#the avenger proceeds to beat his ass

[dragonlover158429]

Paperinik *after being betrayed AGAIN*: I'm gonna beat your ass!

Raider: You sure are talking a lot about my butt, lately.

[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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dividers ©️ @cafekitsune .

angelremnants ©️ 2025. All rights reserved. Do not repost, reproduce, or distribute without explicit permission.

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PART ONE.⠀|⠀NEXT PART.

[were-wolverine]

au where when tim finds dick and asks him to be robin again, dick is like “no but also are you okay?? where are your parents?” and proceeds to adopt/kidnap him

dick sends clark and diana to babysit bruce and tries to dissuade tim from being robin, but he’s a stubborn little shit so blüdhaven gains a new vigilante alongside nightwing (dick won’t let tim be bruce’s robin, not robin in general)

dick isn’t a cop because fuck you dc he would never idgaf what you think it’s wrong and goes against so much of his character!!! i hate cop!dick so much, he isn’t real to me

dick is a part-time college student majoring in human biology and minoring in psychology while training to be a paramedic. tim moves in with him (a small studio apartment) and they forge some records and IDs so tim can go to school in blüdhaven (not that the schools really care)

tim likes to read dick’s college textbooks & notes (if eligible) and spends most of his free time in the library or taking photos across the city. dick is 19 and tim is 14. jack and janet don’t even notice tim is gone

they both have enough to live comfortably but dick only uses his own money (from his parents) and tries to teach tim about like. class differences and how much normal stuff costs (i love timmy but he is a lil rich boy)

dick can cook and clean (which is CANON thank you very much), but his room is basically an organized mess (adhd-ass), while tim is used to needing his room to look perfect and deep cleans like once a week (trauma & he has a touch of the ‘tism)

when dick kills the joker, thinking tim is dead, tim gets to him in time but dick doesn’t let bruce resuscitate him and joker stays dead. this leads to post-pit jason going to blüdhaven instead of gotham.

part of him feels vindicated that his big brother the golden boy killed the clown, but part of him feels like he was replaced by tim. either way it drives him to blüdhaven. he observes nightwing and the new robin for a while, realizing that shit, this robin is just a kid. he can’t hate the new robin for something that’s not even the kid’s fault

he has a mess of complicated emotions about dick, though. again, he’s glad dick avenged him, but is mad he replaced him, and is a better brother to this robin than he was to jason. jason wanted that fun older brother. he got it for a little bit but it wasn’t nearly enough time, and then he fucking died

anyway, this of course leads to a confrontation between red hood & nightwing and robin. jason considers messing with them but decides to just get it over with (so he can yell at dick) and takes off the helmet. dick recognizes him immediately, and tim figures out who he is by dick’s reaction.

queue jason failing to be mad at dick when he starts sobbing and hugging him, and tim jumping in and making it a group hug. they bring him back to their apartment and give jason the guest room (they often have titans friends over), while jason is still like “…what just happened”

him and dick do talk later that night, and dick pretty much tells him everything. jason does the same “so they’re even”

jason goes back to gotham to protect crime alley, he has a couple safe houses set up around the city, but he visits blüdhaven whenever he can. similarly, when dick and tim are free they visit jason in gotham, at his main safe house that only they know about

going back a while, tim is kidnapped by joker while helping bruce with a case in gotham. he goes missing and bruce calls dick to see if he went back to blüdhaven, which he obviously didn’t, and dick speeds to gotham and finds joker, who tells him tim is dead and taunts him about jason. dick beats the joker to death, and doesn’t let bruce revive him, even if he has to live with what he did

after that bruce cuts contact with dick, but tries to stay in contact with tim. tim, however, is pissed at bruce for how he is treating dick and similarly cuts contact with bruce. both boys stay in contact with alfred, though, and sometimes he will update bruce on how they are doing

after jason settles into gotham, he joins dick and tim on one of their visits to alfred (while bruce is away/at work) and gets to reunite with him. alfred agrees to keep red hood’s identity a secret from bruce until jason is ready to tell him, but encourages him to do it soon because bruce misses him terribly

after blüdhaven is destroyed, dick is a wreck, so they move in with jason at his apartment near crime alley. nightwing is out of commission for a while (mentally AND physically) so robin patrols with red hood, who agrees to be as non-lethal as possible around him

dick is in a depressive episode for a while, so jason plays the role of Big Brother to tim (and dick if he’s being honest) until he feels a bit better. he’s actually the best at helping dick when he’s upset (aside from alfred ofc) and forces his ass into therapy with dinah

therapy and spending time with his brothers helps dick a lot, and he manages to force both of them to see therapists as well (not dinah cuz like. bias and legal stuff. but they find some good ones)

jason actually talks to harley sometimes (she’s calmed down a lot since the joker died and she started dating ivy), and she’s stable enough to give him solid advice occasionally. regardless, she’s a great listener and will always let him rant to her

okay flashback time again: when dick was living in titans tower in nyc, he attended college at hudson university. after about a year there, he moved to blüdhaven and transferred to blüdhaven university

tim moves in with him after dick’s been in blüdhaven for a few months. he finishes sophomore year at BU and starts paramedic training, deciding not to return to college. he’s 20 as of March and tim is almost 15

it’s around this time that jason (18) shows up- after dick’s finished sophomore year at BU but before he finishes paramedic training. after blüdhaven is destroyed, dick stops his paramedic training but eventually picks it back up again in gotham

ANYWAY so yeah the three of them share an apartment in park row

dick finishes paramedic training and starts working with gotham emergency services / thomas wayne memorial hospital (leslie’s clinic), and often helps anyone he comes across for free (he always has first aid supplies on hand & their apartment is hella stocked up)

dick and jason also often make meals for nearby homeless shelters (tim would help but he is a terrible cook, instead he manages to trick rich assholes into donating to and funding shelters, food pantries, schools, etc. in park row)

idek where i’m going with this anymore, just the three of them being brothers and visiting alfred. bruce focuses more on damian and cass, but occasionally they will all work together on a case (bruce has given up trying to get any of them- mostly jason- to move back to the manor)

damian and cass will drop by their apartment from time to time, as will alfred. jason, after watching over robin while nightwing was down, has stopped killing (for the most part) and focuses more on community support than beating up criminals

nightwing has become a sort of medic vigilante of sorts, he bounces across the city helping anyone who is injured (mostly abusive victims / those who can’t afford healthcare and are too far from leslie’s clinic to go there / homeless kids who can’t go there without having CPS called / etc)

he mainly patrols park row, but if he has time he will venture further out into the rest of gotham. tim is still robin atp, but he eventually changes his vigilante identity from robin

tim and steph still meet and become friends, but instead of working with batman as spoiler, she works with nightwing, red hood and robin. also, she is never robin, but she is batgirl for a bit

babs is oracle (okay timeline wise idk if she gets shot by joker before or after dick kills him soo i’m just gonna say before) and she helps out both the bats (bruce, dami, cass) and the birds (dick, jay, tim, steph)

steph ends up moving in with babs (who is very excited to have a little sister). this is when babs gives her batgirl, which she eventually (with permission) gives to cass.

sidenote: babs & dick are Best Friends like ride or die and that’s part of the reason dick killed joker- tho he doesn’t tell her that. they see each other all the time (the boys’ apartment building has an elevator) and stay in contact throughout all of this

robin and spoiler meet when the boys move back to gotham, and the two become fast friends. spoiler runs into red hood and robin one time and tim is like “hi S, this is my big brother!” and she’s like “your what.”

once dick is back as nightwing, he meets spoiler as well (who has told them her name is steph atp) and she’s like “i’ve heard all about you from your brothers :)” and dick is like “🥹 really?”

after that the boys tell steph their identities- “didn’t you die?!” “yeah, long story”- and she does the same- “wait is your dad that knockoff riddler guy?” “unfortunately, yeah”- and she crashes at their apartment sometimes after long nights of patrolling

it’s MY au so i say that cass found damian, understood what talia was trying to say when she saw her, and steals lil dami to arrive on bruce wayne’s doorstep. alfred opens the door and she basically shoves damian at him and then runs into the manor and launches herself at a very confused bruce with a hug. bruce is just like ‘okay i guess this is my daughter now’ and then alfred walks in with damian and he’s like ‘…i guess i have another son now too’

this all happens while tim and dick are in blüdhaven and jason is in gotham avoiding bruce like the plague. babs doesn’t tell them because she can be evil sometimes and wants to see their live reactions. imagine their surprise when the boys go to visit alfred and find two assassin children (cass is 19 but shush)

when bruce is lost in time, jace fox takes over as batman while tim, dick and cass go look for him. jason and steph stay and guard gotham and tim gives robin to damian so he can help them (and not go stir crazy without his dad). huntress and the sirens also help out in place of the three vigilantes looking for bruce

they find him faster since there’s three people looking, and everything pretty much goes back to normal after that, aside from jason being damian’s favorite older brother (instead of dick, bc he was never the batman to damian’s robin)

another sidenote: i am totally just ignoring jack and janet drake’s existence bc i don’t wanna deal with them yk? also crystal brown is alive and a decent mom, steph just moved out cuz she wanted more independence

rough age timeline rq

dick is 19 when he kidnaps adopts tim who is 14

jason (18) confronts dick (20) and tim (15)

cass (17) & dami (7) - jay (19), dick (21), tim (16)

blüd destroyed - dick (22), jason (20), tim (17)

tim (17) and steph (17) meet as vigilantes

cass (18) becomes orphan

dick (23) returns to nightwing - jason (21), tim (18)

tim becomes sparrow- robin is put in storage

the boys meet cass (19) & damian (9)

steph (18) moves in w babs (26)

steph becomes batgirl

future timeline

steph (19) gives batgirl to cass (20)

cass (21) becomes black bat

bruce gets lost in time

dick (25) jay (23) & tim (20) give damian (11) robin

[byoldervine]

Unoriginal Writing VS Field Trips

A lot of writers worry that their ideas have been done before or rely too much on existing scenarios. And you absolutely do need to be original if you want to write your own book that you intend to publish professionally. But a lot of writers can also take this the other way and start worrying that every single idea they have, no matter how fleshed out and unique it actually is, is just a version of a very broad and generic trope, and so it’s automatically bad and nobody will ever want to read it since it’s all been done before

Let me tell you about what has been dubbed the Peter Parker Field Trip in the fanfic scene

The Peter Parker Field Trip is an incredibly specific type of one-shot fanfiction about Peter Parker visiting Avengers Tower with his class on a school field trip while having to try and hide his status as the Avenger Spider-Man, usually along with hiding the fact that he’s basically been adopted by the Avengers and they all treat each other as family, if not legally having been adopted by Tony. And this is only the summary, it gets way more specific from here to the point where you can follow each story beat by beat and the vast majority of these fics will follow them:

1. Peter discovers that the adults arranged for him to go on the trip despite trying to get out it/telling them not to sign the permission forms. Peter tries to talk his way out of it on the way but fails. Sometimes the teacher will discourage him from lying about having a Stark Internship while they’re there

2. While they’re on the bus Flash teases Peter about how now everyone’s gonna know he doesn’t actually have a Stark Internship, meanwhile Peter’s freaking out about everyone realising he’s more than just an intern

3. The kids arrive at Avengers Tower and pile out of the bus to be greeted by some of not all of the Avengers, usually with Steve and/or Tony leading the introductions. Peter tries to keep his head down but the Avengers either spot him or were actively looking out for him, but at this point they usually don’t acknowledge him too much

4. An actual intern hands out access passes to the kids, everyone has level one clearance except for Peter who has Level Ten Alpha Clearance™️, which is even higher than most of the other Avengers and is reserved for Tony and those closest to him. Peter asks if he can just get a regular pass like the others but the intern says they don’t have any extras, usually while being starstruck at meeting Peter

5. The kids go through a security scanner, through which Jarvis announces their security clearance. Peter has his Level Ten Alpha Clearance™️ broadcast to the entire class, leaving everyone shocked. Flash thinks Peter, resident Poor Kid McOrphanface, bribed Tony Stark, known billionaire, for higher clearance

6. The tour goes ahead. They meet Bruce either in his lab or the medical bay. Bruce has a pleasant chat with Peter, who quickly helps him with something while he’s there. People are shocked that Peter works with Bruce on science stuff

7. The tour goes ahead. They meet Natasha in the training room. She offers to give a demonstration and has Peter come up to fight her. The class are shocked when he doesn’t get instantly thrown on his ass, even though overall it usually ends with him on his ass

8. The tour goes ahead. They meet Thor either on the landing pad as he arrives back home or he’s in the kitchen making an absolute mountain of pop tarts. He’s the one that comes closest to leaking Peter’s Spider-Man identity because he has no social awareness and just wants to wrap the Man of Spiders in a bear hug

9. The class break for lunch. There’s an ungodly amount of coffee machines in the cafeteria. Everyone is talking about Peter. Flash is talking shit. Clint then proceeds to drop out of the vents to ask Peter about either Mario Kart or babysitting his kids, potentially both. Clint then realises the tour was today, apologises and goes back into the vents. Peter can’t even muster up the energy to be embarrassed

10. As the tour continues, Flash is getting more vocal about his dislike for all this. There’s a 50/50 chance he’s going to get physically violent with Peter. If he doesn’t, he’ll ask Tony Stark why he’s let Peter lie about all this stuff only to be told harshly that Peter is Tony’s kid or something similar. The bullying will be discovered and Flash will be kicked out. If he does get violent with Peter, one of the Avengers will stop him, Tony will defend Peter while revealing that Peter is his kid or something similar in the process, then will kick Flash out

I just described to you an ungodly number of fics beat by beat. And people don’t just read one of them and call it a day; we consume each and every one of them despite knowing the exact plot and having read it a gazillion times

And I think that these fics are the most obvious example of the fact that people don’t care about the repeated use of tropes or clichés or plotlines; if they like it, they’ll like it. They’ll be willing to read those tropes a million times over, even if they know what’ll happen at every turn. And that proves that it’s not the use of tropes that matters, it’s the way you use the tropes. Even if it’s just a new way of wording it, people will enjoy it. It doesn’t have to be completely new or original, it just has to be out there

[gloriouspower]

Hey can you write natasha x reader with the prompts 23, 32, 33, 39 thanks

A/n : it's smutt y'all minors stay the fuck away , alright? I gave my warning so let's proceed

Show me ✯

Pairing : Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary : our sweetheart nat gets jelly over a man flirting with us, so she takes matters in her own hands

Mine 🖤

Warning : smutt, fingering, edging, orgasm denial, jealousy, soft dom nat, sub reader, established relationship.

Word count : 1.5k not proof read.

Note : I'm so sorry for taking this long, my laptop broke and I had to get it fixed so so sorry, here I completed this so fast my god 😭

"word" - dialogue

I sat by the counter with a glass of negroni in my hand while this man, who's name i forgot long ago, kept blabbering in front of me, i needed more than just negroni to deal with this good for nothing shit bag, i sighed internally and gave him a smile on whatever he was talking about, why was I doing this? Well being the caretaker of Avengers came with pros and cons and this was being a HUGE con in my ass.

After pepper stepped up as the stark industries CEO, i interviewed for the caretaker replacement and to my pure shock i got it, it's been 5 years after that, now I'm stuck here in another extravagant tony stark Saturday party he hosts, which i absolutely hate but organize it for him anyway, if i remember vaguely, this man was talking about sponsorship and in any way do we need sponsors right now, because i didn't wanted to come off rude i sat talking to him, which , right now, is giving me a migraine in my right temple.

"So you see, that was my idea, and maybe we can discuss some more about this tomorrow at coffee? My treat " he said smirking, placing his hand on mine, i pulled back but he held it strongly and i was getting uncomfortable, he had made several advances in the "5 minutes" he requested from me, that turned out to be an hour, but i declined them all, and was about to do it again but someone beat me to it "I'm quite sure, she said no multiple times before or are you specially deaf for the word 'no'?" Relief instantly floods in me as i hear Natasha speak, God did i want to get out of here, he looked scared for a moment before he speaks out of pure idiocy "i was asking her, and i don't take no for an answer, so i do not see why you are interfering in between us" and he had the audacity to slip his arm past my waist, i recoiled back, pushing him away but natasha didn't hold back and punched him in the face, that idiot fell to the ground, hitting his head on the hard floor, stumbling to stand up, blood ran down his nose as he blabbered " you bitch, how dare you! Do you know who I am? Fucking bitch" nat just rolled her eyes " i don't give half a fuck who you are, touch my girlfriend again and i won't just stop at a punch" with that she grabbed my wrist, pulling me away, the crowd was staring at the scene we just made, that included tony, who was giving nat thumbs up.

The crowd parted for us and by the time we got to the stairs, nat threw me over her shoulder as i awkwardly smiled at the onlookers, tony was laughing his ass off, when we finally got to our room, she placed me on our bed while looking down at me, i pouted " you didn't have to punch him you know?" She scoffed at that. I propped myself up on my elbows. "I didn't like the way he was staring at you" I laughed as she went to grab something from the cupboard " how do you know?" She turned around trying to form words but nothing came out "umm.. I was looking" It sounded more like a question than an answer but then it hit me and I gasped loudly " were you checking me out?" Her denials fell on deaf ears as I gushed over her, finally I spoke coherent words "were you jealous?" She rolled her eyes at that but i didn't let it fool me, she was jealous, when he was making those advances, heat rushed to my cheeks and southwards as it gave me a weird thrill, she finally replied, pulling me close to her, she already changed into different clothes while i was still in my black cocktail dress " so what? Nobody looks at what's mine in a wrong way, let alone touch you" I blushed, she leaned down kissing the base of my throat, automatically her hand traveling down to my hips. "Oh yeah?" My voice came out much breathier than expected, she cocked an eyebrow up, a devilish smile forming on her face " show me you're mine" and as if on command my hips bucked against hers, she crashed her lips against mine, as ecstasy shot through me.

Nats nimble fingers untied the knots of my dress, pulling down the zip in one fluid motion while her mouth left trails of hickies blooming on my neck, her other hand gathering the fabric of my dress up and pulling down my very soaked panties down, her smirk was almost unbearable to me, i would have scoffed at her if i wasn't squirming under her form for more, my eyes fluttered shut as she slid two digits down my folds, back arching while she teased my entrance, my skin felt hot, sweat forming on my forehead, the dress sticking to my skin, so i took it off completely, leaving my bare body with just the bra on, she tsked "so impatient, huh?" But my mind was already fogged so without saying another word i pulled her in for a kiss, i moaned into the kiss when her fingers finally left the rim and entered completely, i went to grab her side but the shirt she was wearing got in between, frustrated i pulled it off her, she didn't care one bit, keeping the pace steady, pumping her fingers in and out at an agonizingly slow pace, I bucked my hips to get more friction but she stopped entirely, fingers stilling inside me , I whimpered as she said "do not move till I say so, I will let you come when I want you too" her fingers regaining the speed but still not fast enough and I was left blubbering mess beneath her.

»»————-　☠　————-««

Clothes were scattered on the floor long ago, my screams and moans filled our room, if it weren't for the sound proofing, the media would be outside our door by now. I clutched onto her Ruby hair, as she glided her tongue up my slit, sending shivers down my spine, my legs thrown over her shoulder, her nose brushing over my sensitive clit, I was close to my edge, just another push and I'll be tumbling down, the knot in my stomach too tight, i groaned tugging on her hair "nat please" she just tutted against my cunt "you wanted this, now it's either you take what i give you or nothing at all" I whimpered, knowing she'd do just what she said, if I didn't comply, my mind was a mush, her skilled tongue lapping up my juices like a starved man but she did not give me the release, pulling back just enough to leave me groveling for her to go further, hands clamped on my thighs, she sucked on my clit and my back arched in response, my delirious mind swirling in thoughts of nothing but her hands on me, her kitten licks pushing towards the edge yet again, this time i didn't tell her, i was desperate to cum, i needed to but as if she knew what i was doing, she pulled back completely, my hand immediately flying to pull her back but she chuckled, her mouth smothered with my juices as she licked it off her lips.

She climbed on top of me, grinding her hips against mine, stimulating me more and more , my head rolled back , eyes scrunched shut, breathing labored but she had other plans , leaning down near the shell of my ear , her breath tickling me she said " say that you're mine, say it and I'll give you what you need, sweetheart" I whimpered, as quickly as I could I said " I'm yours, please, I'm all yours" she smirked, all the while teasing my entrance with her fingers, finally pumping into me, her fingers skillfully scissoring me inside, brushing my g-spot with every hit, and in no time I was coming on her fingers, the slick gushing out, smearing the already dirty bed sheets, I heaved, riding down my high, as she laid beside me chuckling and licking her fingers, I turned around and buried my face in her chest, her arms enveloping me, she caressed my hair lightly, kissing my forehead, giving me a break from before but before I could even process what's happening she pinned me down again, her voice rough "I'm not done with you just yet" and right then I knew I won't be getting any sleep tonight….

© god-of-mischiefs 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐫 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐬

A/n : if you want to be tagged let me know in the comments ☺️

[themculibrary]

Banter Masterlist

Accepting Publicity (ao3) - xmypandabear pepper/tony G, 4k

Summary: "Pro tip: saying it's nothing only makes someone more curious," he leant his hip against the nearby table, mind already doing the math and coming to an unsettling conclusion. "Kid, don't tell me you were at the 2010 Expo."

The kid opened his mouth, shut it, then said, "Is this like the whole, 'don't do anything I would and wouldn't do' or...?"

"Jesus."

//

The one where Tony doesn't believe he's a hero and can't handle having it thrown in his face, Pepper is Tony's Big Damn Hero and Peter is asked to help start Iron-Man's social media accounts (and is probably a hero, but that's irrelevant right now).

Bless this Ink and Our Souls (ao3) - Akira_of_the_Twilight bucky/clint/steve/tony T, 5k

Summary: Steve and Tony venture to Nelson & Murdock, Attorneys at Law to bless the ink that they will need for their protection spell.

Things get heated between Steve and Tony, and Matt Murdock reveals a secret of Tony's that leaves Steve stunned.

Clint Barton or, Why Hawkeye Should Be Renamed Captain Sexy Pants (ao3) - QuirkyChick clint/phil, steve/tony G, 1k

Summary: For the Avenger Kink Meme on LJ.

“Clint is voted sexiest man alive in some trashy woman’s magazine. The team proceeds to mock him mercilessly.”

Come on Closer (ao3) - Epiphanyx7 steve/tony E, 4k

Summary: [[... porn.]]

Or, the one where Steve wants to talk to Tony about something important.

Fighting, Flyting, Flaunting, Flirting (ao3) - Redring91 loki/tony M, 9k

Summary: -

“What’s flyting?”

“Tis a form of verbal battle performed in the courts of Asgard, where opponents trade insults in verse.” Thor explains.

“Offensive poetry?” Tony clarifies, because that sounds awesome.

Thor nods. “Loki was by far the best skilled at it – it was not for nothing he came to be known as Silvertongue. He ceased competing in official matches after a time though. He deemed there were none on Asgard who could claim to be a worthy match for his attentions.” Thor levels a thoughtful look towards Tony at this.

“So, you’re saying that Tony derailed the fight because Loki enjoys it when they’re insulting each other?” Clint says slowly.

Thor gives a rather helpless shrug. “Loki has always enjoyed flyting.”

-

hand over your heart (ao3) - cherryvanilla clint/phil, steve/tony M, 7k

Summary: If a top secret file on Phil Coulson and Clint Barton's relationship existed, it would look something like this.

NOT Just Married (ao3) - relenafanel steve/bucky M, 7k

Summary: Also known as the feel-good fluffy ficlet relenafanel promised after the end-credit scene of new Bucky feels from hell... Because I have your back and know you need recovery comedic AUs about BFFs being dumb in Vegas.

Stuck With You (Seriously?) (ao3) - Jaune_Chat steve/tony E, 2k

Summary: Steve and Tony are drugged, captured, and wake up in a very compromising position. There's really only one way out. Sex.

In other news, Tony thinks the Avengers need better villains. ;)

This Wasn't What the Brochure Promised (ao3) - kahn steve/tony T, 7k

Summary: "Do you think this is still a training exercise, or did we just get our asses handed to us by actual bad guys?" asked Clint.

Tony, Steve, Clint and Bruce spend quality time together in a cave. Tony does not build another arc reactor (even if he sort of needs one). Steve is all Protective Leader. Clint is terrifyingly good with a knife. Bruce bleeds and snarks. There is banter and embarassing amounts of schmoop and the boys get very touchy-feely.

Three Men in a VW (ao3) - Brokenpitchpipe steve/bucky T, 3k

Summary: Steve steps back into the car and closes the door, lips still tingling.

“You don’t like blondes,” Bucky says.

Sam chokes.

Who we are (ao3) - reclusiveq steve/bucky G, 3k

Summary: When Bucky comes home beat up, Steve is left to wonder why. His search for an answer will reveal a truth his friend may not be ready to share.

you and your high top sneakers and your sailor tattoos (ao3) - victoria_p (musesfool) darcy/steve M, 5k

Summary: In which Darcy Lewis punches Captain America's v-card. Yeah, she can't believe it either.

You're My World (ao3) - Teddy1008 sam/bucky E, 6k

Summary: “I… oh, I get it now.” Sam tilted his head, perceptive as ever, goddammit. “All this flirting with my sister, that was just to get my attention, wasn’t it? I know it was. Say it.”

“That wasn’t—” Bucky croaked, but Sam wasn’t having it.

He huffed a low laugh, and bulldozed right through Bucky’s feeble pretense. “You like it when I pin you against the wall? Take away all that power you have, that strength that your arm gives you? Make you feel small, maybe?”

your will is not your own (ao3) - Merideath darcy/steve E, 6k

Summary: Agent Lewis is sent to collect Captain Rogers from the wilds of Alaska. A snowstorm is brewing and Darcy's ride abandons them to the elements... or a tiny log cabin. She's pretty sure she watched that movie. It didn't end well.

[thistleraven]

GOD this is so insane I wrote this scene out from the discord, with @hemlock-dreams saying setting it up a blow-out fight with the Avengers after they were treating Wade poorly and he had to intervene so Spidey didn't kick their ass. I wanted to write the aftermath, and then hemlock DREW IT. screaming/ crying / etc etc etc.

So with that in mind, and knowing that the below is about 95% porn/ NSFW, enjoy. if you know me in real life AVERT THINE EYES unless you are into this sort of thing in which case, please proceed .

Wade watches Spidey pace, his shoulders tense and his movements sharp.

"Sooooo," Wade breaks the silence. "That was...fun..."

Spidey snorts derisively. "I don't like hypocrites. They were being assholes."

Wade nods. Makes sense, make sense. Only—

"You okay, buddy? Cause I haven't seen you lose it that bad since...now that I'm thinking about it, uh, never, and we deal with assholes all the time on patrol."

Spidey hisses— a sharp, primal sound that, combined with the points of his fangs, does absolutely jack shit to calm down Wade's burgeoning erection— and turns towards Wade. He stabs a finger at him.

"The Avengers don't get to fucking talk to you like that."

Wow, okay. That's adorable. Wade laughs dismissively. "News flash, Webs, that's always how they talk to me-awhoooakyy—"

He cuts off as between one second and the next Spidey has him pinned. Spidey's body—huge, hot and firm—presses him against the wall. His fangs are so close they're nearly brushing the fabric of his mask.

"No, Wade," Spidey rasps. "They. Don't. Talk. To. You. That Way."

"Okay," Wade squeaks. He's so turned-on he's a little lightheaded.

Spidey's pressed so close that Wade wonders if he can feel his heart beating. He's gotta feel Wade's dick, hard as nails and now tortuously trapped against Spidey's hip. Wade holds his breath as Spidey doesn't move away—if anything, he moves closer. He runs his nose over Wade's masked cheek and inhales.

"Webs," Wade manages, because, let's be clear, he's into this, holy shit (holy shit!!!) is he into this, but he's a little confused about what the fuck is happening right now—

Confusion that does not get any clearer when Webs tugs at his mask. Maybe because of the confusion, he lets Spidey pull it up—up over his mouth, up to his nose—before he makes an involuntary noise at it going any further.

"Webs," Wade tries again, strangled, because Spidey's looking at him like he's gonna eat Wade alive and Wade is going to fucking let him—

"Promise?" Spidey says. His voice is low and husky and goes straight to Wade's dick.

"Yeah, sure, I promise, whatever you want," Wade babbles. He has no idea what he's promising, but who cares? Not Wade!! Not right now!!

"Good," Spidey murmurs, and then leans in and (holy shit!!!!) kisses Wade.

There's a split second where it's just a kiss, soft and exploratory, and then Spidey's fangs scrape over his lip, drawing blood, and Wade can't help it: he lets out the sluttiest, neediest moan of his slutty, needy life, and, well—it seems to do it for Spidey because getting eaten alive isn't too terribly far off from what happens next.

Spidey devours him: bites at his lips and jaw and chin, licks into his mouth and sucks on Wade's tongue. He kisses Wade with the intensity of a fucking category five hurricane—it's all Wade can do to keep up.

Spidey shoves one thick thigh between Wade's legs and grinds against him, which gets Wade letting out another absolutely pornographic sound. He can't help it, can't even pretend to be cool. He's rocking against Spidey's leg and clawing at his back with artless, desperate abandon.

It's so hot and so insane that Wade feels high— like, actually, legitimately high. His mouth goes hot and tingly and it's like Wade's senses start misfiring: Spidey feels like a drumline and tastes like purple, lurid and intoxicating.

"Are you fucking magic," Wade manages to slur in a spare, caught breath, "Or a like, fucking, incubus?"

"Hm?" Spidey says from somewhere around where he's biting at the hinge of Wade's jaw.

"Youfeelsofuckinggood," Wade pants, and yeah, he's rapidly losing his ability to fucking talk, which, wow. Achievement Unlocked.

"Ooohhh, fuck," Spidey says. "Whoops."

Spidey pulls back to stare at him, and Wade can see little strings of saliva—hot pink and shimmery, pretty—on his fangs.

"Whoos?" Wade echos stupidly. Spidey's so pretty. Prettiest boy Wade's ever seen.

Wait—thats a lie. Petey-Pie's the prettiest boy Wade's ever seen. Sorry, Spidey, but given, you know, Wade's never seen Spidey's face, Wade thinks he can be forgiven for that.

Spidey's the prettiest boy Wade's never seen, that's the correct version. Now they're both the prettiest.

Spidey moans, a deep sound that resonates through Wade's body like a bass drop.

Spidey laughs for some reason, a huff of amused air against Wade's mouth, which reminds Wade that holy shit, he could be kissing that mouth instead of just staring at it, so he does: leans up and licks Spidey's shiny pink spit, sucks his bottom lip into Wade's mouth.

"Shouldn't," Spidey says between kisses, "Fucked up—"

He goes to pull back, pull away, except Spidey hisses sharply and follows him, pinning him back against the wall. He rubs his mouth and nose against Wade's cheek and down his neck.

Oh. Wade stutters in his movements. Yeah—yeah. Okay. That—well. To be expected.

"Not like that. Bit you too much. Couldn't help it, feel so good, Wade. Got you too high," Spidey mutters against his neck.

Ohhhh. Okay. That explains the tasting purple thing. Goddamn, move over beer flavored nipples, there's a new unrealistic dream sex standard and it's Spidey and his magic drug spit.

Wade didn't think Spidey could get more perfect, but, well, here we are.

"Don't wanna," the next part Wade kind misses as Spidey licks over his carotid artery, but it ends in "—consent."

Oh. Oh. Now, hey, Wade's got to set some shit straight. He tugs Spidey back up to look at him, the polymer lenses of his mask round and shining.

"Fuck me up, baby boy," Wade tells him, as seriously as he can while being, as he knows now, fucking zooted on his venom. "I fucking want it, you gotta know how bad I fucking want you—"

Then Wade doesn't have to focus on words anymore because, thank god, Spidey slams their mouths together and gets to the fucking him up part, thank god, thank you-thank you-thank whoa shit—

Spidey stands over him, tall and looming and both scary and extremely, mind-meltingly hot.

The whoa shit is because Spidey picks him up and pretty much bodies him onto the couch, where Wade lands with an oof.

He points at Wade's belt.

"Off, or I'm gonna rip it off," Spidey growls, and whew, yeah, holy shit.

Wade gets his belt off faster than he thinks he's ever managed before, new record, and is barely able to get the start of the pants of his suit unzipped before Spidey loses patience and is on him, pulling roughly at the fabric until it's shoved down around his knees and then Spidey bends him in half so that Wade's trapped ankles are hovering over his shoulders.

Spidey lays stinging bites and kisses over his ass and the backs of his thighs, and when Wade can only pant and make embarrassingly high-pitched whines, Spidey hooks his thumbs into the meat of his ass and spreads him open.

"Can I—" Spidey starts to ask and Wade just about strokes out in his haste to say, "Yesyesyesyes, anything, everything, fuck me up."

"Thank fuck," Spidey says and then dives in.

Wade would like to state, for the record: he is no amateur at getting his ass eaten. He's, you know, been around the block. He's no blushing virgin, no shy maiden. He's gotten eaten out plenty of times, is what he's getting at here.

This? He was not fucking prepared.

Wade feels like he's losing his mind—it's so good and so intense, whatever pink magic is in Spidey's venom seems to crank everything up to fucking 11,000.

"Oh my god?" Wade squeaks, which might be right after or days, because Spidey eats ass like it's his god-given mission in life to take Wade apart at the fucking seams.

Spidey eats him out sloppy, too: wet and messy and obscene, moaning like it feels just as good for Spidey as it does for Wade.

Wade ends up grabbing on to his own ankles like the bitch bar in a Honda Odyssey, hanging on for fucking, he doesn't even know any more, life?? He feels hysterical, inside out, un-fucking-tethered.

The moment Spidey actually shoves his tongue in Wade's ass, Wade thinks he dies. Straight up blue-screens. When he comes back, it's to the sound of himself begging shamelessly.

"Please, please, please—"

The fact that his stupid pants are in the way and he can't see is suddenly the world's greatest injustice—Wade manages to get his last two brain cells rubbed together enough to yank his boots off and shove his pants fully off to land somewhere Wade could give two fucks.

This accomplishes two things: first, it lets Wade see the dark top of Spidey's head as he works Wade open and the way he's got Wade's thighs gripped tight between his fingers—spectacular, mind-blowing, scorchingly hot—and the second thing it accomplishes is Spidey going, "Fuck yeah, good girl," and spreading Wade open even wider for his mouth.

Wade thinks he dies again at that. Just a little, but who can blame him??? He's only fucking humanish.

"Gotchu, I gotchu," Spidey says, which, understatement of the fucking year.

"Webs," he keens. He tries to shove back but he can barely move like this. His leverage is shit, he's 100% at Spidey's mercy.

Never let it be said that Spidey doesn't have Wade figured the fuck out, because he doesn't play games: he slides two of his fingers into Wade along with his tongue, the slick of Spidey's combined saliva and venom making things way easier and wildly better than Wade would have imagined.

Wade garbles something nonsensical, flailing. His hand ends up hovering just over Spidey's head, indecisive on if he's allowed to—when Spidey pushes his head into Wade's hand, winks at him and then starts fucking Wade in earnest with his fingers.

If Wade wasn't in love before this, well. That would have done it.

Spidey finger-fucks with the same unhinged intensity and attention to ruin that he does eating ass. Wade digs his fingers into the dark material of Spidey's mask—wishes it was the hair he can feel beneath, but he can't say shit—and accepts his fate.

It isn't until Spidey genuinely starts teasing a fourth finger that Wade gets impatient.

"Webs, fuck, if you don't fuck me—" he threatens. He's not exactly an intimidating sight right now, knees by his ears and ass in the air, but he's still fucking Deadpool.

Spidey pulls back, biting at Wade's thighs like he can't help himself.

"Condom?" He asks when he finally manages to stop snacking on Wade's legs. Wade snorts and shakes his head.

"Don't have 'em. Can't give you anything, Webs, and you can't give me anything. Kinda my thing, remember?"

Spidey freezes for a split second as he seems to consider that, and then he rubs the exposed part of his cheek on Wade's thigh. "Huh. Yeah—yeah, okay."

Happy days for Wade (and the innocents outside), Spidey gets back on task real quick—he does something with his suit that Wade doesn't quite catch. What he does catch is the movement of his arm as he strokes his dick, hidden behind Wade's body.

Thank god because if Spidey was about to make him go to a bodega right now he was going to legitimately start murdering people.

Wade reaches out to touch, on god he wants to feel the hot length of Spidey in his hand, but Spidey catches his hand and brings it up to his mouth to kiss it.

"Sensitive," Spidey grunts. "Gloves on would be too rough, and gloves off—"

"Too ugly?" Wade offers. Spidey bites him, properly and sharp this time, and Wade hisses at the sting.

"Too good," Spidey corrects. "God, Wade, you've got no idea—if you want me to fuck you, next time, I promise."

Huh. Well. Wade doesn't know what to do with that information just yet. He tries not to hope at next time. He does know what he wants now, so he pulls his hand back and uses it to spread himself open a bit more for Spidey.

"Fuck," Spidey hisses, "Good—good, Wade, fuck," and then moans when he rubs the head of his dick against Wade's hole.

Wade barely manages to restrain himself from launching himself up and just sitting on it. He forces himself to be patient: all his wildest dreams are coming true right now and he wants to savor it, wants to take whatever Spidey's willing to give him right now.

Which, as it turns out, is a lot.

"Oh, fuck, fuck-fuck-fuck," Wade gasps as Spidey pushes in. Spidey's cock seems to get thicker in the middle, it goes on forever, and the stretch is so good it makes Wade's eyes roll back.

"Okay?" Spidey grits out, and Wade nods frantically.

"Holy shit, never better, knew it, knew you'd be big, baby, knew you'd ruin me," Wade babbles.

Spidey huffs, amused, and thrusts suddenly—a sharp motion that has Wade breaking off to moan.

"Yeah?" Spidey asks, "Think I'm gonna ruin you?"

"Haven't even started," promises Spidey, and then, boy, does he get started.

"Already have," Wade confesses stupidly, too sincere. Spidey doesn't seem to notice though, he just smirks and leans in to kiss him as best he can with the position they're in. It's mostly a sloppy, open-mouthed touch of their tongues.

Again, Wade would like to make a case for himself: he's been fucked so much! By so many people! A great deal of them super-powered!

Matty, Nate, the odd times Logan gets the itch to put Wade in his place—point is, Wade's been held down and fucked by people stronger and faster than him before, and it was great! 10/10!

Which is why this shouldn't be new or different for Wade, but it is. It's fucking outrageous: Spidey fucks him so hard, so good, that the world could be end outside and Wade wouldn't even know: all he can focus on is drag of Spidey's cock in him, over and over.

It shouldn't be different, but then that's Spidey for ya: everything he is and does seems to blow Wade's mind.

Wade's not as sensitive as he used to be back in GQ Wade days—the scars took care of that—but whatever witchcraft going in Spidey's venom seems to jumpstart all of his fucked-up nerve endings.

Pleasure shocks through him, lighting him up from the inside, where Spidey's making space for his cock, all the way to his fucking fingertips. His fucking nails feel erogenous.

He might be saying something—begging or whining—but who knows or gives a fuck. He feels incredible, all his normal pain transformed by the pleasure until it's all just one big tidal wave of sensation.

He's so busy just riding it out that he almost forgets about his dick until Spidey gets a hand on it. He makes a completely involuntary wounded noise and has to summon all the willpower in his body not to come.

"Spides-Spidey," he warns, panting, "I'll—fuck—I'll come—"

"Go ahead," Spidey says. The white eyes of his mask are narrow and intent on Wade's face. "Want you to, wanna watch. Gonna keep fucking you though, wanna make you scream."

Oh.

In that case.

Well.

Wade comes immediately.

It makes a mess on his chest where he's all scrunched up—he's gonna have to power wash the Pool suit when they're finished here but he doesn't care, doesn't give a single shit. Wade's too distracted having the best orgasm of his life. He feels like his brain is dribbling out his ears as much as his come is dribbling out of his dick.

Holy shit, Wade thinks wildly, entirely incapable of words. The mouth on Spidey—!

"That's it," Spidey is murmuring when his ears turn back on, "Fuck, that's hot, wish your suit was off, wanna see you come all over your tits—"

Spidey's true to his word—he doesn't stop fucking Wade. If anything, he picks up the pace. Wade can only squirm, an overstimulated mess, as Spidey pounds into him.

"Easy," Spidey tells him, "Be good, just take it, Wade, be good."

Good fucking night. It's so much: it's so intense and so overwhelming. It's so hard not to twitch away from it, but he forces himself to be still, forces himself to relax. Spidey hisses approvingly as Wade goes loose and pliant.

"Good—good girl," Spidey grunts and it's fucking unfair, the way he keeps slamming on all of Wade's buttons. Wade thinks he might go permanently blind with how hot it all is.

"Who made you?" He manages to wheeze incredulously. "Where did you come from? Fucking—perfect—oh my god, Spidey—"

Spidey laughs, and it's low and dark. "Me? You've got no idea, Wade, you've got no fucking clue, what I want to do to you, the way you feel to me—"

Wade breaks off to pant as Spidey grinds against his prostate and sends white hot shocks of pleasure shooting through his body.

Wade can only whimper helplessly as Spidey nails his prostate again and again.

Despite what Mormon fairy smut novels and AO3 would have you believe, there is such a thing as a refractory period, even for men "blessed" as Wade is with his healing factor. Normally he needs a good fifteen-twenty minute cooldown before he can even think about coming again.

A refractory period that Spidey appears to have taken as a fucking challenge. Wade never really got soft, not with the constant stimulation, but Spidey makes sure he gets fully hard again by sliding his hand over his cock: a slow, loose counter-balance to the hard, fast pace of his thrusts.

Wade's trying so hard to be good, be a good girl, take it the way Spidey wants him to, but he can't help but whine and shake his head when Spidey's grip on his dick changes—tighter, faster, with intent.

"I—Webs," he pleads, "I can't, s'too soon, no way—"

"You can," Spidey assures him, "You will."

He rolls the palm of his hand over the too-sensitive head and Wade chokes.

Spidey does something—Wade can't even begin to track anymore—but whatever it is it means Spidey has situated them so that they're closer now. The angle is different, somehow impossibly fuller, and Spidey's thrusts are slower, rounder, deeper.

Spidey's got one hand in the back of Wade's mask, pulling his head back so that Spidey can mouth at Wade's jaw and the exposed skin of his neck. The other hand he's still somehow got wrapped around Wade's dick, providing absolutely maddening friction.

"Webs," Wade tries again, desperate. His legs are shaking and his heart is going a million miles a second. He feels hysterical, out of his fucking mind, all of his nerve are endings screaming. There's no way. There is no way—

And then he bites him, his fangs sinking into Wade's neck.

"Wade," Spidey murmurs, dragging his mouth over Wade's frantic pulse point. "Come."

And listen. LISTEN. Refractory period-shmactory period. Wade comes, with a breathless whine, to a haze of purple venom synesthesia. Coming feels like being fucking raptured: he's tasting colors, he's seeing sounds.

And just when he thinks it's over, Spidey comes, with a sharp inhale, moaning, "Wade, oh, oh, shit, fuck, sorry—" and Wade has one delirious moment of hilarity wondering what the fuck he could be sorry for, when he suddenly gets the aftershock of a fucking lifetime.

It's like coming again but from pure prostate stimulation: waves of shimmery iridescent pleasure radiating from his ass. It's incredible. It's un-fucking-believable. It's so intense it rides on a knife's edge between ecstasy and agony. Wade writhes, caught, as it doesn't end.

He sucks in air in a desperate attempt to not just pass the fuck out. Every time he thinks it might be done it crests again until Wade is a shaking, sobbing mess.

He's distantly aware of Spidey petting him, pressing his weight into Wade so he doesn't fall right off the fucking couch, and making soothing noises.

Finally, after a period of time Wade couldn't put a number to with a fucking gun to his head, it eases up. It softens into a heavy, lingering sweetness throughout his body.

"Holy shit," Wade croaks. Spidey makes a soft, concerned sound.

"You okay?" he asks. "I've never done that before."

Wade can't help it, he snorts loudly. Then he chokes when that sends a new wave of tingles through his body.

"Bullshit," he gasps when he gets his breath back. Spidey laughs.

"No, no, not that," Spidey says, amused. "I've done...most of that before. I've just haven't come inside anyone before. At least, not without a condom. Never wanted to risk it."

Wade blinks. He's still having some difficulty putting coherent thoughts together, but, like. What.

"Webs," he says slowly, "I just want to make sure you know that you like. Super-duper cannot knock me up. Please feel free to try your hardest, anytime, but—"

Spidey sputters, laughing again. "Risk my venom, Wade. My saliva makes people high? I can poison people? I never knew what my cum might do to someone."

Oh. Right, okay, that makes more sense. A delighted thrill goes through him at being any kind of first for Spidey.

"Well, mystery solved, baby," Wade says smugly. "It's like, literally orgasm batter, holy shit. I don't think my prostate's ever gonna be the same."

Spidey huffs out a relieved breath. "Good, okay—it seemed like it was good but also a little like you were dying, so I wasn't sure."

Wade shrugs. "I mean, maybe. It was fucking intense. Who knows what it would do to a normie, but dying's cake to me. If it is, it's worth it, holy shit. Wowza."

There's a secret little smile on Spidey's face where his mask is rolled up. "Yeah? You liked it?"

Wade stares at him incredulously. "Liked it? Spidey, I think you broke me. I haven't been fucked like that—haven't felt anything like that—ever. You've ruined me for all others."

There's a sound that comes from Spidey, a noise that Wade can only describe as a purr, rumbling through his chest. He tilts Wade's head so he can lean in, a breath away.

"Good," Spidey says, before he kisses Wade again.

Wade opens up immediately, greedily. He's not sure how long Spidey's going to let him have this, and he wants to get his fucking money's worth. He'll be beating his meat to the last hour for centuries.

They trade kisses, open-mouth and languid, until Spidey shifts and Wade realizes that Spidey's hard, pressing against his thigh.

He starts to reach out but then stops, remembering what Spidey told him mid-fuck: gloves too rough, but skin potentially good? Big if true, but Spidey hasn't lied to him yet. He dithers for a second, caught in indecision, and then elects to trust Spidey. He pulls his glove off and lets it drop to the floor.

He wiggles his bare fingers before Spidey's face for approval. "May I?" He asks, gesturing towards Spidey's dick.

Spidey takes a deep breath, his eyes on Wade's hand. He stares at it for so long that Wade starts to feel like he made a mistake in offering when Spidey speaks.

"Can I—" he rasps. He reaches out with his own gloved hand and touches Wade's naked one. He shudders.

"Wanna put your fingers in my mouth," Spidey admits. "Please?"

Well. That's not what he was expecting, but it's fucking scorchingly hot.

"Sure," Wade says, magnanimously. "Go for it."

Spidey makes a noise that Wade can only describe as a hungry, and brings Wade's hand to his mouth. He rubs his closed mouth over the pads of Wade's fingers before parting his lips and sliding just the tips into his mouth.

The sound that rips out of Spidey—low and needy and desperate—is paired with the sudden jerk of his cock against Wade's thigh. As if getting two of Wade's fingers in his mouth was on the same level of pleasure as Wade jerking him off.

Wade stares, wide-eyed, in disbelief. There's no way in hell he can get hard again right now, but goddamn if his dick doesn't try to make the effort.

Spidey slides Wade's fingers further into his mouth, to the second knuckle, and rubs his tongue against the undersides. When he groans, Wade can feel the vibrations of it against his fingers.

"Jesus fucking Christ," Wade swears, reverent. "Look at you."

Spidey moans. He pulls another one of Wade's fingers into his mouth and sucks. His dick twitches against Wade, hips hitching in a desperate attempt for friction.

Wade pulls his other hand up and rips his other glove off with his teeth so he can worm it between them and finally—finally—get his hand around Spidey's cock.

"Oh fuck," Spidey drools around Wade's fingers. It comes out more like "awfawk", but Wade gets the idea. Spidey's fangs drag against his skin and Wade shudders as the sharp tips catch on his scars.

"You like that, baby?" Wade croons. It's nice to turn the tables against him a little, now that Wade is operating with a few more functional brain cells. "My fingers in your mouth and around your cock?"

Spidey moans and nods, forcing Wade's fingers deeper. The tips bump up against the soft palate, hot and plush, and it elicites another deep groan from him. Wade jerks Spidey off with one hand and lets Spidey use the other to rub his mouth—alternating between running his lips over Wade's fingers and curling his tongue around them.

Spidey seems to love it—he gasps and moans and holds onto Wade's wrist in a grip that's definitely bruising. Which is great, fantastic even, but Wade's had a thought that's even better.

"Webs," Wade murmurs, "Got an idea. Let go of my wrist?"

Spidey lets go and Wade grins at him. "Feel free to stop me if you hate it, but I just want to try something."

And then he fucks three fingers into Spidey's mouth at the same time he jacks his dick. The response is immediate and deeply hot: Spidey keens and opens his mouth wider for Wade, his hips jerking against Wade.

"Holy shit, yeah, fucking-A, Spidey," Wade mutters. It's fantastic: the matching wet, slick slide of his fingers in his mouth with the motion of his hand on Spidey's dick.

It doesn't take too long for Spidey to start shaking, panting harshly against Wade's hand. Wade watches, enraptured. He wasn't able to pay that much attention the first time Spidey came, due to his own brain being dopamine soup, but he's greedily drinking in all the details now: the hot flush Wade can see peeking from underneath his mask, the hitching, involuntary moans he lets out. His mouth is red and swollen, shiny with spit and the venom he's leaking.

"God, Spides," Wade confesses helplessly, "If this is what it's like with my fingers, I can't wait to get my cock in there."

Spidey sucks in a sharp breath and comes all over Wade's hand, moaning around the fingers shoved deep into his mouth. Wade jerks him through it until Spidey taps out, his hand coming down to stop the motion of Wade's wrist.

"Wow," Spidey rasps once Wade slides his fingers out of his mouth. Spidey lets out a mournful sound once they're free, so Wade doesn't take them too far. He lets them rest on the exposed parts of his face— his cheek and his chin. Spidey tilts his head to press a kiss to them.

Meanwhile, Wade literally has something interesting on his hands. He brings his Spidey-cum covered hand up and inspects it.

It certainly looks like regular jizz. Wade wouldn't have guessed it's magic orgasm batter if he hadn't just lived through it. There might be just a faint iridescent sheen to it, but for the most part: yep. Looks like jizz.

Curious, Wade goes to lick it.

"Wade—" Spidey warns. "I'm, uh. Not sure what that will do to you. Might not want to do that."

Wade rolls his eyes. Adorable. "Websy," he chides, "Please. I am like the best person to try it. Fucking around and finding out is what I'm built for."

Then he licks Spidey's cum off his hand.

It tastes like—well, cum. Wade's not about to sit here on Michelle Obama's internet and lie about what jizz tastes like. It doesn't taste sweet or delicious or any of the other bullshit romance novels try to swindle people on. It tastes like jizz: salty and bitter. Maybe a little sharper and a little more acidic than the average guy's—and then Wade's mouth goes tingy and hyper-aware.

"Huh," Wade says. He rubs his tongue over his teeth and shudders. When he inhales he can taste—stuff. He doesn't know how to parse it. The air tastes Starburst-pink sweet and grassy green curious, terracotta worry, and beneath it all, a rich ocean blue of satisfaction.

He relays that to Spidey who tilts his head.

"Huh," he echoes. "Pheromones, maybe? I taste those."

Wade shrugs. Who knows, but it tracks with all the other synesthesia effects Wade's experienced from the venom.

"Hey, stick you fingers in my mouth," Wade says. "I wanna see what it feels like."

"Christ," Spidey mutters. He reaches up and hesitates. "Okay to keep my gloves on?"

Wade shrugs again. He's maybe a mite disappointed, given how bare he is in comparison, straight up Winnie the Poohing with his mask on, but he's certainly not going to judge.

He opens his mouth and Spidey slides two of his gloves fingers inside.

And, well, holy shit. He knew, obviously he knew that the mouth was a pleasure center. He just never thought about much more than taste and tongue and lips, yay!

His whole mouth lights up at the intrusion. He can taste the fabric of Spidey's glove: the unique material it's made of, Spidey's sweat and scent permiating it. He can feel each individual thread that make up the knit of it, and revels in the way the texture feels over his tongue.

The pressure and texture and taste of Spidey's fingers is so explosively good it momentarily makes Wade stupid.

He immediately understands why Spidey goes so wild for it. When Spidey pulls his fingers free he wants to follow them and shove them back in.

"Holy shit," Wade groans. "That's amazing. Your cum turns mouths into pussy. Moussy? Mussy?"

Spidey snorts. "Well, that's one way to describe it. A horrible way, but sure."

"Please let me get my cock in there some day soon," Wade begs. He's already dreaming about how fucking awesome it will feel—for him and for Spidey.

Spidey coughs. "About that, uh. Well…"

He trails off and Wade curses himself for assuming, his heart sinking.

"No is fine," Wade reassures him. "That's okay, baby. No pressure."

Spidey shakes his head. "Nah, that's not it. I've just, uh. Never done that."

Wade blinks. "Never…?"

There's a flush creeping down Spidey's cheeks.

"By the time I started sleeping with guys, I had my powers, and uh. Well, you saw. My fangs are a little unruly when I get excited. Seemed like a bad combo."

"Oh, baby," Wade croons. Another first!! Wade's going to die of happiness. "Maybe for some other scrub lord. But not for me. Please know that I am very, very into the idea of fucking your mouth with the fangs."

There's a pause where Spidey just stares at him, masked eyes white and round.

Then he says, "Jesus, what have we done? How the fuck are we going to get any patrol done? We're going to be fucking all the time."

Oh, fuck yeah, Wade thinks, right before he throws himself at Spidey to kiss him. Wade is on cloud fucking nine, and he doesn't even think the cum-venom can take credit. It's all Spidey: Spidey-Spidey-Spidey.

How was their first kiss like?

(huge fan of you AU and art style<3)

First kiss? Spidey's (and Wade's) brain go out the window.

Unfortunately, most of Peter's body is poison. :(

I decided to combo the questions and there's an explanation under the cut.

Peter produces venom both on demand but also unconsciously when he's excited/high on adrenaline etc.

When he's producing venom, it mixes into his saliva and acts like a neurotoxin, which can produce intense highs that can quickly tip over into oversensitivity and pain.

His mouth is EXTREMELY sensitive because of this. Wade's skin is like the fourth of july for his brain.

Prolonged internal exposure (kissing/oral/licking a cut/etc) creates a headrush that leaves most normal people unconscious. Skin to saliva contact is just tingly.

(Making out for long periods of time/oral with MJ was NOT on the table- which had MJ coming to wrong conclusions.)

His blood is straight up poison. Would not recommend ingesting. (Don't eat brightly colored spiders, kids!)

His sweat is so negligible as to be be unnoticeable- unless you're wringing towels into your mouth.

His semen also produces intense sensation- mostly oversensitivity, that can be incredibly pleasurable, but can also tip into pain and paralysis for most people. Peter has no idea his semen can do this- because he's never experimented with it (always a condom. ALWAYS).

Because Wade has an incredible healing factor, as well as extensive nerve damage and scarring, he doesn't experience the negative aspects of Peter's venom. A big enough dosage could cause paralysis and death, but it's also going to have to be a WAY bigger hit than Spiderman would normally apply.

This is a super fun learning experience for them both!

Once again, thank you so much for all the support and the asks, it's been so fun figuring Peter's venom out and finding ways to play with him!

@eevylynn

[the-firebird69]

Watch "DMX - Party Up (Up In Here) (Enhanced Video, Edited)" on YouTube

Dave is a gigantic Giant so why wouldn't the huge giants have been seen cooking Tommy F ass beat him and his

Zues

I don't know why they say these things but they keep saying them I keep telling them it was too hard and we don't know what happened to them and you guys should know and yeah the skull is like the size the George was 20 miles roughly I had to tell you that's been there for a while no just sent back nobody could ever find it and here we go there's a huge number of people looking at and tonight The avengers is coming full eclipse of Jupiter I had a great meeting two meetings and we're going to have a third and then a final meeting and is going to start and we're going to get together and work today is a huge day so many of these goofballs are out and people have to get to work right away it's incredible

He thinks me very much for the help and I thank him LOL

Hera

We have a huge deal going on today no two first was China and it was not surprising he approached us the other day and he said don't tell him no we didn't tell him no he probably wanted to look at the details but okay you know we're doing. And the other deal is about construction the civil today and their business and we're getting the final notice to proceed shortly and sent a second provisional and inspected a whole bunch of buildings and we're now at 99% so a few minutes ago he said you should send everything in 100% And we did and get a huge number of people. Right now he says adequate as well as 100% is a couple punch lists in a small items and nothing would hold the seal off. I am in receipt of the final notice to proceed it signed and we thank them and we called our son so he would know and he thanks them and he calls him son and he says okay and uncle Mac and even watch out for that brother of mine. And everything went huge makes sense and he gets it now so they're having problems and they need help and they have to go to someone and they're going to each other. And it sends it the last part and Max said the first part of this sentence. It's true though a huge day today this projects are huge and we are getting ready and we shall get back to a few statements in a moment

Thor Freya

It's very appropriate these are giant projects and they're huge and there's tons of them they're going over our list of retailers and where and renovations of retailers and wholesalers and food places too water treatment and that kind of thing and he's asking me now about priority projects and we have an issue with infrastructure electrical and some other stuff that could be a big big issue even the wall idea so we're going to go over emergency stuff here in Florida and while they're here we may break off some to start work on massive emergency projects and he may come down here with more of us and others and massive Force to do it and we're going to have a meeting today us Max and then he suggested meeting tonight at The event center and refreshments and sleeping area or nap area and desks and everything will be moved into offices we need to think about this this could be an issue so we are going to do that and the event center is not set up 100% but we're going to go do that and they're going to send cruise down but right now it's it's an emergency we're having with the warlock and we're going to have a meeting on that and we'll probably grow the meeting on emergency construction structures in other emergencies at the event center it's military stuff we talked about that ourselves but we will talk about structures and things sit there probably end up ending up building so going right now and right now but we think our grand nephew here for his input it's like some sort of a guy who gets everybody going says he has to it's like his dad he gets people going to get him out of bed. And Hera is laughing thankfully. And yeah retail centers will be nice and we're working on funds and his idea is good is that a ton of ideas it says that he thinks it came from Terry cheesman and it's true his people say they did a little bit yes it's not a bad thing but we have some losses and we need to review what's going on here and he's a major problem that guy Tommy f and we have some structural problems around here and other areas because of him and we need to look at them and pretty soon too so people are going to go ahead and do that too

So we had a great meeting and we did sign the notice to proceed there's a lot of projects that people have been asking about that are go if you are a competent Mac or semi-competent or out of commission and want to slowly get back to it by doing a flagman job a couple hours a day and getting the right food because you have money please report to duty if you're in Florida or nearby a few states away we do need assistance and help and we want you back and we want the structure near you fixed odds are it's going to be on it's on the list cuz that's a lot and within those 200,000 or like several Bridges each each area so we need you to answer the call

Mac daddy

I second the motion for all mine and all the other clans are requested to do so please

Ben Arnold

We approved this message to go out

Olympus

[thefandomchaos]

Peter Parker field trip fics follow the same trope-

Tony either organized the trip or had no idea it was Peter’s. Peter gets it sign by either him or May. Flash is 10x meaner and more of a asshole than MCU Flash actually is (MCU flash calls him names and his actual a chill dude in NWH so I honestly don’t hate him) and MJ tells him off on the bus to the fieldtrip (Adding to this- Peter was either staying at May’s, or at the tower adding the “went to school to go back” trope) and MJ is only excited to meet Pepper and Ned is excited to meet everyone even tho his apperantly already met them. When they get to the Tower they meet up with the tour person who Peter may know and then they explained the security badges they now apparently have (and theres 50/50 chance that the highest badge is own by only Tony, Pepper, Happy and a “mystery person” who would be Peter or the highest is the Avengers. Anyway- Peter has the highest badge) and when Peter passes through and Friday outs him everybody stares at in shock and Chad Flash ask if he bribed someone or did something sexual with someone (which is just so gross people wtf) and then they make their way to a exhibit which they apparently have and Ned and Peter find the spiderman one which reveals Peter is actually afraid of spiders (I love that HC tho-) and theres a 50/50 chance that one of the Avengers will show up to embarrassed Peter, it may be Clint who was hiding in the vents or Natasha which we will proceed to get the iconic “мама паук” and “паучок”. Flash will again ask Peter how he knows them. They will proceed to the labs to meet up with Bruce and have robot building competition in which Peter, Ned and MJ team up and win because obviously. And through the way Peter will meet up with more of his Avenger family. At some point they will meet up at a gym with other Avengers (mostly Steve, Sam, Bucky, Wanda and sometimes Natasha) and they will ask Peter to train with them because nobody cares about keeping his identity a secret. After Peter proceed to shock all his classmates theres a 50/50 chance that Chad Flash will ask to train and get his ass beat. This is normally followed by a “Lunch” moment or them going to meet Tony (either @ his lab or meet and greet) if it’s lunch, then Flash and Peter will get into a fight and a Avengers may walk in. and if it’s meeting with Tony, Flash will ask if “High-Schoolers” can have interships and when Tony proceed to say no (even though he should remember Peter’s cover is in fact THAT HE DOES- ) Chad Flash will insult Peter and call him a liar and IronDad will get mad, insult/threaten Flash and his parents, telling his teacher what’s the point in Peter going back and they all live happily ever after without questioning the consequences of everything-

[recurring-polynya]

Once again, I am thinking about the dubious claim that people make from time to time that Renji would have gotten better character development in the TYBW arc if Byakuya had died. The thing is, though, that Renji did get excellent character development in this arc, particularly with respect to his relationship to Byakuya, it was just very subtle and I want to talk about it.

So, the first thing I want to point out is that the captain-lieutenant relationships is one of the major themes of the TYBW. A lot of this is sort of weird and awkward, but this is perfect, actually, because captain-lieutenant relationships are, for the most part, weird and clunky and awkward. Take for example, the part that I always make fun of, where the captains are told not to go to bankai, and Hitsugaya, Komamura, Byakuya and Soi Fon immediately go to bankai-- but they all do this on the assumption that they are luring their opponent into a trap to see how this works, and that their lieutenant will somehow ??defeat them anyway?? (well, except Soi Fon who seems to think she can one-shot her Quincy). There’s Sasakibe’s funeral, where we find out that Yamamoto cared far more for him than we ever imagined. Kyouraku returns Nanao’s zanpakutou to her and stands behind her as she defeats an opponent he can't. Iba carries Komamura’s body off of the battlefield as he loses the last of his humanity. Isane struggles to keep her head above her grief because that’s the burden Unohana left her with. Rose avenging Kira. Hitsugaya and Matsumoto fighting and (sort of) dying together. The Zaraki-Yachiru thing. The Mayuri-Nemu thing. Momo and Shinji actually got to have a relatively normal one, which they each deserved, but at least they got to have normal one together. Anyway, that could be an entire essay, but as usual, I only want to talk about Renji and Byakuya.

Renji’s introduction as a character happens in stages. Initially, he sort of appears to be Byakuya’s sidekick-- he's here to do the dirty work during Rukia’s arrest, while Byakuya stands by and calls the shots, but even early on, it’s clear that Renji’s a little hung up on Byakuya. He’s trying to impress him, and gets more embarrassed and self-conscious as things go progressively pear-shaped. When Byakuya finally enters the action, Renji’s thought bubbles reveal that he’s watched Byakuya for a long time, that he knows all his moves. When we get the Renji backstory reveal a few issues later, we learn that Renji’s goal is to defeat Byakuya, which he seems to feel is necessary to seeing Rukia again, even though there has never been any sort of causal link revealed between these two things. Don’t get me wrong, if Young Academy Renji had tried to continue to be friends with Rukia, I think Byakuya would have kicked him out on his ass, but it’s clear that a lot of Renji’s hang-ups are internal-- he doesn’t want to face Rukia again until he can stand against Byakuya. I think the origin of this is that he simply wants what’s best for Rukia, and he can’t stomach the idea of asking her to leave her rich, noble family for him, unless, of course, he’s somehow better than Byakuya in some dimension, and the only thing Renji’s ever considered himself good at is fighting.

Even more interesting is that he’s chosen to go about this by... studying the man’s every move and becoming his lieutenant. But for as much energy as Renji has put into learning Byakuya’s favorite combat moves, he doesn’t actually know anything about him as a person. He’s shocked when Rukia predicts that Byakuya won’t lift a finger to help her, and then horrified when this actually comes to pass. A few chapters later, as he’s running Hinamori through, Aizen comments that “Adoration is the state furthest from understanding.” I would probably classify Renji’s feelings towards Byakuya more as admiration or idolization, rather than adoration, but I think this statement is also very true of Renji and Byakuya’s relationship. Unlike poor Momo, Renji gets a little more time and opportunity to do something with this information. With a little Ichigo-forced soul searching, he realizes that he’s not going to come out the hero of this story no matter what, but if he doesn’t do something, Rukia’s not going to come out of this story at all, and even if he’s not really ready, he’s spent 40 years trying to figure out how to beat Kuchiki Byakuya, let’s hope all that was good for something.

The Byakuya-Renji fight has no direct impact on the events of the Soul Society Arc. It makes Byakuya show up to Rukia’s execution 5 minutes late and without his scarf. Renji gets healed, so it really doesn’t matter all that much to him, either. You could argue that they both wasted a bunch of energy (that they could have used to fight Aizen later) but it’s primarily a character-driven moment of them both drawing lines in the sand about where they stand, vis a vis Rukia. Byakuya wins this fight, and he wins it handily, but he’s wrong, as he comes to realize a few issues later, when Ichigo kicks his ass and tells him he’s a bad brother, a lesson that Byakuya will take to heart for the rest of the manga. Byakuya claims that the difference between Renji and himself is class, but the real difference between is the heart, and in the long run, Renji is the real victor of this fight.

The hospital scene is an interesting footnote to this. Byakuya defeated Renji, but Byakuya was the asshole and everyone knows it. There’s an expectation that perhaps Renji will quit or perhaps Renji will give him an earful and perhaps even Rukia will choose to leave the family, either to go to the Living World or to be with Renji (and Byakuya would deserve this), but instead, both Renji and Rukia give Byakuya another chance, which is not, I think, a place Renji ever expected to be.

Rukia and Byakuya building up a sibling relationship after this is fairly straightforward (although I’m sure it had its weird moments), but Byakuya and Renji now have this profoundly awkward relationship where Byakuya is obviously in charge, but he sort of depends on Renji as a personal compass because he’s shit at dealing with people and he doesn’t want to screw stuff up with Rukia again. Take for example, the part of the Hueco Mundo arc where Orihime is kidnapped and Rukia and Renji desert their posts to come help rescue her. Kubo takes to the panel-space to tell us that Byakuya has tacitly approved this. As a clan head and a captain, a person who is entrenched in the hierarchy of Soul Society, Byakuya couldn’t possibly go to Hueco Mundo-- but he can turn a blind eye while his sister and lieutenant scurry out through the Kuchiki family senkaimon. Renji, for his part, tried to go to Hueco Mundo through official channels and got shot down. We don’t know what Renji would have done if Byakuya had explicitly forbidden him from going, but it doesn’t matter-- Byakuya enabled Renji to follow his heart here, because Byakuya can’t. Rukia would have gone to Hueco Mundo regardless. She cares about Byakuya, but she doesn’t depend on him for validation the way Renji does.

I said this was going to be about the TYBW, so let’s get to that. Early in the arc, we’re shown several scenes where it’s clear that Byakuya respects and values Renji as a lieutenant, but he’s also pretty damn patronizing to him. Renji is the first one to engage As Nodt, and when Byakuya shows up, he acts surprised that Renji hasn’t taken him out yet, but then proceeds to take over the fight (real, “stand back, fives, an eleven has arrived” energy). After Byakuya then loses his bankai like a doofus, Renji wants to take point so that Byakuya can figure out As Nodt’s attack and Byakuya won’t let him... and then proceeds to get thrashed.

This has to be one of the most emotionally charged fights in Bleach. Byakuya is losing, and Renji jumps in, absolutely incensed that As Nodt would use Senbonzakura against Byakuya. Renji isn’t doing great, but he’s not doing terrible when Byakuya gets up and tries to help Renji, even though he’s a big bloody mess. As Nodt reacts by shredding Byakuya into chunks, and Renji just loses it, and if Mask de Masculine hadn’t shown up and kicked him halfway across the Seireitei, I daresay Renji would have killed himself trying to take down As Nodt.

This is where I usually make the point that if Byakuya had died to here, it would have broken Renji into little pieces, but that’s not today’s essay. Instead, everyone goes to the Royal Realm, and by virtue of the fact that Byakuya is injured worse than everyone else, Renji has to go forward without him or his approval.

In typical Renji fashion, the thing that motivates Renji here is not glory or heroism, but the desire to accompany Ichigo, the need to be with his friends in their times of trial. In fact his companionship here is absolutely essential-- at Hikifune’s, Ichigo expresses deep doubts that he’s doing the right thing, and Renji reminds himself that if he wants to protect others, he has to take care of himself first.

At Nimaiya’s however, Renji and Ichigo are split up because they must follow their own paths. The other extremely interesting thing that happens here is that Renji’s sword is reforged. Byakuya shattered one of Hihio Zabimaru’s joints the very first time Renji used them in combat. Renji brushed it off at the time, saying that he could get by without it. Even though Byakuya has long been his motivating force and his mentor, he’s also been held back by his connection to him. And at this point, it’s gone.

I really wish we got to see where Renji and Rukia meet up again, but we don’t. Unlike with Ichigo, though, Rukia doesn’t seem to need anything from Renji. They travel together, fight together as equals, wear matching outfits, like you do. Oh. Wait. After all this time, in the 493 chapters between Needless Emotions and Blue Stripes, Renji can finally see himself as an equal to Rukia. They get. bankai. Together.

I want to emphasize that it’s not really anything about Rukia herself that allowed Renji to make bankai, it’s the fact that he’s finally managed to move past the feeling that he’s not enough. Defeating Byakuya would not actually have solved this problem, and having Byakuya dying in front of him wouldn’t have either. Renji gets criticized for losing a lot of his fights, but that’s such a key to his character. He’s not always the strongest, he doesn’t always win, but he keeps fighting for what he cares about. He struggles with his need for approval, for external validation, but Renji is at his best when he doesn’t have time to think about that, when he’s just fighting by his friends’ sides against impossible odds, doing what he knows in his heart is right.

I think people tend to make a little more than is strictly necessary of the line where he tells Mask that he’s “a villain”, I think he’s most just making fun of Mask’s own self-aggrandizement. On another level, though, this is just Renji being at ease with himself. Byakuya typically enters a fight bloviating about the honor of Soul Society and “how dare you raise your sword against me, the 28th Head of the Kuchiki” and even Ikkaku had the whole deal about telling people your name before you kill them, but Renji is more like “you beat up my friends, so I’m gonna break your face,” like there’s no ego in it, just you’re there, and he’s there, and then you’re lying on the ground and he’s taking a nap somewhere. This is so different than the insecure, posturing young man he was at the start of this series and I love this growth for him.

Even after he eventually meets up with Byakuya again, something has changed about their dynamic. The group gets split up and rejoined two or three times, and Renji and Rukia always stay together while Byakuya ends up fighting alongside others, Hisagi and later Hitsugaya and Zaraki. This is cemented in their last scene together, where Rukia and Renji try to stay with Byakuya and he sends them off to fight with Ichigo by saying “your help is not needed here.” In some ways, it’s an echo of Byakuya sending them off to Hueco Mundo, but in other ways, it’s acknowledging that they are their own people, not just an extension of him.

Hitsugaya follows it up with this:

There’s more here than meets the eye, though-- Byakuya and Renji have maintained a pretty strict superior-subordinate relationship, because that’s the easiest way for them to make sense of the world, but the fact is, they do care about each other and are important to one another.

I know there would be a certain narrative satisfaction in seeing Renji make captain at the end-- he’s one of the hardest working people in Bleach, and it frankly seems weird to see Iba get the haori when he doesn’t. But Renji has never wanted to be a captain. Renji becoming captain would, in some ways, be a failure. He spends years pre-canon chasing rank and prestige because that’s what he thinks will make him worthy, and it didn’t. Instead, he found worth in being himself, in loving his friends and being there for them, in learning things from Byakuya and teaching him things in return. Renji doesn’t need to be Byakuya’s lieutenant anymore, he just does it because he likes it. It makes him happy. What better character development is there than that?

[heightsofmadness]

This is something I think about a lot. Like, an unreasonable amount. I agree with all of this - any power that is consistent within its own setting will only be OP within a certain context. Some of those contexts are much more broad than others, but it's still never limitless, and character growth can happen outside of that.

One Punch Man is a perfect example. The main character's power is literally that he can't lose fights. He can't even be challenged in fights. Which is a problem in his mind, because by his own admission he's "a hero for fun," and fighting isn't fun anymore. But that's okay, because the actual plot isn't about fighting - yes, fighting happens within the plot, but that's not what it's about any more than Sam Raimi Spider-man 2 is about pizza delivery - because One Punch Man's plot is about learning to be a hero. It's about having the power, but needing to learn the responsibility.

For all of Season 1, Saitama (the protagonist) has been showing up to fights when all seems lost, delivering a single anticlimax punch, and then leaving while muttering about grocery prices or something. He doesn't check on the people who may have been hurt, he doesn't rebuild, he does nothing to endear himself to the people he's supposed to be hero-ing for. And this comes to a head in the Sea King arc, where this unstoppable ocean-guy spends an episode and a half just plowing through superhero teams one after another. Eventually it's just a shelter of innocent civilians, and the Sea King, and the very last superhero standing between them. Mumen Fucking Rider.

Mumen Rider's "power" is that he owns a bicycle. That's it. He is, in theory, a joke character. In practice, he's the opposite of Saitama - he has never won a single fight in the show's history, but he's so ridiculously fucking heroic that you love him for trying anyway. He shows up to the Sea King fight with a "Justice Crash" - transitioning his power into "guy who used to own a bicycle" - and proceeds to get his ass beat by a 12-foot-tall fishman who could probably no-sell the entire Avengers. And then Mumen Rider gets back up. Because if he goes down, there's nobody left. He can't win, but he's risking everything for these people just to buy them a little more time.

And it works. He stalls Sea King long enough that Saitama shows up. Saitama punches a hole in the monster so hard that it stops raining(?) and that's the end of it.

It's such a drastic change that the innocent bystanders don't really know what to make of it. Eventually the consensus seems to be "Wow, maybe that monster wasn't very strong after all, if this nobody could one-shot him like that. I guess all those heroes that lost to him were super weak actually."

This is Saitama's moment of character growth, because yes, he can punch out Cthulu, but he can't punch out the court of public opinion. He saw Mumen Rider nearly sacrifice himself to save all these strangers now turning on him. So Saitama decides to sacrifice his reputation.

He starts talking loudly about how lucky he is that he arrived just in time to take all the credit, how all those heroes NEARLY beat the Sea King and Saitama was just able to get the last it in. Like Godzilla is a fucking pickle jar that Mumen Rider loosened for him or something. The narrative shifts - those heroes weren't weak, Saitama is just a cheater. How dare he steal the credit for all those hardworking heroes who fought to protect the innocent, even though they knew they might not come out unscathed!

That's the moment of growth. Saitama winning or losing was never up for debate, but the fallout was, and in making a sacrifice (his own reputation, possibly forever) he earned the victory (preserving the reputation of the people who were actually brave). It's the single most selfless thing he's done in the series at that point, possibly in the entire show. It's somehow more heroic than every single doomsday-aversion-punch he's done combined, because he stepped outside his area of expertise, he took a risk, he made a sacrifice, and the only thing he could get out of it was for someone else's benefit. That's character growth.

(anyway the season ends with him fighting Evil Goku, which is flashy but irrelevant for story purposes, and then Season 2 seems to forget that this type of character growth actually matters and it's generally agreed only S1 is worth watching, so... QED)

From a writing standpoint, do you think it's *possible* for a character to have a seemingly "story-breaking" power and still be well-written and interesting and fit into the plot without, well, story-breaking?

Sure. Story-breaking powers are entirely relative to the story they're in, because by their nature they can only break certain kinds of stories, and beyond that, the power is conditional to the character and personality of the person using it, who may be entirely unwilling to use it in certain ways.

An example: teleportation is one of the most notorious story-breaking powers. It breaks any story where the character conflict is influenced by the characters needing to get to a specific location. Writers usually mitigate this effect by limiting it in one of a few ways-

The teleporter can't go anywhere they haven't already been (only breaks the story if they aren't trying to go somewhere new)

The teleporter can only go somewhere they can see (only breaks the story if they need to go somewhere close)

The teleporter has a certain amount of juice that they can burn through by bamfing too many times in a row or with too many passengers (only breaks the story if they only need to make a small number of easy jumps to succeed at their task)

The teleporter can't take anyone with them (only breaks the story if they're navigating alone)

The teleporter maintains momentum when they jump (can be rendered unusable if they're moving dangerously fast)

There's plenty of other ways to do it. This approach limits the feasibility of the power, so while it's still storybreaking, it only breaks the story under specific circumstances that are easy for a writer to avoid. Any power will have a set of problems it can solve effortlessly just by its nature, and thus any story whose primary conflict is one of those problems will find the power story-breaking - but every power also has problems it can't solve, so the writer just needs to present the character with challenges that their story-breaking power has no impact on.

There's also the character personality approach. A power can be as OP as the writer wants and it still won't break the story if the wielder has no interest in using it to do so. There's lots of ways to do this, too.

The super OP character literally doesn't care about the protagonist's struggles and will not participate unless somehow forced

The super OP character is a mentor more interested in the protagonist's personal growth than they are in solving their problems for them, and will only intervene if it's life or death

The super OP character's power is capable of incredible destructive violence, but their compassionate and/or pacifistic leanings cause them to dramatically limit their use of it to avoid hurting people

The super OP character doesn't understand the full nature of their abilities and can't use a lot of them on purpose, and the potential consequences of messing up and unleashing something devastating make them reluctant to experiment

The super OP character's power goes from 0 to 100 with no in-between and cannot be used to solve anything that requires any finesse

The super OP character deals with an antagonist who is super OP in the exact same way

The super OP character is deeply unlikable and the protagonists just really can't stand getting their help

The super OP character doesn't like their powerset (gross side effects, doesn't fit their aesthetic, hurts to use, innately evil or drawn from an evil source, reminds them of bad times, etc) and refuses to use it unless they have to

There's a lot of flexibility here, too. The only power that can truly break any story is "the writer says I win now," and it's the writer's job to avoid using that one at all costs.

[peachbear88]

So This is Love (Pt 2)

You squint, the burning sunrise filtering through your eyelids as they fly open. You take out your earphone, your right ear burning from keeping it in all night. "Good god." You groan, stretching freely until your arm hits another body as you turn to find Wanda Maximoff asleep, wrapped in a fluffy plaid blanket. "Holy shi-" You exclaim, toppling off the chair and hitting the floor with a loud thump before cursing for being so loud and clumsy. She twitched, seemingly realising that there was more space on the couch and stretched out, filling the rest of the couch with her sleeping body. You slowly stood up, admiring her sleeping face. It was angelic, as opposed to her waking face, her eyes constantly haunted by the ghosts of her brother and parents. You reached out a hand to push away a stray lock of hair only for her eyes to snap open, grabbing your wrist and twisting it as you scream in agony. "Jesus Wanda! Ow! Same side! Same team! Yeah, guess who? Hi!" You ramble, attempting to pry her steely grip off your wrist. She lets go, taking in her surroundings. "What am I doing here?" She mumbled, rubbing her eyes. You slowly edge towards her, sitting on the edge of the couch. She rolls her eyes. "Oh come on, I'm not going to bite." She remarks. "Could've fooled me..." You mumble, rubbing your wrist wistfully. She giggles, and you feel your heart skip a beat before you mentally slap yourself. Come on Y/L/N, get a grip on yourself. She pulls the other earphone out of her ear, slapping it into your hand before leaving you alone, outside on the couch. You sit there for a few more minutes, contemplating the turn of events as well as Wanda's mood swings before Natasha pokes her head outside, interrupting your train of thought. "Hate to break up this little zen thing you've got going on but Tony's got some shitty movie afternoon planned and Spider Boy is choosing the movie." She rolls her eyes, indicating how little she thought of Peter's movie taste. You snort, following her into the living making a quick pit stop by the kitchen to grab a quick bite before hopping into your shower for a quick cleansing of the mind before you get dragged into watching some childish Disney movie.

4 HOURS LATER

"Tonight, we will be watching... HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON 3! Brought to you by myself." Peter screams, winking at the Avengers gathered around the large TV in the main room. You turn to hear a few groans from Bruce, Nat, Rhodey and Tony. Steve looks around, confused as to why no one is excited to watch this movie. You chuckle, knowing he'll realize exactly why as soon as the movie starts. Your eyes flick towards Wanda to see her reaction. Surprisingly, she seemed quite excited to watch the movie. As you settle into your seats, Tony hollers at you. "Oi, Maximoff and Y/L/N, care to grab some sodas for everyone?" You glare at him as you had just found a comfortable spot and honestly, seeing the shit eating grin on Tony's face, he was definitely going to steal your spot when you left. You feel a tug to see Wanda, towering over you, attempting to drag you to the kitchen to get the drinks. You throw one last glare at Tony before following her to the kitchen. She opens the fridge, pulling out some cans before passing them to you, your fingers brushing which sends a shiver up your spine. You take hold of at least 4 cans, struggling to balance them as they wobble back and forth. Wanda closes the fridge with an equal amount of cans and the two of you make your way back to the group with the two towers of precariously teetering soda cans.

You chuck a Coke at Tony's face, catching him off guard as it clubs him in the face. "Hey!" He exclaims in protest. "That's what you get for stealing my seat." Wanda chuckles, shaking her head as she plops down into the small couch. You're preparing your ass for the pain it'll be in from sitting on the floor but luckily, Wanda comes to the rescue, patting the space beside her. "There's enough space for both of us." She claims as you sit down, squishing against her warm body. She pulls her sweater closer to her as you look anywhere but at her. Your eyes lock onto Steves who's staring at you in complete shock, having witnessed her lashing out at you only 24 hours ago. You allowed yourself to relax a little, leaning into the back of the couch as you sipped your own Coke as Peter cheered at the sight of all the dragons. Not paying any attention to the movie at all, your gaze wandered over to Wanda who was watching the movie with wide eyes, her inner child bursting at the seams, unable to contain her excitement. You grinned, briefly forgetting yourself as you slung your arm around her shoulder, but that happy feeling was instantly replaced by fear as you felt her stiffen under your touch. Oh shit... Oh dear god this is going to be the end of me. Any moment know she's going to use her lil' fingers and throw me through 5 straight walls of concrete. You thought, silently praying to yourself but to your surprise, the bright red blast never came. Instead, Wanda slowly softened and wiggled closer to you. At this point, Steve wasn't even watching the movie. His eyes were as wide as saucers as he watched Wanda laugh at the movie, still snuggled into you while you were stiff as a board, staring into his soul, begging for help. You found yourself draining the soda can, your eyes locked on the TV screen, refusing to look anywhere else, more specifically Wanda. What you didn't notice was Wanda, glancing up at you every few minutes.

Eventually, the movie reached the end with Peter wiping away a few stray tears and Tony cheering with joy while everyone else trudged towards their rooms. You look down to see Wanda, still leaning against you, fast asleep. You take a moment to admire her the angelic look upon her face before gently sliding out from under her. You slide your arms under her body before gently lifting her up. "Wow, you're actually pretty light!" You stage-whisper, making sure not to wake her up as you make your way towards her room, nudging the door open with your foot. You take a sharp breath when she turns a bit, giving a contented sigh. Letting out the breath, you proceed to deposit her gently on the bed and cover her with a blanket. You take one last look at her and before you can decide otherwise, give her a light kiss on her forehead. "Good night." You whisper, turning off the lights and leaving her in what would be a fitful night of nightmares.

_____________________________________________________________

That's it for this part! Any advice would be greatly appreciated! Hope you all enjoyed!

[kuralione]

Cassian & Gangu Body-Sharing AU (Part 3)

(Part 2)

The next day come and the trio-duo(?) go to school. They might briefly encounter Yuri in the morning or she might have already left. Anyway, they go to school and before the day even begins, Gangu is cornered by his bullies. After a night to think things over, they’ve realized that perhaps they went a little to far yesterday and want to make absolutely sure that Gangu knows better than to snitch.

Now, Cassian can’t take on Gangu’s bully for him no matter how much both of them were prefer him taking over and beating their bullying asses six ways to Sunday. He is completely incapable of any action when the body is in civilian form—he can’t so much as make their body blink in this form.

So Gangu gets picked on as usual. Gangu is a mix of resigned—this has been happening for years, on some level Gangu has accepted this as just how things are—and fed up with things—he died yesterday. For all the torment he has suffered over the years, he never thought they’d kill him; drown him in a school toilet.

Cassian is furious. He feels helpless to do anything as these bullies proceed to push Gangu around. He wants nothing more than to beat down these assholes—but he can’t. This can not be allowed to continue however and Cassian promises Gangu they’ll find a way to put an end to it. He doesn’t know how yet, but the torture will end. He swears it.

The school day commences.

Cassian and Gangu talk a bit and Cassian helps out where he can. Maybe one of the bullies put Gangu on the spot in a class in an attempt to humiliate him and Cassian gives him the answer? Maybe Cassian tells Gangu about the differences between this school and what going to school was like in America?

Oh god. Am I going to have to research the Korean education system if/when I actually write this properly? Do they have the home-room class thing like Japan? That might throw off my idea of having Gangu partially escape the bullies by moving up a level? My school had like four levels (Grade, Advanced, Honors, AP). Gah, I might just scrap that conversation or moving idea? Then I can just hand-wave it and have the school work by American rules even if it shouldn’t.

School ends and they go to some rather secluded location. Gangu is a lot more careful about where he transforms than Cassian. Gangu is a lot more attached to his life than Cass was in canon, if someone sees him or if a camera records him, or, or, or…his life will be ruined. Yeah, he was a bit reckless with Blaster, but Gangu pleads extenuating circumstances.

(Gangu will be so happy when Cassian unlocks his shadow movement ability.)

Gangu is also more careful about talking or responding to Moros in public—he doesn’t want to seem crazy and give more ammunition for picking in him. Poor kid, so much of his thought process revolves on how to avoid getting hurt or tormented…kid is traumatized.

Regardless, they go to the secluded location and the trio talk about what the plan is going forward. Cassian, Gangu, and Moros are all in this together for better or worse. If this is going to work then they (mainly Gangu and Cassian tbh) need to be on the same page. What do they want? What do they need? What are the terms of their co-habitation?

Moros: he wants the sword of destruction thing and he would appreciate avenging Jeff, but I think he would prioritize the sword. He isn’t very urgent with his desires, he’s waited a long time and he’s fine waiting some time more as long as they get around to it eventually. He gets things have better odds of working if they don’t rust it.

Cassian:

He wants revenge on Lampas. He is willing to delay his revenge for now and instead focus on growing stronger. Agreeing to it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, but he doesn’t want to throw a kid like Gangu into his crusade. He also sees the logic in waiting and gaining strength first—this is what he ends up doing in canon after all.

He would like to have control regularly not just when there is a fight. He doesn’t need it all the time nor will he demand a 50/50 split—he considers the body to be rightfully Gangu—; however, he doesn’t fancy the idea of being a mental voice all the time. He wants to move and experience the world by his own will.

Gangu:

Honestly, Gangu isn’t sure what he wants besides the bullying to stop. He supposed he’d like Cassian to help him do better in school so he can improve his future prospects. It’s been a long time since Gangu thought about his wants beyond the end of his torment. He reserves the right to add items to their list though.

Gangu doesn’t want to get hurt or to suffer. He is legitimately scared at the prospect of being discovered by Lampas. He has also been subjected to the same anti-villain propaganda as the rest of society. It’s scary to learn he might have turned into a villain himself if he hadn’t been killed and if Cassian hadn’t taken his powers in the botched reincarnation. The main reason he even trusts Cassian is that Cassian Lee is a Hero and Gangu can tell Cass is being honest through their mental bond thing. Gangu…is ashamed, I guess? Of the fate he might have had as an apocalyptic villain. Villains scare him and so does the idea of fighting them. He still felt some of Cassian’s pain in the fight with Blaster—it was muted, but it was not fun for him.

However, the idea of punishing those who hurt others is very appealing to Gangu. There’s a nice power fantasy to this, Cassian took down Blaster with such (relative) ease. Gangu wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty ether as Cass would be doing all the actual fighting. Gangu can enjoy doing justice while taking little to none of the responsibility. He doesn’t say it like that, but…yeah. Gangu has a bit of a vicious, vindictive, and sadistic streak. He also cares a lot about justice. He is very vocal in his objection about ever hurting ‘innocent’ people.

He also doesn’t feel like it’s right to keep Cassian locked up 24/7. Cassian deserves to be able to stretch his legs too. Cass is the only reason Gangu is still alive and he’s been really kind and considerate over all. And Cass isn’t like the other villains so he won’t hurt people if Gangu lets him out.

The general agreement:

Gangu will be in control of their body the majority of the time. He has to be able to maintain his life after all. They decide to flexible with time, but Cassian gets at least an hour a day to stretch his legs and move even if that time is just within Gangu’s room. Ideally, Cassian will get one of the weekend days entirely for himself and around three to four hours a day.—1/6th of the day. Which isn’t horrible if they’re setting more than half the day aside for sleep and school. Gangu grudgingly consents to Cassian running around in Villain form, but they have to be careful, okay? They have to make sure they aren’t found out or connected. And Cassian can’t hurt any ‘innocent’ civilians. Gangu doesn’t care about the villains. Oh, and Cassian is helping with school. And getting rid of the bullies.

Cassian then does some exploring and recon. They go home, do school work, and have dinner with Yuri. And dinner Yuri mentions the string of murders and how Driver is thought to be responsible. The duo-trio have received their objective.

This is kinda filler section, I guess. But it’s important stuff to establish . I also need to find more Gangu specific stuff.

[kj-1130]

HIRAETH

Chapter 5

Main Masterlist

     Karima walks down the dingy halls of the rundown motel. She listens to every little sound, trying to distinguish the steps of rodents from the steps of any potential witnesses that she doesn’t need. 

     Beginning to turn a corner, a door opens near the end of the hallway, catching her off-guard. She quietly gasps, and pushes her back against the wall and becomes invisible to the human eye.     The person slowly proceeds forward, each of their thudding footsteps vibrating the floor and echoing against the walls. It was as if they were walking in slow-motion or trying to fuck around with someone. 

     But that theory was quickly debunked as Karima saw a heavy-set man walk by with a cigarette hanging out of the side of his mouth and his eyes closed. 

     “What the fuck,” the teen muttered quietly to herself. 

     She needed to get in and get out cause this place was really giving her the heebie-jeebies.

     She stealthily continued her way down the hall, keeping aware of her surroundings knowing this wasn’t the most trustworthy place. As she neared the last door, she reached to her side, her hand hovering over her knife. She unsheathed the weapon and rested her other hand on the doorknob. 

     The teen quietly twists it and finds the room clean (well as clean as this place could be) and empty as if no one had ever been there. She walked in tensely and flipped the lamp on, causing a dull light to emerge. 

     She surveys the room and after finding no immediate threat, Karima begins to scramble through everything; the draws, the bathroom, the closet, all of it. She then reaches the bed. She doesn’t want to look, if she’s being honest. Because if she finds nothing, then she has no leads. If she has no leads, then she loses her. And she can’t lose her. Not again. 

     She inhales deeply, and exhales deeper. A trembling hand reaches out and starts to pull back the covers. Her hand pauses briefly before she decides to rip off the band-aid. 

     After the covers, it was the pillows. After the uncomfortable ass pillows, it’s the whole damn mattress itself. She assesses the bed frame and finds nothing. She looks through the pillow cases and finds nothing. She cut open the pillow and still nothing. 

     Karima takes a breath, trying to calm down her rapidly beating heart. 

     “C’mon, c’mon,” she mutters to herself as she cuts open the mattress. 

     Her arm slips through the well-sized slit she created and immediately, it comes into contact with a folder. She immediately snatches the material out and rips the orange holder open. 

     Inside of it was over two thousand dollars and a section of a map. 

     Karima let out a sigh and ran a hand over her flushed face. Putting the items she found in her jacket, she headed towards the door. 

     Right before exiting, a glint of light flashed against her eyes. Looking on the headboard, she stalks towards the furniture and reaches out for the shiny metal. In her hand was a chain with a pyramid pendant. The teen turns the object over in her palms and on the back, it read, “I pledge.”

     Karima bowed her head, then lifted it, giving the room one last look over before shutting the light off and leaving. 

-

     Natasha Romanoff was never one to be vulnerable. Whenever she got a splinter, the woman never whimpered or winced. It was simply a task of finding something small enough and yanking it out. Whenever she had gone undercover, she never shed tears over the mental and emotional toll pretending to be someone else took. She just did her job, no questions asked or hesitation given

     Growing up, she was taught that being vulnerable equated to being weak. It has been engraved in her brain like her mind was some sort of headstone; it was all she would ever be. 

     A weapon that never wept.

     When the Avengers were first assembled, Natasha was... skeptical, one could say. These were people she didn’t necessarily trust, but she had to for the fate of the world. 

     It was a whirlwind, to say the least. She had been trained to be a spy and use her body and reproductive organs to her advantage. She was never taught how to deal with aliens or other-worldly creatures. But she did it because she was, however, brought up to believe that failure results in punishment. And Natasha refused to fail.

     As time went on, the heroes slowly became people she could rely on. They would always have her back and vice versa. Regardless of that, she would never share her deepest, darkest secrets or thoughts. 

     So when she jolted up from her bed, sticky from sweat, the woman quickly wiped those few tears that had been mistakenly shed and went to the shower which washed away any remnants of the involuntary recollection of her past. 

     It was as if her mind was on auto-pilot as she made her way to the kitchen, ready to prepare some tea. And it was only then that her mind became aware of her surroundings. 

     At the counter, someone was hunched over. They were holding a small glass before bringing it to their mouth. 

     “Tony?”

     The man shot his head up and straightened his back. He cleared his throat and nodded at his company. 

     “Hey.” 

     The red-head continued walking over and sat across from the genius and gave him a once-over. 

     He looked tired; drained.

     He slouched over his drink and stared into the abyss that was the liquid. 

     “Why are you up?” 

     “Couldn’t sleep,” he shrugged. “You?”

     She nodded in response and muttered a quiet ‘same’ before they were both forcefully sucked back into awkward silence. 

     Tony let out a sigh after a moment and pushed himself up to grab a second glass. He reached under the counter into the cabinet and grabbed the bottle of vodka.

     The man pushed both items to the woman who had an apprehensive eyebrow raised. 

     He gestured towards the liquid in encouragement and went back to sipping his own. 

     Letting out a sigh, Natasha filled her cup and slouched against the kitchen counter as well. 

     The philanthropist raised his glass. In response, the former spy copied his actions and clinked them together. 

     It was a silent vow to at least try. 

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

Hiraeth Taglist

@lizlil, @bellero, @ravennight41, @yasminwashere, @cay-writes-fan-fiction514

Permanent Taglist

@stillmanicc​, @annestine​

[i-love-side-characters]

What did you think of the end of The Toll?

!!! TOLL SPOILERS !!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION !!!

Scythe Cult:  @honorablescythecurie @honorablescythefaraday @palli-x @book-limerence @lochscinders @a-lonely-tatertot @shellyseashell

bored? send me serotonin please <3

Okay now lets get a couple things out of the way. I haven’t read Toll in a little bit, and it’s taking forever to come from the library. Also, yes I did have it downloaded before, but I kept rereading Faraday’s journal entry when he find out Curie is dead. I know, I’m trash for them but honestly let me have this #curiedeservedbetter2021 #faradaydeservedbetter2021 #curadayforlife

Now that we’ve established that I’m just lonely and so I cling onto healthy (ish) fictional couples for my source of love, let’s proceed.

Things I remember:

 - Rowan and Citra go zoomy zoom into spacey space, but Citra’s deadish because Goddard pulled some shit and so Rowan’s going to wait a couple hundred years for her to wake up

 - Total hottie Ayn Rand shanked Goddard which is honestly a power move you go girl

 - Faraday and Munira unleashed the failsafe, which basically infected a whole bunch of people and now Scythes just kill the infected people so that there’s no suffering

 - Jeri!!! and Greyson!!! Babeys!!! Smol Beans!!! My genderfluid babey with my weird Jesus man it’s a match made by the Thunderhead (because it literally is)

 - Rowan and Citra (who renounced her Scythehood) are going to start a new colony on some random ass planet

Things I don’t remember:

 - Whatever happen with Cirrus

 - Whatever happen with Joel the Jobe Man

 - Whatever happen with Loriana and Munira who are totally in love Shusterman said Sapphic rights 

Okay Akki stfu lets move on:

Okay. I didn’t really like it. I did like Rowan’s sarcasm, but the ending fell a little flat. Compared to the other books’ endings, I didn’t really think it measured up. It was just a bit bland. Here’s why.

The end goal:

Let’s just work our way through the series to show why The Toll just didn’t really work for me.

Scythe - Book 1:

Goal/Climax:

The goal/climax of the book was clear. Citra and Rowan are fighting for the ring. Only one can get it, and the winner has to glean the other. 

The ending:

Citra wins the ring, and is ordained. Instead of actually killing (gleaning) Rowan, she slyly grants him immunity by punching him so that his blood’s DNA would transfer to the database and no Scythe could kill him.  We also got a confession scene where they tell each other they love the other. It ends with Rowan finding out that Faraday did not self-glean.

Why it works:

It is tense. We are watching the two main characters have to either kill the other or be killed. Neither want to. It is clear from their actions throughout that they harbour feelings for each other. This is a high stakes situation. And it flows nicely. We don’t have any unnecessary dialogue/scenes. We don’t have a dumb solution to the problem where a bunch of unnecessary events happen like a character death/romantic scene. They do tell the other that they love them, but the moment is quick and is not the focus of the moment. The focus is on the actual ordainment ceremony and the challenge. The solution directly addresses the main conflict of the book.

Thunderhead - Book 2:

Goal/Climax:

Goddard and Citra (now Anastasia) are presenting their arguments as to who will win the inquest. The inquest was called because Anastasia and Curie needed time to gain more votes in favour of Curie for the position of High Blade. 

The ending:

Anastasia and Curie win the inquest, and Goddard must complete a full new apprenticeship in order to train his new body. Goddard, however, has tricks up his sleeve. He had made a plan prior to the events on Endura to cripple the Grandslayers tower. The plan changes, but works to his favour and destroys the entire island. Curie, in a desperate attempt to save Rowan and Citra, locks them in an airtight chamber that will preserve them so they can be revived. With this sacrifice, Curie is forced to self glean.

“She thrust her blade inward, directly into her heart. She fell to the ground only seconds before the sea would wash over her, but she knew death would wash over her faster. And the blade hurt far less than she imagined it would, which made her smile. She was good. Very, very good.”

-Thunderhead, page 499

Why it works:

*violently screams in my head* I’m good don’t worry

It is a logical ending. If Curie and Anastasia had won the inquest and survived Endura, there would be no need for a third book, unless Shusterman had decided to write a book about Curie being High Blade and Goddard sulking in the shadows and plotting to kill her. That wouldn’t work because I don’t think there is any possible way Curie wouldn’t catch Goddard in two seconds because she’s a boss.

Many people say that Curie should have gotten Rowan to lock her and Anastasia in the vault instead of him. Rowan would have died for Anastasia, it makes sense, but that takes away from the very essence of Curie’s character. She is a truly Honourable Scythe. She knows that Anastasia loves him, and she cares deeply about Anastasia. Letting herself survive would have been completely out of character. She also knows that Anastasia is the future of the Scythedom. While it would be a great help if Curie didn’t die, as well as sparing us emotional trauma, it doesn’t make sense for her character.

This ending also directly “solved” the issue in the book. While the villain won, it was a satisfying ending. Curie is dead, that was a very smart move, because obviously Goddard wouldn’t survive two seconds if she was there. It gave us a good reason for the Thunderhead to disappear.

 *violently screams again* Curie died, yeah, no, I’m okay

The Toll - Book 3: *note that some details may be wrong

Goal/Climax:

Faraday, Rowan, Jeri, Munira, Loriana, Anastasia, Greyson, and Cirrus need to figure out what to with the frozen Tonists, all unknowing that Scythes Goddard and Rand are heading towards the island. They still need to beat him in order to make sure that the non-Scythe population won’t be subject to bias/malice/aforethought/Goddard’s ego. 

The ending:

Rowan, and Citra, who renounced her Scythehood, travel to another planet that can support life with the frozen Tonists, as well as 42 other ships carrying Tonists. Cirrus is copied into 42 different versions in order to save humanity. After being offered Citra’s old ring, Munira (I believe) returns to the Library of Alexandria. Faraday follows through with the failsafe and gleans only the suffering. Greyson and Jeri stay together on the island, and become romantically involved. Scythe Rand is the one who eventually kills Goddard.

Why it DOESN’T work:

Okay, there’s a lot to unpack here. I’m just going to go character by character and by the plot.

1. Plot - It just doesn’t make sense. The hero’s solution doesn’t in any way stop Goddard, who is the main villain. We’ve led up to this for a very long time, and Rand is the one who gleans him. If I’m correct, The main characters don’t interact with Goddard for nearly the entire book, save Rowan. The solution, to save humanity by colonizing other planets would, without Rand’s interference, let Goddard wreak his havoc on the world. Only Scythe Faraday and Morrison could truly challenge him, and even then Faraday is old and hasn’t kept his abilities refined, and Morrison is young and inexperienced and wears a denim robe.

2. Rand and Goddard’s Arcs - Rand is the one who kills Goddard. I think that this was a very interesting move, and one that made a lot of sense. Goddard has treated her terribly, it would satisfy her arc of turning against him, as well as giving her a redemption arc that would also avenge Tyger’s death. I think that this is actually a really good arc, were it not for the fact that Citra and Goddard never fought/interacted with each other. If there had been a fight, and Rand had killed him then, that would have been better and would have better satisfied the actual conflict in the book.

3. Rowan and Citra’s Arcs - In terms of Citra’s arc, I think it was emotionally impactful to have her renounce her Scythehood. But Rowan didn’t have as much of a part to play in this book as he could have had. Citra and Goddard also never interacted, which would have been very interesting since he was the direct cause of her mentor and canon mother figure’s death. It would have been an interesting scene that could have played out really well. Based on Discord texts from a conversation I had, I know an reminded that the last two pages of The Toll were incredibly impactful and beautiful. I don’t have much to say about Rowan since I don’t remember much of his role.

4. Jeri, Greyson, Loriana, and Munira’s Arcs - I paired these four together since their doings aren’t very solid after the books. Jeri and Greyson are canonically together, which I think was a great move by Shusterman. Having a main character in a healthy relationship with a canon LGBTQ+ character was incredibly impactful for me, and it satisfied Greyson’s thoughts about how he doesn’t care if Jeri is a boy or a girl, he just loves them. Loriana didn’t have as much of an arc, but Munira did have a small one. Her refusal of the Scythe’s ring let her dispense of her hatred for Scythes and their system, and let her let go of her bitter feelings about not being ordained. 

5. Cirrus’ Arc? - I do not remember enough to speak about Cirrus’ role in the books.

6. Faraday’s Arc - This is probably the one I have the most to say about. I am sorry in advance. Faraday is an emotional character. He has cried canonically twice as far as I can remember, once when he gleaned a child, and the other when he found out Scythe Curie and Anastasia had died on Endura. He is also openly disgusted with Scythe Goddard and his practices, which is why I supremely dislike his arc. It would have been so interesting to see how he would have reacted if Scythe Goddard and the heroes had interacted during the end scene of The Toll. We know he is an Honourable Scythe, like Curie, and upholds the Scythe Commandments, especially after his punishment over his breaking of the 9th commandment “Thou shalt have no spouse nor spawn.” It would have been so. interesting. to see whether Faraday would snap and attack Goddard, if he would try and talk to him, how he would react. Like with Anastasia, he would have been interacting with Curie’s murderer. The potential of that moment! Don’t forget that Faraday is definitely still in love with Curie, based on his elevated heart rate in Thunderhead, and his journal entry in The Toll. I think it would have been so interesting to see him confront her killer.

Summary:

Okay that was much longer than I intended, and I have more thoughts, but it’s 2:40 am and I haven’t slept in a while. So my summary. I liked The Toll. It was a solid book, that had funny moments, jaw dropping moments, heartfelt moments, and emotionally impactful scenes. It was a solid book.

I don’t think it compared as much to the other two, especially Thunderhead. The ending fell a little flat and didn’t carry the arcs as well as I would have liked, but honestly, I still reread it. Shusterman really managed to pull at your emotions.

Because I just beat up on the book for the last couple paragraphs, let me tell you some of my favourite parts of the book.

1. Literally any scene with Possuelo and Anastasia that dynamic was so good and him calling her “meu anjo” literally made my heart do a little happy dance the father-daughter dynamic was what we needed. It also offered a nice levity to tough scenes.

2. The Rowan-Anastasia Reunion. They ran towards each other and knocked each other off their feet. Ohhhh my god, they ran towards each other and knocked each other off their feet! That was so cute, and as someone who was a strong supporter of platonic Rowan & Anastasia, I honestly loved it.

3. Faraday-Anastasia Reunion. Him dropping to his knees in front her her, her initial confusion as to who he was, and the “perhaps the greatest of all Scythes was kneeling in front of her” part killed me. Their reunion was so well written and heart-wrenching.

4. Anastasia Cries about Curie’s Death. I feel like WatchMojo right now. Anyways, the way her emotions break after trying to repress her sadness over her mentor’s sacrifice for her.

5. Rowan’s sarcasm. Beauty. What a power move to sass the guy who’s going to set you on fire in front of 3000 people.

6. Scythe Constantine and Rand. What a dynamic I wasn’t ready for. Rand’s cool comebacks with Constantine’s sly personality just made for the most amazing dialogue opportunities. 

Thank you anon!

[joezworld]

Story time!

Here’s what I love about this fight scene - it’s that this Asian guy is immediately ready to kick ass the moment that Tom Cruise and Superman start going after him. Like this guy is literally a nobody. He has no other role in this story except that he’s there. This guy was out on a night at the club and when he gets jumped by Superman and Ethan Hunt he doesn’t scream, or shout, or ask what is going on, he just immediately throws hands and totally wipes the floor with them. Like, he must know that there’s somebody after him, and he is ready to fight to the death at the drop of a hat. Maybe he’s Yakuza?

Maybe like, he’s some Yakuza guy who’s taking the night off from being Japanese organized crime in *checks notes* France for some reason and just wants to go to the club with his homies, and he goes to the bathroom while his buddy is out partying and just doesn’t come back. 

And after a while, like 20 minutes, his friend starts to wonder “Where did Yang go? Did he fall into the toilet or something?” Because Yang expects that someone might want him dead, but this is Japanese organized crime - some sort of formal notice is supposed to be given if they’re gonna put out a hit on you. So his buddy thinks nothing is wrong until he goes into the bathroom and finds it just destroyed - and Yang is GONE - because Superman called in the CIA cleanup squad once they left, so they’ve presumably already come in and dumped the body in the Seine or something just so nobody panics at the disco because they found a dead guy in the bathroom. 

So Yang’s buddy goes off to his boss and tells them that Yang is dead - he has to be - there was blood and the bathroom is destroyed and everything, and Yang isn’t answering his phone. And obviously nobody knows what the fuck actually happened, so these French Yakuza guys are sitting around, racking their fucking brains trying to figure out who the fuck would have that much dishonor to kill Yang and not even leave a note or a reason, and eventually they figure out - “ah! It must be Rival Gang Number 1!” 

So naturally there’s this outlandish and John Wickian series of gang fights as Yang’s gang just absolutely destroys this unsuspecting other gang that they think killed their buddy, led of course by Yang’s friend, who is totally going through some ‘John Wick tracking down the guy who killed his dog’ moments. This ends when Yang’s buddy is standing over the leader of the Rival Gang after some unimaginably bloody battle in some stylized location that is strangely like a Japanese palace but in Metropolitan France (because fuck you). They both know that at best, only one of them is getting out of this alive, and Yang’s buddy knows he should just ice the bastard and do the ritual yell that gets his friend into French Yakuza sto-vo-kor or whatever. 

But he has to know

“Why did you do it?” 

And the other guy spits out a mouthful of blood and maybe a tooth and goes “I should be asking you the same question - why did you attack us? We were at peace.”

And Yang’s buddy goes “We were, until you killed Yang”

“What? No we didn’t. Why would we do that?” and this old Yakuza boss is a man of honor, even to his enemies. If he says he didn’t do something he means it. He does. Not. lie. Ever.

And so the two of them just sit there for a minute and absorb the information that this whole gang war was in error. Of course, being the sly and conniving French Yakuza leaders they are, it never occurs to them that Yang got killed because Tom Cruise couldn’t figure out what his target looked like and grabbed the wrong guy, so they wrack their brains and eventually realize - ‘it’s a false flag operation. If we kill ourselves, Rival Gang #3 can take both of our places without jeopardizing their own operation. 

So naturally another bloody gang war goes on, this time with Yang’s Gang and Rival Gang Number 1 both fighting against Rival Gang #3. Again, a series of increasingly elaborate samurai gang battles take place across most of France (because this is in France - why? Fuck you) as these gangs try to avenge Yang. And again, they slaughter their way through the entire gang organization before finally realizing that no, Rival Gang #3 had nothing to do with this either. So they put their heads together and think about what might have happened and come to the conclusion that maybe it's a different gang - one made of actual French people and not a statistically improbable number of Japanese expats. 

And so they go to the French gang - who basically stops them at the door and says ‘we know why you’re doing this, and we went through our entire rolodex of People We Know and nobody did anything to Yang or knows who did - the only person we don’t know about is this one guy who we fired six months ago for being too crazy and if He Did This it wasn’t on Us. 

So the three gangs go okay, and take the little rolodex card and go looking for this crazy person that the French gang fired, and they find him, and they ask him what happened, and he says that he has no idea either, but he goes to that club too and knows that they have secret recording tech there so that they can blackmail their evil customers if they ever need to. 

So all of the upper management of these three gangs finish slapping themselves upside the head for forgetting something as simple as ‘pull the security tapes’ and they go and they intimidate the club owners to let them see the footage from the night this happened. They’re looking but it’s slow going, until one of the club’s security guards, who is standing right there - because they’re looking at everything inside the security room, says that he knows who Yang is - and it turns out that he moonlights as club security but his day job is at the local morgue, and he says that the Gendarmerie fished Yang’s body out of the Seine the day he died - whoever did it was sloppy and dumped him at low tide so he didn’t hit the water, otherwise they’d have never found him. 

So now these gangs are wondering what the fuck actually happened to Yang, because if someone dumped him in the river they clearly were hiding the body, not trying to make a statement, which is what Franco-Japanese Yakuza groups are all about - because they totally live for Drama. So it clearly wasn’t anyone they knew or anyone that knew them. 

To make things even more confusing they finally get the footage of Yang, and there’s not a clear idea of what happened, because Yang went in, then other people went in, then more people went in, then most of the people left. Then two guys walk in, followed by a bunch of drunks - who leave before the two guys do. Yang hasn’t left yet, but then a woman runs into the men’s bathroom, before leaving with the two guys who came in before - and they look beat up. Then a bunch of janitors go in and then leave - these are presumably the body clean-up crew, but who is everyone else? 

“What the fuck does this mean?” The gangsters say to themselves. Clearly the beat up guys are the ones that did it, but who the fuck are they? Nobody has any idea who they are, so they decide to trace these guys through the club to see where they came from and where they went. 

And now things go from unusual to downright weird, because the guys who killed Yang and the girl they left the bathroom with then go into the private area of the club, one of them picks up a girl at the bar, and then all four of them proceed to murderize like 7 guys who are trying to attack them before walking out of the club and into the night. Following the tapes of the two men back before they killed Yang reveals that they entered the club through the roof. VIA PARACHUTE. 

Who are these people? And what did Yang have to do with it? 

Finally the penny drops - oh shit, Yang was killed by the CIA. Because only the Americans are that crazy.

Now they’re panicking, running around trying to figure out if they’ve got a leak or a snitch or if this was a lucky hit and they’ve got nothing. No ideas, no clue. Why did this happen? 

Eventually someone calms down enough to burn a few favors at the US embassy and runs facial recognition. One of the guys comes back as CIA and since then he’s died so no luck. The women aren’t American, and then the other guy comes back as some random DMV worker in the United States. “Ethan Hunt”. 

Clearly this is some kind of cover - he has to be CIA too. 

So now these gangs have to try and figure out how the hell they’re going to kill a CIA agent without getting caught - because revenge/honor/sunk cost fallacy. They put their heads together and brainstorm a few ideas. Eventually they come to the master plan of: ‘grab him off the street and beat him to death’.

Smash cut to like 4 months later and they actually manage to grab Ethan Hunt off the streets of Durban or Nairobi or some other place where he’s doing some sort of op, and they get him back to a safehouse and just beat the crap out of him. Curiously he has no idea who they are or why they’re asking about Yang. This infuriates them until someone bashes him upside the head with a club and his skin peels off, revealing that it’s actually some British guy wearing a scarily good mask and a voice changer. 

Now everyone is panicking - Clearly Hunt is onto them - he had a double and everything - he knows. What does he know? How does he know? Who is he going after? All questions. No answers.

 So they go back and make another brilliant  plan to kill him again - this time they’re gonna do it right and just fucking bumrush the guy - kinda like the raid area 51 thing - he can’t stop all of us.

Meanwhile, Ethan Hunt and Vhing Rhames are losing their goddamn minds after Benji gets taken and brutally murdered by parties unknown. Seriously. They ran the plate on the car that grabbed him and it was rented to a Japanese tourist. This doesn’t mean anything. Who wanted Ethan Dead? Why? Who knows? Ethan is losing it because he thinks that he just got another member of his team killed again - because Ethan Hunt must suffer - and they obviously thought that Benji was him. 

Cut to Benji's funeral in England and it’s the standard dramatic part of the movie where Ethan is saying that he can’t work with another partner and he needs some time, yada yada yada. (Oh btw, this is like in the middle of Mission Impossible 12 or 19 or something. These Yakuza guys have been doing this all offscreen and we only see them yank Benji and then later find his body. From the movie’s perspective nobody has any idea what in the blessed fuck is going on.) 

So then we cut to Ethan sitting in his rental car, and it’s the standard dramatic scene of him silently screaming and pounding on the steering wheel of the car as he has a breakdown. But then, without the shot changing - the windows of the car suddenly fill up with angry Asian faces - it’s like a zombie movie, but with Yakuza - Ethan gets ripped from the car by dozens of angry gang members and we just see them beat him to a bloody paste while the camera is still inside the car. Arms and legs occasionally appear, but we don’t see the true horrors that the angry gangsters inflict upon him.

Credits roll - this is the end of the movie

Post credits scene cut to Vhing Rhames walking up to Ethan’s car later, as like the crime scene techs are there - Ethan’s dead, and it was bloody - he’s stabbed through the heart with a katana that then pinned him to the car door for fuck’s sake. And written in blood on the car is a message in Japanese - ‘He killed Yang, so we killed him.’ 

Nobody has any idea what this means. 

End of Mission Impossible series.