the hallway lights outside of the room light up a bland white glow, leading out somewhere.

“So, care to prove me wrong, that these really can be ‘fixed’ to their original glory by the hands of you and your friends? I’ll even lead Knuckles back to you, which I have just done with the pathway being lit.”

Before Sonic can even consider it, Tails cuts  in. “You don’t need Sonic for that! You can easily gather data alone by using your tech! You’re hiding something! Sure you’re robots don’t use certain aspects of it, but data alone can tell you!”

Silence is left on Eggman's part, faint clatters once more echo through. He was searching for something. Or doing something behind the scenes.

“You don’t know that, somethings can be… Complicated… Especially when using the Chaos Emeralds. Always making machinery faulty when nearby…”

Tails slinks back. He had a point, although, something was still rather off.

Sonic however, has decided he has had enough. “Well I’m the one in question here. What if I decide to say no to your little ‘project’?”

“Well, I think your friends would be the ones to find out first if you don’t comply… I have them somewhere you can’t access from down there. One wrong move, and they’re nothing more than a pile of dust.”

He begins to cackle, before bursting out into a sickening laughter. “So what’ll it be? End the lives of your friends, or follow my simple requests?”

Sonic looks down, able to see Tails’ face of concern in the corner of his eyes. “Sonic, it’s going to be a trap, something else behind that demand…” He whispers, in the hopes that Eggman’s speakers can’t pick that up from where they stand.

He turns to face Tails. “Yeah, but our friends are on the line, we can��t let any harm come to them…” He lets out a shallow whisper, turning his back on Tails before the fox can change his mind.

“Alright Eggman, let's do this.”

“Haha! Splendid! Follow the path I lit up! Knuckles is already there waiting. Don’t try and take any more debtors on the way over…”

The speakers screech, probably Eggman cutting the line. Sonic walks on out. “Let's go Tails.”

A face of horror, Tails runs in front of Sonic. “What! You can’t be serious! It’s Eggman of all people! He never keeps his word!” Gritting his teeth, Sonic suppresses any angry comments that were daring to come out. “I know what I am doing. Now let's go.”

He walks right past Tails, now speeding up his walk. As Tails watches him walk by, Tails notices that the ‘Chaos Shards’ were lighting up a brighter color as Sonic walked on by, some kind of reaction to his presence.

Shoving the stone in his gut down, he follows the path, not too far behind Sonic.

9:12 AM, EGGMAN’S BASE, LOWER FLOOR:

Sonic and Tails enter a vast room. Right ahead of them was Knuckles, looking rather angry. Storming right up to Sonic, he points a finger, the awkwardly shaped fabric misshaping it. “What did you just agree to?!”

Seconds from hitting Sonic, Tails grabs Sonic’s arm and forcefully tugs him back, stepping into his place. “We didn't have much room to say no, or else Tangle, Whisper, Lanolin, and their newest recruit, Duo, will be harmed…”

Knuckles does not move for a whole minute, before backing down. “You’re right. Just make sure we get out of this alright…”

Looking past Knuckles, the two are surprised to see the room. While yes, the hallways were grossly covered in a ridiculous amount of those gems, this room however, had no walls whatsoever, but only those very gems, taking up every space in every dull, monochrome color.

The only thing safe from this was the roof and floor, but even they had one or two small stones peeking out from the gaps of the metal panels.

Filling the silence, Knuckles comments to Sonic once more. “If anything happens at all, I’ll be blaming you for it, since you’re the one who dragged Tails’ butt over to that computer to start all this mess from what I could hear over those speakers…”

Before they can even comment on anything however, said speakers once more fills the room with Eggman's voice.

“Alright hedgehog! Let’s see how you do up against my newest creation!”

The ceiling opens up, to reveal yet another Egg Dragoon knockoff, with a few more armor pieces thrown into the mix and much larger size.

Aside from the new gadgets and gizmos, it wouldn’t be too much of a problem, right?

CHAPTER TWO: UNLEASH:

9:20 AM, EGGMAN'S BASE, LOWER FLOOR

“Heh, really Egghead? Another one of these? This’ll be easy.” Sonic begins to take his defensive stance, followed by Knuckles, eyes deadset on the robot.

“Oh but there’s one thing you should know hedgehog. This is powered by those Chaos Shards all along the room…”

With that said, the thick, heavy doors behind them begin to shut, creeping along the floor.

Now joined together, with no sign there ever was an entrance point before, the Egg Dragoon begins to move, rising up from its dormant state.

Engines whirring, it charges forwards, arm extended as the comically large drill begins to spin, aiming for the group.

Knuckles slides under, stomach brushing against the smooth cold floors, while Sonic quickly grabs Tails’ arm and darts to its left, ankles grinding into the floor to stop his slide.

Now out of the way, the Egg Dragoon instead hits the bottom of the wall, crystals flying out from the impact, scattering like glass shards.

A particularly large chunk bounces off Sonic’s head, as he immediately begins to cup the hit spot, eyes scanning for any more that may hit Tails instead.

Seeing that it missed its target, the mech begins to roughly yank it out of the wall, each thrust sending loose shards to the floor around it, clanking against the floor like rain.

Now free, it looks around the room for the brightly colored figures, spotting Sonic and Tails first. Lifting up its other arm, it begins to fire a flurry of bullets at the two, who were now evading the shots.

Knowing that having the two in one location was a bad idea, Tails splits off from Sonic’s path, flying up high, watching the neon line zigzag all around the room, bullets lying on the ground from where they all missed.

Supposedly running out of bullets, it stops to recharge, smoke billowing out of the holes.

“Grahhh!” Knuckles yells out,  jumping up from behind the now vulnerable bot, making contact with the back of his head, a loud metallic bang ringing out.

However, as he holds onto the shoulder blade, Knuckles looks down in horror to see that he did nothing at all to the metal shell.

Engine charging up, the machine jolts backwards, flinging Knuckles off, as he collides with the cluttered walls, little shards chipping off. Tails could’ve sworn he saw some strange, discolored wisps of smoke fade out from the collision.

Sonic and Tails, who had watched from a distance, were shocked. Knuckles was physically the strongest of the trio, yet that had done nothing at all.

Crunching his teeth, he sprints up again, colorful shards falling from his dreadlocks. He goes for the leg, letting out a rampage of anger out on it, a blur of punches colliding with it over and over.

Yet still, it’s left unharmed.

Not paying Knuckles any notice, it turns to Tails, who was still hovering above, his namesakes chopping the wind up in the surrounding space.

Its back plates open up, revealing rows of missiles, as they all launch out, curling around the mech to charge at Tails, whistling in the wind.

“Ah!” Panicked, he begins to swirl around them, narrowly missing them as most hit the walls, more shards flying out, with one cutting Tails’ arm, a thin, almost unnoticeable slice.

With some of the missiles knowing better, they swivel around, going back for a second round at Tails.

Sonic catches sight of it, static faintly buzzing in his gut, the surrounding Chaos Shards pulsing a brighter color for a second, as he launches himself up at Tails, knocking him right out of the air and into the walls.

Sonic had made sure to take the impact of the sharp hazards poking out, with Tails being held in front of his chest.

“Grk.” He holds the noise in between his teeth, as he begins to slide down the wall, still holding onto Tails tightly, muscles straining.

Landing on the ground, he lets go of Tails, getting back up.

He shakes off the shards from his back, some still stuck in his quills. He turns to Tails. “You alright bud?”

Sitting back up, Tails turns away, watching as the mech stares them down. “I’m fine.”

Looking around, Sonic spots Knuckles still going all out on the mech, hitting every spot he can in the hopes that something will cave.

“Knuckles! Quit doing that! It’s not working at all and we could use your help!” Sonic yells, an unusual hint of anger filling his voice, tensing up.

Tails catches in the corner of his eye that once again, the Chaos Shards were flashing a brighter pulse, surrounding the blue hedgehog, including the ones still lodged into his quills

Knuckles stops, turning to Sonic, something unusual in his eyes. “Well at least I’m trying! You haven’t done anything at all! Now we’re stuck here thanks to you dealing with this!”

He leaps off the mech, as it once again darts at Sonic, with him disappearing in a flash of blue. Landing at the opposite side of the room, he once again faces Knuckles.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?” Tails, who is spectating from the back of the room, begins to worry. The two were outright fighting. Not in the usual way when they disagree on something or banter. No, this was turning into something else.

Almost forgetting the situation they were in, Sonic and Knuckles look up to the sound of machinery charging up once again. Aimed at Sonic, a blue, focused laser blasts at Sonic, who had no time to react.

Hitting him right in the chest, the laser lanches him right into the wall, a loud bang thundering through the halls. Multicolored smoke bellows out in all directions, accompanied by the shards, which Tails was shying away from.

Coughing up smoke, Tails waves his hand through the air, frantically searching for his brother. “Sonic! Are you alright?” Tails’ heart pounds violently in his chest, adrenaline kicking in.

Unfortunately, the thick puffs of smoke render looking for him useless. He can hardly see the towering mech’s silhouette from inside the mess.

However, that is not needed, as suddenly, a bright, colorful glow surrounds a patch of Chaos Shards, looking as if they were going to blow up on the spot. Thanks to the lights, he can spot Sonic’s dark shape in the centre of it.

Small cracks of static dancing around his shoes and the Chaos Shards, Sonic begins to tense up. “Grahhhh!

 Yelling out with fury, blasting forwards at the mech, colliding in an instant as it hits the opposing wall, shaking the room, with the force so strong it blew Tails back into the wall. Thankfully a smoother patch due to most of the Shards being crunched up from the fight.

Not finished yet, Sonic begins to ram into it over and over, streaks of blue bashing into the mech relentlessly, sparks flying out as he yells out, loud bangs bouncing around the room.

As the hedgehog moves about, the smoke begins to clear, dull oranges, violets, and greens fading out, seeping into the metal plates of the floor.

With a clear view, Tails can spot Knuckles watching from the other side of the room. In no way can he see any concern for their friend being harmed, but the same anger from before, if not filled with hatred.

Turning back to the scene, Tails’ fur rises as he sees the damage. The bot now had varios dents sinking into the bot, along with some small holes, which were now letting out dark puffs of smoke, rising into the ceiling.

With one last yell, Sonic blasts into the arm, a loud snap as it goes flying, bouncing off the wall and skidding against the floor.

Landing in front of it, Sonic stares it down, breathing out deep intense breaths. Small flickers of static bounce off him and around the Chaos Shards, which were now pulsing an intense rhythm, glowing brightly around the room, matching Sonic’s heartbeat.

Tails runs up to Sonic, footsteps being the only other noise aside from the static and Sonic’s rage-filled breaths. Tails could hear Knuckles too running to the hedgehog, either to yell at him or see the mech for himself.

Now next to Sonic, Tails has to double check with himself, looking into his eyes, which were now looking rather pale, which confused the fox.

Ignoring Tails, Sonic turned around to storm off to Knuckles, meeting him roughly in the middle of the room.

Spite and hate filling his voice, he stares Knuckles down. “You wanna call me ‘useless’ again?”

Knuckles, who hardly shows any facial changes, grits his teeth, beginning to yell. “Defeating one pathetic robot does not deem if you’re helpful at all!”

Sonic just laughs. “Oh yeah? Says the person who was too weak to do a single thing to it!” Now he wasn’t holding back, going into a full yell. “Oh yeah?! Want to explain why that is?!”

Knuckles doesn't hesitate to join in on Sonic’s yelling. “Well why is it that every time you get yourself into trouble, you’re always dragging your sorry face over to me?! Every time I try to do my job, you’re always making an appearance on my island!”

Sonic scoffs a mocking tone. “And that was when Blockhead?!”

“How about the Metal Virus?! You dragged a whole party on over during a crisis that you started thanks to your stupid delusions!”

He clenches his fists, jabbing a finger into Sonic’s chest. Tails now begins to run towards the group, seeing that this was going down badly.

“To make matters worse, you yourself were infected! Spreading it everywhere around the world! Who knows how much of it was caused by you alone taking a ‘nice’ little run around the place!?”

“And then, to top it all off, you ran around my island, all over the natural wildlife and environment, even though you-” He jabs yet again at the hedgehog, “-and your little friends deemed a ‘safe’ haven for the last survivors! What kind of logic is that to bring the only ones left and immediately contaminate the space!”

Fire begins to burn between the two. Sonic freezes up for a moment, thinking of something to shout back, before settling on one.

“Oh yeah? Well while you were having a nice relaxing time up there away from all the chaos, I was running about trying to fix things! Something that you never do! All you care about is that stupid rock of yours!”

Tails, now standing right by them, can only watch as they fight, with no way of speaking up over the yelling.

“Well what about when we were on the Starfall Islands?! Rather than trust me, Tails, or Amy, or heck, even Sage of all people,  you decided the best person to listen to was that ‘Mysterious Sky Voice’ following you around with no reason as to what it was doing there!”

Stepping closer to Sonic, he looks right into his eyes, a look that could kill written across them. “You even let the end out! Running around, following the orders of whatever it said, breaking the locks that were keeping it out of this world!”

His voice begins to crack from the intense yelling, throat now dry. “If we weren’t there, me included, you would’ve been stuck in between Cyberspace while the End consumed our world!”

Breathing ragged, shallow breaths, Knuckles says no more, only looking down on the hedgehog.

Shoving the echidna away, Sonic begins to tense up, a strange look forming in his eyes, realization hitting him like a train. Stumbling for words, he can only look at Knuckles.

Now done with his points, Knuckles lowers his voice, but only slightly. “It’s always you messing things up for everyone. You, your friends, the world, everybody.”

Finding a response, Sonic turns to Tails. “Tails, you tell him that's not true!” A commanding rage hits Tails, as Knuckles too turns to him.

However, something inside Tails begins to stir. If he wasn’t caught up in the argument, he would’ve noticed that something was wrong, him included, but something blinded him from doing so; anger.

“No Sonic, Knuckles is right. You never listen to what any of us tell you!” His high pitched yell takes Sonic aback, wincing at the reply.

“Every time we try to warn you, you just run in and make everything worse!”

Tails takes a stance, standing upright.

“The Paradox Prism, the first time you broke it and caused a whole mess of things despite all of us trying to tell you to stop! Shadow had to help you resolve it!”

Sonic tries to speak up, mouth opening before Tails continues.

“The Metal Virus, as Knuckles pointed out, is directly the cause of your actions, leaving ‘Mr. Tinker’ alone with no precautions whatsoever, leading to Starline fixing him back up to how he was before!”

“The device I made to find a cure for it all? Wrecked all because you thought it would be a good idea to run into Eggman in a town infested with Zombots that you were very much aware of!”

Sonic begins to tense up, fists clenching tightly. “Or what about when-” Sonic yells out, cutting Tails off from saying anything else. “Oh so I guess that I’m just the villain behind everything then!”

Around the room, the pulses begin to flash at a much faster rate, glow increasing as Sonic stands there, static now leaping out all around the room.

However, due to the trio being blinded by their fight, no one notices the sudden changes in the environment.

Knuckles decides that now would be a good time to speak up again, facing Sonic. “Well maybe you are! Almost none of the things we go through would’ve occurred had it not been your doing! Eggman would be no more if we got rid of him as Mr. Tinker the first time around.”

“We would all be safe from your mistakes!”

That was the final straw, as all hell begins to break loose.

A mess of pointless yelling fills the room, becoming a blur of words. At this point, you’d think that they were yelling for the sake of it.

9:42 AM, EGGMAN'S BASE, UPPER FLOORS:

 Static filling the rooms with high pitches and blurred words, Eggman sat behind various monitors, grinning as he watched it all unfold. What was an organized team built on trust was now falling apart and bickering meaningless words to each over.

On nearly every monitor, the Chaos Shards were lighting up a blinding glow, rhythm matching Sonic’s pulse.

However, this was something that Eggman paid no attention to, focusing only on their fight, laughing to himself.

9:44 AM: EGGMAN'S BASE, LOWER FLOORS:

Deadset on making their own points, the group did not let in any breathing space for another, talking over another despite them continuing anyways.

Tails, who was probably the most pitchy of the three, heard something beeping nearby. He saw his Miles Electric discarded on the floor. Amongst all the Chaos, he failed to even notice that it was no longer slung over his shoulder.

Curiosity winning over the desire to be right, Tails walks away towards the Electric. To no one's surprise, Knuckles and Sonic don’t even notice, and continue to yell between each other.

Tails, now calming down, began to realize that the Chaos Shards were acting very differently, static threatening to hit either of them, along with the sickening pulse that dared to blind his eyes.

Reaching for the device, he faces the screen. An incoming call from the Diamond Cutters.

Almost forgetting that they have been captured, he does not hesitate to answer, worried as to what they want to communicate through.

“-I don’t even know if it’s still working. For all we know, it might be broken no-” Lanolin, looking as calm as ever, is cut off by Tangle. “Look! Tails!”

She points to the screen, as the group looks down into the camera.

“Tails! It’s about time you stopped fighting with your group.” Lanolin looks right at him, speaking in her usual monotone voice.

“Lanolin! How could you say that! You know what's going on down there!”

Not reacting at all, she speaks in a somewhat urgent tone.

“Tails, before being attacked, we managed to find out what those shards are for.”

His eyes light up, surprised that they managed to grab any at all. “What is it?”

Tangle cuts anything Lanolin has to say right off. “No time to explain! You guys have to get out of there now!” She half-whispers, presumably to keep Eggman's attention off them.

Lanolin sighs, with a worried Tangle looking back at him.

“Wait no, tell me first, What do they do?” Tails only now, having calmed down, realized that the Chaos Shards were getting more intense, along with Sonic’s voice.

“Tails, I need you to leave first, I will explain whe-” “No! Tell me now Lanolin, what do the Chaos Shards do?!”

It’s neither Tangle or Lanolin that answer, but rather Whisper, who is still keeping her calm.

“Eggman planned for you to go down there and fight that mech. All those shards in the room are, as you know, filled with all the negative energy of the Chaos Emeralds. However, alongside that, he’s added in a chemical that, when damaged, releases a gas.”

“That gas is supposed to trigger an angry response to the person inhaling it, blinding them by rage and hate.”

Tails has to sit down. It all made sense, the sudden anger when colliding with the Chaos Shards, the bickering, and the strange setup. If only Tails had known sooner.

Listening around him, Tails begins to realize that something is happening in the room. Muffled under the shouts of the two, there was a crunching noise.

He looked around to see that some of the larger, still intact shards were forming little cracks on their sides, with more small puffs of smoke blowing out. 

He turns back to the screen. “Why would he want us to get angry at each other?”

“That's why you need to get out, especially Sonic!” Tangle cries out, trying to muffle any loud pitch that may alert Eggman to what they are doing.

“What?” Panic fills Tails’ gut, dread weighing him down.

“Remember when Eggman said that he made those shards in the hopes that none of you would be able to use them since ‘no one’ can wield their negative side?” Not letting Tails answer, Tangle continues.

“Well looking at his notes and research, that would be a lie. Somehow, something led Eggman to the conclusion that Sonic can do just that.”

Silence fills the room, Tails’ eyes shrinking. “Oh no, that's really bad.” He turns to Sonic, seeing him argue with the Echidna, eyes still hazy.

He sinks further into the ground, grabbing his arms, letting the tablet slip onto his lap. “Why did I have to say all those things to him?”

Tangle is able to see the worry on his face, and tries to reassure him.

“But hey! So far nothing has happened! You just need to get out of there now before something does-”

Suddenly, the screen goes dark, static blaring out of the speakers.

“Tangle? Whisper?” He shakes his Electric, looking down at nothing. Something has happened on their end.

With no time to spare, he darts over to Sonic, that blind anger begins to slither over his shoulders, crawling back around him.

“Sonic! You need to get out of here right now befo-” Turning around, Tails is met with pure spite. It is now that Tails can also see that Sonic’s fur has turned to a darker navy blue, which is not good.

“And do what Tails, ruin everything for you and ‘your’ friends?” Tails feels a shiver run down his spine. His voice was haunting and empty, coming from somewhere deep within.

Tails pushes down that ‘natural’ feeling to say something along the lines of ‘yes it is’ and keeps his mouth shut, blood heating up.

For Sonic however, that was the wrong answer. “What? Don’t want to be right as you always are yet again? Don’t want to ‘hurt’ my feelings?”

Sonic has now fully turned away from Knuckles, staring Tails down. Even now, the Echidna is starting to see that something is wrong, and holds his breath.

Holding those unnatural feelings back, he backs up. “No, I… I was just-”

From out of nowhere, a flash appears from behind Sonic, being none other than Shadow himself.

He looks between the angered echidna, the frightened mechanic, and the quiet not-so-blue, blue hedgehog, before letting out a scoff.

“Hmph. Doing nothing as usual I see, faker. Sitting around here with your friends while I have to deal with the Diamond Cutters, who were captured by Eggman waiting for your help. Typical.”

Slowly turning around, Sonic faces Shadow, giving an empty look, as if holding in the urge to jump out right there and fight him.

He lets out a small laugh. “Oh yeah? What made you come down here in the first place? Were you looking for the missing Chaos Emerald down here?”

There is no playful tone to that line, no heartfelt teasing, just cold, emotionless words. Tails can feel that inner anger boiling inside him, feeling that hazy detachment from his ability to think clearly.

“Until now, I was unaware there was a Chaos Emerald here at all. I came here since the Restoration got Amy to get me to come here and pick up your slack since all contact with you was shut off.”

Shadow replies, uncaring as usual, staring back at Sonic.

Sonic however, delays his response, a strange, faint laugh falling from his mouth. “Oh, because I let them get caught due to my little mistakes, right? Since I was the one to convince Tails to check out the computers in the first place, leading to where we are now.”

The mention of his name sets off that rage, mouth opening upon instinct. “It’s because it is Sonic!”Tails yells out, as the room goes quiet. Sonic doesn't say a word, keeping his back to Tails.

“Right now you won’t listen to any of us! Stop falling for another trap of Eggmans and listen to me! I know how to solve this!”

As those words come out, Tails begins to panic, realizing that he let that anger slip out again.

Tails can see that Sonic’s fist is once more clenching tightly, body tensing up as he begins to shake. Looking around the room, Tails realizes that  those shards were really starting to spark up, threatening to blow at any second. He watched as more began to crack and split, some falling off the walls completely.

Unfortunately, before Tails can try to fix what he said, Shadow decides to add on to his words.

“He’s right Sonic, you need to stop and think clearly for once…” Sonic’s fur begins to darken even more, as Tails spots static bouncing off of it once more.

“No Shadow! Don’t-” “No, Sonic needs to know that he has to stop this, right now? Another one of those mistakes.”

Knuckles looks at the hedgehog, face matching that of Shadows.

Sonic slinks down to the floor, hands holding him up, quills raised. “This is pathetic behaviour on your part, hedgehog. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

Grabbing his head, Sonic finally yells out. “Would you just shut up for once?! Why do you always need to be in my head?!” He cries out, voice echoing around.

“What are you talking about faker, I’m no-” Looking up, he gives Shadow an animalistic stare, an unnatural voice filtering out. “I wasn’t talking to you, Shadow…”

Almost moving right on from that, he goes back to whoever it was he was talking to. “You don’t know everything about me, and you need to stop trying to get me to ‘calm down’, I’M FINE!”

That last line was loud, a cry that thundered through the room, some of the shards in the room bursting out, with others on the verge of breaking, pulse almost non-existent as they shined brightly, static still bouncing about.

Unlike Shadow and Knuckles, who didn’t catch up on everything Sonic did, Tails immediately knew who it was he was talking to.

“Sonic, that's not Mecha you’re talking to, is it?” Not looking up, he responds. “Yeah, and he won’t stop! He always has to comment on everything I do!”

Knuckles is the first to respond. “Mecha?! As in Mecha Sonic?! What do you mean by that! He was destroyed long ago!”

He yells at Sonic, with Shadow’s face showing that he was thinking the same thing too.

Tails steps in between Sonic and Knuckles, trying to stop him from doing something else.

“Knuckles wait. I can explain what he me-” Shadow steps in, angered. “What is he trying to hide from us?”

Tails whips around to him. “Nothing! You just just weren't there when Mecha Sonic went rog-”

“He’s still alive?! How!” Knuckles points at Tails, anger filling the red echidna once more. Tails begins to panic. “He was, but Sigma fixed him up when he washed asho-” “He’s been repaired?! We need to go and get rid of him now before he can do anything else!”

“Knuckles no! He’s good now! And the reason why Sonic can hear him is because his programing went all funky and he tried to switch out their minds so that he could leave the island an-”

“He tried doing what?” Shadow steps in, anger filling his voice even more. Tails turns around, getting overwhelmed from the two, alongside the bright lights and the sounds of static everywhere.

“No, Mecha Sonic was stopped by the Scrapniks halfway through, causing them instead to have a mental connection to each other-”

“Another error in Sonic’s judgments again?” Shadow replies, as Knuckles faces Sonic, who is still behind  the fox, down on the ground and shaking.

“What? Was he too trusting and gave him another chance before getting attacked? Cause that sounds like him.”

“No! That’s not at all what happened! He-”

“GRAHHHH!” A loud bang erupts from Sonic, a cold, uncanny static fills the room, knocking back the three into the wall.

Smoke fills the room, with no way to see through as all the lights that the crystals were emitting are gone.

All three coughing out clouds of smoke, they turn to see it settling, trying to look for Sonic. However, they are horrified by what's there

Instead of their energetic happy-go-lucky blue friend, is the imposing figure of a neon-black silhouette floating above the ground, eyes blank and empty, with his quills floating up. Surrounding him was a strange dark purple aura, dancing around his fur like waves.

Sonic looks down at the group, not saying a word, before flying right through the ceiling, debris falling down onto the ground with a heavy thud.

Tails gets up, ready to fly after him before being grabbed by the arm. “Tails, wait.” He turns to see Shadow, confusion and the creeping appearance of terror on his face. “What’s going on?”

Knuckles turns around. Any anger that was on his face before was gone, replaced with confusion and terror. “Yeah, everything feels… Confusing…” Tails stops to think, surprised at the sudden calm behaviour, before looking around himself.

When he had transformed into that, it had destroyed almost every shard, with only a few little crumbs scattered on the floor. Even the small clouds of multicolored smoke that were resting above the ground were pretty much gone.

“I think the effects are wearing off since all the chemicals in the air are gone now…” Walking up to Tails, he folds his arms, dreadlocks being pushed back. “What chemicals?”

“That's what I was trying to tell you all before this happened; Eggman has inserted a chemical that would leak out of the Chaos Shards and cause an angry response from the person breathing it in.”

Knuckles shifts slightly. “Oh.”

However, that leaves a question. “Shadow, you only just got here though, how come you were getting affected like us too?” Turning away, he calmly responds. “When rescuing the other half of your team, I saw those shards all about the hallways.”

“I didn’t like the look of them, seeing that Eggman made them, and destroyed each one that I came into contact with…”

He closes his eyes, thinking about something. Tails just facepalms. “Oh of course you did…”

All three look up to the ceiling, which had a massive hole in it, revealing the base floors. Knuckles gives a half-laugh, still shaken up a little. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about the fact that Eggman locked the door shut now.”

However, that just reminds them even further as to what just took place. Shadow walks into the center of it, right underneath the hole. He turns to Tails, confusing written all over him.

“Tails, what just happened to Sonic?” Tails sighs, thinking for a whole minute. He takes in another breath, coming to a conclusion.

“I got into contact with Tangle and Whisper before, and they said that Eggman somehow found information that Sonic can use the Chaos Emeralds negative energy.”

“However, I just can’t think of why…” He rubs his temples, not able to come up with any reason.

Each of them looked at each other, worried. Anything that had to do with Dr. Eggman was bad news, especially something like this.

Shadow steps forwards, grabbing both Knuckles and Tails by the arms. “We can’t just let him roam free like this. We have to fix what we’ve done.”

In a flash, they’re gone, leaving the empty room behind.

10:58 AM, EGGMAN'S BASE, UPPER FLOOR:

Eggman was watching the monitors. Everything was going to plan. For whatever reason, Shadow decides to show up, but that only makes things better.

Finally, the hedgehog snaps. Destroying almost everything in the room, he see’s Sonic in the centre, looking down at his friends from up high.

However, this is where things immediately begin to crumble. Instead of what Eggman had planned, Sonic decided to blast right through the ceiling.

“That's not good…” He immediately leaned forwards, looking into every monitor to see where he had gone, however, none showed him at all.

Without hesitation, he presses a button on the side of his console, an underwhelming click comes out.

He begins to mash the button frantically, hoping for the best. “What happened to the emergency lockdown?!”

A loud bang comes from behind him, rubble hitting his back and the computer. He is knocked right out of his chair, now against the left side of the wall in the corner.

Sonic looks at Eggman, emotionless blank eyes piercing through the smoke.

“Eggman!” He zips forwards, grabbing him by the collar, before bursting right through the wall, entering one of the hallways as he watches the man tumble on the ground.

“Gah! W-Wait!” He begins to crawl backwards, looking up to face Sonic, watching him in an unsettling manner.

“This wasn’t supposed to happen! You were supposed to go after your friends!” He cries out, desperation showing in his voice.

Sonic just laughs, even more cruel than Eggmans. “Oh, they're not the problem. All they did was make a point.”

He takes a step forwards, pointing at the man. “Every time I let you go, you only cause suffering and pain to everyone else around you!”

He clenches his fist, anger visibly intensifying. “Well it’s time I stop you right now!”

Suddenly, he’s attacked from behind, getting knocked over. He turns to see Metal Sonic hovering above the ground, determined to protect his creator.

“Don’t get in the way, Metal…”

However, the robot dashes forwards, arms outstretched ready to stop Sonic.

Without almost any effort, Sonic leaps up and kicks Metal right in his side, slicing through with ease.

Clattering on the ground, his power cuts off, red eyes fading to black. Eggman clenches his teeth, keeping in an angry shout.

Sonic turns to him once again. “Looks like you’ll have to go back to the drawing board, Eggman!”

He charges up, ready to blast right at the man, however, something catches his attention, a sound echoes out from behind him.

He turns to see Tails, Knuckles, and Shadow standing right there, who’s eyes were all darting between Metal, Sonic, and Eggman.

Tails is the first to look right at Sonic in the eyes, seeing nothing but an emotionless glare.

“Sonic! You need to stop! This isn’t right! Eggman is down, you’ve destroyed almost all the Chaos Shards when you transformed, and you’ve destroyed Metal! You don’t need to do anything else!”

He does nothing, as if his friends were invisible to him.

“He’s right, Sonic.” Knuckles speaks up, looking at him. Gone is the face of hate, and now filled with a sombre mood.

Something changes in his face, a flicker in his eyes, hazy greens appearing for a second. Still floating inches off the ground, he lowers himself, shoes making contact with the ground.

“We all have problems and mistakes we make.” Knuckles gestures towards the other two, who were not leaving their focus off Sonic.

His fur begins to lighten up, going from the colorless void, to a dark blue. His eyes are now slightly visible, which shows some kind of regret sitting inside them.

Seeing Sonic start to calm down, Shadow decided to step in. “You can’t let your anger get the better of you, blind your actions. It only leads to causing more pain, for both you, and the person you inflict it upon.”

“I should know.” He steps forwards. “Which is why you need to go with Tails and Knuckles, and return home, before you do something that’ll never be fixed…”

Sonic’s fur returns to his normal color, along with his eyes as the warping effect in the air vanishes. He looks over his shoulder at Eggman, who is still shaking from where he lays, before turning around and looking down at the ground.

“Yeah, lets go…” He walks up to his friends, waiting for them to lead the way, still making no eye contact with any of them.

All three of them take their leave, walking down the hall, disappearing from sight. Shadow stays put, before striding up to Eggman.

He points a finger, threatening tone making a very clear statement. “If you ever try to mess with Chaos Energy like that again, I’ll see to it that no one comes to save you next time around…”

Turning away, he says one last thing. “Not that you can right now, as the Chaos Emerald you had is now in safe hands…”

With that, he disappears in a flash of yellow and green light, leaving Eggman alone to himself.

2: 13 PM, OUTSIDE THE RESTORATION:

Sonic had almost returned to his usual self, cracking a few jokes and laughing along the way. However, he was still narrowly avoiding eye contact with Tails, who had stayed with Sonic and Knuckles left to return to his island.

Outside the garden, Sonic stops, turning to Tails. “Sorry about that later today, I shouldn’t have lashed out like that…” He puts a hand in between his quills, messing with them.

“It’s fine Sonic! It wasn’t even all on you anyways! Eggman set all that up.” Tails pipes in, cheerful energy back in place.

“Heh, I guess that's true…”

Suddenly, the doors to the elevator open, as Tangle runs out, with Whisper following behind in a calm manner.

“Sonic! Tails! I was so worried!”

Now face to face, she stops for a second, catching her breath as Whisper stands by her.

“Shadow came in out of nowhere and took us back here before we could finish talking to you!” Her tail darts around frantically, showing the energy she had inside her.

“I just couldn’t believe that!” She begins to emote with her hands, detailing her story with body language. “He just swoops in, grabs us, and says that-” She clears her throat, putting on a voice that mimicked Shadows. “-Everything will be taken care of…”

She returns to her usual voice. “But how could we know, especially sin-” Whisper puts a hand on Tangle's shoulder, wanting to talk herself.

She faces the two, more so Sonic in particular. “Did everything turn out fine?”

Sonic puts on a grin, giving a thumbs up. “Without a hitch! Tails and co even managed to swipe the Emerald, so no more ‘Chaos Shards’ as Tails tells me!”

Whisper lets out a soft laugh. “That's good to hear. We better tell Jewel…” She faces Tangle, as the other nods. “Of course! Well see y’all later!” She darts towards the elevator, with Whisper in tow.

However, Tails can feel that something is amiss. “Are you sure you’re fine…?” Sonic only smirks. “No doubts about it!” He ruffles the fur on Tails’ back, playfully messing around.

“Why don’t you go and make sure Eggman isn’t doing something else? I’ll go for a run!”

Tails, although hesitant, agrees. “Alright, just don’t do anything foolish…” He walks off, searching for the Tornado which was parked outside the crater. Looking back at Sonic once more, he waves goodbye, before flying away.

As he watches the Tornado vanish out of sight, his smile slightly fades, before zoning out, thinking about something.

Shaking it off, he turns to the Restorations entrance, scanning the garden surrounding it.

Turning away, Sonic jumps out from the garden, running down the streets. However, a strange, unsettling static follows behind, sitting on his shoulders where he goes.

[lurkingteapot]

Kidnap the Novel ch. 4: Trademark Owner

Chapter 4 brings the h&c, and more gang together time.

There's a LOT of introspection going on here -- I'm curious to see what on the screen led to infer this. :D

Chapter summary under the cut as per usual, misunderstandings absolutely likely.

Min is in a state of constant near-panic for days after he and Q send a letter with Q's necklace and a ransom note to Kachaa. The note contains three conditions "for Q's continued safety": first, that Kachaa not involve the police or media; second, that he withdraw from the case; third, that he pay a ransom of one million baht (which Min had protested but Q insisted was necessary to make it look real). A week goes by and there's no reaction whatsoever. Min is relieved, but Q is despondent. Min tries to cheer him up, first suggesting he (Min) could call Kachaa and threaten him, then, when Q brushes that off, that Q glove up and go hit a punching bag for a bit. Q takes the gloves Min offers, but punches Min in the arm instead. Min goes along with it and plays up the damage when he realises Q seems happier. (He also thinks his clothes look more expensive when they're on Q, but that's neither here nor there). Men watches them and thinks he's never seen Min act like this around anyone else before – Min hovered around Men for days after they got back from meeting with James, to the extent that he wouldn't even let Q drink by himself. Men is convinced Min is either already in love or about to fall.

Min, Men, and Q go to the hospital for Men's final check-up. Everything's fine. Min is so relieved he cries. He then makes to leave for work "at the restaurant". When Men asks him whether he'll be doing any stuntwork again because Men loves to watch his films, Min deflects.

Q watches Min and Men interact and is half impressed, half wistful about how they're each other's whole world. He envies them: he's sure that in a time of need, Men wouldn't even think to call for anyone but Min; Q himself remembers just too well that he called for "anyone at all". He offers to look after Men while Min is at work, but Min laughs him off. Khanomjeen arrives and says she'll look after Men. Q is annoyed; he feels Min treats him like a child and he hates it.

Khanomjeen wants to watch one of Min's shows. Men isn't enthused, which strikes Q as curious as Men just told Min he loved his work. They settle down to watch anyway. Q is sceptical how they even know it's Min -- it's a motorcycle stunt, the rider is wearing a helmet with face shield. Khanomjeen gives him a rundown of how she can tell. Men is disgruntled. Q realises he hasn't actually paid much attention to Min's appearance before.

When Khanomjeen goes to make popcorn, Q asks Men what his problem is. When Men sulks that Khanomjeen never pays attention to him the way she does to Min, Q asks whether he likes Khanomjeen. Men denies it, but blushes scarlet. Q presses on: has he ever even tried to hit on her? Men deflects: how would he even do that? she likes Min so much, the only thing Men might measure up on is that they look similar because they're related. Q has a think and an idea: if Khanomjeen thinks Min looks cool on a motorcycle, maybe …

He makes Men nab one of Min's jackets and his helmet and takes Khanomjeen and Men to a quiet sideroad and he and Khanomjeen proceed to teach Men how to ride Khanomjeen's motorcycle. Men is excited, Khanomjeen is unenthused and worried they'll get in trouble with Min. Q waves her off: they're not doing anything bad or wrong.

Q proceeds to teach Men how to ride the bike. They go about it very slowly and carefully to make sure Men doesn't hurt himself. Once Men has gained some confidence, Q asks to ride on the back for a bit "so Men can get used to that", and once that works, he asks Jeen to take his spot "so he can take a clip of Men on the bike with someone in the back to show Min". Khanomjeen agrees on the condition that they go home once he's taken the video.

It starts to rain heavily as soon as they're done with the clip. The three of them run under a bridge and wait there, but after an hour, it's clear it's not going to stop soon. Q volunteers to run and get rain ponchos, leaving Khanomjeen and Men by themselves. Men asks Khanomjeen whether she thought he looked cool on the bike. She says sure, he presses on: as cool as Min, or not quite yet? Khanomjeen looks at him and they have a bit of a moment. She then tells Men "no", but something has clearly changed, and Men also realises. Q, who ran back with raincoats but realised they were having a moment, hangs back to give them a little time to themselves.

When they get back to the house, Min is there and pissed. Where did they go? Q tries to placate him but Min just gets more upset: doesn't Q know Men is sick, what did he think, taking him out to do something dangerous, and in the rain as well! What if something had happened! Khanomjeen tries to mediate and Min rounds on her, which in turn makes Men mad. He accuses Min of wanting Men locked up in the house forever and not seeing Men as a person, then stomps upstairs to his room. Q argues with Min, Min tells him Q can only argue like that because he never cared for anyone in his life.

Once Min has calmed down, he goes to talk to Men, but gets no answer through the door. Then, there's a thud like a body hitting the floor. Min panics and breaks down the door. He finds Men collapsed, feverish and barely conscious. His frantic tone alerts Q, who comes upstairs and goes numb at the sight that greets him. Min tells him to call an ambulance.

At the hospital, Q tries to apologise to Min – he really does feel bad about what happened, and feels responsible, too. Min tells him to leave him the fuck alone, which really gets to Q.

Men regains consciousness. Khanomjeen, who joined them, and Min go into the room, but Q hovers outside, unsure of his welcome. The doctor explains Men just caught a cold and his heart is perfectly fine, it's just that he's still weakened overall, which is why he caught a fever. Min relaxes. Men, still a little fuzzy around the edges, also tells Min he's fine. Min apologises to Men and Khanomjeen. Men tells Min he had a really good day and was really happy today, and that he'd've been fine if not for the rain, and Min doesn't argue. The room feels more relaxed. Khanomjeen is eager to corroborate Men's account and shows Min the clip of her and Men on the motorcycle. Min can tell that Men looks incredibly happy. Towards the end of the clip, Q turned the camera on himself and addresses Min: "I wanted to show you how much cooler than you your brother is"

Men stresses how Q was the one who made a day that made him that happy possible, and tells Min to apologise to Q as well. Min brushes him off -- they're both adults, these things don't need saying --, but Men can tell he's affected.

Q is quiet the entire ride home, staring out the window and not talking. Min telling him to leave him the fuck alone still echoes in his ear. When they get home, he goes upstairs immediately. Min feels odd; he feels like it'd've been easier if Q got mad at him. Men walks up and slaps Min's shoulder: weren't they both adults and these things didn't need saying? before he, too, goes upstairs to his room.

When Min gets to his own room, the bedside lamp is the only light on. Q is lying on the edge of the bed. Min walks up to him and tells him he saw the clip and that Men really did look happy. Q doesn't react. When Min looks more closely, he can tell that Q is red in the face, not looking so good, and radiating heat. Min instantly goes into caregiver mode and makes to go get Q medicine, but Q tugs at his arm and stops him. Min is startled to see Q is on the verge of tears. Q tries to apologise to Min. He looks miserable. Min tells him he's not angry anymore. Q asks after Men, and Min tells him Men's fine and Q should worry about himself, first. He gently plucks Q's hand off his arm and puts it down on the bed next to Q, but doesn't let go yet, stroking the back of Q's hand with his thumb. He tells Q again that he's no longer angry and goes to get medicine, a flannel, and water.

Min is very aware that he's aware of Q's naked skin while he's spongebathing him, and tries very very hard to keep everything perfunctory. This isn't made easier by Q squirming, trying to avoid the cool water. When they're done, Min helps Q put on the very shirt Q had grabbed that first night that Min then hadn't let him wear. Q notices. Min tells him it's alright, it's a warm shirt, it'll help him get better soon, and that he won't tie their arms this night.

When Min lies down, Q still looks cold despite the covers. Min lies close and sort of half-hugs him. Q opens his eyes, they kind of stare at each other in silence for a while. Min wants to apologise, but Q beats him to it, but Min tells him he's not angry anymore and went too far earlier. He realises he would not know what to do if he made Q cry for real. They talk. Min thanks Q for making Men so happy that day and that he hasn't ever achieved that look on Men himself. Q tells him Men just wants to be like Min. Min doesn't believe him, Q insists and tells him Men's well aware that Min does what he does for Men's sake, and that Q thinks Min's a great older brother. Min tears up. Q tells him he really has no chill when it comes to Men.

Min tells him he has no-one else -- he's cared for Men since he was seventeen years old (and Men was eleven), he didn't even know how to cook rice at first and could only act on guesswork and instinct, always within the framework of "will this be good for Men". Telling Q this is kind of cathartic for Min -- he's never had anyone care, nobody ever asked, but Q asked, and listens, and Min is suddenly confronted with just how lonely he was and how hard this has been. He tells Q he is really afraid he'll ruin Men's life, that he's doing the wrong thing. Q tells him, feverishly but quite seriously, that he feels like if he had anyone who loved him the way Min loves Men, he'd never want for anything else. Min thinks about it and feels his face heat. Q misreads the flush, tells Min to take some medicine, too, and moves to feel Min's forehead. Min tells him to stop talking and go to sleep. Q's eyes are at a height with Min's neck, and he spots the mole Khanomjeen listed when she was talking about how she could tell it was Min in the movie earlier. He falls asleep smiling.

There's not a lot of space on the bed with the way Q is lying, so Min ends up apologising and kind of wrapping himself around Q in order not to fall off, and Q, whether consciously or not, rests his head against Min's chest and hugs him back. Min kind of freezes and doesn't dare move at first, but in the end he moves his free arm to pet Q's hair. He's a mess of feelings he's not quite ready to confront, but he wishes he could hold Q and be held by him like this every night.

The next morning, Min gets up early to make khaao dtom. He's filling a bowl in the kitchen while Men is in the living room, watching TV, when Khanomjeen comes by and is surprised Min isn't at work. Min says he has sick kids at home and asked for the day off. Before she can say anything, Q comes downstairs, still wearing the Min's Golden-Retriever-in-Wolf-hat shirt, and asks what smells so good. He's still a little loopy with fever and rumpled from sleep and looks very cute as he goes to stand next to Min and peer into the pot. Min involuntarily grins, smoothes Q's hair down and tells him to have food and medicine. His tone is so gentle it borders on sweet. Q is loopy and doesn't notice, and neither does Min himself, but Men and Jeen sure do. Men also notices that Q is wearing the shirt he gifted Min and comments on how Min wouldn't let anyone else wear that before. Min blusters and tries to deflect that he doesn't have a lot of warm shirts. Men pretends to accept that answer -- he doesn't really want to tease Min when Min looks like he's about to scoop Q up and carry him where he needs to go. Khanomjeen asks whether that means they're all gonna stay in together that day, and when Min confirms, she and Men call a movie night ("'night' my ass" is Q's comment on that with a look out the window).

Men and Min go gather blankets, pillows, and stuffed toys for the sofa while Khanomjeen and Q prepare snacks and soft drinks. Khanomjeen asks whether he and Min are good now, Q says yes. Khanomjeen then tells Q not to worry too much about it because Min is a person who worries too much about the people he loves, to the point where he sometimes overdoes it, but he doesn't mean to hurt anyone … so she'd kind of like Min to get mad at her in that over-the-top way, because she'd like to know what it's like to be loved by him.

Q deflects teasingly: what about Men?

Khanomjeen seems to lose her composure a little and only says they'll see, but she blushes as she tells him we'll see.

When they're watching the movie, Min unconsciously stretches out his arm to lie on the sofa behind Q, who's hugging the stuffed toy dog, almost like he's putting his arm around his shoulders, and Q leans into it with an air of familiarity. On the screen, Min appears, and Min remembers a gun is about to go off, so he quickly covers Q's ears. When the scene is past, he tells them there won't be any more shots fired in the movie, very matter-of-factly, like looking after others like this was the most normal thing in the world. Q remembers what Khanomjeen said and thinks to himself that she's right -- Min kind of reminds him of a huge dog who loves his owners. He can't keep that to himself, so he teases Min: "You're the actual golden retriever dressed as a wolf here … good boy."

His intention is to tease, but Min just feels praised because Q looks pretty happy about it.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 38 Chapter 38 | bathhouse shenanigans⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽‌⌝

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

A faint buzz of chatter and clinking plates lingered in your ears as you exited the dining hall. The smell of grilled fish and freshly steamed rice still clung to the air, mingling with the earthiness of pine trees outside. Dinner with Class 1-A had been... lively, to say the least.

You hadn't planned on eating with them, but Bakugo's stubborn insistence and lack of patience had left you with no choice but to sit among the Bakusquad.

It started with a begrudging invitation from Kirishima, who flashed his trademark grin as he scooted over to make room for you. Beside him, Ashido waved you over enthusiastically, practically glowing with excitement. Sero leaned back in his chair with a relaxed smirk, teasing Kaminari about something inconsequential—no doubt some blunder during the forest trek.

And then there was Bakugo, his crimson gaze flicking to you from across the table as if expecting you to make a fuss about the seating arrangement. When you didn't, his lips twitched upward in something almost resembling approval.

The meal itself had been a blur of casual banter, good-natured ribbing, and the occasional burst of laughter—Ashido spilling water down the front of her shirt, Kaminari's wide-eyed panic when he thought he bit into wasabi, and Kirishima's endless attempts to get Bakugo to "say something nice about the food."

You'd mostly stayed quiet, observing the way the group interacted. Their camaraderie was loud, messy, and strangely endearing. It was different from Class 1-B, but not in a bad way.

You hadn't realized how much time had passed until Pixie-Bob clapped her hands together, announcing that dinner was officially over and it was time to head back to the cabins. With a low sigh, you had excused yourself, ignoring Bakugo's sharp, "Be sure to get some rest," as you slipped out the door.

The path leading to Class 1-B's cabin was quiet, the forest alive with the sound of cicadas and the occasional rustle of leaves. The night air was cool against your skin, a welcome change from the day's humidity. You adjusted your duffel bag on your shoulder, the weight of the day’s events pressing down like an invisible burden.

By the time you reached the girls' cabin, the soft glow of light spilling from the windows told you that the others were already settled in. You pushed the door open, the warmth inside greeting you like a hug, and froze.

The scene before you was... unexpected.

A few of your classmates were scattered around the room, already deep into their nighttime routines.

Yui sat cross-legged on her futon, quietly flipping through a small paperback book. Komori was perched near the corner, carefully untangling the ends of her pink hair. Shiozaki was kneeling by her bed, hands clasped in silent prayer, while Pony sat on the floor nearby, rubbing lotion into her arms.

The smell of lavender and citrus hung faintly in the air, mingling with the clean, floral scent of freshly washed hair. You realized with a pang of surprise that they had already finished bathing.

Kendo was the first to notice you, her eyes lighting up as she straightened from her spot by the vanity. She was dressed in pale blue pajamas—a loose top with white piping and matching shorts—and had a face mask in one hand. A towel hung over her shoulder, her damp hair tied up in a messy bun. She walked over with an easy smile, her bare feet making soft padding sounds against the wooden floor.

"Akuma-san! There you are," she said, her voice light but tinged with concern. "We were wondering where you'd gone. Dinner ran late for you, huh?"

You nodded, still trying to process the realization that you were the only one who hadn't bathed yet. Your gaze flicked over to the row of futons neatly laid out along one side of the cabin. It was clear they had all claimed their spots for the night, their belongings tidily arranged.

Kendo caught the direction of your glance and chuckled softly. "We already had bath time while you were eating with Class 1-A. Kan-sensei said we could start early since the boys are using the baths after us." She gave a small shrug, then held up the face mask. "So we figured we'd get a head start on relaxing."

"I see." You set your duffel bag down near the entrance.

"Oh, by the way." Kendo stepped closer, lowering her voice so only you could hear. "When you didn't show up for bath time earlier, I let Kan-sensei know. He said to let you know that he wants to see you in the teachers' quarters once you're back."

Your brow furrowed in curiosity. "Did he say why?"

She shook her head. "Nope. Just that to tell you to stop by, but it's probably nothing major. Just don't keep him waiting too long, okay? You know how Kan-sensei is when he’s left hanging.”

You nodded, suppressing a sigh. "Alright. Thanks, Kendo." you replied, offering a faint but polite smile.

"No problem." She smiled one more time before returning to her vanity to continue her routine. "Oh, and take your time, Akuma-san! It's not like the boys are going to rush through their bath," she added with a chuckle, her attention now focused on smoothing the face mask onto her skin.

With that, you turned, heading for the cabin door. The soft hum of cicadas provided a calming backdrop as you began your trek across the campgrounds.

The facility's pathways were dimly lit by hanging lanterns that cast a golden glow against the deep shadows of the surrounding forest. Gravel crunched beneath your feet as you walked briskly, your gaze flicking between the carved wooden signs that pointed toward various areas of the camp.

Your mind wandered as you moved, taking in the little details around you—the faint scent of pine and damp earth, the way the trees swayed gently in the night breeze. Overhead, the stars peeked through breaks in the canopy, their light faint but steady against the dark expanse of the sky.

It was quiet, save for the occasional sound of distant laughter or a muffled shout from the boys' cabin. You passed the training grounds, now silent and abandoned, the earlier chaos of the day replaced by an eerie stillness. The faint outline of the bathhouse came into view further down the path, steam rising lazily from its roof as you passed it by.

Eventually, the teachers' quarters came into view. The structure was modest compared to the rest of the facility, its design functional rather than decorative. A soft glow spilled from the windows, casting long shadows across the wooden porch. You climbed the short set of steps, the wood creaking faintly beneath your weight, and stopped in front of the door.

Raising your hand, you knocked firmly. The muffled sound of conversation from inside paused for a moment before a gruff voice called out, "Come in."

You pushed the door open, stepping inside and immediately taking in the scene before you. The room was warm and brightly lit, with a low table surrounded by cushions in the center.

Kan and Tiger were seated on one side, their postures relaxed but attentive as they spoke quietly. Mandalay was seated by the window reading a book. Ragdoll and Pixie-Bob were near the far corner, their energetic chatter directed at Aizawa, who sat with his arms crossed, his expression unreadable as he stared at a spot on the floor. It was obvious he wasn't listening, but the two women didn’t seem to mind.

The sound of the door shutting behind you drew their attention, all conversations ceasing as every pair of eyes turned toward you. The sudden shift in focus was sharp, almost palpable, but you kept your gaze fixed on Kan, unwilling to let the intensity faze you.

"Akuma," Kan greeted you with a small nod, his expression as stern and measured as always. "You're late."

"I came as soon as Kendo told me," you replied, stepping further into the room.

Kan's gaze lingered on you for a moment, as if weighing your words, before he gestured toward the spot in front of him. "Sit."

You complied, lowering yourself onto the cushion across from him. Mandalay qent back to her book while Ragdoll and Pixie-Bob exchanged a glance but said nothing, their chatter replaced by a curious silence as they watched the interaction unfold. Aizawa finally looked up, his tired eyes briefly meeting yours before he leaned back against the wall, letting Kan take the lead.

"I heard you missed the scheduled bath time earlier," Kan began, his tone calm but with an edge that demanded attention. "The timing for these activities isn't just for convenience; it's part of maintaining order during this camp."

You nodded once, acknowledging his words without interrupting. Kan’s sharp gaze didn’t waver as he continued.

"I've already spoken to the Aizawa. You'll join 1-A during their bath time instead. They're scheduled to use the facilities next."

The statement caught you off guard, though you kept your expression neutral. "Understood." Your mind churned at the thought of sharing such a confined space with students from another class—especially after the chaos of earlier interactions.

Kan's expression softened slightly, as if sensing your hesitation. "This isn't negotiable, Akuma. We're operating on a strict schedule. Make sure you're there and back on time."

"Yes, Kan-sensei," you said, rising to your feet with a respectful nod, your gaze flicking to the other teachers, who had resumed their casual postures but were still quietly observing you. Then, without another word, you turned and left the room.

The cool night air greeted you once again as you stepped back onto the porch. The path to the bathhouse stretched before you, and with a quiet exhale, you began the trek back to the cabins to get your bath supplies.

.☆.      .✩.           .☆.

At the edge of the forest clearing, Midoriya crouched slightly, trying his best to engage with Kota, the young boy glaring up at him with every ounce of defiance his small frame could muster.

"Kota, I'm just trying to talk," Midoriya said gently, his hands held up in a placating gesture. "I know we got off on the wrong foot earlier, but—"

"I said leave me alone!" Kota's voice cut through the quiet night, loud and sharp. He stomped his foot for emphasis, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. "Go find something better to do than bug me!"

Earlier in the day, the rocky dynamic between Midoriya and Kota had gotten off to an even worse start. After Class 1-A arrived at the camp, Midoriya noticed the young boy's standoffish demeanor and innocently asked Mandalay if Kota was her son. With a small laugh, she explained that Kota was her nephew, the son of her late sister, and urged Midoriya to introduce himself to the boy.

Always eager to make a good impression, Midoriya approached Kota with a friendly smile and extended a hand to say hello. However, Kota's response was less than welcoming—he delivered a swift punch to Midoriya's crotch without a word before stomping off, leaving the aspiring hero crumpled on the ground, clutching his stomach and questioning where he'd gone wrong.

Midoriya flinched but didn't back away. "I-I'm sorry if I upset you earlier, Kota. I just thought maybe we could—"

"I don't care what you think!" Kota interrupted, his voice cracking with frustration. His eyes blazed as he stomped forward, planting himself firmly in front of Midoriya. "You're just like all the others—loud and annoying! I don't need you or anyone else!"

Behind him, Bakugo leaned lazily against a nearby tree, his arms crossed as he observed the interaction with a mix of amusement and exasperation. "Oi, Deku," he called, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Why don't you take the hint and leave the brat alone? You're embarrassing yourself."

Despite his words, Bakugo made no move to leave. There was a spark of entertainment in his crimson eyes, and it was clear he was enjoying the show, even if only for the sheer absurdity of it. He stifled a smirk as he watched Kota plant himself like a stubborn weed, fully prepared to take Midoriya down with another well-aimed punch if necessary.

Midoriya's face reddened slightly, but he didn't look away from Kota. "I know, Kacchan, I just think it's important to try to understand each other," he said, more to himself than anyone else, his voice faltering slightly under Kota’s glare.

Kota's fists tightened further, his knuckles whitening as his frustration reached a boiling point. "Stop following me around like a lost puppy!"

Bakugo chuckled, shaking his head. "Damn, Deku. Even the kid's telling you to get lost." He straightened slightly, his grin widening as he added, "You sure you're not just here because you wanna see if he'll nail you again? 'Cause I might stick around for that."

Kota shot a glare over his shoulder at Bakugo, his small face twisted into an expression of pure disdain. "And you're just as bad!" he shouted. "Why don't you go blow something up and leave me alone too?"

Bakugo raised an eyebrow at the retort, but his smirk didn't falter. "Feisty little runt, huh? Maybe I will, but not before you give Deku here another good hit. It'd make my night."

Midoriya sighed, his shoulders sagging slightly as he glanced between Kota's fiery glare and Bakugo's taunting smirk. He held his ground, determined not to escalate things but also unwilling to abandon the boy entirely. "Kota," he began again, his voice steady but softer this time, "I just want to help—"

"I don't want your help!" Kota shouted, stomping his foot again. "Can't you hear me? I don't need anyone's help! Just leave me alone!" His small fists clenched tightly at his sides, and he looked ready to storm off, his indignation pouring off him in waves.

But as he turned to stomp away, his path was blocked by a figure standing in the dim light of the campgrounds—you.

Kota's defiance wavered instantly. His gaze started at the level of your feet, following the outline of your stance until his neck craned upward, his eyes meeting yours. The stark calm in your expression contrasted sharply with the tension radiating from him.

For a moment, it seemed like the night itself held its breath.

The boy faltered under your unflinching gaze, his bravado cracking, his earlier anger dissolving. His small frame trembled, and his lips parted as if to speak, but no words came out. He took an unconscious step back, his face flushed a deep red as he broke eye contact, looking anywhere but at you.

You didn't spare him more than the briefest glance, your attention moving past him as if he were nothing more than a minor obstacle in your path. "Bakugo. I'll be attending bath time with your class."

The blonde looked at you, his brows raising slightly at the sudden announcement before scoffing in acceptance.

Your gaze then shifted to Midoriya; your nod to him brief, but it carried an air of acknowledgment that neither invited nor required a response. Then, without another word, you turned on your heel and walked away, your steps purposeful as you headed toward the bathhouse, not looking back as you left the trio behind in a moment of stillness.

Midoriya blinked after you, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly before he turned his attention back to Kota. The boy was still rooted in place, his small fists no longer clenched. Instead, his hands hung awkwardly at his sides, his wide eyes following your retreating figure. His lips pressed together tightly, and his brows furrowed in a mix of emotions too complex for him to fully grasp.

"Kota?" Midoriya asked gently, crouching slightly to meet the boy's gaze. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Kota didn't answer immediately. His eyes stayed fixed on the direction you’d gone, his flushed cheeks illuminated faintly in the moonlight. After a long pause, he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, "She's pretty. But... scary."

Midoriya tilted his head in mild surprise, his green eyes widening briefly before a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He straightened, glancing toward Bakugo, who was leaning back with his usual casual scowl, arms crossed over his chest. Bakugo's crimson eyes flickered between Kota and the direction you'd disappeared, his expression unreadable for a moment.

The two boys exchanged a look, a rare moment of unspoken understanding passing between them. Then, almost in unison, they muttered under their breaths, "Yeah."

As if realizing they'd said it aloud, Bakugo scoffed, straightening and shoving his hands into his pockets. "Tch. I'm outta here," he grumbled, his tone brusque as he started to walk away, leaving Kota and Midoriya standing under the quiet sky.

☆

☆

The bathhouse was a tranquil haven tucked amidst the rugged wilderness of the campgrounds. Steam rose languidly from the surface of the hot springs, swirling upward to dissipate into the crisp night air.

A sturdy wooden fence divided the bathhouse into two sections—one for males and the other for females—its natural design blending seamlessly with the surrounding environment. The occasional murmur of voices from the male side filtered through the divide, mingling with the soft chatter of the girls around you.

You let out a long, tired sigh as you slipped deeper into the steaming water, the heat seeping into your muscles and melting away the aches of the day. The comforting warmth rose to your chin, and you rested your head back against the smooth edge of the spring, your eyes fluttering shut as you surrendered to the soothing embrace of the bath. Around you, the faint ripples of water and the soft cadence of conversation created a peaceful ambiance, lulling you further into a rare sense of calm.

But that calm was short-lived.

"Hey, Akuma-san, how's camp been so far?"

The question came with a cheerful lilt, and you cracked open an eye to see Ashido wading toward you. Her pink skin was tinted a deeper shade from the heat, giving her a warm, rosy glow while her hair was pulled back into two playful puffs to keep them neatly out of the water. The sight of her unabashed grin as she approached made it clear she wasn't going to let you stay lost in your thoughts.

Pressing your lips together, you let out a small, resigned sigh, straightening slightly, the water receding to just below your collarbones. You gave Ashido a measured look, watching as she settled herself a few feet away, her golden eyes sparkling with curiosity and energy despite the late hour.

"It's been... fine," you replied evenly, your tone giving little away. Still, you shifted slightly, brushing a hand through the water and sending small ripples outward as you waited for her inevitable follow-up.

Ashido leaned forward, her expression animated as the steam curled around her. "Fine? Come on, Akuma-san, it's gotta be more exciting than just fine!" she teased, her voice carrying easily over the gentle sounds of the bathhouse. "You've been killing it all day—I heard Pixie-Bob singing your praises earlier!"

"It's just camp, Ashido-chan. Challenges are part of the program."

Ashido pouted briefly, but her grin quickly returned, her enthusiasm undimmed. "Yeah, but still! I mean, come on, taking down one of those giant earth beasts solo? That's badass!" She leaned closer, her eyes shining with genuine admiration. "You've got to at least admit it was cool."

You couldn't help the faint smirk that tugged at the corner of your lips, though you quickly masked it by sitting up straighter, letting the water lap against your shoulders. The heat of the spring mingled with Ashido's vibrant energy, a mix that made it harder to hold onto the stoic front you often wore.

"Well," you finally said, voice laced with dry humor, "if you call dragging a bunch of peers through the woods and fighting oversized dirt monsters cool, then sure, I suppose I agree with you, Ashido-chan."

Ashido burst into laughter, the sound echoing across the bathhouse and drawing a few curious glances from the other girls. She clutched her sides, the movement sending small waves through the water as she tilted her head back. "Oh, Akuma-san," she said between laughs, "you've got to teach me how to deliver lines like that!"

You arched an eyebrow, watching her with a mixture of exasperation and amusement as the night's stillness gave way to the lively hum of Ashido's presence.

You arched an eyebrow, watching her with a mixture of exasperation and amusement as the night’s stillness gave way to the lively hum of Ashido’s presence. She seemed entirely at ease, the gentle lapping of the water around her only adding to her carefree demeanor.

Ashido eventually settled beside you, her rosy complexion glowing from the heat. As she shifted into a more comfortable position, she suddenly gasped. "Akuma-san, your hair!"

You followed her gaze, catching sight of the damp tresses dipping into the water. It wasn't a big deal; you'd dry it off later. "It's fine. I'll just dry it when I get back to the cabin."

Ashido pouted, her golden eyes sparkling with concern. "But won't that take forever? Your hair looks kinda like mine," she said, reaching over without hesitation. She gently pinched a few strands, lifting them out of the water and letting them drip onto the stone behind you. "Thick, right? I know mine takes ages to dry."

She paused for a moment, tilting her head in thought before cutting herself off with a sudden burst of energy. "Oh! Do you want me to put it up for you?" Her hands darted to her hair, pulling at the puffed curls. "I have an extra hair tie!"

You blinked, caught off guard by her sudden offer. A sigh escaped your lips as you realized she wasn't going to drop the subject. "Sure."

Ashido giggled, hopping out of the water with the same boundless enthusiasm she'd shown all night. She didn't seem to care at all about her nudity, her confidence as radiant as her personality. Grabbing her spare hair tie, she knelt behind you, her knees pressing lightly against the warm stone.

The feeling of her fingers gathering your hair was oddly foreign. You rarely allowed anyone to touch it—your mother had been the only one, and even then, it was a distant memory. Ashido's touch was light and deliberate as she worked to pull your damp strands together, twisting them into a loose bun at the top of your head.

"Ta-da~" she sang, her voice bright and cheerful as she patted the bun gently. "Perfect!"

You reached up, your fingers brushing against the makeshift bun. It was slightly uneven, but it would do for now. "Thank you, Ashido-chan," you muttered, your tone more subdued than usual.

Ashido grinned, completely unbothered by your lukewarm response, and slipped back into the water with an exaggerated splash. She immediately launched into a story, her hands gesturing animatedly as she recounted some ridiculous moment during training. Despite your initial reluctance, you found yourself begrudgingly listening as she went on.

.☆.       .✩.            .☆.

On the boys' side of the bathhouse, the atmosphere was markedly different. Steam rose lazily from the water, curling around the stone walls, and the sound of chatter and splashing echoed softly in the humid air. Some of the boys lounged against the edges, eyes half-closed in relaxation, while others engaged in lighthearted banter, their voices carrying easily across the space.

Kirishima leaned against the edge of the bath, his crimson hair damp and sticking to his forehead. "Man, this feels amazing," he said with a grin, flexing his arms. "I think this is exactly what we needed after today."

Nearby, Midoriya sat with his arms resting on the stone edge, his freckled face pink from the heat. "Yeah," he agreed softly, his gaze flickering to the steam as if lost in thought. "Just getting to the camp was... intense."

Near the corner, Mineta leaned forward, his purple scalp gleaming slightly under the dim light. A sly grin stretched across his face as he rubbed his hands together, his voice breaking the otherwise casual conversation. "You know, guys," he began, his tone conspiratorial, "the bath schedules for the guys and girls totally overlap. The girls from Class 1-A are here right now, too."

A few heads turned toward him, their expressions ranging from mild curiosity to exasperation. Mineta's grin widened as he added, "Oh, and I heard Akuma-san's over there with them becasue of scheduling issues. Can you believe that?"

Bakugo, who had been leaning against the edge of the bath with his arms resting on the stones, snapped to attention. His crimson eyes narrowed into a scowl as he jerked upright. "What the hell?" he barked, his voice cutting through the chatter like a whip. "How the hell do you know that, you pervy little freak?"

Mineta chuckled, unfazed by Bakugo’s sharp tone. He raised his hands in mock innocence, his grin never wavering. "I have my ways," he said smoothly, his voice oozing with self-satisfaction.

Bakugo's hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening as his glare darkened. "Tch. If I catch you trying anything, you're dead," he growled, his voice low and threatening. The intensity in his eyes was enough to make even Kaminari, sitting a few feet away, shift uncomfortably in his seat.

Despite Bakugo's menacing tone, Mineta only chuckled again, clearly unbothered by the warning. "Relax, Bakugo," he said lightly, leaning back as if he hadn't just stirred the pot. "I'm just making observations. Can't blame a guy for being curious."

Kirishima let out a nervous laugh, trying to defuse the tension. "Mineta, you've got to tone it down, man. Peeping on ladies isn't manly," he said, his tone good-natured but firm.

Kaminari chimed in, his voice tinged with nervous laughter. "Yeah, seriously, dude. Chill out a bit."

Mineta groaned dramatically. "Oh, come on, you guys are so boring!" he whined, slumping forward with a pout. "We're sitting here surrounded by a total sausage party, and just on the other side of that wall—" he jabbed a thumb in the direction of the divider, his eyes practically gleaming with excitement, "—are a bunch of babes, ready for the viewing! And you're telling me none of you are even a little bit curious?"

Iida straightened in his corner of the bath, his movements sharp and purposeful as he adjusted his glasses, which had fogged slightly in the humid air. "Mineta! As a student of UA and a representative of Class 1-A, it is your duty to uphold the standards of decency and respect! I demand that you restrain yourself and refrain from any inappropriate behavior." His voice cut through the conversation like a blade, his disapproving frown deepening as he addressed Mineta. "Need I remind you that such behavior would not only violate the trust between our classes but also tarnish the reputation of our school?"

The other boys, even those not directly participating in the discussion, shifted uncomfortably, some nodding in agreement with Iida's reprimand.

Mineta groaned louder, slumping further into the water as he mumbled something about everyone being a buzzkill. "You guys just don't get it," he muttered, shaking his head as though he pitied them. "Opportunities like this don't come around every day, you know."

Bakugo, who had been sitting quietly but clearly fuming, finally exploded. "Shut the hell up, Pervert! 'Fore I blast your ass straight out of this bathhouse! Got it?"

Mineta visibly shrank under Bakugo's harsh tone, his earlier confidence faltering for a moment before he managed a weak, "Okay, okay, geez. No need to get so touchy."

The tension slowly dissipated, the other boys resuming their conversations or sinking back into the water, content to let the moment pass. Mineta sulked quietly in his corner, muttering to himself, while Bakugo leaned back against the edge of the bath with a scowl, the veins in his temples still pulsing slightly as he clicked his tongue in irritation.

Mineta, still sulking in his corner, kicked at the edge of the bath with a dramatic pout. His grumbling grew louder with every passing second, escalating from unintelligible mumbles to full-blown complaints as he glared at the wooden wall dividing the bathhouse. "This is ridiculous. A guy can't even enjoy a little harmless fun without everyone jumping down his throat."

Then, a sly smirk began to creep across his face as an idea took shape in his mind. He glanced around the bath, his gaze darting from one boy to the next, gauging their attentiveness. Most were engaged in quiet conversations or simply enjoying the hot springs, none of them paying him any mind. Even Bakugo, who had been ready to explode moments earlier, seemed content to lean back against the bath’s edge, his fiery glare now softened to a brooding stare into the steam-filled air.

Mineta's grin widened as he realized no one was watching him. His heart raced with excitement as he sprang into action, making a beeline for the dividing wall. His sticky hairballs plopped into his hands with ease, and he began scaling the wooden barrier with surprising speed, the adhesive properties of his quirk giving him an unnatural grip.

“Mineta, what the hell are you doing?!” Kirishima’s voice cut through the low hum of the bathhouse as he noticed the small boy's actions. The other boys' heads snapped toward the wall, their expressions ranging from disbelief to outright horror.

"Mineta! What the hell!?"

"Oi! Get your ass down! Don't make me come over there, you little pervert!"

"Mineta, this is unacceptable! You are violating every code of decency! Descend immediately, or face the consequences!"

But Mineta was already halfway up the wall, his cackling breaking through the shouts of protest like nails on a chalkboard. "Oh, come on, you guys!" he called back, his voice gleeful and unapologetic. "This is for science! For research! For—boobies!"

"You're gonna face my damn fist!" Bakugo snarled, his hands already sparking with faint pops of heat and light as water splashed around him as he moved to intervene.

Undeterred by the chaos behind him, Mineta reached the top of the wall, his hand grasping the edge triumphantly. Mineta's triumphant grin grew wider as his sticky fingers latched onto the top of the wooden divider. The other boys' shouts and threats were drowned out by the pounding in his ears—his heart racing with anticipation.

"Finally!" he muttered to himself, hoisting his body upward. "Time for the grand reveal—"

But his excitement faltered as he reached the summit and began to lift his gaze. Instead of the imagined vision of steam-kissed beauties, his eyes first caught sight of a pair of scruffy sneakers perched on the edge of the wooden wall. His heart sank as his gaze traveled upward.

Standing there, his arms crossed over his chest and his expression blank was none other than Kota. The boy's unimpressed stare drilled into Mineta, his sharp black eyes practically darkening in the moonlit haze of the bathhouse. For a moment, time seemed to freeze, the two locking eyes in a standoff of pure incredulity on one side and disapproval on the other.

Mineta's face twisted into a mix of confusion and alarm;  his grip faltered as he struggled to process the unexpected roadblock to his perverse conquest. "Wha—? How—? What are you—?"

"You're a creep," the boy stated flatly as his brows knitted together, his blank expression hardening. He didn't raise his voice or yell, but the bluntness of his words hit Mineta harder than any of the boys' earlier protests.

"C-Creep?" Mineta repeated, his voice cracking slightly as if the label physically stung him. "Hey, listen, kid, this is grown-folks buisness, so—"

"Stop talking," Kota interrupted, taking a step forward. "You're climbing a wall to spy on girls. That's disgusting. You're disgusting."

Mineta blinked rapidly, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Before he could launch into a half-baked excuse or plea, Kota lifted one small but determined foot and planted it firmly against Mineta's chest.

"You don't belong here," the boy said simply, his tone still flat but carrying a weight far beyond his years. And with that, he pushed.

Mineta let out a startled yelp as the unexpected force knocked him off balance. "Wait, no—!" he cried, his arms flailing as he lost his grip. The sticky balls of his hair detached from the wall, and gravity took over, his short legs kicking uselessly in the air as he fell.

"Damn, fucking, brat!" Mineta screeched, twisting mid-fall, his face a mixture of shock, outrage, and something bordering on fear. "You'll regret this! I swear, I outta—" His words were cut short by a loud splash as he hit the water, drenching the nearby boys in a wave of hot water.

A tense silence followed the chaotic scene, broken only by Mineta's sputtering as he surfaced, glaring daggers at the young boy now peering down from the top of the wall with an expression of pure disinterest.

Mineta splashed his way to the edge of the bath, wiping water from his face with a grumble of curses tumbling from his lips."Stupid brat," he muttered under his breath, pulling himself toward the stone ledge. His hands found purchase on the slick surface as he began hoisting his soaked form out of the steaming water. "What does a kid like that know, anyway?"

The instant he pulled himself up, a shadow loomed over him, blocking the light and sending a prickling chill down his spine despite the warmth of the bath. Mineta froze mid-motion, his gaze slowly traveling upward, dread creeping in like a rising tide.

Standing above him was Bakugo, his face a mask of fury. The explosive blond's crimson eyes burned with irritation, narrowed into sharp slits that could cut through steel. Smoke curled faintly from his nostrils with every heavy breath, and the faint flicker of sparks danced across his palms, lighting his skin with an ominous glow. He didn't speak, but the air around him seemed to thrum with his barely-contained anger.

Behind him, the rest of the boys remained conspicuously uninvolved, clearly opting to stay out of Bakugo's line of fire. No one dared to look too closely, their focus fixed firmly on anything but the brewing storm.

Mineta swallowed hard, his bravado faltering under the weight of Bakugo's glare. "Uh... h-hey there, Bakugo," he tried, forcing a wobbly grin onto his face as he slowly climbed to his feet. Water dripped from his hair and hero suit, pooling at his feet as he let out a shaky chuckle. "Heh... at least I didn't make it?"

Bakugo's expression didn't change. If anything, his scowl deepened, the lines of his face hardening as he took a step closer. The sparks on the blonde's palms flared briefly, a sharp crackle breaking the relative quiet.

Mineta's eyes widening. "W-Wait a second! I'm so—"

.☆.      .✩.           .☆.

A loud, earth-shaking BOOM reverberated through the air, followed by a high-pitched, feminine shriek that echoed off the walls of the bathhouse. The noise shattered the calm, making the hot water ripple in delicate waves.

The sharp, piercing sound snapped you out of your trance-like relaxation, your head jerking up in alarm. Around you, the soft chatter of the other girls halted abruptly as everyone turned their attention toward the source of the commotion.

The echo of the shriek seemed to linger, bouncing off the wooden partitions separating the men's and women's sides of the hot springs. It was almost eerie, the way the sound carried, like a warning bell cutting through the otherwise peaceful night.

Ashido was the first to break the silence. "Ugh, seriously? What's all that ruckus about now?" she groaned, leaning back against the edge of the bath with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. Her tone was more playful than annoyed, but there was no mistaking the curiosity that flickered in her golden gaze.

Next to her, Yaoyorozu sighed softly, her composed demeanor remaining intact despite the sudden disturbance as she pointed upward toward the wooden partition. "It appears that young Kota has intervened." Her hand shifted slightly, gesturing toward the top of the wall where the small figure of Kota stood, peering down at the boys' side with his arms folded tightly across his chest.

You squinted through the rising steam, spotting the boy's back as he stared down at the chaos below him. His posture was firm, his blank expression making it difficult to decipher whether he was entertained or simply assessing the situation.

Momo continued, her tone matter-of-fact. "Kota noticed Mineta attempting to climb over the partition to spy on us. Thankfully, he stopped his escapade before it could go any further. And now Bakugo is apparently dishing out the consequences."

The other girls murmured quietly amongst themselves, their expressions ranging from mild amusement to shared disbelief.

Ashido let out a long, dramatic aww, her lips curving into a grin. "That's so sweet," she cooed, clasping her hands together under her chin. Her voice was dripping with exaggerated affection as she added, "Kota's like our little guardian angel, protecting us from the gross pervs of the world."

Her words drew a few chuckles, though you barely heard them. Your focus shifted to the loud crackling of explosions from the boys' side, each one punctuated by the muffled shouts of Mineta and the unmistakable, furious growls of Bakugo.

The sparks from earlier grew more frequent, judging by the occasional flashes of light visible even over the tall partition; it's clear whatever punishment Bakugo was doling out, it were sure to leave an impression. Eventually, your curiosity, despite yourself, got the better of you, so with a soft sigh you wade closer to the wooden wall.

As you drew closer to the partition, the muffled growls of Bakugo's voice became more discernible. His words came through in sharp, clipped barks, laced with unmistakable fury.

"You little freak! You thought you'd get away with tryin' to peek at her?! You seriously think I'd let you off easy after somethin’ like that?!" The sound of a loud splash followed his words, likely Mineta being forcibly sent back into the water.

Honestly, it wasn't difficult to imagine the scene unfolding just a few feet away—Bakugo towering over the hapless Mineta, explosions crackling in his palms as he glared down with all the intensity of a thunderstorm.

Another voice chimed in, shaky and defiant despite the situation. "It—it's not my fault she's so hot! I had to try—"

Mineta's words were cut off by another boom, this one loud enough to rattle the wooden planks separating the two sides. The following splash was particularly violent, suggesting that Mineta's attempt at defense had only earned him another dunking.

"Shut the hell up! You don't get to talk about her like that, you disgusting little bastard!"

Your lips pressed into a thin line, your expression cool and unreadable as you continued to take in the muffled chaos. It wasn't entirely unexpected to hear Bakugo lose his temper—it was practically a daily occurrence—but there was something about the possessive anger in his tone that made your chest tighten in a way you couldn't quite place.

The air felt heavier as his muffled growls of fury continued, each word cutting through the quiet hum of the bathhouse like distant thunder. You pressed your lips together, your thoughts swirling between amusement, mild irritation, and an unfamiliar heat that you chose to ignore.

The gentle ripple of water beside you pulled your attention, and you glanced to your left as Ashido waded over. She settled beside you, folding her arms against the warm stone at the edge of the wall.

After a beat, she gave a low whistle, her eyes fixed on the partition as the muffled sound of Bakugo's voice carried over again, his tone sharper and more venomous than before. "Wow. Bakugo's really mad, huh? Like... really mad. I don't know whether to feel bad for Mineta or root for Bakugo. Probably the latter, though. Dude had it coming."

You hummed in response, a noncommittal sound as you shifted your gaze upward. Your eyes caught sight of Kota's small frame still perched on the wall above.

The water had receded to your waist by now as you stood, leaving your skin tingling slightly from the cooler air above. You couldn't help but follow Kota's line of sight, imagining what he was seeing as Bakugo undoubtedly loomed over a sputtering Mineta.

Ashido followed your gaze, her golden eyes lighting up as they landed on Kota. She raised a hand, giving an enthusiastic cheer. "Oh, yeah! Great job keeping the perv out, Kota!" she called, her voice echoing over the gentle splashes of water and the still-muffled shouting from the boys' side.

Her exclamation drew the attention of the other girls, who joined in with their own voices of thanks and encouragement. "Good job, Kota-kun!" Uraraka added, her tone warm and cheerful. Yaoyorozu offered a dignified nod of approval, and even Jirou gave a small, approving hum.

The boy's rigid posture wavered at the sudden attention. His head turned slightly, almost reluctantly, and his eyes scanned the gathered girls of Class 1-A. They flitted from one face to another, his guarded expression softening just a fraction as he processed the genuine gratitude directed his way.

But then his gaze landed on you.

You hadn't moved from your position, your head tilted ever so slightly as you stared up him with an unreadable expression. A few stray tendrils of damp hair clung to your neck and cheeks, curling softly in the humid air. The steam rising from the water blurred the sharpness of your features just enough to make you appear almost ethereal—a contrast to the otherwise lively scene around you.

Kota's mouth fell open, his eyes widening as he stared at you, his gaze locked in stunned silence as though his mind couldn't process what he was seeing. His expression shifted from blank observation to unfiltered shock, his face growing redder by the second.

A strangled, unintelligible noise escaped him, somewhere between a squeak and a gasp, and before anyone could react, he lost his grip entirely. His small form tipped forward, tumbling over the edge with a flailing motion.

"Kota!" Midoriya's voice rang out clearly, panic laced in his tone. The faint, telltale crackle of energy accompanied his movements as he activated One For All: Full Cowl, his body lighting up with a soft green glow as he moved with blinding speed. In a blur, he jumped, catching the falling boy midair before they descended toward the water.

The scene was chaotic yet mesmerizing. The girls of Class 1-A exchanged alarmed glances, their chatter fading as all eyes turned to the wall. Meanwhile, Ashido's gaze darted between you and the wall, her expression shifting to one of amusement as she seemed to piece together what had just happened.

"Well, that's one way to make an impression." She turned to you with a sly grin, adding, "I think you just broke the poor kid."

You rolled your eyes, a flicker of exasperation flashing across your face as you waved Ashido off with a lazy motion of your hand. Her grin widened at your reaction, clearly pleased with herself, but you ignored her, shifting your weight to sink back beneath the hot water. The warmth enveloped you like a soothing cocoon, muffling the distant chatter and chaos beyond the wooden wall.

As the water rose to your chin once more, you exhaled slowly, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly. The steam curled lazily around your face, and you closed your eyes for a brief moment, letting the world fade away. Yet, even in the relative peace of the bath, your thoughts were far from calm.

You swore to yourself then, quietly and with absolute conviction: If one more ridiculous thing happens tonight, I'm leaving. The words echoed in your mind like a mantra, a small barrier against the absurdity that seemed to follow you wherever you went.

Whether it was Bakugo's explosive temper, Mineta's perverse antics, or Kota's wide-eyed tumble, the night felt like a never-ending string of disruptions, each one more absurd than the last.

Ashido's laughter bubbled up beside you, breaking through your musings. "Aw, come on, Akuma-san, don't look so grumpy! It's kind of sweet if you think about it. You've got this whole mysterious allure thing going on and you're goregeous?! Poor Kota never stood a chance!"

You opened one eye, fixing her with a flat look. Her enthusiasm was unyielding as she leaned closer, her grin mischievous. "Admit it," she teased, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You're kind of flattered, right?"

With a low sigh, you let your head tilt back against the edge of the bath, the water rippling softly around you. "Yes, I'm so flattered that I'm even considering leaving if one more thing happens tonight."

Ashido burst into laughter, her giggles echoing off the stone walls as she splashed at the water lightly. "Oh, you're impossible," she said, shaking her head, her curls bouncing with the motion. "But I get it. Just... don't leave without me. I wanna walk you back to your cabin, kay?"

You huffed, your lips quirking upward in the faintest shadow of a smile despite yourself. You suppose Ashido's relentless cheer wasn't the worst thing tonight.

A/N: lol at this point it's normal for the word count for these chappies to be like 6k+ ahaha cant help it; anywho just wanted to have a cute scene/nothing really progressive to the plot---unless you add the introduction of kota, haha. but next chapter we're about to get into it (i feel it'll be better if i take a chapter or two to expand, build more on relationships before shit hits the fan lolol) also, HAPPY NEW YEARRRRRR

[tkdb-hell]

Happy Birthday Tohma

Summary: Jin and Alan help Tohma celebrate what shapes up to be a Very happy birthday. Trans masc Tohma.

Rating: Explicit | Words: 15.4k | Chapters: 8

Status: Complete

Read Me on AO3 Here! or Read an Excerpt Under the Cut

♡ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡

It was Jin’s idea. Or rather, it was Tohma’s idea, but he let Jin believe it was his. That was the thing about Jin Kamurai: he thrived on being in control, on dictating the flow of every situation. And Tohma? Tohma was more than happy to let him have it, especially when it worked out exactly the way he wanted.

Regardless of who claimed credit, one thing was certain: it was Tohma’s birthday, and he knew exactly how he wanted to spend it—wrapped in the arms of his two favorite Darkwick captains.

The room was warm, lit by the soft glow of golden candlelight and the occasional flicker of frost-blue from one of Jin’s extravagant decorations. Leave it to the heir of the Kamurai family to go all out for what he believed to be his own brilliant scheme. But Tohma had subtly pulled the strings, ensuring this night would be everything he wanted, without Jin even realizing it.

Alan Mido, ever composed and quietly watchful, had agreed with little more than a raised brow and a shrug when Jin had proposed the evening. Tohma knew Alan didn’t need an excuse to show up. He was always there, steady as stone, whenever Tohma called on him.

Jin, on the other hand, had burst into the Frostheim common room like a snowstorm, announcing his so-called grand plan with all the flair of a royal proclamation. “We’re celebrating properly tonight, Ishibashi,” Jin had declared, draping an arm over Tohma’s shoulders like he was bestowing a blessing. “You’re welcome.”

Tohma had smiled, soft and secret, as Jin prattled on about the menu, the drinks, and whatever ridiculous show he’d orchestrated to mark the occasion. Tohma didn’t need the fuss—not really. The presence of Jin and Alan was all he wanted, though he wasn’t about to tell Jin that outright. Where would the fun be in that?

The evening started off simple enough, with the three of them dining alongside the other Frostheim ghouls. Kaito and Luca filled the room with chatter, their energy an odd but welcome contrast to the usual tension Frostheim carried. Tohma found himself smiling as he listened to Kaito stumble through an animated story, tripping over his own words as Luca chimed in to help him out. The camaraderie was genuine, the kind of warmth that was rare in a place like Darkwick.

Still, as the evening wore on, Tohma’s attention drifted, his gaze flitting between Alan and Jin. Alan sat at the far end of the table, quiet and composed as always, but his sharp eyes lingered on Tohma now and then, like he was silently checking in. Jin, on the other hand, dominated the conversation, laughing and throwing in sarcastic quips that left Kaito flustered and Luca grinning.

Tohma thought that might be the end of it, just a pleasant dinner with good company, and he’d have been content with that. But, of course, Jin had other plans.

“Well, this has been lovely,” Jin said, standing abruptly and cutting off Kaito mid-sentence. “But I’ve got something better in mind for the birthday boy.” He glanced down at Tohma with that trademark smirk, full of self-assured charm. “You, me, and Mido—my room. Drinks are on me. Don’t keep me waiting.”

Tohma blinked, feigning surprise, “Wait, you’re… inviting Alan, too?”

“Obviously,” Jin said, waving a hand like it was the most natural thing in the world. “It’s not a real party unless we’re all there. Besides, the rest of these brats can entertain themselves.”

Alan raised an eyebrow from across the table, the faintest hint of amusement tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Do I get a say in this?”

“Not really,” Jin shot back, already heading for the door. “Tohma’s the birthday boy, and I’m being generous. You wouldn’t want to spoil his fun, would you?”

Tohma couldn’t help the small laugh that bubbled up. He hadn’t expected Jin to go out of his way to include Alan, but it was a welcome surprise. For all his arrogance, Jin could be surprisingly thoughtful when he put his mind to it—though he’d never admit it, of course.

“Coming, Tohma?” Jin called over his shoulder, pausing at the doorway.

Tohma stood, glancing at Alan, who rose with a quiet sigh of acceptance. “Lead the way, Kamurai,” Tohma said, a soft smile curving his lips. Maybe Jin’s idea—or rather, Tohma’s idea that Jin had claimed—would turn out even better than he’d hoped.