#how many times will i make fun of chemistry in my fics

[joelmillers-whore]

I'll Be Here In The Morning

summary: after a heated argument, you try to go to sleep alone, but joel knows you can’t and he doesn’t like not sleeping next to you. he comes back and the next thing you know, the two of you can’t keep your hands off of each other.

Recommended Song(s): Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Word Count: 4.2K

Series or One-Shot

Warnings: 18+ explicit, minors DNI, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, no outbreak, slight relationship insecurity, they have a fight but it’s not shown, SMUT, joel calling reader darlin’ because why not, joel reassuring them and being sweet, also age gap i guess, canon divergent, praise kink, unsafe sex (don't be like joel, use a condom)

A/N: hey ya’ll! this is my first TLOU fic and i am so excited to post it here (also my first time posting on here). i am an AO3 user through and through but i thought it was time to broaden my horizon so to speak. i was so overwhelmed with how many of you wanted to see this type of fic, so please don’t hesitate to tell me what you think or request anything you want to see. i’ll try to get to it/ i’m trying to be more active. i’m not sure if my asks are open so let me know if that works lol. anyway, i hope ya’ll enjoy this!!

Slamming the bedroom door behind you, you crossed your arms over your chest. You were angry, furious even, mostly with yourself but also with your boyfriend. Anger was coursing through your veins, pumping white-hot rage through them that made your chest constrict when you thought back to the petty fight you’d had with Joel not ten minutes ago.

It was mindless, stupid bullshit but you’d gotten angry over it anyway. You weren’t even a hundred percent sure just how it started, but you did know that you had been a simmering pot, ready and waiting to explode. So you had needed to get out of there, away from him. You didn’t fight with Joel often, even though your clashing personalities would beg to differ. When you did get angry though, there was no holding either of you back. 

You and Joel each had your own way of dealing with anger and most times, you chose to walk away, not wanting to accidentally say the wrong thing or to say something hurtful that you didn’t mean in the heat of the moment. So, here you were. In the bedroom. Fighting back against your racing heart and rising body temperature.

You had come back home after a long day on your feet and something mundane had set you off, and Joel just happened to be in the line of fire. Before long, you and Joel had gotten into it and not in the fun and sexy way you found yourself always wanting from him, regardless of what kind of mood you were in. 

You thought back to the argument and how dark and endless Joel’s eyes had looked, how they seared into you when you were fighting, keeping you locked in and firmly in place. A shiver ran up the length of your spine as you imagined how he had crossed his arms, clearly in frustration, but how even when you were angry, you hadn’t been able to look away from his broad chest or how the material of his shirt had been pulled so tautly over his bulging muscles, making you bite your lip.

That annoying little flutter in the pit of your stomach made you groan in exasperation because even when you were upset with him, you couldn’t deny the sexual chemistry you and Joel had. 

You shook your head, trying to shake yourself from your lust-induced daydream. You were overtired from work and clearly still reeling from an argument that you hadn’t been expecting to come home to. You glanced over at the clock; it was later than you had realized it was. How long had you and Joel been fighting for?

The all too familiar feeling of regret settled into your bones. You hated fighting with Joel, with the one person you considered to be more of a family to you than your actual family. But what was done was done and there was no going back now. 

Neither one of you held onto anger for long, both of you deciding a long time ago that if either one of you were still angry in the morning over what had transpired the night before, you would agree to sit down and hash it out. That rule had probably saved your relationship more than once, and anger between the two of you never lasted for more than two days at most.

Rolling back your shoulders, you held firm to the idea that holding onto what you had said and dwelling on it wouldn’t help you now, so you thought about something else instead. You thought about how your muscles ached and how a migraine was slowly forming. The only cure that could help you now was sleep. 

You knew that come the morning you and Joel would be back to bickering lovingly with each other and laughing over breakfast, just like how it always turned out. He was bound to forgive you, you hoped. But what if this fight was the one that tipped him over the edge? What if when he left, he wouldn’t come back?

Your heart sank into the pit of your stomach like a thousand-pound boulder. You bit back the sting of tears and honed your hearing, listening for anything in the darkness that enveloped you. Disappointment manifested quickly when you heard nothing, except for your harsh breathing. Fuck.

You had fucked up royally, laying into him like that. And he wasn’t even there so you could fix it, there was really nothing you could do at the moment. You debated for a minute about calling him but you decided against it. He needed time to cool off— you both did. And you wanted to give him that time. 

With a heavy heart, you started getting ready for bed. Maybe if you went through the motions, pretended like everything was fine, and sped through the night, Joel would be there when you woke up, smirking like you were his whole world again. So you rid yourself of your clothes and changed into something more comfortable; one of Joel’s shirts that went down to your knees and some sleep shorts. You lifted the hem of the shirt to your nose and inhaled, getting lost in the scent of him that still lingered.

It was warm and clean with a faint hint of coffee. It was Joel to the core and you rubbed your thighs together when you thought about how that scent crowded you when you and him made love, or when you had first started seeing each other, you had stayed up during a rain storm and just talked for the whole night, staying awake on black coffee and powdered donuts. 

Mindlessly, you climbed into bed and settled in, trying to fall asleep despite the gnawing feeling in your gut. You sighed heavily, flipping over the pillow and then fluffing it, repeating the motions until you made your head spin. You never could sleep alone. Even before you had met Joel, you hated it. And right now, you hated it even more, especially when you reached over to his side, feeling for him.

But there was nothing there except the coldness of the sheets. You grew annoyed at yourself for how needy you felt without him snuggling next to you, his body heat warming you up better than any blanket could. You wanted Joel here, not anywhere else. And he knew it, which was why he almost never left you to sleep alone if he could avoid it. Almost never. Until now. 

You closed your eyes and tried to count sheep, thinking that it could help. You tried not to concentrate on how alone you felt or how you missed him so much it hurt. Counting sheep must have helped because before you knew it, you found yourself in a dreamless sleep, tossing and turning for the majority of the night. Your ears pricked up when you heard a noise, thinking you heard the bedroom door open. You stiffened, attempting to remain calm and closing your eyes tighter.

Whoever it was moved around in the dark, their shadow fidgeting with the dresser before they climbed into bed next to you. They nudged themselves closer to you and relief washed over you when you recognized their scent. It was Joel. He came back. Just like he always did. 

He shuffled his body closer to you, his solid front melding to your back, as his face snuggled into the crook of your shoulder, just how you liked it. It confirmed that he was there and he wasn’t just a figment of your imagination. 

“You still mad?”, Joel mumbled, his Southern drawl coming out gruffer as he tried to keep his voice low. He nuzzled your shoulder deeper, planting a soft kiss there. 

You shook your head, as best as you could in the position you were in. You were well past the anger stage. And right now, you just wanted him beside you, with you. Right here. You felt Joel’s growing hardness rest against your back and a dull throbbing started in your cunt, making you squirm. 

“I thought you weren’t coming back”, you croaked, the shroud of darkness acting as a shield against how scared you were at the thought of Joel not coming back at all. 

Joel held you tighter, his arms flexing as he wrapped them around you in the same way you were used to. His gesture of keeping you close was more of a comfort to you than any of his words could. You craned your neck slightly, trying to make out the expression that was on Joel’s face, but it was hard.

The bedroom was mostly dark except for a tiny sliver of moonlight that shined through the window, and even then, it was tough. You could make out the tiniest of details in the low light; like the imperceptible way that his eyebrows creased when he was focused on you, or how you could tell that he was still smiling because of the way his eyes crinkled, despite being unsure of your mood. God, you loved this man. 

Joel was there for you and you let out a tentative and shaky breath, grateful that he came back to you. You let any remaining tension drain from your body, and shifted your hips, which earned you a sharp groan from Joel, his hand flying to hold your hips in place. 

“I’ll always come back to you, darlin’”, his voice was gruff and came out strained. His hot breath fanned over your ear, “Always”. 

“Promise?”, you asked, grinding back into him again. It was the last confirmation you needed and then you would drop it, let the argument fade away. 

You could hear the smile in Joel’s voice, “Promise”. 

The tightness that had been sitting on your chest was no more and you were feeling bold, and a little more than turned on. The idea that Joel would always come back to you made you wet, and you rubbed your thighs together, trying to alleviate some of the pressure you felt between your legs.

As if sensing your arousal, Joel’s hand wrapped around your middle, pulling your ass flush with his erection, his hand splayed across your clothed stomach, holding you to him. 

You felt his short stubble run along the side of your neck, and your jaw, the abrasive sensation making your pussy flutter with the idea of that stubble rubbing against you harshly, until you were swollen and red down there. 

“Baby...”, Joel protested weakly, his half-hearted attempt at drawing out the tension between you two. But there was tension and it was a string that was being pulled taut, ready to snap at any moment. 

You grabbed Joel’s hand that was on your stomach, guiding it lower and lower until you stopped at the waistband of your sleep shorts, your chest on fire from your choppy breathing. 

“Please, Joel”, you whined, grinding your ass back into him and moving your hips in slow circles, spurring him on. “I want you to make me feel so good like you always do”. 

You were back to guiding Joel’s hand past the waistband of your shorts, into your underwear where he could feel how wet you were for him. He groaned, the vibrations from it making your skin tingle. An almost non-existent fuck was whispered as Joel’s hand found your soaking cunt, his deft fingers sliding through your folds.

When you removed your hand from his, letting him take charge, he hesitated. But when his thumb found your clit and you moaned, throwing your head back, he continued, not stopping for even a second. 

“This good?”, he asked, as he teased your hole with his thick digit, pulsing the finger in and out, just enough to taunt you with pleasure and then rip it away when it felt too good. It was frustrating but you figured you somewhat deserved it for the fight from earlier. 

You hummed, “Mo-more”, and you bucked into his hand, gyrating against it as you searched for more friction. 

Joel sucked the pulse on your neck hard and you groaned, your head rolling to the side in pure ecstasy as he licked the spot when he pulled away. Fulfilling your command, he continued to work you over, work you to the edge. Your moans mixed with the sound of his finger, which soon became two fingers, pumping into you, a squelching emanating from you with every pump.

He was stretching you out, trying to prep you for his cock. Even this far into the relationship you needed some prep, he was that big. But you wouldn’t want it any other way. You loved his size and his girth and how deep he could go. 

“Can you come for me, darlin’?”, Joel asked, as a groan slipped past his lips. 

You flinched when his fingers curled, bringing you back to the moment as a tingle started low in your belly, the pressure building and building until it was too much, it was all too much. 

“Fuck—”, you cried, cutting yourself off as your orgasm slammed into you, making you see stars. It was searing and hot and violent. 

Your hips stuttered as they rocked into Joel’s hand, finding comfort in the fact that he was still lazily pumping into you, helping you ride out the aftershock. 

“That’s my good girl”, he praised, thumb whispering over your swollen clit. You whined from the added pressure, feeling another orgasm start to build. 

You had just cum and yet Joel was ready and willing to give you another one. Even when his engorged cock was nestled into your back, twitching with the need for his own release. He wanted— no, needed to give you your pleasure before he could seek out his own. Joel teased your clit again, pinching it as you yelped.

He removed his hand from your underwear and brought it to his mouth. You still weren’t facing him but you could hear the obscene sounds coming from him as he licked and sucked his fingers clean of your juices, not letting a drop go to waste. Fuck, you were so turned on already it was positively insane. 

Joel gripped your waist and turned your body toward him, positioning himself so that he was slotted in between your legs, his upper body resting on his forearms, so as to not crush you with his body weight. Both of your chests were heaving at this point as another shot of excitement and arousal shot through you.

You brought a hand to Joel’s cheek, thumbing over his scruff and savouring this tender moment between the two of you. 

“I’m sorry”, you said, swallowing your nerves. 

In the softness of the moonlight, Joel’s eyes glimmered when they looked down at you. It wasn’t quite lust or amusement in them, but something else, something closer to love and adoration.

He dipped his head down and kissed you. It was tempered and subdued but sweet as he licked your bottom lip, asking for entrance into your mouth. You granted it to him, letting him explore your mouth like it was the first time. A swallowed-up moan left you and Joel pulled back. 

“Me too”. 

It was simple and yet he meant it with his whole heart, you were certain of that. Picking up where you left off, Joel palmed your breast through your— his shirt, making you tremble beneath him. He pinched your nipple and it made you arch your back off the bed, both to escape and chase that feeling. 

“Let’s get this shirt off, hmm?”, Joel mused, playing with the hem of it. You nodded and lifted your upper body off of the bed as he helped you out of it, tossing it somewhere behind him. 

“Your turn”, you said, almost breathlessly, and Joel obliged. He sat up on his knees and stripped himself of his own shirt. 

You couldn’t help but pause and appreciate him and his physique. He wasn’t insanely built like an athlete or someone who stuck to a strict diet all so that they could get a six-pack. Joel’s body was sculpted from years of manual labour and although some might not be turned on by a broad chest and a toned stomach, you certainly were, and you were enamoured by it.

Your hand seemed to have had a mind of its own because you were raking your fingernails along his chest and stomach, drawing a line all the way down to his waistband. You watched as his muscles tensed from your touch, his eyes snapping shut like he had to concentrate on restraining himself.

Your hand remained on his waistband, your index finger playing with the dark line of hair that led all the way past the pants and to the straining member, you knew awaited you. 

“If you don’t quit staring at me like that, darlin’, this might be over before either of us want it to be”, he drawled, quiet and low. 

Your eyes snapped to his, which were dark and endless pools filled with lust. He looked like he was ready to devour you and your thoughts came to life when he gripped your thighs forcefully and spread them apart, making quick work of peeling you out of your shorts and drenched panties. 

Joel groaned above you, “Such a pretty pussy, and ‘s all for me, ain’t she?”. He bit the tender flesh of your inner thigh, making you jump. But you didn’t go very far, his grip on the back of your thighs holding you close to him and keeping you in place. 

You wiggled your hips, trying to get him to hurry up, “All for you”, you whine. 

Joel chuckled, but didn’t tease you for much longer, answering your silent prayer as he dove into your cunt, lapping and sucking like he was a man starved. You writhed beneath him as he continued, not letting up as he brought you to the edge of another orgasm. 

“How you feelin’, baby?”, Joel asked, as he came up for air. You nodded fervently, feeling like you could die if he didn’t continue what he was doing. 

He chuckled as he went back in, the vibrations making your head swirl and your toes curl at the sensation of his tongue fucking into you. You were so close it hurt and Joel could tell.

He shushed you before bringing his thumb to your clit and massaging it in tandem with his tongue, making you mewl and bury your hands in his short hair, pulling at his scalp as you begin to grind yourself on his face, practically riding him as you chase your high. 

“I’m gonna—”, and you do. 

You cum hard and quick, this orgasm ripping into you like a hurricane. The blinding wave of pleasure had all of your inhibitions clouded, as a light buzz started coasting through your body, leaving you sated. Your mouth is agape, a mix of a whimper and a shrill moan escaping you. 

You felt as though you had just run a marathon, your body was on fire and yet there was a calm as you came down. You revelled in the aftermath of your orgasm, feeling drunk off of it. There was a slick layer of sweat that coated your whole body, but you didn’t seem to care. Your mind was quiet as you listened to your breathing, your heart hammering below the surface.

Running a hand through your hair, you felt the mattress dip when Joel shifted his body weight, his beard glistening with your slick. You reach down and grab his face with both hands, bringing him to your lips. You groan when you taste yourself on him, the tang fueling your growing desire to be filled deep with him. 

Joel murmured something against your lips but you couldn’t hear, your heart beating too loudly. “What?”, you asked. 

“I need to be inside of you”, he whispers again, and you moan as he ruts into your bare core. 

“Then do it”, you said, looking at him through hooded eyes. 

Joel bit his lip, shaking his head as he stripped out of his jeans and then his boxers. His dick was thick and angry, the tip a bright red as it leaked pre-cum. You followed a drop with your eyes as it trailed down the shaft and you licked your lips at the sight. 

Joel chuckled, the noise shooting straight to your needy core. You sat up slightly, reaching out for his cock but he stopped you, “Not tonight, sweet thing”, he stated, “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to last if you start suckin’ me off”. 

You keened at his words, desperate for some sort of relief. You snaked your hand from the pillow all the way down your chest, rubbing your nipple as you moaned, Joel’s eyes never leaving you. His eyes on you felt right, like you were putting on a show just for him, and in a way, you were. He watched your hand slide lower down your stomach and finally disappear between your legs. 

“Goddammit”, Joel hissed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed thickly, “What’d I just say?”. 

He ripped your hand away from your aching cunt, pining it above your head as punishment. You let out a choked sob, “Please...”. 

Joel’s cock twitched against his stomach at your plea, and he released you. He gripped his length and tugged harshly, letting beads of pre-cum dribble all over his hand.

You watched him throw his head back as he panted above you, finding a rhythm. As you opened your mouth to whine and tell him that you needed him, he grabbed the back of your legs and folded you in half, thrusting his hard cock into your pussy. 

The force of him slamming his cock inside of you without much warning was enough to make you cry out. You couldn’t focus on much more than the pleasure that he could provide. It was as if you could never be fully satisfied, not when it came to Joel. You would always want him as desperately as he wanted you, each and every time. His hips snapped into yours, almost to the point of pain as he set a demanding pace, burying himself deeper and deeper into you. 

“So”. He grunted with a thrust. “Fucking”. Another snap of his hips. “Needy”. Thrust. 

Joel was never one to deny you, and you knew that. You might have been needy but he was willing to give you whatever you needed. And most times, all you needed was him. Him and that fucking delicious cock. So, he made sure he delivered you another orgasm. You chased your release, the desire striking you like a bolt of lightning— fast, powerful, and all-consuming.

It started in your toes and rushed in. Joel’s thick cock pumped in and out of you hungrily. He was both providing you with another orgasm and trying to find his own release. Each thrust was more punishing than the last, each angle hitting the right spot, and guiding you both to your release. 

“That’s it, baby”, he groaned, manhandling you until you were basically straddling him, his hands on your back, holding you steady.

“Can you gimme another one?”, Joel purred into your ear as he fucked up into you, his hips losing their rhythm and you knew he was close. 

“I’ll try”, you said, snaking a hand in between your bodies, and rubbing your cunt in time with each pound of his hips. 

“That’s it, you’re doing so good”. 

He barely finished his sentence before you were shaking in his arms, finding your orgasm from his praise. 

Drunk on only two orgasms, you didn’t even know what you were saying at this point, too sensitive and too sated at the same time, “Mmm, love when you make me come”. 

Joel laughed with adoration as he continued fucking you, chasing his own release. “And I love makin’ you come, darlin’”. 

You felt your walls clamp around his cock, milking him for all he was worth. With a final few pumps, he groaned, letting his head fall against your shoulder. Joel tensed slightly and his body shook as he deposited ropes of cum deep into you.

Your head lolled to the side, feeling his body grow slack against yours. His was flush against you, trying to control his breathing as you did the same, your arms wrapped around him as you stroked his back. 

A long moment of comfortable silence passed before he lifted his head up, scanning your face. You smiled tiredly at him as he kissed you, letting the bliss wash over you both.

Joel kissed your forehead and slipped out of you. You in turn whined at the loss of being full of him. Your limbs were heavy as you melted into the mattress, feeling Joel collapse next to you. His arm drifted around your waist, pulling you into his side. 

He kissed your temple affectionately, “‘m sorry about our fight”. 

You nodded, snuggling closer to him. “I know”, you bit your lip, contemplating your next words, “I just worry that one day we’ll really get into it and you’ll never come back”. 

Joel stiffened for a moment, before he turned to you, whispering into your hair, “You don’t need to worry ‘bout that ever, darlin’. Because I’ll always be here in the morning”. 

[aniharas]

𝘥𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘥

pairing: miguel o'hara x fem!reader

summary: on your first day back at spider society hq, your male colleagues are inexplicably drawn to you. your boss, miguel, seems to be affected more than anybody. surely there's an explanation and solution, but who were you to resist?

warnings: explicit language, sexual tension/content, use of pheromones (please let me know if i need to add more!)

wc: 9.6k+ oneshot

a/n: apparently there was a rumor that a body butter named Delícia Drench (hence name of the fic) attracted wolf spiders! somebody on reddit said it's because there might be two ingredients that imitate the pheromones of a female spider and it'll bring all the thirsty boy spiders to your yard. and with miguel being 50% spider, how could i resist writing? (shoutout to scarlet for the wonderful prompt!) however DISCLAIMER! these claims are unfounded, i just thought it was a fun prompt to write off of. anything i say in the fic referring to the butter is purely fictional and im just talking out of my ass. with that being said, enjoy!

Just before the sun began to rise over the city line of Earth-766’s New York, your hand shot out to slam the snooze button of your annoying alarm clock before it could even go off. The silky sheets you were laid in were far too comfortable, reluctant to release you from its dreamlike embrace, but alas, duty was calling. The holidays had come to a close, and your peaceful vacation back in your home dimension was a bliss escape away from your tiring job.

You didn’t hate your job; in fact, it was just the opposite. Since you were in middle school, you always had an unrivaled passion for chemistry, as many Spiders were. Your life before getting bitten by that spider was mainly winning science fairs, calibration rooms, and working towards your Ph.D. Even after becoming your New York’s one and only Spiderwoman, your academic pursuit never ceased, eventually landing yourself at the prestigious Alchemax. However, it was because you had secured such a high-profile job that you caught the attention of the Spider Society, in the form of its leader, Miguel. He somehow knew that you were on the path to creating a more stable version of Rapture, and because of this, he was persistent in roping you into his ranks.

At first, you had declined profusely, briskly walking away from where he had approached you in Central Park. The brisk walk eventually turned into a full-on Spider chase, although the uniqueness of his abilities seemed to distract you. The talons that protruded from his fingers that tore through metal like paper, the neon-red nature of his webs, and his fangs. His fangs were what intrigued you the most. Eventually, you were pincered by him and another Spiderwoman named Jessica, who would later become one of your best friends.

Alas, you accepted, although not until being lured in by the offer of all the technology and scientific advancements you could imagine in Nueva York. The first time you had entered the HQ’s lab, you were like a kid in the candy store. You loved your job, which involved tailoring different types of chemical equipment, unique for each Spider that came by, as well as equally unique medicines and antidotes for the medical ward. 

Your main job, however, was developing the Rapture injection, the one you were recruited for, almost daily. And for who other than your broody boss? Even though he hadn’t left the best impression after chasing you like a madman in your hometown, you were required to work with him. And in the beginning, it would be an understatement to say it was challenging. Miguel was a whirlwind of sarcastic remarks and impatience who constantly nagged you for any updates. And to make it worse, each morning, you would make your way to Miguel’s office and inject him with your experimental Rapture of the day. Then in the evening, you would return to observe the effects. The days consisted of constant complaints that you were late, that the injection didn’t have the intended effect, and that Rapture was your top priority, all of which were grating on your soul. 

Since your daily routine started and ended with Miguel, your relations grew slightly amicable over time. It started with silent gestures of gratitude: a cup of steaming coffee left in your office in the lab, bringing extra dinner for him during the end-of-the-day check-ups. After 3 months of your stay at the Society, you both started communicating with your watches (He was insistent that you call the watches gizmos, to which you adamantly refused). At first, it was only about work and your Rapture progress. The conversations then slowly changed into more casual ones, topics ranging from your pets back home to him venting his frustrations about the shenanigans of whatever Hobie was up to that day. Sure, he was slightly more friendly (which wasn’t a feat considering who he was), but his irritable nature was still a turn-off for you, and the sarcasm leaping into every evaluation didn’t help either. You considered him lucky that he was quite the eye candy. He was actually pretty attractive whenever he shut his mouth.

This particular morning was your official return to Nueva York after two weeks, so you decided you would put a bit more effort into your routine. Reluctantly, you rose from your bed and stumbled towards your bathroom, wincing at the harsh cold of its floor underneath your feet. You allowed yourself a moment of bliss under your hot shower, trying your best to wash away any stress you were anticipating that day. Once you had finally stepped out of the shower, you quickly dried yourself off and wrapped a plush towel securely around your body, trying your best not to slip as you trudged over to the bathroom counter. Admittedly, you weren’t the most graceful Spider; you were on the smarter side.

Then it was the usual sequence of your routine. Brushing and blow-drying your hair, skincare, and makeup. Just as you were about to make your way to your closet, you realized that you had forgotten your lotion, which you would’ve considered disastrous. Nothing bothered you more than your own dry skin. By habit, you were about to reach for the usual bottle until an unopened box tempted you from the corner of your eye. As you turned it around in your hands and delicately unpackaged it, you silently chastised yourself for almost forgetting. It was a body butter, given to you by Jessica during a surprise visit on Christmas day.

“This is from Lyla. She says to thank her later,” Jessica had said on that day vaguely before giving a brief hug.

Unscrewing the lid from the jar, you smiled to yourself. If there was anyone other than Jessica that you truly missed over your break, it was Lyla. The hologram assistant never failed to make you smile with the many ways she’d tease Miguel, but she also never failed in constantly bringing up asking him out. “I don’t care if he’s your boss,” Lyla would say. “I’d know more than anyone if he has the hots for you, and he guess what? He does!” Which was hard to believe, considering his persistent stubbornness in your day-to-day interactions.

Once the lid was finally off, a waft of vanilla with a hint of sandalwood drifted into the air. Inhaling the scent of the butter deeply, you felt oddly touched. This was undeniably a scent that was up your alley, and it was very thoughtful. As you worked it into your skin, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. It was when you were just about finished that you noticed something peculiar. You had caught a subtle whiff of another note, but you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was elusive, teasing your senses as you racked your brain for what it could possibly be. Figuring it was just an ester you smelled in your various experiments, you left the bathroom to get dressed, with a more confident aura around yourself.

–

Your first day back couldn’t have started any more peculiar.

You had barely gotten the chance to take in the surroundings of your beloved HQ before you were instantly greeted with Hobie swinging in as he called your name, landing just in front of you.

“Evil genius. Heard you’d be back today,” Hobie greeted with his signature half-smile, his lanky arms immediately opening to embrace you. Which was weird, considering he was more of a handshake-y/shadowboxing type of greeter. But he was a joy to have around in your lab (despite him not particularly having too much interest in your work), so you didn’t refuse.

“You’ve gotten taller,” you replied with a grin on your face, happily accepting his embrace. While it was comforting, you noticed that it was taking a while for him to pull away. Passing it off as mere affection, you pulled away and looked up at Hobie’s face. He seemed almost bewildered as he stared down at you, almost in some sort of trance. Was he looking at your lips? Was he looking further down?

“Uh, Earth-928 to Hobie? Helloo?” you called out, snapping your fingers in front of him repeatedly in an attempt to wake him up. It wasn’t until the 5th or 6th snap that he finally seemed to jolt awake, although still fixated on you.

“Oh. My bad, fam,” he said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. You raised a brow at his mannerisms; it was extremely unlike him to act so nervous. You then gave him a reassuring pat on his shoulder, and you swore you saw him slightly tense at the feeling.

“So, you got a new cologne or somethin’ like that? Hold on, not cologne…what’s it called? Perfume? Toilettes?” Hobie began rambling, seemingly in a desperate attempt to cover up his uncharacteristic awkwardness.

“Oh, Lyla got me-”

You were cut off by another voice shouting your name to your left. It was one of the many Peters. “How’s my favorite scientist been? How was your vacay?”

“Just stayed at home,” you answered, a bit startled as you tried to split your attention between Peter and Hobie. “Anyways, Lyla-”

Another voice chimed in behind you. “I heard your universe is one of the most beautiful. You were definitely up to something.” Then another. “It’s been forever since I last saw you!” Another. “Wanna come eat with us at the caf?”  You even heard Ben’s voice, to which you were surprised he had taken a break from his usual moping to join the ever-growing commotion around you. “You smell nice!” Soon, all the greetings and compliments became a garbled mess in your ears, your view obscured by a wall of Spiders.

You tried your best to force on a polite smile as you tried to weave your way through the oncoming traffic of people. To you, this was completely unexpected and foreign. Sure, you had made lots of friends in your time at HQ, but people weren’t exactly buzzed to see you. At most, you’d get a friendly wave as you passed by each other in the twisty pathways. Now, they acted like you were an oasis in a desert.  As you whipped your head around, you noticed something in the ever-growing crowd around you: it was all Spidermen. That irked you slightly; you had made many Spiderwomen friends as well. Where were they? Becoming slightly dizzy with the growing clamor around you, you were just about ready to web yourself up to the ceiling and swing your way to your lab.

As if your prayers were miraculously answered, the familiar rev of an engine overpowered the clamor of the Spidermen, and they immediately parted ways down the middle to reveal Jessica, staring at you with an amused grin as she sat on her motorcycle.

"I’ll take you to HQ if you tell me what the hell’s going on!” Jessica offered, her voice raised so that you could hear.

Instant relief flooded through your body as you nearly sprinted your way to Jessica, planting a grateful kiss on her cheek before hopping on the back of the motorcycle. As you both sped away, you still waved goodbye to the Spidermen, despite how weird you had felt mere seconds prior. As if things couldn’t get any weirder, you noticed that the crowd you had left behind had almost immediately dispersed, with only some lingering around to chat.

“God, Jess. I’ve been here for two minutes, and I think I’ve already had the weirdest day out of everyone here!” you remarked loudly with a heavy sigh. You linked your arms around Jessica’s waist to remain stable on the motorcycle, eyes squinted from traveling at such a high speed.

Jessica only seemed to chuckle in response as she steered through the complicated structure, towards your lab. “Yeah? Try being pregnant!” she called out over the wind, her curls tossing about in the wind.

Your eyes widened immediately upon the revelation. “You’re lying, shut up,” you scolded, immediately feeling over Jessica’s stomach to verify it. Lo and behold, your hands smoothed over the beginnings of a bump, which caused you to squeal out in excitement. “Oh my god, Jess! When is it due?!”

“6 months! So don’t hold on so tight!” Jessica chided playfully as she effortlessly navigated her way through the building, shouting at countless Spiders to move out of her way. You held on for dear life, but of course, not too tight.

Eventually, you reached your beloved lab, to which you both entered. The door hissed closed behind you, and after you had set your bag down, you immediately sprung into action. This was simultaneously your sanctuary and your training, where you were at your best. Jessica watched from a nearby stool, gently holding her stomach.

“So this is where you cook up the good stuff, hm?” Jessica quipped, her eyes glued to the liquid that was poured into an instant syringe.

“Somebody’s gotta keep the boss alive,” you chuckled, your meticulous hands carefully measuring out just the right amount of Rapture before sealing it closed. This was the new batch that you had been working on at home, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t eager to show Miguel. “Speaking of which, I’ll need a lift there.” Packing the syringe into a box, you motioned for Jessica to come with you as you began to walk toward the sealed doors. That was until you were stopped by your pregnant friend’s hand in your face.

“Hold up, hon. You still never explained what was going on out there,” Jessica reminded you in a stern tone with an equally stern look.

“Jess, I wanna know as much as you do.” You paused, taking a deep breath as you recounted the event. “Maybe it's just a…welcome committee thingy.”

Jessica gave you a pointed look as a scoff left her lips. “Welcome committee, my ass. Those guys were like pirates, and you were a siren. It was more like a…’Welcome Back, I Would Die For Your Attention’ committee.”

As much as you wanted to bite back, it was unfortunate that she was right. While most of the Spider-folk were kind, as they tended to be, they were never that eager to see you before. People you thought you could never shake were in the crowd. Did it feel nice? You were ashamed that it did, just slightly, but perhaps for a different reason than you thought.

Perhaps Miguel would be the same.

Noting your silence and your brows creased in thought, Jessica gave you a reassuring smile as she stood to pat you on the back. “Alright, alright, I’ll stop messing with you,” she chuckled, giving you a gentle push toward the door. “But something’s up, and I’ll get to the bottom of it.”

“Yeah, yeah, let me know when you figure it out. I’d like to know too,” you said as you narrowed your eyes at her, although you could never keep a serious face with your best friend as you broke out into a smile.

With that, you both stepped out of the lab, only to be immediately greeted by another crowd of Spidermen that had gathered outside the entrance. Your face twisted into annoyance as you looked to Jessica for help.

“Move, people!” she shouted out above the onslaught of chattering Spidermen. “Unless you want to work with Miguel for a week!” With that, the crowd easily dispersed, scattering like…well, spiders. Despite the situation you were in, you were glad that many of them felt the same way about working with Miguel. Outside of work, he was bearable, but his free time was rare.

After another short ride on Jessica’s motorcycle through the complex, you reached Miguel’s office. You took a deep breath, giving your friend a firm nod as you prepared to walk through the automatic doors. As soon as you were about to take a step, Lyla apparated in front of you, sliding down her heart-shaped shades to get a good look at you.

“It’s been forever! Just know I’d hug you if I could,” the assistant exclaimed with the widest grin you’ve ever seen on her. Her playful antics were infectious, and her cheery tone seemed to wipe away the stress the day had accumulated so far. “Sooo, how’d you like your gift?”

“Oh! Right, uh, I’m wearing it right now,” you stammered out, feeling terrible. The morning had been so hectic that you forgot to seek out Lyla and thank her properly. Your response made Jessica raise a brow and lean over toward you, taking a whiff. You looked at her. “What do you think?”

“You smell sweet,” Jessica remarked, then paused, as if analyzing your scent a bit more. “And…womanly.”

Lyla seemed to nod eagerly at this statement, her virtual eyes glinting with curiosity as she prodded at you further. “And what’s it like?”

Perplexed by the wording of the question, you hesitated to answer. What on earth did either of them mean? Everyone was acting strange today. “Um, the vanilla is really nice, I had no idea you knew that I liked that sort of stuff. It was very thoughtful, Lyla.”

Lyla continued to stare at you a bit more intently, seeming to wait for another answer from you until she seemed to give up. “That’s good, I’m glad you love it,” she replied, though there was a hint of something enigmatic in her response. As if she were physically standing in front of the door to the office, Lyla stepped to the side, gesturing for them to go in as the doors slid open. “You can come in, but consider yourself warned. Miguel’s cranky at the moment.”

“When is he not?” You muttered, mostly to yourself, but you could hear Jessica snicker at your side as you both strolled in. The familiar hum of Miguel’s futuristic machinery filled your ears, the metallic interior of his office coldly greeting her eyes. When you first spotted your boss up on his platform (which was redundant, in your opinion), he was already wearing his suit. You swore he always wore it to show off his physique. He had his back turned to the both of you, seeming to intently stare at the screens and holograms in front of him blankly.

“Does he ever not do that?” Jessica muttered under her breath to you as you both stared ahead. It was so simple for her to break your resolve, pressing your lips together in a tight line to prevent yourself from letting out even the smallest sound.

“Are you ever not late?”

Miguel’s sharp voice immediately cut through the playful nature that surrounded the two of you. The smile immediately dropped from your face, and you fought the urge to roll your eyes. How could somebody already be so irritated? The day hadn’t even started.

You glanced toward Jessica briefly before answering, trying to keep your voice steady. “I was just stuck in the lobby-”

“Yeah, I saw,” Miguel interjected coldly as he turned his head toward the hologram-screen that displayed the security feed. With a simple flick of his hand, the screen swiped out of view as he turned to face you, his face twisted into an unfamiliar emotion, albeit clearly not a pleasant one. “Really glad you had the time to mingle. Not like we’re on a schedule or anything.”

If Miguel hadn’t been 6’9” of almost entirely pure muscle, you swore you would’ve swung up and lunged at him like a rabid animal. Would it have killed him to be just a bit understanding? He was watching you through the feed, how was any of that your fault? His mockery and grumpy attitude were things you’d grown used to, but today, it was particularly biting. It seemed…personal.

Jessica seemed to feel the same way as you heard her snort audibly in response. This directed his attention towards her, his glare unwavering. “And you,” he began, pointing a finger directly at her. “What did I tell you about riding that thing through my building?”

“ Our building,” she bit back, her posture nonchalant as she lazily examined her nails. “How about you yell at the people who got in her way, smart guy?”

Miguel rolled his eyes at her remark, seemingly ready to go back and forth until he glanced down at her stomach. He then shook his head, gesturing to shoo her away. “I…I don’t even wanna get into it with you. Just…get out.”

Elbowing you lightly, Jessica leaned closer to you with a smirk. “See? Pregnancy perks,” she joked. “But I would’ve preferred a vacation.” You clamped a hand over your mouth to stop the fit of laughter you felt rising.

“¡Oye! Are you even listening?!” Miguel hissed at Jessica, pointing towards the doors. Genuinely, you admired her patience, as she didn’t even flinch. Giving you a look that clearly meant “good luck”, your best friend gently patted you on the back before taking her leave. You stared until her figure disappeared behind the automatic doors, and then you became all too aware that you and Miguel were alone. The air in the room grew tense as you attempted to quell the irritation rising within you.

Once you turned back to look up at Miguel, he was running his fingers through his hair, pushing it back in somewhat of a stressed manner as he was fixated on another screen. Without sparing you another glance, he spoke up again, the words barely even louder than the quiet buzz of the hologram projectors. “The Rapture. Get up here,” he muttered, slowly pacing back and forth on his levitated platform.

Tucking the box securely in your (thankfully) deep pockets, you made sure to secure it tightly, the contents too delicate to leave dangling so carelessly. Mentally preparing yourself for the incoming 5 minutes you had to spend with Miguel, you flung your wrist towards the edge of his platform, a silky web instantly connecting the two. Pulling on the tensile web, you gave yourself enough momentum to fling yourself up onto it, landing opposite to where he was standing—one of your more graceful landings.

His back was still turned to you as you pulled the box out of your pocket, carefully extracting the syringe with your latest creation. Staring down at it proudly, you stood on your feet and cautiously approached Miguel. “Worked on this one during vacation,” you said, not necessarily caring if he had anything to say about it. “Think it’s my best one yet.”

Miguel’s shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep exhale, intent on reading the details of his upcoming mission. “It better be,” was all he muttered, holographic nature of his suit fading away in a patch on his left shoulder, his usual injection site. Placing your right hand tentatively against his shoulder blade, you held the syringe up to his skin, ready to administer until you noticed something. You gently pressed a finger against his skin, and it was almost as if the muscle was made of rocks.

“You need to relax your shoulder, boss,” you remarked, your focus beginning to trail across the expanse of his back. It almost seemed to ripple constantly from how tense they were. Usually, this process was the easy part, and you both had done this dozens of times. 

“Yep. Got it.” A muscle in his neck flexed slightly.

“Is something bothering you?” you asked cautiously, observing his odd behavior. Seriously, him too? What was up with everyone today?

“ Mierda , just get on with it,” he grumbled, an obvious strain in his tone.

“If you say so,” you whispered, injecting the green liquid into his system. Once again, it was different. A sharp inhale escaped his lips as he winced; you caught a glimpse of his eyes flashing a bright red in the reflection of his monitors. The eyes were normal, it happened every time. But it never caused him discomfort before. Concern was etched across your features as you took a step back, your eyes scanning over his body. 

“Seriously, Miguel. Is there something I should know?” you asked with a huff, placing a hand on his other shoulder to turn him around. However, when you were finally able to his expression for the first time, it was nothing like you had ever expected. His eyes were clouded over as they locked onto yours, a rawness in his gaze that made you shudder. His jaw was clenched, muscles taut, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed deeply. You even noticed the cadence of his exhales, each one sounding as if he was barely in control. Was this an adverse reaction to the Rapture? Uneasiness began to settle into your skin. Was this your fault? You worriedly placed a hand against his forehead to feel his temperature, now noticing the sweat that had begun to dot across his forehead. 

He wasn’t even stopping you or making any snide remarks. Something was definitely wrong.

“Lyla?” you called out into the void of his office as you retracted your hand. “Show me his vitals.”

“No, Lyla, don’t even think about it,” Miguel objected through gritted teeth. You both were only greeted by Lyla’s familiar giggle as a hologram screen materialized behind Miguel, displaying his various vitals.

“You’re supposed to work for me ,” he grunted.

“Misclick! Oops, gotta go-” Lyla taunted, the sound of her program shutting off following. You swore you heard him mutter “chinga tu madre” under his breath.

As you read through the different stats, you only seemed to confuse yourself more. His body temperature was slightly elevated, but nowhere close to a fever. No production of histamines, so no allergies. Nothing from the injection seemed to affect any aspect of his body. His heart rate, however, was through the roof. Surely Spider-people don’t get heart attacks, right? You were about to instruct Lyla until a certain statement in his vital report caught your eye.

Elevated levels of oxytocin present.

Those words seemed to knock the wind right out of your stomach, struggling to find the words to say as you froze in place. Was there something you missed when you were gone? Miguel just suddenly had a thing for you? Racking your brain, you tried to think of any way this could have developed. Maybe distance does make the heart grow fonder. Would you be disrespecting yourself if this was fine with you? 

Suddenly, images of your time with him began to pop up in your mind, but they were now corrupted. You thought of the way his quadriceps flexed as he carried boxes into your new office, the hitch of his breath every time you gave him a new injection, and simply how large he was in comparison to you. Your free hand began to fidget with the hem of your shirt, letting your gaze fall anywhere but him. You were certain your cheeks looked like they had been pinched. The both of you stood there, unsure of what to do, an awkward silence engulfing the room.

As if unable to endure this situation any longer, Miguel muttered a curse under his breath before he moved swiftly, hopping down from the platform. He seemed eager to escape his office, which was strange; this was where he usually holed up before and after missions. The sound of his footsteps rang in your ears, finalizing the fact that you were now standing alone, your mind a whirlwind of chaos. But with each step he took, the more you felt your heartbeat in your ears, the steady rhythm urging you to follow him. To demand one ounce of clarity from him. He couldn’t just leave you here.

“Miguel, wait,” you called out, shooting a web to the floor and flinging yourself after him. Once you had landed, you kept pursuing him, but he quickened his pace. Your mind flashed back to when he had chased you through Central Park, and a smile snuck its way onto your lips. It only made you even more relentless, your gait quickening.

Once you were close enough to him, you reached out, your hand gently tapping the broadness that was his back, a silent plea for him to acknowledge what had just been uncovered between the both of you. After receiving no response, you sighed in exasperation. “Miguel, please,” you implored. “Could you tell me-”

Miguel pivoted abruptly, the intensity in his gaze disorienting as you felt him tightly grip your wrist. Despite not having done much, his breaths were almost ragged. His eyes were glazed over, dropping down from yours just for a moment, stealing a glance at your body before returning it to a respectable place. 

“What the hell are you doing to me?” he grunted through his teeth, his voice low as it wavered with a hint of vulnerability. Despite his efforts to keep it down, the question echoed throughout the confines of his empty office.

As you tried to wiggle your wrist away, you realized it would be a waste of effort to try, so you let him. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stared up at him with wide eyes. You knew for a fact that he could feel your heartbeat with the way he was gripping it, and you were certain it beat like a rabbit’s. Hopelessly caught off guard, you stammered, “I…I don’t know. It isn’t the Rapture, I promise, I did every-”

“Don’t you give me that,” he cut you off, his words seeming to slice through whatever resolve you had left. “I know it’s not the damn Rapture. It’s you. I know it’s you. You’re in my head.”

The admission hung in the air between you two, another thing that only seemed to confuse you further that day. Miguel’s eyes bore into yours, its murky depths desperately searching yours for any answers. But he was only greeted by ones who were as clueless as he was. As he stared down at your wrist that was so easily enveloped by his hand, it seemed to spur him on. Impulsively, Miguel gripped you by your frame and whirled you around, pushing you against the metallic wall, his arms forming a cage around you.

You felt like you were caught in the eye of the storm of emotions that were building up inside him. You were utterly dwarfed by his figure. Sure, you always knew that he was tall, but you never had been this up close and personal before. As you glanced over at the arms that had caged you in like an animal, you fought the urge to run your hand over the ripple of his biceps that were almost staring at you right in the face. Realizing you were definitely focusing on the wrong thing, your eyes met his once again, each time becoming more difficult than the last. Whatever he had to say, you had no choice but to hear it.

“I can’t control it,” he continued, the words escaping like a reluctant exhale. That part was obvious enough. “The moment you stepped into HQ, every damn thought is you. Coño , I can’t even read one sentence of the mission brief with you right behind me. I’m doing things before I even think. I want to hate it.”

The weight of his words settled over you, sinking deep into your skin as you felt yourself burn up again. His sudden infatuation made you realize all the flirty comments and gentlemanly gestures that had been following you all morning. Sure, it was similar, but none of them seemed to be affected more than Miguel. What was it? Swallowing thickly, you mustered the courage to speak, to test the waters. “But you…don’t hate it?” you breathed, your chest seizing with regret as soon as the words left your lips.

Miguel’s brows furrowed, and you had trouble discerning what emotion was causing it. “I don’t,” he choked out, his voice dropping to a whisper. “So fix it.” “What?” His demand hung in the air, a fervent and pleading demand. “I said, fix it,” he insisted, his words taking on a rougher tone. One of his hands slid down from the wall, and he poked accusingly at your chest, just at the top of your sternum. “Whatever you’re doing, fix it,” he persisted, his voice akin to a low growl that sent pleasurable tingles down your spine. “Or I will.” “I don’t know how,” you shamefully admitted, your words laced with sincerity. Your eyes were blown wide upon seeing how intense he was up close, you could hear his labored breaths. The silence that followed your answer lingered between the both of you, both searching each other’s expressions just for one hint, a clue as to how to proceed from that moment. Miguel had always made the decisions, not you, and seeing him at a total loss for words had also stumped you. “I– um, you said that it was when I arrived, right?” you sputtered out, desperate to say anything to ease the heavy tension that was beginning to crush the both of you. Your eyes tried to lock on anywhere that wasn’t Miguel, but it proved difficult when his figure loomed over you. “I can just, uh…go home? Yeah! I can go back home for the day, and I–” And then, with a suddenness that left you without your words, Miguel’s hands retracted from the walls at your sides, cupping your face. Without letting another beat of your heart pass, he surged forward, all too quickly, then his lips were on yours. 

At first, your mind tried to make sense of what was happening. This was Miguel O’Hara, your boss, and a rude one at that. The same guy who always scolded you for the smallest of reasons. Not only would it be inappropriate to continue, but a blow to your self-respect. Yet, in the moment that followed, you felt his tongue gently graze against your bottom lip, and all logic seemed to dissolve and wash away, surrendering to his kiss. You should have been embarrassed that you had to reach up so far to wrap your arms around his neck, but he hunched over to make it easier on you.

He seemed to have been waiting for any sort of response from you. His hands moved with purpose, falling from your face to claw at your body, exploring the curves of your back as if he wanted to burn every detail to his memory. The fevered kiss he gave you ceased for a moment, a curse just barely able to escape from his lips before he began to bury his head into your shoulder. He began to leave openmouthed kisses to the smooth, delicate skin of your neck, his canines gently prodding at the skin. The sting seemed to tease you, to ask you how far you were willing to let him go.

“So you are a vampire,” you remarked breathlessly, whining softly at each slow, tantalizing kiss.

You aren’t able to see it, but you feel the way his lips curve up into a smirk against you. The laugh that followed was mind-bogglingly euphoric, the vibrations rippling against the expanse of your neck so deliciously that the heat building between your legs became nearly impossible to ignore. Your hands trail down from his shoulders and smooth over his chest, an action that you found to elicit the prettiest sounds from your boss. You didn’t even know he was capable of such a thing. You wanted to know what else he was capable of.

“You want it here?” you asked, your hands gently pushing against his chest in an attempt to make him pay attention to your words. But it was like he couldn’t pry himself from you. You were given a mere grunt in response, and you felt his calloused hand hold the back of your neck, stroking your nape tenderly. With his face still buried against your skin, he inhaled the scent of you deeply. That alone seemed to make his yearning nature worse, his words barely escaping past the low whine that resonated in his throat.

“Wherever I can fucking have you,” Miguel said as he grasped you, hands cupping just beneath your jaw as his thumbs smoothed over your cheeks. The way he looked at you, half-lidded, pleading, and absolutely drunk off of your body, sent your mind reeling and melted your limbs as you pushed yourself into him. Your eyes darted around for a suitable place, but Miguel’s office wasn’t necessarily 5 stars when it came to comfort. Raising your head, your gaze locked onto the platform you both were just on. Meekly, you point up towards it, unsure if he would satisfy your request. His head followed as you reached out, and he vaguely scoffed.

You were about to suggest another place until his strong arm secured its way around your waist, and suddenly, you were being hoisted into the air alongside your boss. A yelp escaped your throat out of shock, desperately gripping onto Miguel’s body despite knowing you wouldn’t fall. The gesture made him chuckle in a way you had never heard before, the sound hearty and resounding deeply in his chest. And it seemed to drug you and fill your veins with such an unyielding desire; it made you wonder how something so simple as a laugh further fueled this indecorous addiction to him.

Before you even knew it, you were seated in the middle of the platform with him kneeling beside you. As you stared up at him, you were unsure of what to do. But it was like he had read your mind, resulting in a roll of his eyes and his sarcastic nature making a brief return. 

“You planning to just sit there?” Miguel huffed as he dragged you closer to him. “Lay down.” His tone is so enticingly irrefutable, so you comply, your back hitting the platform, the cold metal making you shudder. You stared up at him, curious as to how he was going to do this.

Slotting himself in between your legs, his fingers desperately tugged at the waistband of your pants before doing away with them entirely, barely noticing that he had taken your underwear with it. He marveled at what he had revealed, carefully tugging your legs apart as if he wanted to worship it further. His eyes flicked up to your face for just a painstaking moment, and it was hot from anticipation, worsening as he hovered between your legs, pressing kisses along your inner thighs.

“You want this?” he murmurs, his words deep and gravelly. You eagerly nod, fighting the urge to shiver from the coldness that overtook your lower half.

Suddenly, you didn’t have to worry much about the cold the moment you felt his warm breath graze you in just the right way. He pressed a wet, languid kiss to your heat, the saliva his tongue was slathering you with mingling with the arousal that began to pool. You were amazed at how effortlessly his ministrations manipulated your body, your chest rising and falling rapidly with each pleasured exhale. When did he have the time to be so good at this sort of thing?

Soon, you were introduced to his fingers, so lengthy and thick that they had your eyes rolling into the back of your head as they plunged inside you. Each call of his name seemed to spur him on, increasing his tempo and the lewd, obscene noises that echoed across his office. Before you even knew it, all of it was too much; the subtle curling and pumping of his girthy fingers, the flick of his tongue; it was like a wave had crashed over you, sending your thighs into convulsions. He slowed his movements as each thrust of his fingers grew more wet, easing you down from your high. The delicate touches lasted for a mere second before you were flipped over, your hips being dragged back as you felt your behind press against the outline of the stiff, rock-hard muscle at his crotch, a testament to how much he had been craving you.

What followed was a sweetly painful, visceral blur. You had heard the sound of his holographic suit retracting itself, and you turned your head, curious as to what you’d see. He smiled smugly at your doe-eyed expression upon seeing his goods, and the only thing occupying your mind was if he could fit at all. It wasn’t like you weren’t expecting it, he was a behemoth of a man after all. But seeing it up close, anticipating its entry was an entirely different beast.

But Miguel was experienced, having dutifully prepared you to take him, making it a more easy experience as his tip prodded your entrance gently, slowly easing himself in. The stretch was undeniably painful, your fingers clutching at the floor, desperately looking for something to hold onto. But as he pushed in further, the feeling transformed into a euphoric ache. He had been trying his best to remain silent to not attract any attention from the outside, but your name managed to fall from his mouth in a hoarse groan, harmonizing with the pathetic whines that you had been letting out. His hands pinned your wrists against the floor, the freezing nature of the floor beneath you contrasting with the heat that bounced between your bodies.

His vigorous pace slightly rocked the platform beneath you, threatening to tip over if Miguel had a mind to get rougher. However, he seemed to know his limits, effortlessly filling you up in a way that could satisfy you for lifetimes. Crude phrases left your swollen lips, each one a way to praise the man that was fucking you like his next mission was his last. The sound of your skin colliding with him was growing filthier with each second, more carnal. For a fleeting second, your mind filled with worry, anxious about anybody that could have been waiting outside his office. Anyone who stood within a 5-yard radius from the entrance could hear just about anything that was going on inside. But his fingers then came up to slither their way into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back far enough so he could whisper in your ear. “Keep talking, say you want me. Say it.”

And soon enough, you were begging for him, arms shaking as you struggled to hold yourself up as ripples of your orgasm traveled throughout your body, your slick absolutely drenching the both of you. Your pleas were what had done him in, his rhythm stuttering and his length pulsing inside you, unsheathing himself as he emptied himself all over your ass, the viscous liquid dripping slowly down its curve. For a moment, the both of you stayed where you were, worn-out breaths being the only thing you both could exchange as you tried to wrap your head around what you had done.

Surprisingly, Miguel had a thought for aftercare. He had retrieved a gym towel and cleaned you up, wiping away his release and your sweat as best as he could. “Still think you have to shower, though,” he commented, the smug undertone in his voice not going unnoticed.

“Back at you,” you quipped, though the smile never left your face as you redressed yourself.

You never thought you would have to try to sneak your way out of Miguel’s office, but considering how disheveled you were after your tryst with him, it was the only way to keep your dignity intact. The air outside was cooler, freezing against your skin that still burned with the residual warmth of his hands all over you. You shuddered. You definitely needed a cold shower.

After grabbing your spare clothes from your office, you found yourself in the ladies’ room. Stripping off your sweat-ridden clothes (you had a mind to scold him for not taking them off), you hopped into one of the showers and slid the privacy curtain shut behind you. The warm water was comforting, easily washing away the feeling of sex away from your body, but what remained emotionally was unexpected. The thought of seeing him again.

A nervous energy gnawed at your heart as you mindlessly lathered soap all over your body. The both of you just had a steamy hookup, but what would happen now? Your insides seemed to twist as you remembered the fact that seeing him at the end of the day was inevitable. The water from your showerhead seemed to pelt down at your skin now, creating an atmosphere perfect for overthinking. Was it a one time thing? Did he want more? Did he like you? Would he fire you? Thankfully, Miguel was due for a mission today, so you wouldn’t have to worry about seeing him before your scheduled time. That would give you enough space to cool your head. 

“Relax,” you told yourself, barely able to hear your thoughts over the pitter-patter of water droplets around you. “You just screwed your boss. Tough it out. Forget about it. Act like it didn’t happen.”

However, the memory of his hands tracing the contours of your back seemed to follow you like a ghost, sending shivers down your spine no matter how much you cranked up the heat of your shower.

–

Enclosed in the white, sterile walled haven that was your lab, you buried yourself in work, hoping that the hum of calibration machines and the countless lab tests were enough to get your mind off of your tumultuous morning. You decided that it wasn’t enough, sliding your headphones over your ears and blasting your favorite playlist on repeat just so you wouldn’t have to hear your inner turmoil.

And it worked, the hours effortlessly passing by in a blur. Holographic displays and paperwork filled your visions, the very tasks you used to complain about becoming a solace on your first day back at your lab. You didn’t expect to get much done considering the crowd you had easily amassed earlier that morning, but strangely, that stopped, and you were thankful. Your usual visitors came in: Gwen, a few Peters, and even Hobie, who apologized profusely for how much of a “halfwit” he was being earlier, all while simultaneously swearing that you would never tell another soul. You agreed, stifling a laugh, knowing you could never be upset with him. Despite feeling confused for what had seemed like the millionth time that day, things seemed to be falling back into place, and it would have been comforting if it hadn’t been for one thing. You couldn’t exactly unfuck your boss. You chastised yourself quietly for thinking about it again; you were doing so well.

Once again, he was consuming your mind to the point where you couldn’t set your mind straight as you tried to come up with a new substance for one of your Spiderwoman clients. She had asked for a chemical that could help her easily attract and control actual spiders in her vicinity. You had a vague idea of how to bring her idea to life, with cetyl acetate sitting in one of your beakers, but you couldn’t quite remember the other component no matter how hard you racked your brain.

You retraced your steps, checking and double-checking the labels of the countless chemicals that sat preciously in your lab. You felt frustration coil up within you as you consulted your reference binder, embarrassed that you even had to look such a simple thing up. By the time you had located the constituent, many a Spider had begun to leave, the chatter outside of your lab winding to a hush. After squeezing a few drops of farnesyl acetate into your beaker, you gave the substances a quick mix, noting how nice it smelt. And how familiar.

Everything building up in you had left you seeking refuge in your dainty office that sat in the corner of the lab. As you closed the door behind you, temporary relief washed over you, and it was then that you decided it would be best if you went home for the day. Retrieving your bag, you sighed as you sank into your chair, weariness finally settling in after hours of constant work. Fishing around your bag for your office key, your fingers brushed against a jar-shaped object. You brought along Lyla’s gift for retouching throughout the day, but it slipped your mind amidst the chaos of the day. Hoping the vanilla scent would ease your thoughts, you unscrewed the cap with purpose, hoping it would ease the tension in your skin.

Just as you were about to apply, the sound of the entrance doors hissing open disrupted your serenity. Ready to tell off whoever was disturbing your peace, you set down the jar, twisted the doorknob open, and stormed out of your office, only to be frozen in place as you were greeted by the one and only Miguel, his expression uncharacteristically sheepish. A new cut adorned his face, already in the process of regeneration as it had already scarred over. Different parts of his holosuit were damaged, leaving behind a glitch-like static; were those claw marks? He definitely had a rougher day than you.

Clearing your throat, you spoke up. “You alright? That looks like it hurt,” you remarked, tentative as you were unsure what the conversation would lead to.

Miguel simply shrugged, his eyes unable to find yours. “I, uh…the anomaly was more intense than I thought. Was a bit distracted, got roughed up,” he said, his voice a rare mix of honesty and humility.

Your brows furrowed together in sympathy despite the unspoken words between the two of you. “Did you need me to whip something up for you?” you offered, moving towards your box of plastic gloves.

It was only then that he looked up at you, his hand coming up, gesturing for you to stop in protest. “No! No, it’s okay. I’ll live.” He met your eyes, and you immediately knew that he was just as unsure as you were, the uncertainty giving way to a hint of vulnerability.

After a hesitant pause, Miguel finally spoke, the moment you were waiting for finally happening. “Look, about earlier…I’m sorry,” his words stumbling out. “It was unexpected.”

Although you had anticipated this answer, you couldn’t help but deflate upon actually hearing it. You weren’t expecting him to fall on his knees and ask for your hand, but you would’ve at least liked to hear him say that he enjoyed it. “You’re sorry? Would you rather have not done it all?” you accused, much to his chagrin.

“I– no, carajo , that’s not what I meant at all,” he sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair. “I mean, it’s just…it caught us off guard. I’m not sorry it happened, I’m sorry that it was just…sudden, that’s all,” he huffed, not wanting to get into it with you.

For a moment, you pondered over his words. So he wasn’t opposed to sleeping with you. With impulsive thoughts bubbling up inside you, you were prodded to take the leap again. “Would you do it again?” you asked genuinely, an offer to him.

Miguel’s eyes widened in surprise, an exhale of relief shortly following, a chuckle mingled with his words. “Yeah, I’d do it again,” he answered, moving to step closer to you, and you didn’t mind. Just as it seemed as if he was about to sweep you into his arms again, he stopped in his tracks, his head turning to your lab bench as he fixated on the beaker, the one that was carrying your latest project.

Initially, you thought that Miguel was some sort of a stickler for cleanliness, so you felt embarrassed, reaching for your disposable gloves once again. “Oops, I’ll just put that away–”

“No,” he ordered with a familiar intensity in your voice, making you retract back to your original spot. He inched closer to the workbench, nostrils flaring as he sniffed at the mixture in the fragile glass. “What is that? Tell me,” he demanded, the urgency in his voice increasing tenfold.

Although you were weirded out by how much this seemed to matter to him, you answered earnestly. “Some…strange project one of the Spiderwomen wanted me to work on. Something to attract spiders, but just the males to prevent them from fighting. Synthetic pheromones, essentially.”

“Huh. Smells like how you did this morning,” he remarked almost immediately, raising a brow in confusion.

You stood there, utterly winded by his words, unsure of what to say. Was he saying this figuratively to flirt with you? But judging from the look in his eyes, he was deadly serious. As your eyes locked onto the concoction that you had made that morning, your mind went to the jar that was sitting on your desk, opened. Without another word, you rushed to your office, taking the jar of body butter and inhaling its aroma deeply. You felt your heart drop to your stomach in terror, the scents were strikingly similar. Turning the jar around in your hands with haste, your eyes scanned for the list of ingredients, silently praying you weren’t rubbing what you thought you were rubbing into your skin.

As you searched, you felt Miguel’s presence right behind you, leaning over your shoulder as he examined the jar with you, inexplicably drawn to it. “What’s that?” he inquired, the strain in his voice from before making a return.

“The lotion I put on this morning,” you said dreadfully, turning your head to look up at him sheepishly. Still confused, he met your gaze only for a moment before he searched through the neverending list of ingredients.

“What did you put in that beaker?”

“Farnesyl acetate and hexadecyl acetate. If it doesn’t say hexadecyl, try cetyl.”

After a minute of searching, Miguel hunched over you to point at a specific spot on the jar. Following his finger, you sighed, laying your eyes on the very thing you didn’t want to see.

“So…” you began awkwardly, unable to wrap your mind around the information bouncing around in your brain. It started to connect like dots: how you attracted the Spidermen in the morning by the dozen, Jessica’s remark about you smelling like a “woman”, Miguel’s sudden lust for you. Then the notable absence of your eager Spider-crowd after your shower. “As your head chemist, I can conclude that spider pheromones can work on…us.”

“Evidently,” Miguel responded, visibly dumbfounded. Seeming eager to prevent more chaos from occurring, he took the jar and its lid from your hands, screwing the lid tightly shut before placing it on your desk carefully. “Where’d you even get something like that?”

“I didn’t. Lyla got it for me,” you confessed. Your mind went to that mischievous hologram. Did she know? Was this a clever attempt to kickstart something between you and Miguel?

“Lyla, that minx...” Miguel trailed off, and you caught a glimpse of his eyes rolling before he squeezed them shut, pinching his nose bridge in an attempt to quell what presumably was a string of curses toward his assistant. Immediately, he swiftly turned around, muttering quietly to himself as he made his way towards his exit. “I ought to give her a piece of my mind…”

You stared after him, about to leave him to his own devices before a thought crossed your mind. You remembered Miguel’s biology, the very thing that made him Spiderman in the first place: his DNA was spliced with one of a spider, effectively making him 50% arachnid. The pheromones you had been unknowingly emitting would affect him more than anyone else, and it proved to be true. An uneasiness settled into your stomach, was that the only reason why he wanted you?

“Wait,” you called after him, your voice betraying your attempted nonchalance. Miguel paused at the doorway, leaning against it as he turned to look at you with an arched brow. His eyes silently asked you to proceed.

“Is it… just the pheromones?” you asked, feeling your stomach twist and turn into knots as you awaited his reply. “You know, about everything, uh, earlier.”

Miguel pushed himself off of the door. “Well, it definitely gave me the push I needed,” he admitted, sauntering over to you with a grin so smug you wanted to smack it off his face. “But, if we’re being honest, I would’ve done it eventually.”

You blinked, processing his words.”You mean that? But you’re kinda mean.”

He sighed loudly, stopping just in front of you. “Idiot. Yes, I mean it,” he muttered, leaning down to cup your cheeks in his hands, his face levelling with yours. “You drive me crazy.”

And the kiss that Miguel left on your lips afterward was more gentle than the hungry, needy one he gave you before, dispelling any doubts you had about the true nature of his feelings. His lips were like heaven, slightly chapped from the labor of his mission from earlier, but you didn’t care. When he pulled away, there was a soft playfulness in his eyes you had never seen before.

“You got it?” he teased, his thumb smoothing over your cheek.

You managed a nod, resulting in Miguel gently patting your cheek before releasing you and turning to leave, still insistent that he give Lyla a piece of his mind. Giggling at his antics, you were about to grab your things to leave until you saw his head pop in the entrance once more. “Yes?” you called out.

“Bottle that thing up and label it as a hazard,” he ordered in response, pointing toward the open beaker on the bench. “It’s damn near chemical warfare,” he mumbled before disappearing again.

“Yes, boss,” you complied, unable to fight the grin that was now plastered to your face. As you bottled up your concoction, you made a mental note to thank Lyla. Again.

originally posted on ao3! first fic i'm ever posting on tumblr and i'm so excited! feedback and suggestions for more stories are more than welcome!

[sonamytrash]

Lust For Life

Levi Ackerman x F!reader

Warnings: Sex, oral sex, fingering, creampie, more sex.

Note: Purely self-indulgent smut. Inspired by Lust For Life by Lana Del Rey ft The Weekend. Song fic, but the lyrics are in a different font, so skip if you like. I left it a little open to interpretation. Levi and reader have been apart for some time, having been in a past relationship. At last reunited they fuck on his desk. Enjoy!

_____________________

In these stolen moments,

The world is mine,

There's nobody here, just us together,

Keepin' me hot like July forever,

He reaches out and gently tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, the proximity between the two of you making him feel alive again.

"You were always worth treating well," he says, his eyes locked with yours. "I never wanted to do anything to hurt you."

He leans in closer to you, the proximity between the two of you causing his heart to race. "I still care about you," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. "I always have, and I always will."

'Cause we're the masters of our own fate

We're the captains of our own souls

He leans in and presses his lips to yours, the kiss full of longing and tenderness. All the years you have spent apart, all the pain and suffering, melt away in that moment,

There's no way for us to come away

'Cause boy we're gold, boy we're gold

And I was like

The kiss between you and Levi grows deeper and drips with passion. His tongue explores your mouth and tastes every inch of you. The electric chemistry that exists between the two of you is palpable, each knowing exactly what the other desires. After all, you have danced this dance so many times before. Your bodies entwine together, the heat and passion impossible to ignore. Completely lost in one another.

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all of your clothes

His hand finds its way to the back of your neck as he deepens the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth hungrily. He moans into the kiss as he feels one hand trailing down his chest, another finding the waistband of his trousers, fingers working on the button. He groans as your hand travels south, caressing his hardness through the confinement of his clothes, the sensation driving him wild with desire.

They say only the good die young

That just ain't right

'Cause we're having too much fun

Too much fun tonight, yeah

One of your hands finds its way back to his muscular chest, having discarded his shirt. Removing each other's clothes, desperate to be as close as physically possible. Years of longing and desire, having been apart for so much time.

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

Levi groans loudly as he feels your hand now wrap around his cock, the sensation driving him wild with pleasure. He had missed your touch so much, and now that he's finally here, it feels like a dream. You had always known just how to drive him wild and cloud his thoughts with nothing but you.

He uses his rough hands to caress your breasts, feeling your nipples hardening against his palms. He can feel the wetness seeping through your panties, and he can't resist dipping his fingers down to tease your clit.

'Til we run out of breath, gotta dance 'til we die

You kiss along his jaw and neck, slowly pumping his cock in your hands "Remember the things we used to do together Vi, dirty teenagers fucking like animals everywhere and anywhere." You say seductively, reminding him of the days where he would pull you into an alley or storehouse to fuck you senseless. A wanton moan escapes your lips when you feel those fingers you've missed so, so much.

My boyfriend's back

And he's cooler than ever

There's no more night, blue skies forever

Levi groans as he feels your lips on his neck and the feel of your hands pumping his cock, every touch and moan you bestow upon him, driving him wild with lust.

He can't help but smile at the memory of your wild teenage years, filled with sex and passion. The two of you sneaking around to fuck in the most risqué of places, always craving the feel of each other's bodies.

'Cause we're the masters of our own fate

We're the captains of our own souls

So there's no need for us to hesitate

We're all alone. Let's take control

"I remember," he says, his voice husky with desire. "I could never get enough of you, y/n. And I still evidently fucking can't." He says almost breathless.

And I was like

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Take off, take off

Take off all of your clothes

He runs his fingers along your slit, the wetness making it easy to slide in between your folds, back into familiar territory. "I want to make you scream my name again," he whispers lustily in your ear. "That was always my favourite sound."

They say only the good die young

That just ain't right

'Cause we're having too much fun

Too much fun tonight, yeah

Levi groans at the feeling of your soft pussy clenching around his fingers, the thought of the sensation around his cock after so long. He loves the way your body sings for him, the way your pussy sucks him in hungrily.

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

Without any more hesitation, he picks you up by the hips and sets you down on his desk, spreading your legs wide open. Kneeling down between your thighs, breathing in your sweet scent before his tongue begins lapping at your wetness hungrily.

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

He sucks on your clit, fingers playing with your folds as he explores and enjoys every inch of you with his tongue again after so long apart, the picture of you having been etched into memory. The sensation is intense and the pleasure that he delivers almost too much.

"You're so fucking wet," he whispers seductively against your skin. "I've missed the taste of you, y/n."

Levi continues to lick and suck on your clit hungrily, worshipping the temple that is your body. He had missed this so much, missed the feel of you under his tongue, the taste of you, and the sound of your moans as they fill the room.

He speeds up the pace, his tongue working harder while he adds another finger into the mix. He plunges two fingers deep inside of you, working them in and out while his tongue laps at your folds.

My boyfriend's back

And he's cooler than ever

You come undone as he devours your cunt. Arching your back in pleasure as your orgasm rips through you.

There's no more night, blue skies forever

I told you twice in our love letter

There's no stopping now, green lights forever

Levi continues to work his fingers inside of you, lost in the pleasure of making you cum. Desperately trying to resist the urge to hump the air as his cock twitches in anticipation for the heaven he knows is yet to come.

You moan his name loudly, your body shaking with the force of your orgasm.

He drinks up every drop of your sweet nectar, the taste of you driving him wild with desire. He stands up, kissing you deeply and passionately as he shares the taste of your essence with you.

"You taste incredible, you always do," he coos, hands gripping your hips tightly. "I want to be inside of you so badly. I need to mould this pussy back to the shape of my cock." He says, telling you what he's going to do rather than asking.

You look at him, eyes heavy with lust "Fuck me levi." you pant, your legs open wide and your fingers spreading your swollen cunt for him to see before he stretches you on his cock.

And I was like,

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

Levi growls at your words, he positions himself between your legs, his cock hard and throbbing with need as he readies himself at your entrance.

Without warning, he plunges himself deep inside of you, feeling the warm wetness of your body enveloping him in a tight embrace.

Take off, take off

Take off all your clothes

"Fuck" he hisses, almost a whimper. "You feel so fucking good." he grunts, hips slamming hard into your own. "I've missed the feeling of your pussy around my cock like this."

As he thrusts into you again and again, he can feel the pleasure building inside of you once more, your moans becoming louder and more desperate with each passing moment.

"This pussy was made for me."

Take off, take off

Take off all of your clothes

He picks up the pace, gripping your hips tightly, thrusting harder and faster into you as you both become one. The sound of your moans fill the room, your bodies moving together for what feels like eternity.

And a lust for life, and a lust for life

He can't get enough of the sound of you and the sight of you quivering from pleasure, as you cum again on his cock, tits bouncing from his relentless movements, he relishes the feeling of your tight pussy squeezing him. With one final thrust, he feels his cock pulsing inside of you as he reaches his own orgasm, hot cum spurting deep inside of you as his cock kisses your cervix.

Keeps us alive, keeps us alive

He kisses you deeply, the taste of your lips forever etched into his memory. He knows that there's nothing in the world that he wouldn't do for you, nothing that would stop him from loving you endlessly, worshipping you for the rest of his life.

[xiaq]

Favorite fantasy series: The Folk of the Air. I do NOT understand the hate this series gets on booktok/IG. The world-building is immaculate, the politics are juicy, the writing is engaging, and the romance is a slow burn that’s secondary to the plot and character development. I will read anything that Holly Black writes.

Favorite sci/fi series: The Murderbot Diaries. These are quick, quippy, and satisfying reads. I would die for Murderbot.

Favorite romance series: Not sure if they count as a series since they’re all standalones in the same universe, but Ali Hazelwood’s books ft. Women in STEM having unrealistic romances gets an A+ from me. If you need easy beach reads with happy endings, go for one of these (Also, the first book started as Star Wars fic; neat!).

Favorite graphic novel series: I’ve been following the Heartstopper webcomic for years, but I finally purchased/ re-read the print books this year. If you want sweet, nostalgic writing with diverse queer representation and whimsical art, Heartstopper is for you. If you want a historical/educational story, I highly recommend the Marchseries, which is an autobiographical view of the civil rights movement by John Lewis. 

Favorite historical romance: I know I’m not supposed to judge a book by it’s cover, but I put off reading A Lady for a Duke despite rave reviews because I simply did not vibe with the cover. This was a terrible choice. I read this book in one euphoric sitting and then re-read it two additional times this year. The banter! The pining! The drama! 

Favorite fantasy: A Taste of Gold and Iron and its follow-up short novella Tadek and the Princess. These books may have changed my brain chemistry. I loved this world and its characters and the novella made me cry like a baby.

Favorite science fiction: The Martian. I’d read this before but I re-read it on a work trip and fell in love all over again. Such an excellent science-y sci/fi book that nonetheless feels very approachable and fun.

Favorite non-fiction: They Were Her Property is the driest book I read this year but the content was fascinating (and horrifying). If you want to interrogate your perception of white women’s role in slavery (and, to a lesser degree, the role of Christianity therin) — take your time, and be ready to adjust your worldview—especially if you think Gone with the Wind was an accurate portrayal of the south. How to Survive a Plague, on the other hand, is less dry—you can tell a journalist wrote it—but it’s very detailed. It’s rare that I don’t finish a book in one or two sittings, but this took me over a month. If you’ve ever wondered about the social history of the AIDS epidemic and how a diagnosis went from a quick death sentence to an easily manageable condition (and how hard grassroots movements had to work to get some fucking help to make that happen), this is for you.

Favorite comic: Infidel. Damn. The art. The narrative. So short but so impactful. This is horror, so be mindful.

Favorite graphic novel: This is a tossup between If You’ll Have Me, a sugary-sweet sapphic romance, and The Prince and the Dressmaker which is an equally adorable story about expressing ones true self regardless of social expectations.

Favorite WTF: Butcher and Blackbird and Bride. I’m still not sure how I feel about B&B but it was certainly an interesting way to spend two hours. Bride is on the list purely because reading the word “knot” on a print page instead of an AO3 tab felt illegal.

Favorite feel-good/comedy: Monstrous Regiment. I’ve read this book so many times and, after the election, I read it again. I doubt any other book will surpass what has become an emotional support story for me.

Favorite YA: Cemetery Boys (Magic! Mystery! Queerness!) She Drives me Crazy(Athletics! Misunderstandings! Enemies to lovers! Queerness!), and A Little Bit Country (Country music! Thinly veiled Dolly Parton references! Queerness!) (Hm. Seems to be a theme here).

Favorite Sports Romance: Icebreaker (the Graziadei one, not the Hannah Grace one). You know how a lot of hockey books (my own included) can be light on the actual hockey? Not the case with Icebreaker. The character development was lovely, but the hockey was divine. Graziadei clearly knows and loves the sport.

Favorite historical fiction: What the Wind Knows (Mystery! Time Traveling! Love! Ireland!) and Kindred (Mystery! Time Traveling! Love! The Antebellum South!).

Favorite Space Odyssey: Gideon + Nona the Ninth. I had to make a special category because neither sci/fi nor fantasy feels appropriate for this yet incomplete series which is as rollicking good fun as it is completely confounding. I still have no idea what’s happening but I can’t wait to read the next one.

Favorite pleasant surprise: A Court of Mist and Fury. I waited so long to read the ACOTAR series because I got such conflicting reports from folks. I took the advice of a reader I trust and powered through the first book. ACOMAF was worth the contextualizing journey. I loved it. I’m still working through the rest of the series but this book was an unexpected joy.

Least favorite book: Lol, no. We don’t play that game here.

[oh-no-its-bird]

Fanfic Recs?

LETS GO I'VE BEEN WANTING AN EXCUSE TO DO ONE OF THESE! Official Bird approved fanfic rec list lets go !!

Grabbing fistfuls from things tagged as my favorite, I have some more but take just these for now

don't trust them, brother (oh, but look at me now) by SilverUtahraptor

Izuna opens his eyes to find himself in an abandoned street littered with bodies bearing the uchiwa on their back. He shouldn't have eyes at all. He should be dying. [Uchiha Izuna time-travels to the canon era... to land right at the tail end of the Uchiha Massacre.]

61k words, Izuna/Kakashi (eventually)

This fic. THIS FIC. This was one of my first introductions to Izuna as a fleshed out character and shit man, it's great. If I could pick any one fic to magically make complete, it'd probably be this fic.

My Brother's Wife by Wisia

An AU where Izuna and Tobirama marries for peace, and there is the tradition of marrying your brother's wife if your brother dies.

16k words, Izuna/Tobirama, Madara/Tobirama

SO fun SO many layers to it, I had so much fucking fun with this series. I love complex emotions I love layers to motivations and feelings!!!

F.U.B.A.R. by Messier_47

They made Tobirama the Senju Clan Head. ...omg they made Tobirama the Senju Clan Head. *** This is the story where Tobirama is made Clan Head, fucks shit up. We find out more about what goes on between the clans during the Warring Clan Era, shit still gets fucked up. Power dynamics change, history as you know it will be erased, and you got another thing coming if you think that Senju-fucking-Tobirama will stand back now that he's given center stage. It all goes F.U.B.A.R. from here on out.

338k words, madara/tobirama

THE TOBIRAMA DOES POLITICS FIC OF ALL TIME. THIS FIC IS SO FUCKING GOOD IT'S REDICULOUS. YOU WILL READ THIS FIC AND ASSUME YOU ARE ON THE SAME / A SIMILAR PAGE AS TOBIRAMA AND THAT YOU KNOW WHAT'S GOING ON BUT YOU DO NOT. THERE ARE PLOTS WITHIN PLOTS THAT EVEN YOU AS THE READER WILL MISS UNTIL IT'S SPELLED OUT TO U. AMAZING. INCREDIBLE. Tobirama is SO fucking fun to watch do shit in this, everyone is so compelling as characters, it's such a fun read that I've recommended it to friends who dont even know naruto. 10/10, definitely in the running for one of THE fics most ever. What a ride, man

Homemade Dynamite by Mixelation

“I mean,” Deidara growls, “you’re you from the future.” “Of course I am,” Itachi says, like Deidara is a bit slow. “And I’m me from the future,” Deidara continues, feeling a bit hysterical. Whatever Itachi did with the chakra nexus on the forbidden island, it ended with both of them traveling through time. “What the F––,” Deidara yells, and then tries to punch Itachi in the face again. OR: Deidara unwillingly signs up for Itachi's personal time-travel fix-it fic.

85k words, Itachi/Deidara

This fic is just straight up fucking incredible, it's so funny and so dramatic and so compelling and so fun. It got me onboard the Itachi/Deidara ship train so hard and I got so mad afterwords when I couldn't find other fics similar to it. This fic is just so, so good. Itachi and Deidara are both fucking maniacs and they have such incredible chemistry together. Honestly, every character introduced just has the most incredible, fun characterizations. I was never bored for a single moment this fic. HIGHLY recommend

By the Punch Bowl by Mixelation

“Are you single?” Gaara asks. He’s not sure how he’s meant to do this. “Oh, I see,” the man says after a pause. “I’ve read about this. You’re asking me out, and I should answer based on my interest rather than my actual relationship status.” Good, he’s making this easy, Gaara thinks. OR: Gaara asks Sai out.

2k words, Gaara/Sai

Comedy gold unlike any other, this is just a straight up good, silly time

denizens of the sands of time by CherShare

Happy accidents were less rare than they used to be, even if they still had a trend of making things worse before they got better. Gaara would take what he could get.

42k words, Gaara/Tobirama/Izuna

I LOVE THIS FIC ITS SO GOOD!! Gaara has such an interesting dynamic and chemistry with both Tobirama and Izuna, and the world around them is absolutely delightful. I'm such a big fan of Izuna's characterization in this specifically, and Shukaku is also such a highlight. The most crackship ot3 ever, it got me so on board

honey honey honey by latecambrian

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Kankuro hisses. “Literally a dumbass. Stay awake, I’m serious.” “You’re really hot, I noticed it before but I pretended I didn’t,” Kiba tells him seriously, head leaning back against the pillows. He frowns. “Don’t tell my mom I said that. It’s disrespectful.” the only thing really poisonous in the shinobi world is that emotional intimacy only comes out after life-threatening injuries

4.7k words, Kiba/Kankuro

This fic changed my life. I didn't really know much ab Kiba or Kanuro as characters before reading this, and wasn't too invested in what I did know. But like. This fic. This fic got me onboard the train so fucking hard. Fuck. Fuck. I've read this fic like 8 times now, it's just straight fun, so fucking funny and so fucking cute. It made me fall in love with Kiba/Kankuro and sent me spiraling for a week straight ab them

and so the moon wept by OHai_Here

Hatake Kakashi is fourteen, high off the grief of losing every single person important to him and his life in shambles. Kakashi wakes up. He’s on the ground, pushing himself up on an elbow, it’s shaking, shaking and there’s a cry of, “Kakashi!” that’s too too familiar and too too painful. Ah, this dream again. Just like every time he’s seen it both awake and asleep, he does what he always tries to. He pushes Obito away from him, as it always should have been and - Pain. OR: Kakashi finds himself in Obito's place; a stone coffin. There is no miraculous rescue, he's no Uchiha after all, and the only one he can rely on is himself.

102k words, obito/kakashi, sakumo/orochimaru

THIS FIC IS SO FUCKING GOOD AND MAKES ME SO FUCKING MAD. 10/10 FIC ON SO MANY LEVELS, THE BUILD UP TO KAKASHI COMING HOME WAS IMPECCABLE, BY THE TIME HE FINALLY GETS THERE I WAS LEGIT SHAKING. The multiple POV's feed into every craving I've ever had to know what's going on in the minds around Kakashi. And like. The ending. The ending. Listen all I'll say is after the final chapter I saw Ohai getting sent threats in their inbox and like. deserved. incredible ending, I felt like I was gonna throw up (positive)

Asymptotes by Anxiety_Pickle

Kakashi witnesses the destruction of the Uchiha clan and in the ashes of what once was remembers his responsibility to himself, and to Obito. “I’m not considered an Uchiha,” He reasons, “But I am… Obito’s next of kin, and therefore I have a responsibility to his family.” The Hokage takes a long drag of his pipe. The smoke diffuses around the room and hangs in the air in poisonous circles, before he resigns himself to the fact. “You’re sure you want to take the responsibility?” “Yes, sir.” "Then I won't stop you." He replies. "As of tomorrow, you have permission to move Sasuke from the compound at your disgression." Kakashi thanks him and leaves before he can second guess his decision.

27k words

Kakashi adopts Sasuke and eventually defects from the village w him to sound. This fic made me feel things I did not know I could, I was bouncing off the fucking walls over it, fuck. Great read, can't recommend enough for anyone who likes Kakashi & Sasuke

gossip girl by latecambrian

sasuke has been gone too long and needs to catch up on the tea, so he kidnaps the person least likely to beg him to come back “Suigetsu, enough,” Sasuke glares at ‘Suigetsu’ behind him. “I don’t think I’ll need to use genjutsu, though. My questions are simple.” “I’m seriously not gonna talk,” Shikamaru tells him. “So just get your brain torture over with.” “Is Kakashi-sensei gay?” Sasuke asks bluntly. It’s quiet for a blissful second. Even Shikamaru’s brain stops.

6.5k words, sasuke/naruto, kakashi/gai

Pure crack and fucking beautiful, I t

The Orphan Games by Anxiety_Pickle

“Naruto is not my friend.” He says, disgusted. “I don’t have friends. They’re… acquaintances. I have nothing to say to them.” He pauses. “Did you get in a fight?” These problems that Itachi is making up in his head are way too normal. “No. They banned me from participating in the orphan games. We’re not speaking.” Everyone stops, intrigued. Even Hidan. Mouthful of tinsel and all. Itachi says delicately, “the what?”

5k words, sasuke/naruto

I know I said gossip girl was pure crack and fucking beautiful but shit man this one is just as good. Absolutely fucking hysterical, I can NOT keep a straight face when I read this, it's just insane-- it's part of a series and the one before this is just as good too. Probably in the running for one of my favorite Akatsuki fics ever, everyone is so fucking charming and so fucking insane

Plasticity by Mixelation

Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose, and sometimes the immortal leader of a cult tries to summon the god of death and gets you instead. ‘Not dying’ just got a lot more complicated than ‘follow chemlab safety instructions.’ A tongue-in-cheek, Akatsuki-centric SI/OC.

185k words

I'm not usually one for SI/OC fics, but guys. Guys. Guys. Holy shit you guys. This fic. This fic is something. It is SOMETHING. Tori has enchanted me. Her slow but steady descent into absolute morally reprehensible insanity has stolen my heart and mind. This fic, from start to finish, is nothing but pure entertainment of the highest degree. Every character written is so fucking fun, and I do truly think it's possibly my straight up favorite Akatsuki fic overall. They are so well written and so fun to watch. There are portions of this fic that feels like the worlds most fucked up funniest office comedy gone wrong. I love it. I can not get enough.

Also: Orochimaru.

[angelremnants]

Between Strength & Style l L. Laufeyson

PART ONE.⠀WHERE LUXE MEETS RESILIENCE...

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 (16+), slow burn, eventual romance, eventual smut, sexual tension & innuendos (lots of it), suggestive content, flirting & teasing, emotional conflict, strong language. Proceed with caution if you're sensitive to such material.

word count : 15k

author's notes : And we're kicking off 2025 with me being an absolute simp for Loki and blending my gym goals with my fantasies. Huge shoutout to my ex the gym rat—I would’ve been completely lost without all the knowledge he dropped on me and the playful gym flirting we shared. Side note: I was listening to Sting at some point and couldn't help but notice how the chorus fit Loki so well: "I'm a legal alien, I'm an Englishman in New York". :')

I know I was supposed to start on my next Steve fic, but this silly little idea just couldn’t wait to take shape. It was so fun, I honestly spent my time laughing my ass off while writing some dialogues and screaming at certain things I wrote. :p

Find the continuation here.

(ao3 version)

⠀

The Avengers had a strict, almost religious adherence to fitness. The gym wasn’t just a facility; it was a cornerstone of their lifestyle. Staying in peak physical condition was non-negotiable—after all, the world's fate occasionally hinged on how fast you could sprint, how hard you could punch, or how much stamina you could muster during a battle. It had become an unspoken sanctuary for them, a place that bridged their shared mission and personal pursuits. Within its walls, they weren’t gods, soldiers, or assassins. They were simply people, sweating out their stress and pushing their limits like anyone else.

But make no mistake—the Avengers’ gym was far from ordinary.

Spanning two gleaming floors in Stark Tower, it boasted everything a superhero could ever need: state-of-the-art equipment that looked more like experimental prototypes than fitness tools, reinforced floors capable of withstanding Thor’s hammer tosses or Hulk’s occasional tantrums, and enough space to host activities ranging from sparring matches to aerial combat simulations. Tony Stark, ever the showman, had outfitted the space with panoramic windows that overlooked Manhattan, creating a breathtaking backdrop for their grueling workouts. The sound system piped in everything from Steve’s retro playlist to Natasha’s instrumental beats, depending on who got to the controls first. And, of course, there was the infamous juice bar, complete with personalized protein blends and a weekly “Tony Special” that no one dared try twice.

Attendance wasn’t optional. Fitness was woven into the very fabric of their lives, an unspoken rule that even the most reluctant team members adhered to. It wasn’t just about preparing for missions—it was about maintaining discipline, bonding as a team, and, for some, finding a momentary escape from the weight of their responsibilities.

Fridays were sacred.

Steve Rogers had instituted weekly group training sessions with all the fervor of a drill sergeant assembling his troops. These weren’t just about staying in shape—they were a way to assess the team’s physical and mental states when they were off duty, to spot weaknesses, and to build camaraderie. But “lighthearted” was a generous term when describing these gatherings.

“Lighthearted” was a stretch when it came to some members of the team. 

Steve approached his workouts with military precision, every move calculated and methodical. He was a relentless taskmaster, his circuits punishing even for those who had superhuman strength. Natasha was equally intense, her fluid, controlled movements a testament to her assassin’s training. She moved through her routines like a panther on the hunt—silent, deadly, and impossibly graceful. Clint, in contrast, trained like a lone wolf, using the quieter corners of the gym to fine-tune his aim or practice his balance on precarious surfaces.

Thor treated every session as a challenge to prove his godly might. His booming laughter echoed off the walls as he lifted weights that no one else could budge or turned sparring matches into theatrical displays of Asgardian strength. Bucky stayed at the edges, quiet and focused, his every movement deliberate as though his training was less about fitness and more about control. And then there was Tony, who somehow managed to mix workouts with tinkering. It wasn’t uncommon to see him squatting with a set of repulsors strapped to his wrists, testing their durability mid-session.

The gym was, in short, a finely tuned machine—a symphony of sweat, grit, and camaraderie.

And then Loki entered the picture.

He hated the gym. He loathed it. The very concept of it offended his sensibilities, a joke to his Asgardian practices. The idea of “working out” was not only unnecessary for someone of his divine stature but also painfully mortal in its mundanity. To the God of Mischief, the gym was a prison masquerading as a temple. The sweat, the grunts, the clanging of metal against metal—it was all so beneath him. He didn’t need to build strength or stamina; he was a god. And yet, as part of his probationary agreement to join the Avengers, Loki was expected to participate. 

Why on Midgard—or any realm, for that matter—would one willingly subject themselves to mundane physical labor? For a god, no less? The idea was completely ridiculous, though he had quickly learned that this argument did not hold much weight when hurled at Thor or any of the other Avengers.

He resisted, of course. Loki had become something of an escape artist when it came to group gym sessions, weaving elaborate excuses and literal illusions to avoid stepping foot into the gym. He had tried every trick in his arsenal to escape these sessions: conjuring illusions of himself running laps, pretending to bear injuries, and even disappearing mid-session with a sly smirk and the faint shimmer of green magic. Once, he had gone as far as feigning a “sudden illness,” complete with a convincing pallor and a strategically weakened gait. 

But none of that worked.

Loki suspected that Stark’s Artificial Intelligence, F.R.I.D.A.Y., was in league with Thor, keeping tabs on his every move and dutifully reporting his attempts to escape. Every time he tried to slip through the cracks, a disembodied voice would politely but firmly inform Thor of his absence. Loki didn’t have proof, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Stark had programmed the AI specifically to torment him.

Without fail, his brother would drag him back to the fluorescent-lit hellhole of the gym, wielding Mjolnir like a schoolteacher brandishing a ruler. Loki suspected that Thor took far too much joy in these acts, his booming laughter often echoing through the gym as he tossed Loki over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

“Brother,” Thor would say, his voice tinged with amusement as he brandished Mjolnir, “you may think yourself above this, but if you wish to remain part of this team, you will endure it like the rest of us.”

And so, Loki endured, dragged back to the fluorescent-lit purgatory of the gym time and time again.

But if the clanging weights and Thor’s incessant laughter grated on Loki, nothing annoyed him more than you.

You were his antithesis in every conceivable way. Where Loki saw the gym as a prison, you saw it as a sanctuary. You thrived there, radiating an energy that he found both baffling and irritating. You weren’t loud like Thor, nor were you the silent, brooding type like Bucky. Instead, you were relentless—a force of nature who tackled workouts with a precision that rivaled Clint’s arrows.

You always seemed to have an easy smile, a flicker of amusement dancing in your eyes as you darted between machines or launched into another grueling set. You approached every workout with enthusiasm, treating each challenge like a personal battle to be won. Your determination was palpable, your focus unshakeable. But it wasn’t your dedication to the gym that truly got under Loki’s skin; it was your attitude.

You had no qualms about speaking your mind, and you were quick to match Loki’s biting sarcasm with quips of your own. Your sharp tongue, paired with your unflappable demeanor, made you a particularly fun target for Loki’s antics. He found your relentless optimism grating, and your tendency to challenge him downright infuriating. But it was precisely these traits that made you so... fun to provoke.

Quite frankly, he found solace in riling you up.

All he had to do was comment on your form, or question the weight you were lifting, and you would rise to the bait every time. It was, he supposed, the only thing that made these wretched sessions bearable.

Of course, he didn’t think much of you beyond that. You were a mortal, after all. A clever one, perhaps, but still mortal. The fact that you managed to worm your way under his skin so easily was simply a testament to his boredom, nothing more.

At least, that’s what he told himself.

Loki had discovered this during his very first group session. You had called him out—publicly, no less—for standing idly by while the rest of the team warmed up.

“What’s the matter, Princess?” you had teased, hands on your hips. “Afraid you’ll chip a nail?”

The room had gone silent, all eyes darting between you and the god as they waited for his response. 

The corner of his mouth had twitched, a glimmer of amusement flashing in his emerald eyes. “Hardly,” he drawled, his voice as smooth as silk. “But I fail to see the point of mimicking your primitive rituals when I could achieve the same results with a flick of my magic.”

“Oh, sure,” you had shot back, unperturbed. “Because magic’s going to save your ass when you’re out of breath halfway through a chase.”

The tension broke with Thor’s booming laugh, followed by Steve’s approving nod.

From that day on, it had become a game between the two of you. He would conjure illusions to distract you mid-set, question your form with exaggerated disdain, or mutter sarcastic comments just loud enough for you to hear. For all his protests, Loki found himself looking forward to these exchanges. You were clever, sharper than most mortals, and your unflappable confidence intrigued him.

And you? You gave as good as you got. You’d roll your eyes at his dramatics, challenge him to exercises he clearly despised, or make snide remarks about his “delicate Asgardian constitution.”

It was all in good fun—or so you told yourself.

The peculiarity of your training wasn’t just the intensity or the focus—it was the way you turned the gym into your runway. Where others wore functional athletic gear, you brought a level of fashion that could only be described as couture-meets-athleisure. You had an eye for proportions and colors, pairing fitted leggings with chic cropped tops, effortlessly layering with lightweight jackets, or wearing statement sneakers that seemed designed to catch the light just right. Even in the middle of a grueling set, you exuded confidence, every movement precise and deliberate, every outfit an unspoken declaration: I own this space.

You knew you looked good. Whether or not you consciously acknowledged the wandering eyes that followed you, you thrived on the attention, making it clear—without ever saying a word—that you were the reigning queen of the gym. There was a proud tilt to your chin, a glimmer in your eyes as you caught your reflection in the mirrors, as if silently reminding yourself that you had earned this. And for good reason. The way you carried yourself was a testament to your hard work, a visual declaration of pride in your strength and discipline.

Even Loki, who had spent most of his time mocking your relentless energy and discipline, could not deny the appeal. His sharp tongue rarely stilled when you were around, but more often than not, it masked the moments when his eyes lingered a fraction too long. He told himself it was merely curiosity—analyzing your absurd obsession with turning every mundane workout into a parade of style and flair. Yet, there were times, in between his biting remarks, when he caught himself watching you with a strange mix of irritation and intrigue, noting the way the faint sheen of sweat only seemed to enhance your glow rather than detract from it.

The more he observed, the more he realized just how much you enjoyed being the center of attention. Not in a boastful or arrogant way, but with a quiet confidence that made it clear you knew you were admired. And that, of course, irked him to no end. You had claimed a throne he hadn’t even realized existed until now—the crown of the gym’s fashion icon, the darling of the Avengers' collective admiration.

Loki was no stranger to attention. He had spent centuries perfecting the art of standing out, whether in Asgard’s golden halls or Midgard’s bustling cities. His wardrobe was a testament to his vanity: sleek, tailored suits, flowing robes, sharp leathers—whatever suited the weather, his mood or the gender he chose to embody for the day. He prided himself on his taste, on his ability to effortlessly outshine others with his sense of style. He was, after all, a god. If anyone could dethrone you, it would be him.

The idea took root almost immediately: Loki would dethrone you as the gym’s reigning fashionista. It wasn’t about vanity—well, perhaps it was—but it was also about proving a point. If anyone deserved to claim the title of sartorial excellence, it was him. The God of Mischief would reign supreme, even in this mundane, sweat-soaked realm.

He decided right then and there that this wasn’t just about workouts anymore. This was war.

And Loki? He intended to win.

After all, he was always destined to be king. What’s another throne stolen, if only a metaphorical one?

⠀

⠀

The first Friday Loki launched his attack was one for the books.

The gym buzzed with the familiar sounds of clanking weights, motivational shouts, and the hum of treadmills. Steve was barking out orders to a pair of rookies who were trying to figure out how to do a proper squat, Thor was loudly boasting about his ability to deadlift more than any mortal in the room, and Tony—typical Tony—was multitasking on the treadmill, holding a holographic interface in one hand while doing intervals. You and Natasha had just finished a punishing round of planks and were at the juice bar, catching your breath and swapping jokes about the ridiculous amount of protein shakes people seemed to consume in this place.

Her sharp wit and easy banter were usually more than enough to distract you from any physical discomfort, but not today.

Even Natasha couldn’t hold your attention when he walked in.

You noticed the shift in the air before you even saw him. At first, you didn’t quite register what was happening. It was subtle, like a wave of electricity passing through the room. Conversations slowed. People’s movements faltered for a split second. Even the sound of clanging weights seemed to dull slightly, as if the gym collectively held its breath in anticipation. You could feel eyes shifting toward the entrance, and when you looked over, you nearly choked on your spit.

There he was.

Loki Laufeyson, God of Mischief, Prince of Asgard, and notorious gym hater, strolled into the gym like it was his personal parade. You’d seen him here before, of course. Usually, he lingered in the background, arms folded, observing Thor’s attempts to get him involved in some sibling rivalry over strength. But today? Today was different.

For one, he wasn’t wearing his usual dark leathers or Asgardian garb. Instead, he had opted for what could only be described as a masterclass in Midgardian gym couture. A black compression tank clung to his lean, lithe frame like it was painted on, emphasizing every sculpted muscle with effortless precision. The deep armholes revealed teasing glimpses of his toned sides, and the dark fabric set off his alabaster skin in an almost unfair way.

The material emphasized his toned arms, his chest, and the subtle flex of his abs when he moved. Every inch of him was artfully showcased, and it seemed to have the exact effect he was after. The room was practically buzzing with appreciative glances.

But that wasn’t even the most distracting part.

His joggers—dark, fitted, and stretching just enough over his thighs—hugged his legs in a way that could only be described as sinful. They tapered neatly at the ankles, revealing his bare feet, adorned in simple black trainers. A few people did a double-take, but you, of course, noticed all of it. And you hated how your eyes traced the lines of his body despite yourself.

And then there was his hair.

Usually wild and untamed, his raven locks were now swept back into a low, effortlessly messy bun. It looked like he had spent exactly five seconds on it, yet it was somehow perfect. Casual but purposeful, messy but precise. And for reasons you couldn’t entirely explain, it made your stomach flutter in a way you definitely didn’t want to admit.

“He’s up to something,” you muttered, narrowing your eyes at him.  “And I don’t like it.”

You didn’t realize you were staring so intently at him until Natasha spoke.

“What gave it away?” she asked with a sly grin, lifting her protein shake to her lips. “The way he’s strutting across the room like he’s starring in a fashion show, or the fact that his outfit looks like something straight off a GQ cover?”

"That’s the thing," you sneered under your breath, huffing as you crossed your arms. "He’s way too comfortable here."

Natasha just quirked an eyebrow and chuckled. “Uh-huh. You know, I always wondered if he could look that good without his usual dramatic flair. Turns out, he’s even more distracting in gym gear than in his Asgardian getup.”

Your scowl deepened as Loki’s gaze swept lazily across the gym, lingering for just a moment too long when it reached you. He tilted his head, his smirk curving even further, before continuing his casual prowl toward the free weights.

“He’s not even here to work out,” you said, turning back to Natasha.

“Of course he’s not,” she replied, her lips quirking into a sly smile. “He’s here to annoy you. And judging by the way you’re staring at him, it’s working.”

You shot Natasha a sharp look, but her grin only widened. She was thoroughly enjoying this. You had to admit, Loki's presence was causing more of a stir than you'd anticipated, and despite your best efforts, your eyes kept drifting back to him.

He was moving through the gym now, his casual stride somehow managing to command attention in a place filled with some of the strongest people you knew. He wasn’t even trying, and that made it worse.

“I am not staring,” you hissed, trying to desperately convince yourself while jerking your eyes away from him and fixing them firmly on Natasha.

She raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Sure you’re not. But hey, I get it. The hair’s doing things. The arms, too.”

“Natasha.”

“What? I’m just saying, he’s got the whole ‘tall, dark and handsome in gym gear’ thing down. Maybe that’s the real mischief—making everyone forget they’re supposed to be lifting weights and not staring at him. It’s distracting. And you’re totally distracted.”

"Not happening," you retorted, but your voice was a little less convincing than you wanted it to be. You couldn’t deny that the sight of Loki in a fitted tank top that clung just right to his lean frame, revealing the subtle play of muscles beneath, was an attention-grabber. His joggers did nothing to mask the long, graceful lines of his legs, and as he moved, you found yourself noticing details you'd previously managed to ignore: the effortless way his black hair framed his face, the glint in his eyes that always seemed to carry a secret he was more than happy to keep.

Loki seemed aware of the effect he was having, too. When his gaze flicked toward you again, the smirk curling at the corners of his lips was downright smug. He knew, and he reveled in it. You braced yourself, straightening up and setting your shoulders as his long strides carried him across the gym floor. He stopped in front of you, arms crossed over his chest, his smirk firmly in place.

“Enjoying the view, pet?” His voice was smooth and rich, and you hated the way it sent a shiver down your spine. You mirrored his position and also crossed your arms, tilting your head as you glared up at him.

“Hardly,” you shot back. “I was just wondering if you’d finally decided to try blending in with the rest of us mortals.”

“Ah, yes,” he drawled, glancing down at his outfit with mock curiosity. “Midgardian spandex. Quite the cultural achievement. Though I must admit, it’s a step up from those garish uniforms Stark insists upon.”

You rolled your eyes, but the heat creeping up your neck betrayed you. “You look like you’re about to pose for GQ, not lift weights.”

Loki leaned a little closer, his smirk never faltering. “I’m afraid you’re simply crossed that the star of today’s show is most certainly me." His eyes glittered with amusement as they swept down your form before meeting yours again. "You’re not the first to notice. But don’t worry, I’m used to the attention.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Natasha cut in with a snort of laughter.

“Alright, you two, break it up,” she said, waving her hand between you like a referee. “Some of us are here to actually work out.”

Loki’s smirk didn’t falter as he straightened, his green eyes flicking to Natasha with a glint of amusement. “Far be it from me to interrupt such noble pursuits, Agent Romanoff.” He turned back to you, his gaze lingering just a moment too long. “Try not to let me distract you, pet.”

And with that, he sauntered off toward the free weights, his long strides and effortless grace drawing more than a few admiring glances as he went.

Natasha watched him go, then turned to you with a knowing grin. “You’re blushing.”

“I am not,” you snapped, though the blood rushing up your face betrayed you.

“Right,” Natasha interrupted, sounding far too amused for her own good. “Maybe you could distract yourself from him for a second, unless of course, you’re planning to throw yourself at him like everyone else.” She waved a hand, rolling her eyes dramatically.

“Natasha!” you hissed, but it didn’t have the desired effect—she was grinning from ear to ear.

“Don’t deny it,” she slyly replied as she sipped her shake. “You know, I’ve seen him make a lot of people mad, but I’ve never seen him this dedicated to pissing someone off. Congrats, I guess?”

“He’s not pissing me off,” you muttered, glaring at Loki’s retreating back. “He’s just… annoying.”

“Sure,” Natasha said, smirking.

Before you could formulate any kind of retort, a low whistle cut through the air. You turned toward the sound just in time to see Loki doing overhead presses with a pair of heavy dumbbells. His presence seemed to have an almost magnetic pull, and as he passed by a group of agents, several of them couldn’t help but glance at him—some even a little too long, caught in the spell of his unnerving charisma. His movements were slow and controlled, every line of his body radiating strength and precision. The tight top did little to hide the way his muscles flexed with each lift, and the sheen of sweat on his skin only seemed to amplify the effect.

One of the agents passing by all but stopped in his tracks, staring openly at him with wide eyes. Loki, as always, was quick to notice. He paused in the middle of his walk, glancing over his shoulder, his lips curling into a devilish smirk.

“Oh dear, careful there,” he called out, his voice smooth and teasing. “You might want to watch where you’re looking. I’d hate for a fetching creature like you to trip over the lingering effect of my charm.”

The agent, a relatively new recruit, blushed crimson and stumbled in his walk, fumbling with his dumbbell as if it had suddenly gained weight. Loki’s smile only widened as he slowly lowered his gaze to the ground, as if examining his almost clumsy reaction.

“Ah,” he said with mock disappointment, “we wouldn’t want to add embarrassment to your list of misfortunes, would we?”

The poor man muttered something incoherent, cheeks burning brighter as he hurried away, his awkwardness palpable. Loki’s chuckle, soft and teasing, echoed in the air behind him, and he turned back to his dumbbells with the ease of someone who had just won a victory in an ongoing game.

“Oh my god,” Natasha groaned, half-amused, half-exasperated. “You have to go give him a taste of his own medicine.”

You glared at the back of Loki's head, watching him grab a towel and casually drape it over his shoulder, his arrogance practically dripping from every movement.

“You’re right. Game on,” you muttered, pushing yourself up from your seat and striding toward him with quiet determination. If he wanted to play this game, you were more than ready to beat him at it.

Natasha laughed, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “That’s the spirit. Now go wipe that smug grin off his face.”

As you approached, you saw Loki glance over at you, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly as a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. He was expecting you.

“Ah, she finally manifests herself,” he began, tilting his head slightly, “come to join the ranks of my admirers? Or is this simply an opportunity for you to bask in my presence?"

You shot him a look of feigned disinterest, crossing your arms over your chest as you leaned against the free weights beside him.

“Not exactly,” you replied coolly. “I just wanted to see if you’d been working on your form, or if you were still too busy flexing in the mirror.”

Loki chuckled, a rich sound that practically oozed with self-assurance. “Ah, I see,” he said slowly, leaning in just a little, enough to lower his voice to a near-whisper. “So you’re one of those who prefers to focus on technique over the end result. Admirable. But I must confess…” He leaned closer still, until his lips were just inches from your ear. “The result is the technique.”

You felt a flare of heat rush to your face, but you refused to let him see it. Instead, you gave him a pointed look, stepping back and crossing your arms more firmly. “Keep telling yourself that,” you said, offering him a smirk of your own. “But if you’re planning to keep distracting everyone with your ‘technique,’ maybe you should get a private room. The rest of us are here to work.”

Loki’s eyes gleamed with mischief as he straightened up, flicking his towel over his shoulder and sending you an almost playful glance. “Oh, I do love a challenge,” he murmured, as though the words were a promise, and then he effortlessly turned away to continue his workout.You stood there, your mind still swirling with that smug little smirk and the way his breath had brushed so close to your skin. It was far from over, and you had no intention of letting him think he’d won this round. Game on, Trickster.

⠀

⠀

The second Friday had a palpable tension in the air, as if everyone knew something was going to shift today, but no one knew exactly how. The gym was quieter than usual, with a sense of anticipation hanging over the team like a thick fog. You, however, had a different idea for today. You weren’t the same as the others—always polished, always well put-together in some way, but today you were about to leave everyone guessing.

You walked into the room in an outfit that could not have been further from your usual appearance. Your sweatpants were a dull gray, high-waisted and hanging just right on your frame, but enough to leave the wandering eye guessing about the shape of your form. The hoodie you wore was oversized, swallowing your frame, the sleeves long enough to hang just past your fingertips. The hoodie’s color was muted, and the cap pulled up over your head was the only thing that hinted at the familiar sense of control you usually had. Your hair was left down today, cascading in soft waves, slightly tangled from the lack of attention yet still effortlessly styled. There was no sleekness, no polished edge to your look—just simplicity and ease. Somehow, it worked, and there was a quiet power in how little effort it seemed to take.

You casually crossed the gym toward the wall, water bottle in hand, and you could already feel the eyes of your teammates following you. The contrast between your normal, tightly controlled persona and the relaxed, effortless confidence you radiated today was enough to make anyone pause and take notice. But the person you were waiting for—the one you knew would be most affected by your transformation—was Loki.

Sure enough, not long after, said god walked in. His usual tight-fitting black workout gear was his go-to for showing off, the sleek fabric hugging his frame, every movement emphasizing the muscles that rippled beneath the material. But today, unlike last week when he had gone for a polished yet sharp look, Loki’s attention seemed caught somewhere between sizing you up and attempting to keep his usual air of superiority.

As he entered the gym, his eyes immediately flicked over to you. You were sitting cross-legged against the wall, deep in conversation with Bucky. His sharp gaze narrowed, and the familiar smirk—half taunt, half self-assured—made its way to his lips. Loki sauntered toward you with that characteristic air of confidence, almost like he had an agenda that involved rubbing your nose in it.

"Quite the shift in wardrobe, isn’t it?" Loki’s voice cut through your conversation, dripping with that same playful taunt. “Did last week’s little performance leave you with a sudden desire to renounce attention? Perhaps you're now looking to blend in, like a shadow?”

Your lips quirked up in a sly smile as you took a slow sip from your water bottle, not even bothering to look up at him right away. The only acknowledgment you gave him was a slight raise of your eyebrow, eyes still trained on Bucky as you finished your conversation with him. The lack of immediate reaction seemed to throw Loki off, just as you had intended.

The soldier standing beside you shot a look at Loki, his grin widening. “Careful, puny god,” he intervened, his voice a little too amused. “You’re starting to sound like one of those bad guys in the movies who can’t get the girl’s attention, and it’s driving him crazy.”

You suppressed a chuckle, casting a brief glance at your companion before returning your attention to the task at hand. Loki, however, wasn’t so easily dismissed. His gaze lingered on you, searching for a hint of reaction.

“Oh, Loki,” you replied casually, meeting his gaze only after taking your time. “Not everything has to be a performance. Some of us are just here to focus."

The words were simple, but there was an underlying confidence in them that made Loki’s smirk falter for a fraction of a second. He tilted his head slightly, his sharp green eyes narrowing as he tried to process your response. He wasn’t used to being ignored or dismissed in such a calm manner, especially by you. It was a reaction you’d like getting used to, and you couldn’t help but feel a bit smug about it. Loki, the god who prided himself on control, was already thrown off by your indifference.

Before he could respond, Steve’s voice rang out across the gym, cutting through the tension.

“Alright, Avengers, time to assemble!” Steve called, and immediately, the atmosphere shifted as everyone gathered to form pairs. You could hear the shuffle of feet and the sound of various team members cracking their knuckles, ready for the workout ahead.

You stretched your arms overhead, muscles extending lazily. You had no intention of getting up nor getting overly involved in today’s sparring session, not unless it was absolutely necessary. 

“Think I’ll stay over there today,” you said in your usual low, steady voice. “Proximity combat is a little too personal for me, anyway. I prefer to prepare mentally first.”

Steve shot you a wry smile. “I understand, [Y/N], but this is hands-on. Come on, get in there. The more you work with the team, the better.”

You sighed, rolling your eyes dramatically but without actually showing any reluctance. “Don’t worry about me, Cap, I’ll be fine. I already did my warm-up, anyway.”

Loki, who had been watching the exchange, raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that you weren’t jumping at the chance to compete. “Oh, please. You can’t tell me you're actually avoiding the fight today.”

You gave him a look that was more bemused than anything else, the faintest smirk playing at the corner of your lips. “Not avoiding anything. Just taking my time. We all have our methods.”

You had never been one to show off, but you could tell that he was getting increasingly intrigued by your laid-back confidence. He didn’t know how to react when you weren’t playing his usual game. You weren’t worried about the training session itself, but Loki was. He was keenly aware of the dynamic, especially when the pairs were being called up.

"Tell me, does the simplicity of your attire reflect the simplicity of your game?" Loki asked, his voice smooth like velvet, but with a sharp edge that betrayed his curiosity. His eyes scanned you, lingering for a moment longer than they should have, his smirk never faltering.

You glanced over, a slow, amused smile tugging at your lips. "You’ll find out soon enough, Loki. When it’s my turn."

“Is this some sort of riddle?” he asked, his tone darkening, a hint of annoyance creeping in. “You think you can just dismiss me like I’m some passing distraction?”

You simply smirked, taking another casual sip of water, making a show of it to further ruffle his feathers. “Not a game, Loki. Just not interested in playing along today.”

Bucky desperately tried to hide his growing smirk as he nudged you playfully. “Ouch, man. Looks like you’re losing her to the whole 'I’m too cool for you' vibe.” He could barely keep his voice steady as he watched the Asgardian scowl.

He was so used to being the one in control of the situation, not the one scrambling to keep up. And now, it seemed you were throwing him off his game entirely, which only served to heighten his fascination with you.

With one last glance at the two of you, Loki muttered under his breath, “This isn’t over.” The tension was palpable, but before he could say anything more, Steve’s voice called out, signaling the start of the upcoming matches.

The duos for the first round were quickly formed, each chosen based on skill sets, strengths, and weaknesses. The first pair to face off was Loki and Sam, and as the match began, it was immediately clear that Loki was in his element. Every move he made was calculated, and fluid, his body working in perfect harmony with his sharp instincts. There was an intensity to his movements that commanded attention—the way he twisted with the grace of a predator, the elegance of someone who had trained in the art of deception and control for centuries. His magic flickered at the edges, as if it too was eager to lend him an edge. It wasn’t long before Sam found himself outclassed, Loki easily outmaneuvering him with a mixture of skill and playfulness that left no room for doubt. The moment Sam stumbled, Loki was there, his victory secured with minimal effort, a smirk already forming on his lips as he looked down at his defeated opponent.

He strode toward the sidelines, his posture exaggerated with pride, every step oozing with the quiet confidence of someone who knew exactly what he was capable of. He could practically feel the attention of the room on him, the admiration of his peers—it was a familiar sensation.

But when his eyes sought out yours, expecting to find at least some hint of acknowledgment, he was met with the unexpected: you were looking at Bucky, engaged in a casual conversation with him. You weren’t watching him. Not even a passing glance. Your attention was fully on Bucky, your face soft with that effortless smile you reserved only for certain people. It made Loki pause mid-stride, his brows furrowing as he tried to reconcile the fact that, for once, you seemed completely uninterested in his performance.

He felt a strange unease twist in his chest, something he couldn’t quite place. The indifference you showed was almost palpable, and it hit harder than any of the quips or taunts that usually got under his skin. Surely, you just hadn’t noticed? Or maybe you were playing coy, pretending to be unimpressed? The thought made him grin a little wider, but the feeling gnawing at him didn’t go away. You weren't looking at him, and it wasn’t just that—there was something in the way you laughed with the soldier, something that made him feel like an outsider, a player who had been left on the bench.

His eyes narrowed, and without thinking, he shifted his attention back to Sam who was still recovering from their match, his expression darkening. He wasn’t used to this. To this feeling of being... disregarded. Of being ordinary.

Bucky leaned in closer to you, his voice low and teasing. “Think you’ve got him rattled already?”

You shrugged nonchalantly, finally giving him a small, playful look. “Could be. I want to think so, but I don’t want to give him the pleasure of looking at him and making it seem like I care about his reaction.”

“Well, this should be fun,” Bucky said in a low voice, enough so only you could hear him. “Loki’s not used to being ignored, is he?”

You shot him a dry look. “Not in the slightest.”

Bucky chuckled softly, his tone full of amusement. “Must be getting a rude awakening, then.”

Your indifference was practically driving said god crazy, and he scowled even deeper when Steve called your name to get into position for the next match. "Oh come on, not now," you muttered, rolling your eyes. "Is it really necessary?"

The blonde’s usual cap-tipped grin only deepened. "Yes, now get moving."

Bucky gave you a small, encouraging nod. “You’ve got this,” he said with a grin that suggested he knew exactly that they were all in for a spectacle. “Show him what you’re made of.”

With an exaggerated sigh that seemed to draw every eye in the gym, you smoothly rose from the ground, taking your time. Every step was measured, as if you weren’t in any rush to show what you were capable of. The others could feel the shift in the air around you, the subtle yet undeniable presence that you commanded without a single word. You could practically feel the way Loki’s eyes followed every movement you made, but you didn’t let it faze you. 

Slowly, deliberately, you pulled your hoodie off. The gym, which had been buzzing with conversation and the light sounds of stretching, seemed to pause as every set of eyes turned toward you. The motion was so effortless, it almost seemed like choreography, and as the fabric slipped away from your body, revealing what was underneath, there was a collective shift in the air.

The defined lines of your abs came into view first, marking your taut skin that spoke of years of dedication, strength and control. The tight sports bra you wore accentuated every curve, every inch of muscle you had worked so hard to sculpt. Your sweatpants, low-slung and hanging just enough to showcase the V-lines that traced your inner thighs, fit you in a way that didn’t demand attention—but it certainly garnered it. The room seemed to suddenly lack air, and you could feel the temperature rise as the atmosphere shifted from casual banter to a raw, electric tension.

Loki’s gaze immediately swept over you, his pupils dilating as he took in the full scope of your appearance. His eyes flicked all the way down your body, then traced back up to your face, but it was the way he was looking—like he couldn’t quite focus on any one part of you—that gave you a clue to how he was feeling. His sharp breath, barely audible in the silence, was the only sound you could hear over the thumping of your own heart, but the way his chest rose and fell gave away more than words ever could. He wasn’t prepared for this. He hadn’t expected you to be... so revealing.

You dramatically tossed the hoodie back to your previous spot, where Bucky effortlessly caught it mid-air. With a playful smirk, he let out a teasing wolf whistle, clearly amused by the scene. “Damn, doll,” he called you out with a grin. “Lookin’ like a fine piece of art over here.”

Loki’s head snapped toward him, his eyes narrowing dangerously. “Must you be so uncouth, Barnes?” he bit out, his tone sharp but laced with just a hint of indignation. The faint twitch in his jaw betrayed the irritation simmering beneath his cool facade, though whether it was directed at Bucky or his flustered reaction, even Loki couldn’t quite say.

Bucky, entirely unfazed, chuckled and tossed the hoodie onto the bench. “Relax, snowflake. Just calling it like I see it.”

You reached up to gather your hair into a ponytail in a swift and efficient movement, but there was a quiet grace to it that only added to the overall aura you exuded. The way your muscles flexed as you tied it back, the fluidity of the motion, all of it seemed effortless, second nature to you. It was all the more striking against Loki’s own dramatic flair—theatrical, exaggerated, designed to draw eyes to him. He was used to being the one who commanded the room with a mere flick of his wrist, the one who could manipulate and control with his every movement. But now? Now, it was your body that spoke louder than any words or gestures ever could.

Loki's breath hitched imperceptibly, a momentary lapse in his carefully constructed composure.  His jaw tightened, his body tensing as he tried to regain control of himself, his eyes momentarily lingering longer than they should on the soft curve of your waist, the way your hips swayed when you took your first step toward the arena. Every part of you, every inch of skin and muscle, seemed to demand attention—yet, you didn’t seem to care about it. You were focused, your steps silent but certain as you advanced toward the battleground, the confidence in your stride undeniable.

You reached the center of the arena and gave him one last, almost imperceptible glance, and that was enough to make him falter. His heart rate had picked up, and he cursed under his breath. His usual self-assurance had wavered, replaced by an unfamiliar unease. There was something about the way you carried yourself—like you were a force of nature, untouchable, yet impossible to ignore—that rattled him in a way that very few people had. He could feel his composure cracking under the weight of the attention you hadn’t even realized you were commanding.

The arena buzzed again, the murmur of voices rising as your opponent—the one who would face you next—looked on, unsure whether to be impressed or intimidated. But Loki, for all his control, could not shake the feeling that he was the one standing on unstable ground.

And then, Steve announced the match-up.

“Loki and [Y/N], your turn.”

Loki’s eyes narrowed as he turned his attention toward you, his smirk faltering for just a split second. It was subtle, but it was there—an almost imperceptible shift in his usual confidence. He watched you move into position, calm and collected, your very presence seemed to knock him off balance. The way you stood there, completely unaffected by his earlier display, only served to fan the flames in his mind.

He couldn’t let you get away with this. Not again. Not when you were so effortlessly pulling his attention in every direction, when your quiet strength was becoming impossible to ignore. The playful taunt he had been intending to throw your way now carried an undercurrent of something he couldn’t quite acknowledge, but still something that bothered him. He knew what it was, even if he didn’t want to admit it. It was frustration. 

“Ready to taste defeat, pet?” Loki’s voice rang out, smooth and velvety, laced with both a challenge and amusement. The words slipped effortlessly from his tongue, but beneath the surface, the slight tremor of frustration lingered. His green eyes watched you intently, like a predator sizing up its prey, but there was something more. Something you couldn’t quite define, but you could feel it crawling beneath the surface.

You tilted your head slightly, the movement small but deliberate, eyes narrowing just the slightest as your lips quirked upward in a knowing smile. Your posture remained relaxed, but there was a steel edge to the way you carried yourself now—a quiet strength that seemed to radiate outward. You could feel the way the entire gym was watching, how every inch of focus had shifted onto the two of you, but you didn’t let it faze you. Your gaze met his without hesitation, and you matched his playful tone with one of your own, voice light but carrying an underlying confidence that made it clear you were anything but intimidated.

“I’m not the one aching for a taste of something, Trickster,” you replied smoothly, the words slipping off your tongue like a promise. The glint in your eye—the challenging, unwavering look that met his—spoke volumes. You weren’t just here to go through the motions. You weren’t here to entertain him, or anyone else. You were here to prove something. “I’ve been waiting for this.”

Loki's smirk faltered for just a fraction of a second, the faintest hint of surprise at the blatant innuendo flickering across his face before it vanished. He recovered quickly, though, leaning into the moment as his expression shifted into something far more dangerous—half amusement, half intrigued.

“Careful now,” he growled, his voice lowering ever so slightly, the edges smoother than before but carrying an unmistakable sharpness. The faint flush creeping up his neck betrayed him, but his gaze never wavered, studying you like you were a puzzle he hadn’t quite solved. “Promises like that tend to come with consequences.”

The words hung in the air between you, thick with meaning. It wasn’t a threat; it was a statement of intent. You were ready for this moment, for the challenge he presented, and you weren’t backing down. Your cool demeanor only served to heighten the electric tension between you. He could feel it now—how you were playing him at his own game, how your words and actions were slowly chipping away at the armor of self-assurance he’d spent so long building.

Bucky stood near the sidelines, arms crossed casually over his chest as he kept his gaze fixed on the two of you. His focus never wavered as he observed the back-and-forth between you and Loki. There was something electric in the air, and he couldn’t help but feel a little more invested in the outcome than he expected. 

With a wry grin tugging at the corner of his lips, Bucky leaned in toward Steve, who had been quietly watching the exchange with growing interest. He whispered under his breath, careful not to break the flow of the moment, but unable to hide the amusement in his voice. “I think she’s got him right where she wants him.”

Steve glanced over at him, brow slightly raised in curiosity and a smirk already playing at the corners of his mouth, betraying his ever-serious Captain demeanor. “You think so?”

Bucky nodded, eyes flicking back to you as you casually prepared for the sparring match by wrapping your knuckles, your body language practically dripping with self-assurance. “Oh yeah, definitely,” he assured, voice low but filled with confidence. “Loki’s too used to getting the upper hand in these things, but this time she’s challenging him for the spot. And you can tell he’s not sure how to handle it.”

Steve’s eyes followed the scene with a thoughtful expression, the wheels turning in his head as he took in the dynamic. He gave his best friend a knowing glance, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Well, let’s see how she handles it,” he said, voice laced with a quiet confidence of his own. “Kid’s got a good head on her shoulders.”

The atmosphere in the gym felt electrified, thick with the unspoken tension between you and Loki. The sharp clang of Steve's voice signaling the start of the match barely registered as your focus narrowed on his every movement. His sharp gaze stayed locked on you, calculating and predatory, his posture deceptively relaxed but ready to strike.

True to form, Loki made the first move, his steps smooth and predatory as he closed the gap with surprising speed. He didn’t waste time, weaving in with a series of feints meant to throw you off. But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you shifted closer into his range in grand audacity, your movements fluid and unyielding as you met him head-on. The sharp crack of his elbow slicing through the air missed its mark as you deflected it with a quick parry, your forearm brushing his as you stepped into his space.

Loki’s lips quirked upward, a sly smirk tugging at the corners. “Not bad,” he slipped in, his voice smooth and low, as though he was testing you and complimenting you at the same time.

But you didn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. You used the momentum of his strike to pivot, bringing your body closer to his, forcing him to retreat a step. The shift in proximity wasn’t lost on him, and you caught the flicker of surprise that darted across his features before his mask of confidence returned.

He countered quickly, twisting to trap your wrist in an attempt to throw you off balance, but you slipped free, ducking low and sweeping a leg toward his. Loki leaped back to avoid the sweep, his quick reflexes saving him from the mat, but the action pushed him further off his rhythm.

Your advantage grew as the fight devolved into sharp close combat, every movement a test of speed and control. Loki was fast, his strikes calculated and deliberate, but you were faster, your motions seamless as you anticipated his next move. Each block, deflection, and strike left him recalibrating, searching for an opening that simply wasn’t there.

You could see the irritation brewing in his expression, the sharp edge in his narrowed eyes as his breath came heavier. He wasn’t used to being outmaneuvered, least of all so consistently. You could practically feel the frustration radiating off him.

“Frustrated already?” you teased, your voice light but challenging as you ducked under another swipe and leaned in close, your breath brushing against his jaw for just a second before you danced back out of reach.

Loki’s jaw tightened, his smirk slipping for the first time as his focus sharpened. He surged forward suddenly, his arms locking around your wrist to pull you off balance, but you twisted fluidly, your bodies nearly colliding as you maneuvered out of the hold. The shift brought you chest to chest for a brief second, the proximity enough to unnerve even Loki.

“Come on, Trickster,” you taunted, your voice dropping just slightly as you glanced up at him through your lashes. “Is that all you’ve got?”

The faint pink that crept up his neck wasn’t missed. His grip faltered, just slightly, but it was enough. You capitalized instantly, slipping free and ducking beneath his arm. Before he could react, you shifted close again, pressing your palm to his chest—not hard, just enough to distract him. And then, with a smirk that he didn’t quite know how to interpret, you did the unexpected: you leaned in, just enough for your lips to brush the shell of his ear.

“Gotcha,” you whispered.

It was barely a breath, a fleeting moment, but it sent him reeling. His entire body stiffened, caught entirely off guard by the motion, and his split-second hesitation was all you needed. Twisting sharply, you hooked your leg behind his and used your momentum to pull him off balance. Loki stumbled, his footing completely lost as his back hit the mat with a thud.

You stepped back, grinning down at him as you straightened, your breath steady despite the exertion. You watched as his chest rose and fell sharply, his flushed face half-hidden beneath the mess of dark hair that had fallen into his eyes.

“Better luck next time,” you said in an almost teasing way, the tension between you growing even thicker. “Though I do appreciate the effort.” The gym was quiet, save for the faint sound of his breath catching in his throat as he tried to regain his composure. You could feel the electricity in the air intensifying, the challenge now fully embraced.

Loki’s eyes burned with frustration, his pride wounded more than he cared to admit. He was a god, accustomed to being the center of attention, controlling every situation with a flick of his wrist and a smirk. But you—you—had managed to completely dismantle that with nothing more than your calm confidence and precision.

His teeth ground together as he shot you a glare, seething with irritation. “You’re playing a dangerous game, [Y/N],” he said, his voice sharp, but there was an undeniable fluster behind the words—his usual control slipping with every passing second. He was not used to being made to look like this, to being outmaneuvered so effortlessly.

You didn’t even seem to acknowledge the weight of his threat, instead smoothly backing off, a casual smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “What can I say? I like keeping things interesting. Can’t have you getting bored,” you replied, voice light, but with a mischievous twinkle in your eye.

And that was it. The last straw.

Loki, already feeling his temper flare, lunged at you with an almost animal-like snarl, hoping to catch you off guard this time. But you were prepared. The moment he moved, you shifted your weight with that same effortless grace, sidestepping him like he was nothing more than a fly. 

With a flick of your wrist, you sent him crashing down onto the mat, hard.

There was a beat of silence as Loki lay there, chest heaving in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. His hair, usually so perfectly styled, was now mussed, and his cloak was askew. The whole scene was a jarring contrast to the image he’d worked so hard to maintain.

He swallowed hard, attempting to steady himself, but the way you stood over him with such quiet authority made it impossible to focus. Your presence was imposing, your posture effortlessly graceful, and every movement you made seemed carefully coordinated. The slight tilt of your head, the faint curve of a smirk on your lips—everything about you exuded control. It was clear you had the upper hand, and the effect it had on him was both unsettling and undeniable. His eyes, despite his best efforts, couldn’t help but be drawn to the way your form exuded power and confidence. The sharp lines of your body, the subtle flex of your abs as you shifted, the slight forward tilt of your pelvis as you crossed your arms—it was all framed perfectly by the soft glow of the gym light, and it hit him like a revelation. He had underestimated you in more ways than one.

Bucky, watching from the sidelines, couldn’t suppress a grin. “Well, that was something alright,” he said, voice dripping with amusement. 

Steve, who’d been quietly observing the exchange, let out a sigh, shaking his head. “This is going to be a long day, isn’t it?”

You glanced at the two of them, your lips curving into an easy smile as you wiped your hands. “Don’t worry about him,” you said lightly, your tone teasing. “He’s just a little startled. He’ll recover.”

Loki, still on the mat, let out a frustrated growl, his face flushed with both anger and something that felt a little too much like embarrassment. He glared up at you, unable to hide the flustered irritation that now flooded his system. He wasn’t used to this. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He was supposed to be the one in control, the one who had the upper hand. And yet, here he was, on the floor, defeated by someone who had barely broken a sweat.

As you turned to leave, talking with Bucky and Steve, Loki seethed, his body still tense with the humiliation of it all. This is not over, he thought, his mind racing for a way to redeem himself. I will get her back for this.

But for now, he lay there, absolutely flustered, trying to control the mix of emotions swirling inside him—irritation, pride, and a hint of something else he wasn’t ready to confront yet. He quickly stood up, adjusting his clothes and trying to compose himself, but there was no mistaking the flush in his cheeks and the tightness in his jaw.

“Oh, I’ll have my revenge,” Loki muttered to himself, eyes narrowing as he watched you from across the room, his heart still pounding in his chest. “Just wait.”

The 1-1 was marked on Loki’s scorecard, and as he slowly pushed himself up, he scowled, trying to shake off the lingering effect your victory had on him. The amused look you gave him only deepened his irritation, but one thing was clear: this was far from over.You laughed with your compeers, completely oblivious to the storm you’d just stirred up in his mind that began to race with plans, schemes, and the faintest spark of something else—a determination that he would be the one getting the last laugh.

⠀

⠀

You hadn’t seen Loki all week. After that chaotic Friday showdown, you assumed it was finally over—that the tension had reached its peak and now it would settle back into normal gym routines. You’d thought that, maybe, you’d taught him a lesson he wouldn’t forget.

But as you were talking to Sam and Tony, venting your frustration, you heard the unmistakable sound of feline steps hitting the floor. You knew that stride all too well. Of course, it was him. And, of course, he was about to make an entrance.

“Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you scoffed, disbelief dripping from your tone. The week of silence had made you forget how intense things could get when Loki was around. You thought you’d dodged a bullet, but it seemed the universe had other plans.

Sam's eyes gleamed with amusement, a slow smile spreading across his face. Tony, on the other hand, barely hid his grin. Both of them knew full well what Loki's reappearance meant.

“Woman, you really thought he was going to let it go after that last little scene?” Sam chuckled, his voice low but full of amusement. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms and watching Loki’s every move with a knowing gaze. “The guy’s like a cockroach. You just handed him the perfect reason to come back for more.”

Tony, ever the instigator, didn’t miss a beat. He shot you a teasing grin, leaning in slightly as he waggled his eyebrows. “So, that was quite the performance last Friday,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm as he gestured between you and the door. “And here I thought you had him all figured out. Looks like I was wrong. Clearly.” He dragged the word out for emphasis, clearly enjoying the aftermath of that heated moment between you and Loki.

Your eyes narrowed at Tony as you placed your hands on your hips, half in annoyance, half in amusement. You couldn't hide the corner of your mouth twitching upward, despite your best efforts to keep the facade of irritation intact. The whole match had been a rollercoaster, and as much as you’d convinced yourself you’d come out on top, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that you hadn’t fully won. The mind games, the tension… they were far from over.

“I thought I had the upper hand,” you muttered, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation. “I mean, after that last move, he was the one on the floor looking like he’d been hit by a freight train.” You stopped, catching the flicker of doubt creeping in at the edges of your thoughts. “Guess I underestimated him.”

Tony shook his head, grinning like the cat who got the cream. “Oh no, you’ve got it all wrong, Glamazon. Frosty loved that show. He ate it up. It’s exactly what he needed to get under your skin. You made it too easy. I’m almost impressed.” He jerked his thumb toward the door, where Loki had just entered the gym.

And damn, was it hard to look away.

Loki walked in, his usual air of confidence radiating through every step, like nothing had ever happened. But this time, the outfit was different. Daring, even. He strode into the gym with the kind of assurance that made everyone in the room turn their heads. And there was no denying it—he was flaunting it. The dark green, form-fitting performance shirt clung to his torso in a way that left little to the imagination. The mesh on the sides and back offered tantalizing glimpses of his skin, daring you to look, daring you to react. It wasn’t just the fit—it was the challenge in his very presence.

And then, the shorts. Those shorts. High-slit athletic wear, the gold trim practically glowing against the black fabric. You could feel the heat of your gaze flicker down, almost involuntarily, as the slits revealed a generous portion of his toned thigh, the compression leggings underneath leaving just enough to the imagination. The effect was maddening, and you found yourself completely captivated by the sight.

As he walked by, each step seemed to make the slits ride up higher, exposing more of those muscular thighs. Your gaze lingered a moment longer than you intended. The way his legs flexed with every stride sent an unexpected jolt through you, a wave of heat rushing to your chest. You felt the urge to look away, but it was impossible. The image of his thighs—powerful, perfectly sculpted—began to invade your mind.

A sudden thought hit you, one you couldn't shake. You imagined your hands trailing up those legs, feeling the tension in his muscles, the heat of his skin beneath your fingers. The thought of running your hands over them made your breath catch, your mind racing with vivid fantasies of what it would feel like to be wrapped around those thighs. Get it together, you mentally scolded yourself, but it was too late. The fantasy clung to you like a stubborn shadow.

He was just so damn shameless. And so tempting. Everything about him was designed to taunt, to provoke, to ensnare. And as much as you wanted to resist, your body had other ideas. Loki knew exactly what he was doing—every glance, every step calculated to make you lose control.

You exhaled slowly, trying to regain composure. Two can play at this game, you thought, your mind racing to formulate a response. You weren’t going to back down. Not now.

Sam let out a low whistle, leaning closer to you. “Okay, I see what you’re dealing with,” he said, glancing between you and Loki with a grin. “I don’t know, man, looks like he’s really trying to get under your skin today.” His voice was teasing, but there was a glint of seriousness in his eyes. He knew this wasn’t just about working out—it was about playing mind games. And Loki was very good at them.

Tony, as always, had to add his two cents. “Oh, I get it now. This is one of those ‘play hard to get’ things, huh? You can’t fool us. We all know you’re enjoying the view. The guy practically glows with that outfit. And we all know what happened last Friday... that little show you two put on? No one’s forgotten about it. Puny god sure hasn’t.” He grinned, watching you closely, clearly enjoying how uncomfortable you were getting under the weight of their teasing.

You scowled at him, trying to suppress the heat that was rushing to your cheeks. “We were just messing around,” you muttered, crossing your arms over your chest. “And it was all him, to be fair.”

Tony raised both hands in mock surrender. “Yeah, and I’m the next Pope.” He gave you a knowing look, his grin wide and mischief written all over his face. “I saw the way you two were looking at each other. That wasn’t just a wrestling match, it reeked of flirting. Ew, by the way.”

“Tony, you’re closer to being the Antichrist than the Pope,” you shot back, your voice dry with sarcasm.

You groaned, suddenly aware of the gossip that was circulating among your friends. Sam and Tony had seen through it all—they knew exactly what was going on. And now, they were feeding off of it, enjoying your discomfort.

Loki, however, had already caught wind of the attention he was drawing. As he stepped into the center of the room, his eyes slid over to you, catching your gaze for just a moment. The smirk that tugged at the corner of his lips was nothing short of dangerous. He wasn’t fazed by the gym’s collective attention. In fact, it seemed like he was basking in it, as if this was exactly what he wanted.

Loki gave you a once-over, his gaze lingering longer than necessary. It was as if he knew exactly what was going through your mind. His lips curled into that mischievous smile that always made your stomach do flips. There was something about the way he looked at you—something far more personal than just the game he was playing. And you couldn’t help but notice the gold chain dangling from his neck, glinting in the light. It was subtle, but it caught your attention. And you couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel, how it would look, catching it in your teeth as you—

“Well, then,” Loki’s voice broke through your thoughts, smooth as silk. “I hope you’re ready for round three, my dear. I wouldn’t want to disappoint.”

The words hit you like a wave, and for a moment, you were speechless. He’d been watching you, observing you, knowing exactly what effect he was having. You couldn't suppress the thought that came rushing to your mind: Oh, I’m definitely up for more rounds than you can think of.

And then, just as quickly, the heat rushed to your cheeks in embarrassment. You quickly pushed the thought away, trying to regain your composure.

Sam and Tony exchanged amused glances. They clearly weren’t going to let this go anytime soon.

“I spy with my falcon eye someone looking a little flustered,” Sam said with a raised eyebrow, his tone light but laced with amusement. He glanced over at Loki before turning his attention back to you. “Something you want to share with the class?”

Tony leaned back, crossing his arms as he took in the scene, his grin growing wider. “I don’t know, Tweety. I think we’re witnessing something here.” He looked at Loki and then back at you, practically gleaming with mischief. “It’s like a reality show, but better. Someone cue the theme music.”

You rolled your eyes, your face still warm. “I’m just trying to get through my workout. Can you guys not make this awkward?”

Loki’s gaze flickered between Sam, Tony, and you, his smirk curling deeper. “Ah, I see,” he said smoothly, his voice rich with amusement as he took a step closer. “Trying to keep your cool while the circus goes on around you.” He lingered a moment, eyeing you like a predator sizing up its prey. “But, my dear, there’s no harm in keeping things… entertaining.” His tone dropped lower, almost sultry. “Are you sure you don’t want me to keep you company while you work out? I’ll be here, of course, but don’t let me distract you.”

Sam smirked, his arms still crossed. “Bit too late for that, buddy.”

You rolled your eyes, trying to fight the rush of heat flooding your cheeks. “No, thank you. I’m just trying to get through my session without it turning into a drama show.”

Tony chuckled, looking between you and Loki. “Go on, do your thing, Ms. Olympia. We’ll be here, making sure everything’s as interesting as it can be.”

You huffed, shaking your head at them, desperate to regain some sense of focus. “I can’t even work out with you two around. It’s like I’m in some kind of bad sitcom.”

Loki chuckled darkly behind you, the sound low and wicked. His voice dropped, more teasing now. “Perhaps you’d like me to… help you with that focus issue. It’s a bit hard to concentrate when your thoughts keep wandering, don’t you think?”

Sam let out a low whistle, clearly enjoying this a bit too much. “Ooh, this is good. I’m here for it.”

Tony grinned, raising a thumb up in approval. “Keep it up, you two.”

With that, you turned on your heel and walked toward the leg press machine while grumbling about how you were surrounded by complete fools. You could feel Loki’s eyes following you, the intensity of his gaze almost tangible on your back. You tried to tune it out, but every step you took, every breath you drew, was tainted by the knowledge that he was watching. And it was impossible to ignore.

The air in the gym felt thick with anticipation as you adjusted your position on the leg press machine, trying your best to ignore the electric pull of Loki’s presence just a few feet away. It was supposed to be a simple leg day. Squats, lunges, some basic machines, a few stretches—nothing too exciting. But the way Loki was setting up at the squat rack, his movements so deliberate, made it clear this was no ordinary gym session.

Your mind had barely adjusted when he began his first set, the weight crashing down with a sharp thud. You couldn’t help but glance over, just for a second. His posture was perfect—shoulders broad, chest out, a small hint of a smirk curling at his lips. The man knew how to draw attention, and the workout attire didn’t help either.

But then it started—the thing you had been dreading.

Loki moved to the mat and set up for hip thrusts, his back against the bench, his legs spread wide to grip the weight bar. The moment the weight began to lift, his breath hitched, low and guttural. A soft groan slipped from his lips as he pushed his hips forward, and despite yourself, you glanced over to his form.

Your pulse quickened as you watched his muscles tense, his body arching in that perfect, rhythmic thrust. You tried to tear your eyes away, telling yourself it wasn’t a big deal. It was just an exercise. Just an exercise. Just focus on your own workout.

But it was impossible. The sound of Loki’s breath—those soft, strained groans that seemed to vibrate through the floor—was distracting. Each thrust, each controlled movement of his hips, echoed in your mind. You tried to ignore it, biting your lip as you switched positions and grabbed your weights. Deep breath. In. Out.

You couldn’t.

Every time Loki’s hips rose, there was that groan. That low, guttural sound that was more sensation than sound. It made your skin tingle in ways you couldn’t understand. Your thoughts were already turning to places they shouldn’t. The images, vivid and undeniable, started to form in your mind—hands trailing up your legs, the way his body moved with power, the flex of his muscles beneath your touch.

"Focus," you told yourself, but it was getting harder by the second. You quickly shoved your headphones in, cranking up the volume as loud as it would go. The thumping bass of your playlist should’ve drowned out the world. But it didn’t. Loki’s grunts still filtered through, faint but undeniably there, and now they were mixing with the beat of your music in ways that had you gripping the machine a little too tight.

Stop it, you mentally scolded yourself. It’s just a workout. He’s just... working out.

But the thoughts wouldn’t stop. You couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to feel those powerful thighs under your hands, your body pressed against his, those same hips that were now thrusting against the air. His groan vibrated through your very chest, and the fantasy came alive—too alive. You tried to force it down, but it lingered, stubborn and insistent.

You focused on your leg press, forcing your body into the motions. Down, up, down, up. Your legs were burning, but your focus was elsewhere, your body aching for the release of tension you couldn’t get. Loki’s continued grunts—soft, rhythmic—were driving you mad.

Suddenly, you felt the eyes on you again. You glanced up, catching a glimpse of him watching you, that dangerous smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He was watching you, studying you. He didn’t even pause his workout, his hips thrusting upward again with a languid fluidity that had your breath catching in your throat. He knew. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew the effect he was having on you. His eyes lingered just a second too long, and you saw the flicker of smugness on his face.

Before you could even fully process the shift in the air, Loki suddenly appeared at your side, startling you. You flinched, and before you could react, he moved one of your earpieces to the side, his fingers brushing dangerously close to your ear. You stiffened, dismay flooding through you as his touch lingered a moment too long. You hadn’t even noticed him move, and now, with him standing so close, you couldn’t focus on anything else.

“You look like you’re struggling,” he remarked, his voice smooth, dripping with an edge of mischief that made your skin heat. You glanced over, but quickly averted your eyes when his locked onto yours. That familiar smirk tugged at his lips, and you couldn’t help the flutter in your stomach. 

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up, meeting his knowing gaze. There was no escape now, not even in the sanctuary of your headphones.

"You've been staring," he purred, the teasing lilt of his voice making your pulse race. "Can't keep your eyes off me, can you?"

Hearing him speak made those deep, sensual sounds that slipped from his lips earlier strike your memory again in a thick whiplash. Your focus wavered, unable to hold its ground. The way he moved, the way he seemed to possess every inch of the gym with his presence—it was too much. The thought of him so near, teasing you without words, had your thoughts spinning, your concentration slipping further.

“I can help you, if you’d like,” Loki added casually, his voice now dipped in a teasing tone that made your skin flush. “I wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, after all. It would be such a shame if you... collapsed under the weight. You wouldn’t want to get yourself into any kind of... compromising position now, would you?”

Your heart skipped, but you kept your cool. You bit your lip, trying to focus on the weights in front of you, and not the crafted image of Loki’s body beneath those tight shorts.

“I’m good,” you said, forcing a nonchalant tone into your voice as you adjusted your stance.

Loki chuckled darkly, a sound that sent a chill up your spine. “Are you sure?” His eyes tracked your every movement, and his words lingered in the air like a challenge. “It seems like you could use some assistance. Maybe a little guidance... in the right position?”

Your breath faltered. He wasn’t even pretending anymore, was he? Every word felt like it was wrapped in double meaning, and you weren’t sure how much longer you could endure it. His gaze followed you as you moved to the squat rack, watching you carefully. When you tried to start your set, Loki’s voice floated over again, his tone almost too smooth.

“Don’t strain yourself now,” Loki called with an exaggerated innocence, leaning against the nearby rack. “Let me help you out. I’m quite good at supporting... heavy loads.” His eyes twinkled with that dangerously charming glint, knowing full well how far his words were pushing the line.

His words carried more weight than just an offer of assistance. His lips curled further, clearly aware of what his proximity was doing to you. You swallowed hard, trying to regain some semblance of control, but it was slipping through your fingers, one teasing glance at a time.

You tried to clear your throat, attempting to steady your breath, but all you could think about was the way his body moved—each thrust, each groan, each deliberate motion that seemed aimed directly at you. The air was thick with tension, thick with him, and you could feel it clouding your thoughts like a drug.

“I think I’ve got it covered,” you talked through your teeth, trying to ignore the warmth pooling low in your belly as you adjusted your grip on the barbell.

Loki’s smirk only grew, his breath heavier now, louder as he moved to prepare his next sets. "Mh, I’m sure you do. But I’ll be here if you need to drop anything. I’m quite capable of catching things... especially when they fall out of control."

You could feel the tension building in your body, a mix of frustration and arousal swirling together. Your focus was shot, lost somewhere between your workout and Loki’s innuendos. Those seductive sounds that followed each thrust, seemed to be pulsing through your eardrums, practically vibrating in your bones.

"I said I’m fine," you finally snapped, irritated with both yourself and him. “I don’t need your help.”

The sensation of Loki’s eyes on you, the sound of his breath, the feel of his proximity—it was all too much. You couldn’t take it anymore. Your heart was racing, and it wasn’t from the workout. It was from him, from the teasing, from the way he seemed to find endless amusement in rattling your composure. It felt like he was intentionally trying to push you to the edge. You grabbed your towel from the bench, a sharp motion born from irritation, and stormed off to the treadmill, needing a change of pace. The last thing you wanted was to be anywhere near him at that moment. You couldn’t let him get to you—not anymore. Not like this.

Your focus was slipping, the heat of your skin betraying the resolve you were desperately trying to hold onto. You couldn’t afford the distraction. The only thing that could save you now was a good run, something that would let your muscles burn, let your thoughts bleed into the rhythm of your steps. Something that would drown out the chaotic swirl of fantasies and irritation that he had stirred up in your mind.

You punched in the settings on the treadmill, fingers moving with precision, though your mind was nowhere near as composed. The moment you hit "start," the belt began to move, and the familiar, repetitive thud of your feet against the treadmill’s surface became your anchor. You jammed your headphones back in, cranking up the volume, hoping the music would drown out the thoughts that were threatening to break through your focus. Music usually worked. But right now? It wasn’t enough. Not with him still in the background, somewhere in the periphery of your mind. You kept one muff slightly over one ear, just in case he decided to come prowl on you again.

You could feel it again, though. His gaze. It was like a weight pressing against your back, making your skin feel tight. You could almost feel him watching, studying you, though you refused to look. Not now. You kept your eyes fixed straight ahead, blocking out everything but the rhythm of your feet, the steady burn in your legs. Your mind was still racing, but you forced yourself to settle into the movement. You weren’t going to let him distract you anymore.

The sound of his low chuckle reached you from across the room, cutting through your thoughts like a hot knife. Your pulse skipped. You clenched your jaw, trying to ignore the sensation of him still lingering, even from afar. It wasn’t enough. His presence had a way of bleeding into everything you did. But then—another sound. A soft giggle, the clear laugh of a woman, cut through the air, and you froze mid-step, your feet stilling for just a fraction of a second.

You glanced to the side, and there he was. Standing at the weight bench, effortlessly chatting with someone—another woman. She was hanging on his every word, eyes sparkling with amusement as she laughed at something Loki had said. The sight of it hit you like a slap, sharp and immediate. Your gut twisted. Of course, he’d move on to someone else. Of course, he’d find someone new to charm, to entertain. Like it was nothing.

Your jaw tightened as your mind churned, irritation bubbling up once again. The way he was smiling at her, the way she was laughing, so easily caught up in whatever he was saying—it was like a reminder of how little you actually mattered to him. It was all a game to him. And you? You were just another piece on the board.

You turned back to the treadmill, determined to ignore him. You increased the speed, pushing your legs harder, faster, ignoring the strain in your muscles as they burned. You would focus on the run. You would make yourself focus on the run. The burn in your thighs, the tightness in your calves—it would ground you, it would help you forget about Loki.

But, of course, the sound of his voice was already creeping up beside you.

You felt the treadmill shift slightly, the subtle change in the rhythm of his footsteps as he jogged up next to you. You tried to block him out. You kept your gaze forward, staring at the wall ahead, trying not to even acknowledge that he was there. But the steady thud of his feet, the near-perfect, effortless pace with which he kept up, began to fill your ears, and before you knew it, his voice was slipping into your consciousness like the softest whisper.

“Trying to outrun me now, darling?” Loki’s voice was a silky purr, the words slow and deliberate, dripping with a teasing, almost predatory quality. "I do hope you're not tiring so easily. I’d hate to think you can’t keep up.”

You clenched your jaw. His proximity only made the effort to keep running feel harder, more impossible. But you weren’t about to let him win.

You shot a glance at him, your breath sharp. Loki was jogging beside you, his form so relaxed, so effortless. He barely seemed to be trying, while you were fighting every inch of the treadmill. His smile curled up at the edges, his eyes dark with mischief as he matched your pace.

“Oh, what’s wrong? Not used to the pressure?” he teased again, his voice dropping to an almost intimate whisper. “I thought you liked a challenge. Or is that just for when I’m the one in control?”

His words sliced through your focus, making your breath hitch. You ignored him, pushing yourself harder, willing your body to keep up.

But of course, Loki wasn’t done.

“You know," he continued smoothly, his pace not even breaking as he leaned in closer, his voice dangerously seductive, "I could make this a lot easier for you. If you let me guide you… show you how to keep the rhythm steady, how to control your breathing." His words dripped with innuendo, his every syllable teasing a deeper, more tantalizing meaning.

“Don’t you have someone else to bother?” you snapped, hoping your voice didn’t shake as much as you felt. You didn’t look at him as you turned the treadmill speed up again, pushing your legs to move faster. You had the advantage of effort now, your muscles burning as you tried to shake off his presence.

But he wasn’t done. Not by a long shot. Loki kept pace, not once showing any sign of struggle. His stride was effortless, like he was gliding through the air while you were forced to fight for every step. His voice, smooth as ever, slid through the air again, and you couldn’t help but feel his words wrap around you like a physical touch.

“I can’t help but wonder," Loki mused with a smirk, “are you running away from something?”

Your pulse spiked. The words hit their mark, pushing all the right buttons, pulling at your composure. You gritted your teeth and tried to ignore him, focusing on the speed, on the burn, on the rhythm. You couldn't let him derail you, not again.

“If running is all it takes to get you panting like that, darling, I can think of far more enjoyable ways to leave you breathless. Shall I show you?”

“Will you just shut up?”

You couldn’t help it. His words were a physical weight on your chest, like a pressurizing force. Your heart was racing—not from the run, but from him. You clenched your jaw, furious with yourself for letting him get under your skin like this.

Suddenly, your foot caught the edge of the treadmill, and in that instant, time seemed to freeze. You stumbled, your legs buckling beneath you, and without even a pause, Loki’s hand shot out, catching you by the waist. His grip was firm, secure, pulling you back into him effortlessly.

Everything stopped—except for the feel of his hand on your waist, his chest pressing against your back, the warmth of his breath on your neck. You could feel his heart beating against your spine, the tension between you two so thick it was almost tangible.

“Careful, now,” Loki’s voice purred, low and dangerous, as he leaned in, his lips grazing your ear with a softness that sent shivers down your spine. “Wouldn’t want you to fall… though, I’d gladly have you on your knees if that’s where you’re trying to end up.”

His breath lingered against your skin, hot and intoxicating, his words dripping with intention. It was as if time had slowed, every breath you took mingling with his, making the air thick with something more than just the scent of sweat and effort. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and for a split second, you forgot the pain in your legs, forgot the purpose of the run. All you could feel was the electric heat of his body just inches from yours, the weight of his words pulling you in like a magnetic force.

He didn’t just hold you steady. His fingertips danced on the small of your back, tracing little circles that made your skin tingle. The sensation was maddening—gentle, yet firm, teasing you without even trying. Each motion of his hand sent waves of shivers through you, and despite your attempts to hold it in, a soft, involuntary sigh escaped your lips.

You tried to focus, to pull away, but his grip only tightened slightly, keeping you close. Your thoughts were swirling, the line between annoyance and something far more dangerous blurring with every breath he took. It was all too much—his touch, his scent, the feel of his body against yours, and those little circles on your back that made you shiver and almost surrender to the sensation.

Finally, you yanked away, breaking free from his teasing hold. Your hand shot out, grabbing the towel from the bench, and in your rush to regain your space, you slapped it against his thigh with a little more force than you intended, your fingers brushing against his skin as the towel made contact. You didn’t mean for it to feel like that, but the heat in your cheeks was unmistakable.

“What I’d like is for you to fuck off, Loki,” you retaliated with a tight voice, though the words betrayed the truth—that it wasn’t the teasing that bothered you. It was him. All of him. The way he could unsettle you, make your pulse race in ways you weren’t ready for.

But even as you spun on your heel to storm away, you could hear him. His voice, smooth as velvet and laced with the sort of amusement that made your stomach tighten.

“Oh, I’m definitely getting ideas now,” Loki called out, a sly grin curling on his lips. “That slap of yours... so eager. You know where to find me if you decide you want to explore any of them.”

You couldn’t help it. Your breath hitched as you threw him a quick glance over your shoulder, eyes narrowed in mock annoyance, but the heated look in his gaze made it clear that this wasn’t over. You flipped him off, the motion sharp and a little more dramatic than you intended, but you couldn’t mask the rush of heat that surged through your body, making your skin feel too warm.

Your water bottle was a poor substitute for what you really needed, but you chugged it anyway, hoping to drown out the craving that had started to build in your chest. The cool liquid did nothing to cool the burn inside you, the heat of him still lingering in your senses.

You knew exactly what you wanted. But it wasn’t water. Not anymore. Not after that.

⠀

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Want to read more of my works? Check out my masterlist !

taglist : @stilleobjection — @the-fandoms-onceler .

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PART ONE.⠀|⠀NEXT PART.

[rwrbficrecs]

Thanks for all the love on the recent Readers' Choice list ✨ The May faves are a little late but hope you all enjoy these recs 💕

you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer (book-verse)

@suseagull04: Think of the fluffiest bedsharing fic you've ever read and combine it with a college roommates AU, and you have this fic! I can't stress enough just how soft this fic is, this is the perfect fic for if you need a quick pick-me-up!

running through my mind all day by allthelovesaved (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Henry rarely, if ever, jogs. It's not something that interests him. That is until he stumbles upon Alex's TikTok profile (thanks, Pez!!). Alex, a passionate runner, shares his knowledge in a captivating way. Coincidentally, he's also the brother of Henry's colleague June, who convinces him to join their "group running thing"... This sweet, sweet story is fluffy and funny, very soft and a little silly (says the author), and it just made me very, very happy.

Wit and Wisdom by @pridepages (book-verse)

@heysweetheart-writes: A window into the future of "Little Matters" my absolute favorite story. Im so in love with this family and happy to see the woman Cat has become and how much of Alex she carries with her. I cried and laughed and EJ left me wanting more of them as usual. If you haven't read Little Matters yet, what are you doing with your life?? Haha

hymns down your sides by @smc-27 (book-verse)

@na-dineee: One of my favourite authors delivers yet again! Henry, a refined boyband veteran in his mid-30s, meets wild, lately kind of self-destructive boyband star Alex. Henry can't probably save him, but maybe he can give him a push in the right direction? This story put me through the emotional wringer. So many feelings, so much hurt, and the chemistry - absolutely gripping!

the poem you make of me by @omgcmere (book-verse)

@suseagull04: The riches found within this fic know no bounds! It's a writer Henry AU that maintains a lot of the same themes as the book (which it coveys just as well), but it adds another layer of heart with the fact that in this verse, Henry is not just a writer, but a poet.

Savasana by @iboatedhere (book-verse)

@na-dineee: Lawyer Alex has hit a low point in his career. The situation is absolutely not pretty, and understandably, Alex is skeptical about whether yoga can fix it, as June suggests. Can yoga instructor Henry straighten things out for Alex? - Alex pulls one Alex after another - it gave me whiplash in the best possible way! The story is very touching and sweet, also absolutely hilarious at the same time !! So fun to read !!

Henry Fox, All-American Hero by @tintagel-or-cockleshells (book-verse)

@suseagull04: This is an AU of a book I loved in middle school, so not only did it give me so much nostalgia, but it has all the quirkiness of RWRB too! Alex in this is so mischievous and sweet, and I love it!

A Wretched Beginning by @royalasstronaut (book-verse)

@dot524: This was a fun romp — forbidden relationship, college/academic AU, tension and angst, and loads of longing. Henry is Alex’s TA and um… things happen. Oh, and they may also be connected in other mysterious ways.

Pleasant Melody by @clottedcreamfudge (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Love at first sight that feels magical in otherworldly way is one of my favourite kinds of love stories. And this fic is a spectacular example! Henry is a pirate, Alex is a very special siren, they shouldn't make sense but they do. The longing is excellent and I would gladly read ten more fics based on the same concept.

Meant to Be Yours by @affectionatelyrs & @happiness-of-the-pursuit (book-verse)

@zwiazdziarka: Definitely one of the most unhinged fics I've read in this fandom. (Warning: proceed with caution!) Alex loves Henry, Henry doesn't know Alex exists. Alex's dream is of course to meet Henry and his attempts to do so are... worrying. Second-hand embarrassment hits hard, highly recommend!

check out our past Monthly Faves here ❤️

[h4neypot]

first date – isaacwhy

pairing: isaacwhy x reader  summary: first date with isaacwhy full fic genre: fluff

You met Isaac at the gym, where you exchanged phone numbers and started texting each other for nearly two weeks. Finally, Isaac gained the courage to ask you out on a date.

It happened during another encounter at the gym. “Are you free Friday night? I’d like to take you out,” he asked, his voice a little nervous, almost hesitant.

Your smile widened. “Of course, Isaac. I’d love that.”

“Great! Great, great,” he said, fumbling with his words. You found it cute. “I’ll text you the details.”

“Okay! I gotta go, but I’ll be waiting for the text,” you teased. “Don’t let me down.”

“This will be the best first date of your life,” he promised with a smirk. “Just wait.”

Later that night, Isaac joined the Group voice chat on Discord.

“Yo,”

The guys greeted him back.

“Hypothetically,” Isaac began, “if you were to take a girl on a first date, what would you do?”

The voice chat exploded. Tanner and Larry started yelling so loudly that Isaac could hear them through the walls.

“Are you finally going on a date with gym girl?!” Nick exclaimed.

“Oh my god!” Grunk shrieked, flailing his arms dramatically.

“Help me, and I’ll give you all $100,” Isaac deadpanned. “Deadass.”

“Lock in, boys,” Tanner smirked, rubbing his hands together. “Easiest $100 of our lives.”

(It took the group three hours to come up with a simple dinner date plan. Tanner suggested a strip club, Larry said skydiving, and Isaac threatened to kick them out of the server too many times to count.)

The day before Friday, your phone buzzed with a notification. Seeing Isaac’s contact name, you immediately smiled.

isaacpoo: hey. dinner reservation at 7. i’ll pick you up at 6:30. you always look pretty so i’m not too worried about that, but dress fancy. i’m pulling up in a button-up. you: oh shiiii. am i getting wine and dined?!?!?! isaacpoo: fo sho shawty. see you tomorrow. you: see you tomorrow :)

Friday arrived, and you were freaking out. Your roommates helped you get ready—picking out an outfit, fixing your hair, and hyping you up. You felt a mix of nerves and excitement; after all, you’d been crushing on Isaac for weeks. At one point, you kicked your feet like a schoolgirl when he texted, “excited for tonight.”

When his car pulled up, one of your roommates shoved you out the door with a wink. “Have fun! Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do!”

Outside, Isaac was waiting with a bouquet of flowers. For the first time, you saw his face—usually, it was hidden behind a mask and sunglasses at the gym.

“Look how handsome you are,” you teased. “It’s a shame you hide all this behind your mysterious mask.”

He rolled his eyes, but his cheeks turned pink. “Haha, very funny. But thanks. You look beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You accepted the flowers, genuinely touched. “Is this all for me?”

“Of course. You wanted to be wine and dined, and I’m here to deliver.” He opened the car door for you, making you blush even more.

The drive to the restaurant was full of natural conversation, with soft music playing in the background. You’d always enjoyed texting Isaac, but part of you worried that the chemistry wouldn’t carry over in person. Thankfully, it did. He told you about growing up in Pennsylvania, moving to Texas with his friends, and his love for family. You shared stories about your childhood, your ambitions, and little quirks that made you, you.

When you arrived, he surprised you by rushing over to open your car door again.

“Chivalry isn’t dead,” you quipped, looping your arm through his as he offered it.

“M’lady,” he joked, clearly warming up to you more with each second.

Dinner flew by in a flash. The restaurant was far fancier than anything you were used to, and Isaac brushed off your surprise. “It’s no big deal,” he said, smiling. You talked about everything and nothing, laughing at each other’s jokes and diving into deeper topics. The more you learned about him, the more perfect he seemed—kind, funny, and genuine. Isaac was in a similar boat as you. He surprised himself with how open he was with you. Usually, on first dates, he put up a wall; after all, it’s hard to know someone’s true intentions with him, especially as someone with his popularity. From the start, though, he knew that you were genuine and with pure intentions. That meant more to him than you could ever know.

When the bill came, you frowned, realizing the date was almost over. As you walked back to his car, you blurted, “Want ice cream?”

Isaac laughed, his whole face lighting up. “Sure.”

“Good, because I’m paying since you covered dinner.”

“Deal.” He opened the car door for you once more, and you thought, I could get used to this.

After getting your cones, you strolled through the town together. Conversation slowed, but the silence was warm and comforting. Sitting on a bench, you turned to Isaac and burst out laughing. “It looks like you ate actual shit, Isaac!”

“What?” He panicked, rubbing his face like a frantic child, only to smear chocolate further. You handed him a napkin, still giggling.

“Alright, enough laughing. You’ve got some too.” Instead of handing the tissue back, he gently wiped your face with his thumb.

You stop breathing for a good second. His hand lingered, cupping your cheek softly. You both froze, looking at each other in silence and hearts racing. You know what he wants to do; he knows what you want to do. The silence is deafening as you anticipate someone, either you or him, to break the silence with the question.

Isaac finally caves.

“Can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes.”

And so, he leaned in. The kiss was tentative at first—nervous and sweet. There were no fireworks, explosions, or any movie cliches. It’s a first kiss. It was almost awkward at first; you know for a fact that Isaac was nervous and hesitant. You took the initiative in the kiss to let him know that it was okay, that you wanted this as much as he did. He got the message and started kissing you back. Slowly, it deepened, and you felt yourself melting into the moment.

You ignored the thought in your mind that laughs at the fact that you felt like high schoolers, kissing on a bench after eating ice cream. It was kinda cute how elementary it felt. It was reflective of the way Isaac made you feel: young and innocent, genuine and comfortable.

You were the one who pulled away first. As you two separated, a giddy smile spread across your face, joy radiating all around you. Isaac smiled back, and you felt yourself falling—really, really hard.

“Well, I can check first kiss off the bucket list,” you joked.

Isaac rolled his eyes but laughed anyway. You glanced at your phone and realized how late it was. Your roommates had been texting, asking for updates and making sure you were safe. With a sigh, you responded to them quickly, then turned back to Isaac.

“I fear our time together must come to an end,” you said with a dramatic sigh.

Isaac played along. “Oh, how I hate to part.”

“Such a shame,” you replied, standing up from the bench. You stuck out your hand, and Isaac took it, letting you help him up. But instead of letting go, he tightened his grip and slid your intertwined hands into his coat pocket, keeping them warm. You nudged his side, smirking at his (admittedly successful) attempt at flirting. He winked in response.

You walked to his car, where, as usual, he opened and closed the door for you.

The drive home was quiet, with just a few comments here and there. You were getting sleepier by the minute, especially with Isaac still holding your hand as he drove. The comfort of his touch lulled you to sleep.

You woke to a gentle nudge and saw Isaac smiling softly at you.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” he said quietly.

“I’m up,” you mumbled.

“Damn, if I was boring you, you could’ve just said so instead of sleeping on me,” he teased, shaking his head.

“Whatever, Isaac.”

For the last time that night, he told you to stay put and went to open the door for you. He walked you right to your front door.

“I had a really, really, really great time tonight,” you said with a wide grin. “Like, really great.”

“Well, I had a really, really, really, really great time tonight too,” he replied with a smile.

You looked up at his tall stature, debating whether to kiss him goodnight. You wondered if he was thinking the same thing. After a few seconds, you decided he was probably too polite to kiss you again, so you hugged him instead. He instantly wrapped his arms around you, completely engulfing you. You stayed like that for a while, swaying slightly back and forth, feeling warm and safe. You inhaled deeply, taking in the scent of his cologne.

Knowing that if you didn’t pull away soon you’d stay like that forever, you let go. You took out your key and unlocked the front door. “Thank you for such a great first date. You definitely delivered as my best first date ever. Text me when you get home.”

“Thank you for the high praise,” he said, bowing jokingly. “I’ll text you, and I’ll see you again soon. That’s a promise.”

“Good,” you said, glaring playfully. “I’m holding you accountable for that promise.”

“Goodnight. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight, Isaac,” you said with one last smile before closing the door.

(Isaac felt like punching himself for not kissing you goodnight. But he also felt like punching the air in joy at the fact that you were quite literally perfect. He got into his car and instantly called the boys on Discord. He gushed about you to them the entire ride home.)

isaacpoo: i’m home!!!!! again, for the millionth time, i had a great time. i’m planning our next date asap. stay tuned.

YIPPEEE first full fic moment i actually started writing about you two meeting at the gym first and how he got your number butttttt that made it way too long so perhaps i'll fix that up and post it as a separate fic hope you enjoyed :3333

[classygreydove]

tobirama fic recs

4 wonderful tobirama-centric fics! (most of my bookmarks w tobirama are quite popular in the fandom. but maybe one of these will be a new favorite of yours) +1 self-promo lol

Some are gen and some are ship fics, so check pairings!

And all the fire's at your fingertips by PandaFlower - COMPLETE, 10k

T, Graphic Depictions of Violence, Gen; Tobirama & Kagami, Many enemy OCs, Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Hikaku, Kagami's Mom, Tobirama hates childnappers more than anything, Canon-Typical Violence, child kidnapping with rescue

Tobirama is elbow deep in a stealth mission in Wind Country when he runs into a shinobi squad toting a stolen Uchiha child. Tobirama disapproves.

[dove's notes: very cute. if someone told me this fic was the one that popularized the hc tobirama is good with/protective of kids, i'd believe them]

2. gravity of tempered grace by SilverStudios4140 - ONGOING, 170k

NR, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, M/M; Hashirama & Tobirama, Tobirama/Izuna, Tobirama & Izuna, Uzumaki Mito, Senju Clan, Uzumaki ocs, Uchiha Madara, Uchiha Kagami, Uchiha Clan, Hatake ocs, Time Travel Fix-It, Warring States Period (Naruto), Shinobi Politics (Naruto), Worldbuilding, BAMF Senju Tobirama, Good Sibling Hashirama, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Senju Tobirama-centric, Uchiha Izuna-centric, Canon-Typical Violence, Shinobi Culture (Naruto), Chakra Theory (Naruto), Physics, Minor HashiMito, Slow Burn

Even at the moment of the hiraishin's conception, Tobirama knew the dangers of meddling with the very threads that make up the fabric of existence. He knew that repeated usage only made it easier to traverse between the dimensions because the user became physically more susceptible to slipping through the cracks. But knowing something is possible theoretically is very different from experiencing it for himself.

[dove's notes: founder's era worldbuilding is fun! and the tobiizu dynamics just have so much chemistry.]

3. turn in such inhumanity by simkjrs - COMPLETE, 237k

T, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Gen, Tobirama & Izuna, Hashirama & Tobirama, Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Izuna, Senju Hashirama, Uchiha Madara, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Warring States Period (Naruto), Soul Bond, Soulmates, Platonic Soulmates, Uchiha Izuna Lives, aroace tobirama, aroace izuna, queer-platonic relationship

“You believe this chakra-merging was an accident?” “It would be far more intelligent to bond with someone who is aware of and has consented to the procedure, so I can only surmise they were unable to choose the target,” says Tobirama. “Assuming the other individual is not so hare-brained as to purposefully bind themselves to an unknown stranger, targeting me was most likely unintentional.”

Unfortunately for Tobirama, Uchiha Izuna is hare-brained enough to do exactly that.

----

The story of how Uchiha Izuna's outstanding idea to perform a forbidden technique eventually leads to the resolution of a centuries-long feud, from Tobirama's point of view. Readable on its own, but it is a counterpart to Wyrvel's Let the Devil In.

[dove's notes: love love love this work/series. So much so that I made two music playlists for it. ace tobirama and queer-platonic relationships and worldbuilding and secret frienships/soulmates and identity intrigue?? just wonderful]

4. A Soft Green Glow by Sharkseye, COMPLETE, 12k

M, No Archive Warnings Apply, Gen, M/M, Tobirama & Izuna, Izuna & Madara, Tobirama/Izuna, Senju Tobirama, Uchiha Izuna, Uchiha Madara, Altered Mental States due to blood loss, Pre-Relationship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Pre-Canon

Returning from an ambush that killed his entire team and near fatally wounded him, Izuna finds himself followed by an enemy far more dangerous than the ones he left behind. Even if he makes it back to Uchiha lands, he'll be killed long before help can arrive. That is, if the blood loss doesn't get him first.

[dove's notes: i like the characterization of tobirama and izuna, overall well-written]

+1 shameless self-promo: Red Moon, Blue Waters by classygreydove - COMPLETE, 1k

G, No Warnings Apply, Gen; Hashirama & Tobirama, Madara & Izuna, canon compliant, warring states period, pov tobirama, pov madara

Hashirama’s mouth held its beaming smile for a second longer, before dropping into a grim twist. “Did you notice—?” Tobirama inclined his head. “I did.”

[halfhoursonearth-writes]

Can you recommend fanfiction that you personally really like?

Yes! Love this ask. I’ve never made a Zutara fic rec list partially because I’ve read so many wonderful stories over time that I find the prospect daunting! 

But there are absolutely certain stories that I have a personal soft spot for, that I return to again and again. And that’s my criteria for what’s included below. This is a sampling of fics that I find myself coming back to, in no particular order. I may come back and add more, because this list is so far from exhaustive. A mix of ratings (marked), so keep that in mind.

Wish I Was the Moon by Like a Dove (T), post-canon: There’s so much that I love about the way this one-shot explores Katara’s character and what she faces post-canon, how she frees herself, strikes out in the world and finds her way home. Her feelings for Zuko, and her inner-conflict around them, are rendered tangibly, both through scene and subtext. A really good example of how an author can show a character’s lack of/journey to self-knowledge without breaking voice.

Refraction by caroes3725 (E), post-canon: When I started reading Zutara fanfic (for me this was in 2020), this was the fic I was looking for—a deep, realistic-to-canon, in-character exploration of how Zutara could unfold after the events of ATLA in a way that gives Katara in particular the arc she deserves. Really well-done development of the Fire Nation court world, well-developed characters, shining dialogue. An amazingly well-worth-it slow burn.

Wildfire by rainstormdragon (E), post-canon: To me this story is kind of a steamy Zutara thesis. The characters are so spot on and alive, their flaws are on full display in a way that feels realistic, and their chemistry is powered by their compatibility—matched in passion and stubbornness, and also in what they want from life. And I think it really gets Aang, too, which is something that can be hard to find in ZK fic. Also really hot, but that's only part of what makes it really shine.

Partners in Learning by evergreenonthehorizon (T), Modern AU: One of the things I love in modern AUs is watching an author weave that invisible string between these characters. Sometimes, it’s by writing narrative arcs that parallel the series, and sometimes it’s by drawing out the personality traits that make the characters both lovable to readers and such a compelling match and watching that spark bloom into flame. This beautifully written story does that so, so well in a really compelling Modern AU setting. Zuko and Katara here are so wonderfully lovable, and it’s a joy to watch them fall for one another, too.

Journeys by Smediterranea (E), Modern AU: In real life, I want to see my friends in relationships with people who can recognize why they’re so particularly amazing. That potential, I think, part of the appeal of ZK as a ship, and that’s part of the special magic of this fic. Watching these two characters get to know one another—really see one another—and fall in love deliciously sweeps the reader up. Plus, really fun, in character cameos from the rest of the Gaang along the way.

Spark, set fire by marijayne (T), Modern AU: literary fanfic, and I mean that in the best way. This story is beautiful and bittersweet, the latter is not often something I seek out in fanfic (where I hide from life), but here it’s gorgeous and worth it. The world building here is really cool—allows the author to explore some of a set of cultural issues/interactions that both echo the ATLA world and ours. The characters are so tenderly drawn (dadko especially)—and the connection between them builds beautifully and tangibly—and the longing is…chef’s kiss. 

Wrong when it's right by nire (T), Book 1 Canon Divergence: Before I read this, I couldn't imagine wanting to read a Book 1 Zutara. After, I wanted more. Bickering, bed-roll sharing, shared heat, tenderness and common ground. A delight from start to finish.

Anyway, thanks for asking and happy reading! <3 And if you want more recs, let me know.

[saintvainglorious]

My First Fanbind! A Black Sails Fic Anthology Series

It took me a year (and a lot of anxious research) before I worked up the courage to bookbind fanfiction, and after months of on-again-off-again work, my first fanbind is finally done!

I knew that if I was going to bookbind fic, I had to bind something from the Black Sails fandom, aka the fandom and show that have had the biggest impact on my life. Y'all, I almost went into academia to study slavery in the 17th-18th century Caribbean because of this show - when folks say this show rewires your brain chemistry, they are NOT kidding. THEE show of all time. Happy 10th anniversary to Black Sails! This fandom is small but mighty. May we continue to get our hearts and souls blasted to smithereens by this show for many years to come.

Ao3 abounds with magnificent Black Sails oneshots, so I decided to put together an anthology of my favorite Silverflint fics under 20k, which I split into two volumes. Included are works by @justlikeeddie, @vowel-in-thug, @balloonstand, @annevbonny, @francisthegreat, @nysscientia, and more! Thank you, thank you all, you brilliant wonderful people, for gracing the Internet with such amazing writing. When I read the fics in these anthologies I want to fling myself into the sun.

More on the design and binding process below the cut!

Vol. 1 Page Count: 270 (12 fics) Vol. 2 Page Count: 248 (11 fics) Body Font: Sabon Next LT (10.5 pt) Title Font: Goudy Old Style Other Fonts: IM Fell English, pirates pw

The typeset (which I did in Word) took a while, mainly because I'd never done it before. Manually adjusting the hyphenation line-by-line was especially tedious. After making these books, I abandoned Word in favor of InDesign, in large part because InDesign gives you way finer control over your justification and hyphenation settings.

Regarding my actual design choices, I'm happy with how the ocean motif on the title page turned out (it's not the same pattern as my endpapers, but they're complimentary) and I'm very fond of my divider dingbats, which are little swords! Goudy Old Style was a fun title font to use, since it's the font that Black Sails uses as its logo. The stories in Vol. 1 are divided into parts based on what Silver WAS at that point in the show (cook, quartermaster, or king), and Vol. 2 is split up into comedies, histories (AUs set in the canon universe) and tragedies - befitting Black Sails' Shakespearean ~vibes~.

I stuck to a flatback binding, as I wasn't feeling quite ambitious enough to try rounding and/or backing. I've learned that I ~Anakin Skywalker voice~ hate sanding, enjoy folding/sewing, and don't LIKE edge trimming but enjoy the results enough to make it worth it.

The real adventure was decorating the cover, which remained bare for months. After agonizing over Illustrator and experimenting unsuccessfully with HTV and lokta paper embossing, I ultimately turned to using stencil vinyl to paint on the designs. There was a bit of seepage under some of the stencils, but I was able to scrape off the excess with my Cricut weeding tool without damaging the coated surface of the bookcloth (probably Arrestox Blue Ribbon from Hollander's). Even though it was very time-consuming, I'm so happy with the end result of the stenciled paint job and I intend to stick with stencils for my foreseeable future binds.

Are there things I would change? Sure. It was humid out when I printed, so the pages have got a wave. There’s an extra two pages in Vol 2. that I have no idea how I missed, and I got a line of glue in the middle of one of my Vol. 2 endpapers. I’m pretty sure I didn’t case in quite right, since my endpapers pull away from the case at the spine. I think the inner margins are a bit too big, and despite going line-by-line there’s still some wacky justification spacing in the typeset. But man, am I proud of these books! It is so satisfying to learn a new skill - MANY new skills, if we’re being honest - and to make something both beautiful and practical. If I’m still binding in two years or so, I can see myself redoing the typeset in InDesign, cutting out the existing text block, and reusing the cases. I’m also already planning for Vol. 3, which will be Silverflint Modern AUs.

Thanks for reading!

[sundrop-writes]

The Perfect Brat

Dom!Elle Greenaway x Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid

Summary:

Spencer acts up. You and Elle put him in his place. It’s an unconventional relationship, but it works so well.

Dom!Elle Greenaway x Dom!Fem!Reader x Sub!Spencer Reid. Co-Workers with Benefits. Smut/PWP. 

Word Count: 2,900

Criminal Minds Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author’s notes below the cut.

Warnings: this is primarily a smut fic; reader uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina; this could be read with or without considering the major canon events; dom/sub dynamics - Dom!Elle, Dom!Reader, Sub!Spencer (he is definitely more of a brat in this and I had so much fun writing it); implications of an ongoing poly relationship between the three of them; punishment and reward (Spencer is punished for being mouthy/talking back); size difference kink/reverse size kink (the reader loves how skinny and easy to toss around Spencer is); Spencer is spanked, Spencer is gagged with his own tie (the tie is also used like a leash on him); general rough play; Spencer calls the reader ‘Miss’; undertones of humiliation kink, mentions of subspace, mentions of pain kink, Spencer is called a whore, a slut a stupid brat;degradation kink (towards Spencer); mentions of paddling; mentions of jealousy; bondage - Spencer has his hands tied behind his back; Spencer wears a cockring; orgasm restriction (toward Spencer); Spencer is forced to watch while Elle fucks the reader with a strap-on (the reader is a bottom between Elle and the reader, but she still is 100% a dom in this); as mentioned - strap-on sex (Elle fucks the reader with a strap-on); crying kink (Spencer is pretty when he cries); mentions of pegging (from Elle toward Spencer); hair pulling (reader receiving); Elle is called 'Mistress’; the reader and Elle could both be considered mean in this. I hope that’s everything and I haven’t missed anything important.

A/N: the inspiration behind this is actually so funny. I was working on the second part of Lessons For A Genius and I literally thought to myself 'Spencer is too nice in this. he’s too well behaved’ - and then I started thinking about a fic where Spencer is a bratty sub and gets punished, and then in that scenario, Elle suddenly appeared in my head (I guess because Elle has such dom energy and she’s always bossing Spencer around in the show, this is just too real, they have so much chemistry) - and next thing I know I was opening another tab to write this because I couldn’t help myself. So I hope you guys enjoy it!! I would love to write more fics where Spencer is a bratty sub in the future. I just love writing sub!Spencer in general. (some people have asked me to write dom!Spencer and I am warming up to it very, very slowly.) anyway, please enjoy!

...

You were in the room for less than thirty seconds when Spencer’s pants were down. 

Usually, something like this occurred out of pure lust or need. Spencer was a very needy boy. It was rare that you felt this much annoyance building up inside of you. It was rare that you tore off his clothes out of anger. 

But he had mouthed off to you in front of the local cops, whining that you ‘weren’t his mother’ when you asked him how many cups of coffee he’d had that day and advised him to drink some water. It had been a sassy comeback that had several of the men in the room laughing, and at the time, Spencer had been grinning into that ill-advised seventh cup of coffee, thinking that you couldn’t see him. 

It was something that got a warm rage simmering inside of you. 

Generally, he had been the biggest kind of brat all day. He had been mouthing off, even going so far as to talk back to Hotch when given orders. And you weren’t taking too kindly to it. 

He had to know who was in charge. He had to know that you wouldn’t stand for him being a mouthy brat. 

The door to the hotel room had barely closed behind you before you had his belt undone, the heft of the leather causing the fabric of his slacks to drop to his ankles. This left him entirely exposed from the waist down, feeling a rush of vulnerability, knowing he was in trouble. His stomach clenched in anticipation. You weren’t entirely surprised to find that he wasn’t wearing underwear. He had been acting out all day because he was feeling needy, apparently. 

Before he could speak, only uttering out a few half hearted protests, you shoved him hard. He was so skinny, so easy to push around, it was almost laughable. You pushed him until you had him exactly where you wanted him - bent over the dresser in the middle of the room. It was a chest of drawers with an attached vanity mirror, forcing him to bend over it and brace his hands on the surface so he could look at himself in the mirror. 

So he could stare himself down and face all of his beautiful shame as you tore him apart. 

“Look, Miss, please-” He stuttered out. 

Clearly he was still trying to come back from this, still trying to grovel, trying to apologize. 

But it was too late for that. You had decided that during the car ride back. 

“Shut up.” You told him gruffly. 

You reached around his body to his front and grabbed his tie, slipping it slightly loose before you brought it partway up his head. He was confused by this, until you slipped the loop into his mouth, effectively gagging him. You then spun it so the length of the tie was at the back of his head. You tightened it harshly then, causing him to moan as the fabric scuffed sorely against the sides of his mouth. 

But that wasn’t all. 

You yanked back on the length of the tie as though it were a leash, pulling his tall body into a tense arch, forcing him to be exactly where you wanted him to be. He moaned deeply as a wave of pleasurable pain shot through his body, his back cracking slightly as you forced him into such an uncomfortable position. Your other hand was on his lower back, keeping his hips pinned against the edge of the dresser as you forced his neck back as far as it would go. 

His muscles quivered and tears easily came to his eyes. His cock throbbed harshly with all of it. He always needed to be put in his place. He needed his head to be emptied as the control was taken away from him - as he was owned wholly, his body and mind no longer his own. 

When you were sure that he would stay like this, the subspace setting in and making him slightly more compliant, you moved the hand on his lower back. This forced him to hold the position on his own, his legs becoming shaky - but he didn’t move to make himself more comfortable, which did cause you to grin. 

Then, you hauled your hand back, delivering a harsh spank across his bare ass cheek. 

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” You bit out harshly. “I know I did not train you to be such a fucking brat.” 

You delivered another spank, his soft skin already turning red from your hits. Your palm was stinging slightly, but you didn’t care. It gave you a certain thrill, and it was worth teaching him a lesson if his ass was sore tomorrow and he remembered this. Usually not being able to sit right did help him remember to behave. 

All Spencer could do was moan in response, being very effectively gagged by his own tie. His cock was angry and hard, trapped between his pelvis and the edge of the dresser as you punished him. 

“You’re just a needy little whore, aren’t you?” 

You barked, pulling his neck back even harder. This caused him to whine out in pain, such a beautiful sound that had you dizzy with pleasure as your ego swelled. You pulled him closer to you and placed your lips close to his ear, hissing the next words near his cheek with malice. 

“What’s wrong? The needy slut doesn’t get enough attention?” 

“Come on, Y/N, take it easy on him,” Elle chuckled from the corner, taking a sip of her drink. 

She had ridden with Morgan, so she had made it to the room an easy five minutes before you and Reid had. And thus far, she had been heavily enjoying the show that the two of you were putting on. But she did think you were being a bit too rough considering that Reid was a bit lippy on a good day. 

“Oh, I need to take it easy?” You chuckled sarcastically, looking over your shoulder at her. 

You tossed your hold on the tie, letting Spencer’s body relax forward slightly while you assessed Elle. He let out a whimper of relief, but didn’t make any further noise to draw attention to himself - not wanting the two of you to gang up on him and make his punishment even worse. (The two of you were devious minds, and when you worked together, it was a beautiful kind of destruction.) 

Sitting there, Elle was smug as ever, staring you and Spencer down with a clear heat in her eyes. 

“Last time you paddled him, he couldn’t walk for a week.” You added on, bringing up the memory to try and prove your point. 

“He was flirting with that waitress, he deserved it.” Elle said, speaking as though it was the obvious thing in the world. 

Generally speaking, you weren’t even sure if Spencer knew how to flirt. You thought that for the most part he just didn’t know when other people were flirting with him and didn’t know when to deflect it to stop it from pissing you and Elle off. But you had enjoyed it too much to argue with Elle about it - his bright red ass and awkward gait for the week following that paddling had just been too good. 

You used the tie-leash and a tight hold on one of his hips to spin Spencer around, tossing him onto one of the double beds in the room. He landed roughly on his stomach with a light bounce. He let out a jagged moan as his exposed cock scraped against the cheap hotel bedspread. But - true to form, trying to prove that he was a good boy, he did nothing more than lay there, staying perfectly still where you had put him. 

Elle grinned at him before she looked back to you. 

“So, what do you think we should do with him?” You asked, putting a hand on Spencer’s shoulder to flip him over onto his back, presenting him to her like a filthy prize. 

Spencer whimpered quietly and blinked up at you and Elle with big, wet eyes, clearly thinking that the puppy dog look could get him some sympathy. But there was no chance of mercy. He had already made his bed, and he was going to get fucked in it.

“I have a few ideas.” Elle chuckled. 

… 

That was how Spencer ended up in his current position. 

He was sitting in the chair that Elle had previously been sitting in, stripped completely naked. A light sheen of sweat had formed over his skin, causing his hair to stick to his forehead in that beautifully desperate way. His hands were tied behind his back with his own belt, and a cockring was secured around the base of his needy, throbbing cock. 

There was no possible way for him to get relief. Even if he became so desperate as to hump the furniture, all that he would get was a fruitless, horrible dry orgasm. The cockring so tight around him definitely assured that. And with his hands tied behind his back, he couldn’t take it off. Especially not with the way the two of you were keeping a watchful eye on him. 

You and Elle certainly weren’t going to let him get away with anything. 

He certainly wasn’t going to get out of your line of sight. That was the whole point. 

The bulk of his punishment was to watch. 

To watch you and Elle and not be allowed to touch his needy, throbbing cock. To have a feast of sights before him, but be stuck, not allowed to cum. Not even allowed to feel the slightest bit of relief against his pathetic dick until you or Elle decided that he’d had enough. 

“Please.” Spencer begged hopelessly. 

His hips arched up into the air slightly, humping into nothing, fruitlessly seeking contact. His cock dribbled out precum, almost as if the pretty pink cockhead was weeping out in protest, trying to show his deep, unsatisfied need. 

“Please!” He bawled. “I’ll be a good boy! I promise!” 

His voice was so beautifully wrecked. It sent a wave of pleasurable tingles right through you. 

“Did you hear that?” Elle chuckled behind you. “He promises.” She cooed these words mockingly. 

Both of you knew that it wasn’t a promise he could keep for too long. 

Elle huffed out a devilish laugh as she raked the sharpness of her nails across your back. She sounded just as amused as you were watching Spencer’s pathetic attempts to get back on both your good sides. 

“I fucking doubt it.” You grunted back breathlessly. 

“If he wasn’t so pathetic, I might take pity on him.” Elle said, her voice taking on that mean edge that she knew Spencer loved. 

He moaned at the words, his hips flexing up once again. Unlike when he played poker, during sex, he always gave away all his cards, always showed what pleased him most and what his weakest spots were. It was one of the reasons you loved taking him apart so much. One of the reasons you loved owning him. 

“If you were a ‘good boy’, you’d shut up and watch me fuck your precious Miss without complaining,” Elle said, continuing to mock him, fucking her hips harder into you to drive home her point. 

She had you in the middle of the bed, perfectly on display for Spencer - on your hands and knees, completely stripped naked. The two of you were a perfect visual tease for him - with Elle in her bright red lacy bra, a commanding presence behind you with her thick seven inch strap-on buried in your wet, wanting pussy. You were absolutely enjoying yourself as she fucked in and out of you with an intense roughness. 

Most of the time, the two of you teamed up as a wicked force against Spencer - and combined, you were a deadly sinful team. But when the two of you took the time to enjoy pleasuring each other, it was a rough, chaotic slice of heaven. Like lighting clashing against itself in the best way. 

When you did let her fuck you, you weren’t whiny or submissive to her wills. You took it well, never begged for it. And she understood you and what you needed - the feeling of a thick cock splitting you open, that rough touch that Spencer never gave you because he was so subservient to your will. You loved the fact that she didn’t treat you like a glass doll. 

“Please!” Spencer tried again, going directly against Elle’s order to sit there and shut up. 

You weren’t sure if it was him playing up again or if he actually thought he could talk his way out of this somehow. 

“Please, let me touch you! Let me help you cum! Let me service you, Miss! I’ll be so good!” Spencer begged, his words dissolving into sobs as the desperation heightening within him. 

“What? You think you’re allowed to touch this pussy? You think you should be allowed?” Elle growled, fucking into you so hard that it caused a wet smacking to resonate through the room - something that made Spencer want you even more. 

You laughed in response to Spencer’s whiny antics, and the incredible fake cock plunging into you from behind - a sound that dissolved into a loud moan when Elle reached around and rubbed your clit, clearly wanting even more from you. 

Elle hammered her hips against you like she hated you, fucked into your pussy with a brutal passion. She was partially trying to show Spencer what he was missing out on, a deadly ache growing in his gut when he thought about the emptiness he felt without her perfect fake cock. Because he did spend a fair amount of time fucked out and drooling on her strap when she wanted to fuck him with it - from either end. 

And she was partially trying to get you to be messier, wetter, louder, putting on more of a show for him. The more beautiful and pornographic you were, the more effective his punishment was (not that it was hard for you to become a walking sex dream, as gorgeous as you naturally were). 

Elle loved to fuck you like this - she loved having your tight pussy hugging the silicone of her cock. You were a challenge. You didn’t simply beg for her cock, your body didn’t just mold and bend to her wills because she touched you with strong hands. You always fucked your hips back into her twice as hard, and you laughed and snarled back if she called you a dirty bitch. 

It was part of the reason that the two of you so perfectly destroyed someone as needy and submissive as Spencer. Spencer, the type of person who got whiny and started acting up if he didn’t get enough attention from either of you in the run of a day. 

“I’ll be good!” Spencer whined. “Please! Please, just touch me! I promise I won’t do it again!” 

His eyes had become as wet as his cock, the tip glistening with precum as tears dripped from the corners of his eyes, his entire being reeking of desperation and uncontained lust. 

“Do you even know what you did this time, you stupid brat?” Elle prodded, her voice dark and lacking any sweetness as she spat the words across the room at him. 

Spencer let out a wounded sound that was barely recognizable - perhaps he was trying to compose himself to speak, perhaps he was truly clueless. 

He could be so mouthy sometimes, but most of the time, he didn’t even recognize his sass as a problem. 

“What makes you think you’re worthy to touch her? What makes you think that you get to touch her after being such a dumb brat all day?” Elle teased him. 

She emphasized her words by yanking back on your hair, delivering a pleasurable amount of pain that made you moan out as she continued to harshly thrust her hips into your wet cunt. 

“What makes you think that a brat like you gets to touch these perfect tits?” Elle mocked him, leaning over you to grope roughly at your swaying breasts. Of course, just to show him what he couldn’t have and heavily enjoying your body in the process. 

You chuckled at this, enjoying the way Spencer’s features twisted up in displeasure. Clearly he was whiny, wanting so badly to touch you - but he hadn’t earned it. Not tonight. 

He let out a few more tears before he spoke again. 

“I’m sorry.” He sniffled quietly. “I’m a bad boy. I’ve been bad.” 

“Why?” You heaved out, breathless from Elle’s efforts. “Why are you bad?” 

“Good boys don’t talk back.” Spencer finally admitted, his voice weak with defeat. 

“Look, the genius finally figured it out.” Elle commented, beautiful condescension dripping through her voice. 

“Good!” You huffed, fucking your hips harshly back into Elle’s cock while you locked eyes with Spencer’s wet, glassy ones. “Now keep your whiny fuckin’ mouth shut while Mistress fucks me, and maybe - fuck - and maybe I won’t keep that cockring on you all day tomorrow.” 

Spencer whined harshly at this, but didn’t protest. Elle grinned, planting a kiss on the back of your neck before she dug her nails into your hips and fucked you faster.

...

A/N: This is a standalone oneshot, and there will not be a sequel or a continuation of it. If you enjoyed this, please comment about the body of work that has been written. If you want to see more Spencer fics that I have written, definitely check out my Criminal Minds Masterlist, or check out my other Masterlists to see if anything catches your eye.

[1dcommunityficrecs]

Rec List: Travel Fics!

Planes, buses, boats, oh my -- so many ways to travel the world together (or just travel the city). Here are five travel-focused fics for your reading pleasure. Ranging from General to Explicit, from 4,000 words to 40,000 words, I hope you enjoy, and remember to leave comments and kudos for our lovely writers!

From Dust to Lust by jacaranda_bloom/@jacaranda-bloom (45000, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Louis and Harry are fly-in-fly-out mine workers, coincidences are totally a thing, karaoke is an underrated form of foreplay, and the universe most definitely works in mysterious ways.

Reccer says: This is an excellent enemies to lovers story where fate forces them to travel together. They have so much chemistry and great banter.

Whatever Floats Your Boat by larryftnoctrl/@the-larry-way (24893, Not Rated, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

When Harry's mother convinces him to attend his ex's wedding, he must enlist support in the form of his handsome and charming best friend, flatmate and convincing fake boyfriend, Louis. With Louis by his side, the ever present sun and the plenty of open bars, an all expenses paid week long cruise doesn't seem like the worst he could do.

Reccer says: It has fun banter and the way their relationship evolves is enjoyable and seamless.

The way you smile by allwaswell16/@allwaswell16 (9600, Explicit, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

Harry doesn’t need to go on holiday. Unfortunately, his mum and sister disagree, which is how he ends up alone on holiday in the Caribbean. Luckily, he's not alone for long.

Reccer says: A fun rom com feel and great tropical setting make this a perfect sweet treat!

Sweet like candy by Neondiamond/@neondiamond (4160, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson)

Louis slowly falls in love with the cute boy who sits next to him on the bus home from work

Reccer says: This fic is as sweet as the candy that brings the characters together. Even though their connections are short, you can feel their dynamic growing and changing over time.

There Is Just One Thing I Need by Rearview Dreamer/@all-these-larrythings (5040, General, Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson) – fic post

A nearly empty trans-Atlantic Christmas Eve red-eye flight is the perfect place to fall in love with the flight attendant that keeps flirting with Louis and has great taste in romcoms

Reccer says: Very cute, I love the impulsivity of spending Christmas morning with a total stranger but tbh Harry would fit right in (and with that family it might take them a while to notice there's an extra person!)

[sweet-s0rr0w]

⭐️🎄 Merry Christmas and happy holidays! 🎄⭐️

How do you think drarry celebrate the winter season? ♥️

Ah, Merry Christmas to you too, and thank you for the ask, which really made me smile :) I came up with about a dozen different replies, then thought the most fun way to answer would be to have a think about some of the Drarrys from my fics, and what they'd be doing over the festive period!

Drarry from Nor All That Glisters spend Christmas in Europe, or possibly up in Durham seeing Lee, who's off at uni doing Chemistry. Sometimes Harry has to work, and Draco spends a few days at the Manor, helping his mum with cutting back the Shrivelfigs, and renewing all her anti-frost charms. They'll get to the Burrow at some point, though probably on one of the quieter days; the holiday season's not the easiest for Draco, and though he'd never say it (and it's probably in his head - the Felix negative after-effects should be long worn off by now ofc), he still sometimes feels a little out of place amongst Harry's closest friends. Harry though, Draco never doubts.

Kept in Cages Drarry are in Kenya, of course, and it's Erumpent mating season, so there's plenty of work to be done keeping the local Muggles from being accidentally trampled/exploded, and fending off poachers, and not much time for festivities. I expect they do manage to do a Christmas lunch of a sort, though, with Christmas music, and probably some crackers that Ron's sent over (the kind that go bang, for the non-Brits), and green beans rather than Brussels Sprouts.

Among the Elements Drarry are definitely at the Burrow, where Scorpius is thoroughly spoiled by Molly and Narcissa both. Scorp's doing brilliantly; at three years old he's still a little dot, but bright as a button, and knows exactly how to get his way. Ron and Hermione are expecting their first now, and Draco can't help feeling nervous at the sight of her barely-visible bump, thinking about everything that happened. He doesn't say anything to Harry, who he knows is one day hoping for a sibling for Scorp, but he's not quite sure yet if that worry will ever go away.

And Waking Up Slow Drarry are at Narcissa's of course, for their three hundred and something-th Christmas dinner of the year! They try to make the real one a little more special, which usually means that Harry does end up dancing; he's getting pretty good at it now, if he does say so himself! Draco's shop reopens between Boxing Day and New Year (there's a little trade from the tourists visiting Bath over Christmas), and then they'll be locking up (and set some surreptitious warding spells) and heading off by Portkey for some sun and a well-deserved rest. They're friends with a few magical families in the local area now, and they'll all take turns to go see Narcissa while Drarry are away.

This was so much fun I cannot! Thank you so much!

Me, I've had a manic Christmas hosting many people and ferrying my children hither and thither, and staring longingly at all the brilliant works that are appearing in my ao3 inbox. I'm looking forward to finally sitting down and catching up on: soft by @garagepaperback, Falter by @skeptiquex, Better not pout by @maesterchill, The Chosen Bun by @hoko-onchi-writes... and finishing off my Christmas re-read of O Come, All Ye Faithful by @toomuchplor!

I'm actually going to tag a few friends to see if they're interested in doing this too: @tackytigerfic, @epitomereally, @fluxweeed, @citrusses, @the-starryknight, @wolfpants, @lqtraintracks, @oknowkiss (plus all tagged above ofc, and anyone else who fancies!!) - any updates from any of your Drarrys, and what they might be up to this holiday time?

[steddieunderdogfics]

This week's writer spotlight feature is: @lexirosewrites! They have forty-four Stranger Things and forty-three Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson works on archive of our own!!

An anonymous nominator recommends the following works by lexirosewrites:

24-Hour Diner

On Thin Ice

And the Sun will Rise

Bandaids for the Heart

Waking Up In Vegas

A/B/O isn't for everyone, but Lexi writes it in a way that it IS. I've always been a fan of the trope, but Lexi writes A/B/O in a way that expands beyond the basics. They've expanded their universes to play with common A/B/O themes in ways I've never seen -- each one feels fresh and exciting. And yes, they're popular in their own right, but they have so many hidden gems!! I just adore them and the work they've done beyond the tropes and tags. They put so much work into their stories and building their community, pushing through all the fandom bullshit to bring joy to their bubble of fandom. They're easily my go-to author rec for anyone getting into steddie and/or A/B/O and they deserve all of the love!! And if you're seeing this Lexi, thank you for continuing to create and share your beautiful ideas with us. ♥ - anonymous

Below the cut, @lexirosewrites answered some questions about their writing process and some of their recommended work!

Why do you write Steddie?

I love the chemistry that Steve and Eddie have. They’re two people who make no sense together and yet they make so much sense together? They have a good mix of parental issues and they’re on opposite sides of the social spectrum, which makes for a lot of fun exploring their relationship.

What’s your favorite trope to READ?

I’m a sucker for soulmate fics. They’re my true weakness in life.

What’s your favorite trope to WRITE?

I love to write about mutual pining. I enjoy making it clear that both parties are pining and suffering under the delusion that their feelings are unrequited.

What’s your favorite Steddie fic?

This is such a hard question. I don’t read as much as I used to, but the one I reread the most is “Consummate Professional” by Eddywow for sure. It’s just a cute fic and the smut is A+ as well!

Is there a trope you’re excited to explore in a future work but haven’t yet?

I’ve worked through most of my favorite tropes at this point, but I’m excitedly planning a timeloop fic set in the omegaverse.

What is your writing process like?

It’s a bit of a mess, truthfully. I start with unorganized bullet points to brainstorm things I think will happen in the fic and slowly arrange that into a real plot with actual events and not just some loose threads of a story. Then, I just go chapter by chapter to put them in order and make changes as necessary after that.

Do you have any writing quirks?

I write omegaverse fics almost exclusively. Which I’d say probably qualifies as a quirk! I also just have a habit of writing recurring themes in many of my works. For the most part, they all have angst, lots of pining and miscommunication, and a perfectly cozy happy ending with a big bow on it.

Do you prefer posting when you’ve finished writing or on a schedule?

Oh, I hate waiting. The moment a chapter or fic is done and someone has at least skimmed it over for big issues, it gets formatted and posted. The only times I wait are for events like the Big Bang or a gift for someone’s birthday!

Which fic are you most proud of?

“Bandaids for the Heart” is the work closest to my heart because I’m a nurse and I got to use my love for nursing to write about my job and craft a whole story out of it. I’m very proud of how it turned out and the fact that I finished it despite some personal challenges along the way.

How did you get the idea for 24-Hour Diner?

I actually got an ask on tumblr with the prompt that inspired me to write it!

When writing 24-Hour Diner, what was something you didn’t expect?

I actually have a longer Mafia AU fic and I was worried they’d end up being too similar, but I enjoyed finding little ways to distinguish it as its own fic.

What inspired On Thin Ice?

I love to ice skate and a friend in my discord server was gushing about HexieWrites’ “Carve Your Name Into My Chest,” which made me want to explore my figure skating background.

What was your favorite part to write from On Thin Ice?

There’s a scene where Steve gets injured and Eddie has to carry him off the rink. Every story has at least one “that’s the scene I really want to write!” and that was the one for this fic. I love some good hurt/comfort!

Do you have a favorite scene and/or line from any of your fics?

That’s so hard to narrow down, but I’d have to say that it’s a scene from my fic “Bad Beat,” where Steddie are at prom and Eddie pulls out a granola bar from his tux pocket because he knows Steve likes them… even as Steve is fully planning on pranking him for a bet. It’s a heartbreaking scene and I think about it a lot.

Do you have any upcoming projects or fics you’d like to share/promote?

I’ve got lots of upcoming fics, but I can’t share most of the titles yet since they’re gifts! However, I have a The Greatest Showman inspired fic called “A Million Dreams” that’s getting posted in early January!

Outside of these questions, Is there anything YOU would like to add?

I’m honestly so grateful to have the support that I do for how niche most of my fics are. Most people in the Steddie community have been incredibly kind to me and I really appreciate it, even if omegaverse isn’t their cup of tea. I’m just here to have fun and make new friends!

Thank you to our author, @lexirosewrites, and our nominator! See more of @lexirosewrites' work featured on our page throughout the day!

Writer's Spotlight is every Wednesday! Want to nominate an author? You can nominate them here!

[trees-be-drawing]

Okay… so I started reading @annzy-bananzys-corner ‘s “Snettles” as I was scrolling through Snufmin fanfics to read on AO3 back in early December, and… holy cow is it good!!!

Not only did the art cover from one of my favorite artists drew me in, but the writing was just 👌✨ GORGEOUS!!

All the characters written had such good chemistry towards each other, and Snorkmaiden ended up being the funniest to me. I couldn’t stop laughing so hard at her trying to be the voice of reason to the two lovable idiots that are Moomin and Snufkin in the early chapters.

So as typical fashion, I felt a great need to draw it. Cuz honestly, long-haired Snufkin was not something I thought was going to make me go feral but hot damn does he look so pretty in long hair!

Okay so…

SPOILERS TO THE FIC!!!

It’s pretty blurry but 1. I don’t have the best camera quality, and 2. It’s a bit faded since it took me a whole month to do this. (Update: I got a clearer picture. Sorry, I was rushing to get this out for a whole month)

But anyway, I had absolute gender envy every time I drew Snufkin with long hair. And there was definitely a lot more I wanted to draw, and felt bad I didn’t draw Little My especially.

I’m actually glad for the cover art too, it acted as a perfect reference to use but unfortunately I’m not very good at drawing Moomin and I’m envious at how @hanekdrawsmoomins draws them! They’re so fluffy and pretty!!

I definitely had to draw Snorkmaiden calling Snufkin a twink. I couldn’t resist. What I didn’t intend was for it to be right next to Snufkin having a breakdown over the overpowering song in his ears 😅 I also decided in order to differentiate Moomin and Snorkmaiden, I gave Snorkmaiden more rounder and fluffier features like her tail and ears. It’s subtle but I was pretty happy with it.

I get giddy every time I drew Moomin and Snufkin, but Snorkmaiden and Alicia needed some love too. I wanted to try some perspective which… I’ll admit I’m not very good at, but I did my best. I normally don’t draw backgrounds but I wanted to give the scenes more character and it was pretty fun, even if it’s not perfect.

I also thought to myself “maybe the reason Moomin didn’t recognize Snufkin was because he’s never seen Snufkin’s hair deflate in the water” so I drew the comparison to Snufkin and “Snettles” for that one scene where Moomin realized how similar they were. I also imagined his hair gets longer in mermaid form.. hehe! :3

I was also very excited to do my interpretation of the Lady of the Sea but I’ll be honest… I did procrastinate on it for a while which is why it took so long. I know the description said “seaweed green hair” and not the fact it’s actual seaweed but… I hope you don’t mind but I gave her seaweed hair. Made of different types of seaweed too :3 I actually want to colour it at some point but if there’s any changes I should do to her design, you can let me know. I’ve loved to get an accurate idea on her :3 I also used the mermaids from the 90’s as reference to give her fins on her head, although Snufkin doesn’t have any but I’d argue it’s cuz he’s only half mermaid.

It’s a very scattered looking comic kind of page but man! There was so many moments that were genuinely so good I felt tempted to even draw a full comic book on this!!

But no… unfortunately I am very easy to lose motivation and I’ve been and will be pretty busy for the majority of my current life cuz of college and stuff so I’m afraid I can’t draw often.

Good thing I’m on break at the moment :3

But anyway, it was super duper fun drawing these!! I’m actually super duper proud of them :3

Actually…. You wanna know how much I loved my sketch of Moomin and Snufkin on their midnight swim?

I COLOURED IT!! GONE BACK TO MY DIGITAL ART ROOTS FOR THIS!!!

Honestly I don’t think I did that great but I did this on iBisPaint, and there was a version where he had brown hair… until I read a section saying he has red hair so I quickly changed it to how it looks currently.

I also realized too late that the scales on his cheeks weren’t actually scales but freckles… which…. You know what? Fuck it. His freckles turn to fish scales. And they’re shiny :3

I also decided to make his scales glow but then remembered that doesn’t happen till Chapter 13. But hey, I think it gave it a calm feeling with how warm it must feel to be snuggled up like that on the water. Heck even my sister agreed.

Overall, Moomin fanfics have really helped with my art block.

And sorry for the really long yapping session. I like talking about my thought process on these things, and I genuinely can’t wait for the next chapter whenever or if it ever comes. I understand you’re busy so I don’t blame you but… damn you really left it on a cliffhanger huh? Still love it though! :3

Also I’m not sure why the link for the fic isn’t working properly cuz normally it would be automatic but… I’ll see if I can fix it at some point (update, I fixed it!)