#>caves

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

i hurt my own feelings by imagining how shark mer ghost's insomnia might get worse if remora mer reader got attacked/hurt by a predator while he was sleeping somewhere else

74 / part 2 of shark!141 after remora reader gets attacked

...

Ghost’s grip anchors you in place. His rough palm spans nearly across your back and reignites the sting of half-healed wounds. For a moment, to your sleep-deprived, terror-stricken, paranoid prey brain, he’s not Ghost—just a much larger mer with you trapped in his grip.

You twist, but it accomplishes nothing besides grinding your cheek further into the cold, cave-white sand floor.

"Stop squirming," he snarls. The command lacks its usual bite. The sand swirls around you both, stirred by the agitated flick of his tail. His grip tightens as you struggle. "You think I'm the one you need to fear? Look at you—panicking over shadows. You're damn lucky it's me and not some actual threat."

Your heart hammers in your chest. The first time you pluck up the courage to venture out into the water since the encounter with the barracuda mer--driven by hunger--and here's what it gets you.

"Breathe," Ghost orders. "Before you pass out and make this even more of a mess."

You go limp. "Are you gonna kill me?"

Ghost exhales sharply through his gills. "Shut up," he mutters. "If I wanted you dead, I'd be picking you out of my teeth." His thumb presses into the knotted muscle of your lower back, right where the deepest claw marks still ache. You skipped the fucking patrols. Skipped letting anyone check those wounds while you fussed over everyone else. That's what gets you killed. Ghost focuses on the most inflamed gash near your shoulder blade. Sand packed in the wound. Smell of rot starting to set in. A growl vibrates through his chest. Apparently you'd let it fester over accepting help.

Ghost dips his head and sinks his teeth into the junction of your neck and shoulder--not breaking skin, but applying enough pressure to freeze you in place. His tongue swipes harshly across the infected lacerations. Saltwater and enzymes sting through the detritus. He's... cleaning you. Roughly. Your fingers flutter and thread into wet sand. The dual sensation of pain and the unexpected intimacy send conflicting dizziness up your spine. This isn't right. You should be the one cleaning him.

The pressure of his jaw keeps you from jerking away. His free hand pins your wrist to the sand when your fingers twitch toward his ribs. Like you could ever push him off. You're hyperaware of his strong prey drive and your own instincts to freeze. You don't dare to even squirm. Still, his teeth press harder in a silent warning.

His tongue drags over the inflamed tissue again, methodical despite the violence of the gesture. The scrape of his rough tongue against your wounds burns—not just from the salt, but from the sheer wrongness of it. A shark mer shouldn’t be debriding a remora’s injuries. Shouldn’t be this close or handling you this way without intent to maim or breed. His teeth graze the edge of a half-scabbed gash, testing the give of the tissue. One sharp jerk of his head could tear it open. Instead, his tongue laps another stripe over the wound, slower this time.

Finally, the scrape of his teeth retreats to the safer press of his lips—still firm, still controlling, but no longer threatening to break skin. His grip on your wrist eases.

A shudder works through you. Not fear. Not quite.

He doesn’t lift his head until the marks are flush and pink with fresh irritation instead of festering neglect.

"Stay still."

Sand resettles around you as he reaches for a clump of nearby kelp and rips it free. His movements are efficient as he presses the kelp’s gel against the wounds to seal them.

So that's why he chased you into the cove at the edge of the kelp forest. You hadn't even noticed you were being corralled. You do your best to keep still and prone in the sand despite the overwhelming urge to peer at him over your shoulder. You focus on the sting of his rough healing instead.

Even when curiosity wins out, he doesn’t let you look. One broad hand presses between your shoulder blades to keep you down. The other works the kelp into the wounds with a clinical sort of brutality—no gentleness, just efficiency.

The kelp’s cool gel seeps into the inflamed tissue, to soothe the burn of his rough cleaning.

His voice is a low rumble against your spine. “You don’t get to hide in the reef and rot.” The words are harsh, but the way his other hand shifts to cradle the side of your neck—keeping your face from grinding into the sand—isn't.

He doesn’t elaborate, either. Just drags you upright by the scruff of your neck and shoves you toward the open water. “Swim. Before I decide you’re not worth the trouble.”

...

part 1 / [part 2] / part 3

more mer au / more Ghost / masterlist

[monster-mash-m]

Soaked

Yandere!Merman x chubby!gn!reader

Cw: possessiveness, yandere behavior, almost drowning, breeding, biting, dead fish, weird merman dick, marking.

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A merman noticed a human drowning, how’d this poor creature get stranded in the middle of the ocean. Awh! Look at their little legs flailing in a panic as they try to stay afloat. How cute… Soon too much water filled your lungs and exhaustion stiffened your lungs as your body gave out in the thrashing waves. The male swims closer in a sense of curiosity, not out of good will. His silky arms wrapped around your torso, gods you were so cold. He tutted as you lay limply in his arms, keeping your head above water as he swims you to his little hideaway, a cove only he knew of. You were just too cute to let drown!

You woke up with a burning feeling in your chest and a pounding in your head, sitting up like lightning and coughing out sea water with a pained expression. As you grasp at the sandy floor- sandy floor? You look around. What? All you remember was that you were on a boat with your family, next thing you know, you fell overboard and the waves were just too aerated so you couldn’t swim. Now… you’re here, in a cave, with glowing moss and crystals. Along with glowing plankton in the pool that leads out to the sea. You would’ve been in awe if you weren’t freaking out and mortified to notice you were only in your torn up shirt and underwear.

“Such a skittish creature…” I low voice called out from beside you. A man, well no a merman. You soaked in his appearance trying to accept the fact that mermaids and such were real in such a short span of time, “look at you, shaking all scared, just like a sea pup that’s lost its mother..” he hummed fondly. The fondness however was laced in condescension.

“W-where am I? Who are you?” You glare at the merman and shuffle away defensively. Wincing at your aching joints. He simply grins “You’re in my very own cove, little human, and as for me? Well I’m your rescuer.” He hummed out. Lifting himself out the water to sit on the sandy floor “I brought you some food, fresh from the hunt.” He threw a headless fish at you, how thoughtful. You grimace and look at the fish you just about managed to catch in your marred hands. “I…” you look awkwardly at him.

“I can’t eat raw meat, I mean I can technically… I just don’t think I could get this down without a fight…” you frown. He huffed and crossed his arms “you humans are so fussy.” He nodded his head over to a pile of random human stuff. “There might be something in there to cook your fish.” He said with an emotion you can’t quite put your finger on. “Oh… thanks.” You smile awkwardly and crawl over to the pile and look for anything… flammable.

Soon you find a rusty lighter, giving it a few experimental clicks, it lights up. And so do the eyes of the merman, watching you intently. You then see some dried out drift wood and placed it away from the pile of human stuff. Setting it alight. Then you place the fish on the burning wood, it was’t a high quality meal, but at least it would be more edible… hopefully.

Soon the fish was properly cooked and you started to pick at it and look at him “Why did you save me?” You asked hesitantly. He just gave you a wide sharp toothed grin “I thought you were a cute little thing so I swept you up and brought you someplace safe.” That made you sputter. “Oh I see…”

“Well… after this, could you return me to mainland?” You ask reasonably.

“No” he responded bluntly and immediately. “I found you, I keep you.” He said as if he was stating the obvious. Your brows quickly furrow “that’s not how it works… you can’t just keep me here-“ he shakes his head “oh but I can, I saw you flinging around like a panicked mackerel out there, I know you’re not a strong swimmer little human.” He hummed in an amused tone. Your heart sank. “I don’t think you could escape here without my help, and I’ve been awfully lonely, especially since it’s mating season…” he said the last part with a purr from deep in his throat.

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Oh, no. Or maybe oh yes? You couldn’t tell what you felt right now. A hot fish man is insinuating he wants to breed you, but he also seems like he’s not going to let you go. Hm…. Well if you can’t beat ‘em join em! You glare at him with precaution “I’m not sure what you’re implying…” you say with faux obliviousness. He smirks as a wet hand grabs your ankle yanking you towards him. His hands immediately landing on your plump hips. “Mmm, you’re quite warm human…” he practically purred again. “I’m implying that I want you as my mate…” he said lowly as his hands trail down your big squishy thighs, giving them a squeeze “I won’t care if you bare my young or not, I’ll breed you regardless…” his grin only widens.

Your breath hitches at his words, and his hands that seem to be far too eager to be on you. “So go on.. tell me you’re mine… let me claim the treasure I found in the sea hmm?” He asked though it sounded much more like a demand. Although despite his eagerness to stuff himself in you, his words held no malice despite his creepy demeanor, it looks like he was stalling his movements, ready to get off of you if you said no. But you didn’t. Instead you look him up and down and think ‘I’ve done worse’.

Slowly you sigh and look back at his face “you… can mate with me..” you look away awkwardly after saying so. Oh and that was all the confirmation he needed before his cold lips started attacking your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel his sharp teeth graze against your neck before biting down rather harshly, making you gasp out. He snickered into your skin as he lapped up the bruising skin “Gonna look so pretty decorated in my marks, no one will dare touch you, everyone will know you’re mine…” he growled possessively.

That’s when you felt something wet and slimy bulge out of the slit on his tail, pressing against your inner thigh. “That was quick…” you gasp out as you feel him rut against you, his cool scales feeling rather soothing as his tail ran up and down your legs as he nudged his needy cock against your clothed sex, “ugh…” he gritted out “I need to be in you, turn over on your front right now human…” he growled out and flipped you over with ease.

You gasp, slightly winded as his slippery cock immediately pressed against your ass as he continued his rutting “going to stuff you full just like a good mate….” He huffed out and moved your underwear to the side. He impatiently spat on his hand, rubbing his spit in on his fingers. Not a second any longer and he was already stretching your hole out. Making you bite your lip and suppress a startled moan. He chuckled lowly “that’s it, taking my fingers like a good mate…” you only let out as small moan as he continued to work you open so you can take his cock.

After what he felt was an eternity, he was satisfied with how stretched out you were. Immediately angling his pretty blue dick against your entrance. His hands dug into your plush hips “mmmh, humans are much softer than any sea person… so supple and squishy… perfect…” he growled as he rambled into your ear. His cock slowly entering. Your tight hole clenching eagerly around his slimy cock as he bottoms out in you. He groaned out loudly as he ducked his head into your neck and began to mark you more.

Soon he was completely inside, his slit pressed up against your ass. He was big… the unusual shape filling you in all the places you never knew you needed. Your back arches as he began to move his hips slowly “fuck so tight for me human..” he gritted out. His long hair tickling your back with every slow thrust. His sharp claw like nails digging into your fat. “I can’t hold back dear treasure… must fill you to the brim with my seed…”

And with that his hips began to hump into you at a feverish pace, lewd squelches and fwops echoed throughout the cave as he continued to use your tight hole like it was his new favorite toy. Soon enough you felt a knot in your stomach built up. He grunted “I’m close…” it seems he had the same build up as well. His thrusts became more erratic and clumsy as he fucked into your sloppy hole in desperation,

A mix between a hiss and a moan left his lips as his warm thick cum gushed into you, giving you no time to react as your orgasm hit you in waves. The merman continued rutting into you to ride out his orgasm, milking every last drop for you.

Once you both came down from your highs, he pulled out, a soft pop followed. Turning you back on your back as you breathe heavily. He looked at you with desire and that same unsettling smile that strangely turned you on. He panted heavily as he moved a few strands of hair that clung to your forehead out of the way. “You’re mine forever now… little human… we mated, you’re mine for life…” he whispered with a cocky smirk,

“I’ll make sure I’ll keep you well fed and squishy for me.” He said in satisfaction as he continued to let his hands explore and squeeze your body. You don’t know how you’re gonna cope with a clingy merman for the rest of your life….

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Whoop whoop whoop! Mermen! Kinda hit right?!

[woso-dreamzzz]

Chickenpox

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You get the chickenpox

"Is...Is she wearing oven gloves?"

Millie's the one that asks.

It's the question that's been on everyone's mind since your family arrived at training this morning.

You don't look too different than usual.

You're wearing a little pair of shorts - not teams shorts, just generic shorts that Pernille probably bought while out shopping because she thought they would look cute on you. The shorts are paired with a cute little green shirt with an even cuter cartoon frog on it.

That's normal for you.

It's a cute look and if it wasn't for the spots on your face and the weird oven mitt things on your hands, nothing would have looked out of place.

But you are wearing weird oven mitts and there are spots dotted all over your face.

"Huh?" Pernille looks up from where she's tying her laces," Oh, no. Not oven gloves. They're meant to stop her from scratching. She's got chickenpox."

"No! I don't!" You interrupt before Millie can speak, stamping you foot and puffing out your cheeks defiantly.

Pernille rolls her eyes. "Yes, you do."

"I don't!"

"You see what I've been dealing with? She's just as stubborn as Magda sometimes."

Millie chuckles. "That does not surprise me."

You stamp your foot again. "I'm not talking to you! Meanies!"

Pernille chuckles. "Okay, princesse. Have fun."

You huff. Clearly, you didn't expect that reaction but you still turn on your heel and storm off. You don't get very far, both with your little legs and your small attention span.

You end up standing in front of Jessie, arms already up and she lifts you without even thinking about.

"Jessie," You say," Scratch me."

"What?"

Jessie turns to look at you, properly look at you. She'd been moving on auto-pilot before. She hadn't even realised that you were infested with the pox.

"Oh, you don't look so good, princesse."

"I need scratches," You say," Jessie, scratch me please."

For a moment, it looks like Jessie's going to do as you say. That's why you chose her after all, you knew she would be the most likely to cave to your demands.

For a moment, you're allowed to hope.

But then the unthinkable happens.

Magda appears.

Magda appears and she plucks you from Jessie's arms and takes you away.

You go limp instantly, hoping to make her see you as completely dead weight. You hope she'll put you down but Magda's wise to your tricks now and she holds on tight.

Then you pull out the second trick in your arsenal.

You whine and you cry and you kick and you scream.

The Not-Wolfsburg girls have the decency to vacate the locker room very quickly so it's just you, Morsa and Momma.

"No! Itchy! Itchy!" You insist as Magda holds you despite your flailing.

"Well, if you're itchy, we've got your lotion."

"Noooo! No lotion! No!"

But Pernille's already reaching into her bag for your calamine lotion and some cotton balls.

"Momma, no! No, Momma!"

"I thought you were itchy?" Pernille teases," We'll put on some lotion and there'll be no more itchiness for a little while."

You answer by shrieking and trying to escape Magda's grasp. She holds strong though.

"I know you don't want your lotion," Magda says, calm and collected like she always is," But it'll make you feel better. It's lotion or your medicine. You can choose but you need to choose one."

Your bottom lip quivers as you tilt your head back to look at her.

"Don't give me those crocodile tears, princesse," She warns," I don't care if you're sick, if you continue like this then it's the naughty step when you get home."

You huff dramatically, mumbling something under your breath.

"What was that?"

"Lotion...My lotion, please. No medicine."

Magda and Pernille exchange a smile as Pernille dabs the lotion onto a cotton ball and Magda sets you down onto your feet.

You glance over at the door, wondering if you could bolt out of it as quickly as your little legs will carry you.

But you don't because Magda fixes you with a pointed look and you shuffle glumly over to Pernille, who helps you take your top off and dabs the lotion all over your itchy patches.

You don't want to admit that it helps so you keep your mouth shut as Pernille helps you back into your shirt and Magda retightens your mittens so you can't scratch when you get itchy again.

You kick at the bench in frustration.

"When is it over?"

"Your chickenpox? It'll be over when it's over."

"That's not an answer, Morsa."

Pernille chuckles as she swings you up into her arms and carries you out of the locker room.

"Another week or two, princesse," She says," Just another week or two."

You groan, dramatically resting your forehead on her shoulder. "But that's ages."

"Plenty of time for you to get used to your lotion."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

book 7 part 10 thoughts!

***THIS POST CONTAINS MASSIVE SPOILERS FOR BOOK 7 PART 10 OF THE MAIN STORY!!***

Please note: this is NOT meant to be a summary or a translation; these are only my initial thoughts on the events that roughly unfold. There may be details overlooked or misunderstood in this post, so PLEASE do not use this as a translation.

This update spans part 158 to part 191.

BAHAHAHAHAHA THEY'RE AT THE CORAL SEA (not "in" it yet, more like at the surface level of it) AND JAMIL'S ALREADY UPSET OVER THE LOCALE

Jamil comes up with the smart idea of using ice magic to make a boat for them all. Silver takes up the oars (how princely lmao) and Ortho praises the second years for being so reliable!

WEL;ANJFDBIUGSOGSBIAF THAT BOAT DIDN'T LAST LONG, LITERALLY ONLY A SINGLE PART BEFORE WE CAPSIZE????? We see a dark and gloomy place with an abandoned ship, similar to where Ariel was exploring in the opening of The Little Mermaid. The gang can breathe though, since Idia hacked in bubbles around each person to provide them with an air dome made of magic nanomachines.

THERE HE IS FELLAS, MERMAID FLOYD PULLED UP. Mmm, interesting?? He sounds really flat and bored, expressing that he no longer has an interest in land creatures since everyone was weak + so easily deceived by Azul. Floyd also seems to report that Azul has found success with Mostro Lounge...? And Jade is probably supporting him there.

Floyd tells us that he's been traveling Twisted Wonderland in his dream world. He's been to the Shaftlands (Fairest City??) to try out the latest fashion and model (but got bored because he was asked to work exclusively with the brand), worked part-time in a restaurant in the Sunshine Lands (but got bored because so many people wanted to eat his food), and exploring the Scalding Sands. Floyd wandered the desert and found a black magic lamp in the Cave of Wonders and decided to bring it home because Jade said "the teapot" would be nice to have. Floyd summoned the genie and used it to wish for delicious food, www

He mentions having plans to visit other places too, like the Queendom of Roses, Briar Valley, Sunset Savanna, etc. (Floyd's looking for a challenging opponent to fight!!) But now he has returned to the sea, even though he considers it boring too. Floyd basically tells them to fuck on off and then stares floating around depressingly.

Idia theorizes that Floyd must be "resetting" his dream again and again since Malleus has set the parameters to achieve a "happy ending". Since Floyd is constantly dissatisfied, the dream continues to scrounge for something that will please him. The happiness never really lasts long though. The group decides that they have to provide him with that strong foe he wants to shock him awake!

OH MY GOD Silver and Jamil just walk up to Floyd and tell him he’s in a dream. Of course he doesn’t believe them????? But then they start telling him stories of things that happened irl including clarifying what it was that Floyd had done to disrupt his own first year opening ceremony. Apparently he grabbed Riddle’s hair and went “oh, it’s bright red but it isn’t hot”, which led into a massive fight with Riddle shooting fire at him. The staff (specifically Vargas) had to hold Riddle back. There’s another story of how Floyd tried to fight Cater but Cater used his UM to hold Floyd back and bro wiped hard 💀 According to Idia, Malleus and Leona also beat Floyd in combat.

Jamil talks about how sometimes Floyd would find it hard to keep up with him and/or how Floyd would get in trouble for wailing on the younger kids in their club. The headmaster wasn’t happy and made Floyd clean up the gym for a week

Wh A t😭 Grim recalls how Octavinelle made us HOMELESS in book 3 (and then how they got their asses beat BUT I’M BAWLING AT THE AUDACITY)

The dream manifests a fake Jade and Azul to drag Floyd deeper… We finally get a non-OB octoform Azul to look at!!

They goad Floyd and say he shouldn’t lose to land creatures, so beat them back and then the three of them can live peacefully in the sea together. Silver warns Floyd not to listen to the fake Jade and Azul, but he ends up not needing their help??? Instead Floyd blows up at the fakes and claims Jade and Azul would never say such boring things. Like, he actively gets SO pissed off that they’re borrowing their faces and voices to try and deceive him 😭

They tell Floyd about what’s going down and he’s delighted??? He starts calling out locations and the dream responds to it, he thinks it’s so interesting. Idia and co. panic because this spike in activity could alert Malleus OTL

They theorize that Jade’s dream may take place in the mountains, so Floyd should change into a land form.

When they change to Jade’s dream, Floyd praises Silver’s UM. Silver is flattered but Jamil is thanking the stars that someone mindful like Silver has Meet in a Dream and not Floyd. He says Floyd would probably abuse the UM and give people nightmares lmao

Now they’re in a part of the Coral Sea that has tons of underwater volcanos. Floyd saves us all from a blast of black smoke from one of the vents. Idia warns the air domes are not strong, so one blast from the smoke could drown them all.

Floyd suggests Idia make merforms for everyone. However, Idia says it’s hard to do, especially on a short time frame, since he lacks data on merpeople.

OOOOOH Floyd reveals his bioluminescence!! Looks so pretty aaaaaaah ✨ (He calls it “counter illumination”?)

J WORD SiGHTING

OOOOOH I GET IT, the volcanic vents are like the sea’s equivalent of “mountains”. He and dream!Azul are exploring this area looking for a gold mine or something. Interesting that Jade dreams of still assisting Azul for fun…

sguaddr(dFacFFh ??!!\!]]!£]!] AZUL????? He got hit by a blast from the vent while casting magic on it to get to some gold ore he spotted. Jade gets a good laugh out of it.

WHO THE FuCK ARE yoU, WhY Sre your eyes SO Big AnD WAtERY

Azul tearfully declares he won’t give up and Jade gases him up 😭 YOUR DREAM IS TO BULLY AND ENABLE HIM??????? WOW J WORD

Floyd claims he would never go mountain climbing with Jade but then—

WhAT YHR fUVkinh FVkkkKKKKKKKKKK

THAT’S DREAM!FLOYD?????!!?!!! HE LOOKS SO FRIGHIn DERPY 😭 😭 😭 BRo JUST StARTS EATINg SHRIMP AnD HAPPILY GOING AlONG WiTH wHatEVEF JAde AsAyS

Floyd gets pissed off seeing all of this and goes in for the attack. Everyone panics, but Jamil pulls a Silver book 7 part 9 and basically tells them to let Floyd cook 💀

Dream!Azul of course tries to convince Jade that Floyd is dumb and cute and everything, not some THUG cbjssbkwebodnxsk Jade is convinced that “this” Azul and Jade would use useless without him so he buys dream!Azul’s lies. FLOYD GETS MORE ANGRY THRymRE GONNa BRaWLLLLLLL

Uhhhh so fighting doesn’t wake Jade up. Idia suggests this is because while Jade doesn’t have a particularly strong imagination, he’s good at exploring possible scenarios within himself…? Not sure if I totally understood the wording here (I’ll have to double check with other sources later), all you gotta know if that punching was ineffective. ***Edit: It’s because (according to Idia), Jade has a strong belief in himself.***

OH, WORM??? J WORD AnD FKOYD ArE mAKinG HISSING NoiSES At eaCH OYher As THEY FIGHT (the NPC Azul and Floyd are busy cowering in a corner) 🍿 I believe it was previously said in a voice line or some vignette that when the twins fight, they get VIOLENT and it’s kinda funny we get to see it on-screen now.

Sebek gets the idea to stop both of the twins’ movements with his UM. (Very thoughtfully, he warns everyone, particularly Ortho, to stand back before he casts Living Bolt.) It works very well because salt water conducts electricity better than distilled water!! I think that helps Jade with realizing something’s off because right when dream!Azul and Floyd rush to him, Jade points out that the real ones wouldn’t call him “cute” and such.

WHoa WHOA, sCARY hot

Aaaand we got two eels added to the party! Onward to Azul’s dream~ (jxbsksvxiwnw J WoRD THROWS uP)

We’re underwater again! Jade theorizes it must be because Azul has expanded the Mostro Lounge into a worldwide chain, since Azul has expressed the desire to run a successful restaurant business like his mother.

We hear cheering, it seems to be from a Coral Rush (underwater ball) game. It’s similar to Magical Shift, but instead of brooms you ride on the backs of dolphins. Coral Rush is popular among merfolk!

WhAT

If I was drinking something then I would be spitting it up right now because WhY IS AZUL AN ATHLETE (If I’m understanding this correctly, he’s playing for a Coral Rush team called Golden Trident? And he’s the LEADER) 😂 I guess maybe because he’s been insecure about this weakness of his…?

LMAO IDiA CALLED StAR AtJLETES AnaRCiSsists… anD LEONA’S GHoST AppEARS ON SCREEn

MAN. Jamil is going to bully his ass later about this, I just KNOW he is… Azul goes all chuuni and shouts “KRAKEN SHOT” before scoring 🪦 Cringefail bbg…

OH MY GOD THIS SHADY BITCH

Jade has “-san” in quotation marks 💀 HE’S BEING TOTALLY SARCASTIC

Fun little detail, it looks like the Octatrio had a group handshake…? Jade and Azul do it here and later Jade and Floyd do the same, ending it each time with a cute little “yaaay” 🥺

dndjsnkweneow Jade asks Azul to sign Idia’s tablet OTL YOU ASSHOLE BE SO FR RIGHT NOW

Azul remembers “Leech-kun” and “Leech-kun” (*shudders*) from elementary school. His team mates call out to him and Azul invites us to their victory celebration at his mother’s restaurant (which finally gets a name!!! It’s called La Grotta). Apparently it would be hard for your average student to get in, but with Azul’s invite we should be okay!

Jade starts brainstorming again and suggests that this dream is what we see because Azul wanted you to erase the sad past in which he was bullied. He says he won’t divulge too many details since it involves Azul’s privacy (aw, the ONE time he decides to not leak info 😂).

Aaaaah Idia says he has a bad feeling about something… which gives ME a bad feeling…

They arrive at La Grotta and Azul casts a spell that makes an anemone crop up on everyone’s head?! Azul says that anemones are the most formal hair accessory one can wear in the sea; it makes them “fit in” more. He leaves Jade and Floyd alone though since they’re already merfolk.

Uhhhh Grim gets distracted with dancing and drags Sebek off with him??? Okay???

The entire time this is going down, the twins are watching silently.

Grim, Sebek, and Ortho dance but they end up falling down. The mob merpeople start to laugh and make fun of land creatures. It’s then we learn that Azul lied about the sea anemone being associated with high status, it’s instead something that indicates stupidity. So… uh… He just wanted to bully us??? This whole dream is playing out like a bitter high school revenge fantasy…

Azul says the twins can stay if they play Coral Rush with him. Surely they’re tired of hanging around dumb land creatures right? It’s better to come along with him.

Floyd makes a mess and passes an antique to Jade, and the two start to “play” with it. (… Nah, they start breaking shit 😬)

LOL???? Is Azul threatening to sue the fins off of the twins??? He’s all like “MY PAPA’S A LAWYER YOU KNOW” at them… (He also calls his mom “mama”; the word choice and behavior really makes me think he’s a mama’s/daddy’s boy.)

Jade says to everyone that we should move onto the next dream. He pretends (?) to leave, which triggers a memory of book 3 where Azul declares that he’s always going to be alone.

HMMMMMMMMMMM, there’s no dream!Floyd or dream!Jade to lure Azul to the darkness, only the mermobs 🤔

Ortho expects the twins to dive after him, but neither of them do 🤡 They say it’s Azul’s choice to dream more deeply, so they’ll allow him to.

Grim drowns in the darkness so we (Yuu, Silver, Jamil, Sebek) go after him. Ortho tries to appeal to the twins by saying if they don’t follow, then they’ll be trapped in the dream forever. Sooo Jade and Floyd depart into the dark. Ortho is left wondering if this coldness is actually how the twins express trust.

LOLLLLLl???????? Azul’s setting the photo of their class trip on fire and laughing like a maniac… (He also has apparently gained Ramshackle AND stolen the UMs of his fellow dorm leaders.) I counted, Azul has no less than like 3-4 Evil Villain Laughs this update 💀 OKAY KING POP OFF LIVE LAUGH LOVE

They split into two groups (the player gets to go with J word 😳), each with the goal of taking out one of the dream!Tweels. Jamil lures dream!Floyd out to the basketball court under the false pretenses of a special club activity (where a strong merman opponent would be present).

Jade meanwhile goes to the botanical garden?? And he starts to smash plant pots… He claims it’s a dream so it’s okay! It’s not like he’s doing this because he wants to (lie). Jade makes (anemoned) Grim take a bunch of rare ingredients he “harvested” to Mostro Lounge.

Azul becomes interested in the ingredients and wants access to the source to maximize profits. Dream!Jade is led off by Grim and Yuu to the woods behind campus. SILBEK JUMP HIM—

Jade uses Shock the Heart to learn where Azul has moved the contracts. They weren’t in his office vault when the group checked earlier; the contracts are now in Azul’s room…? Which… I feel like that was such an obvious place to check, not sure why the thought didn’t occur to them sooner??

They find the contracts but there’s like 500 of them and no efficient way to destroy so many in a short amount of time. Ortho suggests his beam, but it might result in collateral damage to them if he fires it this close. Floyd says they can just trick Azul into destroying the contracts himself but before they can say anything more they hear voices getting closer.

Jade and Floyd return to Azul warning him that someone is after his contracts, so Azul, concerned, asks for the contracts so he can relocate them again. When they don’t, he starts threatening them (even saying that the headmaster is under his thumb too, no one at this school can oppose him).

Azul is baited to cast a spell at them, which Floyd deflects with Bind the Heart. He then summons anemones (Ace, Deuce, Riddle, Leona, Kalim, Idia) to help him. Some mob anemones called him “Azul-sama” in dead-sounding voices which. Makes me think maybe he stole Jamil’s Snake Whisper in the dream too??

Together, the twins keep taunting their dorm leader until Azul unleashes King’s Roar. They use Bind the Heart once again to redirect Leona’s UM and dust the contracts ✨ (We also got Floyd’s UM chant!! Roughly: “This is a nice place/it was just getting good, but how about I interrupt it?”)

NxdbsjsbkFAJHQAN OF COURSE THAT’A WHEN AzUL BREAks 😭 and it happens like automatically too… The loss of the contracts really is a sore spot for him.

Here comes the suspicious black gloop again~

Azul starts to sink down BUT THIS TIME YHE TWINS CALL OUT HIS NAME AND GRAB ONTO HIM?????? Jade even specifically tells Azul to “take his hand” and instructs Floyd to help pull. Ayo… the “take my hand” imagery again…

Waaah… Octavinelle trusts each other so much?? When Silver warns them that he doesn’t know what will happen to the twins if they end up in Azul’s abyss, Jade and Floyd wish Azul luck/don’t go to hell AND AZUL’s CASUALLy LIKE “you too” 🤡

Azul finally faces his OB self!! How interesting, he tells his OB that with the weight of all that he stole from others, it’s hard to move. I think he means that metaphorically… like, it’s hard to achieve personal growth if all you do is take and hurt people. “Unlike you, I’ve learned.” He wants to make his dream of making everyone bow down to him a reality on his own. Azul’s not satisfied with this, he wants something of “real value”.

Azul wakes up back in his mom’s restaurant and surrounded by his team members. He asks them to sign a contract which states they will all continue playing hard together. Duh, it’s a trap and actually anemones them. The contract just handed all their powers over to Azul 💀 Bro… How dumb are you, you didn’t even SKIM to check the terms of the contact are what to claimed them to be??

Azul regroups with the others and they inform him of what’s going on. He immediately expresses concern that the Mostro Lounge hasn’t been operating + the ingredients in their fridge might spoil because of Malleus’s magic. Man has his priorities www Thankfully they’re fine since the flow of time has stopped and potential customers are all sleeping. No ingredients or business lost!! Azul still wants Malleus to pay him back for the inconveniences though.

Ortho recommends that Jade and Floyd stay behind, as they both have taken significant damage from fighting. Idia adds that they should lower the number of people dream hopping to minimize the chance of bugs showing up; Jamil volunteers. Azul says it’s a shame because he was looking forward to fighting alongside him; Jamil says that “friends” with Octavinelle’s dorm leader has its uses, so he “looks forward to it.”

… Jamil acknowledging what Azul wants and agreeing to go along with it feels… weird…

Azul joins us and we hasten to the next dream. “Time is money!!” so chop, chop!! Next update… Savanaclaw!!

Overall, I really enjoyed seeing the twins fight, as well as seeing their more animalistic aspects (ie the bioluminescence) come out. The Coral Sea locations were so fun and colorful, it makes me want a hometown event even more!! Merform Azul we kiiiind of already saw with his OB form (and I’d seen lots of edits from fans making their own prior to this) but I thought it was nice to have that confirmation nevertheless.

There were a lot of small moments that made me do a double take (derpy dream!Floyd is one, Azul’s Big Bad scenes were several others). It was cute to see their Club Wear outfits utilized in the dreams too; we saw Basketball Club and Mountain Lovers Club looks make an appearance. I felt like I was watching some kind of variety show while reading.

This update gave me many thoughts, most of them surrounding the Octatrio and their relationship with one another. I’d like to talk more at length about their dream worlds and the roles they played in one another’s headspaces. However, that will get very bulky and I don’t want to add even more to an already bully post. I’ll make that a separate post and put it up later, so please bear with me ^^

[girlmostlikely]

Well over a month strong into recovery from my eating disorder. I’m not trying to fixate too heavily on the length of time itself because in the past I would tend to cave under the pressure of instilling it. I know it’s still a sensitive period for me but it all just feels so very different now. Over the years I’ve tried and plummeted so many times but the true failure comes from the complacency of permitting those behaviors. I just don’t want my entire life to be controlled by something so vile and depleting when there is so much more worthy fixtures to cherish and contribute to. One odd day out of the blue spanning nearly ten years I just decided this cannot be all that life is for me. I’m so content with the progress I’ve made. Life just feels brand new this time around. I’m literally the healthiest and most free that I’ve ever been in my life!! 🤍

[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 .

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PART ONE.⠀|⠀NEXT PART.

[ilikeit-art]

Tania Wursig is a figurative painter and her work is predominantly a celebration of life and culture, with an exotic flavour and flamboyant colour palette. Her paintings are imbued with strong cultural influences that span from the Gypsy caves of Granada, as seen in earlier works, to the islands of Polynesia, specifically Tahiti.

[animatedjen]

One thing I find jarring when playing Fallen Order and Survivor back-to-back, is how Cal goes from having very dark, coal grey eyes to bright green eyes in the span of five years. I’m curious to hear your thoughts on why Respawn made this change, and if you prefer one eye color over the other.

Love this question! There's a few things that impact the design changes between FO Cal and Survivor Cal.

The biggest change is how the two games handle their overall color. Cal's eyes have always been somewhat green, but Fallen Order's visual design is a muted color palette with darker shadows. That "look" fit the story Respawn was telling, and Cal spends much of FO exploring darker spaces like scrapyards, tombs, ice caves, and Imperial facilities. Very few of the game's cutscenes take place in well-lit spaces.

Cal's character design also includes a strong brow, and because of how Fallen Order renders light, his eyes are often in shadow. Add in stylized environmental lighting (the red tint of Dathomir, the blue-green of Zeffo tombs) and the iris quickly loses its green-gray tint.

Survivor has a more vibrant color palette and more complicated lighting, including how Cal's eyes catch and reflect light. More of the story takes place outdoors, and indoor spaces generally have more lighting. Also did I say vibrant?? Just look at how bright the SU poncho is compared to its (almost navy blue) FO counterpart.

Visual design is also influenced by time and technology: AAA games have changed a lot between 2019 and 2023, and the methods of rendering light/color/texture in real-time are growing exponentially.

Comparing a similar environment (the couch on on the Mantis) makes the color/lighting changes really obvious. It's easy to say new = better, and from a strictly technical standpoint that may be true, but I appreciate the thoughtfulness of Fallen Order's color and how the color stylization served the story. But that's probably a whole separate post.

TLDR; the design difference is likely a mix of technical advances and intentional color choices by Respawn's art teams. But I do like the bright green eyes! They look more green-blue in shadow and gold-green in direct sunlight, which is a neat effect.

[skulkiee]

I wrote this for a story and then it turned into 1300 words rather than the single paragraph it was gonna be. So

Eurylochus expects to feel terror when Odysseus points to him and the crew. He expects to feel anger, fear, when he turns away from his captain and looks at the god.

Instead Eurylochus stares at Zeus, and lifts his chin. He has spent too long being scared, too long angry, too long hurting.

When he looks at the king of the gods, he feels not much at all.

Because it was always going to be this way- as soon as a baby boy was born to the king and queen of Ithaca, it was going to be Odysseus' story. Not Polites', not Eurylochus', not any one of the six hundred men the king dragged across the ocean to fight in a war for some woman none of them had ever met's story. Odysseus' story.

The rest of them, they're just numbers. Just that. The six hundred men that Odysseus took to war. The six hundred men Odysseus left the war with.

The six hundred men who died to their own stupidity and hubris in the span of three years, because it will be Odysseus who tells the story.

Years and years in the future, stories would be written and told, over and over, again and again, changed and shaped to the creator's delight, twisted and crumpled and told again. But it will always be Odysseus' story, celebrating Odysseus' love for his family, how he spent so very long returning home to them, to Penelope and Telemachus, and how he will live out a long life with his wife and son. (It will never mention Ctimene.)

Those stories, and the one Odysseus will tell when he returns to Ithaca will not tell of the six hundred other families who will be left forever waiting for their loves.

Because life moves and heroes are created and the gods do not care for those destroyed in their hero's path to brilliance.

It will be brave Agamenmon, who gathered the largest army and a thousand ships to rescue his dear little brother's lost wife. It will not tell of the dreams and achievements of bright young Iphigeneia, killed on the whim of a priest, it will not tell of poor Chryseis other than to mention Apollo's wraith.

It will be strong Achilles, son of the Goddess Thetis and the greatest warrior in the greek army, never speaking of his lover Patroclus, whose death drove him to madness.

It will be Helen of Troy, Helen of Sparta, the storytellers will argue over whether she loved Paris, or Menelaus, never asking her opinion, or asking what she went through, how she felt to see the family she had been a part of for ten years slaughtered in her name.

And Eurylochus knows it will be intelligent Odysseus. The mind behind the Trojan horse, apprentice of the Goddess Athena and blood of Hermes. The mortal who called himself nobody, to escape a cyclops, (it will not speak of Polites, or anyone lost in that cave) the mortal who traded with Aeolus, (not telling of the torment the god put the crew's minds through each night) who met the lotus eaters, who escaped Posidon, (eleven full ships of people did not) who saved his men from Circe, (never speaking of the nightmares of the men turned to pigs) who sailed through the underworld and lived to tell the tale, who killed sirens and survived Scylla's hunger, (it will not tell of the lives the sirens had, it will not tell of the torchure that is Scylla's continued existence, it will not tell of the six men willingly sacrificed) the mortal who survived the death of one of Helios' cattle, who lived through Zeus' wrath.

It will be Odysseus' love for his family, the crew will just be numbers, and one or two names. Eurylochus knows he might just be lucky enough to have his name remembered. (A few times in a poem years from now, a villain in Odysseus' story.)

What he is trying to say is that the gods choose heroes, and six hundred lives really is a small thing in the grand schemes of the gods.

They will be listed as the crew, move on, look at this great thing Odysseus did.

Look what the crew did, how could they ever mutiny? The story will never tell of their fear, their mistrust in sly Odysseus, their horror when he willingly and knowingly killed six of their friends.

Why would they ever kill the cow? It will never tell of their hunger. Odysseus is closer to the gods than them, he can go longer without food. The stories won't say how they were starving, how scared they were.

Why would they open the bag? Sly Odysseus, mind games and magic. Spells from a wind god telling them to open it, urging them to, a lying captain, a scheming captain.

Dumb. Cruel. Selfish. Idiots. Careless.

Eurylochus knows they will be called all these things, they will be the antagonists in Odysseus' story. So stupid for not listening, so cruel and selfish for making Odysseus' journey back to his family longer, how careless for getting killed.

They will be insulted and called all sorts of things, because it is Odysseus' story, told by Odysseus. People will wonder why they didn't follow a man known for his schemes and lies and tricks mindlessly, not realising that they have their emotions too, that they want to go home too.

Eurylochus looks away from Zeus then, in that moment between Odysseus choosing the crew, tears on his face as if he deserves to mourn them, as if he did not sacrifice those men to Scylla, as if he is not sacrificing them now. That moment between Odysseus' (always Odysseus') decision, and the lightning strike, and he looks back at the crew.

At Perimedes standing off to the side resolutely, cradling Elpenor's scarf in his arms. At Philikos, who has four daughters back home, all of whose weddings he would have missed for this gods damned war. At Ligo and Choiros, standing side by side as usual, one of the few pairs formed in the war that has survived the stress and danger of the past few years. At Grigoris who is the oldest in the crew and who decided all the men below thirty five were his new children when the war started and Agrios who wasn't drafted as a healer but who was a better healer than most of the actual ones and Miso who is the fastest runner and Skafos who seems to have Hermes' luck on his side when it comes to gambling and Alope whos parents dressed him as a girl to try and prevent him being taken to war and Cleito who likes to pick up the smaller crew members and carry them around and everyone else.

Everyone else who have come to be Eurylochus' brothers by this point. Everyone who he loves, everyone who are his family.

Everyone who he has been through hell with, everyone whose names and pasts and stories he knows, everyone whose stories will never be told again, simply because they were not born a prince.

Because everything comes back to Odysseus in the end, Odysseus who does not care for them, for the nameless, faceless numbers who have to fall to ensure his glory.

And then the lightning strikes and everything goes dark for Eurylochus.

And it hurts for a long long while, but he begins to hear the babbling of a river nearby, and the soft murmur of voices, and arms around him.

Arms that are larger and warmer than Odysseus' ever were. Arms that care so so much more, arms that belong to a person he has missed so so much.

Eurylochus thinks he might just be safe now.

Yes the crew member's names came from me putting random words in google translate✨

[alphabetatoes]

you'd make me pay? (jjk x reader)

aka the one where you joke w the men of jjk about paying to get affection (g. satoru + n. kento + k. choso + f. toji)

a.n.: reader is a comedienne n loves to mess w these men (the way the toji one actually happened to me 🙃)

c.w.: 18+, mdni

gojo

"C'mon- Wanna mark you up. Let everyone know you're mine." Satoru had spent practically the entire night trying to convince you to let him give you a hickey.

"Give me $10 and I'll think about it." The issue wasn't Gojo's insistence on marking you. It was his inability to adhere to subtlety. Yet he adored when he could see those red splotches of skin peaking out of your shirt collar.

Gojo stretches his body across your legs, his frame managing to span the entirety of the couch. "Toru, you're crushing me." You move the rogue white strands of hair out of his face.

"Please babe. Need you so bad." His bottom lip bulges as his whining continues.

You cave to his begging, giving him a light pat on the arm. "Fine, you big baby."

Gojo lifts himself from you and pulls you into his lap, a goofy smile strung across his face.. He takes a chaste kiss from your lips, reveling in his victory. You tilt your head to the side as he buries himself in the crook, nipping and sucking along your neck.

nanami

Sharing a bath was not only a way for the two of you to spend time with one another, but to also relax from the stress of the day. Kento had poured the two of you a glass of wine, and you lit a candle to aid in the tranquility.

You're sat on opposite sides of the tub, indulging in the warmth of the water. "C'mere. Want you to sit in my lap while I wash your hair." Kento's hands draw soothing circles on your ankles, gently tapping them to get your attention.

You sink further into the bubble bath, taking a sip of the wine. "I'm so comfy though." The idea of having to move your tired limbs on your own was a travesty. "I'll need at least $15 if you expect me to move on my own."

"How about I make you dinner and give you a massage after instead?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Mr. Nanami." You feign concentration as you mull over his proposal. "But you've got yourself a deal." You clink your wine glass into his, cheers-ing to the proposal.

Once you're seated on Kento's lap, his strong hands make idle work to wash your hair. You let a hand sink to his waist, stroking against his cock to help him relax as well.

choso

You were nestled into Choso's chest as the two of you watched a movie in the living room. One hand wrapped around your waist, pulling you into him. His other hand laid rest on the top of your leg, which you let rest draped over his.

"Can I kiss you?" Choso's breath tickles your ear as he whispers his request.

"For a dollar." You purse your lips, waiting for Choso to lean in.

He reaches for the wallet in his back pocket, pulling out a bill. "I only have a $20- y'know what? Just keep it." As he shoves the bill into your hand, you gently push it away.

"I was only kidding, baby." You try not to laugh too hard as you quell his nerves. The sincerity staining Choso's face has you melting. You give him a sweet smile, grabbing onto his cheeks to pepper him with kisses.

toji

Toji was out of town on a job, leaving you unfulfilled for about a week. To help sate that aching feeling, you'd planned to video chat

“Your tits look great in that top.” Toji eyes you up and down, flashing a coy wink when he meets your gaze. “Think they’d look even better without it, though.”

Feeling playful, you give him an ultimatum. “Give me $5 and I’ll do it.”

“You’d make me pay?” His smirk turns into a pout, frustrated by your proposition. Whether he'd admit it or not, Toji missed you just as much. Craving for any glimpse of the body he had longed for.

“Now it’s $20.”

“Cut me a break, doll. Don’t need you actin’ like a brat when you got me all worked up like this.”

Toji pans the phone down to his waist. The material of his sweatpants is tented up as his dick strains against it. You flip him off and flash him a quick look at your tits, not quite giving into his demands.

He’d owe you big time once he got home.

[paperanmitsu]

Black Butterflies and Deja Vu

Started playing Love and Deep Space, the hyper-fixation is strong so thought I'd try some writing. Asked some friends for LI/Prompt/Song to see what would happen!

Character: Sylus x MC Song: Black Butterflies & Deja Vu by The Maine Prompt: When they first meet, the words he can't speak. Rating: G? PG? For: @stellarbursts

He is nothing but a black butterfly to the flame that is her life, her soul a molten sunset radiating from her and enveloping him in burning streaks of red and gold. The warmth of it is on his skin like the itchy sensation right before getting a sunburn, the memory of her always brings with it a cool breeze drenching him in the scent of wildflowers.

The irony of the situation is not lost on him, since when did the dragon become a prince, rescuing princesses in distress. He has no patience to draw it out, he needs to be next to her. The danger he eradicates like dust in the wind, and he makes his way to the most precious treasure that he has ever had.

He meets her eyes, fearlessly, boldly, hungrily. Too long has he waited to be in her presence again, to find the other half of his soul, magnets drawn together forever. His soul bound in her the North Star he used to navigate through the emptiness of diamond studded space, the part of her soul bound within him jealously guarded flickering coals he protects as fiercely as any dragon hoard in a cave.

The thinly contained excitement, the thrill of success in his blood intoxicating like sacred wine. His heart, thrumming so fast, they are at the stand of the summit. The edge of the aircraft before leaping intertwined into the skies--the crescendo. Now he will finally find out, how her song for him ends.

But before his lifetime spanning love can reach his eyes, he looks into hers and sees nothing. Nothing in her gaze, nothing in the eyes that he dreams of. He is a stranger to her, or worse. Even now, even now she tests him. Punishes him.

Desperation and fear comes out as rage and coldness. He barely knows what he is saying to her now, but the words on his lips and in his eyes don't match what his entire being is crying out. Begging her to hear what he isn't saying. The two souls housed in his body are beating frantically against the wall separating their other half.

Recognize me, remember me. It's me. Your dragon. I'm here. He suffocates in a loneliness that smells like decaying wildflowers and old blood.

What a fool to think he could escape from the shadows. Her song for him still has no ending. How could a dragon ever dream of being a prince.

A small voice, so pathetic he'd never admit it was his. A prayer only his soul can hear, A desperate attempt to shatter the anonymity keeping them apart. Please, my beloved, let me come home. But silence is the only response. A bittersweet crescendo to an unfinished symphony

[johnwickb1tsch]

The Girl Next Door - XIV

A Constantine x FemVampire!Reader (feat John Wick!) fic based on this imagine. all chapters gen. warnings: NSFW, blood, biting, violence divider by animatedglittergraphics-n-more

⚠Trigger warning: YET MORE GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, if that squicks you DO NOT READ!⚠

14. a universal conduit

You’re not much for praying, but if ever God should be interested in you stupid little trials on Earth now seems like the time. As you tear through the streets of L.A. holding on for dear undeath on the back of Wick’s motorcycle, you send up a request to the big guy in the clouds:  

Please, don’t let us be too late. 

You just had to make a little stop at the Four Seasons to collect some blood from the Antichrist; a criminal defense lawyer named Kevin Lomax, unwittingly on retainer as don Juan’s little failsafe. 

Truth be told, you’d expected more of a fight from one of Satan’s offspring–but then he was the other Son of Satan, an earthbound half-breed who possibly didn’t even know who he truly was. 

More’s the better, and you keep the double Ziploc-bagged portion of his profane plasma in the inside pocket of your jacket, close to your heart. 

According to don Juan…it just might be the key to saving the world. 

He’d told you other things too. 

Such as, this ritual was to take place at the old mental hospital, where supposedly two ley lines meet and the veil is fortuitously thin for such things, forming a sort of gate where it’s easier for the constituents of Hell to pass through. 

 “What sort of ritual?” you’d demanded, wanting to know what you were walking into. 

Somehow, Juan managed to shrug with what remained of his trunk of a body. “Oh, the usual chanting and sacrifice I suppose. But that wasn’t my part of the deal.” 

“What was your part of the deal?” 

“Keeping Constantine out of it all. He was the only real threat left,” Juan grumbled, then glared at you. “You didn’t prove quite the distraction we’d hoped, you useless wench.” 

You realized that he didn’t mean kidnapping you tonight, but earlier, when your whole ordeal as a creature of the night began. He’d ordered for this to happen to you. He’d been watching you all along. The weight of this truth dawned on you, and it hurt. Jesus, how it hurt, but rather than cry about it you’d bared your fangs at him, picking up his sword from the ground. It was nearly as long as you are tall, and Juan’s eyes went wide. 

“What do you think you're doing with that?”

“It doesn’t feel good, does it, when you’re treated like your life is worth nothing?”

He bared his own fangs at you, jumping to the correct conclusion in the span of a second. 

“We had a deal!”

“You had a deal with him,” you’d said, nodding at Wick, who stood by with his arms crossed and a stony expression. “Not me.” 

“¡Espera! No, wait! You can’t–” 

You’re not exactly proud of how quick you were, to cut off his head–but in the heat of the moment, the bite of the blade through flesh and bone–God it felt good. 

Bloody, violated, but avenged, you stood over his decapitated corpse, shaking like a leaf but the sword still gripped hard in your hand. Lifeless eyes stared up at you, his mouth gaping as though he would still try to bargain with you from beyond the true grave. You thought of the way he touched you, the way he laughed at your pain–and you kicked his head as hard as you could like a soccer ball with a scream, bombing it into the dark depths of the cave. 

The ringing in your ears returned; Wick spoke gently to you again, taking the sword from your hand. You weren’t exactly numb, but the world seemed to have narrowed to a tunnel, where there was only you, and Wick, and his strong hands upon you leading you away. 

You never found Chas in the cave, and you hope he is with John, and not dead in an alley somewhere. You had to hand it to them, for baiting you just with a hat…but it seems safe to say the joke was on don Juan in the end. 

♰♰♰

“You can stay here,” says Wick as you pull up to the hospital, cupping your cheek in his hand. It seems eerily abandoned, for a medical facility, the windows all dark. “You have done enough, milaya. Let me finish this fight for you.” 

But you shake your head, unwilling to sit out from the fray. You can feel that John is in there, and he is afraid, although he is controlling it well enough to function. You sense the fighting hasn’t started quite yet. So brave, your demon hunter. He deserves better, than dying in this place a second time. 

“No. I’m going with you.” 

You like him even more, for not arguing with you. He simply nods, and he is ready to get down to business. “I hate demons,” he grumbles, rifling through his saddlebags for vials and a pair of brass cross-emblazoned knuckles. “They are too complicated.” 

“Are they really harder to kill than vampires?” you ask, watching him with a fascination you’re not sure is healthy. 

“Yes and no. Their powers…vary. You must be smart on your feet to find their weakness, before they kill you. It is impressive…your Constantine has lived so long.”

You are so surprised to hear him compliment John that he could have pushed you over with a feather. He looks up at you with a rueful smile you do not understand. “Let’s hope his luck holds, eh? Come on.” 

Armed to the teeth with Juan’s broadsword, knives, guns, holy water, and what you think may have been a grenade slipped into his pocket, you follow your dhampir beau into the dark maw of the place some people would swear is already Hell on Earth.

♰♰♰

The moment you set foot inside the hospital you sense the demonic presence, like a seething nest of poisonous snakes in the heart of the building. Wick feels it too, and you follow the winding hallways towards the therapeutic recreation area of the facility; ie, the pool. 

“Water is a vehicle; it lubricates the transition between worlds,” Wick explains hushedly, when you speculate as to why. 

You are scared, but you shove it down, and follow a step behind at Wick’s side. Worry for Constantine knots in your gut; maybe it’s stupid, but you just want to see him again. You don’t allow yourself to think one last time–even if in the very back of your brain, you feel the impending doom all too well. 

“...are all in violation of the balance,” you hear a familiar voice say, and your heart soars. “Leave now, or you will be deported.” 

You arrive in time to find John standing on a chair with a crowd of demons looking upon him curiously, that golden shotgun at his side. He should look ridiculous like that, but somehow, he is so tall and resolute that he cuts nothing less than a striking figure. 

“Go to Hell,” he tells the room, holding his lighter up to a sprinkler head–then he seems to sense you behind him–he whirls with terror in his eyes. “No!” he shouts desperately, throwing out his hand as though he could physically push you from across the room. 

Wick seems to understand something you do not, for just as the sprinkler heads begin to spew water he grabs you around the waist and runs for the hall. 

A few drops splash your hands and your face–and you scream. 

It feels like battery acid, something horribly caustic that could eat the flesh from your bones. The pain is excruciating, and you can hardly think as Wick bundles you along, not stopping until you find a dry place in the building, far away from the sprinklers. 

“What the fuck!” you hiss, looking at the sizzling droplets that landed on your hands. 

“Holy water,” Wick answers, licking your skin. 

Somehow, that works, and you sit back against the painted cinder block wall so hard your head cracks. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, that’s diabolical.”

Wick pays you a commiserating half smile. “I fear you are the one who is diabolical, my love.” 

You realize a beat later he is playing word games with you, and you hiss. “What about John? There were fifty demons in that room!” 

Wick nods, and you cannot fathom how this man, who you’d witnessed literally tearing vampires apart with his bare hands, can give such effective puppy eyes. It’s really not fair. “Stay here, milaya.” 

You grip Wick’s hands in yours, knowing it contradicts everything this man wants in the world, but pleading with him anyway, “Please look after him?” 

With a growl the dhampir nods, electric blue flashing in his midnight dark irises. He makes to stand, but you aren’t done with him yet, pulling him back to you. You can tell he’s annoyed as he looks to you, and even with the looming doom and vestiges of the sting of holy water upon your skin, you can’t help but smile a little. “Promise you’ll come back to me?” 

Immediately he softens, pressing his mouth to yours in a hard kiss that curls your toes and claims your heart all over again. He pulls away while you are too starstruck to function, disentangling himself from your hands curled in his jacket. 

“Be seeing you, vampling. Ya obeshchayu.” You don’t know how you know that means, ‘I promise’.

And then he is gone, charging back down the hall towards the fray. You watch your warrior go with an ache in your chest; it moves you, just watching the way he moves with such deadly purpose. You find you are not half as worried about him, as you are Constantine. 

Feeling utterly useless, you pace in the hall, hating being left to wait while the–you have to admit it–two men you care about are battling the unclean horde. You know you cannot go near that holy sprinkler water, and you pause to study a map of the hospital on the wall. It is black and white and grainy, state of the art printing from 1968. But it looks like you can access the pool area from another corridor on the other side, and you wonder if that section of the hospital received the same blessed deluge. 

You know that John Wick asked you to stay put–for his sake, as much as yours. But the stakes are too high, and you just can’t stand by. It’s probably a bad idea, but you make your way down the hall. 

♰♰♰

As you burst through the pool room doors via the men’s locker rooms you hear the cacophony of the battle taking place in the other room. There is also something thrashing around in the pool, the water churning like a feeding frenzy of sharks. Juan had made it sound like the pool itself was the gate, and fear spikes through you from head to toe. 

Is it Him? 

A figure emerges for a mere second, gasping for breath–you realize it’s Angela struggling with something trying to drown her, and you jump in without another thought. The thing is strong, as strong as you, and you grapple with it under the water, trying to get its hands off the detective so she can have a chance to breathe. It’s impossible to get a foothold in the water against this thrashing thing. In a desperate ditch attempt to stop it, you grab its head and wrench as hard as you can, breaking its neck, twisting it around all the way backwards.

By some luck or finally some divine interference, it goes still. 

You waste no time in picking Angela up, hoisting her out of the pool. She is so tiny, for such a fierce thing. She’s gone still, and you plead or pray again through bloody tears, “Please don’t be dead.” 

Perhaps you are technically dead, but you still attempt to breathe life back into her, blowing air into her mouth and you thank all the deities when she violently coughs up water and gasps for breath, clutching your arms for dear life. You turn her onto her side and pat her back, trying to help her expel the water from her lungs. 

“Thank fuck,” you hiss under your breath, holding her. She looks up at you, her eyes widening when she sees your fangs and glowing orange eyes.

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” you tell her, trying to make yourself look more human and failing spectacularly in the heightened stress of the moment. “I’m a friend of John’s.”

She relaxes back against the concrete, nodding, maybe needing to believe you. 

You laugh a little out of pure disbelief. There are still flashes of blue lightning and gunfire in the other room, Wick and Constantine working together. Who knew? But it sounds like the fight is winding down.  

Is this it? Did you do it? 

Is it going to be ok??

You are able to enjoy the lightness of this sliver of hope for a mere second, before suddenly you sense that you are not alone in the room. Something invisible picks you up roughly, and throws you back into the pool.

--------------

*full credit to @discoscoob for the idea to bring Kevin Lomax into this!! 😄 *a belated fyi, the reason I call Don John ---> don Juan is because "don" is a prefix and honorific signifying nobility, like Mr. or Sir, not actually part of his name. In Spanish, it's not capitalized. He's from Aragón, which is now a state but once was a kingdom unto itself in the Iberian peninsula, before Spain became, well...Spain as we know it, unified. Sort of.

[redibanni]

Readers of TCF: Why You Should Read Turning and Vice Versa

Are you interested in Found Family tropes? How about time travel fiasco and everything in between that's happening to badass main characters? Want to get involved and seeing the battle between corrupted monarchy and royalty? Last but not the least, feel the thrill of seeing OP characters kicking bastardized enemies from behind and giving them their own medicine? If so, Turning/TCF should be the perfect novel for you!

I wanted to point out the similarities and differences of what makes Turning on par with TCF's themes! Keep in mind I haven't reached halfway of Part 2 of TCF yet, so my knowledge might not align with TCF's current timeline. With that out of the way, here are the common themes of why you should read TCF/TURNING:

1. Found Family

It's what hooked me into TCF in the first place—everyone's relationship with Cale, a tight knit that wouldn't seemingly unknot no matter how hard you try to separate them. In TCF, we have Cale as the center of the wave, our beloved Commander who had experienced many fights of his own that shaped his world view, and consequently, how other people spanning a whole continent see him as well. Meanwhile Yuder, in his current 2nd timeline, had not only learned to cherish and paid attention to those around him but also communicate and connect to a deeper level he previously failed to achieve in the 1st timeline. You could argue that Yuder's title as Commander's Assistant is almost the exact same as Cale's position as the Young Master. In a way, they have their main support, but it doesn't mean it's only their means of support. What's funny is that they're both picking up strays left and right on the street and giving those said stray a place they could comfortably and confidently call home, and it never fails to make me smile every time they have a new recruit.

Yuder is more active at involving himself with the other Calvary members, it's because of his unique disposition as Commander's Assistant and also a former Commander gave him the power and ability to patiently train people. Not to mention, he is considered as Instructor From Hell for his absolute 0 nonsense and merciless style of train that makes people pass out after training, grow exponentially and come back for more.

If you're wondering if the side character that you just read and loved instantly would disappear, worry not! Kuyu and Yoo Ryeo Han treat their characters carefully and equally, and more often than not, they will reappear in the story! Whether unintentionally or intentionally is the biggest question.

2. Commanders Of The Previous Life And Their Similar Position

They both prefer to be the forefront and lead the fight—often clashing with the enemies head on. They even have more or less similar fighting styles, in which they wouldn't want to draw out fights unnecessarily, have an incredible mountain of patience in dealing with pests and would wholeheartedly throw hands at anyone who insults their loved ones. Not to mention, they're both sacrificial bastards™. They're both generous, in a way they would teach other people how to fight and fend for themselves, thanks to their commanding experience that spanned for a decade.

Their previous lives are a topic of sensitivity—and I can't help but see how they were distant and cold in their previous life after losing the people that were important to them. Similar to being cursed with a series of bad luck (ahem). Cale became closed off, harder to approach yet still providing help and assistance in his own way as the team leader despite that, he had the strong will to live on. The Calvary members' impression on Yuder were negative at the start, thanks to his stoic expression and unwillingness to approach or connect to anyone, leading to a series of accumulated misunderstandings and bad reputation, but despite that, he was their unmoving fortress and cave that shielded everyone until his death. Both gave off the impression of being respected and feared, with nobody that they feel connected to.

In a way, you could conclude their 1st timeline as nothing more than horrible strings of bad luck since you can't exactly fault anybody. And that's exactly the beauty of this tragedy. Their past lives were their own experiences, and not exactly a direct result from a single person.

As a transmigrator, Cale was given a second chance to live his own life through a novel he read. He used his knowledge to manipulate the original timeline and twisted it to his favor, and suddenly, he has a god tier level good luck. Unknowing that he had literally and metaphorically picked up people with him and became a living legend for generations to come.

As a regressor, Yuder woke up after his execution thanks to the hypocrisy of nobles and false accusations. Virtually having nobody to believe him only to wake up in 11 years from the past and became determined to protect the important person that died in his timeline: Kishiar La Orr and stop the tragedies that happened in his past life.

It made me realize they weren't so different in circumstances, after all.

3. Outside POV

We can't forget the hilarious reactions that people often harbor for these two protags! My main source of POV prime entertainment would honestly be Clopeh from TCF and Kiolle from Turning. They have their own interpretation and often hilarious thoughts for the MC, but they respected and feared them the same.

It is through these interactions that we had the glimpse of how people in the novel interacted and perceived them, and let me tell you, it gets hilarious from there. With Cale, and his absolute 0 self-awareness and refusal to explain his actions any further unless necessary vs Yuder, who would shoot down any misunderstanding and still be misunderstood in a silly way.

Misunderstanding is a common theme in TCF but don't let it stop you since it only plays on how other people perceive Cale with no dramas attached. It serves as a pace of narration and even comedic undertones. Turning in particular, is like a breath of fresh air. Fixing the misunderstanding is a theme in Turning, and I couldn't be more happy to indulge in both tropes.

4. Enemies

Ah, yes, secret organizations are a common denominator in both novels, but of course—there's more. Monsters in particular, are present in both novels. It almost led me to believe that if we combine these two novels, they wouldn't be out of place. Gods, mages, priests, sword masters, guardians—you name it, are shared by them like a ping pong ball.

The powerful antagonists don't disappear from taking a hit from one blow, and we see it both in TCF and Turning time and time again about how they're running on time. The conflict in TCF that should be minor became much bigger than anticipated, and I could say the same for Turning.

The fights in these novels have lessons ingrained in them—and that's what I cherish the most. The protagonists grow with the people they surround themselves with, and how those people would repay the favor later on.

What sets them apart is the existence of plates and ancient powers in TCF and omegaverse in Turning.

I didn't consider Awakener as the main difference because, if you think about it, the Ability Users in TCF could be considered as "awakeners" in Turning's world building system. Which is why I wanted to read or see a crossover of them, if possible.

5. Almost Exact Elemental Abilities

How nostalgic, this was the og's in TCF! Cale is never the same without the talking ancient powers he conversed with in his head. As much as I wanted to push how it led to funny interactions and nothing more, it was also the reason why Cale was such a badass despite being dubbed as having a small and weak plate! He mercilessly trumps over his enemies with his ancient powers despite not wielding any weapons: Wood/Shield, Healing, Wind, Fire and Earth. I'm aware he has more than that but I don't want a long list of their attributes AND names yet. What we do know is that Cale would overcome that weakness and grow to be more powerful as the chapters goes on, and that same goes for his people as well.

As for Turning, Yuder is an awakener that could wield all natural elements, namely: Fire, Water, Air and Earth. Although his abilities are at a disadvantage when facing monsters, his dexterity and efficiency in different kinds of weapons and experience makes up for his weakness. Similar to being an Ability User, being an Awakener grants the person their unique set of powers after encountering a battle of will with themselves. So the power varies from character to character. I love learning a new character's ability, and what role they would play in the Calvary!

6. Opposites Of Methods Yet Similar In Goal

Cale wants to live peacefully and achieve a slacker life while Yuder wants to save the world and prevent the disasters happening again in the 1st game (timeline).

If you think that Cale doesn't have the same goal as Yuder, you're wrong. Cale and Yuder are similar in so many ways, that both ultimately wanted to save people and grant world peace if possible. They both made the impossible possible and hilariously enough, in their way to becoming a legend. They both don't see their own actions as praiseworthy and get confused whenever other people praise them. Their own failures and shortcomings are the reason for their self doubt. It shows that despite everything, they're still human.

Cale has creative liberties and more headache inducing than Yuder, but they made everyone worry about them in equal measure. Being confined and forcing a vacation for them makes everyone feel relieved, haha!

7. Romance

Expecting a romance in TCF is virtually little to none, unless you include side character romances, it isn't the center of the novel. I firmly believe that Cale wouldn't entangle with any romance subplots, but of course, as a reader, we have the power of fanfiction in our side and making our imagination a reality. Although there's no romance, the interaction between Cale and his Found Family is a reward in itself.

Turning, however, has the greenest of green relationship regarding our MC and ML! Yuder and Kishiar's dynamic is my go to read whenever i'm in dire need of fluff. Sometimes, they're so sweet that it gives me so much tooth rotting fluff! I can't even stand it sometimes, I need a relationship like them in my life! The relationship between their 1st game and 2nd game are so stark you could hardly believe they're the same person as they once were due to the bad luck set by their first connection to the point it sent you to tears.

And that's exactly the charm. In Turning, love is both painful and beautiful. In a way, Kishiar and Yuder accept each other's flaws and shortcomings without compromising anything, with no misunderstandings and toxic relationships. It's a step up after reading toxic BLs, and frankly, I can't go back there after reading this masterpiece.

if you dislike omegaverse, fortunately for you, it isn't centered to just that and it's relatively new in their current era that makes you forget about it until it reappears due to the minority of people that falls under the category of alpha/omega. It's a refreshing take on the trope we readers knew so well and read how characters adapt to these changes, as well as suffer the consequences. It wasn't until 300+ chapters in the novel that suppressants became a thing, and there isn't even a power imbalance between an omega and alpha. Their second gender doesn't affect their social status and they're treated as normal people because of being a relatively new phenomena.

[andsoigotabutterfly]

-Save me from her - chapter 1

Tara Carpenter x fem!reader

Summary: You and Tara had been circling around each-other for months now, driving your sister insane. What will it take, for you to finally get together?

a/n: I am planing on making a series out of this, which I haven't got a clue on how long it'll be. I am not a native english speaker, please keep that in mind.

!poorly proof-read!

warnings: amature writing, blood, canon-typical violance, swearing, multiple POV's, mixed POV's, tell me if I left something out please!

“Sooo?” Anika leaned before you on the counter; huge smile plastered on her face. ”How did it go?”

You rolled your eyes and stared at your sister. Her eyes were gleaming with anticipation and curiosity. Even though you loved her she was unbearable when she got like this. You told her so.

“Well, you’ve put up with me for nineteen years, so that’s on you. But seriously tell me everything!”

“Nothing happened!” you chimed as you desperately wanted to change the subject. “It was just a normal study session. We started laying out how the project should look like and things like that.”

“Sometimes I don’t even know how we are related…” she huffed, and her shoulders dropped in disappointment. “You’ve been drooling over her for months now! How is it that you didn’t make a move yet?”

“She is scarred, closed off, and has an overprotective sister. And for the record I have made moves. They just… didn’t go as planned” you said and stood up from the counter as you started to make your way to your room to get ready for the day. “Also, drooling is a strong word for how I feel about her.”

Anika raised a brow. “Poor Tara. Mindy told me that they… never mind. It’s not important anyway” she said slowly and taking her coffee mug to her face to take a sip from her drink.

You span around your heels to look at her and stormed to the kitchen’s counter which she was still leaning against. “What did Mind-“ you didn’t finish the sentence as you realized the trap, she laid out in front you, low smile taking over her mimics. You cursed yourself internally for losing your brain whenever her she got on your mind. Which in the last two months was always.

“As I said; drooling” she interrupted then took another sip from her hot drink.

“Out with it. What did that manipulative, smart ass, hot girlfriend of yours say about T.”

She giggled at your behaviour. “I think you meant successful and clever” she was avoiding your question. Oh, how she knew how to get you on your nerves. “The last part I agree with though” she said as her eyes started drifting away, out the window.

“Anika! Focus!”

“Oh, yeah sorry. My mind wandered” her cheeks reddened just the least amount. “About what Mindy said, no way I’m telling you! That would mean I’m abusing her trust. Plus, you know how I hate to gossip around.”

“Sure, you do…” you said knowing very well that her last sentence was a full-blown lie. You rewarded her with your glare that she knew all too well. As soon as she noticed it, she flinched.

“Stop that! It won’t work.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about” you grinned.

“I hate you!”

“I couldn’t care less.”

Anika groaned and tilted her head back. As she looked back down, she caved under your stare and told you what she heard from her girlfriend. After she finished, she added a ‘I promise that’s all I know’ and shunned her head down. With a satisfied smile you patted her shoulder and let her be at the counter.

As you were getting ready for school, a familiar nervous churn got hold of your stomach at the thought of sharing classes with her. What Anika told you was all just circumstantial and didn’t mean much. That girl had you wrapped around her fingers, and she didn’t even know about it. You thought about her sweet smile, her mesmerizing, deep brown eyes her perfect curves. The way she laughed at one of your dumb jokes or the way she smiled back at you across the cafeteria on one of the first days she arrived at Blackmore University. Oh, how you hoped to see that beam of light today too.

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You were deep in conversation with Mindy and Anika about movies when she saw you. Your group was sitting before the university, below the shadow of a small tree. A small breeze blew colourful leaves in the air reminding Tara why she loved Fall so much. As the sun shone through them, it gave you an ethereal glow which made her breath get caught in her throat, your happy-giddy expression making butterflies erupt in her stomach. As she took in your features, her gaze stopped on your lips. Your soft, beautiful, kissable- ‘Snap out of it!’ she thought to herself. As she looked anywhere but you, she realized that she stopped in her track and now Chad was looking curiously at her, waiting on her to catch up.

“What was that all about?” Chad asked with knowing grin on his face as Tara reached him.

“Shut up” she huffed back as they continued their route towards the exit of the building and your table. As they got closer, Tara’s heart started beating faster and faster, her vision tightening down to only you. Your posture, the crinkles in your eyes, your toothy smile. She found everything perfect about you. She was so deep in thought, she couldn’t see a younger boy coming as she bumped into him, breaking her trance. She fell to the ground, hitting the floor. Hard.

As the sounds of her items hitting the floor, reached you, you snapped your head in their direction, noticing her. Then you went red with anger when you heard her pained groan and got up in an instant, marching your way towards the scene.

“I’m so sorry, I should have looked before me, I didn’t mean to knock you over…” the boy started rambling her apologies as Tara slowly got up from the ground gathering her stuff slowly.

“There is no problem, really-“ she started but got cut off by a voice, that had her stomach churning in the most unbearable and pleasing ways.

“You bet that there is a problem!” at your raised voice the whole hallway silenced, listening carefully to the show. “You see, Aaron I didn’t care about you embarrassing yourself in high school when you confessed to your elderly arts teacher, but this? This is worse than when you left the classroom crying after she explained a few things to you.”

“Y/N stop” you could hear Chad’s smirk through his firm voice, but you didn’t care.

“Don’t you know not to be entranced with your phone like a big nerd as you walk through a crowded space? Hell, with this attitude, why don’t you march down the street not a care in the world and knock over your idol ‘by accident’, like you did last time? Who was it again? Oh yes; Tom H-“ you couldn’t finish because you felt her fingers gripping into your arms, calming you down. You looked down at her, her bright smile instantly managing to cool you off. For a few moments you just gazed into each other’s eyes, then you heard a small sob and looked up at the boy.

He looked broken, like a glass that was forcefully thrown at the floor, his eyes gleaming with built up sorrow. Before you could say something more, he mumbled a low ‘Sorry’ towards Tara, then quickly walked off, holding his stuff close to his chest.

You were horrified and frozen in place as you watched him go. After a few seconds, the hallway restarted its usual buzzing. This was when you realized, that almost if not the whole school had heard what you were bawling at him. As the noise indoors got back to its normal heights Chad spoke; “Well, that guys life is over.”

“No its not!” you said quickly. “He… That… This is just a small setback for him! He is a… a grown, charismatic, and lovely human, who had made some bad choices” you managed to stutter out. Then you remembered why you started to call him out. “Are you okay T?”

Her cheeks reddened the slightest. She chuckled lightly and smiled at you. “More than okay, thank you.”

“Then this was more than worth it” you gleamed back and chuckled too.

After you helped her get her things from the floor, you escorted her and Chad to your former company. When you reached them, Anika chose to free up a place and sat in Mindy’s lap, making Tara’s smile grow larger. They were so in love it was adorable.

“What were you guys talking about?” she asked.

“Horror movies” you answered with a dead voice before either of them had a chance.

“Don’t say it like that!” Mindy exclaimed, face showing hurt. “Say it like; Horror movies!” The voice she said it on could be explained as if a character from ‘My Little Pony’ would say it. If they would ever say anything even close to it. “Anyways, I’m just curious so sorry if I cross any line here but how the hell did you know all that about him?”

You shrugged as you sat down, Tara sitting next to you. “It’s what I do. I drink and Iknow things.”

“And you quote things” Anika complemented.

“And I quote things” you agreed. “Looking pretty while doing so.”

As the conversation in the group flowed, you couldn’t help but feel bad for Aaron. Just a little; he still hurt Tara, even if accidentally. Your eyes drifted towards her, examining her again. You were looking, really looking, searching her for little signs that could give away her thoughts and feelings. She looked at peace, was your first thought, yet you couldn’t fully agree with yourself. Her eyes darted away to corners, doors, and windows of the school which you sat before, searching for something, anything. Even in this friendly, harmless banter she was on her heels, and this realization made you furious.

You knew about her past as none of them wanted to keep it a secret. When you first heard the story, it made you just as mad as you were now. How does someone get over a betrayal like that? You couldn’t imagine why someone would try to kill their own girlfriend, especially if that girl is Tara. She was the most pure, kind, and loving person you knew. The thought of her getting hurt made you sick to your stomach.

The group conversed for a long time. Being done with school, nobody had somewhere to be, so you enjoyed your time together. You also rejoined them after you were done with sulking in your own anger, and talked passionately and loudly when someone brought up a topic you were heavily interested in. Nobody noticed as time flew by. You only realized how dark it was getting when Tara’s phone rang. She tensed for a moment, only to relax as she read her sister’s name on the display. The younger Carpenter turned away from the group and picked it up. “Hey Sam!” she greeted and stood, so she may get out of hearing distance, not to disturb you from continuing the debate.

Once she did, Mindy spoke again. “So, movie night at theirs” she gestured towards Tara. “Me and Anika will buy snacks, Chad, I’m assigning you to booze duty. Y/n, you escort your girlfriend home, and we’ll all meet there at eight.”

You rolled your eyes at her comment, but you all agreed on what she said. As you got up from the benches, you heard the brunette say goodbyes to her sister. “Sam needs to stay in late for her shift. She says she won’t be able to make it at least ‘till ten so she asked me to make dinner. I will need to drop by a store from some ingredients” she looked behind you and around. “Where are the others?”

You turned around just to see Chad disappear at the corner of the street. You crossed your arms and huffed slightly. “Mindy handed out the tasks, so she and my sis will probably make out at mine until they have little-to-no time left. After that they’ll find the nearest store, rob it from snacks and meet as at half nine at yours. Chad’s on his drink tour so it’ll take him a while to make it to yours. But at least he’ll be there on time.”

“That is a… pretty accurate picture you painted” she said, chuckling. “Would you care to join me?”

“With pleasure.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“What’s for dinner?” you asked as she took a whole sack of onions of the shelf.

“I’m not answering that!” she said, clearly annoyed as this was the fifth time you asked her this.

“Is it onion soup? I bet its onion soup” you smirked behind her, continuing your assault on her nerves. “Do you know it’s one of my favourite foods?”

Tara rolled her eyes. “Stop trying the guess what’s for dinner, I’m not telling you!” she exclaimed, yet she didn’t mean a word she said. You were quite amusing, and your voice was like smooth, alluring jingling to her.

You leaned next to her ear and murmured “Never” before leaning back and continued harassing her, but Tara heard none of it. Your whisper in her ear froze her and had a pleasurable buzz go of in her head. She broke her trance quickly, thanking the gods you didn’t notice what you did to her.

“Oh! Maybe it’s fried onions! That would be a great idea too! Tara you are a genius!” you leaned down again and kissed her cheek, which made her freeze. Again. As she regained control over herself, she quickly put a few other products in her basket and made her way to the cash desk.

“Wait no. I have it! It must be onion pie!”

“Onion what?” Tara asked back. Never in her life has she heard about ‘onion pie’. The cashier made a strange look at you, clearly being at a loss with your words too, as she scanned all the items.

“Onion pie! Don’t tell me you don’t know what it is!”

“No, I don’t” she said sheepishly while paying for everything.

“You need to try it” you said, emphasizing every word. “I swear it’s one of the most delicious things I have ever had in my mouth. Besides onion soup.”

“If you say so.”

“I’ll make you one!” you proposed as you made your way out the shop, and slowly proceeded towards Tara’s apartment through the narrow alley of the shop. Small drops of rain started pouring from the sky. “What do you say? Friday evening you drop by me, we watch something you want, and then you try it out. I got the exact recipe from nan, yet I’ve never made it as good as hers so don’t expect no miracle, but I think it’ll still be great!”

“I would love to” Tara started, a grin making its way on her face “but unfortunately my Friday is taken…”

“What have you planned?”

“Movie night with you and our friends in two hours!”

“Oh, yeah right…” you said. “What about tomorrow evening?”

“Sounds-“ she got cut off by a stranger almost knocking her up. You managed to catch her before she would hit the ground. “Ouch!”

“Watch where you go bitch!” he snapped at Tara as he tried to walk away, but you grabbed his shoulder and span him around. “What did you just say?” his breath stank of alcohol and smoke. You knew he was wasted as hell, but you didn’t care. All you could see was red.

“I said your whore shou-“ he couldn’t finish his sentence as you shoved him into the wall left to you, raising your arm to hit him before he could get up, but he was faster than you anticipated. The man launched himself against your chest, knocking you to the ground, straddling you between his legs. Then he started to hit you wherever he could while you effortlessly tried to block his punches. The rain falling in your eyes didn’t help you either. You groaned in pain and after a while, you got a hold of his waist and with the help of your leg you managed to throw him over you.

You quickly got up, to face him once again, but Tara was quicker, kicking him in the chest before he could get up. She moved back and you placed your hand on her shoulder but didn’t take your eyes off drunkard. He didn’t take long to get up, standing before you with a wide, aggressive stance. He reached behind his back and took out a pocketknife. Tara twitched under your hand, and immediately stepped back. “Come here perra!”

Adrenaline coursed through you as you changed your stance and stood sideways towards him, the instructions of your martial arts coach flowing through your mind. Block with the back of your arm, if necessary, grab, pull, strike, repeat. Hopefully without the repeat part, you added.

He rushed towards you, swiping towards you with his knife. You dodged his first swipe left then the one to the right, and his attempted stab. Then you grabbed him by his wrist with lightning-fast movement and pulled him, sending him of next to you. As his body was leaving yours, you hit the man’s armed hand, hard. Not hard enough though, as his wet hand slipped out of your grip, and he didn’t let go of the weapon.

He launched himself at you again, this time making faster cuts. ‘Shit’ you thought as you saw one coming that you couldn’t dodge. You raised your arm so it would hit the back of your arm. You hissed from the impact. The surprise of hitting you made him vulnerable, so you grabbed his wrist and twisted his arm whilst repeating your former actions, this time disarming him in the process. As he turned around, you punched him in the stomach with your unhurt hand, and kicked his feet from under him, making him fall once again. His scalp hit the ground and knocked him out.

Your blood merged with the water on your hand and started dripping off it. You looked down at the wound; it wasn’t deep or wide which was the cause of your bones stopping the attack. “Jesus y/n!” Tara exclaimed as she noticed the cut. “Let’s get you to the apartment. I can get it clean there and then we’ll bandage it up.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

You were quick to get there, not wanting many people to see you. Tara took the groceries of the ground and started speed walking beside you, her eyes full of worry and fear. Her heart was thrumming in her throat at the thought of losing you. She couldn’t think straight as her mind dictated only one word: faster, faster, faster. Her speed-walking went to jogging, then to running. Your sight was blurry, and your head, ribs and arms hurt but you were able to keep up with her. You blessed your father for forcing you to take those taekwondo lessons, and your coach for not kicking you out even after multiple accidents.

For you had some over the many years you had been attending the classes for your safety. Once or twice during parring you couldn’t hold back against your already defeated opponent, or when Coach Jaehyun, or as you liked to call him; Hun’, called you out to demonstrate a move, you hurt him. You either kicked too hard or made an unpredictable move which had him surprised. None of these mattered as for some reason, he thought highly of you and went out of his way to protect and take care of you. He was one of your closest friends. When you started your training, it was by the side of his father, a strong, kind, and honourable man. After his untimely passing, his son took his mantle as the new coach of the group, and quickly started to bond with you, one of his most successful students.

As you stumbled up the stairs of the building, you cursed, for Tara and Sam of course lived on the fourth level. You hated stairs. They were your nemesis, and never once could you beat them without them wearing you out before. Tara struggled for a moment with her keys, then swung the door wide open. “Bathroom” she ordered gesturing towards it with her hand.

Tara stormed towards the kitchen, searching the drawers for bandages and disinfectant. After she got all, she needed, she rushed after you. Her breath got stuck for a moment in her throat when she reached the bathroom. You took off your shirt, so she could see your bruises. You had them all over your body, as well as a black left eye and an open right arm. Somehow even now, you looked celestial.

She approached you as you were cooling your eye with cold running water and put a hand on you as to sign her presence. “Can I have a look at your arm?” she asked softly. Far softer than she usually was.

Rather than answering her, you stretched your arm out for her to look at the wound. She took it and started working on it gently. Every touch on your skin sent the feel of electricity running through you, making your heartbeat as fast as if you were running a marathon. As she was cleaning the cut you wondered for a second how she knew how to do this. Then you mentally facepalmed yourself. Of course, she knew how to deal with a wound. She would know better than anyone else.

Her heart was beating fast too, which she wished you didn’t notice. When she was done with cleaning, she stitched it up delicately and took the bandages that had been sat down beside her. While covering it, she trailed her eyes over your body. Beside the bruises, it was flawless and gorgeous. Her eyes wondered some more when she noticed a healed and old in wound on your left side. It was long, trailing from the height of your belly button right up, until it reached your armpits. She wondered, what could’ve happened and before she could stop herself, she asked.

You stiffened in her hold closing your eyes for a few moments. “I’d rather not talk about it” you said with a mournful voice.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

“No need to be. Really” you said reassuringly.

“Okay…”

Once she finished, she threw the garbage in the trash, then helped you up and out of the bathroom. “Thanks for defending me back there by the way.”

“Thanks for patching me up doc T” you smiled down at her.

“I’ll give you something cold for your eyes and warm for your bruises” she said after setting you down on the couch.

“Wait, warm?” you sat up so she could see the confusion in your eyes.

“Yes” she said smiling. “It helps the trapped blood escape when a bruise already formed, from the area, making it less visible and speeding up the healing. After that you can apply something cold if you want to.”

“I did not know that” you mumbled and dropped back into the couch.

A few minutes later she was back with warmed salt in pouches and beans from the freezer. “Here you go” she uttered and sat down next to you. She gently placed the pouches on the right places and handed you the beans. You sighed in relief when you put it on your eye, muttering a quiet ‘Thank you’ whilst watching her delicately work with your bruises. It felt weird, your eyes felt cold, whilst other parts of your body were warm. Especially your hips, where she kept one of her hands. The heat was radiating through your whole body at the realisation.

You just noticed how close you two were, and it made you forget how to breath. She looked down at you, her pupils widening just the slightest. You could feel her breath on your face, getting faster just a little. She was leaning closer now, her breath shuddering above your face. Her eyes snapped down to your lips before snapping back to your eyes. Your beautiful, captivating, deep eyes. She found herself entrapped in them. Your eyes snapped to her lips too, seeing how red they were. Alluring like every of her body parts, and kissable. Oh, how kissable they looked-

You could hear the door opening.

She jolted back, as you also tried, only now remembering that your head was already on the couch. You finally remembered how to breath. Tara felt her cheeks redden and stood up abruptly.

“We’re HERE!” Mindy screeched as they all got in. Why wouldn’t they be punctual the one time they shouldn’t be?

“Hey” you greeted them back, sitting up on the couch, revealing your face.

Mindy’s jaw dropped, Anika’s eyes widened for a moment, then she rolled her eyes, Chad laughed. Your sister marched towards you, clearly irritated. “What did you do this time?”

“I swear it wasn’t my fault!” you started to defend.

“It kind of was” Tara interrupted, smiling.

“Of course, it was, now tell me what happened!” Anika demanded.

So you did. You told the story, of how you heroically fought of three people who were all trying to mug Tara, whilst also saving an elderly lady from the truck that was about to hit her. Whilst your story went on, you got up from the couch and started playing the scene like it really happened. You didn’t seem to be distracted by the fact that your upper body was only covered by a sports bra. They all carefully listened to the made-up story, as they were used to them by this point. “So there I was, grandma in one hand, her groceries in the other, facing off this huge monstrosity of a man. He was about seven feet tall and had the sharpest machete in hand that I’ve ever seen. Then, he lunged at me” you lunged your arm forward as if holding something at Anika’s face. She dropped her jaw, playing along.

“Were you killed?” she asked, her voice unexpectedly curious.

“Sadly, yes” you said, closing your eyes. Then you snapped them open and dramatically said; “But I lived!”

“When exactly did you lose your mind?” Chad asked, before Anika could shut her up.

You stared away into nothing and murmured low, as if deep in thought. “Three months ago. I woke up one day married to a pineapple. An ugly pineapple” you sighed like a lovestruck fool. “But I loved her.”

“That’s enough” Tara cut in, still smiling like an idiot. “I’ll tell you how it really went so I may start cooking.”

“But I wanted to hear how she fought of that giant!” Mindy said pleading with her tone and with her eyes.

“Okay, I’ll tell you but just this once!” you raised your voice and continued the story. Tara rolled her eyes, gave you one last smile then went away into the kitchen to get the dinner ready.

[fastestmanalive333]

The Time Stream. Warning: Fragile

By fastestmanalive333

Bart was shock; he couldn't believe his eyes. It never occur to him the consequences of his time travel would be this bad. But he had been wrong. Very wrong.

It had all began a few hours ago in Bart's history class. They had been studying the prehistoric eras, and had to do a project on these times. Not a problem, unless you were Bart, whom's attention span lasted for about thirty seconds before something else came into his head.

The day ended. Back home, he quickly changed into his Impulse costume and zoomed out. But a millisecond before he reached the door, Max stopped him. "Where do you think you're going Bart?" he asked in a serious tone.

"Uh, out to save the world?" Bart tried to get away from Max, but his grip was too strong.

"Yeah, right. I saw your homework on the table, and I want you to start it right away."

"Fine, O.K, I'll start it right away,"

Max let go of Bart, and he started to climb the stairs, but then vibrated through a nearby wall and got outside. "Bart, come back here right now," Max shouted, but Bart was travelling at top speed. Max realized he had no idea of where he was going, so gave up trying to get him back.

Bart didn't know where he was going either, so he just ran around Manchester looking to see if anything was happening. Nothing was, so he ran to the Young Justice cave instead. Hardly anyone was there except for Red Tornado and Robin.

"Rob! Red! Hey!" he shouted to them.

"Hello Impulse," said Red Tornado.

"Hey Bart. What's up?" Robin asked him.

"Nothing much. Anything wrong in the world?"

"Well, nothing much for us. The Justice League's on something big, and..."

Robin was interrupted by snoring. "Bart, wake up!" he shouted next to Bart's ear.

"WHOA! Sorry man, but that was sort of boring."

"I only said 12 words!"

"Exactly." Robin sighed, and went over to the cave entrance. "Hey Robin, I gotta ask ya something!" Bart shouted to him.

"What?" Robin called back.

"Will you help me with my homework?" Bart said hopefully.

"Do your own homework," came the response.

Bart sighed. He had to find a way to do his project on time. If only he had been listening or...hey, was that a mushroom growing by the computer?

Bart snapped out of it. He had to concentrate. Think, Bart, think. He got it. All he had to do was go through time back to prehistory, write some things down, and he would get a good grade for sure. It was a great idea. He'd done it before, he knew what to do.

Bart began to run. He started off at a normal speed for him, then faster, then faster, then faster and faster and faster andfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandfasterandslowerandslower andslowerandslower and slower and slower and slower and slower until...Bam!

Bart landed in a pile of dirt on the ground. He brushed it off his costume and looked around. He could hardly see anything that interested him. If this was prehistory, where were the dinosaurs? He pulled out a piece of paper and a pen that he'd got to write down the stuff Robin might have told him if had bothered to help. He scribbled down 'Nothing of interest happened during this time'.

He put the paper away and was a bout to go back to the future (Yes, I know it's bad but give me a break!) when he tripped over a quite large reptile on the floor. "Stupid lizard," he muttered, and kicked it. It landed in a hole full of funny-looking liquid. Bart couldn't be bothered to think about what he'd just done, and speed off back to the present day for us.

Which brings us back to the beginning. Bart had got back and saw an amazing sight. All of the people had been turned into half-human half-reptile mutant thingies. He screamed, but regretted it. All of the mutants heard him, and went after him. Luckily though, it was just like the video game 'Lizards from the Planet Reptilion' (What a corny title), a game he had got the highest score on. He dodged the lizards, and decided to go back in time and stop himself from kicking the lizard (Now it's getting a bit complicated.)

He sped up again and ran back to the past (I'll skip the whole 'fasterandfaster' thing 'cos I can't be bothered to do it again) and was back in the past. He looked around and saw himself. He looked really handsome, he thought. But he then saw the lizard and got back to the matter at hand. He zoomed over and picked up the lizard before it got in his way.

He had done it. He had saved the world from himself. Bart had stopped Bart. Wait. Did this mean he was a hero or a villain? He didn't think about it and ran home. He would have to use a...shudder...book to do his project. Oh well. The End. Thank you for reading.

[electrikworm]

Until the Storm Breaks

Relationships: Crosshair & Echo & Hunter & Tech & Wrecker

Content Warnings: Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Cauterization, Graphic Description of Infection

Summary:

With Wrecker badly injured and hallucinating due to poison, the Bad Batch are forced to take cover in a cave during a storm. A rough night for everyone involved follows.

Written for @summer-of-bad-batch Week 2: Injured and @augustofwhump Day 3: Poison and day 4: Filth, Screams and Open Wounds

I really wanted to fill this prompt for Summer of Bad Batch and August of whump finally gave me the inspiration to do so in a way I liked :)

Word count: 3,121

Read on Ao3

Wrecker's screams echo through the damp cave, making Tech's ears hurt. Tech's attempt to clean the large gash on Wrecker's side is disturbed by the large clones squirming.

“Hold him still.” Tech reminds his brothers.

“We're trying!” Crosshair hisses, struggling to stay atop his brother's legs as Wrecker kicks them. Hunter's holding onto Wrecker's one arm, whilst Tech has to kneel on top of his other one. Far from the ideal position to do first aid from, but Echo's already occupied trying to keep Wrecker from slamming his head back into the floor in his confusion.

“You're certain the poison isn't just killing him?” Echo says. Wrecker's head in a firm grip, he can see their brother's twisted, tear-stained expression, spit running from his mouth and down his neck. Tech has to admit he understands where Echo's concern is coming from. Wrecker by no means looks well.

But Tech's knowledge of the harmful substance in Wrecker's blood is sufficient. “I am certain. It is a hallucinogenic. What gives it its deadly reputation is the following confusion leading to the victims demise.”

“Can't we sedate him?” Hunter grunts as he wrestles Wrecker's arm back to the floor. Their demolitions expert is going to be covered in bruises by the end of this, but that will be a small price to pay for his survival.

“None of us carry sedative on us.” Tech pours disinfectant over the gash, hopping to flush some of the grit and mud out of it. The wound spans from well over Wrecker's stomach, across his side and onto his back. He's losing a worrying amount of blood. Closing the wound up in any way necessary is Tech's priority, but the amount of dirt caked in it forces him to spend some time trying to clean it best as possible. “I wouldn't advise any of you to wander out into the storm to get some from the Marauder.”

Wrecker knees Crosshair in the chest, making him groan. They're all lucky the poison weakened Wrecker. Treating him in his current state at full strength would be impossible.

“I hate this planet.” Crosshair huffs.

Tech nods. The mission has been a nightmare from the beginning. The hostile, damp terrain and native vegetation made traversal unnecessarily difficult. Their mission was set in an are known for its carnivorous plants.

The objective, destroying a separatist outpost, was completed with ease. If only they'd payed better attention to their surroundings afterwards. Hunter especially must be kicking himself for not noticing the plant waiting patiently for its next meal. It had grabbed Tech first. Tech almost wishes he'd been the one to get poisoned.

Not only is he less strong than Wrecker, more maneuverable, but then Tech would also not have to deal with the uncomfortable emotions that come with Wrecker acting as a meat shield for them again.

Of course, their bad luck hadn't ended there. Whilst they'd started moving a now delirious and bleeding Wrecker in direction of the ship, a storm broke out. The ground beneath them became knee-deep mud in moments and with lightning striking close and frequently, they were forced to take cover in a cave.

Wrecker yells, his desperate writhing almost knocking Tech over. Echo puts a firm hand on his chest to get him to quiet down, whilst Hunter hisses his name warningly. Tech opts not to remind Hunter that Wrecker likely can't understand anything going on again, that would only waste time. And they can't afford to do that.

The pool of blood accumulating under their brother on the cold stone floor has reached the limit of how big Tech would let it get. The wound is far from clean, but it's got to be sealed or Wrecker won't make it. Tech bites the inside of his cheek. They'll deal with any infection later, Tech just hopes the storm clears before the contaminated wound kills their vod.

Sharing a look with Hunter seems enough to convey that he's moving to the next step as Hunter nods in agreement. Tech fishes his electric soldering iron from his hip bag. Echo gives him a weird look.

“What are you doing with that?” He asks.

Tech had almost forgotten that Echo's only been a part of their team for a couple months. He wouldn't know that, whilst the crackling electricity at the tools end was usually used to solder wires and small technical parts, it's rather good at cauterizing wounds as well.

“Sealing the wound.” Tech answers.

“Wait a moment.” Echo says, putting a hand on Tech's to keep him from doing his job. “Cauterization is not advisable, it ups the risk of infection as well as the healing time.”

“Got a better idea?” Crosshair huffs. Echo's eyebrows knit together.

“No.”

“The infection risk is already beyond high.” Tech begins pinching the edge of the gash together. “You will have to hold Wrecker down more firmly. He won't like this.”

Electricity crackles loudly and brightly as Tech powers the tool up, pressing it to Wrecker's skin. Predictably, Wrecker responds badly to the pain, fighting against his brothers with as much strength as he can muster. Tech lifts the soldering iron, checking that the edges of skin are fused well enough. When the skin, small blisters forming on the newly damaged area, holds, Tech moves on.

Thin wisps of smoke rise as Tech keeps fusing the edges of Wrecker's skin, making him glad he kept his helmet on. Even with the filter, he can smell the sharp scent of flesh burning. Hunter's senses are likely making the situation a lot worse for him. Maybe that's why he lost his grip on Wreckers arm.

In a surprisingly swift and coordinated motion, Wrecker brings his fist up to connect with the side of Tech's helmet. Tech falls to the side from the force. As he struggles to get his vision to refocus, he can hear the rest of the squad struggle to get Wrecker under control again.

Whilst his head throbs, Tech isn't going to let that make him put his brother's life in danger. He pushes past the dull pain, returning to his work. He'll probably get a bruise from this, even through the helmet.

Wrecker doesn't seem calmer after the outburst, if anything, he seems more distressed. He does however fight back a lot weaker. The futile attempt to break out of his brothers grips likely claimed most of what was left of Wrecker's energy.

As Wrecker flails weakly, his screams die down, replaced by sobbed pleading and apologies. Tech hates this so much more. What ever the plant's toxin is making Wrecker see can't be good and Tech isn't sure he wants to know more.

Echo, not having to hold on to Wrecker's head all too much anymore, has moved his hand to Wrecker's shoulder. He speaks quiet, comforting words. Tech doubts Wrecker hears, let alone understands them, but doesn't have the heart to say so out loud. There's no harm in trying.

Once Tech is done cauterizing the section of the wound he can reach, they maneuver Wrecker onto his front. He barely struggles anymore, an amalgamation of the poison, blood loss and futile resistance having worn him down.

Bandaging the wound almost seems pointless, an infection likely either way. But when Wrecker is no longer held down, he begins weakly scratching at the freshly sealed wound, so covering it is for the better. Tech would rather not have to repeat the process.

“We have to rest, but someone's got to keep an eye on him at all times.” Hunter says. He's right, there's no saying when the hallucinogenic will wear off. They don't need Wrecker doing something to harm himself.

Tech volunteers to keep an eye on Wrecker first, though that turns out to be a pointless discussion. None of them sleep immediately, kept awake by worry and the storm raging just outside their cover. They all sit close to their injured vod.

Wrecker tries to mess with the bandages a couple times, Tech having to pry his hands away from the material. Eventually, Tech opts to just hold his brother's hands.

At the start, Wrecker continues his confused mumbling ans sobbing, but as the poison wears off, so does that. He's still delirious, but shows some awareness of his surroundings.

Wrecker bumps his head into Tech's side. “Hurts...” He hisses between clenched teeth. Tech regrets not being able to give him anything for the pain, but they just don't know enough of how pain killers could react together with the toxin.

“You will be fine, vod'ika.” Tech says, trying to force a smile.

The storm goes on for hours, showing no signs of letting up. That spurs Tech to insist his vode sleep. He manages to convince Crosshair and Hunter, though they both lay close to Wrecker, Crosshair almost on top of him.

Tech watches Echo try to do the same, only to give up and resume staring out of the cave's opening and into the storm. That doesn't surprise Tech, their newest member struggling with both sleep in general and the cold. All their armor and blacks are some degree of damp and muddy, so the temperature is certainly bothering the ARC trooper.

Echo sighs, removing his helmet to rub at his nose bridge.

“You really have a thing for getting into near death situations.” Echo laughs. He pulls his knees closer to his chest, releasing a shaky breath. Tech wonders if the silence combined with the cold is bringing up bad memories. Luckily, Tech is very good at filling silence.

“As you've said many times before.” Tech smiles, removing his own helmet. Wrecker squirms about when Tech pulls one of his hands out of his grip, looking up at his brother. His eyes and pupils are blown wide. Tech wonders if Wrecker even recognizes him right now.

“I'm not called Echo for nothing.” Echo's said that many times before too, but Tech sees no point in highlighting that as well. Echo hisses when he see's Tech's face. “He got you pretty good.” Echo gestures at the right side of his own face.

Tech can't see the bruising himself, but guesses his right cheek bone has gained a new splash of color.

“I'm surprised he hit me at all.” Tech's deadpan response makes Echo laugh.

After a beat of silence, Echo gestures at Tech's hip. “You use that thing on injuries often?”

“That depends both on the mission and if we've had our medical supplies restocked recently.” Echo's commented before on how fast Clone Force 99 burns through supplies. Tech has spent time calculating the amount they'd really need, factoring in the downsides of their mutations and enhancements, but never bothered bringing it up. It's not like they'll be given what they need.

Echo sighs. “We need a medic.”

“We've always survived without one. It wouldn't be deemed necessary.”

“Kix would have a heart attack working with you.” Echo laughs. Tech remembers working with Kix briefly during the mission that lead to discovering Echo's location. From what Tech can recall about the medic, Echo's statement is likely accurate.

Echo runs his fingers along the joints of his prosthetic knees, sighing as they come away covered in mud.

“I will have a look at them for you once we're on the Marauder.” Tech offers. He's become quite familiar with Echo's prosthetic limbs and implants by now and has helped him improve or fix them many times.

“That would be greatly appreciated, vod'ika.” Echo rotates his scomp as he speaks. The dirt trapped between joints crunches, making Echo cringe. “I agree with Crosshair: I hate this planet.”

“We've certainly visited better.”

Echo leans forward. “How's Wrecker doing?”

Tech studies his younger brother. Wrecker switches between staring into nothing and squeezing his eyes shut, curled up tightly next to Tech. He's trembling.

“He'll live.” Tech is certain of that, has to be certain of that. But he's also certain that Wrecker isn't doing well at the moment.

They keep holding quiet conversation as the night goes on, but Tech must have dozed off at some point, as suddenly, Echo is shaking him.

“The storm's calming down.” He says when Tech's eyes fling open. “We should prepare to leave.”

After waking the others and getting Wrecker's chest plate back on him, they're out of the cave at the first hint of clear skies. Wrecker is semi-conscious, but too weak to walk. Tech and Crosshair each have one of Wrecker's arms slung across their shoulders.

The mud is just as bad now, slowing their pace to little faster than crawling, especially with Wrecker unable to muster the strength to drag his legs forwards by himself.

“Where we goin'?” Wrecker slurs, helmet clanking against his shoulder bell as his head lolls to the side.

“We're getting off this planet.” Crosshair grumbles, struggling to pull his foot from the mud as he speaks.

Hunter walks ahead of the group, seeming almost nervous. Tech assumes he's trying not to miss any further danger they might face.

Gradually, the ground becomes firmer as they approach the rocky terrain Tech landed their ship on. They still manage to track masses of mud into the Marauder. Tech groans at the thought of having to clean it all up later.

None of them take the time to shower now, but Tech's still grateful to be wearing dry clothes. They can worry about getting fully clean once Wrecker is taken care of by medics.

They help Wrecker change blacks, keeping his upper body free of clothes. After Tech returns from flying the Marauder into hyperspace, Echo and Crosshair are switching Wrecker's bandages. All three of them pulling disgusted faces prompts Tech to investigate further.

The wound hasn't started bleeding again, which is just about the only good news about Wrecker's condition. The blistered skin at the gash's edge is swollen and caked is drying discharge. Part of the wound has split open, but beside a small trickle of blood, the only thing spilling from it is pus.

No wonder Hunter's standing at the other end of the ship, trying not to gag. Pulling his Helmet back on, Hunter announces that he'll be in the cockpit.

Cleaning the wound goes a little better when they're not kneeling in mud, but unwilling to reopen the gash fully and risk further blood loss, Wrecker's body will just have to hold out against the infection until they can get proper medical help.

“We'd need three patches to cover that fully, but we've only got two left.” Echo sighs, handing them to Crosshair.

When the bacta patches are applied, Wrecker almost relaxes for a moment. But the pinched expression is back immediately. The part of the wound not covered by the patches they spread bacta gel on. Despite both of those measures, the fresh bandages they wrap around Wrecker's midriff are stained yellow and pink in moments.

Laying down, Wrecker gingerly prods the material covering the injury, hissing through his teeth.

“Don't worry, they'll throw you right in a bacta tank when we get you to a medical station.” Echo pats Wrecker's shoulder from his place next to their large brother. Tech's got one of the ARC's detached legs in his lap, occupied with cleaning out the joints.

Wrecker groans. “I hate bacta tanks. Always get dreams about being swallowed by some horrible monster.”

Crosshair and Echo laugh. Tech doesn't bring up that some of Wrecker's dislike of bacta tanks may come from the extended periods of time he'd spent in a isolation tanks as a cadet, not wanting to bring down the mood.

“How are you feeling?” Tech asks.

Wrecker sighs, leaning his head back onto Echo. “Bad.” He groans. “Everything hurts, my side is on fire and I feel a bit sick.”

“Well, please let us know before you throw up all over yourself.” Crosshair has a little grin plastered on his face.

“ Shabii’gar.“ Wrecker huffs, smacking the back of Crosshair's head weakly. He only succeeds in making Crosshair laugh.

“Not seeing things anymore?“ Crosshair continues.

“Not- Not anymore.” Wrecker shudders. “Vision's still blurry, and I feel... Weird, on edge.”

Tech hums in acknowledgment. That seems to track with what he knows of the poison.

Wrecker readjusts the way he lays, making what starts out as a whimper, but then quickly turns to a bitten back cry. He curls up a little more, both Crosshair and Echo moving closer at the noise.

“Can I have something 'gainst the pain?” Wrecker forces through grit teeth, sounding rather small.

Tech puts Echo's leg down in his lap, sighing. “No, you can't. I'm sorry.”

“What?” Wrecker inhales sharply. “One of the few times I want you to stab me with a needle and you won't?”

“It is not that I don't want to. It is simply not a risk I am willing to take. There is no data on how pain medication may react to the poison in your blood.”

“Aw, come on...” Wrecker pleads.

“No, Wrecker.” Tech rubs a hand over his face, straightening his goggles. “I will not be the one responsible when your heart explodes or organs liquefy.”

Wrecker huffs, pulling a displeased expression.

“Do you want more examples of what might happen to you?”

“No, I'm good.” Crossing his arms with a sigh, Wrecker turns onto his side.

“Is there something we can do to help?” Echo asks.

“Need me to hold you, Wreck'ika?” Crosshair adds with a mocking tone, unable to leave well enough alone.

Tech watches as Wrecker thinks, followed by a wide grin spreading on the large clone's face. “Actually, I do.”

Faster than he should, Wrecker sits up and starts pulling Crosshair onto the rack.

“Hey! It was a joke!” Crosshair fights against Wrecker's grip.

“Don't care.” Wrecker laughs. “You offered.

“Let go.” Crosshair hisses. “I'm retracting my offer.”

“Too late for that. Besides, I'm hurt. You're not going to be mean to me when I'm hurt, right?”

For some reason, Wrecker's silly comment makes Crosshair stop. “Fine.” He says as he does what Wrecker wants, ending up squished between the Marauder's wall and their large brother. For a man that just got pulled into a situation he definitively didn't want to be part of, Crosshair looks a little too comfortable.

Tech moves to the spot on the floor Crosshair had previously occupied, continuing his work on Echo's leg. Hunter joins them some time later, presumably once the smell of infection's cleared out somewhat.

It'll take them a few hours to get to the medical station. A long time, especially for Wrecker, who's feeling far from comfortable. But they'll keep him company and will try to distract him, hoping that that's enough to make the journey bearable.